#note to self: write this for next year's halloween fic

[thewonandonly]

RETURN TO ME

PLAYLIST : spotify

PAIRING : thief!kang yeosang x news reporter!fem!reader

GENRE : thriller? fluff, smut, angst

WC : 14,374 words :3

WARNINGS : strong language, agro-hwa, aggression, graphic description of hostage situations/kidnapping, mention of bank heists/artifact theft, mention of firearms, absolute chaos from ateez as a heist group, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal penitration, vouyerism/exhabitionism, praise, pet names, cunnilingus, no happy ending, its giving mama im in love with a criminal tbh

AUTHOR'S NOTE : it's finally done! i've been writing this fic for OVER a year, ever since guerilla came out 😰 i hope you all enjoy and jsyk, this fic is heavily, heavily, inspired by "love letter from thief x".  

Becoming a news reporter wasn't your first option. You originally wanted to write news articles for your local paper, something close to home, but it turned out that your local paper hired another much more qualified person. So, you used your degree in journalism for field reporting. 

Your first story was about a cold case being reopened, and you would've loved to do your own research on the topic, however, the teleprompter read everything for you, telling you what to say, what to do and how to do what they tell you to do. You seriously did not have any freedom. You were about ready to go on sabbatical and open a gossip blog like Perez Hilton. Then, maybe you'll finally be able to get the freedom you'd like to report how you'd like. Or, maybe you'd even put the degree you got for investigative journalism, something you think would be extremely enjoyable to you and your wallet.

But, you didn't start hating your job at the beginning. No, because it was helpful to have a teleprompter in front of you, telling you what to say while the ring light blinded you. No, it wasn't because of that. It was because you were currently trapped in a hostage situation, the news broadcast now hijacked by the criminals in this entire scheme. 

It was a classic museum robbery, and you wouldn't say you were excited to cover it, but it was different from what stories you would normally cover. It had the potential danger in it all.

But the second your cameraman and producer cut the cameras to take a break, you were left alone to your own devices until you were going to be called in again by your co-workers in the studio. 

You pulled out your phone, scrolling through social media timelines, reading the other news sources that popped up about the situation. 

The microphone you held, that did little to nothing when you spoke into it on camera, was suddenly dropped as you were pulled from where you were standing, a hand over your mouth and another arm around your waist, lugging you away like a piece of cargo. 

How was no one noticing this, you questioned. The cameras were rolling for different news broadcasts, and yet no one gave any mind to the sound of your heels scraping against the gravel road, leaving white marks from the top piece on the bottom of your heel. 

You practically screamed from behind the hand against your mouth, but the sound of all the chaos from newscasters, sirens that echoed against the buildings silenced your screams.

All the self-defense you've learned for this moment, that you pleaded never happened, seemed to disappear from your head. And you were nearly incapacitated, anyhow. The last you saw of the outside was where your team sat, and the microphone discarded on the ground, your phone right next to it with a shattered screen.

The captor pulled you around the back of the building, another holding the door open for them.

They all wore masks, some you've seen at Halloween stores. Some of them you haven't seen available anywhere. You could only assume that this has been planned years before it happened. 

Shutting the door at the back of the building, the man released you before another took over and tied your arms behind your back, and sat you down to bind your legs.

"I'm sorry." The person tying you whispered, "For what it's worth."

"It isn't worth jack shit." You grumbled, moving around in the restraints, trying to get him to mess up even a little bit. 

The other cleared his throat, "Come in, Base, it's me." He mumbled through the mask. 

You immediately assumed that this was a much more complex plan, looking as he communicated to "Base".

"You read me?" He paused, "Newscaster is secured. Video's free to run."

"Y/N, uh... Come in." Your coworker spoke through the in-ear you had, and you nearly shook. There was no way you could respond unless you were left by yourself. "Y/N, come in." Their voice got a bit more stern, a bit more deeper.

There was a loud ringing playing over the in-ear and you jumped.

A voice full of static echoed, sounding distant but close at the same exact time, "This is an official notice. We, the group known by Kyomi, require the government release the Dream Texts to us, immediately." The video that played was a deep, almost god-like voice, similar to the voice configuration that Anonymous had used many, many times in the past, "The National Treasure Museum does not have rights to own the Dream Texts, nor does the government. They are to return them to their rightful owners. You have 24 hours."

Ringing played in your ear and you began to rub the in-ear across your shoulder trying to get it out from your ear, before it fell against the floor, the ringing echoing across the walls.

"Son of a..." The one tying you up glanced at the in-ear, looking at you before kicking it away, "What do you think you're doing?"

You struggled in the restrains, the rope digging into your skin.

"Wasp, we got a breach." He called to the other across from him, swinging the bolt rifle back to his hands, "She had an in-ear. They heard us."

The other turned to you, glaring at you through the mask, which made it 20 times more horrific, "Well, what are you waiting for? Break it." The one called Wasp spoke, squatting beside you, "Killer," He called over his own in-ear, "Shut it down." 

You glared back at him, not at all deferred from your fear coursing through your veins. 

There were so many other people that you weren't aware were in the next room, dealing with 4 others. Museum staff and guests visiting the 24/7 museum alike, all being threatened in front of the barrel of a gun. 

And as soon as "Wasp" called to shut it down, it was all over in a second. 

"Meet at the van. 10 minutes tops. Grab your shit, we're leaving." 

Your brain immediately connected the dots that maybe this "Wasp" was the leader of the others, and you didn't think even a little bit that you would be going along with them until the one who tied you up in the rope swooped you over his shoulder, your legs kicking at his back.

"What about the newscaster, Wasp?"

"Bring her along, Hornet. Base is gonna need all the info we can get." He nodded to the entryway, and opened the door to the reception desk. "Sharp, let's go. We're out of time."

"Sharp" immediately stood up from his crouching position with his gun still aimed at any who threatened through the glass windows, "You go ahead. Killer and Spiral are in the next room with the hostages."

"Copy." Hornet responded, carrying you through the door, "Killer, Spiral, get anything gathered about the Dream Texts and head out."

The two across the room gathered backpacks and threw them over their shoulders, their rifles resting in their hands.

The other hostages huddled together, shaking in fear. And in contrast, you rested on Hornet's shoulder, watching them from the corner of your eye. 

Wasp and Sharp entered through the door, a whistle escaping Wasp's lips, "Let's load up, Web is waiting for us." He lead the group to the van, "Hornet, drop the newscaster inside. You know the drill. Sharp, check for trackers. Spiral, swap out the plates." 

Hornet nodded his head to the door as Killer opened it, plopping you inside, "Alright, miss, no need to worry."

You trembled like a leaf. You never, ever thought this would happen to you. You, who took kickboxing as an extracurricular in high school and actually passed the class as top student. You, who checked every glass window you passed by in your hometown. You, who was so kind but also knew how to set your boundaries. This couldn't be happening to you. There was no way. The one second you were distracted by your cellphone and it wasn't while you were working; much rather it was while you were on break. 

The rope binding your arms behind your back was suddenly met with another rope through that one, and you had to convince yourself that this wasn't some messed up shibari sex cult. Inappropriate thoughts aside, Hornet tied a blindfold around your eyes, covering any light that might've flooded in from the dingy alleyway that the Kyomi group stood in, watching as Hornet finished restraining you and depriving you of your senses.

There was a faint beeping that echoed in and out your ear. "Can's clear, Wasp." Sharp called. 

"Good. Let's head out." He climbed into the van, hitting the door to the others, "Up and at 'em, boys."

"Jesus Christ, this mask is fucking annoying." A voice called and you heard the horrendous sound of latex rubbing against one another.

Another shouted, "Dude, you're all good to take the mask off!"

"I already did, asshole!"

You wiggled around, trying to grab even the slightest bit of attention, but they all seemed too busy talking to one another to notice you using your shoulder to move the bandana up just a little to see out of the bottom.

A voice sighed, "Come on, you two. Relax. We're not out of the woods just yet."

The other voice laughed, almost high pitched, "He's just so fucking ugly. I can't help it."

There was the brief sound of pushing and shoving, before a deep and stern, "Hey!" echoed through the car, "If Web gets into a crash and we get caught because of you two, it's over."

A tongue clicked, "Yeah, listen to Wasp. He can't afford to go back to jail, guys."

"You're one to talk, Yunho!"

"All of you just shut the fuck up." The voice boomed, and you almost flinched back into the car, feeling like you yourself was the one getting scolded, even though you were the most quiet out of the others, aside from Web.

You took this moment to actually lean your head back, and angle your eyes downward, catching the briefest glance among the group.

Three sat across from you, their masks still covering their face as they leaned against the empty van, guns resting at their side. The other two sat with their backs against the driver and passenger seats, next to the other group. Aside from the one directly in front of you, you were by yourself.

One of them cleared their throat, breaking the silence, "So, what's with the newscaster? Why'd we take her?"

"Information." That was the voice. The voice you could recognize as Wasp.

The other sighed, "Where are we gonna keep her?"

"Base can take care of her." It was short, simple, but definitely not sweet. He was the leader, he was the one that told the other's where to go.

The brief sounds of sirens were what pulled your attention from leaning your head back. And the sound only made you more agitated. I'm in here, you wanted to call. And how you pleaded you have superhuman strength to break out from your ties, break the door and crawl into the street.

The car ride was long. Extremely long and painful. You could feel your bottom going numb, and the rope digging into your arms. You were sure that you had a rope burn from it. The blindfold getting all the more irritating.  But, they didn't seem to notice that the bandana was even lifted a little bit, or how you would glance at them from underneath it. They were comfortable with each other, all joking around, almost as if they didn't hold an entire museum heist just a few hours ago. Their masks were off, the weapons and items they were able to grab from the museum in the middle of the van.

Wasp slumped forward, his arms folded across his stomach as he slept. 

And when the van stopped, you nearly shook. The rain pattered on the concrete.

"We're here." Web, the one driving called, putting the car in park.

The others sighed, standing up and stretching, climbing out the van, "Shit," one of them yawned. 

"Come on, Wasp. Let's get you inside." One of them shook him by his shoulders.

Wasp looked up and took a single glance outside and was already on his feet, "Alright, grab the things. Web has to get this back to the rental company. Base already changed the plates and VIN for it."

"Copy that." They all began to pick up an item; at least one gun as well, and opened the back door to the van. 

Wasp began to untie the rope through the one rubbing into your arms and lifted you over his shoulder. He kept a strong arm over your waist and walked around to the driver side. "Web, pass me the dash cam card." 

Web immediately reached toward the device and pulled out the card, "Got the replacement one?"

Wasp rummaged in his pocket, "Here. Base got still footage while we were setting up." Passing the card to Web, he nodded to him, "Get back safe."

"I always do." He shrugged before driving off.

Wasp sighed, looking up at the sky as the rain fell into his face, "God, I hate rain."

You wanted to make a stupid pun about wasps and their aggression, but your throat was so dry, you believed even speaking a little bit would cause your trachea to crack.

The mud gushed around his feet as he walked and opened the door to what you assumed was their base. 

"Welcome back, Seonghwa." A soft voice mumbled, "Who's this you have with you?"

"Newscaster." He dropped you down onto a couch and pulled the blindfold from your eyes.

It took a moment before your eyes could adjust to the dim lighting, and you felt 8 different pairs of eyes on you. The ones you saw in the museum had their masks either in their hand or on top of their heads. It was hard to believe that these people were so ready to show their faces to you.

And the two you haven't had the pleasure — you use that loosely — to meet yet, sat across from you, large computer monitors on top of two separate desks that looked just a little too large for the room, watching your every move.

Your breath began to quicken, your lungs beginning to constrict on every other breath. It didn't begin to hit you that you were obviously very much kidnapped, until you began to look around for any hint that maybe this was all big nightmare. 

Wasp, or now known as Seonghwa, bent at the waist and looked into your eyes, "Tell us what you know."

You've seen movies like this; the main character ends up kidnapped for knowing too much and when asked for the information they know, they always respond with the stupid words of "where am i?"

But honestly, you didn't really care where you were, you just wanted to get home. You wanted to lay in your bed and cuddle up in your covers. 

"Just about as much as everyone." You mumbled, shrinking under Seonghwa's stone cold glare, "I know that you want the Dream Texts, and I know that your groups name is Kyomi, and that there's 8 of you, only 6 of you going out on missions." You looked up at the man in front of you, shifting uncomfortably, "And I know that you don't kill."

The blonde male in the chair nodded, "She's good." He chuckled, pointing at you, "You actually know a lot more than others."

"I spend a lot of time reading about you guys." You mumbled. 

Seonghwa clicked his tongue, "All that information is on the internet?" He turned to the others, "Yeosang, do something about this."

The blonde male in the chair spun around and began to type quickly on the keyboard. 

You could only watch and listen, feeling uncomfortable as another member sat beside you and placed his arm around the top of the couch.

"Yeosang's our eyes." The other member whispered, "And the other one is Mingi, he does all background work for us."

Mingi waved sweetly, in contrast with the dim lighting of the room.

"Okay..." Yeosang mumbled, "Well, there are other news sources giving background to the group but it doesn't look like they know anything about us, personally." He rubbed his bottom lip, "There's not much to do aside from let the tabloids run their crazy little course and let them speculate."

Seonghwa clicked his tongue, "Son of a bitch," He pushed his hair back and sighed, "Yeosang, keep an eye on those articles and make sure that anything slightly close to our personal lives gets taken down."

"Aye, aye, sir." Yeosang nodded. 

You briefly made eye contact with Yeosang, before looking down at your lap, "Do you think I'll be able to go home soon?"

Seonghwa looked at you like you were crazy, "You think you'll be able to go home now? You've seen our faces, you know how we sound." 

The realization hit you all too late. There was no way you were going to be able to go home after everything you've been through. Like Seonghwa said, you've seen their faces. You've heard their voices. They had no collateral to the fact that you wouldn't say a word. And they definitely weren't going to risk some feisty newscaster giving away what they were doing anytime soon.

"You're right." You chuckled softly, "God, I'm such an idiot." You weren't generally speaking about your current situation, more rather this whole evening. You were distracted, you were caught unawares. And now, you were trapped in a situation that you didn't ask to be in. 

"Wooyoung, San, get her something more comfortable than those ropes." Yeosang called, and the member that sat next to you and the other across the room stood up and wandered off to the back of the shack... house, whatever it was.

Seonghwa looked around, "What are we gonna do with her?"

Yeosang shrugged, his demeanor almost changing in that instant, "I'm not the one who brought her here." 

You furrowed your brows, "You guys don't even know what to do with me and still brought me here?"

A brown haired member with a gentle smile and soft eyes chuckled, "Seonghwa didn't think it all the way through."

"Shut up, Yunho!" The latter scolded, "So, who's gonna give up their bed?"

"Definitely not me." A shorter male shook his head, "My back's still messed up from that heist in the city."

"That's always your excuse, Hongjoong." Yunho rolled his eyes, "I can't give up my bed because I made the perfect ass dent to fit me."

"That leaves Wooyoung, San, Jongho, Mingi,"

"Just let her sleep down here." Yeosang shrugged, "I'll be down here most of the time anyhow."

"Dude, you get zero sleep." Mingi chuckled, shutting off his computer, "Speaking of, I'm gonna head up now. Great job today, guys. G'night."

San and Wooyoung immediately came strolling down the stairs, a pair of silver cuffs in their hands, "Found something!"

"Give them here." Seonghwa called, holding his hand out, using his fingers to motion them towards him. And one of them placed the cuffs in his hand, "Keep her down."

The two hold your shoulders against the couch cushions as Seonghwa used a pocket knife he pulled from his pocket to cut through the rope, forcing your arms to the side and locked the cuff around your left wrist, and the other cuff around the arm of the couch. 

Sure, it felt better that you were out of that rope, but with the pinching cuff around your wrist, it made it almost worse.

You sighed, rolling your wrist around, as you finally had circulation returned to your wrist. 

Seonghwa sighed, "There." He grabbed the two spare keys and tossed them to the other at the end of the desk, "Keep an eye on her."

You could feel your hand go numb as the blood began to rush back to your fingers, "This is not ideal, but it's better than how it was." You mumbled to yourself, using your thumb to crack your stiff fingers.

Yeosang sighed, spinning around in the chair to continue using his computer, "So..." He whispered. "I know they said you're a news caster, but what station do you work for?" He asked softly, clicking on different links on his screen.

You cleared your throat, "I, uh, I work for STVU. I do field... field reporting." You swallowed roughly, feeling your throating drying up more as you spoke, “They decided it was easier-“

Yeosang chuckled, “All I needed to know was the station.” He pulled up the news website, playing back the live feed. “These your coworkers?” Yeosang motioned to the screen.

Nodding your head, you looked as they stood in silence and you could already imagine the teleprompter moving before their eyes, the producer nodding them to continue. You could imagine the shock from them calling on you, and finding your producer picking up your now shattered cell phone on the ground as the hostages continue to file out of the museum. 

Yeosang tapped a pen on the desk, “Looks like the missed out on the money shot ‘cause you weren’t there.” He chuckled, exiting the full screen, “They really depend on people of your career.”

You coughed lightly, “So, what’s the point of keeping me here? If they depend on me so much, what’s the point?” Yeosang turned around in his seat, using his legs to roll over to you on the couch, “Because it gives us an upperhand.” He smiled, almost sinisterly, grabbing your free hand, “It gives us a huge hand. Return the Dream Texts to the most loyal group, Kyomi, or we kill off the newscaster.” He chuckled, looking up at you sitting on the couch, fear brushing your brows and forehead in the form of sweat, “But, you already know we don’t kill people.” He laughed, pushing across the floor back to his desk, “Or, do we?” He began to type on his computer, “I mean, if we did, it’s not like anyone would find out. We have this disposable land, buried under these old junker cars. If we did kill anyone, we’d bury them under those junkers and call it a day. And, the dead can’t speak.”

The way he spoke about it made you wonder, have they really never killed anyone? Have they really, honestly, never did what he spoke about?

Laying down on the couch to calm your anxiety never really helped; In your everyday life and in this situation now. Normally, you’d come home from work and eat, drink, and then lay down on the couch until you passed out from exhaustion, but here — here was so much different. You didn’t feel overworked, you didn’t feel tired even in the slightest, you weren’t hungry, you weren’t thirsty. You were just horrified. And uncomfortable. Your hand would normally meet your hair halfway through the night but with your hand chained up to couch arm, you couldn’t get comfortable. And the only way to get comfortable was to have your bone pressing against the bottom of the arm of the couch.

You just decided that staying awake for the rest of the night would be fine. After all, you did have a later broadcast time rather than waking up at the crack of dawn. So, staying up wasn’t immediately out of the question; in fact, it would’ve been the perfect option.

It was damn near the crack of dawn, and Mingi was right, Yeosang didn’t get any type of sleep. Not even a second of resting his eyes. He just sat in front of his computer screen, typing on his keyboard with a click from his mouse here and there. You wondered how he could do that, especially when you, personally, couldn’t sit at a desk for longer than 10 minutes before getting up and finding anything else in the world to do. You honestly didn’t know if he even got up and used the restroom, if he got something to snack on or to drink. He seemed completely entranced by his computer screen.

You assumed if you loved what you did that doing that type of work wasn’t as grueling.

With creaky steps, down came a lethargic and gloomy looking member of Kyomi, his blonde hair sticking up in every direction. He rubbed his chest from under his shirt, his sweats hanging around his waist, “Sang,” He called to the one sitting at the desk.

Yeosang only responded with an uninterested sound, typing something else into his computer, and a click from his mouse echoing around the two.

“Did you even get her anything to eat?” The other man asked, turning his eyes from you to the other in the chair.

“Jesus Christ, San, she’s not a fucking dog.” Yeosang scrolling down the page, “If she needed something to eat, she’d let me know. We’re like best friends, now, right, Newscaster?”

San looked back to you, rolling his eyes, “Are you hungry?” The fear overpowered San’s kindness, and you felt scared to even speak your mind. You were starving. You didn’t anything since before you went live on screen, and you had your entire menu for the week planned out. But, if he was offering to get you something to eat, you wouldn’t turn down the offer even if it killed you. So, ignoring every thought bubbling in your head like soda pop, you nodded.

San looked back to the one slumped over in his chair, scribbling down something on a notepad, “See? She was hungry.”

“Not my problem.” Yeosang shrugged, “Even if she was, it’s not like I had the key to unlock her.”

“Oh, shit.” San wandered back up the stairs, poking his head down momentarily, “Hold on, Newscaster, I’ll be right back!”

You sighed to yourself, sitting up in the couch, skillfully moving your arm around the arm of the chair to have it rest there comfortably. Sitting on the couch, confined to one spot brought back memories of your high school years, awkwardly sitting on your friends couch as they went to retrieve something from their bedroom, leaving you there to do nothing but play on the cheap cellphone your mother purchased for you. It felt exactly like that moment, with your “friend” across from you as they were comfortable in their room while you felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb.

San quickly hurried down the stairs, a key around his finger as he walked over to you, to unlock the cuff around your wrist.

This could’ve been your moment to pack up and run. This could’ve been your out. And you would’ve done it, if not for San locking the other open cuff around his wrist, smiling as he looked at you, “Now, you can get those legs moving.”

He locked the cuff around your wrist just as quickly as he unlocked it, making it known that he’s used them for something of this exact situation before. San helped you up off the couch and steadied your wobbly legs as you stood.

“Sang, I’m going to make breakfast, if you want any.”

Yeosang yawned as you walked past, the computer screen lighting up his features and the blonde hair covered up by a black beanie, “It’s fine. It’s about time I head to sleep anyhow.”

San scoffed, “I get that you’re our eyes through out the night, but you seriously need to fix that schedule of yours. You spend the whole night keeping tabs on tabloids and news broadcasts, but they never post during the middle of the night.” He scolded, with you standing there like a clueless bystander, which you were, but you had a bit of a better idea on what exactly Yeosang was keeping an eye out for.

“Heard it all before. You say that until STVU posts all of this Newscaster’s notes on us and suddenly we’re compromised.” Yeosang stood up, stretching his arms above his head, “With that being said, I’m heading up now.” He shut off his computer and wandered over to the stairs leading up to the mysterious upper floor, “G’night, San. See you later, Newscaster.”

You lifted your free hand in a silent attempt to bid him a goodnight, or good morning in this case, and looked at San.

“He’s a trip.” San sighed, leading your cuffed hand behind his into the rickety old kitchen, “What are you hungry for?” “Um,” You shrugged, “Anything, really. I could eat anything.”

San lead you over to the foldable kitchen table that was enough to fit two, and unlocked your cuff, almost forcing your hand against the brace of the table as he locked you in, “Sorry, safety measures. You understand, right?” He smiled at you as he kneeled down to unlock his cuff, shaking his hand, “I’ve only had mine on for a couple minutes. How did you wear that for so long?”

You shrugged, looking around the kitchen for any type of impossible escape. It was in this moment you realized just how tired, panicked, and anxious you were. The late night shift was hitting you a bit too hard now, the drowsiness infecting your eyes like a sickness. You were worried for the next person to walk down the stairs, what they'd say or do. And you were anxious for your day's beginning behind these walls. Should you be worried about what they'd do to you, or should you just stick out the days and hope with enough time, you'd be let back into the world and live your days like they were your last? 

Everything in the kitchen of this shack they inhabited was rundown. There was a vent with no cover, the floorboards squeaked with every step San took across the room, and if you moved your own feet enough, you could feel the splinters covering the floor. The appliances and cupboards looked like ones they found in the junkyard just outside their front door, although you had to admit, the repair on the appliances were like no other, giving a clean finish with a bit of damage here and there. Whereas, you could not say the same for the cupboards which looked like they were living on their last leg of life; cracked wood, rusted hinges, and some even missing half, or a whole door. 

San pulled open the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk, then opened the cupboard and pulled out a sack of flour, and a pan, “Do you like pancakes?” He asked, sickly sweet that made your tummy hurt.

You turned your eyes to him, nodding.

San smiled, grabbing the pancake mix from the cupboard as well, making his way to the stove to turn it on, “So,” He started, “I know you’re a newscaster, but other than that, I know nothing about you.” He looked back to you, “Tell me about yourself.”

You shrugged, “Um, well, My name’s Y/N, I’m in my 20’s.” You shrugged again, realizing now that sharing your life story to an unknown stranger who also happened to kidnap you and used you as an advantage hostage for the government to give them what they want. “What is it exactly you guys want?” You asked hesitantly, scared to have touched a nerve.

“The Dream Texts.”

‘Which are?” You made a face, and turned your palms upwards, shrugging.

“Which are-“

“Which are none of your business.” Another voice echoed, and you turned around to find a groggy Seonghwa, glaring at you from across the table, “That information is classified for Kyomi, only.” He leaned against the table, “If your view on us changes, maybe you’ll find out.”

“Hwa,” San started, flipping a pancake onto the pan, “Come on.”

“What?” Hwa immediately began to push away from the table, and sized up the other male across from him, although they were practically the same height.

San gripped the pan’s handle, “Think about it. If she’s gonna be here for as long as we’re hoping, she should get to know us. Us, personally, and us as an organization.”

Seonghwa stepped closer, glaring at him, “And why would you do that? You’re willing to lay everything on the line for a snake to share it with everyone she’s knows, if she ever does get out.” Seonghwa had San practically up against the wall of their kitchen in the shack, and San’s knuckles went white as his grip tightened on the handle.

“You really don’t want to me to hurt you.”

“Like you’d ever hurt me.” Seonghwa chuckled, his tongue poking his cheek, “If you even move so much as an inch-“

The chair to the table across from you was pulled out, and you pulled your eyes from the fight, to find Yeosang sitting there, yawning, “They’re fighting again.” He sighed, leaning on his hand.

“Do…” You paused, “Do they always fight like this?”

Yeosang moved his hand side to side, “Sometimes. It’s always something stupid.” He complained.

You looked at Yeosang just for a moment, the side of his face all too familiar for only being in this place for a few hours, his birthmark decorating the side of his face. His hair was mussed in all different directions, and there were purple bags under his eyes, possibly from his insane sleep schedule. 

You looked back to the two across the room, Seonghwa holding San by his shirt against the wall as the latter tried his best to swing the hot pan across Seonghwa's head, the perfectly cooked pancake laying on the floor, now broken into pieces.

"Oh, my pancake." You whispered under your breath, sighing, placing your hand against your belly as it grumbled.

Yeosang sighed, standing up from the table, "Alright, you two." He wandered between the two, opening the fridge, "What happened?" He pulled out a wrapped bowl of what looked like macaroni and cheese, using a spoon discarded in the strainer and then ate the food cold, not bothering to step out of the duo's way. 

The two immediately began to go on a ramble, San pointing the end of the frying pan at Seonghwa's face, and Seonghwa keeping San pinned against the wall. Yeosang looked between the two, absorbing all the information as if he was in a comedy show, shoveling another spoonful of macaroni and cheese into his mouth. 

And as the two men threatening to bite each other's heads off settled down, Yeosang turned to set the bowl beside him, "Now, doesn't this all seem silly?" He asked sarcastically, a smile crossing his lips.

San and Seonghwa continued to glare at each other, releasing each other from their grasp, just as the other members joined to watch the drama unfold in the doorway of the kitchen. Hongjoong sat at the chair across from you, and the others peeking in. 

Yeosang patted both their backs, "Okay, good. Let's continue planning our next move." He nodded, picking up the bowl and wandered out to the living room, the sound of a gentle clatter from his spoon hitting the bowl as he set it down to get into his chair comfortably. "Mingi, pull up the National Bank."

Mingi yawned, "It's too early for this." He rubbed his eyes, but nevertheless, sat down at his computer and typed in the National Bank of South Korea, "There."

From being attached to the collapsable table, and with the room being empty, you listened as closely as you could to what exactly they were planning. You heard a voice here and there asking questions before Yeosang took over, "The National Bank has a piece of the Dream Texts, and I know where it's hiding." He chuckled darkly. 

You already saw the perfect opportunity to get your ass away from here; in front of you, sat a shoddy door, with a lace curtain that must've been pinned up in an attempt to make it look not so bad. It was only a mile from you, at least it felt like it, when it was only a couple steps ahead. And you would've taken it, if it wasn't for the giant, grey collapsable table you were currently handcuffed to. You would've ran out the door, screaming your head off about the horrendous situation you found yourself trapped in to anyone who would listen. You had an idea to even carry the table on your back almost like you were Sisyphean rolling the boulder up the hill, for all eternity. 

San's voice cut through the air, "Y/N?" He called, peeking into the kitchen, his voice recognizable enough to cut your thousand-yard-stare in half, "You okay?" He asked gently, looking at your eye's connecting to the door.

You turned to look at him, your eyes delayed like your mouse as work with the horrendous input delay, "I'm okay." You nodded to him, even willing him to accept it with a gentle smile. 

"Well, alright." San nodded back, "If you need anything, we'll be in here." He smiled, dragging his feet across the floor and sitting on the couch as Yeosang continued.

In a perfect world, they would've recruited you into their ranks, having you join in on the meeting about what came next, allowing you to go to and from as you please, make your own food. And overall, have you free of the pinching cuffs and let you exist as yourself.

"Seonghwa, Wooyoung, and Yunho, you two will enter from the top window, using the special forces gear we got from Jongho's truck run." Yeosang held the pen cap in his lips, as he pulled out the printed blueprint from his printer next to his desk, "That way we can get an upper hand for the Dream Texts. You three will check the top floor while the rest of you, hold the bottom floor."

"It'll just be me and Joong." San pointed his finger at them both, "We can't possibly hold an entire floor by ourselves. I mean, it took Wooyoung, Yunho, Joong and I to just barely keep the floor of the museum clear."

Yeosang smiled a bit more sinisterly, "You're all forgetting one valuable hand in all of this." He cackles.

"I hate when he does this." 

How, was all you could ask yourself. How is it possible to be in this situation again? The cramped van, the uncomfortable ropes and the barrel of the pistol pressed against your temple. And it happened to be the only nice member holding it there. You were blindfolded, and you wouldn't be surprised if you were dead already. This all had to be some type of nightmare.

Despite being the very valuable part of this plan to get into the bank, you were the one that was once again at the end of the barrel. When you learned that you'd once again be placed in that terrifying position of playing a hostage, Yeosang spoke with almost a chuckle, almost like he liked seeing someone under duress. As well as the others. 

All this for some stupid writing? All this for Dream Texts. It was hard to believe you'd be forced to stay with them. 

Jongho, who you learned was Web, after connecting the dots, was driving around the city in a car that was a little too small for the group. You were aware of all the codenames at this point. Wasp was Seonghwa, Hornet was San, Killer was Hongjoong, Sharp, Wooyoung. Spiral, Yunho. And Base was Yeosang and Mingi. 

You knew their plan, and their means of getting to the oh-so desired Dream Texts, which you still had no idea what it was about or why it was so important to them. The only thing you could think of was National Treasure, the Nicholas Cage movie, which was, in it's entirety, about a treasure map on the back of an official government document. Maybe that's why they want it so bad, you thought, for money and fame.

Jongho stopped, dropping off the five in front of the National Bank, one you attended since you began your adult life. It had a bittersweet nostalgia, the building. It was where your family was charged foreclosure. It was where you cashed your first check after a successful month of your career. It was where you paid the down payment for your family's new house, after living with family for years. 

Some would say you had a humble upbringing; learning the importance of money and paying dues where it's needed. You would say you had a difficult life. Getting a job as soon as you could, paying for your own high school expenses, and funding your own college education and tuition. You were constantly stressed out, and even now, with a steady job, you were considered a workaholic, but who could blame you? Cause and effect is what you normally pushed it off with. 

Seonghwa, Yunho and Wooyoung split off from San, who gripped your arm tightly, and Hongjoong. They all had their weapons around their shoulders and masks that covered their faces, that you weren't even aware they had put on. The masks were different from what you had first seen, this time, they all donned balaclavas, unlike the clown masks you've seen them in previously. 

You were still blindfolded, a sound of a shattering glass echoing through the sky, San tugging you along into the building.

You were aware that you, in this situation, were a hostage again. You weren't sure if this is where you died, or if they'd take you with them again. So, you tried to settle the pit that lingered in your stomach as San shoved you onto the floor, a ray of bullets echoing through the air and a loud yell of "get down!" interrupting the fire. 

You felt that anxiety and impending doom creep into your chest again, your brain shifting gears back into fight or flight. After all, you were nothing but an accessory for them to use. Your life, to them, had no meaning. They could preach that they don't kill all they would like, but they would actually have to take responsibility for their actions of causing psychological damage to others.

Hongjoong cleared his throat, raising his voice, "We are Kyomi! We require the Dream Texts. Who here is the bank manager?"

A woman shakily raised her hand, and looked around anxiously. 

Hongjoong motioned for her to approach, and when she was close enough, Hongjoong gripped her arm and looked her in the face, "Open the safe, and don't try anything funny." He whispered. 

You used the linoleum floor to push the blindfold from your face, catching sight of Seonghwa and Yunho standing on the second floor, their guns positioned at the back of the victims. It almost looked like they were ready to shoot. 

Hongjoong lead the bank manager around to the safe at the back of the building, where she opened it with shaky hands. Then a shot was rung out.

The desk someone sat at was completely destroyed, the sight of Seonghwa glaring through his balaclava. 

"Every one of you to the center floor now!" Seonghwa shouted, and people began to shuffle towards yourself and San. From the position Seonghwa was in, it was obvious he could see the entire floor. 

Hongjoong returned with the bank manager, a plastic wrap tucked into the vest he wore. "That wasn't so hard, was it? And no one got injured." He chuckled, returning the bank manager to the group that sat on the ground floor.

Hongjoong spoke clearly, "Secured. Web, whenever you're ready." His hands rested on the gun, and looked into the faces of the victims; some were teary eyed, some were angry and some were avoiding their eyes. 

You looked into the eyes of one, sympathizing as their eyes watered in terror.

This. This was your out. 

You opened your mouth as San began speaking, and didn't mutter a word; just mouthed it. Using your eyes to motion them to look at Hongjoong, you mouthed the instructions. And they only furrowed their brows, shaking their head, scared of even the possibility of getting injured. 

If anyone was going to be able to end this, it had to be someone who could fight back. And there was more than enough to take the fight between the four invaders. If they had the possibility of saving everyone, even yourself, they should take it. They would be reveled as heroes; people who saved the hostages of the National Bank. But, no one would take the risk. They all had families, friends. People they loved. Creatures they loved. They wouldn't risk it. 

If you were to be the one to sacrifice, they would do it. Because the blood staining their hands wasn't as bad as leaving the ones they loved. 

You assumed Jongho must've responded to Hongjoong's call. San was quick to pick you up off the floor by your restrained arms and drag you out of the building. You looked around for any type of exit to get away from them. Standing around was just as bad as doing what they were. But, once again, like every chance before, they had nearly every corner blocked off. Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Yunho were walking from the back of the building around the corner and Hongjoong opened the door for us all, before you got thrown in the back just like before. 

You anxiously watched the hostage all relax, and you begged, pleaded for a way to feel that comfort, of being able to relax. Not constantly feeling like you were under watch by these monsters. Jongho drove off as everyone sat in their seats, taking the initiative to drive away from the building, and as you drove off, you saw the police round the corner, and everyone filed out, some falling to their knees from fear. 

You wished to feel their fear. And the rush of being alive after a five minute standoff with five villains. You were oddly surprised that you could feel fear this intensely through your bones, despite being with them for a day.

"Now, you're one of us." Wooyoung chuckled.

You looked at him, your brows furrowed, "What?"

Seonghwa turned from the front seat, looking at you, "You've committed as much a crime as we had."

"Again, what?" Your teeth grit, "I was kidnapped. I was held hostage." You pointed out the obvious, looking between the men in the car, "I was an unfortunate victim in this whole situation!"

San chuckled softly, "Aiding a criminal in a crime is just as bad as doing the crime." You could already hear the condescending high pitched voice he spoke with before the words even left his lips. "You're just as guilty as we are."

"I. Was. Kidnapped." You emphasized, "By you! Those people you all just traumatized, are not the only victims." 

Seonghwa waved his hand, turning back to the front, "Someone blindfold her again. And gag her. She's getting annoying."

"You're no better." Jongho mumbled, his hand tightening on the steering wheel, "We still have a few miles to go."

Jongho easily turned into another lane, leaning on his hand as he drove.

Seonghwa looked back at the others, "Well? Are any of you gonna do it?" 

San sighed, "Yeosang said not too!"

You completely forgot that they had in-ears wrapped around the shell of their ears, all communicating between one another. You felt out of the loop; what exactly did Yeosang say not to do? What were they communicating between each other?

Seonghwa sighed deeply, obviously annoyed as he pulled out a single of his own in-ear, and motioned to you.

Seonghwa wrapped it around your ear for you, slowly pushing it into your ear.

"Go, for Base." Seonghwa called.

Yeosang cleared his throat, "Y/N? Are you there?"

You nodded, before realizing that he couldn't hear you, which you choked out a "yes" in a small, shy voice.

"If you look out onto the road, you'll see the route back to the dump." He spoke simply, "Because of this, we have no other reason than to recruit you." His voice was filled by the keys of his keyboard, "You'll either have to pledge loyalty, or we have no other option then to keep you hostage. And, possibly kill you."

"You don't kill people." You shot back, looking at the road in front of you.

Yeosang chuckled. The clicking of the keyboard stopped, a gentle creak from his chair echoing, "We unfortunately have to finish off the ones we try to recruit that don't agree. Just a little Kyomi group secret."

The list of charges they could catch just add up; armed robbery, kidnapping, assault and battery, and murder. You had the benefit of doubt that they didn't kill, and Yeosang obviously had a heavy heart telling you what exactly they did. 

"So," Yeosang chuckled, "What'll it be? Be part of Kyomi, or meet the sweet embrace of your own inevitable destiny?"

You sighed; It was a lose-lose situation. Either commit crimes and the possibility of life in prison, or die? If you had another option, you'd take that in a heartbeat. Being a housekeeper, being an informant for the group, or just going home, would have sufficed. 

But, obviously, they cared too much about their pride to let you off the hook so easily. They cared too much about those Dream Texts that you still have no clue what they were about. They cared too much about their own safety to risk sending you off in the world.

You clenched your fist, "How do you know that I'm not in connection with the police? What if I let you all take me hostage?"

"Because you aren't that smart." Yeosang whispered, his voice tickling the inside of your ear, "L/N Y/N, graduated from SKU with a degree in journalism, which is surprising, since you only had a 2.8 GPA throughout your school career." His voice twinged with amusement. "You spend majority of your money at the convenience store and on bills. You live in an apartment complex, although I won't share the address, I know where it's located. Your social security number is—"

"Okay, okay." You stopped him, "Okay, fine. I get it." Your lips trembled as you spoke, "I'll... I'll join Kyomi."

Yeosang chuckled, "I knew you'd choose the right choice." You could hear the smile in his voice. "But, for the time being, you'll have to keep being restrained, for the safety of my comrades."

You wanted to curse at him, and let all of your aggression out on him. If they really thought they were gonna get away with this, they were sorely mistaken. 

You would find a way to report them, and you would finally be free of the wack jobs that thought it would be a good idea to kidnap you.

It's been two months since Yeosang thought it was a good idea to have you join Kyomi. And it absolutely was not. Your plan to get out of there as quick as you could wasn't working as well as you hoped, but, everyday, you spent your hours looking for a way to leave, to report what exactly happened to you.

Your face would briefly show up on the news every now and again, with your family begging for you to find your way home, as if the police force haven't already ruled you out as presumed dead. 

The last everyone saw of you was at the National Bank, where you were pulled away by the rope tied behind your back. You still feel the rope around your wrists every now and again, waking up from nightmares, hoping it was all a joke that you were put in this position. 

Nevertheless, you pretended to be on their side. Seonghwa has lightened up to you, and will even indulge about San and Wooyoung's ridiculous behavior. Mingi was back in the game, having you taking over his spot as resident hacker of the group. Those coding classes would've done you well, if you had any idea this is what you'd be doing. Yet, it seems like every time you touched a keyboard, your mind blanks on why exactly you agreed to do this.

Yeosang has everything blocked on your computer, which you believed he put on as soon as Mingi said he'd want to join the guys on their heists. 

You've been given a new identity, essentially. They didn't call you "newscaster", they called you "Centipede," which you wholeheartedly believed was Yeosang's idea, after he shared his disgust to centipedes after. You and the arthropods. 

You wore an in-ear, just like Yeosang did, and talked with the guys while they were out, and it still hits the ear wrong when they call you the name. Like they were taunting you.

Aside from the new, definitely underpaying job and the new name, you could not even begin to describe the bedding situation. You shared a bed with 7 others; all guys. You were, rightfully so, tense every time you walked in after a shower to grab a fresh pair of clothes. The beds were lumpy and you slept on the bottom bunk, shared with Seonghwa at the top, who slept like a rock, but was surprisingly easy to wake up when it was needed. A slight tap on the shoulder and he was awake. You didn't understand that when you were first nabbed by them, when he was sleeping in the van. Not to mention, he slept max four hours. Wooyoung and Yunho had a bad snoring problem, so you could rarely get any sleep through the two months, but now, unfortunately, you were growing accustomed to it. It was like white noise. And you didn't even want to start with the splinters you received on the first night; bad mistake not thinking to borrow someone's slippers.

Hongjoong, Mingi and San were light sleepers. You'd shift in your bed across the room, and the three of them were already staring at you, like you were in the wrong. San slept with stuffed animals, which was entirely uncharacteristic of the Hornet you met the first time you were brought there. 

Everyone of them were uncharacteristically what you thought; Seonghwa was actually a sweetheart when he wasn't under pressure; he enjoyed building legos, and had the ones he built sitting in the shared window the two of you had. San was an animal lover, and you had to turn away multiple strays he brought back to the shack. Mingi was quiet. He had a bunch of interests that you really couldn't keep track of. Yunho was like a giant puppy. A single bit of praise and his invisible tail was wagging like he had happy tail. Hongjoong was much more serious than the others, despite his first introduction. Wooyoung was more or less the same, but when he wanted to be, he was much too serious than what you were used to. You were used to his boisterous laugh that echoed through the house, yet he gets pulled out into the field and he changes demeanor completely. Jongho wasn't fond of praise and gratitude, in fact, he spent most of his time waiting for the guys to finish up the heists by driving around, listening to girl groups. 

The only one you could never really understand was Yeosang. He seemed much like the same as when you first met and saw him. Bags under his eyes from staring at a screen all night and all day, disheveled hair and kept to himself. You both never slept at the same time. He was the eye in the sky, and the security. He slept around the time all of you woke up, yet, he was up and at 'em not even an hour or two after he slept. Now that you think about it, there was only eight beds available in the barracks, as you like to call them, and you were the eighth. It made you think about where exactly Yeosang would sleep, and you began to wonder if he took your place on the couch to rest or if he stole someone else's bed to sleep in.

This morning started like any other; restless, tired and exhausted, and you were aware that all the words you were repeating to yourself had the same meaning, but that only emphasized your point that you were so exhausted, you couldn't think of anything else. 

Yunho and Wooyoung were snoring so much that night, you thought they might've caught a cold from the way they sounded. Maybe that's why Wooyoung was so goofy with you, the lack of oxygen to his brain during sleep.

Hongjoong woke up and wandered over to you, nudging you slightly, and you turned to look at him. "Holy shit," he began, "I think you're beginning to spend a bit too much time with Yeosang." His finger went under his eye and began to swipe there back and forth. 

You sighed, sitting up, "It's not that. They never shut up." You whispered to him, pointing at the two chronic sleep apnea patients, "I'm so tired." The exhaustion was beginning to catch up to you, and you rubbed your eyes. 

Hongjoong smiled softly, "Well, today's a rest day while Jongho tries to find a new car for us to use the plates you found yesterday. Take the day to yourself."

You sighed, nodding lightly. 

Normally, taking a rest day back in your normal life, you would have went out shopping and went to visit friends and family. Now, all you had to yourself was a walk around the junkyard, occasionally ending it earlier than you would have liked to due to a pest running rampant through the disgusting, rusted cars and whatever trash was left in there. 

And that was definitely not going to cut it. 

"I'll make some breakfast. Eat, then come back up to rest." Hongjoong basically planned your entire day for you. All you wanted to do was sleep the day away, which is something you've done a lot on rest days. 

Hongjoong wandered around the corner to get downstairs and you laid back on the lumpy bed, your head meeting the pillow in a short second. The snoring seemed like it was getting louder by the second, and you were too exhausted to even move to cover your ears.

You shifted positions to face towards the empty bunk Hongjoong left, wrapping the weighted blanket around your body, and burrowing your nose into the soft fabric, sighing as you felt your tension melt away. 

If you were home in your apartment, you wouldn't have had this issue. You wouldn't have to try almost anything to fall asleep. Hell, you wouldn't have even woken up. Tale has it, you were a heavy sleeper before you were brought here. 

Shutting your eyes and hoping for the embrace of sleep to take you over, you sighed just as the steps creaked. Opening your eyes was already too much of a labor, so you just covered yourself more with the blanket.

A sigh exited from someone's lips, the floorboards creaking as they walked over towards the bottom bunk bed and laid back. Wooyoung was directly above them, as they laid in Hongjoong's empty bunk.

"Shut up." A kick was met to Wooyoung's stomach from underneath, right underneath the bed slats. "Get a mask." They scolded.

Opening your eyes, the exhaustion was already setting again, squinting as you looked across the short distance.

Yeosang laid on the bed, the shadow under his eyes already looking worse for wear. His shirt was discarded on the floor, and his sweatpants were below his hips. He covered his face with his forearm, sighing as his body relaxed. 

Okay, so Yeosang was attractive. That much was obvious. And, what's the worse that could happen? He breaks your heart because he's too focused on Kyomi? Or, he doesn't see you the same way because he works too close to you?

You blinked as you watched his body relax, his free hand resting on his belly, his fingers brushing the waistband of the grey sweatpants.

The last two months were long. Tiring, even. But, just like you would do in high school, you'd take extra care into your appearance, even if it meant you got a second longer of a look from someone.

"Stop staring at me." 

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the harsh call, feeling your ears bleed red. 

Yeosang moved the arm over his eyes and faced you, his hair falling in front of his eyes.

"Sorry." You mumbled, "I was spacing out."

Yeosang chuckled, "You're an idiot."

The jab was meant to be cruel, but you could see the sparkle in his eyes, and the smile that crossed his lips, and oh, my god, did you hear that laugh? The way he spoke, even if it was meant to be cruel was so soft, and you know it's just how he is; his care and warmth are there, despite the harsh words that bite at you.

You rolled your eyes, curling your legs under the blanket, "Are you going to sleep now?"

Yeosang shook his head, "I never really sleep much when I get up here." He mumbled, studying the slats as if there was something there, "Wooyoung and Yunho snore too loud."

You laughed softly, "Tell me about it."

Yeosang smiled softly, closing his eyes briefly, "I wonder if it's even worth sleeping in here."

Shaking your head, you smiled gently, "It's not." It was simple, shortcut. "I haven't gotten a good night's rest since I've been given this bunk."

Yeosang's face relaxed, turning his head back to you, "Can I ask you a question?" His voice was like shoes dragging through gravel, and his eyes stared at you intently. You couldn't help but nod. "Why did you agree to stay? And why haven't you even tried to leave yet?"

"Oh, my god, you mean I could've went home?" You asked sarcastically, your eyes playfully widened. But, you saw the look in his eyes and decided that maybe it was time you opened up to him. It was your turn to sigh, turning to look up at the slats that held Seonghwa's bed, "My life was going nowhere in the job I was in." You spoke simply, "I didn't even want to work for a big news station like that. I would've rather have worked back in my hometown, but, someone got the job I wanted."

Yeosang looked at your profile, his eyes scanning the way your nose was, the curve of your lips and the long eyelashes you had. He's worked beside you for two months, and he never noticed just how enticing you were. Your eyes turned to his, his heart nearly beating out of his chest.

"Besides," you started, "My family never really checked up on me." Shrugging, you got all the more comfortable, "Everything we see on the news feels a bit fake anyhow."

Yeosang couldn't really recall his family life before Kyomi and the Dream Texts.

"We've given you so many opportunities." Yeosang whispers. 

You chuckled, "Did you really though?" You asked softly, "The last two months, I'm scared to even try to sleep." 

Yeosang shook his head, "You didn't have to be scared." He mumbled, "We've always given you an option."

His eyes were shining, the sun hitting his brow bone to give you a better look at the honey eyes he had. 

"Well, I'm here now." You responded, his eyes completely captivating his beauty.

Yeosang and you held the eye contact, not saying another word to one another. Wooyoung and Yunho's snoring filled the air between you two.

Tension, heat and pressure surrounded you both, before Yeosang scooted himself off the bed and wandered over to you, climbing on top of you over the blanket and leaned his face close to yours.

"Do you feel it too?" He whispered, his lips only inches apart from yours.

A breath was caught in your throat, and you swallowed roughly. You assumed he was talking about the sudden tension that covered you both, and you agreed. You did feel it. It loomed over your head, every so often. Now, during missions, after missions.

"You do feel it." Yeosang smirked, leaning forward to encapsulating your lips with his own. 

The dream you've had every night about him was coming true. Yeosang had a sweet tooth, the citric acid from Sour Punch Straws he frequently ate echoed against your lips. His long hair practically covered his eyes as the strands brushed your cheeks. His hands were hot against yours as he intertwined your fingers with his own. His weight was distributed evenly on top of you, basically pinning you down to the bed.

Yeosang pulled his lips away from yours, his face still centimeters from yours, "I've been wanting to do that since you took over Mingi's desk."

You blushed, feeling the blood rush through your neck up to your ears.

Yeosang's hand gently cupped your cheek, rubbing your skin with his calloused thumb, "Tell me if you want me to stop."

His lips met your neck, his tongue gently running along the skin, his hand hot against your cheek. His lips left wet kisses against you, and when a gasp escaped on a certain spot, they turned up into a smile, gently biting the skin with his teeth. 

His lips, his lips, his lips, it was all you could think about as they moved from your neck, down your chest, stopping just at your belly button, placing gentle kisses on the skin and rubs your thighs with his hands.

You were so nervous, you honestly couldn't remember the last time you got laid, let alone by someone you work with. If you remembered correctly, it was a year or so-

Yeosang had pulled your shorts off, along with your panties, smiling softly, "Look at you, kitten. Aren't you so pretty?"

God, you thought, When he calls me that, it makes me want to scream. 

His smirk only grew wider, "Do you want to continue?"

You nodded your head vigorously, already sure that you would have given yourself whiplash, "Please."

Yeosang settled in between your legs on his stomach, throwing your legs over his shoulders and held your thighs in place with his hands.

His hands were strong, and veiny. They were warm around your thighs, compared to the cold chill in the air. His callused hands were rough against your soft skin, his tongue a nice heat against your mound.

Your hand shot to grab at his hair as he sucked on your clit, a soft moan escaping your lips.

"Shh, baby, you don't wanna wake up the others, right?"

It was impossibly hard to think of keeping your moans back, since Yeosang was making you feel so good.

Yeosang continued his pace, his tongue dipping down in between your folds, working his fingers against your clit.

The thought of waking up the others from their slumber excited you, and almost made you infinitely more comfortable with the idea.

Yeosang kept his eyes trained on you as your chest rises and falls, watching how each movement of his tongue affected you. And when you began to groan, your legs shaking, Yeosang knew just how well of a job he was doing.

"Sang..." You whimpered, thighs threatening to squeeze against his head. 

Yeosang chuckled, using his thumb to pull the hood of your clit back to teasingly bite at it, lifting his head as you let out a loud yelp. He glanced around the room, hearing an interruption of Yunho's snore before he began once again, "Come on, kitty cat, can't you try to keep quiet?" He sat up, positioning himself between your legs, his buldge pressing against your heat, the sweats he wore staining with the wetness from your cunt.

"Sang..." Your voice was strained, looking up at him with begging eyes, "Fuck..."

"Can't get the words out?" Yeosang smiled, leaning forward as he laid on his arms on either side of your head, "Come here, baby." He whispered, pressing a deep kiss against your lips, one of his hands running through your hair just as the other tugged his sweats down, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, "Is this okay?" He gasped softly.

You nodded, "Yes, yes... More than okay."

Yeosang smiled softly, capturing your lips once more as he slowly pressed into you, the heat from the stretch as you grew accustomed to the size of his cock was painful, yet pleasurable. "Fuck, you're so tight, baby." He bottomed out, holding you close to him as he slowly moved his hips against your own. He chuckled as a loud moan escaped your lips, using the hand that tangled in your hair to cover your mouth, "Shh, shh, angel." He cooed softly as his thrusts grew faster, looking between the two of you where you were both connected.

Yeosang's cock twitched against your walls, listening to your groans and smiling as he felt you clench around him.

"Y/N!" a voice called up the stairs, and Yeosang and you both shared a look. "Hey, Y/N, are you still awake?" 

Yeosang adjusted your position so you both laid on your side, pulling the blanket over his head, looking up at you, "Pretend to be asleep." He whispered, his cock continuing to press into you. "And keep quiet."

You furrowed your brows, looking down at him before Hongjoong stepped up the stairs. Yeosang's hips continued to roll against yours, and you felt a soft whine about to escape your lips. 

"Hey, Y/N." Hongjoong approached the bed and despite your best efforts, you screwed your eyes shut, and buried your face in the pillow. Yeosang moved slow, pressing soft and silent kisses against your sternum. "Y/N, food's ready."

Your ears were bright red, the soft sounds of your wet cunt echoed against the walls. Or were you just toning out Yunho and Wooyoung's snoring? 

Hongjoong called your name one last time before he found his way back down the stairs. As if on cue, Yeosang peeked his head out from under the blanket, chuckling softly, "Good girl." He whispered, grasping your hips tightly in his hands, "You're just a good girl." Yeosang thrusted deep into you, "Gonna cum for me?" His thumb rubbed at your clit, his voice gruff and strained as he laughed at your convulsing.

"Mmhmm." You whined out, gasping as his thumb continued his assault.

"Cum for me, kitty." He whispered, moaning out as he felt his own climax quickly approaching, "Fuck, you feel so good."

As your cum dripped from your cunt, Yeosang was quick enough to pull out from your entrance, his cum coating your lower half, his gasps turning into panting as his cock twitched in his hand.

Yeosang chuckled breathlessly, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead, "Fuck, baby." He smiled, holding your ankles gently to move your legs from around his hips, "I knew you'd feel good."

The action you both committed finally began to register in your brain. With 4 of the other members of the Kyomi group in the room. You quickly reached your hands up to hide your face, chuckling softly, "I can't believe we just did that." You whispered out.

"I can't believe we did that with the guys in here." He smiled, pecking your cheek before he pulled up his sweats and stood from the bed, rising his arms to hold the side of the top bunk, looking down at you, "Wait here." Yeosang turned to the restroom, grabbing a wash cloth and sitting beside you on the bed, "It's gonna be cold." He warned, chuckling softly as he pressed the cloth against your mound.

You blushed softly as his gentle hands cleaned your skin of his climax, "Did you mean what you said?"

Yeosang looked up to look at you, "You know me better than that." He mumbled, "You know I'm not one to say anything if I don't mean it."

"So, you've really been thinking about this since I took over Mingi's desk?"

Yeosang smiled, "Actually, I've been thinking about it since you got your callsign." He folded up the cloth, setting it down on the window sill, "I didn't make it up for no reason."

You pulled your bottoms up your legs, laying on your side to look at him, his arm around your hip as he leaned on his hand, smiling at you, "I thought you hated centipedes?"

"Sure. But, it's just a callsign." He shrugged, "It doesn't mean anything." He used his other hand to cup your cheek.

"Okay, sure." You rolled your eyes, smiling at him, "You must've had a lot of fun when taunting me."

"Sure did. Why? You liked it?" He chuckled, pinching your cheek between his fingers.

"Maybe I did."

"Bet you did."

"Yeosang!" A voice shouted up the stairs, and Yeosang was quick to move from where he sat, rushing down the stairs.

You could feel your heart racing in your throat at the urgent call and was about to follow until Seonghwa quickly dropped down from his bunk, "Stay here, Centi." He patted your shoulder as he moved around the room, waking up the remaining members, who also were quick to stand up.

Wooyoung and Yunho, who were formally snoring, furrowed their brows as they stood up. San shot up at the sound of urgency in Seonghwa's voice. 

"What's happening?" Your voice trembled, watching as the three men walked by, "Seonghwa, what's happening?"

Seonghwa almost made it past, before he sighed, "You wouldn't understand." He grumbled, "Just stay put." He continued down the stairs, skipping each step as he moved, "What's happening?"

The voices all blurred together, your feet slowly moving down the steps before you sat down just out of view.

"The cops are on their way." That was Hongjoong, "Mingi just confirmed with the scanner." You could hear the shaking of his voice.

"Jongho isn't back yet." Seonghwa glanced amongst them all, his arms crossed, "Meaning our means of leaving are pretty low."

"We could hide in the junkyard, couldn't we?" San whispered. 

Seonghwa rubbed his temples, "That's fucking stupid, San."

"We have 30 minutes to either pack up and get out of here, or 30 minutes to find a way to stand our ground." Yeosang grumbled, the echo of the mouse clicking between them all. 

Wooyoung stomped towards the steps, "Well what are we waiting for?"

Seonghwa sighed, "We'll never get anywhere in 30 minutes." He crossed his arms, "Packing up everything we need is too much of a hassle. Centi will never get far enough."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Yeosang interjected.

"She's not exactly the most active person, Sang. Why do you think I stuck her with you?" Seonghwa bit back, "We'll have to find a way to get out of this."

"Oh, dude, I can't go to prison again." Yunho groaned, tangling his hands in his hair.

"Yeosang, Mingi, wipe everything from the PC's. Hongjoong, San, you two find somewhere to get rid of our weapons. Yunho, try to get an update on Jongho." Seonghwa's brows were pinched together, crossing his arms over his chest once more, "We're gonna have to find a way to make us seem like normal people."

Everyone was quick to do their assigned tasks while you sat there on the stairs, your eyes glancing at them all from the railing of the stairs. Seonghwa turned back to the stairs, looking at you with sharp eyes.

You've remembered that look. The same look he gave you when he first saw you at the museum, and you felt just as small now as you did back then.

Seonghwa gripped your hair, looking at you, "Let me figure out you had something to do with this, and I won't stop hunting you down for the rest of your life."

"Ow, Seonghwa..." You grumbled, trying to pull your hair from his hand, and sighed as soon as he let go, "I promise, I didn't have anything to do with this."

Seonghwa continued to walk up the stairs, his eyes stuck on you until he turned the corner into the room. 

You glanced back over the railing, your eyes meeting Yeosang's. As if under a spell, you slowly began to move down the stairs to stand beside Yeosang, whose hand squeezed yours.

"I hope everything's okay." You whispered.

Yeosang smiled softly, "We'll be fine." His eyes focused on the screen, watching the recovery drive get moved to the USB plugged into the computer, "Not the first time this has happened."

Nodding your head, you moved to sit on the arm of his desk chair, his arm wrapping around his waist as he finished clicking his mouse.

Everyone was off doing what Seonghwa assigned them to do. San and Hongjoong returned from the junkyard covered in dirt, sweat rolling down their foreheads. Mingi and Yeosang both ran recovery drives through the computer before they both ripped apart the components and tossed them on their desks.

Seonghwa was stowed away upstairs and Yunho paced the front porch of the shack, the rain pattering atop the roof, a loud twang! echoing the room as the droplets rhythmically dripped into a steel bucket placed against the wall by the stairs.

"17 minutes out." Seonghwa called, tossing a backpack onto the couch; your couch that you were handcuffed to months ago.

You've grown to love the rundown shack; the leaky roof, the splintered floor, the creaky stairs. You thought you'd grow to hate the building, but... it grew on you like a rash. 

Yeosang glanced up at you as you sat on the arm of his chair, "You should go change." He whispered to you softly.

You nodded your head, "Yeah. Yeah, I'll go change." You stood up and made your way up the stairs as if someone else was controlling you. Your shoulders slumped, your head hanging down between them. You pulled on the pants one leg at a time, your shirt over your head, a coat, thick socks and shoes. 

"We can't bring her with us." You heard the voice, immediately recognizing it was Seonghwa.

Yeosang piped up, "And why not?"

"At the moment, she's one of the largest missing person's case in the country. If someone sees her with us," Seonghwa trailed off.

"We can't just leave her." Mingi mumbled, cursing to himself as a clatter dropped to the floor, "We're safer if we take her with us."

Seonghwa voice strained, "She won't say anything." He scoffed, "She's too afraid."

"She's coming with us." Your heart twanged as Yeosang's voice dropped, "End of discussion."

"Since when have you been one to make decisions?" The sound of Seonghwa's heavy boots bounced off the walls.

"Since you've grown more incompetent." Yeosang responded back, "She's coming with us."

You adjusted the jacket over your shoulders, staring at the backboard of the old closet, trying to make it seem like you weren't evasdropping at a time like this just as Yeosang reached over your shoulder to grab his own pair of clothes.

"You shouldn't be listening to that stuff." Yeosang leaned against the wall as he pulled on his clothing, moving some of his hair from his eyes, "You know Seonghwa's just being dramatic." 

"I can't help it." You shrug, turning to look at him as he laced up the boots, "Yeosang."

"Hm?"

"What's supposed to happen?"

Yeosang paused from tying his shoe before he started once more, "Same thing that happens everytime we get caught up like this; run until we find somewhere to set base again." He mumbled, "Y/N, you know, if you do this..." He stood up, grabbing your hand in his own, squeezing it, "If you do this, you'll be just like us." 

You furrow your brows, "Have I not always been like you guys?"

"Of course you have, but... this'll seal the deal. Before, you were just collateral, a hostage. But now, if you follow us down this path, you'll be a fugitive. You won't be able to go back."

You shrugged, "Well, I don't wanna go back."

"No," Yeosang chuckled bitterly, "No, you don't understand." He shook his head, "Think about it. Use the last..." He glanced at his bare wrist as if there was a watch there, but you knew he was counting down the seconds in his head, "15, 14 minutes of this time to really think."

He walked off, despite one of his boots not being tied through, not giving you a second glance. 

You stood in the middle of the room, as everyone moved in and out, grabbing their items, their clothes, their prized possessions. Hongjoong was kind enough to pack up Jongho's belongings for him.

You spent that time really thinking like Yeosang said to. You thought about your life before these two months; it was bitter, it was bland and it was unexciting. But, here... with the boys, with Yeosang, it was everything you wished for. You didn't have to dress a certain way to work. You didn't have to pretend to like the people you worked with. You didn't have to pretend like everything was okay. 

You moved your feet down the steps, seeing the 7 men who you have grown so accustomed to standing in a circle, glancing you up and down as you tightened the straps of the bag over your shoulders. 

"What are you guys waiting for?" You mumbled, looking at them all as you approached the door. 

And despite your excitement to pull open the door to the downpour, seeing eight to nine police cars skidding along the road with their lights flashing and sirens chirping was enough to have you withdraw your hand from the handle.

"Shit, they're here!" San shouted, looking out the windows to the front of the shack, "If we go out there..."

"Stop making a bad situation worse." Seonghwa bit, "They aren't gonna shoot on sight. They have too damn much to ask."

"What are we gonna do, Hwa?" Yunho asked.

Seonghwa pushed his way to the front, gently moving you aside as he slowly opened the door, his hands raised, "Don't shoot." He grumbled, lacing his fingers behind his head as he stepped down the shack's rickety steps.

The rain water pattered on his head, moving close enough to look down at the police.

"My name is Park Seonghwa." He shouted, "I'm 25 years old. I was born in Jinju. I have an older brother. My blood type is..." He was listing out random facts about himself, until an officer approached him and was quick to cuff him.

"They've got Wasp." Hongjoong dropped his items and went out into the rain, steam practically escaping his ears as he tried to intervene, only to be met with the butt of a gun and fall into the mud.

"Shit." 

"Show yourselves." You recognized the man on the intercom. God, how could you forget? You've spoken to him so many times. The police chief of the National Police Force.

San was the first to lead the way out the door with his hands up, Mingi, then Yunho, then you, then Yeosang. Police officers began to surround the area, Seonghwa now being moved into the back of a police car, Hongjoong's unconscious body being placed in the back of the same one. One by one, they got handcuffed.

"Yeosang!" You shouted, ready to run to him before the police chief placed a heavy hand on your shoulder.

"Y/N..." Yeosang barely whispered over the rain, before he was shoved into the back of a police car, sat beside Yunho was looked like he was about ready to start kicking at the officers.

You gave one final panicked look at the Kyomi members in the back of the police cars; a calm and collected Seonghwa, an unconscious Hongjoong, a panicked San and Mingi, an angry Yunho. Yet, you couldn't read Yeosang. You never could. 

You couldn't tell what he was thinking.

The police questioned you for hours about the last two months you spent with Kyomi, and you spent a lot of time with a hired therapist they said that brought in to help hostage victims. Your family were ecstatic to see you, nearly moved to tears at the sight of you wearing the black clothes, your shoes covered in mud and your hair stringy from the rain.

Despite answering their questions to the best of your ability without incriminating anybody, the entire time all you could think about was "Where's Yeosang? Is he in the station too?"

You were granted release from the station not long after being taken in, the blanket wrapped over your shoulders and holding the cup of coffee they offered you as they kicked you out like a newborn calf. You sniffled softly from the chill of the rain lingering in the air.

You glanced upwards, and your bottom lip trembled as you saw Jongho sitting there in a car, climbing inside beside him.

Neither of you shared words; Jongho wasn't one for that, but he did gently pat you on the head as soon as he turned the car on and began to drive off, the sound of 2NE1 filling the quiet space.

You never knew what happened to the boys. Jongho and you both tried to figure out what exactly happened but... there was never much about it on the news or anywhere else. Yeosang, the boys and that rundown old shack in the middle of an old junkyard were an exciting new beginning to a life you only got a taste of. But now, you'd have to live with the bitter, bland and boring life that you had previously. 

Becoming a news reporter wasn't your first option...

copyright © 2023 thewonandonly. all rights reserved.

[writer-kermit]

sweet like candy.

❥ PAIRING: NANAMI KENTO × GN!READER

❥ GENRE: SMUT

❥ COMMISSIONED OR SELF-MADE: SELF-MADE

❥ WORD COUNT: 1.2k

ঞ~SUMMARY: It's the night of Halloween. And your lover Nanami Kento is certainly in for a treat.

ᰔ KERMIT'S NOTE: I LIVE! I HAVE RISEN BACK ONCE MORE! I like to apologize for my lack of posting. I've been really busy with work and I lacked motivation for the past few months. As a celebration of TickleTober, I've decided to create this fic. I will try my best to write more. And thank you to the people who stuck around! If you want commissions, DM me or visit my Ko-Fi. If you want, I'm also drawing commissions too! Thanks for the support!

P. S: I had no specific prompt I just did all of them (almost)

ʚ WARNING: NSFW, Sensual biting, Teasing, Erotic Tickling, Overstimulation, MINORS!! PLEASE GO AWAY.

It was that time of year again—the year when children would wear their most flamboyant costumes and wander around the luminous and chilly neighborhood. The children would knock on each home, hoping to receive something good to eat. Upon their next home, they would meet a particular house that wasn’t fond of trick-or-treaters. That house was none other than the Kento’s residency.

The house looked empty and eerie. You could’ve mistaken it for an actual haunted house. Those who were cocky enough to knock on the door will meet with a surprise.

A go-away sign? Welp, better luck next time kids; Nanami Kento doesn’t celebrate Halloween.

Ah yes, Hallow’s Eve. Nanami’s least favorite holiday. Not because he’s an envious adult, but because he hates the obnoxious noises he’ll have to endure until late at night.

You, however–enjoyed the thriller nights. You’d gaze at the children running along the neighborhood in search of some candy. You missed the times you’d trick-or-treat with your friends and family. As you slowly closed your bedroom window, you turned to your lover Nanami, who was too busy watching the latest horror movie.

“Oh Kento,” you sighed, “don’t you miss trick-or-treating as a kid?” Nanami flicked his eyes at you before quickly peering back at the television. “I don’t like Halloween that much.” He stated. “And why is that?” You asked, now sitting beside him. “There is no reason. I merely enjoy the alluring night when Halloween comes to an end.”

"I knew you’d say something like that.” You chuckled. “I guess you’re right,” Nanami smiled. “But there is one thing I like about this holiday.” A cocky smirk curved on your lips. “I bet it’s the candy, right?” You gestured. Nanami looked at you casually. He then pulled you into bed, making you lie down.

“You’re correct. How did you know, dear?” He asked. “Hehehe… You’re always a sucker when it comes to sweet things.” You replied. Nanami chuckled at your comment. “I will admit that,” He hummed, “But there is this one rare candy that I’m fond of nowadays.” As Nanami says that, he gets on to of you, making you anxiously giggle. “I wonder what this new candy is called,” You replied. “It’s called the [....] special. It’s currently my favorite.” “Oh yeah?” “Yes. And I’m dying to know the flavor.”

Wasting no time, Nanami pressed his lips against yours. He kept your tongue preoccupied as his hands crept under your shirt, his fingers gently caressing your tummy. He then pulled back from the kiss leisurely, awing at the feverish look plastered on your face.

“Mmm… Just as I thought,” Nanami husked. “You are sweet like candy.” He then kissed your neck, making you gasp in surprise. You moan softly between his kisses, almost tickled by his lips against your skin. A shy giggle escaped your lips as he gently tugged your skin.

“W-wait…” You whispered. “Ken…that tickles…” Nanami’s ears rang to know you were ticklish. A small smirk curved on his lips. “Is that so?” He teased. “Would you like me to stop then?” “N-no! I don’t hate it or anything. It’s just that this feeling is unusual.” You said. Nanami gave you a reassuring kiss. “Shall we sort out this unusual feeling together?” He asked you. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t hesitate. However, you couldn’t help but nod for the thrill of it.

You watched Nanami as he pinned your arms above your head. “Keep your arms up. You can do that for me, right?” He asked you. “That depends on what you’re gonna do.” You remarked.

Nanami didn’t reply to your response. Instead, he let his calloused fingers do the talking. He slowly rubbed the palms of your hands, radiating a ticklish feeling.

His fingers slowly descend, now getting dangerously close to your underarms. You tried squirming away without pulling down your arms. But Nanami was quick to straddle you. His fingers scribbled across your poor armpits without warning, forcing you to pull your arms down.

“Ehahaha! W-wait! Wahaihaihait!” You squealed. “Wait for what?” Nanami cooed. “Don’t tell me you’re backing down so soon.” “N-not true!” You recoiled. “I just wasn’t ready! That’s all.” “You don’t have to be ready, sweetheart.” He replied. “Now, keep those arms up. Don’t even think about pulling them down.”

“Nn…” You whined, slowly putting your arms back up–only for Nanami’s fingers to attack you again. Scribbling and scratching against your poor ribs. You arched your back almost instantly. Your head turned from side to side as the tickling was unbearable.

“AHhnn! Kentohoho wait!” You pleaded, clenching your fist together. “I’m sorry baby. But I already lost my patience with you.” Nanami hummed, nuzzling against your neck. His hands slowly spider across your sides and back. “Nooahahaa! P-please, slohohow down!”

Nanami found peace through your whines and pleading. He dipped his head down to your stomach, planting tiny kisses and nibbling across your sensitive skin.

“I love this cute tummy…” Nanami muttered, his hot breath grazing your skin. “It’s soft and warm like baked bread. Wouldn’t you agree [....]?” Your words became inaudible. A mixture of laughter and moans escaped from your lips.

Nanami chuckled at your state, enjoying the lovely noises you made for him. He continued teasing your tummy. His hands clawed on your hips to keep you in place. Suddenly, his tongue slipped inside your navel, tickling you in a frenzy of hysterical laughter.

“HEEHAH!” You shrieked, right before covering your mouth with your hands. “And this adorable belly button,” Nanami teased, “It’s sensitive hm?” You only giggled and shook your head. “You liar….” He cooed, gently blowing at your navel. As he went further down, he stared at your twitching sex.

“[....],” Nanami sang to you, “don’t tell me you’re getting aroused just from me tickling you.” “Hehehe! N-no!” You panicked, pressing your legs together. “I-it’s not like that at all…” “It’s not? Then why so shy love?”

Nanami slowly spread your legs apart, revealing your aching spot. You let out a squeaky moan in surprise when Nanami’s fingers stroked you lustfully. You watched him hazily as he peeled your remaining undergarments.

“It seems like the [....] added a new flavor.” He joked. Nanami then grasped your inner thighs as he leveled his head at your sex. His breath only inches away from you. He then looked up at you again, taking detail of your shallow breaths and heated face. “Thank you for the treat….” He rasped.

Nanami then wrapped his lips against your sex. His tongue was light and gentle. Yet the sensations rushed through your body. You moaned happily as he growled and moaned against your sex. “Ahahaha… K-Kento… Kento…” You moaned, bucking your hips repeatedly. Nanami let out reassuring hums as he massaged your hips, stimulating you further.

“Your flavor…” Nanami grunted, “It’s so enticing. I want more of it… I want more of you…” He kissed your lips with hunger, and you melted into the kiss almost instantly. You then felt something poke your thigh. You then had an idea.

“Oh Kento,” You sang, “did you know that there’s a new candy in stores?” “Hm? What’s it called?” Nanami asked. “The Nanami - Delux. I assumed you heard of it.” His lips turned into a curt smile. “Suppose I have,” he replied, pulling out his leaking cock. “Are you willing to take responsibility?” You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Perhaps. I’ve been dying to know your flavor.”

[prolix-yuy]

Reflective

Pairing: Max Phillips x F!Reader

Summary: His management style is effective AND refreshing. And as his executive assistant, you're partially to thank. But as your professional relationship blurs, are you getting too close to the middle manager monster of nightmares?

Word Count: 8.9k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, horror elements and themes, graphic descriptions of blood including drinking, background character un-death, violence, fingering (f-receiving), vomiting (not descriptive), descriptions of a panic attack, a dabble of sleazy coworkers, playing fast and loose with vampire lore.

Notes: Heeeeeeere's LJ! I'm back from my October hiatus just in time for a Halloween fic! Thank you again to @harriedandharassed for the prompt "How does Max Phillips handle not being able to see himself in the mirror?" I was grasping at something to write for Halloween and this prompt came at the perfect time.

This story will include horror elements such as violence, descriptions of blood and some graphic scenes. If that's not your cup of tea, scroll on friend! It was fun to go back to some of my horror writing roots, especially mixing it with the dry comedy of Bloodsucking Bastards. It's Max season babes, and I could not resist writing for this smarmy boy.

There is a part 2, which will post tomorrow. The Discord besties made an excellent suggestion right after I finished the story, and it was so good I needed an addendum. So without further ado, enjoy lovelies and Happy Halloween!

Cross-posted on AO3

If anyone asked Max Phillips what the worst part about becoming a vampire is, he’d probably tell them things like “not getting a tan” or “swearing off Italian food” or “always getting complaints about cold feet”. The last one was often followed by a lewd comment to get a pretty young thing in bed with him to prove it. It’s all farce, of course, clever little quips you’re sure he practiced just like you’d rehearse for a job interview. It gives you a funny little trill when you catch one of those lines again, because you know the truth.

He hates that he can’t see himself in mirrors.

Being Max’s executive assistant, you’re trusted with more than some of your colleagues. Well, that’s debatable, you’ve heard horror stories. But your friend Carla’s stories about her boss’ wife choosing his Peloton instructors for minimum hotness pales in comparison to your early morning runs to blood banks and private contracts with hospital cleanup crews. Max might not be a centuries old vampire, but he’s planning on getting there. You can’t live several lifetimes with a messy trail anymore.

Enter you.

The job listing had been normal enough: Executive assistant. Five years experience. Good references. Not squeamish. Discreet. It was the last three words that piqued your interest the most. You wouldn’t call yourself delicate, at least not for the things Max needed you to do. Your stomach turned when men wanted to stay the night, or your parents begged you to come home for Thanksgiving. Not so much when you had to bag a severed hand. 

When it came to the interview you almost walked straight back out of his office before saying a word. The moment you saw him you knew his type. Arrogant, self-centered, prideful, smooth with a customer and cruel in the next breath if you were in his way. You’d seen too many people like him, avoided working with them at all cost. He was young enough that boomer sexism probably wouldn’t be an issue, but you could smell the demand coming off of him. He’d be a yeller, a paperweight thrower, or worse require you to be on call 24/7. You clocked him in a glance and felt the claw of escape behind your ribcage.

And then Max Phillips did something that convinced you to reconsider just as quickly. He stood from his desk, ushered you in, looked you and your resume over for a moment, and spoke.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Max Phillips, Director of Sales, and I’m a vampire.”

The quick introduction, complete with another curious word at the end, made you bark out a laugh.

“What kind are we talking about? Emotionally, mentally…” you rattle off, tight posture relaxing just a fraction. If he was joking with you, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“Oh you know, the usual kind. With the blood,” he says nonchalantly, baring his teeth dramatically when your eyebrows raise. 

“You don’t say.”

“I do, actually. And you want to be my assistant.”

The conversation flows, with some fits and starts as you realize he’s not kidding. He is indeed a vampire, tossed out like his zodiac sign. The questions he peppers off range from highly professional (tell me a time when you performed well under pressure) to unsettlingly irregular (do you know how to remove blood stains from silk?). You shoot the answers back just as quickly, waiting for the moment when either the charade will drop…or you’ll get the job. Because you want it now. It’s easily the most interesting thing you’ll do in your whole life. 

“I think that’s all I need,” Max ends abruptly, shuffling your resume into a pile with some others. Panic grips you, and you rush into your next sentence without breathing.

“Are there any concerns you have about my qualifications?” 

Max raises an eyebrow and smiles, one that is much too charming to be in its path too long. Casting your eyes down, you glance at the worn-out toes of your nice interview heels, bemoaning getting them out of the closet for another failed interview.

“On paper you’re perfect,” Max says, and being in the same sentence as perfect skitters up your spine for a moment. You bat it away peevishly. “I only worry that you don’t have the constitution for what I’m looking for.” You shift on your feet, pull one corner of your lip between your teeth while you think. It makes you miss Max’s too-long glance at your mouth.

“I’ve watched all of the Saw movies,” you finally say, meeting Max’s eyes with determination. It makes him bleat out a laugh. 

“Okay, not squeamish. Those are movies, though, and this is the real deal,” he teases. “Favorite vampire movie?”

“Let the Right One In,” you answer quickly, your face scrunching with regret seconds after. “Or Only Lovers Left Alive. I watched Queen of the Damned three times at a sleepover once. Have you ever seen Vampire’s Kiss? The one with Nic…” Max’s chuckle lets you trail off into silence.

“And you didn’t even say Twilight.”

You were signing employment paperwork the next day.

Most executive assistants put up with a certain layer of bullshit on a daily basis. Booking flights, picking up paperwork, schedule maintenance. You’d stood in line for four hours to pick up a previous employer’s new iPhone once. 

Max had very different needs. 

You were briefed on your duties in the privacy of his office. While he did reveal to you how many of his sales force were turned by his hand (or fang, you thought with a giggle), discretion was still a priority. He needed someone to go to his blood bank hookup a few times a week, take care of daytime activities when the sun beat down too hard. Body disposal on very rare occasions (so far only the one time) among all of the normal activities you thought you were signing up for. 

The one duty that gave you pause, made you tap your nail on the printed line, was close to the bottom of your orientation packet.

“You need me to ‘maintain your appearance’?” you asked, looking up at Max from across the shiny acrylic tabletop. He was lounging back in his chair, knee pressed against the edge of the desk and spread out with boredom. He rolled his head to his shoulder as you flipped the page around to show him.

“Oh that. Yeah, I need you to check me over, make sure everything looks sharp, especially if I’m going to a big meeting.” You quirked a brow at him.

“Can’t you just look in…a…oh,” you said, slowing to a molasses vowel by the end. 

“Yeah, mirrors and I haven’t been on speaking terms since Romania,” he sighed, one heavy thumb tracing the crest of his full lower lip. You tried not to notice the subconscious stroke. 

“So you need me to…be your mirror. Make sure your hair isn’t a mess and you don’t have spinach in your teeth.” You were rewarded with a sheepish nod from Max. “Huh.”

“Huh what?”

“What else is true about vampires? Or fake, I’ll take either,” you asked, crossing your legs and settling into the wildly uncomfortable modern chair. Max’s smile turned secretive, and that was the first moment you felt him brand you his confidant.

“The sunlight thing is a bummer. I miss the beach, and swimming in the ocean. Garlic just makes my mouth go numb. Inviting someone into your home has a lot more loopholes than you think. And the sign of the cross does jack shit.” You nodded, making a mental list of even more questions to pepper into everyday conversation.

“Why do you think that all is? Because you’re essentially…undead?” you prodded, getting another bark of a laugh from Max and a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Hey, undead is a little harsh. It’s more like…a virulent vitamin deficiency. If I don’t get what I need, everything starts to shut down.” Max pondered on this analogy for a long moment, looking at a dull mass-produced corporate painting. 

“But all the superstitions…like why are those true?”

Max shrugged, running his thumb along the inseam of his dress slacks in a way that pulled your eyes to his thick thighs.

“It’s not like there’s a manual for this. Half the stuff is supposed to be because I ‘have no soul’,” Max made finger quotes as he says this. “But mirrors stopped being silver backed ages ago and I still have to be careful when I go into the men’s room.” He shrugged, taking an exaggerated sip from his iced coffee straw. “I just know what works and what doesn’t, and you just need to help with those gaps, pretty girl.”

You almost choke on your tongue, shooting Max a warning look. He raises his hands in deference, but keeps a raised brow.

"Sorry, I call it like I see it. Can't have someone with poor taste in charge of my appearance."

"Yeah and if you don't want to walk in to a meeting with HQ with a Kick Me post-it on your back, you'll be mindful of that mouth of yours."

The crinkles around Max's eyes deepen, something knowing passing by, but he nods in acquiescence.

It’s honestly not as bad as you thought it might be. You could even call it boring. Max thankfully isn’t a paperweight thrower, though he does speak to most of his subordinates like they’re idiots. Never you, thankfully, he’s all smiles and winks and traded comments during your daily interactions. You’ve never been happier to be wrong.

Routine is your master, and you follow its pattern to the letter. It’s what makes you a great assistant. First thing in the morning is Max’s coffee order, set on his desk atop a coaster you provided when you saw the coffee cup stains. He whirls in, all noise and breeze, and you help him get ready for his morning meetings. A straightened tie - you can practically knot one blindfolded now - a quick sweep of fingers through his short hair, a pantomimed smile so he shows you his teeth. It’s all utilitarian, fast, not thrilling or intimate in a way you’d rarely been with a man. Of course not. That would be…unprofessional.

Lunch involves a teakettle, a blood bag, and a deep bowl that you use to warm his meal. All done in the safety and privacy of the kitchenette in his office. You pour the contents - a balmy 98.6 degrees by the time you’re finished - into a silver to-go cup, which he takes with appreciation when he bursts in. The first few weeks you left right after, but once you were more settled he asked you to stay while he sipped on his “lunch”. The conversation was always interesting, if not a little one-sided.

“You really don’t want to eat like, a salad or something? It’s just O-Positive Capri Suns for the rest of your life?” you asked, stabbing at some lettuce in your tupperware. Max laughed, a braying short one, and put his chin in his hand.

“You can technically eat cardboard and not be hungry, but it’s not food, pretty girl,” he replied, a shit-eating grin stretched across his broad face. You'd scolded him enough about the nickname that it's almost a joke now, except for how those words made you feel. His lips were a deeper red, and the sight plucked at something forbidden in your chest. Not disgust, more like morbid fascination. The sight pulled something primal to the surface, his tongue several shades darker when he licked an errant drop back into the lush cavern of his mouth. 

You are not allowed to be lusting after your vampire boss is your mantra when thoughts run rampant.

The afternoons tend to be boring, filled with schedule juggling or email management. Max is often occupied through to the end of day, so you’re left to your own devices. You have a lot of “guys” now, as Max calls them. A blood guy, a disposal guy, a law enforcement guy. It makes you feel important in a way other jobs have lacked. You spend your afternoons making arrangements, both professional and personal, for your boss. It’s when you get the bulk of your work done, but it’s also when you have to be most on guard. 

You see, Max has a few other “hungry” employees, and as the day grows long they tend to saunter by and watch you with barely veiled appetites. Brad in sales is the boldest, leaning over your desk and making a show out of smelling you with half-lidded eyes. Creepy. You’d told him off several times, but as he likes to say with just the right amount of douche, “I’m a closer baby, I always get the deal.”

In the metaphor you’re not sure what part of the “deal” you are, but you have no intention of finding out. Enough polite excuses and faked phone calls have kept him at bay, but you worry what might happen if he gets bolder, or gathers a few more vamps to sway your opinion. Is there a clause in your contract about not getting turned into a creature of the night? You should have checked.

The end of the day is often a quick affair. Max gets a debrief of anything important that came up, and what’s on the docket for tomorrow. Normally he packs up his suitcase with a little small talk, bids you a good night, and is off to do…whatever a vampire does when he’s off work. 

Today, however, the script has a few additions.

“What’s wrong?” Max says, movements slowing as he takes in your shaking hand placing an itinerary on his desk. You tighten, smile forced.

“Nothing! Just fine,” you spit out, which only increases Max’s suspicion.

“Did something happen? Did someone say something to you?” he asks, voice dropping to a low fuck-that’s-hot register. You swallow hard and will something, anything to come to mind.

“Just Brad being Brad. I don’t think he’s turned anyone in a while and he’s getting desperate,” you try to chuckle lightly, but Max’s eyes darken. He stands to his full height, shoulders straining against his jacket. Planting his hands on his hips, he pins you in his sight.

“Did he touch you?” This is a true growl now, and Max’s face changes into a terrifying mask, perfect teeth suddenly lengthening to points as he fights against the rush. Your mouth drops open, but only monosyllabic words come out.

“No. Safe,” you gasp, and the simple admission sobers Max. His jaw ticks, rolling his shoulders and jaw until the transformation recedes. You wish your heartbeat could slow that quickly. After a few steadying breaths, Max finally turns back to you.

If his gaze was electric before, it’s damn close to lightning when your eyes meet. The jolt pulses in your veins, and his nostrils flare briefly.

“I’ll take care of it,” he says, all smooth professionalism like you haven’t just watched him vamp out because a coworker was a sleaze. You nod once, grateful, trying to ignore the sweet friction taking a step back gives to your core. 

“Will there be anything else?” you ask, the customary end to your daily exchanges. Max gathers his briefcase, movements purposeful but fast. 

“Nothing more, enjoy your night,” he answers, slipping past you with a wave of copper and musk that can’t be hidden by his Hermès cologne. You echo the sentiment but wait to take a full breath until you hear the elevator ding.

The next day Max walks in like a goddamn gladiator, powerful strides and testosterone rolling off his wool jacket. You can sense him before you see him, sometimes wondering if that’s part of the power he wields.

“Good morning!” he booms out, coming to a stop in front of your desk. You type out the end of your sentence and turn to him, smile at the ready, when your eyes drop to a box in his hand. The smile twists to confused amusement.

“What’s that?” you ask as he places the box in front of you with a pat to the silk bow neatly wrapping it. 

“Happy six months of working here,” he says with more pomp than necessary. You narrow your eyes; it’s only been four, but his face is eager so you shrug it off. The bow is buttery soft under your fingers, and your heart rate ticks up rapidly. The box hinges open, and nestled inside is a women’s Rolex watch. 

Your breath catches in your throat. It’s stunning, the perfect mix of feminine and authoritative. Gleaming oystersteel and everose gold, diamonds circling the watch face laser etched with delicate leaves. It’s easily worth four months of your pay. Your mouth drops open in disbelief.

“Max, I can’t…” you start, but he places his palms on your desk and leans close, tilting his head to one side to favor your cheek with his spearmint breath.

“Wear it. No one will dare touch you, pretty girl. I promise.” His eyes are darkly confident, and the reassurance does ease the shock of the gift. 

“Okay,” you manage to squeak out. “Thank you, Max.” He nods once with a lopsided smile before returning to the usual routine of your day. While he settles in, you slide the ungodly expensive timepiece out of the box and onto your wrist. It snaps shut in a perfect fit, and the thought of Max demonstrating your wrist size to the sales person makes heat radiate in your cheeks. 

Miraculously, he was right. Brad spies you in the afternoon but one look at the watch has him about-face and leaving twice as quick as he came. At lunch the next day you ask Max about it. He smiles conspiratorially, leaning up against his desk to look down at you seated with your sandwich. You might have thought he was trying to cop a peek at your cleavage, but you had a turtleneck on today, and his eyes didn’t roam from your face.

“The sign of the cross doesn’t do shit…for me. I wasn’t a church-going kid, never got into anything organized. For a talisman to work, the belief has to be twofold. You have to believe it will protect you, and they have to believe it too. So if you want real protection against something out to get you, you have to know them intimately.” He pauses, thumb absently rubbing along the line of his bicep where he’s folded his arms. “If you both believe, anything can work.” 

“Like this?” you ask, lifting your wrist with a twist. A flash of something passes over Max’s face before he gives you a lopsided smile.

“You believe it protects you?” he asks, his voice dropping into a softer lilt. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“You told me it did.”

“And they all believe it does, because I gave it to you.” An unspoken phrase hangs between you.

I’ll protect you.

“Could have chosen something less flashy,” you joke, needing to cut through the heaviness in the air. Max’s smile cracks his face, shaking his head as he moves to his side of the desk.

“Where’s the fun in that? You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

"And you're on thin ice, Max."

"My favorite place to be."

When it’s actually your six month anniversary, Max schedules a dinner for you. Private chef, live music, a beautiful venue. He told you to bring whoever you wanted, and his name dances on the bow of your lips for a moment. You thought hope might be in his eyes that you’d let it spill. But cowardice struck, and instead you brought your two sisters. They gush over the decadence.

“Are you sure he doesn’t want to fuck you?” One says, forking another mouthful of the best chocolate cake you’ve ever tasted into her mouth. “This is like, fourth date level extravagance.”

“He’s my boss, god. Just shut up and eat.”

“I’m just saying, my husband takes me to the Cheesecake Factory, and while I will never say no to another round of Bang Bang Shrimp, this is above and beyond what anyone would expect from your boss.” 

Your other sister doesn’t say anything until you’re alone.

“Just…be careful. This could get really messy.”

Oh you have no idea.

You nod, folding your hands under your chin and looking out at the glittering skyline.

“I will, I promise. We just have a…different working relationship than anyone’s used to. But he’s never made me feel uncomfortable.” 

Quite the opposite, really. You’ve never been so comfortable with another person in your life. You’d given him floss picks and wiped shaving cream from behind his ear, smoothed flyaways and cupped his chin to inspect an uneven sideburn. He’d let you touch every part of him without comment, brushing lint from his broad shoulders and tucking inside-out pockets back into their rightful homes. 

In return, he treated you with respect. Apart from the nickname, which you won't admit you've come to enjoy, he treated you kindly and professionally. He was a womanizer, but not with you. You weren’t naive, he was definitely fucking plenty of women in the last few months you’d been working for him. Sometimes you saw the ghosts of them in his suitcase, or crumpled in pockets. Once you’d been ready to knock on his closed door but high, breathy moans held your hand at bay. Janet from Web Design left an hour later (impressive, though you’d never say it) and Max called you in shortly after, hands freshly washed and the heavy musk of sex combating faux floral notes of air freshener. Neither of you addressed it.

The difference, you assumed, was professional. He lauded your work, told you how much he appreciated how smooth you made everything for him. He wouldn’t want to fuck that up for a quickie over his desk. Or against the mahogany door. Or on the kitchenette floor, his reddened lips leaving sticky trails on your breasts. 

The blast of chill outside the restaurant sobers your thoughts. You send a text to Max, thanking him for the dinner and sending a couple selfies of you and your sisters. His return text is swift.

You deserve it, pretty girl. Looking gorgeous.

The wine loosens your inhibitions just enough to send a text back. 

What?

Instant response.

Guess.

Your hands start shaking too hard to respond, suddenly feeling much tipsier than you thought. Typing a hasty, “Thanks again, good night,” you get into the cab and spend the ride home regulating your breathing. Max doesn’t respond.

Minor issues aside - a rowdy employee or two, some tense negotiations, a race to the finish one month for sales - you like your work. You’re considering settling in, maybe not looking for the next big thing for a little while. The pay is good, the benefits are better than most, and you’re happy. For the first time in years, you actually look forward to coming to the office. And a tiny part of you that you hide away knows why.

The start of October is always a favorite time of year for you. Scary movies in abundance on TV, fall decor, and the excitement of heading into the darker months. Thanksgiving and Christmas are fine in their own rights, but Halloween is your personal favorite. You don’t add frivolity to your desk beyond a tiny pumpkin next to your pen cup, which Max eyes with a wry little smile, and a bucket of Halloween candy that anyone is welcome to dip into. It twists the mood just a fraction away from corporate dullness to corporate-appropriate holiday spirit. You even catch Max with his hand in the candy jar once or twice, waving a snack-size Twix or KitKat as he comes and goes. 

You do wonder if the childishness of the holiday is something Max dislikes. 

“It’s a little naive,” he bemoans, swallowing the dregs of blood from his insulated mug as you wash your tupperware in his kitchenette sink. Wordlessly you hold a hand out for the empty cup to clean. “Seeing everyone gallivanting around, pantomiming monsters, when they’re all too real.”

“More than vamps? Friends with any werewolves?” you tease, soaping up the sponge designated for Max’s lunches and scrubbing the congealed mess out of the lid threads. 

“Would you like to meet one?” he answers, a sing-song mockery of your own joke. 

“God no, I have enough supernatural shenanigans with you,” you laugh, washing your hands clean so you don’t smell of copper. You’re careful to slide the gifted Rolex back around your wrist when you’re finished, a ritual Max watches closely every time. Clearing your throat, you gather up your lunch bag and move to leave.

“Maybe a Halloween party would be good for morale,” Max says nonchalantly, voice stopping you in the door. You wrestle the smile off your face before turning back to him.

“Would you like me to arrange something?” you ask, failing to keep your expression breezy. Max flashes that conspirator’s grin that drums up excitement in your chest.

“Please.”

The office latches onto the party date, only a couple days before Halloween proper. There will be food, drinks, a few small prizes for best costume and raffles. You count down the days with mounting excitement, the spirit of the season making you bouncier, lighter in and out of work. Max teases you about it.

“So you’re not going to tell me what you’re going as?” he wheedles, watching you lay piles of paperwork in neat folders on his desk. You shake your head, clucking your tongue when you notice you’re one short.

“Half the fun is the surprise,” you call over your shoulder as you speed back to your desk and return with the final folder. Max doesn’t even pretend he’s interested in the documents. “What are you going to be?” His eyebrow cocks, shaking his head with derision.

“I’m a vampire, honey, I am my own costume,” he drawls, making you roll your eyes.

“So I should expect a cape with a high collar? Some dollar store plastic fangs? Hair gel?” you tease, making your hands into claws over the desk. “I vant to suck your blooooood!” you mime in your best Dracula impression, getting your own eye roll in return.

“If you’re not telling, I’m not,” he throws back, finally scooting forward in his chair and opening one of the folders. You straighten up, triumphant, and leave him to his work.

The day of the party greets you with excitement. You made the decision to go subtle, since you’ll be sitting in costume all day. Your coworkers would have time to change before the party, but you were organizing and didn’t have that luxury. So on went a sensible white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and sheer black nylons. Slipping them up your legs, you grind your lip between your teeth. The back seam of the nylons, paired with the black stiletto heels you found in your closet, turn the dress from something mundane to possibly recognizable. When you turn your back to the mirror, crossing your ankles prettily, one of the most recognizable movie posters in history pulls to the forefront. 

You could give Maggie Gyllenhaal a run for her money.

The last piece - an addition that turns the costume from seductive to silly - you tuck into the chest pocket of your blouse before leaving. 

The day passes quickly, Max calling to tell you he’s meeting with HQ through lunch and to get the festivities started without him. You usher in the caterers, laughing with your coworkers when they ask what your costume is. So far the cover story works, and they all enjoy the clever play on words. 

The party is in full swing, raffle tickets being handed out and drinks starting to flow, when Max enters. His voice precedes him, and it’s a good thing it does because if you didn’t have that brief moment to gather yourself your mouth would have dropped open.

It’s a perfect recreation of Gary Oldman’s Dracula costume. It’s so on the nose a laugh almost bubbles out if you weren’t breathless. He’s swathed head to toe in dove gray, save for the sharp shock of black around his neck, the shine of his shoes, the rich dark leather of his gloves. The waistcoat pulls tantalizingly against his stomach, a bright silver pin at the base of his throat. He’s slicked his hair into a side part, small blue-tinted glasses perched halfway down his curved nose. Leaning on the walking stick and crossing his ankles, he makes a sweeping “ta-da!” motion with his hand. Applause erupts, giving you cover to gasp in some much-needed air. 

“To All Hallows' Eve,” he croons, sharing secret looks with the team members you know are his brethren. By the time he catches your eye across the room you’ve finally comported yourself, smiling brightly at his nod. 

It takes him some time to get to you, fighting through the crowd of people wanting to rub elbows and make an impression. He gives them all their five minutes of fame in his presence, annoyance slowly ticking up with each stop. You keep busy organizing the raffle, handing out voting sheets (Max will certainly win best costume) and watching him out of the corner of your eye.

It’s at the first lull in your duties that Max slides up next to you, a warm hand on your lower back. It makes you jump, but settle quickly when his impressed smile comes into view.

“I think I know what you’re supposed to be,” he murmurs, coming to stand in front of you to get a better look. His brow furrows when his gaze lands on your breast pocket. “Hmmm, maybe not. So spill, what’s your costume?” he says, leaning on the cane and dragging his gaze up and down your body. Aiming for a carefree smile, you tap on the little calculator peeking out of your pocket.

“I’m someone you can count on,” you enunciate, the confusion and realization swirling in his eyes until a laugh bubbles out, shaking his head.

“I can’t believe you came to the party as a pun,” he chokes out, both of you now giggling next to the bags of chips and finger sandwiches. When he finally gets control of himself he nods approvingly.

“Well, you might not win best costume with that…” You shrug, conceding, “but I’d give you the prize if you admit what you actually came as, pretty girl.”

Time slows to sticky seconds as Max inches closer to you, eyes sliding over your shoulder, tracing the curve of your neck, lighting for much too long on your lips. He knows, knows you wore the outfit from Secretary and for no one else but him. You keep your stare trained on his face. It’s not the first time you’ve considered throwing out professionalism in favor of hunger. It’s not like anyone else has been upholding your rigorous standards. Would it be so bad to let Max chase his desires with your body? To bloom underneath him, above him, around him? Would you like the taste of his mouth, coppery and thick? 

He’s close enough to be more than professional but not so close to be indecent, hot fingers tracing the band of the Rolex circling your wrist. Your mind blearily wonders if that’s when you let down the wall that kept him out. His eyes finally meet yours, a question in their depth, before his face contorts and he steps back quickly, a grimace painting his features.

“Are…” You swallow, mouth torturously dry. “Are you okay?” 

He nods, fighting on a smile and straightening with effort.

“Yes, sorry, I was…busy this afternoon, haven’t eaten yet.” He raises his hands in defense at your scolding glance, the tension back to a bare simmer. 

“Well go get a drink, I won’t announce the winners until you get back,” you say breathlessly, giving him a dazzling smile that he returns shyly. The tables are turned for once in your favor, and you savor watching Max on unsure footing. “Do you need me to heat something up for you?”

“No, I’ve got it taken care of,” he assures you, making his way to his office. A wave back at you is the last you see before he closes the door.

Finally able to make sense of what’s going on, you get back to the party, mingling with the girls you like from marketing and keeping tabs on the liveliness of the party. Max doesn’t return, the time to announce the costume winner closing in. You worry at your cuticles, his absence starting to toll on your mind. What if he was passed out in his office, weakening by the second? While you were out here with coworkers that had never given you a second glance?

Your resolve snaps, mother henning be damned, as you move to Max’s office. The din of the party muffles your voice, stepping close to listen at the door.

“Max?” you call, with no answer. Heart thumping, you test the handle. Locked. A quick trip to your desk has the spare key in your hand, ready to slot into the lock. 

“Max, it’s time for the announcement, I didn’t think you wanted to miss it,” you say, and this time you hear something. A low, pained groan.

The key slams into the lock, turning frantically as you whip the door open, two steps in with it shutting heavily behind you before you register what’s happening.

Max is not alone. And he’s…

He’s…

Oh fuck.

It’s easy not to see the monster when it looks like a middle manager. It’s easy to pretend the blood is a beetroot smoothie, or that the stains on his shirt are red wine. When Max makes it seem so dull, so boring, you sometimes forget he’s something strange and powerful.

But when you’re face to face with the truth, it all comes rushing to the forefront.

Max has Janet, the pretty thing from Web Design, spread out on his lap, her hands gripping the armrests of his chair. One hand is covering her mouth, leaning her head back to loll against his shoulder. The other is buried under her skirt, and from here you can see wetness shimmering inside her thighs. The lewd flexing of his forearm working her with those fingers you covet day in and day out almost distracts you from what’s actually happening. Almost.

Dragging your eyes up, you take in the true horror of the situation. You recognize the change, his face contorted with lines of deepening purple and red streaking his skin. The same that you saw when you told him about Brad. His mouth is latched onto Janet’s neck, red oozing around the seal of his lips. He’s groaning, swallowing thickly as you imagine mouthful after mouthful of her blood pouring down his throat.

The slam of the door drags Max’s eyes up, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline when he sees you. Mouth popping off Janet’s skin, he growls your name, deep and drunken. The loss allows blood to spurt from Janet’s neck, thick droplets spraying across her bare legs, the carpet, his desk, staining papers you laid there just this morning. Your stomach churns violently, legs weakening as Janet thrashes against Max’s hold. He tears his eyes from you to look down at the mess, a rough, “shit,” falling from his blood-stained lips before he fits his mouth back to the ring of teeth. 

There is nothing darkly romantic about this now, no suave vampire lover sipping delicately from a young debutante’s neck. Blood sluices down to stain Janet’s pink top a deeper red, her face painted with rusty smears that gather between his fingers. Max pounds his fingers inside her, the telltale spasm of her orgasm accompanied by the liquid squeak of her flats slipping in her own blood. He withdraws, a sticky string of her cum trailing across her thighs. Pressing her flush to his chest, he sucks and growls and hums until Janet goes still, fingers falling away and body slumping. The pop of his mouth off the wound lets a dribble slip between the swell of her cleavage, more still smeared and dripping from his mouth. He sighs with relief, thick tongue lazily licking at the mess around his lips. He bands his arms around Janet and lifts, folding her face-down on his desk, legs dangling limply over the edge. Her eyes are sightless, blood smearing onto the Meyer report. 

A maddening thought - you’d have to reprint that - spikes through your consciousness.

Max stands, swaying slightly as he rolls his shoulders, finally looking at you trembling in his office. His eyes are blood red, human only in that he sees you with them. Realization flits across the face you barely recognize, smile going predatory. As if a body isn’t lying mere inches from him, he places his hands on his desk, leaning over to give you a sultry look.

“Come here, pretty girl,” he purrs, a sound that vibrates in two tones. It makes your fight or flight instinct claw up your spine. Specifically the flight part. The fight part is warring against the fiery arousal burning in your belly at Max’s slick mouth, the generous tenting in those gray pants, and the rabid desire in his eyes. Fear sharpens your pulse, and you know it would take barely anything to make you cum with a wail if he’d only touch you. 

“Can smell you from here, little secretary. Know you want me to devour that juicy pussy.” Max lengthens his neck, closing his eyes and inhaling with a satisfied moan. Flecks of blood dot the gray waistcoat, jacket abandoned in a heap on the floor. The black shirt hides the color but not the wetness of what Max could not eat. “I would, you know. I would eat you even if I was full to bursting. Let me taste you, pretty little thing. I want you on my tongue. I’ll make you cum so hard you’ll wash me clean.” 

He’s prowling around the table now, steps soft and light, and you’re a frozen gazelle with a tiger approaching. No, that’s too grounded, too finite. You’re a candle flame in the middle of an ocean, a moment away from being swallowed up. Your face is wet; you’re crying. You’re scared. You’re so aroused it hurts. You’re so in over your head you’re drowning. 

You can’t breathe. 

You can’t breathe.

You can’t breathe.

Realization flickers over Max’s face and you watch him change. The veining and depth of his features recedes, eyes clearing back to soft brown as he slows his advances even further.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, I’m not…I’m not gonna hurt you.” He turns his palms up, keeping his distance as you struggle to let air back into your lungs. The first whoosh makes you so lightheaded you stumble back, falling to your knees. Max goes down to his knees with you, one hand outstretched but still too far to touch. You can’t stop shaking, taking in big gulping breaths. Max waits, a drip of blood from his chin shocking him into scrubbing his sleeve over his face. Most of the gore vanishes, but the pink hue remains. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you. I would never hurt you,” he tries again, scooting another pace forward. “I’m sorry, you were never supposed to see that. I fucked up, please…” 

His hand brushes your ankle and you know you’re going to be sick. Bile rushes up your throat and you scramble blindly for the trash bin. You make it just in time, emptying your stomach with retching sobs. A warm palm strokes your shoulder and you snap your arm out, head still hanging.

“Don’t touch me!” you rasp, and the hand is gone, letting you finish shuddering and coughing into the bin. When your stomach stops cramping you crawl away, ignoring Max’s concerned face in your periphery. You lost one of your shoes, picking it up from its topple onto the floor and holding it in your hand like a weapon.

“Please, look at me,” Max begs, and you finally take him in. He’s much more the Max you know, but so different now. Same hair you arrange for him, same soft-shaved face you touch more than you actually need to. Same brown eyes that look to you for guidance. But when you look closer you can see the film of blood on his teeth, droplets clinging to his eyebrows, and a never ending hunger in the depths of his eyes. 

You scramble to your feet, hobbling in one shoe. Max stumbles back up to your height.

“Pretty…?” he begs again, but you’re opening the door, striding out into the ruckus of the party. A couple people turn, eyes expectant until they see you. Confusion, or realization, turns them back around to ignore you. Heart thumping in your throat, fear pangs through your chest. Is there any blood on you? A quick inspection finds none, so it must be your haunted expression and disheveled appearance that inspires discretion. 

Unable to spend another moment in this building, copper still strong in your nose, you stuff your shoes in your bag and try to hurry out the back door. You need to get home, behind a locked door, maybe several. Somewhere you can think, get a level head, figure out what to do. 

Then Brad steps into your path, and your stomach plummets again. 

“Hey, where are you going? You haven’t announced the costume contest winner yet!” he laughs, blocking your path. Stepping to the side, you watch in dismay as he does the same. Again, but the other way, and he follows. Tutting, he nods at your Rolex.

“Seems like this is just an expensive gift now,” he bemoans, dunking you in clarity. 

You have to believe it will protect you.

Nothing can save you now. 

Only yourself.

Another step-dodge hides your hand diving into your bag, and when Brad grabs your wrist you swing your arm back and drive your stiletto into the side of his neck.

“What the fuck?!” he shouts, hands coming up to staunch the dark blood seeping around the wound. Faintly you hear Max’s door open and the party drop to silence, but you leave the noise as you burst into the stairwell, racing to your car and away from the hell behind you.

Max stumbles out of his office as the door slams behind you, clothes sticking to his skin and mouth full of metallic tang. 

“Bitch put her heel in my goddamn neck!” Brad shouts, stomping up to Max. “Your assistant needs some fucking discipline Phillips.” He must have more to rant about, but two swift hands snap Brad’s head clean around and off, letting his body crumple to the floor. Max watches with disinterest, pinching the bridge of his nose and inhaling long and deep before tossing the head to join. 

“Okay people, cleanup protocol,” he calls out, and the vampires in the crowd all look at each other. 

“Boss?” one of them says, making Max snap his attention to them in frustration. 

“You heard me, we’ll start relocation tomorrow.”

Max ignores the screams of his turned subordinates feeding on the human ones, his eye catching the glint of something on the ground. He kneels, heart sinking at what he finds. The Rolex, her talisman. Picking it up, he turns it grimly in his hands. Brad shouldn’t have been able to touch her, not with this. As long as she still believed it worked. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb over the face, an errant smear of blood clouding the crystal.

You get the call on Sunday afternoon, a whole weekend spent locked up in your apartment and stressed over what Monday would bring. The unknown number is the district manager letting you know that your office is being outsourced, effective immediately. Do not return to the building, please ship company property back to HQ, on and on. Part of you is relieved to not have to step foot back there. The morbid voice in the back of your mind whispers that there’s more to it than cheaper labor. You let that voice fade in favor of relief.

With enough savings for a few months out of a job, you begin the search anew. HQ gave you a generic recommendation letter, which should be enough for your new employer. It would have been preferable to have one from Max, but thinking about what it might say gives you hysterical giggles.

Can warm blood up to body temp perfectly.

Handles high stress situations such as scheduling a body dump.

Looks into my eyes like she’s known me forever.

You force yourself out of this line of thought. 

Three weeks after you ran out of that building for the last time, you get an email.

From: mphillips@pge.com

Subject: Can we talk?

<no body copy>

Your fingers hover over the keys, throat tightening. The hysteria died down after the first week, your trips outside cautious over the second, and finally a sense of calm had settled back into your life. Did you want to invite chaos back in?

To: mphillips@pge.com

Subject: When?

<no body copy>

Your reply sends and moments later your inbox pings again.

From: mphillips@pge.com

Subject: Now?

<no body copy>

Your face scrunches in confusion before the sharp buzz of your front door bell jars you out of your chair.

“Fucking…Max, give a girl a minute,” you curse, smoothing a hand through your hair and shrugging at your loungewear attire. Padding to your intercom, you click the button to activate the video screen. No one is standing on the stoop of your apartment. Confused, you press the talk button.

“Hello?”

“It’s Max.”

You’re stunned into silence before a smile creeps onto your face.

“You’re not visible on cameras too?”

“Ha ha, yeah I know, it’s great for a life of crime,” he drones out sarcastically, and even though you can’t see him you can imagine that mocking face.

A ball appears in the back of your throat. You missed him.

Buzzing him up, you wait at your door, leaning in the entryway. You don’t think he’s here to violently tie up a loose end, but you could be wrong. Your good judge of character has been suspiciously absent in the last eight months.

Three swift knocks and Max is standing in your doorway, holding a bouquet of sunflowers. You’d assumed he’d be in a suit, but this one is more casual, no necktie and his collar open. He’s wearing a cocky I-knew-you-missed-me face, but underneath there’s a current of worry, concern, and care that warms you.

“Oh, you never told me,” you say, holding the door open thoughtfully, “what are the loopholes for entering someone’s home without being invited in?”

Max’s eyes crinkle up as he rolls his eyes. There’s the man you’d been falling for.

Oh.

Oh wow.

Shit, that’s the first time you’d thought that.

“So in the movies it sounds so formal. Like ‘may I enter your home?’ and the other person has to say ‘yes, you may,’ but nobody talks like that anymore. You can just say come in, and that’s it. Or I can ask if I can come in and if you say yeah, that’s good enough. I’ve even had people tell me to come get a hug, or get out of the cold, and that worked too. Human language has evolved so much and…I am absolutely babbling like an idiot right now.” Max trails off and you stifle a smile behind your hand. It pulls a relieved one onto his face.

“I missed you,” you say, the words coming easier than you expected. Max’s eyes soften.

“I missed you too.”

You look at each other in silence before you snap back to the previous conversation.

“Oh, shit, right, yeah come in,” you stutter, Max crossing the threshold and handing you the sunny bouquet. The plastic wrap crinkles around your fingers, making for a good distraction as you move to put them in water while Max hangs his coat. 

It takes you a few minutes to snip the stalks and place them in a vase, and then a few moments more to ask Max if he’d like something (“whatever you’re having”) and brew two cups of black tea. Entering your little living room, you find Max sitting at one end of your couch, thumbing through a travel book. He puts it down to accept the tea, setting it to cool on the coffee table. Placing yours beside, you settle into the couch and try to think of where to begin. Thankfully, Max starts.

“I’m sorry you had to see any of that after all that you’ve done for me. It was inappropriate for me to feed at work, even more so to scare you. It was wildly unprofessional and I completely understand if you don’t want to be associated with me after that.”

You blink slowly at him, absorbing this carefully rehearsed apology. He waits for your response, damnation or salvation.

“Is Janet okay?”

You watch his face cooly as he struggles through a few different emotions. Confusion, incredulity, amusement, relief. 

“Yeah, Janet’s fine, I turned her. She’s moving to England, not as much sun.”

Silence slips between you before you break into giggles, Max following along as the tension unwinds. When your breath stops hitching you give Max a warm smile, picking up your mug to take a sip. 

“Sounds like HQ just wanted to sweep all this under the rug. Would it always have ended up this way, or was the party to blame?” Max shrugs, arm slung over the back of the couch and ankle resting on his knee.

“It’s different every place I go. Sometimes it’s longer, other times it’s only a few weeks. You made it easier,” he says, a blanket of fondness warming your lap. Tracing the lip of the mug with your fingernail, you sort through what you want to say next.

“Before the party…was something going on between us? Or is that some weird vampire thing to make humans easy to manipulate?” Peering through your lashes, you think you see Max blush.

“I can assure you I did not use my supernatural powers of suggestion on you. Only on difficult clients,” he laughs, tilting his head lazily onto one shoulder. “Yeah,” he adds quieter, face turning to his lap. “Yeah, there was something going on between us.” Slowly, giving you time to shy away, he reaches out to brush his fingers along the inside of your knee. A trill of excitement flutters through you. “I hope it’s still there.”

Just as cautiously, you reach out and let the tips of your fingers meet, his hand turning over to cup them in his palm. The softness of his skin entices you to stroke along his broad palm, the undersides of his fingers, until he moves to lace them with yours, joints stretching pleasantly around his larger ones. When you get the courage to look up he’s regarding you with quiet wonder, lips parted. You smile at him, eliciting one in response.

“I have something for you,” he says, voice tight as he digs into his pants pocket. It’s a smaller box than the first gift he got you, and you release his hand to take it. Sliding the top off, you’re treated to a delicate silver chain. 

“I don’t think the Rolex quite expresses what I’d like us to be now,” Max says, lifting the chain out of the box. It’s even more dainty in his hands, thick fingers struggling briefly with the clasp. 

“So you’re not asking me to keep being your assistant?” you say, pulse pounding in your ears so loud you’re sure he can hear it. 

“Put this on and I’ll show you what I’d like us to be,” he says, a soft challenge but no fire in his eyes. Instead there’s a question, one that you’d struggled with in the weeks following the party.

Could you handle this? 

Pushing up on your knees, you gently lift one leg over Max’s lap, settling on his thighs. His eyes widen, then that bratty smile comes back to grace his face. 

“I’m waiting Max,” you tease in a sing-song lilt. He lifts the chain to loop around your neck, fastening the ends together. It hangs cooly against you, sensation slowly disappearing as it warms to your skin.

“This will protect you, if you believe in it,” he says, and as he breathes the words he leans up to place a soft kiss to your collarbone, pressing the chain between his lips and your skin. “It will protect you from those with ill intent,” he continues, trailing his lips along the necklace as he places another kiss at the base of your throat, “because I will never let another creature, living or undead, bring harm to you.” Here he places an open-mouthed kiss on your sternum, a tentative lick pebbling your skin. “And it will protect you from me,” His mouth moves up the other side of your neck, peppering kisses along the way, “because I will never lay a hand on you that you’re not begging for.” 

You bury your hands in his short locks, scratching your nails along his scalp. The groan he lets out makes him circle you in his arms, sliding you down his thighs to sit tight against him. His breathing becomes erratic, and he rolls his hips below you.

“I’ll never…fuck, I’ll never drink from you. I’ll never bite you, I promise,” he growls, and now his mouth is hot and possessive on your neck, sucking and scraping teeth up to worry behind your ear.

“I like biting,” you whisper back, grinding lightly on him. “Only these teeth, though, not the sharp ones.” 

The dark chuckle he makes precedes him pulling you back, looking up at you with wide eyes and a damp mouth. 

“I still want you to be my assistant, though, I’m a mess without you,” he pants, eyes glittering with mirth. Shaking your head with a sigh, you dip down to capture the mouth you’d been coveting. He tastes like bitter tea leaves, coffee, and the primal coppery heat of blood on the back of his tongue.

It’s a taste you could get used to.

NEXT

[zzokks]

talk to you // eddie munson x reader

hi guys! this is my first fanfic that ive written for an audience to see (i have tons of self-indulgent ones in my drive 🫣) this is also a fanfic in celebration of @loveronlineee gaining 10k followers! they make really good fics, so make sure to follow them 🫶

prompt: talk to you by ricky montgomery; I wish I could talk to you. Pull my chair right up there next to you and talk to you. You're in my head more often than I want. More often than I wanna tell you.

notes: fem!reader, reader is 2 years younger than eddie, ooc eddie maybe??, reader is also friends with steve, upside down exists but doesnt affect story

also sorry if theres errors where i switch to third person! i normally write in that POV. also sorry if the formatting is weird, i had to post this on my phone

Eddie was loud and confident. Always had been. But when it came to you, all of that was thrown out the window.

He'd met you in his freshman year, when you went over to Gareths house for some English project. You were going to leave to let their band practice, but Gareth insisted you stay. Eddie had been a mess the whole practice, distracted by the very pretty girl sat right in front of him. But you'd still clapped and whooped, praising their performance and Eddie was smitten.

He hadnt talked to you since that day. He didnt think you'd want to. When he saw you in your freshman year, he was prepared to go over and say hello but then Steve Harrington appeared out of nowhere and you both walked off.

Ever since, he'd resigned himself to watching you around school. Not in a creepy way. More like 'I wish I could talk to you, but Im too nervous' kind of way. He watched when you punched that guy harassing one of your friends. When you had spilled chocolate pudding all over your white shoes. When you'd dumped beer over Billy Hargroves head at a Halloween party. And he loved it. He loved you.

When he found out his freshest trio of sheep knew you, he was over the moon. Now he actually had an excuse to talk to you. The day after he met Dustin, Mike and Lucas, he saw them all talking to you next to your locker. He had just braced himself for walking over, when the bell rang and the hallway was swarmed with people. He cursed and trudged outside to his car in defeat.

Eddie clapped Dustin on the back as they all left the theatre room. Another successful campaign. Dustin had rolled the winning dice and defeated their opponent for the night.

"Now we can finally get past," Mike exclaimed alongside the two boys.

Dustin puffed his collar with a smug grin. "All thanks to me."

Eddie rolled his eyes at the kids ego as they left the building. There were only two cars in the parking lot; yours and Eddies. He saw you leaning against your car, arms crossed from the night air.

"Hey Y/N," Dustin called as they got closer to your car.

"You guys are 10 seconds late!" you said sarcastically.

Mike laughed and punched Dustins shoulder, calling shotgun. Dustin hadnt even registered his words before Mike was already sliding into the front seat.

"Hey!" Dustin called to him.

Eddie had been standing there silent throughout the whole conversation. This was the first time in a couple of years he had been close enough to talk to you. But he wasnt saying anytjing. His mouth was closed and his eyes were wide. He barely even heard you when you spoke.

"Good campaign?" you asked him, tilting your head.

"Uh, yeah. Great campaign," Eddie grinned.

You glanced down towards the boys in the car before smiling back at Eddie.

"You know, thanks for doing all this with them. Heaven knows they could have a normal school year for once," you chuckled, patting the door behind you.

Eddie made a puzzled expression, which made you change the subject.

"It feels like we've met before."

Eddies mind stopped working for a bit. He'd been thinking about you for years, assuming you didnt even remember his name. But here you were. Acting as though you'd met only the day before.

"Yeah. Yeah, we have actually," Eddie ran a hand through his hair, the smile on his face unable to be hidden. "We met through Gareth. You had a project with him and you came when we had band practice."

Your eyes lit up from the mention of Gareths name; obviously you'd forgotten the minor details.

"Oh my god!" you exclaimed, "You're the one with the buzzcut. Buzz yeah?"

"The one and only."

You laughed and his heart soared. It entered his ears so politely and he didnt want to forget the sound ever.

"Well, thanks anyway. I'll see you around Eds."

He watched you open the car door and get in, turning on the ignition. You hadnt just remembered your first meeting, but even his name. And you'd even given him a nickname. Eds. Before your car reversed, he gripped onto your open window.

"Hang out with me!" he blurted out, sounding almost completely desperate.

You laughed again and hung your arms out of your window. "Pick me up for school tomorrow and we can go to the diner after."

Eddies eyes and smile widened at your answer and he nodded viciously. He had to admit, his question was a bit brash and unexpected. Your answer was also unexpected to be fair.

"Yes! I'll be there," he exclaimed. "Thank you."

"Eddie!" Dustin yelled, poking his head through the car window. "Stop flirting with Y/N so we can go home."

Eddie flushed red and frowned at Dustin, his features softening when he heard you chuckle.

"Calm down little man, you'll be able to see your mommy soon."

Dustin rolled his eyes and ducked back into the car. You smiled up at Eddie, said goodbye and rolled out of the parking lot. Once he knew he was alone, Eddie pumped his fists and exclaimed loudly into the night. He stamped his feet in excitement before practically jumping to his van and sighing happily into the drivers seat.

He'd finally done it. His wish had come true.

He'd finally talked to you.

[adelaideelaine]

Adelaide Elaine | Hellcheer Fic Masterlist

All my Eddie/Chrissy fanfiction in one place, for your reading enjoyment. ❤️‍🔥

IT’S DIFFERENT FOR GIRLS (Explicit, no archive warnings apply.) Chrissy Cunningham experiences an unexpected sexual awakening during her senior year of high school.

Author’s note: The fic that started it all, for me! I’m incredibly proud of this one. It’s my sincere take on how Eddie and Chrissy’s relationship could have developed on a show without supernatural elements.

NO SLEEP ‘TIL CHICAGO (Explicit, no archive warnings apply.) Chrissy, Eddie, and an unexpected negotiation.

A/N: This is a two-shot sequel to “It’s different for girls.”

*** HERE COMES YOUR MAN (Explicit, no archive warnings apply.) Times change. So do people.

A/N: It’s Part Three of “It’s different for girls,” but can also be read as a stand-alone breakup and reunion fic.

TENDERNESS (Explicit, no archive warnings apply.) Eddie Munson is determined to keep his head down and get through his last summer as a counselor at Camp Hawkins Lake (aka Camp Hawk)...until a certain cheerleader-turned-lifeguard catches his eye.

A/N: This summer camp AU was so fun to write! It’s light-hearted and features its own built-in 1986 soundtrack.

THE SHOP AROUND THE CORNER (Mature, no archive warnings apply.) Eight years after graduating from Hawkins High, Chrissy is running a children’s bookstore in her hometown. Owning and operating a small business isn’t easy— especially since it shares a wall with the loud tattoo parlor next door. Luckily, Chrissy has an anonymous friend online who’s eager to hear about her troubles…and maybe even meet up in real life.

A/N: It’s my You’ve Got Mail x Hellcheer AU! Probably the fluffiest thing I’ll ever write, in a good way…

SELF-TAUGHT LEARNER | GIRL ON FILM | ALL’S FAIR (All three rated Explicit, no archive warnings apply.) Let him watch.

A/N: The “Self-taught learner” series is my series of smutty one-shots involving consensual voyeurism and exhibitionism. 👀 They can be read separately or in sequence.

NICE BOYS DON’T (Explicit, no archive warnings apply.) No one talks to Chrissy "The Freak" Cunningham. Unless, that is, they want to buy weed from her.

A/N: My version of the role reversal AU (Freak!Chrissy/Jock!Eddie.) It was a wonderful challenge to work on keeping them “in character.”

LATE ONE NIGHT (Explicit, no archive warnings apply.) When two local boys go missing, the teens of Hawkins are shut inside by their parents. It's going to be the most boring Halloween ever...for everyone but Chrissy Cunningham, that is. For Hellcheer Week prompt: First Kiss.

A/N: Just a slice of life fic exploring the simmering sexual tension between Chrissy and Eddie, through the lens of a party with the rest of the older kids.

ROSE-TINT MY WORLD (Explicit, no archive warnings apply.) Chrissy joins Eddie and the rest of the gang for a midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It's her first proper night out...and she's determined to make the most of it.

A/N: This can be read as a direct sequel to “Late one night,” or as a stand-alone fic.

***CHRISSY’S BODY (Explicit, major character death, graphic depictions of violence.) "Don't cry, Chrissy. It's time for your suffering to end...but that boy's suffering has just begun." For Hellcheer Week prompt: Hell is a Teenage Girl.

A/N: This is a Jennifer’s Body crossover and my first attempt at dabbling in horror.

THE LINE (Explicit, no archive warnings apply.) A modern day OnlyFans AU. What are best friends for?

A/N: I was inspired to write an OnlyFans AU by Justyrae’s “Love is Just a Currency.”

COMING SOON: More supernatural fics 🦇💕

*** = work in progress

[yeehawbvby]

Am I ~seducing~ you? | Ch. 1*

(Piers x OC Maxine)

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: "Piers stopped in his tracks as he watched his friend smile at him while propping herself onto her elbows, and then drop that smile and widen her eyes as they raked up and down his body. 

Oh, does it look bad? he worried to himself.

Then, he noticed Max’s face grow pink. Her ears and what little of her neck he could see followed as her cheeks turned a deep red he wasn’t sure he’d seen on them before.

…That must be a good thing then, yeah? Probably?"

Author's Note: Wowee, what a surprise, another romantically and sexually tense MinMaxShip fic!! (said no one ever)

I had way too much fun writing this. I’ve been dealing with tons of health issues lately, which has made writing kinda hard, but it’s fun being able to whip up silly one-shots here and there when I can.

Hope y’all enjoy x

Check it out on ao3!

Next

With battling being so ingrained into Galar’s culture, it was common for the region’s gym leaders to keep their stadiums open on holidays. Why would passionate trainers sit at home with their friends and families on, let’s say Christmas Eve for example, when they could go take on gym leaders as a group activity instead? 

Piers, preferring to do his own thing, would pick and choose which holidays to keep the Dark venue open. He’d take it year-by-year, seeing how he was faring the week of the occasion, and would advertise a celebratory event only if he felt like it’d be worth it. Oftentimes he’d forgo battling entirely, putting on a show instead; but regardless of what he decided on, he never failed to sell the venue out.

The amount of people who showed up proved to be far too overwhelming for Max, so she simply didn’t work holidays. She’d had one incident in her early days as a gym trainer where she tried to push past her immense discomfort and be there for a New Year’s event, only to have to hide away backstage due to a panic attack. It was for the best that she just stayed home. 

She didn’t mind it, despite how isolating it could be. If anything, she found comfort in how quiet their apartment building would become with so many people at one gym or another. 

This day in particular was Halloween, and Piers was readying himself for a concert. He’d always encouraged everyone — his staff included — to show up in costume. The practice kept employee morale higher, attracted more attention from fans and trainers alike, and honestly, Piers just found it fun. The idea of being able to dress any way he wanted to once a year excited him. It made him feel less self conscious when he wanted to experiment with wearing dresses, or different types of makeup, or whatever, because if he was met with criticism he could just blame it on the holiday.

Piers had his fair share of silly costumes, such as pokemon kigurumis or maid outfits. He’d never been the type to use Halloween as an excuse to look sexy like so many people do.

For some reason, he felt bold enough to change that this year.

He was a little self conscious as he inspected his incubus getup in the mirror. His high ponytail was complemented by a headband with two black horns, which held his fringe away from his face; he swapped his black eyeshadow for a deep burgundy, creating a smokey look in unison with his smudged black eyeliner; and he toyed with some faux fangs, ultimately deciding to wear them at least until he got on stage.

His usual pendant adorned his neck, and below it, his torso was practically bare. He had on a black, long-sleeved, mock-neck shirt, but the fabric ended in an upside-down v-shape just above his chest. 

Raihan, being a master of the craft of Looking Slutty, suggested Piers spice it up with some fake tattoos somewhere on his lower torso. He reluctantly did just that, drawing a small black wing with some eyeliner between each hip bone, slightly below his navel. He thought it would be too much but wound up liking it, especially preferring it over sporting a set of wearing fake wings.

He wore tight, black, leather pants, and would slip on some high-heeled leather boots on his way out, as usual. Today, though, he added a whale tail with a burgundy thong beneath it all — a little accent to complement his eyeshadow — and a black leather garter on his upper left thigh.

It wasn’t out of character for Piers to be completely shirtless at some points during his shows just due to sweat, but something about today felt so much more scandalous than usual. Maybe it was the attention he drew to his hips, or maybe it was the fact that he was arriving at the venue already practically topless. Who could say?

He wanted a second opinion on the outfit. Most of Piers’ buddies were gym leaders and busy prepping for their own celebrations, though, so Piers didn’t want to bother any of them.

That only left… Max and Marnie, he supposed. And there was no way in hell he was showing his little sister this outfit.

He sighed, dragging his feet on the short walk between rooms. The star felt a bit nervous presenting himself to Max so scantily clad. She’d seen him topless, but like he’d been thinking, this felt different.  

He stood outside Max’s room and asked, “Oi, you decent?” through the door.

“Yup.”

She was hanging out on her bed. She laid belly-down, her head towards the foot of the mattress and her arms slightly dangling off, with her DS in hand. Not having Halloween plans herself, but wanting to do something, she opted to just wear a fuzzy white cat ear headband with her otherwise unfestive black hoodie and light pink joggers. 

She was in the middle of something, so when Piers entered, she hadn’t looked up. She did greet him, though. 

“What’s up?”

“Need your opinion on my costume.”

“‘Kay, ooone sec,” she murmured. 

Piers admired how Max’s brows furrowed when she was feeling determined. He grinned when he noticed her headband, too. Cute.

He huffed out a near-silent laugh in tandem when Max’s misdreavus made itself visible and floated over to Piers, greeting him with its own set of cat ears equipped. 

He patted its head between the accessory. “Hey, missy.”

It chirped happily before leaving the room to hang out somewhere else in the apartment. Probably the couch, he assumed. That fella really loved a good sofa… or any sofa for that matter. Theirs was pretty beaten up.

Piers shut the door behind the creature. Curious as to what Max was doing while he waited, he was about to make his way towards her with the intention to watch over her shoulder; but right when he took his first step, Max closed the device with a triumphant huff and looked towards him.

Piers stopped in his tracks as he watched his friend smile at him while propping herself onto her elbows, and then drop that smile and widen her eyes as they raked up and down his body. 

Oh, does it look bad? he worried to himself.

Then, he noticed Max’s face grow pink. Her ears and what little of her neck he could see followed as her cheeks turned a deep red he wasn’t sure he’d seen on them before.

…That must be a good thing then, yeah? Probably?

“Erm.” She cleared her throat, fixing the heightened pitch of her voice — which was already pretty high-pitched, normally — before averting her eyes. After a beat she shyly met Piers’. Her gaze started to lower, as if on its own volition, but she rapidly snapped it back up to his face.

…Definitely, Piers concluded.

He flustered her.

This wasn’t one of those common instances where someone did something sweet or embarrassing to her, or where she did something sweet or embarrassing.

He put her in this state purely by looking the way he did.

And that felt fucking incredible to him.

Initially the realization had made him giddy. Then, as he registered that it could be absurdly fun to tease her about this — to tease her right now — his smile widened into something more mischievous. 

Max’s following compliment came out strained. She was fighting for her life to make herself look unaffected. 

(She was failing.)

“Looks good!”

Piers’ brows raised slightly as he flashed his fangs. “Y’think so?” 

“Ye— oooh,” she cut herself off with a whisper, noticing the prosthetics. She could practically feel herself short-circuiting as she tried to figure out what to say. Please stop staring at his teeth, please be normal about this, she begged herself before settling on, “Can you sing in those?”

“Eh…”

Piers looked up a little, tilting his head to either side while he weighed out whether it would be doable or not. While doing so, he began fidgeting the tip of his tongue against one of his pointed teeth. The simple movements of his mouth made Max gulp.

“Probably, but I might take ‘em out anyway.” 

“Hm.” Max slowly nodded, diverting her attention to the floorboards. She crossed her outstretched legs behind her, too. Something about shutting her thighs eased the tension growing between them.

Her overall reaction was all he needed to be way more confident in his attire. Cocky, even, just because it was Max. He cared more about her opinions of him than most other people’s. So, while she seemed to zone out, Piers quietly approached her bed, leaning his palms down onto the corner of it.

He wanted her attention. Wanted to see how many of her buttons he could push like this. He’d accepted his infatuation towards her by now, and to take advantage of the moment to see what kinds of reactions he could pull from her fueled his desires even further.

It made him feel a bit perverted, in a way. 

Was it perverted?

Whatever, it didn’t matter. It’s not like he was hurting her by having a little fun. He knew she’d speak up if he made her uncomfortable at any point. There was very little risk in messing around, and a high reward to be had.

Timidly, Max side-eyed Piers’ exposed form, bringing the collar of her hoodie to her chin — a makeshift hiding spot — before letting her head fully turn. Her heart stuttered at the intense look in Piers’ eyes. He was amused, clearly, given the faint smile that played on his lips while he gnawed the lower one, only one of his fangs visible; but more than that, he watched over her like a predator would its prey. 

He asked lowly, “You like it, then?”

God, yes— “Mhm,” Max nodded.

Piers noted the slight quiver in her breath, and swelling with pride, he continued, “How much?”

As the words came out, he gravitated to the foot of Max’s bed, slowly sinking onto his knees to meet her at eye level, no more than a foot away.

“Oh, um…”

Max looked down in an attempt to escape eye contact, only to realize she was openly staring at his torso. She honed in on his decorated hips for a short moment before blinking a few times, as if to wipe away her racing thoughts. She plastered her view onto his right arm.

“I… I don’t know.” She dropped her hold on her hoodie, then answered, “It’s a good look on you,” pulling a small section of hair over her shoulder to fidget with. As she twirled the brown and pink strands between her fingers, Piers noticed that her feet were kicking in place the slightest little bit.

“You sure? Seems like ya can’t even look at me while you say it,” he teased, lifting Max’s chin with his pointer and middle finger. 

She wanted to fucking die. To vanish from thin air and not have to deal with how pretty he was. How sexy he was. 

But there was no escape.

She could tell from his constant ghost of a smirk that he knew exactly what he was doing. Whether he simply enjoyed toying with her, or he knew he was absolutely melting her, she had no clue — whichever it was, though, it turned her on more than she could possibly begin to comprehend. 

Piers egged her on, her eyes widening a little as he leaned in closer, “I mean, I can tell you with full confidence that you make an adorable kitten.” He gestured his head towards her ears. 

Arc’s sake, please shut up, Max wanted to scold him, her heart threatening to beat its way out of her body. She wanted to close what little of a gap there was between them. To pounce on him. For him to do the same. Anything.  

“Well… I do mean it,” she answered once she was able to compose herself. “I’m just a little embarrassed, I guess,” Max admitted, with a breathy, nervous waver lingering in her voice.

Piers leaned forward again. “Why’s that?”

Max’s eyes flickered between Piers’ darkened eyes and his lips. “Don’t— erm, don’t you have to leave?”

He shook his head slightly. “I have plenty of time to grill ya if I want to.” His mouth formed into a toothy, meowth-like smile.

“Damn it,” she quietly laughed, looking down, now that Piers’ hold on her had slackened.

He promptly stole her back, tugging her view to his once more while he laughed with her. He thought she had such a pretty smile — especially when her face was so rosy. 

“Y’know, if I didn’t know any better…” he began to speculate as he nearly closed their gap. Their noses were just a few centimeters apart. Max seemed to be in a trance, her eyes following his mouth’s every move while it drew nearer. “I’d say it looks like you want me to kiss you or somethin’.”

Max’s eyes shot up to his while she nervously chewed the inside of her lip between her canines. She looked hopeful. Pleading. Desperate.  

Confident facade aside, Piers felt similarly. 

“…Do you want me to kiss you, Max?” Piers whispered. Despite the softness in its volume, his voice had an almost dangerous tone to it. 

It made Max gasp. She was putty in his hands.

Piers felt himself twitch in his pants at her barely-audible reaction. He wondered when else she’d ever make faces like these, when else she’d sigh such wistful little breaths. Simultaneously, she’d been wondering if this is the sort of demeanor he’d have in bed.

Unable to resist but feeling shy, she nodded the slightest bit. The motion would’ve been unnoticeable if you weren’t looking for it.

Piers was on her before she could even register that he’d obliged, eagerly holding her face and smashing his lips against hers. Her surprise manifested in a whimper and filled her with embarrassment while it drove Piers mad with lust.

Max rested a hand atop one of his while she struggled to pull herself up into a kneel. Her legs felt like jelly beneath her as she maneuvered herself to be sitting on the edge of her bed, her legs dangling on either side of Piers as she draped her arms around his neck. She rested one palm against the back of his head while the other gripped the fabric covering his opposite shoulder. 

Max wondered, as their lips and tongues ebbed and flowed, how such a simple costume could have made her so goddamn needy… and why did it seem to have the same effect on him? 

While Max was lost in thought and inebriated by Piers’ kisses, the man stood up, leaned his right palm onto the bed, and weaved his left fingers beneath Max’s loose mane to cup her nape. 

He encouraged her to lay back with nothing but the force of his lips, letting her decide whether or not to invite him closer. She subconsciously tightened her thighs against his hips as she complied, her body willing his to meet hers on its own volition; enticing his core towards hers as he hovered above her, his ponytail tickling her cheek and his breaths fanning her face each time their mouths unclasped. 

Max, knowing Piers could recreate his ponytail in an instant if he wanted to, tangled her fingers through the taught hair. She gripped onto it for dear life and leaned upward as if it would allow her to taste more of him, sighing into his mouth as he used his lips to pin her back down. 

Piers smiled against her, noting that she seemed to really like when he took control. It reminded him of a move he busted out during their first kiss, so he decided to recreate it. A little commemoration of sorts. He drifted his thumb to Max’s chin and — without warning, unlike last time — pulled her mouth open and held it there, leaving her powerless in terms of how long their tongues would be knotted together. 

Just like the first time, Max accidentally whined into his mouth. Just like the first time, Piers breathed out a laugh through his nose. He didn’t halt their connection this time, though, favoring twirling his tongue around hers over the prospect of teasing her. He did hum to express his satisfaction though.

If he heard correctly, Max whimpered again at his reaction, albeit near silently.

And he did hear correctly, but not for the reason he’d thought. Max definitely responded positively to his humming, but she was more so focused on the way he just took the reins and seemed to really enjoy it. She did too. Being teased, being bossed around a bit. Being at his will. All of it made her feel restless.

Max arched her back a little to be closer to Piers.

Piers gripped the curve of her hip and squeezed, firmly pressing his pelvis between her opened legs in tandem.

Max desperately tugged at Piers’ hair with one hand to pull him closer, and gently caressed his cheek with the other.

Piers bit Max’s lip, forgetting he had fangs equipped, and drew a little blood—

Oh. 

He pulled away and brought his hand to her cheek while he made sure she was okay.

She nodded. She kinda liked the pain. She didn’t tell him, but something about the hungry glint in her eye gave it away.

…Oooh!

Piers, with a smirk that met his eyes more than his lips, licked the blood away before stealing another open-mouthed kiss, and it was literally the hottest thing that had ever happened to Max.

This only lasted a few moments longer, both of them mourning the loss of each other’s lips the second they were apart. Still hovering over Max, Piers pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time. 

Their chests heaved as they stared at the rotom. They both knew he needed to leave, but Piers heavily considered canceling the show in favor of spending the night snogging Max’s face off. 

Fuck it… I can be late.

Piers gently tossed the device aside, letting it float down on its own, and dove back down. Max happily went along with it for a short while before feeling guilty. 

Damn it.  

“Mm–” she hummed against him, cupping his cheeks to gently nudge him away. “You’ve gotta go, no?”

Piers, while staring at Max’s swollen lips as if they were the most fascinating things he’d ever seen, sighed. “Don’t wanna.” He immediately dipped back down, a goofy grin curling his lips upward.

“What?” Max laughed, her nose scrunching up a bit as she stopped him from kissing her again. “I thought you loved Halloween shows specifically.” 

I love you more— “This is more fun.”

The sincerity in Piers’ voice, even if it was lighthearted and silly, had Max wanting him to cancel the show too. 

This was the perfect opportunity to poke fun at him, though. “Taking this whole incubus thing a bit seriously, no?” It wasn’t a complaint, but it had piqued her curiosity.

“Ha!” 

Max basked in Piers’ bright smile, feeling proud that she made him laugh, even if it wasn’t all that funny. Even if she always made him laugh.

Whatever. His laugh was cute and made her happy. That’s all that mattered.

Still grinning, Piers squinted at Max, readying an absolutely lethal blow. He nudged her nose with his, then let his lips ghost hers as he purred, “Why? Is it working?” 

Max, hypnotized, let her eyes drop to where their lips were nearly connected. She tilted her head up a tiny bit, but Piers pulled back, his smile widening. 

“Answer the question, love,” he taunted her before repeating the motions. “Am I seducing you?” He added a subtle nudge of his hips against her mid-sentence for emphasis. Max’s lip quivered as she swallowed back a moan before it could come out.

Max didn’t answer him. She didn’t want to lie, but there was no way in hell she was about to tell him how badly she yearned for him. 

Her silence spoke volumes. Piers, wanting to hit Max with one last razzle dazzle, kissed her again, letting his tongue lead the way after successfully propping her mouth open. It was sloppy, it was deep, it was so hot, and it snatched Max’s fucking soul out of her body — very in-character! — but it also ended way too soon for her liking.

Piers concluded darkly after a moment of silence, “Very good to know,” before standing upright. 

Half of him hoped his bulge wasn’t too noticeable.

Only half.

Max definitely saw something, but knew that if she lingered on it for too long, she’d be begging him to stay home, and to give up all restraint and rules and whatever, and to just fuck her senseless instead — so, she did her best to act like it wasn’t there.

“B-but I didn’t even answer you,” she weakly pointed out as Piers pulled out his messy ponytail, promptly fixing it back up into something tidier. 

“But you didn’t deny it,” he winked at her, “and that’s all the confirmation I need.” 

Satisfied with the havoc he’d wreaked, Piers grabbed his phone and made his way towards the door. 

“Huh?” Max squeaked.

Piers met her eyes over his shoulder. “Byeee,” he sang… And he decided on a whim to snipe her one last time. “Try not to have too much fun without me.”

Max was speechless at the implications there as Piers shut the door behind himself. The man was now grinning like a doofus, knowing that he affected Max so immensely, even if it was just this once — at least to his knowledge.

He went into her room initially expecting an honest opinion, then to either hang out a little, or to work on improving his look. Maybe both, if she wanted to help. 

Instead, he was handed some confidence on a silver platter in the form of Max blushing and whimpering for him. Fidgeting because of him. Visibly yearning for him. 

He felt like a million bucks — like he was unstoppable. He was about to put on the best show of his career. He could just feel it.

Max, on the other hand, was stuck staring at the door, completely dumbfounded.

…What the fuck just happened?

[fastlikealambo]

link to chapter one.

link to chapter two.

link to chapter three.

Bloodsinger: Vampire! Eddie Munson x Black Reader Drabble Part 4 

Summary: Out of every news source in the country, the one and only lead singer of Corroded Coffin and self proclaimed vampire Eddie Munson has decided to do a sit down interview with The Hawkins Post. Instead of your boss, you’re sent to a mansion on Halloween Night and you’re in no way prepared for what’s in store.

Trigger Warnings: violence, gore, blood k!nk , a tinsy bit of cardiophilia if you squint, 80s workplace sexism

Inspired by: The Vampire Chronicles,  Dracula, Lost Boys, Vampire Diaries, Twilight, honestly every single vampire trope and cliche is in present and accounted for in this fic.

minors dni, I check.

this is either the worst thing I’ve ever written or halfway decent, either way, enjoy!

“ Corroded Coffin is doing a show tonight and there’ll be a press junket afterwards. Here’s your press pass, there will be photographers there so you don’t have to take any photos. Hey, are you listening to me cupcake? Hello,  I’m talking to you!”

Your boss snaps his fingers in your face, making you jump.

“Maybe I should have put one of the guys on this. Between this and your shitty interview notes, we’re screwed if you fuck things up anymore. Are we clear?”

You said nothing, took the lanyard from his hand and walked away.

It’s nice that as you await your death by an incorporeal ancient vampire, you’re still clocking into work. Sitting there and staring into the atmosphere, but at least you’re doing it at your desk.  Perhaps if you had people to say goodbye to in your final days you’d feel something but you don’t.

You thought about saying goodbye to your roommate but given the fact that she’s pissed off due to Eddie’s consistent calls at all hours of the day and night over the past few days since you ran away, you think better of it.

You don’t even change your clothes before the show, sticking out in the venue filled with celebrities and at least two Pulitzer prize winning journalists. The bar becomes your hideout as the band takes their place on stage, and you hate that your stomach does a little flip when you see Eddie.

You should go home.

Your attempts to shrink into the darkness of the bar have no effect as Eddie stops in his tracks on stage, eyes searching the crowd and finding you instantly.

Stupid heart murmur.

Their set begins and alcohol helps to avoid his gaze. You can’t help but enjoy the music and wonder if things were different, maybe you two could be something more.

Could things be different?

 The set is far too quick for your liking and Eddie’s offstage before the applause even finishes, a beeline straight for you.

There’s eyes on you as he makes his way through the crowd which is the last thing you want.

Maybe with all this new attention, the headline after your death will be “Hawkins Journalist Turned Munson Groupie Found Dead in Mysterious Accident” instead of a two line obituary written by a coworker who’s office hobby was looking up your skirt.

“You came.” Eddie said, a soft smile that you don’t return.

“Well I had to try and finish the article, seeing as it might be the last one I ever write.” You quipped, knocking another shot back and reach for the next one only for Eddie to push it away from you and subsequently onto the floor with a loud crash.

“Press interviews will be starting momentarily, please make your way to the side ballroom!”  Their publicist yelled into the microphone, drawing attention from you two back to the stage. The distraction is enough for you to walk out of the side door into the cool night air.

“Please, can we talk?” He asked, appearing in front of you.

“About what? That you lied to me from the moment we met?  I have known you for less than a damn week but because you couldn’t keep it in your pants for another 100 years, I’m going to die.  Go back to your mansion, go back to your band,  I’ll make sure to send you a better photo of me for your next portrait.” 

“You think I wanted this?”

“You know, I kinda think you did. All of this has to weigh on your soul, their deaths of course, but also wanting what you can’t have. You couldn’t leave me alone, you wanted my blood so bad you’d rather condemn me to death and run away.  I’m a person, all of those women on your wall were people too, and I’m not going to let you use me to absolve you of your guilt.”

“Please I’m begging you, I can protect you.”

“If you wanted to protect me you would have left me alone.”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” His voice cracks and he averts his eyes, the sadness enough to make you step forward, a gentle hand on his face.

“Maybe in the future you’ll be braver Eddie, but because of you I’m not going to live to see it.”  You said quietly and turned to leave.

“ Please, just come home with me, you don’t have to do this alone.” There’s a hand on your wrist, pulling you back.

“Let go Eddie, just leave me alone!” You turn back around to face him but he’s not there.

No one is.

You’re alone in what’s left of a hallway, crumbling walls covered in thick black vines, ash from a red stormy sky above falling into your hair.

“Eddie? Hello, is anybody here?” You yelled out to an uneasy silence that was interrupted by slow yet heavy footsteps behind you.

This couldn’t be how it ends, not yet.

“Edward isn’t here, but I’ve been  looking forward to seeing you again.”

You slowly turn around, the sight in front of you so terrifying your scream dies in your throat.

Vecna.

You have no idea where you’re running to, but you run faster than you have in your life thus far, sprinting through the ruins of the event venue until you reach the outside. 

Or what should be Hawkins Main Street. 

Instead, it’s pure devastation: cars overturned, unseen cries of strange creatures echoing here and there, once pristine houses crumbling into nothing. Never in your imagination could you have pictured the town that you grew up in, your home, looking like this.

“Isn’t it beautiful? You’re walking on a whole new world bloodsinger, a new era approaches and you are here to witness it. Does that not fill you with pride?”  Vecna asked, his grotesque towering body appearing at your side. 

You take a step but vines slither around your ankles, bringing you to your knees before you could so much as blink.

“What do you want from me?”

“What a stupid question. What does a cat want from a mouse, a wolf from a sheep? You have given me so much and now we are at the precipice of a glorious annihilation and that is all thanks to you. Cry if you must but your time is over, turn your face towards the red sky and be not afraid.”  The vines are tighter around you and you want to cry out but you don’t.

“You said I have given you everything you need already, why do you still need me now? You could have killed me the night I met Eddie, what are you waiting for?” 

The vines lift you up into the air until you’re facing him.

“You think your questions will distract me, they won’t.  But to answer your question, I was waiting for this exact moment. I thought you might like to watch.” Vecna replied, waving a clawed hand behind him. A hole in the sky ripples like water, clearing until you see something in its reflection.

It’s you, eyes open and milky white on the ground in the real Hawkins. Eddie hovers you, ear to your chest, shaking your body.

You’re going to die.

“ There’s something that exists between love and torment that holds incredible power. When I killed the very first you, it caused a crack in the universe and when your precious vengeful Eddie scattered my body to the world, I fell through it. As I floated through that divine nothingness, I used the last bit of my power to curse Edward, but in doing so I tied myself to you.”

“Please do whatever you’re going to do already, I don’t care about your backstory.” A vine wraps around your mouth, cutting off your statement and causing the real you to choke and writhe in Eddie’s arms.

“When the curse took hold and the next you died, something bloomed in the void. I could see into the nothingness and all became clear to me.  Your deaths brought forth a new world, your terror built this kingdom for me and with each sacrifice, a new cathedral grew.  He thought he could outsmart me by never finding you again but all I had to do was wait and now here you are, my final sacrifice.”

You look back at the sky, Eddie is on his knees now, rocking you back and forth, face stained red with bloody tears.

“No.”

“Please don’t try to fight it. You are Eden, you will bring this new world into the old one, accept your fate, bloodsinger and let it happen.”

You could just let it happen.

All your life you’ve done what everyone’s told you to do, not standing up to your boss is what got you here in the first place and it would be so easy to just give in one last time.

The vines set you against the remains of a tree, tying your hands behind your back.

“ Stay still, it’ll all be over soon.” Vecna said, reaching for your neck. In your immense and futile struggle to free yourself, your hand brushes up against something crumbled up in the back pocket of your jeans, something metal.

God be with you child, for the dead travel fast.

There’s no way.

“I’m not dying for you, not for Eddie, not for anyone, not anymore.”

Only one way to find out if the stories are true.

Before his teeth can meet your neck, you rip the cross necklace out of your pocket and press crucifix into the vine. The vine sizzles beneath your touch and you find yourself falling to the ground in front of a wounded Vecna.

And now you run.

You run towards yourself, for yourself, the stormy sky following you, the very ground you stand on cracking beneath your feet but you keep running.

And you don’t look back.

With nowhere else to run you throw yourself at the hole in the sky, Vecna’s screams of fury echoing all around you as you ascend between worlds old and new in a last attempt to save yourself.

No one will say you went out without a fight.

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[ughscara]

end of the year post.

heads up. if i sound sappy in some parts, i'm not sorry 🤍

as of me writing this, it's but a mere 20 minutes before it is officially the start of a new year.

it's a little surreal to believe that 2023 is coming to an end. a year that admittedly, was more emotionally and physically hectic for me. but i pushed through, and here i am going into 2024 as hopefully a better me.

to be honest, this year has been nothing but self reflection, realization and a lot of acceptance as well as embracing parts of myself that i thought i'd never return to. hobbies of mine like writing and drawing were ones i strayed away from for so, so long in 2023. but it more or so lead back into the tribulations i was facing then and still recovering from now.

it's a little surreal to me that months after months of doing nothing but reflection and getting back into what i love doing most just months before the year ended resulted into the me who decided to step into tumblr again and share my kuni ideas for the fun of it. that halloween fic i posted? just for shits and giggles at the time. but the fun i had writing it was a fun i wasn't able to feel throughout the entirety of 2023, and i admit the motivation boost i got from posting the fic afterwards, alongside checking in on the authors i used to follow just made something inside me click. and i went for it.

a bit more off topic but i still remember how i came back to genshin after a good five months or so in version 3.6 and doing the main event without knowledge of the sumeru quest line because i was avoiding spoilers. that day, i just finished taking an entrance exam for college and was exhausted from both the exam and from wearing myself out. midway into the introduction of the contestants; i was greeted with wanderer, or kuni in my vocabulary, being in the event and i was just smiling from ear to ear at the mere sight of him. feeling that same overflow of good emotions just take me whole to be honest, i was simply beyond happy. the way he spoke about writing about inazuma's societal issues because he was bored genuinely had me laughing for the first time that day.

i guess it's that simple little moment that hit me hard. it's silly, i'm aware, but it meant everything to me in a way. since that day in june; i was determined and full of creative drive to hopefully share at least one thing before the end of this year. look at me now, i have a series published that's yet to be finished so i can start on the next one in spring ( hopefully ), a one-shot to share for a moot and lastly... just a lot. i have a lot in store.

i have no right to say such things regarding my immense gratitude for the support i received from the few things i published, but the support i ended up getting on said few things — big and small — has made me realize that maybe i still feel very passionate about writing. that maybe i want to pursue the desire to publish all i have for that one fictional character that had my heart swoon the moment i saw him in a promotional trailer three years ago.

the ending note to 2023, starting october 31st when i published my first fic was a day that i'll always hold dear to me, my mutuals as well as the wonderful authors i follow made these past three months an absolute joy, and i cannot wait to make the most of my journey supporting each one of them ~

honestly i'm just rambling. but i am a professional yapper and to be honest i am writing all this on one cup of tea and like, six something hours of sleep i am absolutely not in the right headspace lmao. regardless! i am so so very glad to be here, to have survived an emotionally draining bitch of a year that was still an eventful year regardless to me, and starting the second of january... i shall be the bane of the scaranation's existence <3

we don't talk about how being that is actually a goal of mine because i think it'd be funny but i digress... 2024 will hopefully be just as much of an eventful year for me, for you, and everyone too. i believe that this year will be at least a little kinder to those who got absolutely shat on by 2023 ( pleek no more physical torment for me ) and if you're reading this, remember that this random stranger on the internet who's attempting to spread the kuni agenda is cheering you on for the year <3

i have a lot of stuff to share going forward. december was initially gonna be the month for all that but i had stuff going on that i ended prioritizing ( mainly my health ) so those initial plans will now move to the first month of a new year. mundanities with kabukimono will be finished in january, january 2nd will be interlocked eternities and lastly a late winter special that's actually a birthday gift for a mutual of mine ( mochi i am coming for you /menacingly )

oh it's 12 a.m. now, happy january first and happy 2024 everyone 🤍 may you be blessed with many wonderful days ahead. i shall see you on the second and third of january ~

[ciaossu-imagines]

'TAKE A BREAK' EVENT

So, this is going to be another BIG event, just because I will be away from the blog for quite a bit, just to finish up commissions and to give myself some time to work on fics I’ve been really excited to start. Having this event going on, with everything all queued to post for it, means that the blog stays active, hopefully you guys remain having fun, and, when I do come back, I’ll have plenty of great asks to answer! Like all of my other big events, the event will stretch across multiple days, with each day having its own theme and prompts! Once the day is over, I stop accepting requests for the previous day and move onto the next day, though everyone will have at least one, if not multiple days, after the event is over to send in any questions they didn’t manage to get in on the previous days, so if you miss a day, don’t worry!

The event will be laid out as per the below!

DAY ONE & TWO, january 28 & 29: We’re kicking off the event in a nicely spicy way, with the first two days being dedicated to smut in all it's forms! The first day will be dedicated to smutty asks for the major fandoms here on Ciaossu-Imagines - KHR and K Project. The second day will be dedicated to smutty asks for the lesser loved fandoms here on Ciaossu-Imagines. A reminder my full fandom list can be found here!

DAY THREE, january 30: The third day of the event is dedicated to character reactions, either headcanons or very short drabbles, for all of my fandoms!

DAY FOUR, january 31: The fourth day of the event is dedicated to angst! All things sad, angsty, tragic! These can be headcanons or scenario requests. Please note that while there will be prompts, I will ultimately choose the post format for the requests. I'll always try to do a scenario whenever asked, but if I honestly cannot get a solid idea to do something, you might get lengthy headcanons on how I could see the story going, and this goes for all days.

DAY FIVE & SIX, february 1 & 2: The fifth and sixth days of the event are dedicated to AU requests! As with how the smut days played out, the first days is dedicated to AU requests for the major fandoms on here, and the second day is dedicated to the lesser loved fandoms on here!

DAY SEVEN, february 3: The seventh day of the event is dedicated to reader appreciation! This is when I'll be doing requests that really focus on personalized things like match-ups, self-shipping headcanons, and things along those lines.

DAY EIGHT & NINE, february 4 & 5: The eighth and ninth days are dedicated to polyships! As with other multi-day themes, the first day will be polyships for the major fandoms, and the second day is polyships for the lesser loved fandoms on here!

DAY TEN, february 6: The tenth day of the event is dedicated to holidays! Christmas, birthdays, anniversaries, Halloween, New Year's....any type of special celebration, really! I am a sucker for holidays and big celebrations so I love getting asked based around them!

DAY ELEVEN, february 7: The eleventh day of the event is dedicated to pure fluff! This can be cute and fluffy headcanon or scenario requests, for any of the fandoms I write for on here!

DAY TWELVE, february 8: The twelfth day of the event is dedicated to character aesthetic requests! I make it clear I have no graphic skills, so all aesthetics are written! There will be a few prompts that can be used for any of the fandoms on here!

DAY THIRTEEN, february 9: The thirteenth day of the event is dedicated to overall fandom asks! There will be prompts, of course, but you can also ask for headcanons for things like how different characters interact, which character would be better at something among a fandom or such things.

DAY FOURTEEN, february 10: The theme of the day is slice of life! These can be scenario requests or headcanon requests, all based around the charmingly everyday moments, the domestic, the little things!

DAY FIFTEEN, february 11: The theme of the fifteenth day is music! These are requests based around music or for music mixes. These can be for characters in general, canon character ships, OC x character ships (please let me know about your OC in the ask), your OC's themselves, groups of characters, or themed for characters!

DAY SIXTEEN & SEVENTEEN, february 12 & 13: The theme for these two days is headcanons! These can be character specific headcanon requests, requests for themed headcanons, headcanons for character relationships in canon, or headcanons for the character and OC's or readers! As with the other multi-day themes, the first day will be focused around headcanon requests for the main fandoms here on the blog, and the second day will be for the lesser loved fandoms on the blog!

DAY EIGHTEEN, february 14: The theme for the day is anything Disney related! These can be headcanons and requests for Disney characters, requests asking what the characters favourite Disney things would be, requests related to the characters and the Disney theme parks, etc.

DAY NINETEEN, february 15: The theme for the nineteenth day is scenarios! This is the day you can send in requests for drabbles and scenarios for characters from any of the fandoms I write for on here! This is the only day where I won't allow myself to change any requests received on this day to headcanons and will try to deliver (though some might take some time) at least a very short fic for you!

DAY TWENTY, february 16: And to wrap up this event, we'll have a good old-fashioned 'sleepover', where all you lovelies just kind of chill with me. Talk about fandom with me, rant about your favourite characters, send in unpopular opinions, tell me about your own headcanons or story ideas. Tell me about yourself or ask me questions about myself! Tell me about your day, your pets, ask me for advice! Play little games like this or that, fuck marry or kill, anything really - this is just a fun and relaxed day to wrap everything up!

A reminder that, after the event is finished and for up until you see the post saying the event is fully closed, you can request for any days you missed, my lovelies!

[moondal514]

I’ve been thinking about this ask from @theravenkin’s blog that talks about how AFTG is a fandom that likes to do random ass and hyperspecific niche au’s so naturally I thought I’d make a fic rec list of 5 of my faves:

Under A Sea of Mist by puddlejumper99/ @writingpuddle

For a thousand years the Lord Ruler has reigned over the Final Empire. Ash falls from the sky and strange mists shroud the night. The skaa labour in the fields and the nobility dance in their Keeps, their glittering lights blinding them to the cruelty in their hearts.

The skaa rebellion is a fantasy and Neil knows it. The Lord Ruler is immortal; there's no overthrowing him. It's as much a surprise to him as anyone else when he gets recruited. But as he gets drawn deeper into the plot, he starts to discover things that will change their understanding of magic forever.

There's always another secret.

Mistborn au. There‘s probably only like 4 people that love both of these fandoms like me, so reading this felt so self-indulgent, like it was ripped straight from high school me’s wildest dreams, and it just makes me clap my hands with joy like a child every time I think about the fact that this fic exists

Whispers in the leaves, shadows in the moonlit night by Silveriss/ @wulfrann

Monsters and ghouls of every age,

Wouldn't you like to see something strange?

Far beyond the graveyard and its renowned Spiral Hill, the Woods prevail. There are no animals to be found there, not one sign of life but for the shifting of the mist and gentle caress of the wind.

Neil has lived in Halloween Town for as long as he can remember, though memory is a fickle thing.

Since his mother, Mary Finkelstein, died two years ago, he hasn't been as good at following her orders as he used to be.

He's made friends. He's not sure how it happened, really - it feels like he just woke up one day with his life suddenly entangled with a whole group of people he hadn't noticed getting slowly closer.

He's also taken the habit of looking at the Woods.

There's something calling to him. He can hear them in the wind, the whispers in a hundred incoherent tongues.

They say crossing the threshold is always the most difficult part.

Nightmare Before Christmas au. Really gorgeous atmospheric writing and adds some v cool worldbuilding elements to the Nightmare Before Christmas universe

The Real Folk Blues by moonix/ @annawrites

Captain David Wymack and the bounty hunter crew of the Bebop spaceship might be a little out of their depths chasing down the infamous hacker and notorious runaway Neil Wesninski, whose bounty exceeds even Kevin's wildest dreams. Worst of all, Andrew might actually enjoy it.

Cowboy Bebop au. The Foxes are space cowboys, I think that’s all I need to say

I'd Never Want to Complicate Your Heart by jingerhead/ @jingerhead

Andrew glanced at the board and found his name at one of the pods of two rather than four (thank god), right next to the windows. Next to his name was ‘Neil Josten’, one Andrew didn’t recognize, but he had to be at least a sophomore to be in this class. Turning to find the right seats, Andrew found himself pausing as he walked, seeing the person he’d be sitting next to for the foreseeable future if Mr. Browning had his way.

And shit, this was either a good thing or a bad thing, because Andrew is very, very gay, and Neil was good looking enough to become a distraction very quickly.

~*~

Or, the Heartstopper AU nobody asked for but that I absolutely needed to write.

Heartstopper au. I called this fic Heartstopper for the asexuals in my bookmark notes and in my comment on it and I will stand by that until I die cuz some of Neil’s experiences with his sexual orientation in this fic echo my own so well I got chills

Andrew Minyard's Diary by fuzzballsheltiepants/ @fuzzballsheltiepants

Andrew is comfortable with his life. He helps edit bad books. He has his collection of people, an apartment, and a novel he will never finish writing. If only his cousin and best friend would stop trying to set him up with one Neil Josten.

Except...perhaps he wouldn't mind being set up with Neil after all.

In which Andrew is Bridget Jones, Kevin is Daniel Cleaver, and Neil is Mark Darcy. Except none of them are like their inspiration characters at all.

Inspired by @scribbleb_red, who said on Twitter "What if there was a Bridget Jones AU?" and when I said, "Yes please!" she handed me the reins. I hope this is even remotely what you were looking for.

Bridget Jones’s Diary au. Absolutely hilarious concept with just perfect character dynamics

[cloudcountry]

I know I’m a day late in saying this, but Happy Halloween!! 🎃✨ >w< 

How’d you spend your Halloween? I watched The Nightmare Before Christmas (which,, reminded me why my ten-year-old self had a mini-crush on him DBFGDFHB,, And also that one time where me and my friend watched that movie until five in the morning and we woke up at one in the afternoon,, also at ten years old cgnbhfgh—) and did some homework. Not very eventful, but I enjoyed it! :D

Also!! It’s been a hot minute since I last hopped on here (I think I’m starting to see a trend lol),, any new updates or happenings? 👀

On another note, I’m kinda thinking on writing an Ikevamp Beethoven mini-fic,, The more I brainstorm and think about it, the more depressing it gets HJBDFG- Also!! If you don’t mind me asking (or if you know the answer at all- I don’t know how far you are with the game), do you know how the guys at the mansion turned into vampires in the first place? I might incorporate that with Beethoven,,

[Also, in spirit of Halloween, I give you this masterpiece: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/J2GWi15aR-U

Jackdaw Anon 🐦

im even later!!! happy halloween!!! <3

i went to a halloween party and then watched it with my friends!! there was only one good jumpscare though the rest was just faces vibrating really fast :C

UM UPDATES?!?!? I DUNNO IF YOU WERE HERE FOR THE ZERO THING BUT IM LIKE. DOWN BAD FOR HIM NOW JSHFGJAS HES THE GUY IN MY PFP HES FROM IKEREV HES MY HUSBAND AND YOURE WATCHING DISNEY CHANNEL

A BEETHOVEN MINIFICC?!??!?!?!?!? FOXMAING AT THE MOUTHH !@%$!@%^$!@$#%!$@#!% IM SO EXCITED ??? FOR THE ANGSTY POTENTIAL ?????

OK OK YES I CAN ANSWER THAT OK OK SO LIKE pureblood vampires can bring people back to life as lesser vampires nd stuff yk? (still wondering why napolean is a demivampire???? BUT THAT DOESNT MATTER) so im pretty sure vlad uses the vampires he brings back as pawns bc in SO many routes the vampires he broughtback have had their minds controlled to hurt the suitor??/ like in isaacs and arthurs routes. comte is the one that lets them fuck around until they hurt mc then he kicks ass (im playing comtes route next so ill update u!!!)

TEH "TALKING TO GIRLS" STOPPP THATS SO MENA HELP

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

Teen Wolf Stranger Things AU.

Stiles is walking home from Scott’s house when he feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise. The streetlights overhead begin to flicker before the bulbs go out, immersing the street in darkness. Stiles turns around but he was too late.

He feels his legs being wrenched from beneath him, a cry tearing at his throat as he falls to the ground. He claws at the earth, his fingers raking across concrete and dirt as the creature drags him into the forest. He thrashes about and kicks himself free of the beast’s hold. He scrambles to his feet, stumbling as he ran as fast as he could away from the creature.

He feels the creature’s claws tear through his bag, pulling it from his back and tossing it aside before chasing after Stiles.

Stiles trips and falls down an incline, hitting the ground with a painful thud. He finds himself immersed in a world of darkness and decay, but he didn’t have the chance to dwell on his thoughts; the creature is closing in. He scrambles to his feet and runs.

The next morning, Claudia wakes up to find her son missing; his bed not slept in, his school books still sitting on his desk and his lacrosse gear by the door. She begins to panic and runs to the Sheriff’s office to tell them that Stiles is missing, but no one believes her because of her dementia. Sheriff Stilinski tries to calm his wife down and takes her home, promising that he’ll look for Stiles and telling her that there’s probably nothing to worry about; Stiles might have just slept over at Scott’s for the night.

Sheriff Stilinski goes to the school to look for his son, but he’s not there. He pulls Scott aside and asks him if he’s seen Stiles but Scott says he hasn’t seen him since he left to go home last night. Sheriff Stilinski begins to worry. He calls out a search party and rumours quickly spread that Stiles ran away from home. That is, until the search party stumbles upon something in the woods: Stiles’ backpack, torn and discarded.

Meanwhile, Claudia notices the lights around the house flickering as she moves between rooms. She has a haunting feeling that there’s something behind it. She clambers into the cupboard under the stairs, where Stiles used to hide when he was younger and scared, and pulls out a box full of Christmas decorations. She picks up a tangled mess of Christmas lights and holds them before her.

“Stiles,” she whispers weakly. “I don’t know what’s going on and it’s starting to scare me. The lines between reality and my waking nightmares are beginning to fade, so I’m hoping that I’m onto something here and not just losing my mind. So, if you can hear me, can you give me some sort of sign?”

For a moment, nothing happens. Claudia bows her head, her heart sinking as defeat and sorrow begins to settle in her chest. Then, suddenly, the cluster of lights burst to life.

Claudia lets out a sigh of relief but quickly composes herself. “Okay. Blink once for yes and twice for no, alright? Are you okay? Are you… alive?”

The lights blink. Once.

Her nerves begin to settle. “Do you know where you are?”

The lights blink twice.

“Hang on, I have an idea.” Claudia grabs the box of lights and pulls them into the living room, stringing them up over the walls and the roof. Colourful bulbs stream into the hallway and throughout the house. He grabs a marker and scrawls letters across the wall. Finished, she steps back and says, “Okay, Stiles, sweetie, talk to me. Tell me how I can help you. Tell me what I should do.”

The lights above the letters light up one by one. R. U. N.

Claudia’s heart skips a beat. All the lights in the room light up, strobing and buzzing with electricity.

She spins around, her eyes focused on the far wall. She’s frozen in place, watching as the plaster and wallpaper began to bubble and melt away, revealing a opaque grey barrier. Claudia creeps over to the wall, reaching out as her hand touches the flesh-like barrier.

Beyond it, she sees a figure running towards her. Stiles.

He frantically glanced over his shoulder before looking at his mum. His lips move around a word that she cannot hear, but she knows what it is.

“Run.”

Stiles takes off running, disappearing into the darkness as another figure draws near. This thing isn’t human. It throws itself at the wall, jagged claws and piercing teeth tearing through the fleshy barrier.

Claudia screams and runs out onto the street. She falls into a pair of arms, thrashing about as she tries to break free. Sheriff Stilinski holds her close, talking to her softly as he tries to calm her down enough to ask what’s wrong.

“It’s coming through the wall,” she mutters between broken sobs. “It’s coming through the wall.”

Sheriff Stilinski can’t help but feel anxious about this. He carefully ushers Claudia towards his deputy and tells him to look after her. He makes his way towards the house, pushing open then front door and stepping inside. It’s pitch black, the only light being that that seeps in through the front door. He makes his way down the hallway, his chest tight and his heart pounding against his ribs. He draws his gun and cocks it, holding his breath as he steps into the living room.

Nothing.

The walls are undamaged and the only thing that’s out of place is the mess of Christmas lights strung up around the house.

Sheriff Stilinski sighs and glances out into the front yard where his distressed wife is crying. Amidst her broken babbling and tears, he hears her say a name: “Stiles.”

Scott is beginning to worry about his friend, wanting nothing more than to be out there helping the sheriff’s department find Stiles. But Sheriff Stilinski had said that he should stay in school, just in case Stiles turned up. But that doesn’t put him at ease.

Everyone at school is staring at him and spreading rumours that Stiles has run away or, worse, that he’s dead. Scott tells them they’re wrong, but the only person who believes him is Allison.

The next day, they’re sitting together at lunch and Scott notices that the lights are flickering all over town.

“Maybe it has something to do with the electrical currents that flow through Beacon Hills,” Allison suggests.

“What?”

“Danny, Lydia and I were studying together and Danny’s writing an essay on the geographical electric currents that flow through Beacon Hills,” Allison explains.

“The lights were doing this around the time that Stiles disappeared,” Scott says. “Maybe it has something to do with it. We should ask Danny what he knows.”

Scott turns to leave when Allison catches his hand. “There’s one problem,” she says softly. “Danny’s in hospital.”

“What?”

“He was stabbed last night,” Allison tells him. “I mean, we can visit, but he might not be conscious.”

Scott lets out a dejected sigh. “It’s worth a shot, right?”

They go to visit Danny in hospital. He’s not conscious but Allison points out the backpack sitting by his bed. Scott crosses the room and begins to rifle through the textbooks, notebooks, and loose pieces of paper until he finds the essay.

“What are you doing?” Danny rasps, startling Scott.

He glances over his shoulder at Allison, both of them panicking.

“I’m not doing anything, Danny,” Scott replies “This is just a dream that you’re having.”

“Why are you going through my stuff?” he asks weakly.

“Right, but only in the dream,” Scott insists.

“Why would I dream about you going through my stuff?”

“I don’t know, Danny,” Scott replies. “It’s your dream. Take responsibility for it.”

Danny falls quiet again, asleep. That’s when Allison notices the gashes torn out of Derek’s stomach and arms.

“Scott, these aren’t stab wounds,” she whispers. “They’re too wide and irregular to have been made by a knife. The tearing looks more like a mauling, like he was slashed open by a bear or a wolf.”

“There hasn’t been wolves in Beacon Hills for sixty years,” Scott recited, remembering the strange fact Stiles had told him.

Their anxious suspicions begin to grow. They leave the hospital and drive back towards Scott’s house. Allison reads the essay to him as they drive and when they get to Scott’s house he prints off a map and marks out the electrical currents.

“There are points at which they converge,” Scott says. “On Church Street, heading towards the woods… That’s on the way to Stiles’ house.”

“They merge at the school too,” Allison pointed out. “That’s where Danny was last night when he was attacked.”

“So where else to they merge?” Scott asked, his eyes rolling over the picture.

“Here,” Allison points at the map.

Scott freezes. It’s Stiles’ house.

Scott and Allison rush to the Stilinski house, piecing things together. They arrive, ready for action: Scott wielding his mother’s baseball bat. They frantically try to explain everything they know to the Sheriff (Claudia’s not there, she was admitted to hospital after the earlier incident) and he begins to believe them.

Sheriff Stilinski gets a rifle, passing it to Allison as he readies himself to fight. 

They know what they have to do: they need to guard the rift or else the creature could get loose, or worse; it could catch Stiles as he tries to get out.

The rift opens and the creature breaks out. They fight back but guns don’t seem to work. The creature gets the upper hand, knocking Scott aside and pinning him to the ground.

Something else comes though the rift, grabbing Melissa’s bat as they charge forward. They swing and slam the creature over its head, stunning it.

Scott stares up at his saviour, breathing out a sigh of relief as he looks at his friend. “Stiles.”

Stiles grabs Scott’s arm and drags him to his feet, hurrying past the others and into the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of his father’s whiskey and a dish towel. He unscrews the lid and shoves the rag into the bottle until it’s partially soaked in alcohol; a make-shift Molotov cocktail. He grabs a lighter from the top draw and lights the other end of the cloth.

Stiles hurries into the other room and hurls the Molotov at the creature. The glass shatters and the liquor ignites. The creature is consumed by the roaring flames, scratching as its flesh boils away to nothing.

A strange quiet settles and it takes them a moment to realise that it’s over.

The next few days, they try to return to normality, try to pretend that Stiles never left or that they never saw the things they saw, but there’s one question that lingers in the back of their mind: Is the Stiles that came out of the rift the same Stiles that went in, or is he something different?

[postwarlevi]

Masterlist + about me

Hi there! I'm Eliza! This is my first about me and I'll probably update at some point! I'm in my 30s, use pronouns she/her, was born 8/15 making me a Leo (pretty sure that's wrong though haha) and am ISFP-T. English speaking and I'm learning ASL. I joined tumblr to connect with other AOT fans and to share some of my work which I've never done before. I'm generally a bit shy but like interactions. This is a SFW page and though I may read some NFSW stories I don't interact with them much. No offense, just personal reasons. I write mainly for Levi, with some Jean and sometimes others thrown in. There's lots of fluff around here with the occasional angsty piece. A lot is modern AU. While I take suggestions I don't really do requests, mainly because I don't want to disappoint and make sure I feel motivated to give something worthy of the ask. Sometimes I get burned out so I can't promise that. I like other things like classic movies/Disney movies, music from the 50s to today, baking and healthy eating, going to outdoor markets, game shows like Jeopardy, tv shows like The 100, Glee and The Nanny, animal planet, reading, family, napping and staying cool in the heat. I was diagnosed with PCOS at age 16 and though it affects me sometimes I think I'm doing pretty good. If anyone wants to talk about any of those things, I don't have another personal blog at this time so right here if hopefully okay with everyone :)

----------

WIP LIST

Help me decide what to write next

==========

Masterlist updated 06/23/22

in order of date written, everything SFW (some slightly suggestive), mainly fluff (will mention if other) mainly Levi, sometimes Jean or friendship centered (will mention if other characters prominent).

Headcanon like format & short scenes

short fic under 1200 words

medium fic 1200 to 3000 words

long fic 3000 to 5000 words

longer fic 5000+ words

series/mini series

===================

Series/Mini Series

Morning Aura post it note series

The Captains Kids scenarios

...always ongoing...

Just Call Me Dad story collection - Complete!

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

Precursor to Silence (deaf OC) (fluff, angst, hurt comfort)

Part one

Part two

Part three

Part four

Part five

Prologue draft

Ballroom draft

...entire series to come...

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

Iris (fluff, angst, hurt comfort)

in order of timeline

Untouchable

Iris

...3 more planned parts to come...

===================

Aura (short)

Afternoon tea

Later, Levi

Wingman (f. Jean)

Farmers Market

Chaise

Star Seeker

Apple a Day

Milkshakes (texting f Jean and friends)

Summer Squash and Slipper Socks

Scary Movie

Happy Halloween (f JCS group and dad Levi)

Fall Festival (f cadets/vets)

Fall Festival II (f cadets/vets)

With You (angsty?)

Misunderdancing (f Jean)

Happy Thanksgiving

Pretty Beautiful (f Jean)

Snowfall

Saturday Skates (f cadets/vets)

Tabby

Secret Santa

Mistletoe (f Jean, Eren, other cadets)

Santa Levi (f cadets/vets, Gabi and Falco)

Happy Christmas/Merry Birthday (f JCS group and dad Levi)

One Night Only intro (f Jean)

One Night Only/Happy New Year pt 1 (f Jean, Mikasa, others)

The Morning After/Happy New Year pt 2 (f Jean)

PCOS (slight hurt/comfort)

Beach Sunrise

Weary (slight angst/hurt/comfort)

Rest (short)

Happy Valentines Day (f surprise character)

Wild Kingdom

Haircut (short)

Grocery Shopping

Happy Easter (f dad Levi)

Mother's Day (f Kuchel)

I Hope You Dance

Arise

Safe Travels

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

24 Hours (Eren x reader f other 104th cadets)

Starting Now (Jean x reader f Connie and Sasha)

===================

Levi Short Scenes shorts that don't quite go on masterlist

Inspired By asks or answers added to with other writers (most Levi x reader)

Unassigned Character Shorts unnamed character shorts

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

Multiple Character Headcanons

Vacation Spots

Reality Shows

Olive Garden order

Kids Electric Cars

Kids Disney movies

Hockey Players/Awards

===================

Self-ship tag game (ongoing- come join!)

January 31st

February 6th casual date

February 14th Valentines

March 27th spring date

April 4th domestic acts

May 1st mornings

[billsfangearring]

[Rec List] The Wolfstar Yearbook: 2008

I’m back with reviews of my five favorite fics from 2008! In my opinion, these are the best, most memorable Wolfstar fics completed that year.

Fics Reviewed:

Cooler than Frogs by @penknife​

Fingerholds by centaurea_m

a flame in two cupped hands by @such-heights​

He That Believeth In Me by lls_mutant

The Shoebox Project by @jaidajones​ and @sashayed​

Reviews below. You can find my other Wolfstar rec lists here and an AO3 collection with all of the fics I’ve reviewed in this series here.

Context: The inaugural R/S Games were held in 2008! The fest was inspired by the Snarry Games (2006-2009): “Why should Snarry have all the fun? PuppyShippers can win games, too! So here is our chance to go for the proverbial gold and have a little canine fun along the way.” (Before we coalesced around “Wolfstar” as the ship name, Remus/Sirius was variously known as “PuppyShipping,” the “H.M.S. Wolfstar,” “The One True Way,” and “Moonfoot.”) Two fics in this list are from the Games—one each from Team MWPP and Team Post-Hogwarts.

Disclaimers: 

My selections are based on what I have read and my subjective taste. YMMV.

I have done my best to flag potential triggers. Please let me know if I missed something.

I went by the earliest posting dates I could find on any site but provided AO3 links when possible for convenience.

I did not consider non-magical/modern AUs for this post, though I do enjoy them.

Cooler than Frogs by Penknife

Note(s): AO3 account required.

Rating: Teen

Length: 4,071 words

Era: Hogwarts

POV: Sirius

Summary: Seven secrets Sirius Black has learned about Remus Lupin.

My Review: An adorably confused Sirius narrates “Cooler than Frogs,” a hilarious look at his evolving relationship with Remus told through seven snapshots from their Hogwarts years. I laughed out loud multiple times at Sirius’s weirdly self-assured yet completely oblivious thoughts as he discovers Remus’s secrets one by one. Sirius’s awkward miscommunication with Lily and resulting panic is a highlight, as is the boys’ absurd potions mishap during a failed prank and Remus’s inspired method of getting out of watching quidditch practices. I loved Remus in this fic—he can be such a conniving, knowing little liar, but he also gradually lets Sirius in as they grow older and the tenor of their relationship begins to shift.

Vibe: Endearing bewilderment with a happy ending.

Illustrative Quote: Sirius found this desire to talk to girls on Remus's part somewhat alarming; apparently this eventually led to wanting to have sex with girls, which Sirius felt could only be a disruptive influence. 

Fingerholds by centaurea_m 

Rating: Mature

Length: 25,984 words

Era: Multiple

POV: Remus

Summary: 21-year-old Moony goes to university and, remembering the days of maneating sofas and Ziggy Stardust and falling off the world with Sirius, wrestles with the mighty questions of how to roll one’s own cigarettes, what it means to be lost, and whether This House Believes In Magic. 7-part fic that jumps between 1981-85 and 1978-81. Cambridge and London. The Waiting-for, and the Next.

My Review: I’m usually a very fast reader, but the vivid and sensory prose in “Fingerholds” made me slow down and savor every line. centaurea_m’s writing style makes heavy use of metaphor while retaining an airy quality that echoes Remus’s emotional detachment as he faces the hollow expanse of his life after Halloween 1981. Try as he might, he can't bury his past, and the fic organically slides back and forth between Remus's present and his memories. Remus and Sirius's relationship in the First War is a lively, reckless coming together followed by an unusually natural and substantiated dissolution as distrust mounts between the two; my breath caught in the final moment of fracture. The restrained but detailed prose makes what appears to be a rather straightforward First War/"lost years" story into something tender and bruising and unspeakably tragic, with one of the best final chapters I've read in a while.

Vibe: Melancholy resilience with a painful ending.

Illustrative Quote: Remus looked down, unbelieving, and snatched his arm away in a lightning-quick movement that felt like it took days, took all the time that had built up between them and distilled it into the poison that only a lover could administer, weeping out in tendrils beneath the skin.

a flame in two cupped hands by such_heights

Rating: Teen

Length: 3,117 words

Era: First War

POV: Sirius

Summary: Sirius didn't crouch down to tuck the coat under Remus's shoulders, didn't press a soft kiss to Remus's forehead the way he wanted.

My Review: “A flame in two cupped hands” is peak comedy in the helplessly pining Sirius genre. It’s also a very physical fic—not in the sense of being NSFW, because it isn’t, but in its focus on body language and how badly Sirius wants to reach out and touch Remus. Remember Darcy’s hand flex in “Pride and Prejudice” (2005)? I feel like this Sirius would relate to Darcy and feel that ache in his hands from not being able to touch Remus in the way he wants. I also giggled the whole way through at Sirius’s ridiculous thought processes and the "least platonic hug imaginable” that he shares with Remus. They’re just two teenage idiots who are giddily in like with each other and not really sure what to do about it, and it’s all very flustered and youthful and heartwarming. 

Vibe: Awkward crushes with a happy ending.

Illustrative Quote: Sirius felt himself going a little dreamy, and kicked his own shin under the table, hard.

He That Believeth In Me by lls_mutant 

Rating: Teen

Content Warning(s): Implied/referenced canonical major character death

Length: 41,753 words

Era: Multiple

POV: Sirius

Summary: Voldemort's reign shattered homes, families, and dreams. Sirius Black was no exception: once, he'd wanted to be a priest. 

My Review: “He That Believeth In Me” is a thought-provoking, mature story that tackles a deeply personal and often taboo topic with respect and without preaching. It is, incredibly, a canon-compliant character study of Sirius as a devout Catholic that ties his faith journey into every significant moment in his life. Sirius’s rebellion against his family is reflected in his constant questioning of God and the Church, and his Catholicism and commitment to pursuing the priesthood are deeply shaken by the realities of war and his discovery of his own homosexuality. Remus, on the other hand, is a bitter atheist, but he quietly wrestles with religion in his own way in the background of Sirius's struggle. Remus comes to serve almost as an allegory for God as the story explores the themes of forgiveness and redemption, which for me are the heart of this pairing. As a lapsed Catholic, I found a lot to relate to in this story, but you don’t need to be anywhere in particular on the religious spectrum to derive meaning from it.

Vibe: Conflicted devotion with a painful ending.

Illustrative Quote: “I'm not your consolation for the life you wanted, and I'm not your salvation from what you've done.”

The Shoebox Project by Lady Jaida and Rave (dorkorific)

Note(s): This fic also prominently features James/Lily. The Shoebox Project LiveJournal page was hacked in 2008; the site that I linked in the title has PDFs of each chapter. I also found a site that has EPUB and MOBI files, but I can't vouch for it as safe to use like the Lomara site. Complete compilations of the long-running effort to collectively podfic and vidfic “The Shoebox Project” can be found on AO3. There's some debate among SBP fans about whether this fic was complete before the hacking incident, but the authors say it is so that's what I'm going with.

Rating: Unrated (I'd call it mature)

Content Warning(s): Recreational drug use, kissing without consent, references to indecent exposure

Length: 231,325 words

Era: Multiple

POV: Multiple

Summary: N/A

My Review: This is the fic that launched a thousand shippers. “The Shoebox Project” was the most-recced Wolfstar fic back in the day, and I can’t overstate how much influence this fic had on fanon characterizations of the Marauders generation. Written from 2004 to 2008, this fic is very much of that era of whimsical, prank-filled Marauders fics and it contains a few jokes of the type that probably would not be told now. It's told in a multimedia format that blends traditional prose with notes passed in class, journal entries, letters, and lovingly drawn "photographs," which makes it feel very real and immersive. It's chaotic and careening with youthful exuberance, though the encroaching war heralds a tonal shift to something more uncertain and grasping in the final third. The relationship between the bookish, self-conscious Remus and the impulsive, immature Sirius is a true slow burn as they hesitantly come to terms with the idea of wanting another boy in the 1970s, and Lady Jaida and dorkorific beautifully capture the subtle shifts in all of the characters' relationships as they grow up.

Vibe: Comical coming of age with an ambiguous ending.

Illustrative Quote: Remus thinks, I will never be able to touch anyone like that. Remus thinks, I want to.

[socialanxiety-queen]

Queen-O-Ween Day 1: Halloween Lovers of 1954 • Fandom: Sam and a Colby|Solby Ship|ABO themes|and Gore in the one shot below • DO NOT STEAL MY WORK 💋

Every October the legend of the killer lovers of 1954 is spread around each home, warning teenagers to stay home.

Kat sat at the campfire with a few other teens gathered around for warmth. They were having fun on this cold Halloween night as a group of typically loud teens despite their parents warnings. Urban legends fell on deaf ears in this town, people didn’t care anymore. What was the point to? Legends were only stories parents told to their children to keep them from roaming the woods after nightfall.

“Story time!” Kat announced heartily as she tossed an empty beer can into the garbage bag they had brought along for such an occasion. Amber snickered and sat up from her lounged position, fully ready for this one, but Tara was picking at her skirt nervously. She loved Halloween but these woods freaked her out, they were cursed and everyone knew it. It wasn’t as if she’d ever truly seen anything but… Well, the rumors were enough.

“The Lovers of 1954,” Kat drew out with a creepy tone to her voice, “It all starts with the omega, Sam Golbach, who was the mayors son, only son in fact.”

“Damn,” Amber huffed, “Must of been terrible to present as an omega and be the only son back then.”

“Omega guys had it tough no doubt,” Kat nodded, her eyes focused on the flames, “Worst part was, his father would make him hide who he was, blockers and shit. He wasn’t about to be embarrassed by his so-called heir,” Kat rolled her eyes at that, when researching this shit it had made her pissed.

“An Alpha, Colby Brock, the ladies man here-,” Kat started.

“My grandmother said he was fine as hell,” Tara finally spoke up, probably a bit too loud, “But she said he only had eyes for one person so she never stood a chance.”

Kat nodded matter of factly, “He fell for Sam. He knew Sam was his omega but the father didn’t like that..” She threw some twigs into the fire, almost angrily.

The wind gushes around the trees, rustling the branches and leaves loudly, almost as if the forest was listening in and for a moment Tara feared it was as she looked out at into the darkness between the trees.

“He tried barring Colby from the house, demanding they never be near each other again,” Kat ran fingers through her colored hair in thought.

“Please, Colby wanted that bussy and no old ass man would stop true love,” Amber cackled as she opened up a vodka bottle and tossed the cap at least somewhat near the garbage bag. Thank fuck she hadn’t paid for new nails yet.

“Well,” Kat scrunched her face up in disgust at what her next words were to be, “The old ass man..”

“No...” Amber gasped.

“He publicly announced his son was a homosexual who needed to be sent away for treatment,” Kat’s scent soured as she spoke, “Colby knew it meant they’d torture Sam, and he decided they’d run away, get far away from this damn town.”

Tara could see something moving in the tree line, her ears zoned in on it and drowned the other two out. There weren’t any noise to indicate footsteps as far as she could hear but… There was definitely something there. What the fuck was it..?

“The dad found out about their plan, tried to shoot Colby dead, but Sam took a pocket knife and stabbed him before giving Colby room to do the same, sharing the knife between them. That continued their assault till the Mayor was a gurgling mess on the floor,” Kat shivered at the slight chill now forming around them despite the fire roaring healthily between them.

“Good for them,” Amber nodded pridefully and lifted her drink in a toast, “Fucking asshole deserved it.”

“The town didn’t care,” Kat shook her head quickly before Amber could continue her celebration, “They drug the two men out into the square and did a public execution.”

Amber narrowed her eyes and looked out over the lake where their town could be seen on the other side, all twinkling lights and glowing brightly like a ray of hope in the dark. In fact, that place held so many dark secrets it was almost ironic the sight, “Romeo and Juliet…” She sniffled, she might be the slightest bit tipsy…

“I’m not sure if they buried them together, which is why people suspect they come back every year. All those unsolved murders, they claim it’s them getting revenge on a town that killed them for something as simple as self defense,” Kat wiped Ambers tears away as she spoke softly, “They say Sam can be heard whistling his and Colby’s song, if you believe in ghosts coming back and all.”

Amber was about to answer when she noticed Tara was gone, she looked around and when a light whistling carried through the air, she froze, “Tara that’s not funny!”

Kat stood up and listened carefully, her ears peeking to hear better. But the tune was odd, old… If Tara was trying to scare them then damn it was working but…

‘You belong to me’ whistled sharply around the trees, something just a bit too old and coincidental for Tara to even know. No one knew what song was whistled deep in the night, no one stuck around long enough to find out either. When the tone of voice dropped, grew closer, Kat found herself scrambling to her feet to grab Amber.

“Wha-“

“It’s not Tara!” Kat yanked Amber down the path at their left and to the car they’d parked closer to the road.

Hand in hand, two men walked from the forest line, the melody being whistled by the blond as his other half opens and closes his pocket knife staring down at his lover. He leans down to kiss Sam, the taste of candied apples from such a time long ago… Sam holds his hand just a bit tighter, his own knife clutched in a white knuckle embrace in his free hand. The blade was dripping with fresh blood - from Tara, whose body now joined the rest. More blood to soak the grounds here, curse them all. They were robbed of their love by this god forsaken town and every year they would take back what they’re owed in blood.

“Let’s get them all Sammy,” Colby purred into his omega’s hair, “Let’s make them all pay.”

Sam smiled, his scent coating his alpha in adoration.

“Will let those other two live,” Sam spoke softly, he had heard their words and the knowing look from Colby sealed the agreement, “Let’s make the rest beg for their lives.”

Colby led his omega towards the town. The wind howled around the blood soaked couple as if trying to give a final warning to the people whose families are forever cursed in blood.

———

Note: Thank you for reading, if your interested in this story I’m going to start writing a backstory fic of the lovers and a continuation of this one on my AO3 [username is Middy] but I’ll post the chapters here if anyone is interested let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you! I’m also not hating on Tara in this it was really hard to decide who to kill.

[sparklingchan]

Mischief Managed || Kim Doyoung(NCT)

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Doyoung

Word count : 7k+

Warnings : A few cuss words here and there, gets suggestive towards the end, not proof read I’m sorry :(

Genre : Fluff, a hint of angst , romance, Hogwarts au, fake dating au.

Description: You are forced to befriend Kim Doyoung under unexpected circumstances but as two lonely souls meet, you find yourself enjoying his company a little too much.

A/N : I had the idea for this fic while I was travelling but I was too lazy to actually write it until recently. Harry Potter aus just never seem to bore me no matter how many times I write them ( it’s fate at this point XD)

Enjoy!

Doyoung is bad at taking criticism. Not even sulky bad but angry, tantrum throwing bad. He'd rather be slapped than criticized. Metaphorically, of course.

"What do you mean she won't go on a date with me?" Doyoung hisses ,his voice an octave lower than usual. The bedroom consisting of three noisy boys suddenly falls silent at his words. For the first time in forever.

Jaehyun shifts in his place , the soft mattress dipping under his weight. He looks at his friend full of concern. "Look , you're not the only person trying to ask her out. I heard that some Gryffindor boys were trying to shoot their shot this morning. And that's just the beginning."

Doyoung clenches his blanket into his fists, "Claire is mine. They can't have her."

Johnny scoffs from his bed , his eyes never leaving the book he had been reading from the past one week, "Are you sure the sorting hat did a good job by putting you into Ravenclaw? That pride of yours sure does sound like Slytherin to me."

"Oh shut up. That's not even the point right now. I need Claire to go on a date with me. It's not a matter of interest anymore, it's a matter of pride. I will not back down just because there's competition." Doyoung shoots back.

The boys' room erupts with Johnny and Jaehyun's laughter, their beds shaking with vibrations and their voices probably disturbing the people sitting outside in the Ravenclaw common room. But it's been a long time since either of them have cared for what other people say. Ever since the three boys met on the Hogwarts Express six years ago , they've been inseparable, finding a home , a family in each other. And as time passes by, they're only formulating a stronger bond , unbeknown to the rest of the world.

By the time Jaehyun and Johnny come down from their laughter high, Doyoung is already throwing a fit , muttering under his breath , and clutching his blanket like his life depended on it. Typical angry Kim Doyoung.

"Everything else is fine, Dodo, but does Claire even know you?" Jaehyun asks, fanning his red face.

"Of course not , Jae. But in the sea of all the other boys ,she'd obviously notice our Doyoung first!"

Doyoung sucks in a deep,frustrated breath, reaching under his pillow to find his wand - Alder Wood, Dragon heartstrings core (11 inch) - his one true best friend.

"Aguamenti." Doyoung murmurs, ponting his wand at them. With a big splashing sound , a stream of water squirts out from the end of the wand , wetting everything that comes in contact with it - including Jaehyun and Johnny and everything else they possess.

That night , as the two boys try to dry themselves and the rest of their belongings, Doyoung stares up at the wooden ceiling, carved beautifully into swirls and waves and flowers ,he wonders why his friends think he wouldn't be able get Claire to go out with him, why did they make it seem so hard when it really wasn't.

His ego feels hurt, injured even. Maybe Johnny is right - maybe Doyoung is more Slytherin than Ravenclaw, but it didn't matter anymore. Because the Slytherin princess Claire would be his by the time Halloween arrives, no matter what and his ego and pride would be restored.

Or at least that is what he had initially planned.

 ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Everyone has that one subject they truly hate with every fiber of their being. They might not be particularly good or bad at it , but they often wonder the significance of this immeasurably disliked subject in their lives. For Doyoung, it is the potions class.

Brewing potions, remembering the recipes, knowing the job of each ingredient seemed too heavy a job for a divination loving man like Doyoung. Potions is way too practical, way too boring.

"Psst, Jae." The class must have been going on for about barely ten minutes when Doyoung decides he's had enough and that he would rather get in trouble for disturbing his friends.

"Jae, I'm bored. Johnny is in quidditch practice too." Doyoung pokes Jaehyun's back with the end of his wand. The latter squirms in his seat, subtle enough to not disturb anyone in the class, who unlike a certain Kim Doyoung were attentively listening to the professor.

"What?" Jaehyun turns back only enough to meet Doyoung's bored gaze.

"I think I'm going to ask Claire out today. During dinner. What do you think?" Doyoung whispers.

Jaehyun shakes his head , putting his quill down on the table, "Are you sure? You guys haven't even talked properly yet."

Doyoung stays silent for a few seconds because yes, Jaehyun is right. He doesn't even know what she likes , where is she from, who her friends are but he is willing to take the risk. For someone as beautiful as Claire, Doyoung would risk the whole world.

"I mean I can try, right?"

There's a sudden scoff escaping from your lips - whose name Doyoung never bothered to ask - sitting next to Jaehyun, the green of your robe hinting at your belongingness to Slytherin. "You're stupid, Kim Doyoung. Claire is not going to go out with you. Especially not when you're being such a creep." You say, your eyes fixed on the professor and your quill writing notes in quick movements.

Creep? Did you just call Doyoung a creep?

"Y/n, it's none of your business." Jaehyun rolls his eyes , "Stay out of it."

"Why? Is Mr.Snowflake here too egoistic to face the truth?" You turn around to look at Doyoung, a smirk finding it's way to your lips.

Doyoung clenches his fists, nibbling at his bottom lip as anger fills him up like water filling up in an empty jar; quick and to the brim.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion, " he says, then bitterly adds, "Miss Y/n ,who no one happens to care much about."

The sound of scratching of quills and quiet mutter of spells fills the air for a few seconds before you say something.

"I'm not giving you my opinion, it's just an advice. From first hand experiences. Many men have tried to win Claire over yet only a few of them have ever succeeded. " you say, "And boys like you often tend to seek her only because she's good looking so she actively makes sure to avoid your kind. ,"

Jaehyun looks at you ,stunned, "How do you know all that? Are you guys friends?"

Doyoung is not sure what to say anymore - he's as confused as Jaehyun is, maybe a tad bit more. For someone he'd properly talked to for the first time today, you sure do have a lot to say about his personal choices and ambitions. Big words do not faze him anymore.

"No , we're not friends." You giggle, "I'm her cousin. You almost couldn't tell, right?"

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

"It's finally Hogsmade weekend again. I thought I was going to suffocate in that stupid common room of ours." Johnny sighs , waddling towards his bed and slumping down like a little boy.

"Yes, I also need a cup of butter beer the first thing we arrive there." Jaehyun says, "What about you, Dodo?"

Dodo ,on the other hand is far too gone in the sea of his thoughts to pay heed to what his friends have to say. His eyes are on the patterns of the ceiling but his mind is with Claire and mostly with you, who he unintentionally might have offended today during potions class. Doyoung didn't have any particular interest in you per se but as Claire's cousin, it is important for Doyoung to be accepted by you first. You might be a know-it-all ,annoying and ghostly but he needs to befriend you again, start everything from scratch. And who knows ,if he got lucky enough, you'd put in a word or two on his behalf to Claire.

"What's he thinking about?" Johnny whispers to Jaehyun, "Did something happen?"

Jaehyun shrugs, "Usually, I'd say he's thinking about Claire but today,I'm not so sure."

The next morning is as noisy as all of their Hogsmade mornings have been. Doyoung only remembers hearing Jaehyun's yells and Johnny's giggles and the Hufflepuff girls singing a beautiful Winter song on the journey to Hogsmade village.

No matter how hectic it is, he has always liked these weekends the best.

"Have they changed their services to self service or what?" Johnny asks ,tapping the marble surface of the table in the Three Broomsticks, "Where's Madam Rosmerta?"

Doyoung shrugs ,his eyes scanning the unusually quiet room. He realises that the only company they have is the empty chairs and tables and the flying bottles of water emptying themselves into small glasses. "Should we just grab our drinks and put the money on the counter?" Jaehyun offers.

Before either of them could answer, the main door of the room slams open, urgent with force and the three boys see you rush inside, panting and huffing and murmuring. Your hair is messy and your clothes are disheveled, yet Doyoung thinks you look...different. Different from what you look like at school at least. Better ,even.

"I'm sorry I'm late. We weren't expecting guests so early. I hope I-" you stop mid sentence when you realize Doyoung and the other two boys were the only ones in the pub, "Oh. It's just you three."

"Yes,y/n, it's just us. Can you get us three butterbeers please?" Jaehyun says.

You sigh with disappointment. A 'hi, y/n, how are you?' would have been nice but then again when has anyone ever bothered to greet you with so much sweetness? Jaehyun and you are study partners , to say in a way. You never bothered to befriend him and he never bothered to do the same so that's just how its been since first year - studying together in the library and pretending the other person doesn't exist under normal circumstances. You liked it that way but sometimes, just sometimes you did wish Jaehyun tried to treat you in a more friendly way.

"What's she doing here?" Doyoung ,who is genuinely taken aback by your presence, asks.

"She works part time here. Madam Rosmerta is a family friend of hers." Jaehyun answers.

If Madam Rosmerta is a family friend of yours then she must be a family friend of Claire too, Doyoung connects in his head, and Claire's name somehow ignites a fire of enthusiasm within him.

He drags his chair across the floor and gets up , walking toward the counter where you're working. A little nervous Doyoung is , but he still manages to start a conversation with you, "Hey, y/n ,right?"

You swiftly twirl your wand around in the air , and ten cups of butterbeer and gillyweed water present themselves on a tray. You turn away from him to clean up the other plates , "What do you need?"

"I um..wanted to apologize for the insensitive comment I made yesterday. We started off on the wrong foot, I'm really sorry." He says, rubbing the back of his neck. Autumn is starting to set in slowly, but Doyoung feels the sweat sticking to his skin as if it were a hot summer morning.

You pause for a second. What was he apologizing for? You honestly couldn't recall and whatever it might have been, you are sure that it wasn't worse than what your other classmate have said before ; which is why you don't remember Doyoung's supposed insensitive comment.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it, " You say, "I've had worse, actually."

Doyoung's heart drops - there is no phrase more pain inducing than the one you'd just spewed out so carelessly. And for some god forbidden reason, Claire suddenly slips out of his conscience mind.

"No, no. I want to start anew. Be your friend." Doyoung insists, leaning against the cold wooden counter.

You sigh, "Are you sure that's what your intention is? Because I don't think so. "

Doyoung scowls, "Of course that's my intention. What else would it be, y/n?"

You swing your wand and three glasses of butterbeer arrive directly in front of him. His eyes widen for a split second but he bounces back quickly.

"Just say that you need help with Claire." You sigh.

Oh,right ,Claire. Shit how could I forget? Doyoung feels silly.

"I mean...in a way yes. But that's for the later part. Let's first be friends, yeah?"

You shake your head , "If I help you out with Claire ,will you stop trying to be my friend?"

You absolutely despise yourself at times like these - when you are trying so hard to push people away when they're only trying to befriend you (for whatever reason it might be). You're so lonely yet so afraid of attachments that you always tend to do this. The same repeated routine. You hate it. You sometimes wonder what it would feel like to be in Claire's place, to be loved by everyone, to have people lining up just to take you out on one date . But it would never happen, because Claire is Claire : the Slytherin Princess and you are just you..someone who has barely ever talked to more than one person at school.

Doyoung gulps and then nods, "Okay. I will." Because befriending a Slytherin outcast will never be more important than scoring a date with the Slytherin Princess.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The Hogwarts Library is most empty during noon, something which you've concluded with years of experience and getting shoved out of your seat by your classmates who are way above you on the social ladder.

"So, " Doyoung finds a comfortable seat opposite to you , his hands fiddling with the pages of his diary, " how have you been?"

You give him a tired smile, "Can we get straight to point? I hate casual conversation. "

Doyoung snickers, "Wow, aren't you approachable today."

You lean back into your chair , eyes scanning Doyoung's face for any signs of regret . You'd never been the warm, bright sunshine kind of a person and you have accepted it without much protest. But of course, people take a lot of time to grow used to your sharpness and more often than not, people walk away even before you soften around them. It's a survival mechanism, you always convince yourself.

"What do you want help with? Do you want to know about her interests or past relationships or something else ?"

Doyoung pouts, his mind filling up with all sorts of ideas to impress Claire. It's like he's hit a jackpot by meeting you.

"I want to know what I have to do to gain Claire's interest. Be her friend and then eventually, a boyfriend, if I'm lucky enough." He suggests.

"First of all ,you need to stop gawking at her from afar. You need to start conversations with her ,no matter how short. She likes it when people approach her first." Talk about having a big ass ego.

"Okay, noted." One quick wave of his hand and his quill is immediately noting down sentences in his diary, " You seem to know her quite well. You guys are close, I am assuming."

You and Claire used to be close. Used to. In the past tense. As children you were inseparable, but as you slowly grew up, she realised how boring and uncool you were and that you belong to the shadows while she belongs in the spotlight. She's not tried to talk to you first for a long time now. But you weren't about to explain all of this to Doyoung, who is visibly smitten by your estranged cousin so you just shake your head , "No, not anymore."

Your ears perk up at the unexpected sound of approaching footsteps towards you and before you could ask Doyoung to relocate to a more secluded area, you hear her loud and clear voice.

Claire.

"Oh, hey, Doyoung!" She greets the man in front of you, walking upto his side. Her shiny shoes creating a tip-tap noise against the floor, and the green of your robe almost feels dull as compared to her bright one.

When her eyes fall on you,  her mouths twists as if she had one of those stupid vomit flavored chocolates. "What are you doing here, y/n?" She sneers at you.

If you could ever get a hold of the invisibility cloak, the first thing you'd do is slap this bitch right across her face. She has always had this sense of superiority , even when she's never done anything quite as heroic or deserving of that fame. And it infuriates you even further when you see Doyoung freeze in his seat, eyes glued to Claire's face.

"We were studying. I was about to leave now anyway." You mumble , gathering your books and tucking them under your arm.

When Doyoung hears your chair drag across the floor , he snaps out of his trance.

Why were you leaving? You promised you'd help, why couldn't you put away your past tensions and deal with it?

"Hey, where are you going?" He grabs your arm out of the blue, sending a wave of shock jolting through your body.

You immediately pull your hand back, "I'm hungry. I want to eat something."

Claire glares at the two of you and how suspicious your behavior is , you'd always been weird but she never took Doyoung for the weird kind at all.

You quickly jog away from the scene , cheeks tinted red.

Doyoung suddenly comes with a horrendous idea and he knows you'd hate it but in the heat of the moment, this feels like the only sane idea to make you stay and help him . He looks at Claire directly in the eye ,making sure to keep his voice as loud as possible so you could hear it too,

"Y/n and I are dating."

 ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The red, orange leaves rustle under your feet , disrupting the otherwise silent walk back to the Slytherin dormitories. A cold wind blows and you tighten the muffler around your neck.

"Y/n, I've been looking everywhere for you. "

And there is that leech again, making sure you don't come to have a single second of peace in your already hectic daily lives. For the past one week, Kim Doyoung has latched himself onto you like a leech latches to it's host. Wherever you go, he goes. It's maddening.

"I told you to stay away from me, Doyoung! Our deal is over. " you yell at him , your feet picking up a faster pace.

Without even looking back, you know that he is groaning under his breath, the look of hopelessness evident in his otherwise sparkling eyes.

"Our deal was that you help me. You're not helping me out at all! You're treating me like I'm invisible." he replies.

Just how I'd been invisible for years to you, you think.

"I didn't agree to be a bait in this stupid love game of yours. You literally pushed me down the cliff to save yourself. " you say. You feel a sudden gush of wind on your face and Doyoung is standing right in front of you - inches away, instead of a few feet behind you.

You gasp, "You apparated! Kim Doyoung, this is against the school rules."

Doyoung bites down on his lower lip, throat growing dry with anxiousness. He couldn't explain why - he'd apparated before within the school grounds and it's been okay then why is he feeling dizzy all of a sudden? But on second thoughts, maybe it wasn't the apparition that caused the dizziness, maybe it was the spooky possibility of you hating him for lying about you two dating that triggered it. And like salt dissolves in water and disappears into the liquid, Claire- who is the original cause of all of Doyoung 's concern, disappears from his thoughts. All that matters to him now is that you speak with him again and forgive him for his impulsive words . He wants to assure you that you aren't a bait , at all.

"Just hear me out, please. I promise. " he says, "if you don't talk to me, I'll try to be your friend. I assume you don't want that."

You sigh , pressing a hand to your face, "Okay, spill. And be quick. I have club work."

Doyoung nods, a small smile forming on his lips. He leads you under a bushy tree nearby, sitting down on the stone bench constructed there. You follow suit. "I'm sorry for telling Claire that we're dating but I was in a critical situation at that time, okay?"

You frown, "That's all you had to say? You aren't here to persuade me into fake dating you so you could make Claire jealous?"

Gosh , Doyoung , why do you keep forgetting your main motive of talking to y/n?

He blinks at you awkwardly, "Primarily, yes. But now that you've said it...it does sound like a good idea. "

You deadpan. Your eyes close as your lips heave out a tired sigh. Just when you thought he was here to actually talk to you and not about Claire.

"Fine ,whatever. Just don't be a creep or I'll bury you alive." You huff.

Doyoung giggles as his eyes curve into cute little cresent moons.He has a pretty smile , you catch yourself thinking.

He scoots over closer to you ,pinching your cheek. "Okay ,madam. I won't creep you out but I cannot guarantee that I won't flirt with you . I have a thing for Slytherin girls, you know.", He winks.

Your cheeks heat up involuntarily.

"Bye. I have work." You get up, walking away hastily.

"Bye! See you tomorrow at The Three Broomsticks," he calls out behind you,"Babe."

You'd never smiled so wide in your life.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Your part time job at The Three Broomsticks has never felt so much like a blessing than right now - when Kim Doyoung casually sits on the floor with you and helps clean the utensils.

"Are guests rare on weekends?" Hs asks as a white cloth floats around in the air, drying up the freshly washed utensils.

"They're less in the morning but it gets very crowded by sun down. Aunt Rosmerta joins me by that time." You reply.

Doyoung nods ,his eyes glaring at the white cloth when it falls at his feet. "Wingardium Leviosa. " he mutters and the cloth goes back to doing its work, while Doyoung carefully guides it using his wand.

"When do you have to go back?" You ask, purely out of curiosity as to why he is so into the role of your boyfriend when no one is even watching. You would rather die than admit it , but you liked this attention. A lot more than you thought you would.

"Whenever you're done. A good boyfriend accompanies his girlfriend ,right?"

Oh, the beating of your heart that suddenly picks up its speed at his words. A combination of words you'd never thought you'd hear in this lifetime, from anyone at all.

"Yeah,whatever. " you whisper under your breath.

Doyoung giggles ,leaning forward toward you , "Why are so shy ,y/n?"

"I'm not shy." You smack his forehead, "You're just being a creep."

Doyoung fake gasps, clutching the left side of his chest and blinks his eyes as if he were tearing up. "Ouch ,y/n,how could you say that to your own boyfriend?"

You roll your eyes but the smile on your lips doesn't disappear.

Before either of you could reply , the door of the pub clicks open and you immediately get up , dusting off your clothes , ready to welcome guests. Doyoung, who is very new to this , tries to mimic your careful, calculated actions.

"Hello, welcome to the Three Broomsticks-" your words are cut off when you see Claire , as glamorous and confident as ever, walking toward the both of you. Your heart sinks. You feel betrayed , annoyed even ; just the way little children feel when their favorite toy is taken away from them and given to someone else and Claire has, in fact, had a history of taking away a lot of your favorite toys when you were kids.

"Good morning, Doyoung," she greets him with the prettiest smile but it fades away as she turns to you, "You too ,y/n."

"What do you want?" You ask her, rather terse in tone.

She tilts her head , her bright red tinted lips sending a flirty smile in Doyoung's direction, "I'm here to see my friend Doyoung and well ,his new girlfriend. "

You scoff - since when has Doyoung become her friend? Last you checked, Doyoung wasn't even sure she knew him.

"Since when have you and Doyoung been friends, Claire? That's some news to me." You say.

Claire glares at you, "Well, I've always liked Doyoung. Too bad a dumb girl like you got to him first. I shouldn't have waited for him to approach me first , right?"

Doyoung - who until a minute ago was genuinely mesmerized by Claire's unexpected visit is now turning to frown at her. "You can take him if you want. I don't mind." You suggest ,turning away from them.

"Yayy, Doyoung ,you heard your girlfriend? Come on , let's go to the candy shop and enjoy there! It'd be so much fun!" Claire pulls at his blue-black muffler. He backs away a little. The image of Claire he had in his head was ..well, different from this arrogant , possessive woman in front of him. He feels disappointed but also relieved?

"Um - actually I'd rather stay here and help y/n, " you snap toward him faster than light , "I dislike candies anyway. Sorry, Claire."

When Claire's mouth gapes with surprise, Doyoung leans backward and pulls you into him , arm wrapped around your shoulder and chin resting on your head. Your heart hammers hard against your chest as all your senses blur away , only the feeling of Doyoung's warm body pressed against yours is what keeps you grounded to reality.

Its fake, y/n , get yourself together.

"Fine. " Claire growls and stomps away, mumbling curses under her breath.

The moment she walks out of the door ,you shove Doyoung away , "What the hell are you doing! She invited you to hang out with her and you let the chance go!"

He blinks at you , puzzled as if he is finally coming back to his senses. "Oh - oh ,its okay. I'll get another chance since she apparently likes me too. Don't worry about it."

I'm not worrying about it , you idiot , I'm happy about it , you want to say to him. But there are some words you'd rather never say out loud.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

"Where are we going?" Doyoung huffs , jogging down the lush green hill leading straight to the Forbidden Forest. Fear is evident on his face , and it's rather amusing to see him like this.

"The Forbidden Forest, obviously," you say , pointing at the tall, strong tress that patiently await your arrival into the forest.

"What? Y/n, that's against the school rules. It's way past sun down now!" He hisses but still keeps jogging beside you.

You grin at him, "Says the man who apparates in broad daylight!"

The woods are as cold and spooky as ever , but not unfamiliar. To you atleast. You often come here when you need to get away from everyone else. You would sit at the top of the tallest tree, the soft breeze blowing away all your worries along with it. And the creatures in the forest have never bothered you anyway. You don't know why you are bringing Kim Doyoung - your pretend boyfriend- to a place that holds so much importance to you and is like your escape from the world, but this place was the first and only one to come into your mind the moment Doyoung said you should choose the location for your next 'date'.

"So how do we get up there?" Doyoung and you stand at the roots of the tree. He looks up at the branches in awe and you look at him with admiration - when he's not running his mouth around uselessly everywhere ,he's not that bad to be with , you realize.

"We apparate , you idiot." Wrapping a firm hand around his arm, you apprate to the topmost branch of the tree, the wind suddenly knocked out of your lungs at the sudden shift. You laugh a little.

"Wow, you're breaking rules." He comments. He doesn't bother to remove your hand from his and neither do you - so you end up sitting there , shoulders touching and breaths matching.

"You know when I first met you , I almost took you for a Ravenclaw. If it hadn't been for your robe, that is." He says , looking at the beautifully lit school building that seems to be floating around near the horizon. This is more magical than any magic he's ever been taught , he thinks , he'd never seen Hogwarts this way - so far away yet so close, so peaceful, so breathtaking. The starry sky acts like a beautiful backdrop and your soft hand wrapped around his arm makes him ten times more attentive to every sound and every sight. He wants you to never let go - even if Claire or anyone else somehow appears out of nowhere.

"I get that a lot, actually. " you chuckle , "and ironically ,I almost mistook you for a Slytherin."

Doyoung looks at you in amusement. What a peculiar coincidence!

"But now that I think about it, it doesn't matter what kind of traits you show. The sorting hat doesn't put just traits into consideration- it puts in your will too. You belong where you want to belong. Nowhere else." He replies.

You stare at him, and get embarrassed at how wonderfully close he is to you right now. All your life ,this is what you've craved; this warmth , this closeness and fake or not, you're thankful for it.

"Wow, that's some deep words, Kim Doyoung. I didn't know you had them in you." You comment.

"Hey, why can't you call me something cute?" He whines , "Kim Doyoung is too formal."

You pinch his cheeks, adoration pumping through your veins for the man in front of you. "Okay, I'll call you Dodo then. "

He is left wide eyed again, his face red with embarrassment. He never took you for the observant type at all.

"I heard Jaehyun call you that."

The moon shines at your face , highlighting your features like no make up ever could. He notices your hooded gaze and the happy stretch of your lips and the strands of hair that sway with the wind. He leans in closer , "Hey, now that I look at you up close , you're not that bad to look at."

You're not that bad to look at either, Dodo.

 ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Jaehyun has this annoying habit of tapping his wand against the table when he is studying , and he has never even tried to rectify himself whenever you call him out several times.

"Can you stop that? I'm trying to study. " you groan in a quiet voice.

The library- much to your dislike - is packed with people this afternoon. Yellows and reds and blues and green , all of them seem to have decided to use the library in the afternoon today of all days.

"Yeah. Sorry. " he says and puts his wand down, flipping the pages of his notebook carelessly ,"but um -y/n, can I ask you something?"

Looking up from your Potions book , you nod , "Yes, of course. "

Jaehyun shifts and gulps ,visibly worried and anxious about whatever he is about to ask you. It's not like him to ever be so nervous around anyone. He was usually very uptight and spoke only when spoken to. This is very new.

"How long are you and Doyoung going to continue this fake dating thing on for? It's been half a month already." He asks.

Now it's your turn to be nervous.

"I-I don't really know. It depends on how fast Doyoung is able to get Claire to go out with him. I guess." You reply with an awkward laugh, "I hope the day comes soon."

You'd been so immersed in fake dating Doyoung all along, trying to spend every waking hour with him , taking care of him, laughing at his stupid jokes that you almost forgot everything was just a show to get Claire to go out with him. And as Halloween comes closer , you are sure the end of your supposed relationship is coming closer too. Your heart breaks at the sudden reality check. Like a glass vase thrown on a hard ,wooden floor.

"Okay, don't tell Doyoung I asked you about it - " he pauses when you both hear a woman's voice from behind you , startling the two of you.

"Hello, dear cousin. " Claire says with a big smile. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest, robe loosely tied around her body,"What are you doing in this stupid library on your birthday, y/n? Shouldn't you be celebrating with Doyoung ?"

Her words have never slapped you as hard as they do right now. She's been mean to you for almost half your life , but this time it hurts worse. You've always been insecure about your birthday, and Claire knows it. She knows how much you hate bringing attention to yourself and you'd rather get some small gifts from your parents than big gifts from people who you barely know. And she's now using all that against you.

"Or did he not bother to ask you, just like all of your former friends?" She smirks.

You know that feeling when there's a small wound on your body and a single contact to the wounded area hurts unbearably? That's what her words made you feel like. Sick and pathetic.

But you don't let it surface on your face. You muster up all your courage before speaking up, "Claire, are you so jealous of me dating Doyoung that you're bringing up past incidents to make yourself feel good?"

Claire is left astonished by your new found boldness and for the first time in forever, she doesn't comment back at you after you turn on your heels and walk away from the scene.

You are far too weak and slow to actually walk down to the Forbidden Forest, so you settle yourself on the top floor of the astronomy tower. The cold ground under you feels weirdly comfortable and the ticking of the grand clock helps you calm down your nerves.

Claire has never treated you like an equal in your entire life and you've tried so hard to ns like her always . To fit in to her ideas of an interesting person. She was your sister, she is your sister yet you've never despised anyone as much as you do now. And to imagine that Kim Doyoung, your Dodo might end up dating her just makes you feel sick to the stomach. Jealousy is an intense feeling but so is hatred.

You hear quick footsteps walking up the stairs and by impulse, you point your wand in that direction,"Expelli-"

"Hey, hey. Don't 'expelliarmus' me. I'm just here to celebrate my best girl's birthday. "

Kim Doyoung stands in front of you , hands occupied with bags of delicious candies and sweets. He smiles at you sheepishly as you call him over to sit beside you.

"Why didn't you tell me its your birthday today? This is all I could manage in a span of fifteen minutes." He complains ,placing the bag softly in your lap, "Happy birthday, y/n."

You smile , a little embarrassed but thankful still , "Thanks. Jaehyun told you?"

Doyoung nods ,scooting over closer to you. In presence of so much space on the floor, he somehow manages to almost cuddle with you in a small corner of the place. Your heart is no longer sitting in the cage of your chest ; it's escaped and landed onto Doyoung's palms ,giving him full freedom to do whatever he wanted with it.

"Doyoung ,I..um.."

"Yeah?"

Words , oh ! words have never been your forte. The only thing you were good at was actions - to express, to show , to communicate . That's all you've ever known.

So you lean in towards his face and place a chaste kiss on his lips. It lasts for a fraction of a second but your lips are left burning with the desire for more. More of him, more of this.

But when you see his face once you pull away, your blood runs dry. For a moment, you think so you see a flicker of happiness which quickly gets replaced by coldness, frustration, some degree of anger.

"Y/n, you know I like Claire!" He says , separating himself from you. Your body feels bare, "This was all for her. How could you ever think doing this would be a good idea?"

No,it wasn't for Claire. It was barely an excuse to bother you more, to see you roll your eyes at him , to spend time with you, but as Johnny says , his ego is too big to accept his liking towards you and not Claire.

He gets up.

"I-I will be leaving now."

He hasn't completely put a full stop to your fake relationship, he hasn't even said anything much yet but you know that he's left not just the astronomy tower, he's left you. All alone. As they always do.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Only the heavens know how you've barely managed to make it through a whole week avoiding Doyoung. The tear stains on your pillow , the muffled sobs in the washroom, the torn pages of your notebook are the only witnesses of your turmoil. For everyone else, you were still y/n, the girl who barely talks to anyone . And maybe, that's everything you'll ever be no matter how hard you try.

It is Hogsmade Weekend and Halloween which means you'll be packed with guests at the Three Broomsticks. It's a good thing ,you hope, it'll help keep you distracted from any painful thoughts and memories.

The cups and glasses and bottles dance around you as you put the chairs in place, your wand doing most of the work while you quietly murmur spells. It feels rather abnormal not having Doyoung around to help you. It feels too quiet ,even though the quietness is familiar to you.

A faint click sound echoes in the room and you immediately snap to look at the main door.

"Y/n?" Doyoung's head gently pokes in through the small gap in the door, “Happy Halloween.”

Your heart stops beating for a solid second, brain going fuzzy with a mixture of fear, excitement and relief. You want to run towards him and jump into his arms like how people do in those muggle movies but you restrain yourself; since it's not your place to do that. Not after you'd kissed him out of nowhere a week ago.

"Y-yea?" You stutter nervously, dragging a chair away from the table just to make it look like you are busy with work.

"Can we talk?"

Doyoung has always been very persuasive and he knows exactly what to say at a given instance. He's a Ravenclaw, after all. So he finds his way towards the table ,shyly so , and he pulls a chair for you to sit on ,"I won't take long, I swear."

You nod and sit. Better to be done with it than avoid it. "What is it? Shouldn't you be at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop? Enjoying with Claire and the other cool people?" You ask.

Doyoung gulps ,"Yes, I was there a minute ago. But it's too noisy there. I don't like it." And it's too dull without you.

"Okay. What did you want to talk about ?"

He plays with the buttons of his warm looking purple coat, his eyes shifting from the tablecloth to the glasses of gillyweed water to his fingers - anywhere but you.

"I'm sorry about running away that night. It was wrong of me," he begins, "And I regret it. I really do." "When I went back to the dorms, all I could think about was you and how much I loved hanging out with you and how pretty you look even when you're not trying and how desperately I wished you'd kissed me a second longer that night so I could have kissed you back. Because I really wanted to. "

When you start to reply , he shushes you, "No, it's not Claire that I want. Maybe it never had been because I don't even know her! But I know you and I think you're the coolest person in Hogwarts. I cannot love Claire, who I know nothing of but I can love you. I want to love you. If you'd let me."

You stare at him , your tongue suddenly losing all it's sense of functioning. Your eyes bore into his ,and you see it - the sincerity, the adoration, the desire. And you realise it has always been there. Just the two of you were too stupid to see it earlier.

"Okay. I guess." You reply , rubbing the back of your neck shyly. Your cheeks are tinted red but you put no effort in hiding it anymore, " I'm sorry, I don't know how dating works. What am I supposed to do?"

Doyoung giggles , tenderly taking your face in his hands, "Just do whatever you want to. It's just me."

"I really want to kiss you. " you whisper and he immediately tilts his head such that his lips easily captures yours. The kiss is warm and cozy yet fierce. His hands are locked on either side of your face while your lips perfectly mold around his, as if they were meant to be that way since the inception of time.

You don't believe in miracles , given your magical allegiance but you do believe in fate and soulmates. You believe that there's someone for everyone out there - no one knows how or when they'll cross paths with you, but they will surely do it one day. Because no force can stop one from getting the love you deserve. It's just like a string - there's one person at each end and you're so thankful that it is Doyoung that happened to be at the other end of your string.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡