#i just totally draw a complete and utter blank

[reikunrei]

bro just for shits i was like lemme check out this stranger con thing i saw noah tweet out bc it’s like a 45 minute drive from my house maybe it’ll be a fun weekend excursion. and that shit is so expensive. oh my god. like i get that these fuckers are like Big Celebs but oh my god. $100 for an autograph?? ON TOP of the general admission fee??? bye omg

[zquill]

2024 Resolutions

I can't deny the blend of eagerness and trepidation I felt (and feel) at moving to a remote area of Alaska. On the one hand I fear giving in to my isolationist tendencies, using my setting as an excuse. On the other, I'm really looking forward to having time to myself to focus on reading, art, and languages (I'm one cut Internet cable away from complete self-realization/utter insanity).

Complete my Calligrapha journal. Self-explanatory.

Develop steady habits. This is more vague, but there are a host of things, like yoga and embroidery, that I'd like to work on more consistently than I have. I'll certainly have the time for it given my new situation.

Improve my posture. Also self-explanatory.

Read as many of these books as I can, with a goal of 95 total on Goodreads, not including Kirkus reviews:

(I do have a small bookshelf ordered that should be arriving soon to help contain this sprawl.)

To supplement the above desire for sustained habits, I'm also going to try doing themed days/nights:

New Movie Monday. Compensating for what I know will be a complete dearth of motivation on Monday nights, I'm going with a softball that will nevertheless challenge me to consume new (to me) media once a week rather than just watching the same films and shows over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. I may expand this category to include shows.

Translation Tuesday. To work on the above featured stacks of manga and Japanese novels. I considered making going for the N1 in December a resolution, and I would like to start studying for that, but I'm not quite ready to commit myself. Maybe for 2025.

Embroidery Wednesday (there went the alliteration). To give myself a chance to catch up on podcasts/audiobooks, and to allow me time to return to those visual media I'm already well familiar with, as well as actually pick up this hobby again.

Inupiaq Thursday. There's apparently a beginner/intermediate class that meets Thursday nights right next to the library, so I'm going to check that out starting this week. We also have textbooks at the library and other resources.

Artsy Fartsy Friday (yay, the alliteration's back!). I'm back to a planner that leaves a large blank page every week that needs filling up, so I'll end the work week by doing just that with pencil sketches, ink drawings, and other doodles.

Social Saturday. This is my day to chat with family and friends, and there's a fabric arts group that meets the first Saturday of the month that I'd like to try attending. There's apparently also a thrift store that's open on the weekends if I can find a way to get to it.

Salubrious Sunday. Just a day to chill out before the start of the week while taking care of necessary domestic things like meal-planing and prep (laundry will be on Monday because I've already noticed a rush on the washing machine and dryer on weekends). This will also be the day my reviews tend to come due, so definitely a day for reading/writing.

We'll see how pairing resolutions with an ideal weekly schedule goes.

[monodipita]

ANGEL (Yandere!Angel x Reader)

Words: 1,930

Warning: Yandere content

A/N: This is one of the tamest yandere pieces I've wrote, I think. I hope you enjoy it.

Silence was only broken by the ambient noise that played on the TV and the soft whimpers of someone's voice, otherwise, the air was incredibly still in this apartment.

He stood above them. This poor person who was at the complete and utter mercy of Angel, whose touch could kill anyone if they touched long enough. His deep brown eyes lingered on their body while his hands hovered inches off of their face. Tears rolled down the person's face while they were forced to stare up at him.

"I'm going to ask again. You've already lost about a year of your life with your uneventful answers," Angel spoke. "Please, I've told you again and again, I don't know where [Y/N] is!" The feminine voice cried out quickly after Angel's statement. "But you do," Angel retorted, "[Y/N] has been seen in this apartment complex four times. That means walking by this door four times. Four encounters."

He was trying to piece together something, but you couldn't quite tell what it was. You hovered nearby for the sake of trying to find out what his game plan was, but at the expense of (almost) making your presence known... it wasn't easy getting into this apartment after Angel stepped in, but you wormed in and made yourself comfortable out of sight. You could only pray that he didn't see you, or hear you.

But there was something about all of this that you couldn't quite wrap your head around. Was he trying to figure out if you lived here? Because you didn't. No, your mentor lived here... and it was just normal for you to visit her when you had the time to, outside of work.

"I-I-I don't know..." the voice sobbed, "I have a family! Please don't keep doing this to me!"

It was sickening. Angel was repeatedly threatening this person's life by... touching her. No one could underestimate the power of his hands touching a mere human... even a simple grab of the hand could cost you two months. You could only bitterly imagine what it must've been like to be caressed by him. What it was like to have his face cup your hands. How much of your life would he take away then? You couldn't answer that question clearly, but the person he was interrogating, could.

"No, no no no, PLEASE!" She yelled, before a loud scream erupted from her lips while Angel's hands touched her face. Seconds pass, every one of them feeling like a grueling eternity that made your stomach churn. It was a total of ten seconds before Angel removed his hands. "You're in luck! I only took about a month away. We're nearing that threshold, though, and that can be scary ... so I would start talking now. So, I will ask this question again, Miss. Please answer it to the best of your ability."

He was growing too impatient to keep pestering this person, you could tell. Angel was lazy, and though he surprised you with the amount of effort he put into doing all of this, you knew he couldn't keep it up for long. Especially when it was reaching dead ends like it was now. Angel cleared his throat, "you may be aware of a person named [Y/N] [L/N] that comes into this apartment complex every Tuesday and Thursday around the same time in the afternoons. I know you see [Y/N] because you're a stay-at-home wife. So, I am asking you again. It's... early in the evening," he checked his watch before looking back down at the person. "And [Y/N] wasn't here today. Did something happen."

There was more silence to be followed before the person began to sob again... wail, really. It was distressing to hear. To know that someone was dying because of you really didn't sit well on your mind, or on your stomach.

"This will all be over soon. You've told me all I need to know." Angel's eyes hooded.

"N-n-no, please," the helpless voice uttered over Angel's, "I-I want to live! Please! I don't even know who [Y/N] [L/N] is!! PLEASE, NO!-" Their cries were ... blended, almost. If anyone could make aging be heard, it was Angel, while he took someone's life through simply touching their skin. You still couldn't quite wrap your head around that fact.

You stifled a cry and clamped your hand over your mouth to silence yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. Why? Why would he do this? What did this person do to deserve the touch of death? For just living here, was that it?

A yawn characteristically came from Angel's mouth before he stepped over the person's body, tucking his hands in his pockets as he stopped at the door. He stood there for a moment before he he turned his head, beautiful locks tumbling down his back as he looked around with narrowed eyes. You did your best to stay quiet in the corner you were in, you didn't want to draw attention to yourself and risk him knowing that you were here.

The longer he stayed at the door though, the more you found yourself beginning to question why you were even here in the first place... but you knew why. He was acting strange. He had been acting strange ever since that little date the two of you went on.

Ice cream. It wasn't a very romantic setting and it was actually one he and Aki Hayakawa frequented quite often, but something about this particular day happened to set him off. You treated him to something nice after he proved to be helpful against a devil you couldn't get close to—so it was just the two of you this time, Aki was nowhere in sight. A lot of the time you two spent together at that time was spent toward speaking about things, such as the ice cream you ate, how he saved your life, and how you were thankful that he helped you out.

Angel wanted to know so much about you after that—and was clingy, moreso than what you would've expected from someone like him, who seemed like he couldn't have gave a damn whether someone lived or died, as long as he wasn't bothered. In the days, maybe even weeks after leading up to now, he never really left you alone until you broke off from him to go home for the day. The days you went to visit your mentor, you linked up with him shortly after leaving the apartment complex, some ways away from it. You didn't quite think of it like you were thinking about it now, but looking back on it, there were clearly some things that were wrong here. How did he find out that you were coming to this apartment complex? Was he following you?

"I thought I heard something other than that woman when I walked inside."

"Gah!" You squeaked in fear, making your body jolt as your arm covered your face in self-defense. Angel found you, he finally found you. "F-fuck!"

"What are you doing here, [Y/N]?" He asked, "are you here to talk to whoever you're talking to?"

"W-why does that matter?" You stammer, as you find the courage to finally remove your arm from your face to look up at him. Why, he looked mental. His eyes looked like beads against his white sclera. What a terrifying expression to come back to—it made your heart leap into your throat. "I didn't feel like visiting my mentor today."

"Oh. Your mentor."

Silence between the two of you begins to pick up after that. Your heart felt like it was going to explode with how fast it was beating. So many questions had to be asked, but how could you ask them? You didn't even know what to say right now.

"Want to go get some ice cream?" He asked, as if everything that happened didn't just happen. You swallowed thickly at the question asked and looked around nervously. Did you beat around the bush? Agree, and act like nothing happened in this room? Or did you face the fact that what Angel did was unforgivable?

Another gap of silence.

"Angel, you just killed an innocent human being for no reason," you stated the obvious. Your brows furrowed and you stared at him. "Do you have any idea what this means?"

"Mm, no," Angel shook his head, "I'm sure I don't really care, either." He then pointed to the door. "Do you want to get ice cream with me, [Y/N]?"

"A-angel!" You pressed him with your words. "You... you killed an innocent human being!"

"...why do I care?" He gave you a blank stare. "I was doing her a favor. Now, do you want to get ice cream with me?" He extended his free hand in the direction of your body. "I know you're going home soon, since this is your day off."

You stared at him, horrified by the lack of humanity within him. Well, he was a devil... so of course he didn't have any shred of humanity, but still, didn't he feel even an ounce of remorse over what he just did? None at all? "Y-you killed her because of me," you reiterated in a more... significant light. "Why?"

"Because I didn't see you come into the building today, so I went around asking," he responded and sighed before he shoved his hands into his pockets. He would know better than to touch someone he cared for if he didn't want them to die. "She was mean to me, so she suffered the consequences."

Those words worried you. "What do you mean you went around and asked?" You narrowed your eyes. "Did you..."

"Only to those who were rude." Angel calmly stated, "not a lot of them were even subjected to what this woman went through. But I know she saw you... she saw you every time you came up on this floor. I know she did. She proceeded to lie about it, and for lying, she had to be killed." He tilted his head. "Have I answered your questions enough? Can we go get ice cream now?"

So many people had their lives threatened because of you. That was a tough pill to swallow, wasn't it?

The sound of the door opening made your heart beat quicken again. Your eyes shot to the door to see him standing in the doorway with his eyes still on you. "Come on. I want to go get ice cream."

"...why... why did you do it?" You weakly asked him as you stumbled forward to meet him. "Why would you subject all of these people to torture? A-and for... for me..?" It just didn't sound right.

"It may not be a lot, but it's honest work. I try my best to keep you safe. I have to know where you are at all times to do that though, right?" Angel shrugged his shoulders. "Think of me as your guardian angel, maybe that'll make the pill easier to swallow. ...so, can we go get ice cream?"

"N-no," you gently push him out of the way so that you can leave the building. "We won't be doing anything of the sort. I'm going to go to the hunter's association and ask to be reassigned to another devil."

Angel stumbled back, but was quick to grab your arm.

"Not if you want to live, you won't." He narrowed his eyes. "We're together now. If I can't have you, no one else can."

[cinnamonest]

I’m pushing out another one of my long-since-drafted things to the queue bc I’m trying to start keeping the queue active 24/7 and fill more asks but have this in the meantime

//dark shit, like the blood gore violence kind of yandere not the hot kind, brief animal death, gruesome slow npc death, gore, violence, blood, decaying/putrefaction mention

I'm really bad at judging what's mild versus severe when it comes to gore/blood bc I tend to underestimate, I think this is kinda severe? Let me know which it is actually pls so I have a better idea for the future ---------------------------------------- I mentioned a while back in the corpse disposal post and murder methods post that Razor can be... Brutal to say the least, but to expand more on the concept I feel like there's a big potential for a sort of gap moe with him, a duality that seems to contradict itself. Because in many ways he's a sweetheart, always trying to find things to make you happy, often smiling with those wide, excited eyes, physically affectionate with nuzzles and the like. But the other side of that, he's not actually aware of how... desensitized he is. You notice it early on and it catches you off guard a bit the first time it happens. Some poor little animal you two see struggling, like a bird stuck in a tree, and you urge him to go get it and he nods and says ok. Grabs it, and just as you're about to thank him and let it go you hear its little bones snap under the crush of his grip with a final pained chirp. There, he got it, see? Now you two can eat it together. That was why you wanted him to grab it right? To kill it? Why else? He looks down and realizes oh, it's still twitching, so he reached a hand up and twists its neck. There, now it's dead, he says with a beaming smile. But it falls and he tilts his head when he sees the shocked look on your face. What's wrong? Why are you so upset? You soon learn a lot of the animals don't... die immediately. The little things the wolves drag back are still kicking and struggling, still making noises as they tear into them to devour. It makes you sick to your stomach when you witness it, tears come to your eyes. He knows you don't like it and warns you, but... he doesn't understand why? Why does it upset you like that? He doesn't get it. It's a gnawing awareness in the back of your mind. You start to pick up on his... lack of reactions to certain things. You were once in the church getting healing for a minor wound of his when another group of adventurers came rushing through the doors, desperately begging for help for their friend they were carrying... some guy seriously injured, gored by a boar. The sight is burned in your mind forever, the organs spilling out of his split gut, the shivering and wide, bloodshot eyes, the blood bubbling out of his mouth with choked horrific groans and the way his body convulsed involuntarily. The most horrid thing you'd ever seen. And you were pretty certain it was that way for everyone. Everyone in the church was gasping, some people were retching and trying to hold back sickness, people ran out of the room as they were unable to handle the scene, tears were in everyone's eyes, and as the man wailed in agony from them setting his dislocated bones, you watched the bystanders cringe and wince. Every person in the vicinity was visibly horrified.... except for one. Razor's face was neutral. Curious. He leaned in closer to get a better look, eyebrows raised. He doesn't flinch at the sight of organs spilling onto the ground and the man starting to convulse and foam at the mouth as his eyes roll back into his head. And then, after a moment, he asks if you're ready to leave, says he feels better now and that man is really loud, he doesn't like it. His voice doesn't even have the slightest hint of a wavering or discomfort. When you come across a man in the woods caught in a bear trap, you can barely stand to look at it. Just hearing the cries for help had you shivering, and the sight of the pooling blood and utter agony on the man's face had you gasping, hand over your mouth as you tried to look away. ...Razor didn't seem to mind, though. He just undoes the trap and, without giving the man any warning, yanks it apart, pulling the spikes from his legs. As he does, blood shoots out and splatters on his face. He doesn't flinch, nor when the man screams. He does finally seem to react to the pained groans the man makes. But... It's not like your reactions. He's not flinching and grimacing, drawing in sharp breaths and tensing up, eyes watering in pity and shock like you. Instead, his eyes narrow and he puts his hands over his ears as you stoop down to help the poor man. His eyebrows furrow. He almost looks... Annoyed. He draws his foot back as if he's about to kick him, but freezes with realization when he looks at you, as if he forgot you were standing there, and puts his foot back down. You're certain he wasn't actually going to do that, of course. You're not sure why he did that, but... He wouldn't do something like that, even in a moment of dissociation from his human awareness. He does volunteer to be the one to go get help, though, getting away fast, but for some reason you sense it was more out of irritation at the noise rather than horror at the whole thing. Perhaps the worst was the decomposing body, that day you took a walk in the woods together. He smelled it first, nose wrinkling up in disgust at the putrid smell. But it was strong enough that you smelled it soon after. He says having dead animals this close to the residence of the pack is not good, they all hate the smell, so he can try to move the carcass of whatever animal it is... but it's not an animal, it turns out, once you finally find the source, collapsed at the bottom of a cliff from where they most likely fell to their death. Well, it's kind of a stretch to say it still resembles a human either, but you can tell from the general shape. It's more just like a glob, putrefied and rotting flesh falling off the bones. It shocks you so much you fall backwards, but he just moves closer. Ugh, too far rotted to move, he can't do anything about it, he realizes as he gives the decaying mass a kick and watches the blackened flesh slide off the bones. Oh well. ...In your shock, it takes you a moment to realize how... unbothered he seems. Mildly annoyed by the smell, but his expression is neutral as he looks at one of the most horrifying sights you've ever seen, he just yawns as he walks away from it and says you two should get away from the smell, it makes his head hurt.

The events all linger in the back of your head. A growing sense of wrongness, a dark, cold dread that settles in your stomach as the occurrences slowly grow in number, one after the other, each time you notice the complete lack of any sign of disturbance on his face, in his voice or body language. You ask him once, one time when you get the courage to ask such a... potentially offensive question. Don't you... feel anything when you see things dying? When they're in pain? He nods. He gets what you mean. The feeling when you watch something die. Hungry, right? Oh, no? Maybe you mean the irritation, a kind of angry feeling, what's the word... impatient...? Because the thing is taking too long to die and he wants it to go ahead and die already. Or maybe you mean like when that man was injured? When something is dying but it's not something you wanna eat? Yeah, he has a feeling then too. Um... kind of like anger... you taught him the word once... annoyed? They make so much noise, and he doesn't like loud things. When that man came into the church... he didn't like how loud it was. Why didn't they just kill him, since he was making so much noise...? He doesn't get it. When things annoy him, he kills them, like loud birds and biting bugs. He kinda had an urge to just... reach out and make the man stop screaming, just twist his neck like he does small animals when they make too much noise. But he's smart, he says, he knows the other people might get mad. Yes, he uses the word "might," not "would," as if it was a mere possibility. So it doesn't really come as a surprise when the same attitude applies to the people at his own mercy, the people that get too close to you and end up dragged out to the woods. It's that same knowing dread in your gut, and while it horrifies you as much as it always has, you wouldn't have expected anything else. Maybe some people would feel bad about what they're doing, they would want to go ahead and get it over with, they couldn't take the begging and agony the other party is in... but not only is he totally unbothered, but if he kills him now, he says, the blood will go all over the ground, and that's bad, his lupical like eating the blood in things. So he just snaps the man's bones, that way he won't run away. It's hard to describe the excruciated noises that come out of the other's throat when he does. It's unlike any noise you've ever heard a human make, that kind of pain. The sweat that pours from the other's skin from the agony, the way his mouth hangs open even when he can't scream anymore, the trembling and muffled begging as he moves to the next limb. You tremble and cry. You shiver uncontrollably, you whimper for him to stop. Your eyes widen when he grabs each limb and you close your eyes and sob and grimace and cringe with the snapping sound. Razor, on the other hand, stays just as neutral as before. Face blank and empty, as if performing any other mundane task. He doesn't flinch at the snapping. His expression is unchanging at the sound of screams and the groans as he drags the still-living figure behind him by his shattered ankle all the way back home. When he finally goes to look back at you, he tilts his head at the look on your face. Why do you still look upset? There's no blood yet... isn't it blood that makes you upset? Maybe not? Maybe it's the sound that bothers you? Yeah, you flinch whenever the man groans in pain, so it must be the sounds of the dying things that you don't like, it annoys him too really. Ok, that can be fixed... sound comes from the throat right? Well, he left his claymore a ways away so, it'll just take a second, the guy is thrashing a bit but eventually he holds him still enough to get his teeth latched around his throat and just... bites down. The sound is a squelching, crunching sound, one that you'll never forget, it makes every hair on your body stand on end and your skin crawl. He pulls back with the mass of bleeding flesh and tracheal tissue in his jaws and spits it out on the ground. There, see...? You can see the blood on his teeth reflecting the light as he smiles. He's not making noises anymore, so... why do you still have that look on your face? Is it because the body on the ground is all... spasming and convulsing like that? Well, uh... that'll stop soon, probably. At least it's nice and quiet now. He gets it, really, he doesn't like loud noises either.

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 16

The Chapter is finally out my Guardians 🐉

Chapter 16 : In the deepest memories of the last of the dragons

My hands would follow their path taken for several minutes, forming various abstract forms of their weak caresses. Many chills arose from time to time with my fingers when I explored new areas but no protest was ever heard, which prompted me to venture out again and again, savoring this almost suspended moment in time.

Blinking hard with white lids in the dim daylight streaming through the curtains, my gaze fell for a moment on the long locks that partially obscured Lance's sleeping face. With his head resting on my bare chest, he didn't seem to want to wake up from his deep sleep, an arm slung over my request now firmly pressed against him.

I directed my caresses a little higher until I reached a scaly area on his shoulder. Fascinated, I drew each outline as if to come to memorize them, surprised to feel them vibrate with each passage of my fingers.

It had been some time since I realized one thing. One thing who, each time he let me see it, filled my heart a little more with new feelings.

More and more often in my presence, Lance seemed to forget his barriers. So sometimes the young man let an infinite number of improbably colored scales run over his skin while, at other times, his ice ran through my body without any logic, drawing complex and involuntary shapes. I’m always surprised at the sweetness of these manifestations, yet they are born of a raw, primitive nature. Because despite his human appearance, Lance was nonetheless a dragon whose instincts he had and, beyond the brutality that accompanied some, I loved to see him let go. I had the impression that in those rare moments when the barrier between his two forms was weakening, he could finally relax, really be himself.

But to share with him this moment of physical intimacy In purely instinctive outbursts, he loved to mark me with his presence, ranging from his powers to his scent and at times, to his claws. Lance had been unintentionally brutal at times, but was it strange if I admitted that I absolutely loved every moment ?

The dragon pulled me out of my reveries, stirring lightly. Lifting his face with still sleeping features, he arched an eyebrow as he analyzed the situation, his gaze drifting over our still naked bodies. My breath quickened as one of his hands lingered on the slope of my hip as his eyes were already dark with desire. Without warning, he tightened his embrace and rocked over me. His long hair tickled my face as he leaned down to explore every inch of my neck, making me moan in spite of myself with languor.

- Hello, my angel, he said in a hoarse voice against my skin.

I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders as a weary smile stretched my lips.

- Hello, my great dragon.

Lance laughed in the crook of my collarbone as he let his icy hands rest on my thighs, causing goose bumps to grow in the grooves of his palms. His lips entered the slope of my jaw, and when they finally met mine, it was with some authority that he lifted my legs on either side of his narrow hips.

We kissed for a long time, our tongues meeting without delay to deepen our embrace. Between my legs, I felt him pulsing more and more vigorously, increasing with maddening speed the desire that had not left me.

- You do well not to forget in whose arms you find, he amused himself in a voice with a much deeper sound than usual.

I dug my nails vigorously into his muscular back as his hips pushed against my lower abdomen.

- How could I, exactly ? I questioned him with difficulty, so much the least of his gestures obsessed me. You don't really help me forget it...

- It's true that I can't keep my human form completely, with you.

- I don't mind, you know, I said with a laugh.

A gentle smile lit up his face, which features often so harsh. In a light mood, the dragon lifted my chin with his fingers to orient my face in his direction. I plunged without hesitation into his eyes which had occupied all my thoughts for several weeks.

Becoming serious again, we didn’t say the least for several long seconds, we observe with a heavy look of meaning.

- Andraste...

I knew what was going on in his head.

We.

Our relationship, our past, our present... To be in each other's arms was absurd, totally unconventional and we were both deeply aware of it. What would become of each other once we got out of this room ?

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing we could become for each other. And we knew it.

Deciding to stop our respective paths of thought, I crossed the short distance between us, feverishly pressing my lips against his. I kissed him with anger, despair, envy. I placed my fears in those powerful hands that encircled my hips, those greedy lips that devoured mine as if to come and seek some breath. I needed to feel him losing control, needed to drown in his eyes that screamed at me that they loved me.

Or at least, during these short, resolutely forbidden moments.

- Please, don't say anything, I said between two kisses, starting to move my pelvis against his. We'll have plenty of time to worry about this later.

Seeming to consider my words at first, Lance suddenly planted one of his hands on my hip as I shifted more and more vigorously under his weight that crushed me. Not giving me time to think, he shamelessly slipped two fingers inside me without ever taking my eyes off suddenly feverish. Reaching my guard, he stirred slowly but confidently, torturing me with his thumb a little higher. My God, I had never wanted someone so much, I was sure.

Each of his movements made a myriad of sensations explode in the pit of my stomach, making me turn my head with his precise gestures. My pelvis quickly accompanies his fingers, guiding them silently while each of my moans is found drawn to his lips. When a multitude of stars erupted in my field of vision, I firmly grabbed his throat as he led me over the edge of the precipice without warning.

As I lost ground, I noticed with a blank eye that my light was diffused into him. Starting from the base of his neck just under my palm, it illuminated him tanned skin with its bright, warm colors. In this story, it wasn't Lance who lost control the most.

I think it was me.

Not that I ever really had control over my powers, that would have been lying. But I no longer control anything. My emotions, my fears, my desires; I was constantly jostled, tossed about between everything.

When the dragon in turn realized that I was marking him without permission with my light, he groaned in satisfaction before promptly removing his fingers from my privacy. I didn't have time to figure out what was happening to me as I already found myself astride him, Lance having grabbed me to reverse our places, his hands feverishly running my back as his tongue attacked my chest. Tilting my head back, I let his hungry mouth move up to my ear, biting my skin with his suddenly sharper teeth until it slightly marked me.

With one hand, I pushed him away in order to come and press his back authoritatively against the mattress. His gaze darkens again as I lean over him, starting a slow descent from his abdomen. Another gasp escaped him as my palm met his erection, slowly working its way up from the base to the end, never taking my eyes away from his. Lance slid his fingers in an inordinately gentle gesture through my hair to achieve my face, making it easier for me. His hands began to shake slightly when I finally took him in my mouth, unable to fully accommodate him as long as he was imposing.

His breathing quickened as I started my task, fascinated to be able to discover him in my turn as he had done that night with my body. Very soon, I heard him utter several quiet moans which excited me to the highest point before he hastily tugged at my hair to make me lift my head. Bluntly, he pulled me up to him while vigorously grabbing my lips, framing my face with his large hands.

- I think I want you too much, my angel.

*

The water hit my head heresy, hitting my long hair hard against my shoulders. How long have I been wandering here ? My eyes narrowed at the force of the rain that fell on me, I moved forward as in a kind of constant blur.

My gaze was followed by a small shadow which is quickly in front of me. Running under the downpours, she didn't seem to feel them, moving freely in the surrounding darkness. I put a feverish hand in front of my face to try to make out something around, having lost the figure between the trees. Sailing blind, a childish laugh catches my attention as I push two branches in my path. Deciding to follow the sound of that unfamiliar voice, I sank deeper into what looked like a real maze.

The closer I got to the shadow, the more it seemed to take shape before my eyes. Very soon, I could make out rainbow-colored hair that blended into pale skin, accompanied by two small horns. The young girl was running innocently, as light as the air despite the brutality of the force of nature that fell on me. My heart skipped a beat when I thought I was losing sight of her again, which prompted me to pick up my pace even more. I stumbled many times, sliding across the muddy ground, hitting oversized roots. The thundering sound of the rain covered the sound of my frantic breath, my hair clinging to my face, entering my mouth, sticking to my eyelashes. My sight was diminishing, darkness absorbed me with its cold arms.

I didn't know what to do anymore, I was lost.

But suddenly the little girl's big silent eyes appeared in front of me. An arm outstretched in my direction, she invited me to join, as bright as the sun. When my fingers made contact with her skin, the scenery changed completely, making my head spin at breakneck speed.

The movements finally calmed down. I immediately recognized the Crystal Room, but it wasn’t the one I knew now.

Several people with unfamiliar faces stood in front of me. With serious faces, they were discussing without seeming to notice my presence.

- He will be the one we send there.

- A Guard Chief, when the situation is totally out of control there ?!

- He's far too young !

- Bring him in, cut in the man who seemed to be the decision-maker here.

A shiver ran through my back as the door opened wide, letting slow, sure footsteps echo through the room. When the young man in question passes close to me, brushing my right arm in the process, a sharp sensation marked my skin under my sleeve. He seemed to feel it too, for the expression on his face changed for a brief moment, almost flustered. His gaze caressed mine without actually seeing me.

- Lance, we were expecting you.

Continuing on his way, a confident smile widened the full lips of the dragon with such youthful features.

- Please excuse me for being late, Master Kaze.

Completely caught up with what was happening in front of my eyes, I was surprised to find the young girl's little fingers wrapped around my forearm. When I turned my head in her direction, the world shifted once again.

A companion collapsed at my feet, spurting blood against my legs. A violent gag took hold of me when its organs fell from the gaping wound that sawed through its stomach. Horrified, I backed up several meters when my attention was signaled by a huge dragon crashing into the rocks not far from me, all with a thudding noise. In a last rattle that comes back to my stomach, the creature collapses to the ground before taking on a semi-human form. Tears flooded my cheeks as I rushed over to him.

- LANCE !

My voice creaked, broke in my throat. I could only see the red puddle that gradually spread around his neck like a macabre web when my vision changed once again.

I was sitting on a bed in a windowless room. Beside me, a small gas light glowing faintly in the dark. Looking down, I noticed I was perfectly dry. No more blood stained my clothes.

- So if I understood correctly, you want to help me break this damn Crystal ?

A harsh laugh shook the broad shoulders of the young man as his interlocutor didn’t move a millimeter, perfectly stoic.

- You understood me very well, Ashkore. Do you want to make this deal, yes or no ?

Lance's gaze shone with a gleam that made my blood run cold. A carnivorous smile crossed his crazy-looking face.

- Very well, my dear deamon. But don't think you'll get me right.

The light suddenly went out, revealing once again the bluish color of the great Crystal.

Serenity reigned in the room. This time, no sound comes to disturb the religious calm of this atmosphere. A movement at the back of the room made me turn around anyway, revealing Lance once again.

Alone, casually assisting on the floor, his gaze didn’t seem to want to leave the luminescent jewel.

His eyes had never been so dark.

- That was the last time he was here, until you woke up.

I jumped at the sound of the small voice behind my back. The young girl stands there, motionless. I hesitated for a moment.

- Ophelia... where are we ? I questioned weakly, having her decide to disappear again.

Her expressionless gaze was lost for a moment in the void behind me. I thought she wouldn't answer me.

- In the deepest memories of the last of the dragons.

- But why ? What are we doing here ?

Walling herself in silence, she walked straight ahead until she crossed my body and passed to the other side.

- You have to find the answer for yourself, Andraste.

The recommended image to blur around me. No, not now, I had to catch up with her !

- Ophelia !

Abruptly opening my eyes, I woke up sweating in my bed, breathing heavily from my parted lips.

I was dumbfounded when I realized that tiny ice crystals were forming under my astonished gaze.

Damn, what happened to me ?

(Chapter 17)

[from-seas-to-skies]

The Teacher / Bakugou x Reader ♕︎

warnings: NSFW, teacher/student relationship, oral sex, spitting, sir kink, slut shaming, somewhat brat taming, age difference, unprotected sex

words: 5,772

(a/n): Bakugou is 30 in this; reader is younger (college age)

-

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

One, two, three, four… How long was it going to take until class ended again?

Looking up from your notebook, you stare up at the clock, the large, monotonous face seemingly glaring straight back at you. You don’t know how it happens, but time always moves so slow when it comes to your calculus class. Frankly, you’d rather ditch the class altogether, but if you wanted to graduate from college, you had to pass. Curse stupid curriculums and all that shit.

However, despite absolutely dreading having to stare at numbers for a solid hour and a half, there is a plus side to taking this dreaded class. In fact, it’s the very reason why you signed up for it in the first place. You’ve heard so many wonderful things about it, all from girls and guys alike, and you knew you had to see it up close and personal – rather, you had to see him.

Professor Bakugou.

Age thirty, drives a Land Rover, and, most importantly, single.

He’s about as dreamy as they come; a complete and utter Dreamboat Annie, absolutely huge in both height and stature, intelligent, and handsome. He’s only been a professor for a few years, but it’s been made apparent to the school that he’s worth it. Not only are his teaching methods and lectures incredible, but he’s turned out some of the highest grades your college has even seen. That itself is impress, and, combined with the hype of how hot he is, it’s no wonder people rush to take his classes.

So, when it came time for class schedules to come out, you were excited, needless to say. Despite having a general disliking to math in the first place, you figured this one guy could be what it takes to turn that idea around. Oh, but that was before you first laid your eyes on him.

Shit, you had heard that he was attractive – godly, even – but this? You weren’t expecting this. His biceps alone could crack a watermelon, and his sharp jawline could easily cut diamonds. It sounds cliché, that’s true, but you have no other way of putting it. Words did not do this man any justice.

At first, his constant yelling and crude demeanor were a total turn off. Professor Bakugou was essentially the teacher version of Gordon Ramsay, and you weren’t entirely sure if you liked that or not. However, as time continued, you actually grew accustomed to it. In fact, if he didn’t yell at least once during the class, you’d immediately figured he was having a bad day.

That’s when the thoughts began. Call it infatuation, a mindless crush, whatever, but you wanted Professor Bakugou. Your eyes soon began to watch his large hands flex while he wrote on the board rather than the content itself. You’d watch his forearms flex while he turned the page in his textbook, prominent veins inviting you for a better look. How you longed to touch him, to grab his sturdy shoulders or pull his wild hair. He always looked so good, clothes tailored to fit his muscular frame perfectly.

You’d fantasize about the most random of scenarios, each of them usually ending up with him bending you over his desk at the front of the room. You liked colder days the best, especially since Professor Bakugou had the habit of wearing form-fitting sweaters that outlined his massive pecs or the swell of his arms. You wanted to make him feel better, to sit underneath the desk and suck him off while he taught the rest of the class. Those narrow hips had to be strong, and you’d be damned if you never got to experience their power at least once.

It’s almost as if Professor Bakugou had cast a spell over all of his students. Nearly all of them gushed about how great he was; and, if you were in the proper company, they exchanged fantasies or proclamations about how fucking gorgeous he was. You’d usually grow bitter at these types of conversations. It was a crush, for fuck’s sake. There was no need to get all pouty like some problematic schoolgirl.

Still, the thoughts wouldn’t go away, not when he taught, not when he yelled. His booming voice became a part of your wicked fantasies, wondering how it’d sound to hear him grunting your name or commanding you to spread his legs for him. Again and again, you told yourself that it was fine, that people develop crushes on their teachers all the time. It was only in the dead of night that you’d have your hand stuffed down your pants and mouth moaning his name into a pillow was when you regretted it. It was a phase, nothing more.

And yet, over two months into the semester, and these thoughts still won’t go away. The constant ticking of the clock brings you back down to Earth, your eyes focusing on the problems before you. Swallowing thickly, you loosen your hand, now just noticing how hard you’ve begun to clench your pencil. Your insides feel oddly warm, that pleasant, heavy feeling sitting behind your belly button. Dammit, you mentally curse, this is not the time to be getting distracted.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

If only class could end sooner.

“Right,” Professor Bakugou suddenly says from his desk, “this Friday, I’m holding a study session for the upcoming exam on Monday. There’s only going to be a limited number of seats available, so if you wanna join, here’s your chance.” With his words, he holds a blank sheet of notebook paper up, a rather bored expression on his face.

He must be tired, you think, unconsciously biting your bottom lip. But why?

Around you, students shuffle to the front of the class, waiting for a chance to scribble their names onto the paper. Some seem a bit more excited than others, obviously arching their backs or flipping their hair over their shoulders. With a scoff, you look back down to your work. Did they really think they could catch his attention like that? Yeah, so he doesn’t show off a ring on his finger, but it’s pretty likely that he has people throwing themselves at him all the time. Besides, Professor Bakugou is a strict guy; there’s no way he’d engage in a relationship with a student.

You really shouldn’t be getting your hopes up. It’s pointless to pine after your teacher like that, especially with the risks that come along with getting involved with each other. Still, you can’t help but feel bitter. Professor Bakugou is a god that walks amongst men, so how could you not want somebody like him?

“Alright, that’s all for today. Class dismissed,” Professor Bakugou calls out. Dammit, you spaced out again. Maybe you should get that checked out?

With a sigh, you stuff your belongings into your backpack and draw to a stand. You wish it would be spring already; trudging through snow and ice is never fun, and the fact that your dorm is basically on the other side of campus makes it even more rough. Pulling your coat on and slinging your backpack over your shoulders, you make way towards the classroom door, completely unaware of a set of eyes watching your every move.

-

“Man, this is impossible,” your best friend, Ashido Mina, groans. “I’m going to bomb this exam for sure!” Sprawled out on her stomach, she squirms on the floor, her face scrunching with her displeasure.

You, on the other hand, sit cross-legged across from her. Notebooks and math textbooks surround the two of you, your laptop and calculator at the ready. Bags of chips and pretzels sit to the side, along with abandoned coffee cups and empty water bottles. Professor Bakugou’s exams were notorious for being hard, but at the same time, if you payed attention in class and studied, you’d succeed. The thing is, though, that neither you nor Mina are the best when it comes to math.

“I thought you went to his study session?” you ask, glancing up from your own notebook.

Flashing you a pout, Mina nervously runs a hand through her fluffy hair. “Well, yeah, but you know how it goes! A secluded area with Professor Bakugou! It’s like a dream come true! It was hard to focus when he’s leaning over your shoulder like that…”

Rolling your eyes, you puff in amusement. “Really? Mina, you know what will happen if you fail this test.”

“Yeah, yeah, but come on! You can’t blame me! You would’ve done the exact same thing!”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh yes you would’ve!” Mina exclaims, pointing an accusing finger your way. “Don’t pretend like you don’t ogle Professor Bakugou during class! He’s one hell of a hunk, isn’t he? I never knew college professors could be so hot!” she gushes, a giggle following her words. “And that study session – oh my god, I nearly thought I was going to heart attack when he helped me solve this one problem. He’s so warm and he smells great!”

You cock an eyebrow at her. “You were smelling our teacher?”

At that, Mina blows a raspberry and waves a dismissive hand. “I’m not Kaminari, sweetheart. I have class. Besides, Professor Bakugou smells like caramel. Can you believe it? I wonder if he uses cologne or feminine soap.”

Caramel, eh? Now that’s something you can get behind.

“You want him to fuck you, right?”

Wait, what?

Narrowing your gaze at her, your brows knit closely together. “What kind of question is that?”

Mina rolls her eyes. “What, like you don’t think about it? Practically everyone on this campus has thought about it at some point or another? I mean, hello! He’s totally Daddy material. I’ve heard that he goes to the gym sometimes here on campus – turns out he’s huge.”

Huge. Of course this is what Mina chooses to focus on. You wish you had a spray bottle to squirt at her horny ass.

“And I don’t mean muscle wise,” Mina continues, a mischievous expression coming to her face. “I bet he tastes like candy.”

“Mina.”

“Why yes, Mr. Bakugou sir! I’ll gladly suck your fat cock for an A!”

“Mina.”

“His ass is really nice, too. I wouldn’t mind pegging him-“

“MINA.”

“What?”

You smack your forehead and groan as your hand trails down your face. “Are you going to study or not? I don’t know about you, but I’d rather graduate than work at McDonald’s for the rest of my life.”

Mina purses her lips at you in an excessive pout. “You’re such a fun sponge, holy shit. I think you need a good dicking down by Professor Bakugou. Maybe then you’d stop staring after him all the time during class.”

Your face heats up at her words, but there’s no way you’re owning up to that. Okay, so yeah, maybe getting fucked by him would be a dream come true, but you’re more realistic than that. “And you’re not concerned at all that he’s our teacher? You know, like he could lose his job and you could be expelled? That doesn’t bother you? At all?”

Mina shrugs. “Meh.”

“Woooow…. You really are shameless.”

“Hey, you win some, you lose some. If I could get that man to put a ring on my finger, then I’d be okay with it.”

“Yeah, because you definitely want to bring your math professor home. Uh huh, great one. Tell me how that goes.”

With a grunt, Mina rolls over and sits up. “Whatever, man. I’m hungry, so I’m going to go down to the dining hall. Wanna come with?”

Glancing at the alarm clock sitting on your nightstand, you see that it’s only 5:15. True, you could get a bite to eat, but you’d rather stay back and finish a few more problems. “I think I’ll join up with you later,” you tell Mina.

She nods her head and offers you a small smile. “Suit yourself, sweetheart. I’ll see you later.” Gathering up her things, she unceremoniously shoves them into her backpack and salutes you with a goodbye. After she pulls the door shut behind her, you turn back to the task at hand.

It shouldn’t be this hard to solve these last couple of problems, but your brain is really starting to feel the struggle. A dull ache is already forming between your eyeballs, and you truly wonder if you’re going to make it through this or not. Maybe you should take a break, or at least give your eyes a rest. Still, that little stubborn streak in you tells you to carry on. You only have a few more problems left, and you’re so close to finally finishing!

As you set to work, the digits on your alarm clock change as time drags on. Okay, so maybe you’re demanding too much of yourself. Your brain is absolutely fried, and your headache is spreading. Glancing back up at the clock, luminous green lines glare a 5:31. Jeez, it’s only been sixteen minutes since you last checked, yet it seems as though hours have passed. You really want to finish this study session, but the last problem is throwing you in for a loop.

You’ve already scoured your notes and the textbook for how to go about the problem, but your mind is drawing up with a blank. It has to be because you’re tired, right? It’s not that hard… Or is it?

“Dammit,” you mutter, sitting back and pressing your palms flat against the floor. Again, you look at the clock. Frankly, you don’t want to spend all night pouring over this, and you don’t want to skip dinner, either. You know for a fact that Mina will beat your ass for skipping out on food. “Screw it.”

Scrambling off the floor, you throw a thick coat on and slide on your sneakers. Professor Bakugou sometimes has the habit of frequenting his office during the weekends (or so you’ve heard), and you desperately need to know how to solve this problem. Chances are something similar will be on the exam, and you want to get as good of a grade as possible. Plus, if he is there…

You swallow thickly. Now is not the time to let Mina’s previous words get to you.

And so, with your notebook tucked underneath an arm, you take off.

It’s a damned shame that his office is practically on the other side of campus, but you figure it wouldn’t be too bad to get your body moving after spending so much time hunched over. Now that you think about, you could just email him, but you’re not sure how quick he’d respond. This is a dire moment. Okay, maybe not, but still. Maybe you want to see Professor Bakugou. Maybe.

You’re thankful when you finally enter the building, free of the flurries of snow and the seeping chill. Stomping your feet free from snow, you look around, creeped out yet fascinated by the silent, empty halls. You doubt very many people are here besides lingering staff and the janitors. One could only hope that Professor Bakugou is frequenting his office.

As you draw closer and closer to his office, your footsteps bounce off the walls, reminding you of how alone you are. There’s a fifty/fifty chance that he’s even going to be in his office, yet your heart pounds frantically in your chest. If he isn’t there, you’ll just simply turn around and stalk back to your dorm and hope for the best. If he is there, well, you’re not entirely sure what you should say.

He’s your teacher, dammit. It shouldn’t be this hard going up to him and asking him for help. It’s literally his job to help students out; nothing more, nothing less. Still, Mina’s words ring throughout your mind. It’s just a crush, you remind yourself. Stop getting so worked up about it.

There it is, just straight up ahead – Professor Bakugou’s office.

Like the other offices lining the hall, it’s made from a heavy wood, a frosted window place in the top half with Professor Bakugou’s name printed on it. A simple door like this shouldn’t intimidate you so much, but yet it does. All you have to do is knock on it, wait for a possible response, and then go from there. However, now that you’re in front of it, you somewhat hope he’s not there. Your palms are growing clammy and your throat feels fuzzy.

“Here goes nothing,” you tell yourself, reaching up and rapping on the door.

For a moment, nothing happens. Perhaps Lady Luck has decided to spare some mercy on you, after all. Releasing a pent-up breath you didn’t know you were even holding, you prepare to step back and walk away, but then a muffled come in sounds through the door.

Oh, shit.

You wince as your cowardice floods you with a renewed force. There’s no way you can just leave now, not if you want Professor Bakugou potentially chasing you down. Taking in a deep breath, you turn the brass knob and poke your head inside. “Uh, Professor Bakugou?”

Oh, shit.

There he is, sitting behind an oak desk, hunched down over a stack of papers. He holds up a single finger, a signal for you to give him a moment. Immediately, your eyes skim over his exposed forearms, skim over the tight black turtleneck that fits him like a glove. Rolled sleeves, watch on wrist, and a pair of glasses perched on his nose, he’s just dripping with classy sexiness.

The steady tick tock, tick tock fills the otherwise silent room. It grates on your already wired nerves, mocks you for just standing there, waiting. You can’t help but glance at its face – 5:49. It’s already dark out, winter’s everlasting darkness sapping the Earth’s light. Stepping fully inside the room, you gently shut the door behind you, not wanting to interrupt his train of thought.

After another moment or so, he finally clicks his pen closed, tosses it onto the desk, and leans back in his chair. “Oi – what do you want?”

Removing your notebook from underneath your arm, you hold it out for him to take. “I was… I was wondering if you could explain how to work out this problem?”

Quirking an eyebrow, Professor Bakugou sits upright and glances at what you’ve written. “We discussed this during the study session on Friday.” His eyes dart up to yours. “I’m surprised you weren’t there.”

Is he singling you out right now? It feels like he’s singling you out right now. But wait, doesn’t that also mean that he noticed you not being there? He’s just saying that to say it, right? …Right?

“There was a lot on my mind,” you say softly.

Professor Bakugou sighs. “Alright, come here.” Maybe it’s the gruffness of his voice, but the simple command nearly has you whimpering on the spot. Jesus, you need to get your act together!

“Of course, sir,” you reply, the title subconsciously rolling off your tongue. Skirting around the desk, you come to his side, unaware of him shifting in his seat.

“It’s really not that hard if you put your damned brain to use,” he grunts, picking his pen back up. You notice how the tendons in his hand flex with the subtle movement; actually, now that you’re up close in personal, you can clearly see the veins racing up his forearms, the sheen of blond hairs.

Warmth seems to radiate off of him, just like how Mina said. You wonder if he gets hot easily, or if that’s just the way he is. Either way, you shimmy the slightest bit closer to him, eager to ward off the chill that still clings to you from the outside. He goes into great detail about how to go through each step surrounding the problem; you lean over his shoulder as he goes through the steps, the heat emanating from his skin drawing you in more and more. With each breath, the scent of caramel floods your senses. You’re almost half tempted to press your nose to his nape and get a better smell, but that’d just be creepy. Plus, even if you did that, Professor Bakugou could probably pick you up and literally throw you out of his office.

Still, despite knowing the risk, your mind takes off, just like it usually does whenever you’re in his presence. It would just be so easy to squeeze his thick arms, to run your fingers through his thick blonde hair. Maybe you could push the collar of his turtleneck down, expose his neck and bite the pulse. It’s almost ridiculous just how big he is, how easily he could overpower you. A familiar warmth floods your system, encasing your insides and clutching onto your heart. This is bad – very, very bad.

“Oi, what the hell are you staring at?” Professor Bakugou barks.

Snapping yourself back to attention, you notice him staring at you, his glasses now off his handsome face. If possible, he’s even more attractive up close; thick lashes, full lips, a slight gleam in his eyes that demand power and control. He almost looks entirely different like this, face lax instead of fixed with a scowl. Good lord, you really are whipped for him.

“Oh, um, sorry,” you ramble, eyes going wide. “It’s just that your hair looks really… fluffy…?”

“…Hah?”

You quickly avert your eyes. “Nevermind…”

“You know,” Professor Bakugou starts, voice low, “you stare at me a lot during class, too. You’re not very subtle.”

You wince at his words. “I… I’m not sure what you’re talking about-“

Rolling his eyes, he scoffs and tosses down his pen. “You’re not majoring in theatre, are you? Because you suck at acting.” He flashes you a cocky smirk when you look back to him. “Just admit it – you like what you see, don’t ya? Can’t say I blame you.”

Okay, wow, cocky much. Yeah, sure, he’s an absolute babe, but wouldn’t you think he’d be a bit more… modest?

Now it’s your turn to scoff. “Didn’t know my math professor thought so highly of himself.”

“Tch. Looks like you got a damn mouth on you, after all. Well, if you’re done undressing me with your eyes, do you want to learn how to do this problem or not? I don’t like repeating myself, but I’ll let it slide just this once since I like you.”

Wait, wait, hold up. Did he just say he likes you?

“You’re a good student,” Professor Bakugou continues. “Even if you do focus on me more than my lecture.”

Is this how the conversation was supposed to play out? Because damn you’re nearly shaking, and you still have your coat on. He knows too much, dammit. He’s known this entire time and he’s playing you.

“And yet you could’ve easily told me to stop,” you shoot right back, sick of being prosecuted like this. Sure, it might be a bad idea to pick a fight with a teacher, but this is outside of classroom hours; and, frankly, he can kiss your ass. Crude demeanor or not, you’re not about to let this man push you around.

“Who said I wanted you to stop?”

No. There’s no way he just said that. This big-headed narcissist is relishing in this, isn’t he? Bastard.

“Hate to break it to you, Professor, but almost everyone stares at you like that,” you tell him. You realize you just admitted it to the accusation, but there’s no point in defending it anymore.

“Like I give a shit about the others? Really? You’re gonna talk about them?” He scoffs his amusement and leans back in his chair, thick arms crossing over his chest. “Did you come here to ask me questions about the exam or did you just want to be with me all by yourself?”

You hesitate. Is that really the reason you came here tonight? The whole way here you debated this yourself, Mina’s words circling around your head. No, you’re smarter than this. It’s a bad idea to get involved with a teacher – it’s wrong.

“I’m not going to lie or deny the truth,” Professor Bakugou continues, his voice dropping to an uncharacteristically low pitch. “I’m also not stupid. You’re just as scared as me, aren’t you? Of the repercussions.”

Your mouth falls agape. What is he going on about…?

Slowly, Professor Bakugou sits back up, his face getting dangerously close to yours. Hot breath fans over the bottom half of your face. His eyes are heavily lidded, his lashes kissing his cheeks. “I’m not going to force anything on you,” he murmurs. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Oh my god.

Unable to resist the close proximity anymore, you shoot forward, your hands landing on the arms of the chair; Professor Bakugou’s lips are softer than you anticipated, but in no way is he gentle. Right away he’s clutching the back of your neck, dragging you forward so you’re settled on his lap. The arms of the chair pinch into your thighs at the tight fit, but you could care less. You’re on Professor Bakugou’s lap, you have his tongue in your mouth, his hands landing on your ass and kneading the flesh.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this forever,” he growls, his hands slipping under your shirt and gliding over your lower back. You arch into his touch, a breathless moan slipping past your lips.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you pant.

“I know.”

Fuck, it’s all so good, his tongue licking the inside of your mouth and hands unbuttoning your jeans. A startled noise erupts from your throat as a large hand slides into the front of your pants, cupping your crotch. You buck into his touch, all sense dissipating from your thoughts as you fervently grind into his heated palm. There’s a clutter of paper and office supplies as they hit the floor. Before you know it, you’re rising from the chair, your ass landing on the wooden desk instead.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot,” Professor Bakugou grits. Your ass is barely on the desk by the time he’s done dragging you forward, your jeans aggressively getting yanked off, your underwear following suit. Your thighs instinctively snap shut at the cold air making contact with your bared skin, but strong hands pry them apart, fingertips kneading into the flesh. “I wanna make you cum with my tongue.”

“Wai- Ah! Fuck!” you cry out, your fingers clutching onto the edge of the desk as his head ducks down, his mouth latching onto your sex. Until now, you weren’t even aware that you were dripping with arousal. Sinful noises spill from between your legs as Professor Bakugou fucks you with his mouth, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive parts.

“God, you’re such a slut.”

Smack.

You cry out as he brings a hand down on the innermost part of your thigh; your nerves quake, your blood pumps wildly through your veins. Again, he slaps your thigh, a growl tearing itself from his chest as he looks up, his eyes catching yours.

“Say it.”

Smack.

“I – I’m a slut,” you babble, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth.

Smack.

“What was that?”

“I said I’m a slut!” you exclaim, voice cracking.

“I expect you to refer to me properly,” he says darkly, his pupils dilating to the point where you could barely see his irises. “Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

A single smirk is thrown your way before his mouth is back on you, his tongue lapping up your arousal. His moves are quick, sensual. It’s clear he’s experienced, and you don’t blame him. Just look at him for Christ’s sake. The man is basically sex on legs, all nicely wrapped up in a turtleneck sweater and a simple pair of slacks. The pleasure only heightens as his fingers come into play, prodding at your hole; the tips just barely push past the muscle, leaving you moaning even louder and clutching harder on the desk. Your fingernails scratch the surface, the lacquer coming off.

“Tasty little brat, aren’t ya?” he drawls. Your entire body jolts as he spits on your sex. “I could get used to doing this.”

“Please, sir,” you plead, desperation filling your voice. You want his mouth back on you. You want to cum. “Please, it feels so good…”

Professor Bakugou clicks his tongue. “Shit, you’re even obedient. How nice.” He redoubles his efforts, then, wet noises filling the room along with your heavy breathing.

“Shit, shit, oh my god,” you babble, your body tensing. Still, his tongue digs in just right and there goes your sanity, flying out the window as you cum.

A deep chuckle fills your ears as Professor Bakugou sucks it down; drawing away, he flashes you his tongue, your arousal coating his tongue before he makes a show of swallowing the last bit of it. Wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand, he draws to a stand. The tent in his slacks is obvious, the front of it darker than the rest. Your insides squeeze around nothing, the idea of making him get like that making you feel hotter than before.

You’re hypnotized as he pulls his hands away. His movements are slow and methodical, the clink of his belt echoing throughout the room. Swallowing thickly, you bite your lip as he leisurely undoes his belt and slacks. Blood rushes through your ears, your mind a complete mess. You feel dizzy with want, with the need to sink your teeth into the swell of his pectoral, to claw the plains of his back.

All the air is sucked from your lungs when he finally pulls his cock out, the head flushed a deep red. Your eyes trail over the prominent veins, the fat bead of precum pushing its way out the tip. Fuck, he’s huge, both in length and girth. Whoever told Mina that he was big wasn’t lying. Your legs subconsciously spread even wider, a silent plead for him to fill you up and fuck you raw.

“Tell me you want this,” he husks. He does the honor of unzipping your coat and slipping it off your shoulders before easing you onto your back. The cold from the wood permeates through your shirt, brings a new wave of goosebumps to your flesh.

“Only if you tell me the same thing,” you croak. “Do you fuck all of your students who walk in through that door?”

“No,” Professor Bakugou blatantly says, and you can tell he’s being earnest. “It’s wrong of me to think so, but I’ve been wanting to do something with you since I saw you. It sounds like some sappy bullshit, but it’s the truth. I was too much of a pussy to ask you out for a coffee.”

Something about hearing him confess his feelings to you sets your heart alight. A slight smile tugs at your lips. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Tch. And you’re a fucking brat.”

Hunching over you, a large hand plants itself by your head while the other guides his cock to your awaiting hole. A shaky breath passes through your mouth as he pushes himself in; the stretch burns, his thick cock filling you up in a way that you didn’t even know was possible.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he breathes. “Look at you, sucking in my cock like that. What a good little slut. I bet you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? I bet you touched yourself while thinking about this very moment, about me fucking you on my desk like this.” A surprised squeak bursts from your throat as he grabs your legs and throws him over his shoulders, effectively bending you in half. “Gotta fuck you nice and deep, right? Because that’s how a slut like you likes it.”

Like this, with your knees almost touching your ears, the tip of his cock hits your soft spot. A pathetic whimper comes from you as he grinds his cock into you, his eyes carefully watching your erotic expressions, figuring out what you like best.

Before long, he’s fucking into with vigor, his hips moving restlessly. His cock pounds into you mercilessly, the slap of skin against skin mixing with your cries. His mouth is at your throat, teeth skimming your jugular before he latches onto your thundering pulse. You helplessly claw at his shoulders, your fingers bunching into the fabric of his shirt. You’re so fucking full, your velvety walls clamping around his cock selfishly. A blend of curses and yes, fuck, you fucking slut fill your ears; he’s panting hard, a slight chuckle breaking through every once in a while.

“Fucking let everyone know who’s fucking you this good,” he grits. “Jesus, look at the mess you’re making…”

“Professor Bakugou!” you whine. “Your cock feels so good… Fuck, fuck, oh my god, yes-“

“Katsuki. My name is Katsuki.”

Katuski.

The name rolls around your brain like a loose bolt. It settles on the tip of your tongue, just waiting to be let out.

It’s when you cum that you shout his name, your walls tightening around him harshly while your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders. A load groan rumbles from the depths of his chest as he follows suit shortly after, his hips moving erratically as his cum splashes against your insides.

The both of you are sweating, panting messes by the time he finally pulls out. You whimper as you clench around nothing, the emptiness a bit too much to bear. Surprisingly, Professor Bakugou – no, Katsuki – is gentle as he cleans you up, his free hand rubbing your side. Swallowing your pride, you clear your throat.

His eyes flick up, land on yours. “What.”

“Do you…” You worry your bottom lip. “Do you want to get coffee sometime?”

Katsuki snorts. “Wow, got a real fucking charmer here, don’t I? How about you come to my place instead and I make you a proper dinner. You didn’t eat yet, did you?”

As if on cue, your stomach growls. Well, you did deny Mina’s offer for dinner, after all. You smile nervously and give him a shrug.

Chest swelling (with pride, you assume), Katsuki flashes you a cocky smile. “I’m a damn good cook, brat. I’ll cook a meal that will have you weak in the knees.”

“Maybe… Maybe you could finally show me how to do that problem?” you offer.

He rolls his eyes. “Will you finally pay attention this time or will I have to pound it into your brain?”

[mypersonmyg]

sweatshirt | jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff

rating: g

wc: 1.3k

warnings: none... :D

request: @joonsrack​

summary:  Y/n has a habit of stealing her roommates clean clothes when she runs out of clean clothes herself, but one day she runs into her roommate's hot friend and he ask her, "is that my shirt?" Pick any member you think fits best 😌 (cr. @joonsrack )

a/n: my first drabble request from my very own employer! who has in fact already read and reviewed it and is also responsible for the summary; i also love her very much 2 stars :-))

“THIS IS LIKE THE ROMEO AND JULIET WHERE EVERYTHING IS MODERN BUT THEY SPEAK IN SHAKESPEAR” ~ alys 2021

[drabble masterlist]

[request a drabble]

Spontaneous hilarity is a melodious tune, slipping through canals to the cavity of a chest dampened with the floral droplets left from the pressured rain of the shower-head. Fresh linen wraps bare flesh, little shield from the gust that greets a toe into the hall, high pitch forcing forward the step of trembling limbs surrounded by the billow of dense steam. Maneuverability is habit, the peak of a head around the not so distant corner too brisk to meet eyes but not agile enough for you to miss wind completely. 

The slide of feet against hardwood pushes to the opening of your bedroom, lights strung nearly blinding with your upward gaze, dancing along skirting irises until you’ve averted to aged oak, pulling geometric framing from its integrity for cloth to cover you in modest despite the growth of fabric growling from the mouth of a closet overflowed. Even so, arms are left bear, chill raising flesh unfavorably giving rise to the free flow of muttered grouch. 

Your head is filled with the previous protests of Taehyung, his closet deemed over the limit of acceptable in the clause of your rooming condition. The stipulation is senselessly sensible, your hands klepto drawn to the hang of his thick sleeves and sweatshirts outgrowing the stretch of his own limbs. The closet, now filled with your clothes begging to be soaped, once filled with items stolen from the hangings of Taehyung’s wardrobe. 

Company is a distraction, but not enough for the creak of boards to slip your mind, strides stealthily shifting down the hall to Taehyung’s door already half yielding to the natural filter of light. Your venture is without fail, the hang of a sweatshirt shadowed in the stream from the hall, your hands snag the material, slipping it over your head, warmth engulfing with a scent familiar if not a tone off from normal. 

You note the kiss of wind clinging to the warm garment, unaware that Taehyung stepped out, but unbothered by the fact, too consumed with the heat radiating from the sleeves to your skin still aflame with bumps of chill. The carry of voices from the living room are enticing, heady dialogue routine for nights spent laying in fantastical mist just mere inches, waiting to be swallowed whole by healthy infatuation were it not for your own misgivings.

Instead of the head first dive that threatens to nudge you into the open, you find comfort in the plush of your pillows, tugging at cottony sleeves that swallow you without complaint. Voices permeate drywall, filling blank space, a certain timber grabbing you by your brain already half hazed with comfort and coaxing to premature slumber. You rest in the precipice of consciousness, eyes slated to close, your mind roaming and aware though not enough to grasp the coherency of voices just beyond the door. 

It’s the distant thud of the front door that pulls you forth, shoulders jolting under the stress of disturbance. You’re fatigued, irritation clogging your brain at both the unplanned period of rest and unceremonious awakening so thoughtlessly bestowed. It’s shoved to wayside when your stomach shifts, lack of contents unforgiving with an embarrassed rumble of anger. You chance the trek to the kitchen, volume died down and the slam of the door indicative of a recent departure.

 In your earlier haste the design of the sweatshirt you dawned was lost, though now the maroon aglets that dangle in your peripheral with each swing of your limbs draws your eye. You halt, mid-stride, feet dragging against the span of carpet shield your feet from the cold of the wood flooring. 

Like the click of your mental, the door swings back on its hinges Jeongguk in toe, his gaze locked on his phone, limbs hastily dragging him in your direction. The scent that still filters in and out of your nostrils is now all too familiar, recollection clawing at an earlier conversation with the not so inconspicuous apple of your eye. 

You’re stilled until he threatens to knock you where you stand, audible gasp drawing his attention, his hand shooting in haste, steadying your frame at the waist. 

“Sorry! I was far too distracted by my phone,” He’s sheepish, device flashing in his palm in rapid succession. “I’m sure you know better than most how impatient our friend is.”

“That I do,” You feel awkward with the few words, laughter falling in short gasps. 

“I don’t mean to barge in, I just…”He fades, breathing you in and out in kind, flustered but not as shy as his usual darkened cheeks let on. “...forgot my sweatshirt. That one actually.” 

Your fingers trace the raised hem of your borrowed garment, toying with the idea of its removal, jaded only by the feelings set aflutter in the cage shielding your blood-pumping organ. Like an extra layer, his stare covers you in heady warmth, his lips quirking, head tilting in the way you’ve always been taken with. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I thought it was Tae’s which is really no excuse because he definitely hates when I steal his stuff. If it makes any difference I noticed it smells different, now I know it’s the fabric softener you said you like and maybe I like it too because—” 

“Y/n—”

“Sorry, I’m rambling, I’ll just give this back before Tae bites your head off—”

“Y/n.” Your hands are halted by Jeongguk’s gentle grasp to your wrists, fingers already clutching either side of the sweatshirt. You manage an upward glance, his eyes locked, pupils dazed with amusement. “It’s fine, really.” 

“Oh, but you’re going out and it’s  probably chilly.” 

“I’ll just borrow one of Taehyung’s, no big deal.” 

Your brows knit, Jeongguk’s grip loosening with the gentle tug of your arms to your side. “Well that would be a little counterproductive, wouldn’t it? I could just give yours back and I could just borrow one of Tae’s.”

“Well sure,” Jeongguk counters, lip twitching, feet shifting. You wait for him to continue, the words seeming to halt in his throat, cheeks stretching from the strain of muscles in attempt to exercise the correct verbiage. A fragile process, silence filled only with the low hum he emits, ears darkening with each passing phrase. “But! He’ll be pissed at you for borrowing his clothes and he’ll be totally fine if I do it. Besides, this looks good on you.” 

“Relax, it’s just a sweatshirt.” You feign, flustered by the words oozing affection. 

“Yeah, but it’s my sweatshirt. I think I look good on you.” You can’t muster an utterance of coherency, jaw unhinged whilst Jeongguk traverses to Taehyung’s room, resurfaced moments later with arms wrapped in a crew Taehyung often sports. He’s smug, though you still see the tint of his cheeks, confidence not entirely free of the shy boy you’ve come to adore. “I guess I should get going.” 

“Yeah, don’t want Tae coming up here and yelling at both of us.” 

Jeongguk makes it to the door, hand grasping the cool of the handle, head tilting once more in your direction. “I hear you’re famous for stealing people’s clothes, but I think I’m gonna need that back.” 

“Oh, yeah I’ll make sure to get it to you!” Your momentarily pulled from the moment of unbridled bliss, cursing Taehyung for outting you whilst holding the knowledge of the feelings decorating your sleeve in bulbs and blossoms. 

“How about you bring it to my place...Saturday?” 

“Oh, sure, is there a time that works best for you?” 

“How about sometime in the evening...seven thirty. Make sure to clear your schedule though, it might take a while.” Your idle mind is too busy catching up to the words free flowing, no room left for questions when Jeongguk is already closing the door in his stead. The smile decorating your lips is enough indication that his motivation is clear enough and you’ve got a date with the boy you love, his sweatshirt wrapping you in warmth and the guise of fresh fabric all the clarification you need. 

[tothemeadow]

Commissioned by @azurenocturne​

Douma x Reader

- After your friend disappears while investigating the Eternal Paradise, you decide to follow after her. Little do you know, but the leader of the cult, Upper Moon Two, is as beautiful as he is conniving... - 

warnings: mentions of death, blood, and gore

words: 2.1k

-

Birds of a feather flock together, but not this time. She’s walking on an unfolded road in a distant dream, long gone, almost forgotten. Sometimes, her laughter rings in your ears. Sometimes, when you close your eyes, you can see that very day, cloaked with white and the chill of winter.

It’s because of her that you’re the person you are today.

Seasons have passed, as have many moons; day by day, you wait for your crow to bring you an ounce of good news, but to no avail. Months have gone by, and yet your friend has still not uttered a single word.

You’re confident in her skills, of course. She’s a tough fighter, practically too stubborn to die, but paranoia follows you around, wraps around you tightly during the night’s long hours. You figure it must be because of the façade she must put up – to be captured means death.

The lead she told you about was strong, and she was more than determined to follow it to its ends and meet the leader for herself. The Eternal Paradise, as she explained, where Upper Moon Two leads blind followers to their deaths. It’s disgusting, isn’t it?

From your understanding, some demon sat on a pile of corpses and bones with an entourage of mindless sheep waiting for slaughter. It is disgusting, down to the tiniest detail. You encouraged your friend to take down such a damned blood-thirsty creature, but you sent her off with plenty of warnings in your stead. If anything looked to shady or dangerous to deal with, you begged her to make her return home. She didn’t deserve to die in a place like that, not to people like those.

You wish you were naïve. You wish you could tell yourself that it would be okay, that your friend will come back to you safe and sound someday, but that’s not the case. Your gut told you otherwise, warned you of the truth. She was in danger and needed help, whether she liked it or not. You had to follow down that same road, seemingly disappear and become one with this so-called “organization.”

She was going to come home.

-

“You’ll like it here, sister,” Hanako says, voice devoid of all emotion. Hanako was appointed as your ”guide,” told to show you around the mansion, provide the ins and outs of how the cult worked. Unlike the others straggling in the halls, her expression is plain and lifeless. With hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes, you wondered what hell she must’ve been through to find herself living in the halls of the Eternal Paradise.

As you pass the others, they turn to you with way too pleasant smiles, their eyes squinting to the point where it looks painful. There’s no way that they’re that happy to be here, right…? Surely, they’d have to notice how some of their fellow followers randomly disappear from time to time. It’s possible that their demon leader manipulates them to forget, or straight out threatens them to keep silent…

“You’ll be staying in here,” Hanako says, coming to an abrupt stop in front of a room. The room itself is on the smaller side, nearly devoid of any furniture besides a rolled-up futon sitting to the side. “This is where I reside,” Hanako continues. “There used to be another, but then they decided to leave.” Stepping inside, Hanako unceremoniously drops the spare futon and pillow she was holding onto the floor.        

The hairs on the back of your neck stand straight at her ominous words. “Uh, what do you mean, they left? I thought anybody who became part of the… Eternal Paradise would never want to leave?” Saying the words leaves a nasty taste in your mouth; you’re a slayer, for gods’ sakes. You shouldn’t even be here, but you’re determined to find your friend. It’s partially your fault that she came here all by herself; you should’ve tagged along, made sure she wasn’t alone when going up against a cult.

Hanako blinks at you, her eyes a cold, empty shell. “They died.”

What?

“Everyone lives, everyone dies. That’s life, after all,” Hanako says. “They left before they passed. To die in this sacred place… It’s repulsive. Our lord doesn’t deserve such disrespect. Imagine if I woke up to a corpse and had to tell our lord? He’d punish me for not dealing with it.”

Swallowing thickly, you turn away. If Hanako was afraid of telling the demon that somebody died – that in itself raises an alarm, jeez – then what were they even like? Cruel and ruthless, obviously; why so followers, then? Don’t they know who they’re even dealing with?

“Hmmm, I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” a new voice says.

Hanako squeaks, then, whirling around to the door and snapping over in a deep bow. “Fool,” she hisses at you, “what do you think you’re doing? Show some respect!”

Glancing towards the door, your entire mouth goes dry in an instant. A large, muscular man almost completely fills the doorway, his wide shoulders nearly spanning the entire length of the opening. He’s beautiful, simply put; birch hair, multicolored eyes, a face carved by the gods. The man’s entire being oozes with power and intensity, yet his enticing scent is tinged with blood. So, this is the leader, Upper Moon Two, it seems. After another moment’s hesitation, you follow after Hanako and bend at the waist.

“Forgive me, my lord,” Hanako stammers. Rather than her monotonous tone before, she addresses her leader with the outmost respect. “The newcomer obviously needs to learn the proper mannerisms.”

The demon giggles. Shivers run down your spine; he isn’t like any other demon you’ve encountered, not by a longshot. The room becomes even more cramped as he steps in, his large body mere steps away from you. “Stand, my darlings,” he purrs.

Hanako shoots upright, her usual blank expression twisted into a pleased grin. Wringing her hands before her, she rocks back and forth on her heels, seemingly having a bit of trouble holding back her excitement. Like her, you stand straight, but you take the chance to truly analyze the man before you.

True, while he is one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen, you’re all too aware of what he really is, what he really does. Cocking his head, his long hair sweeps over his shoulder, frames his attractive face. He flashes you a knowing smile. Heart dropping to your stomach, you wonder if he knows who you are, just like you know who he is.    

“I don’t think that will be much of an issue,” he continues. Offering his hand to you, he silently urges you to take it. “Welcome to the Eternal Paradise,” he purrs, “My name is Douma.”

-

You’re a fool. A total, complete fool.

How… how could you be so stupid? After all this time, after all the effort into finding your friend… You should have never come. That bastard stole your heart even though you knew it was wrong, terribly so, and yet you did it anyway. Despite knowing Douma is a demon and that he kills people for the fun of it, you fell for him. Hell, you should slit your own stomach for pulling such a move.

He played you this entire time, pulling at your heartstrings and treating you with utmost kindness. You let love get in the way of your mission, cloud your thoughts; for a short while, you believed that maybe things would turn out okay, that you would somehow have a happy ending to the story you call life.

But no, that isn’t how things work. Karma, that bloodthirsty queen, always gets what she wants.

You’re not sure what’s worse – the slurping of blood or the smell of it. No, scratch that; it’s the look in Douma’s eyes, the surge of power and unadulterated hunger. Violent rivers stream from your eyes, ungracefully drip from your chin and onto the wooden planks below. That’s your friend he’s eating, her blood that he drinks.    

“I’ve always preferred female flesh, female blood…” Douma begins, tongue flicking out over his lips. His fangs gleam ruby as he flashes you a smile. “They’re so sweet, so wonderfully soft… How do you do it, love? How is your kind so delicious?”

“Don’t you dare call me that!” you growl. “You don’t have the bloody right to.”

Placing a bloody hand to his chest, Douma has the audacity to look offended. “That’s not what you said last night.” The corners of his mouth curl salaciously, a dark giggle spilling from his lips. “If I recall correctly, you were begging for more, my little slayer.”

That makes it even worse. Cursing yourself internally, your grip on your blade tightens. There’s no point in trying to hide it anymore; Douma knew exactly who you were from the get-go. Both yours and your friend’s missions were complete and utter failures. You’ve entered a damned slaughterhouse, for gods’ sakes. You should’ve seen this coming, but your feelings got in the way.

“You never loved me, you twat,” you spit.

Douma cocks his head, drops your friend’s severed hand. “No, no, no,” he begins, drawing himself to his monstrous height, “that’s where you’re wrong. The truth is, well, I’ve never loved anyone!” He breaks into a malicious cackle, then, his whole face twisting with mirth. “And to think you fell in love with me! I’ll admit, I liked you better than the others, but loved? Don’t flatter yourself, dear. Nobody could ever love you, especially not me.”

“I’ll pin your fucking head to a spike and watch you burn.”

Through your torrent of tears, you spring at him, an animalistic growl ripping itself from your throat. Despite the grotesque, bloodcurdling rage surging through your veins, you have to remind yourself to breathe. People used to tell you all the time that you’re worthless, weak, and that you should give up on becoming a proper slayer. At the time, you’ve become so angry that they were right; being a Breath of Water user, you could never get the technique correct. You envied others (mostly Tomioka Giyuu, the Water Pillar) for their abilities.

If it weren’t for your friend taking you to that viewing on that magical winter’s day, you would have never grown. No, you weren’t a Breath of Water user anymore; you honed your skills into something new, something wonderful. Breath of Ice is something to behold in itself, albeit relatively new. You’re proud of your graceful, fluid movements, but that nagging voice in the back of your head tells you that it’s pointless, just like what everyone else said before.

You didn’t want to do this, swirling around in a furious blizzard of snow and ice, floating and skirting around your friend’s remains. Douma follows through with each attack, nimbly dodging your blade, your range of attacks. In time, your body is covering with miniscule cuts, barely thicker than a hair, but the sheer amount of blood pouring from them is obscure. How much you’ve lost, you don’t know, but seeing crimson decorate the floor and Douma’s metallic fans tells more than you want to know.

It’s no good; he’s too strong, too fast, and he seems to know every single move you plan to make. Your face is wet with blood and tears, your vision blurring, snot running from your nose. A punched-out groan bursts from your chest as you’re knocked to the side, back colliding with the wall. You collapse to the ground with an unceremonious thump.

Gasping for breath, you scramble for your blade, fingernails digging into the wood in your desperation. A foot comes down on your hand, then, making you cry out in pain.

“I really thought you’d put up more of a fight,” Douma sneers. Dropping to his knee, he leans down over you, his hair curtaining his face. “Trying to take on an Upper Moon with an underdeveloped breathing technique… You’re so stupid!” With another cackle, he presses the tip of a fan to your throat. “You came all this way to save your little friend, and now look where you are! She’s dead! Funny how that works…”

“I’ll kill you, you lying bastard,” you wheeze.

“Love, you aren’t really in the position to say such things,” Douma says, his voice suddenly turning softer. It’s the same tone he used during the lovelier moments, the moments where he held you close and stroked your naked body. “I’ll let you stay with me forever, though. You’d make such a great decoration!”

“Douma, no-“

Splat.

[shaheenarnitipsyart]

Whirling Birds

This is the 10th time (what, seriously!?) joining @flashfictionfridayofficial​ ! Thank you again for the creative theme! This story might be a bit difficult to understand so here is the context. Two characters met in the past, then they meet again in the present. It’s a sort of reincarnation story basically, and it sets in Camden Market in London, the place I love. And I just want to say big thanks to FFF team and those who have read my stories. it means a lot to me! Hope you enjoy. 

Word Count: 1019

T/W: nightmare, flashback 

Ray (He/Him): warrior (past), student & part-time worker at bakery (present)

Hrafn(They/Them): mage (past), kid in early teenage (present)

This nightmare again... Ray woke up in tears in the middle of the night. Despite the chilly autumn air slipping into the bedroom, he was sweating heavily from head to toe. He tried to take a deep breath and calm himself down. He looked at his arms and hands carefully. No wound, no cut, just smooth as always. Usually, the beginning of the nightmare faded away as he woke up. But he remembered the very last part vividly.

In the dream, he was equipped with heavy armour and carrying an empty scabbard. His chainmail was torn apart, and he could see the blood-stained sleeves of the tunic. He was on his knees, unable to move at all. His own body felt so heavy and alien to him. The world flared up, and the roaring wind deafened his ears. Among the fire and turbulence, he could hear screams and battle cries. The end is near, he thought. The end of what, though? His own life, or the world itself? He didn't care about it anymore. His mind was about to go blank. Then something fell on him at lightning speed. At first, he thought it was a shower of black arrows. He shut his eyes firmly. However, the stinging pain he expected never came. Instead, something like mist embraced him tenderly. He could feel that all of his wounds were healing by the soft touch of feathers. Feathers? What!? He opened his eyes in surprise and found a pale face with shining dark eyes just a few inches away from his own. That person's raven-black hair was blowing in the hot gust. They reached out to him and shielded him from the heat and blast with their thick black mantle. 'It's alright, hold on to me close.' They whispered. Their voice was so subtle, yet it echoed like a choir's hymns in Ray's head. He leaned forward and grabbed the wings, which were a mantle a moment ago. The pale face smiled gently. Oh, why your smile made me so sad? Oh no, no, I know what is going to happen. I must not let my hands go, I MUST NOT! Not this time! His chest felt so tight, and tears started rolling down his dusty face. But the winged person broke the eye contact and looked up. Then they uttered some words he could not understand. A sudden strong blast nearly blew him away, but he clung to the person with all his strength left in him. Then calmness washed over him. He slowly opened his eyes again. The fierce fire was all gone, so was the burning heat. He was in the middle of the whirling dark feathers - the eye of the black cyclone, where everything was unbelievably quiet and still. And he looked at a beautiful, yet fragile smile slowly collapsed in the air.   No, no, no!! As the wind calmed down, the face completely faded away. Ray could hear his fellow warriors approaching in haste, shouting in joy. 'Everything was restored! Even the burnt forest! And look my wounds, it completely healed!' 'Mine, too! Oh my, my lost horse is coming back to me!' But Ray could not stand up. He knew that winged person saved him, and cleansed the blood-soaked battlefield by using their own source of life. He just knew it.

Ray made a cup of coffee and grabbed his longboard. Skateboarding was the best way to reset his tangled mind. 'Ok, I still got half an hour till I gotta head out to work. All good!' The sky was clear, and the rising sun was turning the horizon gold. Ray worked at a local bakery, so he had to get up very early sometimes. But that meant he could finish work in the early afternoon. A visit to the nearby street market after work was one of his favourite things to do. He loved the hustle and bustle of the street market and the smell of exotic street foods. 'But I guess I'm gonna go to the canal today.' He murmured to himself. There was a charming canal running through the market area, and there were many colourful canal boats moored alongside the waterfront walk. After work, he walked down the path leading to the canal with his longboard in one arm and a bag of freshly baked bread in the other.   And then, he saw a strange graffiti on the brick wall by the canal. It was a chalk art of hundreds of whirling birds. As he traced the silhouette of the birds with his eyes, he reached a skinny figure at the edge of the brick wall. A boy, or a girl, he couldn't tell. But their raven black hair looked somewhat familiar. Without realising, he approached the young artist who was mindlessly standing in front of their drawing. 'Hey, you got such a talent! This graffiti is amazing. You drew it all by yourself?'   They looked at him, totally caught off guard. They widened their eyes. Whoa, what beautiful eyes this kid has! But their eyes give an impression that they belong to a much older person for some reason... He thought. But before the raven-haired kid answered, some cyclists shouted at them from behind. 'Oy! Watch out, get out of our way!' Ray managed to catch the raven-haired kid in his arms and jumped aside, narrowly avoiding the passing cyclists. Both of them fell to the ground.   'Geez, damn rude cyclists! Did you get hurt? Are you OK?' Ray looked at the pale face, just a few inches away from his own. Their eyes met. He felt like being hit by a thunderbolt. He pulled them closer as if they might vanish otherwise.   'Have we met before...?' Then Ray realised how silly it sounded. But the raven-haired kid gently smiled in return. 'I can smell something nice!' They suddenly said as they hopped up. 'Oh, yes! That's my lunch. Hey, why don't you have some freshly baked baguettes? It's my treat!' Ray asked, and the kid smiled again. Hand in hand, they started walking towards the bright side.

[anna-pixie]

Hey how are you? Can you do a fluffy one about cult kai admitting his feelings to the reader

sooo... this is not fluffy at all like you asked i’m sorry 😭 i tried but i really couldn’t imagine kai being fluffy... so i tried to show kai admitting his feelings in a very kai way, i hope it’s okay!!

*

request: cult kai admitting his feelings to the reader

pairings: kai anderson x reader

warnings: swearing, slight violence, slight mention of sex, cults

*

You shift nervously as Kai lifts his pinky finger towards you, trying to avert your gaze as you think of an excuse that can get you out of this.

You know he’s been suspicious lately, because, frankly, you’ve been acting suspiciously. He probably thinks you’re having second thoughts about your mission. You’re not, you never would. But you have been thinking lately, pondering whether you would be happier if you left. Not because you don’t believe in the group, but because of the way your skin crawls everytime Kai even smiles at another girl in the group.

You’re not usually the jealous type, but this is Kai we’re talking about. You fell in love with him the second you saw him, and he had you under his spell and in his control within weeks of meeting you. Granted, you were submissive by nature. I guess you could say your whole being was an insult to feminism, but you just needed someone to lead you in life. Kai was your person.

Turns out he was Meadow’s person too. And Beverly’s person. And Ivy’s person. You’d been shocked at that last one, you thought she was a lesbian. He wasn’t shy about the fact that he had sex with all of the women in the cult, it was like a badge of honour to him. No one else was allowed to have sex, but he could go from woman to woman like it was nobodys business.

The first time you heard him was about 2 weeks after you had officially joined the cult, you stopped by after work as per Kai’s request. You had a key made so you had let yourself in easily, confused when you didn’t find Kai in the basement. But then you did find him, on the floor of the storage closet, with his dick inside Meadow.

You never realised that heartbreak was literal, but you swore in that moment, you felt a piece of your heart chip away. So you started to withdraw, it was too painful to be around them all the time. Even more so when you realised it wasn’t just meadow he was fucking.

You sigh, reluctantly linking your pinky with his. You can’t say no to him.

“Complete, total truth.” Kai’s voice is deep, intimidating. He’s ready to extract information from you.

“Complete, total truth.” You parrot, your voice soft as you prepare for the inevitable.

“I’m not happy with you, Y/N.” He starts, your shoulders drooping at his tone of utter disappointment, “I’m not an idiot. I’m observant. I notice things. And I’ve noticed that you don’t give a single fuck about our mission.” His voice is venomous, each word slicing through you like a specially sharpened knife, “I’m giving you one chance to tell me what is going on. I want my sweet girl back. Are you still my sweet girl, Y/N?”

Your eyes well up, but you can’t bring yourself to avoid his gaze, “I am, supreme leader, I- I am.”

“This is our time, baby, call me Kai.”

You let out a breath and realise that it’s now or never.

“I- I can’t stand here every day and smile, when I know that I’m always going to love you more than I can handle and you’re never going to be able to give it back to me. I-” You choke on a sob as your words get lost, trying to pull your pinky back. Kai tightens his grip around your finger, not letting you pull away.

“Keep. Talking.”

“I saw… saw you with Meadow. And I know you do the same with Beverley, Ivy, all of them. It hurts, everytime you look at them, smile at them, talk to them.” Your voice rises, you’re borderline hysterical now, “I want you, I want to love you, and be with you, and have you. But I can’t share you. I know I’m selfish, and if you want to kick me out that’s okay. I understand.”

You don’t know what you expect from Kai. Screaming? Yelling? Cursing?

But he laughs, a head back, proper belly laugh. Your brows furrow and you watch him carefully, wincing as his finger tightens painfully around yours. Is he having another one of his episodes?

He stops laughing suddenly, releasing your finger which is now a deep red. He beckons you over to him, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms behind his head. You stand up, legs shaky as you walk slowly towards him. He pounces as soon as you’re in arms reach, grabbing you and slamming you back against the table. You wince as the wood digs into your lower back, but you can’t move, Kai’s arms are on either side of you, caging you in.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” He sighs, looking at me like I’m a puppy that has just been kicked. He grabs my chin and tips it up so my lips are hovering near his, “I don’t feel things, the way you do. I like sex, so I have sex. I don’t love, I don’t think I can love. But, the way I feel towards you, I think that’s the closest I’ll ever get to love.”

Your breath stills as you try to process what is going on. He’s joking right? He’s going to make you think it’s real and then laugh in your face when you believe him. He did that the other week, when he did a faux-Jim Jones and made you all drink ‘poisoned’ flavour-aid. But the way he says this, something about his tone, the way he’s looking at you. It’s real, raw, you’ve never seen this side of him before.

“I-I… don’t know what to say.” Your brain is blank, failing to come up with any sort of statement.

“Don’t say anything. Words ruin everything.” His voice is low and he grips your chin once more, pulling your lips up to meet his.

The kiss is just so… so Kai. It is messy, teeth clashing, blood drawing. But it’s also soft, because it’s the most meaningful kiss the two of you have ever experienced. He groans into your mouth, repeating the words ‘my sweet girl’ over and over as he slips his tongue between your lips.

He fucks you, more passionately than the others, with more care than the others. There is a delicious contrast between pain and care, he apologised when he accidentally bumped your head with his, yet he marked your skin and choked you with no second thoughts.

You were surprised when he pulled out his favourite knife, carving a bloody heart just above your collarbone, and you smiled.

That was his way of saying ‘I love you.’

[jackbabewang]

Head over heels

Genre: Another nose bleeding ceo Jae, Fluff, Mature content

Word count: 5,818

Currently, in your mid-20s, studied for a degree in Administrative Assistant at a four-year college and working as a secretary in a major corporation. You have a good salary and excellent benefits, earning enough to rent an apartment of your own, but your workload may be more than you can realistically handle and no matter how motivated you are, it will be beyond the realms of human possibility. 

Working with your superior, Jung Jaehyun, is more like a profession. There is always a sense of moral obligation to do more than the minimum laid down in the job description when the man himself works like a monster. You were prepared for the immense sacrifice as well had you accepted the offer. It was agreed. 

With great reluctance, you have grown one hell of an addiction to caffeine, which is clear when you go without it for even one morning, like today. You feel foggy and crabby. None of the words seems to penetrate beyond your mind of half-conscious blank. The pen that is unfailingly in your hand, starting to draw elaborate doodles on a clean page in the notebook which is largely useless at this point.  

Surprisingly, Jaehyun is not listening to the presenter as well. He has crossed and uncrossed his legs six times, peeked out the window eight times. His fingers plow through his hair, messing up the always-neat style he has probably struggled half the morning to achieve. The generality however appears to be interested in the object of the meeting, behaving orderly and attentive. Their intention is, of course, to impress their boss. However the man is probably scoffing inwardly at their obvious acts. 

He is looking around, when out of the corner of his eye he caught movement. The strain on your face, your lips pressed tightly together, your body slumped almost sliding off the chair, as if your backbone has been pulled out through the top of your head. Amused, he brings his attention to what exactly you are struggling with and he sees your right foot: bared. Stretching on your toes, you try to snag your lone shoe but it is an inch out of your reach. And inside, you curse yourself to lose that annoying habit of swinging your feet. 

He watches a moment more then drops his pen, letting it roll over. He bends and pretends to pick it up, catching you off guard as he picks up your shoe instead and holds it so you can slide your foot into it. You cannot quite comprehend of his gesture, and try not to think about it—even when his hand, lightly touching your ankle in turn, sent coils of heat twirling all the way up your leg and through your whole body. Nothing comparable to this has ever occurred which requires direct bodily contact with your boss, to be exact. You slightly choke on your own saliva, but refuse to look at him in the face, visibly embarrassed. In the meanwhile, Jaehyun glances at you the oftener, thus noticing your reaction of an interesting one. 

Weeks have gone by, you never spoke of the incident, and he never brings up the subject either as though nothing ever happened, despite the tension that is sometimes evident in the way he watches you like he demands a “thank you” after the act and thinking you are a woman so ignorant, unmannered and … immodest. That thought troubles you more than the other, though.

Troubles always, somehow, never come to an end, never reach exhaustion; they are new every morning, one woman in particular is trouble herself—Park Sooyoung, the embodiment of your day-to-day horror. You have to admit, from head to toe, she is more beautiful than any female, including yourself in this workplace. She is gorgeous with a perfect figure and has all the attention of the men here, except for the one enclosed behind glass doors on the 45th floor. Mr. Jung, Jaehyun, is eye-candy extraordinaire. Or ‘sex on a stick’, which you overheard her conversation that day in the pantry.

The employee manual says, “Keep the dating scenes away”, as it is most likely to ruin the workplace or kill your career. She interpreted otherwise, eagerly looking for her dear ones. You do not understand her, her constant attendance at Jaehyun's office with a stack of papers which she claimed as her legitimate reason to meet the CEO. And every damn time, exercising intense self-control, you refrain yourself from laughing seeing her walk out a minute after with her ‘documents’ left untouched, indubitably not a single glance from the man. 

Then you know you might be in trouble when the buzzer system, a companion to the intercom, alerts you with two buzzes to indicate that you are to come into Jaehyun’s office. Knocking twice as a courtesy and you enter after hearing his bid and shutting the door behind. You utter no word, make no sound as you cross the thick carpet. You know the instant you set foot in there is something about the air that gives you a bad feeling. The familiar prickle ripples over your scalp and spreads down your neck and shoulders. You gulp. 

He stops, looks up, then back to the chaos on his desk. “Could’ve stopped her…” Phew!

“Yes, Mr. Jung. I should. Next time.” Your sentence breaks into phrase, phrase separates into words, you speak out like a robot, totally expressionless. 

“No more next time, please.” He has never used the word before, rarely hear it from his lips, which sounds like an exasperating term because it shows the helplessness in him. “And put this away,” he orders, without lifting his head. 

The bittersweet fragrance of coffee curls enticingly around your nose, the porcelain filled and still warm in your hand, whereas he has not even touched the beverage. Sooyoung needs to step up her game if she is ever so determined to get into his pants. Brown is the colour of the milky coffee that Jaehyun absolutely dislikes. He has them dark brew, no milk, no sugar, no creamer. You have tried it once and it tastes bad, it tastes awful as its poisonous-looking black. You switch the flat-out rejected beverage for the one to his liking and not so long after he finished with nothing left in the bottom of the cup. 

He works all day, and you work all day. As the saying goes, “A good boss does not leave until after his last employee does.” But if it is the other way round, does that make you a good employee? Totally. The corporation has an extra busy month with the expansion to take all the business it can get. To demonstrate how busy it is, longer hours of work on the same day has been introduced. Even on a Sunday, you are with your friends having brunch when you receive a call to work where your boss has clearly heard the munching of food and clanking of silverware against China over the line. How sucks it is even when you have not drive today and given ten minutes to be there, you have to pay the additional for cab fare. 

Inside, Jaehyun is leaning over his laptop and typing furiously. His fingers are almost a blur over that keyboard. 

“Sorry, Mr. Jung. I’m—” you glance at your wristwatch, holding the tiny face of it between the fingers of your right hand and squinting, “—six minutes late. I was caught in a traffic jam.” 

“It’s fine. Come sit.” 

You do what he asks. You peek over his shoulder and see a screen full of words, you peer harder at the teeny-tiny letters and it takes a fraction of a second to realize he is doing your portion of work. Almost immediately you interrupt him, almost instantly you regret your harsh manner when he turns to you with eyes filling with confusion before his brows knit themselves together in concern. 

“Move over,” his fingers wrap around your wrists, pulling your hands away from which you have shielded the brightness of the display. 

“No, that’s my work. I should be responsible for it.” 

“I don’t have time for this,” he warns. 

You grumble right back, “Just this one, alright? And I’ll do the rest.” 

“If you’re feeling sorry then stay until I leave.” Oh so easily he is keeping you captive, simply taking advantage of his position because he knows that he can. And of course, you will. 

There is the occasional tap tap on a keyboard, turning of pages, then comes the restlessness where conversations are strained or non-existent. As you let the spin of the swivel chair stops on its own, it yields to face the spectacular turquoise tank behind the ornate desk where Jaehyun is sitting at. There swims a three foot long koi which his father bought for 1.4 million after a fierce bidding war at a fish farm in the city of Hiroshima. The bare tank with no gravel or decorations is built into the wall covered with white marble; its simplicity yet luxurious touching makes it a convincingly beautiful moving portrait. Staring at it for the rest of the afternoon, or a probable evening, is enough to elevate your somber mood. 

“Mr. Jung—”

“Jaehyun,” he corrects. He has previously asked you to dispense with the “mister” treatment when you and him are alone in the office but you cannot drop the formality just because he said so. You have to maintain the dignity of his position and allegedly emphasize an atmosphere of collegiality. 

Suddenly you are eager to initiate a conversation, “I like your fish tank. Salt water?” 

“Fresh actually.” Right there. He is giving you the look again. “It’s a carp.” 

“I know I sounded dumb… You don’t have to make it so obvious…” you mumble under your breath, but he heard you nonetheless.

The sky has sunk nearer to the horizon and everything is deep red. Your Sunday is like an ordinary weekday and ordinary rounds of filing, opening and sorting the mail, verifying facts and assembling data—which you have gotten everything complete by now. However the workaholic’s compulsive ass stay rooted to his leather seat, as if he is growing right into it. Only when you call out to him for food does he excused himself from the havoc on his desk, reluctantly. It fascinates you most of the time how he actually listens to you when it comes to reminding him to drink, to eat, and never not to eat, because he always, always got carried away and forego meals. At some point, you are like his mother for real and feel an obligation to take care of him his health; while it only increases his dependency on you. Pretty sure you can accurately state his likes and dislikes with the certainty that you understand him better than he understands himself. 

Two years of working with Jaehyun, you have never once put your foot in his pantry and you assume he never does too. It fills with the distinctive smell of those new things untouched by humans; pristine white cabinets reach to the floor and ceiling, bisected by a tasteful granite countertop and subway tile backsplash. The warm glow from the overhead lights giving the place a cozy, homey feel (and hiding layers of dust). Rather, you will work in here instead of facing the boring office neutrals 24/7. 

You eyed him as he slurps his bowl of jajangmyeon and chomping down the strands of noodles with his front teeth. He resembles a rabbit eating like that but in all honesty you are hyper aware of the black sauce being splattered on his white shirt. 

Or what he thinks about the food, “Do you like it?” 

He ponders momentarily before answering, “This thing is unhealthy.” 

Well, you are unhealthy for your unhealthy eating habits! 

Jung Jaehyun, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, is made for fine dining and ridiculously expensive food anyway. What will he even see in these cheap Chinese food?

“How about this— Try this—” Fried dumplings dipped into the red sauce of tteokbokki topped with a piece of kimchi. You pick up the salivating fusion with your chopsticks, before you know it, he leans forward and captures the heaping amount in a huge mouthful. It then follows by approving nods and satisfied hums, all the while your mind comes into play. Purposefully, you ignore the jolt of awareness, even though it twists you up like a pretzel. 

“What’s the matter?” he asks. “Do I make you nervous?” 

The hell is he talking about. His speech is all but business-like and you are internally freaking out at this cheeky side of your boss. 

“N-No…”

“I think I make you nervous.” 

“You don’t make me nervous,” you reiterate. Collecting yourself, you pick up overlapping circles of sliced radish and pop them into your mouth only to feel the choking burn of vinegar at the back of your throat. 

“Why do you shy away every time our shoulders brush?” 

“I don’t like being crowded.”

“You didn’t seem to mind so much before.”

“That was different.” 

“What was different?” He wears an open grin of amusement, enjoying every second of your embarrassment. 

As you continue to stuff your face, you glance over at him, and caught him staring at you. You look away for a moment, then look at him again. “What are you looking at?” you ask through gritted teeth. 

“I didn’t mean to,” he says. “It’s just that, I’ve never seen you dressed in casual clothes.” 

You are always in a buttoned-up white blouse, black pencil skirt and matching fitted blazer. “Right, and I get tired of wearing the same thing all the time.” 

While he has always dressed in fine shoes and classy suits, you have never before, indeed, seen him like this either—oversized cotton-poplin shirt and black ankle pants. Though someone else may look like a baggy, slouchy mess in the outfit, he looks like a whole meal. This Jaehyun radiates comfort and soothing kindness that for a minute you have forgotten about him being your boss. 

“Well, you don’t look so bad yourself.” You tell him and he grins in that lopsided way.

Yet a man has his pride. So you add, “Ugly as ever.” The comment itself is certainly a rude way to speak to your boss and instantly you regret it, but he does not seem bothered anyway.

“I may be ugly, but I’m still better looking than you,” for which he retorts quickly. “Say. Why don’t we skip work tomorrow?” 

You blink, taken aback by his idea, but in truth you desperately want to stay home and shed your responsibilities and act as lifeless and unrestrained. “We can’t skip work.”

“C’mon,” he whines, “I know you’re fucking tired of this shit.” 

Though once again taken aback by his unusual words and speech patterns—which you can only assume the filters of polite society is not working when he is overtired—his facial expression implies reference to something else. But why the teasing tone?

Then it hits you. Your Twitter account, where you have been very active the last few weeks, as a platform to express your thoughts and emotions on working tons of overtime. Your rants are so insane that it is as if someone has pixelated your brain. The ungenerous, unladylike words blurted you regret them. 

“You stalked me!” 

“It’s not my fault that your profile is public.” 

“Why would you even search my profile?”

“Just checking out what my employees been up to.” 

He speaks about it so nonchalantly. You almost roared at him.

“There’s a meeting tomorrow morning with Mr. Kee,” you remind.

He groans only at the utterance of the name of the presenter. Recalling what has occurred in the last conference, he resents waking up early to another yawning dullness, however he chuckles at the reminder of the little interaction between you and him. That brings a pleasant recollection and something to look forward to. Under the table, maybe games of tic-tac-toe, dots and boxes, or maybe, just maybe he can play with your fingers. He stares at your hands to savor the lingering and wonder if you know how incredible they are. Hands like that—small and soft-skinned next to his—should be pampered. He can spin a dream of what those hands will feel like on his flesh. 

Suddenly, an overwhelming feeling falls over him as he says, “I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“What?” you ask. 

“Dinner. Food.” A few seconds lapsed, and he says, “It seems that I’ve been eating alone a lot lately, and I’d like some conversation with good food.” 

“I have plans for—”

“You’re not married, are you?” he asks.

“Me? No, I’m not.”

“Engaged?”

“No.”

“Involved?”

“No,” you answer, a little offended.

“Then let’s have dinner.” That’s it? 

“Like… on a date?” Stupid, stupid, stupid, you tell yourself. Dinner. That’s it. You know that you are not supposed to overthink it as a romantic appointment, not with him. Perhaps, he wants to talk about the company’s cash flow in a private setting, or he wants to inquire on the status of recent projects, or he wants to find out which projects are running. Perhaps, deep down, you want to casually talk about everything over good food, as a friend for the least. 

“A real date?”

Date. He likes the sound of it, oh he likes it even more when you are the one clarifying it. 

“There’s such a thing as a fake date?” 

You roll your eyes at him.

“Call it a date then, as you wish.” And you resist scoffing out loud at his cockiness, while there is bursting red upon you the shyness of a young girl. 

Hours elapsed upon return to work, but the ambience is more calm, peaceful and comfortable in the moment. Presumably Jaehyun had quelled his distress with food as he is adorable high-spirited than ever. The once deadly dull office is now filled with music of Cigarette After Sex’s and Frank Ocean’s, such that you poke fun of him being an emotional teen, while you secretly enjoy the songs as well. 

By the time Jaehyun finally shuts down the computer, though the files are left open on his desk, it is already midnight. With a groan, you sink in the fact that you still have to wake up early tomorrow as per usual. 

At the sound of it, Jaehyun turns to you with a raised brow, “What? Don’t want to leave?” 

For a minute, he looked unusually handsome and resplendent, marked by deep-set brown eyes, little indentations in his cheeks. He is teasing and it does not help with how awestricken you already are by the look he gave you. For a second, you stand rooted to the spot with nerves twisting your insides; Jaehyun holding the elevator door open and waiting.

His fake cough brings you sharply back to your senses. “Oh, no— shit— sorry,” a smile pulling at the edges of your mouth with false gaiety. 

The elevator comes to a stop. Later taking larger steps than you usually do and out to the ground floor lobby, there he cocks his head, confused, “Where are you going?” 

“I’m not driving today. I’ll take the bus home. See you tomorrow, Mr. Jung.” You bow and wave in a polite manner but he is quick to stop you from taking more steps away. 

“I’ll give you a ride. Come in.”

“It’s fine. The bus station is not so far away.” 

And just like that the both of you end up arguing at a distance over the way to get yourself home, with him still pressing the ‘open’ button that his finger is most likely indented at this point. 

“Don’t keep me waiting,” his eyes stern as he scolds (but with no harshness in his voice) yet you then are aware of this mistaken outburst of his and so you quickly step inside. His lips curled up in a victorious smirk unnoticeable by you, a clear winner once again.  

Jaehyun drives this maddeningly slow pace when the road is not even under congested conditions at this hour. Inside this four wheels, you seem to get strangely awkward with all the fidgeting of fingers on the seatbelt despite being on the same ride for multiple times. But those times were with his private chauffeur as well. Have you talk about the Jung Jaehyun drives one-handed? Because that is freaking hot. Spicy. 

Things take off another note—when the next morning you arrive with a cup of hot, steaming coffee and your favourite cinnamon sugar donuts on your desk. Judging that you appear to be showing up behind schedule for sleeping in—the reason being so, it is better not to be reminded of. You run a list of names in your head to figure out who that ‘secret angel’ could be. Aside from your only friend in the workplace, Chaeyong, who received maternity leave a few months ago. You hardly associate with the rest of the employees due to your position that you only need to deal with one person. And that only person seems to have been watching you the second you walk in, however, there he is sitting in his office, eyes trained on the documents from the night before. 

It is of infrequent occasions he has the shades rolled up. 

The said meeting with Mr. Kee goes by smoothly with the respective project itself taking form now and the next thing you know—you are sitting at a table of two in a fancy Italian restaurant located within the affluent area of central Seoul. You are still unable to stir the reality that the ‘date’ is actually happening, judging that Jaehyun could have or should have brushed it off when both are time-poor during the day. Here you have him twirling a glass of red liquid by its stem mindlessly and show no signs of initiating a conversation. It is frustrating at first, but you think that there is a need to make the most of the night when you could have been eating cheeseburger and greasy food back at your little chamber. 

Unfortunately, what should have been a long-winded conversation dies down fast with Jaehyun answering questions by questions in straightforward and short factual answers instead of throwing the ball back to you in effort of prolonging. You bet your entire fortune that Jaehyun is a mo-ssol (one who has never dated since birth), judging the way he speaks in a manner so expressionless like a piece of log, so stubborn. All those meetings or business events do him no good.

Sigh. You have to do everything yourself around here. 

It almost takes you off guard when he asks, “So… tell me about yourself.” You definitely knows him very well but it was never the other way round. Your heart beats with odd little jerks at the thought of his possible interest in you. Now, you do not want to give yourself a false hope of it being a romantic interest otherwise. 

To make things easier, you suggest on the game of “I Like”, to which he shrugs and says, “Okay.” 

You begin, “I like… visiting zoos, scented candles and everything chocolate.” 

“That’s odd.” 

A weird combination indeed but, “That’s how the game goes!” 

“Well… I like…” he ponders for such a long time, as if mulling over the merit of finally revealing the side of him that you never knew of, nonetheless, “I like… turntable, pistachio ice-cream and Batman.” 

Your chuckle comes in response at his last item, “Batman, really?” 

“Hey, never judge someone’s favourite superhero!” 

“Whatever,” you mumble a, “Superman is way better,” under your breath to which he catches on immediately and a childish bickering breaks out from then on who is the best superhero. 

After paying the bill and a bit of you whining, “I don’t want to go home… It’s cold, dark and lonely, and cold…” after wine after wine intake. Jaehyun takes you back to his place and things escalated from there. You kick off your heels attempting to slide across the marble floor in bare feet, stumbling forward you slam him against the wall while still holding on to him. 

Though genuinely surprised, he cannot ignore your eyes like cataracts producing the hazy look, blush tingeing your cheeks from too much alcohol and every inch nearer you get he finds himself having trouble refusing your anything. Letting your index finger, delicate, almost like a feather, trace the arch of his eyebrows to the tip of his nose and along his pouty lips. 

“N-no… We can’t do this…” he groans in protest, holding onto a dangerous slippery rope that is ‘lust’. He finds it completely wrong to take advantage of you in this drunken state, but you seem to not care at all as you slide closer to him stepping on his sock clad feet. Your narrow rib cage with the pillowy softness of your bosom pressing against his chest, so alluring with your breath mingles with his own—that is his last straw. 

He inches a hand downward and wraps itself around your waist as he gathers you close capturing your mouth with his in a dance of sorts, tasting with tender, tantalizing nips and slow strokes of his tongue. Feeling—yes—the excitement of his racing heart and the ragged edge of his breathing. You are so generous, so giving, so primally female. He has never done this before, but his body reacts, it is taut and hard and humming with impatience. 

You ease his suit jacket off his shoulders and it drops on the floor behind him. Then he twists around, shuffling to his room until he falls backwards when his foot hit the edge of the gargantuan bed. Straddling atop him, you curl your hands into his pristine shirtfront and surrender to the consuming heat of his kiss. In semi-consciousness, your fingers flick open the buttons. He weaves his fingers into your silky hair as you continue to undress him. He spins your bodies around again, this time having his hips nestle their way between your thighs. 

You want to touch him. You want him to touch you—all over—but all he does is touch you with his mouth and feed you kisses while devouring your good sense. He growls low in his throat as he abandons your mouth to drag his lips along your jaw. He licks at the delicate skin of your throat and closes his teeth on the tendon joining your neck and shoulder, sending sensation shooting through your body like a hot bolt of lightning. You shudder, half expecting your head to explode. 

“Jaehyun… it tickles,” turning into a giggling mess when he slides his lips over your neck, kissing from the front to the sides to the back. He chuckles boyishly all the way and those giggles turn into breathy sighs, gasps when he lingers on the tender skin behind your ear. You moan, moving restlessly against him and nearly combust when the long, thick ridge of his arousal presses against you. Right where a painful, empty ache blossoms. 

Every stitch of clothing removed and your entire body gives a single shiver as he enters with perfect precision, penetrating slowly all the way inside. He is so tender, so gentle with each thrust, making you cry out in blinding ecstasy and only crave him more. He revels in the new sensations of you enclosed around him so tightly, and how good your bare skin feels against his. It is a level of heaven he has never known existed. 

“Oh God, you feel so good,” he curses under his breath, closing his eyes as he savors each moment rising towards his own orgasm, “Want to come inside you, is that okay? Can I?” 

You cannot even form an answer properly with your mind fuzzy with absolute pleasure that adds to your intoxication, giving him a weak nod and clenching around him so he is moaning your name loudly. As you both reach the edge and shatter, you hold onto each other and squeezing whatever is there to reach out. Breathing deeper and faster, hearts pounding in your chests, laying there limbs tangled for quite some time. 

Your internal clock wakes you up at eleven and you glance around trying to assimilate something of your surroundings. Your eyes, squinting in the sunlight that dance through the large windows. Your body, dressing in a pair of silk pajamas that is of luxuriousness you will never possess. Immediately, you head in the direction of what you assume is the bathroom. And your reflection, astonishingly clean and tidied up of the makeup from the night before besides the remnants of waterproof mascara and some semi-permanent “stains” on your skin. 

Jaehyun looks to you popping out from behind the wall like a thief, his eyes falling to the shirt you are wearing and the corners of his lips twitch upward at the sight. You have not acknowledged his presence yet as you continue marvelling at the large apartment until you hear a soft chuckle from a distance. You shriek, there sits your superior at the dining table with a tablet propped up in a case. 

“W-we’re… late for work,” you blurt out awkwardly, glancing at the clock on the wall. 

There is a short pause before he speaks, “Well, good morning?” and tells you that he has called in to say that you are both away on a business trip. Skipping the fact that you are walking funnily. 

The tips of his ears a cute shade of pink and it hits you, “D-did we…?” Such a stupid question when your neck and chest all over have hickies that match the big one on his clavicle. Boy, were you wild last night. He only answers with fake coughs and avoids looking directly at you.

Your eyes squeeze shut with a heavy sigh upon an internal breakdown. How are you supposed to maintain a great performance at work when the embodiment of your disaster is only a few feet away. Things will never be the same. Heck, it was never the same since the incident from a month ago. 

“Please tell me I didn’t do anything stupid…” if sleeping with your boss is not dumb enough. You just have to be reminded about it over and over again. Is there any way you can shut down your brain or even better, trade it with someone else?

“...besides dragging me around by my necktie,” he mumbles, the shade of his ears intensifies and spreading to the column of his neck. Anyways, “Are you hungry?” 

You are about to reject and scram off to your apartment just to hide this enormous feeling of embarrassment you are suffering at the moment but heaven does not help you. Your belly rumbles in hunger and he is instructing you to take a seat. 

The smell of lightly burnt toast with a side of eggs and delicious bacon as well as the aroma of caramel coffee makes your mouth water. Though it is just a combination of simple brunch menu, he manages to get the job done perfectly and you are inhaling the food with a childish grin. The humiliation from before has whisked off and thrown to the back of your mind, replacing with the appreciation of having someone to fill you up instead. Wait— that sounds wrong. You choke on food and on the air itself at such polluted thought. 

“Are you okay?” he rushes to your side giving gentle pats on your back. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, just—” you find yourself going red again when you see that maroon mark on his skin. 

His hand finds purchase on your head, stroking endearingly, “Don’t get all shy with me now. You’re practically all over me last night.” 

Right when you are getting mushy from the affection, he has to add that so you remove his hand and sigh heavily, “Mr. Jung—” his brows furrow at the formal address, “Maybe we should just forget about the whole thing—”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he interrupts, “I’ve seen the way you look at me and you should’ve known better. I would’ve transferred you to another department if I were so against it but I kept you by my side, didn’t I? You knew that I could hardly work with anyone else, I am stubborn at times and couldn’t even take care of myself, but the fact that you are always there when I need you… You understand me more than myself and you’re…” he heaves a sigh of overwhelming relief for finally getting off these words from his chest, “You’re just amazing…” There are sparkles in his eyes with the utmost sincerity. 

Oh my Lord, is this a confession? Is it? This is a confession!

“So… you took me on a date to fuck me?” Your mind chooses to betray you at the very moment, being equally submerged by the revelation. 

“I’ve never said that.” Bending, he leans closer, “But we had a great time. True?” and kisses your lips you stiffen unprepared. Seeing that you did not answer, he adds, “I don’t mind going for another. If you’re down for it too.” 

Things do change afterwards. The atmosphere of that particular 45th floor of the office building has now blossomed with bubbles of pink. Jaehyun has the shades rolled up ever since and sometimes sending you flirty gazes. It is surely distracting but you do the same and never fail to grasp the chance just staring at him in awe and thinking, “Oh, this handsome man is mine!” The oftener he catches you watching and the intercom goes, “Missy, get back to work.” 

Even so, Sooyoung still pay her regular visits. As she finally leaves his office, you are called over immediately and the first things you say, “What does she want this time?” not realizing your tone of speech. 

He grins, victorious, “Were you jealous all this while?” 

With a scoff, “Jealous my butt.” 

“Had I known…”

“What?” What are you gonna do? I dare you!

“I would’ve kept her in longer,” he says nonchalantly, though you are fuming with his ridiculousness (knowing that he is only teasing). But still!

He is quick to catch your wrist when you turn to leave, and tucks you in the warmth of his embrace. Your nose filled with the scent of him. His cologne makes you think of green, grassy meadows covered with yellow flowers. So fucking good.

“Mr. Jung, it’s against the rules— Keep the dating scenes away,” you warn in a stern voice, feigning annoyance from his previous remark. 

He leans closer instead and invades your space, capturing your mouth in a scorching kiss like he has been holding himself back for hours.

“My rules, my way.” 

[bardicindignation]

Oh oh oh oh for the meta !!!

#3 - What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

(I’m so curious because you have these super detailed world building set ups so I’m like ... is this ever the case for you??)

Ahhh thank you so much for the ask!!!!

oh gosh...(yeah I do go for the super detailed world building set ups, don't I? 😅😂) let's see...

Well, I'm sure if I really took the time to wrack my brains about this I could come up with several, but then I'd have to either choose or resign myself to a ridiculously long post so...alright, so, I have this star wars au floating around in my head right, and most of it is fairly serious, generally speaking, but it also contains these three (so far) scenes that are just complete and utter crackfic.

I've written a grand total of one (1) of them, which I posted on April Fools day and you can read here if you're so inclined.

As for the other two, I'm putting them under the cut bc this is still getting really long:

1) basically, I have this one scene where Ventress winds up killing Maul, then melting down his legs and then having them made into a tea set which she then gives to an extremely bemused Obi-Wan for his birthday (yes this is extremely weird, no, I don't know how the fuck I thought of it but it's strangely hilarious to me, so there you have it) which is ridiculous on it's own but then you've got

2) which is a follow up to the april fools day snippet, in which anankin-undercover-as-darth-vader convinces tarkin that Quinlan Vos is his own, entirely fictional, cousin Sergei who just so happens to look exactly like the definitely super dead Jedi Knight and who is also an extremely loyal informant for the empire. A few years later, a few more 'Imformant Sergei" incidents have happened (Anakin saw the opportunity to troll the hell out of Tarkin and ran with it; Quinlan is more than happy to facilitate this, and so is everyone else who's working with them. All incidents are recorded and safely stored to show ahsoka when they finally track her down) and what happens is this:

For leverage against the rebellion reasons, palpatine has ordered Princess Leia (roughly 15 years old at this point) taken hostage by "Vader's" "sith" apprentice, Mara Jade (who's been secretly actually Anakin's second jedi padawan since she was about seven, which Leia is aware of but Bail isn't). Rex (who is completely unaware of the whole "massive undercover rebellion right underneath the emperor's nose" thing and therefor the fact that leia isn't actually in much of any real danger) goes to investigate and try and rescue her.

Stuff happens, Palpatine orders Mara to kill Leia and Mara (who had already been planning to fake her own death, bc as she grew into her strength in the force, Palpatine had started paying more attention to her which was getting dangerous. she'll join luke and obi wan in secretly living in the secret rooms in "Vader"'s star destroyer lol) explodes the building that she was holding Leia in, successfully faking BOTH of their deaths.

Rex runs into the girls on their way out, and when a group of storm troopers spot them he decides to head them off so that Mara and Leia can escape.

This turns out to not be immediately necessary, bc said storm troopers are actually Cody and an assortment of other de-chipped clone troopers. Cody gets as far as explaining that to Rex, when Tarkin shows up.

He, predictably, zeros in on Rex bc he remembers him from the clone wars and doesn't like him and because he's Tarkin, he decides to order Cody to take off his helmet and execute him.

Cody, obviously, isn't going to do that and goes with the only option left to him: break his cover. So he and his troopers all draw their blasters on Tarkin, at which point Tarkin calls his own troopers to surround them.

Then he starts monologuing: blah blah glory of the empire, blah blah, traitor, blah blah, 'if only you demonstrated the same loyalty that Informant Sergei does without any kind of programming.'

That makes Cody snort, and Quinlan, who's been lurking this whole time waiting for an opportune moment, can't possible pass over the dramatic entrance potential and reveals himself like, "hah, bitch you wish!" and blows his OWN cover.

So Tarkin is about to lose his shit, Cody's panicking, Rex is both panicking and completely confused, at which point Anakin-as-Vader along with a bevy of stormtroopers who include Appo, Boil, Kix, the 212th's medic, and Obi-Wan shows up.

Cue Rex's confusion and panic squaring itself when this, for some reason, makes Cody relax.

Tarkin's like, "Ah Vader, you're just in time to assist me in doing away with these traitors"

And internally, Anakin's like 'fuck fuck fuck' but externally he's like, "Traitors? whatever do you mean?"

And Tarkin tells him what just happened and Anakin thinks fast and goes:

"Oh, yeah they're definitely not traitors, they have until just now been on an important mission for me among ancient...sith...ruins! And it appears that they have all been exposed to a sith toxin which causes confusion, aggression, and muddled loyalties."

And Tarkin maybe buys that? but either way, he goes,

"Well, in that case, they're useless to us now, so we might as well put them down and be done with it."

And Anakin, maybe panicking a little, goes, "Do you really think that I would send such valuable assets into such a situation without having some kind of treatment on hand?"

Tarkin: Oh, and what treatment would that be?

Anakin, mind going blank: Medic, tell the Grand Moff about the cure.

Kix, trying to murder his general with the force of his glare alone underneath the helmet: Yes Sir. The...only cure to such a...toxin...is...a...special tea! Brewed...in the...legs of the vanquished enemy of...the ancient and powerful Jedi...Ben."

Obi Wan, Anakin, and everyone who still has the benefit of a hemet: *tries not to laugh audibly but are about to rupture something containing themselves*

Rex: What? the fuck?? is happening???

So, Tarkin buys it, and Anakin and his men 'subdue' Cody, Quinlan, Rex and co. and bring them back to their shuttle, where Mara, Leia, and Luke reveal themselves and they explain everything to Rex, who at this point is more or less certain that this entire day has been some sort of bizarre fever dream.

And I'd love to write the whole thing out! but to do that and have it make any sort of sense I'd have to write just...so many chapters of context and everything leading up to it which is...a lot of stuff. So maybe I'll get to it eventually, but it's not event the first star wars au on my list of stuff to write, not even taking into account all the stuff for other fandoms, so it's probably going to be a long time until I get to it, if I ever do 😅

[wwounu]

love talk | lee jihoon

—every thoughtful curve of each letter on the ivory paper, it’s rose pink envelope standing out from the rest of the simple, white envelopes, your heart can only yearn more from the warm, loving words. you yearn, yet, you don’t seem to realise the answer is a miracle waiting to happen

“because of you, each day is beautiful. sometimes, i’m afraid it’ll all vanish, but each time i think that, you look at me and smile. you’re my miracle, it’s you.”

pairing: jihoon x reader + love letter!au

word count: 15k

warning: tiny tiny angst

note: 15.1k words?!?! this may have been the longest piece i have written ever, and i’m still late for woozi day... ah, i’m so annoyed with myself, i stayed up until 1am twice just to finish this, but never did get to finish it! but here we are! if i had more time, then i would’ve been able to write the ending much better, i think the only reason why it became an adlib to me was because i wanna watch vagabond... i’m also officially back — hooray! it’ll take me some time to adjust, i guess, a lot has happened since i’ve been gone, but i still followed svt because it’s me. in regards to opposites attract i’ll make a separate post about that, but for now, i hope you all enjoy this long fanfic! it really challenged me as a writer and, little fun fact, this was supposed to be a minghao fic originally. happy belated birthday, jihoon, i hope you remain happy and healthy for eternity. i admire you so much. (i promise you this is a jihoon fanfic haha — this isn’t proofread either... also iida best boy mwah)

An ivory paper sits securely inside your palm; its fluffy, blunt edge from where it’s been ripped apart multiple other pages, contrasting with neat and straight folds, care put into them. The envelope that originally held the note was rose pink — different from the simplicity of white envelopes — the change unusual but comforting as you read each handwritten curve of your name, a small heart at the end, possibly drawn hesitantly, probably not.

A wave of familiarity hits upon unfolding the contents, simple yet pretty handwriting filling the page, its ink radiating all the warmth from the words.

I thought about you today.

A strange thought to confess to you, but I just felt like saying it, so please hear me out.

You look like you’ve been busy these days, which is why I haven’t been writing as much to you. I didn’t want to be such a disturbance to your studies. Though — as I realised — it’s also important to support you and give the positive reminders you deserve. I know I’m quite late to it all, so I hope I can make it up to you next time… Not sure how I’ll do that yet, it’s still in the works.

I’m getting off track — just remember to take it easy on yourself and that you’re doing well so far. Good luck on your remaining essays! Things will get better afterwards, so hang in there for me, promise?

Oh! Do you know the strawberry milk on the table? That’s for you too. I promise I didn’t drug it or anything, in case you’re wondering. It’s a lame present, but I hope it energises you through the day… Ah I’m so lame haha. One day I’ll give to you in person.

I missed your smile, I hope I can see it again. You shine the brightest when you do.

(Did you also like the change in envelope? I think I’ll be using coloured envelopes more these days~)

Miracle.

You fold the letter and place in back into the envelope, eyes attracted to the carton of strawberry milk, a baby pink post-it note taped onto it saying drink well~ in the same writing. Your hand immediately reaches to the drink, punching the straw and taking a long, refreshed sip.

While you enjoy your drink, your eyes fly back to the letter, mind lingering on a particular thought.

“Something on your mind?” Someone’s voice registers near you, breaking the train of thought. You see the pout form on his lips, face innocent as he removes his bag.

“Nothing, Jihoon. Blanked out a little,” you awkwardly stammer, smiling with the straw in your mouth.

Lee Jihoon — one of your closest friends. Before the term friends, you knew about each other through friends until he found out you were going to the same university as him, giving perfect reason to start a friendship there and then. Despite having contrasting courses (in fact you weren’t in any classes together), you were easily each other’s go-to.

Jihoon’s eyes acknowledge the open envelope with the letter hanging out, soon turning back to you. “Where did the milk come from?” He points to the cute-sized carton.

Do you tell him?

No one knew about your secret, it didn’t seem important to mention really, but it stuck in your mind whether you’d tell it someday.

The letters began at the start of the year, in the middle of a cold, cold January, the wintery hex making you go as far as to forget your backpack in the library. Fortunately, your bag was still at the same spot where you left it, saving you from the panic and fear that would’ve came if it wasn’t the case.

But as you inspect the inside, that’s when you see it. When you see the snowy white sleeve of the envelope, no name addressed, except for simple letters spelling an ode to you on the outside. Curious, you pick it up assuming it’s for you, fingers working to slide across the envelope’s tongue, revealing the note that held your first ever love letter.

Miracle was his name. Or what he called himself, really. Even though you were curious about the name’s origin, it was all explained in the second letter, where he wrote the name as a last-minute thing (that letter was written a week after the first, found inside your textbook).

Seemed fitting for him in your case.

It was strange — having multiple love letters, let alone just one — but through time it made you more excited as you received them frequently, each day being less of please don’t be a serial killer and more of I hope he writes today, ending with a small smile that you don’t admit to having whenever you say so.

The thought alone triggered your finger to hover over the letter, a sudden burst of eagerness spreading inside you.

Time to reveal yourself Miracle, you think, I’m going to do everything it takes to find you.

“Long story short,” easily, you begin, “the milk and this letter are from Miracle.”

“Miracle?” Jihoon repeats, his expression wanting more coverage.

“Miracle has been sending me letters for a while now. I know the point of secret admirers is to be anonymous, but he seems like a cool guy, I wanna be friends with him.”

“And you’re telling me you aren’t convinced this is some prank or...”

“This is my first admirer, be more happy for me!” You frown instantly, fingertips gently brushing the envelope flap. “Problem is, I have no clue who Miracle could be. He could be anyone!”

Jihoon hums, his hand held out. “Pass me the letter,”

“Don’t rip it.”

“What makes you think I’ll do that?”

“Just a hunch.”

Busy finishing the strawberry milk, Jihoon opens the letter, eyes concentrated on the page for a strong five seconds before nicely handing it back in your possession.

All of a sudden, he leaves his seat.

“Hoon?” Eyes appearing childlike, Jihoon only hums in the midst of lifting his bag. “Are you going somewhere?”

Once his bag is lazily hung on one shoulder, he says, “We’re going to Seventeen. We’ll talk about Miracle there.”

Naturally, a smile spreads across your lips. Jihoon never fails to make you float with words — always trailed with gentleness.

By Seventeen, he means the campus coffee shop. Everyone in the university has visited the cafe one way or another, whether it be the Valentines day special offer (which its ridiculous slogan was ‘All orders half price if you bring someone you like a latte!’) or to daydream over the baristas.

Its exterior and interior was as equally impressive. Walls splashed in snowy white and accented with raven black, the sign outlining 7-TEEN in a muted sapphire blue, the dangling chalkboard displaying the specials in chalky rose writing. The inside held a same, homely feeling, following the palette of desaturated pink, blues and whites, completed with the dark floorboards and tables for comfort.

You seat yourself by the window — specially requested by Jihoon — able to see most of the coffee shop and Jihoon’s place in line from the corner.

He comes back with a black mug steaming with heat, a mountain of sugar packets at its side, and a cake for you and him to share (even though you both knew that you were finishing it).

“The love letter please,” Jihoon requests after bringing out one of his many journals, pages taken out and deflating the fullness of the book. You react unpleasantly to the term, handing the item nonetheless.

He sets up the letter beside his journal, fingers holding his pen as he produces rushed, messy scribbles — it was almost unreadable. The words at the top of the page read Miracle Suspect List, a tiny giggle earned from reading it.

“Now... Any ideas?”

Even Jihoon doesn’t need words to understand the utter panic frozen your face as he asks. He huffs a sigh.

“Let’s read what Miracle says, maybe that’ll help.” Jihoon leans to the note, eyes drawing strange patterns as they move across the note. “Hm, Miracle noticed you’ve been struggling these past few days, does that ring any bells?”

“I’ve been so busy I didn’t even notice...”

“It’s okay, you had other things to focus on. Totally valid.” Rhythmically, he taps the pen on his chin, lips pouted like a baby duck. “If Miracle was aware about this, maybe he’s someone in your major. Anyone from your lectures that you can think of?”

Rather than answering a simple no, you think very hard this time. Jihoon does a really good job in trying to narrow the perspective for you, so its your role to meet in the middle. This secret admirer business was harder than you thought.

You think through everyone in your class, filtering them one by one until it comes into your head, radiant as ever.

“There’s Junhui. We chat when we’re in the lecture hall and sit next to each other sometimes, I probably told him about my worries. We don’t talk outside much... Unless!” You exclaim, “Unless I meet him whilst he’s on shift here, then he doesn’t shy away from me.”

Right after saying that, Junhui enters the shop, greeting the cashier at the counter, his goofy smile plastered as he disappears into the staff room with a laugh.

“Okay. Junhui...” Jihoon says, stretching Junhui’s name as he scribbles, classmate and works at Seventeen jotted underneath.

Another person comes to mind, your hand tapping repetitively on Jihoon’s arm as you tried to recall. “Oh, oh!”

“Ow, ow — what?!” Mimics Jihoon.

“There’s Soonyoung!”

“Kwon? Dance leader Kwon?”

“I heard some rumours that he liked me when I helped out with the department spring showcase—“

“You won’t like him.” Deadpans Jihoon, the interruption slightly out of place.

“What?”

Jihoon shrugs. “I don’t like him,”

The statement further confuses you, given that the dance and music departments fit hand in hand, not to mention the student’s between both departments were the most stable (in this case, the drama majors were scarily the lone wolf of the three).

And other than you, Jihoon — being the music department’s campus prodigy and following the cliché — stuck like superglue to dancer Kwon Soonyoung.

“Aren’t you friends?” Your face paints a fusion of disgust and confusion.

“We’re friends,” he confirms, nodding firmly, “he just doesn’t seem like your type. He’s... Gullible sometimes. His energy will refresh you, but it’ll eventually drain.”

“You never know.” Replies you, only focusing at the statement about being your type.

Jihoon continues to write down Soonyoung’s name even after voicing his opinion, small devil horns and a pointy tail doodled at the around his name.

“Better than nothing. Anyone else on your mind?”

“Jeon Wonwoo?” You raise your tone at the end. “I don’t think he’s that interested in me though,” you lips pull into a frown at the thought of the university’s famous librarian slash well-rounded student. He was also your tutor, but he tutored many people, so it wasn’t something out of a k-drama.

Jihoon’s hand moved right away as he notices your look. Unlike the past two, Wonwoo’s name only had a question mark underneath. “We’ll add him. There — three potential Miracles — who shall we investigate first?”

“I’ll hang around them and report back to you—“

Unexpectedly, your phone rings. The caller ID makes it clear to you that you had to take the call. You excuse yourself from Jihoon, taking one more bite of the cake before you head outside, getting lost in your conversation.

When the lengthy chat ended, you walk back inside to find your friend gone. Before you broke into a cold sweat, a light ding comes out of your phone, the screen reading a short text from Jihoon.

A classmate ran into me and they asked me to do a favour, sorry I left all of a sudden. Text me when you get to your dorm. Get there safely.

The gesture touches you, lips concealing a smile. The text also signalled to you that you should get going too, the sky outside slowly blooming into darkness.

Yet as the chair is pulled back for you to access your bag, an envelope appears.

Heart racing, your fingers scoop the item in one motion, rushing to take out the contents inside.

Two letters in one day... It doesn’t suit my style haha. I hope you’re secretly happy about it though.

I saw you in Seventeen earlier, and correct me if I’m wrong, but did I hear you talk about me? The wonderful, most-handsome Miracle?

First of all, I’m flattered, who wouldn’t talk about me? And second, I heard a little more that I should’ve. You want me to reveal myself?

If you think I’m going to give myself away, I’m not. Just because I like you doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you~

It’s your turn to do the chasing now, I can’t wait to watch. This is going to be so fun — I’ll be super hurt if you mistake me as someone else...

Joking! All I’ll say is I’m supporting you from here, I’ll be watching closely! Please don’t be disappointed when you find out who I am. Hehe.

(Before I go! I recommend Seventeen’s Poet Latte, it’s a million times better than the Hope Macchiato. Ask for hazelnut syrup too, that thing is like sweet magic)

Miracle.

Now determined, your eyes scan over the lines again and again, each word being critical yet painfully ambiguous.

That’s when it crosses your mind. His words craft you into the right direction, even though Miracle has the power to do the complete opposite depending on how he wants to play his cards.

For now, you’ll take his words as gospel, aware that he was present at the time you were in Seventeen. All the signs pointed to Junhui, majorly assuming that he was the only one that who entered the cafe, and that Miracle recommended the Poet Latte.

It settled your first target quite quickly: Wen Junhui.

Stashing the letter in your bag, you head outside, eyes following Junhui practicing latte art until you can’t see him anymore, thoughts already planning on certain strategies.

If Miracle wants this to be entertaining, you’ll make it entertaining.

It’s been a week.

And nothing has happened.

“It’s been a week.” Jihoon voices, “And you‘ve gained zero progress.”

Panic stricken, you blurt, “I’m still working on it...”

“We’re gonna get nowhere if you carry on stalling.”

“I know, but I don’t know when to do it—“ Which was partially true. You were just too shy around Junhui.

“Just do it today!”

“Ugh, okay!” As equally as loud, you shout like Jihoon. Geez. Why did he get so hot-headed? “I’ll head to my lecture and see if he’s there.”

A smile shows on Jihoon’s lips. “Great. You can do it, good luck!” He balls his fists in attempt to encourage you, passing the motivation on.

When you arrive you instantly want to go back to Jihoon. By the notice board — other than confused, tired students — stood Junhui, his face standing out almost the others as he points his fingers to one direction while talking to other students of your major.

The students walk in the direction Junhui pointed to instead of the hall, prompting a perfect chance to talk to him.

“Jun?” You add the slight confusion to neutralise things, heart racing. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, hi Y/N,” Junhui naturally grins when he sees you, finger pointing to the board. “The lecture hall is being used, so our professor changed it to the other side of campus.”

“What?!” You groan, the act washed away once hearing about the announcement. “Ah — I’m so exhausted already, we don’t get paid enough to do this.”

“We don’t get paid at all,” muses Junhui. “Should we walk together? Saves you being bored and me being lonely.”

Right, Junhui’s a potential Miracle, act along, you tell yourself.

“Sounds great.” Gladly accepting, you and the male walk together, chatting amongst one another.

Nothing special happens from there. You chat with Junhui — who has a strange calmness when it comes to talking to him — until you get to your class, sitting next to him. The both of you intently listen to your lecturer, taking notes and sharing them, but halfway through the two hour session Junhui opens a new tab on his laptop to play chess, obviously being bad at the game.

You join in, too, helping the clueless man on how to win. It leads to you and him doodling on a sheet of paper he tore out, zoning out of the lecture from what was time to time to completely not listening.

The lecture comes to a close, making you and Junhui realise how much trouble you’re in as your essay was due for the weekend after.

“Come to Seventeen tomorrow,” tells Junhui, “I’ll ask a friend to recap the lecture today and we can go through it together while I work. Does that sound okay?”

Perfect — this was perfect!

A little too enthusiastic, you blurt, “Yeah!” Before coughing loudly, realising the awkwardness. “I mean, yeah. Sorry for distracting you today Junhui,”

“It’s okay. I like studying with you, it’s fun.”

His words, along with the soft smile he has, makes you want to swoon with glee inside. It was hard to tell if he was a smooth flirt or if he was usually like this.

Either way, you said your goodbyes and hoped for the next day to come as soon as possible.

“Y/N, welcome!” Is what Junhui greets to you as you walk into the cafe, the morning atmosphere ruined as Junhui shouts, waking up half the people in there. He didn’t seem to mind though, so you made your way to him.

“It’s ten in the morning Junhui,”

“It wakes people up. They’ll thank me for it when they don’t sleep in their classes later on.”

He tells you to seat yourself while he finishes the next few orders. Once you do, you stare out of the window whilst waiting for your laptop to load, the day transitioning from gloom to a morning sunshine, more people coming onto the campus site.

You even see Jihoon walking with Soonyoung (even though it was hard to identify him under the hat, but judging by Jihoon’s mannerisms it definitely pointed to Soonyoung).

Chair sliding, the male taking a seat as he hands you a warm, rose mug. “A Poet Latte ordered by the lovely Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you warmly answer, grinning at the latte art of a panda with hearts swirled around. “This is amazing Junhui.”

“Doing it is harder than it looks,” confesses Junhui, “and in the end people will just consume it. Imagine that, eating all of my hard work... Literally.”

“Aren’t you going to drink something?”

Junhui shakes his head. “I don’t like coffee.”

Oh?

“Oh? That’s a shame.” You counter, trying to stay composed. “It isn’t for everyone — um — random question but, if you had to recommend a drink from here, what would it be? I’m up for taking some new drinks.”

The excuse made things sound more natural and by the look on Junhui’s face, the verdicts in your head point to not Miracle right now.

He taps a finger on his chin, “Out of all the orders... The Truth Iced Mocha, mainly because I don’t like warm drinks either.”

Uncertainty shows on your face, not knowing whether Junhui was telling a lie or not. There was a high chance he wasn’t, but he could most likely be lying. If he was, he was a great liar.

Studying your face, Junhui speaks. “I’m a bit picky,” he admits, laughing, “my friends hate me for it, but I’m a simple man with simple needs.”

His statement causes you to laugh, the tension in the room quickly gone. Junhui sure knows how to tone things down.

So Junhui doesn’t like coffee. Huh.

You come by Seventeen for the next two days, chatting with Junhui more often as he works. However, you walk into the male while he’s off-shift, a bouquet of pink daisies and a cinnamon-coloured teddy bear sat on the table.

Staring intensely at it, Junhui doesn’t even notice you sit across him.

“Is something on your mind?”

Breaking out of the odd staring contest, Junhui sits up, shrugging. “Which present would you like more?”

He turns the teddy’s head and the flowers to face you. The question shifts the atmosphere slightly, your mind nervous of what to answer.

“Can I have the context?” Instead, you ask that question, hoping the answer would give more indication where this was going.

“I wanna give something to my friend for support,”

Junhui doesn’t hesitate in his answer, but there’s no denying over the pinkness in his cheeks. Although he was still being vague, you point at the flowers.

“Flowers are the best go-to. Maybe the teddy can be for another time?” Nodding, Junhui relaxes in his chair, patting the bear’s head as he exhales a sigh. “Isn’t this something you’d give to a girlfriend or boyfriend?”

The question catches the other off guard, his ears burning with red as he slowly sinks his head into his arms, his face hidden.

“You caught me.” Muffled, Junhui admits.

Caught what? We’re definitely getting somewhere now, you think.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m still showing support to my friend — she’s having her first art exhibit today and she’s been working on it a lot — I just... Wanna be subtle but I need to man up,”

One hundred percent what you didn’t expect. Kinda, since you had suspicions here and there.

“Man up? You’re, like, the most easiest person to talk to! I’m sure if you acted like yourself then you’d be able to confess easily to her.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. What’s there to worry about? People fall for you like a snap,” you snap your fingers simultaneously, a laugh from Junhui followed.

“Thanks for the heart to heart Y/N. I really needed it. The exhibit opens in an hour, I should get going.”

“You can do it Junhui!” Cheers you, Junhui getting up from his chair. Out of the blue, your mind mentally clicks. “Junhui—“

Junhui hums. You hold the bear out for him.

“Bring it with you, it’ll create a bigger memory for the both of you.”

Smiling, Junhui takes the bear from your hands. “Thanks for everything... Again.” He carries the bouquet and bear in one arm, his free hand reaching to pick out a daisy. “Take it as my thank you,”

“How corny,” you say, happily taking the pretty flower, “you’ll do great!”

“I’ll see you later! I’ll tell you how it goes.”

Like that, Junhui exits out of the cafe, jogging to the entrance of the campus. You sit back once he disappears.

So Junhui has a crush on someone else.

Your hands search to find your phone, scrolling through your contacts before you lift it to your ear, waiting for the other line to pick up.

“Hoon? Let’s meet.”

“Rather than liking you, he likes a student from the art department?” Jihoon asks, strolling around the town with you half an hour after you called.

You nod, confirming it. “It was hard to tell though, every second felt like he was flirting with me. Guess he was just really good at smooth talk.”

“Not surprised about that.” Jihoon pulls a face, but his arm moves to pat your hair as you twirl the pink daisy. “Don’t act so blue, you still have two more guys!”

“But Hoon—”

“No buts, it’ll work out. I promise you. If it doesn’t, I’ll look for Miracle myself and teach him a lesson.”

You snort, “Jihoon—“

“Oh yeah, you still wanna be friends with him. Got it.” Jihoon grins when he sees your smile, pinching your cheek all of a sudden. “Now c’mon, I know what’ll cheer you up,”

“Do you?”

“Unless you don’t want food, we can just go back to campus—“

“No, wait!” You panic. Great, you’ve fallen for Jihoon’s offer. “Fine, I’m starving anyway!”

With a big grin, Jihoon takes you by the hand and walks to your favourite restaurant.

Days pass and the memories with Junhui go along with it. It was a weekend and Jihoon wanted to meet in the recording booth to talk, additionally asking if you could bring some coffee.

He stops replying after you send multiple texts — capitalised and angry emoticons — giving you no choice but to get him something.

Heading into Seventeen, your appearance catches one of the workers immediately.

That worker, being Junhui.

“What a coincidence!” He exclaims once he heads out of the break room for the second time, a flimsy item in his hand.

“Coincidence?” You repeat in return.

“I found this in the lecture hall yesterday, I thought you left it,”

“But I didn’t go to the lecture yesterday—“

All of your words dissolve as soon as your eyes hit the pastel blue envelope, slowly taking it out of Junhui’s hand, your expression indescribable.

“How did you get this?” It wasn’t the words you wanted to say, but they were clearly in your mind.

“I saw it sitting on one of the rows before I left. I would’ve given it to you straight away, but I didn’t see you on campus… And I don’t know where your dorm is so…”

You analyse Junhui’s face for a moment. Gaining all the evidence you’ve gotten, it was confirmed that Junhui wasn’t Miracle. He was telling the truth about everything.

“That’s okay! Thanks for looking after it for me!” In gratitude, you let your lips spread wide — mainly towards the fact that Miracle is writing after a week (seriously, what took him so long?), but also because of Junhui’s massive help.

Forgetting about the coffee, you exit the cafe, finding a safe spot to read the letter alone. Your fingers were trembling in anticipation as you lifted the flap.

I’m guessing you’ve been waiting for me… If not, I feel really embarrassed because I had to hold myself back from writing to you.

(God, that was so cheesy)

You figured out that I’m not Junhui. Congrats!

When I first saw him walk with you, I thought — ‘Ah, you are taking it seriously!’ — and I’ve been watching here and there, but not all the time because that would be creepy. I also had classes so there were a few clashes.

After a while I began wondering why you thought of Junhui as me. It shouldn’t be a thought I should ponder on too much, but I find myself going there sometimes.

Junhui is really admirable. He has that ability to make anyone feel at ease with him, and overall he’s very bold with his actions — so bold that I even thought he was going to make an actual move on you (totally wasn’t gonna be heartbroken…) — I get why people like to be around him so much.

He’s someone that you easily get envious over. The personality, the social skill, the confidence. He makes it look so easy. Talking to so many people, adjusting to them…

I wish I was like that; I wish I had that confidence. Maybe, if I had that same level of confidence like Junhui, then maybe I’d boldly confess my feelings without the doubts or worries orbiting my mind.

At first I was going to scribble that part out and start from scratch again, but I thought I’d share my thoughts with you. This isn’t Junhui’s level of confidence, but I think starting like this will help me build on it. My heart can feel heavy on some days and I feel like you’re the only person I can go to.

Even if you don’t write to me back, I hope you’ll always stand there on the other side.

Miracle.

“Come with me.” Out of nowhere Jihoon gets his things and starts walking away.

Fazed, you hastily gather your things and begin trailing behind him. He’s always like this — announcing he’s going somewhere at the same time he leaves — and you get the other end of the stick by rushing after the male.

“You’re seriously so annoying,” you grumble without context, “at least tell me what we’re — what you’re — doing...”

“I forgot something... And I’m doing you a favour.”

The last part wasn’t picked up by you, but Jihoon’s footsteps accelerated as he rushes into one of the department buildings.

The building appeared unfamiliar to you, it clearly wasn’t the music department, so you wondered why Jihoon knew which corridor to turn and what level he was looking for.

He doesn’t bother knocking before heading into one of the dance studios, dancers unfazed by his appearance. Worried, you harshly break out a whispered Jihoon before he stops walking and you walk into his back.

“Ow, jerk!” Complains you.

An unknown voice replies, but it isn’t directed to you. “Jihoon?” The male voice gasps. “You okay?”

Suddenly, the owner of the voice gets up from the floor, a black cap covering the front of his face, dressed in loose clothes.

Soonyoung?

“My journal’s here right? I think I left it somewhere…”

“Journal?” Soonyoung juts a lip, completely focused on Jihoon, he hasn’t even said hi to you yet. Unless he doesn’t like you. You hoped it wasn’t the latter. Like a hit to the head, Soonyoung’s eyes nearly sparkle, “Ah, let me get it!”

Soonyoung turns around and crouches down, giving you perfect time to ask what the heck Jihoon was doing.

“A favour,” is all Jihoon says, Soonyoung cheerily handing the ripped-paged book and Jihoon snatching it off him. He glares. “You didn’t look inside, did you?”

Fingers moving the cross his heart, Soonyoung simultaneously shakes his head. “Not a peep—“ his eyes acknowledge you and he immediately chokes on air, releasing an ugly cough. “Y/N! Have you been here all this time?”

Jihoon holds back an amused chuckle. Ignoring your friend, you put on your best smile and shyly nod.

“Sorry I didn’t see you there!” He’s yelling now, and it’s getting the whole room’s attention. “How… How are you?”

“I’ve been good, and you?”

“Me? I’m good too! I’m glad to hear that—“

Jihoon’s voice overlaps out Soonyoung’s, “Picking up my book just turned into a damn reunion,” a puppy-like sulk comes out of Soonyoung, but Jihoon continues to speak, “also, I’ll give you your USB back tomorrow, I’ve done all the improvements you asked.”

Soonyoung brings the other into a sweaty hug, sighing loudly. “Wow, my hero—“

Pushing Soonyoung off, Jihoon clears his throat. “But I’m leaving town for this music course tomorrow, so I’ll lend the USB to Y/N and you’ll get your USB back, then we’re all happy.”

“I’m not—“ you harshly whisper next to the male, pulling him closer by the arm, surprised at Jihoon’s proposal, “what are you doing?!”

“A latte would be okay, but you can surprise me. I’d also like extra whipped cream,” Jihoon whispers back at the same volume. He looks back at Soonyoung. “Is that alright with you?”

The apples of Soonyoung’s cheeks paint red, lips scrunched as he forces a nod. “Sure — sure! Tomorrow, yeah?”

“Mhmm. We better get going now.” Turning to you, Jihoon tilts his head to the exit, promptly looking at Soonyoung. “See you man,”

“Bye Soonyoung!” You greet energetically, causing Soonyoung to snap out of his gaze, waving his hand as you two walk out. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but, it never got off of his tongue in the end.

Once you were away from the building, you stop Jihoon by grabbing his arm, a deathly expression upon you. “What was that all about?”

Although you were mad, Jihoon’s face didn’t flinch one bit at it. He digs through his pocket, pulling out a silicone tiger figurine smaller than his palm. Removing the tiger’s head, the USB is revealed.

Without a word, Jihoon hands it to you. “I finished the thing he asked ages ago.”

“Then why didn’t you give it to him earlier—“

“Because now you have an excuse to hang around him. Use it wisely.”

“Oh. Smart.”

Turns out, Jihoon actually did have to go to that course for the day, so you wished him a text of motivation before mentally preparing yourself to meet Soonyoung.

You hastily make your way to the dance department (that’s what Jihoon said Soonyoung would normally be), but because you were so overwhelmed over what you were going to say to Soonyoung, you forgot the directions Jihoon went to the dance studio.

Dumbass, you curse inside. Now you had to ask people if one, they were a dance major (which was such a stupid question, but you couldn’t help asking) and two, if they knew Soonyoung.

Onto asking the third student, you see a figure stepping out of a room, a bag lazily hung around his arm.

“Oh — never mind — thank you anyway,”

You semi-run towards this figure, watching the surprise spread through his face as you welcome him with a grin.

“Y/N?” Soonyoung stammers, shaking in his place a little. He had a black shirt hugged his torso and jeans to complement the look — it definitely gave a different tone to the exhausted, sweaty boy you met yesterday.

“Hey.” You dangle the small tiger in between his eyes. “Special delivery for Kwon Soonyoung?”

Sparkles appear inside Soonyoung’s eyes, gladly taking the item from you. “Thank you Y/N! Tell Jihoon I said thank you — actually, I’ll tell him that later—“

“It’s no problem,” you can’t help but giggle at his gratitude over the tiger USB, it make you curious on why it was so important, but right now that wasn’t your priority.

Operation Soonyoung is a go.

“Are you doing anything right now?”

“Um… Not really, why?”

“I’m craving some food, I was wondering if you’d like to eat with me… Since you just finished practicing I’m guessing—”

For the second time Soonyoung chokes on the air, hitting his chest as he lets out harsh coughs. When he’s somewhat calmed down, he looks straight at you — a slight pinkness in his cheeks — bluntly answering, “I don’t mind going!”

The answer was leaning towards an exclamation, but a yes was a yes, and the two of you agreed to get street food and eat in the park.

Watching Soonyoung munch on a burger with great interest, you feel like he’s still acting awkward with you. You had no reason why, but the showcase pops into your head. Maybe the rumours were true, but you can’t jump so easily; this Miracle business had to be very subtle.

So much for loud, muses you, Jihoon must be out of his mind, he’s so quiet with me…

To lighten up the mood, you show your interest to the USB stick once more. “So, the stick. What’s it for? If it’s okay asking,”

Soonyoung wipes the corners of his lips cutely, pointing to a bench and asking a can we sit here with half stuffed cheeks. Sat down, he brings out the USB, watching it dangle on his finger.

“They’re music samples for dances I put together. I don’t just work for myself but for my juniors too — they rely on me when they need music for their piece. I can do the basics, but when I or my classmates need something extra to make the piece stand out more, I go to Jihoon to help me. Without him, I wouldn’t have so many students joining the dance club at all.”

“Can I listen to some?”

“Huh?” Soonyoung’s eyes expand, lips parted the slightest. “Oh — oh! Okay. Just give me a sec…”

“Soon, you don’t need to if it’s a hassle—“

“Ah! I owe you one, so, this is nothing to what you’ve done!”

“All I did was give your things back…”

Soonyoung pulls out his laptop, connecting the USB to the device, his fingers tapping against the touchpad whilst waiting. The files appear, some names sensibly and with their correct name (those were probably for his juniors), while some files were called ten-ten, hoshi, rawr, for the ultimate gemini ONLY, NOT THIS ONE.

Those were definitely Soonyoung’s.

“The ones Jihoon has fixed are the unnamed ones. He’s never creative with names,”

“Of course.” You and Soonyoung laugh over the thought, the latter pressing his finger on the play button as the music begins and the volume rises. Listening for a while, you say, “This is super good, I can’t believe Jihoon can produce something like this.”

“Well he isn’t called the music prodigy for nothing. Now check this out.”

He sets his laptop aside, the music continuing to play, and he stands in front of you, breaking into a small dance like it was second nature to him. Such fluidity, well-crafted even though Soonyoung kept a smile the whole way through, rushes of excitement inside him.

You cheer him on, laughing at the sight. He laughs with you too, brightly.

The barrier of shyness between Soonyoung and you begins to break as you meet frequently, Jihoon mainly being the reason why you three met.

More of Jihoon’s colours shone, like the grumpy, cold-shouldered character when he was Soonyoung, but he would still laugh the hardest if Soonyoung told a stupid story that happened over the weekend, or small snippets into his life.

The thought about Miracle becomes less important to you as you slowly value Soonyoung as a true friend. Don’t get yourself wrong — Miracle was still heavily important — but Operation Soonyoung was diverting down another path.

But the one time you spend the day with him without Jihoon (who knows what he was doing, he just left without any word), you accidentally slip into the topic of the rumour again.

Actually, you had no idea why you transitioned into it, Soonyoung was showing you a video of himself doing dumb things during dance practice last night, and after a long laugh with him, it came out.

“To be honest, when I first met you, people kept telling me you had a crush on me,” is what you say along with your laughter, taking a bite out of your cake.

“… Is that so?”

No laugh, no burst of giggling — and when you face Soonyoung, his face is stoic. Despite that observation, his cheeks were dusted in a faint red.

You nod. “Yeah, I didn’t believe them.”

“Oh.”

“Wait — so you’re saying — you liked me?”

Soonyoung grunts in surprise, eyes widened. He shakes his head but as he directs his vision onto the floor, he sighs and hesitantly nods.

Operation Soonyoung was suddenly back on the radar. That means the chances of being Miracle were high.

“Soonyoung—“

“Listen to what I say first! And then if you’re uncomfortable, I’ll understand…” He, again, says with hesitation, eyes concentrated on the table or your hands. “Yeah, I did like you a few years ago, during the spring showcase… But we didn’t talk to each other, so what chances did I have?”

He inhales a sharp sigh, clenching his eyes shut and nose forming crinkles, sucking in a small this is going to be so embarrassing.

Fortunately, you pick those words up. “Embarrassing? What’s embarrassing.”

“There’s another reason.”

Is he going to confess he’s Miracle?

“I…”

Oh my god, he is—

“I thought you and Jihoon were dating.”

What?

“What?” You mumble softly.

“God, that’s the dumbest reason out of the book, and I fell for it.” Soonyoung covers his face with his hands, shielding himself from the weirded out looks he thinks you have on your face. “And Jihoon didn’t wanna say anything about it either, so I sucked it up and tried to get over it. Then, he tells me you were just good friends a year after.”

“Soonyoung… I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—“

“Nothing you can do,” shrugs he, “truthfully, I didn’t get over you until the winter break the year after. But I got over it in the end.”

“Still, you went though all of the emotional gain because of me,”

“It’s not like I regret it.” He smiles a bit, trying to reassure you. The smile fades as he faces the reality after explaining his side. “I bet you’re like Soonyoung, you creep, now that you’ve heard me say all of this, so feel free to laugh at me all you want… Not too much though, I have a weak heart.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not thinking that at all.”

“Yeah, I— what?”

Confused at your words, you continue to smile to let him know you’re being genuine. “We’ve become really close in a little more than a week, and you’re an amazing friend on top of that. It makes me regret not being friends with you sooner.”

“Man, if the Soonyoung years ago was hearing this, he would either feel so touched or badly friend-zoned just now.”

Alarmed, you react as if Soonyoung was still attached onto his feelings, ready to apologise.

“It’s okay, I’m not affected,” he beats you to it, which was the most reassuring thing of them all.

“Friends?”

“Friends.” Soonyoung links a pinkie with you, hoping the promise would last a lifetime. He was a precious friend after all.

After the chat, you highlight one topic Soonyoung mentioned. “You thought Jihoon had a thing with me? Why?”

“Probably because I saw you two together a lot. Before he became friends with me and the rest of the department, you were all he’d go to. He cares about you a lot, if you didn’t know.”

“Hoon? Caring about me?”

“You sound surprised — it’s pretty obvious. Didn’t he make you a cake for your birthday last year?”

“Yeah… What does that have to do with anything?”

“We both know he’s a terrible cook — I mean, he microwaved ice cream one time because it was too hard to scoop out — but he wanted to make you something like that for your birthday.”

“The cake was nice though…”

“It took him a month to get the recipe right. He didn’t want my help, he even used the culinary department’s kitchen just for that and didn’t want their help either. And you know why he did that?”

“Becuase it was my birthday?”

“Wrong!” Soonyoung lightly taps your head as an incorrect gesture. “It was because you were going through a hard time during that time. He just wanted you to cast your worries aside and see you celebrate because you deserved it. He told me everything about it.”

Your heart skips slightly, thinking over the fact Jihoon did something like that to make you happy. It was a strange feeling to experience.

“He’s going to hate me for saying all of this to you, but he looks out for you a lot. He notices things, he’s smart.”

Agreeing, you hum, deeply thinking over his words.

Later that day, a stray envelope is sticking out from the front pocket of your bag as you left it unattended. The sweet, lilac hue  instantly telling you who the sender is.

You do not hesitate to open it.

Turns out, I’m not Kwon Soonyoung either. Are you disappointed? I can sense your frown right now... Don’t frown dear, I’m sorry for letting you down...

But the game still goes on, and although I don’t know who’s left on your mind, I might reveal myself. Not for now, but I feel a little daring, kinda unusual for me, isn’t it?

Now.

Kwon Soonyoung.

Believe it or not, I’m truly the opposite to him. I’m sometimes glad that I’m not like him, but over time I sometimes dislike it. The things he can do, I don’t think I’m fit to do them. Like Junhui, he’s confident, and he always has his mind set on something. Me? My mind changes so much. I’m a big coward ha...

Soonyoung’s loud too. I could say it’s what I don’t like about him the most, though I’d be completely wrong. It’s simple enough. He stands out. I blend in. A harsh truth I have to come to terms in, but I’m guessing that’s why you chose Soonyoung too, because he stands out. He shines.

Yet among that, you shine the brightest. I know it’s hard finding me, but I know you’ll be able to find my identity and when you do, I’ll be ready to confess my feelings to you to the world. No backing out, no shying away.

I’ll find a way to make something happen, as if my life depends on it.

Miracle.

The letter felt... Sadder in terms of Miracle’s usual way of writing — light and thoughtful — as words become raw. Once you find him, you’ll definitely tell him how much he means to you, even if it was a silly love letter at the end of the day.

He sure doesn’t know Soonyoung either. The dancer, surprisingly, is insanely shy underneath the loudness he has. It makes you think whether Miracle doesn’t think highly of himself.

When you walk out to the campus, you spot Jihoon exiting a nearby building, busy looking at texts.

Soonyoung’s words form in your head again, realising the care Jihoon had for you. And without a thought, you run to the male and surprise him with a sudden hug.

Jihoon grunts quietly, but it only makes you hold onto him more.

“Huh, Y/N? Is everything okay?” You nod into his chest. “Are... Are you sure? We can talk about it—”

“Just shut up and hug me,”

With no more complaints, Jihoon gladly keeps you in his arms.

Six.

You’ve been say in the library for six hours, your paper due at midnight. Although you had eight hours left, you still didn’t fee like it was in top shape. Words felt messy; sentences didn’t flow the way you wanted to; it was just so confusing.

Your head meets the desk the nth time today, remaining at that mental block ever since you had your lunch that consisted of peach juice and a half-assed sandwich that you didn’t even finish. Sure, you came at the library at six, but you were also up until two in the morning to do the minimum of what you were aiming to do.

That didn’t happen, hence, you’re still stuck in this damn library.

The only thing in your mind right now is sleep. If no one noticed, you could get away with sleeping in the library, but not sleeping in the library is better than getting kicked out for a month because of sleeping in the library.

A headache kicks in in the midst of working, deforming your face as you wince in pain, hoping to go home soon. It’s unlikely you will, but you wanted to sleep.

At some point, all you do is stare at the screen. Stare at every blank word on the screen, done rushed or half-tiredly.

“Everything alright?”

Registering the voice, you rapidly blink and sit up, trying to be as awake as you can. Your eyes move to the person, vision slightly altered due to the fuzziness in your eyes, but you could make out the silver framed glasses and hair the fell gently on top.

“Wonwoo?” He responds to his name through the tone of his hum. “Oh, uh, yeah... Not really,”

The librarian takes a seat next to you, a strong, fresh scent radiating from him. It was almost like a magical spell, luring you to sleep. Wonwoo scans the laptop, frowning after knowing what you were doing.

“Due in tonight?” Crap, he caught you out. You nod in shame.

“I was trying to get it done last night but my body gave in... And I haven’t left this library since—“

“Since ten.” Wonwoo noticed too? “My partial job is to sit here all day, but you’ll get muscle cramps the more you stay in one position, you should’ve taken a little break... But that’s a little late to tell you that.”

“I know...” You see the textbooks in his hand. “Oh, you’re probably busy putting back books, I shouldn’t disturb you—”

“These are just to text mark for my next class. You’re fine.” Wonwoo proceeds to stay seated, in fact, he readjusts his seat to sit more comfortably, picking up a book and setting the rest aside. “You must be tired. Take a rest, I’ll cover for you.”

“Wonwoo—“

“Just face me while you sleep, alright?”

You give into his words, smoothly resting your head on your arms as you close your eyes, falling asleep within seconds.

It was a nice nap which you awoke after an hour. An hour wasn’t what you intended, but damn, you really needed that.

Blinking, your vision comes into focus with a book marked with colourful sticky notes. If the book is still there, that means...

“Good afternoon, did you rest well?”

Your eyes direct themselves to Wonwoo, smiling down at you as he breaks away from what he was doing. After a short hum from you, Wonwoo goes back to finishing something he wrote.

The action initiates you to sit up, the reality of your paper flooding your head once more. Though, when you look at Wonwoo’s notes — neatly sorted in colourful rows — you sit and stare at the notes, mind pondering.

His handwriting is pretty.

“Oh.” Quiet, Wonwoo lets out. He begins flipping pages in his book, all decorated with some form of colourful note until he stops at a particular page and brings out a long note with minimal bullet points in.

He gently peels it off the page and locates it on top of your book.

“While you were sleeping I skimmed through your paper and highlighted a few things you could work on...”

Wait, what?

Wonwoo continues, “I don’t mean to sound critical or anything! It’s just — you looked like you were having a hard time — I don’t know much about your topic but I wrote what I thought sounded relevant.”

You read through the list, the points showcasing good arguments and research topics to mention. “These are great points, I couldn’t think of these...” You pout, “You’re so book-smart Wonwoo, I’m so jealous.”

Wonwoo lets out a earthy laugh, his expression a playfully saddened. “Don’t say that, you’re intelligent too,”

“Everyone knows you though — Jeon Wonwoo, the campus’ treasure.”

“I wouldn’t call myself that...”

“Why not? It fits you.”

He looks directly at you, face tinted with some sadness. “I blend in.”

A flashback crosses your mind whilst saying the words and it doesn’t appear into your head until—

“Sorry, I’m distracting you now. You should get your work done, and I need finish this too.” He awkwardly apologises, turning back to his textbook.

Did Wonwoo just... No, don’t dive straight in yet, you warn beforehand, it was like a heated argument between your heart and mind.

As for now, you only hum and work on your laptop, more prepared thanks to Wonwoo’s involvement.

It turns to seven in the evening and you’re almost finished.

But you were starving.

Primarily, you were going to text Jihoon, asking if he could come over and bring food, but when you met him in the morning he seemed busy.

Embarrassingly, your tummy rumbles and it breaks Wonwoo’s concentration at that second, watching you clench your arms around your waist.

“I should’ve brought something else to eat...” You murmur, eyes squeezed shut. Although you thought Wonwoo didn’t hear that, it was slightly the opposite.

The male sets his pen down, patting his pockets before speaking. “I’m gonna go out for a bit. Look after my things?”

Reluctant, you answer him with bob of your head. Wonwoo exits swiftly.

Your phone chimes and you receive a from Jihoon alongside an attachment of his cap covering his full face.

His text reads I’m so tired followed by a crying emoticon.

The image is what cheers you up, catching up with Jihoon for a bit.

You talk about the majority of your day, but you somehow leave Wonwoo out of it all. You don’t even tell Jihoon your suspicions that Wonwoo may be Miracle.

The problem was that Wonwoo wasn’t an open book, so you had to play it safe.

Breaking away from the conversation, you excuse yourself by telling Jihoon you had to finish your stupid essay and Jihoon sends a bunch of hahaha and a gif of a kitten saying good luck!

Eventually Wonwoo comes back ten minutes later, a white plastic bag in hand as he sits back down, commenting something like it’s cold under his breath.

“Where’d you go?” You inquire.

“Convenience store, it was only around the corner outside campus.”

“I see...” Wonwoo brings out the items one by one, finally tying the bag and putting into his bag. Your finger points at a specific item. “Pepero? I didn’t know you liked those.”

Wonwoo sees the box of pepero, and his fingers slide it nearer to you. “I don’t eat them a lot, but I figured it would help you fill your stomach.”

“Seriously? Oh, sorry for making you go out your way to do that—“

“Rather than apologising all the time, can you just thank me for the food?”

Speechless, he knows that you know he’s right. “Thanks Wonwoo... A lot.”

“Anything for you.” Wonwoo flashes a smile, twisting the bottle cap of his drink before taking a long drink.

You pick up the pepero box, looking at its contents.

It hits you for a second time — the pepero was strawberry flavoured.

“Say, Wonwoo...”

“That’s me,”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because,” Wonwoo takes a while to gaze at you, your features softening at the sight when a gentle grin lifts Wonwoo’s cheeks, “because I care about you.”

It’s you, Jeon?

Days and nights pass and you find yourself spending more time with Wonwoo these days — staying at the library to chat, frequently passing advice to each other, each moment getting longer every time you stay with him.

Jihoon notices your change in behaviour, commenting on your recent rejection with wanting to meet up. You dismiss that idea quickly, saying that you just had to check for any suspicions. The ambiguity in itself confuses Jihoon — mainly due to the fact you hadn’t told him about Wonwoo — but he doesn’t ask any further, quietly going back to his laptop.

These chats with Wonwoo upgrade to meeting outside campus: trips to the cinema, visiting cafes or the newest KBBQ restaurant opening down the street, all memories posted on your social medias with some silly caption.

Waking up one morning, your roommate, in an obvious rush, briefly mentions about a letter addressed to you from the mailbox. Your ears throb at the information, dashing to the foot of your bed when your roommate leaves, a pretty pink letter distinct against the white covers.

Clumsy, you manage to open the letter.

I’ve come to a decision.

Meet me at the east garden. One o’clock?

I’ll be waiting~

(Gosh, I’m regretting what I’m gonna do now, apologies in advanced)

Miracle.

You practically let out a squeal, falling to the floor from the shock igniting through you. It wasn’t just that, but the fact the letter ended with a kiss in coloured chapstick — which was probably mentioning apologising at the end. Miracle certainly had a way of driving you crazy these days; now he’s finally revealing himself.

Right at that moment, you phone rings in the same chime again. It’s from Jihoon again, wanting to spend time with you. You feel bitter knowing Jihoon has been asking this question for a while, met with rejection every time, but you end up texting back a not today, something important came up, finished with, I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.

Checking the time, it already hit half eleven. “Perfect!” You cheer, getting up to dress yourself, full of bubbling excitement.

Because of your energetic nerves, you arrive at the garden ten minutes before  the allocated time, the green hues standing out next to the bright sky, students enjoying their day either by laying on the grass studying or strolling with friends.

You analyse the place to see if anyone looked like they were waiting for you, but after two minutes, no one fitted the criteria. It turned twelve soon after and you decided to explore around to see if you can catch Miracle anywhere.

Turning to a small path leading to a less frequently visited area of the garden, you spot someone sat by the stone bench. Turns out, you recognise that person.

“Jihoon!” You exclaim, Jihoon flinching at the exclamation. He turns, his frame revealing a pen in between his fingers and a journal on his lap. WIthout any hesitation, he closes his journal.

Hand on his chest after a long sigh, his relaxed state smiles at you fondly. “Oh, it’s you,”

His tone is soft, standing up from the bench and heading your way, an embarrassed, shy curl on his lips — his dimples peeking through — shimmering eyes trained to the floor.

He stops in front of you, taking a gulp before nervously staring at you. He’s in the middle of opening his mouth, but you beat him to it.

You beat him to it, and it’s all the difference.

“Guess what, I think Wonwoo’s Miracle.”

In a blink of a eye, the shimmer in Jihoon’s eyes dull. Nonetheless, you don’t notice it, babbling on.

“It’s why I haven’t been hanging around you much,” you confess to him, frowning, “Wonwoo’s just — really hard to figure out — but after a while there are things that he and Miracle do. I’m pretty sure it’s Wonwoo, I don’t know who else it would be. I think I’m getting butterflies, I—“

“That’s… Nice,” Jihoon breaks out, not staring at you anymore. The journal held on his chest is now at his side, gripped with strength.

It took you a while, but you noticed Jihoon’s tone. “Jihoon…? Hoon, are you okay?”

“Yeah!” He replies with fake energy, but he isn’t looking up. He isn’t looking at you. “It’s great to hear that. I should go before he comes, right?”

“Wait,” you hold him by the arm, “you sound angry — are you angry at me? — did I do something wrong—“

“It’s nothing.”

“Why can’t you tell me? You know you can talk to me Hoon, I don’t like seeing you like this…” Hurt, you try to take a glimpse at Jihoon but he isn’t allowing it. “Is it because Miracle is Wonwoo? I thought you didn’t mind him. I thought you wanted to know too.

“I just said I don’t wanna—“

“No! There’s something wrong and you aren’t telling me about it!”

With enough strength to remove your arm, but not enough to hurt you, Jihoon gets out of your grip, staring at you again, though not with what you intended. He’s glaring at you, fusions of frustration and pain being hinted, but why?

“Everything’s fine. Just leave me alone.”

Before you stop him, he leaves much quicker than you expect, vanishing from the garden; besides, if you follow him, he’d only avoid you more. So all you could do was wait for Miracle to come, in hope that whoever he is will cheer you up.

Miracle never came, nor any love letter from that point.

It’s been a quiet month. Life became static, classes felt like a drag, and Jihoon certainly had no intention to contact you after everything.

You wake up at ten, knowing your roommate went out because of the bed across you done well. Although you were against it, you figured that you should do the same — at least it helps you start the day.

Feet settling on the rough floor, you blink at the stray piece of paper in front of your door. It looks like someone slid it in. Groggily, you walk towards it, complaining as you bend down to pick it up, sitting back down on your messy bed.

It was a simple, white letter. It’s sides were slightly blunt, the page looking like it was ripped out of somewhere.

“Letter?” You question, heart dropping to your stomach. You open the letter with anticipation.

Y/N.

I… I’m really sorry about that last letter. You must’ve waited a long time for me, but I never got to reach you because of my fear that you won’t look at me the same once revealing myself.

I’ve liked you for so long, I care about you so much it pains me to think you have to go through hard thoughts. I remember liking you because of your smile. It was pretty; it was contagious. Then, through watching from my safe distance, I fell for you more and more. Your kindness, your sweet nature and overall comfort seemed to make my fondness grow, it just couldn’t be helped. I was in a stage of hopelessness, but I had to make sure I wasn’t too weird or anything.

From your posts on social media… It came to my realisation you and Wonwoo became much closer.

Is it okay for me to say that I’m jealous?

‘Hurt’ is a better way to call it, but, Wonwoo’s something else. You and him connected without difficulty, and it didn’t take you long for the both of you to watch movies together or have lunch. During that time, you seemed to smile a lot more with him, I almost felt upset that it was all because of Wonwoo, meanwhile I couldn’t do any of that. I can’t make you smile like that. I’m guessing you thought I was Wonwoo — that Wonwoo was Miracle — but no, I’m not. Sorry to disappoint you…

Maybe I’m so jealous because… Because Wonwoo is everything I’m not.

My heart is being poured onto these pages and I’m sorry for my flow, but I just needed to let this out. You need to know before I finish this. I can’t even show my face, let alone confess to you… It’s pathetic. But if I can’t express my feelings the way I do internally, I’ll keep these emotions guarded if you truly like Wonwoo. In the end, I want you to be happy. I’ve never devoted myself to someone before, is that why my chest hurts so much?

So this is a letter — an ode — for you. To thank you for everything. It’s a lot to take in, and a lot for me to declare, but you’re my first love. And before you begin to think negatively through this letter, don’t. That’s the last thing I want you to do. I just think its time to come to terms with myself and my place in your eyes.

You’re still the most wonderful person I know and I want you to always remember that. Writing these cliche letters have grown as a part of my routine, each with memories that’ll remain in my mind for a lifetime and until the next. They’ll remain in my heart forever.

This letter will be last. I’m sad it had to end this way, but let’s think of it for the best. Let’s remember this beautifully rather than in pain.

I love you, Y/N.

Miracle.

You grip onto the paper, holding back the tear that want to seep through.

After a month of silence, you’re given this?

No, no, it can’t be like this. It didn’t feel right at all. It felt like all your fears creeping from behind, pushing you down into a hopeless hole that runs for an eternity.

Like an instant reaction, you do the first thing that comes into your mind: searching for your phone and tapping away on the screen, the cold screen pressed against your ear.

“Wonwoo? Can we talk?”

You and Wonwoo meet half an hour later in Seventeen, yourself ordering a sweet treat to unhealthily energise you. Wonwoo, on the other hand, ordered himself the Real Cocoa, a new order that was added just last week (which was basically their branded hot chocolate).

You do admit that you truly did think that Wonwoo was Miracle, but after the situation, it didn’t just confirm that Wonwoo wasn’t him, but that it was better off being friends with him. Towards him, your feelings never escalated because in the end, Wonwoo was just a really good friend.

“Care to tell me what’s up? You made me worried after that call…”

“Sorry… Just, let me explain all of this to you.”

“I’m all ears.”

And you tell him everything. You tell him about Miracle, the love letters, the strawberry milk, about your desire to find Miracle, Jihoon helping you along the way, even admitting that you thought Wonwoo was Miracle because his actions fit into the actions of Miracle, the so-called reveal, the month of silence after that, and finally the present day: the ode.

Wonwoo props up a paper crane made from his tissue next to him, humming as he takes in all of the information with a calmness to him.

“Do you have it on you?” Wonwoo asks, “The ode — that goodbye letter.”

You search through your bag for the item, handing it to Wonwoo, his fingers unfolding the paper’s contents and exposing their woods, letting his eyes scan paper systematically. His lips move along to the words, whispering a few phrases. In such a short time, you manage to remember most words of that letter.

The male gestures that he’s finished reading by placing the letter back on the table. First, he sighs, head jerking itself slightly. “Wow. I’m flattered that someone thinks of me as if I’m perfect—“

You whack him on the arm, a little angry he had to joke in such a scenario, but it lost some of the tension inside yourself.

“Kidding, but, I do feel slightly responsible. I never intended for my actions to affect him. So this was the last letter he sent? No hints to who he his, not even a name?”

Shaking your head, Wonwoo tuts at the response. “I can only tell you that his handwriting is pretty. It’s also why I thought you could’ve been Miracle too, but guess not, so…”

“True, it is nicely written. Lets just read through the letter again until we come up with something.”

So you look through the letter over and over until every word is memorised, nothing relevant coming into mind.

“Whatcha’ guys looking at?” The unintended scare makes Wonwoo and you jump, Junhui reacting along with the both of you despite being the one who scared you. He’s in his uniform, so he must be working right now.

“Love letter.” Wonwoo states, but you glare at him.

He isn’t wrong per se, but to say something like that out loud was awkward.

Correcting him, you add, “We’re finding out who wrote this letter.” To be honest, you didn’t want to add Junhui — the first suspect on the potential Miracles list — into this, but it was too late to tell him something else. Wonwoo ruined that chance anyway. “Wanna help? We kinda need all the help we can get.”

Junhui’s eyes widen. “Woah, you have an admirer Y/N?!”

Brokenly nodding, you also think it’s better to confess to Junhui as well. Keeping it in will only feel heavier on your load. “Actually, at first, I thought it was you…”

“It wasn’t just me?” Wonwoo asks, surprised.

“Mhmm. It’s just three of you, though.”

“And who’s the third?”

“Um… Soonyoung,”

Junhui points at the letter, “You really think Soonyoung has handwriting this nice? We should get you to an opticians after this—“

“Jun!” Wonwoo nudges him, Junhui laughing.

“Hey, I’m not wrong!”

Shrugging, Wonwoo bends his elbow over the chair, turning to Junhui. “Any ideas then? Anything is helpful.”

Junhui bends over, head moving left and right like a metronome as he reads through the letter, face concentrated like when he was picking between the teddy and flower. You should ask him how that story went.

In the end, Junhui shakes his head. You and Wonwoo grunt.

“Unless,” He comes closer to the paper again, “Miracle wrote this letter in here.”

“Here? How the heck can you confirm that?” You ask, taking glimpses of the paper.

“The coffee ring.”

Wonwoo argues, “But that could’ve been from any other coffee shop.”

Junhui moves back and presents the paper for the both of you to see. “If you feel it, it still feels damp and you can see some of the coffee imprinted to the other side where the note is folded. What time did you get this letter Y/N?”

“Almost an hour ago? It was slid through my dorm door.”

Triumphant, Junhui snaps his fingers. “Exactly! If this note was still fresh with these coffee stains, Seventeen is the only one that fits the criteria because your dorm wouldn’t be too far away from here.”

“Holy shit. He’s onto something.” Wonwoo gasps.

“Did you see who wrote this Jun?”

“Nope. I was restocking items then, sorry Y/N — but I probably guess it was the guy sitting near the entrance by the corner wearing a cap and mustard shirt. A gasp came from that corner and I got a glimpse of coffee being spilt there. I never got to see his face though.”

“Progress.” Inhaling a sharp sigh, Wonwoo relaxes in his chair, noticing your sullen star at the paper.

“We need a little bit more than that though… I swear, Miracle will forever be a mystery— AH!” You yell when you look at the window, Soonyoung’s face pressed against the glass, producing an ugly face. Gaining a reaction from you three, Soonyoung laughs evilly as he walks into the cafe, slinging an arm around Junhui.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere Wonwoo! I thought we were going to that new PC bang you’ve been talking about non-stop! I even ended dance practice early for it… Oh, hey Y/N!”

Wonwoo scrunches his face. “About that, well…”

“Anywho!” Soonyoung interrupts. “I saw you all crowded here, so, let me join in on the fun!”

Junhui picks up the light item for Soonyoung to see. “Can you guess who wrote this?”

Soonyoung takes it from Junhui’s hands, his reading combination of squinting his eyes and jutting out a lip. Furrowing his eyebrows, his head cocks back.

“Oh, it’s Jihoon’s hadnwriting.”

Jihoon?

“Him? Why bring him up all of a sudden—” You stammer, unable to keep the nervousness inside. “Besides, he doesn’t write like that.”

“He does! This is totally Jihoon’s! I see it inside the books he carries.”

“His handwriting his messy. Like really, really messy.”

“I know his handwriting when I see it,” you go mute over Soonyoung’s argument, Wonwoo noticing the argument progressing somewhere else.

Wonwoo takes it into his own hands. “Okay, we trust you Soon, but is there anything else you can connect to Jihoon other than that?”

Soonyoung shows the neatly torn side of the paper. “You can tell it’s been ripped from a book. He does this a lot when we’re together, but normally crumples them and throws it on the ground or something like that when it doesn’t ‘sound right’ to him…” Soonyoung faces you. “You also notice he rips a lot of paper out of his journals too, right?”

You nod, further improved by the addition of Junhui, stating, “Jihoon isn’t great with words either — he must’ve had to write what he would wanna say multiple times before writing the final thing—“

“Which explains why so many pages are ripped out from his book!” Soonyoung finishes for him, baffled.

Wonwoo leans into the table a bit more, propping himself with his arm. “Have you met him today? Jihoon?” Soonyoung nods. “What did he wear?”

“Let’s see. He wore a yellow shirt—“ Junhui’s eyes open in panic, Soonyoung rambling on, “I don’t understand how he wasn’t cold, it’s freezing.”

You look at Junhui and Wonwoo. “He didn’t say anything about a cap, anyone could’ve worn a yellow shirt…” Why were you arguing against this? Half of you didn’t want to believe it, the other half…

“Cap? I let Jihoon borrow mine because he left midway during dance practice. Guess he got bored. Was it white?”

For confirmation, Wonwoo looks at Junhui — Soonyoung mirroring Wonwoo to make it look like he knows what’s happening — who slowly nods in somewhat horror.

After the reaction passes on to the other two, they hurry to the note and reread it together, all the faint murmurs about Jihoon turning into exaggerated exclamations as they get to the end of the letter.

Drowning into deep thought, ignoring all of the others’ reactions, you piece together the truth. “No way — the garden — it was him. He was waiting for me. Jihoon is Miracle. Holy shit, what have I done?”

“Garden?” Junhui questions. Because of your late realisation to how oblivious you were, you thoroughly rub your eyes, letting this sink in. Wonwoo’s lips thin, hand tapping your arm to comfort you.

“At least we revealed Miracle’s identity,”

“It took you this long to figure out it was the person you’ve been around this whole time?”

“It didn’t seem like it was him Soonyoung! And I still dragged him into it… I flat out rejected him that day, he must hate me—“

“Hey, that isn’t true.” Reasons Wonwoo. “You two need to talk it out and apologise. Sure, you took a while to come to your senses, but he shouldn’t have led you on and decide to call it quits last second.”

Junhui puts a finger against the window. “Jihoon’s right over there — exiting campus.” All of you swivel your heads to watch the male walk out of the grounds, expressionless. “You should talk to him!”

“I can get him—“

“Wait, Soonyoung, stay. I think I have a plan. But all of you need to help me.”

It’s a nice day, Jihoon thinks, walking across the hallway, his eyes concentrated on the window and the students in groups enjoying their day. Other than that, he isn’t paying too much attention to anything, music coming through his headphones.

But his phone vibrates, causing him to tap the screen and see what the text is.

Is it okay if we talk?

Jihoon hitches a breath as he rereads the six words over and over, his heart slightly throbbing too fast, the rush of feelings flooding in. He doesn’t like this feeling — or the reason that they came back so quickly — it was like an uninvited guest.

As much as his feelings were at the tip of the iceberg, he didn’t want to give into you. He promised himself to let things go; to have time to himself before acting as if everything was fine.

So, he sets his phone away and continues walking, turning up the sound even though he’s fully aware it’s not going to distract him. He’ll reply to you in a few hours, maybe say his phone died on him, or something.

He glances at his hand, it’s shaking — what the heck?

There’s a prodding around his shoulder blade and a muffled noise behind him, but it takes him a while to finally reacts to the student who stops him in his tracks by standing in front of him. Hanging his headphones around his neck, Jihoon looks at the other with widened eyes, shifting them from time to time as he has never seen this person in his life.

“Jihoon, is it?” They say. Careful, Jihoon nods. “Someone wants to meet you at the lecture hall. He’s… This high?” The student raises their hand to estimate their height. “You won’t miss him.”

“Okay… Do you know what it’s for?” After saying that, he realises he should’ve asked who this person was, but Jihoon went against changing his question. The student shrugs and Jihoon can’t blame them — he doesn’t even know why someone would want to see him anyway, unless it’s Soonyoung asking to eat for the millionth time — “It’s alright. Thanks for tell me anyway. Um, have a nice day.”

Walking away, Jihoon’s mind lingers on what he could be asked, an odd feeling in his stomach the more he tries to push down his emotions.

Arriving to the lecture hall, he takes glimpses inside to see if there was one vacant or had someone that remotely looked like they were waiting for Jihoon.

Luckily, he finds one that fits the first criteria, and also revealed someone packing up their things near the front rows. Jihoon isn’t too sure if that’s who wants to see him, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask anyway.

He steps down the stairs until he’s level with the person, shocked to see it was Junhui. “Jun?”

Nonchalant, Junhui faces Jihoon and forms a kind face when he sees the male. “Jihoon? I haven’t seen you in a while, you doing fine?”

“Oh — I’ve been well,”

“Nice,” Junhui nods in appreciation, midway packing his things, “my lecture just ended. Did you want something?”

Junhui didn’t want to see me? Did he just forget? Jihoon puffs his cheeks. “Ah — no, it’s okay—“ he’s about to leave, but something inside him stops him from doing so. “By any chance, did you wanna talk to me?”

“Right!” Junhui gasps, digging back into his bag as he brings out an item. “Can you give this to Soonyoung? I forgot to this morning since I was in a hurry and my shift is soon.”

Doing such a simple favour can make Jihoon just say no, can you do it when you see Soonyoung again? to Junhui, but he doesn’t want to look rude so he complies to the request, being lent the white cap into his hands.

“I’ll see if he’s in the dance studio.”

“You’re a lifesaver Jihoon, I owe you one. You like food don’t you? Let’s eat next time. Okay?” A grin widens on Junhui’s face naturally and Jihoon, like he’s under a spell, nods the slightest, Junhui finally packing up and slinging a bag over him, walking away whilst humming.

Jihoon gets to relax when he finally leaves, expressing a whole sigh. Junhui’s so relaxed, isn’t he? Not to mention friendly too. Who could say no to him?

Now heading to the dance studio, Jihoon twirls the cap around his finger, his mind still going back to your text. Then he remembers he’s going to Soonyoung, and a funny memory comes into his head.

It’s the time when Soonyoung asked him about you — if you were seeing someone. In Jihoon’s mind, it wasn’t his place to say if you were dating, but at the same time, he didn’t like to think about you with someone else. From what began as platonic blossomed into something more, a slight desire to treasure you for himself, but it sounded crazy in Jihoon’s head.

Therefore in the end, he didn’t answer Soonyoung’s question. Jihoon was also aware of the feelings Soonyoung had for you, despite Soonyoung’s bad attempts of trying to disapprove of it. Jihoon was tagged to not express his feelings, so Jihoon kept it that way. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to break up his friendship with Soonyoung by admitting he liked you too — he wanted Soonyoung to keep his puppy love for you.

“Hey man, what’s up Hoon?”

Jihoon flinches a little. He didn’t even register that he was in the dance studio already. He greets Soonyoung with a wobbly smile. “Jun wanted to give this back.”

“Oh, I’ve been searching for this everywhere!” Soonyoung throws his current cap away and wears the white one. “While you’re here, I need to give you something.”

“Am I being a messenger owl today?” Scoffs Jihoon.

“What?”

“Nothing,”

An item is placed into Jihoon’s hand — a laptop that was familiar to him — and he looks at Soonyoung’s face, smiling as if it was nothing. He couldn’t blame Soonyoung, but it was like a stab to a fresh wound.

“Can you give this to Y/N? I used it to transport some files to my phone. I pretty sure she’s in the library with Wonwoo. They’re familiar with each other aren’t they?”

Yes Soonyoung, I know that, Jihoon grits his teeth. Jihoon shouldn’t be like this; he has no right to be. Why, out of all people, does he have to see Y/N and Wonwoo face to face? Fate was probably laughing at him today.

How sad.

“Whatever.” Jihoon eventually comments, walking out. Soonyoung shouts love you Jihoon! as he walks out, Jihoon scowling secretly. But he can’t get mad at Soonyoung — it was a harmless act in the end.

Soonyoung exhales loudly once Jihoon leaves. There’s a reason why Soonyoung isn’t a drama major, thank god he played it off decently. He finds his phone, lifting it to his ear. “You’re up.”

It’s quite a walk, but Jihoon makes it to the library, holding in a breath. Is it normal for is heart to beat this fast? Maybe not, but it was.

Jihoon slaps himself lightly on the cheek, wanting to come back to the reality of this all. It’s over. The simple words keeps Jihoon motivated to enter the library, quiet and unbothered.

Yet to his surprise, you couldn’t be seen anywhere. Like an idiot, he walks up and down and around the library three times before concluding one, everyone was certainly beginning to think he’s insane, and two, you aren’t in the library.

“Fantastic.” Jihoon clicks his tongue, preparing himself for what’s about to happen. Right now, he wants to kick a chair, yet he suppresses that as he walks to the desk, paper cranes of different sizes and colours filling the sides.

Jihoon stares at Wonwoo, who’s in his own world, silently folding more cranes one by one, multitasking as he reads through a textbook.

Slowly arriving in front of the desk, Jihoon clears his throat. Awkwardly.

“Wonwoo?”

“Hm — Jihoon?” Wonwoo puts down his in-progress crane, tilting his head. “How may I help?”

His chill tone makes Jihoon bubble with envy inside. Insecurity hits. Manifests. Jihoon presents the laptop to Wonwoo, hand running along one of your stickers in the corner.

He either had two options: ask where you were, or ask Wonwoo to give the laptop to you.

Jihoon comes to a decision.

“Give this to Y/N please,”

“Ah, Y/N just left, what bad timing,” Wonwoo pouts, now holding the laptop and storing it behind the desk, “I’ll return it as soon as possible. Y/N will be really happy.”

“Okay.” Forcing a smile, Jihoon thinks he can’t hold this up any longer. It feels like the world is closing on him. “Now I, uh, better go—“

“Before you do,” Wonwoo disrupts, “Y/N left this.” He shows a closed letter, sliding it along the desk to Jihoon. “I think it’s for you.”

Me? “I don’t think so…” Jihoon shakes his head, rejecting the letter. “Its probably for you.”

“Pretty sure it isn’t,” the other holds up a smile, “we’re just friends. Whatever it is, I don’t think Y/N would tell me something through letter.” Wonwoo pushes the letter just slightly, enough to tip over the edge and for Jihoon to clumsily catch it. “I have no idea what it’s about, but the name says what it says.”

Jihoon checks the letters on the flap. Lee Jihoon.

“Oh.” Jihoon says intelligently. He moves his lips to add something, but recognises the person waiting behind him, giving no option but to quickly say goodbye and walk out.

Sitting after much exhaustion, Jihoon unfolds the black letter and takes out the tiny-sized paper.

Dear Jihoon,

This is long overdue on my behalf, so here it is.

You had me fooled.

Fooled you were helping me all this time; fooled that you were just tagging along with this; fooled I was going the wrong way all this time. But you know what? You fooled yourself too.

Fooled yourself by watching me go through each person, one by one. Fooled through pointing out the good things about everyone. Fooled because when it came to you, you looked at yourself negatively. I could be mad — I’d have a right to be — but it’s not what I’m here for.

I’m here to tell you the truth.

The truth that you don’t have to be Junhui to be loved by everyone, or be Soonyoung to catch my attention, even Wonwoo to make me smile ‘brightly’. I want you to be you.

Jihoon who’s always hardworking, the person who brings a smile to my face every day without fail, who I hold precious to my heart, who’s amazing in every single way but stays grounded. You — with a loving heart even though he doesn’t want to admit, that through the stubbornness, you cherish those close to you; admire them, even.

You admire them to the point that you think you can’t get to their level, and it hurts me to see you can’t recognise your glow. Because of you, each day is beautiful to me. Persona or true self, you are held dear to me, because in the end, it’s you.

Out of all possibilities, I wouldn’t have thought you’d admire someone like me. ‘Why me?’ Is what I thought the first time I recieved that letter during that cold January. Though, I slowly loved myself more and more with your words, and I was always on the receiving end.

What I’m trying to say is… I wanna return the favour. Show you how special you are, make you love yourself the same way you did to me.

So please, meet me in the garden? I miss you so much.

I miss your face, smile, voice, the stupid texts you send at 2AM — I miss it all. I hope you do, too.

It’s fine if you don’t come. I just wanted to let you know all of this.

My miracle; that’s who you are in my eyes.

Love, Y/N.

Jihoon begins to run to the garden, heart beating faster than ever. Inside the library, Wonwoo smiles, soon texting you.

Out of the endless possibilities.

Jihoon stumbles into the garden, turning around and round, searching with every fibre of energy in him. He stops, thinking deeply before his eyes lighten — shimmering — when he goes into the direction of the hidden area, hidden behind vivid green leaves and small, white flowers growing.

He sees you standing there, a fresh breeze coming to him. He feels unworthy of being dressed so casually like this but it doesn’t matter because you’re there.

Your hand gripped onto your arm as you’re seated on the stone bench, gently swinging your legs and face sullen yet calm, eyes moving from your shoes to the stone path.

Only one miracle has happened before our eyes

Quietly, he calls out your name.

Your ears pick it up, the quiet call feeling like the loudest thing in your mind, all the messy thoughts fading away. The two of you meet face to face, taking in every curve and expression forming on your face.

Jihoon’s smooth skin kissed with faint beauty marks, deep irises shaking as they gaze at you, eyelashes moving beautifully when he closes his eyes, the hue of his cheeks warming to a cherry blossom pink, being bridged over his nose, lips agape, no words escaping out of him.

He’s just like you remembered him: beautiful.

Even if we miss each other, it’s alright, I’ll find you.

He approaches you first, walking with a little sigh while his eyes concentrate on you. You couldn’t just break away, you were enchanted too.

When Jihoon stands in front of you, he takes you by the hand, pulling you up and not letting go afterwards.

“Hi,” dumbly, you say.

“Hi.” He says with the same tone.

It makes the both of you laugh, breaking away in shy giggles as Jihoon’s lips wobble once more, and his hands begin to shake. You hold onto his hands tight, running a thumb over his skin. “Look at me,” you whisper.

Jihoon looks at you. After all the feelings he kept inside, the insecurities he hid away, the admiration he has for everyone else but himself, he looks at you and it goes away.

He finds it dazzling how you have so much impact on him. You, standing there, and letting every single thing in his head dissolve. Just like that, it’s done all because of you.

You smile, moving your hand to his cheek. Naturally, Jihoon nuzzles into your palm. Just watching it, you knew that you didn’t mind this.

So let’s be in love even more, so we won’t lose this miracle.

Jihoon breaks away from your touch, his hand reaching into his back pocket, revealing a crumpled piece of paper. His hands, still shaky, takes it out, flatting the deep creases made in them.

You remember that piece of paper; it was from his notebook the day you met in this exact same spot.

“Y/N,” Jihoon reads off the paper, and it’s apparent that you can hear his heartbeats from all the way here, “I’m aware I’m the last person who you would’ve thought to be,” you laugh in between his words, Jihoon relaxing along with you, “but I hope you aren’t disappointed. After all, I did warn you.”

He looks away from the paper, putting it by his side.

“So enough with this persona, and time to formally reveal myself. I’m Jihoon and I like you so, so much Y/N. I can’t think of anyone else but you. It’s always been you. Finally, I can say this — no worries, nothing. Will you be mine?”

Happiness rockets inside you, pulling Jihoon into a hug without any warning, nodding speechlessly. Jihoon melts into the hug too, hands wrapped securely around you.

“Say it again,” you softly ask.

Jihoon’s chuckle vibrates from his chest, sending a warm feeling to you. “I like you,”

You smile so much that it hurts, hands playing with Jihoon’s hair. “I like you too, my miracle.”

All the beautiful words from the countless letters sent to you finally come to a reality, its beautifulness more apparent inside Jihoon’s eyes, not able to comprehend such a sight that he’ll cherish for an eternity. He hums questionably, causing you to look at him with shy eyes.

Forever, this was wanted for forever.

“It’s you; you’re my miracle.”

Thank the heavens Jihoon reciprocated that feeling too.

[quiet-hypnotist]

Silence

(This post deserves a content warning, so take note. It is a fictional story, yes, but it contains a lot of hypnotic phrasing much in the style of an ericksonian hypnosis induction. So treat it like you would treat one of my hypnosis scripts. The text contains suggestions to feel obedient and mindless while reading, but no lasting suggestions are given. Enjoy!) (Also I normally put this at the end, but of course, if you’d like to read more posts like this this, feel free and welcome to give my Patreon page a look!)

***

Silence was the first thing that Abby knew. It was everywhere and total, yet not at all deafening. No, it was the sort of silence that filled the halls after a long, hard day. The sort that slipped into the corners of long corridors together with the molten gold of a setting sun. It was the silence that beckoned from within the comfy folds of silky bed sheets and pillows and that danced around every ripple on the surface of hot chocolate. There was a melody to the silence and she found that it sounded more compelling the more she allowed herself to fall into it. Even this realization was barely more than a fleeting tune in the chorus of the silence that seemed to well up from within her and yet held her in an inescapable grip, pulling her deeper the longer she listened to everything fall still.

Which only helped to become aware that the silence was not alone. It brought company in the form of movement. It was a rhythm, she mused silently, a back and forth, an up and down. She couldn’t tell what moved or why, but it was trivial to work up the curiosity for such questions to begin with when instead she could enjoy them fall silent along with everything else. And yet the motion continued, a steady pace of back and forth, again and again. If there had been even a single word echoing through her mind loud enough to be considered sound she might have broken the pattern. The thought felt odd, cold and jarring and so she let it fall silent along with the memory of what she had just noticed.

There was no need for sound or words or thoughts when instead her skin felt shivers at every shift and sway. Or when her muscles felt soothing waves flow through them as they contracted and relaxed over and over, each time a little weaker and each time a little deeper. With the world wrapped in silence there was no telling what the movement might be or why her muscles did what they did, but she knew she had no need to care. This too was merely yet another thing to let go silent and she happily did, knowing it would weave the melody of silence in her head into an even more enchanting piece of art that she could completely lose herself in.

Abby imagined it to be quite wonderful, feeling a tingling warmth spread through her that would melt everything she was into nothing but happy, fulfilled silence. Dancing to a tune that would guide her every step, her every move – or would obliterate her to leave behind only utter joy and mellow bliss. Already when she gave herself to the rhythm of swaying and shaking, of quivering and bouncing, she believed to feel wave after wave of that warmth sweep a tiny bit of her away into the silence that bubbled up and sunk inside her over and over.

The melody grew intoxicating in the way it freed her of thoughts and words and cares. And every fiber of her being soaked up the sensation like a dry sponge. She felt herself melt into hot and liquid desire. Until it started to drip back out, heat pulsing through her wherever the slick droplets ran across her body. Abby realized that she, not just her thoughts, was melting into the alluring composition of silent tunes. That she had been melting like this, dissolving in the silence that filled her head more and more. And not even the weakening warmth that radiated through her could melt the smile off her face at the realization that if she stayed this way Abby would melt entirely to be cast into whatever form she was supposed to have.

When her name melted it sent a rush through her that somehow carried her only deeper. The melody that silenced her grew playful and taunting in a way, as if encouraging her to remember that name. As if to praise her when she found that it was completely blurred into the silence. Gone from her head like everything else that was not the silent guidance which washed through her.

Here and now, she realized, she was gone. No thoughts, no strength, no name. All gone. And thus free to become whatever felt right to her. To drift in the reassuring joy that whatever the silence would make her was exactly what she was supposed to be.

In a way, it wafted through what had been the woman’s mind, she was a blank canvas. And someone else held a brush to paint her anew. A brush that danced to the same pace as the silence that had her bounce and sway. It was dizzying to feel herself that open. To become that pliable. Smooth caresses that left trails of serene calm, vigorous strokes that at the same time revealed and fueled passionate desire. Skillful, feathery touches only to blur the lines that defined her in ways that left them fluid and suggestible.

That left her free to follow and allow herself to be painted anew.

It felt obvious, as if natural in a way, when the silence and the brush seemed to become one and the same – she listened intently to the noise of the silence that flowed around her, melting her with seductive whispers and fuzzy contentment until all she could do was to absorb all she heard in mindless acceptance. And yet for everything she heard, the brush drew a line anew, defining that whatever she were told by the silence to change into, it would allow her to obey  in whichever way felt truly safe and reasonable to her.

If by this point she had still had a mind left it may have been curious how it were changed. But her mind was completely dissolved in the whispering silence that embraced her and unraveled her being down to blank obedience. It made it so wonderfully impossible to do anything but listen and let that head fill with compliant silence. And yet in doing so it steered the brush to draw the lines that would guide her.

Was it one of those same lines that instructed her to wonder? Would she perhaps be mindlessly compelled to follow and obey the changes they made to her? All the while feeling that she only did so because she believed them to be safe? Or was her safety a simple fact, so natural and protective that the brush welcomed and supported it in whatever shapes the silence gave her being now?

She could feel the strokes getting faster, more precise and yet more playfully wild. More and more the contours of her new self formed. With each stroke, each passionate thrust and silent blissful shudder she felt herself take a new form, felt her thoughts form new patterns.

The silence was all that was in her head now and yet it gave her more. She found if she allowed herself to listen it was there to control her. Just as she would be here to obey whenever the time and place were right for that to happen. Had her body always been that sensitive? Was it yet another change made to her? Or maybe, just maybe, it was merely a lingering, yet slowly fading echo of the way soft caresses had outlined her and put her in place all along?

Who could really tell, and did they even need to? Did it matter if she loved the way she felt because she was made that way, or because she had always enjoyed this sensation this much? Relevance was a relative thing when pleasure and seductive whispers in her ears told her how good it could be to give in and obey.

Still pleasure rocked her body, each wave growing and fading, waxing and waning with the rhythm of the silence all around her. Tingling joy as her eyes followed these lines to find herself compliant and blissful at their end in her very own way. Almost like getting sucked into a funnel that inevitably led towards awareness of her new self, towards thinking and realizing how controlled she could be, in exactly the way that felt right to her. All the pleasure and all the silence and all the stroking slipped into that funnel along with her and seemed to only help gently nudge her forward.

And in doing so they became more and more intense with every passing moment. It almost was too much to hold it in. With fluttering eyes she tried to hold on, even as her mind already understood it would follow exactly the lines that were painted for it. Wave after wave crashed over her as she got close to the end of the funnel, catching first glimpses of a world that was more than this silence, shapes more than the brush strokes that set her into this daze.

She tried to hold on to the very last word. Tried to listen to the last tune in the ensnaring song this silence played just for her. But the closer she got to the end of the funnel, the more she realized how deeply controlled and obedient to the changes she truly was. The curious wonder if she had always been this way or if she had been remade to be was enough to echo within the funnel, taking over the silence and replacing it with joyful, brainwashed desire.

The visible lines would end right as she left the funnel, pleasure and awareness alike so dazzling that her eyes would close all on their own for a few, calming moments. Only for her to awaken to her name and new self. And to knowing that the silence and the brush had painted her mind anew, in exactly the way that she needed it to be.

[vickixwritxs]

how to kiss someone ;; b.b.

summary: a kiss on the lips (finally!)

  warnings: some swear words, but other than that, none

  a/n: THIS IS SHIT IM SORRY

 it wasn't like y/n tried to avoid bucky.

 she just tried not to run into him at any cost, which was a really difficult task, considering they lived in the same freaking building. the fact that she couldn't look him in the face ever since that morning a few days ago was the main reason, why she preffered not to see him for now at least.

 see? totally not avoiding.

 but all her plans went to shit, when she walked into the kitchen in the middle of the goddamn night and there he was - sitting at the table, head in his hands and a cup of tea in front of him. y/n wanted to just turn around and leave, but how could she leave him like that? he didn't exactly look like he was having the time of his life. with furrowed eyebrows, she took a step closer, the soft creak of wooden floor alarming him of her presence. he quickly straightened his back and looked up at her like a deer caught in headlights.

 ,,it's just me." she said quietly, moving to place a soothing hand on his shoulder. ,,what is going on, james?" the girl asked softly.

 for a minute, he just looked at her with blank expression, before sighing and dropping his head onto her shoulder. she was surprised to say the least, but still raised her hand to rub softly over his back.

 ,,is it the nightmares?" she spoke up again, still really quiet, afraid of bursting the bubble they were in.

 instead of using his words, bucky just nodded his head. they stayed like this for a while, in complete silence, interrupted only by their soft breaths.

 ,,you were avoiding me. i missed you." suddenly, he sat up, looking at her sadly. ,,did i do something wrong?"

 ,,no!" she rushed to say. ,,i just... needed to think about some things."

 ,,what things?" he raised an eyebrow.

 ,,unimportant. tell me why are you up at 2 a.m.?" y/n desperately wanted to change the topic of this conversation.

 ,,why are you?"

 ,,james."

 ,,y/n."

 she sighed, frustrated, crossing her arms over her chest. lying to him was not an option - he knew her too well, he'll notice she's lying. well, she could just run out of the room, but that won't be really mature.

 ,,why-" she took a deep breath. ,,why do you act all cute towards me? you keep- you give me all those little kisses, which probably don't mean anything to you, but they do to me and i'm really confused because of it and-" y/n stopped talking for a second, so she could fill her lungs with the much desired air. ,,just- why?"

 bucky just kept staring at her for a moment, not saying a word. fuck being mature, y/n now really considered running out of the damn kitchen, not caring how it would look.

 ,,because i like you a lot." the man suddenly said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

 okay, what?

 y/n has never been so confused in her life, ever. he likes her? someone she has a crush on actually likes her back? wow. wow, that's just crazy.

 it must have been a funny sight - bucky smiling at her softly and y/n just sitting there, mouth opened, brows furrowed, a look of utter shock on her face. but how can you blame her? she was not exactly used to being liked back by a boy. how do you behave in situations like this one? was there some kind of manual? if yes, where could she get it? what in the fresh hell is-

 if her brain wasn't working how it should, it stopped working completely, when bucky leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

 he cupped her cheeks, the cold metal of his left arm a sharp contrast to her heated skin. it took her a second, but she responded by sighing happily and circling her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. no one has ever kissed her like that. maybe it was because she never liked anyone the way she liked bucky, or maybe because he was a damn good kisser - either way, kissing him has already became a drug to her. even when he pulled away, she stayed close to him, lips still brushing his, when she spoke up.

 ,,woah." was the only word that left her mouth in a breathless whisper.

 bucky laughed in the way only y/n could make him laugh - loud and happy. he pecked her lips two more times, before straightening his back and shooting her a warm smile. if she wasn't sitting already, her knees would probably buckle underneath her.

 ,,we should do that more often." he said in a cocky tone.

 ,,mhm. after you get some sleep." she replied, moving to stand up. she extended a hand towards him. ,,come on."

 when he raised his eyebrows, she huffed out a frustrated breath.

 ,,you want me to sleep in your room?" bucky asked slowly, drawing out each word.

 ,,only if you want to. but i tend to sleep better with someone next to me and... just- maybe it will help you too." y/n looked down at her feet, now really embarassed.

 he stood up and took her still outstretched hand, squezzing her fingers. he raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

 ,,okay. let's go then."

 taglist (open!): @sebstanhun @to-be-a-sunshine @notevenenglish @haruchanfancytuna @marvelsangels

[s13e06]

Different Worlds Pt 3

Draco Malfoy / Female Reader

Harry Potter AU / Non-Magical

Warnings: none I think? Let me know 

Words: 2.7K

Part 1, Part 2

-

Chapter 3 After the odd encounter with Draco in the library, you had trouble getting him off your mind. You’d think about him during the oddest times of the day. Finding yourself wondering about what he was up to and what exactly he had been thinking while he stared at you before. Was it some kind of game to him? Was it a threat? Could he maybe be interested in you? Way too many questions and what-ifs buzzed in your head. A part of you found it a little ridiculous how easily you were letting this guy invade your mind. Perhaps you were just romanticizing the whole situation? From an outsider’s perspective the whole thing probably just looked like two people weirdly staring at each other in silence before one of them walked away. Yes, the more you thought about it the more you realized that you were being quite silly. Acting like some love-struck teenager. The kind that would go home and write her crush’s name all over her notebook. You would not let yourself get to that point. Especially not over a man you had been specifically warned about by your closest friend. You hoped that at the very least you had enough sense to heed her warning. So, you decided to forget about him. Throw him from your mind and shake off whatever feelings lingered from the library incident. You owed it to Daphne and to yourself not to go gaga over some guy you barely knew. To your surprise you were quite successful with pushing him from your thoughts, easily going back to your daily routine with no interruption. Your midterms went by without a hitch. All that studying really paid off as got your grades back.  You and Daphne celebrated the victory over lunch, excitedly gushing about how things were going so well for the both of you. Your school life was looking up, Daphne was having success in her personal relationships, and you were just happy to be making something of yourself. The sense of achievement was euphoric in its own way. A smile never leaving your face the whole day and as you looked around campus you could see the slightest hint of spring approaching. You had never been happier. - “What do you mean you can’t have coffee after class today?” You asked Daphne curiously. She almost never canceled on your little afternoon hangouts. “Well… things have been going well with Jessica and I figured you wouldn’t mind if I canceled on you… just this once! I promise I won’t make a habit of it or anything! Don’t be mad!” She pleaded to you with puppy dog eyes. There was no way you could be upset with her over something like this. Everyone deserved the chance to build their romantic life. You weren’t the type to stand in the way of that just because you had none. Plus you had met Jessica once before and she seemed as nice as they came. Quite beautiful too. You were sure Daphne was proud of that although she’d never brag about it. “Of course I’m not mad,” you smiled at her. “You deserve to have some fun! Don’t let my single ass slow you down” you laughed while nudging her shoulder. “Thank you” she grinned. “Have fun tonight” you smirked at her, adding a suggestive wink just to tease. She only blushed at your comment before laughing some more and running off, bidding you one last thank you as she left. You were glad she had someone worth running off to like that.  Smiling to yourself over the whole thing you began to walk off campus slightly. Maybe a change of scenery would be nice? You were sure there was a nice café somewhere along the road that could offer you some quiet time alone. Walking down the street you couldn’t help but admiring the buildings around you. They were old looking and came in various shades of brown. But something about the atmosphere was so calming. Even though you had been living in London for a few months now you still spent most of your time on campus. It was nice there of course but you enjoyed moments like this where you could simply walk around and take in all the things that lie before you. Coming to a stop on a corner you looked to the right to see a little café peeking out ever so slightly from the various buildings. It looked small and inviting, and as you venture closer you could smell the strong aroma of various coffees and teas being brewed. It was perfect. As you made your way into the shop, pushing past a small green door, a little bell announced your arrival. The layout inside the shop was just as you imagined. Dim lighting, various chairs, and couches spread out, small circular and square tables propped throughout, and a large chalkboard displayed in the back listing the various drinks offered. You went to the little counter and greeted the woman behind it with a polite hello. She smiled at you warmly while you ordered your drink; opting for a nice herbal tea. You went to find an empty chair in the corner where you could think peacefully, feeling absolutely delighted to find an empty stool and round table near the back. As you set your tea down and settled into your seat you couldn’t help but bask in the peaceful ambiance. Life was going good for you. What could really stop it now… The sound of a little bell broke you out of your thoughts as your eyes drifted over to the entrance door. Someone had just come into the quiet shop as well and to your utter astonishment, it was none other than Draco Malfoy. You gaped at him from your little corner in disbelief. Just when you had felt so relaxed and peaceful the one person who was guaranteed to set you on edge literally walks through the door. The good thing was that he hadn’t seemed to notice you yet. You took a mental note at how much he stood out inside the quaint establishment. His perfect posture, neatly styled hair, and rather expensive looking clothing was rather eye-catching in contrast to the dimly lit café. His back was to you at the moment while he spoke to the worker. You noticed how even though she smiled warmly to you, she was glowing at the sight of him. Staring into his eyes and laughing a little too loudly at whatever he was saying. It was quite a curious sight indeed. Busy studying the interaction between the two, you realized immediately when he had turned around, now facing you. For a moment his eyes scanned over the room lazily; most likely in search of a seat. But then they stopped on you. He seemed just as shocked to see you there as you had been to see him moments ago. However, he quickly drew a blank face and began to saunter over towards you. Your pulse quickened as you watched him draw near, totally unsure of what to do in this situation. All you could do was gulp nervously as he came to a stop in front of you. “Hello again” he greeted you with a friendly smile. “H-hello,” you said, regretting you’d ever come into this café, to begin with. “Fancy seeing you here. Do you mind if I join you?” He asked while gesturing to the empty stool across from you. You timidly nodded your head no as you muttered a quiet “sure, go ahead” to him, completely frazzled by the situation. He sat down with a content kind of sigh as he set his drink down in front of yours; the dark black liquid of his drink standing out against the light color of your own. “So, I take it Daphne didn’t waste any time in slandering my name, did she?” he asked with an oddly amused smirk. “What exactly makes you think that?” you asked, hoping to defend Daphne in a way. “I came to the conclusion on my own after seeing you two in the library before. You glanced at her with a look of dread after I walked in. I take it you didn’t want her to know I was there?” he inquired. “You’ve caught me” you admitted with a sheepish grin, not wanting him to feel angry with you but also wishing for this interrogation to end. “I suppose I won’t ask you what she told you. I figure the truth to be worse than my assumptions” he said while slowly glancing from your face down to your thumb; which had been nervously tapping against the table this whole time. “I’m sure you had your own reasons for doing things…” you spoke in an effort to provide him reassurance. He seemed surprised by your response, one eyebrow raising slightly in surprise. He smiled then as he brought a hand up to rest under his chin. “Thank you for providing me with the benefit of the doubt” he chuckled. “Anytime” you muttered while shifting your gaze away from his smiling face. A moment of silence occurred as you took a few small sips of your tea, loving the way the warm liquid soothed your throat; calming you ever so slightly. “Tell me, Y/N what brings you to London?” he asked, breaking the silence. You blinked at him slowly setting down your cup and peering into his grey eyes. “Well… after I graduated high school I spent two years working and traveling the world.  I found that seeing new things and meeting new people was what I loved more than anything.” You told him as a smile eased onto your face. “Then I figured that if I was going to go college I might as well do it abroad.” He nodded at your words seemingly interested in what you were saying. “What made you decide to go to university?” he asked. “Mostly it was what my parents wanted for me. They were afraid I’d have no real future without any further education” you admitted to him; leaving out the part where you were offered a full-ride scholarship, somehow feeling embarrassed at the thought of him knowing that much. He seemed to be thinking for a moment as his eyes peered down into his cup. You wondered if maybe you had told him too much and he was starting to feel awkward… As if your mind wasn’t reeling enough he slowly looked up to meet your eyes and opened his mouth as if to say something. But quickly closed it as if changing his mind. You shifted your eyes away from his face quickly feeling a little uncomfortable at the silence. Breaking the silence, you heard him hum lightly in response as he nodded his head. “Well, all things considered, I hope you’re feeling as though coming here to study was a good decision?” he asked you softly after a few seconds of contemplation. Relief washed over you at the sound of his words. His voice was smooth and attractive. It reassured you for reasons you couldn’t quite comprehend. You smiled at him timidly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier”’ you said with a content little hum. At that moment it was like time stood at a still. You looked into his eyes wondering what it was about him that was so inviting and in turn, he looked in yours. But his expression was almost unreadable. The conversation went from a little touchy and personal to simply easy going and friendly. You began to tell him about some of the things you’d noticed while in London. What the people did differently, what you thought of the food, and how you were enjoying the university lifestyle. He listened to you intently, smiling at your words and laughing lightly ever now and then. You found that you quite liked the sound of it… his laughter. It was easy to talk to him. He was kind, polite, and the more you spoke to him the lighter you felt. You knew what this feeling was. You didn’t fall for people easily but when you did it tends to be intense and distracting; wasting no time in completely taking over your mind. Maybe you should have been a little worried at this realization but when you looked at him across from you, smiling at you like you were the most interesting person he’d ever met, you found that you didn’t care. After all, it couldn’t hurt to harbor just a little crush on him… could it? Completely lost in the conversation you neglected to glance at your watch even once. But to your luck, Draco seemed to remember such detail as he glanced at his own and furrowed his brow. He gave a kind of defeated sigh before giving you a sorry smile. “I hate to end this lovely conversation but it’s already a quarter past 2 and I-“ but before he could finish your body immediately shot upright from your relaxed position; startling him a little as his words broke off. “It’s already that late?” you asked frantically while getting up from your stool, quickly collecting yourself. He watched with wide eyes as you stumble around in front of him, preparing to leave, sending him a quick explanation of being late for your next class as you rushed towards the door. You shot out a little yell of sorry as you stumbled back onto the street. You began to quickly walk down the street in the direction of your school, mind racing with regret. How could you have let yourself completely lose track of time like that? It was very unlike you. You frowned a little at the internal realization of why you had been so distracted. “Hey! W-wait!” you heard a yell come from behind you as you turned to see Draco jogging up to you. You stopped briefly, heart racing, you looked at him expectantly. “You left before I could ask you” he laughed while running a hand through his hair in efforts to smooth it a little. “Ask me what?” you questioned anxiously. Partially due to the fact that you were running late but mostly because at hearing his words your mind began to swim with thoughts of what he could mean by that. “Will you meet me later?” he asked you with a smile. The same smile you had seen throughout your time in the café. A wonderful eruption of butterflies burst in your stomach as you felt the heat rise to your face. “O-of course” you responded, visibly nervous now. He smirked a little at your obvious shift in behavior before he spoke again. “Brilliant, Meet me back here at 8?” he asked gesturing down towards the café you’d both just left. You smiled timidly before nodding your head a little. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” you told him as you glanced ahead again. The worry of being late to class slowly fading as you took in this moment. “See you then,” he said to you while putting a hand into his pant pocket as the other rubbed the back of his neck a little. Your heart fluttered again at the sight before you turned on your heel and began to race off towards campus. You waved by to him as you left, promising to see him later and without looking back. By the time you made it to class, you noticed that you were about 20 minutes late. You sheepishly grinned at your professor (who couldn’t be bothered to question you) as you scurried to take a seat in the back of the class. As you settled into your seat a feeling of elation washed over you. Your mind was replaying every second of being with Draco in the café and the more you thought about it the more you couldn’t help the smile from breaking out onto your face. 8 pm was all you repeated to yourself as you watched the professor ramble on and quickly scribble some things on the chalkboard. The classroom around you carried on as normal but your mind was stuck in an abyss. One that you didn’t particularly care to pull yourself from…

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Author’s Note: Ok so it took me a minute to write this one because I’ve been pretty busy lately. I apologize that this is a pretty uneventful chapter but I promise the next part is when it really starts to pick up. I kind of just needed to establish this one to get the ball rolling haha.

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