#the number of stick n pokes this man has that he does not remember

[collegeoflore]

my cringefail trait is that when i write anything with xarrai i’m trying to find an excuse to mention they have a tongue piercing. because i think it’s hot.

[neovisioned]

♡ꜜ broken mirrors﹫jaehyun jung

pairing : jaehyun x reader (f), ft. nct dream and johnny. 

genre : angst, smut, horror-ish, cursed!jaehyun, (kind of bloody mary!au), college!au. 

warnings : jaehyun is meant to be kind of twisted, some toxic and manipulative behaviour from him, black magic, mentions of rituals, mentions of blood, mentions of murder, mention of anxiety, voyeurism, choking, guided masturbation, degradation, pet names : doll, darling, kid, reminder jaehyun is an entity from the victorian era, reader is kind of reckless and impulsive. 

word count : 25k exactly. 

synopsis : where your college friends recall a creepy legend known around your university about a man that appears in mirrors and grants you two wishes when summoned. Jisung is dared to say his name three times and see what happens. you at first brush it off as some copy of bloody mary but, when your friend chickens out and swears something happened in that bathroom, you can’t deny the shift in atmosphere everyone felt. once in your dorm, the urge to try it out mixed with fear pushes you over the edge. it’s probably fake anyways, right ? you summon Jung Jaehyun in the middle of the night, on your bed, and he is not what you expected him to be. 

a/n : this was supposed to be a short one shot, lol. reminder this isn’t an all pink story. for the people who’ve read my other stuff, it’s quite different from what i usually write ! also, this isn’t proofread. in case tags don’t work : @nct-writers​ @neowritingsnet​ @thekpopnet​.

“Do you seriously believe in this kind of shit ?” laughs Jeno, a bit too loudly for the other students probably peacefully resting in the dorms right next to his. One hand covers the economics student’s mouth, visibly chewing on some chips and guacamole freshly made for tonight. Jaemin whines at the obvious joke his friend is making him out to be in front of everyone, a pout on his rosy lips. Poor thing, a dusty pink colors his cheeks – noticeable despite the low lighting of Jeno’s room - he looks down at the half empty plate, crumbs of potatoes on the ceramic.

“At least let me tell the story !”, Jaemin argues, slapping the red haired’s hand away. Stealing one of the last larger chips, Jaemin dips it in the smashed avocado. The blonde eats his chip almost aggressively, a victorious noise coming out of his closed mouth when Jeno notices the little amount of guacamole he left for him. 

“We were supposed to watch a scary movie, telling creepy stories’ the next best option.”, you say, leaning back against your friend’s Fatboy. Tonight was yet another one of these half improvised movie nights with your college friends. Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun, Jisung, Chenle and Donghyuck were all in your campus, in different courses and yet, you all managed to come together in one tight neck group. Every week, one member of the group would host a little something to celebrate…not dying ? Yeah, something like that.  

Thursday, tonight was obviously Jeno’s turn to hold the gathering, he had proposed a nice horror movie night but, Jisung, a language student, ended up chickening out after hearing the movie’s synopsis. You don’t really blame him, though, the story was meant to keep its viewers up for nights. 

“Jisung’s a pussy !”, Donghyuck teases the young man, a hand ruffling his peach hair to annoy him even more. “I have things to do tomorrow and I need my sleep !”, he defends himself for the nth time tonight, a new argument each time. The other boys aren’t really bothered by the change, movies usually get lost in the group’s banter and casual conversations anyways. You can count on two hands the number of movies you entirely watched with your friends. 

“He’s gonna get scared by some stories, too.”, the brunette continues his teasing like he usually does. Jisung pushes him to the side as an answer, before crossing his arms over his chest. Like everyone else, he’s already wearing his pyjamas, his and everyone else’s dorm room is in the same building and so, everyone could get to their bed in minutes, if not seconds.

“He’s going to knock at your door tonight, Y/N.”, Jeno joins in, all very well knowing that the peach haired’s dorm is right next to yours, seconds away. There’s a snore from Donghyuck, slapping a hand on the wooden table as he adds something to the conversation too, one you don’t catch. “Oh no, don’t. But I can give you a plushie if you’re really scared.”, you join in before immediately wrapping an arm around your friend for comfort.

“’m joking. Come on, what’s your story, Jaemin.”, you hum, letting Jisung lean his head against your shoulder with a whine, pout on his pink lips. 

“Lets do one each, yeah ? I have a story to tell and we’ll see who will really need a plushie.”, taunts the young man at your side, though no one truly believes him at first. Jisung, having scary stories to tell ? Hard to believe. 

“Wait ! We need to get in the mood !”, interjects Jaemin, getting up from his position on the floor. He easily navigates in the room with Jeno, like a third home. The first closes all windows, pushes curtains and turns off any lights to, like he said, get in the creepy mood. 

“H-Hey ! Can we at least keep one on ?”, Chenle joins the peach haired as a laughing point for the other boys, but Jaemin quickly obliges and lets the light of the small bathroom on for his friend, you suspect he didn’t like the complete lack of light either. You can barely see the front door from your spot, the yellowish light easily drowns the group in the storytelling atmosphere and, Jaemin joins the group again. “Wait, one last thing !”, searching for something in a drawer next to his bed, Jeno ends up taking a red candle out with a victorious sound. It hasn’t been touched at all, you inspect it a bit closely when your friend sets it on the wooden table. 

“Got it because of TikTok, it has something in it.”, he mumbles out, running a hand in his dyed hair, almost embarrassed. You wonder again how almost everyone in this group has their hair a different shade of some unnatural colour and yet, dried locks aren’t falling out on the dorm floor - yet. Thumb on his lighter, Jeno tries a few times before he gets a flame steady enough, bringing it to the white thread sticking out of his impulsive purchase.

“There, now we’re in the mood.”, proud of his little setup, the red haired sits down again, a small giggle escaping his lips at Chenle’s frightened look, already sheltering himself with his arms. The candle smells like strawberries, tall flame wavering under your friends’ breaths, the red haired slaps your hand away when you try to dig in the melted wax for the mystery treasure with one of his forks. 

“Now, Jaemin ! Let us hear your story.”, slapping his hands together, Donghyuck leans a bit closer to the center of the table. It is no secret in the group that Donghyuck has a love for scary stories and anything crime related, it seems he has been waiting for this moment. His face gets enlightened by the small candle, a weird angle that changed his features. “Try and scare us.”, the dance student challenged. 

Jisung’s arm wraps and tightens around your own when Jaemin takes the little light in his own hands, bringing the flame under his face. “Alright, do you guys know what’s a…Banshee ?”, his last word comes out as a whisper, letting the last syllable hang in the air for a few. “Oh, no.”, Renjun’s head rolls back, it rests against Jeno’s bed for a bit as he squeezes his eyes shut, whining in almost pain.  “Oh, yes. Renjun knows this story.”, remembers Jaemin, a smile stretching his lips, devilish. Everyone else comes a bit closer to the table, curiosity poked by Renjun’s natural reaction. You’re the only one shaking your head from left to right, but you doubt the others know about what the storyteller’s talking about. 

“A Banshee’s a female spirit whose wailing warns of a death in a house.”, starts Jaemin, hands dancing around the small flame, probably enjoying the heat, drawing slight shadows on the walls. He pays no attention to the small gasp falling from Chenle’s lips, about to continue. “Wow, Wikipedia. Big boy words.”, notifies Jeno, earning a death glare by the narrator. 

“It happened years ago, me and my family were on vacation in Ireland. You guys know, I have some relatives there. It was for a wedding, so all my cousins and I were staying at my Uncle’s house.”, finally starts Jaemin, voice a lot quieter. The young medicine student easily gets the entire group captivated with his words and aura. Even Renjun who already knows this story, even Jisung who usually, does not like scary tales. It is clear the intimate aspect of a story lived by a friend helps a lot, it isn’t anything mainstream or heard before, it adds to the mystery. For the next minutes, the young man tells his story with as much seriousness as he can, keeping the candle right under his face.  

“We were all around the ages of ten and thirteen, my Uncle’s house was deep in the Irish country side. I remember that parents would all sleep on the first floor and let us have the second for big sleepovers. So, my cousins and I would stay late and watch horror movies. I mean, you let kids alone, obviously they’re going to stay up late, right ?” Haechan only agrees while Jisung lets about a “this isn’t starting very well.”, eyebrows furrowed, cheek rubbing against your shoulder. “But eventually, my Uncle would come up and switch off the TV. You guys don’t know him but he’s...Special. He wouldn’t walk us to bed right away, he’d tell us about Banshees. Irish spirits, he’d describe them to us. A fragile, old woman with ripped clothes. Black hair down to her feet, sickly white skin and a veil over her red, bloody eyes.” Jaemin lets the description sink in, your face contours at the thought, you don’t have to look at Jisung to know he has the same expression on his. Donghyuck, him, is smiling a bit too much, leaning closer to the narrator for more. Jeno is strangely afraid too, towing with a loose thread sticking out of his blanket.  “Her screams have one meaning. Someone is going to die.”, Jaemin dramatically lets out the last word, keeping a straight, serious face even when Donghyuck cooes. “I hate this.”, you mumble out, to which Jisung agrees. “My Uncle would tell us about how clocks would stop, all of a sudden, fall off walls and crash on the floor before hearing a Banshee. Lights would turn on and off, flicker, doors would fly open without a breeze and slap against the walls. Paintings and pictures would fall down. He’d describe the keening as high pitch sounds, it’d pierce your soul and make every hair on your body stand.” Another pause, it’s clear Jaemin already told this story. There, he mimics the sound of a keening Banshee. And, if you think he’d sound silly, he does. High pitched is not a sound your friend can achieve and, it takes a few laughs here and there. Chenle visibly relaxes, back leaning away from the Fatboy. “He’d then walk us to bed after his Banshee story and we’d stay awake out of fear, you know. Just staring outside the windows, at the dark, Irish country side. Pitch black, no lights, tall - tall trees. It was during the winter, a wedding in the snow. And so, his big garden would be fogged up. A dense, white fog, we could barely see anything.”

The small flame grows taller, it wavers again under Jaemin’s words, light dancing on the red haired’s table. “One night, after my Uncle walked us to bed, me and my cousins were looking outside when we saw it.” Jisung shivers next to you without even hearing the rest, you almost giggle at his reaction. Both the narrator’s palms softly hit the table before he continues. A sound leaves his lips, like the image his memory is forming in front of his eyelids is enough to scare him. “We saw one.”, Jaemin finally announces. 

In another situation, Donghyuck would be the first one to deny or refute Jaemin’s words. No you didn’t, you almost say but, your lips part for a second, without a sound. Hyper focusing on your friend, you can’t deny the slight shiver that runs down your spine when he continues. “Red, glowy eyes. Right under a tree. She was wearing a white dress and just like Uncle said. She was taller than Uncle described, she could probably easily touch the tall branches of the trees. Skinny, lanky body, we couldn’t see if she had a veil or if it was ripped.” There’s a pause again, Jaemin looks at the clock right behind you and you can not help it, you turn around just in case. “The clock stopped.” Fortunately, he isn’t talking about Jeno’s. 

“No.”, the red haired whispers out but, Jaemin does not even look at him, continuing his story. 

“She wasn’t moving, just standing...there. White dress, black hair. We couldn’t see exactly where she was looking at but it was clear she was staring at our house. And then…”, for a second time, the young man mimics a Banshee’s scream but, it’s too good this time. It’s quiet enough that he does not bother Jeno’s neighbors, but high pitched and blood drenching. The quiet scream is drawn out, Jaemin leans on his palms and elevates himself before he’s out of breath, stopping abruptly. “Dude.”, you whisper out, getting a look from Jisung.  

“And then. She disappeared. We saw her walking between the house and my Uncle’s neighbor’s house. It was so weird, she wasn’t slow, she was walking quickly, so quickly. But it was like her knees weren’t in place, her legs would twitch to the side every now and then.”, Jaemin sits down again, looking at each of his friends in the eyes. You didn’t know he was this good at storytelling, you have to keep yourself from picturing this tall, lanky woman quickly walking in the dark. “We locked all the doors, closed all the windows. We were so scared, we would look at each other like…‘who’s going to die tonight ?’”

“Shut it, no one died.”, the red haired lets out, sentence rushed. But, Renjun finally speaks up, throwing a balled up tissue at your friend, one he cannot dodge, getting hit right on his forehead. “Sht and listen.” 

“We did not sleep at all that night and…”, you almost hit the medicine student at the nth pause, you can’t deny the fact that he has you at the edge of your metaphorical seat. “The next morning, my Uncle found our neighbour. Dead.” 

There’s a gasp from everyone, your eyebrow’s and Donghyuck’s raise up and before you can speak up, Renjun whispers at you to just “wait for the next part.” You hear one of your friends babbling about how it’s all bullshit, but Jaemin never leaves his narrator persona. “We told my Uncle about the Banshee, he had heard it too and since nothing happened to us or our parents, he went to his neighbors’ house. Both really believed in these kind of things, these Irish legends. He was found in his little sofa, turned towards his window. He didn’t have any heart problems but apparently, his heart stopped during the night. My dad told me a bit more two years ago, he was found with his eyes...Wide open.”

The moment Jaemin finishes his little story, questions fly from each side of the table and your friend answers quickly, like he was ready for each one of them. “You can call my mom and ask her about it if you want to, Donghyuck.”, the confidence the medicine student has in his story is enough for the brunette. A nice story to start on, you all note, but the neighbor’s death was probably a weird coincidence, right ? At the very least, that’s what you’d like to think. Finally, when everyone calmed down from Jaemin’s story, he pushed the candle towards Jisung. “Your turn, you said you had a story to tell.” 

Your friend nods quickly, hands resting on the pyramide shape of the candle, frowning at the layer of wax it leaves on his palms. A little pool of melting wax is forming at the top and you wonder for a moment if it’s not going to spill on the table. Everyone’s attention turns towards the new narrator, Jaemin finding a new comfortable position on the floor. “Alright, uh. I don’t have the same storytelling skills as Jaemin and it isn’t the same type of story. You guys know Eric, right ?”, he starts, receiving some hums from Jeno and Jaemin. 

“Eric the Eerie ?”, you ask, almost in disbelief at the mention. At the nickname, Donghyuck almost bursts out laughing, leaning his forehead against Jeno’s table and Renjun pouts a bit at the lack of seriousness his story is already receiving. “Yes, him. The old Litterature student.”, affirms Renjun. You remember the guy, tall and lanky, legend has it that he suddenly went from the bottom of his class to the very top almost overnight, collecting amazing grades after amazing grades. No one knew how he did it. Plus, he was a bit weird. It might seem a bit mean but, his appearance didn’t help and, he would not talk to anyone either, he avoided big bodies of water and mirrors, you doubt he had any friend here, too. He’d apparently sit in the back of his class and, when he graduated, he took his diploma first and left. Nowhere to be seen now. 

“Didn’t he graduate last year ?”, Jaemin asks, grabbing a bottle of juice from the side. Even in the dark, he is able to pour himself a glass full without spilling it everywhere.

“He did, yeah. Did you guys hear about the legend ? The one around how he got his grades up ?”, there’s a sound coming from your mouth, half confused and half intrigued. “Uh ?” Jaemin hums loudly, the sound resonates between the walls of his glass as his eyes blow wide for a second. “The Yoonoh thing ? I heard about that but not in details.” Apparently, Jaemin isn’t the only one who recalls the name. It is one you and all your friends have heard before, right when you entered your university. It wasn’t mentioned in the flyers or, by the teachers, even. It was first brought up during a party hosted by older students, one where they all told you about the campus’ legends and stories. 

“His name’s written all over the walls of the old building. Also, it’s in the main building’s restroom, I think.”, Renjun informs and your memory clicks. Your university has many buildings but, one of them, a bit further away from the campus, is abandoned. It has been for years now but you and your friends decided to visit it out of curiosity during your first year, a bit after the party. You could say it was pretty underwhelming, nothing too special if it wasn’t for old structures and dirty floors. Empty classes and weird smells, like any other abandoned places, you could say. You remember the same name being written over and over again on the walls, the desks, some mirrors. Younger you thought it was only a weird legend older students used to scare the new ones.

“Oh, right. What about it ?”, Jeno asks, eyebrows raising a bit at the new storyteller. 

“Do you guys remember the legend ?”, you nod again and, help your other friends remember the old tale. Once upon a time, a man cursed, cursed in mirrors forever. Able to travel from room to room, forced to appear whenever properly summoned by someone. How did he end up with such a faith ? You do not know or, maybe you don’t remember what your older friends told you. Yoonoh was - or is -, his name. Much like Bloody Mary, call his name three times and he’ll eat your reflection, take your place in your mirror and offer you two wishes. Two and not three, the last one he keeps to himself, he’ll ask for something in return. The rest of the story is quite blurry, it changed from course to course. Some people said he’d trap people in mirrors, other that he was a creepy, demonic looking creature asking for quite gory things. You had to say, when the story was told the night of the party, you got a bit creeped out but, you forgot about it since. 

“Apparently, Eric summoned him. Midway through the school year, he summoned him in his bedroom and used one of his two wishes for better grades. The first wish was granted but, Yoonoh wanted Eric to sacrifice a friend to him. No one knows if he managed to do it or not, apparently he didn’t use his second wish and since, Yoonoh follows him everywhere he goes.”, Renjun dramatically says but, the effect isn’t one he anticipated for his little story. There’s a laugh from Donghyuck, quickly followed by Jeno. “C’mon dude, we wanted a scary story.”, interjects the medicine student and, you only hide your chuckle by drinking your juice. Poor Renjun pouts, trying to regain the attention of his friends. “Wait, listen ! Doesn't it make sense ? Like...Like, I see it happening.”, big pearly eyes find Jisung for some support, but his friend only looks away to hide his smile too. 

“That story’s bullshit, I thought you knew.”, Jaemin finally says, sighing a little. 

“But the grades going up ? How he’d dodge mirrors like the plague ? He even took the mirror from his bathroom and bedroom out.”, Renjun argues, leaning a bit too closely to the small flame. You wonder for a moment who exactly, decided to take advantage of your gullible friend. “It’s fake.”, Jisung says again, mimicking your friend. He gets a death glare from the fallen storyteller who didn’t have the throne for too long, pushing the candle to the center of the table.

“Alright…”, he starts, palms flat on the flat surface. Renjun plants his eyes into Jisung’s, small smile tugging at his lips at the thought crossing his mind. “I dare you to summon him.”

Oh, your friends still act like teenage boys. You don’t blame them, quite the contrary, you join them when they almost scream at the challenge thrown out. Everyone knows Jisung never turns a dare down, it probably has to do with his pride. But tonight, tonight might be the first time he does. Eyes scanning everyone, Jisung takes a bit too long to answer. There’s a bunch of “do it”’s from around the table, Jeno and Jaemin weirdly dancing to the beat of your words. 

“Yoonoh ? Dude…”, eyes blown wide, he looks around at the uproar the narrator created, almost sending daggers. “I thought it was bullshit ?”, sarcastically asks Renjun, propping his chin on his hand, still on the table. Donghyuck calls him a chicken after some seconds of thinking and, this does it for Jisung’s pride and ego. 

“He’s gonna do it !”, Jeno chokes out, hands thrown in the air in victory. The medicine student at his side takes the lit candle in his palms and offers it to Jisung once he finally stands up with an audible sigh, head low like a knight in front of a Queen. “It’s...fake anyways.”, he reassures himself alone, brushing his pyjamas. Slowly walking towards the dimly lit bathroom, Jisung quickly looks behind him to see if anyone stops him. Clearly, no one does. 

“Do you remember how to do it ?”, Renjun asks, not even hiding his smile at Jisung’s obvious lack of confidence, a first. Shaking his head from left to right, Renjun quickly writes it down on a piece of paper, himself not daring saying it out loud. Standing up like the rest of your group, you look over your friend’s shoulder. He’s writing a few sentences down by memory, sentences you remember from the first university party. 

“Mirror, mirror, mirror. Take my reflection as home. Show me my deepest, darkest desires. Give to me, take from me. Yoonoh, Yoonoh, Y…” 

“I didn’t want to write his name three times.”, Renjun mumbles out, handing the small piece of paper to your friend, waiting in front of the bathroom door. You audibly laugh at his confession, poking Donghyuck with your elbow to react his words. “And I am the chicken ?”, Jisung asks a bit too offended, to which Jeno only pushes him inside the room. “I never said I wasn’t !” 

Jeno tries to close the door behind him as quickly as possible but, Jisung is quicker and blocks the attempt with an arm, frightened look flashing in his eyes for a second, he already hates this. His mouth falls open the moment you turn the light off, only lit by the small candle and Jaemin’s phone’s light. “Do I have to ?”, he whines, quickly looking behind him. All the dorms have the same bathroom, small and packed, it seems Jisung never saw his bathroom in the dark or maybe, the candle lit adds to the creepiness. “Yes, you have to !”, it’s almost a harmony between you and Chenle and, with Jaemin’s help, the door gets closed and traps Jisung in the small room. Poor thing, you hear him let a whine out while your friends giggle, tapping on the door. 

“C’mon, Jisung.”, Jaemin pushes him on and, you hear him mumble something on the other side. Finally, silence. Jisung probably sets the candle down, whines again about how he can’t read your friend’s handwriting. After a few minutes, he mumbles a few things again, voice audibly shaky. Jeno lets his nails travel down the painted wood of his door and, the poor thing reacts, loudly tapping the door. 

“Is he doing it ?”, you ask quietly, ear to the door. “I think ?”, Donghyuck can only guess before he gestures to his friends to back away and stay silent. In Jeno’s dorm, badly lit, all packed in front of his door, you think it’s all fun and games. Finally, you hear Jisung say the first words with an ounce of confidence, clearing his throat every now and then, mirror, mirror, mirror. Your eyes grow wide, palms slightly sweaty, you have to rub them against your pyjama pants and crouch a bit down. He reads almost like a robot, a monotone voice he uses to add some humor in all of it, act nonchalant when you’re pretty sure he’s shitting himself in there. However, when you hear the second to last sentence, your blood rushes through your veins, he sounds different, like he’s finally taking it all seriously. It’s weird, your brain is convinced nothing is going to happen and yet, your heart races for him and the possibilities of what can happen between these four walls. You were never the one to believe in such things but, the adrenaline and thrill always got to you, always managed to scare you a bit and keep you up at night. It seems the situation does the same to your friends. Quickly, flashlights join Jaemin’s, you even see Chenle biting down on his lower lip, backing a bit away. At this very moment, you don’t know it yet but, your friend has a weird feeling greeting up his chest. Yoonoh, you hear him say his name once, you fake not feeling the air grow colder around you, goosebumps rising on your nakes arms, it’s probably the open wind-. You remember Jaemin closing every window before starting his story. A second time, Jisung sounds breathless, hesitant to let the word out, even. You almost open the door to let him out but you’re stuck there, unable to move anything but your eyes. Stuck in place, it seems like long minutes go by between your friend’s words. Quickly, you look over at the clock hung up on Jeno’s wall, the very one you thought would fall down during the medicine student’s story and...Is it...Slowing down ? Say it a third time and get out of here, you think to yourself, suddenly feeling sweat gathering on your body. Hairline, back, you fan yourself with your hand but nothing changes. It sounds like he tries to, syllable forming on his lips but nothing more gets out. He tries once, and never finishes. There’s a shiver that runs down your spine, you instinctively glare at Jaemin who stares at the plain door almost too intensively, you see his Adam’s Apple difficulty move up, and down, like he himself, feels the weird shift in atmosphere. When did this dumb dare turn so serious ? Something isn’t right, you don’t dare mention it at that moment, you don’t think you need to anyways. He isn’t able to let the last word out, silence on the other side, you almost think he’s pulling a prank on you before you hear it. You all hear a commotion, you hear Jisung thumble backwards and crash into one of Jeno’s furniture. 

“What the fu-.”, before Donghyuck can even finish his sentence, the door abruptly opens, forcing everyone away from the entrance, your back crashes into Jeno’s chest who stood right behind you. A scared Jisung tumbles out the small room, almost running as fast as possible before letting his body fall on one of the Fatboys with a sound. 

“Dude, what the fuck ?”, Jeno asks, half terrified and half amused, he doesn’t know what to feel yet. Jisung barely answers, he wonders for a moment if his friends won’t make fun of him for what’s going on in his mind. “Something touched me. Something touched me in there.”, he chokes out, breathing chopped. You know, you know Donghyuck is about to make fun of him before he walks towards the man, taken back by the genuinely afraid look he has on his face. “Wha- ? Are you okay ?”, he asks, palm resting on his friend’s upper arm in an attempt to calm him down. 

Your attention gets grabbed by the still open door, you wouldn’t dare say it out loud but, there’s something strange about it. Pulled towards it, your eyes leave your visibly and audibly afraid friend for the dark place. You almost fear going inside and, you only look up at the dark room without entering, something in your body tells you not to. Staying right in front, it’s like you feel the shift in temperature between the living room and bathroom. Why does the bathroom look so...dark ? You barely register it, how the flashlights of your friends’ phones get absorbed by the darkness inside the smaller room, only lit by the small candle. It’s probably your brain, you think to yourself. A brain can do weird things to itself, it can imagine, create but, you’re sure you’re not hallucinating when you see the candle’s flame growing taller, wavering violently before eventually, getting blown. No wind, nothing, the pale trail of grey smoke flies straight upwards and you quickly back away, closing the door behind you in hopes of ending anything that went on in there. 

“Here, here. Look !”, in the meantime, your entire group had gathered around Jisung, amused looks turned into worried ones at his twisted body on the coach. Jisung pulls his short sleeve up and, under Chenle’s flashlight, you think you might hallucinate again. Milky skin glows under the living room’s artificial light when Jaemin turns it on, it contrasts deeply with his epiderme but your brain would rather make anything up than believe your eyes. A light pink, slowly growing a deeper shade of red, five fingerprints around your friend’s arm mark his skin. 

It’s almost two in the morning when your phone rings to the tune of a few texts, screen lightening with a notification from your beloved friend group chat. Body and mind trying its best to rest on your small bed, your eyes travel from your thin, white ceiling to your phone when you bring it up to your face, risking it falling straight on your nose. You quickly swipe a finger on the object and read the last text Jeno sent, something about wanting Jisung to take a shower and rest for the night, quickly followed by your other friends’ words. 

There’s a sigh tumbling from your lips, the slight headache taking place right on your temples makes you want to bury your face right under your pillow but your small dorm is hot, way too hot for that. Window wide open, there isn’t an ounce of wind entering your room. You hate the feeling of sweat growing on your forehead, on your back, fabric sticking to your skin just like it did in front of Jeno’s bathroom. You feel drained, so, so drained. It is something you’re used to, especially after a full week of classes and a night with your friend but tonight, something feels different. There’s something off about your room, it doesn’t feel the same. You aren’t being watched, you know that, but you sure feel like it. Oppressed, stuck in such a small space, you’ve been rolling around your bed for minutes now, unable to sleep. After what happened in Jeno’s own dorm, natural instincts kicked in. All tried to find an excuse for what happened to Jisung, saying maybe your friend got the marks from bumping into the furniture, maybe he got these before even entering the room. Poor thing decided to let himself be convinced by the hypothesis thrown at him but, you couldn’t really understand everything else. The change in temperature, the lack of light, the candle blowing itself out, you can’t find a single excuse except maybe, just maybe, your mind’s playing tricks on you. 

Your thumbs quickly work to type a message for your friend before you drop your device on your bed. Overthinking, that probably is what’s keeping you from falling asleep. It’s crazy, the number of videos around paranormal things you and Donghyuck watched together and yet, you two didn’t think about the rules before starting this stupid dare. Beating yourself up for not taking it seriously, you now remember how you’re supposed to say goodbye whenever starting a seance of Ouija. How you should not disrespect entities, know and do everything by the rules. You almost text Donghyuck about it but, you fear sounding too crazy. 

Instead of Donghyuck, you text Johnny. It’s the urge of knowing more, the curiosity growing in your belly that you did not expect. The tall man’s one of the older students who told you about Yoonoh’s legend during the first party, he studies psychology in your building and you two became quite good friends after a while. He would help little you with administration but also, showed you some spots you still go to, to this day. Good friends, so much so you know he isn’t sleeping at such an hour. And, you don’t feel too guilty when you text him about the legend, almost completely out of the blue. Needless to say, the brunette was a bit taken back by the question. You saw it through his texts, but he quickly told you about all the things he knew and heard around the university legend. The same sentences your friend wrote on a piece of paper, the same Jisung was close to saying fully. A candle, like Jeno unknowingly provided and the young man took to the bathroom. But, there was one thing missing, or rather, two. The one who summons Yoonoh shall write their name on the mirror, clearly and without a mistake. Second, both palms have to be placed on the mirror. Flat, you don’t think you’re allowed to move them while reciting what you’d call a spell, much like on a Ouija board. All the things missing and yet, you still felt a slight shift in Jeno’s dorm, didn’t you ? 

Turning your phone off once you wishing Johnny a good night, you find yourself turning the device on again, seconds after. Scrolling through your Twitter timeline and switching between the same two applications doesn’t help at all. Push it away, that feeling of being watched comes back like a bull. You hate it, so much. It’s just like the aftermath of watching a scary movie, you reassure yourself. Like that one time you watched Annabelle and slept with all your plushies outside your bedroom with the light open, right ? Sitting up on your bed, you almost feel ashamed when you turn your light on, quickly looking around your small dorm. Nothing’s there, nothing’s there. The slight fear adds to the sweat collecting on your skin, you feel too hot and yet, a cold shiver runs down your spine when your back meets your headboard. “It’s just a legend.”, you tell yourself out loud. One time, two times. Bringing your knees to your chest, your hands quickly grab at the thin sheet before you pull it towards your body, as if it’ll shelter you from anything paranormal. It’s just a legend, you tell yourself again when your eyes meet your reflection. What a stupid idea, having such a big mirror right in front of your bed. It takes all of your wardrobe, you remember loving it when you first moved in, taking advantage of the size for pictures. But now, it only added to your fear. You don’t know where to look, eyes traveling from your own body to the sides of your bed, the corners of your room. At least, nothing can hide in here, you think you’d see it immediately. 

Your father would probably laugh at your face if he saw you right now. See, if your mother might believe in anything paranormal, your father never did and never will. He’d always find a scientific reason for anything weird happening in your house, reassuring you as best as he could. If he was here, what would he say, what would he do ? You ask yourself for a minute, keeping your knees close to your body. 

He’d try it, see for himself and prove that the legend was all bullshit. 

Calling him at such an hour wasn’t even an option, could you do it yourself ? You wonder, eyes glued on the mirror. You can not deny the slight curiosity rising in your chest, building up in your body. It’s weird, a morbid interest that has been sitting with you since Jisung ran out of the bathroom, since you saw the candle blow out by itself. Curious and adventurous, you always thought you were and, wouldn’t trying it help you prove the invalidity of the legend ? 

Legs fall back on the bed, you barely can believe yourself when you stand up on your knees, sinking into your mattress. “Do it and go to bed, surely nothing will happen.”, you coach your reflection. You think it’s a mix of fear, pure curiosity and fatigue. Your body craves sleep and, in your half asleep state of mind, you take advantage of your boost of confidence, pushing away the paranoiac side of your brain. If it was real, more people would talk about it. If it was real, where are all the pictures and videos ? Clumsily stepping out of your bed, your feet touch the cold floor as you drag your body towards your makeup bag, blindly dipping a hand in. An old lipstick would do, right ? Right, you don’t even remember the last time you used this Sephora lipstick. The small candle you probably used twice in your life finds another use tonight as you grab it from your shelf, opening the small lid to clean the small bits of burnt thread. 

A few steps is all you need before you stand in front of your mirror, letting your body rest from the little effort you did when you sit down right in front of it. It’s stupid, so so stupid, you think to yourself. Nothing will happen and you’ll tell this very story to your friends the next day, they’ll make fun of you for it for the next week and all will be good. 

Taking the protection of your old lipstick off, you inspect it with a pout. A shame, such a pretty color you never really wore before the expiration date. The deep red stick comes up when you twist the bottom and you have to resist the urge of trying it on your lips, just to see. Rather, just like Johnny said, you write your name on the mirror. The paste easily leaves a red trace under the pressure of your fingers, it’s almost pleasing if you did not know how long you’ll take to clean it off after. Long sticks, you write your name clearly on the mirror before closing your old lipstick, leaving it at your side. Next, your fingers fumble inside your bag, trying to find your lighter. It’s one you rarely use but keep with you just in case and you quickly turn it on. The small flame dances under your mouvements, bringing the cold candle near your lighter. It quickly starts burning in your hands and you place the object right between your body and the mirror. There’s a sigh from your lips, you can’t believe it yourself when you lean forward, both palms flat on the cold surface. Above your name in red lipstick, you dare look at yourself. Actually, if you look at yourself, your attention won’t drift for the back of your bedroom in fear. And so, keeping your eyes on your reflection’s, you take a deep breath. 

“Mirror, mirror, mirror.” you start off pretty easily, the one word rolling off your tongue without a second thought. Now that you’ve started it, you don’t think you can end everything just like that, you learned everything needs to be closed once started. “Take-...Take my reflection as home.”, you stutter, vision getting blurry for the quickest second. Probably the lack of sleep and fatigue, some water coats your eyes and you blink the teardrops away, finding a clear vision again. You sigh out for a second in an attempt to cool your body down, the same feeling slowly plunges on your shoulders. The one you felt while Jisung was doing the same thing but, this time, you were alone. The change in atmosphere is less abrupt but, you still feel it anyways. The air grows hotter, heavier, dense. 

“Show me my deepest, darkest desires.”, you choke out, feeling your palms sweat up, trying your best to resist the urge to whip them. You shift uncomfortably on your spot, pushing away the goosebumps raising on your naked arms again. Wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible, you push all the signs away and continue, though your confidence runs out quickly. “Give to me, take from me.” The small candle flame flickers, it grows taller and, you have to push it away with a knee to prevent it from burning your clothes. Maybe it’s the open window, right ? But here it is again, the feeling of being watched. You hate it, you almost turn around or just, look behind you through the mirror. Instead, a groan escapes your lips, frustrated at yourself, tired, annoyed, scared.

It seems the two sides of your brain disappeared, your thoughts are radio silent, white noise. Fuck it, fuck it. Panic takes over your next actions, it pushes you over the edge. Closing your eyes, your head hangs low and you say the last words. “Yoonoh.”, you start, closing your eyes even more, forcing your eyelids. You feel it, the sudden presence right behind you, you fucking feel it. Your heart picks up right them, you never felt it pump so quickly against your ribcage. Heat burns your cheeks, your ears, your back. Unconsciously, your head hangs lower, shoulders rise up in a protective, natural reaction. 

It truly feels like someone’s right here, with you and yet, you refuse to look. What the fuck are you doing, why the fuck are you doing this ? A hiccup, the outline of a cry tumbles from your lips. Ah, how the fear managed to wash over you like the rising tide eating at the shore. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck. Teeth tight against each other, your jaw grows sore as you feel the heat of the small candle at your side. Letting your eyes flutter open the slightest bit, it’s when you see the flame violently dance, shaking from different sides that you decide it has to be over, now. 

“Yoono- Yoonoh, Yoonoh.”, you blur them out so quickly it’d be funny in another situation, the sounds are barely separated from each other, barely make sense. Your tongue feels heavy, mouth clumsy when you finish the spell of. Your irregular, hard breathing almost keeps you from hearing. Hearing it. 

Ah, how long Jaehyun - or Yoonoh - waited and longed for such a moment. Actual hours that felt like years for one of you to summon him properly. And, he has to say, he’s glad you were the one to do it, call him over with your pretty voice, fearful eyes and deadly curiosity. He felt it, the morbid interest peeking in your small body, he knew you would do it the moment you noticed the candle blowing out, he knew you weren’t dumb. See, when Jisung had attempted to summon him, he had almost brought Jaehyun to his mirror, he almost did it. He was so close, so close to it that Jaehyun managed to have a blurry view of the odd scene. Needless to say, the cursed had a good laugh at it but, the anger and frustration he felt at your chicken of a friend still lingered. When was the last time someone summoned him ? Jaehyun does not remember, he doesn’t have any notion of time, he lost it long, long ago. When was the last time he had fun with a foolish human ? He does not remember either but, something tells him he will make it up with you. Jaehyun isn’t alive but, the closest of “alive” he can feel, it’s in moments like this, properly summoned, ready for his deal. Eating your reflection, taking its place easily, the young looking man takes your bedroom in for a second, it’s all in reversed for him who’s stuck in your mirror. Speaking of, he likes it. Big, tall, he notices your name neatly written in what he guesses is red lipstick. Taking your reflection’s place, both his hands lay flat against your palms, kneeled down, he’s significantly taller than you but still, he notices the contourcion in your features, the fear. He loves it, he loves oh so much. The fear, the regret, he adores it all. He knows it’ll be even better once you open your eyes and understand your faith. Mirroring your position, the man doesn’t move, he loves the proximity, how close your face is to his. Wicked smile on his rosy lips, it tugs up at a side, pearly white canine showing, the tip of his tongue rests on the sharp tooth. Oh, he’ll eat you up and savour it just like he did with your reflection.

“Hi, Y/N.”

The reactions, Jaehyun thrives off the reactions. The fear in people’s eyes, the tears, the cries, the shouts, the realisation flashing, twisting people’s features, he fucking gets off of it. He knows what to expect and yet, when you finally open your eyes, barely take in his face and jump back immediately, he chuckles out, he groans happily, excited even. You barely believe it, a man replaces your reflection, he doesn’t follow your movements when you tumble backwards and feel your spine hit your bed, the scream you were about to let out getting knocked out of your lungs. Instead, it’s a loud whine you let out. What the fuck, the actual fuck. Both your hands cover your mouth, Jaehyun notices how shaky they are and cooes, head tilting to the side. What a pretty toy to play with. A knee down, the other leg bent against his chest, the man in the mirror lets his head rest there, patiently waiting for you to finally speak up. Strangely, he’s a patient man, he had some people run away on him, not speak for hours at the shock, even. You think you’re hallucinating, you almost pinch yourself but you know, you’d be awake if this was a dream. The impact of your bed against your back tells you that this, this is real. As much as your brain hates to believe it, takes minutes to process it and still has its doubts, you react just in case. You react out of pure instinct. The bag you use everyday gets pulled next to you and you quickly push a hand inside, looking for one thing only. A young college student needs to protect itself when walking home from late classes, the butterfly knife you wished you’d never have to use finds your fingertips and, when you feel the cold metal, you pull it out. 

“Ah-a. Don’t make me mad so quickly, doll.”, the man in your mirror sings, nickname rolling out of his tongue. You think you’re going to throw up, the ball in your throat keeps you from speaking but you don’t let his words scare you. In a swift motion, you open the object and let the blade stand straight towards your mirror. You try, you try your best to seem less afraid, but you’re sure you look foolish to him. And it sure does. A sigh tumbles from the man’s lips, a hand running in his dark brown locks. Thoughts clash and collide in your dizzy, clouded brain but still. He looks...normal almost, if it isn’t for the twisted grin on his lips, the lack of light in his dark eyes.  

“Your little knife won’t hurt me.”, he informs you, a small pout on his lips. He stays there, still patiently waiting for you to say something. Though he likes peoples’ reactions, he likes it even better when he hears about their darkest desires, the things that pushed them over the edge, things they graved to the point of summoning him, an entity many deem as fake, a legend. A hand on your floor, you support yourself with it, fearing your body giving out even if you’re already down. Mouth dry, you swallow harshly before finding your tongue again. “What if I break the mirror.” 

It’s a threat but oh, it sounds so sweet to the young man. You’re a courageous one, and fierce at that, Jaehyun can already tell and he loves it. Truly, he can not wait ; to break you down little by little, see that same fierceness in your pupils slowly disappear for obedience. There’s a small laugh tumbling from his lips again, cheek rubbing against his knee. “Ouh, she speaks.” Leaning a bit closer to the mirror, the man hums a little, eyes on the sharp blade. “Break it, it won’t do anything to me. Except make me mad.” 

For some reason, you believe him. Maybe it’s the daring look he gives you, silently wondering if you’ll have the guts to come closer to him. Clearly, you don’t, staying as far as your bed allows you. Your heart’s still beating too fast against your ribcage, breathing unevenly and you try to focus on your rhythm instead of the man right in front of you. “Come on. Deep breathes, kid.”

There’s something that clicks in your brain at this very moment, your throat seems to unravel and words flow out of your lips, avoiding what a side of your brain still thinks is an illusion. “I- We thought this was a legend, we thought it was fake.”, voice small, you fumble around, hands on your sheet before you find your phone. 

“‘it’ and ‘this” has a name.”, the man sternly says, eyes following your mouvements. As said, he saw it all before, the startled look in your eyes when your device went dead in your hand was one he enjoyed a bit too much. “It won’t work.”, he notes in a hum. 

“Y-Yoonoh ?”, you hate how it’s a question tumbling from your lips, half hoping one of your friend’s going to erupt out of your closet with a camera. There’s a disappointed sound from him, thumb running on his pink bottom lip, locks falling in front of his eyes. “Haven’t used that name in years. Please, darling. Call me Jaehyun.” 

Jaehyun, the sound rings in your ears. Eyes wide, you clench your dead phone around your fingers. “You’re real.” 

“As much as you are.”, he’s amused to say the least, lips stretching at a corner. There, he decided to get up, taking advantage of your tall mirror. It’s weird, how he isn’t wearing anything old, dirty, anything you’d think an entity would wear. A black blouse loose on his shoulders, he rolls the fabric to his elbows, what you think are black costume pants on his legs, his shoes you cannot see with the dark fog dancing around him. 

“You look...Normal.”, you dumbly let out, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. With other clothes, he’d easily pass as another boy in your campus. Then, he chuckles, you’re cute. It resonates in your small room, a deep dimple craved on each cheek. He seems pleased, standing right in front of your body. Hands in his pocket, he leans a bit forward. 

“Oh, doll. What were you expecting ? A big, bloody man ? Old and creepy ?” You nod at that, you surely were not expecting such a young looking man, you weren’t expecting him. “You surely didn’t summon anyone else, then. Does that mean I’m your first ? Ah- cute.” 

You don’t really know what comes to you, speaking almost freely to this entity and yet, you’re still afraid. There’s no doubt, the dip in your stomach and the sweat on your palms. “I-...I don’t believe in these kinds of things.”, you tell him without a second thought, without understanding how dumb this might sound. 

“Oh, really ? And do you, now ?”, Jaehyun decides he likes being at eye level better, kneeling, resting on his heels, he props his chin inside his palm again. Deep, dark eyes, it’s what strikes you the most. They curl lightly inside, outer corners stretched with what you think is a dark eyeshadow. He grins again, though his eyes never gain any light.  Your brain surrounders, finally coming around the fact that this, might be real. You stay silent, bringing your knees to your chest again. 

“Oh, she does.”, voice stained, gravy, he whispers out after some seconds of silence. “She believes.”, Jaehyun points out before you do with a breathless chuckle. There’s something twisted about him, you only needed seconds to understand how he fed of your initial fear, how he craved the trembling lips, watery eyes and shaky hands. Now, it seems he wants to play. 

“Now, you know what comes with summoning me, hm ?”, you nod at that, slowly coming to the realisation that you, have two wishes. Two possibilities. You could make your life so, so much better, right ? But a side of your brain still dismisses all of this as fake, you doubt Jaehyun’s powers for a moment. “Two wishes.”, you tell him and he nods, pleased. 

Pearly white teeth glow at his carnal smile, pupils slowly growing until his irises almost disappear. “A deal, unbreakable. You, will be sealed to me. Me, to you. Forever in the nearest mirror until the contract ends, I will follow as your reflection. Two wishes I shall grant you. One you shall grant me. “No” we both cannot use.”, he hums. Dreaded, realization falls onto your shoulders, the next sentence makes it too real. “Now, doll. Tell me. Tell me your deepest, darkest desires.”, he whispers, leaning closer to the barrier the mirror creates. 

The groan he lets out almost startles you, stained and deep, it’s almost a moan. “I’ve been waiting for so long.” Head thrown back, locks of his hair fall backwards as he reveals his pale neck. You gulp down, you never thought about it, only summoned him in an attempt to calm yourself down. “I didn’t...I didn’t think about that.”, you whisper out, slightly frightened at what he might be able to do. Jaehyun’s twisted smile never leaves his face, head tilted to the side. 

“Come on, kid. I’m sure you can find something.”, he starts. His right thumb pressed on his fingers, one by one. Cracking his knuckles, the sound’s bone chilling for your ears. “You know, you can wish for anything in the world.” Anything ? That’s the issue, you can’t think of anything right now. Unable to look at the entity in front of you, your eyes travel to the side, fixated on the small paint stain on your floor. What do you want ? You can barely think in such a situation, not when his eyes are fixated on you, intense, dark, awaiting. It’s the pressure that makes you speak again, your brain lashes onto the first thought that comes across your mind. 

“Popularity.”, you finally blur out, something the main character of a movie would’ve said. What a fool. Popularity, you don’t even need it, you just think it would be new to have people finally looking at you, knowing who you are.

“Popularity ?”, Jaehyun says, eyebrows raised. He seems slightly taken back, amused still. “I’ve had much, much more interesting wishes.”, he says, dark eyes looking down at you. You hate it, the judgement he shows, you know you could’ve wished for anything else. He does not elaborate on that - yet. Rather, he nods. Palms against each other, his last and fourth fingers are laced together, both thumbs, pointer and middle fingers pointed to the ceiling. There’s a dark glow right behind him, the black fog rather around the entity and, before you can change your wish, his eyes plant right in yours. They glow with something different, his voice resonates in your room, it comes out of all the mirrors you own. 

“Then, Y/N. So be it !” 

That night, you don’t sleep at all. Or at least, you don’t think you do, even when trying your hardest. If Jaehyun doesn’t appear in your mirror again, if he seems to disappear after your wish in an attempt to let you rest, you’re hyper aware of the fact that he’s here anyways. Jaehyun’s presence lingers, the effect he has in your dorm is undeniable, you can not push it away. Air dry, atmosphere tense, he’s everywhere and anywhere. “Forever in the nearest mirror until the contract ends.”, that’s exactly what he said. If he’s watching you sleep ? Is he, himself, sleeping ? Does he even need to ? Questions collide, none of them find an answer and rather, create new ones in their wake. 

Fatigue crashes on your body at once when you finally get yourself to blow the candle out and turn the lights of your bedroom off, so does the anxiety. Finally realising what you’ve just done, what you just got yourself into. It barely feels real, minutes go by on the clock and, when you’re not glaring at the numbers casted on your ceiling, you’re fearfully looking at your mirror. For the first time since you moved here, you hate this mirror. From the placement right in front of your bed to the size, you wonder why your campus thought this was a good idea. 

At some point, you do have to rest with your head right under your covers, finding a small bit of comfort with the duvet around your body. Maybe you dove back and forth into Morpheus’ arms but, your body shakes itself awake every time, almost giving you a mini heart attack. Soon enough, the lack of light gets replaced with the pale sunlight of the early morning, allowing you to catch a few minutes of sleep or so. Even if it varies with age, scientists say a human is able to live without sleep for around eleven days. You wonder if your body is able to go with a day of sleep. Thinking about it now, sleep deprivation comes with illusions and, you swear you sa-. 

“Y/N ?”, Jaemin’s voice rings right next to you, forcefully pulling you out of your too loud and invasive of thoughts. Eyes unfocused on your meal, your attention turns towards your friend in a second. From the silence in your group and the slight smile dancing on Jaemin’s lips, you guess he has been calling for you for a few seconds now. “Oh, sorry. Yeah ?”, you mumble out, placing the wooden chopsticks in your half full box, one you barely touched. 

“Dude, not to be rude but you look awful. You good ?”, Jeno, right in front of you, interjects before anyone else can speak. The young man looks genuinely concerned, eyebrows furrowed. You can’t help but notice, his eye bags don’t look too bad for a college student. They’re also, nowhere as bad as yours. 

“Yeah. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”, sighing a little, you let your cheek rest against your fist. You could fall asleep right then and there, on this very bench. The sun isn’t too harsh on your skin, no mirrors and, most importantly, you’re surrounded by your friends. Taking an entire picnic table in the middle of your campus, chinese food was bought but, you couldn’t bring yourself to eat more than a few bites, head heavy. 

There’s a laugh from Donghyuck, who just finished his food in one go. “Is it because of that dumb legend ?” 

“Dumb legend”, something doesn’t feel right when your friend lets the words out so, so carelessly. You can’t deny the shiver that runs down your spine at that moment, though you don’t see any mirrors anywhere close. Another uncomfortable silence takes place in the middle of the table, before Jisung speaks, finally. “I honestly felt weird yesterday night.”, he mumbles out, letting the tip of his chopsticks hit the bottom of his box a few times, like he’s embarrassed to admit it. It doesn’t shock you that he did, that the one who attempted to summon Jaehyun felt his lingering presence, the aftermath of not properly executing a ritual. What take you back, are Chenle and Jaemin’s next words. 

“Same. I almost tried that shit myself.”, Chenle says, half joking. In your half asleep state, your eyes widen for a second. Straightening your back, Jaemin beats you at the fast talker. “Dude, same ? I just wanted to try and see what would happen, you know ?”, he says. Your hand wraps around his arm, catching his attention. A little “You too ?” falls from his lips and you can only nod, looking over at Chenle. 

So they felt it too. The sudden feeling of not being alone, not being the crazy one. “I thought I was making things up.”, you gasp. You have to say, in another situation, Donghyuck’s face would’ve been funny. He looks so, so disappointed when you start listing the weird coincidence you and your two friends experienced the night prior. From the change in temperature and the feeling of being watched, Renjun and Jeno watch and listen, horrified. “But obviously, I didn’t try it.”, Jaemin adds, and you almost feel like disappearing. “Yeah, yeah...Same. Just didn’t sleep well.”, you mimic, and it seems to convince your friends. 

So they felt it too and, you were apparently the only one to follow your feeling, the only one that compulsively tried it out. You hate it, maybe you should’ve texted one of them, called them or even went to one of your friend’s dorms to sleep and you wouldn’t have been in such a situation. What a dumb move, what the slight confidence and curiosity had you summon, you almost let your forehead rest against the old wood. You almost do, if it isn’t for all your friends simultaneously turning their head to the side. 

Silence falls yet again in your group as you all look, slightly confused at the young man standing right next to you. Bright red hair, eyebrow slit, bold fashion style, everyone in this campus knows him as Lee Taeyong. See, if schools have their famous clique, the Heather and whatever is the masculine equivalent, you thought it all stopped once in university. You thought wrong. On your first visit, you quickly understood who exactly were the famous and unaccessible guys. Taeyong, was one of them. From his intimidating looks, ever changing hair color, sharp features and deep voice, he had everyone’s attention. Needless to say, you never saw him from so, so close. 

“Hey...Looking for something ?”, ah Donghyuck. Always the bold, the lifesaver. Sipping on his bubble tea, he looks straight at the oldest who barely gives him any attention. 

“Yes, actually.”, the red haired answers, gaining a few confused looks from your group. Looking at Jaemin for a second, you silently wonder if any of your friends know the Lee Taeyong enough for him to let himself be seen in your company. It seems he doesn’t understand either, quickly raising his shoulders. Catching your straw between your lips, you slowly sip onto the last drop of your juice, curious. 

“Y/N ?”, the dance student asks, looking straight into your eyes. It’s strange, how his eyes only manage to make you shift a little on your seat. You have to say, you did not know he knew your name, even was aware of your existence. Sure, him and Johnny were friends but, you doubt your friend told him about you. Still sucking on the last drops, you nod slowly. “I’m hosting a party this Sunday, are you coming ?” 

You choke on the liquid. Uh ? What’s going on ? You think it’s the lack of sleep that makes you hear things, but he doesn’t seem to mind and continues. “To celebrate the end of exam season. You’re Johnny’s friend, right ? He’ll send you the address.” 

And, just like that, the oldest smiles down at you and leaves. He leaves and lets your friends glare at you for answers, answers you do not have. 

Or maybe, you do. Wishing for popularity, you almost forgot about it. Was that how it began, people you barely know inviting you and not your friends to parties ? “What the fuck just happened ?”, asks Renjun, almost turning around to glare at Taeyong who sits with his friends, giving you a quick look. 

“I have no idea.” 

On any other normal, ordinary day, you would’ve opened your door without a second thought, mechanically almost. Throwing your bag at the foot of your bed before letting your body fall right in the middle of the mattress after a long, long day. But, your life is apparently far, far from ordinary since last night. Practically stuck in front of your dorm’s door, your fist unconsciously clenches the leather strap of your backpack. Knuckles turning white, it’s almost like you’re gripping the last bits of your sanity. Once you enter the four walls of what once was your safe space, you can only guess what is going to wait for you. 

Anyways, you cannot sleep right in front of your door, you can’t work on the dirty floor of your hallway, right ? It takes another rush of courage for you to push the handle down and finally allow yourself to enter your dorm. Even if you were ready for anything to happen, the sound of his voice once you close your door makes you jump back against the wood. “Ah, doll. Finally.”, it’s sultry, deep, it follows the look on his eyes when you carefully step towards your bed, second guessing his next actions. 

How are you supposed to act when you have an entity living in your mirror ? You wish Google could answer this question, you really do. Quickly glaring at the man in front of you, you’re a lot less scared now that the sun freely enters your bedroom, enough for you to notice a few more details that you might have missed the night prior. Victorian clothes, the tip of his fingers a dark grey as they dance on his jawline, Jaehyun still has the same cocky smile on his rosy lips. 

“Had a taste of popularity yet ?”, he asks, though he already knows the answer very well. Non-verbal, you keep an eye on your mirror while letting your bag fall on the floor, awkwardly sitting on the edge of your bed. 

“Uh, yeah.”, you let out, fingernails slightly gazing over the skin of your arm. You had a feeling it was him or rather, the wish you had blurred out hours before. It had to be, right ? Sure, Johnny knows Taeyong but you doubt he invites all his friend’s friends. Even, you and Johnny weren’t close enough and barely hung out, keeping your friendship almost strictly virtually. Not to point out the fact that the young man only invited you and did not even have the courtesy to invite the rest of your group. 

Finally, you decide to take your shoes off, scooting back to the middle of your bed, wood slightly cracking under your mouvements. Here, you believe you can have your eyes on the entity at any moment, just in case. What a strange situation, you don’t even know if you can work properly in such conditions, let alone take a shower and sleep peacefully. 

“Darling, you don’t look too happy with your wish.”, the young man notes, slight amusement dancing in his voice. Apparently, Jaehyun has a habit of squatting to sit down; elbow on his knee, head in his palm, he quickly raises his eyebrows at you. Isn’t it weird ? How he is still here, asking questions like an old - weird - friend shaking up on a friend. Maybe, your view on entities might be flawed, oriented by pop culture but, you sure weren’t expecting anything like this. 

“I’m tired.”, you simply say, clearly not prepared to have a casual conversation with the entity you summoned. Picking at a loose thread on your jeans, a sigh leaves your lips the moment you grab onto your phone and notice how, even now, it won’t turn on, nice. You don’t dare point it out, though. 

“Oh, kid. I can tell.”, your eyes quickly look up at his words, half in misbelief. Clearly, he doesn’t care for the daggers your eyes are throwing at him, tinted fingers twirling the dense fog around him. “You look close to death. And believe me, I saw my fair share of people on the bridge between our world and everything beyond.”

Your death glare quickly turns to a surprised, taken back one, clearly offended. Apparently, the young man finds amusement in this again, a quiet chuckle tumbling from his lips. How could he laugh, probably knowing he’s the reason you barely slept last night. Fighting with the entity stuck in your mirror, yet another thing you never even thought you’d experience. 

“You’re the reason why I look like this ! I-I barely slept tonight.”, your voice audibly quiets down the moment you understand the tone you’re using on a creature you can’t begin to understand, one that has powers beyond your comprehension. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind. Rather, his smile twists again, he likes them feisty. 

“I know.”, he simply says, batting his eyelashes, they’re long, dark. “But you, doll. Do you realise I can not do anything to you ?”, he asks and, you have to look to the side for a moment, Jaehyun continues. “I’m stuck in this mirror, I can not reach you.” 

Jaehyun can be lying. He probably is. After all, you aren’t aware of the totality of his abilities, he’s born from a dark ritual, meant to grant any desire, as twisted as they may be. Then again, why would he be lying ? If he could reach you, you think he could’ve tried something the night before. “You can’t ?”, biting down on your lower lip, you ask a bit quietly, raising your shoulders instinctively. 

“Actually, I can lean out of any mirror and reach anything at arm length but, it takes a lot of energy out of me.”, Jaehyun says, running a hand in his locks and, you have to say, the sheer thought of seeing him reach out of your mirror has your blood leaving your face, surely a sight you don’t want to witness. You don’t even ask for a demonstration, you’d rather keep the little sanity you still have now, without the image of an entity leaning out to your world. Does that mean he can reach out and grab the bag you left on the floor ? You almost lean down and tug it towards you and away from your mirror but, decide against it. At the very least, you now know that you can sleep without him walking out of your mirror. 

“Do you...Do you need to sleep ? You said it took energy.” What comes to you again ? Asking questions so freely, you guess having answers will help you be less scared. Bringing your knees to your shoulders, your body relaxes a bit when you notice the entity looking at you, seemingly taken back by a human asking him questions. Little do you know, Jaehyun doesn’t remember the last time someone wanted to know more about himself, he might as well.

“I do not need to sleep, I feed off people summoning me.”, he simply explained, getting up. You wonder for a second if he isn’t bored in your mirror, it seems like he does not have anything to do in there, you might even pity him for a second. “As long as people summon me, I exist. Once people forget about me, I’ll be gone.”, Jaehyun utters, slowly walking from one end of your mirror to another. 

“Isn’t it...Boring in there ?”, you wonder out loud, head tilted to the side. If you saw an entity being vulnerable, for the shortest of seconds, Jaehyun regains his attitude pretty quickly. There’s a laugh, a loud one you fear someone else will hear as he readjusts his rings on his fingers, one by one, before facing you again. 

“Oh, no. See, usually, people know what they’re going to wish for, their desires are dark, thrilling. Darling, yours are just plain and uninteresting.”, the entity notes, quietly. The gasp you let out at this is almost comical, though the young man doesn’t even let a reaction out. Eyebrows furrow, you almost have the reflex to throw something at your mirror. 

“I wasn’t- I didn’t even think it would work !”, you blur out a bit too loudly, letting your knees fall on your mattress. “I don’t have any dark, twisted desires, it’s not my fault !”, quickly losing yourself in excuses and defenses, you don’t notice Jaehyun’s smile growing wider at your attempts, passing back and forth in your mirror. “Even ! What did the others wish for ?”, you ask, clearly annoyed by the one way argument you just had. 

The question seems to pick the entity’s interest, you finally notice the habit he has of facing you when something interests him and, on the contrary, mindlessly passing until you’re done speaking when he isn’t interested at all. “Ah, what did the others wish for ? Doll, I do not think you’re ready to hear humanity’s most twisted impulses.” 

Curiosity and pride poked, you quickly blur back, crossing your legs. “I summoned you. I think I can hear it.” Eyes narrow, the young man takes a few seconds to judge, “Don’t you have some class work to do ? Friends to see ? I do not know, church to attend ?” You almost laugh at that, almost forget what time he probably comes from to speak in such a way. “No, I don’t.” It’s probably the slight determination in your voice mixed with the urge to tell his stories that does it for Jaehyun. Though he sighs, it’s almost a content one he has while remembering the endless acounters he had. “What do you think people summon me for ?”, he suddenly asks, starting again with his infinite passing. 

“Money, power.”, you start, and he only nods without looking at you. Suddenly, Jaehyun disappears and you almost back against the head of your bed, if it isn’t for his voice coming from the smaller mirror in your dressing table. God, how you feared it was haunted when you first bought it, even if it was straight out of ikea. You guess that now, it is. “Power.” Jaehyun eventually goes to the mirror in your bathroom, seemingly effortlessly, “Money.” You hear his voice resonate, even in this room full of furniture. Finally, he comes back again to your main mirror, the one you summoned him on. “Love.”,  a lion in his cage. 

Only then, do you notice your name still written in red lipstick, one you should probably clean off if you weren’t so scared of coming close to him. 

“Humans are greedy, so greedy to have what isn’t meant to be theirs. They’d go to great length for a twisted illusion, a flawed reality their selfish heart craves.”, he speaks through gritted teeth, it sends a shiver down your spine, makes the atmosphere colder. “I’ve had a prince, once. The second born, far far from the throne.”, Jaehyun starts, a finger tapping on his chin. “Do you know what he wished for, once he had the guts to summon me ?”, the entity suddenly asks, abruptly turning towards you. Taken back, all you can do is shake your head from left to right, hands gripping the fabric of your jeans. He told you, that people summoning him gave him more energy. You wonder if staying in the presence of the one calling him gives him more too, the effects he has on your small dorm are even more noticeable now than last night. 

“For his entire family’s death.”, Jaehyun related. 

He says this simply, so simply. If he notices the slight shift in your breathing, he doesn’t point it out and continues. 

“Such a naïve, naïve boy.”, Jaehyun hums, a slight pout on his lips. “He makes me think of you. He didn’t think it would work. But, unlike you, when he saw me, he knew what he wanted.” There’s a slight pause, where Jaehyun hums, like he’s remembering some details. “‘Tell me your deepest, darkest desires’, I said. ‘Kill them all’, the fool immediately said.” You have to say, you’re a bit captivated by how he reenacts the scene, hands flying in gestures. 

“Did you ?”, you ask almost dumbly, eyes wide. It’s like your brain still hasn’t processed everything the entity in front of you can do. It’s only when the entity gives you an empty look that you let a small, “Oh” tumblr from your lips. Obviously, he did. It’s the morbid curiosity, the one that almost has you asking how he did it but, you push it away. You convince yourself that you don’t want to know nor hear it and thankfully, Jaehyun continues before you can open your mouth. “Poor thing, he wasn’t on the throne for long.”, the man notes. For the first time, something dances in his eyes. Something he’s hiding from you has his lips parting in a quiet chuckle, like he’s remembering an old joke. 

He’s capable of murder. That, you know now. A dip in your stomach, it’s probably the way he talks about it so nonchalantly that frightens you the most. You don’t doubt, the entity probably saw and experienced a lot. Now, can you blame him ? He’s tied to a ritual, probably forced to grant wishes. You wonder, what would happen if he doesn’t act on them. Is he at fault for all the things he did ? You almost question your own morals. 

“What do people ask for the most ?”, you wonder out loud. Jaehyun doesn’t seem to mind the questions and, the lack of homework, phone and intimacy has you stuck with him. Might as well. The entity seems to pounder for a bit, you think you might go crazy only with the way he keeps walking back and forth in your small mirror. 

“Love.”, he finally tells you, never stopping his steps. “But it’s never true love, it’s never as perfect as they pictured it.”

So, he’s capable of forcing feelings on someone ? For the nth time, you wonder exactly what he’s capable of, where his powers stop. And here you were, asking for popularity. Sure, it could help in the long run but, you could’ve asked for so much better. But, you still have a second wish, right ? It’s there, suddenly, that you remember why you and your friends tried to summon him in the first place. Eyes wide, you move a bit closer to the mirror, though keeping some distance. 

“Is it true ? Eric ?”, you ask suddenly. It’s all because your friend talked about him, all because of a dumb rumor he heard.

“Eric ?”, Jaehyun needs a few seconds to place the name again, furrowed eyebrows relaxing after a moment. The name seems to bring some discomfort into his features and, though it disappeared after a moment, you still notice it. Silent for a moment, you press on anyways. “That he summoned you, it’s true, isn’t it ?”

Oh, how you probably shouldn’t have asked. If Jaehyun is able to control his emotions, his features turning cold, unreadable, the effect he has on your dorm can not go unnoticed. Air cold, dense, you don’t take long to understand his experience with Eric probably was not the greatest. But again, isn’t Jaehyun a powerful entity ? Why would his reaction be so radical to such a normal human ? 

“He did.”, the young man finally says, cold, abrupt. 

Is he the reason why Eric went at the top of his class ? It probably is but, what you’re most curious about is why exactly, the old college student turned so...weird. Sure, you don’t doubt the experience of successfully summoning a demon might...change someone but, it seems Jaehyun didn’t have him in his heart either. Did something happen between them ? Did Eric not grant Jaehyun’s final wish ? Were the rumors true ? Your brain’s deciding between asking and dropping the subject and, as you’re about to open your mouth again, the entity beats you at it. 

“Shouldn’t you go take a shower ? Rest early tonight.” and, just like that, he disappears from your mirror. 

People have told you many times. 

“Curiosity killed the cat.” 

You should not be here, at all. You’re supposed to have a major class right at this moment. But, a teacher being sick and a lack of substitute teachers appeared like a sign of the universe to you. See, Jaehyun’s abrupt disappearance left you with more questions, questions that only duplicated the moment you finally took a well deserved shower - after covering your mirror with a towel, just in case.

What happened with Eric ? Probably the last thought before sleep knocked you out in mere minutes. And really, the universe wouldn’t have made it so easy to find him if they didn’t want you to search, right ? A few texts here and there, Johnny yet again managed to help you more than he can imagine. Eric’s address was sent to you fifteen minutes after your class was officially cancelled and, you took the chance. Faking having some questions about both his major and job, Johnny didn’t ask any more questions. 

And here you were. Right in front of Eric’s building.

The richer, nicer era, one you never visited before. After all, you don’t know anyone living there. Pretty, tall and new buildings, small parks, high end stores. One can only dream of living in such a nice era a year after leaving university. 

“Curiosity killed the cat.”, you think again. In front of the old university student’s building, glass doors pushed open to reveal a pristin, clear and minimalist lobby. “But satisfaction brought it back.”, you tell yourself. 

What are you doing here ? You don’t really know. All you can really understand and form in your fogged up brain is that Eric, him, might be the only one able to understand you at this very moment. Maybe he has answers to the questions you have and are too afraid to ask. What could go wrong ? A lot, actually. But you -once again - decide to act on impulse rather than think about it. It’s a slight confidence you have that goes to your head, fogs any other rational thought. 

The lobby’s empty, calm. An abstract beige and white painting hung at your right, you immediately notice the ceiling high mirror on your left. Your reflection, it’s almost weird to see it. It has you doubting, doubting that this, is even your image here. But, you push the thought aside quickly, walking towards the little letter boxes. Kim Eric, Kim Eric. You don’t take too long to find his name tag, right next to his apartment number. Right at the top of the building, you can’t even begin to imagine the price he must’ve payed. 

Nonetheless, you make your way towards the single elevator. There, another mirror. You might think Eric was just a weird kid, that Jaehyun never had anything to do with this. After all, wouldn’t he want to live somewhere without mirrors if the rumors were true ?

Facing the metal doors, you turn away from the mirror, head moving to the calm tune of the metal box. Unconsciously avoiding the glass yourself, you’re standing closer to the opening than usual. 

What you do not see, is your reflection not following your movement, glaring into your skull. 

That weird feeling of being watched again, isn’t it ? It creeps up your spine and you try your best at pushing it aside, forcing your brain to focus on the quiet melody. A small part of your brain fears, if you turn around right now, would Jaehyun be facing you ? He’s everywhere, you’re aware of that and yet, decide to cover this truth. 

Thankfully, the elevator doesn’t stop until the very last floor, letting you escape the small cubicle before you can feel too uncomfortable, before the courage wears off and has you overthinking. And, only then do you really realise what you are doing. Visiting someone you don’t know at all, only heard rumors about only because the two of you happened to summon the same entity.

Should you really be doing this ? It seems Jaehyun doesn’t have Eric in his heart, wouldn’t he be mad ? But, he said he couldn’t do anything to you, you just have to do it, for closure. Do it, for closure-. Before your brain can stop you, you take the few steps towards Eric’s door, 165 written in golden letters on the pale wooden door. Clean carpet, big windows letting you have a breathtaking view on the area, you wonder for a second time how much money he must make to afford this place. Bringing your fist up to the door, you knock a first time. 

Silence. A kind of deception slowly takes over your body but, you guess you should’ve thought about it, maybe he’s working or, just out, like a regular citizen. 

Pure silence falls and you now wonder if you did not misread the signs, if you really should be here. Head hanging low, you’re almost about to mentally beat yourself up before your eyes fall on it. Covered by a thing, white sheet, something’s placed right against the wall. Neatly packed, you for a second think it’s a set of paintings. But, it’s the smallest of seconds, you don’t need more to understand right then. 

“Curiosity killed the cat.”, you think for the nth time, but you act on it, yet again. Eric isn’t here anyways, no one would notice. Slightly leaning down, you take the sheet between your fingers and lift it up. Paintings, thin pieces of wood, it could’ve been anything but hélas, covered under the fabric is what you feared most. Different mirrors, different sizes, obviously from different rooms. There’s a sigh that tumbles from your lips, are you going to end just like this ? Scared of mirrors, avoiding them ? It’s just when you get back up that you think your heart might jump out of your body. 

“Excuse me ? What are you doing here ?”, deep, breathless voice comes from the stairs you didn’t even notice. Jumping away from the door, a hand lands on your beating heart, a soundless gasp at the border of your parted lips. Eric stands clueless.He’s an average sized man, clearly out of shape, slender eyes with a prominent european nose. He does not know you but you, on the other hand, saw pictures of him. If he looked weird a few years ago, it might be worse now. If you look out of place with your regular, broke college student clothes, he does even more. Dirty, washed out and oversized t-shirt, long, brown greasy hair, he grips the iron next to him. He took the stairs, all the way to his apartment to avoid the mirror, it strikes you there. Slight anxiety takes over you, you didn’t expect him to be like this, you didn’t expect to feel so...off. 

“I-uh. Eric ?”, you ask, already knowing the answer. Slightly taken back, you let the way to his door free for him to walk, not knowing how to act towards him. He, still seems distant, rightfully so. Wavy, dry hair brushed out, his runs a hand in it before fishing for his keys. 

“Are you selling something ? I’m not interest-.”, he mumbles. You notice the bags under his eyes, dried lips. He almost looks sick, he acts like an old person in a young body. 

“Oh, no ! My name’s Y/N. We’re from the same university.”, you tell him. He doesn’t look so convinced, slowly walking towards his door. Even when he puts his key in, he still has an eye on you, like he fears being robbed right there. 

“Uh ? And what do you want ?”, the man groans out. He has you taking a step back again. How are you supposed to tell him exactly ? Shit, you didn’t think about that, at all. A “Hey, we summoned the same entity !” surely won’t do it. The lack of words from your side seems to annoy him quite quickly. Taking a step in his apartment, he immediately used the door to shelter himself, only letting his upper body be seen. He doesn’t look happy, at all. And yet, he has such a pretty apartment, right ? It’s only when he turns his light on that you see the state of the inside. All windows closed and blocked, clothes, empty boxes of instant noodles on the floor alongside a bunch of papers, it looks like a madman’s home. Even his home gives you weird vibes and suddenly, a part of you doesn’t want to be here. anymore.

Eric notices your wandering eyes and, it’s here he has enough, closing his door a little more. “Listen, Y/N. I don’t have your time right now, so-.” 

For a second time, you cut him off. “It’s about Jaehyun.”, you blur about without another thought.

His annoyed look turns frightened in seconds. The name seems to bring back a lot, things you don’t doubt he was trying to get away from. Glossy eyes wide, chapped lips parted, he looks like he’s about to have a heart attack, or like he just saw a ghost. Fuck, what did you just do ? He caughts a bit but, he isn’t as good as the entity when it comes to hiding his emotions. “I-I don’t want to talk about it. It’s just a dumb legend anyways.” Oh, he’s trying to deny, deflect. The moment he’s about to close the door, you act quickly and let your shoe block the door. 

“I did it too.”, you tell him, almost breathless. It almost feels good, to say it but, it lasts for mere milliseconds. Clearly, it doesn’t feel as good for the oldest. You think he might cry when the words process at this very moment, a sound tumbles from his lips. However, no words are said. His eyes fall upon the sheet covered glass at his shoes and, before you can understand, he manages to shut his door in your face. He sounded paranoiac, looked like a maniac. Is that what happens when dealing with Jaehyun, will you end up like this ? Surely, he was the reason why the old university student turned this way, that’s what the rumors say. 

“Leave !”, he shouts and, if anyone’s in the second apartment, you’re sure they can hear. 

“But, Eric, I just wan-.”, you try, desperate. 

Curiosity killed the cat.

“Right now !” 

Curiosity killed the cat. 

“You vazey, you’re an absolute idiot.” 

Unlike last night, you don’t think twice before opening the door to your dorm, almost slamming the iron knob right on your thin wall. Just like you thought, Jaehyun barks at you the moment the door’s closed, barely waiting for the lock to click. He knows, he knows you tried to get answers from Eric, there’s no denying it. 

“You were there.”, it’s a statement more than a question, one you throw at the same time you do your bag, sliding on the floor before it abruptly stops when it hits your mirror. If that’s even possible, the entity gets closer to the border between his world and your own, gritted teeth has him speaking lowly. “I told you, forever in the nearest mirror.” A dark promise, one you now understand the meaning of. He’s linked to you, whether you want ot admit it or not, it has your body covered in goosebumps. 

“You shouldn’t have gone there.”, he continues, sighing heavily through his nose. Clearly, he didn’t think you would visit the old college student, let alone try to question him and tell him about your experience. “He’s mad, he’s dangerous.”, the entity continues. And that’s what does it for you. Abruptly turning towards the mirror, it’s like you quickly forget about the power he holds. 

Anger bubbles up in your chest, it pushes words out of your mouth, “You’re the one who drove him mad !” 

If you fear the entity, you do not show it. Heart pounding, palms sweaty, you keep a straight face. You’re ready for anything and everything. He might scream, make your room even colder, use his powers but, you don’t expect his reaction. He laughs, he laughs almost maniacally. So close to the mirror, the entity shoves his hands in his pockets, leaning closer until you think he might come out. 

Jaehyun could’ve said many things at this moment, he could’ve said the truth. But, unbeknownst to you, his feelings take over. He’s a creature of anger, pitiness, even. 

“He knew the deal.”, he spits out. Voice going deeper, you fear it might turn inhuman. 

“And so, you decided to drive him mad ? He looks miserable.”, you bark back. You’re too far gone to stop yourself right now. The pounding of your heart rings in your ears, it clouds your brain and has you repeating the same sentence again and again but, you never voice it. Would he do the same to you ? 

“I could’ve done much, much worse, doll.” It’s a whisper, like a promise of things he might just do to you if you keep acting in such a way. The nickname doesn’t have anything sweet in it, it’s harsh, a slap in the face. Swallowing harshly, you keep your eyes on the entity, faking a lack of expression, a lack of fear. Clearly, he likes it, a small smirk tugging at his lips but nothing shines in his eyes. If you thought he was normal the night before, if you pitied him hours ago, it’s quite hard now that he looks even more twisted than Eric. 

“And what, exactly ?”, you dare to ask, keeping your voice firm. Jaehyun’s smile only turns wider, head leans to the side. A few locks of his hair fall in front of his piercing eyes, he judges your reactions. 

“Come closer.”, he starts, keeping his voice quiet. “And I’ll tell you.”, the entity gets right back at you, daring light in his eyes. You know, you know he can reach out at a certain point but you take a step closer anyways. Your heart starts pumping faster, threatening to burst out of your ribcage, it creates white noise, blurs your eyes, restricts your air ways.

“She’s a daring one.”, Jaehyun notes, twisted smirk. He’s close, so close. You’ve never been this close to him, ever. If he was out, you would’ve been able to feel the air he blows out on the bridge of your nose, if he wasn’t an entity, you’d be able to see the colorful particle in his eyes. His tongue rests on his pointy canine, lightly traveling to his lip.

“I saw it, the pity in your eyes.”, he starts, a sort of anger in his voice but, you do not flinch. Keeping your eyes on his, you blink slowly, trying to calm your cardiac rhythm, breaking slowly through your nose. “Do you think I’m all alone, here ?”, Jaehyun asks. But, he does not even need an answer. By the way your eyebrows furrow for a second, he understands you never thought about it. 

“Ah, stupid fucking kid.”, he growls lowly, you stay silent. “Do you remember the prince I told you about ?” This time, you simply nod, remember when the young looking man told you that he didn’t even stay on the throne for too long. Jaehyun laughs again, the sound lightly resonating in your room, coming out of the different mirrors you own. “He’s trapped with me, here. I’m not alone.”, Jaehyun explains and, the light that flashs in his eyes tells you that he isn’t lying. Yet, you question it. Mouth agape, eyebrows furrow, the attempt you made to calm your heart fails. “That can’t be.”

“You seem to underestimate my powers, doll.”, and finally, like he’s letting you breathe a bit more, he leans back. He giggles there, both his hands behind his head as he lets his torso fall backwards. You’re not even able to form a proper sentence in your mind and, when he senses the lack of words, the entity continues, unbothered by the reality of his actions. People wouldn’t willingly go in the mirror, if that was even possible, right ? 

“I know what you’re thinking. Ah- it’s so easy to read you, darling. Is it possible for a human to join me ?”, he voices your question without you having to. “You can but, only for a few minutes. If you don’t leave quickly enough, you’re trapped here.” It’s the realisation crashing over you that makes you take a step back. Finally, when your brain goes on high alert, when your body tenses and your senses heighten at the risk, you find your words again. “No one would willingly do that.”, you blur out, trying to find a loophole somewhere. Surely, he’s bluffing, trying to scare you, right ? 

“Doll, you seem to forget that I have a wish too.”, his words have you dizzy but, your body isn’t able to back away again, forced to stay close enough, too close. “It’s simple, really. I wish for a dance and, they have to. When the dance’s over, they rarely have time to run back to their little, real world.” The brunette chuckles again, deep, gravy, bone chilling. 

“You don’t believe me ?”, Jaehyun continues, faking being hurt. He leans forward again, captivating you with his deep eyes. “Do you want to see them all ?”, he asks, lips in a wide smile. He could very much do this to you too, would he ? You shake your head from left to right quickly, fear clear in your eyes, he traps people. God only knows how many. You think you might choke on a cry right then, you don’t think you’ve ever been so scared in your life. Trapped, he seems to do it without a second thought, without an ounce of regret. What did you get yourself into ? 

“Good. Good girl.”, he cooes. “Know your place.” 

For a second time, his face’s too close to you. Having you so close probably gives him more energy and, as the seconds pass, you think you might pass out on the floor. You even think he might lean out of the mirror, like he said he could but, before you can open your mouth again, say anything that could help your case, he beats you at it. “Didn’t they tell you to be careful ? Curiosity killed the cat.” and just like that, he disappears again, you fall into your knees.

In the middle of your first year in university, you found out you didn’t really like frat parties. But see, if they can give you a reason to avoid your dorm, you’ll take anything. Anything, really. 

Loud music blasted through the house, a crowd of people you barely know, you don’t even think you ever saw this place without the party, multicolor lights. You also think you already wore this dress for another one of their parties, earlier on your first year but, you didn’t really think twice about your clothes today. You’ve been here for an hour at best and, the only thing you did was drink a bunch of water, checking your phone every now and then. Unfortunately, none of your friends were able to make it and, a good part didn’t want to come as they weren’t even invited. 

Leaving you all alone in a party full of popular people you never ever spoke to before. You didn’t really blame them. But anyways, wasn’t that what you wanted, popularity ? This is part of it, right ? Fuck, how can you hate something you wished for ? How can you hate it so, so much. Maybe you should leave ? You don’t even like the music they’re playing or the drinks they’re mixing together. You even thought about paying for a hotel but, you know Jaehyun wouldn’t have any difficulty finding you again, he’s attached to you. 

Maybe you should take all your mirrors out, just like Eric did but again, you still have a wish. He still has one, you can’t see yourself leaving in fear for the rest of your life. Dodging every mirror, acting like a maniac. It’s when you’re in deep thought, leaning against the kitchen counter that Johnny decides to join you.

“Hey, Y/N ! You made it !”, the tallest has to speak loudly over the music, holding a red cup in his hand. His everlasting smile on his face, he managed to get a tired one out of you. “Yeah…”, you start, taking a sip of your drink, it surely didn’t help your dry throat. You’re not even having fun here, you look like you’re waiting for someone who’s never going to come. “I didn’t even know Taeyong knew me. I was a bit surprised when he invited me.”, you blur out, trying your best to make a conversation. 

“Actually, he told me he saw you a few times and thought you were cute.”, your friend says, a cheeky smile on his lips. The confession has heat burning your cheeks for a moment, lips parted. Taeyong ? The Lee Taeyong ? You think your friend’s pulling a prank on you but you know him enough, Johnny wouldn’t be the type to do that. 

“I-. Wait, really ?”, you ask, dumbfounded. It’s the effect of your wish, you know it but, you clearly weren’t prepared for that. Do people like you now...Because of this ? Without knowing you, without ever talking to you ? 

“Yeah, really ! You should go talk to him.”, you’ve known Johnny to be kind of the Cupid of his friend group and, he takes the role quite well. Pointing at a corner, you can distinguish one of their couches, occupied by Johnny’s friend group. Before you even know it, a gentle hand’s on your shoulder, helping you through the crowd, sweaty bodies dancing mindlessly, such a cliché. 

You can’t even find a way to escape. Finally, you’re right in front of the said group. Boys and girls, all sat on the couch, some on the others, you would want to sit on someone in such heat. Some girls are hanging out with them too, flashing you a nice smile as you awkwardly stand next to Johnny, like a lost puppy. 

“Look who I found !”, Johnny happily shouts, catching everyone’s attention. Then, you decide you hate it, too many eyes on you. A girl you don’t even know the name of sits straight and waves, “Y/N ! It’s nice to see you, it’s been so long !” Do you know her ? Her face’s vaguely familiar but at best, you might have seen her during a first year party. You hate it, entirely. All you can do is nod slowly as you feel your heart pics up, your palms grow sweaty. Taeyong’s in the middle, legs spread on the couch, he has one of his friends moving from his seat to give you some space. “Here, sit !”, he invites with a warm smile. 

What can you do ? You obey, sitting down next to the young man. You need to sit down anyways, feeling the heat crash over your body, it makes your head light, your mouth dry. You sit in fear you’ll pass out. You can almost feel the energy being drained out of you. Maybe popularity isn’t for you. The music seems to fade away, just as your heart pumps in your ears again. It rings, something familiar now. Has the room always been this size ?

“Y/N ? What game do you prefer ?”, from the tone Johnny has, it’s probably the second time he’s asking you this and, before you can even find another solution or, the strength to socialise, you get up. He flashes you a look, Taeyong a curious one you can’t really see as he’s behind you. 

“Can you please hold my drink, I need to go to the bathroom.”, you blur out. 

“Oh, sure !”, always the nice one. Poor Johnny, you almost shove your glass in his hand, slashing some water on his fingers as he covers the opening. “First door on your right when you take these stairs.”, he says. 

If you could, you would’ve ran to the bathroom. Your steps are stopped when you cut right through the dancing crowd, using your elbows to make your way. It’s crazy, how big their living room is and still, you manage to feel strapped, like the walls keep moving away from you, making it impossible to reach the stairs, the escape. You think someone drops a bit of their drink on your dress but you don’t really care at the moment, walking with quick steps when finally, you’re out of the circle. 

Running up the stairs, your hand lands on the wet patch the unknown drink left at your side, nice.You don’t know what it is, it sticks to your fingers, probably sugary. Finally, the music seems to fade naturally when you reach the first floor, pushing the door of the bathroom without a second thought. As said, you’ve been to parties before, you know bathroom can be...unlocked and busy. Thankfully, no one’s there and you’re able to lock yourself in the bathroom, completely sheltering yourself. 

Turning the light on, you quickly find the sink, hands gripping the border before you lean forward a bit, opening the faucet. 

“Popularity isn’t for me.”, you tell yourself, eyes set on your reflection. Forehead sweaty, your makeup isn’t as good as it was when you left your dorm. Even, is it your reflection ? It seems you can’t even find a safe place anymore. You can’t help the tears that gather in your eyes, small transparent pearls threatening to fall at any moment, you can’t even trust your own reflection. Something grips at your throat, makes it hard to breathe and all you can do is let your head fall down, trying to calm yourself by running your hands under the cold water. 

You can’t even go back to your dorm, not wanting to see Jaehyun. It’s a mixture of fear and something else you can’t really identify, something that makes you regret acting in such a way. It’s crazy, how you almost thought things were going well for an actual entity you summoned. You guess you let things go to your head, forgetting the supernatural aspect of it all. You don’t think it has ever been so hard to see a future for yourself, so hard to find a solution to a problem, you feel stuck. 

Between the four walls of a foreign bathroom, you finally let a sob tumble from your lips. You unsuccessfully try and muffle it against your wet palm but, it all makes it too hard to breathe. Harshly turning the faucet off, you desperately try to find a rhythm. 

“Hey, kid.” 

You almost jump out of your skin. Taking a step back from the sink, you don’t even look up. A voice you know too well by now but, this time is doesn’t sound as harsh. Did he really have to appear so suddenly ? He didn’t help your breathing and you make that known when you glare up at the entity. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”, Jaehyun says. There’s something soft in his voice, something you surely are not used to. The mirror is much smaller here, you can only see from his upper body and has you focused on his face. Again, he’s good at hiding his emotions, cold face contracting with the tone in his voice. 

“It’s okay.”, you finally breathe out, not wanting to fight or scream right at this moment. You don’t think you have the energy for, at least. 

“Popularity really isn’t for you.”, he laughs and for once, it’s meant for you to laugh too. There’s a tired sigh tumbling from your lips, far from a laugh. 

“What are you doing here ?”, you ask, though the answer is obvious. 

“I told you, forever in the nearest mirror.”, he repeats and unlike yesterday, it doesn’t sound like a threat, more like a silent promise that he’ll watch over you. “Come closer.” 

And you do, a lot less fearful. Separated by the sink, you stand at its edge. 

“Don’t freak out, doll.”, the entity warns and, before you can even ask him why, he leans out. He leans out of the mirror. Though you don’t freak out, like he asked you, it still takes you by surprise. Mouth agape, the way he effortlessly lets his upper body detach from the mirror is hypnotising. He almost looks human, if it isn’t for his glass skin. The light of the bathroom reflects on the highest point of his cheek, you’d have to look a few minutes to understand if his skin’s pale or if he’s slightly translucide. Faded beauty marks and light freckles, you’d almost be able to count them. 

“There, good.”, he coes softly when you blink slowly. Jaehyun looks so normal, like you’d be able to pick a fallen eyelash on his skin. From here, you can detail his glossy hands, the grey tint at the tip of his fingers and before you can search for any trace of veins on his arms, he cups your cheeks. 

Skin cold, his hands a light touch like he isn’t sure if he should be touching you. The change in heat has you flinching for a second before relaxing, welcoming the cold trail his thumbs let under your tired eyes. 

“Breathe with me, I don’t want to see you having a panic attack.”, he explains. And, you do. Soft breath falls at the bridge of your nose, drying the small drops of water the faucet left on your skin. Through his nose, out his mouth, the entity takes the time and waits for you to match his rhythm. 

Jaehyun, Yoonoh, the entity you summoned is helping you calm down in the middle of a party you hate, that’s the thought you have to push away before finally, feeling yourself getting back to normal. Your heart regains somewhat of a normal rhythm, it stops ringing in your ears and most importantly, nothing restraints your throat. Then, you look up at the entity, big brown eyes checking up on your features, only then do you notice the small dots of gold near his pupil. 

You back away. 

Taking a step back, you detach your eyes from his own, he looks more alive out of his mirror and you’re not sure you want him so close. Or maybe, it’s the fact you do want him a bit closer that scares you. After all, he managed to calm you down easily, he’d almost pass as a normal student.

“Thank you.”, you manage to let out after swallowing down. After a small nod, he lets his body get swallowed back into the mirror. It’s crazy, how his appearance changes the slightest bit, enough that he loses the human like je ne sais quoi that made him familiar, friendlier almost. 

“It’s alright, doll. I’ve had my fair share of people to calm down but usually, it’s during our first meeting.”, he jokes a bit, regaining his attitude when he’s sure you’re alright. 

There’s a silence, a moment when you let the music come to your eyes, the setting sinks in your brain again. Johnny and his friends are probably waiting for you, you don’t even know how long you’ve been there. On the other side, Jaehyun takes a look at the bathroom you locked yourself in, sighing a bit at the music loudly blasting, making the walls vibrate every now and then. You now know how quick Jaehyun is to speak and, for the first time, you catch him, speaking at the same time. 

“I should go home.”

“You should go home.” 

“Nice shirt.” 

“Holy fuck, Jaehyun. You need to stop doing that.”, jumping to the side, you almost drop the towel you were using to dry the wet ends of your hair. 

Minutes after Jaehyun left the bathroom, you did the same. The party wasn’t an interesting one to you and so, you faked being sick to Johnny and his friends. Needless to say, many were disappointed for a reason you couldn’t really understand. At least, Johnny insisted on driving you to your dorm and soon enough, you found your safe space again. 

Strangely, Jaehyun didn’t make his presence known when you entered the room, you were almost used to having him waiting with a sarcastic sentence at the tip of his tongue. Nevertheless, you hung a towel on the mirror of your bathroom and took a quick shower, slipping into freshly washed pyjamas so quickly you almost fell down. 

Apparently, the young man decided to appear right when you stepped out of your bathroom, almost knocking your knee against some furniture. Easing yourself on your bed, you let your body at the edge, right in front of your mirror.

“But you always look like a cute deer caught in headlights. That’s the saying, right ?”, he asks, sitting down in front of you. You nod a bit, a slight smile on your face. “Thank you again, for earlier.”, setting the towel aside, you let your legs dangle. You should probably try and sleep but, it seems Jaehyun isn’t thinking about leaving right now. The entity doesn’t answer, simply nodding, almost not wanting to address the gesture. “I thought you left.”, you tell him, being truthful for the first time. 

“I was just mad.”, Jaehyun almost says, he almost voices his own emotions but decides against it. 

“You shouldn’t have gone to his house.”, he says again. But, unlike yesterday, he doesn’t sound as mad, as angry. You sigh anyways, he sounds like a parent scowling you, but you guess he’d be too old for that. But somehow, you know he isn’t really wrong. Eric didn’t even speak to you, nothing good came of it. Rather than voicing your opinion, you let your eyes travel to the side, avoiding the man’s gaze. 

“He’s dangerous.”, he starts, playing with his rings again. If you were in his head, you’d be able to witness the dilemma he’s facing. However, Jaehyun picks rather quickly. “Do you remember what I told you ? What people wish for the most ?”, he asks. It’s funny, Jaehyun always sounds like he’s questioning you, making sure you listen to him. “Love.”, you easily answer, attention picked. 

“That was Eric’s second wish. But as I told you, it’s never true love, its a fake emotions, I can’t- I can not force such a powerful feeling onto someone. It always ends up badly. When Eric’s “dream girl” - like he called her - didn’t love him like he wanted her to, he got mad.” By now, you know Jaehyun’s behaviour quite well. When he didn’t show much emotion while telling you the story of this unknown prince, the entity looks uncomfortable enough when thinking about Eric. Eyebrows raised, there’s a shiver that runs down your spine. The young man didn’t even say it and yet, you already know where it is going. 

“He tried to kill her one night.”, he starts. For an entity who saw, experienced so much, you think it’s how fresh it all is that has him showing so much emotion. Someone capable of murder, that’s who you visited without a second thought. The behavior, it all started to make sense. Your mouth hangs open for a moment before you find your words again. “Is she- Is she alright ?”, you ask first. 

“She was, I do not know her whereabouts as of today.”, he continues, letting one of his rings roll between his fingers. “I couldn’t let him do it. I used my wish to teach him a lesson, showed him things that went straight through his thick skin. He managed to escape in time but he left me with his.”, before you can ask, the entity lifts his right sleeve a bit more. On his arm, the young man has a wound. Almost unrealistic, the cut doesn’t have a trace of blood but it seems forever frozen in this state, never healing. “Said I’d make him pay and that was enough to install fear, forever.” 

The paranoia, the look in his eyes at Jaehyun’s name, everything added up. You almost feel like throwing up, you knew humanity had its vermin but never, never did you think they’d be so...close. You never thought you’d see the entity with morals. You’re glad he explained the reasons behind his actions, behind his behaviour. 

“I didn’t- I didn’t know you would get hurt.”, you tell him, almost whispering. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”, the entity simply replies. He isn’t wrong, reminding you of centuries he had before meeting you. You don’t even know his full name, or his story. 

“Then tell me about yourself.”, you blur out, not thinking twice. For the first time, Jaehyun is taken back, blank expression on his face. The entity takes a few seconds to process your words and you continue, taking over the conversation for the first time. “Do you ever tell your story ?” He probably never does, you wonder if it’s even a question to ask. Maybe too dark, too painful, you wonder for a second if the question won’t make him mad.

Finally, when the young man regains his attitude, he raises his eyebrows for a second, “People never ask me for it. I told you, humans are greedy creatures. They use me for their two wishes and try to forget about me.” There’s something sad in his words. Now, you understand. He probably feels used, has to do people’s dirty work, grant without a word to say. Somehow, it manages to tighten your heart. Sure, a side of your brain reminds you of the entity he truly is but, another one can not help but feel sad, sad for the life he isn’t even leaving. “Tell me, I want to know.” 

Unbeknownst to you, Jaehyun might feel the smallest spark of happiness. To be cared for. You’re probably asking out of politeness but god, does it feel nice to have someone asking you about your story. “Are you sure ?”, he asks anyways, fainting some arrogance, some detachment while he still can. 

“I was a human once, cursed.”, the entity starts, almost nonchalant. Eyebrows raised, you can’t help the slight gasp that tumbles from your lips. “Cursed ?” Scooting closer to the edge, the fear of being close to him slowly disappears. 

He nods a bit, before fully getting into his story, one he never really talked about to anyone else, now that he thinks about it. “Was born a long time ago, there’s nothing interesting about my life, really.”, like he’s recalling some old, old memories, he looks up for a moment, eyebrows slightly furrowed. You don’t ask when he was born, letting him continue without stopping him. “We’d get married quite young at that time.”, he notes. 

“I was 23 and had a few choices but there was this girl.”, Jaehyun continues and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this, slight smile on his face, it’s clear he’s remembering fond memories. “Pretty brunette, her name was Haseul. We were in love.” Love, something you for a moment thought the entity wasn’t capable of. Something flashes in his eyes, regret, probably. “We were supposed to get married but not everyone was happy with it. From the choices I had, there was this young lady, her name was Agnes.”, the young man says her name with venom on his tongue, you can now only imagine what she did.

“Agnes was supposedly madly in love with me and, when she found out me and Haseul were already talking about marriage, she did this.”, it’s like even after centuries, he isn’t quite able to put words on it. A deep sigh, the entity needs some seconds to find his words, leaning back on his hands. “It was rumored that she was a witch, I never really believed it.” Can you blame him ? You didn’t believe in him either, only days ago. Hands on the border of your bed, you lean a bit closer, captivated by the story. “What did she do ?” 

“I don’t really know how but, she used black magic to curse me here. Forever stuck, if she couldn’t have me, no one could.”, he says, almost nonchalant. He probably accepted his faith long ago but for you, who just listened to his story, you have something tightening around your neck. “He was a human too, once. Loved by the wrong person, punished for loving and giving himself to someone else. He ended up stuck for it, a faith you’d never wish upon anyone, not now that you know all the things he saw and experienced. Jaehyun didn’t even deserve it, you think it’s what saddens you the most.”

“Kid, are you alright ?”, Jaehyun asks, his head to the side. Fuck, you didn’t even have a second to hide the water building up at the corner of your eyes. Quickly using your shirt to dab the droplet away, you shake your head. 

“Y-Yeah. It’s just...I didn’t know you were human before.”, you start and, he laughs a bit. He tells you he’s used to it, many misjudged him as a demon. “You didn’t deserve this.”, you mumble, feeling the lump in your throat grow as you force yourself to keep a straight face. It’s probably the lack of sleep and the recent events that have you on your nerves.

“And, can’t you wish to get out ?”, you ask. Somehow, god knows why, your brain tries to find a solution, probably the humanity in you speaking up. “Can’t I wish for you to get out.” This seems to make the young man laugh, few locks falling in front of his eyes, he has to use his hand to push them back. “Ah, doll. You’re cute. Would you ever do that ?”, he asks, laughing. You don’t answer, would you ? Conflicted and yet, something tells you that you would. You would, because you’re a good person, right ? You wouldn’t want someone stuck in such a way, you wouldn’t let someone innocent suffer if you could get them out. Is Jaehyun innocent ? All the things he did, he had to. But again, he did trap people with him, didn’t he ? Two sides fight, relentless in your brain but somehow, the way he’s looking at you with malice, like he already knows you won’t do it has you nodding. 

You nod and, it has the power to make the entity’s eyebrows raise a bit, a slight smile on his rosy lips. “It’s not how it works.”, he finally says. 

“Is there a way to get out ?”, you’re too curious. If there was a way to get him out, would you do it ? You push the thought away, not wanting to question your morals, not right now. Probably sensing the conflict you’re going through, Jaehyun shrugs. “There is, but you don’t need to know.” At this point, the young man knows what he’s doing. He pokes your curiosity, makes you want and need to know more. Obviously, it works. “Tell me !” 

“It’s a ritual. It’s a bit gruesome, I don’t think you want to hear it now, darling. Requires someone’s blood, someone who truly loves me. See, the witch thought no one would ever love me as much as she did.”, Jaehyun explains, detailing your reactions at his words. Something twists at your stomach, blood ? An old ritual, you can’t even begin to think about all the things necessary. Someone who truly loves him, a big requirement when people summon him only to use him, never getting to know the entity. Again, can you really blame them ? 

“See, nothing really interesting.”, Jaehyun concludes, “But you, darling. Tell me about yourself.” 

Monday night. 

Days trying to function with little to no sleep, days with little to no privacy. You think it’s what you miss the most, privacy. Sure, you could put a towel up on your mirror whenever you took a shower but see, you couldn’t take long showers, longs baths. You always feared Jaehyun would appear out of nowhere, manage to get the towel out and then, then what ? And yes, Jaehyun never did that before, only time he truly appeared without you being prepared for it was last night, during the party but, it was for a good cause. Right now, laying in your bed, sheet almost entirely covering your face, it’s another time of privacy you’re longing for. See, you don’t remember the last time you touched yourself. Alright, maybe that’s a hyperbola, you do remember but it seems so, so far away. Few hours of sleep and so many events you can’t even talk about to your friends have you feeling almost jetlagged, having to check your phone for the hour and day. 

Staring at your ceiling, a deep sigh leaves your lips. You can’t sleep, you can not sleep at all and you have a trip to your home town tomorrow, things to do that require all your brain power. Your brain and body won’t fall into Morpheus’ arms and, you know exactly why. You need it, you need an orgasm so, so bad. It had been on your mind for a while now, it had been clouding your mind for hours now, actually. Hanging out with your friend today did help quite a bit, helping your brain think about anything else. But now, alone in the the middle of your bed, you can’t deny. Your body doesn’t lie to you, the way you have to close your thighs, the way your hands dangerously move inch by inch towards the center of the problem. Your mind does not lie to you either, foggy images, too clear and loud thoughts. 

Yes, you could give in, let your body and mind have what it graves. But, another problem’s right in front of you. The mirror Jaehyun would usually occupy. Fuck, he never announces himself, he never tell you when he’s coming. What if he just...Pops up again ? However, you found a loophole. If your phone doesn’t work when Jaehyun is here, in your mirror, whether you see him or not, the object starts working again when he fully leaves. God knows where he goes, who’s mirror he haunts but at the very least, you know when he isn’t there, right ? God, you know it’d put you to sleep. Picking your phone up, it’s clear the device’s working exactly like it should. You could be quick with it, right ? Two in the morning, you don’t see why Jaehyun would come back now, you really don’t. 

And, fuck it. The pale moonlight freely enters your bedroom, helping you distinguish the furniture in your dorm, letting you keep an eye on your mirror just in case. Ditching your heavy blanket to the side, you let the cold air brush over your naked legs. You managed to get out of your pants a bit earlier, struggling with the heat under your sheets. Your right hand softly lands on your closed core, immediately making your leg raise. Planting your foot on your mattress. 

Your index slowly traces your lips, over the already wet fabric. God, it’s been so long and you’re already wet. You barely needed to find a memory to get off to for that. The tip of your finger easily finds your bud of nerves, lightly pressing. The small gesture has you gasping softly, keeping your voice low enough. 

Enough of teasing yourself, you do not think you have time for this, nor the patience. Pushing your panties aside, you ease a finger between your lips. Finally, some friction. It is not long until you add a second finger to the mix, using a rhythm you know would get you off quickly. Biting down on your lower lip, you have to breathe through your nose, out your mouth to keep your whines quiet enough. Strangely enough, you find yourself thinking back to Jaehyun’s breathing, how his cold hands cupped your face so gently. 

In and out, you let a mewl out, unable to muffle it. His cold, ring hugged fingers, wouldn’t they feel so, so nice on your burning skin ? 

Oh, what are you even thinking about ? You should not, you can’t. Find something else to think about, another boy to hold your fantasies. It shouldn’t be so hard, right ? It’s almost pathetic, how your mind manages to go through a list of boys you know or once you and yet, the one that has been shaking your life up keeps numbing your mind. 

Don’t give in to your thoughts, a side of your brain yells at you. 

But there's nothing wrong in this, is it ? A little secret to keep to yourself, just like you’re keeping Jaehyun a secret from everyone.

Fuck, you can’t find your clouded mind at this very moment, you almost give it, let your fingers move faster with a picture pecfect imagine of glossy fingers, shamlesly, a name you never thought you’d moan tumbles from your lips. If only, if only you’d notice the weak flashing of your phone’s screen, the drained battery on the black screen for a few seconds before it went dead. If only you’d notice. 

“Well. What do we have here ?”, you almost jump out of your skin, you almost have a heart attack right here. You knew it, you knew you shouldn’t have done it. In a quick motion, you try and grab onto your sheet but, Jaehyun’s voice stops you. Frim, it’s an order he gives you. “Oh no, don’t try and hide yourself now.” 

Fingers naturally slowing down, you can’t help the pathetic whisper that leaves from your mouth when you lose the so needed friction. Even if the young man tells you not to hide, you have to close your legs again. You think you’d be mortified, completely frozen but, it’s pure frustration that crashes over you. “God, Jaehyun ! Can’t you warm before ?”, you groaned, your left hand on your forehead. Your right hand, on the other side, grips the thin sheet under your body. You’re probably staining but, you clearly don’t care right now. There’s a low chuckle from the entity, he doesn’t even seem fazed at all. Taking a final step closer to the mirror, something flashes in his eyes. “You’re the one who called me.”, he points out. His own fingers gaze over his jawline and you almost slap yourself, you shouldn’t have such thoughts. But they do look so, so inviting. Did you call him ? Oh, you did, without even realising. 

“I heard you.”, he hums, arrogant. He seems so, so amused by the situation. Pearly white teeth bite down on his lower lip for the faintest of second, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ah, I thought you were calling me because you were in danger, doll. But here you are, touching yourself and moaning my name ? What a dirty, naughty little slut.”, the nickname rolls out his tongue too easily, it strikes right, numb your brain even more. 

There’s no point in denying it but, somehow, you try and act like his words aren’t affecting you at this very moment, like he does have your thighs closing, core aching. “Don’t call me that.”, you try, breathless. Only then do you notice the change, the sudden heat in your bedroom. A smirk grows on his rosy lips, “Why ? You clearly like it.” 

“Go away.”, you try, half believing it. 

“You don’t want me to. Why leave when you were moaning my name ?”, he barks right back. Clearly, the back and forth amuses him, it fires him up, he loves when they put up a fight, even already lost. You stay silent for a moment, unable to find words, a sentence that could make sense. “Come on, doll. Show me.”

That voice, you don’t know if you heard it before. Sultry, soft, it feels like velvet. Smooth, inviting, he has you hypnosed and, before you know it, your legs fall open. Heart pumping rapidly in your chest, its excitement that pumps into your vein but, you don’t want to admit it yet. 

Oh, the joy and cockiness that flashes in the brunette’s eyes. You think it’s the growl he lets out that takes your breath away, legs trembling. “Come closer, darling. Let me see you.” And you do. Just like last night, you scoot closer until your legs are dangling from your bed. It’s lust speaking, lust acting on your numbed, dizzy mind when your thighs spread open for him to see. 

“Pretty.”, he notes and, before you think about doubting your actions, ask him what the two of you are doing at this very moment, he continues. “Show me what you were doing.” 

Under his eyes, your right hand finds your drenched core again, hooking the fabric of your underwear to the side, you easily let your two fingers part your core before slipping them in. There’s no point in hiding your moans anymore, soft whispers tumbling from your lips. 

“God, you’re so wet.”, he notes. “Faster, fuck yourself faster.”, Jaehyun orders lowly. Captivated by his voice, you do, fingers moving at a rapid pace. It feels too good, surreal, almost. 

“Jaehyun, what are we-.”, you start, though it turns in a moan. 

“Sht, shut up. ‘m trying to make you feel good, yeah ? Isn’t that what you wanted ?”, it is, you think to yourself. The side of your brain, desperately trying to fight against it finally lets go, gives in into the pleasure. “There you go.”, he hums happily once your head hangs backwards. “Tell me, what are you thinking about ?”

The words get caught in your throat. Eyes heavy, you need a few seconds before being able to speak up again. “Your fingers.”, you admit, any ounce of shame finally leaving your body. It accepts the pleasure Jaehyun is guiding you towards. “Slow down.”, he instructs and, you do so, a small pout on your lips. 

“Look at that. Who thought you’d beg me to let you cum some days ago ? Weren’t you the one who pulled a knife on me ?”, he coes. He isn’t wrong, you whine softly at the slow rhythm you now have to keep up with. 

“Jaehyun, please.”, you whine out. Tired, sensitive, you’re on the bridge, only waiting for him to let you fall. 

“Please, what ?”, what he does next almost has you moaning. Leaning out of the mirror, his skin goes glossy again, just like in the frat house’s bathroom. Shining under the moonlight, his upper body’s so close. The same human like je ne sais quoi, one that has you leaning closer, closer to him. The coldest of his fingers, what you were thinking about seconds ago, you feel them again. In the dead of the night, skin burning, the entity places his hand right around your neck. He isn’t even pressing and yet, he manages to get your breathing uneven. “Please what, doll ?”, he asks again, almost archly. “Please, let me come, please.”, you beg, throwing any shame and dignity out of your opened window. Clearly appeased and glad by your words, the brunette lets his fingers press harder, harder. Cutting your airways, he tilts your head up, enough that you feel obligated to look at him. “Come on, make yourself cum.”

Face close, he’s millimeters away, lips brushing against yours but never does he kiss you. Keeping his right hand around your throat, his left hand guides your fingers, helping you, guiding you. “Pretty little thing.”, he coes the moment he feels you twitching. Pretty brown eyes set on you, he details, drinks in any one of your expressions. Under his gaze, you take minutes to hit it. Your orgasm is an intense one, crashes over your body, Jaehyun has to let you breathe. 

“There you go.”, voice soft, it sounds far, far away. You take minutes to come down, minutes for your mind to clear again. “Sht, it’s alright.”, you can hear the smirk in his voice and, before you can point it out, sleep knocks you out. 

Realization, it’s realization that crashes over you the next morning. Or rather, the next afternoon. It’s around one in the afternoon when you wake up, sunlight freely entering in your room. Birds, voices, cars, the city’s wide awake and shakes you up. Truthfully, you’d rather not wake up today.

Your gaze falls on your phone, battery intact and on, the multiple texts you have from your family makes you understand. You missed your train, great. Even better, you remember last night. Is it regret ? Rather something else you don’t understand. You don’t really regret what happened, rather fear what will happen next. Jaehyun isn’t human, not anymore at least. Stuck in a mirror, he’s bound to leave at some point. He’s an entity, doesn’t that clash with your morals ? 

Your brain goes miles an hour and you aren’t even able to stop it. Maybe, maybe a shower could help ? You need to get ready anyways. Family’s waiting, worried for you and here you are, stomach empty hanging a towel on the mirror of your bathroom.

What the fuck did you do ? That’s the question that keeps turning again and again in your head. But, it didn’t hurt anyone, right ? God, the grey area you’re in has you in a headache in minutes. Do you want him to leave, or not ? It’s a hard question, one you can’t answer, even at the end of your shower. Shouldn’t you want him to leave ? Isn’t he supposed to be a scary legend ? That’s the problem. He isn’t so scary, he isn’t so mean and cold. But again, he’s an entity. 

Tumbling in your bedroom, your hand runs in your hair out of pure frustration, passing back and forth in the hallway that connects your bed and bathroom, where Jaehyun cannot see you. It’s funny, you look like him now. Are you becoming like him ? Or worse, like Eric ? You don’t even have a wish right now. It’s then that you do what you’re best, or worse at doing, You act on impulse. 

Walking right in front of your mirror, you take a deep breath. You think the sweat gathering at your hairline’s going to ruin your makeup, the outfit you chose to wear isn’t appropriate for the weather. Anyways, you try your best a firm voice and call, “Jaehyun.” 

On cue, he appears. Slight smirk on his face, he looks too pleased, probably because of last night’s event. Is it a smirk or, a genuine smile ? That, you can’t really tell. The brunette told you, you were easy to read and before you can understand his emotions, he understands your own. His smile fades into something more serious, catching up. Something’s wrong. 

“Yes ?”, he asks, almost carefully. He never saw you like this, there’s a spark in your eyes he isn’t able to understand. Confusion, regret, fear, frustration ?

“I have my last wish.”, you tell him. Your heart’s heavy, for some reason. You shouldn’t be really, you think you found a solution to your problem, didn’t you ? “I want everything to go back to normal. Take back my popularity.”, you tell him in one go, once you have the courage to. 

For a second, you see amusement flashing in his eyes, like he’s about to make fun of your wish. Actually, he was about to, question you before he catches on. He catches on way too quickly. Amusement quickly turns to...Disappointment, anger. His eyes quickly travel from your eyes to a point in your room you can’t see, back to your eyes. Features twisted, his breathing slightly changes, so does the temperature in the room. 

“I know what you’re trying to do.”, it’s a growl, a dip in his tone that mimics the shift in the temperature, suddenly getting colder. 

The limp in your throat doesn’t help, cold sweat probably ruins your makeup as you try your best to keep your composure. 

“Jaehyun, it’s-”, you try, almost turning desperate. Your words get caught when he takes a step closer, you know he can and might lean out but he doesn’t do it, yet. 

“You’re trying trying to get rid of me.”, it’s laced with anger. Anger, venom and disappointment. It’s the lather that has your heart breaking. You’re human after all, it’s only natural that you feel bad about your decision. 

“I’m not trying to get rid of you ! It’s just that, after last night…”, you can’t even explain yourself, you’re unable to put words into your feelings. 

“I knew it, you’re like everyone else.”, he spits out. His nose crunches up, disgusted. The young man looks down at you, eyebrows furrow, lips twisting. “Using me.”, the words echo in your room, he uses every mirror to let you know. 

“Jaehyun, stop.”, you beg. You beg, tears in your eyes. Obviously, he doesn’t. He has it heavy on his chest, he’ll speak even if you don’t hear him. 

“Using me to get what you want, only to ditch me. Leave me. Forget about me.”, anger clear in his voice, it’s loud, louder than what a normal man could be. The slight fog around his body grows thicker, darker, almost threatening. Goosebumps on your arms, the shirt you’re wearing doesn’t help how cold you’re feeling. 

“I don’t want to forget you !”, you choke between tears, freely letting them fall down your cheeks. “You don’t understand ! You can’t - You can’t stay with me forever.” You hiccup, using your fingers to dry your tears. 

Jaehyun doesn’t answer, Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down as he blinks slowly. Anger has his jaw tight, chest raising up and down at a steady rhythm. 

“I could’ve.”, he argues but it’s clear he half believes it. He couldn’t stay forever by your side, you wouldn’t be able to live your life in such a way. Shooting him a look that says it all, he doesn’t argue, he doesn’t continue. “You said your wish anyways. So be it.” 

Unlike last time, it isn’t as happy, isn’t as fierce. It’s abandonment, he has to anyways. The glow behind him changes, shifts. 

You can’t feel the changes of your wish right away. Jaehyun stays a cold face, almost refusing to look at you. The breath you didn’t know you were holding gets out in a sigh, your shoulders flopping down. 

Silence. Silence for seconds while he looks to the side. 

And suddenly, he turns around again, looking right into your eyes. “I have my wish, too.”, he says, coldly. 

Before you can even argue, help him find something, offer one yourself, he cuts you off. Letting his hand out of the mirror, he doesn’t even completely lean out.

Looking down at his hand, you already know. You know what he’s going to ask for. “Jaehyun…”, you try, voice small. You don't want to cry again, throat completely cut. 

“I want a dance, darling.”, he says, nickname sounding cold. You were expecting this wish, somewhere in the back of your mind, you’d think that maybe, he wouldn’t want to let you go. Nonetheless, it still tightens you heart, makes it pound in your chest. 

If you could drop to your knees at this very moment, you would. But your body’s frozen, stuck in place. The plea you whisper isn’t of any use. You’re obligated to, before you even know it, your body’s pushed. 

Your hand lands in his, cold skin against your own. Touch gentle, he guides you towards him. 

To effortlessly move into another world, it feels like crossing a thin waterfall. You have to close your eyes when Jaehyun gently pulls your body towards the mirror. For a second, you don’t open your eyes, not knowing what to expect. Entire, pitch black room ? Jaehyun’s true appearance ? You don’t know, you can’t even begin to imagine. Your laced hands in the air, Jaehyun’s left hand placed itself in your back, classic position for a slow dance. “Y/N.”, he calls softly, too softly for the wish he just asked for. 

You look up. 

He looks normal, entirely human. No more glossy skin, you can see every small detail, every long lash, every freckle, deep dimples on each side of his lips. Milky skin, rosy lips. He doesn’t look as mad as he did previously, like having you right next to him managed to appease him. Unable to answer, you only look into his eyes. Even brighter, brown and golden sparks, the light he was lacking before is here, fully. He looks alive. When you don’t answer, a song starts playing, one you quickly recognise. Sway. It sounds far away, like a distant dream, it resonates. Only then, do you have the guts to look around. Jaehyun’s wearing the same clothes, around you, everything looks glossy. Glass walls without an edge, you could make the faintest outline of a castle, golden lights and pretty chandelier. Heavy, the pictures look wavy, like casted upon a distorted mirror. You can’t recognise not make anything else up. But, what takes you back, rips a gasp out of your lips, are the people. 

Dozens of people dancing, slowly to the song. They mimic you and Jaehyun’s movements as he guides you, makes you sway, bend under his expert hands. All those people dancing and yet, they all look empty. It’s only when your eyes fall upon a man, dressed in royal uniform that you understand. All these people, he trapped them all with him. 

You gasp and, as you’re about to question him, he speaks up. “Darling, look at me.”, he demands.

When you do, he meets you with a soft smile, comprehensive look in his eyes. “I understand, I understand why you did it.”, he starts. Finally, you’re the one to break him off. It’s clear he’s the one guiding your body, you don’t think you have any control over it at this very moment. He makes you dance in his makeshift castle, the only place he can rule over. 

“I didn’t know what do to.”, you confess. Do you want to leave him ? No. But the grey area it leaves you in keeps hurting your brain, thorns you apart every second. “My intentions were never to use you.”, you tell him, gulping down as you pass a couple twirling, clearly from different centuries. Jaehyun knows, the words he let out of pure anger, he did not think them one bit. After all, you didn’t even know what to wish for. “I know.”, he calmly says. Face close to yours, you don’t mind the proximity. “Enjoy the moment with me. Please, doll.” 

How can you truly enjoy the moment when you’re sure he’s going to trap you at any moment, have you stuck with him forever ? You almost lean into the idea, give in. You know this song well enough, the end is near and all you can do is look up into Jaehyun’s eyes. If he wants you here, you can not fight it. Can you ? 

The entity has his eyes closed, forehead against your own. Softly, he whispers out only for you to hear. “It was a pleasure meeting you. Thank you for making me feel love again.”, he starts. “But I can not be selfish.” Before you can let something out, his lips softly press against the bone of your cheek and, his hands let you free to move, moments before the end of the song. An arm in front of his, he bows down with a slight smile. It isn’t hard to see the sadness he isn’t hiding. “I guess this is a goodbye. Go, run.” 

You have well enough time and, when you understand that, you run, just like he asked. Heart pumping, you run, run towards the small frame where you can see the outline of your bedroom and, before you know it, the same waterfall. The sudden shift has you tumbling down, dropping to your knees. 

“Jaehyun !”, you don’t care about your voice right now, you scream loud enough. Down on the fall, facing your mirror, Jaehyun faces you again, squatting down like he loves to do. The same sad smile on his face. Your hand flat on the surface, you hit your mirror like you’re hitting a window. You see it, he’s facing, slowly. Translucid, it’s a question of seconds before he’s entirely gone. Then, when tears fill your eyes, an invisible hand twist your heart, you understand. 

Again and again, you tap on the glass.

“I’ll get you out, I promise !” 

[leviiattacks]

heyyy there, saw your requests are open. and i'm wondering maybe you could do a timeskip where everything is done and levi finally opened his tea shop. then there he met reader, and he treats them differently from other customers. thank you, hope you're having a good day.

author note :: this was kinda rushed as is most of what i post. the reader is a writer just bc i thought it would be cute and also ISTG. i wrote this entire thing thinking leviolas was such a cool name for a tea shop then googled it and saw it’s also the name of a spider so... ++ btw i have not yet double checked or proofread this because i wrote it at 2am but yeah it’s definitely not great :-) word count :: 2.4k??? somehow???

you’re sweet like honey when you first order from leviolas. you’re the same when you ask the owner for extra napkins and you remain exactly the same when you return with the intention to stick around for a writing session with a black tea by your side

something about you is attractive. that’s what levi thinks of you when you first walk into leviolas

you’re just incredibly wholesome poking your head around looking at all of the handmade pastries and confectioneries in admiration

you think the homely decor is cute and reminiscent of cottages in the countryside, the view outside the windows is beautiful and the scent of coffee alongside tea is heavenly

the pastries are beautiful and you find yourself eyeing the macrons pretty frequently. just EVERYTHING about leviolas is cute :-(

but one particular thing is especially adorable to you

and that would be the owner

when you hear his name for the first time you’re a little shocked

levi ackerman to be specific captain levi ackerman, the high ranking official who aided in paradis’ independence and freed the nation from the grip of titans

you read about him a year back in a paper or two and vividly recall the valiant title he held as humanity’s strongest soldier

he still holds the title that’s for sure but now he happens to own a tea shop

it’s slightly unusual it’s not every day you see a soldier retire and live such a plain life but you suppose the simplicity makes levi happy

honestly, if you had been through hell and back like him you too would wish to spend the rest of your days in the company of tea leaves and sweet cakes

today is a day like any other you’re sat by one of the windows and contemplating sitting in the outside seating area

the sun is shining and lands uncomfortably on your face at this angle and you may as well make your way outside

but before you can a shadow looms over you and a broad chest leans over to cover the window with dainty curtains

“you looked bothered by the light.”

oh god.

it’s him.

he’s standing there looking at you with an unreadable expression and all you can do is open and close your mouth not knowing what to say

humanity’s strongest soldier

levi ackerman

also known as the really really really attractive cafe owner you’ve been crushing on for the last few months now

seeing him up close is much more different to looking at him from the comfort of your seat or whilst you order

he’s normally got his back turned whilst collecting orders or another worker collects them as he prepares the beverages

that’s why the unexpected interaction has you nervous

you can always tell when he’s made your drink because he honestly has a way with tea leaves and you kinda want to gush about how much you enjoy it

but, no, no, no.

you’re panicking just looking at him

soft black strands of hair stick to his forehead, his undercut is oddly satisfying to stare at and he smells of pine trees which again is refreshing

“ah hahaha thank you for blocking the sun out!!”

why the fuck did you ha ha????

this is so awkward.

putting on your best front you beam up at him hoping your toothy smile doesn’t look stupid

then again it probably does because who the hell has a good toothy smile

nobody.......

levi’s gaze lingers on you but if he has anything else he wants to say he doesn’t make it known

instead he firmly nods and turns away

you’ve messed up,,

only!!! you manage to mess up even more....?

without thinking your hand latches onto the back of his blue button up and your face burns up realizing what it is you’ve done when he stiffens to a stop

as quick as your hand has grabbed onto his shirt it lets go and you awkwardly laugh again

hahahahaha

“i’m sorry i didn’t mean to hold onto you so hard i was just...wondering if you could let me in on your secret.”

the random sentence is one you’ve made off the top of your head because you don’t have any real reason for holding onto him

but thankfully for you the saccharine of your voice is enough to sway levi

when he turns to see you with the same smile eagerly awaiting his answer something sparks in him

his chest feels a little funny but he ignores it

“secret?” he questions

“yeah!! your tea!! you’re really good at making it and aaaahhhh” you sigh contently thinking back on it.

“i remember when i ordered rose tea one time. you made it beautifully and the taste was infused so delicately it was incredibly soothing.”

hearing you ramble passionately about what he loves to do makes his chest feel funny again

he doesn’t know what the hell is going on exactly

but the only way he can explain it is his heart somersaulting and flipping despite him not wanting it to

despite that, it’s quite enjoyable

it’s probably got something to do with your kindhearted demeanor or the way you always manage to give him a smile when you waltz in

but levi finds himself fighting to touch you more and more as the days pass

your collar is always haphazardly done and he wants to lean in and fix it

sometimes you’ll have an eyelash on your face and he wants to lean in to swipe it away with his thumb

occasionally he stares at your hair and wants to sort it out. half the time it’s all over the place from the wind

he wants to lean in and smooth it out.

all he wants to do is LEAN IN but he sees no valid reason to

he’s lucky he’s always able to catch himself before his thumb reaches your cheek (you’re very oblivious and never notice how close he really gets)

ever since your first encounter at leviolas a few months back he’s been dragged into your world of books and lively stories

it doesn’t take you long to break out of your shell and you’re always telling levi something new

he doesn’t speak as much as you but when you coax out a story or two out of him he’s always earnest

you’ve learnt a lot through the conversations

you’ve learnt about his lost comrades, the horrible things he had to see on the battlefield, how he hopes he’ll live happy with what he has left

there are certain conversation topics he skips entirely and you respect his boundaries

you and levi are sat by a window and a comfortable silence floats between you two

it’s been four months

four months since you asked what his secret was

come to think of it he never told you what it was

he’s intently staring at you as you drink the lemon tea he’s just made you and his stare is a little too intense

feeling nervous you pick up your cup hoping for something to occupy yourself

recently the butterflies in your stomach have been increasing in number but you know it’s wrong to fancy levi

you don’t know why you think that but it’s the fact that you’re sure you’re not his type

he probably likes organised people, dependable people, funny people

not you.

you’re just an irksome author who spends your days writing in his shop

honestly he finds you annoying he has to. you’re always hanging around here

however, you do remember the one day you did choose to write in the park he thought you had died or something. that made you feel a little sad because he can’t really help but automatically worry if his routine is broken and you happen to have accidentally become part of his schedule

no, like levi’s literally said he has your name in his planner and whenever he thinks of a new thing to make you he’ll write it down with your name next to it

but still,, you’re convinced he has to find you annoying

there’s no reason for thinking it but you DEFINITELY think it’s correct

absentmindedly you haven’t even noticed levi still staring at you

“y/n?”

looking up at levi he’s clearly worried about something

humming in response telling him to continue he does

“i like someone.”

oh.

“...i’m not sure they’d return my feelings, that’s why i mentioned it.”

you smile at him warmly and you feel your heart sink, obviously he has to like someone. it’s probably someone in the corps, someone strong, someone capable. you’re not any of those things.

“well, you need not worry. if a man as good as you fancied me i’d be over the moon. i’m sure they would too!”

keep optimistic, don’t let him see you upset.

levi’s cheeks grow bright red and he bashfully tries to hide his embarrassment by covering his face with his hands

you laugh when he doesn’t budge and stays in the same position 

“c’mon levi, confess they’ll accept you have nothing to fear.” you coo persuasively

finally letting up after a few seconds he lets his arms drop to his sides.

“would you date me?”

the question takes you aback and you stare at him startled

soon realizing the idiocy laced in the inquiry he quickly retracts his statement

“nevermind, that was stupid.”

ignoring him you still want to answer

“uh well, i would. i have thought about it on occasion.”

he’s blinking rapidly trying to process what you’ve just admitted.

“you’ve thought about...?”

“dating you. yes i have.”

“and why the hell would you do that?” you can’t tell if he’s mad at you

“you’re capable, respectful. you’re considerate and quiet. i mean it you’re an amazing man really. also your tea!! imagine getting to drink it every day.”

you really have to add in the part about his tea because you know he loves it when you compliment it :-)

“ok, you drink my tea every day already.”

his short uninterested response stings and the dam of regret bursts open 

you shouldn’t have said all of that.

you and levi sit in an awkward silence for what feels like an eternity. you don’t dare look at him and your course of action is too drink your tea as quick as possible before dismissing yourself.

but before you can set your plan in motion levi breaks the ice.

“let’s date.”

you freeze and your eyes grow to the size of saucers

what did he just say???

he has to be losing his mind

“but levi what about the person you like?”

his eyebrow cocks upwards and an amused expression stretches across his face.

“i was talking about you.” he confesses boldly

this is a fever dream, nope, nope nope. you can not comprehend that this is your reality.

pinching your arm you hiss a little when you feel the pain

okay so, you’re definitely not dreaming...

“i, you, me. you...you like me?” the sentence is a jumble of words but you manage to sputter out something that makes sense

“yes. i like you.”

he’s being so blunt you can’t tell if he’s being serious but when you remind yourself that this is levi you relax, a blunt straightforward confession is meaningful coming from him 

BUT THAT’S BESIDES THE POINT

HELLO???? HE LIKES YOU BACK?%^%^”*

you get all blushy and flustered and you let out another one of your awkward hahahahaha’s but it’s a good hahahahaha

cautiously testing the waters he grabs your hand from across the table intertwining his fingers with yours

the gesture is adorable. the buzzing sensation that travels through your laced fingers makes you giggle to yourself giddily

“leviolas suddenly a matchmaking agency now? ;-)” your joke is dry and unfunny and levi rolls his eyes at it 

“you’re not funny.”

“but you still like me.” you tease

“yes. i still like you.” he admits

a few days have passed since then

you and levi have been the talk of the town 

humanity’s strongest soldier finally found his flame???

the chatter and rumors spread like wildfire, both you and levi aren’t fans of being in the spotlight but nothing negative has been said so there’s no complaints so far

levi places a cup of tea in front of you, it’s a herbal kind because you’ve been complaining about a headache

today you’re explaining why you dislike the plot of beauty and the beast and how there’s so much wrong with it. from the weirdly toxic relationship to the power imbalance. levi stands listening attentively whilst waiting for you to take a sip of the tea

just as you’ve paused to take a large breathe and prepare yourself to continue explaining how unbearable that book is levi uses it as his chance to say what he’s been wanting to 

“drink up before it’s ice cold.”

following his instructions you interrupt yourself and take a gulp of the herbal tea

your eyes glimmer in approval. it tastes of strawberries and you’re delighted already feeling your mood slightly raise in response

“it’s GREAT?? what did you put in it?? it doesn’t even taste medicinal.” once again, you’re fawning over his tea

“so levi ackerman, what really is the secret to all these perfect cups of tea?”

and without a seconds hesitation he responds.

“i was making the tea for you. that’s the secret.”

it takes a while for the gravity of his words to sink it but when the meaning does you cup his face in your palms and peck him everywhere. he whines a little but you can tell he enjoys the attention

you find that you’re more than happy you’ve found a home in levi and his shop

and levi’s more than happy he’s found a home in you and your books

:-)

[whisperlullaby]

Just Say It And I’m Yours-Ch.1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Language, stalking ish themes

Words: 1490

Summary: Steve is considering retiring from being Captain America. He doesn’t remember why he took the shield or what it means for him anymore. Then he met you. 

A/N: First and foremost I am SO SORRY FOR BEING SO SHIT AT SUMMARIES. I just don’t want to give anything away. Second, this is my first series! So like, comment, reblog, let me know you want to see more of this. This story is going to start in Steve’s perspective and switch to the readers. I’ll let you guys know when the POV is shifting so no worries. So, this first chapter is told through Steve. Third, if I missed any warnings please let me know. Last but most CERTAINTLY not least, a very VERY special thanks to @river-soul​ for reading through this and assuring me it was a good first chapter. I am so grateful for you. Let me know what you think! (Gif by @navybrat817 )

“Steve, she's getting married tomorrow,” Bucky solemnly states as he puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “If you’re going to do something you better do it soon.” 

“I know Buck, but what could I say to her? I haven’t been able to tell her how I feel about her for years.” Steve looked out over the lake, his eyes pricking with tears. “She made her decision.” 

“You’re an idiot. You’ve been in love with her since you first saw her. If you don’t tell her, she’s going to make the biggest mistake of her life. We both know that,” Bucky sighed, raking a hand over his face. “I know she loves you. You need to talk to her. She can’t marry him Steve, you know the second she does she’ll be gone forever. The person you knew reduced to, whatever this shell of a person is.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck and looked down where the water was gently lapping against the shore. After a few moments, he heard Bucky make his way back to the lodge. As the small waves ebbed and flowed against the shallow shore Steve thought about you and how he was an absolute coward back when you were a big part of his life. 

One and a half years ago

Steve was sketching at Marine Park in Brooklyn during golden hour when everything seemed to glow. He needed a break from his Captain America responsibilities and every time he put his charcoal to the paper everything seemed to melt away. The world was vastly different since he came out of the ice and he felt his heart swell thinking about all the fights he had to endure in order to restore some semblance of peace in the universe. He was happy that he had his best friend back, cleared of the mind control Hydra put in him and he made so many new friends and a family in The Avengers. Yet, as he drew out the skyline on the thick white paper, he couldn’t help but feel like he was still missing something. He knew he needed a break from his duties to figure it out constantly being pulled into a fight was a great distraction, but he knew he needed to figure out what brought meaning to his life. The decision to take time off gnawed at Steve like a dog to a bone, who was he if he wasn’t Captain America?

Steve heard you before he saw you, picking up the fierce tone you were using made him glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of your reprimand. Steve looked up to see you wedged in between a woman and her dog and a man probably twice your size towering over you, trying to be intimidating. The fact you stepped forward refusing to back down made Steve smile, oddly fond of your bravery. The commotion you were making drew a small crowd and Steve felt a strange pull to join the group to be close to you. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Following this poor woman around like a stalker,” You yelled, poking your finger in his chest. “Did you think she was being coy when she told you to stop following her? Was that some deranged invitation to keep on top of her the rest of the world is unaware of?”

Steve could tell that you were not about to back down as you protected the other woman. The fire in your eyes was something Steve was familiar with in himself before he went into the ice. He noticed the man ball his hands into fists and before you could react he had pulled back to hit you. Steve jumped in and caught the punch, inches from your face.

“You’re gonna want to walk away pal before you make things worse for yourself.” 

Steve’s voice was low in warning. When he glanced over at you, you looked up at him almost offended that he had stepped in. Before Steve could say anything you returned your gaze to the other man and swiftly kneed him in the balls. 

“Stop following women you fucking asshole,” you admonished as the man crumpled to the ground in pain. “I know you probably have a hard time listening to women when they say no because there is just a bunch of empty space where your brain is supposed to be, but maybe take this as a warning.” 

Steve watched you slack jawed as you flagged down a police officer to give a statement to. He observed you as you spoke with the other woman, who was visibly shaken by the incident, with such genuine concern and kindness. He couldn’t stop looking at you as you soothed her with gentle touches and quiet whispers. Steve waited for his turn to speak with the officers regarding the incident, after which the man was taken into custody. When Steve turned around you were walking towards him. 

“Umm thanks for catching the punch,” you said with a shrug. “I could have taken him though.” 

Steve let out a soft chuckle. 

“Well I wouldn’t be much of a superhero if I stood around and let a civilian get clocked for defending someone.”

You cocked your eyebrow at him and crossed your arms. 

“Yeah but you’re not in the suit, which means you’re off duty. Either way I’m grateful, I have a job interview tomorrow and can’t really show up with a black eye. It wouldn’t really say ‘hire me I’m even tempered and have a keen ability to moderate conflict in a calm respectful manner.’ ”

Steve smiled, letting out a sigh as he cast his eyes to the ground.

 “Oh sweetheart I’m always on duty, comes with the territory.” 

He looked up to see you watching him with kindness and understanding.

“I’m sure that must be a very heavy burden to carry,” You sighed. “I hope you can take a vacation or something soon. It looks like you might need one.”

To say Steve was enamored by you would be the understatement of the century. In the brief time he had spent with you, he had noticed that you were fierce, kind, honest, compassionate, and absolutely stunning. He found himself physically having to shake his head to keep from staring at you.

“I’m Steve,” he blurted out. “I feel like you already know that though. It was really nice of you to say that. Sometimes I only see myself as Captain America, no vacation days in sight.” 

Steve chuckled as you rolled your eyes at him.

“Y/N, and I mean it. You shouldn’t feel like you’re always on duty.”  

You pointed your finger at his chest.

“Besides, I’m a tough girl, I can handle myself. You should trust people a bit more Rogers.” 

You gave Steve a cheeky grin and started walking away.

Steve scrambled to follow you, not ready to have your conversation end.

“So, job interview? What do you do?” 

Steve easily kept your stride. When you chuckled Steve swore his heart skipped a beat.

“Would you believe I’m a victim advocate? I have an interview with the state prosecutor. I make sure anyone who has experienced trauma of any sort is represented and protected during court cases and criminal trials,” you stated proudly. 

“After what I just witnessed, I would have been more surprised if you told me you were an accountant.” Steve joked. “Would it be okay if I walked you wherever you’re going? I know you can handle yourself but I’d like to make sure you don’t leave a trail of broken men in your wake.”

You snorted out laughter. 

“Yeah wouldn’t want to get put away for attacking more skeezy men. That sounds great Captain, thank you.”

Steve smiled and kept asking you questions on your walk. He had this need to know everything he could about you since you blew into his life like a sunshower. When Steve got you back to your apartment the sun was just setting.

“Well Rogers, it’s been an interesting day,” you say, nonchalantly fiddling with your keys.

“I’ll say, I didn’t think my day would consist of watching someone stand up for another woman who almost got punched, then kneeing the guy in the balls.” 

Steve smiled.

“I am pleasantly surprised with the way my day turned out,” he told you.

“Well there’s a lot more where that came from if you stick with me Cap.” 

You smirked at Steve grabbing his sketchbook. 

“Here’s my number, if you ever need a little extra adventure in your life, call me,” you said. 

With that you turned the key in the lock and pushed yourself inside the apartment. Steve was left to stand staring at your closed door. He didn’t know what force drove you into his life but knowing you for those few hours made him feel more alive than he had in years.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [10]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, anxiety, ptsd, shooting, abuse

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: double digit chapter!!! like 3 parts to go everyoneeee woo!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

The nostalgia was strong. 

The last time you and Sam were sitting like this, you were deciding on what to make of the bread supply that was now dwindling. The soup had ran out maybe a day or two ago and you were left with just bread, peanut butter and jelly.

You two had to devise an escape plan. You’d been there long enough and now with Sam making his first public appearance as Mob’s Most Wanted, even if it was for a good cause, there was no doubt that people would be after you.

“What if we go back to Ransone and let the rest sort itself out along the way?”

You made a note of it on the paper but you weren’t very convinced with the idea, not with the realisations you had made along the way.

“Do we know any other hideouts?” you asked instead, tapping the pencil against the paper.

“None that you don’t already know.” He chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “What are your thoughts on caves? Think we can make a bed outta some leaves?”

You wrote down ‘Sam’s cave idea’, just to humour him. Stupid, but more plausible than other options.

“If we make a run for it, what are the chances we’ll survive?”

“With law enforcement, civilians and gang members looking for us, I’d give us about-” you said candidly, “-two months. Three max.”

It wasn’t like you had no experience running from the state, but it was never on this scale. 

“We’d have years if it was only law enforcement, but we had to go get the entire fuckin’ mafia involved,” he huffed in annoyance.

An idea occurred to you that made you pause, but you hated it.

“What if we split up?” you suggested halfheartedly. “It’ll take them more time to find the both of us, if they’re looking for us together.”

When he didn’t reply, you looked up at him from the sheet in front of you.

“We’re not splitting up,” he began steadily, just as you knew he would. “The same people who are after you are after me. We need to stick together.”

“I know. I’m not saying we can’t meet again after that, I’m saying that maybe it’ll be easier for us to hide.”

He couldn’t deny that it wasn't the worst idea, but something didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t want to do it.

“Okay, then how do we find each other after that? When? I don’t have your email; fuck that, I don’t even have your number.”

“We’ll schedule it, I guess,” you murmur, trying to work out the logistics. “Whoever gets there late has to buy ice cream. And I’m particular about the flavour I like.”

You tried to lighten up the mood but he wasn’t having it, as much as he appreciated it.

“I don’t care if it’s more difficult,” he said slowly. “But I’d like us to stick together. Not until we’re out of this mess. Then if you want to never see my face again, which you shouldn’t because it’s beautiful, we’ll go our different ways.”

He was adamant about it, and you knew he’d argue and poke holes into the plan until it didn’t make sense anymore. You weren’t going to argue.

“Okay,” you accepted. “We stick together.”

A smile spread across his face which equated to one of triumph. “You got any other ideas?” 

“We stay right here and fight off whoever comes.”

It was dumb. This place wasn’t yours, and staying here would be a death wish. That didn’t stop you from saying it since neither of you were holding back on implausible ideas.

“This is our house now,” Sam added with determination, playing along.

“Damn right,” you affirmed, cracking a smile at him.

Bringing your attention back, you stared at the list. There is one option you wanted to explore but you weren’t sure if you could because you didn’t have the resources. But he may.

“You got any friends whose help we could use?” you asked cautiously, unsure of how this would play out. 

He continued chewing on his lip for a second like he was analysing all options, before nodding. 

“I got a friend. Well, my only friend,” he corrects himself. “His name’s Riley.”

“He got a place we can stay, this Riley?”

“He does. But I don’t want to involve him. He’s-” he paused, trying to find the right words to frame what he’s thinking “-he’s been through a lot.”

“We’ll leave him alone then,” you assured, realising that it must be a touchy topic for him.

Sam didn’t move on, though. 

“I’m all ears if you want to talk,” you offered. 

He pressed his lips together, giving you a tight smile. He looked like he wanted to say more but was holding back. You reciprocated, hoping it would give him some reassurance, noting how he exhaled softly.

“When I joined the cartel, I didn’t really have anyone to talk to since everyone was much older than I was. Riley was the first friend I made. He was a mouthy li’l one.” Sam smiled wistfully and you found yourself smiling with him. “He talked so much shit and he had the spunk to back it up but he never really got that far because no one wanted to test their luck with him.”

“We spent whatever free time we had together. He didn’t have a family so he and I-” he trailed off but you knew what he was getting at. “Ransone found out. Didn’t like anyone in his stupid squad becoming all buddies because if we turned against him, he knew he’d lose.”

Shared experience. You didn’t have any friends in the organization either; they were always separated from you willingly or by force. You wondered if that’s why you had taken such a liking towards Sam, knowing fully well that it was the first time in years you were able to be friends with someone without having to worry.

“He started pittin’ us against one another. Combat training, preferential treatment, just plain out sabotage. Riley’s the reason my back’s all kinds of fucked up.” He gave a short laugh. “Tried everything he could to make sure we’d stay away or even kill each other if it came to that.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But we didn’t,” he confirmed. “Ransone fuckin’ hated it, so one day, he decided that he’s going to finish it once and for all. Sent us on a fake mission so that we’d be alone together, then told us that only one of us could come back. One of us had to die or else both of us would. Some sick fuckin’ form of entertainment.”

It was exactly something that Ransone would do. Dramatic, vile and utterly despicable, just for his own joy,

Your eyebrows knit together when his eyes glazed over. 

“Riley, he- he didn’t even let me have at the gun. Just straight up chose for the both of us that he was going to be the one who died. He was so tired, of everythin’.” The muscles in your jaw tightened at where this was going. “He didn’t do it though. We figured out another way.”

You didn’t realise how tensed you were until you forced yourself to relax.

“Faked his death.” He shrugged. “It was the only way. Let Ransone believe he bled out and that I buried him behind the warehouse he sent us to. Shot him in the leg to make it look convincing. He’s still got a limp.”

“He made a run for it. Found himself a place in New Orleans, changed his identity, basically made turned into a whole new person. Ransone bought it for a while because I’d make it a point to visit the grave, leave some flowers and shit. Told him that if he messed with it that I’d put a bullet in his head and I was angry enough for him to see that I wasn’t kidding. I knew he’d figure it out eventually but I was hoping I’d get rid of him by then.”

“He lived in New Orleans for years. Never had a problem until recently.”

Sam paused for a second, but it gave you the time to pull up an old conversation you had with him.

“He’s the one Ransone threatened you with,” you connected the dots. “He’s the one he found.”

“Said he’d kill him if I didn’t take out Pierce for him,” his words were bitter, confirming what you said. “Sent me a picture of him in front of his house to prove it.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” you breathed, leaning back. Sam’s situation was more dangerous than you initially thought. Having Riley in the picture just made it more difficult to help Sam get out of the organization, especially since he was now leverage material.

“You asked me once what the scariest thing I had done was.” You didn’t get immediately what he was talking about until you remember the questions you had asked to get to know him better. “It was that. Getting him out of this life and trying not to get caught in the process.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“He’s the only family I got left.” The way his voice dropped made him sound so tired. “He’s already on their radar. If they find out I’m staying with him or that he’s helping in any way, they’ll kill him.”

You didn’t say anything, not like you had anything constructive to offer at that moment.

“That got dark real quick,” he remarked, the corners of his lips quirking upward.

Clearly he didn’t have anyone to talk to about this. To explain the entire thing from the beginning must have drained him completely.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” you said quietly.

He paused for a second, looking like he was thinking to himself.

“Me too.”

______

The sky’s beautiful, you decide.

You could stare at the clouds for hours.

Which is what the both of you have been doing.

“If you fucking say it’s anything other than a dog, I’ll push you off the roof myself.”

“It’s clearly a penguin, Samuel.”

“I hate you.”

The cement was cool against your skin even though there was a blanket serving as a mediator between you and it. The sun nipped at your skin and your back was aching from staying in the same place for a prolonged period.

Sam tended to think better when he was outside, unconstrained by harsh white walls and artificial light. So you grabbed a spare blanket, a bottle of water and the ladder to haul the both of you to the roof. It was filthy, as you expected but you managed to tidy a part of it to the best of your ability before laying the blanket down.

“I know why you brought me up here, Y/N,” he piped up.

You just knew that when you needed some space, he often implored you to go outside. You figured the best way to help him was to do the same, not knowing what else you could have to give.

“Just wanted to let you know that I appreciate it,” he added.

Okay good. It helped.

“That’s a tree.” You pointed upwards, avoiding his gaze.

“You get three more seconds to change that answer to a table.”

“That looks nothing like a table. You’re delusional.”

He laughed, not offering a counter argument.

The outside did him good. He was calmer than when you first came here a few hours ago. He didn’t let his spite towards Ransone show very often, especially at this volume. Talking about Riley only reaffirmed how much he despised the man.

“We need to get out of here eventually, you know?” you mused.

You don’t want to. You don’t want to admit that saying it out loud made it worse.

“We do,” he sounded sure and you wondered if he ever felt bad about it too, “but we need a proper plan.”

The clouds shifted. It looked like a kid on a bike; not that you’d ever tell him. He would never agree.

“We need help,” you stated.

“We can’t.” You knew he’d say that.

“You know we do, Sam.”

“There’s no one out there we can trust.”

You liked that he used ‘we’. The only other times you had been referred to as ‘we’ had been for things so sinister, so violent.

His elbow was touching yours lightly. You wanted to move closer, press against him.

“There’s one person who might be able to.”

He turned to look at you questioningly. You did the same.

You waited till he figured it out on his own. His face shifted the minute it clicked in his head.

“No way.” He turned away, almost laughing out of bewilderment.

“It’s our only option.”

“Then we’ll find another one,” he began to sound more insistent, realising you were being serious. It was a crazy idea, you’d give him that, but it’s the only one you had that had a sure shot of working.

“We’ve tried. You’ve tried. There’s only one way,” you knew that getting annoyed wouldn’t get through to him and you also understood his hesitations. “He’ll help.”

“We don’t know that. It’s too fuckin’ dangerous.” He couldn’t afford that; not this late in the game.

“I know it. Lis- Sam. Look at me,” you commanded gently, and he obeyed reluctantly. “I understand that this is absolutely batshit wild, but I promised I’d help you. This is the only way I can think of. But I need you to trust me.”

He looked unsettled.

He didn’t have anything to go on. Only your word and his faith in you. He could say no and he knew you’d spend countless hours pouring over multiple options just to find another way. He could say no and you’d take it in stride and he wouldn’t have to worry about it. It wasn’t about trusting you, it was about not trusting the others.

But he could also say yes and let you take control, trust your instincts. You had never let him down before and he knew you wouldn’t now. He could say yes and help you work on one solid plan that had equal chances of failing as it did being a success, but it was something that you could be sure of.

“I’ll tell you this though, Sam. You always have a choice.”

He felt your fingers trace at his face patiently. He scooted closer, letting your bodies press gently against each other.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I trust you.”

He didn’t know if he made the right choice or not, but the smile that appeared on your face made him think that maybe he did.

God, he was done for.

___

“You ready?” you asked him.

“No, but what the hell; let’s do it.”

You let it ring right to the very end.

“Hello.” It seemed gratuitous at this point because you knew the conversation wouldn’t proceed with that.

“Code?”

“1993.”

“Y/N. Hello,” his voice came back loud and clear.

“Hey.” You snuck a glance at Sam. He was completely stiff.

“How are you?”

“I’ve been… good,” you admitted.

“Oh?” he sounded amused. “That’s a change.”

“Yeah.” You shifted on your feet awkwardly. “Listen, I need help.”

“Help with?”

“We need to get out of here. We can’t do it without you. I mean we can, but it’d be better if you lent a hand.”

“When you say ‘we’, you’re referring to…”

“Me.” Sam stepped forward towards the phone. You shifted it so it was between you.

“Oh, hello,” he sounded surprised, and he had good reason to be. “You know about-”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Y/N, you trust him?”

“Yeah,” you looked up at Sam, “I do.”

“Alright. If shit goes wrong, you’re both fucked. I’m not taking any responsibility.”

“We get that,” you sighed. “Can you help or not?”

There was a momentary silence on the other end as he thought.

“Tell me what you had in mind.”

“We got a hit.”

They turned away from their conversation with the person walking beside them at the interruption.

“This better be important.” They gestured to their companion who looked annoyed at being interrupted. He was too dangerous to have on anyone’s bad side but the agent didn’t care. This was crucial.

“Someone saw him. Wilson.” He was breathless from the flight of stairs he had run to come upstairs.

“Where?” They could hardly believe their ears, restraining to contain the excitement that was threatening to rise.

“A town, miles away from Pierce’s place. Said he roamed around looking for a store, bought some food and then left.” His eyes shone. “We think we might know where they are. A rough sketch at least. Couldn’t follow him too far because he kept checking.”

“Finally,” their face gleamed, completely discarding the guest they had and the confusion on his face. “Some good fucking news.”

“Do you want us to put a hit out on them?” The relief the agent felt was almost overwhelming. His partner may have died but it didn’t look like he was going to.

“No,” they said crisply, certainly. “This one’s on me.”

Next part

[kpop-cakepops]

I will gladly read any Wonwoo fluff you would give us be it snuggle donation or otherwise! But if I can be more specific in requesting, how about a missed connection sort of thing? Like the reader and Wonwoo have similar circles of friends who think they’d hit it off, but somehow they just never manage to be at the same events, but then they end up meeting separate from their friends and do hit it off, only to be a couple before their friends even know they’ve met? If that’s too specific, totally do whatever you want with the idea. Welcome to Wonwoo brain domination (my friend incepted my mind last year too and it’s been all Wonwoo all of the time since!)

omg this is actually such a good prompt?!?!?!!? What the hell?! Thank you anon!!!

So this one actually took way longer than expected because I knew what I wanted to do but I didn't know how to not make it confusing? So the best I could do was use time skips in this one, anything in italics are flashbacks.... I HOPE IT'S NOT CONFUSING! Anyhow, I had so much fun writing this! Enjoy! (PS. I didn't edit so excuse any grammar mistakes LOLz)

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,863

Meant To Be// Jeon WonwooXfem!Reader

"There he is again... I wonder if he's single." your older sister said as she struggled to keep your baby nephew from running away from the bench the two of you were sitting at.

"Probably not," you told her as you bit into your popsicle. "He's handsome. Probably has a bunch of girls lining up to get his number"

"He's playing video games at a park, I seriously doubt that" your sister added.

"I think it's kinda cute. At least he comes out because he wants to" you looked over at your sister who was now too busy chasing after your little nephew to even listen to you. "Aaaaand I was talking to myself. Cool."

You huffed and looked over at the man sat two benches over. He seemed to be having fun on his Nintendo switch and you were sure you weren't having fun babysitting your sister while she tried to babysit her own son... so you took matters into your own hands and walked yourself over to the man.

"Hey, mind if I sit here?" You asked.

The stranger looked up from his game and moved to the side making space for you to sit down. He didn't talk at all but didn't show himself to be rude either. You took the chance to take out your own console.

"What are you playing?" You asked.

He turned around and looked at your hands, his eyes widening a little but the look of surprise was replaced by a smile almost instantly. "Super Smash Bros."

You didn't know what you expected his voice to sound like, but it certainly hadn't been the deep tone you had just received. "Damn, nice voice" you blurted.

He let out a laugh, "what's your name?"

"I'm y/n" you introduced yourself putting your hand out to shake his, "and you?"

He took your hand cautiously, "I'm Wonwoo"

***

"How does this dress look?" You asked as you twirled in front of your now boyfriend of 3 months, Wonwoo.

He smiled approvingly, "baby you look just as amazing as you did in the last dress. You really don't have to worry too much about impressing my friends, they're all a bunch of idiots."

"Well, yes, but... what if they don't like me? I'm the reason you refused all those blind dates they kept setting you up on." You told him.

"And I'm the reason you refused yours, the time will come when I have to meet your friends, too. I promise you there's no reason for us to be worried." He pulled you close and kissed the top of your head.

"I'm just excited to finally meet your friends," you told him. "I want to make a good impression."

"The way you make me smile should be impressive enough, no?" He brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Getting a little cheesy there, aren't we?" You poked his stomach and pulled away. "Anyways. We should get going or we're going to be late!"

***

"You should come up. Some of my friends are still up there. We could hang out" said Wonwoo as he pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. His tall frame rocking back and forth as he watched you wistfully.

"I really wish I could, but I actually have to go back to work in a bit. I just didn't want for your birthday gift to get to your hands after your special day" You shyly admitted. He held his hand to the necklace that was now hanging from his neck. The pendant hanging from it depicting the Smash ball from the game's logo. Something about him immediately putting the necklace on making your heart race.

"I really wish you could stay, but I guess, you'll just have to make it up to me some other day." He said.

You reached out your pinky and he wrapped his own with yours. "I promise" You told him.

He smiled and you waited expectantly for his nose to scrunch up like you'd learned it would in the last 4 months of knowing the guy. It was weird how after fighting off cheesy romance and dates, you ended up developing a crush on some random guy you'd met at the park.

The both of you stood there for a moment, pinkies linked together as you let the sparks envelope you both. It was obvious you liked each other, however, neither of you seemed to know who should make the first move... nor did you know when.

***

You and Wonwoo arrived at the large hotel his friends had told him to meet them at. A shiver ran down your spine making you take a nervous deep breath. Your boyfriend grinned at your cuteness and squeezed your hand softly before guiding you towards the entrance.

"Oh, God... Maybe I should've brought a gift?" You grumbled as you followed Wonwoo into the hotel. A sudden feeling of guilt taking over you as you remember your own friend, Jihoon, was having a graduation dinner that you couldn't go to because of this. You'd managed to drop off a gift for him days before, but it still bugged you. Jihoon was one of your closest friends after all.

"Honey, it's totally fine. I promise Jihoon won't mind that you didn't bring him a gift" he assured you as he held the door of the fancy restaurant open for you.

"Wait, what did you say?" You asked as you stopped in your tracks. Your boyfriend shooting you a confused look.

"Y-N?"

***

"I don't know, I think my favorite has to be biographies. I'm just nosy" you laughed, Wonwoo following along.

"Hmmm, I mean, biographies are nice, but I've been into humanities lately. It's interesting" He shrugged and licked at his ice cream cone happily. "I used to hate it in high school but I think as I grew up a grew more interested in the way people live... outside of just myself."

"Wow..." you mused.

"What? Was that sexy?" he joked.

You shook your head, "No, you're such a nerd" You teased.

"Hey!" he quipped bumping his shoulder into yours.

"Watch it! I almost dropped my ice cream cone!" Your attempt to seem angry failed by the big smile on your face. It seemed that was all you did around Wonwoo anyways. Smile.

"What flavor is that?" he asked as he eyed your cone curiously.

You put the cone up to his lips, "Butter pecan" You didn't know what exactly you were expecting when you put the cone up to his lips, 75% of you had thought he'd playfully push your hand away while calling it a grandma flavor as he usually did, while the resting 25% of you thought he'd just ignore it and keep walking... but both assumptions were wrong. Wonwoo grabbed your hand with his free one holding the cone in place before getting a taste. It was absolutely insane how much that made your heart race. "Hey! what was that all about?"

"I want to get a taste... but I can't... taste it... maybe I should-" He froze mid-sentence. Wonwoo was nervous. His face was a deep pink as he eyed you closely.

"W-Wonwoo. Are you trying to kiss me right now?" You asked. You wanted to scream and run away but you also wanted to stick around and see if he would.

"I was supposed to be at a blind date today" He admitted.

"Me too," you told him.

"But all I could think of was you" He continued.

"Me too," you agreed once again.

"Y/N, I like you."

***

"What the hell is going on here?" Jihoon's face was twisted in confusion as he stared between the two of you.

"You know each other?" Asked Wonwoo.

Jihoon blinked hurriedly before finding his voice again, "Uh, I think I should be the one asking you that!"

"My head is about to explode" You murmured.

"Yah, Jihoon, Dokyeom just spilled- Oh, Y/N? What are you doing here... with Wonwoo?" Yet another one of your best friends walked out of the restaurant, Jeongyeon's large eyes looking at you and your boyfriend with the same confused expression as Jihoon.

"They got here together," Jihoon announced.

"You two know each other?" Asked Jeongyeon.

"Yeah, Wonwoo's my boyfriend"

"Yeah... we're dating" Wonwoo agreed.

"WHAT?!"

***

"Y/N, pleaseeeeee? I promise you're going to love this guy. He is such a sweet person, he will literally blow you away, and he's handsome! Did I mention he's handsome?!" Jeongyeon's hands were clasped together in front of her chest. It was once a month that she begged for you to go on a blind date with that guy she always talked about, but you shook your head.

"No."

"Why not?! What is it this time!?" Your pretty friend exclaimed as she crossed her arms across her chest.'I have a boyfriend now' You thought, a small smile coming to your lips at the thought of Wonwoo.

"I'm not interested in dating Jjeong. Please, can't we just let it go?" you asked with a soft huff. "We have better things to do anyway. Come on, why don't you let me take a look at your thesis so far."

Jeongyeon huffed and started to pull out her laptop from her book bag. "I can't wait till you meet him. You're gonna regret it"

***

"Wait, pause... so you mean to tell me that we spent ALL THOSE MONTHS trying to set the two of you up... only for you two to meet at a random park and fall in love?!" Soonyoung was being his usual dramatic self again as he glared at you two from across the table.

"I mean, we didn't fall in love right off the bat... but yes. You could say that" Wonwoo answered.

"Wow! I just got chills. I JUST GOT CHILLS!" Dokyeom added as he dramatically hugged himself.

"I just don't understand why neither of you guys told us you were dating! Like... How did we miss it? Where did you hide each other?" Asked Jisoo with a confused frown.

"We didn't. We were friends for about 4 months before we started dating. I even went to drop off his gift at his apartment on his birthday."

"The necklace! I knew I'd seen it somewhere!" Seungcheol exclaimed with wide eyes. "You sent me a picture of the thing and asked if you should get it black or purple!"

"I also asked you for tips on how to confess to a girl over ice cream and got me laughed at." Wonwoo huffed under his breath.

You laughed and shook your head. "You were right, Woo. Your friends are indeed a bunch of idiots"

"Wow... You guys are meant to be. You guys are seriously meant to be. There is no doubt in my mind. I guess when soulmates are meant to meet, they will." chirped Jihoon who kept picking at his plate. "Now that that's all out, I'd like to take a moment to talk about how if Y/N hadn't been dating Wonwoo, she would have missed my graduation dinner for a man. What have you got to say for yourself, traitor?"

"Uh..."

[mrs-gucci]

There seems to be a darker, more violent take on Clyde floating around right now and I LOVE it!! I’m working on one for him too!

Since you say open for darker requests, I’d love to hear your take on a more violent Clyde! He could be saving you from a stalker. Clyde can show him what a real bad ass can do and then show you how well he can treat you too lol! He could be protecting you from someone at the bar. He could be showing you his special forces skills after some gets aggressive. You name it lol!

Secrets of the Blood Moon {werewolf!Clyde x Reader darkfic}

author's notes: helloooo! my friend shannon, thank you for this request!! I am also a fan of the darker take on Clyde and I hope I did it some justice!! I worked really, really hard on this one, and I’m super pleased with how it turned out.

**PLEASE HEED THE DARKFIC WARNING!! THIS FIC INVOLVES SEVERAL VERY HEAVY AND VERY DARK THEMES, SO PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!**

warnings: angst. smut. hurt/comfort. a minor car crash. mentions of alcohol consumption. rut. knotting. breeding kink. werewolf stuff. attempted mating bite. murder coverup. clyde feels guilty.

tw's: noncon touching (not by clyde). involuntary attempted sexual assault (werewolf clyde pins her down & dry humps w/o consent, but human clyde doesn’t know he did it nor would ever intend to do it). blood & gore. graphic depictions of murder and violence. human-hunting. depictions of human body consumption (is it cannibalism if he’s technically a wolf when it happens?). werewolf sex.

**this is a work of FICTION. the author does not attempt to condone the actions/behaviors of the characters written.**

word count: 5.9k

my taglist peeps: @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea​ ​@gildedstarlight (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

Last Night

Stepping out of your car, you’re instantly suffocated by the thick humidity of the West Virginia evening. The sun paints cotton candy across the sky as it sets behind the trees on the mountainous horizon, the almost full moon hot on its tail, slowly rising on the other side of the sky.

The blood moon comes tomorrow, and from the old folk tales your mom used to tell about the deep West Virginia countryside, some weird shit goes down under the crimson moon. You never really believed her. What all could happen in lil ol’ Boone County, anyway?

The moment you step into the refreshing, air-conditioned Duck Tape, you’re immediately greeted by a loud call of your name.

“Y/N!” You smile and wave at Jimmy. 

Clyde looks up and smiles at you as you come and sit down at the bar next to Jimmy. He serves the customer before coming over to talk with you and the eldest Logan.

You lean over the bar to give him a kiss, earning a couple hoots and hollers from the bar crowd, which made you both laugh as you pull away.

“How was work, buttercup?” He asks, wiping off some glasses. “Weren’t ya doin’ that one presentation today? How’d that go?”

You’re always so flattered that Clyde actually pays attention when you talk about work stuff. Most guys just smile and nod, but Clyde actually listens and remembers. He even remembered your one year anniversary at the company you currently work for, sending you takeout from your favorite place along with some flowers.

“Yeah, it was alright. Boring as hell, but the partners seemed pleased, so that’s all I can really ask for at this point.”

Both he a Jimmy give a small chuckle, nodding before Clyde mixes your favorite drink, setting it down in front of you a few minutes later. You thank him, and the three-way conversation continues before the bar door swings open. 

Something about the man’s entrance makes you look over, already smelling trouble as he steps over the threshold. His eyes are glued on you, a smug smirk etched on his expression. 

A hush falls over the patrons for a few seconds, all eyes on the leather-clad man. Clyde’s hackles are immediately up, body tense as the mystery man saunters over, plopping himself down onto the vacant stool next to yours. 

Things on the floor continue as normal, the chatter picking back up, and you subtly scoot a little closer to Jimmy. 

“Bartender?” A thick New York accent calls.

Clyde walks over, plastering a fake smile on his face, seemingly the epitome of southern hospitality.

“What can I getcha, sir?”

The man gives Clyde a once-over and snickers. “No, seriously, where’s the bartender? I’d like a drink.”

Your grip clenches around your glass. You absolutely hated it when people were dicks about Clyde’s hand.

“Seriously, I am the bartender.” He states firmly. “So, what can I get ya?”

His tone sends a chill down your spine. Normally, Clyde just shuts down whenever someone starts poking fun at his missing hand, but tonight, there was a certain air of frustration, of dominance.

You just thought he’d finally cracked, after years of dealing with this bullshit. But as you would learn, there was an alternate explanation for his sudden outwardly alpha-like behavior.

The guy seems to back off a little bit, just asking for a cold Coors straight from the bottle. You startle a bit when Clyde slams the bottle down on the counter in front of him, and you could swear his eyes turn a light grey for a second before returning to the dark brown pools you’re familiar with.

Everything’s quiet for a little while, the man sipping his beer in silence, before he turns to you. He doesn’t say anything at first, simply allowing his eyes to drink in your seated figure.

“What’s your name, baby girl?” The beer smell of his breath is strong as he leans in. “You lookin’ for someone to keep you company tonight?”

You roll your eyes. Douchebag. “Nope. I’m perfectly content just sitting here, thanks.”

Clyde’s watching the interaction like a hawk as he makes someone’s drink. It’s a wonder he can concentrate on the drink when his thoughts and eyes are glued to you.

His slimy hand touches down on your bare thigh, just above your knee, and you jump in your seat. He grins, trailing it up as he leans in even closer.

“Are you sure? I could show you a real good time...”

Glass shatters from behind the bar and then, Clyde’s grabbing the man by his biker jacket, tossing him onto the floor with an almost superhuman strength. You stand up, appalled, as the man on the hardwood scrambles to get up.

An icy grey begins to frost over his sweet chocolate irises as Clyde clenches his fists by his side. 

“Don’t ya dare touch ma girl, ye pervert.” He growls, voice lower than you’ve ever heard it. “Someone ought to show ya what respect looks like.”

The bar has fallen pin-drop silent, all sets of eyes focused in on the developing scene. He cocks his fist above his head, snarling as he readies to pounce on the helpless man. 

It’s then that Jimmy hops up and puts himself between the two men, holding his hands up in front of Clyde. “Don’t do this t’ yerself. Ye know what’ll happen if ya do.”

This seems to bring him back, the warmness flooding back to his irises. His shoulders slump as he huffs softly, pushing past his older brother angrily, storming into his office and slamming the door behind him.

Shakily, the man stands and puts a twenty down on the table before running out of the bar, bell jingling against the wooden door as it eases shut after him.

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

The rare blood moon hangs in its place against the pitch black sky as you pull up to the Logan’s trailer home. There aren’t any stars in the clear night’s sky, despite it being the dead of summer, but you don’t think much of it as you approach the shadowed porch.

Moths flutter around the dimly flickering porch light while you peek through the windows, which were as black as the night. Not a single light was on.

Odd. The Pontiac’s parked in its normal spot outside.

You flip the threadbare ‘welcome’ mat up, revealing the rusting gold key beneath. Sticking it in the lock, you turn until the door pops open, an eerie creak accompanying it.

"Clyde?” You say, looking around the trailer’s living room as you flip the living room lights on.

You call for him again. Maybe he’s just taking a nap. “Clyde?”

Still no response. 

Now, you’re getting worried. There’s no note, nothing noticeably out of place; in fact, it’s almost all too still. It gives you the creeps, how still and quiet it is in here.

The scent of suspicion thickens the air around you, and you just get the most awful feeling in your gut that something bad is happening or is about to happen.

Adrenaline begins to pump through your veins as you quickly walk around, peeking in the kitchen, and in the spare room. The air seems to thicken again the closer to draw to Clyde’s room, and you push the door open with bated breath.

You’re absolutely mortified at the sight before you. 

Shreds of carpet, fabric, and mattress stuffing is scattered the floor, and giant claw marks have torn straight through the drywall. The blankets and comforter, at least the remains of them, are disheveled where they lay across the clawed-up mattress. 

His vanity mirror is almost fully shattered, and the products that once sat atop are now tossed across the floor. The chilly summer’s night air flutters the curtains on the opened window above the bed.

The first thought that comes to mind is a bear attack of some kind. Now fully freaking out, you’re wondering how in the world a bear got into the trailer, and why it only seemed to attack Clyde’s room. You scramble to grab your phone from your purse with shaky hands, dialing Jimmy’s number in haste.

Was this one of the blood moon enigmas mom warned about? No, no, bear attacks are pretty common around here.

 It takes a few rings before he picks up.

“Y/N?” He sounds out of breath, exhausted.

“Jimmy, hey. Do you know where Clyde is? I’m at the trailer, and--”

Something that sounds like a growl rips through the speaker, followed by a woman’s voice. 

“Is everything oka--”

“Mellie, I can’t help ya right now! I’ll be there in a second!” He yells in the background. “Sorry Y/N, you were sayin’ somethin’?”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just at the trailer, and I peeked into Clyde’s room...”

“Ya didn’t touch anything, did ya?” His voice is rushed.

You shake your head, eyebrows furrowed. “Uh, no, but--”

The growl comes again, louder this time, and it almost sounds like it’s...a voice. A very deep and very animalistic one, but a voice nonetheless. And it was saying something, although you couldn’t really hear clearly enough.

“Jimmy, do you know where Clyde is?” You’re getting a little impatient.

“Don’t worry ‘bout Clyde, he’s okay, he’s, uhh, here with us.”

“Oh, uh, o-okay.”

But tonight was supposed to be your special night together.

“Y/N? Listen real close, now. I need ya to get outta the trailer and go home, right now. Don’t linger, and refrain from touchin’ anything in the trailer. Lock all yer doors n’ close all the windows when ya get back home, okay? ‘N don’t go outside for the rest’a the night.”

Okay, now you’re starting to get fearful. “What--”

“Jimmy!” Mellie’s panicked voice comes through the phone speaker again, this time a bit clearer. He curses under his breath.

Her cries clearly rattled the eldest Logan, and he quickly tells you to just do what he said and then hangs up in a frantic state. 

You’re frozen for a moment, but then you quickly scurry outside to your car, frantically looking around as you scramble to fit the key in the driver’s side door.  By some miracle, you hold your hand steady enough to unlock it, quickly shutting the door and turning on the engine, peeling out of there like a madwoman.

Suddenly, as you go to pull out of the driveway, a strange apparition appears at the edge of the wood across the street. You squint, trying to figure out what the hell it is. Whatever it is, though, it’s panting heavily and looks...inhuman.

It’s standing on two legs, but its large, probably almost seven feet tall if you had to guess, and must’ve had some type of black fur or skin since it almost blends in with the darkened forest.

The reddish light of the moon is the only light that reflects upon this mystery creature, before it seems to notice your car idling in the driveway. The crisp light grey pupils seemingly glimpse into your soul as the creature looks upon you.

Clearly, now, you can decipher what exactly it is, although you’re in utter shock and skeptical to think it real: A werewolf.

You quickly put the car in reverse, slamming down on the gas, flying backwards for a few seconds before colliding with the trailer’s tin wall. Your head slams forward onto the steering wheel, trickles of blood dribble down your forehead and nose as your consciousness is lost.

When you come to, only a few minutes later, you groan as the welt forms on your forehead. You look around, groggily, seeing that your car is in drive but isn’t moving. Surely when you’d passed out, your foot would’ve come off the brake and you would’ve rolled away...

Stepping out carefully, you find that some bricks have been placed in front of all four tires, effectively keeping the car at a dead standstill. 

Who in the world did this?

Then, you turn your head and walk slowly around to the front of your car, seeing the remnants of sharp teeth marks on your bumper. You’re frozen, a lump slowly crawling up your throat as the realization hits. 

A low growl comes from behind you, and your worst fears have suddenly been realized. You slowly, carefully spin around on your heels, afraid that one wrong move may make you tonight’s surprise entree.

Your eyes meet the soul-piercing grey’s of the werewolf, the one you’d seen at the edge of the forest minutes earlier. The one that seemingly saved your life, but...how did a werewolf know what to do?

As you continue to gaze at the large being before you, you’re struck with a sense of familiarity, almost as if you’d met them before. Strange, because you can’t recall ever encountering a werewolf. Hell, you’ve never even seen a wolf before, other than in pictures. Surely you’d remember coming into contact with a seemingly impossible biological phenomenon such as this one.

His presence is scarily comforting, and you find yourself briefly wondering what it’d feel like to be enveloped in his woolen arms. Well, arm, technically speaking. This particular werewolf seems to be missing the lower half of his left paw.

Then, your mind connects the dots, and you’re shocked to your very core. It wasn’t a bear that attacked Clyde’s room, it was Clyde. This werewolf that’s standing before you is Clyde. That’s why Jimmy and Mellie sounded so frantic and breathless on the phone; they must’ve been trying to keep him contained.

But why? Werewolves usually recognize the important people in their human lives...right? That’s why he’d saved you from rolling off...

Your headlights’ reflection was speared by your figure, creating a shadow that covered most of Clyde’s form, except for the very tips of his paws, which had enormous claws emerging from beneath the thick layer of fur.

“Clyde?” You whisper, and he seems to soften for a moment, falling down on all threes.

Just as you swallow the lump in your throat and begin to cautiously approach the creature, hand outstretched to allow him to smell you, his eyes suddenly darken, the once snowy grey now more like the color of storm clouds. 

He snarls, white teeth shining in the moon’s moody crimson-tinted reflection, and you immediately backtrack. Oh god, I’m fucked.

Your bottom collides with the front of your car, the engine thrumming lowly as it idles happily, grille warm from the machine inside. The headlights are now fully shining on the creature, fur shining under the bright lights as he approaches, lines of drool strung between his sharp fangs. 

“C-Clyde, please,” You plead with the creature. “It’s m-me, Y/N, your g-girlfriend. You know m-me, you don’t w-wanna do t-this...”

It doesn’t seem to do much to dissuade him, the animal within now overshadowing the kind, gentle man you know and love. No, this creature is something else. This isn’t your Clyde.

The wolf stops short of the hood, where you’ve crawled up onto and are laying back, raising his nose up in the air, sniffing. You’re perplexed by this action, but it becomes evident when his ear prick and he says, in that same deep, animalistic voice that was in the background of your call with Jimmy, 

“Mate.”

And then, he’s pouncing, trapping your hands above your head with his one arm while his legs scramble to find a good grip on the metallic surface of the car, hips rutting frantically. 

His muzzle dips down, wet nose running along your jawline and neck, teeth scraping dangerously against your thin skin. He quickly settles on a spot behind your ear, growling as his pink tongue darts out to begin lapping at the spot. 

You’re completely still, both physically restrained and unable to bring yourself to even try to move as the creature drags his fangs across the skin behind your ear. Your car is rocking back and forth with his hips’ violent movements, dragging his enormous cock against your lower stomach. 

He pants into your ear, breath hot as he prepares to sink his sharp fangs into your tender skin, marking you as his forever...

“CLYDE!”

Jimmy’s voice pierces through the still of the night. Crickets stop chirping for a moment, and Clyde’s body stills. His head whips around, snarling at his brother.

Mellie’s right behind him, and she peers around him, trying to look at you. “Y/N, are ya alright?”

“YYYeah,” You manage, somehow. “I-I’m o-okay.”

Clyde hops down, all three feet planted on the ground, hackles up as Jimmy takes a step forward. “Mate.”

“She ain’t yer mate.” Jimmy says, calmly. He points to you. “Look at whatcha done to ‘er, Clyde. Would a mate look like that, huh? Look at ‘er, Clyde, she’s all beat up and scared outta her damn mind.”

The wolf visibly stands down, slowly turning his head to look back at you, seeing the scratches on your wrists and the marks on your neck. He sees the bit of wetness on your shirt and shorts, from his slick.

He hangs his head and begins to cry, whimpering and whining as he sprints off, surprisingly agile and quick for a wolf with three paws, across the road and back into the woods.

His blood’s boiling, he’s angry that he couldn’t defend you against Jimmy, mad that his alpha instincts had failed him. Even as a werewolf, one of the most powerful beings in the forest, he was still weaker than and overshadowed by his showboat older brother. 

Loud barks of anger rip through him as he masterfully maneuvers through the forest, weaving through the trees, dodging thorns, leaping over the fallen tree trunks. 

The sky suddenly begins to empty down onto Earth, the cool summer night’s rain a welcomed refreshment on Clyde’s fur. He looks up at the blood moon, huffing softly as he silently curses the orb for bringing this condition to him each full moon, as he did every single moon before this, and will continue to do with every one after.

He reaches his cave a few minutes later, stopping dead in his tracks when he smells smoke coming from inside. He’s on high alert, now, as he moves to peek into the cavern.

There, he finds a lone man sitting by a very small fire, rubbing his hands together over the heat. He’s clad in head-to-toe tree camo with a shotgun laying just out of arms reach.

This man’s scent feels awfully familiar, Clyde thinks, but it takes him a minute to figure out why. And, when he does remember, Clyde is suddenly not so sympathetic for the unwanted visitor in his cave.

The wolf’s mind falls to a certain memory from last night at Duck Tape. This is the jackass that thought he could get away with feelin’ you up. The one that poked plenty ‘a fun at his missing hand. 

Clyde’s still-hard cock presses up against his furry stomach in excitement, tongue licking over his razor-sharp fangs. He couldn’t protect or avenge you last night, again due to Jimmy, but maybe he can now. 

Jimmy ain’t gonna get in my way this time ‘round.

He can’t just come running into the entrance, no, that allows him too much time to grab the gun. He thinks, and thinks, until he remembers the connecting cave that he’d recently found on the last full moon. He bets he can get in there and creep up behind the man, do a sneak attack. 

He’s salivating in anticipation as he bounds down to the opposite side of the cave, paws padding lightly against the soft gravelly dirt floor, trotting along carefully.

The man is none the wiser to the wolf’s presence, and the hum of the loud rain certainly wasn’t hurting. A loud crack of thunder suddenly rips through the forest, vibrating the ground. Clyde freezes briefly as the young man curls up further, chin resting in the gap between his knees. 

Predatory instincts pumping through his veins at an all-time high, he crouches down as he stalks closer and closer to the unsuspecting body by the small fire. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, now right behind the man, moving in slow motion so as to not alert his victim.

When the time is right, just as the next clap of thunder rumbles the rocks, Clyde pounces. He grabs the man’s shirt, dragging him out of the cave with an unprecedented swiftness. The fire is extinguished with the tussle, leaving the cave shrouded in darkness, the shotgun laid abandoned on the ground where he’d put it.

He struggles against the wolf’s grip, fabric ripping violently the further his body’s dragged along. Clyde throws him out onto the forest floor, pawing at the ground like a wild stallion as the disheveled man scrambles to his feet.

His hands are shaky as he holds them up in front of him, as if trying to calm the creature like a domesticated dog.  “E-Easy, easy.”

If he could, Clyde would’ve rolled his eyes at the man’s pathetic attempt to talk down at him. He snarls, watching in amusement at the way he startles and stumbles back. 

Clyde’s got the man backed against the trunk of an old oak within seconds, and he stands up on two legs, glaring at the much smaller figure. He bares his teeth, a wolf’s version of a devilish grin.

“Run.”

It seems like the man is caught in between being shocked that this wolf just spoke English and being chilled to the core by his word. He sputters for a moment, brain smoking as it churns on overdrive, before his legs carry him as quickly as they can down the mountainside. 

The wolf casually trots along after him, in very little rush to catch him. He’s throbbing hard now, the excitement translating into pure arousal. Clyde knows these woods like the back of his hand; there’s no where for this man to hide from his inevitable fate as the wolf-man’s next meal.

His head continuously whips around, meeting the grayish-white orbs tucked behind a thick coat of jet black fur. In a frenzy, he tucks himself behind a large tree, catching his breath.

Twigs snap in seemingly all directions, his breath heavy as his eyes flicker all around the dark, damp wood, the only light coming from the crimson-tinted orb above. He reaches back and wraps his arms around the tree’s trunk, panicked.

A low growl rattles his eardrums and he looks to the side, seeing the black creature right at his side. Clyde’s head snaps to the side, looking directly at his victim.

Crying out in fear, the man leaps forward to make a run for it, but is quickly taken to the dirt by the wolfish creature. The man squirms and screams out for mercy, for God, and Clyde knows what he has to do now.

He quickly sinks his teeth into the back of the mans neck repeatedly, effectively severing the spinal cord, leaving the man completely limp and defenseless. A quick and effective manner of disabling a victim, he’s learned through hunting animals, but keeps him just alive enough to see what’s being done to him. 

Clyde flips the limp form over, now on his back, and his eyes are wide as he watches the wolf above him, black fur now stained red around the mouth, stare down at him with a hungry gaze.

His mouth opens, probably to beg for his life, but it’s too late. Fangs sink through his shirt and into the flesh of his chest, just above where his rapidly beating heart lay.

The thump-thump rhythm slows, then stops, the life leaving his body. Sweet copper tang coats the wolf’s tongue as the body is drained of its remaining energy. 

There is little feeling better than watching the life slowly and steadily drain from the eyes of a victim, and suddenly, Clyde’s throbbing arousal has reached an almost unmanageable point.

But, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to devour his freshly-caught prey, especially while it’s still warm. So he digs in immediately, carving further into the hole over the heart he’d already created, ripping out the vital organ.

He holds it triumphantly between his teeth for a moment before setting it aside. His craving is more for the meat, he’s never been much of a fan of organs, so he gets to work separating the good meat from the corpse.

Once he’s done, he lifts his nose in the air, howling loudly. He’s never been this hard before, he swears it, and there’s only one person that can satisfy this urge:

You.

For a wolf on three legs, he reaches your house in record time. He can already feel the wolf-ness fading steadily, the human beginning to peek through the cracks. But, his rut doesn’t give at all, and he bounds up the steps and scratches at your door.

You’re startled by the noise, already a gut feeling you know who it is. When you open the door, Clyde’s wolf figure is sitting politely on your doormat.  Should you let him in?

He pushes past, whimpering as he does so, before you can make a decision. You shut the door slowly before turning around to face the creature. He seems a bit different than when you saw him earlier, seeming a bit more human.

You stand against the door, back pressed up against it, looking down at the wolf in your living room. 

“Y/N.” He breathes, huskily, attempting to ignore the hardness pressing up against his wooly stomach. “N-Need you. Please.”

He’s ashamed as he stands up on his hind legs, wrapping a clawed hand around his oozing cock, jutting his hips out as if to show off for you. The alpha in him needs to show you how suitable of a mate he is, what strong pups he can give you.

“It hhhhurts, b-buttercup.”

The battle going on inside him, animal versus human, is painfully evident on his expression. Your hearts been ripped in half as you watch him struggle with himself, the human trying to overpower the animal, and the animal trying to fight off the human.  He doesn’t even know what he did to you earlier. 

“What do you need from me, Clyde? I’m here to help you, honey, I’ll do whatever you need.”

His eyes widen in surprise, but its quickly replaced by a look of what can only be described as pure, primal hunger.

“Floor. A-All fours.” The wolf-man manages, desperately humping his hand to offer some relief. “G-Get the lube, ffffuuuck, I mmuhhmight hurt ya without it.”

You rush to get the lube, placing the tube next to you as you pull your leggings down, exposing your bare cunt. Clyde watches with an eager anticipation as you spread yourself for him. 

As soon as you’re into position, he practically falls over on top of you, hips rutting uncontrollably as he smoothes lube over his drooling cock and lines up with your entrance. 

“B-Buttercup, I...I’m sssorry ‘bout what’s ggon’ happen. This ain’t me, ppuhpplease remember that, mmkay?”

You nod, tearing up at the pure agony in his voice. “I w-will, Clyde.”

His hips shove forward, a choked howl escaping his lips, balls tightening. You cry out, the burn of your walls stretching to accommodate his girthy length more prominent than usual.

Veins bulge out of his neck, jaw clenched as he begins moving, mercilessly plowing into you from behind. He plants his clawed hand next to yours, loud and desperate scratching noises accompanying the wet squelch of your joined torsos. 

The carpet is shredded, hardwood floor scratched permanently by his feet as he humps you with a desperation unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. This really wasn’t Clyde, but you soon realized that you exactly mind this side of Clyde, this primal instinct, this roughness. It was arousing, bittersweetly so.

When you look over your shoulder at the wooly mass moving behind you, your eyes widen. You didn’t notice the shiny substance from a distance, but now that he’s up close, you see that it coats his snout and has even dripped down onto his breast.

A gripping fear bubbles in your stomach. But then, you rationalize immediately, before you find yourself too deep down in this rabbit hole of worry. He probably just hunted a deer or a rabbit or something. He’s a fucking wolf, remember?

You almost sigh out loud in relief, but you keep it in, instead moaning along with each of his thrusts.

“D-Did ya like muhmmahhmm--ma w-wolf cock?” He asks. 

You nod. “Y-Yeah, ohhh god, I liked it.”

“Gonna gguh-give ya real nice p-pups.” His muzzle rubs over the spot behind your ear, the same one that he’d been after earlier, smearing some of the crimson across your skin. He licks it with as much consistency as possible, considering the speed and intensity of his hips. “F-Fill ya u-up, knot ya gggood ‘n deep.”

You’re almost positive he’s talking pretty much nonsense at this point, his rut brain having completely taken over. You know you’re not gonna cum, but it doesn’t really matter; you’re doing this for him, after all.

“Oh g-god, I’m cummin’, I’m gonna--”

He pauses his hips, howling softly as he cums. But this time, something else begins to swell, and you cry out as it does so. 

“M-Ma k-knot,” Clyde breathes in explanation. “Keeps it a-all inside y-ya.”

You nod, not really knowing what all he’s talking about but not really caring for an explanation right now. 

“‘m gonna h-havta stay inside y-ya fer a lil while. S-Should be ‘b-bout 30 minutes or so.”

His tongue begins moving over your cheeks and neck, something that makes you smile, that helps you remember that your beloved boyfriend’s in there somewhere.

The half hour waiting period passes, and as much as you’ve loved snuggling with your boyfriend (who’s wolf counterpart is relatively cuddly, despite previous reservations), you’re happy to have him off you.

After wishing you a final goodbye, citing the need to ‘clean up his cave a bit’, he trotted back out the door and galloped like a madman (wolf?) back out into the shadowed wood, leaving you alone once more.

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

It’s all over the news when you flip on the TV a couple days later.  Hunter Found Slain in Boone County Woods, Bear Attack Suspected.

You have this awful, sick-to-your-stomach feeling that what happened the other night, when Clyde came to your house still in wolf form with a snout and chest covered in blood, had something to do with this. 

When the picture of the victim came up on the screen, you audibly gasp, recognizing the face. It’s the guy that was feeling you up at a few nights ago at Duck Tape. 

Oh god, no. 

Suddenly, the door flies open, and Clyde’s panting as he rushes in and shuts it behind him. He looks pained, bottom lip trembling. “Have ya s-seen the ne--”

“...Police are still investigating the scene...foul play has not yet been ruled out...”

His entire demeanor falls, and the tears fill his eyes. He’s visibly shaking. You stand up and rush over to him just as he collapses on the floor. 

You’re freaking out, trying to confirm what it is you’re pretty sure you already know.

“C-Clyde, did you...?”

He looks up at you from where his head now rests in your lap. “I c-can’t quite remember, b-but I think...I think I m-might’ve.”

Sobs wrack through his body as he cries hoarsely. You’re in shock, somehow hearing the words makes the reality suddenly hit like a damn semi-truck. You run your hands through Clyde’s slightly matted mane, soothing him as best you can. 

“Clyde, it’s okay, baby. It’s alright, it’s not your fault.” You whisper.

“Y-Yeah it i-is, though. I k-killed ‘im.”

You try to stay strong, for Clyde’s sake, but the tears are swelling in your eyes at an uncontrollably fast rate.  “But you d-didn’t do it o-on purpose, h-honey.”

His face seems to drop even more when he sees that you’re about to cry. He sits up shakily, pulling you into a big ol’ bear hug.

“Oh, buttercup, oh god, ‘m sorry. I didn’t m-mean to drag y-ya into all ‘a t-this.”

You sob into his shirt, wrapping your arms around him, holding him close. It’s hard to believe that this man, this kind, gentle man, could’ve done something like this on purpose. Clyde would never hurt a fly.

From what he’s told you, which granted is very little, the line between werewolf and human for him is quite a blurry one. He seems to only be able to remember parts of what happened, and his subconscious is only there for part of the time.

Which means that he’s technically innocent, since he can’t remember nor could he control his canine impulses or instinct. As far as you’re concerned, werewolf Clyde and human Clyde are two different beings.

“I-If anyone ever f-found out ‘bout ma c-condition...”

You pull away and look up at him, holding his face in your hands. “Clyde, I-I’m not gonna turn y-you in.”

“What?” He looks at you with a furrowed brow, like he’s surprised to hear your words. “Y-Yer not g-gon’...?”

Shaking your head, you swing your leg over his lap, hugging him once more while your face settles into the crook of his neck.

“No, of course not. I know you’re a good p-person, and like I said before, it’s n-not you. Your w-wolf side is not really you, Clyde, at least not entirely.”

Clyde looks down at you with an incredibly grateful expression, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He tilts your head up with one of his meaty fingers, immediately pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is relatively short, just a showing of his gratitude, of his love for you. When he pulls away, you maintain eye contact.

“Okay, so most of the solid DNA evidence will have been washed away by the rain and tampered with by the elements over the past few days that the body’s been outside. Plus, they aren’t looking for wolf DNA, and even if they somehow knew, your wolf DNA wouldn’t lead to your human identity, at least I don’t think so...”

Hours and hours of watching countless true crime shows, movies, and documentaries are finally paying off.

“But, do you remember leaving anything, anything that could indicate foul play? Really search your memory.”

He puts his metaphorical thinking cap on, closing his eyes as he tries to recall anything of use from that night, but nothing comes to mind. His eyes swell with tears as they blink open and he shakes his head. “I can’t ‘member anythin’.”

“That’s okay, Clyde. They won’t find out, I promise, they won’t.” You kiss his neck. “For now, let’s just try to relax and we’ll keep an eye on the news. Will you come snuggle on the couch with me?”

Clyde smiles softly, nodding as you pull away and stand up, extending a hand to him. He takes it, standing up seconds later.  As you walk into the living room, he says your name, causing you to turn around with a slightly perplexed expression.

“Thank ya.”

You smile brightly. “I love you, Clyde.”

“I love ya, too, darlin’.”

[liighty]

Guzma babysitting Reader’s Niece

(A/N): BACK ON MY BULLSHIT AGAIN! BUT THIS TIME IT’S NOT ALL THAT SELF-INDULGENT AND MIGHT POSSIBLY BE TURNED INTO A SUPER FIC IF I FEEL LIKE IT

In all honesty i’ve thought about making another largeass super self-indulgent Guzma x Reader mega fic, but I’m not sure if I want to? I don’t know if anybody would read it, so that’s what this post is for!!! If you like this and want to see actual Guzma x Reader with plot and not just fluff drabbles lmk!! I have a bunch of asks to address so maybe i’ll get to that too soon

Anyways, back to the fic.

Mini Summary: (Y/N)’s niece needs to be babysat while (Y/N) is interviewed, so they turn to Guzma and crew to help out for a bit. Chaos ensues.

Rating/Triggers: UH drugs are mentioned but not really? THE KID DOES NOT DO DRUGS!!!! but yeah if that makes you uncomfy i’d be careful with it??\

Pairing: Guzma/Gender Neutral!Reader (I used the honorific ‘Titi’ which is gender neutral for ‘Tia’ or ‘Tio’ [extra thanks to Ocha_Bocha for helping me with that one <3] and tried to make it as gender neutral as possible. Originally this was written with a male reader, and then I went female, and ultimately attempted to eliminate gender completely. [Following the footsteps of Splatoon teehee])

Fic under cut!!!!!

"Are you sure this is a good idea, honey?" You clutch your niece's hand as you approach the large walls that separate Po Town from the rest of Ula'Ula Island. It's not that you don't trust the man who you're leaving her with- in fact, those two have been acquainted previously and seem to get along fairly well- It's his friends who you're concerned about.

"..." Her silence is expected, as the kid isn't all that talkative. Recognizing the young girl's silence, you frown. 

"You can stay in the office lounge if you really want to. I know you aren't the biggest fan of crowds, and um- Guz has some pretty loud friends-" Your explanation of what to be expected is quickly interrupted by a blue haired young man decked in black and white clothing. "Yo yo, what's with the kid?!" 

You arch a brow. You knew that Guzma worked with kids, but this guy couldn't be any older than 15! "I could say the same for you. I'm here to talk to Guzma-"

"Ya mean the boss? Why would some random chick want anything ta do with the leader of the Team Skull, huh?!"

A pink haired girl dressed in the same outfit walks up to the boy, crossing her arms. "Shut it, ya clod. Don't you remember the conversation we had with Boss yesterday?"

Hearing this, the blue haired boy's eyes light up in an epiphany. "Ohhhhh shit- Right-"

"Watch yer fuckin' language around the kiddo." She lightly smacks the back of Dansei's head. "She's in good hands, ma'am."

Another pink haired woman, this one being someone you finally recognize, walks in and smacks both of the delinquents in the head once more. "You say that after cussing, Reese?" 

Thank God. Plumeria. "Hey Plumes-" You smile weakly, waving politely with your free hand. Your niece does the same. Another young man, this one much shorter than the first and with green curly hair scrambles after Plumeria, jumping up and down to be seen. "Sorry about these numskulls. I'll lead y'all to the big boss man, yo. No worries at all, so you can chillax!"

I'm regretting this more and more by the second.

The crew starts whistling some hip hop tune as they make their way to the Shady House, the smaller boy beatboxing. You've taken this time to offer a piggyback ride to your niece, who's politely declined. Are all kids like this? Or is it just her?

Once they approach the boss, Guzma immediately jumps out of his chair, his signature shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "Eyyyyyy! (Y/N)!!! Kiddo!! What's up, homeslice?!" He hops down the stairs and crouches so he can get at eye-level with the young girl, offering his fist for a pound-it.

She bumps her fist against his, smiling just a bit. It's more of a reaction than you expected, at least. "S-sup, Uncle Guzma-" 

Looks like his slang is rubbing off on her. That's cute.

"Thanks for droppin' by, Doll. No need to worry about Little Miss Troublemaker over here, I got it all under control." He picks up your niece and walks over to you, pressing a looooooooongass smooch on your cheek. The other Team Skull members all make mini comments, like "Ewwww-", "Grosss-", and "Cooties-", causing Plumeria to once again smack their heads together. 

You roll your eyes, unable to stop the smirk on your face from growing any further. "Not in front of the kids, Guz." "Ah, right, right- My bad." His shades slide onto his face, hiding the bright red blush that had crept onto his cheeks. "Well, you should probably get goin', ey? The Aether Foundation's one lucky company to have you interviewin' for a position."

"Dork." You boop his nose, then your niece's. "Call me if you need me, okay honey? I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Okay, Titi (Y/N)-" You smile at the nickname while the others snicker. 'Titi' sounds an awful lot like 'Tittie', and considering three of the 7 people in the room are immature teenagers, there's definitely some laughing going on in the background. Plumeria looks very tired. How does she deal with these kids all the time?

"Alright, I'll be back. Don't light anything on fire, okay?" You yell as you walk off, feeling a slight hint of unease at the idea of leaving your young niece with so many delinquents, even if it's just for a few hours. It'll be fine, though. Guzma's there to keep them from doing anything stupid.

You laugh at the thought. Who am I kidding? He's probably gonna be the one who explodes something first.

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

The interview itself wasn't all that bad. You're fairly certain that you either aced it or put yourself up for consideration, which in itself helped your confidence just a bit. With the absence of Lusamine and the arrest of several of her chairmen, the foundation was very antsy and in need of someone who could handle the Pokemon Observation department. With your background in medicine and PR, you were rationally on the list of potential replacements, and despite your initial resistance, learning that the company would be run by somebody that WASN'T the manipulative little bitch Lusamine gave you enough comfort to accept the offer for the interview. Was it just an offer or an invitation? You weren't quite sure, but Wick was very insistent on you showing up.

Either way, you're pretty certain you got the job. Good on you. 

You can't help but wonder how your niece is doing, surrounded by so many troublemakers. As you make your way to the entrance of the Shady House, you can hear loud music, causing you to feel a small tint of anxiety. She'll be fine.

You walk up to the door and creak it open, the smell of burnt… whatever the fuck that is flooding your nostrils. Of course. They lit something on fire.

"Guz??" You call out to the empty room. "Plumes? Anybody home?" As expected, there's no response. You start to feel more and more anxious the more ground you start to cover. Where are they? Peeking your head around the corridor, your anxiety comes to its peak when-

"And that's why you should never do drugs, aight?"

H-Huh?

Your niece sits on Guzma's knee as he bounces it up and down, his signature shit-eating grin plastered on his face like usual. Awfully burnt cookies sit on the table, explaining the smell from earlier, and Plumeria seems to be asleep with the other team skull grunts. Are they… napping? Seems like it. 

She nods enthusiastically, taking a bite of a charred cookie and grimacing shortly after, causing the two to both laugh in unison.

"Doesn't matter if it's just for recreational purposes, you could still get hooked, and that's the last thing we want!" Grinning once again, Guzma pokes her forehead.

Hypocrite. You're reminded of the first time you two had kissed, which happened to be shortly after you both had blazed a couple of joints. It's enough to get you laughing, though.

"Huh?! What're you doing here so early? Don't tell me ya flunked THAT bad!" Guzma's eyes widen, a genuine look of bewilderment painted on his face.

"I did not flunk! I think I did great!" You huff, crossing your arms defiantly. "It's suuuuuuuper comforting that you thought I failed, Guz."

"Nononono I was joking!! Right, kiddo??" Your niece quickly nods. "See???? No harm, no foul!"

Arching a brow, you walk up to the two and pick up the young girl. "Mhmmm. Did you have fun, honey?"

She nods again, unable to contain the grin on her face. "Uncle Guzma told me about his Pokemon training! And I got to ride on Golisopod's back!" 

The large bug type pokemon bops up and down upon hearing its name, prompting a smirk from Guzma. "Yeah, I told ya I'd take care of her. She's welcome back anytime, okay?"

"Thanks, Guz." You peck his cheek, and your niece sticks her tongue out, closing her eyes. 

"Icky cooties!!" Where the hell did she hear that? The only people you can think of who'd say such a thing are in the other room snoozing, so- Yeah, actually, you know exactly who taught her that word.

"Well, I'm gonna getchu with my cooties! And my tickles!" You raise a hand menacingly, wiggling your fingers with one eye closed. She immediately curls up, not out of fear, but out of excitement. It's nice to see her so happy again.

After a very long tickle session, you quickly glance at the large grandfather clock, noting the short hand of the clock slowly approaching the number 8. Shit. "We gotta go, kiddo. Your dad isn't gonna be all that happy if we get home any later than 8:30. Besides, it's past your bedtime."

"I bet Uncle Guzma stays up past his bedtime-" She yawns. "Can we stay for a little longer?"

How can I say no to that face? You find yourself incredibly conflicted. Do you tell her you have to leave anyways? Or do you stay and risk getting in trouble by your brother-in-law?

"Eh, as much as I'd love to have you over for longer, kiddo- Look at your Titi (Y/N). They look exhausted."

You smile gratefully at the comment, glad that it doesn't have to be you to tell your niece to go home. "Yeah, I'm beat. We can hang out some other time, okay? I promise." You pat her head and get ready to leave.

"Aww… okay. Bye, Uncle Guzma!! Bye Golisopod!" She holds your hand, and the two of you eventually walk your way back to the car. As you drive away, one thing lingers in your head. You can't think of anything else, in all honesty.

Guzma's great with kids. I should've expected as much, but… I'm glad he gets along with my family.

Your stomach rumbles at the intersection. I'd kill for some malasadas right about now- 

Okay, maybe you CAN think of something else.

[chxrrysangel]

I Need a Favor

Part One | Masterlist | Part Three

Summary || A talk with Wanda and Vision at the ice cream parlor gives you a grand idea. Now only to convince your partner to go along with it.

pairing || fakeboyfriend!bucky x black!ofc

word count || 1,730 words

Notes || Diana uses she/they pronouns

Warnings || brief mention of disordered eating, language

"I ruined everything Wanda. She's never gonna talk to me again, " I say while salty tear drops from my cheek into the soft serve below me.

I don't think I've cried this much since Nat and I got into the same university. At least that was a happy memory. Wanda wraps her arms around my body, trying her best to console me.

"Vision! Another cup of Cotton Candy over here!"

Vision, Wanda's boyfriend, pops up from behind the counter, blond hair sticking up in all directions. That's what happens when he's in distress, that man never stops touching his hair.

"But Wanda--". He attempts to argue with her. But when he sees the glare her features are sporting, the words quickly die in his throat.

"Alright."

Not a minute later, Vision wanders over to our table carrying a medium sized bowl on Cotton Candy ice cream, my favorite. The shop is closed now, the last customers leaving about 10 minutes ago. I probably shouldn't be eating my feelings considering I haven't always had the best relationship with food, but I'll cry about that later. Right now, I just need to wallow in the guilt of the mess I've made.

"So, what's the problem exactly Diana? Why are you so distraught right now?" I sigh and will the tears to subside enough for me to give the breakdown. Seeing me struggle to keep my composure, Wanda steps in and I thank the universe for her.

"They kissed Steve at a party a few weeks ago and now he thinks she has a crush on him. Whether she does or doesn't isn't important because he cornered her in the library earlier and now she has to figure out what to do ASAP. They don't want Nat to find out about Steve's "revelation". "

"Shit, Di. So there's nothing you can do? You have no dirt on 'im? Threaten him to keep the secret? Maybe call in a favor or something?"

Favor. Call in a favor.

"Oh my god, Vision you're a genius! I could literally kiss you right now! I mean, obviously I wouldn't. But, you get what I mean." I scramble to gather my things and throw a ten dollar bill on the tabletop.

"I'll see you guys later! I have to go do something!" I don't wait for their response before I'm hurdling out the door and running towards Jones Apartments.

~~~

I kind of forgot the distance between Jones Apartments and Wanda's Creamery. That is why by the time I reach them, I feel like someone could peel me off the sidewalk. I don't think I've ever been this out of breath in my entire life. Jesus Christ, how is Nat on the track team? I remind myself to ask her about her running routine while I sit on the curb, trying my best not to burst a lung.

"Diana?" My head perks up at the sound of my name, surprised to see the exact person I was looking for.

"James!"

"Diana, I told you not to call me that." I get up from the curb so we're more or less eye level. I don't exactly like being talked down to.

"Anyways James, I need to talk to you."

"No." James sidesteps around me, heading towards the swivel door entrance."

"And why not?" I chase after him, hoping that by following him, he'll get annoyed and let me speak so I can go home. It is a Friday after all, I'm sure he has something to do. Probably partying at the frat house. Let's be real here.

"Because, I don't want to." He doesn't wait for my response before he's walking down the corridor to the elevator. I don't know why he thinks he'll be able to escape me, it's not like I don't know his apartment number or anything.

"James--", he looks at me with an irritated expression,"Okay, okay. Bucky. I have a proposition for you.”

"And what about that exactly?"

"That's for a space with privacy. You never know who's listening." He sighs and rolls his eyes before motioning for me to follow. Gotcha. Hook, line, and sinker.

~~~~

"Absolutely fucking not."

"What do you mean?! I've barely said a thing!"

"It's Steve Rogers, that's enough for me to say no."

"C'mon Buck! Please! I will literally get on my hands and knees, and beg for you to say yes." He smirks at my words and I proceed to punch him in the arm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You know exactly what that was for. Anyways, I really, really need your help."

"I already said no. Now get out." I'm starting to get annoyed with him. He's so stubborn.

"James, will you cool it with the bad boy, angry man act! I know you, you fucking moron. You can't fool me with that one. " He stares at me from his seat on the kitchen counter.

"It's not an act."

"Right, because it's not like just 6 months ago you were laying in bed with me at my apartment crying to A Walk to Remember. You're a total baby."

His jaw ticks at my reminder. Ha, gotcha. During the spring of Sophomore year, I tutored James for a semester because he was in trouble of losing his spot on the baseball team. And as they're most valuable and skilled player, coach couldn't let that happen. He'd also lose his scholarship. At first he hated me, but over time we developed a pretty decent friendship. He's actually a really cool guy, and a total softie at that.

"Shut up."

"Ah, so you do remember us being friends at one point. Well, at least before you stopped returning my calls and unfollowed me on Instagram and Twitter."

"Sorry 'bout that." He smiles sheepishly, seemingly apologetic.

"You should be. Anyways, weren't you and Steve friends freshman year? I'd only know him for like a year and a half, but I distinctly remember that you two used to hang out."

"Yeah, we did. But that's in the past." He hops off the counter, opening the fridge to grab a beer. I watch him as he pops the top with his metal arm, the depth of its capabilities continuing to amaze me.

"Why, what happened? Did you guys fall out over a girl or something?," I ask with a laugh. He stays silent.

"Oh my god. You guys did break up over a girl. So, who's the lucky lady?" Again, he doesn't respond.

"Do I know her?" Ok, now I'm intrigued. Maybe a little bit nosy as well, but more intrigued. Inquisitive, if you will.

Again, my words are met with silence.

"Oo, so I do know her. Is it Nat?" He pause for just a millisecond, the same way I did at the party.

"Di, will you just drop it?"

"Oh my god!--" I jump out of my chair, squealing with excitement. "--So, it is Nat!" Wait, shit. It's Nat. Oh, this is bad.

"You think?" Did I say that out loud?

"Yes, you did. Now will you get out of my apartment please?"

"Nope, we have much to discuss"

~~~

"So, what exactly do I get out of this besides a headache?"

"Ouch, James. I'm not that bad. So basically, I keep your secret that you ever liked Nat. You get to rub it in Steve's that your crush is a thing of the past. I get him off my back, and finally I figure out how to get you a date with Daisy when we fake break up."

"Ok, I can deal with this. We're gonna need a contract though."

"Oo, look at you using your brain. I guess my tutoring paid off." He pushes me, nearly sending me off the chair to my death.

"Hey, watch it cyborg! What good is a fake girlfriend if you kill them?" Bucky simply rolls his eyes, before pulling out a pen and paper from a side drawer.

"Okay, rule number one : don't tell a single soul. Not one. Got it?"

"Yes, dad," I respond whilst rolling my eyes. He stares at me for a second longer than necessary and I look at him questioningly.

"What?"

"Nothing. Rule two?"

"Um...we have to act decently couple-y. So that means kissing, you walk me to my classes, I go to your games, stuff like that."

"Okay, good point. Rule three, you have to indulge in some of the things I like. Especially my motorcycle."

"Uh uh. No fucking way am I willingly getting on that death trap."

He laughs at me. He fucking laughs at me. "y/n, it's not that bad I promise. I won't let you die."

"You don't know that."

"I promise, I won't let you die. " He smiles wide at me, enough for his dimples to poke out. He knows how much I love dimples. Well played, Barnes. Well played.

"Okay, put it as a conditional clause. While we're on that note, you have to indulge in my interests too. You have to let me braid your hair once in a while." His face drops in horror.

"Uh uh. Don't even try it Barnes. If I'm willing to put my life in your hands, I'm sure you'll survive some french braids and cornrows." He looks at me for a second before sighing in defeat, realizing I'm not gonna budge any time soon.

"Okay fine, anything else?"

"When are we gonna break up? Or, like what's our condition if it keeps going? We've gotta be believable here." The two of us sit in silence for a few moments, thinking of a time that would suit the earth-shattering demise of our passionate love story.

"Got it! You know that holiday banquet/fundraiser thing the dean throws just after New Years'? You know the one where everyone dresses up like it's the goddamn Met Gala? Well, that banquet has the most hookups of any public event this school has all year. You'd be an absolute moron to let your partner go without you. If we're still doing this by then, you have to go with me."

The banquet is four months from now, so there's absolutely no way in hell we'll still be doing this by that time. With that thought in mind, we shake hands and sign our names at the bottom.

"You've got yourself a deal Barnes."

[bee-s-honey]

✥Loose leaf Chrollo Hcs✞

I'm getting obsessed over all these little text thingies I find on random apps. Look at them!

᯽He would have notebooks upon notebooks where he writes about himself...or tries to at least. With topics like his childhood in Meteor City or missions he'd be sensitive about writing about them for some reason, so not like that. But he makes lists and tries to find himself through them and refuses to admit that that is what he's doing. I think one would be thinking about books and listing out the different characters he hates, loves, and relates to in hopes to try and get somewhere. Maybe ranking things like colors, weather, places he's been, ect ect ect and seeing if that could possibly mean anything. It's not anything like a journal it's only lists and blurbs and weird things scattered around. He lists, ranks, and categorizes everything despite his messy life and it looks so knowing for a man without himself

᯽If he ever gets gifts for the troupe it's never a bunch of little things or multiple gifts at all. For each member it's one thing anywhere from neat and nice to a grand gift depending on how they see it and it's special to them. He just never gives multiple gifts it must be one solid thing

᯽All of his dreams are lucid dreams/he can lucid dream very easily and he's been doing it since he could remember

᯽He's very extra/decorative with cooking. You could be decoratively accessorized with how you dress, your room decoration, but he does it with cooking. He always takes out bay leaves and a special herb mix to place on his spaghetti, every grilled food has to have lines, drinks must have lemon, cherries, oranges, or strawberries, and you have to be able to smell the herbs and spices from the kitchen. He doesn't always cook but you'd want him to 24/7

᯽Teen chrollo had a right side lip piercing and he still has a bit of his old stick n' pokes on the back of his calve and his forearm. He did the piercing with a safety pin.

᯽Chrollo would draw his own sigils for things. It's very rare and he's mutual on if he fully believes they work or not but he'd still have a few. It would really only be for things like protecting the base and protecting the spider. He wouldn't care for trying much else

᯽Hates bitter coffee but drinks it black because he refuses to let the others know. Machi tells him nobody will really care if he puts a lot of sugar and cream in, I mean, maybe feitan would giggle but it's fine. He still refuses.

᯽Chrollo isn't actually a Christain/Catholic, in fact he has religious trauma (I might make a hc post about a cool hc I thought of for it. I'll link it here) he uses the imagery for a mix of reasons. It's like...when people who've been hurt consume fiction about the same way they were hurt because it feels oddly familiar, but also just because he simply thinks such things as hard religion are prettier as aesthetics. It's like spite without spite. Mocking without ill intention. A bit confusing for anyone who's not him

᯽He has some sort of ocd. It's more a result of something growing up and not basic ocd itself. His is normally in numbers. He hates odd numbers unless it's dividable by 3/in the 3 family or if it's like the spider. There's one main part but the whole beneath the main is even. It's also affected sensory things so he's fine if something is a certain way, but it can't change from how it's happened every time before. For instance if there's one door that always feels heavy and has its specific feel when opened, if it changes for some reason and feels different he gets upset. It just makes him feel so uncomfy. For a man who's rarely had constants in his life, he really needs the smallest constants.

᯽He loves black cats. He'd be ready to argue with anyone about them; "No! They're symbolic of society's horrible treatment to anything based off of misconstrued superstition, and the example of something with stereotypes backed with no proof."

[fanfic-scribbles]

Smile

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Bucky gives you some reasons to smile.

Quick facts: Romance – Bucky Barnes/Reader – Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff, puns, cheesy jokes, so cheesy

Words: 3344

A/N: I’m going to admit it upfront, about 40 percent of the time spent on this fic was spent on writing it. The other 60 percent was spent on finding the jokes. Also, this story is semi-inspired by the fact that my face is not nearly as expressive as it feels (I basically look like the polite cat meme when I really try and I can’t do it for long before my face hurts too much) so this goes out to other people who get accused of resting bitch/asshole face. And get written up for it. Anyway, please enjoy this goofy little Bucky/Reader get together.

  ~

‘How do you make a tissue dance?’

‘Put a little boogie in it.’

Bucky snorts and coughs when he accidentally breathes coffee instead of air. ‘That’s disgusting,’ he texts back but Sam just replies with an obnoxious smiling face. Bucky shakes his head and goes back to his coffee. It’s actually not so terrible today.

He doesn’t hang out in a dive, but this coffee shop is a type of quiet he almost never sees in the city. It’s too far from the tourism path for convenience and just outside the neighborhood purview where there are many other local (better) favorites. It’s clean enough and decently sized, but it’s decorated like it was supposed to be trendy ten years ago and the place is barely staffed, to match its perpetually nigh-empty interior. There was a short-lived attempt at hiring another person, but after a ridiculous amount of turnover the owners, or whoever, apparently cut their losses and the only constants that remain are Bucky, the lone customer, you, the person actually working the counter, and your manager.

You’re nice. You always speak kindly to Bucky and, when you think you can sneak it, upsize his cup without comment or charge. Also, one time when his glove broke and slipped off, you hadn’t even commented on the arm; you’d even helped him stop panicking enough to see it hadn’t gone far and helped secure it temporarily with a rubber band.

Your manager, meanwhile, is a dick who glares at Bucky and once made a snide comment about him leaning too close to the register, and only talks to you in demanding barks. Like now– but the five minute “hushed” conversation is winding down and soon it will be safe for Bucky to go get his refill.

“I’m writing you up,” the manager says.

You jerk back in shock. “For not smiling enough?”

“It’s what we got marked down for, it’s what’s going on your record,” he says, turns on his heel, and retreats into the back to do jack shit. Bucky glares at his back as he goes. His harsh expression turns to a milder frown when he looks at you, hunched over and staring at the counter with a dead expression on your face.

He looks at his phone, looks at his empty coffee cup, and makes a quick decision.

“Can I get a refill?” he asks when he’s in front of you, startling you out of your stagnant misery. You look up at Bucky and after a second force an unnatural smile on your face. He winces on your behalf.

“Of course,” you say softly, and turn to refill the cup.

When you hand it back to him Bucky shuffles, hesitates, but finally asks, “Why are colds bad criminals?”

You blink. “Uh…why?”

“Because they’re easy to catch.”

You blink again, and then let out a startled laugh. Bucky smiles slightly at the sound, and smiles more at the more natural, smaller turn of your lips as you say, “That’s…that’s a good one.”

“It’s pretty terrible.”

“All the best ones are,” you say, and the door chimes making Bucky break away. But as he watches you talk to the delivery man like normal he nods to himself. He leaves with his coffee to start the day and fires a quick text to Sam: ‘Where do you get your dumb jokes?’

~

The next day when the door chimes and you see your one regular customer, you let yourself smile a lot more naturally than you have been. Your face is starting to hurt and your boss is probably napping in the back, so you take the chance to relax.

“Hi,” you say. “The usual?”

“Please,” he says, polite as ever as he hands you exact change and you go to fix his cup. When you bring it back he asks, “What did the fish say when he swam into a wall?”

“What?”

“Dam.”

You giggle despite yourself. Bucky’s smile is small and guarded, but you haven’t had a moment yet where you haven’t been grateful to see it. Maybe this ‘smiling’ business is all it’s cracked up to be. If only it didn’t hurt your cheeks so much.

But as he tips his cup to you and goes to his favorite corner, you find you don’t mind the ache as much.

~

Every time he comes in now, he brings a new joke.

“What do you call a fake noodle?”

“An im-pasta.”

“What does a clock do when it’s hungry?”

“It goes back four seconds.”

“Why did the bike fall over?”

“It was two tired.”

The delivery is fairly flat but there’s always at least the hint of a smile and, you don’t know, it might be his absolute seriousness that sells it, because every one of them raises your spirits. You don’t know why he’s suddenly telling you jokes. For anyone else you might think they’re flirting, but you don’t get that impression here. He’s handsome, always looks put-together in quality clothes even if they seem picked for comfort over anything else, and even before this he has always been unfailingly polite. If he wants someone, he has to have someone just as lovely. Right?

You can’t help but think about it even after he comes back. And the wonderfully terrible jokes, thankfully, don’t stop.

“Why did the mushroom go to the party?”

You keep pouring the coffee while you ponder an answer. “I don’t know,” you decide and lift your head as you hand Bucky his drink.

The way he smiles is very fetching– not quite a smirk, it’s a little too unsure for that, but it tilts up to the side and gives him a boyish charm that would make anyone weak in the knees. “Because he was a fungi.”

It makes a smile big enough for you to feel, but considering how self-conscious you are now you quickly tell him, “I liked that.”

“I know,” he says. “You smiled.”

“You can tell?” Maybe you aren’t as bad off as you thought. Or maybe he’s just being nice. But he seems honest, and he nods decisively.

“I get not being the most…expressive.” He shrugs. “But anyone can still see it, if they look.”

The implication that he cares enough to look stuns you both to silence. He ducks his head shyly and lifts his coffee cup in thanks before retreating to his corner. When you finally have working vocal cords again you say, “Have a nice day.” It might be the first time you’ve ever really meant it.

~

“What’s the opposite of coffee?”

Bucky’s eyes widen and narrow in quick succession as he goes from surprise to contemplation. He weighs your question with all the dramatic seriousness you could hope for before he says, “I don’t know. What is the opposite of coffee?”

You grin when you say, “Sneezy.”

His smile is bright and he nods his head. “Not bad, not bad.” He leans on the counter, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. It’s…shockingly warming. You have to remind yourself not to get too close. He showed up out of the blue and he can be gone just as quickly. Just because he’s nice doesn’t mean he has any attachment here. In fact, you hope he doesn’t– you’d question his sanity otherwise. “Why did Mozart hate chickens?”

“I don’t know,” you say, eager to hear the answer.

“Because when he asked them for their favorite composer, they said, “Bach! Bach! Bach!’”

You laugh– that is, of course, when your supervisor pokes his head out of the back and scowls at you. He should be happy that you’re ‘smiling enough’ but you know full well anything you do is never going to be good. You freeze whatever expression is on your face as Bucky’s mood darkens and your heart sinks. “Enjoy your coffee,” you say, infusing meaning into every word. That ekes out a small imitation of a smile as Bucky raises his cup and goes to his seat.

Your supervisor starts to stalk over to you but you are saved by the sudden ringing of a phone, and he blessedly turns on his heel and goes to answer.

You sigh and start cleaning up the counter. Bucky is in his corner, hunched over and quiet as usual. He looks fine, but you feel bad for the interruption, even though you get the impression he understands. Still, this is one nice thing you’ve had in this otherwise miserable job and you’re not going to lose yet one more good person to your superior’s shitty attitude.

You push out a roll of receipt paper, scribble ‘Why did the espresso keep checking his watch?’ on it, and stick it in your apron. You walk over to wipe down an untouched table and, before heading back, make a little detour to drop it next to Bucky’s arm. He grabs the paper as you’re scooting away (plausible deniability in case your boss comes out) but it isn’t until you’re back behind the counter that you realize what that just looked like. Does he think you just dropped your number? He hasn’t opened it yet. Is he trying to figure out a way to let you down? You suddenly regret playing into this so much; he was just trying to be nice, he probably didn’t expect you to latch onto it so–

He opens the paper, reads it, and shoots you a little smirk. You breathe a sigh of relief and mindlessly wipe things down and rearrange well-organized creamers and straws until Bucky comes up for his customary pre-leaving refill. You’re a little disheartened it’s that time already, but it means you’re that much closer to the end of your shift, at least.

“Why?” Bucky asks quietly. It takes you a second before you remember the receipt paper and you surreptitiously check the back to see the door is closed.

“Because he was pressed for time,” you say quietly as you hand back his cup.

He chuckles. “I like it,” he says and takes a sip. “Thanks,” he adds as expected, but then he winks and you…you just stare at him as he leaves.

Should you have dropped your number?

~

A few days later, Bucky is caught off his guard and pays for it.

“What’s this?”

Bucky doesn’t get to his coffee cup fast enough and Sam snatches it and reads. “Sam,” Bucky grumbles but there it is, Sam’s eyes go wide and he turns that stare on Bucky. “Don’t look at me like that,” Bucky snaps and snatches his drink back.

“You’ve been using my jokes to hit on a dorky barista?” Sam asks and follows him across the room.

“I’ve been using jokes from the site you steal yours from to share with the nice woman who makes my coffee,” Bucky says and sits in a chair. He never stays for Sam’s group VA sessions and he should have left sooner, damn it. “I wouldn’t use yours. They’re gross.”

“Potentially inappropriate for a lady,” Sam says. Bucky opens his mouth to argue but, no, that’s exactly it, even though Sam’s tone implies something completely different from what Bucky would have said. “What’s her name?”

“Bucky?”

Steve has never been more of an actual hero to Bucky than he is right now. Right on time to walk back home with Bucky, Steve wanders in, sees the two of them, and stops. “Oh, should I…”

“Let’s g–” Bucky is immediately stopped by Sam’s hand on his shoulder.

“Bucky’s got his eyes on someone,” Sam says, immediately centering himself as Bucky’s most hated arch-nemesis.

…Okay, maybe not, but if Bucky didn’t have real problems he would be.

“I do not,” Bucky grumbles, because he knows it’s pointless and Steve is immediately sitting in front of them and leaning in like he’s the last girl at the sleepover.

“Really Buck? That’s great!” Steve says. “Have you…are you going to make a move?”

“No,” Bucky says and quickly runs down the situation, hoping that it will clear things up but knowing his friends too well. Indeed, Sam and Steve share smirks before looking at him again.

“You’re a real hero,” Sam says, only partly joking.

“I hate you,” Bucky says, ducking his head down. He doesn’t really blush anymore, if he ever did, but the motion is instinctive.

“You don’t.”

“I wish I did.”

Steve grins, as does Sam, and Bucky wants to duck into a hole. Goddamn mother hens, they’re going to want to–

“Should we come by?” Sam asks and leans back in his chair. “Be real wingmen?”

“No,” Bucky says, harsher than he means to. Sam and Steve don’t look bothered– they’ve weathered worse emotional snaps than that– but they wait for him to explain and Bucky doesn’t know if he can. Because what if this is leading to something? Is he ready for that? He thinks he might like you, but would he be okay putting in the effort of getting to know you? What if he can’t handle it? What if Steve and Sam walk in and they’re all you see? Both of them are plenty distracting, and charming, while Bucky can hardly put one foot in front of the other, some days. And what if this isn’t leading to anything, you’re just nice, and it’s nice, but Sam and Steve find out and look at him with all the pity they can muster?

“I just…want to see it through. On my own. Whatever this is.” ‘Or could be’ he leaves unspoken, because hoping for anything still feels like too much.

“Okay,” Sam says first, because of course he does, but Steve nods along quickly. It’s enough to make Bucky exhale deeply and relax muscles he didn’t know he had tensed. He rolls his eyes and stands up to cover for it.

“You’ll keep us updated though, right?” Sam asks, an easy grin on his face as he lounges in the chair.

“Like I’ll be able to avoid it,” Bucky mutters, finishes his drink, and lets Sam know they’re okay by throwing the empty cup at his head.

~

The fact that you’re running out of coffee-related jokes is stressing you out. You wanted to keep on theme but too many more days of this and you’ll be scouring the internet for whatever jokes Bucky hasn’t used yet. There are some coffee-related puns, but…the ones you like carry a romantic hint to them, and you were hoping to save those in case Bucky showed any interest. So far you haven’t picked up on anything, but you’re also very oblivious, and your roommate thinks you’re an idiot and he’s obviously into you.

But he might not be.

You do what you’ve been doing since your boss snarked at you about flirting on the clock and get Bucky’s cup ready with maybe your favorite joke.

‘How did the hipster burn his tongue?

He drank his coffee before it was cool.’

And smile proudly at it. Your small handwriting is getting better– Bucky barely has to squint at it this time, and he gives you a conspirator’s smile when he slides his twenty-dollar bill across the counter at you, with the neatest print writing along the margins.

‘What do you call an alligator detective?

An investi-gator.’

It’s cute and you snicker to yourself as you gather his change and place it gently in his gloved hand. He doesn’t retreat to his corner right away, though, and shuffles in place. “I was…I just wanted to say…” But then his eyes glance to your side and his face freezes in an unfortunately familiar way. “Thank you for the coffee,” he says woodenly and raises his cup just so.

“Of course. Have a nice day,” you say as robotically as possible and watch him go. Your supervisor clears his throat pointedly and you pretend like the place isn’t as clean as it was since the last time you went around. But now you’re thinking. About how awkward Bucky looked, and how he mentioned wanting to say something…maybe…maybe he is open. To you. Potentially.

Tomorrow, you decide with a thrill of nauseating adrenaline. Tomorrow you’re going to bring it up.

~

The next day you arrive at the shop at your usual time in the pre-dawn cold only to find an extra padlock on the door and a note in the window.

You stare, dumbfounded, and read the note. You read it again. And again.

‘Out of Business.’

But nobody called you.

You immediately grab your phone and dial your supervisor’s number. When he doesn’t pick up you call it again because this cannot be real. The job was shit but it was a job, and you knew what to expect, and you’ll never see Bucky again, will you?

It takes almost half an hour for the asshole to pick up– or maybe more, as the sun is starting to show up– and upon answering, he snaps, “What?!”

“What happened?” you ask, just as unkindly.

Your boss grumbles unintelligibly but you wait. “Did you see the sign?”

“I was working yesterday; no one mentioned anything about this.”

“Corporate called last night.” He yawns loudly. “I tried to call you.”

That’s a lie if you’ve ever heard one, but your tongue gets tripped up in anger and he says, “Sorry but there’s no room at the other branches for you, your last check is in the mail,” and hangs up.

You stand there for a while, trying to blink away tears at the sudden upheaval of your life. You should have found a replacement job while you had a chance. You should have asked your co-workers where they were going. You should have given Bucky your number.

You stand there for a little while, debating spending money you shouldn’t on a nice breakfast to wallow in, when the sound of footsteps coming up behind you makes you turn around.

“Oh, Bucky,” you say and rub your face. You think you’ve managed to hold it in, but it’s chilly and any exposed skin feels frozen.

“What’s going on?” he asks and peers around you at the note.

“Um…” You gesture uselessly. “Apparently this location is no longer in business. Just found out.”

Bucky’s jaw drops. “That asshole didn’t even call you?!”

The amount of anger on your behalf startles you. Startles both of you, actually, but just as he’s about to say something you laugh and say, “At least that asshole isn’t my problem anymore.” You sigh. You have savings, and the other job, and there’s always some other crappy job waiting for someone like you. But there’s something here that won’t be, and you pull out your phone and start typing. “Um…Bucky…there’s something I wanted to say to you. But it’s hard to say.”

“Okay?” he asks. You squeeze your eyes tight, brace yourself for impending rejection, and hold out your phone.

‘I like you a latte,’ followed by your phone number, hopefully gets the point across. After a few seconds your phone buzzes and you jump and bring it back, hoping no one texted you anything terrible while Bucky was staring at your phone.

It’s a new number, and the text reads, ‘It’s hard to espresso my feelings for you.’

You look up at him and he’s smiling, mouth parted slightly, and you start smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. But it’s okay. “I only had two more coffee jokes left before that line,” you confess and save his name to his number.

“Maybe you can tell them to me over breakfast? My treat,” he says and extends his arm.

You don’t even have to think about it. “Your treat this time,” you say, and link your arm with his. “In return, I’m going to show you where to get some good coffee.”

“Oh I don’t know,” he smirks at you. “The last place had its perks.”

Lacking a good comeback, you push your face into his shoulder to muffle your laughter. He leans into you, and doesn’t pull away even when you’ve gotten under control.

It’s the beginning of a brew-tiful relationship.

[marvelslut16]

Stick and poke

Prompt number: 7 “yes I did, what about it?”

Fandom: IT

Paring: Eddie Kaspbrak x reader (aged up to 17 or 18)

Rating: T

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of underage drinking. Mentions underage smoking. Mentions teens giving each other stick and pokes- I beg of you not to try at home! Swearing.

A/N: First time writing Eddie! I feel like all I write for now are Marvel and IT. Borderline punk and/or rebellious Eddie. 

You and the rest of the losers are sitting in a circle on the floor of your underground clubhouse in the barrens playing a game of truth or dare. In the middle of the circle sits a large decanter of some brown alcohol you can’t be bothered to remember the name of, each time someone calls chicken they have to take a swig of the drink. As the game progresses, the liquid starts to steadily decrease, most of the time due to Richie’s questions. 

The losers not caring if they get drunk, each one lied to their parents and said they were spending the night at one of the others houses. So none of them have to worry about stumbling home drunk in the middle of the night, instead all of them staying overnight at the clubhouse. 

“Dare,” you smirk confidently at your friend with coke bottle glasses. So far you’re the only person to pick dare with the trashmouth, the rest choosing truth and most using chickens.  

“(Y/N/N), I dare you to” Richie smiles mischievously, you regret letting the trashmouth in on your feelings for his best friend. “To kiss Eds.”

“What?” Eddie looks panicked and starts hyperventilating. He reaches for his inhaler, quickly taking two puss from it. “That’s disgusting! Do you know how many diseases you can get from a single kiss?”

Eddie continues to ramble on about how unsanitary it is and you eye the decanter, which Richie stole from his father’s alcohol cabinet, in front of you. You’ve had the least amount of alcohol so far this game and the only one not to chicken with Richie, you aren’t about to start now. You roll your eyes and turn to your left, where Eddie’s sitting beside you, you grab him by the face and pull him in for a quick peck. 

Richie’s eyes grow considerably larger behind his glasses, Bev’s cigarette almost falls from her mouth as her jaw goes slack, Ben’s giggling at what just happened, Stan’s slapping a five into Bill’s hand losing a long standing bet between the two, Mike is whooping at you two. And poor Eddie is gaping at you, clearly flustered and looking for words. 

“You kissed me!” you aren’t sure if it’s a question or an exclamation. What surprises you though, is that he doesn’t go for his inhaler again, nor does he reach into his fanny pack for one of his many pills. 

“Yes I did, what about it?” you aren’t sure how you want him to respond to that, but you know it’s not the silence that you’re met with. 

A few hours later you’re sitting in folding chairs in one corner of the clubhouse with Richie, giving him a stick and poke as he tells you about the latest prank he pulled at school. It’s a prank you witnessed, but that doesn’t seem to register in his slightly fuzzy tipsy brain. By now the few shots you had to endure our pretty much out of your system, feeling and abating completely sober unlike the rest. 

“Quit moving!” you scold Richie for what feels like the hundredth time, he’s moving his hands while telling his story. Which isn’t helpful since you're trying to do his stick and poke of a pac-man ghost on his inner wrist, and he keeps almost screwing you up. Eddie’s eyes are on you as you finally wipe Richie’s arm clean, done with the little tattoo.   

“You want one Eddie spaghetti?” you hold up the needle you just used on Richie. You reach into the fanny pack wrapped securely around Eddie’s waist, which causes the poor boy to grow flustered again, pulling a disinfecting wipe out of it to wipe the needle clean. After that you use Bev’s lighter, running the flame over the needle to make sure it’s sterilized. 

“N-no, he stutters out, eyes focused on the way your lips form your words. “My mom would kill me.”

“She doesn’t need to find out about it Eddie,” you wave the needle teasingly in front of his face. He’s as sober as you, possibly even more than you, so you trust his judgement. If he had anymore than two shots all those hours ago you never would have asked. “You just need to hide it until you move out in a couple months.”

“Okay!” you’re surprised when he agrees, so is Richie who is staring with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. 

“What do you want and where do you want it?” you ask, quickly adding the next sentence when you notice Richie about to speak. “Beep beep Richie.”

“I’m not really sure,” Eddie plays with the zipper on his fanny pack, taking a seat across from you in the chair Richie recently abandoned. “But it has to be somewhere I can hide it.”

“Hmmm,” you start mentally ticking off places you can’t do the tattoo, your mind coming up with multiple scenarios on Mrs. Kaspbrak accidentally finding the tattoo. “I could do the base of your neck, like where the collar of your shirt goes. Or I could do your side, below your ribs.”

“How about my side,” it isn’t a question so much as a statement. “I want to be able to see it.”

“Any ideas on what you want, or do I get to surprise you?” Eddie fiddles with the bottom of his shirt and you wonder if he’s going to back out. 

“Surprise me,” Eddie nods, confident in his decision. 

“Do a penis!” Richie hollers, taking a swig of the alcohol left in the decanter. 

“Shut the fuck up Richie,” Eddie snaps and you giggle at the two. 

“You need to take your shirt off Eds,” you both blush at your words, causing Richie to wolf whistle. 

“Look at the Edster stripping for (Y/N)!” Richie hollers a little too loud, not that you’re worried anyone will hear you in the middle of nowhere. 

“Beep beep Richie!” Bev calls back, leaning her head on Ben’s shoulder. 

You scoot your chair beside Eddie’s, facing his right side you put one leg going behind his chair and the other towards the front, sitting in a v-like shape. You grab another wipe from Eddie’s fanny pack, cleaning the area of skin below his ribcage, Eddie’s right hand shoots out and grabs your knee, squeezing his eyes tight before you even have the chance to dip the needle in the ink. 

“As much as I enjoy your hand on my knee,” you admit. “It’s kinda in the way.”

You pry his right hand off of your skin, placing it on the back of your chair. He reaches his left hand across his body so he’s once again holding onto your right knee. You let him stay in the position, knowing he needs it mentall, and he’s managed to not twist his side and mess up your tattooing area. 

You decide to do a larger tattoo for Eddie than you did Richie, go big or go home. Right? You contemplated doing a small little fanny pack, but you didn’t want Eddie to take your teasing as an insult. Instead you decide on a basic mountain range, three overlapping triangles, and a sun poking out from behind them, a simple circle. A simple serene tattoo that Eddie can look at and calm down to when he has a panic attack.

As you actually start to tattoo his side, his grip on your knee tightens. You don’t mind though, you’re enjoying the weight and warmth his hand provides. Eddie’s eyes are on you the entire time, committing your concentration face to memory. He tries not to shiver every time your fingers run over his exposed skin, a warm fuzzy feeling growing within him. 

You’re focusing so intently that you don’t notice when Eddie becomes slightly more adventurous and lets his hand drift up to your thigh. Finally done with the tattoo you wipe it clean a final time, leaning back to admire your work. It’s your best tattoo yet, if you do say so yourself. 

“Remember to clean it everyday,” you aren’t sure why you’re giving Eddie, of all people, hygiene advice. He isn’t Richie, he has common sense. “And if it gets infected tell your mom right away, don’t try to hide it out of fear of getting in trouble. I’ll take all the blame Eddie, say I made you get it because I wanted to practice.”

Eddie squeezes your thigh as he compliments your work, sending a bolt of electricity from your thigh to your heart. Before you know it his lips are crashing into yours, this kiss far better than the one earlier in the night. The thumping of the blood in your ears drowns out the whoops and hollers from your friends. All you can focus on is Eddie; his soft lips on yours, the softness of his hair beneath your fingers, and the feeling of his hand moving from your thigh to your hip- his free hand also going to your hip, fingers digging in. 

When you pull apart for air, he uses his grip on your hips to pull you onto his lap. Now straddling him, you comb your finger through his dark locks with blonde tips. He begged and begged Mrs. Kaspbrak to bleach them and she kept saying no. So finally Richie and Bev bought bleach from the store, and did it themselves. Needless to say she wasn’t happy, but after two doctor's appointments, with two different doctors, she finally concluded that Eddie wasn’t going to randomly fall over and die from the bleach. 

Stan slaps a hand over Richie’s mouth to keep him from ruining the moment going on in front of the group. He’ll let Richie make fun of the two afterwards, but he doesn’t want his friends to get this close to finally being together, just to have Richie’s teasing make the both of you chicken out and ignore each other. He’s not sure he can handle all that pining again, the entirety of the losers club isn’t sure they can handle that again. Your hands slide down from Eddie’s hair to his still bare shoulders, pulling him in for another searing kiss. 

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny​ @mrs-malfoy-always​

[cinaja]

Before the Wall part 55

Masterlist

A/N: Please excuse the irregular updating schedule. I had planned to be done already by now, but life decided to get in the way.

----

The discussion rages on for hours without coming to a decision. In the beginning, at least people are still civil with each other, although that might just be the shock making them polite. It fades soon enough, though. The first person starts yelling twenty minutes into the meeting, and from there, things go downhill quickly. Drakon manages to keep some semblance of order for almost half an hour after that, but eventually, he has to give it up as a lost cause.

He lets them yell, lets them talk all over each other and cut each other off as they please. If that’s their way of dealing with their emotions and coming to a decision, he can’t stop them, and at this point, he is too tired to try.

Maybe he should have waited until morning to call the meeting. By then, he might have decided on a stance of his own, or at least calmed down enough to be able to lead the meeting properly. Miryam and Sinna don’t interfere either, though, so maybe they also think that there’s no way to get order into this group.

Drakon lets the discussions – if you can call them that – continue for over two hours. By then, it is beginning to become clear that no one is ready to change their mind anymore. People are just repeating their set opinions and getting into screaming matches over them, which doesn’t seem to be particularly effective and certainly isn’t pleasant.

“This is enough, I think,” he says. No one seems to hear him except for Miryam, who has been sitting silently at his side the entire time.

“Enough,” he repeats, louder this time.

Sinna, who is sitting at his other side, turns to look at him, then back at the group. Abruptly, she rises. “Enough,” she shouts, voice rising easily over the general noise.

The room falls silent, faces turning to face her. Sinna simply sits down again, inclining her head to Drakon.

“Thank you,” he says, leaving it open whether he is addressing Sinna or the assembled council. Slowly, he rises. “I believe we have discussed this long enough. If no one has any objections, I’d like to call a vote.”

If anyone has objections, they don’t voice them. Drakon nods.

“I wish to leave the choice to the council, so I will abstain from this vote,” he says.

“As will I,” Miryam adds.

Drakon nods to her, then faces his council again. “Those in favour of an evacuation,” he says, “please raise your hands.”

The result isn’t immediately obvious. The people who raised their hands seem to be roughly half of the council. Drakon counts. Counts again. Notes down the number.

“And those in favour of fighting,” he says. Again, people raise their hands. “Those who abstain.” There are fewer hands this time, only four people.

Drakon nods. “Then it is decided,” he says. “We will follow the council’s suggestion and evacuate.”

The words are like a stab through the chest, and only now does Drakon truly realize that he would have preferred to fight. He wouldn’t have forced anyone, of course, but if it had been up to him, he would have tried to defend his home. He would still have evacuated, just to be sure, but he’s sure there would have been volunteers.

But maybe that would have been stupid.

Some councilmembers are just starting to look like they are about to argue when a knock at the door interrupts them. A guard pokes their head in.

“Forgive the interruption,” they say, bowing. They don’t manage to get any further before a human man shoves past them. Yanis, one of Andromache’s personal guards.

He looks around the table and gives the barest of nods in greeting, making a few of the Fae frown, before turning to Miryam. “You need to come,” he says. “It’s urgent.”

----

Miryam arrives within half an hour of Andromache sending the message. She is still in the dress she wore for the council meeting and the fine silk makes her look terribly out of place in the camp amongst tired, siege-worn soldiers. She looks even more out of place amongst the dead who have been piled up at the edge of the camp.

Andromache tears her eyes away from the corpses to watch Miryam’s reaction. She must have been warned of what happened, likely by Yanis who is trailing after her, face drawn, because she hides her feelings well. She stops a few steps away from the corpses, dark eyes moving over the frozen faces, the arrows poking out of limb bodies. Andromache expected an explosion of some kind, but Miryam’s face remains controlled, almost impassive.

Finally, she turns to Andromache. “All of them?” She asks.

Andromache nods, unable to say anything. All these people, all these humans they wanted to free… they were so close to freeing them. Damnit, their army was camping less than a mile away when it happened and she only noticed anything was going on when Amarantha’s soldiers started dumbing the corpses over the walls.

She should have attacked. Why did she decide to keep up the siege, why did she refuse Mor and Miryam? She knows what Amarantha is like, and still, she waited.

Abruptly, Miryam turns away from the corpses. “Give me a few minutes, please.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turns and stalks away from the camp into the dark, the hem of her dress dragging through the mud. Andromache lets her go. She certainly understands wanting some privacy now, and she doesn’t have the energy to go after Miryam and comfort her. She could use some comfort herself, to be honest.

Slowly, she turns back towards the dead. She will need to arrange a funeral of some kind. Pyres, she thinks. They won’t be able to offer much respect, and even all the respect in the world won’t bring these people back to life, but it’s all she can do at this point.

Amarantha’s soldiers simply dumped them over the castle walls. Hundreds of corpses, some still with arrows poking out of their bodies, eyes staring unseeingly into the air. When Andromache sent her soldiers to collect the dead, Amarantha’s soldiers didn’t attack them. Like they were under orders to let them proceed. Like Amarantha had wanted them to see exactly what she had done.

Steps approach from behind, then Mor is there, standing next to her. She stares at the corpses, brown eyes wide, then at Andromache. She raises her arms like she wants to hug her, but then seems to remember the people watching them and merely puts a hand on her shoulder.

“She killed them,” Andromache whispers. “She just… she killed them all.” She balls her hands to fists at her side.

Mor squeezes her shoulder, still staring at the corpses. She’s slowly shaking her head like she can’t quite believe what she is seeing. Andromache reaches for her hand and tries to let the contact calm her.

Finally, she manages to tear her gaze away from the corpses and looks over at the castle. If she could, she would kill them. She would send the entire mountain crumbling down over them for this. If she only had the ability…

She abruptly turns around.

“What is it?” Mor asks.

“I need to talk to Miryam,” Andromache says. “Come on.”

By the time Andromache finds her, Miryam is nearly done drawing a circle around herself in the ground. A sleeve of her dress is splattered in blood from a shallow cut along her arm, the fingers on her other hand are stained in blood and dirt.

“What are you doing?” Andromache asks. From what it looks like, Miryam’s idea matches hers. She only came up with it a few minutes earlier.

“Solving a problem.”

Miryam finishes the last symbol and rises, carefully wiping the blood from her arm. She turns towards the castle and starts whispering. The words rise in the air, filling it with a humming energy and making Andromache shiver. It feels the way it does before a storm, all unreleased energy and anticipation for what’s to come.

A rumble sounds from the distance and for a moment, Andromache thinks that she is indeed about to be in a thunderstorm, but this is far louder than any thunderstorm could ever be.

She turns towards the castle just in time to see part of the cliff come off. Tons of rock tumble downwards, burying part of the castle under it.

Mor flinches. Andromache doesn’t. She wishes she could say she felt a hint of shock or regret, but she doesn’t. As far as she’s concerned, it was kind of Miryam to leave part of the castle standing. Far kinder than what these people deserve.

Miryam waves a hand and the tension in the air dissolves. She turns to Andromache. “I think you might want to offer them a surrender now. Unconditional, I believe.”

Andromache nods and waves one of her soldiers forward to deliver the proposal. It only takes a few minutes for him to return, bringing news of a surrender with him. Moments later, people begin to file out of the castle, soldiers first, some of them supporting wounded comrades, then civilians. They are all taken into custody by Andromache’s waiting army, stripped of their weapons and tied up.

Andromache scans the captured enemies, waiting for her to catch a glimpse of Amarantha’s red hair, for one of her soldiers to inform her that the enemy general has been captured, but no word comes.

“We ought to search the castle,” Andromache says.

“I doubt it will be any use,” Mor says, appearing from where she was helping the other soldiers secure their prisoners. “I talked to one of the captains and he said that Amarantha and her highest-ranking commanders winnowed out of the castle well before we attacked.”

Andromache curses. She knew this might happen, but she hadn’t thought Amarantha would be this much of a coward. She had hoped she would at least have the honour to stick around until the end and accept the punishment for her actions.

“Well, that was to be expected,” Miryam says. She runs her hands over her dress, clearly attempting to smooth the fabric. She only succeeds in splattering blood on it, though, and starts rubbing hectically at the stain. For a moment, Andromache thinks she might burst out crying, but then, she shakes her hand and straightens. “I need to return to Erithia.” She looks over at the prisoners who are being herded into a circle. “The civilians may walk free, I think,” she adds, then inclines her head at Andromache and stalk off.

Not a word of the soldiers. That probably means the choice on what to do with them is left with Andromache.

Usually, the Alliance takes prisoners. There have been exceptions, of course, but those always went through the council. If she were to keep to the rules, Andromache would keep the captured soldiers as prisoners for the moment and maybe petition with the council to have them executed for their crimes. The problem is that the council hasn’t exactly been reasonable lately, and Andromache is far too angry to go through the proper channels and risk being refused. What Amarantha did was inexcusable and horrifying, and if the Alliance doesn’t have a direct and hard response, they will risk others following her example.

Miryam must think the same way. Her only reminding Andromache to leave the civilians alone, but not telling her to keep to the protocol, is as good as permission to do what she deems necessary. (At least that’s how Andromache chooses to interpret it. One could also argue that Miryam simply forgot to tell her and meant nothing by it, but Andromache vastly prefers the other interpretation.)

She turns to Mor. “Would you please pass it on that I want soldiers and civilians separated from each other?”

Mor nods and hurries off. It takes almost an hour to successfully tell all soldiers from civilians, which is a good thing because it allows Andromache’s temper some time to cool off. Her first instinct was to simply have each and every captured soldier executed, but with some time to think about it, that no longer seems like such a good idea. Revenge it would be, but it might do more harm than good. Killing all of the soldiers would allow the Loyalists to twist her actions into cruelty, to leave out the reason and simply paint her as brutal. If she wants them to see her actions as just, as a fitting punishment, she needs it to make it clear that she didn’t just murder everyone in sight.

She steps forward facing the captured soldiers. “Which of you were involved in executing Amarantha’s orders?”

No one replies. A few soldiers shift nervously on their feet, others glare outright at Andromache.

“If you don’t answer,” Andromache says lightly, “I’ll have to assume that you are all complicit and punish each and every one of you.”

Another heartbeat of silence. Then, one soldier breaks the silence. “The archers,” he says. “It was the archers who did it, not us.”

With that, the dam is broken. Other soldiers begin to speak, so many of them at once that Andromache has a hard time sorting out individual voices. They are all but tripping over each other in their haste to place the blame on someone else.

It takes another hour to sort through the accusations, but by the end of it, Andromache has mostly sorted out the responsible archers as well as the soldiers who kept the doors closed. The system isn’t exactly secure, but good enough for Andromache’s purposes. Two groups of soldiers, one to spare and one to punish, was really all she needed.

She turns to her soldiers who are still standing around, awaiting instructions. “Have the ones who were not involved in this secured in a holding area somewhere in the camp,” she says. She looks over at the second group, the archers who murdered all these people tonight, the soldiers who held the doors shut while it happened. Holds their gazes as she adds, “Shoot the others.”

----

Word is sent out that very night. Letters are written and copied and couriers carry the news throughout Erithia. Drakon is sitting in his chambers as it happens, coordinating the evacuation plans with Sinna and a few other advisors, so he isn’t there to witness the reactions, but he can imagine the disbelief and pain as clearly as if he saw it himself.

Miryam misses most of the discussions. After arriving back from Andromache’s camp, she only had an hour in Sajeo (twenty minutes of which she spent locked into her rooms with Drakon, sobbing into his shoulder as she told him what happened) before getting summoned back to Telique to explain to the council what had happened.

This shouldn’t be happening. None of this should be happening. If they are supposed to be winning, why did all these humans have to die? Why are they losing Erithia? It isn’t fair. It isn’t how it’s supposed to be going.

The evacuations start within the week. Evacuation orders go out to everyone in the country, but the coordinated effort begins with those closest to the border. The army is already on its way there, sent to hold the border as long as possible, and some soldiers are dispatched to help the people living nearby pack their things and leave as quickly as possible.

Many don’t want to go. Some cry but are quickly convinced, others get angry only to eventually comply, willing to risk their own lives but unwilling to do the same with their families. But some remain unwilling to change their minds. No amount of pleading, reasoning and arguing will do anything – they will not abandon their homes, even if it means their certain death.

It breaks Drakon’s heart. All reactions are terrible to witness, even the ones who go without complaint, merely staring empty-eyed at the homes they are about to lose, but the ones who choose to remain in spite of the risk are the worst. They are the ones who make him reconsider if the choice he made was the right one.

Maybe staying and fighting would have been the better choice. He wouldn’t have made anyone stay, of course, but just looking at these people, looking at his soldiers, he is sure that many would have been willing to risk it. He would have happily risked his life if it had meant that they might have avoided this.

And thousands might have died for it, he reminds himself. Better to lose a country, lose a few houses and fields, than to lose his people. Even if it is the country he loves, even if those houses are homes.

Besides, it isn’t his decision to reconsider, and doing so just makes him a hypocrite. His council, representing the people of Erithia, made that choice. He doesn’t get to talk about wanting to give a voice to his people only to start doubting them the second they make a choice he doesn’t entirely agree with. He has to trust that they made the right choice, even if it tears him apart.

So instead of doubting, he tries to focus on getting the evacuation to work as smoothly as possible. Miryam is mostly absent for the first few days, dealing with the fallout of Amarantha’s actions. (Or rather, Andromache’s actions, since most of the council seems to be far more concerned with her having a bunch of murderers killed without consulting them than with Amarantha murdering hundreds of innocents.)

Drakon might not know a way to stop anything like what Amarantha did from happening again, he might not be able to stop his country from being invaded, but at least he will do all he can to keep more people from dying unnecessarily. It might not be enough, is never enough, but it’s all he can do.

----

Erithia isn’t the first evacuation to happen during the war – far from it, actually – but it is the biggest as of yet. It is also the first evacuation Miryam experiences from up close. So far, most evacuations happened when an enemy army advanced faster than expected, often following a lost battle. Miryam often visited the refugees or helped with the preparations, but she never had more than a few hours to spare, too busy dealing with some other logistic or political issues to linger long.

This time, Miryam lives through the entire evacuation, start to finish. She helps with the logistics, yes, but she also sees the tears and the pain, not just once but countless times. Village after village, town after town. The pain, rage and tears are always the same, yet somehow different every time.

Having to watch it day after day, knowing fully well that it is all her fault, is tearing her apart. It doesn’t matter how much she tries to tell herself that this is Shey’s doing or that she never intended for anything like this to happen, she can’t stop feeling like it is her fault. All this pain and suffering because of her.

She failed. Just like she failed to save Amarantha’s slaves, and might still fail to save her people.

She hardly sleeps anymore, nightmares chasing her from her sleep whenever she so much as closes her eyes. She could go to the palace healers for help – there are sleeping potions that are able to chase nightmares away entirely – but she never does. She can’t quite tell why. Probably because she can’t help but feel that the nightmares serve a function, either as a punishment for past mistakes or to warn her of what might happen if she fails again.

Today is turning into another night of little sleep. It’s long past midnight, but Miryam still sits perched over her spellbooks, looking for… well, she actually doesn’t know what she is looking for. A solution, she supposes. Some magic trick that will get the people she cares about out of this unharmed.

“You should sleep,” Drakon says. Miryam slowly looks up. He is sitting at the other side of the table, bowed over a map. His hair hangs in his face, but it doesn’t hide the shadows under his eyes.

“Likewise,” she says.

Drakon shrugs. “Can’t.” He points to the map. “We’ve lost one third of the country already.”

Unable to do anything else, Miryam nods. She would like to tell him that all will be well, or that they will get the country back, but no comfort she can offer would undo the fact that his home is currently being destroyed. They’ve seen the burning villages from afar, and Miryam is well aware that Ravenia is nothing if not thorough: If she wants to destroy a country, she will burn every house and every field she can get her hands on.

Miryam wishes she could do better. At the very least, she should be able to comfort him instead of being so caught up in her own worries and fears. Drakon comforted her when she was mourning Jurian even though he also had reason to mourn. Now, she should return the favour.

“We’ll have to start evacuating Sajeo in a few days,” Drakon continues. He rubs his face. “I know I should take this calmly. Lead by example, you know, but I just…” His voice trembles and dies like he is only barely trying to hold back tears.

Miryam rises and walks over to him, wrapping her arms around him. “You’ll manage,” she says. “You’ve done a great job so far – we’ve hardly had any casualties – and you’ll manage to see this through to the end.”

Drakon snorts. “I’ve lost my country, Miryam. I hardly deserve applause for managing to not also lose my people. It’s the bare minimum.”

“No, it’s making the best out of a bad situation that was outside of anyone’s control.” Not true, technically. Miryam could have controlled it, probably, and Shey, who caused it in the first place, could definitely have stopped it. But that’s not the point because it certainly wasn’t Drakon’s fault, and once they had decided to marry, he certainly couldn’t have done anything to change it.

Drakon shrugs. “Either way, it doesn’t change much about the outcome, does it?” Miryam bites her lower lip and he lays his hand over hers. “You don’t need to worry about me,” he says. “It’s… it’s nothing I can’t deal with. But nothing you say will make me stop feeling the way I do about this.”

“Alright,” Miryam says. When she says that people don’t need to worry, there usually is some major reason for them to worry, but Drakon isn’t like that. He probably isn’t lying when he says that he’ll be fine. Still, Miryam is beginning to get a sense of how difficult dealing with her can sometimes be. “If I can do anything to help…” she says, shrugging helplessly.

“Thank you,” Drakon says, and they both go back to their respective distractions. There’s no solution to either of their problems, and talking won’t offer one, but they can at least pretend that their work will make a difference.

For the next days, all of Sajeo is busy with the final preparations for the evacuation. Some already left the city, but many are still trying to pack as many of their belongings as possible, even going so far as to take furniture apart to load it onto their wagons. Others are hoping to arrange transportation, but horses or wagons are in short supply. In the palace, preparations are afoot as well. Most valuables have already been winnowed away, but there’s still much to be done.

Miryam mostly tries to stay out of the way. She doesn’t have any specific part of the evacuation under her control and her input would hardly be vital anywhere. If she tried to help, it would only lead to people feeling obliged to do as she says when there are far more qualified people around to handle the situation. Besides, she doesn’t feel it would be her place. After all, she is still mostly a stranger in this land.

Drakon is busy with the army or in the outer villages most of the time, so Miryam spends her time in Sajeo, talking to people, offering comfort. She has nothing but empty words to give, but most people seem satisfied with feeling acknowledged by their country��s leadership, and they actually seem to find it comforting when she tells them that all will be well, that they will be safe and able to return in a few months.

Miryam wonders if they would still feel the same way if they knew that they wouldn’t have to evacuate at all if it wasn’t for her.

The knowledge that this is all happening because of her trails her like a shadow. Every word she says to the fleeing citizens feels like lead on her tongue. From their reactions, she can tell that she’s being convincing, but she feels like a fraught.

A few hours after midday, she flees back into the safety of the palace, away from the looks that all seem like an accusation. She promises herself to return later on, or at least find some other way to be helpful, but right now, she needs a break. And a place where people won’t stare at her.

Her quarters would offer privacy, but there, she would only end up pacing, feeling trapped. Instead, she climbs up towards the roof gardens, wishing not for the first time that she had been born with wings. Flying might be able to offer a true distraction, but the gardens with their colourful flowers and birds, the clear air and open view, at least come close.

When she steps out into the garden, though, she finds that she isn’t alone. Someone else is already there, sitting on the ground under a bush that’s heavy with blue flowers. The other person is clearly Seraphim, but they have their head buried in their hands, shoulders shaking with barely-concealed sobs, and it takes Miryam a moment to recognize them.

Nephelle. She is crying, hard enough that she hasn’t even heard her approach yet. Miryam remains standing where she is, unsure. If it was her crying in the garden, she would certainly prefer for anyone who found her to just pretend that they didn’t see her and spare her the embarrassment. But of course, she is also aware that most people aren’t like that and in fact do prefer to be comforted when they are crying. It goes double since they are friends.

Before she can decide, Nephelle looks up, taking the choice out of her hands. “Miryam.” Her voice is far higher than usual and she hastily wipes her face as if trying to hide the tears.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Miryam says somewhat awkwardly.  

“No, it’s alright. I just…” Nephelle breaks off, and she has to wipe her face again, fresh tears running over her cheeks.

Miryam makes the spontaneous decision that Nephelle probably does want to be comforted. She walks over and sits down next to Nephelle. Puts an arm over her shoulders and starts gently rubbing her arm.

“What’s wrong?” She asks gently.

“Nothing.” Nephelle shrugs. “It’s just… this is my home and I…”

“I’m so sorry,” Miryam whispers. This is my fault, she wants to add, but resists the urge. It wouldn’t help Nephelle, but rather shift the focus of the conversation away from Nephelle’s grief and towards Miryam’s guilt.

Nephelle doesn’t seem to hear her either way, or if she does, she doesn’t let on. “I still need to help my parents pack our belongings,” she says. “Well, they said they can manage on their own, but I should help, I think. I just…” She shrugs. “I think I need some time to prepare. I’m kind of scared, I guess. Once we leave our home, we won’t come back.”

Miryam squeezes Nephelle’s shoulder tighter. “If there’s anything I can do…” She trails off, leaving the sentence hanging somewhere between offer and question.

“You needn’t worry,” Nephelle says. Her attempt at a smile doesn’t end up entirely convincing. “I just needed a moment, I think. And, well, everyone else is so busy and no one really needs a cartographer at the moment, so I decided to go up here since there’s really no point in bothering the people who actually have things to do.”

“I can think of several people who wouldn’t mind at all,” Miryam says.

Nephelle wrinkles her nose. “I didn’t say they’d mind,” she says, “I said they have things to do. Important things, and I don’t want to get in the way.”

“I don’t know,” Miryam says. “Maybe they’d find it relieving for you to take the first step and give them a chance to show their own feelings.”

It’s not a strategy that would work on Miryam herself, but she could see Sinna opening up once Nephelle does, and she assumes it is Sinna who she would go to.

Nephelle nudges her in the side. “You say that as the local expert for opening up about your feelings, I assume?”

“No, as the local expert for why not opening up about your feelings is a bad idea,” she replies lightly. Never mind that in spite of that knowledge, Miryam still hardly ever manages to be open about her feelings. She supposes it does make her a bit of a hypocrite, but well, just because she doesn’t manage to follow her own advice doesn’t mean it’s bad advice.

The comment earns her a slight smile from Nephelle. “Well, then I ought to take your word for it. Maybe I’ll try talking to Sinna once she gets back from Gerine.” Her eyes narrow slightly as she looks over at Miryam. “While we’re at the topic of exchanging advice, though: You should consider actually using the nights to sleep. And, well, I’d tell you to talk to someone, but I’m not convinced you would listen.”

“I do talk to Drakon.” She even told him about her guilt and her fear of what other catastrophes the future might hold, but she mostly tried to tone it down. It’s Drakon losing his country, and Miryam really doesn’t want him to shove his own feelings down in favour of helping her deal with hers.

“Do you want me to come with you when you go to your parents?” She asks.

Nephelle lightly shakes her head. “Way to change the subject,” she says, but it seems light-hearted. She hesitates. “But yes. Only if you don’t have anything else to do, of course. I’m sure you are busy.”

“Not too busy for this,” Miryam says firmly. It might mean another long night, but Nephelle is her friend and Miryam will be damned if she lets her face this alone.

She ends up spending two hours at Nephelle’s house, talking to her parents, helping them pack. The actual packing takes longer and Nephelle’s father invited her to stay for dinner, but the offer seems more of a formality than anything else. It’s clear that they want to spend the final night in their home together as a family and Miryam doesn’t want to interrupt. Nephelle, she thinks, just needed someone to walk her to her house and help her through the first steps.

----

They evacuate Sajeo two days later. Miryam spends the entire last night awake, following Drakon as he walks through the city one last time. She can’t imagine what he must feel like – she never had a home, not like this – but she tries to offer any support she can nonetheless. Drakon, who spent most of the quiet dinner they shared earlier crying, is calm now, collected. Easily reassures his people, deals with their grief without showing his own.

Soon enough, the last of the citizens have left. Miryam and Drakon are the last to go. Drakon looks back at the city once more, then, he waves a hand and the city gates swing shut. Miryam stares back at the city, at the gates that won’t stop Ravenia’s soldiers for more than a heartbeat, and tries not to think about the fact that when she will return to Sajeo, it will only be ruins.

After the longest moment, Drakon turns around and walks away, Miryam following him.

The evacuation takes several more weeks after that. As Erithia’s citizens flee towards the safety of the mountains, the Loyalists’ armies chase after them. The soldiers that bring up the rearguard, commanded by Sinna, plan some ambushes and win a few small victories, but no larger battles are waged.

There are no significant losses. At least that’s what Miryam tells herself over and over again. Hardly any people died. But the country is burning. It’s what each and every one of Drakon’s spies reports: Ravenia’s soldiers are burning down the country, villages and fields, ancient monuments and temples.

And who knows – maybe the next time, it won’t be a country burning, but its people. Not Erithia’s people, maybe, but hers. The humans from the Black Land.

Amarantha’s slaves. Erithia. Jurian. Her doing, all of it her mistakes. The fear accompanies her every waking hour now, every night, she wakes up screaming. It doesn’t matter how far she runs, the fear is always there, snapping at her heels. She negotiates surrender after surrender, and yet, through it all, she only ever feels like she is failing.

“We are winning this,” Andromache tells her one day, after yet another successful negotiation, but all Miryam can think of is that Ravenia will never just allow her human slaves to leave.

She will kill them all. Miryam might have feared it before, but after what Amarantha did, she is sure. Ravenia will kill every single human in the Black Land before she allows just one of them to walk free. Miryam dreams of it every night, sees the corpses and hears Ravenia’s laughter as vividly as if it had happened already.

She doesn’t know how to stop it. Erithia’s army is smaller than the Black Land’s, certainly not enough to force Ravenia into a surrender, and Miryam can no longer count on the Alliance to help. She doesn’t even trust them to have her back in negotiations anymore, not after what they did to Erithia. No, she certainly doesn’t trust any of them, but without their backing, she is no longer able to take on Ravenia.

Leverage. She needs leverage of some kind, something, anything that will give her a way to force Ravenia into a surrender. Something that doesn’t involve relying on treacherous Fae allies.

She barely sleeps anymore. Her days are spent working for the Alliance or helping with the evacuations, but at night, she sits awake, avoids her bed like some deadly disease. Instead, she studies her spellbooks again and again, desperately searching for any spell that will help her.

The spells are difficult, near-impossible to understand. And not strong enough, none of them are strong enough. Battlefield magic, some minor enchantments, some mere inconveniences, others big enough to mess with entire armies. But none, absolutely none of them are enough to protect her people, to force Ravenia into accepting her conditions.

Night after night, she sits over her books, stares at the pages until her eyes burn, desperate for an answer. Something, anything to save them. Andromache and Nakia begin shooting her concerned glances during meetings, Sinna takes her aside once to ask if she’s alright, Nephelle talks her into going for a walk a few times. Drakon tries to talk to her, but he sleeps even less than she does lately, so he isn’t really in the position to tell her that her behaviour is unhealthy.

Night after night. She now only uses the books for reference, has long since abandoned the spells in them as too weak. She is creating her own spells now, scribbling symbols onto parchment, ink staining her fingers.

She never had reason to learn curses, always preferred wards and defensive spells. She learns them now.

----

It takes nearly two months for Miryam to finish. Two months of constant chaos, trying to move thousands of people from their homes to the safety of the mountains, organizing refugee trails, convincing crying, desperate, furious civilians to abandon their homes to destruction to save themselves. Two months of negotiations with Loyalist countries, all of them unwilling to accept that they have lost the war and that no, the abolishment of slavery is not negotiable, this was the reason we started this war, what are you thinking? Two months of council meetings, hidden insults and suspicious glances exchanged between the different members, lines between fractions becoming deeper and deeper. Miryam has long since stopped trying to smooth them out.

After those two months, the solution Miryam comes up with no longer seems horrifying. Still, she spends an entire night mulling over it, debating chances and risks. In the end, there is only one result she comes to, only one possible conclusion: This is necessary. It’s the only way, and even if it isn’t pretty, she will walk it.

The first step, as it happens, is to finally tell Drakon.

Miryam doesn’t say what it is she wants to talk about, just that it’s important and they ought to discuss it in privacy. “Privacy” always means Cretea these days, as it’s the only place where they can be absolutely sure that no one will overhear.

Drakon winnows them to the ruins again. He sits down on a fallen pillar. Miryam debates remaining standing, pacing to ease her tension, but ends up sitting down as well.

“I think I might have a way to end this,” she says.

Drakon sits up a bit straighter, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. but doesn’t say anything. She had told him that she was searching for a way to force Ravenia into a surrender when she started, but didn’t yet explain the how, and he didn’t ask.

“The Black Land is in a vulnerable position,” she says carefully. “With such a large part of its army otherwise occupied, its defences will be low.”

Drakon tenses, and Miryam mentally kicks herself for her choice of words. Otherwise occupied is an unfortunate phrasing when the thing the army is occupied with is systematically destroying Drakon’s home.

Before she can decide whether to apologize or not, Drakon nods. “They are so focused on our borders that they lost track of their own,” he says. “Still, we won’t be able to spare enough soldiers to be able to take the Black Land – not if we don’t want to risk the Loyalists breaking through our defences in the mountains. I’m sure the Alliance will lend troops, though.”

Yes, Miryam is sure of that as well. For all that the Alliance might hate her these days, even Shey wouldn’t stop what could be the killing blow to their biggest mutual enemy. Well, she hopes he wouldn’t. She is nearly certain he wouldn’t. But she isn’t going to take chances.

“I don’t want Alliance support,” she says. She would be happy to accept it if it was just other humans, but there are still no human armies close enough to be of use. “I don’t trust them.” She hesitates. “I’ve found another way,” she finally says, hesitant. “One where we don’t need an army except to escort the humans out of the Black Land and get us into its centre.”

Drakon nods, an invitation for her to continue.

“It’s not a very pleasant plan,” she says hesitantly, finding that she doesn’t quite want to tell him. Saying it out loud will make it seem real, and once it seems real, it will seem horrible, too. “And you don’t need to… I mean…” Damnit. There’s no way to say it that doesn’t make it sound wrong. “It might be better if I didn’t tell you?” She says, more question than statement. “You don’t really need to know, and if I don’t tell you, you won’t be complicit.”

Drakon gives her a very flat look for that, obviously not all too pleased with her offer. She understand, of course – she knew he wouldn’t like the suggestion – but still, she felt she needed to make it.

“I’d say I do need to know, if it involves my soldiers,” Drakon says. “And I will be just as complicit if I go along with this without knowing what you are planning as I would be if I knew.”

Miryam starts tugging around at her sleeves. She still doesn’t want to tell him. For all that she is sure that her plan is necessary, she isn’t all that sure if Drakon will agree. And if he doesn’t, if he looks at her like she is a monster for this, then she doesn’t know if she will be able to do what needs to be done.

Maybe she isn’t as sure of her plan as she thought she was. Or no, she is sure. She just isn’t ready to face the possible consequences quite yet.

But Drakon was perfectly clear that he wants her to tell him. Asking once was fine, but to keep arguing after he made his opinion clear would not be. It might actually do more damage to their relationship than just telling him.

“Alright,” she says softly and begins to talk.

----

Tags: @croissantcitysucks @femtopulsed @aileywrites

[troubatrain]

sober - m.barzal (pt. three)

a/n: onto the next one for reposts :)

Two - Four

Game Days were busy.

There were a few things about a Rangers game day that were always consistent. Someone always kicked a soccer ball into one of the rafters, usually Mika who thought his girlfriend’s soccer skills were rubbing off on him. You couldn’t speak to Hank but you knew where he was because he did the same thing every game day even if he wasn’t playing. Trouba would ask you some sort of dumb question when you tried to get footage of him walking into MSG so you couldn’t post it online. Finally, Chris would follow you around and then claim it was part of his own superstitions.

“So you just left him?” Chris clarifies, somehow always sticking his nose in your personal life.

“Yeah I went home,” You shrug, sipping your coffee to hide the fact that you were flat out lying to someone you really did trust. 

“You just went home?” Chirs quips a smirk on his own face, “Because you’re in an awfully good mood today Y/N.”

“If you really must know Chris, I am capable of getting myself off,” You remind him, sarcasm dripping from your voice while Chris chuckled behind you.

“Alright Ice Queen,” Chris rolls his eyes, “We get it, you don’t need a man.”

Nobody does. You thought to yourself while you pushed Chris into the Rangers locker room to get him out of your hair for the rest of the night. It was something you reminded yourself constantly, your happiness didn’t need to depend on someone else. If you could just remember that, then there was no way anyone could ever hurt you. It drove your own mother crazy, and the romantics in your life always seemed to be annoyed by your lack of commitment, but you didn’t care. You were never going to be the girl who cried on the way home in the back of some taxi because a man broke your heart. Your life wasn’t going to be the sad part of a romantic comedy that was set in New York, because you wouldn’t let it.

**

The Rangers lost, one of the grueling overtime losses that you hated to even walk past the locker room after. You stood by the exit, watching the sad faces of the team leave to greet their significant others and see their kids. It made you soft for just a moment, your thoughts broken by a text to your phone from a number you should have deleted. It was from Mat, the location of a bar downtown attached.

Tough loss… come for a drink?

Does that drink come with strings attached?

If you’re asking me to tie you up, I’m in.

I cannot stand you.

You won’t be able to stand, just come and see me.

You bite your tongue, holding in the thought of asking Mat how many other girls didn’t answer him before he finally landed on you. Maybe he had a list, or maybe he just scrolled through Instagram until someone’s thirst trap caught his eye. Those seemed too logical for Mat, so you settle on the idea that he probably plays contact roulette until he finds a way to get his dick wet. A part of you screamed not to go, just to get on the subway back to your apartment and pack it in for the night. But you ignored your logical side for just a minute, grabbing a cab and giving the driver the address Mat sent you.

Mat, in a weird sense, was like a safe bet. Sure, you could have gone out and taken someone else home, it was easy in a city as big as New York. But, Mat was good in bed, and you’d be damned if you let him know that. You were letting your pussy take over for you, screaming that at least you were going to get off a few times.

“You’re here!” Mat cheers, scoping you out from the moment you stepped into the bar. He reeked of booze and bad decisions, his arm wrapping around you.

That was when the group he was with caught your attention. Standing on the other side of the bar were a few of Mat’s teammate’s who you knew of.

“Are those your fucking teammates?” You grit out, your lips as close to Mat’s ear as they could get.

“Would you relax? I didn’t mention what you did for a living, as far as they're concerned you’re just another girl,” Mat scoffs, his large hand landing on your lower back.

“Keep your mouth shut or I’m never speaking to you again,” You scold, wagging your finger at him while you walk over to the bar.

Mat’s teammates were interesting. It wasn’t that you didn’t like them, or that they were anything less than kind to you. It was that it felt so wrong. Just a week before that, you were sitting between the benches during warm ups listening to Matt Martin roast Trouba from the blue line and now you were listening to him gush about his pregnant wife. It was like you’d entered some alternate universe and you found yourself having a better time than you even anticipated.

“You’re too cool to be here with Barz,” Tito chirps, cheering you on while you took your third shot of the night.

Mat’s smile was dopier than normal when he threw his arm around you and pulled you into his chest, “It’s because I’m her conquest not the other way around.”

You roll your eyes, tucking your head into Mat’s arm and nibbling at it lightly to get him to shut up for just once. Mat smirks, leaning to whisper in your ear, “That’s a turn on princess, wrong move.”

“How about I just kick you in the balls?” You grit back, Mat’s eyes widening at the threat. 

“If you come home with me, you’re free to do whatever you’d like,” Mat chuckles, turning you around and pouting, his hand resting on your hip.

You bite your lip, if you went home with him you knew what that meant for you. It meant Mat was getting what he wanted - a spot on the roster. The problem was that Mat was probably better in bed than anyone else you were currently seeing, and admitting that was the equivalent of defeat. Another part of you screamed, that maybe he was just perfect for casual.

Mat Barzal was dumb, smug, and hot. Three characteristics that you thought made someone a good fuck-buddy. Mat wasn’t boyfriend material, and he was never going to get to meet your friends because no one could know this was happening. Mat was smug in the way that he constantly wanted to win, and while it meant his personality could be unbearable sometimes, it also meant he was excellent in bed. Finally, Mat was hot in the way that it reminded you that god really does have favorites. But, Mat was like sleeping with the enemy. He was going to make you lie to people who you trusted for the first time, and was that fair to do yourself just so you could get laid? 

“We’re setting some ground rules here Barz,” You finally land on, Mat’s eyebrows raising in surprise with your lack of protest, “Starting with if you ever force me to hang out with your teammates again, I’ll cut your dick off.”

“Noted,” Mat nods, “Anything else princess?”

“Yeah, that nickname has got to go,” You say, because princess irritated you more than any pet name, “And no sleepovers-”

“But we live in two completely different boroughs,” Mat protests, “And what if it’s late?”

“I’m a grown woman,” You remind him, “I can get home safe on my own.”

Mat rolls his eyes, “You’re a real pain you know that? Anything else?”

“Yeah, this stays between us, I’m not some pawn you can use to talk shit next time someone from my team hurts your feelings,” You say, poking him in the chest to make your point, “I’m serious.”

“You got it captain,” Mat nods, saluting you while he chuckles, “Now can we go? I’ve got plans for you.”

Mat’s use of the word plans made your pussy drip in excitement while you bid your goodbyes to his teammates. His teammates who had no idea that just a week before that you were sitting on the bench during warm ups with a blind hatred for each of them in your heart. His teammates who’d also fallen under your spell that maybe you weren’t a cold hearted bitch all the time.

“My place or yours?” Mat hums, pulling you closer while you waited for a cab.

“Yours, I don’t want you within thirty feet of my apartment,” You smirk, even though you hated Mat’s apartment because no one deserved those floor to ceiling windows if they had decor as terrible as his.

“You talk a big game for someone who left some nasty scratches on my back the last time I saw you,” Mat reminds you, nudging his nose with yours, “But, I can remind you why.”

Mat’s words lit a fire in you, if he thought he was so good, you were going to remind him that you were better. Two can play at that game. You grab Mat’s hand, pulling him into a cab while you waited for him to give the driver his address. Once the car started to move, the streets of New York lighting up on either side of you, you lean over and let your hand creep up Mat’s thigh.

“No,” Mat mouths, shaking his head while the cab driver makes small talk with him. You smirk, lightly using your fingers to land right over the bulge that was threatening to peek out in Mat’s too tight jeans.

“No what?” You whisper in his ear, a blush creeping up his neck. You had him so hot and bothered that everything before that seemed to make sense. It had clicked why Mat put up all the shit you gave him, he could have anyone he wanted with a smirk and a wink, but he wanted you - at least for the moment.

The rest of the cab ride was agony, after hitting about every red light from the bar to Mat’s building, he had you pinned against his door the second you got inside, “That was a dick move.”

“It just seemed like you needed a reminder of who was in charge here,” You whisper, your mouth close to his neck, “And who’s going to be screaming who’s name.”

“Yeah okay,” Mat scoffs, “There isn’t one thing you could do that would get that to happen.”

“Wanna bet?” You counter, sliding down the wall and stopping to unbutton Mat’s jeans. You pull them down, leaving kisses right above his boxers before they slid off too.

All it took was one lick on the underside of his cock for Mat to let out a moan that was so loud it echoed in the obnoxiously large bachelor pad he lived in. Mat’s hands ran through your hair, pulling it up so he could guide your head. You bobbed your head in a perfect rhythm, your hands digging into Mat’s thighs while you tried to get grip. Your head game was nothing short of spectacular, and you’d be damned if you were going to let Mat Barzal think anything less.

“Fuck Y/N,” Mat groans, trying to push your head back to give himself a break before he came way too early. This only egged you on, taking his whole length into your mouth, “Babe, I’ll cum right here if you don’t stop.”

“What if I don’t want to stop?” You look up at him, tears brimming your eyes from his dick in your mouth.

“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?” Mat asks, pulling you up to place a kiss on your lips.

“And no one will even know it was me,” You smirk, slipping out of his arms and making your way down a hallway that was becoming way too familiar, “Now c’mon Barz, I thought you had plans for us.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Eat me out.”

“Actually you can tell me what to do.”

[cialbi]

Boy With Hope: Lavender - Chapter One

Summary: As you closed your eyes for the last time, the smell of lavender wafted through your nose and a boy with purple wings appeared from above you. Genre: Angst, Romance, Fantasy

Pairings: Angel Hoseok x Reader

Warnings: Language, Suicide Attempt, Depression, Alcoholism

A/N: This is going to be part of a series called “Boy’s With Series.” Hoseok’s story is going to be the first part out of seven. I don’t know what order I’ll do the other boys in, but I already have their themes and such chosen out. So enjoy the prologue! 

⤎Previous

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━ 

'Fuck that hurts.'

You buried your face into your pillow, the roaring headache that crashed through your skull roused your sleepy conscious. A faint gust of air blew through your room, tickling your skin and making you shift to find warmth deeper under the covers. From outside you could hear the rush and beeps of cars as they raced by on the city streets and the voices of pedestrians signaled that the world was coming back to life. 

You groaned, rolling over on your side. The throbbing in your head was like a symphony of anguish that blared in your brain as you cracked a sleep-caked lid open.

Neon green numbers flashed through bleary eyes: 7:00am.  

'What happened?'

A little disoriented, it took you a moment to come to. 

You were drinking last night. Something had definitely triggered you... you came home... dropped your keys... tripped over some shit... drank some more... and then....

Oh no. 

What did you do? 

Then, all at once, like a movie reel in your head, you recalled the events in which lead up to now. 

You'd lost your job. 

Again. 

You could practically see the angry face of your boss as he fired you, and you couldn’t help the churning ache of embarrassment that welled in your gut. 

“Unacceptable, Y/N!” He had vociferated. “You’re tardy everyday, you look like a mess and you reek of booze! Collect your things immediately, I don’t want to see you in here ever again!”

Ugh. The shame. 

It was something you should be used to by now, getting fired and all--but alas you didn’t do well with shame. You didn’t do well with any sort of negative emotion, so you had fixed it with the only solution you knew how.

Booze, booze and more booze.

You could smell the murk of the musty bar you had holed into, the horrified expressions of other bar-goers watching you as you downed your fifth drink of the night. You could remember how you stumbled home like a hot mess of sweat and the way your room reeked of garbage and alcohol. 

You sniffed.

Funny.

It doesn't smell so bad now.

Kind of... floral?

Adjusting your position, you gave a grunt of discomfort. There was something poking at your side, so you reached under the covers and searched until your hands clasped around something smooth and cylindrical. You retracted your arm and pulled out the plastic orange pill container, staring at it blankly. 

What was that doing there? 

You rotated it in your hands, the morning sun casting an apricot shadow across your face. Klonopin. When did you....? Weird. You didn't remember picking up your prescription from the drug store. The drug store...

Oh wait.

And then you did.

It was all coming back now. The pills, the wine, the way your heart slowed and your body went limp. The glowing purple lights. What the fuck were those? And a boy, there was a boy floating through the ceiling. You pinched the bridge of your nose.

Damn, what a high. 

So you finally tried to do it, and it looks like you failed. An unfamiliar sensation crawled beneath your skin, causing you to shudder. So much guilt... and so much shame. You didn’t know whether you wanted to cry or scream as you gazed nonchalantly at the little pill bottle, swiping your fingers over the plastic. 

Fuck. 

You really fail at everything.

Even killing yourself.

It was a little sobering, in fact. And you used the word sobering, because you hadn’t expected to wake up the next day. Hadn’t expected to deal with the aftermath or the complicated emotions attached to it. You hadn’t been prepared for it.

Sighing deeply, you ran your fingers through your hair, feeling a bit of chunks and stickiness towards the ends. You eyed the area near your pillow, but it was clean. Again, weird. There was no vomit on your sheets. You sat up, eyes grazed over the white cotton fabric but finding no sign of regurgitated food.

Then you noticed your room. It was completely clean. 

All the garbage, clothes and bottles were gone, and there was a certain sparkliness to your apartment that you hadn't seen in a long time. If it weren't for the little cat statue on your nightstand that your mom had given you for your birthday, you would have sworn you woke up in someone else's house.

Maybe someone broke in? 

You gave a snort. Yeah, right, a burglar that breaks into apartments and cleans them. 

Then, maybe you had cleaned up during your high. You'd done weirder things under the influence--many that didn’t involve clothes--so you couldn't completely write that off as a possibility, right?

A jolt to your muscles had you groan again. A kind of nauseating pain coursed through your body and the raging headache echoed in your ears. Nope. No way. There was no way your body could have even moved in the state that it was in.

So cross that off the list.

Ok so, a burglar broke into your apartment, stole all your garbage and stinking clothes, then cleaned up the place and left? That sounded even more ridiculous. You didn't have many valuables, and you couldn't imagine that anyone would touch your clothing by how bad they smelled. An ordinary robber would have taken one look at your place and slammed the door.

You rubbed your temples, your mind too foggy to think anymore coherent thoughts. Ugh. Whatever. I feel like shit, I can’t think like this. 

The sudden need to be clean overtook you, so you swung your legs over the side of your bed and stood, deciding on a shower and maybe some food to help wash out the toxins that were swirling around in your stomach. If you even had any edible food left in your kitchen. Your stomach gurgled in anticipation.

Yeah, some food and a shower. After that, you could figure this shit out.

Shoulders slumped, you padded over to your bathroom and flicked on the lights, wincing at the immediate image of yourself reflected in the mirror above your sink. 

You were unnaturally pale, almost green, and your long, tangled hair was sticking up in all directions. There were splotches of red stained into your baggy white t-shirt, which made it look like you had murdered someone with a knife. But what was most prominent were the swollen black bags sunken deeply beneath your eyelids. 

Wow, suicide does wonders for the complexion. You joked darkly to yourself, pinching your cheeks a little too hard before opening your bathroom cabinet to find a towel. 

When you couldn’t find one, you cursed quietly and slammed the lean, rectangular door shut. Your stomach growled again and the sickness followed.  Fuck the shower, let’s go eat something. You were almost out of shampoo anyway. 

Exiting the bathroom, you mused to yourself about the options of what you could eat. What you were really craving was something spicy, maybe some instant noodles with sriracha--though, you knew for today that would be nothing more than a culinary fantasy. 

Spending most of your money on booze and take-out, you didn’t go to the grocery store often. Hell, you barely scraped enough dough to pay the bills, and now you didn’t have a job to support either expenses. You’d be lucky if there was even a piece of rotting fruit left in your fridge. 

By now, your stomach was screaming at you for some type of sustenance, so with low expectations, you dragged your feet towards your kitchen. Rotten fruit it is. 

You’ve had worse meals. 

As you approached, you noticed the light was on in the kitchen. A yellow glow illuminated from beneath the doorframe, mixing with the sunshine that poured in from outside. Huh. That’s strange. You definitely remembered the pitch black of your room when you stumbled in last night.

Then you smelled it. 

The faint scent of bacon wafted through your nose and your tummy gave an approving growl. The nausea, on the other hand, poked at your gut and graciously reminded you of the severe pain you were in. The contrasted feelings almost made you forget that there shouldn't be any smells coming from your kitchen seeing as you had been in bed, not in your kitchen, and most certainly not cooking. 

The smell was followed by a clattering of pans, and a hushed “dammit!” could be heard from inside. 

You froze.

Someone was still here. 

And they were cooking in your kitchen.

Slowly, as to not make a sound, you inched towards your bedside table and picked up your desk lamp. How that could possibly defend you from an intruder, who knows, but it was all you had ready and available. Honestly, you had no idea in hell what you were doing--no one’s ever broken into your apartment before--but you were hoping for the best. So you raised the lamp like a baseball bat and tip-toed towards the door of your kitchen. It was open a smidge, and the sound of cheerful humming seeped out through the crack.

A burglar that cleans rooms, makes breakfast and has a love for Mariah Carey. Huh.

You peaked around the door, gripping your desk lamp until your knuckles whitened and took a deep breath, preparing yourself to confront a burly, black-clad thug. Maybe with some tattoos and a ski-mask. Or, worst case scenario, a gun. The thought heightened your pulse. 

Hesitantly, you took a small step inside. 

There was only so much that could have prepared you for what you actually saw in your kitchen.

A strikingly gorgeous, tall looking man with bright orange hair was dancing around the room, flipping some fried eggs in one of your blue, non-stick frying pans. Around his waist, your frilly pink apron was tied in a neat little bow, which contrasted humorously with his toned muscles and manly build. He looked lost in his own little world, lashes cast downward as his lips made music and, for a moment, you were completely enchanted. 

He's a friggen intruder! Bash his head in while you have the chance! You internally screamed, though you couldn't find it in yourself to move.

Without looking at you, the orange-haired, completely white-clad burglar cracked a smile. "Good, you're awake!"

Startled, you stepped back and raised the lamp in defense, your pulse rising to an infinite level.

He put down the pan and turned off the stove gas, rummaging through your cupboard for a plate. He was acting as if he lived here, knowing where all your things were, and for a second you wondered if he was a family friend, maybe someone your parents sent to make sure you weren't dead. Though, no-one in your family had a key to your apartment and you would most certainly remember knowing someone with such a beautiful and distinct face.

The mysterious, humming man plated the eggs and forked some bacon on top, already cooked and perfectly greasy. He turned towards you, grinning a smile that made you blink. He’s got the sunniest smile you had ever seen. The combination of his smile, his sparkling eyes and the elegant lines of his face disoriented you. 

He’s really gorgeous.

And really tall.

And moving right towards you.

Backing up, you swiped your eyes over his entirety. You wouldn't stand a chance in hell against this guy. He may not be burly or tattooed, but he was about two times your weight, and had at least a foot on you in height. Oh yeah and he wasn’t hung-over as fuck. All he would have to do was shove you with one hand and you would finally meet your maker. 

Alarmed, you raised the lamp as high as you could and pointed it at him threateningly. You did your best to look big and scary, but you knew you probably looked like nothing more than a scared little animal cowering from its prey.

“Hey, it’s ok.” He cooed at you. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

"Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing in my apartment?" You hissed. Your arms were shaking and your voice squeaked a few octaves too high. This was going great.

He looked at you, then at the lamp clasped in your hands, then back at you. Then he smiled again, eyes squinting sweetly.

"My name's Hoseok. You must be hungry!” He wiggled the plate of food. “Here, I made breakfast." His voice was so cheerful that it took you aback. Obviously, he was not at all threatened by you or your weapon of choice. You lowered the lamp slightly and sniffed. It smelled fucking great.

You eyed the plate of food, your stomach betraying you by letting out a monsterous growl. Then the nausea followed and you groaned.

His face fell. "Hmm, I thought I took away most of the pain, but I guess it wasn't enough."

The mysterious intruder turned to place the plate of food on your kitchen table, then whirled back around and began a slow walk towards you, hands outstretched.

"Stay back!" You warned, raising the lamp again and shaking it in his face.

The orange-haired man lowered his hands in defense. "Just let me fix it." He said, continuing his approach.

You looked at the lamp and then back at him, giving him a once over and weighing your options. You could try and land a hit, hoping to create enough time to make a break for it, but also risking angering him, or you could cut your losses now and run. 

The latter sounded good. 

Squealing in fear, you dashed back into your bedroom, ready to burst out the front door of your apartment and run like a mad-woman until you found some help. But another shot of nausea mixed with fatigue had you hurdling belly first onto the floor. Your knee slammed hard against the wooden surface and sent the lamp skidding out of your hands. 

“Fuck!” You cried, curling in on yourself. Your kneecap burned with a searing, fiery pain. 

“Are you ok?” His voice came from above you, and when you looked up, you were met by his chocolate brown eyes staring down at you with worry. His beautifully sculpted legs were like skyscrapers, ascending from the ground right in front of your face, and you wondered how fast he could run if you tried to escape now.

"Fuck no! Fuck you! Fuck!” You yelped, forcing yourself up and scrambling gracelessly into the safety of your bed covers. Your knee screamed at you, throbbing angrily at the unwelcomed movement, and suddenly you found yourself undoubtedly screwed. Even if you tried now, you definitely couldn’t outrun this attractive, long-limbed man.

"Don't come any closer!" You cried, the rush of adrenaline making you dizzy. Call the police! Gotta call the police! Or someone, someone that might care that I’m in trouble. 

You found it a little funny. Just hours ago, all you had wanted to do was die, swallowed a whole flipping pill bottle to do it. But now that the perfect execution of death had appeared right before you, all you had been trying to do since was find some way to live through it. Irony is a bitch.

He inched towards you carefully with his hands raised. "Look, I know this must seem..." He paused, fishing for the right word, "...peculiar. But I promise I mean you no harm."

"Tell that to the police!" You screeched, combing your bed for your phone but came up empty. 

Oh. 

Yeah.

Your eyes widened. Shit. It was in your pants pocket, which you had flung somewhere across your room last night. Looking around frantically, you remembered your clothes had mysteriously disappeared. "Where are my clothes? What did you do with them?"

He lowered his hands, biceps flexing deliciously. "Ah! No, don't worry, they're right over there!" He pointed to the corner of your room where your pink, plastic laundry basket was filled to the brim with neatly folded clothes. "I'm sorry I didn't ask first, but seeing as you were sleeping for the past two days, I took the liberty of washing them. They were quite smelly. You really should--”

“Shut up!” You exclaimed, cutting him off completely. I’m sorry, what did he say?? The clothing aside, your eyes almost popped out of your head. "Two days!? Wait. You've been in my room for two days?” You felt sick. Your head began to spin and your stomach clenched as ripples of pain ripped through your muscles. You fell into yourself, clutching your scalp so hard it could have bled, and let out a long, guttural “fuuuuucckkkkkk.”

"Hey, let me help you! I can take the pain away!" He stepped forward, his hands stretched out again towards you, his fingers almost close enough to brush against the skin of your wrist.

You recoiled away from him. "And how could you possibly do that?"

He sighed, looking exhausted. "Just trust me."

Biting back a laugh, you snapped at him. "Trust you? A strange man who broke into my apartment, touched my stuff without permission and claims he can just magically take away my pain? No way, you’re a total psycho!"

A totally hot psycho.

Another wave of nausea swept through you and you grabbed your stomach, trying to keep your insides from exploding out onto the mattress. Then, faster than your mind could comprehend, he was suddenly right beside you, knelt with one knee at your bedside, his eyes pleading.

"I can tell it really hurts. Please, let me help you." From this distance you can see how deep chocolate his eyes are, like perfectly round cocoa beans swimming with genuine concern. Time seemed to slow, and you found yourself enchanted by him again.

It should be a crime for anyone to look this good.

Are you kidding me!? It’s a crime for him to be here in the first place!

All the signs were pointing to 'crazy guy,' but on top of your immense trepidation, your body was rejecting you and your will to fight back began to flutter away. You curled yourself up so tight that not even a crowbar could ply you apart. 

Fine, he could kill you. You were ready for it. 

You shut your eyes tight as he reached for your fetal form. This was it, this was how you were going to die; by the hands of a majestic intruder who makes eggs and bacon and says he has magic powers. What a way to go, eh? You tried to imagine your family's faces. Would they even miss that you were gone? Would they cry for you? Would anyone care that you were dead? You waited. And waited.

But nothing happened.

You peaked an eye open, but he was just sitting there, a single hand in front of your face, so close that you could see the lines that ran across the skin of his palm. He looked at you with that oddly cheerful expression, the ends of his orange bangs kissing the tips of his long, voluminous lashes. "I'm going to touch you now." 

He didn’t give you a chance to respond as he abruptly placed his hand around your forehead. An extraordinary tingling sensation raced through you, a kind of warm feeling like those first few minutes of soaking in a scalding hot bath. You felt the pain lift from your aching bones, like his hand was soaking up the anguish and leaving you with nothing but bliss and relaxation.

Then he removed his soft grip, a satisfied smile gracing his pretty pink lips.

"How's that?" He asked, sitting back.

You blinked, trying to register what just happened. The pain was gone, and all you could feel was a sense of clarity and a warmth that pooled comfortably in your once flippant stomach. 

As it all began to sink in, you freaked. Like totally, completely, flipping freaked out. "What the fuck? Oh my god, what was that? WHAT WAS THAT?" You screeched, slapping his hand away and scooching back into the corner of your bed.

He looked a little hurt. "It's a gift I have." He explained matter-of-factly. "I'm an angel."

You blinked at him.

Excuse me, what?

Hello crazytown. Toot toot, the psycho train just arrived at the station, number of passengers: one incredibly hot, orange-haired mad-man. 

You laughed besides yourself. "An angel? You gotta be shitting me! You expect me to believe that? Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm Hoseok, I told you." He answered.

You brought your knees closer, looking him square in the eyes. "Ok, Hoseok the angel. What psychward did you escape from?" Oh let me guess. "Heaven?"

Hoseok chuckled at that. "Not exactly."

The deep-cut white V-neck he was wearing dipped dangerously low around his neck, exposing a well defined collar-bone and a hint at a sculpted chest. His body was littered with silver jewelry that jingled with every slight movement he made; a detailed silver cross that dangled from around his neck, and another, simpler, one from his left ear.  Man this guy is full of it.

"What are you doing here?" You repeat.

Hoseok gave a faint sigh. "Isn't it obvious already?" He touched the cross around his neck and thumbed it with belletic fingers. "I'm here to help you."

"Yeah, you said that already. Help me with what?" You snapped.

All you had wanted to do was die peacefully.

And now you're stuck with this shit.

Where the fuck is this guys social worker?

You were suddenly feeling pretty grumpy, but somehow no longer threatened.

Leaning forward, Hoseok touched your hand softly, the little chained bracelets around his wrist glinting against the light. "You've lost all hope in your life, and I'm here to help you find that hope again." Well that the hell do you say to that?

What felt like hours passed as you kept your eyes locked to his, searching for any sign of insanity or deception, but found none. The smoothness of his ivory skin and his complacent expression revealed no ill intentions and for the first time you felt yourself give in to him a little. He was so earnest, you actually trusted he wasn’t here to hurt you, and the warmth of his skin on yours elated a sort of calm you hadn’t felt in a... well god knows when.

Even so, you retracted your hand from his hold.

"I don't need help." You mutter, almost to yourself. "I'm doing just fine, thank you."

Hoseok frowned. His elegant features looked wrong with such an expression. "It certainly didn't look like it Y/N."

You gasped, your stranger-danger reflexes kicking into high gear. It was like you had completely forgot you were talking to a total nut-case. "How do you know my name?" 

"Are we going to do this all day?" He mumbled, a slight pout replacing his previous grimace. "I told you, I'm an angel. Your angel to be exact."

"And what? Does being an angel give you super psychic powers?" You spat back.

He considered this for a moment, but shook his head, unfazed by your tone of voice. "No. I was instructed to find and aid a Y/N L/N. That's you."

What the hell does that even mean? 'Instructed to find you?' And what? Break into your home, spew some crazy nonsense and scare the living daylights out of you? You sneered, pivoting in your seat to create some distance. "And who instructed you to do that? God?"

Hoseok looked thoughtful, wrinkling his nose and gazing up at the ceiling. "No... not exactly." 

Seriously, who the fuck is this guy? 

You took a moment, clenching your eyes shut and rubbing your head which had begun to ache again. "Ok, so, let's say---for a second--that I believe you, which I don't, but for your sake let's say I do. Why in the hell would anyone send an angel to help me?"

Hoseok launched forward, his face inches from your own and his good looks nearly blinding you. The silver cross around his neck beat against his chest as he exhaled, examining your face closely. His features were scrunched in a look of curiosity and rejection. "So you don't believe me?"

You pulled away from him, using your tiny hands to shove his face a safe distance from your own. "No! Of course not! Do you understand how crazy you sound?"

With a thrust of his wrist, he shot himself into a standing position, towering over you like a giant. "Ok. Hold on."

“Hold on for what?” You asked, eyebrow raised.  

“I’ll prove it to you.” 

You didn't know what to expect, maybe some arm flapping, or some more weird dancing--you might not have complained if he took off his shirt. What you didn't expect were for two huge, lavender wings to sprout from his back, unfolding to occupy nearly half of your tiny apartment bedroom. They glimmered iridescently, almost see-through. Little orbs of shining light poured from his chest as he turned in a circle so you could get a good look at him.

"Holy shit." Were the only words you could manage as you stared, transfixed.

The strange dream you had suddenly crashed into your brain as you remembered the glowing purple lights that poured into your room, and the floating boy that had descended from your ceiling. 

‘Don’t give up yet!’ He had called out to you. 

There’s a cool sensation against your skin as you recall the vast, open body of water that you had stood in. The one where lavender grew from beneath and the smell had overwhelmed your senses.  

That was a dream, wasn’t it? 

‘There’s so much to live for.’ 

That voice did sound like Hoseok. 

‘I’m here now.’

Then, the wings vanished, folding back into his body with an enormous flap. Little pearls of glitter dispersed throughout the air and a couple translucent, purple feathers came to rest on the floor below. Hoseok beamed at you as if he just won a game of monopoly.

"Do you believe me now?"

"Oh my god." You blinked.

"Again. Not exactly."

"I get it now." Your voice was quiet, but Hoseok heard you.

His eyes sparkled in excitement, grinning ear to ear. "You do?"

You nod slowly. "I do."

Throwing his hands up in elation, Hoseok's eyes grew so squinty with happiness that they were merely little slivers of black eyelashes. "That's great! So now you'll let me help you?"

You ignored his question. "I did it. I really did it."

He frowned, lips dipping in confusion. "Wait. Did what?"

You sighed, raking a hand through your vomity, unwashed hair. "I'm dead. I'm actually dead."

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Next⤏

A/N

Completely unedited. I'm sorry! I'll go back through the chapters as I go and edit them. I know it needs... more. But I hope you enjoyed it!

Cial

[gh0stiegirlie]

synopsis: all it took was one glance at the hotheaded boy at the U.A. exam, and you were smitten. for deku, it was a single act of kindness that instigated his immediate attraction to uraraka. several months into school, best friends y/n and deku are left heartbroken when. uraraka and bakugou start a relationship. when you and deku find yourselves confiding in each other, a question arises; is this love, or loneliness? are you two better just as friends?

length: 4k words

a/n: i editted this shit to the gods, man. i hope you all enjoy! also, i can describe this chapter in one word: angst, angst, and more angst.

<- pt. 1                                                                                                 pt.3 ->

Across the campus, Bakugou and Uraraka experience a similar feeling.

It’s their first night together, and they’re spending it cuddling in Urarakas room. As much as Bakugou enjoys her physical praises, from the way she gently traces her fingers along the curves of his biceps to how she nuzzles against his chest for his warmth; her soft, delicate form feels foreign in his arms. 

Most girls love the protection of their boyfriends’ embrace, but Uraraka feels suffocated. Yet here she is, wrapped up like the perfect little present in Bakugou’s arms.

With the weeks that pass, the couples irritations and questions only grow.

You and Izuku hold hands, loosely. You only hold hands for the experience of touching another, and to perpetuate the class consciences that you are the “most wholesome couple in all U.A.”

Although your thoughts are far from 'wholesome'. You feel guilty of a heinous crime, though you're roaming free. Because here you are, hugging, cuddling, kissing Izuku, but thinking about Bakugou. And here’s Izuku buying you lunch, dropping you off at class and occasionally carrying your books around campus, wishing you were Uraraka.

Uraraka experiences persistent headaches because of Bakugous yelling. All he does is talk about being a hero, or complain about Deku. Everything is fucking Deku Deku Deku. In her head, Izuku clouds Bakugou. Her thoughts of Deku encompass her mind even when she’s with Bakugou. Every time she passes you and Izuku tenderly holding hands in the hall, her heart tightens. While Bakugou tugs her around like a dog on a leash, Deku grasps you with all the pride in the world, a radiant smile on his face. Two things about Bakugou; He never discloses his emotions, and he's never gentle.

Bakugou spends all his days avoiding landmines. Uraraka is so fragile, he's afraid one day he’ll squeeze her hand so tight she’ll shatter. Anything and everything he does either offends, hurts, embarrasses, or irritates her. He’s going crazy with all the rules and expectations Uraraka forces him to meet. He’s like putty in her hands, and she’s trying to mold him into a different person.

Uraraka only enjoys being with Bakugou when they’re taking out their frustrations through make-out sessions.

Y/n only enjoys being with Deku when they’re using eachothers lips as a way to escape their isolation.

For a while, their bonds remain relatively stable. But as time goes on, the weak foundations their relationships were built on begin to crumble.

You and Izuku arrive at the common area after an intense sparring match, which you lost against Kirishima. You courteously accepted your defeat, though Izuku remains pissy about it. 

“I just-- I can’t believe you lost!” he expresses, refusing to accept your failure.

“I know! I work so hard, and I’ve never lost a match before! I don’t understand… ” You fix your gaze on the floor, not wanting to meet Izuku’s disappointed eyes. "I guess it’s good I lost today, because now I know exactly what I need to work on! I had no idea my mind can't pierce solid surfaces." It's honestly cool Kirishima's hardening quirk kept your thoughts from breaking into his mind. Now you know to practice sending your thoughts to another person through a wall. "I guess if I never lost, I would end up an egotistical maniac… Like Bakugou!” you joke with a soft chuckle.

“Yeah! You just have to work harder!” Izuku agrees. 

You appreciate his positivity. While his attitude is always upbeat with others, his comments to you are always nasty.

“Maybe you haven’t been working hard enough, but I know you can do better! Everyone does! " he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. "So when you lose, it’s embarrassing...” 

You rip your hand away from Deku. “What? Who’s it embarrassing for? You?” you question accusingly.

“Y-Yuh-Yes!” he sputters, “When you lose, it makes others think I'm a loser too! And if I want to be the number one hero, I can't have people thinking that!”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you think. He considers you to be this bright and shiny object he can brag about at show and tell. Now, you’re losing your polish. You’re collecting a little bit of dust and a few scrapes, and he's losing interest. Already, Deku wants to move on to the next object that catches his eye. 

Not only that, but he craves whatever looks good on headlines. He desires magazine covers to display "number one hero marries highschool sweetheart!" He wants "unbeatable hero couple foil supervillain 100!". Apparently "Deku is never going to be the top hero because his girlfriend lost one fight her freshman year at U.A.!" is the article he's currently imagining. 

“I’m not just some gold medal you can show off to others, Izuku. And I'm especially not some perfect little prize you can wrap up in a cute little bow. I’m human. That means sometimes I win, and sometimes I fuck up.” you retort calmly, trying to keep your cool. 

“We’re called the golden girl and boy for a reason. We’re supposed to grow up being the perfect, powerful couple,” he reaches for your hand, but you flinch away. 

“It doesn’t really seem like we are, does it?! Our whole ‘golden couple’ label is complete bullshit!” you bicker. “We, as people, aren’t perfect. We never will be. No one ever will be!" You laugh humorlessly. "And our relationship sure as hell isn’t.” 

Deku closes his eyes with a sigh. “We--We just have to try. I’m doing my part to work as hard as I can to get better. I’m not going to suffer because I'm carrying your losses on my back. I'm not letting you get in the way of my dream to be the number one hero.” 

You get it. Because he's praised for his powerful physical quirk, he thinks he's better than you. Because he's physical quirk always leaves him battered, he thinks he's suffered more than you. Because he can go to the gym every day, get ripped and show off his muscular calves with every kick, he thinks he works harder than you.

After months of petty arguments, Izuku has finally found a way to make you snap.“Oh shut up, Izuku! You know I've worked my entire fucking life for where I am now! I've told you stories from my past I've never so much as mentioned to others! How I went home crying from middle school every damn day because of migraines! How everyone there considered me some kind of--of alien, some freak because I'm able to get inside people's heads! How I was bullied for practicing my power because kids considered it a quirk more suited for a villain! It was hard, but I managed to ignore all that crap and kept working! And I still work hard. Every. Single. Fucking. Day." You take a ragged breath, unphased by Izuku's shocked expression. Good. He should be shocked. He should feel bad. Because he's crossed a fucking line. "And how come it’s only bad when I lose when you’ve lost plenty of times, Izuku?! ” You pointedly stick your finger at him and poke his chest with it. “Remember how you practically failed the entrance exam?! How about when Todorki beat the crap out of you at the Sports Festival!” you yell. With every point, you shove your finger into Izuku's chest. Eventually, you push him against a wall. “Don’t try and act like you’re above me because you have a powerful external quirk.” You shut your eyes and when you open them, they’re glowing e/c. “Because my mental quirk can fuck someone up just as bad as any of your stupid punches.” You warn, before whirling around. “I’m going to my room, Izuku. Come with me if you want.” 

Of course, he follows you like a lost puppy.

Every pitbull is an adorable, loveable puppy before it grows up into a vicious hound. You thought you could fall in love Deku, you really did. But you were capable of loving the Deku whom Izuku pretended to be. The innocent Deku you approached on the first day of school, after noticing he was acting as flustered as you felt. The thoughtful Deku who wanted nothing more than a friend to run to the vending machine with between classes. The friendly Deku who you invited over to movie night, who buried his head into his blanket in embarrassment every time two characters did it on screen, and cried every time someone died. 

You could've fallen in love with your best friend.

Either he's changed, or since you're his girlfriend, he can’t hide who he truly is anymore. You know how he will do anything to have the public opinion in his favor. You know he will sacrifice anything during his climb to Number One Hero, even if it’s crushing you. 

You wordlessly walk side by side to your dorm, but as you near the dorm hallway, some bitch interrupts your silence.

“Why do you always have to yell, Bakugou!?” Uraraka yells from inside Bakugou’s room, which is coincidentally a few dorms down the hall from yours. You and Izuku turn into the hallway in time to witness Uraraka barge out of Bakugous room. She rubs her temples in frustration. When she notices the two of you outside your room, she eases her body language and lowers her voice to sweetly ask, “Can you just calm down, babe?”

“Don’t order me around! I’m being perfectly calm and rational!!” Bakugou shouts in response. “You’re the one who needs to calm down! You’re worked up over nothing! This is how I am, and I’m not going to change for some shitty woman!” he storms over to Uraraka, oblivious to the fact you and Izuku are watching this play out. That, or he just doesn’t give a shit.

Uraraka gasps. “I’m your girlfriend, you can’t call me that!” she chides. “This is exactly what I don’t like about you! You’re so aggressive all the time!” She fusses, like a child having a tantrum. Her bangs dance around her head as she stomps away from Bakugou, but he grabs her wrist to keep her in place. "Let me go! Being around you gives me headaches.”

“We should probably go~” Izuku whispers, attempting to open your door.

You slap his hand away. “I wanna see what happens,” you whisper back.

Izuku nervously glances between you and the arguing couple. “You’re so nosy! Come on, we’re leaving.” he decides, but you try to stay put. He then simply uses his quirk to overpower you and drag you inside, though even through four sets of rooms and a closed door, you can hear their argument.

“Being around you gives me headaches! All you do is nag about that nerds shitty girlfriend, and how shitty I am!” Bakugou explains. His insult doesn’t hurt you as much as you expect it to, because you can hear it. To someone who hasn’t listened intently to his screams and threats for the past few months, his voice appears as crass as always. But you hear the desperation in his voice. All he wants is for Uraraka to read between the lines and hear what he truly is saying, but no matter how hard he tries, she doesn’t. And it’s hurting him. He’s frustrated and in pain, because all she wants is for him to change every aspect of himself. Can she not see that? “Getting a girlfriend isn’t a part of being a hero, and it’s not something I need to pick up on my way to the top. I’m doing this because I can stand you. But I don’t need a damn girlfriend, especially when all mine does is make me feel like crap.” He’s describing his feelings in his own Bakugou way, but she doesn’t understand his language. And by the way he worded this last sentence, it sounds like he’s starting to give up. 

“If you don’t need me, then why are we dating!”

At this point, you’re sick of hearing their bullshit. You leave your room to yell at the couple and hopefully get them to shut the fuck up.

Izuku tries to hold you back. “Leave it alone!” he hisses, but you leave anyway.

“Uraraka, can you shut the hell up?” you jeer. This is the third time this week she’s made your fucking ears bleed with her screeching. Bakugou leans on the all and snickers, convinced someone has taken his side. But oh, if the boy who broke your heart thinks he’s safe from your candor, he’s wrong. You jut your chin at him. “And Bakugou, go find a wall to punch.” You turn towards your door. “Go work this shit out in couples counseling or something. 'Cuz you guys need fuckin therapy.” 

Bakugou snorts, enraging Uraraka. First, you steal Deku, and now Bakugou’s laughing at your jokes? Not happening.

“Leave us alone, Y/n!” she huffs, her pink cheeks now red with irritation. You flip her off before slamming your door shut. Bakugou’s eyes gawk at your closed door, unsure if he loves you or hates you. Either way, your remarks emit a small, impressed ‘huh’ from him. 

From that point on, Bakogous thoughts of you revolve around one question; Who knew the golden girl was such a badass?

After months of sleepless nights (due to overthinking Izuku's daily insults and listening to Bakugou and Uraraka’s endless arguments), your first year of U.A. nears its end. On one hand, you’re excited to take some time for your mental health. On the other, you’re going to miss kicking ass in weekly training (especially Izukus), and then following those brawls with Class 1-A movie night (which Izuku always spent touching you as minimally as possible, either because you ‘barely won’ or because you defeated him). Bakugou can't wait to get the hell away from Uraraka and her endless spew of horseshit. She doesn't know how to do anything but make crap float and talk shit about him or Izuku’s girl. She always goes on and on about how exhausting his yelling is, but listening to her nonstop yabbering makes spending summer locked away, either in a gym or in his kitchen, sound like heaven on earth. 

With only a month of school left, Izuku waits outside your dorm for you to finish getting ready for the day, growing anxious as the minutes’ tick closer to the first bell.

A few doors down, Uraraka impatiently taps her shoe on the ground as she waits for Bakugou.

If there’s one thing you and Bakugou have in common, it’s your impunctuality. 

“Hey! Sorry that took so long! I kept fucking up my eyeliner,” You exit your room and blow a stray piece of bangs out of your eye to check out your wings on your phone screen. “Nice,” You shove your phone into your bag, satisfied.

“Babe, you don’t need to spend so much time on makeup!” Izuku cups your cheeks with his hands, but focuses on your eyeliner instead of your eyes with a slight grimace on his face. “You’re beautiful without it,” 

He says it politely, but you know this a backhanded compliment. He hates that you wear makeup, even though its the barebones that simply consists of mascara, eyebrows, and eyeliner. He prefers ‘natural’ girls, even though there is no way Urarakas cheeks are naturally that pink. You push his hands off your face. “I know Zuzu, thank you. But I like it.” You hold his hands tightly before dropping them.

Uraraka cringes as the sight of her boyfriend. “Katsuki!” she whines. Even though the whole point of the uniform is to signify everyone's equality, Bakugou loves wearing it in a way that screams “I’m the main character and better than you!” 

His baggy pants sag to expose his shitty job of tucking in his shirt, and ball around the combat boots he refuses to take off. Per usual, he leaves his buttons undone and doesn’t bother wearing the staple red tie.

“How come you’re late but still look like a mess?” Uraraka complains. She reaches out her hand to arrange his askew vest, but he pulls away from her. 

“I’m fine.” he aggressively grabs her hand and begins to pull her towards class. “Let’s go,”

Uraraka spots Izuku watching and stops Bakugou dead in his tracks. 

By planting a giant kiss on his face. 

“Eugh. Get a room!” You grouse, rolling your eyes at the repulsive sight. But Uraraka keeps it going by practically shoving him against the wall. “You might as well pull down his pants and suck him off while you’re at it!”

Bakugou pulls away from Uraraka to snicker at your comment. 

Hearing Bakugou snigger at a joke you made… It gives your heart a reason to beat for the first time in months. You proudly slip your fingers into Deku’s and glide away, Bakugous eyes following you entire time.

The halls are nearly empty, only a few irresponsible students straggling to class or hovering around their lockers.

“So, do you want to be partners for the Aizawa project?” Izuku questions, like either of you have any other friends to partner up with. He hauls you along as he speedwalks to class.

“Yeah! I wonder what it is.” You move at a steady pace, knowing there's plenty of time to enjoy a pleasant walk to class together before the bell rings. 

“I don’t know! Mirio and the other third years wouldn’t tell me!” Deku whines, tugging at your hand to bring you up to speed. “Y/n, hurry upppp! We’re going to be late!” 

“Dude, you’re gonna rip my arm off!" you moan, rubbing your forearm.

“Shhh,” he hushes. 

Although you expect this attitude by now, it still pisses you off. If Deku expects you to deal with him treating you like garbage, he's wrong.

"You'll be sorry the next time you do that," you mumble, but he pretends not to hear, instead using his quirk to squeeze your hand in reply. Hard.

You barely wince.

“Now let’s go into class!” Izuku intertwines your fingers, straightens himself up, and tells you to put on a smile. He doesn’t do this because wants to hold your hand or genuinely cares about you, but because he enjoys the dramatic chorus of cheers you two always receive as you enter the classroom. If there’s anything Deku likes about your relationship, it’s how he gets to show you off like a trophy. His trophy. 

You enter class, and Mina immediately screams about how cute and perfect you two are together.

The golden boy and golden girl are dating. Honestly, who wouldn’t love that?

Bakugou doesn’t. He scoffs and turns away while everyone else encourages your shit show. Uraraka claps stiffly.

The corners of your mouth sink the instant the class’s attention shifts to some dumb pun Kaminari made. Bakugou is the only one to notice your smile fall when you reach your desk. He notices how you lean your head against the palm of your hand to stare out the window instead of at your boyfriend. You look… Tired. Like you’re tired of this act while Izuku relishes in the praise. Currently, he’s making a show to Uraraka of all the cute dates he’s taken you on while you create a show inside your head. A show where you and Bakugou are the ones going on cute days. Izuku uses his conversation with Uraraka as a way to silently convince her he’s better than Bakugou (and she’s falling for it), while you are just silent.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the eerie feeling of someone watching you sending your mind racing. When you turn to discover Bakugou is the one studying you, your face turns dark red and you immediately look away. The blush only fades once Aizawa starts talking.

“Class, today I will assign your partners for the quirk assessment.”

“Assign?!” The whole class screams in unison horror.

“Why are you assigning partners?!” Mina cries out, dramatically fainting across her desk. 

“Yeah! That’s not fair!” Kaminari adds on furiously.

“Nuh-no it’s not!” Mineta defends Aizawa’s decision, but internally drools over the idea of being paired with a girl.

“Settle down,” Aizawa silences the class with a single wave of his hand. “I understand you want to choose your partners, but in this assessment we want you to study the quirk of another person. Most likely, you all already know about your closest friends quirks. I want to pair you with someone new so you have to learn about a quirk you know nothing about.” he explains, to which the class to a reluctant conscientious that it's a good idea.

He clears his throat. “So, Mineta and Hagakure”

Mineta shrugs as if to say “good enough”, while Hagakure groans in disgust. 

You tune out the list, only listening for Izuku and Bakugou. As more names leave Aizawa’s lips and Izuku is already paired with Kirishima and Uraraka with Momo, you start to wonder who your partner will be. Who else hasn’t been mentioned? Damn, if only you had paid attention.

Finally, Aizawa reaches the last set of names. That’s when it hits you.

Aizawa hasn’t said Bakugou’s name.

“And…”

There’s no way.  This can’t be possible—

“Y/n and Bakugou.” Aizawa sighs. “You will have a presentation due on each other’s quirks next week. Get to work” he explains before zipping himself into his sleeping bag and flopping to the floor. 

You remain glued to your seat, completely frozen in shock. 

You already have a feeling this project isn’t going to end well. 

“Hey! Y/n!” Uraraka calls out from across the class, before squeezing through people to get to you. She pushes out her lip, clasps her hands together, and widens her eyes till the twinkle. “Do you think I can be with Bakugou, please? We’re kinda dating!” she exclaims as if it wasn’t obvious by how they were literally making out in front of you this morning. 

Without a second thought, you reply. “No.” You walk over to Bakugou and sit on his desk. “Sorry. I don’t want to bother Aizawa” you shrug nonchalantly, angering Uraraka to no end. But you know she’s too kind to say anything, and merely smiles to distract you from the steam spewing from her ears. 

“Okay! That’s fine!” she skips over to Bakugou and kisses his cheek. “Have fun babe,” she whispers before walking away with clenched fists. 

You think it’s interesting Bakugou didn’t say a single thing during the whole interaction. 

Does he want to be partners with you?

Or are you just the better option compared to his girlfriend?

Either answer is a good one, you suppose.

“Tch. Follow me, extra. We’re going outside.” Bakugou leaves his seat and shoves his hands deep into his pockets before lumbering away, leaving you to catch up. 

“Hey-- Wait up!” You call out. Bakugou huffs and leans against the doorframe. “Why are we going outside?”

Bakugou quirks an eyebrow at you with a smirk, igniting explosions from his palm. “It’ll be easier to learn about your quirk if I’m trying to blast you to hell.” 

“What?! No! I’m not fighting you!” you retaliate, stepping back into the classroom. You’re not in the mood to get your ass kicked by Bakugou, as hot as that sounds. 

“No wonder you’re dating Deku, you’re a coward too!” Bakugou taunts, his outburst washing a wave of silence across the classroom. You manage to keep your body relaxed and expression unperturbed, though fury rages within you. You will not let his intimidation frighten you. You refuse to be the reason he wears his sneer of satisfaction, that sickening smile that appears every time he successfully threatens or demolishes an opponent. 

You stare at the ground as dozens of eyes burn into your back, eagerly awaiting your response. 

Then, you do something you never thought was possible.

You raise one of your fists and punch Bakugou’s pretty face. 

“It’s on, Bakugou.” You spit. Before he reacts, you sprint down the hall towards the training grounds.