#ave’s imagination

[back-to-rose]

New Hairstyle Kakashi!

[bacchuschucklefuck]

this has been a roller coaster of a design journey but finally I can present you: class swap artificer!adaine and rogue!fabian

[joeyisourranger]

nate’s either gonna score 7 goals today or take his skate off and throw it at someone

[alltaternotot]

The Recovery Plan | N. MacKinnon

Summary: Nathan and Y/N have a date planned, but a nasty cold gets in the way.

WC: 2K

CW: Sick fic! Bad communication, slight insecure reader, so the tiniest little bit of angst. Tooth rotting fluff, Nathan is a sweetheart. Confessions, swearing, lightly proofread. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hart trophy and best boyfriend award goes to this fella!

<><><><>

You let your phone ring and ring, then go silent, the third call coming through and going to voicemail.

One thing everyone knows, you, his teammates, the media, basically the whole hockey-enjoying public, is that Nathan MacKinnon is a health nut. Like, twenty-four hours a day, never shuts off kind of health nut. In the few months you had been exclusive, he had maybe three cheat days, and had never seen you sick. So when you woke up with chills, a fever, a cough, and a head stuffed to the brim with pressure, you decided to let Nate’s calls go to voicemail and curl up in your cocoon of blankets.

He was leaving in a few days for a long, important road trip, and you were not going to be the reason Nate couldn’t play. A cold was absolutely unacceptable to pass along to him. No amount of phone ringing or anything else could convince you otherwise. You would just have to instacart some NyQuil and some soup and tough it out solo. You were not going to bother him with your issues when he had much more important things to be worrying about.

The problem was, today was Nate’s off day, and the original plan was to meet up at your favorite cafe for a light lunch, then take a trip to Red Rocks. There was absolutely no way that was happening now. You hoped he would just assume you were tired and make his own rain check of the date. You didn’t let the thoughts swirl too long before falling asleep.

Nathan was completely and utterly worried.

You had never blown him off like this, not once in your year-ish long friendship or your few months of dating. He knew you always had your phone on you, and there really wasn’t a good reason to not have it. He was calling from the cafe, now 15 minutes past your arranged meet time. After dialing you about five times, he dialed Miles Wood instead, who happened to live in the same complex as you.

“Hey Dogg,” Woody answered, “what’s up man?”

“Hey, um, have you seen Y/N? I’ve called her a bunch, we were supposed to meet up but she isn’t picking up the phone.” Nate explained, hearing a faint hmm on the other end.

“I haven’t. I’m a ways out from home otherwise I would go check for you. Maybe she forgot?” Woody offered, secretly hoping it wasn’t that because of the awkwardness that would ensue if that was the case.

“Ok, I’ll go check on her. Thanks Woody.” He said, and hung up the phone after their goodbyes.

He threw on a cap and his sunglasses, making sure he had all of his essentials before locking up and getting in the car. You had given him a spare key in case of anything, so it was going to be no problem getting in. He just hoped for the best, but still assumed the worst secretly. He had a nasty habit of doing so sometimes.

Once he arrived at your complex, admittedly speeding a little to get there, he found your car still parked in its reserved spot. That was slightly relieving. He basically skidded into the guest spot and hopped out, locking up quickly. He chose to take the stairs up to your floor, deeming it faster than waiting in the lobby for the elevator. Your door was locked, understandably, the irrational thoughts slowly leaving his anxious mind. He slid the key into the lock, twisting and opening the door softly to a dark apartment.

Not a single light was on, the only light coming in from the window in the living space. It was very, very quiet, unusual for the space when you were in it. He loved how you lit up every room you graced. Things were tidy and normal, so no crazy robbery and kidnapping. He roamed around, looking for a sign from you in the kitchen, the living space, and the balcony, finding nothing.

Finally, he came to your bedroom, slowly twisting the handle in case you were inside, he didn’t want to startle you if you were. He noticed the black out curtains drawn, the room completely dark save for your salt lamp in the corner. Your floor was messy, tissues littering the ground and stacked high in the trash can. Your phone was on the nightstand, plugged in face down. Your bed was an absolute mountain of blankets unlike anything he had ever seen, just a tuft of your tangled hair sticking out the top on the pillow.

“Oh, baby.” He muttered to himself, a pang of guilt washing over him.

Now he understood. His girl was sick and sleeping while he was definitely ringing her phone off the hook. He stepped closer, trying to find you under all of that fabric. Your head was poking out onto your pillows, hair a mess and cheeks blazing red. You had a crumpled tissue in your hand. He stuck his hand out, running the back along your forehead. You were roasting under there, but he could feel your body shivering from the chills. You stirred, but didn’t wake.

He quickly stood straight, leaving you with a quiet click of the door. He locked up, dashing back down to the car and speeding to the local Walgreens. He filled his basket with all sorts of cold and flu necessities: medicine, cough drops, peppermint tea, your favorite Gatorade, a few of those crackable instant cold compresses, and a thermometer. He hoped no one would stop him in here, wanting to be as fast as he could. Luckily it didn’t appear that anyone knew or cared that he was there, shouting a thanks over his shoulder.

The next stop was Whole Foods, so he could grab some chicken noodle soup that was remarkably close to how his own mother made hers, when Nathan or his sister were sick as children. He threw in a sandwich for him to eat later, an extra couple of your favorite drinks and a chocolate croissant for you when you were feeling up to it. He checked himself out, making his way back to your apartment as quickly as he could. He walked back in with everything, trying to be as quiet as possible. He quickly set up a little tray of soup, medicine, and gatorade. He heated up some water in your kettle and steeped a couple of the tea bags. He cracked the cold compress and wrapped it in a paper towel before making his way back to your room.

He set the tray down on your desk, walking over to your window to crack it under the curtains, airing out the stuffy, overheated space. He checked the thermometer, making sure it was calibrated and working. Now he could finally sit down on the edge of your bed, and start the Nathan MacKinnon recovery plan.

He placed the thermometer on your forehead, dragging it across and down, 102.2F flashing back at him when it stopped thinking with a beep. That made him worried, more than anything else. He grabbed the cold compress, resting it on your forehead so, so softly. You stirred again, this time waking up. The throbbing pressure in your head had only gotten worse, the pain now rattling your jaw and your teeth. You were sweating under all of those blankets, but so impossibly cold at the same time. You groaned in pain before rolling over into a heavy mass that was dipping your side of the bed. Nate’s hand found your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in feathery dashes.

“N-Nate?” Your voice coming out hoarse and patchy. “No, no you need to get out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere, babe. You need to break this fever.” He said, his hand sliding down to brush over your shoulders.

“No, you can’t get sick because of me. You have so much to worry about right now, I’ll be fine.” You insisted, watching his face slide into a sad frown through sleepy, delirious vision. “I’m just gonna instacart s-some meds. Go home before you catch this.”

“I beat you to it already. I’m not leaving so you can stop trying to convince me.” He crouched down, “do you think you can sit up to take something?”

You nodded, gingerly sitting up, trying to keep the pain from getting any worse. The blankets slid down as you sat up against the head board, now noticing that you had slept until 3:30pm. You guys would have been enjoying the beauty of Red Rocks by now. Nate grabbed the tray of goodies from your desk, setting it down gently. He popped the two gel caps out of the package, silently asking for your hand before unscrewing the cap to the Gatorade.

“We need to keep you hydrated, so keep taking sips of that,” he mentioned, watching you weakly swallow the cold medicine. “I hope you like chicken noodle soup, it’s very good.”

He picked up the spoon, taking some and guided it to your lips, letting you take a few bites. It definitely helped to settle your stomach, but chewing was painful. You honestly had no strength for more than half of the little bowl of soup, so Nate picked it up and returned it to the desk, placing the Gatorade next to you again. This time, Nate rounded the bed, climbing in and grabbing the remote, earning little hoarse nonononono’s from you.

He didn’t listen, of course, just adjusting so your head was resting in his lap, pulling a couple of the endless blankets up over your shoulder. He laid his hand gently over the cold compress, keeping it in place, while he picked an easy watch kind of show. Finally he sent a text to Woody, letting him know you were ok and that they were going to have a sleepy day in. His hand found your head, dragging his fingers through the tangles so you wouldn’t have to brush a huge birds nest out of your hair when you were back on your feet.

“Nate, please go, I can’t even imagine getting you sick. You guys have h-hard division rival teams coming up, they need you more than-“ you tried to reason.

“I told you already that I’m not leaving. Your fever was pretty high, and you needed to eat and drink something. I’m here to support you, whatever that looks like, and today it looks like this.” He explained, calmly and softly like it was the easiest decision he had ever made, “plus, I’ve been with you the last two days, slept here, and I haven’t gotten sick. And if I do get sick, I’ll figure it out with the staff. I’ve done it before.”

“I ruined the whole day, and my body hurts, and I don’t want you to have to deal with me right now.” You said, your eyes beginning to mist up with frustrated tears, “please, I promise I can deal with it.”

He realized you had begun to cry softly, a couple of tears dripping onto his shorts, “oh baby, you didn’t ruin anything!” He turned your body so you were laying face up, his hands coming to brush away your tears, “Also, I’m not dealing with you, I want to be there for you when you’re struggling. I don’t want you to handle it by yourself. This is just what you do when you love someone.” He rambled, the words coming out quicker than he could think.

He… loves you?

That’s the first time either of you had said it. He had planned to take you on a nice date, give you flowers, wine and dine the hell out of you, before finally telling you he loved you. Of course he knew he loved you, so he gave up the momentary wave of apprehension and went with it. No time like the present, even if that present was stuck in bed with a brutal cold.

“You love me?” You asked, choking on the words a little bit.

“Yeah, I do.” He said, looking deep into your eyes for any sign of rejection, “and I want you to be ok, so rest. We can talk about it more when you’re ready to.”

You turned back towards the tv again, Nate grabbing the cold compress to put back on your head. You close your eyes, feeling sleep call you. Nate returned to carding his fingers through your hair, keeping a slow and steady pace. Every once in a while he would run the compress over your neck and shoulders, trying to cool your burning body. The meds were already helping to bring the fever down. He could feel your breath begin to even out against his leg.

“Nate?” You asked, almost too quiet to be heard.

“Hmm?” He hummed, leaning down to hear you better.

“I love you too.” You admitted, feeling his lips press into your head before sleep overtook you again.

<><><><>

:)

[imnayeonjaem]

nice to see (right through) you again | s.mg

"i hope that we can spend that time together in earnest."

minors dni. ageless blogs dni. blank blogs dni. you'll be blocked. character(s): gn!reader, song mingi (jung wooyoung) tags: librarian!reader, ghost!mingi, ambiguous relationship, slight suspense, conversations about life and death, references to past death/cause of death (car accident), gothic vibes, explicit language, brief anxiety attack, wy is a co-worker, light fluff, heavy angst word count: 14.1k summary: it's been two years since you met mingi for the first time. it's been a year since you last saw him. it's december again, and much has changed since your second encounter.. a/n: so, it was originally my intention to write this for halloween, but personal life got in the way and that unfortunately ended up not happening 😭 it also ended up being way longer than i intended (like, i really thought this was going to be 5k max 🙃); i decided to change some details so they work better with the overall story, and this also ended up being a bit darker in tone than i intended??? please heed the warnings, and if you do decide to read, feedback is very much appreciated!

“Quite an atypical evening, huh?”

“Well, it’s not every day a ghost pays a visit to your library.”

×-×

The library you worked at was open until 8pm every Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday, and you always had the job of locking up. You didn’t mind it one bit, often savouring the quiet that the hour alone gave you once your colleague departed.

But the hour wasn’t so quiet, as fifteen minutes into you rearranging the books back to their appropriate places and dusting the shelves, a lamp mysteriously fell off one of the desks and crashed on the floor.

You’re at least thankful you were only holding a cloth.

Upon inspection, the bulb in the lamp hadn’t broken - thank God - but you replaced it on the desk with a heightened wariness. None of the windows were open, and even if they were, it wasn’t like the wind was going to be strong enough to knock a whole lamp over.

Personally, you were only semi-superstitious. While cosying up with a good ghost story was one of your favourite pastimes, and you found the history of haunted places to be incredibly fascinating, you’d never wager that anything paranormal would happen to you. Besides, the library didn’t have a history of being haunted, and none of your colleagues had ever reported mysterious activity worthy of investigation by ghost hunters or, in the extreme cases, expulsion from a priest.

Shaking your head, you adjust the lamp on the desk to make sure it doesn’t fall over again, and rationalise that it had probably been on the edge of the desk. Someone had accidentally jolted it and not realised its precarious position. No bother. At least it wasn’t broken.

You returned to your task; the incident had knocked five precious minutes of your time off, so you hurried around the ground floor of the library, making quick work of the shelves and the desks. You were now especially careful around the lamps, not wanting to actually break one.

A few moments later, there was a loud thump behind you.

Startled at the sudden noise, you swiftly pivoted on the spot to find three books had been knocked onto the floor.

Okay, you thought, what the hell is going on?

There was no way those books could have fallen off the shelves unless someone purposely threw them.

Moments later, you watched as another book protruded from the shelf. The motion was akin to being pulled, as though there was an invisible person looking for a book to read.

You couldn’t believe you were actually considering the possibility of there being a ghost in your library. What exactly did this ghost want? Could you rationalise trying to communicate with them?

Your mouth parted open and you uttered a noise, and the book immediately fell on the floor, causing you to jump back.

“Whoa- um..” You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried again. “H-Hello? Is there anyone there?” A sigh escaped you; what were you doing? Your eyes briefly looked askance at the clock on the wall. Time was running out and you still had an entire upper floor to clean. All you needed to do was pick the books up off the floor, replace them on their shelves and get back to it.

So why were you frozen in place, bound to the possibility of an actual ghost standing just a few metres from you?

Inch by inch, you crept forward, hoping that maybe if there was a ghost, they would understand that you weren’t exactly frightened or upset with them, you just wanted to talk, or at the very least, help them with whatever they needed, be it anything at all.

It wasn’t lost on you that trying to broach communication with a semi-corporeal stranger who was likely centuries old was probably a waste of time. Not only that, but if you did manage it, it would be incredibly difficult to explain to your colleagues the next time you saw them. It wouldn’t exactly be news for the group chat.

As you stumbled forward towards the shelves with the missing books, you briefly looked down to see that they hadn’t fallen very neatly. It was almost more surprising; had they fallen too neatly it would at least explain the bizarre, paranormal nature of the event.

It wasn’t long before you started to notice just how cold the room had become. Maybe it hadn’t stood out to you before, but you suddenly had the urge to wrap your arms around yourself and when you next exhaled, a distinct cloud left your lips.

Cold room, objects mysteriously falling off of surfaces.. you’re shocked that the ghost hadn’t tampered with the lights yet.

Just then, a light flickered above you.

“Shit..” you muttered under your breath. These things were all very typical of the books you liked to read. Perhaps you’d read one too many in the last month or so.

Your cool demeanour faltered even further when another book came flying off the shelf. You were close enough by that point to actually see what the subject of the books were; to your shock, none of these books were ghost stories, and in the bleary haze of being substantially rattled by this situation, you almost forgot that you were actually standing by the poetry section.

You wrapped your cardigan around your body and sighed. “Alright, enough games, who are you and what do you want?”

You found yourself defaulting back to the style of address you’d seen in movies and ghost hunting TV shows. In all fairness, confronting a presence from beyond the grave that had found a way to set foot in the mortal realm turned out to be horrifying.

The ghost seemed to be in fairly low spirits; you weren’t sure how you knew, but something about the way they interacted with the world made you believe they were in a bad mood. Deep breath in, deep breath out. You had to approach this from a different angle.

Crouching to the floor, you picked up the last book that was pulled off the shelves and stood straight. This was a recent addition to the collection, you remember adding it to the shelf a few weeks ago: a poetry collection by Edgar Allan Poe.

“You like Poe?” You froze for a second. “Wait.. are you Edgar Allan Poe?” The question came out half-jokingly, like you couldn’t believe the Allan Poe would be haunting the quaint library you worked at.

A light, airy rumble seemed to filter through the air. Had the ghost just.. laughed?

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.” You flicked through the collection. You liked Edgar’s poems enough, though skimming through this particular anthology put you back in the lecture halls and the library of your university, where you’d analyse his and others’ poems with a fine toothed comb until your brain hurt.

You placed the book flat on the shelf and went to pick up the other three. They were all collections from Poe.

“Wow, you really like his poems, huh?” You chuckled to yourself, then replaced all four books back to their original places.

For how cold the room was a few minutes ago, you were gradually starting to notice it less and less.

Folding your arms, you turned back to the general area where you thought the ghost might be, but it wasn’t like you’d ever be sure of that.

Not unless they revealed themselves.

“So..” you began. You shook your head in disbelief at trying to attempt communication, but shifted the embarrassment to the back of your mind. If all else failed, you would assume the ghost had just randomly disappeared and then finish your task in record time. “If you are there, where are you exactly? What’s your name?”

The temperature seemed to shift as a cool breeze passed by. Your back almost hit the shelf in bewilderment, and you watched as the lamp on the nearby desk - the same one that fell before - flickered on and off. It was a very deliberate act, with seconds in between the light turning on and off.

“I see.. H-Hello..”

A light gust flew over your head. You imagined they replied.

All of the computers had been shut off, but in an instant, the one on the desk before you lit up with its familiar log-in screen. You collided with the shelf and jolted all of the books; you brought a hand to your chest and felt the heavy thrumming in your ribcage.

The ghost typed something into the credentials bar.

Gradually, you stepped forward. The typing speed was at a snail’s pace, only one letter every five seconds.

Once the typing stopped, you took a closer look at the words.

hello my name is song mingi

“Song Mingi?” You straightened your back and took a deep breath. “Well.. It’s nice to meet you, Song Mingi.”

Your eyes were wild with amazement; either the ghost died after computers had come into fashion, or they had been dead long enough to learn how computers work in the modern era.

Unexpectedly, they deleted the words and wrote new ones.

you can call me mingi i died in 1968 i was a writer

“Huh.. I suppose that explains your love for Poe in some respects?” Another light rumble sounded.

yes he was a great inspiration i wrote many poems

“I see.” You thought hard on whether the name, Song Mingi, rang any bells, but to no avail. “Did you ever publish your poems? It’s just.. If I may be frank, I haven’t heard your name before.” never had the chance i was 25

Your eyebrows shot up. “My God.. I am so sorry to hear that.” A sombre atmosphere cascaded across the entire library. You panned over to the clock on the wall and noticed your shift was nearly, officially, at an end.

You heard more vigorous typing and turned back to the computer.

are you almost due to go home i am sorry i will not keep you

“Oh! Please- Don’t apologise. You weren’t to know.” You tapped your chin and hummed. Perhaps you could stay for a little longer..

are you thinking of staying

A sigh escaped your lips. An extra half an hour wouldn’t hurt.

“I will stay for a little while. Until half 9.”

For some reason, you felt the ghost’s - Mingi’s - mood lift. The computer immediately shut off.

You blinked a couple of times. The cold returned instantly, causing you to wrap up even warmer than you already had. A firm cloud left your lips upon exhaling again, and the tips of your ears began to go red.

The blinds rattled against the windows, and the lamp stuttered in and out of light to the point you thought the bulb might break. Your feet were planted to the floor, and for a few seconds, you couldn’t move a single limb.

Behind you, beams of light shone through the gaps in the shelves to the point you had to cover your eyes.

Eventually, the light faded, the cold subsided, and the noises stopped.

Instead, there was a man standing behind the shelf.

Slowly, the man revealed himself from behind the structure.

Coming face to face with Song Mingi was quite the rollercoaster. Once an amorphous entity typing away on the computer in fragmented bites, now a real, tangible human standing just a few centimetres away.

The sight chilled your spine from top to bottom. You weren’t sure how to even approach talking to him now that he’d revealed himself.

It took a few seconds to even take his appearance in. Tall, blonde, a rather casual, plain outfit consisting of a black shirt and jeans.

Mingi smiled at you. “Thank you for staying. I appreciate it.”

You breathed a chuckle, unsure of yourself despite having incentivised his reveal. “You’re- You’re welcome..!”

He turned the corner and picked the book from the top of the pile of the four he had dropped earlier. “I apologise for startling you. I had tried to manoeuvre three books at once, thinking I could manage it, but alas, I could not.” He casually flicked through the book, as though it was 9am and he was an average visitor to the library inquiring about your recommendations.

You nervously chewed the inside of your bottom lip as you watched him alternate between the four books. You seemed to have so much to say before; talking with an invisible entity somehow proved to be a much easier task.

Mingi replaced the four books after a while then turned to face you. “So.. what’s your name?” he emphasised, light-heartedly alluding the irony of you knowing his and not him knowing yours.

You flexed your shoulders back and lifted your chin. “N.”

“N? Well, pleasure to make your acquaintance. I would shake your hand but trust me, I am sub-zero, it would not be pleasant.”

You laughed, genuinely, and sighed loudly when it hit you that you were having a full-on conversation with a ghost. If your colleagues ended up believing you, they would never let you live it down. “Well, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance in return, Mingi.”

Mingi nodded his head, a warm smile spreading across his lips. “Say, how long have you been a librarian?” he inquired, hand clasped over his wrist across his abdomen like an inspector.

“Um, about three years?”

“No kidding? Have you always wanted to be a librarian?”

You shrugged. It wasn’t your top career of choice but you were content with your position. “I like it. I would probably do something like go into interpreting or be a copywriter if I had the opportunity, but I’m happy to be a librarian.”

“Ah, much like myself, in some ways. Wordsmith.”

The remark almost made you snort. Mingi flexed a brow. “In some ways, I suppose.” Things went comfortably silent for a time; truly odd. “Was Poe your only inspiration to become a writer?”

Mingi paced across the floor towards the other side of the room. “No, I had many inspirations. Shelley, Stoker, the Brontës.”

“Ah, man of classic literature.”

“Indeed.” He had a sudden thought. “Say, computers have become incredibly advanced in the last fifty years, haven’t they?”

“Oh, absolutely.” You clicked a few keys and hummed a giggle. “Hm, 1968, you said..” Mingi tilted his head. “I suppose you must have seen computers in some of their earliest stages?” It came out as a question, not wanting to assume anything about Mingi’s life.

“Hm..” He pondered long and hard. “Not personally. I saw pictures of computers in newspapers and read several books about them, but I never used one and my family didn’t own one, when, well..” He trailed off and shied away.

You caught on immediately. Not wanting to pry any further, you changed the subject.

“What’s your favourite poem by Edgar?”

Mingi glanced up at you. “The Raven. I always liked the poems on the more gothic side, which you could argue is most of his catalogue but, The Raven has a distinct energy to it that has made me revisit it time and time again.”

“I suppose you were hoping to find it in one of those books?” you asked.

Mingi nodded. “But I suppose that search can wait now, since I have company.” The corners of his lips tilted upwards, and you found yourself doing the same in response. Of course, there were many questions on your mind, but you didn’t want to intrude on anything personal that could potentially upset him. Besides, it seemed especially rude to ask him about the circumstances of, well..

A part of you couldn’t help but think that the topic would be broached eventually; it just seemed inevitable now that you had met the ghost.

But Mingi seemed reluctant to share the information, at least for now, and that made total sense. This was completely different from any so-called activity you saw ghost hunters claim they experienced on their shows, where they’d usually throw out any and all questions in a desperate attempt to communicate. You had a duty to be respectful.

In the seconds of silence that befell, you decided to get back to tidying the desks. Mingi curiously watched you clean, and a humorous thought crept into your mind. “So, are you locked to the ground floor? Or could you travel upstairs if you wanted?”

Mingi chuckled, hearty and amicable. “I can move between the two spaces, yes. I take it you have to tend to the first floor as well?” You confirmed. “In that case, would you object to me joining you?” You shook your head, a smile cracking through the focused pout on your lips. “Excellent. Does the job ever get tedious? Cleaning, I mean.”

You shook your head again. “No. Honestly it helps pass the last hour of my shift away. It’d be a lot more boring if I had to just sit in the desk chair behind the counter the whole time.” Mingi conceded. “Plus, job’s gotta be done at the end of the day.”

“I suppose it has.” Mingi began to study his surroundings up close as if it was the first time he had ever visited. He passed by the community board where flyers for different events were pinned to the cork with tacks. He examined every decal on the wall as though they were an oddity. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him pick up a pamphlet and flick through it.

Another question popped into your mind. “So you can interact with the objects around you?” Mingi put the pamphlet down; for a second he thought you were scolding him. You assured him that you were just curious.

“I can touch things and pick them up if that’s what you’re asking.”You let out a curt hum. “So you have a corporeal impact on the physical space?”

He breathed a laugh. “That’s one way of putting it.” He straightened his back. “I can effectively interact with the world as any alive human would. I can see and hear crystal clear. I can talk, laugh, make facial expressions and gestures with my arms and hands. I can appear to any human who welcomes my manifestation and disappear in the blink of an eye, like..” He vanishes, and your eyes widen. A second later, he returns. “See?”

“Wow.. But, I couldn’t hear you say words when you were invisible.”

“Yes. Once invisible, I behave as any regular ghost would. My interactions with the world become distant and I have to find other ways to communicate. I couldn’t pick up a pen and write as an invisible ghost, nor could I produce a handwritten word on a page, but as you saw earlier, I can manipulate the keys to type words on a screen. Don’t ask me how that works, I have no idea. I wager it’s because it’s less strenuous and can be done with a little bit of mind control.”

“Mind control? Sounds like science fiction.”

“Okay, perhaps that’s not the right phrase.” He rested his chin against his knuckle. “I have to seriously think about it and will my mind to affect objects.”

“So telepathy.. or telekinesis?”

“In a way, yes.”

“Huh.” You pondered this for a while. “That’s fascinating.. So those rumbles I heard earlier while you weren’t visible.. laughter?”

Mingi grinned; big, stupid, cheesy grin. “Yep. You’re learning fast.” He sounded genuinely impressed.

You shrugged a shoulder. “I have a duty of care to do so!” you light-heartedly quipped.

Mingi’s smile grew wider and you were immediately taken by it. He was so friendly, such a pleasant person to talk to. Your eagerness to learn what had happened conflicted heavily with the louder voice in your mind telling you to bite your tongue and be considerate. You shunned the smaller voice for wanting to know so badly, inevitably causing guilt to surge through your entire body and make you shrivel up on the spot.

Your face fell and you avoided his gaze. “Better head upstairs,” you said, almost inaudibly.

In a flash, you were on the first floor, barely giving Mingi any time to process. He was there in a second anyway; add ‘ability to teleport’ to the list.

For a short time, you clammed up, and felt ridiculous for it in the process. You weren’t the one in the position of having a living human feel potentially inquisitive about your death. Not that you had expressed this to Mingi, but since he had something akin to telepathic powers, it wouldn’t surprise you if he knew immediately, or at the very least, could cold read your intentions just by looking at your face.

You tried to put it to the back of your mind and focus on the genial dynamic that had begun to develop between the two of you. He was kind. He was courteous. He hadn’t ripped your library to pieces to prove a point. You huffed and shook your head; as if he would.

Mingi, hands behind his back, approached you from the doorway to the staircase and said, “Are you okay? I sense a sudden shift in mood.”

You chuckled weakly. “Were you a psychic in your past life?” you tried to joke, but it didn’t reach. If anything, it peeled back the entire façade.

Mingi regarded you with concerned eyes. You shifted your gaze to the floor, absent-mindedly throwing the cloth back and forth between your hands to keep them occupied. Neither of you knew what to say for a time, and the silence which had at one point been fairly comfortable had now grown more steadily disconcerting.

“I’m sorry, Mingi.” Mingi drew back in shock. “Maybe I’m not the best company.” You laughed out the words, hoping they could bring some levity to the atmosphere, but instead, Mingi’s expression clouded over and became more solemn.

“I don’t think that’s true at all, N. In fact, it’s been wonderful talking to you.”

His words were too sincere for your brain to comprehend. Your spine locked, and once again, you were rooted to the spot.

“Why do you think that way?” he wondered.

And you thought, how the hell do I answer this?

You sighed, knowing no matter how you tried to explain it, the words wouldn’t come out right. It dawned on Mingi that you could potentially be putting an early end to this meeting, and he suddenly wanted to do everything he could to stop it.

“Please, don’t go just yet. Whatever it is, you don’t have to worry about it. I’ve only felt how gracious you’ve been, and I can’t imagine there’d be anything so terribly serious that it would make you bad company.”

You stared at him, the earnest revelation sending a shockwave over your body. Please, don’t go just yet..

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I- Okay.” Mingi smiled then, and you did too. You promised half an hour more. Perhaps you could stay for even longer..

“Say,” Mingi jumped in, interrupting your thoughts, “what’s your favourite book?”

A smirk lifted your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know..”

×-×

By the time you had eventually decided it was best that you go - much to your mutual sorrow - it was nearing 10:30pm.

Never before had you imagined you would stay behind at the library for this long, but this was a significant event, worthy of the extra time spent wandering the library and talking literature with Mingi.

You opened up to one another about your lives, your university experiences - coincidentally you had attended the same one - and your day to day routine. Mingi was especially interested to learn of this invention he knew only as a computer within a tiny screen.

You reached the entrance to the library, and as you were about to open the door, Mingi couldn’t help but remark on this frankly insane turn of events.

“Quite an atypical evening, huh?”

“Well, it’s not every day a ghost pays a visit to your library.”

Mingi smiled; you missed the miniscule level of sadness within it. “It truly isn’t.”

“I’m not in on the late shift again until next Thursday.. Would I see you again?”

Mingi eyed you. Something flashed in his eyes, but again, you managed to miss it. “We’ll see.”

“Well, I’ll see you.. hopefully.”

He shrugged. You rested your palm on the handle, and Mingi instantly evaporated.

Turning your back, you saw an empty space. You smiled.

You’ll see him soon.

×-×

Not a single night came where you saw him again after that point.

It was almost like he hadn’t visited you at all.

You decided against telling your colleagues; they probably wouldn’t have believed you anyway.

Every late shift, you waited for a sign that he would return. He never did.

The new year arrived, and you wondered if you had to wait until December to see him again.

With that thought in mind, you had nothing left to do but wait.

×-×

A whole year had passed since you first met Mingi, and you hadn’t confided in a single soul about the meeting.

How could you? You rationalised that if you had told any of your colleagues, they either wouldn’t have believed you or they’d have to shut the entire library down. It felt greatly selfish to keep such information from them, but at the same time, nothing major had happened in the last year, not any time before that that you can recall. It was as though a ghost had never been there.

Besides, you didn’t want to kick up a fuss and potentially cause them to lose their jobs from a place they loved.

And now, it was the one year anniversary of you having met Mingi for the first time.

Another late shift, coincidentally. You hadn’t realised until you looked at your work schedule for the coming week and noticed that the two shifts lined up perfectly.

As you had done for the last year, you wondered whether Mingi was waiting for the same day to come by and see you again.

It would make a lot of sense, and would explain why the library had been so quiet.

Your shift for the day was coming to an end, with only you and another colleague, a guy named Wooyoung, left to make sure everyone had gone so you could lock up.

Wooyoung turned to you once the clock struck 8pm and said, “Are you okay? You’ve been a little distant since you came in.”

You turned to him and shrugged a shoulder, outwardly oblivious to anything he could be referring to. “How do you mean? I’m totally fine.”

“I wouldn’t dispute that in any other case, but I don’t know.. Something feels off.” You shied away from his light questioning and went back to typing on the computer. “Has something happened? Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I’m completely fine, I promise,” you reply, curbing some of the bite in your tongue. You didn’t want to snap at him, he didn’t deserve that, and really, you ought to tell someone about the situation.

Perhaps it was finally time to.

With a final sigh, Wooyoung's eyes still fixed on you, you turned back to him. “Okay.. Can I tell you this in confidence?” He nodded. “One year ago today, I met a ghost in this library.”

He drew back in shock, his eyes wide. “A-A ghost? Here?” You nodded. “Wow.. I don’t really know what to say to that, ha..”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

“Have you told anyone else about this?” You shook your head. “You kept this to yourself for an entire year?” His tone was one of astonishment, but it wasn’t accusatory. You internally thanked him for that.

“I didn’t know how to!” you defended in a quiet voice. “It’s not something I wanted to go spilling to all of you over the group chat, y’know?”

He hummed, seemingly in agreement. “I get your point, but it’s not exactly something you should keep from everyone.” You sighed, conceding his argument. “So- did you actually see the ghost? Did it like- appear to you?”

“Yeah. Well, not initially. But then he revealed himself. He was standing by the poetry section-” You gestured to his location; you remembered it like it was yesterday. “He had knocked some books over by Edgar Allan Poe.”

“Ah, gothic poetry man.”

“Mhm. And then he started typing on the computer.” His jaw dropped. “I know!” You weren’t convinced Wooyoung was buying any of this sincerely, but his reactions helped you imagine that he was at least taking you somewhat seriously. “Told me his name was Song Mingi, and that he died in 1968.”

“Holy shit.. Wow.. So then he just appeared and you.. talked?”

“Yep! I know, don’t even say it..”

“It’s pretty crazy, I’ll give you that!” Wooyoung looked about the place. “So..” He brought his voice down to a whisper. “Are you expecting him to come back tonight?”

Your eyes met, and you exhaled. “I’m not expecting him to, as such.. But if he did, it would make sense.”

Wooyoung glanced at the clock. “So I assume he arrived some time after everyone was gone?”

“Yeah, when I was cleaning up.”

“So if he were to turn up again, he should be here pretty soon, huh?”

You hesitated to say that it was likely he wouldn’t turn up when Wooyoung was around, but to be honest, you weren't sure. Instead you simply nodded; maybe Mingi would turn up with Wooyoung still around.

Then, to your surprise, Wooyoung stepped out from behind the counter and went to grab his coat without another word.

“Wait- you leaving?”

As Wooyoung shrugged on his coat, he beamed that same old mischievous smile you’d come to associate with him. “Well, it wouldn't be particularly wise of me to stick around if a ghost is due to arrive any minute.” You expected mockery, but instead got frank sincerity. “And if there's been zero activity over the past year, it stands to reason that he’s been waiting for this specific day to come back.” You pulled a face at him, and his smile faltered ever so slightly. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.” With a roll of your eyes, his smile widened. “I’ll see you tomorrow, N. Let me know how it goes!”

He unlocked the door, headed out of the library, and locked it behind him.

You hunched your shoulders for a second before dropping them with a huff.

You decided to just get on with your task of cleaning the place up. At the very least it kept your mind occupied.

Speaking of which, your mind kept going back to your parting words last year.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except when you asked him if you would see him soon.

‘We’ll see.’

We’ll see.

Your attempt to keep yourself occupied proved rather feeble as you kept eyeing the computer that Mingi had typed on; some things about the library had changed over the past twelve months, but the desks and computers had stayed right where they’d always been.

Nerves crept all over your spine as you turned away and continued cleaning the ground floor. Eventually, you went to the staff room and pulled out a vacuum cleaner.

Your efforts to distract yourself meant you were completely oblivious to Mingi’s entrance.

Mingi smiled for a brief second, and then the vacuum cleaner was turned on. “Je~ sus!” Mingi cried, extending the first syllable as he covered his ears. “What is that noi-” He poked his head into the staff room and watched as you swept the vacuum across the floor. He gently took his hands away then quickly replaced them, wincing in pain at the sheer decibels. It had been a long time since he was exposed to such noise.

All the while, you didn’t notice him standing there, too preoccupied with the task at hand. Some time passed, and Mingi considered shouting your name, but he refrained, not wanting to scare you.

Shortly after, you finally turned the vacuum off, and Mingi was able to remove his hands with a deep, relieved sigh.. which he quickly wished he could take back as his hands flew over his open mouth.

You spun in place and jumped back. “Shit!” you exclaimed.

“I- I am so sorry, please, forgive me-” Mingi brought his hands together in a prayer motion, and you put a hand on your chest just to let your heart calm down. You couldn’t even process that it was Mingi standing there before he spoke again. “I didn’t want to scare you, though I appreciate that I’ve done exactly that.”

Once your heart had calmed down enough for you to partake in conversation, you leaned the vacuum up against the wall and sighed. “When did you come in?”

“Mere seconds ago. A split second before you turned your..” He studied the contraption behind you with only a fraction of recognition. “Um..?”

“Oh- the vacuum cleaner?” You gestured to it, and he looked at you in shock. “Oh, yeah, um, a lot of these things don’t have cables anymore.”

“That’s a vacuum cleaner?” He pointed at it warily, suspicious of the veracity of your statement. You confirmed his suspicions, then it hit you square in the face that Mingi was.. back.

Mingi was back!

“..You’re here.”

Mingi dropped the subject once you said those words. He smiled at you and nodded. “Yes. I’m here.”

You put the vacuum back in the cupboard and walked over to him. “I didn’t think you would show.”

Mingi flexed a brow in bewilderment. “You didn’t?”

“Well.. I mean, what you said last year makes sense now. It truly isn’t every day. And ‘we’ll see’? You basically told me there and then that you might not come back. I wasn’t expecting you to..”

Placing his hands behind his back, Mingi timidly eyed the floor. “Did you hope that I would?”

You scoffed a laugh and scratched the nape of your neck. “I mean- I- Why wouldn’t I want to see you again?” you asked.

Your phrasing of the question made a distinct blush form on his cheekbones. “I’m glad to see you again too, N.”

The corners of your lips tilted upwards. The sun had long since set through the gaps in the blinds, and Mingi noticed that the streetlights were flooding the pavements in a golden hue. This caught your attention, and you turned your back. “Oh.” Shifting back to him, you asked, “Should I close them completely? Are they distracting?”

Mingi shook his head. “Not at all. Though I must admit, I’m glad you turned that machine off.” He poked a pinky finger into his ear and chuckled.

“Ah. I’m sorry, if I had been a few seconds late, I would’ve noticed you. So, are ghosts quite sensitive to noise?” The two of you left the staff room side by side, with you turning the light off before closing the door.

“Variably. I’ve heard that some ghosts can handle frequencies greater than dogs can handle, and others can barely hear above the low rumble of an engine.”

“That’s interesting. Where does your sensitivity lie?” You moved to close the rest of the blinds in the library.

“It leans to the lower end. Anything more than a high-pitched cry and it seriously hurts.”

“Hence the reaction to the vacuum.”

“Hence the reaction, though I should have just made myself invisible again and chosen any other way to reappear to you.”

“At the very least, I now know to be careful when you come by again!”

Pain flashed across Mingi’s face. He wasn’t quite ready to divulge anything yet, though he knew deep down your time together was short. As you were on the other side of the ground floor, you didn’t see him, and it allowed him a few seconds to openly and silently lament this fact as he stared at the poetry section, which had since been shifted to the back wall of the library.

Instead of dwelling on the truth, he decided to ask about the rearranging of the shelves. “I see the poetry section has a new home.”

“Oh! Yes.” You arrived at the poetry section where he was now standing, having closed the last blind, and folded your arms. “We did this about three months ago? Our boss came in and instructed us to move the books around to promote other titles, primarily romance and fantasy fiction.”

“I see. But poetry still gets a lot of love, I presume?”

You chuckled. “Every once in a while. I even read through those collections that you were interested in.”

He locked eyes with you. There was a vulnerability within them that managed to take you aback.

“Did you enjoy them?” he wondered, his voice quiet.

A lump formed in your throat. Do the paranormal know they can wield such power?

“Very much so. I recognised a lot of the poems from my university days, but the one you liked most, The Raven, was completely new to me.” Mingi hid his face; your unabashed display of affection for his favourite works of art proved stifling to behold. “‘Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary-” Mingi’s eyes shot up. “Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore.. While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping; As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door; ‘Tis some visitor’, I muttered, ‘tapping at my chamber door, only this and nothing more.’”

Silence filled the entire space, so much so the entire world could have fallen still.

You shrugged off your ability to quote a whole verse from memory and smiled meekly at the books on the shelf. “And so on, and so forth..”

Mingi stared at you, distant thrumming in his ribcage at the almost siren-like quality of your rendition.

“N.. That was.. fantastic.”

Your eyes met for a small moment; you swallowed hard. “I was just quoting his poem, ha..”

Mingi couldn’t abide by your lack of awareness. He shuffled forward in an effort to convince you of your leverage, but you moved away before he could even step an inch towards you.

Once again, you distracted yourself with cleaning the shelves.

Mingi simply looked at you, unable to ascertain to what extent you recognised the meaning of your encounter.

On the inside, you were fighting with every fibre of your being to figure out the significance.

The answer initially seemed obvious. He only showed up once, on this very day, and it had only been the year before and now.

But there was clearly something else afoot? The poem, the day, the location. It struck a nerve when you realised you had managed to quote a verse from memory, and you froze in place at the revelation.

The air was heavy between you. You turned back and noticed that Mingi was still looking at you.

Taking a deep breath in, you plucked up the courage to say what had been on your mind for months.

“It seemed too obvious before but.. this day. You’ve only visited on this day..” Mingi turned to face you head on. “Did you.. die on this day?”

With that, Mingi’s body took on a more transparent form.

You cried out, “No!” He held up his hand in reassurance.

“It’s okay. This is the first piece of the puzzle.” Your eyes began to well up with tears. Surely your meetings weren’t over yet, they couldn’t end so quickly. “And at the very least, the other two pieces are slightly more difficult, so I won’t be saying goodbye just yet.”

The words stung, and your chest tightened. You were far from ready to say goodbye to Mingi, the two of you had just met. You had so many more things to learn about one another.

Mingi regarded his transparent form and sighed. “I had no idea how it would manifest, but this doesn’t surprise me.”You shook your head, unable to get the words out. What had you done? Why did you quote that poem?

Covering your mouth, you sobbed loudly and walked away.

“N?” he called after you. “N, please don’t worry.” He followed you to where you were standing by the desks, and placed a hand on your shoulder. The chill made you shudder, and you quickly noticed that his hand didn’t have the same weight as a living human’s would.

He immediately took his hand away and stood in front of you. Your tears were evident, and he frowned at the sight.

“I- The poem-” you stuttered. “What have I done?” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

He shook his head, reaching his hands out to console you. “N, I promise, you reciting that poem did nothing but fill me with joy. I’ve never seen someone take such an interest that they were able to quote it from memory!” He beamed, and it shone through the translucency of his figure. “Truly, I am the happiest man ever to find a kindred soul.”

You clutched the collar of your shirt and looked at him ardently. The answer was in his eyes; the solutions to these riddles were woven into every inch of his skin. Even as every part of you struggled to work it out, you were hit with the sense that the equations would be too easy, and that frightened you.

Slowly, your hand fell to your side.

“One.. of three puzzles?”

He blinked; transfixed by your gaze, he missed your words entirely. “Hm?”

“You said that was the first part, and there were too more.”

It was his turn to gulp down the lump in his throat. “Yes.”

Chewing on the insides of your bottom lip, you breathed in, then out. “The day, the poem, the location.”

Tears began to pool around his own eyes. You were learning new things about the paranormal all the while; they still had the capacity to express emotion. “Yes.”

You wanted to stall your problem solving until the very end of these meetings, but you weren’t sure what would happen if you didn’t work them out at all. Was Mingi on a time limit? Did he need to go to the light before that time ran out?

Your breath hitched. That’s exactly what it was.

But why here? Why now? Why that poem?

..Why you?

Nothing made sense as much as every piece began to fall into place. You were stuck looking at him, hoping desperately for the clues to reveal themselves while wanting them to stay in the shadows forever.

Suddenly, your eyes panned to the clock on the wall. 9pm.

Your shift had come to an end.

Per last time, you only allowed yourself another ninety minutes at the library, and was hoping to do the same again tonight, when your phone buzzed on the reception desk, startling the both of you.

You headed over and picked it up; it was a call from your mother.

“May I take this?” Mingi nodded, recognising the object to be a mobile phone. “Thank you.” You answered, your voice still shaky, as much as you tried to hide this from her. “Uh, hi, Mom..! Yeah, I’m okay. Am I still at the library? Y-Yeah, I, um- Oh. Yeah, I guess I could come round for a little while. I’m, uh-” A big part of you didn’t want to say this, but you knew you had to. You gave Mingi an apologetic look, and he smiled sincerely in return. “Yeah, I’m just finishing up and then I’ll be round. Okay. I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes. Okay. Okay, bye.”

Once you ended the call, you choked a sob and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. This reaction was equal parts understandable and confusing. It was all too overwhelming; what exactly were you crying for?

Mingi stepped forward. “I suppose you’ll be paying your mother a visit?”

Still teary-eyed, you nodded and said, “I’m sorry for abruptly leaving like this.”

He waved his hand to undo any potential guilt you could be feeling. “There is always next year.”

And no year after that, you couldn’t help but think.

Your departure was abrupt, awkward, and not at all what you imagined for your second encounter with Mingi.

As you reached for the handle, you shed a tear and looked back at him. You couldn’t believe it was over so quickly. “I promise that next year, I will make as much time as possible for you.”

Your words warmed Mingi’s heart, and he smiled, trying to hold back tears of his own. “I hope that we can spend that time together in earnest.”

You matched his expression. He vanished before your very eyes.

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you left the library.

×-×

Another year passed, and in that time, you continued to reveal nothing about Mingi to anyone you knew or met.

In a lot of ways, you felt like this was for you and you alone, with Wooyoung being the only person you ever divulged anything to. A part of you wondered if Wooyoung would ever forget, but every time you saw one another, his eyes would shimmer in a way that let you know he remembered, and that he probably wouldn't forget for a long time.

Maybe you should have kept it firmly under wraps, but there was no time for regret.

The third December rolled around, and that was to be the night that changed everything.

×-×

So much has changed over the past year.

You often questioned whether you could forget such an event; meeting a ghost in person, twice, surely that was something that would stick with you for the rest of your days.

Six months after the second meeting, you had found a new job as an intern for a copywriting company. It was one of the only times you had thought about that second encounter since it happened, and you had honestly felt guilty about leaving the library behind. You felt you owed Mingi something, and that by leaving you were tarnishing something important.

But this was real life! An opportunity fell into your lap when you least expected it, and your colleagues, including Wooyoung, had all given you shining references: you had to take this chance!

Summer in a new job gave you a lease of life you hadn’t felt in a while, and it was refreshing to say the least. Autumn approached before you even had a chance to process it.

The job placed you a great distance from the library, meaning you have to travel a few extra miles just to get to work. It’s thrilling, exciting, new. While you loved your time at the library and everything that came with it, you never once imagine yourself doing anything different, and your old colleagues profusely agree. You still keep up with them, never having the heart to leave the group chat, but between your busy schedule and the extracurricular activities your workplace has you involved in, you’ve never had a chance to go back and see them.

That is, until one fateful day off in December.

You wake up with the express intention of visiting the library today. You hadn’t moved, you still lived in the same place, but since you commuted to work so much and hadn’t seen them in so long, you feel so far away from them all the time.

Your morning routine goes as usual. The library is open until late today anyway, you’ll have plenty of time to see them.

You pick up your phone to check the time, but your eyes zero in on the date.

It’s an oddly familiar one, as though something pertinent happened on this day in the past and yet, you’re struggling to work out what.

Bless your mind for being so flooded with other priorities.

You eat lunch, drink coffee, and decide around 3pm that now is the perfect time to pay them a surprise visit.

The journey to the library is short, perhaps made even shorter by how stoked you are to see your friends again.

Lying dormant in the background is an unsettling feeling that you can’t shake for some reason. You clear your throat. Maybe it’s just the weather.

As you enter the library, you open your arms wide, doubtlessly confusing everyone inside, while your colleagues cheer as quietly as they can and run over to you.

They all whisper variations of the same sentiment of how much they missed you as you pass hugs around the whole group. You pull away after a while and take a good look at the old place. It’s changed so much since you were last there.

Once the library is a bit quieter, they pull you into the staff room for a long awaited catch up, sharing back and forths about the goings on at the library and the copywriting company.

Wooyoung shoots you a look from across the table, and you flex your brow as if to say, everything okay?

He merely looks askance. He knows something that you apparently don’t. Or do you?

As the hours pass by and shifts come to an end, you and your colleagues part ways with more hugs and a promise that you’ll do a proper catch-up soon.

By 7:30pm, it’s only you and Wooyoung.

A strange sense of déjà vu takes over.

Wooyoung busies himself with the computer at reception. The click-clack of the keyboard triggers something in the back of your mind.

It’s the first time you’ve been able to take a good look at the library since you arrived. The shelves are in completely different places. The desks with the computers aren’t even in the same area anymore.

It’s almost completely unrecognisable from six months ago, where before it had only changed a bit.

Wooyoung notices your aimlessly wandering eyes and stops. “You okay?”

Your head snaps to him. You nod, but it’s not confident. “Yeah. You?”

He breathes a laugh and clicks the mouse. “Yeah. I’m just asking because..” He shuffles some papers. “You seem.. distant.”

His remark makes you a little conscious of how your feet are placed. Not that he intended that, but it makes you fold your arms across your chest a little defensively. “Do I? I promise I’m not, ha..”

Wooyoung nods. “Good to know.”

You chew the insides of your bottom lip. Why does everything feel so off all of a sudden?

You saunter over to the reception desk and stand beside him. “So, uh.. Things been pretty normal here, yeah?”

He side-eyes you. “Yeah.. Pretty normal, by all accounts. Why do you ask?”

He goes back to clicking on the keyboard. The sound is as aggravating as it is weirdly comforting.

“Just- I don’t know, do I need a reason to ask?”

Wooyoung halts. “No. No, just.. wondered.”

This conversation is stifling you. Your shoulders freeze and you look straight ahead, like a statue waiting to be carved from the marble.

All you know for sure, is that something isn’t right.

The library is so unrecognisable that it takes you a long time to figure out the familiar. You drum your fingers on the desk repeatedly until a sideways glance from Wooyoung gets you to stop. Why are the two of you so awkward now? What is he not telling you?

The frustration comes to head and you turn to Wooyoung with an exasperated sigh. “Alright, out with it. What are you not telling me?”

Wooyoung flicks a brow, somewhere between bewildered and mischievous. He jokingly says, “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten..”

You stare at him, eager to be enlightened and on the brink of snapping. He stares back at you sceptically.

“Wait.. You’re telling me you don’t remember?”

You blink at him. No, clearly not.

He drops his shoulders and looks at you blankly for a second. “You don’t remember Mingi?”

Mingi.. Mingi.. Mingi!

Your eyes widen with shock. What the fuck?

“Mingi.. Holy shit-”

“You actually forgot?” Wooyoung scoffs, incredulous to this news.

You run your hands over your face in regret; you knew something was bothering you. “Jesus- okay, I had a sneaking suspicion there was something familiar about this specific day..”

“Well, you’d be right, wouldn’t ya?” Wooyoung nudges your side and shakes his head. “Lots of stuff’s happened in the past year, it’s honestly no wonder it slipped to the back of your mind.”

You partly cover your mouth with your hand and bite your forefinger. Wooyoung pays no attention as he shuffles more papers on the desk. Tears well up in the back of your eyes, threatening to break free, and you gulp them down like no one’s business.

“But- God, how do you forget something like that?” Your chest grows heavy with unease. Your heart rams into your throat. Sweat begins to form along your hairline. Shallow gasps leave your lips and it’s then that Wooyoung takes notice.

He drops the papers and places a hand on your back. “Hey, calm down, don’t worry..” he says soothingly, rubbing circles between your shoulder blades. “I’m sure Mingi would understand.” It’s not lost on him how crazy he sounds reassuring his friend about the potential hurt felt by a ghost, but he swallows his pride and focuses on you.

Eventually, you find enough resolve to take a deep breath and straighten your back. “It’s just.. The way we spoke last year-” The conversation begins to flood every inch of your brain. You had promised him more time. I promise that next year, I will make as much time as possible for you.

Reality is the wave that crashes the fabric of illusion.

But, Mingi isn’t an illusion. He was- is- a real tangible person, right in front of you. The ghost of a man who was once living and breathing just like you are now. You had never really believed in ghosts, but that was personally dashed for you the moment he revealed himself. You talked, you laughed, you had a conversation about vacuum cleaners for God’s sake!

The memory comes back to you, and you find yourself chuckling through the tears now spilling over your cheeks. “Mingi,” you say, “Mingi, my God, I am so sorry..”

I hope that we can spend that time together in earnest.

What if he feels betrayed?

The thought alone is a knife to the throat.

Wooyoung gently grabs you by the shoulders and looks you in the eyes. “Hey. Deep breath. Whatever you’re thinking, I’m sure it isn’t true.”

“I quoted his favourite poem from memory..” you mutter to yourself.

“Hm?”

“His favourite poem by Edgar Allan Poe. The Raven. I quoted the first verse from memory..”

“Huh.” Wooyoung checks the clock. Nearly 8pm.

Slowly, he backs away from you, not taking his eyes off you much as he heads to the poetry section. You barely notice him leave, your arms still outstretched as though he was still there. “Say.. When was-” He tries navigating around the shelves as best as he can while he speaks. “When was the last time you uh-” He almost crashes into a shelf. “Umph- The last time you uhh- read that poem?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “It was some point last year before I saw him again. I haven’t read it again since.”

Wooyoung nods as he reaches the poetry section. He quickly turns his back and scans the shelves - Poe, Poe, Poe.. - then finds the book he’s searching for with a triumphant ah! Taking it out, he flips to the right page and says, “Okay. Try and recite it again for me.”

“What?” You finally register the space in front of you, and your eyes begin to dart all over the place. “Wooyoung?”

“Over here!” He waves his hand in the air, and you spot him. “Recite the first part of The Raven for me!”

You bite your bottom lip, then shut your eyes tight, desperately trying to remember the poem. “Um- Hold on..”

Wooyoung mumbles to himself, “Come on, N, you got this..”

With your eyes still closed, you recite the first verse. Slowly but surely, like slotting the pieces of a puzzle back together after they’ve come undone.

Once you reach the end of the first verse, Wooyoung smiles. “That’s it, keep going.”

“Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December.. And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.. Eagerly I wished-” Your mind goes blank. Then, “..the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow; From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore- For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore- Nameless here for evermore.”

The clock strikes eight, and a blinding light shines through the ground floor of the library.

Once the light fades, both you and Wooyoung open your eyes.

Mingi stands a few feet in front of you.

Before you can even think, you take off and run over to him, throwing your arms around him in a tight embrace that even you yourself are surprised by. Mingi grunts, then registers the gesture and smiles, putting his arms around you. Wooyoung watches, mouth agape in shock.

“Mingi..” you whisper. “I’m so sorry I left you behind.”

Mingi nestles his chin into your shoulder. “Never left. Merely had other priorities.”

You pull back and look at him, eyes full of tears that he hesitates to wipe away. He smiles directly at you, full of heart and warmth.

You wonder what you did to receive such an outpour.

Upon looking at him, you notice his translucency, then remember that reciting the poem the first time is what made him so to begin with. You choke on a sob and cover your mouth with both hands.

“Two more puzzles, huh?” you say, lips quivering through the gap in your hands.

He nods his head, tilting it to the side before stuffing his hands in his pockets. You cannot help but think of how likeable he is.

Wooyoung gradually steps out of hiding, the book still in his hands. You turn to him and sigh. “God, I’m sorry, Wooyoung.”

Mingi turns his head. When the two men come face to face, they are equally stunned.

“Um, Mingi, this is my friend and former co-worker, Wooyoung.”

The two men timidly wave at one another, and Wooyoung grips the book in his hands as he realises that he basically just helped summon a ghost.

Wooyoung shrugs a shoulder, “Too late for formalities, I presume?”

Mingi laughs outwardly. “I appreciate the sentiment, though.” Wooyoung smiles.

You run a hand over your face before it goes slack at your side. “Lord, how did this happen?”

Mingi turns back to you. “I’ll say divine intervention, if either of you believe in that.” Neither you nor Wooyoung say anything, allowing the silence to speak for itself.

Wooyoung suddenly remembers that the front door isn’t locked and tends to that while you and Mingi are left to exchange glances. Every time he looks at you, you turn away, and when he eventually hides his eyes you find yourself gazing back at him.

Never able to hold eye contact for too long, you make a point of crossing over to the other side of the room to start closing the blinds. Wooyoung notices and holds up a hand. “Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?” he asks in jest. “Leave that to me, you have unfinished business,” he mutters into your ear.

“Unfinished business?” you whisper in disbelief, though the embarrassment is creeping up the back of your neck.

“Mhm, now shoo.” Wooyoung virtually pushes you away, dismissing you forthwith to return to the matter at hand.

The matter in question being Mingi’s ever fixated gaze on your person and his entire reason for coming back.

Arms folded, you saunter over to him, caught under his watchful eye like an ant beneath a microscope. “I’m kind of amazed you came back.”

Mingi puts his hands in his pockets for want of anything to keep them occupied. “Should it be so surprising?”

You shrug. “I mean.. I left. I almost completely forgot you existed, just- How do you not hate me at this point?”

The air between you is rich with desire to delay the inevitable. Mingi closes the distance between you and sighs. “Like I said, never left. Merely had other priorities.”

You had heard him the first time, and yet it takes a repeat for you to fully register his words. Your pupils dilate and your face grows stiff. Somehow, you understand exactly what he means despite the cryptic nature. “And you don’t judge me for that?”

“Real life is a mean thing to contend with at the best of times. I hold no ill will towards you for focusing on the reality in your hands above the spectre you had two conversations with.”

The frank statement is a bucket of ice cold water over your head. Had you not gathered what remained of your resolve, you might have crumbled at the weight.

“I still feel I should apologise. I promised I would make time for you and-”

“You’re staying true to your promise, are you not?” He lifts a brow inquisitively.

You pause. You’re standing in the library, Mingi is right in front of you, Wooyoung has since finished his task and is busy tidying the ground floor.. You suppose you are holding true to your promise, despite the uncanny circumstances that led back to this full circle moment.

Mingi understands your dilemma and nods. “It’s not exactly how you envisioned it going, I get that. But, you’re here, I’m here, and we even have a third party,” he says, indicating Wooyoung, who by now is standing next to the history shelf. Wooyoung gives a half-smile and a small wave, then goes back to minding his own business, encouraging you to pretend he’s not even there.

It makes you chuckle, all of this. It’s certainly not what you had planned, and you know you only have a limited amount of time left, but you would rather have this than nothing at all.

“So,” you begin, bringing both yours and Mingi’s attention back to the present moment, “we’ve already covered the significance of the day.” You eye the place. “But I feel like there’s something with this location..”

Mingi’s eyes light up. “You’re there.”

You turn back to him. “This location is important, huh?” Mingi nods, newly excited. “I figured as such, typically souls who have passed away near a certain place will be bound to that general area.”

“It sounds cliché, I know, but it is true. The paranormal have ways of travelling, but it’s not very common. Typically they prefer to stay exactly where they are.”

“Are there any limitations?” you wonder aloud.

“None that I can parse, though I’ve heard that it can be very taxing to travel far and wide.”

“Sounds like me with jet-lag,” remarks Wooyoung. The two of you look at him, and he zips his lip and goes back to cleaning.

You and Mingi face one another again, you playfully rolling your eyes at his comment.

Then, in the few seconds that follow, your eyes look through Mingi and towards the history shelf, where Wooyoung is rearranging the books.

“Um, Wooyoung?” You pass Mingi as Wooyoung turns his head. “Are there any local history books on that shelf?”

“Uhh, local history, local history..” He mutters it repeatedly until he comes across one book on the subject. “Ah! Got one here.” He takes it out and hands it to you with a grin. You thank him and take it over to a nearby table. Mingi follows you; you pull a chair out for him and he sits down very gently and appreciatively, adjusting himself to the feeling of being seated.

Laying the book down on the table, you start flicking through slowly, allowing Mingi the opportunity to chime in when he sees something he recognises.

Eventually, he calls out, “Stop!”

You halt on a double page spread.

Song and Co. 1952 - 1968

“That’s it..” Mingi slumps against the chair in shock. “That’s my parents’ old business.”

Your eyes scan the page, first looking at the black and white photos before turning to the words. Wooyoung walks over, intrigued by the discovery.

One delightful autumn, a family business opened its doors for the first time. Along the local high street, residents of the nearby town delighted in the trinkets made by the young married couple who owned the business. They became the bestseller of gifts during the holiday season, as well as for multiple occasions throughout the year.

Mingi leans forward, letting his finger hover above the page as he attempts to find any mention of himself.

You sit back in the chair, then turn to look up at Wooyoung, who glances back down at you sympathetically.

After a few seconds, Mingi says, “There.”

Your head snaps back to the page, and you follow his finger to a passage that talks about him. As you read, your eyes brim with tears.

While their eldest son had left to pursue other ambitions, their younger son, Mingi, had plans to inherit the business from his parents. Unfortunately, Mingi passed away in the December of 1968, an untimely death, prompting the couple to close down their family business for good. The couple have never revealed the cause of death, though some speculated it to be a vehicular accident caused by an intoxicated driver, just five minutes from where the business sat.

“Oh my God..” You notice Mingi looking at you in your peripheral vision, equally tearful at the sight of your hurt.

It takes a few seconds for you to have the courage to look at him, but when you do, you have to hold back a sob from breaking through. Wooyoung disappears into the background, a solemn expression on his face as he hangs his head low.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper through the crack in your lips.

Mingi smiles dejectedly, and it breaks your heart even more. “No need to apologise.” He wants to reach out and hold your hand, but refrains. “My parents didn’t want anyone knowing. I was here, well, technically, in the aftermath of the accident. Watching them close the book on this chapter was heartbreaking. Even worse that I couldn’t do anything to console them. My mother believed in it, but my father didn’t. It would have caused a bigger rift, and they had to stay together.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Jesus.. So-” You hold your tongue on asking this question; the dormant feelings of guilt at being so curious rear their ugly head, and you stare at your hands in your lap instead.

Mingi notices, and this time, reaches forward to take your hand. The chill startles you, but not as much as how light his grip is. With a deep, relaxed sigh, he says, “You can ask now.”

You look up at him. Your teeth begin to chatter and your lips start shivering. “W-Wait- You- You mean-”

He nods. “You can ask. I mean it.”

And he does mean it. The tension is heavy, so dense it rips the oxygen from your lungs.

A breath escapes you, shuddering in its attempt to crawl back into your system. You gulp. “Were the speculations true? Is that how you died?” Mingi hardens his gaze. The pieces fit together.

Should I close them completely? Are they distracting?

“The streetlights outside the staffroom. That’s roughly where you died.”

Mingi sheds a tear. Light passes through him with more fervour as he takes a more transparent form. Wooyoung’s jaw drops.

You cry out, “You should have told me to close the blinds..!”

To your surprise, Mingi chuckles, holding onto your hand much tighter than before. “I was okay, you don’t need to worry about that.”

You push the sleeve of your free arm over your hand and use the cuff to wipe the tears from your eyes. The words won’t come to you.

Wooyoung steps forward and takes the book away, before closing it and putting it back on the shelf so neither of you have to look at it anymore.

You stare down at Mingi’s hand in yours and tighten your grip, for all the difference it makes.

The strength of your grasp doesn’t fully translate, but Mingi sees it in the way your hand muscles pull taut; he closes his eyes, and for a brief moment it’s like he’s alive again, breathing in the air and letting it fill his lungs.

As long as he is with you, holding your hand and experiencing life through your eyes, he can keep up his side of the promise.

I hope that we can spend that time together in earnest.

“Tell me,” Mingi says all of a sudden, snapping you out of your thoughts, “how have things been at your new job?”

You talk for what feels like hours. His form is hazy against the harsh daylight bulbs that fill the ceiling of the library. Ultimately, you’re surprised to actually see not just a ghost, but a transparent one, as so many pieces of art have depicted them. His voice is much farther away and has a certain reverb to it, now that he is effectively one step away from entering what you assume to be the light, but you push that thought to the back of your mind for now.

Mingi laughs at every funny story you tell and delights in hearing about your writing endeavours. You tell him about how you’ve taken up poetry writing in the last few months, as well as learning to get better at baking. Wooyoung tuts playfully, no doubt envious of the treats your new co-workers get to enjoy. You promise him you’ll bring some for everyone at the library soon.

“I wish I could partake in this luxury,” Mingi laments. 

His words strike a chord and you suddenly feel quite melancholy. “Oh, I suspected ghosts couldn’t eat.”

“And you’d be correct, but strangely I haven’t lost my sense of taste.” Both you and Wooyoung lift a brow in shock. “I know! It’s an odd feeling because I still have all of my senses and yet they’re not as strong due to my spectral state.”

“Are they much weaker when you’re invisible?” asks Wooyoung. Mingi nods. “Wow.. Sorry, that’s just so fascinating.”

“I agree. I’ve had to learn a lot since entering this state of being.

You smile at the two of them before standing up to stretch your legs. A comfortable silence befalls the library as you find yourself gravitating towards the poetry section once again.

The day, the location, the poem..

The poem.

Everything comes back to that poem.

You find the same book that Wooyoung had read from earlier and pull it out. Flicking through, you find The Raven.

Immediately, Mingi launches himself off the chair and pushes through an invisible force field to get to you.

“N-” he blurts hesitantly.

“Oh-” You turn, and instantly shut the book seeing the panic on his face. “No! I was just looking, it’s okay.” He places a hand on his chest, mimicking the gesture many alive would do when alarmed. You inch closer to him, putting the book down so as to not cause further worry. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s alright, I just- Whew-” he says coolly, though there’s a hidden layer of distress in his tone. “Not trying to let me go already, are you?” He smiles through the unrest in his expression. His eyes are physically hollow, and yet the fear is evident within them.

Let me go.

Of course the poem is the answer, but how?

You need to know, you need to find out and yet Mingi’s very presence is the reason why you’d never want to.

The lights shimmer through his vacant body and your breath hitches.

And yet.

You shake your head sincerely and say, “No. Of course not.” Not that I’d ever want to.

Mingi takes a deep breath and it somehow courses through you.

With a heavy heart, you tell him, “But I will have to.. won’t I?”

He gazes up at you, and his vacant eyes still manage to glisten with tears. He regretfully nods and mutters, “It is true. It’s inevitable. I think I’m trying to ignore it myself, as much as I know that I can’t.”

You let a tear shed before speaking up to grab Wooyoung’s attention. “Wooyoung? What time is it?”

Wooyoung checks the clock. “It’s coming up to half past 9.”

Time is gradually running out. If your suspicions are correct, Mingi has until midnight to cross over into the light.

You’re reluctant to ask what would happen if you don’t figure The Raven puzzle out before that time, but you need to quash that curiosity all the same. “So, say I didn’t figure it out, say time ran out, or ran away from us..” Mingi fixes you an impenetrable stare. “What would happen?”

Turning his back, Mingi walks over to his chair and sits down again. “I’d be stuck in a liminal space forever so to speak. I wouldn’t be able to visit you ever again, nor would I be able to go to the light. A purgatory of sorts, but for spectres.”

Your muscles cramp in the most uncomfortable way; every muscle goes numb, and your limbs turn to jelly.

Wooyoung goes to speak, but manages to utter one syllable before clamping his lips shut and refusing to say more.

You eye the book in your peripheral vision. You don’t want Mingi to leave, and yet it would be selfish for you to send him to such a fate.

You sense that you’re not alone in this sentiment, as Mingi shifts around in his chair and looks up at you. “I get it. Don’t worry. I’m not particularly looking forward to the goodbye myself.”

Shutting your eyes, you bite down on your bottom lip and exhale. Why, God why, was I put in this position?

A thought then emerges in the back of your mind, and it nearly makes you collapse.

No, no surely not..

It had been swimming around in the rivers of your mind since he returned, since you relayed the first two verses from memory, since the recitation was the thing that summoned Mingi..

You dare not even have the thought, lest it be the thing that pulls Mingi away immediately, but it comes and goes, ephemeral as all thoughts are, and Mingi still remains.

Am I the raven?

It makes no sense at first blush. You pace around the shelves for want of anything to do than look at Mingi or see the perpetual look of melancholy on Wooyoung’s face as he observes everything going on around him.

It gives you enough of a distraction to hide among the shelves and break down in tears.

You couldn’t be the raven, surely.

The entire poem flashed in your mind, as though preserved on a canvas for your eyes only, and you silently read through the entire thing, top to bottom, back to front, trying to decipher how you could be the raven when Mingi was the one visiting you.

Is Mingi the raven?

How did that make sense? In the poem, the raven visits the narrator, and initially confused by its presence, the narrator asks him its name, but the raven only gives one response: nevermore.

But the narrator was trying to forget. The narrator was trying to move on from something. What exactly were you trying to move on from that would make that logic work?

The timing makes sense: the poem is set in December, which is the only month that Mingi has ever visited you.

The words have burrowed their way into your brain so much so you can’t forget a single one now. If Mingi asked you to read the whole poem you could, but something tells you that’s another part of the puzzle.

The minute you turned to the poem, Mingi freaked out. Could reading the poem in its entirety be the key?

There’s something hidden that you’ve missed, something you’d only be able to figure out by seeing the words on the page.

Emerging from the shelves, you see a concerned Mingi standing before you. “I heard your cries, are you okay?”

You wipe the remainder of your tears and nod. “Yeah. Yeah, totally fine,” you reply, unconvincingly. Mingi’s chest rises and falls. You go to gently lift the book off the shelf, and Mingi almost reaches his hand out in protest. “Don’t panic..! I just need to see the words on the page. I need to read them again. Something’s bothering me, and I need to figure it out. Can I do this?” Your fingertips brush the spine of the book. Mingi swallows, then eventually nods. Watching you pick up the book is like a tiny electric shock to the heart, but he dampens it instantly, trusting you to keep to your word and not throw him out the door so soon.

You take the book and open it to the correct page. The spine sits in the palm of your hand as you trace along each and every line with your finger.

But the Raven, sitting only on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther than he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered- Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before- On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.” Then the bird said, “Nevermore.”

You read this one stanza over and over again, hoping that something clicks in your mind.

“Curious volume of forgotten lore..” you mutter beneath your breath. Mingi stills, praying deep down that you haven’t figured it out, that this isn’t goodbye..

You glance up at him. He pleads through his eyes and it takes every bit of courage not to spill the answer from your lips.

At that moment, you look through and see Wooyoung sitting at the table. Wooyoung, who is looking directly at you at this precise moment.

The need to forget and the desire to remember.

Wooyoung had helped you summon him.

Shelley, Stoker, the Brontës.

Mingi is a writer.

I hope we can spend that time together in earnest.

Your legs almost give way. You are Lenore.

The book falls out of your hands and you stumble back towards the shelves. “No..” you mumble. “No!” you shout this time.

Mingi steps forward and reaches out to you, “N..”

Wooyoung then stands up. “N?”

“This can’t be.” You stare at Mingi. Your eyes are made of pure glass.

It’s then that Mingi realises.

“You’ve figured it out.”

Wooyoung’s eyes go wide. “You have?”

Hands trembling, fingers shaking, you lift your arm and point towards the two of them. “This can’t be happening..”

Wooyoung closes the distance, “N..”

“No, you can’t do this to me!”

Speechless, Wooyoung backtracks, defensively putting his hands in the air. “What the fuck is going on?”

You gasp for air as Mingi comes to place both hands on your shoulders. “M-Mingi.. I’m sorry..”

“No, N, it’s okay,” he says with a smile through a face stained with tears. “I’m actually so proud of you..”

“Wooyoung..” you whisper.

“I’m here, I’m he- fucking hell!”

Behind you, a blazing white light shines, causing Wooyoung to cover his eyes and turn around. You reflexively close your eyes and fall into Mingi’s arms, and he wraps himself around you in a tight embrace.

“I’ll never forget, Lenore..”

“Lenore?” shrieks Wooyoung. “If you’re Lenore, then who’s-” He stops short and uncovers his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

As you hug Mingi, your eyes travel to Wooyoung’s inert form. “You’re the Raven.”Wooyoung stares down at his hands. He turns around, the light no longer causing an issue for him, not that he would care anyway. “N.. N, I didn’t realise..”

“It’s okay..” You pull away from Mingi to hug Wooyoung. He returns the hug, chin placed on your shoulder as his eyes brim with tears. “It’s okay.. I’ve only just figured it out. Neither of us knew.” Those words are for him and him alone, and you feel his body go slack in your arms as he hugs you.

Mingi watches you both. He smiles, content, and says, “It’s been so nice to meet you both.”

Wooyoung finally detaches himself from you, standing back to give you and Mingi enough space to say goodbye properly.

The light emanates a warmth you’ve never felt before; it’s not the heat of summer, nor the pleasant cosiness of wrapping yourself up in blankets on a cold day. It’s strange and visceral, as though it could burn you with zero effect.

There is so little time to unpack how you are the Lenore to the scholar that is Mingi. You surmise it showed in the ways he would hold your hand to comfort you, or his smile when you conveyed excitement at his return, or the comfort he brought when you felt guilty at leaving him behind, to which he said that you never did.

There isn’t a single word that could describe the outcome of your three meetings, or what it could have potentially meant had you had more time. It’s not something you’re at wits to think about right now, and it’s not something you’d really want explained anyway.

There’s solace in the idea that whatever it was, the two of you enjoyed each other’s company.

Wooyoung eyes Mingi from afar. Mingi looks past you and at him. “Please, feel no shame that this is how things came to be. You weren’t aware of your place, and I feel no ill that you are the Raven in my story.”

Wooyoung’s eyes soften. “Are you sure?”

“For one, I can tell you are not the evil Poe had described. In fact, merely the opposite. You took a far gentler approach, and for that I am grateful.”

Wooyoung nods. “The need to forget and the desire to remember,” he says, pensively.

Your eyes go wide. Mingi repeats his gesture. “You helped me with that, and so I thank you wholeheartedly. Not of Plutonian shore, nor a fiend,” he chuckles lightly. Wooyoung joins him in this, before lifting his chin and pushing his chest outward - like a bird.

Mingi smiles. Tears roll down your cheeks as you turn to embrace Mingi once more.

Into his ear, you whisper, “And you lore shall not be forgotten..”

Mingi holds you close. He turns to Wooyoung. “Will my lore be forgotten?”

Wooyoung relaxes his shoulders. “Nevermore.”

×-×

The plaque had been a joint venture, and a collaborative effort.

Once you and Wooyoung had shown the colleagues the story of Song & Co., they all agreed that there should be a plaque commemorating the family business, placed just outside the library, next to the entrance.

Wooyoung had since left the library, deciding to move on to the next chapter in his life.

Every so often, the two of you meet up, just to see the plaque.

On one such occasion, Wooyoung is already standing outside the library when you arrive in your car.

Once you’re by his side, you both take a deep breath.

It’s been a whole nother year.

“Crazy how time flies, huh?” says Wooyoung, his voice quiet and contemplative.

“Yeah.. I think about it all the time.”

Wooyoung nods. “Not a day goes by that I don't think about it.”

A comfortable silence falls between you. Eventually, you turn your head to look at him.

He notices, and softly turns his head to look back at you.

You share a smile with him, then ask a question that has been on your mind since the event. “Did you remember that word from the poem, or was it just instinct?”

The answer is easy. “Both.”

Your smile becomes a smirk. “I thought so.”

You both glance back at the plaque. Encased in a gold frame and printed on pale blue paper, the sign stands out, ensuring that the history of the location is preserved forever.

For the first time ever, it seems, you seriously focus on the words themselves.

Here, in the present location of this library, stood a family business - Song & Co. -  that opened in 1952 and closed its doors in 1968, following the unfortunate death of the heir, the couple’s youngest son, Song Mingi. Inside the library, we have placed a local history book on display, where on pages 46 and 47, you can read up on the history of this business, as well as the family that owned it for 14 years.

Beneath the text is a picture of the business, as well as the family, dated 1966.

You smile. Wooyoung wraps a comforting arm around your shoulder.

Nevermore.

× silverdune (ave). do not repost. ×

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Ave Satanas, Ave Angelus - Michael Langdon (American Horror Story : Apocalypse) ~ On Going

Summary:

The boy that looked like an angel, but was in fact, a demon fell in love with the girl who looked like a demon, but was nothing less than an angel. Nothing is safe from the cruel ticks of time, of the ruin it creates, nor from the ashes that the fire of hatred and rage produce. Memories are erased, powers are deleted from existence, and the kind are treated ruthlessly, like slaves, while the rich thrive above as kings and queens over the ephemeral waste that still clinged into the last drops of life soaked into the nothingness that the Apocalypse brought forth. Some say they will do destroy the world and leave no inch of soil unturned until they find the reason for their hearts to beat once more, and yet, only one ever succeeded in doing just so. The underground hails Ave Satanas, as he stood there, soaked in blood, superior to them all, while she, forever by his side, only ever heard one voice singing her a lonely, sweet hymn - Ave Angelus.

Chapter 1 - Apocalypse Arisen Chapter 2 - Drag Me To Hell Chapter 3 - Before The Day Is Over Chapter 4 - Magic Flower

[imagines--galore]

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Seventeen

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen,

A/N: This is just pure fluff. Plain and simple! Also I don't know just how those kissing scenes turn out? Like are they alright? I would really like to hear your opinion on them! I'm a little rusty with those scenes :/

It was late in the afternoon when Orora finally woke. She sat up, the blanket Iroh had covered her with pooling around her legs as she did. Yawning and rubbing her eyes, the young waterbender could still feel a strange tiredness emanating from within her. She'd definitely over-exerted herself when she'd given Zuko such a long healing session. It would take some time before she would be able to recover completely.

For now though, her stomach was rumbling, and all she wanted was food before soaking in a warm bath.

Finally able to blink away the last remnants of sleep from her blue eyes, she frowned curiously when she saw Zuko standing in front of the stove instead of laying down as he had been the past couple of days.

"Zuko?" She called out, voice still heavy from sleep, hair tousled, clothes rumpled and blinking up at him in an adorably half-asleep half-awake state.

He turned at the sound of her voice and smiled.

"You're finally awake. Uncle told me to let you sleep in. You've been sleeping for a long time." As he spoke, Orora slowly stood up. On instinct she walked up to stand in front of him and placed a hand on his forehead.

Zuko fell silent, amber eyes blinking at her in surprise.

Heaving a sigh of relief, coupled with a smile and her body relaxing, she shut her eyes. "Thank the Spirits the fever broke." She muttered, her body swaying slightly. "I was afraid it hadn't." Her voice sounded weak as she fell against him, her head feeling heavy.

"Woah!" His arms came up to grasp her shoulders, steadying her. "Maybe you should sleep some more?" He suggested, not at all opposed to the way she leaned against him, her eyes closed and her breathing relaxed.

She didn't seem to hear him as she nuzzled her head against his chest, arms lifting to loosely wrap around his waist. "I'm so glad you're alright Zuko." She whispered against him, feeling his arms tighten around her, holding her close. "Uncle told me how you stood for hours to help bring my fever down using your Healing Abilities." His voice was slightly muffled where he had his face buried in her hair, inhaling her scent and just basking in her presence. All of which Orora was reciprocating.

"Had to make sure you were alright. Who else is gonna annoy me every single day?" He pulled back from the gentle embrace to playfully flick her forehead. She batted his hand away, smiling at him, looking a little more awake then a few moments ago. Her eyes shone with an emotion he could not identify. "You're my friend." She said, the tip of her finger tracing along his scar, a touch that prompted him to close his eyes and just savor it, committing it to memory. "And I care about you. I would never have forgiven myself if something happened to you."

Her voice hitched at her own admission, and she finally allowed herself to feel the worry and fear she had bottled away during the course of his sickness. She sighed, dropping her gaze to his chest instead.

Anything to avoid looking at him.

Anything to avoid expressing just how scared she had been.

"Hey?" The sound of his voice, so soft and gentle, had her burying her head in his chest once more. There were no tears, it would take more then him getting sick to having her sobbing, even he knew that. That was something he admired about Orora. Despite the hardships she had faced, and all that she had endured, she never cried about it. "I'm fine now. We're both alright." He reassured her.

It was strange.

Where he would've felt awkward and uneasy at having someone be sad and anxious around him, he instead felt a sense of understanding and patience. She'd been like that with him for so long, the least he could do was reciprocate the feeling when she needed him.

Once she'd calmed down, he felt her take a deep breath to gather herself. "Where's Uncle?" The words were slightly muffled, prompting Zuko to smile at her though she couldn't see it. "He went out to get everything set up at our new apartment." The young Prince responded, gently guiding her towards the small futon sofa and lowering her down so she could sit.

The waterbender made a small sound of confirmation, shaking her head. She felt Zuko move away from her, only to return a few moments later with a steaming cup of tea in front of her. "Here. Uncle said this would help you recover. Its been helping me too."

Grasping the clay cup between her hands, and savoring the warmth that came with it, Orora took a small sip. Zuko, satisfied that she was drinking, took his own cup and sat down beside her. The futon sofa was big enough to fit three people, and yet the two teenagers found themselves a mere inch away from the other. Though Orora only became aware of the fact as she began to regain her strength with every sip she took.

The warm liquid helped revive her, and slowly she felt the fog of tiredness and anxiety lift from her mind, and the heaviness that weighed her down began to dissipate.

"Is this magic tea?" She asked, lifting the cup and sniffing at the content within. Zuko laughed softly. "I wouldn't be surprised if it were. I've had two cups already and I can feel my strength coming back."

Orora smiled. "Don't drink too much though. I don't want you to get too arrogant." She paused. "Well not any more then you already are." Zuko rolled his eyes though there was still a smile on his lips as he did.

"Whatever you think, I have to get my strength if I am gonna resume my position of protector." Orora frowned, turning to look at him.

"Did you get a new job?" She asked, confusion evident in her eyes, which had Zuko laughing softly. "You're still tired aren't you?" He said, his gaze so soft that she actually felt herself blush and look away.

But he stopped her, grasping her chin to guide her back to her previous position. "When I meant my position of protector I meant you Orora. Your protector."

Her mouth fell open, her eyes widened and she stared at him. Oh she could actually feel her cheek growing hot! Zuko raised an eyebrow. "Why're you so surprised? Isn't that what I've been doing since we came to Ba Sing Se?" He asked, his fingers moving from her chin to trace along her soft jawline.

"Well yes." How she regained her ability to speak, Orora had no idea. "But you always said it was annoying, having to look after me like a nanny." Spirits, his touch was distracting!

He shrugged. "It was, at first, but you somehow always made it fun." She rolled her eyes, though a small laugh escaped her. "What every girl wants to hear from their soulmate, that they had fun." Her tone heavy with sarcasm.

A thrill ran through him when he heard her call him that.

Soulmate.

"Well coming from me that's a big thing since I've rarely had any fun." Never once did he stop the gentle stroke of two fingers along her cheek. "I focused so much on making sure I didn't offend my Father that I never really had time for fun." He shrugged.

Orora pursed her lips, pouting slightly as she pushed his hand away with a small humph. "Why do you have to go and do that?" She grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. Zuko frowned at her in confusion. "Do what?"

Inhaling deeply, the young girl dropped the harshness of her expression to instead look at him softly. "Make me sad by reminding me just how much you've missed out." A pool of guilt settled in his stomach as he turned away from her. "I'm sorry." Her heart very nearly broke at the sadness in his voice. "I don't mean to."

Now it was her turn to guide him to look back at her. Though she did so with a firm hand against his cheek. "Well since I didn't have much fun growing up either, maybe the both of us can make up for it together?" She offered. Zuko simply nodded in acceptance, smiling at her, so open and unreserved with his feelings. "And it wasn't your fault. None of whats happened in the past was your fault." She reminded him, hoping he would somehow come to believe it as well. Zuko sighed. "I know it'll take time for me to accept that." He said, much to her surprise. She'd expected him to say something along the lines of her being wrong.

Her forehead creased. "You seem different, Zuko." He shrugged in response. "I feel different. Like some sort of weight has been lifted from my chest." Not liking how idle his hands were, he grasped her free hand between his own and began to play with her fingers.

She smiled shyly. "Well, I like this new you." She admitted, to which he raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And you didn't like who I was before?" He asked, his tone teasing as he intertwined their fingers together while her hand moved to stroke along the bottom edge of his scar. "No, I did. But I like you smiling and relaxed." She smirked, a teasing glint shining in her blue eyes. "Rather then broody and uptight."

Zuko let out a sound of protest. "I was not!" He denied to which she just laughed, before closing whatever distance was left between them and pressed her lips against his.

And this was one caress that did not stop there. Because when she tried to pull away, he followed her lips with his own, melding them together once more. And this time, to make sure she didn't pull back too quickly, he raised a hand to place at the back of her head. Orora had to tilt her head back slightly, eyes fluttering shut as she lost herself to the simple, yet somehow, exquisite pleasure of just kissing him.

Her arms moved to wrap around his shoulders. Zuko let out a sigh of contentment when the act had her pressing more firmly against him. He leaned further into her, pushing her back slightly, distracting her with his kisses until little by little, she was leaning back completely and was laying on the futon sofa with him hovering over her.

Their legs were still hanging over the side of the futon, but that didn't stop the new position from becoming more intimate. Breaking the kiss to allow them both to breath, though he didn't pull away, Zuko's eyes asked a question that needed no words. Understanding, Orora gave a small nod, despite the blush that blazed across her cheeks.

Pulling his hand out from behind her head, he placed it against the side of her face. His lips grazed hers, but only briefly. Slowly he began to trail them along the side of her jaw, placing sporadic kisses as he went. His eyes were closed, but he felt her reaction. Her breath hitched, and a shuddering gasp left her lips. But that wasn't what he was focused on. Zuko was more focused on just how soft her skin was, and how warm she felt against him. A raging fire seemed to burn within him, slowly growing with each kiss.

Something he hardly noticed.

His attention was on his Soulmate as he kissed along her forehead, moving down to her nose, skipping her lips in favor of pressing a kiss to her chin instead.

The first press of his lips against her skin had her gasping in surprise. She hadn't expected it to feel so warm. Not a very apt description, but then her brain was a little too overwhelmed with emotions she had never felt before, so coming up with proper vocabulary was out of the question.

Gentle and slow, two traits that were so unlike him, and yet, he found that they came so easily to him when it concerned Orora.

Her hands moved from his shoulders to the back of his head, and remembering the sound he had made in the alley, she let her nails run along his scalp. Once again, the reaction was instant. Though his sound of approval was followed by a particularly deep kiss.

And not on her lips.

Somehow, his mouth had slid down to the sensitive area just under her jaw and had continued to slide down until it reached that soft juncture of her throat. And that was where he kissed her, teeth gently sliding along her skin. The area proved a little too sensitive, prompting an entirely new wave of feelings to overcome her every sense.

Overwhelmed, but not wanting him to stop, she placed a hand on his cheek, urging him to shift upwards, where she lifted her head to meet his lips in one final kiss. "We should stop." She whispered against his lips, eyes opening reluctantly. Though she was glad she did. Her blue eyes fastened on Zuko's face hovering above her. Committing that image to memory, she watched as he gave a reluctant nod. Sensing his disappointment, she brushed his hair away from his forehead.

"Don't worry. We can pick up later." She winked, grinning at him. Smiling back, Zuko slowly sat up, pulling her along with him as he did, not letting go of her hand even after she was up.

Finishing the last of her tea, she glanced around at the still unpacked apartment. "Come on. Lets finish packing up. I'm sure Master wants us to move into the new apartment sooner then later."

"Oh yeah, he actually said we would be moving in today."

"And you're telling me now?!"

"Well yeah? I wanted to keep talking to you."

".........."

"And kissing you."

".........."

"What?"

"Just shut up, Zuko."

                                          ————————–

It didn't take long and between the both of them, they had everything packed and ready to go. It was mostly kitchen utensils, clothing and blankets. Iroh had told Orora they would be buying new furniture when they moved to the Upper Ring. Of course everything that was of sentimental value was packed up.

Within an hour, Iroh had returned, and glad to see Orora already up and about, he had declared they would be moving that very evening.

And so, the next morning, Orora opened her eyes to the sight an unfamiliar ceiling and an empty room. Yes, she had her own room. Granted it was small, but it was her own to do as she pleased.

Excited to begin the new day, she splashed water onto her face, having bathed the night before, and after making sure she was presentable, exited her room.

"Morning Master." She greeted, adjusting her comb so it would keep a few unruly strands of hair away from her face. "Good morning my Student. I hope you had a good nights sleep." He picked up a bowl to pour in the Jook he had been preparing. "Today is the grand opening of the Jasmine Dragon." Orora couldn't help but smile at how excited Iroh was.

"Of course I did and I'm certain it will be a huge success." She added, as she accepted the bowl and sat down at the table, her eyes content as she gazed out of the open window. The new apartments were far bigger then the ones they'd been living in. And though Orora would never complain, she preferred the apartment they had now. She had grown up as the daughter of a noble, so she was accustomed to certain luxuries. And while Zuko had voiced his disdain about the small size of the apartments in the Lower Ring, she had stayed quiet. She'd just been glad to have a roof over her head, and had taken note to point it out to Zuko every chance he had complained.

Footsteps sounded from behind her, prompting her to glance over her shoulder to see Zuko exiting his own room.

"What's that smell?" He asked. Iroh looked up from where he had been stirring the pot. "It's Jook. I'm sure you wouldn't like it." He added, knowing his nephew's preferences.

Zuko, however, walked up to the stove, bent down slightly and sniffed the steam that rose from the pot. "Actually, it smells delicious. I'd love a bowl, Uncle." He said, holding up a bowl and smiling pleasantly.

Iroh frowned in confusion, though began to ladle the food into the bowl. "Now that your fever is gone, you seem different somehow." He said, handing Zuko back the now full bowl.

"It's a new day." The prince stated, moving to stand behind where Orora sat so he too could look out the window while he ate. "We've got a new apartment, new furniture, and today's the grand opening of your new tea shop." He smiled at the older man. "Things are looking up, Uncle."

Master and Pupil glanced at one another in surprise as Zuko began to eat from his bowl. Iroh only smiled before turning his attention back to the stove. Orora sipped from her bowl, smiling at the taste as she did. It was simple, but whatever Iroh had added to it elevated the flavors somehow.

Though that smile turned to a look of utter shock and surprise when she felt a pair of warm yet familiar lips press to her temple. Zuko had leaned down over her shoulder and stolen the kiss.

And though Iroh's back was turned, Orora couldn't help but stare at him, a little shocked at his bold move. Zuko's lips were pulled into a smug smirk. Her mind conjured up images of his face when he had been leaning over her just yesterday. It didn't help that all those feelings she had felt yesterday came rushing to the front. Her cheeks to reddened and her heart leaped in her chest at his gesture and the reminder of her promise to him.

Later, they would continue later.

Iroh turned at that moment, and caught the shift in her expression.

"Are you alright Orora? You look a little flushed." He observed, making a bowl for himself as well.

She straightened, turning to look at him. "I'm fine Master!" She all but squeaked, prompting Zuko to let out a small chuckle. Orora, cheeks still red, pursed her lips in annoyance and pushed her chair back purposefully, catching Zuko in the stomach as she did. The Prince groaned, clutching his stomach, while the girl smirked in satisfaction and finished off her breakfast. Iroh raised an eyebrow in question, though neither teenager answered his silent inquiry.

"I'm going to go get ready then." She said. With one final annoyed look at Zuko, one which he returned with a smirk, she walked off to her room.

                                          ————————–

The grand opening of the Jasmine Dragon was a success.

Several dignitaries came, including their sponsor, not to mention the crowd of loyal customers Iroh had attained since working in the Lower Ring. Of course they were the ones from the Upper Ring since Lower Ring citizens were not allowed in the Upper Ring. It had bothered Orora a little bit, but nothing could be done about it.

Instead, she focused on fetching tea, brewing tea, making sure cups and plates were clean. Then there were the confectioneries Iroh had ordered to serve at the opening. Her Master was busy speaking with future customers, so he had put her and Zuko in charge of making sure that everything went smoothly.

Wearing a new green floor length silk kimono in dark green with gold accents, Orora smiled and chatted politely with anyone who addressed her, taking orders and making sure every kind of tea was hot and freshly brewed. Zuko was in charge of the rest of the staff. The other servers, hosts and cleaners in the back. It was rather fascinating to see him take charge like that. He had only been introduced to them in the morning and yet he had taken charge as if he were made for this role.

Then again, he was a Prince. He was taught how to take charge his entire life. Maybe now he would take charge of his own destiny as well. Realizing that perhaps she was staring, Orora moved to look away, only to pause as his amber eyes caught hers.

Despite the din of the chatting patrons around them, for a moment, everything seemed to fade away. She raised a hand, waving at him almost shyly, which was ridiculous because when did she ever feel shy around Zuko?! Still, he smiled and waved back, feeling his heart jump in his chest at her smiling back at him.

She looked so pretty in the dress she wore, he thought to himself, as she turned her attention to the tea she was making. Maybe later, when things had calmed down, they could both sit together and talk like they always did.

Or kiss, his mind supplied, reminding him of their little encounter yesterday. He had no idea where his boldness had come from, but she seemed to like it. And, truthfully, he had liked kissing her. Every aspect of his being had been focused on her, and just her. Her mere presence had that effect on him, but kissing her had only increased it tenfold.

And not only that, but he wanted to kiss her again because he liked it.

Seeing color flicker at the end of his finger, he wasn't at all surprised to see his string flickering a soft blue hue.

It reminded him of something.

Something niggled at the back of his mind, something that had happened while he'd been sick.

Something that involved her.

Maybe a dream?

Or a dream within a dream.

He wasn't sure.

He couldn't remember.

Before he had time to contemplate any further, a server called out to him, looking more then a little lost. Loosing his train of thought, Zuko walked over to help, forgetting about what had just happened.

After a few hours, the excitement died down significantly. The huge crowd started to dissipate, and now there were only a few customers sitting, drinking tea and chatting. Iroh and Zuko both stood at the head of the room, with Iroh smiling proudly.

"Who thought when we came to this city as refugees, that I'd end up owning my own tea shop?" He said. "Follow your passion, Zuko." He advised his nephew. "And life will reward you."

Zuko smiled at him. "Congratulations, Uncle." Iroh nodded, closing his eyes briefly in satisfaction. "I am very thankful." He admitted.

"You deserve it." The young Prince continued in a warm tone. "The Jasmine Dragon will be the best tea shop in the city." His Uncle had worked so hard to make a good life for them, and now it was all paying off.

His Uncle shook his head. "No." He stated, turning to look at his nephew. "I'm thankful because you decided to share this special day with me. It means more than you know." There were tears in his Uncle's eyes. Tear of happiness. Mirroring that joy, Zuko was not at all opposed to the loving embrace his Uncle pulled him in.

"Well now I'm feeling left out." The laughing voice of his Pupil chimed in a little behind them where she had just exited the small kitchen where she'd left some tea brewing. Iroh simply let out a hearty laugh, opening his arm in invitation. Orora, smiling joyfully, wasted no time in wrapping one arm around her Teacher and the other around her Soulmate, bringing them all together in a warm embrace. "I am honored to have you as my pupil, Orora. Thank you for filling our lives with such joy when we sorely needed it."

Zuko could see the utter joy in Orora's eyes when she heard his Uncle say those words to her. Coming from a family that had wanted to bend her to their will, having two complete strangers accept her was surely something she had never imagined. "And thank you for accepting me Master. It means the world to me."

Iroh smiled at her in return, the young girl he considered his own just as much as Zuko was.

His little family.

Pulling back from the embrace, the young firebender nodded in determination. "Now let's make these people some tea!" He said, already walking away.

Iroh nodded. "Yes, let's make some tea!" He stated joyfully, moving to man the several burning stoves alongside Orora.

                                          ————————–

The day was finally done, and the last of the customers had left. Iroh had just waved them off while Zuko sweeped the front steps of the shop. A tedious task, but he had seen Orora do so multiple times throughout the day, and had only followed her lead on it.

An approaching figure had him frowning in confusion as the man reached his Uncle and held out a scroll.

"A message from the Royal Palace." He stated in a dignified tone. Iroh glanced at Zuko in confusion, though he took the scroll. As he untied it, the Messenger was already walking away. Zuko watched as his Uncle read through what was written, a shocked expression overcoming his face as he did.

"I ... I can't believe it!" He gasped out loud.

A little worried, Zuko stepped forward. "What is it, Uncle?" He asked, barely having taken a step before his Uncle turned to him, smiling from ear to ear. "Great news!" He exclaimed, waving the letter in the air. "We've been invited to serve tea to the Earth King!"

Zuko stared at his Uncle in shock as well, before smiling at just how excited he was. Before he could even offer his congratulations, his Uncle had rushed off, probably to prepare for tomorrow.

Shaking his head, Zuko continued to sweep, almost missing the familiar steps as Orora approached him. "Whats got Master so excited? A new Pai Sho Tile?" She asked, laughter evident in her tone as she looked over her shoulder to where the older man was rummaging through cans of tea and such.

She was still looking at his Uncle, hands on her hips. Standing right next to him at the entrance, Zuko was, once again, given the chance to simply stop what he was doing at look at her.

After the long day, some of her hair had escaped her comb, but she was hardly bothered by it. Her clothes were a little rumpled, and she had removed her apron, but she looked just as beautiful as, really any other day.

Leaving the broom to lean against a corner, he reached out to gently take her hand in his. Orora glanced at their hands before looking up at him in confusion. She wasn't given any time to voice her thoughts though, since he tugged her outside the shop and behind one of the front doors where it was significantly darker.

But more importantly, where no one could see them.

"Zuko, wh-"

"You said we could pick it again up later." His smirk had her going weak in the knees as she stumbled back, her hand finding purchase on the wall behind her.

Zuko stepped forward, resting his forehead against her own, noses brushing, lips just barely apart, bodies grazing.

"Its later." He whispered.

Their eyes met and held. Her hand reached out to grasp his. Their fingers intertwined. Their breaths mingled.

Neither of them knew who was the first to lean forward, to initiate what could only be labeled as a heated kiss.

Whatever hesitance and shyness either of them had felt had gone out the window the moment their lips fused, meeting fervently, over and over, leaving them both light headed and panting for breath.

But it wasn't enough. It still wasn't enough.

She pulled him against her, wanting to feel him against her, though she miscalculated her own strength, leading to Zuko stumbling into her, their feet nearly tangling before her back found the wall, and they steadied one another. Neither of them were bothered by the slight stumble.

It didn't take long for Zuko to leave her lips and move to kiss her jaw, but she overtook him. So instead of Zuko kissing along her face like he had the day before, Orora began to brush her lips along his face.

She had to push herself up on her tiptoes to reach him properly, but she didn't mind. So long as he kept holding her like that, and allowed her to shower him with affection. And Zuko? He was adoring every moment of having her attention on him.

"You don't have to...." He muttered, pulling back briefly to gesture at his scar.

He had been a little nervous as her lips traced along his scar, but those feelings were quickly pushed to the side when her lips pressed against his scarred eyelid. "Your scar is only a reminder of your kind heart Zuko." She pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly just under her fingertips. "No matter how people might view it, or how you might view it, to me its the most beautiful part of who you are."

A hopeful smile brightened his features, as he brought his hands up to grasp her face and kissed her passionately, leaving her all the more breathless as he began to trace a path of kisses down her jaw to her neck.

This time when Orora trailed her fingers to his head, she didn't just stop with just a simple scrape her her nails against his scalp. Instead, she gripped the soft strands of his hair, and once Zuko's mouth pressed a kiss against that small sensitive area of her neck, she couldn't help but grip tighter.

Zuko let out a muffled growl against her throat, never letting up from his sweet ministrations. "If I pass out, its because I can barely breath." She whispered breathlessly, to which he smiled against her throat.

"Don't worry, I'll be more then happy to carry you back inside." He teased, to which she giggled, though the sound tapered off into a low moan as she felt his hot breath against her ear.

The sound of a throat being cleared rather loudly had their moment cutting short.

Both teenagers sprang apart, wearing mirror expressions of horror and embarrassment at the sight of Iroh standing there, hands on his hips. "If we are to meet the Earth King tomorrow, then I shall need both of you to help me." Though he tried to appear stern, neither of them could deny the laughter in his voice at having caught the them.

Orora blushed a bright red. "We'll be right there Master." Iroh simply humphed in reply. "See that you do." He stated sternly, though the twinkle in his eyes was a clear indication that he didn't really mean it.

He moved to step back inside the shop, but then stopped and peaked out briefly. "Though I am glad you two finally decided to let fate take it's course." With a wink that had Zuko groaning, and Orora hiding her face in her hands, Iroh walked off, chortling to himself.

"That was so embarrassing." Orora's muffled voice reached his ears. The mortification of being caught started to dissipate and he turned to pat her shoulder. "At least we have his blessing." Still more then a little humiliated, Orora punched his shoulder lightly. "I would've preferred he gave us his blessing over dinner, not while we were kissing like we were." She gestured between both of them, prompting Zuko to smirk at her words.

"And how exactly were we kissing?" If she were a firebender, Zuko was sure steam would be coming out of Orora's ears. For someone who adored physical acts of affection, she could get rather unsure and embarrassed about then when it began to get intense. Then again, he was just as unsure as she was.

This was a first for him, just as it was for her.

"Just shut up Zuko." She grumbled, stalking past him and back into the tea shop. He followed after her, coming to a sudden halt when she stopped just as the threshold. "Wait! What did Master mean, meeting the Earth King?"

Zuko shrugged. "Oh, yeah, we got an invitation to serve tea to him tomorrow."

"What?!" She screeched, rounding on him. "And you're telling me just now?!"

"Yeah?"

"Couldn't you have mentioned it before?"

"I was a little distracted by a certain waterbender."

"Argh! Zuko."

"A very pretty waterbender."

"Stop it!"

"Why? I thought girls liked this sort of thing?"

"Not out in the open like this!"

"Well I can always whisper in your ear."

He stepped forward, a teasing smile on his lips as leaned down towards her ear, almost as if he were about to whisper a secret.

And all he got for his trouble was a sudden bubble of water to the face, courtesy of a very flustered, but pleased looking, waterbender.

                                          ————————–

Tag List - @wavesofchaos​ @violet-potter​ @rennysketch​ @emma-andrea1 @lovesammikinzz @fuzzyfestcat @msrawog @notsaelty @lust-for-pan @aces-tattooartist @jinxxangel13 @lotr-got @bitterspoons @realrintaro @gatorgirl151 @inutheangel @heartfully10 @lucaaahhh @juniper-july19 @anuttellaa @gfksz @bussyvussy @punksnotdeadbutiam @ablofftoneverland-blog-blog @slut-for-menn @vyliie

[brblovin]

At their deaths, The First and Second Terrors felt the loving, pained, resolute gaze of their mother upon them. And this too, The Third Terror was denied.

[geeksalad]

Scrolling through photos from the game and coming across these…

[alltaternotot]

Looking Glass | N. Zadorov

Nikita Zadorov x tailor! Reader

Summary: Nikita is trying to find a new suit tailor after his retires, and he is surprised to find a small tailor shop with all kinds of surprises, even beyond the suit

WC: 11k

CW: fluff, smut, relatively slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers?? swearing, limited knowledge about tailoring/suitmaking, the use of the words “suit” and “hand” a million times, light proofreading. Let me know if I’m missing something!

NSFW (MINORS DNI): fingering, p n v, in the mirror, clothed sex, so much praise it’s not even funny, Z likes to talk, consent checks, creampie (BE RESPONSIBLE! WRAP IT!), aftercare, this one got HORNY so be warned.

A/N: cuz we all love a giant pretty man in a nice suit ;)

<><><><>

1 - the meeting

“I’m sorry Nikita, I’m retiring in two weeks, I’m finishing your last suit order then I can’t take any more. But I really do appreciate your business over the years, my friend.” Nikita’s tailor, Dimitri, said over the phone in Russian.

This was a little bit of a shock to Nikita, as his tailor had been designing and fitting his suits from day one, all the way back in Colorado. His closet was piled high with suits he would never stop loving, years and years of designing a look that was perfect for him.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m thankful I could at least get one last suit from you. I hope retirement treats you well, call anytime if you find yourself in Vancouver.” He said, earning a light hearted chuckle on the other line.

“Will do Nikita. Your suit will be on its way to you in the next few days. Best of luck this season.”

They ended the call with the usual goodbyes and made his way over to his closet, pulling out his navy pinstripe suit for the game coming up in just a few hours. His ex used to pick out his suits every game day, but now that they had been broken up for some time he started to enjoy the freedom of wearing whichever suit he felt like. His style was his own after all.

He burned the day away, working out and skating in the morning, eating a light lunch and watching some new show that Quinn had mentioned. He felt calm and ready for the evening ahead. The game hadn’t changed in that way for him, he still loved it like he did as a little boy back in Moscow.

It was finally time to get dressed, his favorite part of his game day routine. He threw on a crisp white button down with a burnt orange tie, one that stood out against the rich blue of his suit. He slipped his legs into the soft fabric of his dress pants, then his large arms into the sleeves of his jacket, he opted for sunglasses, one of his gold watches, and a spritz of his favorite cologne. Finally, he slipped his feet into his nice warm brown dress shoes and did up the button on his suit.

He let out a sigh, admiring his outfit and fixing a lock of hair that had fallen into his face. The floor length mirror across from his bed lit him up perfectly. He looked sharp and professional, the kind of look that seeps confidence. He loved dressing the part of a millionaire athlete, there was no denying that. He shuffled around his room, picking up his essentials before throwing them all into their respective places in his pockets. He was ahead of schedule today and feeling a little bit more antsy to go. He pulled his front door shut and locked it before spinning on his heel towards the elevator.

The only thing he disliked about his his large apartment was the parking. He took the elevator down into the labyrinth of a parking garage his building had, low ceilings and mess everywhere. They had construction going on for the past two weeks or so, mildly inconveniencing him quite a few times. He would walk along the barrier of the construction to his waiting car every game day, trying not to let all of this piss him off. He pulled his phone out to pick a song, one earbud in, trying to keep his mind on the game ahead. Suddenly, he brushed the chicken wire fence that was up to close off a good 15 parking spots. He heard a rip and some pressure on his arm, right near his shoulder. His hand flew to his shoulder, almost trying to save it from what already happened.

“Shit!” He exclaimed to no one in particular. His fingertips were in contact with a decent sized rip right on the seam of his sleeve, a little hole showing the white shirt underneath.

He untangled himself from the chicken wire, not wanting to pull any more fabric, before jogging up to his car window to examine the tear. Luckily, it looked like just the seam was torn, so hopefully it was an easy fix. He didn’t want to go back upstairs and plan an entirely new outfit, so he just got in the car and left the stupid parking garage. He knew he would get an earful from the guys and probably a go-around meme post on Instagram about the visible rip, but at this point he just wanted to leave and get ready for the game.

The drive was maybe fifteen minutes without traffic, but usually ended up being closer to 30. He spent most of that time mentally preparing with soft music playing on a normal day, but this whole ordeal left him brooding with displeasure about nearly ruining one of his favorite suits. He was first at the light on one of the corners that he always passed on this route, when he noticed a shop he had never noticed before.

It was a little shop right next to a corner store, a chalkboard sign out front reading Suits! Dresses! Tailoring! He perked up a little at the sight of a tailor, the rip on his shoulder almost taunting him. He pulled off the road, right into a parallel spot on the cross street, getting out and almost running up to the door of this place. It really did look unassuming from the outside, but inside was really glorious. A bell chimed as he stepped inside and took it all in.

There were bolts of fabric stacked up taller than him, and designs of beautiful dresses and suits scattered around on mannequins, amazing colors and patterns on full display. There was a small counter and a desk, catalogues and thick design books littering both tables. He could hear a few people talking somewhere in the back, or rather one person shouting numbers and the other repeating them.

“Just a second!” A voice echoed from somewhere behind the bolts of fabric.

A woman appeared from a back room, a tape measure hanging around her neck snd and a notebook in her hands, scribbling down numbers on the page. She was short (even though pretty much everyone was short to Nikita) and very pretty. She wore a nice blouse and a mid length skirt, all topped off with a pair of nicer looking heels. It almost caught him off guard, like he was blindsided by meeting someone so pretty on a normal work day.

“How can I help you?” She asked, looking up, then up again to meet his eyes.

“Hi, umm, I know this is a weird ask but I am almost late for work, and I accidentally ripped the seam of my sleeve. Would you be able to fix it quickly? If not, totally fine, I’ll just be on my way.” He explained, turning to show her the tear in his shoulder.

“I can do that! Do you have maybe 10-15 minutes?” She asked, his eyes falling to his watch to check. He would turn out to be right on time.

“I think so.” He murmured, taking his phone out of the inside pocket and the jacket fully off.

She took the jacket, giving it a once over, then opened a tub of spooled thread sitting on one of the tables not too far from where he stood. He watched her pull out a tray of blues, holding them up to the blue of his jacket, then replacing them till she found an almost perfect match to the rich navy. She threaded a needle with lightning speed and flipped the jacket inside out to pull the seam together and pin it, deciding it would be the fastest to just stand at the desk and hold the massive jacket in her hands.

She could see how the sleeves accommodated large corded muscles in his arms, and how well done the work was. Whoever made this suit certainly did an excellent job and took his measurements down to the millimeter. She let herself look up at him briefly, his attention now on a deep purple suit displayed in the corner.

He was larger than life and had a confidence about him that was hard to ignore. His frame was perfectly accentuated with the cut of his suit pants and the button down he wore. His hair was perfectly cut and his sunglasses were perfect for his handsome face. The scar running through his lip down to his chin gave him a tough, no bullshit kind of look that only added to his confidence. He had a great taste in cologne, the spicy warm scent wafting through her senses from having his jacket. Even his accent was like a deep, rich honey being pouring from his lips. She pictured him as a hit man, or a spy, or some sort of agent. Something fantastic.

Once the stitching was done, she took the jacket over to one of the many massive mirrors on the wall and flipped it back, looking closely at the seam to make sure it was straight. Nikita walked up behind her and she offered up the jacket.

“Try that, hopefully the seam sits straight on your shoulder.” She remarked, watching him slip his big arm through the sleeves and button it back up.

He turned in the mirror, running a large finger over where the rip once was, now perfectly hidden by a straight seam. It was like nothing ever happened to it. He cracked a smile and turned back to the woman, yanking on the hem of the jacket to straighten himself out.

“That’s perfect. How much do I owe you?” He asked, pulling out his wallet.

“Oh don’t worry about it! It was just a quick stitch!” She exclaimed, holding her hand up in a stop gesture when he tried to hand over a fifty dollar note.

“Really, I insist. You’re saving me a lot of embarrassment with my… coworkers.” He said, circumventing the fact that his coworkers are in fact teammates on the most famous sports team in the area.

“Honestly, it’s no big deal. I’m just glad you let me work on this amazing suit. Your tailor is a magician!” She joked, and he just smiled.

“What was your name? I’ll be sure to recommend you for any fixing my coworkers need done on their suits.” He said, grabbing a business card from the desk.

“My name is Y/N, but the people who own this place are Rob and Krista. Any of us would be happy to help!” She exclaimed.

“Great. I’m Nikita. It’s nice to meet you, but I have to run. Thanks for everything!”

He turned on his heel to leave, sending a gentle wave her way before picking up the pace back to his car. When she turned around, the 50 dollar note was sitting on the desk, inconspicuously next to the pile of business cards he grabbed from. She let out a chuckle and let the fantastical daydreams of secret agent Nikita fill her mind up as she pocketed the note.

“Who was that Y/N?” Rob asked, emerging from the back holding the plans for a custom gown he was making.

“He just needed a seam stitched, no big deal.” She muttered, and he hummed at the far of gleam in her eye.

<><><><>

2 - the outing

Nikita scored two goals and got an assist that night. He was on top of the world and couldn’t come down. When the final horn sounded he found himself thinking of Y/N, and how the blue thread she used must have weaved some luck into him.

After his post game shower and doing media he found himself back at his locker, pulling his suit back on to return home. His button up was on, no jacket or tie, and he was almost done loosely tying his right shoe so he could finally leave. Quinn and Brock were close by, chatting with each other about the game.

“Fuckin rights Z, what a game!” Brock exclaimed, clapping a hand on his back, “What’s with you huh? Where’d all that goal scoring energy come from?”

“Just a good night I guess, nothing too crazy.” He responded, a little reluctant to share why he truly thought he was finding the back of the net.

He stood, quickly going back over to the sink to give himself a once over before finally leaving. Out of curiosity, he flipped the seam of his jacket into the light of the mirror in front of him, eventually finding a section of the seam that was a slightly different color with two tiny knots at each end. He smiled to himself and flipped it back, throwing it over his arm. Quinn and Brock watched, also curious why Nikita was all of a sudden examining his jacket. The looked at each other with a shrug, and let it go.

~ two weeks later ~

The universe had a funny way of treating Nikita sometimes. JT Miller gave him a call, basically begging him for a tailor recommendation. He said that ‘nothing was fitting well’ and that ‘you should know Nikita, I’ve never seen you wear a bad outfit!’. He was absolutely happy to give JT the information, and he told him that he had a suit he needed to get fixed anyway. He didn’t, but he wanted an excuse to go see Y/N and try to thank her in a hopefully normal sounding way for giving him good luck. They made a plan for their next day off in two days.

“Ah, perfect…” Nikita muttered to himself, digging out a beige jacket that he had made years ago, one that had a ripped inner pocket, buttons missing, and a weird seam wrinkle that wouldn’t go away. He had been digging around in his massive closet for close to an hour, trying to find something to bring to the tailor so it didn’t look like he was acting as the peanut gallery for JT, and now Elias as well, who weaseled his way into their trip because of similar reasons to JT.

A knock sounded at his door, Petey and JT both with their suits wrapped up in bags. They were dressed casually. Nikita offered to drive them all, making sure to avoid the chicken wire fence despite being in a black t-shirt and shorts. The drive was short and easy, but his heart beating with a flutter of excitement made it slightly harder to focus.

The bell chimed in the doorway when they entered, the sound of people talking in the back filling the men’s ears. JT and Petey had a similar reaction to the state of the store as he did the first time, both of their mouths falling open in surprise.

“Welcome in, gentleman. What can we help you with today?” An older man stepped up to the counter, a confident smile making his crow’s feet appear.

“Hi! I believe we talked on the phone a few days ago about some repairs the three of us need done? My name is JT.” He said, shaking the man’s hand earnestly.

“Ah yes! We would be happy to help! Let me go grab the other two.” He said, retreating to the back again.

This time, Rob, Krista, and Y/N all came up front. Y/N hadn’t been expecting secret agent Nikita to be standing there. He offered a gentle wave, and she offered one back as Rob began consulting JT while Petey introduced himself to Krista.

“Back with friends I see! How did the seam turn out for you?” Y/N inquired, coming up close to him.

“Very well. It’s holding up perfectly so far.” He answered, letting his hand fall on top of the jacket folded over his arm, “I actually have another one I could use your help with.” He said, offering up the beige jacket.

“No problem! We should be able to get them done in a day or two-“

“We can get these done today for you gentleman! You are more than welcome to hang around, it shouldn’t be too long.” Rob announced to everyone.

Y/N was a little surprised at this. Rob wasn’t usually the type to cut out time for walkins when his plate was stacked high with custom orders. Krista also seemed unbothered. She had been working on a dress that was due to the client in two days before they all came in, which normally took precedent over whatever little fixes came and went.

“Are you sure Rob? Mrs. Fueller’s dress needs to be done soon?” Y/N asked under her breath as they walked out of earshot.

“I will gladly finish suits for Vancouver Canucks players same day Y/N, it would be insulting to our great hockey town to not!” He exclaimed jovially.

It all clicked for her then, why Nikita was in a rush and dressed so well. Why him and his friends were also so athletic looking. Nikita also heard, eyes going wide as his cover crumbled right in front of him. He wanted just a few more moments of bliss without the fanfare, selfishly. He offered a sheepish smile to her when she looked back at him, feeling a little caught despite not really doing anything wrong.

She retreated to get her kits, still holding onto the jacket. This one smelled faintly of that warm spicy scent she loved last time. This one would be a relatively quick fix like the last one. She took the space at the front desk so Rob and Krista could have the work spaces in the back. They called Petey and JT into the back work space, leaving Nikita to wander.

As she came back up front, she found Nikita in front of a dark green suit, pulling at the sleeve and rubbing the fabric between his fingers. He noticed her sit and turn the lamp on, laying his suit out on the smooth surface. He made his way back over to her, not resisting his urge to talk to her. His presence was strong and steady as he watched her rip the thread from the buttons left on the suit.

“I’m starting to think you’re clumsy, Mr. Canuck. Two suit coats in two weeks?” She joked, and he took a seat in the leather chair placed in front of the desk.

“I try not to be. I just like to be on my game with my suits y’know?” He answered, letting a twinge of guilt rip through him for not being totally honest about who he really was, “I’m sorry I wasn’t up front about who I was at first.”

“It’s ok, I understand. I’m sure you have people stopping you at every corner.” She answered as she pulled buttons out of their little plastic case.

“Not much of a hockey fan?” He asked.

“I grew up New Mexico, so there wasn’t much hockey around. Once I moved here I never totally caught on. But I like it when I see it! I know you guys have played well this season!” She explained.

He hummed in approval, “you should come see a game. It’s a lot of fun to see it live. I’ll even score a goal for you.” He joked, and she laughed along with him.

“Maybe I will.” She agreed, now moving on the inner pocket.

They continued to talk, just sharing about themselves and other light topics. He was absolutely endeared by her, her quick wit and personality shining through as they continued along. He learned that she moved to Vancouver for college and never left. This job was essentially dumped in her lap and it was too enjoyable to abandon. She could execute her favorite designs and get paid a decent wage.

Nikita’s coat was all wrapped up with all repairs made flawlessly, his old suit jacket returned to rights. He took it back, slipping a 100 dollar note into her kit when she tried to refuse him again. Now it was a waiting game for his teammates. He could see Petey with a tape measure in his armpit and JT looking through a few bolts of gray fabric; he guessed it would be a little while before they wrapped up. He perused the mannequins, taking note of the beautiful craftsmanship. He stopped at the double breasted dark green suit again, taking a good long look at it.

“I designed that one, y’know.” Y/N piped up, suddenly very close to him, making him want to reach out and touch her. He had a foot on her at least, her head reaching just above his sternum he guessed. He could smell the faint scent of sickly sweet flowers coming off of her, and instantly thought he would never smell anything better ever again.

“Really? It’s very impressive, something I would wear in a heartbeat…” he admired, then a lightbulb went off in his head, “I’m actually interested in buying some new suits, would you be willing to do them for me?” He asked.

“Absolutely Nikita. What kind of look do you like?” She responded, immediately interested.

“the style you saw on me the first day mostly. I think I want some color or something to give it a bit extra though.” He pondered, Y/N immediately beginning to swirl with ideas.

“Tell you what, I’ll set up an appointment with you and we can discuss it.” She offered, and he turned to her with a smile, “we can look through some catalogs and pick out some cool options.”

“Hmm, I would gladly take an appointment, but I don’t want a catalogue suit, I want what you think looks best,” He said confidently, “if you are ok with it, I would like to give you my number so if you see a pattern or inspiration you can tell me.”

Y/N’s heart dropped into her stomach, never to come out again. It was very, very rare that someone wanted anything other than an average suit, especially someone that seemed to be built for a nice suit like he was. Her mind lit up with a constellation of ideas.

“I-I would be honored.” She said, a little too stunned to say much else.

He smiled, making his way back to the desk for a business card and a stray blue pen. He jotted down his information on the back, handing it to her. She pocketed it, shoving it deep so there was no chance it fell out. JT and Petey made their way up front, now holding their suits plus some papers and fabric squares.

“All set Z?” Petey asked, and he nodded to the two men.

“We hope to see you all soon! Enjoy those jackets!” Rob said, waving as they made their way out the door, the little bell sounding as they exited the store

~*~

Rob and Krista returned to work on Mrs. Fueller’s dress, talking amongst themselves about how ‘nice those young men had been’ and how ‘you don’t see down to earth athletes like that anymore’. Y/N sat down at the desk gathering all of her supplies back into the kits. She smiled to herself at the 100 dollar note Nikita had left for her, making a mental note to scold him when she saw him next time.

There was a next time.

She fished the business card out of her pocket turning it over to reveal his neat, square handwriting.

Y/N,

Don’t share this with anyone! Hope to hear from you soon.

-Nikita Zadorov

XXX-XXX-XXX

She quickly put the number in her phone and saved it under secret agent Nikita before sending him a text.

Hi Nikita, it’s Y/N. Let me look at my schedule and we can put something on the books. I already have some ideas!

Not even ten minutes went by before a text buzzed from him

Sounds great. We leave for a week and a half tomorrow, but I should be available once we get back to Vancouver. Thanks for all of your help!

She sent off a thumbs up and a thank you before cleaning up her space to finish the last details on Mrs. Fueller’s dress. She imagined beautiful rich fabric and how it could lay on Nikita’s build, where to accentuate and where to bring in. There were seemingly endless options.

She couldn’t wait

<><><><>

3 - the fitting

During the week and a half the Canucks were on the road, Nikita found himself a little absorbed in talking to Y/N. They scheduled for a few days after the Canucks returned to Vancouver, and he couldn’t stop the flutter of excitement he felt when he thought about seeing Y/N again.

She started to send him photos of chic magazines, ones that had borderline eccentric suits, which she promised she would dial back but she ‘saw lots of potential’ in them. She sent him pictures of bolts of fabric, which he eventually just FaceTimed her to see. She was in the middle of a massive fabric store, dressed in a hoodie from what he could tell, which for some reason was endearing to him.

Y/N was very surprised by the FaceTime, but picked up anyway after the second ring, as it would give her an opportunity to hear his honey laden accent. He looked to be in a hotel gym, lightly huffing and trying to dry his damp forehead off with a towel. His hair was undone and falling in his face, and he was close enough to the camera that she could see the light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. A domestic thought of doing this all the time flashed through her mind before she stamped it out.

“What do you think of doing something in this?” She asked, flipping the camera to show off a beautiful deep green.

“I like that a lot, I have a couple of green suits so maybe red? Or purple?” He inquired.

“Now we’re talking. I’ll get back to you ok? I’ll find the best red and purple I can.” She promised, which made him smile.

“I’m holding you to it.” He said, then a faint ‘come on Z food’s here’ sounded of in the background, “I have to go, but we’ll talk soon!”

“Ok Z, have a good night! Good luck for the game!” She said

He sent a wink into the camera, “will do Y/N.” Then ended the call.

Y/N couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted in her stomach as she played that wink over and over again. He was just so nice and confident (not to mention handsome), all while trusting her to deliver something great. She perused the bolts some more, finding a luxurious maroon and a dark purple that looked almost black. She bought them both and returned to the shop to place them in the pile that was forming for Nikita’s appointment.

They kept texting. Not even about suits or fabric or accessories, just casual conversation. He would text her before games, after games, late at night when he should have been sleeping. He imagined her cuddled up on the couch in a soft t-shirt with snacks and a movie on, or at the shop with her cute heels on and hair all styled, answering his texts with a smile and a giggle when he said something funny. They didn’t really talk about hockey either, outside of an occasional question about the rules or a funny story from Russia, which was refreshing for him.

Y/N had done her own digging (for research purposes of course) and fallen into a hole of stalking his socials. She had watched a heavy hit compilation of him on YouTube, and couldn’t believe that the one she met and the one knocking people into the next year were the same person. She watched one of his away games, against the Seattle Kraken, finding herself invested in the play going on and feeling that twinge of excitement when the camera found Nikita every once in a while.

It was days and days of sweet conversation and thinking about each other when they weren’t talking. Multiple teammates of Nikita’s were giving him shit for always being on the phone, but he felt like he couldn’t help it. It lit him up inside to see Y/N’s contact flash across the screen. She was so witty and kind, not to mention beautiful. She even began to cross his mind when he was alone in the hotel room.

The day finally came. His appointment was at noon, so he prepared a little early and stopped for coffee, also grabbing Y/N’s order as a little surprise. He felt like he needed to show his appreciation for the wonderful couple of weeks he had. The familiar bell chime went off as he opened the shop door, this time no bickering voices, just faint music coming from the back. Y/N walked up front to meet him, cracking the smile she had been waiting to crack since he asked her what her favorite color was over a week and a half ago. He handed her the coffee he was holding and offered a friendly side hug.

“Oh! You really didn’t have to, but thank you! Always full of surprises.” She remarked, setting down the coffee.

“Hey, what can I say. We’re gonna need all the caffeine we can get.” He said, then looked around to find no Rob or Krista, “where is everyone?”

“Rob and Krista decided to take a vacation in Italy, they’re gone for another week, so you’re stuck with me by myself I’m afraid.” She explained, grabbing a book from the corner to set out.

He perked up a little unintentionally at that news. The thought of the two of them together like this felt eerily similar to just, hanging out, and not an actual business deal being done by two professionals. He had been waiting for the appointment like it was a scheduled hang out for fucks sake.

“So first I’m thinking we get your measurements, then talk about what you want to see, and see where it takes us?” She offered, and he nodded, “great, if you don’t mind coming over here under the light so I can see you.”

He was dressed in a t shirt and shorts again, hopefully something that would make it easy for her to get good numbers. She had a little lawyer pad and a pencil, along with a tape measure ready to use in the other hand.

“Just stand normally and relax, I’m gonna work from the bottom up.” She noted and Nikita relaxed his stance.

She began, quickly pulling the tape measure around his ankles, jotting down numbers then moving up. She measured his calves, then knees, then thighs at their thickest, then the outside seam from hip to ankle. Nikita was trying to focus on anything but her touching him, literally anything but her skilled fingers pulling the tape measure taught around him. She finally measured his inseam, going from his groin to the inside of his ankle, then the other side, all before popping up and writing the last numbers down.

He was so, so still. He felt like if he moved he would shatter like glass under her touch. He was barely breathing. She moved to his hips, then waist, then from his armpit to hip. She wrapped the tape measure around his chest, the metal tag hitting him dead center, and she took the number. He wondered if she could feel his heart rattling his rib cage under her hand.

She pulled a block out from the corner to stand on, giving Nikita a moment to breathe and relax. She started on his arms, taking his wrists, biceps, and shoulder width, then from shoulder to wrist. Finally, she wrapped the tape measure around his neck. His pulse quickened at her closeness, and all he could think about was her breath fanning over his collarbone while she leaned in to read the number.

“Ok… that’s the last number…” she murmured, letting the tape measure fall loose around his neck, “wanna sit down to talk about what you’re thinking design wise?”

“Y-yeah, let’s do that.” He said, letting out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

She directed him to the seat around the front of the desk. She grabbed her pre-cut fabric squares in maroon, dark purple, and a sage green with silver detailing woven in. She grabbed her organizer of buttons and other accessories, and the magazines she had compiled since they began texting. She had tabs sticking out of each one, the magazines resembling annotated homework more than catalogs. She stuck them all on the desk, then sat.

He leaned back to accommodate his size in the seemingly too small chair, his knees bent up at a slight angle and his arms resting beside him. To a passerby it might look like an interrogation if they didn’t know any better. It was like he took up as much space physically as he did mentally for her.

“So, I showed you the fabrics I liked best over our call, but I wanted you to feel them and decide for yourself if you like them.” She started, handing him the fabric squares that he pinched between his fingers, one by one.

“The purple and the maroon are great, and I like that you went for a lighter green. I think three suits is a good amount for now, so let’s stick with these.” He explained.

“I thought the same, so we’ll go with those.” She set aside three piles, with one fabric square per pile, “I love to see double breasted suits, and they look great on you, so I was thinking about making the purple fabric double breasted with these buttons.” She pulled out gold buttons that were adorned with little flowers, very much like an old wax seal, “they’re vintage, and I think they fit the style nicely.”

He nodded, and let her take them back to set in their own pile with the purple fabric square.

“I think since the maroon is a little more adventurous we could try a strap closure in the front, it’s one of the more chic styles coming out of fashion recently.” She explained further, flipping to a saved page in one of the magazines where the model had a suit that was closed with a slim gold buckle and a strap across the waist. He had never considered something like that before, but he could see Y/N’s vision coming to life, so he agreed.

“And for the green I think a couple of buttons and a nice fit will do the fabric plenty of justice.” She said, holding up the green fabric square.

“This is all perfect Y/N.” He said, looking over the three piles in front of them, “what can I expect in terms of time?”

“I have one quick project before you, but I would say around a month for everything? Rob and Krista gave me permission to take on just your project after my other project is done.” She said, taking a glance at the calendar on her desk.

“That’s perfect for me, don’t rush on my account, I’m a very patient man.” He said with a sly smile, and she just laughed, the clearest most lovely laugh he could have imagined.

“We’ll plan on it then.” She whispered, seconds going by before she looked away from his eyes.

They both stood, Nikita reaching out to shake her hand once she came around the desk within arms reach of him. He pulled her in for a brief hug, as if to say ‘we’re past all the pleasantries’. Something was shifting in the air, between them.

“Um, I really wanted to thank you, for the trust. This project is a big deal for me.” She murmured.

“It’s an honor for me to own such a brilliant collection.” He assured, letting her go after one final pat on the shoulder, “I can’t wait for a month from now.”

“I can’t either.”

<><><><>

+1 - the gifting

Right on schedule, Y/N had all three pieces done in a month. She stayed up late and got up early quite a few times simply because she was inspired to finish. Everything, down to the very last stitch, was perfect. She thought of making replicas to save for a future fashion magazine.

Nikita and Y/N continued to talk, a lot. He found himself texting her anytime he thought something was funny, or interesting, or really any sort of thing that he thought she would like. When he was home, he would drop coffee off to her, and she would try to hide his suits from his curious eye. Each time he did, it would end with a hug and a promise to talk soon.

She ended up calling him one afternoon extremely frustrated. Her dishwasher started to make a funny noise and her landlord wouldn’t pick up, and he happily came over to help her, fixing it in a mere hour. They spent the whole evening tucked in a private corner of her favorite restaurant, her treat, as a thank you.

One night, on a rare off day on the road, she picked up another FaceTime call from him, and they talked into the early hours. He wanted to hear her voice all he could, and play her pretty laugh on repeat. They waded a little deeper beyond light banter, and they both shared personal things, and tried to be encouraging. Nikita admitted that NHL life could be lonely without anyone to share it with, especially since his ex moved on, but he was trying his best to enjoy every minute with his teammates. Y/N hoped she could give him a little peace in that way; be an avenue for him to take when the nights got a little too lonely. When they signed off, Nikita found himself biting back an ‘I miss you’.

He was on a road trip for a couple of days after his suits being finished, so they planned on meeting up at the shop on his next off day, which happened to be the day after the Canucks returned from a very successful 3-0 road trip.

Y/N had secretly been watching his games from the privacy of her apartment, cheering on the Canucks of course, but especially Nikita. She watched all of his media availability, and laughed at all of his witty replies. He was witty with her too, but from a different place. She knew he wasn’t trying to be smart with her, he just wanted her to laugh.

She had been waiting so long to see him, and today was finally the day.

She got up late morning, the sun already decently high. She decided this day was a hair down kind of day, so she brushed and lightly curled the ends. She threw on her favorite green dress with built in cups, and a black cardigan over the top, pairing everything with black heels. She threw on a light dusting of makeup and some perfume to finish everything off.

She made her way into the shop, not noticing the dark clouds rolling in behind her as she pulled each suit off the rack and placed them in very nice suit bags. The plan was to meet Nikita at 4pm, then get dinner after. When she turned back towards the front of the store, the sky was much darker and big raindrops were gliding down the windows. The storm got heavy very quickly, the wind whipping sheets of rain into the side of the building. Normally Y/N would find this kind of weather relaxing, something that would warrant comfy clothes and a cup of tea, but she had Nikita to wait for, and the more it rained the more she got worried about her plans for the day.

She was suddenly bathed in darkness as the power flickered and shut off completely. The light coming from outside was dim at best, and the rain only seemed to pelt the glass harder. She felt her heart sink. There was no way she could work on anything, let alone meet Nikita and give him his suits.

Right on cue, special agent Nikita flashed across her phone. She picked it up and tried to smooth over her frustrated tone. Despite being frustrated, she was tremendously relieved.

“Y/N, are you ok?” Nikita asked, hearing the rain in the background.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I’ll be ok, I just have to be careful getting home and we can reschedule, ok?” She asked, the defeat weighing down her last few words. She thought of her shit box sedan, probably floating down the flooded street by now.

“What’s happening over there?” He inquired, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

“Uh, the power’s out and the street is flooded out front, I’m not going to make you come over here Nikita.” She argued, “the roads are dangerous as it is.”

“Im coming to get you, just relax and I’ll be there soon.” He said, the determination in his voice rocking her a little bit.

“It’s really not safe right now! Don’t worry about me I’ll just wait it out.” She tried to reason, but she was cut off with a ‘no, no, no, stop.”.

“I’m not letting you sit there in the dark Y/N, I have an SUV I’ll be fine. Just sit tight and I’ll be there soon.” He pushed, and quickly hung up so she couldn’t try to deter him any more.

Not even fifteen minutes later, a black SUV swung up into the spot right in front of the door, Nikita running to the door with his arm up over his eyes. He threw the door open and pulled it closed, water gathering on the floor in front of him.

“You ok?” He asked.

“Yeah I’m good, it’s just dark.” She laughed, gesturing to the flashlight on her phone illuminating them.

“Good, let’s get the suits and get out of here.” He said, stepping back to the door to wait for her.

She first slung her purse over her shoulder and grabbed her keys from the desk. Then she grabbed all three garment bags, tucking them into her cardigan before folding it over her body like a disgruntled teacher. He pushed the door open as soon as she was by his side, fighting the wind and big drops. He stuck his arm out, using his big body to try and shield her as much as he could. He hit the hatch button on his key fob and she ran as quickly as her heels would allow on the flooded sidewalk, laying the bags down flat in his trunk before hitting the button to close them in safely. She made the quick shuffle to the passenger seat, shutting the door with an aggressive thud.

Nikita and Y/N both let out a breath. She hoped they would both make it out without getting too wet, but it was no use. She was soaked, her nicely curled hair now a damp mess, her cardigan and dress soaked on top. Nikita’s sweatshirt and hair were also soaked, him taking the hem of his sweatshirt to wipe his dripping forehead.

“So I was thinking we could go to my place, but if not I’ll take you home..?” He suggested, and she nodded after a beat.

“We can go to yours, I want to show you the suits.” She said, and he pulled out of the parking spot with a nod.

The road was absolutely drenched, so the drive home was slower, but nothing his SUV couldn’t handle. Nikita wordlessly turned on her heated seat, hoping to combat the shivers she developed as the minutes ticked on. He felt really bad about her getting rained on, but he couldn’t in good conscience leave her to drive home that shit box sedan or sit in the dark studio all day till the rain stopped. He was so relieved when the entrance to his building’s parking garage came into view. He parked in his spot, getting out first and grabbing the garment bags out of the back. Y/N brushed her wet hair out of her face in the mirror before opening her door and hopping out.

They made their way inside the elevator, side by side, until it arrived at his floor. He opened the door and let her in first, extending his hand in a come in motion. His apartment was nothing short of amazing. The space was large and open with a beautiful kitchen, plus large windows that overlooked Vancouver. The room was decorated exactly how she pictured, lots of sleek neutrals and modern details. He had a massive sectional sofa, with a huge tv and an electronic fireplace right underneath. He had a sliding glass door that lead out to a lovely balcony that housed a couple of plants and Adirondack chairs.

They could see the rain still coming down hard against the glass, with no signs of stopping any time soon. Across from the open living space was a large hallway that she assumed led to his bedrooms and bathrooms and any other extra space he had.

Y/N bent and grabbed a hold of one heel, sliding it off, then the other, then tucked them into the mat where a lot of his shoes sat near the door. Her heels were covered in water stains and grime from the dirty sidewalk, so she figured it would be better to leave them there for now. Nikita set the garment bags over the arm of his massive cushy sofa sectional before he meandered into the kitchen, pulling out two mugs and setting some water to boil. Without heels on, she fell right below his sternum, and it was now even more glaringly obvious how wide their size difference was.

“What kind of tea do you like Y/N? I have mint, camomile, and some sort of spicy-orangey one.” He asked from around the corner.

“Spicy orangey sounds good.” She joked, finally walking into the kitchen where he was pulling a little box out of one of the higher cabinets, “I never took you as a hot tea kind of guy.”

“I like it sometimes. Nathan MacKinnon said I should try it when I can’t sleep before taking melatonin, and he was kind of right.” He laughed at the memory, “the Dogg is always right when it comes to what you eat and drink.”

“Hey, if it works it works.” She remarked as he handed her a perfectly warm mug of tea.

They sat quietly for a minute, letting the warm liquid warm them up a little further. The sound of the rain outside was much more soothing in the comfort of his apartment. Y/N hadn’t realized how deep the chill had gotten from her still too wet cardigan and hair. He looked at her for a moment, realizing she was still shivering a little and damp. Once both of their teas were done, he grabbed the mugs and turned them in the sink.

“You should take that cardigan off, you’re going to catch a cold,” he said matter of factly, “I’m sure I have something you can wear if you want.”

She shrugged it off, and Nikita took a hold of it and turned on the electronic fireplace, putting it next to the slowly building warmth. He turned to the garment bags, and picked them up carefully, nodding his head towards the hallway.

“My closet’s down here, I want to see in the mirror.” He said.

At the end of the hallway was his room, decorated similarly to the rest of his living space. The bed was underneath the window on the opposite side of the door, a nice long ottoman chest sitting at the foot of his bed, the kind that had a cushioned top to sit on like a bench. Across from the bed was an absolutely massive ceiling to floor mirror that was backlit with soft white light, making it easy to see. There was a connecting door to the bathroom, and another door that seemed to be a walk in closet, absolutely filled to the brim with suits. Her jaw fell to the floor at the sight of all of this tailoring genius in front of her, and they were about to add three more to his amazing collection. She continued to look around while he slipped into the closet.

“What do you want to see first Y/N?” He asked, separating out the bags and hanging them on the closet door. He had thrown on a nice white button down and a black tie on, just to make sure he was doing the suits true justice. He kept his shorts on, creating a very interesting sight

“Hmm, the green one?” She asked, and he nodded, turning on his heel to take the green suit into the bathroom.

She took a seat on the ottoman chest, waiting patiently for him. He returned, pulling on the sleeves and adjusting the jacket on his frame. The green complimented him so well, and the cut hit him in the perfect spot on his hips to make him look muscular and fitted. The pants perfectly accentuated his thick thighs. He turned to the massive mirror, taking a quick once over before turning back to Y/N, who’s jaw was on the floor again.

“I don’t think that could fit you any better.” She said, and he laughed.

“Well, you took the measurements, I knew it was going to be perfect.” He responded, “ok, what next?”

“Do the purple one, the last one is going to surprise you.” She said, and he obliged, of course.

After another few minutes in the bathroom, he re-emerged, the velvety purple showing up almost black with the gorgeous vintage gold buttons holding it all together. The suit, again, was cut perfectly, showing off his physique. He turned, looking at the fit and the buttons, all before turning to Y/N once again.

“I think you were made for the double breasted suit.” She admitted, and he gave her a wide smile and a dorky little spin.

“I love the color, it’s so deep.” He said, again turning to go back to the bathroom with the maroon suit in hand.

Now this one, she wasn’t entirely sure about how he was going to feel. The buckled closure was new for his wardrobe, but she had faith that he would embrace it. While he was in the bathroom, she stood from her spot and looked inside his closet, wanting to grasp the full picture of his collection. His closet felt like it continued on for miles. She heard the door open, and turned to see Nikita messing with the closure.

“Can you help me close it?” He asked, and she took a moment to look at him.

The maroon of the suit was perfect for his skin tone, and the fit, again, looked perfect. the clasp that closed the jacket was a delicate gold, something that would fit with his usual accessories. The fabric tie that he would attach to the buckle seemed to be jammed a little, very easy to fix. She grabbed the tie, pulling it gently so it would slide out again, and grabbed the buckle with her other hand, slowly snaking the piece in and looping the pieces together.

Nikita’s brain shut off. She was so close to him, smelling like rain and sickly sweet flowers, with her hair now falling in messy locks from being wet. Flashes of every moment they spent together, through the phone or not, spun through his mind. He thought about the dinner they had, and how pretty she looked, and how hard they laughed. In this moment she looked beyond beautiful in her dress, the freckles on her shoulders standing out. His arms were at his side but he so desperately wanted to reach up and touch her.

So he did.

He ghosted his hands over her bare arms, up her shoulders, and placed them on the sides of her neck. She looked up at him, her gaze finding his. She didn’t look apprehensive at all, in fact there was a glimmer in her eye that he had never seen before.

“What?” She murmured, keeping their eyes locked.

His thumb grazed her jaw, keeping a slow, feathery pace, “nothing, I just wish this would happen every day.”

“Trying on new suits?” She wondered, even though she knew that wasn’t it.

He leaned down, almost to her lips, “No, having you here to help me.” He murmured, “I want you here all the time. I’ve dreamed of having you here with me.”

That was all she needed. She met him the rest of the way, standing on her tiptoes to reach his lips. Their kiss was all consuming, encapsulating every feeling they both felt over the last few months, but were never able to say. He felt so soft against her, his hands remaining on her neck while hers slid around his waist. She pulled back, Nikita chasing her lips as she broke away. She looked at him for a minute with a soft, twinkling look on her face, Nikita deciding he never wanted to see her look any other way.

“C’mere.” He said, pulling her back in.

He kissed her deeper, his tongue dancing over her bottom lip so she would open up. She did, willingly, the both of them melting into each other’s embrace. One hand snaked back into her hair, the other sliding down and across her back. Her hands crawled up his arms, holding onto the soft fabric of his suit jacket.

He tightened his hold on her hair, kissing across her cheek and down her pretty neck. She let out a soft moan, her lips sitting on the shell of his ear. He wanted to bottle up that sound and keep it forever.

As he mouthed at her collarbone, he took a step, then another, till they were standing in front of his ottoman chest, the mirror right across from them. He sat down, finding her lips again. He reached up and pulled on the knot in his tie just a little loose, giving him more room to move. Their kiss was growing hungrier, his need to feel her growing stronger with every move. Her hands found his hair, fingers carding through his soft locks.

He grabbed at her waist, pulling her flush with him between his thick thighs. She began trailing kisses down his neck, or what she could reach with his stiff collar in the way. He opened his eyes, just for a moment, and watched her squirm under his touch in the mirror. He could see his own pupils darken at the thought of watching her.

“Nikita..” she groaned, “please.”

“What is it baby?” He asked, letting his hands wander to the sides of her breasts.

“I, I just want you.” She said, placing a desperate kiss on the corner of his mouth, “can we go to bed?” Grabbing his hands to pull him up.

“No, wait,” he said, using the hand that she was holding to turn her around, “right here.”

Y/N and Nikita looked like a work of art together in that mirror. Her hair was tousled and messy, falling down to one side while he kissed and sucked at her shoulder, moving the thin strap of her dress down her arm with one hand and caressing her head with the other. The maroon of his suit and her green dress accented the other perfectly. She could see her nipples beginning to pebble under the built in cups of her dress, making her look beyond sultry in his arms. The most striking piece was how much bigger he was than her.

He moved his hands again, bringing them to her waist, then the sides of her breasts, then over them on top of the dress. He gave them a gentle squeeze, working a moan out of her throat. He kneaded her softly, then reached into the soft fabric, pulling her tits out over the top of the dress. He rolled her nipples in his fingers, making her shudder and arch in his grip.

“God you’re so beautiful,” he murmured in her ear, watching her eyelids squeeze shut at all of the sensations, “I thought about you like this, all sweet and pliant under my touch.”

“Shit, N-Nikita.” She panted, coming down to fully sit in his lap and grasp at his arms. She could feel his bulge growing in his nice new suit pants, and whimpered at the feeling.

“Do you like that? When I touch you like that?” He egged on, wanting to hear her say it.

“Ah.. yes, yes I love it.” She sighed out.

He shifted one arm over to play with her nipples and hold her up while his other hand reached for the hem of her dress, slowly pulling it up till he could see her panties. He almost died at the sight. He could see how spun up she had gotten just from kissing and touching her.

“Shit, look at you.” He said, cupping her pussy with his massive hand, “all wet from a few touches.”

“Only for you.” she admitted, letting him take control of the whole situation. She leaned her head back onto his shoulder and gazed at the ceiling.

He reached into her panties, letting his fingers graze over her wet lips, before slowly pulling her panties down and off. He grabbed her by the waist and shifted her back so she was fully seated, throwing her legs over the outsides of his. She was fully exposed to the mirror, and all of his ministrations were on display. He ran two fingers through her wetness before sinking them into her pussy, agonizingly slow. He began to make a come here motion, letting his thumb circle her clit. The sound of her arousal filled the room, and she couldn’t help the moans that tumbled out of her mouth as Nikita dragged his fingers over her sensitive walls.

She worked her hand into his hair behind her, the other coming to cover his as he worked on her. He placed kisses on her temple and neck as he slowly worked more sounds out of her, her movement working him up underneath his suit pants. Every sigh and gasp in his ear, every time her grip tightened on his hair, every grind of her hips against him, was heaven. Every inch of her was perfect for him, and he got to watch it all unravel right in front of him.

“God I’m s-so close, please!” She gasped, her pussy tightening around him.

“Go ahead baby, take what you need.” He encouraged, “cum all over my fingers.”

His words were like magic. She came all around him, her legs clamping down around his and her fingers tightening in his hair. He kept gently moving his fingers inside her, the waves of delicious pleasure washing over her. His eyes never dropped from the mirror.

Once her orgasm ebbed, she grabbed his wrist and moved his hand away from her oversensitive bundle. He brought his soaking fingers to his mouth, sucking her juices off of his fingers with an ‘mmm’. She grabbed his hand and kissed his palm, letting herself catch her breath while she tasted her essence on him.

She was very, very aware of his hard dick pressing against her; with every shift he would groan. His hands found her waist again, gently lifting her out of her seat so there was enough room for him to unzip his pants and bring them down just enough for his cock to spring free. She started to turn and sink down on her knees but he stopped her, pulling her back up.

“Maybe later, I wanna be inside you.” He stated bluntly.

“What about your suit?” She asked, running her hands along the fabric, “you haven’t even worn it out yet.”

“I’ll take it to the dry cleaners if we make that much of a mess. All I’m worried about is you.” He said giving her hand a kiss. “Where do you want to be baby?”

“Right here, I liked how we were.” She admitted, climbing back onto his lap with her legs bent on either side of him, facing the mirror.

She was spread open and on display for them again, this time his cock was painfully hard resting against her back. He took her hips in his hand, pulling her up while she grabbed a hold of him, giving him a couple of pumps before lining him up with her. She took it slow, settling down inch by inch. She sank down till she was fully seated in his lap, being practically split open. She moaned out a breath, giving them both a moment to adjust to the feeling.

For Nikita, it felt like coming home. She was so tight and warm and all enveloping. He wanted to stay that way forever, close to her with the perfect view. He let a hand ghost over her stomach, a touch that ended up feeling comforting to her.

“You ok?” He asked in her ear, laying a kiss on it.

“Y-yeah, you’re just really big.” She admitted, making him chuckle. “Feels so good..”

“Good, baby.” He reassured.

After another moment, she pulled up, then sat back down, starting a deep slow pace. She put her head back on his shoulder, letting pretty moans tumble out just like before. Nikita’s hands were everywhere, her stomach, thighs, tits, waist, all of her. Every nerve in his body was on fire. He looked at the scene before him in the mirror, watching himself disappear into her tight heat. He had never seen something so hot, it was a miracle he was even able to utter a word in English.

“Fuck, baby, look how pretty you are.” He whispered, bringing his hand into her hair again, “watch with me.”

She looked up, as mesmerized by the two of them as he was, “s-shit, you’re taking me so well, baby. Keep fucking me like that.” He mumbled, watching her bite down on her lip.

She watched him slide into her, feeling him deep inside while she took him at her own pace. She watched her tits bounce as his hands came up to meet them, rubbing her nipples to add some more sensation. Her thighs began to burn and her legs were shaking, both from the stimulation and the effort. She was trying her best to keep pace, but she was losing rhythm.

“Nikita.. please.” She asked, grabbing his hands and sliding them down to her hips, where he squeezed.

“Oh, do you want some help baby?” He whispered, earning a nod from her, “that’s ok baby, relax and I’ll help.”

He began lifting her and setting her back down, keeping his hands firmly planted on her hips as he guided her body. He set a slightly faster pace, one that would keep winding them up without hurting her. Their moans were getting louder and higher, and he could feel her pussy squeezing around him.

“Oh fuck Nikita I’m so close! Keep going!” She moaned out, one hand coming to play with her puffy clit.

“That’s it baby, feel good for me, cum all over me”. He rambled, his breath growing ragged as he felt his orgasm approaching, “I wanna see you come all over my cock, make a mess.”

The last few strokes with her pussy basically holding him in a vice pushed him over the edge; he came deep inside her with a loud moan. the feeling of him unraveling sent her into her very own. Her orgasm practically ignited her whole body, her vision exploding with stars. He kept the pace up, even if she wasn’t using any strength anymore. The waves kept crashing over her, high pitched whimpers escaping her. She kept rubbing her clit, teetering on the edge of overstimulated until Nikita set her down on his cock, letting her hips go. He ghosted his hand over her waist again, laying little comforting kisses on all of the skin he could reach. The comedown was slow, like floating feathers in the air. The only sounds left were their breathing and the gentle pattering of the rain outside. The sun had set not too long ago, so the room was dark except for the halo lights around his mirror.

“Fuck baby, that was the hottest thing I have ever seen.” He painted, “…you ok?”

“..yeah, t-that was amazing.” She said, turning her head to capture his lips in a soft, tired kiss.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” He asked, and she shook her head no, but not before nikita’s eyebrows rose in realization, “shit, we didn’t use protection-“

“It’s ok Nikita, I’m on birth control and I’m clean, I trust you…” she said, and a small shift in their position made her wince. Her hips and thighs were beginning to ache with soreness from the open position, “as much as I like feeling full, I really need to move.”

“Of course, let me help.” He obliged, grabbing her hips one more time, sliding her off his cock so she was able to close her legs in front of him, “what would you say to a quick shower, then relaxing in bed?”

“Mm, I could be persuaded.” She giggled, letting him finally stand up.

His lap was a wet, creamy mess of both of them, but it wasn’t so bad that he would be shunned from every dry cleaner in Vancouver. He would just wash off the incriminating stuff and wet his new suit pants a little and say he accidentally dropped them during the rain storm. They both made their way to the massive bathroom, pulling off their clothes. The shower they took was strangely the most wholesome part of the night, both of them taking turns washing each other while they had soft conversation. They gave each other sweet kisses, and laughed at the couple of hickeys that adorned the both of them.

Nikita shut off the water and reached for his fluffiest towel, wrapping it around her with a kiss on her nose. They dried off, him finding a stretched out old shirt for her to wear for the rest of the evening, while he picked new boxers and an old tee as well. He picked up her panties and handed them to her, then leaned up over the bed to crack the window, the soft sound of rain and the cool breeze wafting through. He reached down bringing his comforter and sheets down the bed and sprawled out on top. She joined him on the other side. She snuggled up to his chest and he began tracing soft patterns on her back, his other hand falling to the ditch of her knee as she crossed her leg over his lap. A loud growl erupted from his stomach, and they both laughed. They accidentally skipped dinner all together.

“You wore me out, you minx.” He joked, earning a slap to the chest, “want to order in?”

“Sounds delicious!” She exclaimed, Nikita fishing for his phone on the table beside him, “hey, Nikita?”

“Yes baby?” He responded, looking away from the online menu to her.

“Thank you, for being so amazing,” she muttered, “for being there for me and taking care of me, I guess.”

“Oh, baby,” he said, leaning down for a chaste kiss, “you’re the amazing one, I’ve been dying to ask you out since you fixed the seam on my jacket,”

“Really? That long huh?” She teased, and he laughed along with her.

“As long as it took to make you mine.” He admitted, her heart fluttering at his words.

“Does that mean you’re officially asking me out Mr. Zadorov?” She giggled, making his cheeks turn red with blush.

“And if I was, would you say yes?” He whispered.

“One hundred times over.”

<><><><>

[joeyisourranger]

get his ass mikko

[imnayeonjaem]

nice to see (right through) you again (teaser) | s.mg

"a light, airy rumble seemed to filter through the air. had the ghost just.. laughed?"

minors dni. ageless blogs dni. blank blogs dni. you'll be blocked. character(s): gn!reader, song mingi teaser tags: ghost!mingi, librarian!reader, explicit language, suspense, flashback word count: 1.2k summary: at the end of your late shift, mysterious paranormal activity begins to happen as you clean up the library.. but who is responsible? a/n: so this is the first part of a flashback which shows how reader and mingi first met three years prior to the present day. if you're interested in reading the main one-shot once released, and you'd like to be tagged, please leave a reply or send an ask! i plan to get the whole one-shot out before or on halloween! note: if you're a minor or have no indication of age, you will not be added.

“Quite an atypical evening, huh?”

“Well, it’s not every day a ghost pays a visit to your library.”

×-×

The library you worked at was open until 8pm every Thursday, and you always had the job of locking up. You didn’t mind it one bit, often savouring the quiet that the hour alone gave you once your colleague departed.

But the hour wasn’t so quiet, as fifteen minutes into you rearranging the books back to their appropriate places and dusting the shelves, a lamp mysteriously fell off one of the desks and crashed on the floor.

You’re at least thankful you were only holding a cloth.

Upon inspection, the bulb in the lamp hadn’t broken - thank God - but you replaced it on the desk with a heightened wariness. None of the windows were open, and even if they were, it wasn’t like the wind was going to be strong enough to knock a whole lamp over.

Personally, you were only semi-superstitious. While cosying up with a good ghost story was one of your favourite pastimes, and you found the history of haunted places to be incredibly fascinating, you’d never wager that anything paranormal would happen to you. Besides, the library didn’t have a history of being haunted, and none of your colleagues had ever reported mysterious activity worthy of investigation by ghost hunters or, in the extreme cases, expulsion from a priest.

Shaking your head, you adjust the lamp on the desk to make sure it doesn’t fall over again, and rationalise that it had probably been on the edge of the desk. Someone had accidentally jolted it and not realised its precarious position. No bother. At least it wasn’t broken.

You returned to your task; the incident had knocked five precious minutes of your time off, so you hurried around the ground floor of the library, making quick work of the shelves and the desks. You were now especially careful around the lamps, not wanting to actually break one.

A few moments later, there was a loud thump behind you.

Startled at the sudden noise, you swiftly pivoted on the spot to find three books had been knocked onto the floor.

Okay, you thought, what the hell is going on?

There was no way those books could have fallen off the shelves unless someone purposely threw them.

Moments later, you watched as another book protruded from the shelf. The motion was akin to being pulled, as though there was an invisible person looking for a book to read.

You couldn’t believe you were actually considering the possibility of there being a ghost in your library. What exactly did this ghost want? Could you rationalise trying to communicate with them?

Your mouth parted open and you uttered a noise, and the book immediately fell on the floor, causing you to jump back.

“Whoa- um..” You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried again. “H-Hello? Is there anyone there?” A sigh escaped you; what were you doing? Your eyes briefly looked askance at the clock on the wall. Time was running out and you still had an entire upper floor to clean. All you needed to do was pick the books up off the floor, replace them on their shelves and get back to it.

So why were you frozen in place, bound to the possibility of an actual ghost standing just a few metres from you?

Inch by inch, you crept forward, hoping that maybe if there was a ghost, they would understand that you weren’t exactly frightened or upset with them, you just wanted to talk, or at the very least, help them with whatever they needed, be it anything at all.

It wasn’t lost on you that trying to broach communication with a semi-corporeal stranger who was likely centuries old was probably a waste of time. Not only that, but if you did manage it, it would be incredibly difficult to explain to your colleagues the next time you saw them. It wouldn’t exactly be news for the group chat.

As you stumbled forward towards the shelves with the missing books, you briefly looked down to see that they hadn’t fallen very neatly. It was almost more surprising; had they fallen too neatly it would at least explain the bizarre, paranormal nature of the event.

It wasn’t long before you started to notice just how cold the room had become. Maybe it hadn’t stood out to you before, but you suddenly had the urge to wrap your arms around yourself and when you next exhaled, a distinct cloud left your lips.

Cold room, objects mysteriously falling off of surfaces.. you’re shocked that the ghost hadn’t tampered with the lights yet.

Just then, a light flickered above you.

“Shit..” you muttered under your breath. These things were all very typical of the books you liked to read around this time of year, what with it being October and the perfect season to do so. Perhaps you’d read one too many in the last month or so.

Your cool demeanour faltered even further when another book came flying off the shelf. You were close enough by that point to actually see what the subject of the books were; to your shock, none of these books were ghost stories, and in the bleary haze of being substantially rattled by this situation, you almost forgot that you were actually standing by the poetry section.

You wrapped your cardigan around your body and sighed. “Alright, enough games, who are you and what do you want?”

You found yourself defaulting back to the style of address you’d seen in movies and ghost hunting TV shows. In all fairness, confronting a presence from beyond the grave that had found a way to set foot in the mortal realm turned out to be horrifying.

The ghost seemed to be in fairly low spirits; you weren’t sure how you knew, but something about the way they interacted with the world made you believe they were in a bad mood. Deep breath in, deep breath out. You had to approach this from a different angle.

Crouching to the floor, you picked up the last book that was pulled off the shelves and stood straight. This was a recent addition to the collection, you remember adding it to the shelf a few weeks ago: a poetry collection by Edgar Allan Poe.

“You like Poe?” You froze for a second. “Wait.. are you Edgar Allan Poe?” The question came out half-jokingly, like you couldn’t believe the Allan Poe would be haunting the quaint library you worked at.

A light, airy rumble seemed to filter through the air. Had the ghost just.. laughed?

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.” You flicked through the collection. You liked Edgar’s poems enough, though skimming through this particular anthology put you back in the lecture halls and the library of your university, where you’d analyse his and others’ poems with a fine toothed comb until your brain hurt.

You placed the book flat on the shelf and went to pick up the other three. They were all collections from Poe.

“Wow, you really like his poems, huh?” You chuckled to yourself, then replaced all four books back to their original places.

For how cold the room was a few minutes ago, you were gradually starting to notice it less and less.

Folding your arms, you turned back to the general area where you thought the ghost might be, but it wasn’t like you’d ever be sure of that.

Not unless they revealed themselves.

× silverdune (ave). do not repost. ×

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 1 - Apocalypse Arisen

Everything was dark.

It was an abyss, as any mortal would dare name it.

Outside, only death, waste and fog...Nothing alive to be spotted, no matter how much you wished to cling on the little ray of hope that humanity seemed to so dumbly hope to believe it existed.

Even he, the Anti-Christ, had to dorn a protective outfit against the  Carbon Dioxide that completely eradicated any gram of Oxygen left by the now ashes of the former trees.

Trees...They were green. And the sky, now grey and cloudy, used to be blue. A beautiful brilliant blue, just like his eyes, he remembered a comparison once, a long time ago - So long that it felt like aeons.

Going from one Outpost to another, much less fit for someone like him, was a true hassle, not to mention the horses had to be automatically put down. He was sure that, should she have been there, she would have been upset seeing them kill the poor, innocent animals so cruelly.

But it had to be done, to avert a more painful demise.

Surely, she would understand.

Outpost 3, ran by this so called Ms. Venable, an ugly, old wretch with severe scoliosis who finds herself superior to all the ones living in this place, as if she wasn't just as fortune, or perhaps, less so thank others might think, to be one of the survivors.

And so, he had to prepare yet another speech for these lowly mortals who cannot comprehend the true miracle of life and death.

The atmosphere was silent, fitting that of a funeral - Whose, he wasn't sure yet, but only time will decide - and only his shoes were heard, with each step her so gracefully took. All eyes were on him, of those curious mortals sitting on the couches, or farther away from him. Only the leader was waiting above them all, the big fireplace burning behind her, almost symbolising the supreme power she held.

Or so she thought and wished other to see.

He approached her, getting uncomfortably close to her, staring at her in the eyes, intimidating her, until she finally let her hair down, submissively, and left the scene only for him.

"My name is Langdon, and I represent The Cooperative. I won't sugarcoat the situation. Humanity is on the brink of failure. My arrival here was crucial to the survival of civilised life on Earth. The three other compounds...In Syracuse, New York ; Backley, West Virginia and San Angelo, Texas, have been overrun and destroyed. We've had no contact from the six international outposts, but we are assuming that they, too, have been eliminated." he spoke, letting a few seconds of silence, until one of those parasites dared speak. "What happened to the people inside?" he stupidly asked, as if the answer wasn't obvious enough. "Massacred." he answered, the ghost of a smirk on his face, watching their terrorised expressions. "The same fate that will befall almost all of you." he continued, enjoying how frail humanity can be whenever a lasso of hope was thrown towards them, despite being rotten. "Almost all?" the Grey with the most ridiculous hairstyle asked in a monotonous voice. "In the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe...The Sanctuary." he explained the reason for his arrival better, only to be rudely interrupted by a snobby wench, repeating the last words he just uttered. "The Sanctuary?" she asked, almost in disbelief. "The Sanctuary is unique. It has certain security measures that will prevent overrun." the man continued his speech, only to be interrupted once again. "Excuse me, sir, what measures? Why weren't we given them?" the older woman asked, only for him to raise his hand dismissively. "That's classified. All that matters is that The Sanctuary will...Survive. So the people populating it will survive...So humanity will survive." his voice become more cheerful, the undertones of despair-inducing clearly affecting everyone in the room. "Who are the people who are populating it?" one of the men asked, but the answer mimicked the previous one. "Also classified...However! I have been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us. The Cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous questioning technique we like to call...Cooperating. I will then use the information gained to determine if you belong." he explained with a small, patronising smirk. "What is this, The Hunger Games? This is bullshit! I paid my way in here, and that is the only cooperating I plan on doing." the same snobby wench dared raise his voice at him, only for one, much softer, to intervene. "Please, miss, refrain from raising your voice to a person of authority." the feminine voice belonged to a woman, seemingly shy, garbed in the ugliest grey clothes, her hair under a rag, just like old women used to, centuries ago. "And who do you think you are, speaking to me like that, slave?! You are nothing more than an ant! A Grey! You weren't even special enough to be a Purple, like me! I have ALL the right to speak to anyone the way I want to!" she barely stopped herself from shooting to her feet, as if electrified, which made the poor girl shrink into her already large clothes, as if trying to completely disappear from there.

There was something that set here apart, however, and he wasn't sure what it was...Could it be her voice? Small, soft and afraid, like that of a little mouse, running away from the lion? Or was it the respect and politeness that she somehow managed to retain, despite all the chaos running amok?

Regardless of the answer, he must find out more about here and determine whether or not his intrigues were misplaced. "You don't have to sit for questioning." the man shook his head, taunting her with his calm answer. "What happens if we choose not to?" the same man asked, once again. "Then you stay here and die." the answer was, as expected, much harsher and pressed, enough to leave an impact on all of them. "I volunteer to go first." the platinum haired man raised his hand, after a brief silence that everyone took to process everything. "And so you shall. The process should only take me a couple of days, so you won't be kept in suspense forever. For those of you who don't make the cut, all is not lost. If the worst should happen and feral cannibals come knocking, down one of these." the mysterious man showed a transparent vial, his voice turning into a captivating one, almost as if he was a story-teller to the kindergarden kids. "One minute later, you fall asleep and never wake up...I look forward to meeting each and every one of you." were his last words, spoken with a feign smile, as he left the room, letting everyone bicker between who is going to live.

Unlike them, the mousy girl ran away, unnoticed by anyone, holing herself in her room, trying to calm herself down. She knew that she was an unworthy Grey and this man was not going to bring with him some useless lowlife such as her.

The man, Langdon, however, was much too busy interviewing the gay man, who so shamelessly showed his interest in him...How ridiculous of a foolish mortal like him to think he was going to get touched by the Anti-Christ himself? His skin will only ever be touched by an angel, and until he finds her, he will burn everything in his path...

As he already did, and will continue to do.

This previous little bitch, Venable, however, thought that she was in control of this Outpost, truly, that she could bend rules to her own will, only for her frail ego to be covered, as she thought she could act so patronisingly with him.  But his voice could be incredibly sympathetic, when talking about the mother with her two children he encountered, only for him to move to his study and ask for her opinion on who should populate the Sanctuary...And the then proceed in humiliating her.

She truly thought she could best him, but Langdon was smarter than any mortal alive. He knew everyone's weaknesses, and unzipping her dress, tracing the sinuous spine of hers, and watching her weep...Taunting her, mocking her...Going so close to her face, his breath on his...

Only to destroy the last ounce of hope she had by declining her.

Oh, was it satisfying.

Two interviews have already been done, and the gay got punished by the narcissistic woman filled with insecurities, using him as a martyr, until she realised he was enjoying every crack of the whip... She was weak. She didn't have a clue how to destroy people.

But he did.

Softly touching the man, circling him, denying everything the leather man did...

"I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last man on Earth...And you almost are! It's not because you're not physically attractive. It's your neediness. Your desperation to be seen and loved. The hole you need filled isn't in your face or your ass, it's in your heart. You're pathetic. I can see why your grandmother is disgusted by you." his voice was low, mocking, knowing each word exactly which heartstring to sever. "You don't know anything about my nana." the man tried to refute the only thing he knew he was true. "Why else would she report you? Make them do this to you. I'm sure she hoped they would put you out of your misery...And hers." Langdon let out an amused breathe, continuing his merciless pursue of destroying the man in shackles.. "That's bullshit." Rage. Disbelief. Shock. Confusion. He was very much broken before even coming here...And now, he's shattered. "She's the reason you're staring at a death sentence. She would do anything to increase her slim odds of getting out of here. You know she hates your guts." he continued circling him, staring him right into his eyes that held nothing but self-doubt. "You're a liar." was his last, weak attempt as saving his last bit of pride. "Am I? Perhaps you should go and talk to her about it yourself, then." Langdon smirked, letting the man free as he left the room.

The gay's grandmother reported her own grandson to give her an extra chance of survival...How pitiful and desperate humans are. And now, from rage, the silly boy killed his own grandmother with a pair of scissors. If the night wasn't eventful enough, two people has intercourse, and now had to be punished, same as the murderous one. And now, it was up to him pick up the broken pieces and put them back together. They dream of salvation, but commit nothing but sin. Truly, God will not help them, so why not extend their hands towards a more preferable deity, such as Satan?

Ave Satanas. Ave Satanas.

But no, they are afraid. Much too afraid. The unknown scares them almost as much as their own ugly souls do.

Pathetic, this humanity is.

He was done with nonesense, for now. Interviewing this pathetic bunch who would kill each other just for a few more seconds of aimless breathing and blinking. Just a few more heartbeats. Langdon, now, wanted something more. He wanted purity, and he wanted to taint it. To steal it. To devour it. He needed it.

That Grey mousy girl with the pathetically weak voice. That's what he needed. Urgently.

And so, she arrived in the room, with a soft knock on the door, patiently awaiting to be allowed inside, and then, slowly closing it behind her, making sure no sound comes out, most likely not wanting to bother anyone.

"Sit down." he ordered, in a commanding voice, not needing to intimidate her any further. "Thank you, sir." she didn't lift her gaze up, despite doing as she was told. "Why are you hiding your hair under that ugly rag?" he asked, intertwining his fingers together and leaning forwards on his desk. "Ms. Venable said my hair colour is a disgusting, genetical abnormality, so she gave me the choice. Either shave it, or hide it." she answered, her hands clasped together tightly between her knees, her shoulders slouched, trying to appear as little and insignificant as possible. "I see. I did notice Ms. Venable has a... Tendency to add ridiculous rules to the set already given by the cooperative, so enlist a certain sense of power that she never had when things were normal." he spoke, waiting for her to speak, only to hear nothing. "You are not agreeing, nor disagreeing. I wonder whether you think that is a smart choice or not. You are an obedient one, you chose to sit on my interview, yet you barely speak. This action may influence your chances of survival, are you aware of that?" he asked, his voice lower, whispered almost, as he desperately wanted to get a look at her eyes. "I-I know...But...I don't know what to say. I...Don't deserve the chance given by the Sanctuary. Coco was right...I'm just a Grey. An Ant. I'm not talented, nor a genius or anyone important or needed. Perhaps life would be a better place, should Purples continue to populate it." she stuttered her words, as her body became even stiffer, and her teeth were digging into her bottom lip to prevent it from quivering. "I never said it would influence in good or bad, however, you assume that I choose people based on their rank given here, and I will have to disagree. However, I cannot disclose the methods behind choosing the right candidates. What I can do, however, is to tell you that, from all the others who so pathetically tried to ruin each other's chances, you seem the only one to possess a certain light in your heart. A purity and innocence that I cannot understand...So tell me...Do you truly think Coco deserves to be picked for the Sanctuary?" he pressed on, once again, enjoying how uncomfortable she was. "I-I think everyone deserves a chance for a better future. It is not my place to give my opinion, since I'm not certified, nor qualified for this." the girl began trembling softly, like a leaf blown away by the wind, and it was entertaining the blond man more than he wished to admit - She was a challenge, and he was ready to crack her. "You play it safe. You don't want to bother anyone. You don't want to upset anyone. You're almost like a ghost. Invisible. Unnoticeable. Drifting away, leaving no impression to anyone...And yet, you are afraid. You are scared that nobody will remember you. That nobody likes you, and will never like you. You live in fear and anxiety, which is why you choose to be passive and accept those ridiculous rules given to you by that idiot." he raised up, slowly prowling towards her, like a cheetah carefully approaching its prey, then sat on the desk, right in front of her, to visualise her better.

"I'm...Not sure how to answer." she mumbled, gluing her back to the corner of the seat, trying to put space between the two. "Begin by taking off that rag." he spoke more casually this time, as if he was trying to gain her trust, just like you would approach a scared baby fawn looking for its mother. "O-Okay...If that is what you wish..." she spoke softly, as her fingers trembled, removing the rag and letting a gorgeous cascade of fire hair flow in waves past her shoulders and covering her flustered and frightened visage. "So Venable is afraid or red haired people, how very interesting. Now, look me in the eyes." he took a strand of her hair, twirling it around with his finger, his mind wandering away, for just a split second, remembering those nice, old times, when he would sit under the shade of a Wisteria tree and do the same thing with her. "I-I-I'm afraid I cannot do that. I'm sorry to disappoint you." she hung her head even lower, making the man frown and tilt his head to the side. "And why is that?" his voice became just a tint sharper, and yet, it wasn't unnoticeable "That's... Because I'm very shy... A-And I was never able to look anyone in the eyes. People always intimidated me." her voice was much more mellow, and shaking...She had tears forming in her eyes, without a doubt. "Look at me. I want to see your eyes." Langdon grasped her chin, brusquely tilting it upwards, forcing her to hold eye contact with him.

Her eyes, sparkling with tears, were green, just like the pine trees from the forest he used to go so often to. They were the same innocent eyes that held only kindness and love whenever they laid upon him. They were now, however, frightened, confused, filled with despair, just like he used to be, long ago. How the tables turn, Langdon thought, as his mouth was slightly agape from the shock of seeing so many emotions pooling from the girl's eyes.

"Tell me your name." he wanted to be stern, he truly did, but the thought that this woman might be her was killing him. "Katrina..." a soft whisper escaped her luscious pink lips that resembled the petals of the most delicate rose from her childhood flower garden that she loved so much. "So it is you... It really is you... Katrina... My Katrina... My Kat." he rapidly took away his hand from her face, as if electrocuted, mumbling to himself, not believing that finally, after so long, after so many searches...He found her again. His beloved angel. "S-Sorry, but... H-Have we met before...? You act as if you know me... I-I hope I didn't offend you..." she muttered, forcing herself to look at him with those lamb eyes of hers...That shattered his resolve completely. "You...You don't remember me? I'm Michael...Mickey, you used to call me. We were best friends when we were young...And then you left for a witch school, and you gave me this ring, telling me that you will find me again...But you couldn't, so I saved you from Hell. Twice, in fact. Can you...Truly not remember me...?" his voice, unlike before, was much more frail, with a fragility that it could almost break. "I...I don't think you have the right person...I'm so sorry. I'm...I'm not special. I didn't have any friends when I was little, and I went to a boring school in the neighbourhood. My father left us, and my mum was working hard, but was always mean to me. I don't even know how I got here, to be fair...And...I'm not Matilda...Or Hermione...A-Although I wish magic was real...But even so, I'm such a good for nothing Grey...Even if magic was real...I would most likely not have powers...But...Mr. Michael...I truly hope that you will find the one you are looking for." she so boldly took his hand in both of hers, caressing it soothingly, which, unknown to her, was a habit of hers from long ago, which made Michael, for the first time, cling on hope, just like any mere mortal. "And what if I prove to you that magic is real?" he asked, with a tint of playfulness, his usual taunting smile now turning much softer. "You can...?" she whispered ever so softly, her eyes opening wider with curiosity, her head held high, to search for the truth in the eyes that resembled to much the sky from those sunny days. "Put your hands together... Yes, just like this... And look. From your own hands, a little flower blooms... And it is beautiful, just like you." he spoke, holding his own hands under hers, looking at the black flower that grew from her hands, slowly blooming, then shifted his gaze to hers, searching for a reaction, with uncharacteristic excitement.

"H-How... ?! This... This is so beautiful...! How did you do that...? Are you... A Warlock? A sorcerer? A philosopher? Are you playing with illusions? Tricking my minds? Or... Is this truly... Magic...?" Katrina could barely speak as she witnessed the wonder in front of her - She was breathless. "You taught me this. When we first met, I was a little child, and I was crying in the forest. You found me, and gave me a flower. It was blue, just like my eyes, and you put it in my hair. I smiled, and you said I looked beautiful. Unfortunately, my magic cannot replicate entirely the purity of yours, however, it can do similar things, to some extent." he explained, taking the flower and carefully putting it in her hair, leaving her awestruck. "You truly believe that I am that person, don't you? There are billions of people out there that look just like me, and yet, you believe in me. Why?" she asked, and with a refined gentleness, he caressed her face, wiping away the tears that escaped her eyes. "I can sense people. Their hearts, their soul, their intentions, their minds, their fears, their weaknesses...Everything. And you...You are just like the one I used to know. Same hair, same eyes, same voice, same behaviour, same purity, same kindness, same light and same tendency to nurture others. I have met tons of people in my life, and you are the only one like that. It's a truly unique gift that, unfortunately, society seems to prey upon and wish to destroy. You have noticed that as well, haven't you? Why else a perfect human being such as yourself would be a Grey, when she should obviously be a ruling Queen over these lowly peasants? If you wished to, you could destroy them in the blink of an eye. You must just remember." he leaned down, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead, not daring to keep his eyes from her for even one second, afraid that she might disappear just like a smoke figure slipping from his fingers. "...Michael...?" she asked, very timidly, yet with hope and intrigue, for the first time since they started speaking. "What is it, my darling?" the man replied, brushing his hair against a strand of her hair. "Could you... Please... Help me remember...? Remember what happened... Remember who I am... Remember... You?" her request was so filled with innocence and wish to understand, to break the riddle of her life and mind, that he fell to his knees, grasping her hands and kissing them gingerly. "Anything you wish for, I will grant you. Just say the words, and it shall be done." he smiled widely, almost as if intoxicated by her presence alone. "I cannot let my guard down around these people, so I cannot show anyone any explicit liking. However, since you are a Grey, I can use it to my advantage and have you around me, under the pretext of being my personal maid. Tonight, you will be spending the night with me." he got up, helping her raise and pulling her to his chest, looking down at her small form, irked that she was still so stiff and uncomfortable to his presence...To his touch...To him. "But... Ms. Venable forbid a man and a woman - " her voice was shaky, looking away from him, her porcelain skin growing a tint rosier, and for the first time in so many years, his heart began beating once again, and he felt warm, but not from anger...But from adoration. "Venable isn't the rule here. I am. And if anyone dares cross you, they will have to pass me first, which I can assure you, won't happen." his tone was dark and firm, like that of a king - No, more of a Dark Lord - But the confidence he was radiating managed to calm her senses, as she nodded in agreement. "Now, shall we retire for the night? I was thinking of a story, if you'd wish to hear?" like the devil whispering into her ears, she could only fall for his charm and that seducing, velvety voice of his, and followed him to his room, as with a hand on her back, he guided her in the grand bedroom.

Taking off his blazer and rolling the sleeves of his shirt up, he comfortably sit in bed, extending his arm for her to join him, her eyes watching her with the eyes of a predator, as she, with the shyness of a bunny, stood there, next to the door, looking down, with her hands clasped together to her chest.

"Do you wish to sleep standing? I doubt it would be comfortable. Why not join me? Take off your dress, I will give you one of mine, so you can sleep properly." he took out one of his black shirts, giving it to her, then tilting his head towards the bathroom for her to change, knowing very well how timid she is.

Some would have the phrase "Wolf in sheep's clothing" on their lips, seeing Michael so vulnerable around her, and yet, seeing her in only his shirt, draping down to her knees, "Sheep in wolf's clothing" would be much fitting, he thought, and yet, he realised he couldn't breath, and the urge to grab her and pull her close to his chest - So close that she would be in his heart, in his soul - No matter how unachievable that would be, he knew he never wanted her to leave his arms.

He could feel how uncomfortable she was in his arms, so close to him, a complete stranger, at least to her amnesiac self, and he did the one thing that she used to do to him whenever she tried to comfort him and calm him down - Play with her hair. Long, beautiful, smooth, shiny and full of life, just like the fire that used to play in her eyes whenever she was excited about something.

"Do you want me to tell you 'The Story of the Beautiful Angel and The Ugly Demon' ?" he asked in a gentle voice, hoping it would take her mind away from her worries. "Okay...I'm curious. I've never heard of it before." the girl smiled, daring to drape her arm over his chest, feeling a weird sense of security and... Home.

There was once a little angel, dancing in the glade of the forest of Eden, on one cloudless day of Spring, where the warmth of the Golden Sun's fan of rays caressed the Earth and all its living beings. Her voice was so beautiful as she sang that numerous critters gathered around her and the birds would chirp with her.  As she was lying down, under a Wisteria tree, the purple flower petals dancing with the wind, a little boy, ugly and crying, lost his path and ended up in front of the girl. He was so ugly, and his sobs were so creepy, that he made all animals run away from there. The girl, however, did not.

Instead, she smiled at him, a gentle smile, and extended her hands towards him, guiding him to sit next to her.  She asked him his name, yet he was much too frightened to answer. So she kneeled in front of the boy, brought his hands together, and putting hers under his, she made a little flower bloom. It was the colour of his eyes, just like the colour of the azure sky.

He looked in wander and shock at what just happened, not believing his eyes, thinking her some kind of Goddess...Until she picked the flower and put it in his hair, golden, each separate hair looking as if it was the finest thread of gold that was used to embroider Emperors and Empresses' royal clothing - It was shining brighter than the Sun itself.

"You are beautiful when you smile. Happiness suits you." she said, and yet, her dazzling smile mesmerised by the ethereal being in front of him, as if he was cheated by some spell.

And a spell it was indeed, and the girl compared herself to some witches she saw in humans' television, and since then, she tried to recreate what she was seeing, and bit by bit, she was becoming better and better, while the demon, who could do magic too, was becoming worse and worse. 

He was born evil, and she was born good. The world was either white or black, and there was no grey...At least for him, back then.

But there was one thing the angel said that will stuck to him forever, when he finally told her the reason for his distress.

He was evil, only capable of malevolent thoughts, of destroying, purging, erasing life from existence, while she was the exact opposite - A Saint, filled with kindness and benevolent actions, bringing life and healing wounds.

How could she possibly want to stay around him, a creature of the dark, when she's always engulfed in light?

But she was quick to erase his worries, as she cupped his face, drying the tears that sparkled like zircons, and said, with a voice gentle, and warm, so sweet, as if she was luring a fawn...

"There is light and dark in every human being, without exception. Maybe you feel like one side overpowers the other, but with the right influence, I assure you, you are capable of outstanding things. You are strong, Little Demon, and I promise you, when I look into your eyes, I can see the humanity shining in you, striving to shine and be better. I have faith in you, so please, believe in yourself as well."

And those words will forever be imprinted into his heart, sown with the same golden thread that made out the Sun Rays.

When Michael looked down, he notices the woman he held to his chest was much more relaxed. In fact, she was sleeping peacefully, with no sign of restlessness. She seemed...Peaceful.  It seemed his voice managed to put her to sleep, and he was happy with that.

She truly was the star shining brightest in the sky.

Next Chapter >

[annieqattheperipheral]

me hitting on canadian boys

is that a fan CLUTCHING his suit jacket😭

[light-purp-insect]

Palladium (Arkham Jervis Tetch x reader)

Notes/warnings: sfw, noncon drugging, noncon nonsexual nudity, reader is called a girl (Jervis is canonically disconnected from sexuality and gender), reader is called Alice, bathing, light blood mention, whump?

Palladium; a silvery white and malleable element used in machinery and computers. Out of the Platinum Group, it has the lowest melting point and is the least dense.

“Such a silly girl, Alice.” The all too familiar and thin voice sang. High off the remaining Succinylcholine you lay limply in the already dirty bath water. Jervis has removed his gloves and coat to take a rag and wash away the dirt and bloody scratches over your body. “All those thorns must've been terrible, why did you want to play in the garden again?”

Of course you hadn't been playing in the garden, instead trying to escape once again. To no avail, nonetheless and to your dismay. His henchmen had grabbed you before you could truly get through the bushes. You couldn't give him a proper answer, just a loopy mumble of nonsense.

Jervis moved his hands to your legs. The soapy rag burned in some deeper cuts, of which made the Hatter tut at every displeased groan from your throat. “Just behave. We're not done yet, dear Alice.” The rag circled over your calves slowly and methodically. Rose scented soapy water didn't feel as comfortable as it would be if he was here.

Next was your hair, his favorite part of you. A thick glob of shampoo is lathered in his hands before he runs them through your hair and to your scalp. It seems he was going at such a snail's pace just to feel it more. You wanted to pull away, to yell at him or slap him, but instead let out a sluggish huff of protest.

“Hush, dear. Relax for me, just go back to that sleepy little space in your head. I do have to apologize, I didn't mean to give you so much.” He pouted. Rinsing his hands in the water momentarily, he continues, “Nitrous Oxide is so hard to get these days, I hope you can forgive me when you come to your senses.” He carefully tilts your chin and begins to rinse your hair.

Finally it was time for the conditioner, then this session would be over. Unlike the shampoo, he only used a small dollop. He had begun to hum to himself. “After this, it's snuggle time. Maybe I should up that dosage, though…”

[crow-talks-hockey]

natemac and connie four nations as suspected.... mm mmm mmmmmmm i see another macdavo fic in my future >:3