#but I was about to have an anxiety attack

[wisemushroomeyes]

This evening a friend invited me to a ‚tandem party‘ organised by our uni language center to connect with people that speak the language we learn and vice versa.

I had a stressful day and had not been personally invited by the teacher so I was anxious about coming but my friend was so sweet about it and convinced me.

Then I stood 15 minutes in a room full of people speaking and I was too nervous to say a fucking word, listened to my friend, panicky zoning in and out, not moving and sweating until the sweat ran down my face. I was too afraid to take my coat off or to take a seat. After 15 minutes I left without having talked to anyone beside my friend.

Objectively the party was really nice, the mood good, there was lots of food and it would have been a great chance of getting speaking practice. I came home drenched, still in panic and completely exhausted. Will have to rest for this day and the next.

I don‘t get the anxiety attacks as frequent as in the past, but when it happens it‘s hell.

anxiety is so insane bc ppl will treat it like it’s no big deal, like it’s “one of the “easy” mental illnesses” or something, and then you have it and it’s insanely debilitating and you lose most of your life and your time and energy to it. yesterday i spent 2 hours sitting in my bed trying to convince myself to go to a water fountain to get some water. one time i got so scared to take a bus i passed out. like sure it’s a spectrum and i’m definitely at the more severe end of it but the fact that milder cases exist doesn’t mean it’s not still a problem? and it doesn’t mean that those people aren’t struggling too

[1d1195]

Chances

~5k words

From Me: It's been about 2 minutes since my last love at first sight story so I figured that was long enough for another one. Just a silly little thing.

Warnings: A tiny bit of smut. Also she's shorter than Harry (only relevant for 20 seconds, max). Other than that, should be fluff fluff fluff.

Summary: Airports are gross, overpriced, and extremely anxiety-inducing. She hates being there.

But it's also where she sits with a really cute guy who makes her feel like she's flying from the moment she looks at him and before takeoff even begins.

What was it about airports that were so romantic? Everyone knew how gross they were. A petri dish of diseases on every surface. Overpriced food and drinks. Not to mention the exorbitant price of books and magazines. Almost everyone passing through was stressed with worry about missing their flight, losing their bag, losing their kid, or personal items. She was one of them. Even with an hour and half cushion she was worried it would take off or something while she was going to get a coffee.

Which was perhaps why she didn’t notice where she chose to sit at her gate. All that anxiety festering and building in her that only the relief of flopping into one of the seats near an outlet would release. She put her coffee in the little cup holder, tucked her bag beneath her feet and placed the overpriced book on her lap.

Someone called out for another person making her head tip up at the noise.

It was fate. Destiny. Whatever corny thing a romance writer would say it was. But there were only so many places her eyes could fall, and they happened to land on him.

What was it about making eye contact with a guy her age at the airport that made her feel like she was in a Hallmark movie? He gave her a polite smile. One that was downright pretty. Too pretty to be on a man's lips and one that made her heart skip a beat.

Hence why she was thinking about the romanticism of the airport in the first place.

She sincerely hoped she returned his kind smile because at the very least she didn’t want to be rude. But it was all a matter of seconds; this little romance novel scene she was playing out. Her cheeks felt warm with a rush of blood to her skin before she dropped her gaze back to her book. She had to. If she didn’t, she was going to do something crazy like profess how taken she was with him after meeting those stunning green eyes for half a second like the love at first sight she saw in movies.

But was that his gaze she felt heating up her skin? She refused to look up, but the words of her novel blurred together, and she could only think about how blue was one of her favorite colors growing up but green might have kicked that right out of the top spot in that moment.

*

Their flight was delayed which stressed her out beyond comprehension. It wasn’t even that long but if she didn’t have somewhere to be when she landed, she would have felt a lot better. She swore she was the last person to board the plane, and it only fueled her anxiety further.

But if it weren’t for the delay, her being last, or the fact that she was going to miss the rehearsal dinner for her friend’s wedding, the anxiety of seeing the hot guy from the gate was sitting next to her empty seat was surely going to give her a heart attack at the ripe age of her late twenties.

She felt her cheeks burning in recognition as he smiled again at her. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

That pretty face that was going to haunt her dreams for a lifetime. “Are you 12A?” He asked. The window seat, fortunately. His voice was warm and gentle.

“Yeah, sorry,” she bit her lip.

He chuckled standing in the aisle to get out of her way so she could get settled. “S’nothing t’apologize for.”

“I’m sure you thought you were going to have the row to yourself,” she sighed and placed her oversized purse on her seat so she could stow her carryon above her head.

“Allow me,” he offered and hoisted the bag to the storage space as if she hadn’t crammed a week’s worth of clothes and shoes inside it for only a long weekend. “S’okay. S’not a big plane. They said it was full.”

Stupid airports and their romantic goggles.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully and slipped into their row.

She noted all of his items were ready: a book tucked into the seat back compartment, a bottle of water stowed there as well, and his phone and headphones that he pulled from his pocket and placed on the tray once he was seated again. She fiddled with her bag, pulling out the items she wanted tucked into the spaces she had easy access to as well. Most importantly, she grabbed the travel package of disinfectant wipes to clean off her little home away from home for the next few hours.

“Oh, that’s a smart idea,” he smirked admiring her tidiness.

“I think Covid taught me that airplanes are one of the most disgusting places on the planet.”

He chuckled. “I suppose s’fair,” he nodded in agreement. “D’you have an extra one?” He asked. She nodded and held the little package out to her row-mate. He took two and repeated her routine to clean. The air vent, the tray table, the belt buckle and arm rest. He used the second to wipe down his headphones, phone, and book with a quick swipe. She held out a little sandwich bag she used for trash while on the plane. “Y’must fly a lot,” he smirked at her preparedness.

“Used to,” she took a deep breath. “I still get kind of nervous.”

“Honestly, would think y’were not human if y’didn’t get nervous.”

The announcements were being made and she focused on the flight attendants and their safety demonstration. Well, tried to. The man beside her was so handsome it was like he demanded to be stared at; it was hard not to comply to such a silent request. He looked effortlessly comfortable and so attractive it was unfair. But maybe it was those stupid airport goggles making her fall in love with someone relatively close to her age and perhaps he was only a little hot.

But as he reached for the air vent again, his sweatshirt sleeve slid down his wrist so that her eyes darted to his forearm and landed on the tattoo on the inside of his arm. It wasn’t even something she would qualify as a sexy tattoo, but it was there. As it appeared in her vision, all her dignity, self-respect, and thought of him being only a little hot, flew right out the window.

Stupid men.

The plane jolted a little as it started its take-off, making her gasp and she gripped the armrest tight. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as it settled into its rhythm. The final announcement that the ascent was going to begin came through the speaker and the plane got quiet as it always did at that time. “Hey, love?”

It was pathetic she recognized his voice already. Pathetic that she was going to respond to the little pet name. They had barely spoken. But the two little words were soft and sexy. In a gentle kind of way. She peeked out of one eye to glance at him. She swallowed thickly around the nerves. “Uh... yeah?”

“I can hold your hand, if y’want. S’just a tight grip y’got on m’arm,” it was so gentle. He didn’t even sound annoyed or pained. She gasped again, released his arm from her goddamn death grip, and covered her mouth. How fucking embarrassing. She didn’t even notice.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“No, s’fine,” he assured her, his smile was so kind. Like she was a wounded bird that he found after it flew into the window. “Here,” he offered pulling her hand from her mouth and laced their fingers together. “M’not a fan of takeoff either,” he explained giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Did he feel how perfectly their hands fit together? Or did she imagine it? These airplane goggles were thick as hell. She was fucked when she got off the plane and never saw him again. They were silent during the remainder of the ascent and once the bell signaled that they could unbuckle, the pilot announced they were at cruising altitude, Harry gave her hand a squeeze again before releasing it.

“Thank you,” the sincerity in his voice made her blush and she was glad it was dark on the plane and the flight would remain dark. Because if she had to see how pretty his face was for the whole flight, she wasn’t going to make it. It was unfair that someone so handsome was seated next to her and she would never see him again. Someone who was thanking her for holding her hand. After she tried to rip his arm hair out.

Did his hand feel cold? Her hand felt cold. It was so ridiculous she just wanted to scream.

She had the worst luck.

*

Harry had the best luck. The pretty girl from the gate was in the same row as him. He got to hold her hand. The flight was only five or so hours long and the thought of it being delayed was miserable. But there she was looking so unbelievably beautiful.

There’s a REALLY pretty girl at my gate. He texted Mitch the second he saw her.

You better not be creepy. Sarah says there’s NOTHING worse than a guy being creepy at the airport.

I’m not going to make my soulmate uncomfortable. I’m just going to ask her every question that pops into my head to get to know her, and then ask how many kids she wants to have with me.

...Best of luck to her.

I’m probably not even going to talk to her :( She looks busy and what are the chances she’ll be sitting next to me? There’s no way I have that kind of luck.

But Harry did have that luck it seemed. The pretty girl was tucked into their row against the window, her head resting against the side of the plane. She was clean, organized, and adorable. He liked how she spoke to the flight attendant. Like she was a hinderance by being a passenger. It was sweet and he admired her kindness and thoughtfulness. She was so grateful when Harry handed her the little bag of pretzels and the drink she got.

“Reading something good?” She asked quietly.

Harry smiled and held it out to her so she could read the back cover. “Something m’sister recommended.”

She intently read the words on the back and nodded. “I think I’m going to add it to my never-ending list.”

God, he wanted to say he could give it to her when he was finished. But he was never going to see her again. So maybe he didn’t have the luck he hoped he did. “How ‘bout you?”

“Um...” she smiled. “It’s nothing... intelligent. It’s a brain-rotting romance thing. I don’t know, I like to read trashy stuff on the plane. Take my mind off it and everything else.”

“I see,” he didn’t ask Gemma a lot of questions, but he knew that meant it was filled with spicy romantic scenes that he could only dream about with someone as pretty as her. But that would be what Sarah called creepy, so he pushed that thought away quickly. “M’not a huge e-book person.”

“They’re good for travel,” she smiled. “I love bookstores, and I think I could build a whole house out of the books I have or want to buy. But traveling... it’s nice to have something compact. But I bought a book at the convenience store before we left. Which is so dumb because the mark up is like an extra ten dollars and I could have gotten it for free on this thing but the Wi-Fi is a bit of a problem sometimes, like I can’t get my new book to—” She paused as Harry listened intently. It was so disarming listening to her talk about books and her e-reader. It was adorable. Her eyes, even in the faint glow from the emergency airplane lights, were lit with excitement. “I’m rambling, I’m sorry.”

“No!” He frowned, shaking his head hurriedly. He immediately missed the excitement in her eyes. “Y’weren’t. I never thought ‘bout how the traveling is easier with it. I had t’forgo a whole outfit t’get m’books in m’bag.”

She smiled and sipped her drink. “I always do that. Except I’m sure you felt how heavy my bag was, I didn’t do it this time. I told myself I wasn’t going to overpack and I just couldn’t do it.”

“M’sister has a hard time with it too.”

“It’s impossible, I think. Especially for an event, you know?”

Was Harry still smiling? He couldn’t stop smiling. She just had this air about her. The air between them was vibrating and it wasn’t because of turbulence. She had to feel it, right? Harry couldn’t be imagining this electric feeling that was pulsing between them. They were just sitting there, staring at each other.

“Can I say something crazy?” He asked.

“Crazy? Are you planning on murdering me?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I jus’...” he paused and scanned her face memorizing the moment wondering how on earth he could meet her again. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to have a plane ride back with her. But there couldn’t be that much good luck. “This is a bit...” he trailed off and he chuckled. His face was only inches from hers. She bit her lip.

“Yeah... it is.”

“S’crazy, right?”

She nodded. “It is,” she whispered back.

“Hi,” he said quietly, a smile growing on his face.

“Hi,” she giggled.

*

When the plane began its descent, he held her hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze. It made her stomach flutter. As they left their little row, her heart hammered in her chest. How unfair it was that she would never see him again. He grabbed her bag from the compartment above and he walked with her all the way to baggage claim. They chatted a little more. Smiling and giggling. She didn’t even realize he was still holding her hand.

At least the airport goggles were working both ways it seemed.

“You let me go on and on about overpacking and you checked a bag?” He smirked, grabbed her hand again and led her toward the rideshare pickup spot. “Can I say something crazy?”

“Are y’planning on murdering me?” He asked.

“You felt it right?”

“Felt what?” The smile melted off her face and she dropped his hand like it burned her. “Whoa, hey,” he laughed and snagged it quick into his again. “S’bad joke,” he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles softly. “Course I felt it.”

She looked at her feet. The seconds felt like hours as she looked for something to say. “I don’t know where to go from here,” she frowned looking back at him.

“Yeah...” He sighed. “It’s...” he sighed. There was so much he wanted to say. So much she wanted to tell him. They needed more time, more space.

She wanted to live on that plane.

Harry wanted to stay at that airport.

She pushed up onto her toes and kissed him. It was crazy. Outlandish. Ridiculous. She cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing his skin. He smiled on her mouth making her want to melt. His hand found her lower back, pulled her closer because in just sneakers she couldn’t reach his lips completely. With her firmly in his embrace, he nipped at her lower lip. It was so sinful she shivered.

The honking interrupted their moment, pulling each other apart. “I have to go,” she whispered looking at the Uber that matched the license plate listed on her phone.

“I know.”

“Hi,” she whispered with a quiet laugh.

“Hi.”

“It was... really nice meeting you,” her smile was so goddamn pretty it was going to make Harry cry.

“It was nice meeting you, love,” he answered. Safely tucked her into the back of the cab. She unrolled the window.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Harry,” he said.

“Harry,” she repeated. “Nice meeting you, Harry.”

*

“You have outdone yourself,” she smiled as she turned. The woman before her had a stunning smile, her hair half pinned, her white silk pajamas shimmering in the light. “They’re stunning.”

“You’re one to talk, I’d give you a hug but I don’t want to mess anything up,” she wrinkled her nose. “You love them?” She asked.

“I love them. They might upstage me.”

“I sincerely doubt it. You look stunning already.”

“Do you hate me for not making you a bridesmaid?”

“God, no,” she shook her head. “I’m more of a behind the scenes kind of person anyway. If you need anything today, I’m your girl,” she promised. “I was too far away,” she shrugged.

“Don’t remind me,” she frowned. “These flowers are the things of dreams. You are the best,” she sighed dreamily. “Can I see my bouquet?” Her frown quickly turned into a smile again. “I’ve been dreaming about it.”

She went to the bucket that was at the edge of what would be the ceremony floor and pulled the bouquet from it. She felt so proud and happy with the arrangement she made for one of her long-time best friends. “Seph,” she smiled. “You look beautiful,” she reminded her.

Persephone grinned admiring the bouquet. “You’re incredible... How was your flight? Other than delayed?”

“It was...” she tried to think about anything but the color green. “Good.”

“Oh?” Seph’s perfectly plucked eyebrow arched suspiciously “How good? Did you join the mile high club?”

“Oh my God, Persephone, of course not.”

“Well, you don’t say good like that if he’s not cute.”

A slight pause as she looked at the ceiling and then back at her friend. “He was really cute.”

“You’re a walking Hallmark movie.”

“That’s literally how I felt.” They giggled then she sighed thinking about the kiss she shared with a stranger. It was so unlike her to get all in a twist about a guy she just met. This wasn’t normal. It was like she was still in the airport. There were so many things they didn’t talk about. So many things she didn’t know about him and never would. It was unfair and yet she couldn’t stop herself from feeling like she was still flying. Shaking her head, she turned to her friend once more. “Alright, I have to finish these flower arrangements. Not sure if you know this, but there’s a wedding happening here tonight.”

“Sorry about your airplane man, babe,” Seph squeezed her shoulder.

“Hey, no frowns. It’s your wedding day,” she turned back to the table she was working on before her friend’s interruption. “I think some moments are meant to just... exist in that moment.”

*

Harry had thought about only three things that day. Breathing, cake, and of course the beautiful girl he met on the plane.

You KISSED her?! Sarah asked.

I know... I’ve never met anyone like her.

That’s a real bummer, Harry, honestly. It was and Sarah was right. At first, he was joking, but now he was certain she was his soulmate, and he just let her go. But what choice did he have? Yes, there was the feeling of his heart beating faster. The excitement of making her laugh. But there was the calmness, the tranquility of being beside her. Holding her hand.

Maybe it was morbid, but Harry was certain he was looking for someone to hold his hand if the plane were to go down and maybe that’s what a soulmate really was.

It was easy. Easy to talk to her, make her laugh. It was easy to get to know her and he didn’t even know anything about her. He didn’t know where she was from, what she did, where she was going, but he just knew that she was his and he let her go. There were too many variables. Too many things he couldn’t control.

“Harry, you almost done?”

“Jus’ putting the finishing touches,” he mumbled.

“We’re going to be late!”

“They won’t start without us,” he rolled his eyes.

“If there is a speck of—”

“I’m clean, I’m clean,” he shook his head, coming to the other room and brushing his hands along his coat. “Let’s get married, yeah?”

*

The maid of honor talked about how lucky the pair of them were to find one another. How there were an infinite number of opportunities for them to not have met but there was this special moment destined for each other. Where Persephone would walk into the library to sit in her favorite study spot and if she wasn’t so superstitious she would have just found another table.

But instead, she walked right up to the table, told her future husband he was in her spot, and she was preparing for an exam, and she wouldn’t let him use her favorite seat.

The best man spoke about how he was actually destined to be with the groom for forever and ever which made the entire place laugh.

But talk of luck and destiny just made her feel miserable on the inside. If she asked for his number or where he lived, it would be hours from where she lived. She would be devastated. A kiss was a good ending to her little story. That would suffice.

Maybe he already had a girlfriend. That would work too. Something to make her feel like a horrible person and lessen the blow that her soulmate was somewhere out there never to be seen again. Harry was just a guy that held her hand on a plane and talked about books with her for hours so she wouldn’t be scared. Someone that split his snacks with her even though she didn’t know him.

No. She couldn’t think about him. She had to stop thinking about him. It wasn’t good for her brain or her heart.

It was a beautiful ceremony. That’s what she needed to focus on. Persephone was a gorgeous bride and the event was just... perfect. “I think I’ve given your name and number to just about every single woman here,” Seph said sliding into a seat beside her and kissed her cheek.

She laughed. “Well thank you,” she smiled. “Let me see,” she held her hand out for the one with her new jewelry and she admired the pretty diamond that glimmered alongside the new band of diamonds below it. “Everything is beautiful.”

“This place is beautiful because of you. Just like you said.”

“Oh... it was beautiful before. I just added to it.”

“I didn’t see it though. It’s a bargain if you can envision it like this. I seriously wouldn’t have picked it without you saying you’d do the flowers,” Seph explained. “You saw so much more than I did.”

She shrugged. “I don’t think there’s a place on earth that doesn’t benefit from flowers.”

“Well, thank you,” she squeezed her hand. “I wouldn’t be having a wonderful day without you. I know it was a lot to travel out here and—”

“No, no. Don’t even. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Flowers or no flowers.”

Persephone grinned. “Well... in other news... do you see anyone as cute as your airplane man? Lerone has a lot of single friends.”

She smirked and shook her head. “No offense, Seph, but there is no one that’s going to be as cute as my airplane guy.”

“No one?”

Her head snapped up to the voice that she had already planned on dreaming about for the rest of her life. Her eyes met the same green gaze she had the pleasure of looking at for five hours while chatting about books and whispering about nothing of importance (but it all seemed important at the time). There was no way. She didn’t have this kind of luck. If there was a squeaky carriage at the grocery store she was sure to pick it. There was no way that—

“Hi Harry!” Persephone smiled. “Do you two know each other?”

“Something like that,” Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Hi,” Harry grinned at her.

She cleared her throat, adrenaline flowing through her body. “Hi,” she whispered breathlessly.

“Harry baked our cake. He went to school with Lerone.”

“Oh,” she swallowed.

“And I heard y’did all the work with these pretty flowers,” Harry smiled.

“She’s like the flower queen,” Persephone giggled.

“I see.”

There was a pause while they stared at each other. Harry grinning like a madman, he was sure. But she was stunning. A floral dress draped her body, her hair half pinned up. She was so pretty. Somehow even prettier than the way she looked on the airplane and Harry was certain she could never be prettier than the moment she sat next to him.

“Hi,” she laughed.

“Hi,” he chuckled.

“Of all the gin joints.”

Harry took a seat beside her. Persephone had moved onto the next table and yet, she hadn’t even noticed. “I haven’t stopped thinking ‘bout you, love,” he grabbed her hand. “Been thinking ‘bout the plane, y’e-reader, and that earth-shattering kiss.”

Her cheeks heated up and Harry reached out to brush his thumb on her cheek. “This is insane,” she whispered.

“I know,” he agreed.

“I don’t have luck like this,” she explained. “I’m the kind of person that has their luggage get lost. Or my coat will snag on the doorknob. If I didn’t want to be paired with someone in a group project in high school, I could guarantee I was going to be in their group.”

“Y’think it’s lucky you’re meeting me?” He practically wiggled his eyebrows. Trying to sound egotistical but all it did was make her fall harder for him.

Her heart skipped a beat. “Well...yeah,” she swallowed. “I mean... what else am I supposed to call it?”

“It doesn’t have t’be luck. Can jus’ be meeting you.”

“I don’t think it works that way for me.”

“Can I dance with you?” He asked.

“I’m not very good and I think there’s a good chance I’ll step on your toes and—”

Harry was already helping her stand and tugging her to the dance floor. She did step on his toes, not hard, but her quiet “sorry” was lost on Harry. It felt perfect to hold her in his arms. One hand in his, her other at the back of his neck, his free hand on the small of her back. They fit like puzzle pieces. “A florist, hmm?” He hummed right by her ear.

“A baker?” She replied.

He chuckled. “What are the chances?”

*

“D’you have any idea how good y’look?” He groaned. She was in just a T-shirt. Harry’s T-shirt. He propped his head in his hand as he looked at her laying in his bed. His finger skimming just below the hem of the shirt. It barely touched her thighs and the only thing that stood in his way was a scrap of fabric she called underwear.

She giggled. “Back at you.”

“This is insane,” he smiled and pressed his lips to hers.

“It is,” she whispered.

If all her bad luck had been to make this weekend happen, she was forever grateful. This was worth it. Harry was worth it. “When’s your flight?”

“Quarter of five. When’s yours?”

“The same, of course.”

She smiled and tucked her face into his chest. “How far away are you from my shop?”

“Only ‘bout a half hour drive,” he told her. “Why?”

“Just... wondering.”

“Jus’ want t’know how much time and distance is between you and a toe-curling orgasm?”

“Don’t be crass.”

“I wasn’t talking ‘bout you,” he peppered a line of kisses down the side of her face and along her neck, down the curve of her shoulder, even when the T-shirt got in the way. “You are so pretty,” he mumbled pulling at his shirt to touch her soft skin and curves. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so pretty.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“No, I’d remember you,” he smiled pressing his lips to her collarbone. He pulled the shirt off her and he brushed his thumbs across her nipples softly. Making them perk up more than they already were with the cold air from the room and no barrier between her. “Definitely remember this,” he mumbled into her skin.

“I have to pack,” she whispered but her voice was air and her resolve wasn’t there.

“Put it in m’checked bag,” his lips were occupied by one of her nipples making it extremely difficult for her to concentrate. “Jus’ shove everything in there. Then s’a promise I’ll see y’after we land.”

Her heart fluttered. “You want to see me again?”

He popped his head up from licking at her like she was candy. The air was even chillier against the sensitive skin without Harry’s warm mouth wrapped around her. “M’sorry, was I not clear?”

She smirked. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about airport goggles.”

“Airport goggles?” He repeated.

“I have really bad luck, Harry. I just worry that the idea of me in an airport because I’m roughly your age... or like, you know airplane food is a real thing? Not just a joke? Something about the altitude messing with your tastebuds or something. So maybe this is all an illusion, is what I’m saying. Maybe I am really unlucky because when we get back to our real life we won’t have airport goggles and—”

“Kitten,” he chuckled and rubbed his thumb across her lip. “Shh,” he whispered and pressed a soft kiss on her mouth.

“I’m just saying—”

“I know,” he rolled his eyes. “I hear you. But m’telling you, there’s no such thing as airport goggles. Even if there are, m’never taking them off.”

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[fairsexynasty]

ˏ🔪ˋ°•*⁀➷･ DEEP BREATH

.｡🗡️*⋆⍋*🃏*｡ spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: the bau has a new foe: mr. scratch. he's been attacking those near and dear to the team, and now? he's in your home. but you have a morbid trick up your sleeve.

warnings: angst, hopeful ending, no fluff, anxiety, portrayal of an overdose and suicide, mentions of spencer's addiction, opioids, holding breath

a/n: yes this is inspired by pll AND doctor who what about it. also this might be part of a series if i don't finish the other one i was planning for october but never finished

word count: 750

She’d perfected this stunt when she was twelve years old.

Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind, cautioning her to always stay a step ahead, to keep her wits sharp. Perhaps it was the universe’s grim way of keeping her alive. But the threat was real: Scratch was in her apartment. Her safe place, the home where her daughter slept, where they all ate, laughed, and breathed. Maybe he’d been looking for Spencer, but if he were thorough—and he always was—he’d find her here. Then, with whatever that gas was, he’d kill her, or worse: he’d twist her mind, make her believe Spencer was hurting her, drive her to the edge of reason, or haunt her with a vision of her late father.

Y/N’s gaze landed on the bathroom vanity, its soft light pooling across the floor. The faint glow leaked under the door, a telltale sign. Think, she urged herself, a silent chant. Think for Clem. Think for Spencer. Think for yourself.

Another look at the vanity showed the medicine cabinet hanging slightly open, left ajar when she’d reached for ibuprofen that morning. Tucked far back in the shadows was an old prescription bottle of hydrocodone, a remnant of a long-past injury she’d meant to discard. If she’d remembered, she would have tossed it long ago, kept it hidden from Spencer’s careful eyes. But there it sat, tucked away, waiting.

Act now.

With trembling fingers, she reached into the cabinet, pulling the bottle out slowly, careful not to make a sound. The cabinet stayed silent, no creaks to betray her. She twisted the cap, dumping the pills into her hand and scattering them out the cracked window above the sink, letting the wind carry them away. Then, without another second to think, she climbed into the bathtub, slumping back against the cold porcelain.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, a calculated, deliberate rhythm as Scratch approached. Her heart pounded against her ribs, but she kept her breaths shallow, her body limp, one hand resting over the edge of the tub, the empty bottle lying loose in her palm.

The bathroom door creaked open.

A low, satisfied chuckle drifted through the room, followed by silence as he took in the scene before him. She stilled, her lungs aching from the strain of barely drawing in air, forcing herself to go completely still, to become the very picture of lifelessness. She focused on the chill of the tub beneath her, on anything that kept her mind from the terror of moving too soon, of him realizing she was faking.

She felt him drawing closer, a menacing shadow towering above her. His breath, sharp and cold, brushed her face as he leaned in. And in that moment, her thoughts raced: grateful for the broken heater that kept the room cold, for every freezing second that helped her mask her pulse. Thoughts of Spencer flashed before her and Clem. Would Spencer be the one to come home and find her here, broken and empty because she’d failed the only thing she’d ever known how to do? Or worse, would he have to tell Clem?

Then, just as suddenly, the air shifted. Scratch’s footsteps receded, and he muttered, almost dismissively, “Lousy way out.”

The front door clicked shut.

Her whole body shuddered as she gasped, air rushing into her burning lungs. She climbed from the tub, her legs shaking as she fumbled to throw the empty bottle out the window, watching it disappear into the alley below. Only then did she reach for her phone, dialing Spencer’s number with hands that wouldn’t quite steady.

“Honey, hi!” he answered on the first ring, cheer in his voice.

“He was here,” she whispered, the words tumbling out. “Scratch. He was in here!”

“What? Where? Are you okay?” Spencer’s tone sharpened, and she could practically see him standing, ready to bolt out the door.

“I’m home. I—I got home early to check if they fixed the heater, and… he came in, maybe ten minutes ago, but he just left.” Her voice trembled, the relief and terror colliding.

“Shit.” He breathed out, voice lowering as he regained control. “We’re coming right now. How did he not find you?”

“I’ll tell you everything when you’re here. Can you—can you send someone to check on Clem?”

“Morgan’s already on his way to pick her up from school. She’ll be safe, I promise.”

The knot in her chest eased a little. “Okay. I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

“I love you too. Just hold on—we’ll be there soon.”

[evervigilantnightshade]

The Line - Part Two

Reader and John have always straddled the line between playful flirting and taking things further. However when they are forced into a safe house and a secret comes out will they be able to save what they were heading for or is all lost.

Reader x John Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Laswell, Original characters.

Warnings: Angst, violence towards reader, reader attacked by men, a pup gets hurt but don't worry he's ok. Blood

Authors note: This is a rough chapter. Lots of angst, hurt and sadness.

Part One Here

“I have six on the roof. I’ll take the West side and the one facing South, you take East and the one facing North.” Y/N said in the coms looking down at the warehouse. 

“Copy that.” Ghost replied. 

They both took out the lookouts quickly and quietly as the team reached the building. Soap headed in her direction as Price and Gaz headed in Ghost's direction. The goal was to put stoppers on all the doors, and put a target marker on the roof. Gaz was in charge of the marker while Price and Soap took on the exits. 

“Hold up. Soap you have two around the corner from you.” Y/N said into the coms 

She had the man in the back lined up in her scope when she felt a hand wrap around her ankle and yank her backwards causing her to cry out. 

“Belladonna ya good?” Soap asked into the coms. 

“Soap… not in position.” Was all she could say before she turned her body around bringing her other leg up and kicking her assailant in the face. 

“Ghost you’re solo” She grunted and then looked over and saw another man standing next to her with a gun. 

“What’s happening” Price barked

She reached down as the other man was distracted by his partner's groans of pain and pulled her knife out, throwing it so it hit him in the chest. 

“One second” She huffed as she stood up. 

The remaining man stood up straight, looking around for his gun and noticed it was about five feet away from him. He pulled a knife out from behind his back and then looked back at Y/N.  He lunged for her but she went down and kicked his left knee out before he could make contact and then stood up quickly getting behind him and wrapping her arm around his neck. 

“BELLADONNA REPORT IN NOW.” Price said harshly into the coms. 

“I said” She grunted as she tightened her grip on the man’s neck. “One second.” She then heard the crunch of his neck breaking and she dropped him. “Ok all clear.” 

“What the hell happened?” Price asked. 

“Patrol. They must have added one.” Y/N got on one knee and grabbed her gun to look over at Ghost’s position. “Ghost be silent. You got three coming up the hill towards you. I’ve got them in my scope.” 

She lined up her shots and took them out back to front. Then quickly moved her scope to Soap who was standing over two dead men. 

“Clear. “I’ve gotta move. I have two DBs at my spot.” 

“You broken?” Price asked, worry lacing his voice. 

She looked herself over and saw the man’s knife sticking out of her leg. She yanked it out and pulled the bandana that was around her neck, quickly wrapping it over the wound. 

“I’m fine.” She grunted as she pulled the bandana tight. 

She cursed the men on the ground and then looked around for a good vantage point. She saw one about 50 feet away and quickly moved. Laying down she put Soap in her scope again. 

“Alright, let's get this over with.” 

“I’ve got a car approaching.” Ghost said gruffly and all three men on the ground crouched down. “Looks like the man of the hour.” 

“In position” Price replied 

They watched as Bako got out of the car. The way he was positioned Y/N couldn’t confirm it was actually him.  

“A'body git eyes on his face?” Soap asked a Y/N huffed in annoyance. 

“Not on my end. Ghost and Price he’s closer to you, do you have eyes on?” 

“Working on it.” Price said quietly. 

Bako was about to walk into the building and Y/N felt anxiety taking over her body. If they couldn’t confirm it was him the whole mission was a bust. She bit her lip so hard it almost bled. What felt like an eternity later they finally heard Price’s voice in the coms. 

“Confirmed. Bako has entered the building.” 

The team signed with relief in unison. 

“Alright Gaz get your arse up to the roof so we can get out of here.” Price instructed and he pressed a large stopper on the door Bako had just entered through. 

Y/N watched as Gaz used his grappling hook and climbed onto the building. Once the marker was in place and the doors were secured the three of them went back to the boat and when they were far enough away Price called it in. Y/N stood up with her gun against her chest and watched as the missile came out of what seemed like nowhere and lit up the entire warehouse. 

“Target eliminated” Ghost confirmed 

A small celebration erupted from the coms and Y/N smiled. Finally a win. She glanced down at her leg in the light of the fire in front of her and then scrunched her face as she could see blood seeping down from under the bandana. 

“Alright, Ghost and Bells meet up with the rest of us at the extraction point. Coms off unless it's an emergency. Good job team.” Price instructed 

Y/N turned and started limping her way down the hill to meet Ghost, her adrenalin now subsiding. She had taken a lot longer than what was expected so she wasn’t surprised to see him making his way over to her and she could tell he was pissed. 

“Liar” He hissed and she shook her head. 

“I didn’t lie, I am fine. Just bleeding a little.” 

“Stubborn woman.” He scolded and motioned for her to sit down on a rock next to the road. 

“Just stitch me up and we won’t say anything about this to the others.” 

He took off the bandana and ripped her pants so he could see the wound. He pressed the skin beside it harder than he had too causing Y/N to jolt forward in pain. 

“Sadist.” She hissed 

“Alright, you don’t need a hospital, I can handle this.” He said and pulled off his pack

“I told you.” Y/N said, rolling her eyes. 

“Ya also said weren’t hurt so excuse me for not believing you.” 

He started cleaning the wound and Y/N’s fists clenched at her sides.

“So, you want to tell me what’s going on with you and Price?” He asked when he had to press down on the actual wound. 

“Right now? You want to do this now?” Y/N said holding herself back from swatting Ghost’s hands away. 

“Yeah why not. Now's as good a time as any. No one else is around and we can be candid.” He said and then pushed the needle through her skin. 

She hissed and he reached up and grabbed her neck and pulled her forward so their foreheads were touching. 

“Man up.” He whispered and she nodded. 

He let go of her neck and she now had a determined look on her face. He pulled the thread through and then pushed the needle in again. This time she remained silent. 

“So Price. Never seen you do feelings. What changed?” 

“The stakeout.” Was all Y/N said and Ghost nodded. 

“Figured.” 

Her and Price were on a stake out together in a seedy hotel in a seedy part of town. It was a place where you don’t go anywhere alone and don’t make eye contact with the other hotel guests. The beds were gross and the room smelled like cigarette smoke and regret but it had one redeeming quality. It overlooked a bar that Bako’s right hand man liked to frequent. 

Y/N watched through the binoculars at the entrance of the bar, the patrons filtering in and out. They had been here for three days already and hadn’t had any luck. She sighed and reached over for her cold, almost empty cup of coffee. She took a sip and then shook her head with a look of disgust on her face as she placed the coffee cup down again. She yawned and stretched her arms up above her head.

“Here let me take over for a bit and you get some kip.” John said from behind her and she nodded in agreement.

She stood up and rubbed her right hip that was now sore due to sitting in a very uncomfortable kitchen chair for the last few hours. She looked over at the table and grabbed a pack of cigarettes, then frowning upon realising they were empty. She looked all over the kitchen while Price situated himself in the offending chair.

“Hey, are there any smokes left?” She asked, stifling another yawn.

“How should I know, I’ve been smoking my cigars, the smokes are all yours.”

She frowned and rubbed her temples.

“I thought there was at least one pack left but I guess not. I’m going to have to run over to the store.”

“Not on your own you aren’t.” John said sternly and she sighed.

“Price, it's literally next door and you have to watch the bar. I’ll be fine. I have my knife,” she lifted up her pant leg to reveal her hunting knife tucked into her boot “and it’s the middle of the day. Nothing is going to happen. I’ll be quick. 5 minutes tops.”

She wasn’t waiting for an answer and already had one foot out the door, before he could argue it any further she closed the door and made her way to the elevator.

When she stepped out into the fresh air of the street she stopped to take a big breath in. It has been three days since she had left the hotel room and the sun on her skin felt good. Remembering where she was though she opened her eyes quickly and put her head down, heading next door. 

There was an alley separating the hotel and the convenient store next door. She was just crossing in front of the alley when she heard a dog yelp and then two men laugh.  She then heard the dog yelp again and even though she knew it was a bad idea she turned and walked towards the sounds. 

What she saw broke her heart. In front of her was an extremely small dog cowering against the wall as two men threw beer bottles at it. 

“Hey fuckfaces, what the hell do you think you are doing?” She yelled as she approached. 

“Just having a little fun here. What's it to you?” One of the men said as the other threw another beer bottle. 

Y/N rushed forward and situated herself between the men and the pup. She glanced back at it and could tell it was injured. Tears started to form in her eyes. 

“I highly suggest that you leave now.” She said through gritted teeth. 

“Yeah? And what are you going to do if we don’t?” The second man said as he started to advance on her. 

She started to bend down to grab her knife when a beer bottle hit her in the top of the head disorienting her. Suddenly one of them was on top of her. He tackled her to the ground and punched her in the face a few times causing her head to smack against the pavement. 

“Hey don’t hit her too hard or you’ll knock her out. Then she’ll be no fun.” The other one said and the guy on top of her stopped hitting her. 

Instead he grabbed her leg and started dragging her further into the alley. Her head was spinning and she desperately grabbed the air around her for something to defend herself with. Her hand landed on a glass beer bottle and she gripped it tight. When they stopped moving, she sat up quickly and hit the man on the head, breaking the bottle and then plunged it into his chest. He stumbled backwards while looking down at his chest in surprise, eventually falling against a dumpster. 

“You bitch.” The other man said and then ran over to her, kicking her in the ribs a few times before getting on top of her and wrapping his hands around her neck.  

She tried to fight him off but her head was swimming and she didn’t have the strength. For a moment she thought that this was going to be her end. Not in battle like she thought, but in some seedy alley by some unknown man. 

The darkness started taking over her vision when suddenly the hands wrapped around her neck let go. She gasped in the air she desperately needed and then looked to see the pup biting the man's leg as he tried to push it off. Seeing her chance she reached down and pulled out her knife and with everything she could muster she stabbed it into the man's neck and then pulled the knife forward. Blood poured all over her face and chest and then he collapsed on top of her. 

She quickly pushed him off and laid there catching her breath. She felt the pup come up and lay his head in the crook of her arm and she let out a sob. 

“Good pup.” 

She went in and out of consciousness, losing track of time. She was starting to go out again when the pup suddenly sat up and started growling. She then heard John’s voice calling her name. 

“Price.” She tried to call out but her voice wouldn’t cooperate. 

As he got closer the pup started barking and Price walked over having heard. As soon as he saw Y/N he ran over to her in shock. Y/N patted the pup to let him know it was ok.

“Jesus Christ. Y/N, Y/N can you hear me.” 

She nodded yes.

Instantly he got on the phone. 

“Watcher, we need an immediate medical evac.” 

“How bad?” Kate asked and he shook his head. 

“I don’t know. It looks bad but I can’t…” He had to stop and take a breath to calm the panic that was filling his mind. “I can’t tell what’s hers and what isn’t. We’ll need a clean up crew too.” 

“Evac is at least 10 minutes out.” She replied and he swore. 

“Tell them to make it faster.” 

He hung up the phone and then started inspecting Y/N’s wounds. He couldn’t distinguish anything due to all the blood and instead just started running his fingers through her hair while whispering words of encouragement.

“John.” She rasped. “When they come. Bring the dog.” 

“The dog?” John asked, looking at the small street dog beside him. 

“Pup saved me. Is family now. Hurt too.”

 John saw that the pup had some injuries and gently reached over and ran his finger over the pup's head. 

“Good job bud.” He said

When the team arrived Ghost was with them and they loaded Y/N into the van. John grabbed the pup and then got in behind them. 

“What’s with the dog?” he asked but John didn’t answer. 

When they got to base John watched as they wheeled Y/N straight into the med bay, not letting him follow. He stood there for a minute and then turned and headed to the on base vet. 

“Do whatever you have to do.” John instructed them and they took the pup to the back. 

About 20 minutes later the vet came out to speak to John. 

“Alright you got a tough little guy in there. He’s got a cut that needs to be stitched and he’s going to lose his right eye but overall I think he’s going to be ok.” 

John sighed with relief. He couldn’t do anything for Y/N right now but he could do this. 

“What about shots and stuff? What does he need?” Price asked

“Well considering he’s a street dog I would assume he’ll need the whole gambit.” 

“Do it.” 

“He also needs a name.” The vet said and John thought for a moment. 

“Call him Odin.” Remembering Y/N's fondness for Norse Mythology

“Alright you gave us your number, so we’ll call you in a few days when he can be picked up and go home with you.

He headed back over to the med bay and saw Laswell talking to the doctor. Ghost sitting in a chair next to them. He immediately went over to them.

“How is she?” He interrupted them 

The doctor looked over at Laswell who nodded. 

“Well she has two broken ribs, a broken nose, a split lip that needed stitching. We had originally thought her right orbital bone was broken but it’s not; however we will have to wait to see if there is lasting damage to the eye. Our biggest concern is the injuries she sustained to her head. She needed multiple stitches in the back of her head and she is currently getting an MRI to see what’s going on.” 

Price nodded, unable to speak due to the lump in his throat. 

“Thanks doc, keep us updated.” Kate said and the doctor nodded heading back into the ward. 

Ghost stood up and stood in front of John, his body tense. 

“What the hell happened?” He asked, his voice strained. 

“I don’t know, she insisted on going to the store next door by herself.” 

“And you let her?” Ghost asked gruffly

Instead of answering John walked over and let out a scream and kicked the chair Ghost had been sitting on down the hallway.  He walked away without saying another word. 

Y/N was out for five days. On the evening of the fifth day she slowly opened her eyes to see Ghost on one side of her and John on the other. 

“Boys…” She began but started coughing.

John immediately got up and grabbed a cup of water, letting her take slow small sips. 

She glanced over at Ghost and kept staring at him for a minute before smiling and reaching out, squeezing his hand. He slowly nodded at her and then got up and left the room.  

She then turned to John. 

“ Am I broken?” She asked 

“You are. Nothing that can’t heal though. I want to be mad at you, but I’m more mad at myself. I shouldn’t have let you go alone. I should have insisted I went with you. I’m sorry.” 

‘John, this one's on me not you. I should be the one apologising.”

She reached over and grabbed his hand. All he wanted to do is crawl into the hospital bed and scoop her up into his arms, protecting her from anything and everything. Instead he settled on kissing the back of her hand.  

“How’s the pup?” She asked. 

“He’s fine, lost an eye though.” 

“Well we can match for a bit” Y/N reached up and touched the patch on her eye.

“I got him all his shots and everything. He’s on meds so the team has been taking care of him. Snuck him into the barracks. I got him a collar, a harness and a leash as well as some toys, a bed and a food and water dish. I stayed up at night with him his first night after the vet because he wasn’t used to having a home but he’s warmed up to us.” 

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at him as she listened to him talk. 

“That was it, that was the moment” Y/N explained to Ghost. 

He tied the last stitch and then placed a bandage on her leg. He then handed her some tablets which she swallowed dry.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he was forced to accept that he had fallen for you too that day. Thought he was going to lose you and it scared the shit out of him.” 

He reached out his hand to help Y/N stand up.

“If this shifts Si, if this thing between me and Price gets serious I’m going to want to tell him.” 

Ghost looked out into the distance and then sighed. 

“I figured as much. I know you feel bad for keeping this from the team, but I just don’t know if I’m ready for everyone to know.” 

“Well it wouldn’t be everyone, we could just tell John.” 

“I know, let me think about it, yeah?” 

Y/N nodded and then motioned for them to get moving. They walked in silence and Y/N felt a tightness in her chest. Hopefully Simon would agree to let her tell John everything. The only question was, would he understand.

[scattered-dreamers]

Yes!! “Where you go, I go—that’s the deal.”

That’s exactly the concept my fix-it is based on.

But Jon died first. This new Martin is extremely similar to S1 Martin, but not at the same time, because canonically, he and Jon haven’t even met yet.

Jon embeds himself in Martin’s life and gets him to hang out with Tim, Sasha, Gerry, and himself outside work hours and Jon is so taken with Martin and Martin is pretty much: “No, stop. You don’t know me. Stop talking like you do.”

And Jon is reminded that this Martin isn’t his Martin—reminded by both his anxiety ridden brain and by Martin himself.

And Jon—not wanting to lose anybody—tries to cling to everyone and they all form a sort of polycule. But Martin is still trying to pull away from Jon.

Like Martin is fine with Gerry. [Probably because they share similar (mommy) issues.] And Gerry is kind of the only one he’s okay with.

Jon has issues because he keeps holding onto his Martin and has more than one panic attack about his Martin being somewhere else. The only thing that calms him down is thinking “You’re being ridiculous. Martin is at peace.”

The panic attacks usually start because he remembers leaving Martin by himself after Jon himself died and he SPIRALS bad. Gerry is the one who pulls him out of it—he did the first time he witnessed it and he’ll keep doing so.

But that’s what my whole fic stems from: “Where you go, I’ll go.” And they didn’t. Martin is still elsewhere, apart from Jon, and Jon is reminded by this frequently and he will probably always be reminded of this. He’ll do or say something that his Martin would have chuckled at or say one of their inside jokes or something and Martin will look at him and go “What are you talking about?”

And that’s the kicker, that’s the tragedy. “Where you go, I’ll go.” Except they didn’t. Not even in death.

[Mind you, I’m still in season 4 and I was drawing off the fact that Jon died and he misses his friends and GASP!! He has his friends back now. MUST CLING, especially Martin. I love you. I’m sorry. But if I’m writing Jon canonically correct where Martin is concerned, I’m going to lean into the whole concept more with how he interacts with everyone, especially Martin.]

nothing personal but this kind of comment rlly exemplifies to me a disconnect between canon and popular fanon jmart characterization because they almost literally had this conversation in canon - except, their lines are swapped!

jon, for all his scared grouchiness, is a secret romantic, while martin, for all his forced optimism, is at his core a pragmatist

[0w0tsuki]

One thing this recent bile that's been spewed at me is just how reactionary the "Transandrophobia" movement is.

Oh hey look it's everyone's favorite transandro bro looking to coddle the dude who called me a "Deranged Hysterical Screeching Wailing Pro Cop Pro Eugenics Victim Racist Ableist Cunt Bitch" because I said "hey don't lie about my friend being a fascist who who wants to genocide nonvoters. No where in her post did she say that where did you even get that?"

The post that's supposedly downplaying transmascs anxiety specifically

Like the most hostility your from this is an irritation at the notion that this is the end of all life forever for trans people. No where is she attempting to downplay the risk. The summary of her statement is "Things are tough. They've been tough before. Don't lose hope and let others control you. There are options even in seemingly hopeless situations and maybe don't kill yourself a". A statement which doesn't call any group out in particular because it's addressed to ALL trans people who are concerned about the election and their hormone access.

And this is the sentiment I've seen from all the trans girls who have been talking about it. Nowhere have I seen transfems attempt to use this as a way to belittle AFABs specifically for being afraid cause guess what? WE'RE SCARED TOO. These posts are an address to a giant of doomerism about the elections that "I'm going to die because Trump is going to take away my hormones and Death before Detransition".

For a group who so commonly accuses trans women being self obsessed and wanting every discourse to be about us, they are incapable of even considering that we might address our own in this. Not only can they not conceive the notion that these are positivity posts meant to elicit hope, they are convinced that we are using this to attack and belittle them specifically. Because in their mind ONLY AFAB people are expressing concerns about being jailed for being trans. Cause it's not like, you know, this is all about an election where the PROGRESSIVES candidate had a history with throwing trans women in men's prisons. What do trans women have to fear of prisons? For a group whose half of their rhetoric is "it's not all about you" they are unable to even fathom that they are not the only ones scared of going to jail for being trans.

You can't even argue this is a straw man because that would imply that there's some fringe Transfem legitimately arguing this that they are using as representative of us as a whole. It can't be a straw man because that would require the physical material of straw to construct it from. They are reverse engineering what our opinion must be from their preconceived notions of us. They are boxing at shadows.

That's why there's no "Unity" with these guys. For all the big game they talk about it they don't WANT unity with us. What they WANT is a bitch to yell at and take the blame whenever something goes wrong in their community. They WANT their whipping girl. I am surely convinced that even if there were no "beaddels", that trans women just shut up about their own oppression forever, these dudes would still be out here twisting the most banal positivity posts aimed at the wider community by trans women, and finding ways to spin it as us attacking them specifically.

[sugarushwriting]

ot7 vampire — human blood bank

s2, part 5

master list here

accepting ideas and requests

adult content featured. read at your own discretion

“uno!” you yelled, jumping up from your spot on the ground, cheering. “that’s three in a row, boys!”

sunoo, sunghoon, and jake all threw their cards on the table.

“you got lucky, again, sweetie.” jake mumbled.

“don’t be a bunch of sore losers!” you gloated, clapping your hands together.

“holding onto your pick 4, wildcards, and reverse cards is a nasty move!”

“you say nasty, i say delicious!” you smiled. “don’t be sad sunoo!” you pouted back mockingly to the boy.

“did you learn that from ni-ki? he’s always doing that too.” jake asked, sipping on his soda, then of course biting his straw.

you shook your head, your heart dropping slightly at his name. you’ve been trying to avoid the youngest all if possible since 2 days ago when he caught you snooping.

he also got on you (and jay) for being in his room.

“why was this thrown in my room? i know i had it tucked away.” ni-ki had asked you, holding up the gold wrapper.

your cheeks felt hot. “oh, um, i was hiding from jay and—,”

ni-ki groaned, “at least tell me, it didn’t happen in my bedroom.”

“ew of course not!”

“i’ve told you, and the guys that my room is my room. stay out of it!”

“no, ni-ki didn’t teach me his tricks.” you replied.

“more like cheating methods.” sunghoon scoffed.

“more like genius methods.” ni-ki said walking into the living room where you four sat. “i have a few tricks i can teach you.” ni-ki smiled at you with a wink.

your smiled faded. although you were trying to avoid him, he had no plans on avoiding you. he wanted to keep a close eye on you at all times when possible.

“i should go see if jay wants help with dinner.” you quickly stood up once again, all of the guys eyes following you.

“you know jay doesn’t like when people are in his kitchen when he’s cooking.”

“jay always likes to have my help.” you closed your eyes with a huff, crossing your arms, turning your nose up.

“no i don’t!” jay yelled from the kitchen.

your arms untucked themselves falling to your sides, eyes open. “traitor!” you yelled. you heard jay chuckle from the kitchen. a pout now on your face. “fine, i’ll be in my lair. leave me be.” you stated, walking up the steps to the library.

quietly behind you, ni-ki followed you up the stairs, cornering you on the doorway of the library.

“eep!” you squealed. “i hate that i can’t hear your footsteps!”

ni-ki smiled. “avoiding me, sweetheart?”

“what? of course not!” you swallowed the lie.

ni-ki saw right through you. “don’t lie. you’re not good at it.”

you sighed, “ni-ki, i haven’t nor will i tell anyone about that night, okay? i promise.”

“are you scared of me?”

you shrugged. “just a little.”

“you don’t have to fear me, okay?”

“you literally threatened me.”

ni-ki chuckled. “i threaten many people. do you think jay would let me hurt you?”

you shook your head. “no, but—,”

“but what?” ni-ki moved his arm so he was no longer caging you against the doorway.

“ni-ki, it seems you’ve changed since feeding on human blood.” you whispered. “like extra powerful scary type stuff. even sunoo can feel it.”

“sunoo is sensitive, that’s why.” ni-ki replied. “no need to worry about me. i can handle myself. i am a big boy.”

“if you’re such a big boy, then why don’t you tell jay?” you challenged.

“because jay can be a jackass and wants to be in control of everyone and everything. i’d rather keep my head.” ni-ki scoffed. “anyway, continue your promise and you don’t need to worry about or fear me.”

he walked off back down the stairs, leaving you to your library alone.

your heart was beating fast from the interaction, you having to calm yourself down from an anxiety attack.

don’t fear him? is he crazy? you can’t help but fear ni-ki!

walking into the library, you grazed the spines of the old books that were left for dust. jay says they don’t have meaning, but of course your snoopy self found that they actually do. jay was trying to make you bored so you wouldn’t pick them.

one by one you skimmed spines, none really giving you the answers you were looking for.

a deep breath sounded from the doorway, and you turned around seeing sunghoon standing there with a grin. “sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“you didn’t.” you smiled. “what’s up?”

“can i feed?” he asked shyly. “i—i tried to ignore the cravings downstairs, but it’s been a little while.”

you smiled sweetly to him. “of course hoonie.”

“i’m not interrupting your time alone am i?”

“you are, but it’s fine. i can’t find a book anyways.” you skipped towards him, jumping into his arms.

sunghoon caught you with no issue. your legs wrapped around his waist as your nose touched his.

“now, are you just wanting to feed or do more?” you teased.

“mhm, definitely more.” sunghoon kissed your lips once, walking you to his bedroom. “you’re not still sore from jay, are you?”

“not much.” you mumbled.

“can you handle me?”

you nodded. “of course i can handle you!”

“did jay feed off you too?”

“nope, just, um—punishment.”

sunghoon chuckled, “sweet girl, when will you learn?”

“never!” you laughed, kissing sunghoon as he walked you to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

“no need for locks. they should be able to hear, if not, they’ll have a free show.” he mumbled against your lips then kissing you back with more force.

your lips easily matched each others pace, your hand gripping the back of sunghoon’s neck.

sunghoon’s lips left yours to leave small pecks on your cheek down your neck, before he laid you softly against his bed.

“how do you want this?” he asked, unbuttoning his dress shirt, and untucking it from his pants. he then began unbuckling his belt.

you grinned shyly, “mhm, in between soft and hard?”

sunghoon nodded, his belt undone, pants unzipped. he leaned over you, resting his forehead against yours. “you got it.” he kissed you once more, taking off his belt completely.

sunghoon reached under your oversized shirt to undress you from your small pajama shorts, pulling them and your underwear from your legs.

he signaled for you to sit up, and once you did, he pulled the shirt over your head, revealing you had nothing on underneath.

sunghoon immediately went to knead your breasts, his thumbs tracing over each hardened nipple of yours.

“so sensitive to my touch.”

sunghoon leaned back down, to kiss you with passion, to show how grateful he was to have you in his life. you kissed back with equal passion, your tongue asking for entrance into his mouth by licking his bottom lip, your teeth nipping and tugging.

chuckling into the kiss, sunghoon leaned you down on your back, him following suit to hover over you, as he worked to kick of his pants and boxers with ease.

his mouth reluctantly broke the kiss, but immediately found home and wrapped around one of your nipples, his tongue swirling, while his ring and middle finger found its way down south, immediately protruding your wet cunt.

sunghoon popped your nipple out of his mouth for a quick second to say, “always so ready for me, for us,” before he went back to sucking and licking at your needing breast and nipples.

your thighs rested comfortably on either side of his body, as he rested in between, comfortable himself.

“i could really just lay here all day and suck your titties and play with this pretty pussy of yours, honey.”

“mhm.” you moaned, your body reacting positively to his words. your cunt fluttered, your stomach tightening with his fingers digging deeper and reaching better spots within you.

“already so close baby?” sunghoon teased with your nipple in his mouth.

you nodded, “can’t help it.” you mumbled with a sigh. “feels so good hoonie. fingers filling me up good.”

sunghoon had long fingers which reached spots where it really got you closer to the edge as quick as possible.

sunghoon moved and curved his two fingers a certain way and you started seeing stars. “shit! sunghoon—there!”

your hand went to grab at his hair, and tightened on his locks.

sunghoon didn’t remove his fingers, but removed his lips to kiss you deeply and sloppily as you came. you moaned into his mouth, his tongue finding yours for an open mouth kiss.

sunghoon sucked on your bottom lip, biting just a bit, before he quickly leaned down, his nose rubbing against your inner thigh, as his fingers were still buried in you. his fangs extended and he gripped onto your flesh, another moan of pleasure leaving your mouth from his feeding.

you couldn’t help but close your thighs at the overstimulation and pleasure of his tongue. your left leg went over his shoulder, as he held onto the right which he was feeding from.

you were sure that was jakes favorite thigh, but you were so lost in pleasure you couldn’t think straight.

sunghoon finished his feeding, licking your wound and the extra blood around it.

his nose and breath slowly traced your skin, causing goosebumps up your stomach, chest, your neck, up to your lips for a sweet peck.

“ready for my cock now?”

you nodded lazily. “of course.” you quietly sighed out, opening your legs to the best of your ability.

“hands and knees baby.”

you rolled over, your head into the bed, your chest also pressed against the bed. only your ass was up, the way sunghoon liked it.

“just beautiful.”

he slapped your ass twice, before tracing your wet folds with his tip, teasing you before he slowly moves into you.

you bit your lower lip with a low groan, sunghoon sighing with pleasure. only sounds leaving his mouth were sighs, groans, and low mumbling of incoherent thoughts.

“fucking this pussy so good, baby.”

“you’ll never be able to leave us.”

of course you would never be able to leave them. last time you tried that, all of them were not happy. and jay went through extreme measures to keep you.

sunghoon pumped his cock into you a few times, before his own breathing picked up and his thrusts became sloppy.

this time you teased, “already coming sunghoon? so soon?”

your neck craned to the side to look at sunghoon over your shoulder. his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he pumped in and out of you.

he gripped your ass using a hand, his nails digging into your skin. “no teasing baby.”

he leaned down, his chest to your back, as he pumped sloppily, slowly, and deep before your forehead rested back against the bed.

you came for the second time, leaking down your thighs and all over sunghoon’s cock and stomach. his own come filling you up, some leaking out of you.

sunghoon slowed down his thrusts, making sure you didn’t waste a drop of him. if only he could reproduce. he would love to see your belly full from his baby he put in you. one you both made together.

sometimes he got a little depressed knowing he couldn’t have kids. well, unless he got another vampire pregnant. that was the only way he could have children. any of them.

sunghoon slowly pulled out completely, your body falling on the bed, exhausted.

sunghoon soothingly rubbed your ass cheeks, and your back, giving you pecks along your backside.

“don’t go to sleep baby, jay is going to want you to eat.”

you nodded before dozing off.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

“don’t have your shadow today?” sunwoo tested ni-ki.

“off. limits.” ni-ki gritted out.

“we’ll see about that.” sunwoo laughed.

ni-ki followed him into the forest, seeing eunchae with the others.

“eunchae?” ni-ki asked surprised. he thought he wouldn’t see her for a while with sakura worried about her and their safety.

eunchae blankly stared. ni-ki waved his hand in front of her face, she still unmoving.

“what the—?”

“she’s under my spell.” sunwoo smirked sitting down beside her.

ni-ki clenched his fists. “impossible. those girls basically are immune to any supernatural creatures powers”

sunwoo clasped his hands. “key word you’re missing is, was immune.” he smiled.

ni-ki looked from sunwoo to eunchae back to the boy he wanted to punch.

“it was hard, but having my boys get into their home replacing that tea with fake-regular tea bags was easy for them. as the tea exited her system, she became my doll.” sunwoo smirked.

ni-ki had a bad feeling. “why do that to eunchae?”

“why so upset, ni-ki? she helps you find your food.”

“it’s not worth it if it’s jeopardizing her life.”

sunwoo got up from his spot, walking towards ni-ki, “don’t worry, i will make sure she’s safe.”

“and the other girls?”

sunwoo waved off. “haven’t really decided what i wanted to do with them yet. might use them for my own gain. might leave them alone. might kill them.” he shrugged. “who knows”

ni-ki stood frozen. for the first time he was thinking deeply he may of really fucked up this time and mixed in with the wrong people.

he thought this was all about just feeding on humans and finding their vampire powers that were different and not liked by the usual vampire community.

but this seemed to be more. something more sinister. but ni-ki couldn’t say anything yet. just not yet.

ni-ki gave sunwoo a fake smile, “where’s my dinner?”

sunwoo laughed then clapped, a young girl standing up to walk to ni-ki.

“dinner awaits, my boy.”

ni-ki nodded, and just as he went to feed, sunwoo held up his hand for one more comment.

“by the way, she’s a runaway. been living on the streets for years. no one will miss her if you know, you lose control.” sunwoo winked.

ni-ki ignored the chills that ran through his body, and when he sunk his teeth into the girl, she felt and tasted so sweet, heavenly, enticing.

ni-ki’s eyes turned red, his brain going numb and dark.

ni-ki latched tighter, ignoring the girl’s screams. the screaming soon turning to quietness. soon her body going limp.

[howlingmod]

Hello mod, may I request something cutesy for Skateboard x reader?

summary - skateboard x reader, reader is from blackrock and is described as being a little bit messed up from it (not detailed)

misc - hi i seen this request and got so excited i love skateboard ... 1million tripmine attack go

-Skateboard hadn't really been looking to make any new friends when he'd stumbled onto you. It'd been late at night and he was dead tired, having spent the entire day in the blistering heat of day. He was really just looking to go home when he'd seen you.

-It wasn't uncommon to see people lost in Playground, especially people from other regions. It was less common to see someone frantically pacing back and forth with a stuffed full suitcase and what was very obviously a Blackrock-style uniform talking about getting hunted for sport.

-Initially, the uniform had put him on edge. He phights Subspace and Hyperlaser all the time and he's seen plenty of people from there pass through Playground, and it wasn't often they had good intentions. There was something different about you, though, your panic didn't seem manufactured to draw someone in, it felt unnervingly genuine. Blackrock isn't exactly known for letting its residents easily slip out whenever they want. if you really were some kind of runaway, you definitely had reason to be freaking out.

-Against his better judgement, he approached you.

"Hey man, are you ok?" Skate asked cautiously, taking a few steps closer to you. He kept his distance, he wasn't sure what kind of gear you might have and he wasn't looking to phight right now. Your head had whipped towards him the moment he'd stepped into the alley, wide eyes darting over his figure. He certainly didn't look like the type to be affiliated with the faction. Besides, to be entirely honest, an alley was a pretty terrible place to hide. For any Blackrock authority with an itchy trigger finger (most of them, you noted bitterly), it was the perfect place to solve a runaway. "Hello...?" You blinked, remembering he'd asked a question. "O-Oh, um... Yeah I'm- I'm fine," you stammered, hastily smoothing yourself out and ripping your eyes away. Any attempt at looking casual was soaked in anxiety. "Right, Right," he didn't believe you at all, "You mind telling me what's up then?" You kicked at the ground a few times, scuffing up already worn workboots out in an attempt to shake your nerves. You couldn't meet his eyes for more than a glance. "I'd rather not." Skate paused for a few moments. Maybe it's exhaustion talking, but you really didn't seem like much of a threat. If you were trying to bait him into getting close, it seemed counterintuitive to be acting so guarded. This didn't feel like an elaborate scheme, it just felt like a genuine moment of crisis. Before he could say anything, you spoke up again. "Listen I just- Do you need something? I really don't know why you're talking to me." You were struggling to keep your voice firm, but you couldn't afford to let your voice wobble over the edge and into tears. "Hey, just calm down. I wanna help you, ok?" This could have been a stupid move, but he took another few steps closer, one arm holding his board and the other raised in a show of pacifism, "I'm sorry if I was freakin' you out with all the questions. Do you have anywhere to go?" You bit the inside of your cheek, mentally debating if you really wanted to put this onto a stranger. On one hand, it was just humiliating for you. On the other, it was a risk, he might be playing nice now but he could sell you out in a heartbeat. "No." "Alright, well how about you come with me?" He was quick to clarify when you glanced at him, "You can stay with me until you find a place! Or, I could try and find some hotel nearby, I guess ..." He trailed off, talking more to himself than you. Part of you was screaming to run the other way, as far as you knew this guy had you totally figured out and was ready to use the situation to get whatever it was he wanted. He could blackmail you, rat you out, ruin every chance you have at a new life. You can't just pick up and keep running if he tries anything, this guy was clearly from here, far more familiar with the bustling city than you were. Despite all this- "Please."

-It was a pretty long adjustment period. Skate was a little too casual and open for your paranoid mind to comprehend and you were a little too guarded and mysterious for Skate to trust you fully. You were so unfamiliar with Playground's culture, the lively and crowded atmosphere was a stark contrast to the utilitarian lifestyle you were accustomed to. There was little you could do other than try and bully forward.

-It was the little things that made Skate warm up to you. You always insisted it was out of politeness whenever he'd confront you about how nice the place looked or how there was leftovers for him when he got home. You would get wrapped up in something and you would start talking to yourself, walking through all the different steps and alternatives in a long ramble under your breath. Despite the exterior you were putting up, there was clearly some life to you yet.

-Sometimes he would tease you about it, but he was surprisingly strategic. He'd annoy you just enough to get you to glare at him and then back off for a while, returning the favor by bringing home snacks and takeout for the two of you in an effort to draw out more of that humanity. Besides, you could really use the food. The day he noticed most everything you made for yourself was just whatever used the least amount of resources was the same day he shoved most of his portion over to you without a word.

-Neither of you really noticed how you opened up to one another. Slowly you two stopped sitting on opposite sides of the room until you spent nights laying on one another watching bad tv. Admittedly, he might've gotten the first hint at his crush for you the first time you fell asleep on him. Sure, it was just plain cute, but it meant something more knowing it was you, the same person who used to run off to go eat by yourself every night and stuck to the corners of a room.

-He noticed your quirks become more apparent, little references and phrases he'd never heard before suddenly littered your every word. You spoke more openly, though you still had a tendency of not talking unless he said something that absolutely called for it. He didn't mind, he was usually the more chatty one in his friendships anyway. He just liked getting an excuse to tell you about all the phights he's been in and all the (more lighthearted) things his gang was up to. At some points, the lines between fabrication and reality in his stories blurred for whatever reason. He didn't mind that either, so long as you were laughing or drawn in by what he was saying.

-You weren't into the idea of phighting yourself, it was just a little too much for you. Besides, even the idea of seeing Hyperlaser or Subspace again on the battlefield of all places made your stomach churn. Instead, he'd just gotten you into play wrestling with him. You were stronger than he'd been expecting, though he probably should've known you would be considering your background. He didn't have to take it easy on you, only really holding back for the sake of not breaking anything.

-It was cliche, but there was some time where you'd won and managed to shove him down and keep him there and all the admiration he' been building up for you overflowed and left him looking up at you with some dumb grin. You were smiling back, something you'd only recently really started doing again. He liked to think it was because you were comfortable here with him, you would agree.

"Hi." "Hey." He laughed again, a nervous habit you often poked fun at, "You're really pretty, you know that?" You'd burnt up at that, laughing a little yourself as you stared down at him, "Where's this coming from?" "I dunno, just been thinking it." "You're weird." "Do you like me weird?" You snorted, halfheartedly swatting him one more time before pushing yourself back up. "Of course." "That's good, I like you weird too," the moment he'd finished his sentence, you were already pouncing on him again.

[chronicsyd]

ok I KNOW I'm spam posting at this point and I don't mean to but can we talk about the Ingeniousness of the "Appointing a General" scene and how Ambessa essentially cornered Caitlyn into this role?

Because despite what people are saying, Caitlyn did not skip up there like "Ohh power! Awesome! Gimme!", this is a decision that she was Forced to make (unlike if the role was given to say, Salo, because he was already starting to lift himself up, ready for Ambessa to give him his glory. He Wants power, he Craves it).

And you can see it from the Moment Ambessa calls out her name. The first emotion to appear is shock, clearly she wasn't expecting her name to be brought up. Wide eyed, she can see these families that Have Influence (because that's who Ambessa Specifically told Salo to bring) start to nod in approval, because like Salo said, the Kiramman name bewitches people, that's All it takes to get them to agree. She's taking rapid breaths as Ambessa and the Noxian soldiers start to pound their chests, her eyes are shaking, almost like she's about to have an anxiety attack with having the spotlight thrust upon her in such a way. She looks down, almost as if trying to ground herself.

But then she notices Maddie on her right, pounding her chest as well, smiling up at her. Which in turn, causes her fellow Enforcers to nod and start pounding their chests as well. Everyone Else in the room (with the exception of Salo) Wants this from her, they Expect her to "make the right choice", and it's at that point where saying "no" is no longer an option for her, not with the crisis they're dealing with, But more importantly, not with the Status of her Name. And she looks back up at Ambessa, making eye contact again. That's when she tells Caitlyn to "come, child."

In the way you watch Caitlyn walk up to her, her face is completely numb. she's not walking up there with a smile, her face shows almost no emotion at all. and when Ambessa leans in to swear her mother justice, she simply wears a blank stare, there's no look of anger or determination or anything, I'd say it looks like she's disassociating. what's also interesting is after Ambessa's done speaking and Caitlyn turns back around, there's no sound. the Enforcers and Noxian soldier's are still pounding their chests, you can see it, but you can't hear it, which as someone who disassociates a lot from anxiety is exactly what happens when you’re that overwhelmed. It remains silent as Caitlyn raises out her hand, Ambessa watching in anticipation, before the final sound is Caitlyn hitting her own chest, the wind whistling quietly behind her. but one thing to also bring up is specifically When she turns around, because her face does change, and that's apart of her looking like she's holding herself together that we've seen from her throughout the Entirety of this act. looking like she isn't bothered by this, that she's willing to accept this new responsibility placed on her shoulders. compare that to the look she was Just wearing, that face says more "resigned to my fate", she isn't being given a choice here, not really.

This entire thing is an internal struggle for her. Because yes, she still craves revenge against Jinx, but is THIS really the way she wants to go about it? Because despite what Caitlyn's done herself, she hasn't been thrown an Army and been Expected to lead a War against Zaun, this is entirely new territory that she's walking into. And now, she's no longer allowed to back down.

Ambessa using peer presser to get Caitlyn to do what she wants, what a Genius. and what an ASSHOLE (yes I’m pissed at Ambessa and can’t Wait for Caitlyn to rain hellfire down on her once she realizes what she’s pulled).

[peachdoxie]

I was thinking about the health anxiety I've had since I was 10 or so and how so much of it revolved (still revolves) around something going wrong with my heart, like having a heart attack in my teens, and I realized that it probably has to do with this book I read in 4-5th grade (ages 9-11) about a kid and his dog competing in a dogsled race. I remember no details about it except that the dog ran so hard that her heart burst meters from the finish line and she died instantly. The lesson from the book was probably supposed to be about being an underdog and persevering or something, but what I learned from it was if you exerted yourself too hard, your heart would explode and you'd die. When combined with my somewhat-controlled asthma that got worse when I engaged in exercise, and with being a fat kid who didn't eat vegetables, it's no wonder I struggled with physical activity that got my heart rate up, because to me that meant there was a chance my heart would spontaneously fail and kill me, and so I avoided it. Ironically, this has now given heart problems as an adult because I never engaged in cardio exercise growing up.

[weaselle]

be... um. Be careful with this. I got in the habit of doing something very similar (using observing and describing to pull myself out of the intensity of the moment) and then years later it turns out i have made it nearly impossible for me to cry, and i came dangerously close to disrupting amusement and joy the same way.

Disrupt an anxiety attack? please do. SOMEtimes disrupt other uncomfortable mental/emotional experiences like crying? Observe your joy for the purpose of writing about it later? Sure, but don't let it even approach becoming habit.

Things like crying are necessary, and trying to train myself back into being able to cry without popping into a more neutral headspace (but still sad/depressed and full of unprocessed grief) has been a very long and difficult journey that two different kinds of therapists haven't been able to get me through yet.

being a writer leads to a genuinely helpful but also very stupid kind of mindfulness where you'll be having a sobbing breakdown or the worst anxiety attack of your life and think "okay, I really need to pay attention to how this feels. so I can incorporate it into my fanfiction."

[natelikestowrite2054]

The Infection. Wanda Maximoff. Chapter 1

Wanda's not here. We are all that remains.

Summary: After a mission overseas, you return to the compound and meet up with Peter Parker. But something unknown attacks the base, and you soon learn who's behind the carnage.

Warnings: Infected Wanda, uneasy atmosphere, violence, suspense.

Author's Note: I hope you all enjoy reading this first chapter. There will be more to come.

You huffed as you dried hair after taking a well-deserved hot shower. Today had been grueling and unforgiving. The muscles in your body ached badly from the slightest bit of movement, and your eyes could barely stay open. But this wasn't a first-time experience for you. It was one you had done numerous times with the Avengers. The scars down your back, chest, and arms each held a story worth telling.

It had been over a year now since joining their team. A day that you'd never likely forget about. But unlike a majority of them. You didn't wear a suit of armor, possess secret powers, or have superhuman strength. No, you were a normal person, but not without the means to defend yourself. Your old life had taught you many lessons, and that was what aided you the day it all changed.

You neatly folded the towel and hung it over the heated rack. Sighing, you picked up your phone and opened it to check if Wanda had seen your messages. Two messages you'd sent half an hour ago had still gone unseen. Now you were getting worried. You typed up another message to send to her.

Wanda, I'm starting to really worry about you. You only said a few words to me or anyone when we left Sokovia, and then you suddenly disappeared as soon as we got back. If you need space, I understand, but please communicate with me. I love you so much, and I'm here for you. ❤️

Your mind pondered on the circus of theories as to what could've made Wanda so distant that she'd dissappear from everyone.

Did going back to Sokovia reawaken her painful memories? Should you have said more to comfort her? Was she planning on breaking up with you?

You snapped out of those delusional thoughts and exited the bathroom, switching off the lights and carrying your uniform over your forearm. The smell of fabric triggered deep memories of nostalgia from days long gone. You gently placed the outfit on the bed and searched for clothes for the evening.

Ding!

Your heart skipped a beat hearing the notification. You nearly stumbled forward, trying to get your leg through your sweatpants, hoping that Wanda had finally answered your messages. You scooped up your phone and opened to see it was a text message from Peter Parker.

Hey, I'm swinging in now. Meet you at the entrance?

Oh shit. You mumbled, realizing you had forgotten about your plans to hang out with Peter. You had been so overwhelmed with the stress of Wanda that you'd completely forgotten about tonight. It was something you'd planned out for some time, and you had been looking forward to it.

Peter wasn't a part of the Avengers, and that made it almost impossible for you two to see one another. You first met Peter when Tony Stark recruited him to help with a mission. Peter preferred to work alone and stick to being a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. But the day you two met, there was an instant connection.

You ruffled your hair, trying to ease the sudden anxiety of forgetting the hangout. Reluctantly, you texted Peter back.

Sure, I'll meet you by the entrance.

A few seconds later Peter replied.

See you soon.

You pocketed your phone and fixed your hair after messing it up out of frustration. I suppose tonight wouldn't be so bad. After all, you were in need of a break after the eventful day. You walked out of the room into the hallway toward the elevator. Your fingers pressed the top button, and the doors grumbled open. You stepped inside and waited for the lift to arrive at the bottom.

Once you had arrived, you eagerly squeezed through the still-opening elevator doors. The anxiety and excitement of seeing Peter clashed inside you like swords on a battlefield. Your eyes caught him just walking in through the front entrance. He seemed to be struggling to stuff his mask into his jacket.

"Are you struggling a little bit there, Parker?" You snickered. "No, it just won't. Ah, I got it," Peter said. He turned to look at you only to be greeted with a tight embrace. Peter hugged you back, and you winced. "Oh, are you okay?" Peter gasped. "Yeah, I'm just sore from today. I'll talk about it later. But it's great to see you again, Peter. How have you-" An unwelcomed smell entered your nostrils, and you immediately asked, "Okay, why do you smell like pizza?"

Peter clearly embarrassed and turning red answered sheepishly, "Because I've been delivering pizzas."

"Wait, you're delivering pizzas now?" You asked almost a bit taken aback. "When did this start?" "Oh, I started a few months back," Peter told. A thought came to your mind and it made you snort. "Please tell me you've been swinging around in your costume when delivering them, oh please," you prayed. Peter smiled to hide his embarrassment as he admitted to it. You laughed, imagining how confusing it must look for New Yorkers seeing Spider-Man deliver pizzas. "Oh, my gosh, that's brilliant. I can imagine J. Jonah Jamerson is printing a front page for that one. Speaking of that, what happened to taking pictures of yourself for that knucklehead?" You asked, nudging Peter's side.

"I-I've still been doing that. The pizza delivery job is just some extra work." Peter explained. "How come?" You asked. "Well, it's just I've been a little bit behind on rent." Peter told.

"Do you need money?" You asked. "No, no, please, I can't take any of your money. I'll figure something out." Peter assured.

"Peter, if you need help, we -" Peter immediately dismissed your offer again. "No, it's fine, really. I have it under control." You breathed out through your nose to keep your sigh of frustration hidden. "Okay, but please, if you change your mind. We are all here for you."

"I appreciate it, Y/N, thanks." Peter thanked with a cute smile.

You pressed the button for the elevator doors to open. "Tonight, we're just going to relax and enjoy ourselves," you said. "Are you up for a movie and some board games?" "Sounds great, let's do it." Peter agreed. As you both entered the elevator, you pressed for the top floor.

"Is everyone here tonight?" Peter asked. You scratched an itch on your nose before answering, "Yeah, everyone's here. We recently got back from a mission in Sokovia." "Sokovia?" Peter repeated with a peak of interest dripping from his quirky voice. "Yeah, Wanda informed us of another Hydra base there," you explained. "Did you find out what they were doing there?" Peter inquired. "Not yet. We're still reviewing the data we saved before it was all wiped clean. But from what I could gather is that Hydra was running some kind of experiments."

"Experiments?" "What kind?" Peter asked. "Some kind of human testing. We were concerned about there being new super humans. But again, we won't fully know as half the data was destroyed when we began our assault."

"Mhm, so everything else is okay?" Peter asked. "Yeah, everything's... f-fine." You answered, not trying your best to hide the stress and worry for Wanda that was eating you like a cancer.

"Hey, you okay?" You glanced back up at Peter and stuttered with your explanation. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine just tired."

"Are you sure?" Peter asked again.

"Yeah, I'm sure," you whispered with a half convincing smile.

The mini screen in the corner of the elevator caught your attention. For some bizarre reason, the floor numbers seem to have frozen in time. But that's when you noticed the shift in Peter's expression. His eyes were wide like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Peter?" "Peter what's wrong?" You asked. Those few seconds felt like a lifetime time before Peter answered, "Y/N, something's wrong, something's -"

The elevator suddenly stopped.

You both froze in place, feeling the rumble of the elevator throughout your bodies. The lights from above flickered on and off until darkness followed. "What happened to the power?!" You exclaimed whilst frantically pushing the buttons on the panel. Nothing worked. Peter stepped toward the doors, prying his fingers in-between them. The young hero grunted with effort as he separated the doors. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Peter stepped out first, keeping his arm out in front of you in a protective manner. His eyes scanned the darkened hallway for any sudden movements.

"W-What's going on?" You muttered.

"Y/N, listen to me. There's something very dangerous nearby. Whatever it is, we need t-"

The thundering sound of clanging echoed through the floors above. You looked up toward the ceiling, listening to the deafening noises. But what came next was unlike anything you'd heard before. A loud screeching roar beyond human capability, and it made every hair on your body stand up. You started to hyperventilate, feeling the vibration of it throughout your body. "W-What was..." You choked out through your panicked breaths.

"Come on!" Peter exclaimed as he shoved the staircase door open. You raced after Peter with the adrenaline, igniting and fueling your body like a soldier charging onto the battlefield. As you climbed the stairs, the sound of gunfire and yelling was growing louder with every step. "Come on, Y/N!" Peter yelled from above. "We're almost at the top!" You leaped up the last set of stairs when you heard the screeching of Peter's shoes. You halted thinking Peter had come face to face with what was responsible. But as you looked up, there was nothing but what remained of the stairway door.

You slowly stepped up onto the walkway and inspected the scene of the crime. The door had been torn apart from the center and pulled inward. But what caught your eye made your heart skip a beat. Carved deep into the metal of the door appeared to be the workings of something with sharp claws.

"What could've done this?" You whispered.

Peter unzipped his grey jacket and swiftly took it off, revealing his tightly red and blue fitted costume. You turned away to look back at the door and bravely decided to investigate further. "Y/N, wait." Peter warned. You ignored it and squeezed through the gap in the door. Once you were through, your eyes gazed upon more of the same claw marks on the wall. Following the trail lead, you down the blackened hallway where the doors leading to the living room had been ripped clean off.

"Peter." You quietly called. Peter emerged through the gap and saw the carnage before him. "Oh my God." Peter gasped with wide eyes. "Okay, Y/N, I need you to listen to me. You need to get out of here and call Nick Fury. I'll go and investigate." Shaking your head, you argued, "No, I'm not leaving you here." Peter stepped closer and put both his hands on your biceps with a firm grip. "Y/N, please just listen to me. Whatever did this is dangerous. I sensed it before the power was cut. I can't let you get hurt." Again, you shook your head, ignoring Peter's reason. "I can't let you face this alone, I won't run knowing I could've done something." "Y/N it's too dangerous, and you don't have anything to protect yourself with," Peter pointed out.

"I'm staying." You repeated arrogantly.

Peter stared into your eyes. His expression was mixed between frustration, anger, and worry, knowing he couldn't change your mind. Peter pulled down his mask and repeated, "Okay, but promise me that the moment something happens to me. You save yourself. Promise me."

"I promise Peter." You answered confidently.

Peter nodded, and you both started to move cautiously toward the living room. He kept his arm out in front of in a protective manner. Anxiety made your hands clamy, and your heart thumped loudly in your ears as you entered the room.

Your eyes scanned the darkened area. There was no sign of anybody. Glass was scattered all over the floor, the couches and TV were tipped over, pieces of Tony's equipment broken and discarded like trash. Even one of the large windows had been shattered. It was like a battlefield. You continued following behind Peter with sweat dripping down your face like raindrops. When you felt something underneath your foot. You lifted your shoe off the object only to see it was a gun.

Natasha's gun.

You scooped up the pistol and checked it only to find the weapon had been completely emptied. Whatever Natasha was trying to bring down didn't surcome easily to bullet wounds.

Peter's eyes surveyed the area in front of him when he suddenly felt his spidey sense trigger drowning out his footsteps that came to a hault. You felt Peter's hand grab your shirt in a bone crushing grip. He whispered in a low tone, "Y/N, don't move." You froze like a statue, not daring to move another muscle.

Peter's breathing was shallow. His sharp spidey sense ringed loudly. Peter desperately searched for the threat, but there was nothing but the darkness that swallowed you both like a nightmare. The young hero needed to concentrate on where the threat was and quickly. Peter took a deep breath in and let it out. All went quiet. Peter's spidey sense homed in on the danger, and he moved his two fingers to the center of his web shooter before whispering the bone-chilling word.

"Run."

Peter shoved you out of the way. Emerging from the darkness were a pair of long tendrils that grabbed ahold of Peter's wrists and ankles like an octopus seizing its prey from within its lair.

You landed hard on the ground, crazing your cheek on the broken glass. Turning your head, you saw Peter pinned against the wall by the long, dark tendrils. Suddenly, one of the tendrils perked up and lunged toward you. Just as it was about to snatch your ankle, it was yanked back by one of Peter's webs. "Run, Y/N, RUN!" Peter groaned out.

You quickly stood to your feet and sprinted out of the room toward the stairway door. The sound of Peter's yellling traveled through the walls and followed you like a haunting spirit of mockery. The thought of what that monster was doing to Peter was too much bear, but you couldn't stop. You had to escape whilst Peter held it off.

The last flight of stairs was just below you now. You wasted no time and leaped down them, landing on your two feet. Grunting, you pushed the door open and sprinted toward the exit. You could make out the sight of the far-off street lights through the glass windows above the front door. Freedom was just ahead you could almost taste it.

Suddenly, you stopped hearing a loud rumble from above. The ground shook like an earthqauke was unfolding. Your eyes followed the sourace above when the ceiling collapsed, forcing you to retreat. You helplessly watched as Peter fell through the rubble. He reached out to fire a web to save himself, but it was too late. Peter crashed onto the title surface, cracking it. His body went limp as he laid trapped underneath a pile of rubble.

"Peter!" You cried.

You ran to Peter's side. But stopped upon seeing a dark shadow land in front of you and to your horror you saw it was...

Wanda.

No, it couldn't be. But it was indeed her. The right half of her body was consumed by a black and red substance that stretched all across the right side of her body like torn clothing. But the most disturbing feature was the right side, her mouth littered with rows of sharp fang like teeth.

You turned to flee. But Wanda was too fast. She raised up her right arm, and the black and red goo stretched across her hand like multiple streams transforming into a long tendril. It attacked with incredible speed and wrapped tightly around your throat. You kicked and squirmed as the oxygen supply to your lungs was cut off.

Wanda slowly turned you to face her and pulled you uncomfortably close to her face. Her wide pupils stared deeply into yours like a vengeful demon. "W-Wanda." You choked out in a pleading tone. The cold, slimey tendril tightened like an anaconda. All you heard leaving Wanda's lips was a chuckle that echoed through your ears.

As your world began to turn dark, you continued to thrash desperately, trying to break free, but you slowly felt yourself scumming to the sleep.

"Sweet dreams, little lamb."

[silverdune]

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. ×

[mousemilf]

not to be like i was born in the wrong generation but i think the shift towards messaging instead of irl hangouts has completely fucked me over. other than a couple really close friends i primarily use texting only to plan irl hangouts. not to mention that i still only use texting and not snapchat or instagram or whatever and i never ever will.

if i get to know someone really well i feel comfortable enough to message them conversationally (i think theres a lot of factors making me apprehensive, like messaging compared to talking makes me overthink what im saying, i have trouble interpreting or conveying tone over text w people i dont know as well since im generally p reliant on body language, and too many people are so weird about read receipts and texting back fast that it has just given me a lot of anxiety about it in general) whereas i feel like the majority of people my age have it totally flipped where they prefer to get to know someone over text before being comfortable enough to plan a solo hangout.

idkk i think some of it is my upbringing and me getting a phone much later than my peers and not being allowed on social media or the internet in general, also probably being a generally busy person, but i also sort of blame zillenials for being so fucking weird and toxic about messaging. read receipts, voice notes, pressure to send photos, video calls, location sharing, and like basically everything else feels mainly like it was invented to make me specifically feel attacked and trapped and the culture around it feels really disrespectful and privacy-invading.

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Another thought on this, you know what would also be funny? If Arthur, Merlin, and the knights, while on a quest, came across a colony of trolls living in a cave.

Of course, they all prepare to be attacked by the angry trolls, but then one troll barks out in a gravelly voice, "Wait, isn't that human with the gold sword Grolda's stepson?"

The trolls pause and look at Arthur, and they start murmuring amongst themselves, while Arthur, Merlin, and the knights all glance at each other, very confused, but they begin to creep back towards the exit while the trolls are distracted by whatever they're talking about.

Before they can make it to the exit and escape though, the trolls turn back to them with grotesque smiles on their faces. Suddenly, one of the trolls started speaking to Arthur, who had to resist the urge to violently flinch backwards at the smell of its breath.

"Well, we had heard that that old wench had gone and disguised herself as some ugly princess to trick the king of Camelot into marrying her, but none of us thought she'd ever get away with it! It turns out you humans are a bit thicker in the head than you think! Never thought we'd be seeing you around these parts though!"

Arthur and Merlin both take sharp inhales at that, realizing now that these trolls must have known the one that pretended to be Catrina and infiltrated Camelot.

The group of trolls then starts to crowd around the group of humans, putting them on the defensive. The trolls push them back, further into the cave and towards a long slab of rock that looked like it was being used as a long feasting table, if the rotten fruit and meat piled up on it was any indication.

Arthur's anxiety increased with each step back he was forced to take. Were these trolls aiming to avenge their friend? Oh god, were the trolls looking to make a meal out of them?!

Arthur swung his sword at the troll in front of him with all his might, fueled by fear and desperation. He couldn't meet his end at the hands of these disgusting creatures!

To Arthur's horror though, the beast simply caught his arm in an inhumanly strong grip and laughed, his breath somehow smelling even worse than before.

"You've got some fight in ya! I'm sure you'll fit right in, but that still no way to greet family!"

Arthur lowered his arm, confusion somehow overpowering his fear. "Family?" His tone was filled with disgust, confusion, and sheer disbelief.

The troll grinned at him again, this time slinging a grimy arm over Arthur's shoulders.

"Of course! I should introduce myself. The name's Bronk, and I'm your step-uncle!"

(Merlin almost couldn't stop himself from laughing hysterically, but he managed to barely stifle his laughs.)

And that's how Arthur found himself, dumbfounded, sitting with Merlin and the knights at a feasting table filled with rotten food, listening to his new "extended family" introduce themselves and discuss all the best ways to introduce him to the troll lifestyle.

The trolls all tolerated the knights, but funnily enough, they seemed to be enjoying Merlin's company, laughing at the stories that the manservant was telling them. At Arthur's questioning look, Merlin shrugs and says "It's not that different from sitting with the knights during feasts. They have all the same manners anyways, and at least the trolls don't demand me to fetch them more mead."

And that's how Arthur got forcefully adopted by his troll stepfamily! :D

(also @sugar-coated-prat-dragon, since I promised you something fluffy! <3)

You know what's one thing I'm disappointed we never got in Merlin? After the troll episodes, the entire event was never brought up again!

I mean, I understand if the people of Camelot would rather forget about the whole thing, but Arthur had a troll for a stepmother for like a week and Merlin never teased him about it later on?!

I would really like to write a fic or au some day set in the Golden Age where it's discovered that dragonlords got their powers from being descended from ancient powerful dragons that shapeshifted in humans and had half-human children.

And Arthur's reaction is to turn to Merlin and go "So what you're telling me is that one of your ancestors was deranged enough to sleep with a dragon? That certainly confirms my theory that your insanity is passed down through your blood."

And of course Merlin immediately fires back, "And remind me Sire, which of our family trees includes a troll?"

Arthur sputters for a moment before shouting that that doesn't count, she enchanted his father and the whole thing was a trick, before Geoffrey pipes up and says, "Actually sire, as it was an official wedding, Queen Catrina the Troll was officially added to the Pendragon family tree. And as the marriage was never formally annulled before her death, she cannot be removed from the record."

Arthur's left horrified by this, while Merlin's laughing his ass off.

I just think a scene like that would be neat!

[mj-iza-writer]

Story warning: trypophobia and chicken pox. I personally have trypophobia, I feel so bad when it gets triggered, but I can't help my discomfort. I absolutely hate trypophobia.

Requested by @weirdthingweee

Here's your particularly miserable green cheetah.

"Master... can I, uh, go to bed? I don't feel good", Whumpee looked up from their position, "all of the chores are done."

"You haven't eaten yet", Whumper frowned, "you normally like dinner time."

"I don't have much of an appetite. May I have a water bottle though? I feel warm", Whumpee whispered.

"I suppose, but I don't want to hear any complaining tomorrow about you not getting dinner", Whumper frowned at how rosie Whumpee was, "you do look kind of sickly. I hope you didn't pick up anything from Amina's house while you were helping her do chores. I know her kid was sick. That's why I sent you to help her."

"Yes Master", Whumpee frowned, "I saw them. They looked miserable."

Whumpee tossed uncomfortably all night. No matter what, they couldn't get comfortable. Their skin felt like it was burning and crawling.

They felt itchier and itchier as it grew closer to morning.

They sat up when Whumper opened the door.

"How are you feelin.... HECK NO", Whumper yelled and slammed the door shut. Leaving Whumpee alone in the room.

"Ma-Master, what... what happened?, Whumpee looked down and saw raised pinkish bumps all over their arms. They studied the rest of their body. Bumps were everywhere. Some more blistery and puss filled than others.

"Master?", Whumpee got up and hurried to the door, "Master please. What is happening?", they tried to open the door.

"Whumpee if I see you... I will puke", Whumper warned as they kept a firm hold on the door handle to keep Whumpee inside, "I've already almost gagged twice. Stay in there until I figure what to do with... you."

Whumpee heard Whumper gag.

"Am I going to die?", Whumpee worried, "wha-whats happening?"

"I'm taking it that you've never had chicken pox growing up", Whumper frowned.

"No, I don't think so", Whumpee stepped back from the door.

"Amina's kid has chicken pox. Had I known you never had it, I wouldn't have sent you over there. It's a little riskier for adults to get them, and I can't take you to the hospital because I don't want to go to prison", Whumper continued to hold the door like their life depended on it, "and as bad as it sounds... I can't take care of you."

"Why not?", Whumpee whispered, "I don't know what to do. I don't even know what these are yet."

"I have trypophobia", Whumper admitted.

"Trypa-what?"

"Trypophobia, I'm uncomfortable around clusters of holes or similar patterns like bumps. It gives me anxiety and panic attacks. Plus, it makes me want to throw up", Whumper groaned, "chicken pox is a highly contagious viral infection. It is characterized by itchy, blistery, rashy skin. Normally, kids get it. Parents will have kids play with other kids who are infected with it, so it might spread and get it over with. My mom did that to me. Apparently, your parents didn't. I've read it's pretty dangerous for adults and not as easy to get through."

"What are we going to do?", Whumpee questioned.

"You need to stay in that room. I'm calling Amina to see what needs to be done. Maybe even see if you can go with her until this goes away" Whumper started to let go of the door, "I'm serious, do not come out here."

"I need to use the bathroom though", Whumpee frowned.

"Okay, you can go to the bathroom, but go straight back into this room and slam the door so I know you are where you need to be", Whumper stated, "I will let you know when to come out."

Whumpee stood in front of the mirror.

They gulped as they got a better view of themself.

"Chicken... pox?", Whumpee poked at their cheek.

They frowned as they heard Whumper down the hall.

"Please, you have to take them off my hands until the spots go", Whumper pleaded, "I keep gagging every time I look at them."

"Thankyou", Whumpee finally heard Whumper sigh in relief.

Whumper came back to the bathroom.

"Are you still in there?"

"Yes, I- what do I do?", Whumpee pleaded for relief or sympathy, something.

"Right now, you need to pack a small bag. Amina is going to let you stay at her house until the spots go away. There is absolutely no way I'm going to be able to take care of you", Whumper frowned, "I feel guilty on that fact, but this will be better for you instead of me locking you in your room. Caretaker and Amina will be able to help you."

"So get a bag packed. Wrap a blanket around you. Make sure to drape it over your head. I don't want to see you", Whumper sighed.

Whumpee kept their head lowered as they were driven to Amina's house.

"C-can I itch?", Whumpee rocked uncomfortably, "it's really itchy."

"No don't itch", Whumper kept their eyes on the road. They didn't dare look into the backseat.

"Be on your best behavior at Amina's. You are very lucky they are letting you stay, and are willing to take care of you", Whumper warned.

Whumpee lay awkwardly by the entrance of Amina's house. That's where Whumper dropped them and their things and scrambled out.

Amina had rubbed an ointment onto Whumpee's skin and told them to rest while it soaked in.

Whumpee looked up sadly when the door opened and a taller figure stepped in.

"Oh my. What do we have here?", the person knelt down, "Hmm, I warned them to be careful with having you come over here."

Amina stepped in, "Hello honey, welcome home."

"Hello", they looked up and smiled.

"I guess you met our visitor", Amina sighed, "I told Whumper we would take care of Whumpee. Whumper has trypophobia. They uh, they were struggling." Amina laughed, "I figured we would be a better option for Whumpee to be kept safe. Which Caretaker, I can not find the cot anywhere. Do you know where it is?"

"Yes, I'll pull it out?", Caretaker stood, "why are they at the door though?"

"That's where Whumper left them. They were told to stay there until you got home. They wouldn't budge for me", Amina frowned at Whumpee, "I wasn't really sure where to put them either."

"Let's use my office. It's warm in there. If we need something for a more long-term stay, we can clean out the storage bedroom", Caretaker smiled, "go ahead and take care of our baby and get some rest. I know you've been busy. I'll get Whumpee taken care of."

Whumpee was guided into the bathroom.

They frowned when they saw a full tub of water.

"Caretaker, uhm, I don't....", Whumpee whispered.

"It's an oatmeal bath. It should help calm your skin. I know you must be very uncomfortable. I'm sorry it's taken you so long to get some help, Whumper should have been a better adult and started taking care of this right away", Caretaker frowned, "I will let you know, we are working to get you out if that situation as well. I'm sorry it's taken so long. Hopefully soon we will get you to safety."

Whumpee nodded. They had heard about this before. They looked forward to the day that they'd be free.

"So, this is just to soak in. You don't have to bathe" Caretaker assured, "I'm going to go get my old cot out, and clean it up. I'll be back to check on you."

"Thankyou", Whumpee smiled weakly.

Whumpee lowered themself into the tub and sighed in relief. The itch felt as though it was partially relieved now.

"That... feels so... much better", Whumpee whispered.

Caretaker glanced in on them quickly while they carried the cot past.

Whumpee had leaned their head on the tub and had their eyes closed.

Whumpee quietly followed Caretaker.

"I hope it's okay, I have a spot set up for you in my office. It's a bit cozier in there. It's definitely better than by the front door", Caretaker opened the door, "it's a little more private in here as well."

"Thankyou", Whumpee whispered as they looked into the room. Their belongings had already been brought in and were neatly set by a cot.

The cot was made up nicely with some comfy looking blankets.

Whumpee saw the blanket they had wrapped around themself earlier was now neatly folded on their bags.

"Go ahead and get comfortable", Caretaker stepped in, "Amina is making both of you sicklies some soup."

"Oh um, she doesn't have to. I don't want to bother.... I'm also not hungry", Whumpee looked down, "I was told to behave."

"Whumpee, you are behaving. I'm so sorry they made you afraid of being taken care of. You need to eat though. Even just a few bites. I promise, Whumper will only hear that you are being very good. Hopefully, very soon, we will get you out of this situation. I know it feels like it's been forever. The courts keep getting other cases, and for some reason.... a captive individual being turned into a slave for someone isn't deemed urgent."

Whumpee nodded, "thankyou."

"Alright, you go ahead and get comfortable. I'm going to go get you some soup", Caretaker turned.

Whumpee slowly walked to the cot and sat down.

It creaked under their weight, Whumpee jumped a little at first. The blankets made it feel comfortable though. It was better than the floor of their room at Whumper's house.

"Is there really a chance I'll be free from them?", Whumpee whispered as they sat back against the wall. They felt tears come to their eyes. They were too tired to wipe them away.

Caretaker came back with a bowl.

They frowned when they noticed Whumpee.

"Doing alright?", Caretaker walked toward them. Careful not to spill.

"Uh, yes, jus... just overwhelmed", Whumpee nodded, "the thought of getting away from Whumper... it doesn't seem real. Even being here, I feel like they're going to come barging in and look for mistakes I've made... and punish me for them. This was the first morning I didn't get hurt by them."

"They're a coward", Caretaker sighed, "they would have expected you to take care of them if the roles were reversed. Even if you were gagging at the sight of them. "You'll be safe from them here, at least for a little while."

Whumpee smiled weakly.

"Here is some soup. You don't have to eat all of it, but if you want more, you can certainly have more. My wife is an amazing cook", Caretaker leaned down and started to hand the bowl to Whumpee.

Whumpee's hands trembled as they reached for it.

Caretaker knelt as they guided the bowl to Whumpee's lap. The last thing they wanted was for Whumpee to spill hot soup all over themself.

"A little shaky", Caretaker sighed as they shifted onto their knees.

"I'm so tired, I didn't sleep well last night. My skin feels like ants are crawling all over", Whumpee looked at the soup, "it smells good, but I... I don't.. I'm just not hungry."

Caretaker nodded, "can we try just one bite? Just one? Whumper said you didn't eat dinner, and I know you didn't eat breakfast. We are way past lunch now."

Whumpee looked at the spoon and slowly reached for it.

Whumpee's shakiness caused most of the broth to drip off from the spoon as they lifted it to their mouth.

Whumpee looked at Caretaker sadly.

Caretaker was already reaching for a napkin.

Whumpee swallowed the bit of broth with a wince.

"Can we try that again? This time, I'll help feed you", Caretaker smiled.

"Yo-you said one bite though", Whumpee frowned.

"That wasn't a bite Whumpee", Caretaker sighed, "I mean a Caretaker sized bite."

Whumpee shivered.

"Here" Caretaker took the bowl.

Whumpee watched as Caretaker grabbed their folded blanket and drapedwinced it around their shaky shoulders.

"I know I said one bite, but I really need you to take five big bites", Caretaker knelt down again, "after that, I'll leave you alone to rest."

Whumpee looked at the bowl sadly.

"I know you don't feel good", Caretaker frowned, "but your body does need a little bit of food to help strengthen it."

Whumpee nodded weakly.

Caretaker lifted the bowl and took a spoonful of soup to Whumpee's lips.

Whumpee winced as they opened their mouth a took the bite.

"Good job", Caretaker encouraged.

"Do you think Ms. Amina would make me this again when I feel better? It taste really good; I hate that I don't want it", Whumpee talked as they chewed.

"I think we can definitely see. We'll tell Whumper that these spots are lasting a little longer so you can stay here for a while", Caretaker smiled, "maybe we will get lucky and the court will make a move to get you out of Whumper's grasp."

Whumpee nodded and watched as another spoonful came to their lips.

"Good job", Caretaker encouraged as Whumpee took another bite.

Whumpee looked at them weirdly, "why are you saying good job? I'm not exactly doing anything, and I'm not willingly eating this."

"Sometimes a little encouragement helps with big task. You are still eating, even if you don't want to. You are doing a good job", Caretaker lifted another spoonful for Whumpee.

Whumpee chewed slowly as they thought.

"Why do you want to rescue me so badly", Whumpee looked at Caretaker curiously.

"Well, I feel that you shouldn't be in this situation, and it's the right thing to do", Caretaker lifted another spoonful to Whumpee.

Whumpee nonchalantly ate it.

Caretaker smiled.

"Do you not want to be rescued?", Caretaker gave another bite quickly.

"I do, but I'm not use to someone caring about me", Whumpee swallowed and took another bite.

"Well I care about you", Caretaker nodded and gave another bite, and another, and another, "and Amina cares about you."

Caretaker lifted the empty bowl to show Whumpee.

"I ate it all?", Whumpee looked at in shock, "you tricked me."

"Trick is a strong word. I just distracted you, that's all. You ate it all. Do you want more?", Caretaker grinned.

Whumpee looked at the bowl, 'it did taste good', Whumpee thought to themself.

"Yes please", Whumpee looked at Caretaker sheepishly.

Whumpee looked around the office for a little while until their eyes felt heavy.

Caretaker had covered them in a cream and given them some medicine. So they felt a little better. Even having a full stomach felt good.

Caretaker came in and checked on them. Amina followed.

"So they are really going to arrest Whumper?", Amina whispered as they watched Caretaker fix the pillow.

Caretaker nodded, "they agreed to move the case forward since Whumpee was safe. The court quickly signed the arrest to be done. Why it took so long just to do that....", Caretaker sighed in annoyance, "are you sure you are okay with Whumpee staying here with us? You can say no."

Amina knelt down and moved some hair out of Whumpee's face.

"Absolutely, I love Whumpee with all of my heart. This is their home now", Amina smiled at Caretaker.

Caretaker smiled, "I love you so much Amina."

"I love you too, Caretaker", Amina smiled.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

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