#even if i could only spend like a day on it. its like good for the health i think

[payasita]

"not competitive"

also i have a bluesky now and this is the only thing on it so far lmao

[bokutosbabe]

It Always Leads To You

( bllk boys as situationships )

a/n — girl whose never had a situationship writing about them? what could go wrong? (they progressively get longer lol)

content — some nsfw but not explicit, pining, GN! reader, some characters repeated, all characters are 18 or 18+

synopsis — what kind of situationship the bllk boys would be

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' and the heart i'm breaking is my own ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' but you're best friends! '

you'd rather spend money on a hotel than stay at home 24/7 for the next week. how could you walk into your house when you knew he'd be there, chatting with you family as if nothing had changed?

maybe you should've pretended you had to work.

that would have saved you the grief of having to see, who was supposed to be, your best friend. how could you face him when the last thing you two talked about was being a couple and that...not going as planned.

well, maybe that wasn't the last thing you two talked about with each other. however, does defiling your families bathroom really count as 'talking'? ( most awkward easter ever afterwards ) you didn't really think so.

whatever, he was a pro-soccer player now, he may not even be at home this christmas. you'd just have to put up with his family, who you'd always loved, and then you could go home and avoid the situation until the next big holiday.

but of course, when you stepped into your childhood home you realized that you'd never get that lucky. there he was, just as handsome as ever, sitting on your families couch.

in your eyes, he looked like he belonged with your family more than you, but you supposed he earned that. he came home every holiday, unlike you who continuously came up with different reasons to stay as far away as possible.

if you left now, maybe no one would know you'd even shown up-

" woah, y/n! it's you! " or...maybe not. " i haven't seen you in forever, what have you been up to? " the voice that plagued your every waking thought crashed its way into your ears.

your best friend ( could you even call him that anymore? were you still his best friend? ) got up from his spot on the couch to come wrap his arms around you in a hug that felt more like home than home did.

" i've missed you, ya know? " he whispered in your ear, hands caressing your back in what felt like much more than what a 'friends' hug would be.

just a week. you could survive and coexist with him for a week. your resolve to never sleep with him set in stone now.

you just wished your resolve wouldn't have crumbled only two days later while your family was downstairs watching christmas movies.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ REO MIKAGE, isagi yoichi, AIKU OLIVER, rensuke kunigami, TOBITO KARASU

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the ' you cannot date them '

you’re a good person... or at least, you want to believe that. But how can you when your best friend sits in front of you now, talking about their ex?

she’s raving about how much she misses him, how everything fell apart at the worst time, how she’s still holding onto the hope that maybe they can fix things.

you try to smile and nod, pretending that you’re not dying inside. how can you even look her in the eye when he’s blowing up your phone right now? when you know exactly how he feels about you?

“it’s just so messed up, right?” she laughs nervously, like this is all just a bad breakup, nothing that can’t be smoothed over. “i’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

she doesn’t know that you already did something. You already did the one thing that could ruin everything. the one thing that she told you you could never do.

your phone continuously buzzing while she's talking, hoping she wouldn't notice you reach for it to silence it while she takes a sip of her drink.

your phone vibrates again, and you try not to look at it. you’re not sure if you’re worried that she’ll see, or that you’ll see what he’s saying. you’re scared of both.

him <3 ; are we still on for tonight? can’t wait to see you.

that familiar ache forms in your chest, and you can feel the betrayal to your friend, the confusion about your own feelings, but worse—there’s nothing you can do about it. you keep smiling, even though it feels like your heart’s sinking with every word your friend says.

" god, if you don't want to listen to me, just say so. " your friend says coldly. " i would have turned off my phone if it was you crying right now. "

" sorry, it's just my mom...talking about some new present she wants to get my brother. " you apologized. "oh, okay. is your brother a cutie?" you didn't even have a brother, showed how much she knew about you.

“whatever, what should i do?" your friend asks, her eyes bright with hope (or maybe delusion). "do you think I should text him? do you think we could still fix things?”

you want so badly to tell her the truth.

you want to be honest, to say what she needs to hear so that she doesn’t get her hopes up.

you want to tell her that he is already texting you, that maybe you are the reason he won’t talk to her.

but instead, you bite your lip and offer a shrug. "i don't know, honestly. maybe he needs time to figure out what he wants too."

"he doesn't need time. he needs me." she mused, staring at you like your answer was just the stupidest thing she'd heard all day. "no wonder you've never dated anyone, who'd like a ditz like you?"

The whole time, your phone is buzzing, buzzing, buzzing, like a constant reminder of your lie.

you; see you tonight :)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ OTOYA EITA, ikki niko, RANZE KURONA, reo mikage, RYUSEI SHIDO

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧the... ' you'll never be first '

he's leaving soon, and you feel like you're dying.

you’d known for a long time that ‘casually’ seeing a pro soccer player would only lead to being left alone, especially someone like him—someone whose work always came first, and whose heart was as unreachable as the trophies he collected.

he’d said it more times than you could count: “love doesn’t come before soccer. It never will.” and you’d laughed, maybe even agreed at some point, understanding it was just the way things were.

so why does it feel like you’re drowning now, with him leaving just around the corner.

it doesn’t make sense. you’d known the deal from the start.

still, here you are—sitting in his bed, in the quiet of his room, the familiar hum of the city outside reminding you of how little time you really have left with him.

his suitcase is by the door, already half-packed, his jersey draped over the chair where he’d left it, as if he couldn't get out of here fast enough.

you’re almost sick to your stomach at the thought of him walking out that door in just a few days, never looking back.

you’ve spent enough time with him to know that when he leaves, he doesn’t look back. he doesn't look back at stadiums once he walks out, and he wouldn't look back at you either.

"it’s only a few months," he’d said, trying to make you feel better when the topic of him leaving first got brought up. “i’ll be back before you know it.”

but that’s not the point.

it’s never been the point.

you know he’ll be busy with games, traveling, sponsors,...women, all the things that make him too far to reach.

and yet, here you are, sitting in his bed, heart pounding, overwhelmed with the thought of it all ending. you thought you could handle this.

you thought you could be just another notch in his belt. but the truth is, you’ve been fooling yourself. you care too much. you’ve fallen for him, hard, and the worst part is—he doesn’t even realize it.

or maybe he does. maybe he’s known all along, and you were too scared to admit it.

the sound of his voice pulls you from your thoughts.

"hey, you okay?"

you glance over at him, watching him fiddle with his phone, one hand propped up on the headboard. his eyes meet yours, something in them that almost makes you believe he could stay. maybe, you're enough of a reason for him to stay where he is now.

but he won’t. you know that. his life is bigger than you. bigger than this city, this bed, and every memory you’ve shared together.

you nod, forcing a smile, trying to keep the strange bitterness from slipping into your voice.

"yeah, just thinking."

"don’t think too much." his lips curl up into that calming grin that’s made you feel better on several occasions. how could something that used to calm you make you feel like your heart was in your throat? “you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

it’s easy for him to say that. he’s used to moving on. he’s used to leaving. you? you're used to him being here.

his fingers tap absently against the screen of his phone. you can see the notifications lighting up—his agent, a few teammates, probably his parents, all reminding you of the inevitable: he’s leaving soon.

you want to scream. you want to ask him why he doesn’t care. why it’s so easy for him to slip away from everyone who loves him.

but instead, you pull your knees to your chest and keep your eyes fixed on him, as if the longer you look, you could magically gain telepathy to make him want to stay with you.

"how’s your flight looking?" you ask, hoping his answer would be that he cancelled it.

"all set."

and you can't breathe.

the casualness in his voice is what stings the most. the way he talks about leaving as if it’s just another day at the office, another game to be played.

he doesn’t get how you feel. maybe he can’t. maybe he’s just too busy not feeling anything.

The silence is deafening.

"do you... do you ever wish you could just stay?"

It’s a question you didn’t mean to ask, but it escapes before you can stop it.

You wish you could take it back the second it leaves your lips.

he looks up at you, and for the briefest moment, his eyes soften. for one second, he looks like he is completely and utterly yours.

he sets his phone down, sliding it onto the bedside table, then turns his full attention to you.

"i told you, didn’t i? love doesn’t come before soccer."

The words hit you like a train, but it’s not the truth that hurts—it’s the way he says it, like it’s not up for debate. as if it’s always been this way, and it always will be.

why can't he just try? just try to come home every so often...to you.

you feel like a fool. as if you've put your heart on display for him just to not even glance your way.

you know where you stand, even if it’s tearing you apart.

he doesn’t lie to you, doesn’t promise you things he can’t give, and maybe that's why you fell for him in the first place—he was the first person who didn’t play games with you.

"i’m gonna miss you," you say quietly, knowing that admitting it aloud makes it even worse.

his eyes flicker with something, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. he shifts, pulling his knees up to match yours, as if to say he’s close, but still so far. he rests his head back against the headboard.

and for a moment, you almost forget he’s leaving. you forget about the suitcase by the door. you forget about the plane ticket he has. you forget that in just a few days he wont be yours anymore.

"i’ll miss you too," he says softly.

but that’s it. that’s all he says. it’s not a promise, not a declaration. just another passing remark to fill the silence.

he doesn't mean it. it's more of a kindness thing for him to say it back.

you can feel the weight of everything unsaid.

you realize—he doesn’t know how much you care. He can’t understand you.

he’s never been asked to stay.

you’re not even sure you’d want him to. you can’t ask him to change his life for you. and you couldn't keep up with the lifestyle he lives.

the idea of him walking away—of losing him to something bigger, to something you’ll never be able to keep—feels like it will break you.

so you just lie down on his bed, for the last time, you tell yourself.

'after tonight, he'll be free of me'

after tonight, you'd walk out that door and not look back.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ITOSHI RIN, nagi seishiro, SAE ITOSHI, isagi yoichi, RENSUKE KUNIGAMI

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' to leave the warmest bed i've ever known ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[ + your faves ! ]

again, i've never experienced this, so i hope the research i've done (looking up different types of situationships) has done it justice!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!

[luvismenu]

Only When It's Us — JJK ,, index ,, about taglist

Chapter 02 — distraction ✎

fic summary: you both say it’s nothing serious, but with every touch and argument, it gets harder to stay away.

nsfw warnings: smut; lots of kissing, lots of touching lol, oral (male recieving, fem too? kinda), sucking fingers, doggy style, unprotected sex (shes using birth control so yep, be safe!) use of ‘good girl’

wc: 6k

📜 permanent taglist: @lovieku @kyuupii @fluttershypoo @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @mar-lo-pap @jungkooks-wife @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @leemonis-blog

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @sweetmimosa28

abt series taglist: send me an ask w the series title !!

“i have to go.”

“why don’t you just come back home? you can start over, and this time, maybe you’ll be more like your brother.”

you sigh.

“mom, i don’t want to be him,” you say quietly, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. on the other end, you hear her let out a soft, disapproving tsk, a sound that always manages to make you feel a little smaller.

“aren’t you clearly struggling with school? if you were here with us, with your brother, we’d help you. you’d be fine,” she insists, as if coming home would magically fix everything.

you roll your eyes.

“i really have to go.”

“___, just listen to—”

but before she can finish, you end the call, staring at the blank screen for a moment.

there’s an unsettling feeling in your chest, one that refuses to fade, no matter how much you try to brush it off. its like a quiet reminder of all the things you’re trying to avoid.

go back home?

after everything you’ve been through to study what you want, to finally live on your own terms. every argument, every latenight fight with your parents, all just to claim a bit of freedom.

you worked so hard to break free from their expectations, to stand on your own.

you even transferred universities just to escape the constant pressure back in your hometown. no matter what you did, it was never enough. every choice was somehow wrong, not ‘their way.’

you can’t go back now.

not until you’ve made it, not until you have something real to prove them wrong. you have to be successful, if only to show them that your way was the right way all along.

“hey, are you done thinking? never seen anyone contemplate cheerios this hard.”

min yoongi’s low voice pulls you out of your thoughts. you look up, finding him behind the cash register, his lips curving into a small smile.

“just wondering if i can actually trust your store’s products. what if you are some sort of cheerio secret agent and you're trying to poison me?” you joke, handing him the money.

“oh no, you figured it out. we’ve been poisoning the cheerios. now how am i gonna explain to my boss that our mission failed?” he dramatically placesb a hand on his forehead as if you revealed his deepest darkest secret. you can’t help but chuckle, the tension in your chest loosening just a bit.

“bad day?” he asks, his gaze softening a bit as he opens the cash register.

min yoongi; your friend.

well, he's more like your senior. he graduated last year and he is working parttime at this convenience store cuz he thinks in this way he could spend some time outside.

you didn't question him about it any further.

you don’t usually come here unless it’s an emergency, and breakfast for tomorrow qualifies as pretty urgent, or so you tell yourself.

“something like that,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

he nods slightly. “well,” he begins, “i’m sorry i can’t give you a discount,” he adds, trying to lighten the mood.

you chuckle, the corners of your mouth lifting. “aw, that’s too bad. i thought i might get these cheerios for free.”

he smiles softly, “maybe some other time,"

you smile back at yoongi and turn to leave. but then you almost bump your head against a man’s chest, stumbling back in surprise.

that was close.

you look up to apologize, but your words get caught in your throat as you take in his appearance.

he’s handsome.

no, that doesn’t even begin to cover it. his face is sculpted to perfection, with sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. his dark eyes seem to pierce right through you, and his long, dark hair falls effortlessly over his forehead.

but there’s something else,

he looks... mad?

you quickly gather yourself, your cheeks warming slightly. “sorry,” you blurt out, stepping aside to let him pass.

as you walk out of the store, you catch a snippet of conversation behind you.

“are you still upset about her, jungkook?” yoongi’s voice carries just enough for you to hear.

you try to shake it off, not wanting to dwell on whatever is unfolding behind you. it’s not your business, after all.

you step outside, the cool air hitting your face as you leave the store, and try to focus on the tasks ahead of you.

“it doesn’t make any sense, hyung,” jungkook scoffs, the frustration bubbling up inside him.

“when did she ever make sense?” yoongi replies dryly, not backing down as he meets jungkook’s glare. the tension in the air feels thick, but yoongi isn’t afraid to speak his mind.

“from my point of view, you’re now a free man. free from all the bullshit you’ve been through,” yoongi explains, hoping to lift jungkook’s spirits.

“what bullshit? i was happy. we were happy,” jungkook frowns, his confusion evident. he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, struggling to comprehend yoongi’s words.

“that’s what she wanted you to think,” yoongi replies, his tone serious. “and to be honest, that’s what you always did. you did whatever she wanted. you changed for her.”

“i loved her,” jungkook insists, his voice a bit softer but still filled with conviction, as if saying it out loud would make it true.

“did you? really?” yoongi presses, searching jungkook’s eyes for any hint of doubt. he knows this is a tough conversation, but it needs to be talked out.

jungkook looks away and mutters. “you don’t get it,”

yoongi’s expression softens. he presses his lips together as he looks at jungkook, feeling bad for him. “i’m sorry, jungkook. but you really have to let it go now. it’s been two weeks. it’s time to start moving on.”

jungkook stays silent.

instead of responding, he reaches for a lollipop displayed near the cash register, the bright colors contrasting sharply with his gloomy mood. he hands yoongi some money, more than what the lollipop costs, as if he’s paying for more than just candy.

“do you want the change, or can i keep it as a tip for my great service slash friendship?” yoongi tries to lighten the mood, hoping to bring a smile to jungkook’s face.

and it does.

jungkook’s lips curl into a faint smile, a small but genuine response. “keep it,” he says softly.

as jungkook turns to leave, yoongi watches him go, feeling sad for his friend.

“bad day indeed.”

you're sat on a bench in the park near the convenience store, lost in your own thoughts. the quiet sounds of the evening settle around you, the faint rustle of leaves, the distant hum of traffic, and your own sighs mingling with the cool air.

you’re not really thinking about anything in particular, just letting your mind wander in that aimless way it does when everything feels overwhelming.

then, a loud voice cuts through your thoughts.

“no, i know you're hiding something from me!” someone snaps, his voice taut with irritation. “fine! have it your way then.”

curious, you glance over and recognize him immediately; the same man from earlier at the store, the one you’d nearly bumped into.

he’s pacing as he talks on his phone, one hand running through his dark hair in exasperation. his jaw is clenched, his brows furrowed, and you can practically feel the tension radiating off him even from a distance.

after a moment, he ends the call with an aggravated sigh, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he makes his way into the park, still visibly upset. he barely notices his surroundings as he walks closer to where you’re sitting.

he sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, muttering something under his breath as if willing the frustration to melt away. you can’t help but stare a little, like an idiot.

then his eyes snap open and land directly on you.

“got a problem with me?” his voice is sharp, cutting through the silence between you.

you blink, startled, and stand up instinctively. “excuse me?”

he turns fully to face you, his eyes never leaving yours. “i asked, you got a problem with me?”

“no.” you shake your head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“good.”

wow. nice attitude.

just as you’re about to walk away, he calls out again.

“never seen you around here before.”

“pardon?” you turn back, surprised.

“you’re yoongi's friend, right?” he asks,

you cross your arms, giving him a wary look. “why do you care?”

he shrugs, almost nonchalant. “my bad, just curious. never seen yoongi smile at a normal customer before, so i assumed.”

“oh,” you reply, softening just a bit. “well, i guess you could say we're friends.”

he raises an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you guess?”

you offer a small shrug of your own. “he used to help me when i was still a freshman, and he still tries to whenever he can. i'd say he's like my teacher, in a way. it’s not like we hang out or anything, though.”

he tilts his head, considering your words. “well, consider yourselves friends. trust me, he doesn’t just help anyone.”

you narrow your eyes slightly, still wary. “and who are you, exactly?”

“jeon jungkook,” he says, extending a hand with a surprisingly polite nod. instinctively, you reach out and shake it, his grip firm. “since you're yoongi's friend, i think we go to the same university. though this is the first time i’m seeing you.”

“same, i am ___,” you pull your hand back.

“what are you doing here, in the middle of the night? didn’t your parents ever tell you not to go out alone?” he asks, the way he talks is somewhere between teasing and serious. you can't quiet get what it is but something about it grates on your nerves, like he's playing at being concerned but in a way that feels almost mocking.

“i could ask you the same thing,” you shoot back, meeting his gaze head on.

he doesn’t flinch, only tilts his head slightly. “i always come here,” he says, his voice calm, almost like a matterof fact.

“same,” you respond. “during the day.”

he quirks a brow, “so why are you in my night shift?”

you scoff, a laugh slipping out before you can stop it. “this isn’t your place or ‘shift,’ you know."

“well, you come here during the day; i come here at night. sounds like shifts to me,” he says with a shrug, and you catch the playfulness on his face.

“guess i’m overtiming, then,” you say, glancing away to hide your own smirk. “don’t mind me.”

he stays silent.

“you’ve got your own shit to deal with, huh?” he says, his voice breaking the quiet.

“why are you talking to me?” you blurt out, catching him a little off guard. “i mean, you don’t even know me.”

he raises an eyebrow, unphased. “i could ask you the same thing,” he replies, mimicking your answer from before.

you narrow your eyes, folding your arms. “i don’t think i want to talk about my problems with a random stranger.”

“problems…” he echoes, looking you up and down like he’s trying to figure you out. “let me guess. got into a fight with your boyfriend?”

“no,” you say quickly, rolling your eyes. “i don’t have one.” for a second, you think you catch a flicker of surprise on his face. “what about you? girlfriend mad at you?”

his face shifts, something almost vulnerable passing over his features before he looks away. “guess you could say that,” he mutters. “since she broke things off with me.”

a silence stretches between you two.

“i’m… sorry to hear that,” you finally say, feeling the awkwardness settle around you.

you didn't expect that.

honestly, the idea of someone like him getting dumped hadn’t even crossed your mind. a guy who looks like that—that intense aura—doesn’t exactly seem like the type to get left behind.

you assumed he’d be the one calling the shots, the one walking away. but here he is, single and clearly dealing with the aftermath of something that’s weighing on him. its surprising.

a thought crosses yourmind.

if someone could leave him, someone who had a place in his life and a claim to his heart, maybe he’s not as perfect as he seems on the outside. maybe there’s something beneath the surface, something that’s harder to deal with than his looks would suggest.

it’s like a puzzle you didn’t even mean to start solving, yet here you are, wondering if there’s more to him than just that handsome face.

but then you shake the thought away. he’s a stranger. a random guy you happened to bump into, quite literally, at a park in the middle of the night. it’s not like you’ll see him again after tonight. or, at least, that’s what you’re telling yourself.

because, really, why should you care?

whatever his story is, it’s none of your business.

“anyway, hope you figure your problems out.” he says, his gaze flickering away as if he’s eager to dodge any deeper conversation.

“likewise,” you reply.

without warning, he pulls a lollipop from his pocket, holding it out to you. “here,” he says, waiting for you to take it.

you reach out slowly, raising an eyebrow. “thanks?”

he smirks, “again, did your parents never tell you not to take candy from strangers?”

“maybe i like to be a little rebellious,” you say, smirking back at him and he shakes his head smiling.

“well, go ahead, eat it. i don’t want you tossing it away. i spent a lot on that sucker,” he says, a playful grin spreading across his face. despite the oddness of the moment, a corner of your mouth quirks up.

you unwrap the lollipop, examining it with a critical eye before giving him a look that says it all.

he catches it, tilting his head in curiosity. “what?”

“i don’t think i like raspberry flavor,” you admit, holding the lollipop up like a trophy of sorts.

he squints at you, “you’ve never tasted one before?”

you shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. “i don’t like raspberries, so i’m guessing this is more of the same.”

he shakes his head, lips twitching into a smirk. “that’s pretty bold, making assumptions without even trying it.”

“just give it a taste; maybe you'll like it,” he suggests, a teasing smile forming on his lips, clearly wanting you to try it. deep down, he doesn't even like raspberry flavor; he just picked it out randomly at the store.

“uh, no thanks. i don’t want that nasty taste on my tongue,” you reply, scrunching your nose a little . “but thanks, you could have—”

your words are abruptly cut off as he grabs your hand, the lollipop still held tightly between your fingers. in one swift motion, he leans in, wrapping his mouth around it. his tongue swirls around the candy, and then he pulls it out, his lips glistening with a reddish-pink hue that matches the flavor.

you're completely taken aback, eyes widening in shock.

oh what the fuck.

“yeah, you’re right. it does taste nasty,” he says, licking his lips as he releases your hand. “give it to me, i'll just throw it away or something”

suddenly, the lollipop feels trivial compared to what he just did. you stand there, completely speechless, your mind and heart racing as you try to process what jus happened.

“what?” he stares at you.

“you’re good with your tongue,” you say, the words slipping out before you can really think them through.

he pauses, his eyes widening for a second, and he chokes on nothing, almost like he’s been caught off guard mid-breath. “uh, what?” he finally manages, blinking rapidly.

realizing how that might’ve sounded, “i just meant... the lollipop. you seemed pretty skilled with it,” you clarify, though you’re aware it’s not really helping.

what are you even trying to say?

he looks at you, a smirk playing on his lips now. “uh-huh, sure,” he says, teasing you. “that’s what you meant.”

you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “don’t flatter yourself, i was just making an observation.”

but the way he’s looking at you now, dark eyes glittering with amusement and something else you can’t quite place, makes it hard to pretend that slip of the tongue didn’t mean more than you intended.

“so, do you want to suck on it?”

“huh?” you blink.

suck on what now?

“the lollipop” he clarifies, a small smile playing on his lips.

oh.

you clear your throat, fighting to keep a neutral expression. “no, definitely not, especially now that you had your tongue all over it.” you try to scrunch your nose, but any attempt at showing disgust falls flat with the heat rising in your cheeks.

“alright then, just asking if you changed your mind,” he shrugs, still holding your gaze.

“i still don’t want it,” you say quickly, trying to sound convincing.

“okay.” he blinks, unfazed.

“okay,” you repeat, awkwardly.

he gestures to the lollipop still in your hand. “uh, so… are you gonna keep holding it?”

you glance down, pulling your hand back. “i’m gonna throw it away,” you declare, though it feels a bit ridiculous now, given everything that just happened.

“i hope so,” he says, one side of his lips quirking up.

why do you kind of like his smile?

you try to shake your thought off, tossing the lollipop into a nearby trash can, trying to act as casual as possible.

“well, guess that's the end of that,” you say, hoping to sound nonchalant. he nods as he crosses his arms.

you raise an eyebrow, mimicking his stance. “do you usually hand out half-eaten lollipops to strangers?”

he laughs, low and soft, the sound surprisingly warm in the quiet night. “only when they look like they need a little distraction.”

you tilt your head. “oh? and what made you think i needed one?”

his eyes meet yours, his expression softening. “just a hunch,” he says, his voice dropping to a murmur. “we all got stuff we’d rather not think about, right?”

a pause.

there’s something unspoken between you two, a quiet understanding in the way you hold each other’s gaze.

he's right.

you are stressing about things you'd rather not think about, things that seem to cling to your mind no matter how hard you try to push them away.

and then there's him, a stranger but somehow not, going through his own mess. you can see it in his tired eyes, the way he keeps looking off into the distance as if trying to shake off whatever weight he's carrying.

you realize you don’t mind it; you don’t mind his company, or even the strange comfort of this shared silence.

both of you are here, each trying to forget whatever it is that’s eating at you. maybe that’s why this moment feels so easy.

”yeah,” you finally say, “guess we do.”

“i gotta go now,” you announce, hoping to put an end to whatever weird tension is building between the two of you.

he doesn't say anything. no goodbyes, no attempts to stop you. so you turn and start walking away, trying to shake off whatever just happened.

but before you can take more than a few steps, his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist. you stop, surprised, and turn back to face him. his grip isn’t tight, but it’s firm enough to make you pause.

you meet his gaze, and there's something in his eyes—something intense, something that makes your stomach flip.

“would you like a distraction?” he asks, voice low, almost like a whisper meant just for you.

you blink, not sure if you heard him right. “what?” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

instead of answering, he tugs you gently closer. your body stumbles forward, and your hands land on his chest to steady yourself. his heartbeat is strong under your palm, and suddenly, everything feels too close, too intense.

he looks down at you, his eyes flickering over your face like he’s searching for something. “i think i do,” he mutters. “don’t you?”

your mind is racing, trying to make sense of this.

is he asking what you think he’s asking?

he’s a stranger. someone you barely know beyond a couple of conversations and an awkward encounter in a convenience store.

yet there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, something that makes it hard to think straight.

“yes,” you hear yourself say before you can even process it.

his lips curve into a satisfied smile, and without another word, he leans in and kisses you.

the world seems to stop as his mouth meets yours. it’s not hesitant or soft; it’s urgent, as if he’s been wanting this for longer than the short time you’ve known him. his hands slide up to your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss.

your fingers clutch his shirt, feeling the heat of his body against yours. it’s messy and impulsive, and he doesn't even care that you’re both in the middle of a park, under the dim glow of the streetlights.

right now, all you can think about is him. the way he tastes, the way he kisses you desperately.

maybe you do need this distraction.

his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, letting the kiss deepen. his lips are soft, and you moan as if you're melting into the kiss. there's something about the way his mouth moves against yours; like he's been waiting to do this.

“wait—” you pant as pull back, your heart pounding against your ribs, trying to gather your thoughts. he looks into your eyes, his brows furrowing slightly as he asks in a low voice, “what happened?”

“we're... we're outside,” you point out, glancing around.

he tilts his head, his brows raising slightly as if that’s the least of his concerns. “so?” his voice is low and almost teasing, like he finds your hesitation cute.

you let out a scoffing laugh, “what do you mean so?wee’re literally in a children’s park.” you gesture to the swings and slides nearby, deserted at this hour but still... it’s a public space.

he pauses for a second, “my car’s parked just over there,” he nods towards a sleek vehicle at the edge of the park, his lips curling into a smile. “we could, uh... relocate or—”

before you can even process that, your curiosity gets the better of you. “wait— you have a car?” you cut in, a little surprised.

he chuckles. “yeah, and it’s a pretty one at that.” there’s a glint in his eyes that says he’s enjoying this back-and-forth with you, like it’s some sort of game.

you sigh, still trying to wrap your head around the craziness of this entire situation. “okay,” you murmur, almost to yourself, deciding to just go with it. what’s the worst that could happen?

he releases his grip on you, but only so he can grab your hand and guide you towards the car. the walk feels a little awkward now, a heavy tension hanging in the air. you're not sure what to say.

what’s the protocol for walking towards a car with a guy you’re about to hook up with?

as if sensing your nerves, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “come on, my car’s comfy. don’t worry,” he says with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. the way he’s holding your hand... it’s surprisingly tender, making it feel just a little less awkward.

when you reach the car, he opens the back seat door for you. you hesitate for a second, “you won’t, like, kidnap me or something, right?” you half-joke.

he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “for someone who’s so aware of the things you shouldn’t be doing, you sure do them anyway,” he teases. his words send a shiver down your spine, both a warning and an invitation.

but you ignore that nagging voice in the back of your mind. instead, you climb into the seat and he follows you right away.

“why are you—” your words are cut off as he crashes his lips against yours, the urgency in his kiss making you lose your breath. one of his hands grips your waist, pulling you against him, while the other tangles in your hair, tugging gently to tilt your head for better access.

the way his lips move against yours, hot and hungry, sends sparks shooting down your spine, and before you know it, you're moaning into his mouth, matching his intensity. your hands scramble to find something to hold onto, eventually locking behind his neck as if he's your lifeline.

“are we seriously gonna fuck in your car?” you gasp, your words shaky when he pulls away just enough to start trailing hot kisses down the side of your neck. your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, drawing him closer.

“no,” he breathes and sucks on a sensitive spot just beneath your ear, his teeth grazing the skin before he soothes it with a slow lick. “just couldn’t stop myself,” he admits, voice low and breathy, and then his mouth is back on yours, devouring you with a hunger that makes your head spin.

your hands move restlessly over his broad shoulders, wanting to feel more, wishing his clothes were gone so you could touch him everywhere.

his hands roam your body like he's memorizing it, fingers pressing into the curves of your waist, teasingly brushing against your chest. each touch has you arching into him, wishing he'd just tear your clothes apart already.

it's all too good.

too overwhelming, and before you know it, five minutes have passed with the two of you tangled in each other. when he finally pulls back, panting, his lips are swollen and glistening. your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to catch your breath, both of you staring at each other in the dim light of the car.

he’s leaning back slightly, his hard on pressing against your thigh. it’s impossible not to notice how turned on he is, and it only makes your own arousal spike.

you're so fucking wet right now.

you’re laid back on the seat, eyes locked on him, watching the way he runs a hand through his disheveled hair, pushing it back revealing his forehead.

“hotel? or my place?” he asks, trying to catch his breath “hotel’s just a minute away, but my place… well, it’s a bit further.”

you can practically see the options laid out in your mind like a checklist.

a) go to the hotel, have your fun, and slip away without looking back. no strings, no regrets. just a quick fuck and disappear like it never happened.

b) go to his place, let him fuck the shit out of you, see if he’s worth all this heat between your thighs. maybe wake up in his bed with his arms still wrapped around you... and if he's good enough, maybe get his number so it doesn’t have to be a one time thing.

you bite your lip, your decision already made before you even realize it.

“yours.”

the drive to his apartment is quick, the tension between you both barely held back. you're glad it’s late at night, because the two of you can’t seem to keep your hands off each other and you don't want anyone witnessing it.

the second you step into his apartment, the door slams shut behind you, and it's a scramble to rid each other of clothing. shirts are yanked off, belts undone, pants shoved down until you're both stumbling towards his bedroom in a mess of heated kisses and needy touches.

“o-oh fuck—yes baby, suck it just like that,” jungkook throws his head back, moaning, his breath ragged. he’s sprawled on the bed, legs spread wide, hands gripping the sheets. you're on your knees between his thighs, sucking him hard, your lips stretching around his thick length.

you glance up at him, eyes half lidded, watching the way his abs flex as he tries to keep himself steady. “shit... you look so fucking hot,” he rasps out, voice rough. his gaze darkens, and he pushes himself up, one hand threading through your hair.

“can you take it, baby?” he asks, his voice low, a hint of a challenge in his tone.

you know exactly what he’s asking. you nod, barely managing it with your mouth full, and he smiles, almost wickedly, his eyes gleaming.

“good,” he murmurs, his grip tightening just enough on your hair. “tap me if it’s too much.” and with that, he starts moving his hips, fucking into your mouth with slow, deep thrusts.

you gag slightly as he pushes deeper, but you relax your throat, trying to take him in. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of him moving in and out, his groans echoing off the walls.

“fuck—you’re taking me so well, baby,” he praises, his voice thick and raspy, sending a wave of heat straight to your core. each time his cock hits the back of your throat, it forces a choked gasp from him, his hands instinctively tightening in your hair.

your eyes water, tears pooling at your lashes, but you don’t stop, even as your throat aches. your nails dig into his firm thighs, using them for balance as he fucks your throat. you want to show him just how much you can handle.

“i’m gonna—” he grunts, voice rough and strained. a hot burst of his release fills your mouth, and you swallow it all, not breaking eye contact with him for a second. his chest heaves as he watches you, mesmerized, as your tongue slides slowly along his length, cleaning up every drop. his jaw clenches, the sight clearly driving him wild.

“get up,” he orders, voice still a little breathless, and you obey instantly, letting him pull you to your feet. “on the bed, all fours.”

you get onto the mattress, positioning yourself as he asked. there's a moment of stillness as you feel his gaze roam over your exposed body. your heart races, anticipation building as you wait for his next move.

“you’re dripping,” he murmurs, leaning in closer until his breath is hot against your soaked core. he licks a slow, deliberate stripe along your folds, and your eyes flutter shut, a soft, breathy moan escaping your lips. his mouth envelops your pussy, sucking and licking with an rhythm that makes your thighs tremble.

he pulls back just enough to catch his breath before moving up, positioning himself between your legs. his right hand trails upward, skimming over your skin until his fingers brush against your lips.

instinctively, you part them, taking his fingers into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around them. the low chuckle that escapes him tells you just how much he enjoys it.

“you like that, hm?” he asks. you moan softly around his fingers, your response muffled but desperate.

he withdraws his fingers, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk. leaning down, he wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly until your back is against his chest. you can feel his length pressing against your ass, you move your hips a little causing a little friction.

his hands slide over your breasts, kneading them with just enough pressure to send shivers down your spine.

you melt into his touch, your head lolling back against his shoulder as his fingers pinch and roll your hardened nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

“want me to fuck you, baby?” his voice is soft against your shoulder as he places feather light kisses along your skin. he nips gently, his hands never stopping their teasing, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes when his fingers pinch just a bit harder.

“y-yes,” you mewl, voice shaky with need, “fuck me, jungkook.”

he squeezes your breasts harder, a groan rumbling from his chest as he sinks his teeth lightly into the curve of your shoulder.

“yeah? can i fuck you raw?” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

“yes,” you gasp, your voice barely more than a whimper. “p-please.”

his grip on you loosens slightly, and he leans back to look at you, his eyes dark, like he's stopping himself. “you sure?” he asks, one last time, his tone gentle but urgent.

you nod quickly, breathless. “i’m on the pill,” you assure him, and the tension in his shoulders eases.

“fuck. okay, bend over.”

without hesitation, you resume your previous position, arching your back and presenting yourself to him. he groans softly at the sight, his hand sliding down to rub slow circles over your entrance.

he teases you, slipping a finger inside, making you moan softly as your walls flutter around him. he withdraws his finger, watching the way you clench around nothing, desperate for more.

grabbing his cock, he taps the swollen tip against your slick hole. you whine, impatience leaking into your voice, “just fuck me already.”

a smirk curves his lips, and without another word, he pushes into you.

you grip the sheets tightly as you take him in fully, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick length. a choked gasp escapes your lips, eyes squeezing shut at the delicious burn that quickly morphs into pleasure.

each inch fills you so completely, leaving you breathless, your body trembling at the feeling.

“fuck,” he groans behind you, his voice low and rough, a sound that makes your toes curl. “you’re so tight, baby... taking me so fucking good.” the words are almost a growl, filled with barely restrained control as he fights the urge to pound into you.

his hands move to your hips, gripping them hard enough to leave marks, steadying himself as he sinks even deeper.

your moans spill freely now, raw and needy, muffled slightly by the pillow you bury your face into. he starts to move, slowly at first, pulling out just enough before thrusting back in, his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside you.

the rhythm is torturously slow, each stroke making you whimper, your back arching even further in a silent plea for more.

“please... more,” you manage to gasp out, your voice shaky. “jungkook, i need it.. need you.”

“yeah?” he rasps, picking up the pace, thrusts becoming sharper, each one driving you into the mattress. “want it harder, baby? want me to ruin you?”

“yes.. yes mmph- more!” you cry, your voice breaking as he slams into you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. your nails claw at the sheets, the friction of his hips against your ass making stars dance behind your eyelids.

his fingers snake around to your front, finding your swollen clit, and he rubs it in tight, quick circles. your entire body jolts, your hips bucking back against him as you let out a loud, broken moan.

“oh, fuck, that’s it, that's a good fucking girl,” he hisses, feeling you clench around him, your walls fluttering as you near the edge.

“you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” he growls against your ear, bending over you now, his hot breath fanning against your neck. he bites down on your shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to drive you wild.

“you're gonna cum like the good girl you are?”

“yes n-ngh.. i’m close.. s-so close,” you whimper, your thighs trembling uncontrollably. his fingers press harder against your clit, his thrusts turning frantic.

“cum with me, baby” he demands, his voice thick and commanding. that’s all it takes. your body shatters. your vision going white as you scream his name. your walls squeeze him so tightly, milking his cock, and with a deep, guttural groan, he loses himself too, spilling inside you as his thrusts grow sloppy.

he stays buried inside you, his chest heaving against your back, both of you panting heavily. he leans down to press soft, lazy kisses along your shoulder.

after everything that just happened. you've made up your mind.

you're definitely going to ask for his number.

a/n: erm.. don't get into random strangers cars !! haha

[holybibly]

hiiii :> im new here. I’ve never sent anything like this, or anything at all honestly because I get really shy:( I love your writing hehehe it’s very 😳 im sorry to be upfront 😖 but could I request some yunho.. thoughts? AHHHHH im too shy to say it omg🥲🥲🥲 hishandsandhimjusthimbeingadomiwanthimtodestroymeomg. I read your unholy thought of the day for yunho on the fourth, and 😵‍💫😵‍💫 I can’t seem to get him out of my head. M SORRYYY i sound so needy it’s embarrassing.

Your wishes are my commands, my sweet bunnies. If you want more unholy thoughts with Yunho, here you go.

Unholy thoughts of the day, my bunnies: Sometimes Yunho just wants to be a good boy for you and let you use him like a toy. Or Yunho wants to return the favour and warm your pussy with his mouth while you're chatting carelessly on the phone.

You made yourself comfortable on the bed with your legs bent and spread wide apart as you continued to talk to your best friend on the phone, discussing your trip to Jeju together next month. Yunho was lying on his stomach between your legs, mooing softly and contentedly as he pressed his handsome face against your pussy. In this position, you could easily see his plump, bare buttocks peeking seductively out from under the edge of his oversized, homely t-shirt. 

As he began to wriggle slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, you could catch a glimpse of his thick, large cock with its swollen veins and black vibrating ring at the base. The swollen head was red and shiny from the copious amounts of pre-cum that had leaked out, and you unconsciously licked your lips, thinking how good it would taste when you finally took his cock in your mouth. It was strange, and you know many would consider you a pervert, but sometimes you just wanted to suck his cock and heavy testicles like a favourite pacifier, not for sexual pleasure but just for comfort. Just like Yunho liked to keep his fingers deep inside you, feeling your slippery, warm walls clinging greedily around them. You were a dirty couple; sue you for that.

He purrs softly, drawing your attention back to him, and you stroke his hair as that moist, soft mouth completely surrounds your tiny pussy, providing warmth, and you can feel the faintest hint of his tongue pressing against your tender folds and labia, but nothing more.  You've only recently started practicing pussywarming with him, and you have to say it's been an exciting experience. You loved warming Yunho's huge, delicious cock in your tight cunt, but your gorgeous boyfriend thought it only fair to return the favour and warm his sweet girl with his mouth while you went about your routine business. 

You weren't surprised at all by his desire, Yunho loved to eat pussy and he was amazing at it, you loved how messy and sloppy a eater he was, always greedy and slobbering licking your cunt and pulling as many orgasms out of you as he could before you begged him to stop, although even that wasn't much of a reason for him to stop swirling his tongue around your tiny hole. You also practiced 'free use' by refusing to wear any underwear at home and sometimes outside.

You were so excited to try something new and please your boyfriend, but damn if anyone told you it was going to be as easy as it seemed.

At first it was an unbearable pleasure, almost on the verge of pain, when Yunho had to restrain himself with all his might from licking you like crazy and sucking your cute clit into his insatiable mouth, wrapping his lips around it, and sipping it every now and then. But the more you did it, the easier it became, and now Yunho was warming your pussycat with his mouth like a champion. Spend hours between your legs while you were doing your usual things. You don't want your friend to hear your next words, so you put your phone away.

"You look so sweet, baby." You pull his hair harder, and he looks up at you with his huge eyes clouded with pleasure, carefully dipping the tip of his tongue into your slit. "You make me feel so good, Yuyu."

He lets out a low moan at your praise, bobbing his head up and down a little as if you were riding on his face to heighten pleasure, and your thighs tremble a little at the delicious stimulation. Yunho lifts his hips off the bed and slides his hand underneath to stroke his needy cock. The soft fabric of his shirt slides all the way down the curve of his ass and to his waist, exposing his buttocks, and you bite your bottom lip from the seductive sight.

This also serves as a signal for you to end the conversation quickly and let him fuck your pussy properly.

"Yuri, I'm sorry, but I have to go; Yunho and I have plans for tonight." You smile as you see Yunho's eyes darken and become heavy with sensual anticipation, and he no longer holds back, starting to tickle your clit quickly and jerkily with the tip of his tongue. You almost scream, ignoring your friend and hastily pressing the end call button. "Oh fuck, Yunho."

He finally releases your cunt from his mouth, only to spit into it and immediately smear his drool all over your folds with his tongue.

"Are you going to sit on my face or am I going to fold you in half, princess?" He purrs before wrapping his lips around your clit and tugging. You arch your hips and pull his hair roughly.

"How about 69, baby? I want to taste you too."

[hannieehaee]

I know your request are closed but I just wanna send this before I forget 😓 (sorry if you’re already being flooded with requests) but could you do Jun x actress!reader? Maybe a costars to lovers plot? They act in a romance drama and the on screen chemistry is perfect because they genuinely like each other in a romantic way.

THANK YOU SM I LOVE YOUR WORK!! ❤️

18+ / mdi

content: actor!jun, some small rivalry between jun and reader, smut, afab reader, semi-public sex, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1710

a/n: thank you so much!!! i hope you enjoy what i came up with<33

masterlist

"are you here to practice lines again?", you asked as you opened your dressing room door to welcome jun into your private area yet again.

he gave you sheepish smile as he walked in and took a seat on the couch the two of you would usually lounge on in between shoots, "already annoyed of me?", he asked as he settled in.

you followed him, taking a seat next to him as you handed him a drink, "just rethinking how good your acting skills could be if you need to go over the lines so often," you responded in jest.

"oh, is that how it is?", he gaped at you, giving you that big smile he always reserved for you.

it had only been a few months since you'd met jun. after being cast as the leading couple in a long-awaited chinese drama, you quickly became good friends. you were already well known for your good chemistry with one another, leading the drama to a renewal halfway through the first season.

being jun's costar was the easiest thing you'd ever done. he was an easygoing guy (easy on the eyes too), and just overall extremely likable. you didn't want to get your hopes up, but you liked to believe that he found you just as likable, considering how often he sought you out.

jun had grown a tendency of stopping by your dressing room every day after filming with the excuse of going over lines for the following day. this usually meant staying on set a little later than anyone else, but you enjoyed the company too much to ever even think of complaining. the overtime was completely worth it if it meant spending a little extra alone time with wen junhui.

there was a slight huge chance that the romance you'd been portraying on screen had begun making its way onto real life. you didnt want to get your hopes up, but if jun's flirtatious demeanor was anything to go by, you were pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

there was truly no need for jun to stop by and go over his lines with you outside of official rehearsal hours — especially considering that he had been acting since infancy. you liked to believe that he simply liked the alone time with you and wanted to keep you to himself for as long as he could. you only hoped he would eventually ask you out for real, or else you'd have to take matters into your own hands.

"show me your acting skills, then, wen," you challenged, gesturing at him to get closer to you on the couch.

with a smirk, he scoot over, taking hold of the stacked up pile of papers on the coffee table in front of you which contained the script.

"what do you want to start with?," he asked, "the confession scene from the twelfth episode?", he began listing off scenes, "the big conflict on episode ten?", then his grin grew bigger, "or the sex scene for the season finale?"

"please," you scoffed, "no way you can start with the sex scene. you've never done any sex scenes before, wen. i have," you challenged.

it was true. despite his history as an actor, he had never engaged in any explicit roles before. this did not diminish him as an actor, nor did you actually believe he'd have any trouble getting the mood right for the scene, but riling him up was just far too enticing. it was also one of the only areas where you had more experience than him, having done roles that involved such scenes a few times already.

"what, you think i can't make a convincing sex scene?", he fake gasped, "people always say our chemistry's unmatched, and we both know why," he smirked by the end of his statement, chuckling at your scowl.

"oh? why's that?", you challenged him.

"i exude sex appeal," he claimed, "i'd be the best sex scene you'd ever shot," he leaned towards you with a challenging look in his eyes.

"show me," you dared him, "if you're that good, show me. no script."

he swallowed a scoff, both shocked at at the defiant look in your eyes and the very sudden change of atmosphere in the room.

"you're serious?" he almost gulped at the way you reclined against the couch, allowing the angle to show him the heavy breathing that had your chest going up and down, "you want me to-"

"i wanna see if you're all talk. we haven't had any steamy kiss scenes yet, so show me. give me a preview of the season finale."

those were the last words you needed to say before he began invading your space, pushing you slowly until you were laying on the couch while he hovered over you. he was slow yet intentional in his moves, wordless as he adjusted himself on top of you.

he was slow as he lowered his lips onto yours, eyeing them heavily before closing in on you. contrary to what you'd believed, he started at full force, not bothering to build up the kiss and instead giving you all of him immediately.

the original scene involved a very slow build up with a steamy finish, so you knew within seconds that jun had thrown away any intention to actually rehearse the scene but rather prove you wrong about your assertion about his lack of expertise in the area. however, you knew that it was far more than that. the kiss felt like more than just arguing against your assessment.

you mewled into his lips when his hands went to touch you, gripping onto your waist to pull you closer and adjusting himself so he could grind his hips into your own.

"i thought i couldn't do a sex scene? whats with all those noises? i've barely touched you," his breath was warm as he chuckled against you, moving onto your neck to lay kisses there.

"shut up. this is nothing. i could do this in my sleep," you challenged.

it didn't take long for him to begin undressing you, frustrated huffs accompanying his every move. you ended up in mere panties and a bra while he remained in his boxers. far too many illicit touches and kisses were shared in between to count.

"why am i naked, wen? i thought we were just rehearsing."

"im just making sure i get my point across," he lied through his teeth, hovering over you once more in order to get the upper hand again.

"god, you're so pretty. no wonder everyone wants you in their shows," he awe'd at you as he took off your bra, hands softly touching at the uncovered skin.

"or maybe because i'm a great actress."

"yeah, but you already know that," he smiled.

"i already know that," you affirmed with a similar smile before connecting your lips again.

any pretense for rehearsing left you after that point. both your hands itched to get the other closer, finally ending up with him lined up to your cunt and with your hands pulling at his boxers, lowering them just enough to pump at his hardness.

"baby ..."

"thought you were good at this, wen. thought you were gonna show me your skills," you teased.

"shut up. i'll, fuck, i'll show you."

his hands copied your movements, sneaking beneath your panties to tease at your arousal with his fingers. his actions elicited a similar reaction from you, moaning into his mouth as you both played with each other, so close to finally connecting in that carnal way you'd been aching but not close enough.

you worked him with your hand as he did the same to you, only stopping when he huffed what sounded like a painful breath and pleaded at you to stop. you were going to laugh at him once more, tease him for his weakness at your touch, but you needed to feel him now and decided to let it go.

grabbing onto his own cock, he began running up through your swollen lips, further lubricating them with his precum and groaning at the pulse he felt under his touch.

"hmph, f-fuck," he cried into your lips upon beginning to enter you, seeking silent permission to move.

a nod from you and he began pumping into you, groaning at every single move. the stretch made your eyes roll back, making you lose your mind little by little at every thrust.

"you're tighter than i imagined, shit," he groaned.

"o-oh? you imagined this?", you couldn't help stammering when he hammered into you as he did.

"shut up," was all he said before burying his face in the crook of your neck, nose breathing you in and lips pressing onto the skin.

your nails dragged down his back, careless despite knowing you'd both get scolded by your stylists for adding to their workload. it was fine, though, you thought. this was all in the name of working on your on-screen chemistry after all, right?

but it felt like way more. jun may have fucked into you with conviction, but the words of affection murmured into your skin gave a different story.

"beautiful, fuck."

"feel like a fucking dream ..."

"prettiest, tightest cunt ive ever had."

those were some of the many words kissed and bitten against your skin. it made you so dizzy you didn't even register when your orgasm began to approach.

his hand had at some point snuck between you, toying at your swollen clit as his thrusts became erratic. the end was near and he wanted to take you down with him.

"with me? cum with me, baby," he practically pleaded as his lips found yours again.

it was like this that you swallowed each other's moans, keeping your pleasure as a secret between the two of you.

even as he filled you up, he remained inside you. he managed to sit you up, allowing for the two of you to cuddle on the uncomfortably small couch in which he'd just defiled you.

"so, no sex-appeal, huh?"

"shut up, wen. i'd run laps with you on set."

"wanna bet?", his hands began feeling up at your body with a challenging glint in his eye.

and yes. yes, you did.

[evilfrogcereal29]

Pizza guy!Nikto - Chapter 1

(ok... This is going to be like, maybe one of the most weirdly specific fanfics you've ever read. For context: I work at a pizza place IRL. Thats it. Thats the only context. I was at work and. Thought about Nikto working there too. That's all you need to know. Enjoy :]!!!

This is going to be a Nikto x GN!customer!reader, but reader is NOT introduced in this chapter.

Cw/tws: mentions of violence- including towards an animal! I think thats all? Enjoy :)!!

NOTE: all text in red & italics are Nikto's voices

Nikto was bored.

Retirement was miserable, and Nikto found himself restless day in, and day out. Unable to find peace while wasting away at home. Sure, he had lot's of retirement money, but he had this urge to work, to kill. He would give anything to be on a plane to another mission right about now, but he was too 'broken'. That's what they basically told him. Too mentally unwell to keep working. A hazard to his own team.

Heh.

What the fuck do they know? They don't know what goes on in his head. So what he broke that recruit's arm? They touched him when he warned them of the consequences. Or who cares that he hit one of his higher-up's service dogs with the buggy? It should've been servicing it's owner, not under the damn vehicle! He's not a danger, the other voices are!

Speaking of voices, they aren't reacting well either, metaphorically biting away at Nikto's psyche each day he did fucking nothing. He felt useless, and they reminded him of that. You idiot, you deserve your suffering for being the way you are. Broken. Broken little solider.

He still gets calls from his mates in the service, especially Krueger, who always makes sure to call as often as possible to keep the man updated on missions, even if they didn't concern him anymore. He suggested that Nikto pick up a part-time job, not for the money, but the work. God (and Krueger) only knows what Nikto's mind gets upto when left to its own devices.

Nikto scoffed at first, he didn't like the idea of working at some measley fast food job, he was above that. He crawled through the fucking trenches and ripped out the throats of women and men, and would be reduced to... What? Cleaning a fucking stove? Heating up processed foods for weak civilians? No. He wouldn't. The voices mocked him, this is what we've been reduced to? Patheic.

And then the rot set in.

Krueger had been very insistant on a visit the second he had time away from work, flying out to see Nikto even as the man ignored his texts and calls. He wasn't dead, Krueger knew that, but he also wasn't in a good place. He couldn't let his companion live like this pathetic slob. Cause that's exactly what he was becoming.

Water and alcohol bottles littered the floor, stacks on stacks of old, half eaten take-out. Junk that should’ve been tossed long ago created walled barriers throughout the house. It was a scene out of horders, and the smell was awful. Christ. Krueger was no clean freak, but this? He'd rather sleep next to corpses than this cesspool of rotting filfth, and in the middle of it all, sat his balaclava-ed, smelly friend on the sofa. Krueger grimmaced, taking careful steps. He nearly stepped on poor Sputnik, who had become content with spending her days lazying about, peeing in places without Nikto's knowledge, and eating off his leftover scraps of food, growing just as lethargic as her owner.

"Nikto... Scheiße..” he would almost be outraged at the man’s carelessness if he didn’t understand how the other functioned, without a job, without a purpose, Nikto was truly a nobody. He lifted the man’s head with a gentleness, an action only someone like Krueger could get away with, looking into those glazed-over icy blues.

“This is… this is bad Nikto..” he mutters, eyes filled with..love? Concern? Something Nikto wasn’t used to often. Nikto finally shows evidence of life as his eyes flicker up in wordless understanding. Krueger continues,

"I can't stand to see you like this. You can't stand being like this. I'm going to help you."

Krueger lifts his friend up, albiet with mild arguing and growling from the disguntled bear of a man that Nikto is. He sets Nikto's cheap laptop on his lap and types in job sites, which already has Nikto tense.

"Krueger- чёрт побери! you're acting like my fucking mother-"

"good, about time someone comes in and wipes your ass, if not yourself." Krueger grumbles, scrolling through the job offers, "what's your SNILS...?"

After a painstaking back and forth, and Krueger prying for all of Nikto's personal info, he sent in a few applications on his friend's behalf. Patting the other on the back as Nikto's thumbs rubbed at his temples, fighting back the urge to pulverize his only real friend. You really should, he's a nuisance...

"this is... Not ideal.." Nikto finally grumbles, finishing the last of some lukewarm whisky from the bottle.

"none of this is, meine freund, but this...Is worse." Noone has ever seen them like this, so...domestic. In reality, this was as hard for Krueger as it was for Nikto, The Alligence wasn't the same without the Russian, fighting wasn't the same. Krueger rested a hand on his shoulder.

"everything is going to change, can you try to change a little with it?"

Change? Krueger wanted him to change? Was that even possible? He'd been so set in his ways ever since the incident. But the look in Krueger eyes let Nikto know that there wasn't really a choice.

What are you kidding? You could change as far as you could throw a boulder! Never!

He sighed, deeply. His shoulders slumping miserably as he exhaled.

"fine. But If we don't like the job-"

"ja, ja, you don't have to stay. I get it. I can't make you." He interupted, waving his hand dismissively, "but don't just give up right away. Can you promise me that?"

Nikto hated making promises, he hated feeling like he owed anyone anything, he didn't take on debts or deals. Go ahead, make more promises you can't keep. We know the truth.

Yet here he was, being interviewed by an elderly couple, who pitied him for his past as a solider.

"me and Martha are going to see how you fair in the kitchen, and if that's turns out to be too overwhelming we can move you to a more simple job like delivery. Just bring the customers their pizzas." The eldery man said with an acknowledging smile.

He nodded to the man, Michael, reaching across the table to shake his hand, thanking him begrudgingly for this... 'Opportunity'. Thats damn well what it was, but Nikto didn't quite see it that way yet. As he left with a work shirt displaying the place's name and logo, he felt his heart drop. And a shrill, annoying voice invading his mind.

You are truely a fucking Развалюха. Good luck ever trying to live a normal life!

And now Nikto was worried.

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

Hai :3 I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, I wanted to introduce reader in this first part but it was getting long and I also just wanted to get something out. There will be more chapters for this, but they might be kind of slow to come out😭 work takes up a LOT of my time tbh, but also working inspires me cause...yk pizza place setting so- its a double edged sword. But if you enjoyed pls like and reblog it means sm♥️♥️ ty for reading!!

And to the person who sent me an ask in my inbox about the relationship dynamics between NiktoKrueger + criminal!reader, I see u and ur creative vision, I started writing something today in response ;) just gimme some time!!!

Also an @ list for some mooties who I think would like to see this :3

@simp4konig @lizzy019 @fishsinsareacknowledged @zoloftwithdrawalnausea sorry If I missed anyone, lmk if you'd like to be tagged (or not tagged) in future chapters!!

[chrrychills]

i love your writing its so yummy i was wondering if you could maybe wirte school bus graveyard main cast with a reader who forgets to eat and spends alot of time sleeping

have a good day/night

in my head i do everything right .

main six « forgetful, sleepy so!

ashlyn banner:

•she's not amused. at all. at first, it starts off as annoyance because she thinks you're lazy/ don't take care of yourself. once you explain that you can't help how tired you are, she eases up.

•she'll 100% scold you every time you tell her you forgot to eat. without fail. it's out of love, though.

•ashlyn doesn't have a huge appetite, but she'll keep snacks like granola/ protein bars in her locker in case you need them during the school day.

•she can't cook at all, but she'll invite you over for dinner with her parents. they love having you over and will make your favorite food every time you wind up at their house, wether it's for dinner or to spend the night.

•since she's not a fan on pda, she probably won't let you sleep on her shoulder or anything like that in public, but it's fine in private.

•she'll also let you fall asleep in class and make sure the teacher doesn't catch you.

•will never understand how you're always so tired, because she's witnessed you sleep for a good 10 hours.

aiden clark:

•in contrast to ashlyn, he is highly amused whenever you fall asleep near him and uses the opportunity to mess with you.

•he's (horribly) braiding your hair, drawing on your arms, the whole nine yards. the only reason he's not drawing on your face is because he knows you'd get mad when you woke up.

•certified big back. he 100% has snacks on him at all times and won't hesitate to share when you tell him you're hungry/ you forgot to eat.

•his pantry is stacked with snacks, so best believe he's dragging you off the bus with him almost everyday to hang out/ raid his pantry. his parents are so tired of having to restock it. save them.

•he knocks out when he gets sleepy, so if y'all are having a sleepover it's the best sleep of your life. you two have slept through the day on multiple occasions.

•will let you sleep on him anytime, anywhere. he'll mess with you, but he'll still offer a shoulder if you're tired.

•menace. if you fall asleep in class/ are eating in class, he keeps threatening to snitch and get you in trouble. he never does, though.

ben clark:

•another snack carrier, but he has all of your favorites and probably keeps one or two drinks in his locker.

•we've established that ben's a giant teddy bear, and you 100% use that to your advantage. whenever you're tired, you can tuck yourself against his shoulder and conk out. he never minds.

•huge worrier, especially when you first started dating. he still does worry when you don't eat for hours on end/ sleep for an entire 12 hours, but he's gotten better at managing it.

•loves naps. it's routine for you two to end up at his house and nap until dinner time. aiden's tried to wake you guys up multiple times but it never works, so he doesn't do it anymore.

•he loves to bake, so it's not uncommon for him to send you home with something sweet to snack on whenever you feel like it. he loves having you cling to him and gush about how good the food was, so he keeps doing it. plus, it keeps you fed.

•tries his hardest to help fix your sleep schedule, but it never works. you either fall asleep at 4 pm or 4 am and he has no idea why.

tyler hernandez:

•tyler's big on taking care of people he loves, you know that. so it's no surprise when he's scolding you for forgetting to eat but pulling your favorite snack out of his bag, or forcing your head on his shoulder and telling you to sleep because you keep yawning.

•another big napper. when he doesn't have practice– and even when he does, he'll somehow end up in your bed, cuddled up next to you and fast asleep.

•he can COOK. tyler is master chef. whatever you want, he can most likely make. and if he can't, he'll look it up online and it always turns out amazing.

•you honestly get a lot better with remembering to eat after being with him for a while because he's always on your ass about it. you can't even be mad because you know he does it out of love.

•he'll keep food with him in case you need it, but he'll steal bites of it while you're trying to eat. he's so amused and finds himself hilarious. you don't agree.

•he's either scolding you for not eating, not sleeping, or sleeping too much. you can't win.

taylor hernandez:

•she's a sweetheart, so not only will she have your favorite food at all times, but she'll recruit (force) tyler to make/buy it whenever she's running low.

•she's more concerned than anything. first of all, how do you sleep so much and still manage to be tired? second, do you just not have an appetite? she doesn't understand.

•taylor invites you over for dinner at least five nights a week and tyler does not appreciate it, because that means he has to make more food.

•she'll let you fall asleep on her in public, private, wherever. she doesn't care as long as you're getting the rest you need.

•biggest cuddle bug ever. as soon as you tell her you're tired, she's dragging you to bed to cuddle.

•if she misses you, she's not above coming over uninvited and waking you up from a nap so you guys can hang out. she'll deal with the half asleep grumbling if it means she can see you.

•taylor banned you from her bed because it's so soft and comfortable that you literally fall asleep immediately.

lacey's notes:

honey im home.

send requests or just talk to me i missed my bestest friends

title:

[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. ×

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Its me!...part 2 of the Sunstreaker fic?

I think your works are great 2!

Have a great day/night and dont overwork yourself!

"I must say! I'm quite happy to know that you decided to follow us! I never believed that you were the kind of mech that enjoys a good day in the sun; he'll, I never believed that you even like the sun. Which is absurd is in your name, right?! In any case, we've never had such a solo time like this, right? I would love to show you my favorite places, like "

"Blue?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

And so the young Datsun fell into an awkward silence.

How much he hated this situation, and it was just your own fault! 

Why didbyou had to mention that blabbering idiot, especially since you were so eager to get a ride with him!

Well, technically, you asked Sunstreaker first, and he responded that he had no intention to get his interior ruined by any of your fleshy substances. You just shrugged off and went inside Bluestreak. Was he just so easy to leave like that?! Or you just were too patient with him and accepted his request...

Whatever was the main reason, the only thing Sunstreaker was sure was that that day was just wasted, with you two dorks attending to...what was that again?

The small white tents were easily spotted in the green of the park that you were approaching. Smell of candies and fries, laughter, and the eating of some old music from grammophones around...

A second-hand market...great.

"Hey, y/n, "he didn't even try to hide how bored he was." "Explai to me how can you find this stuff interesting."

"Well," you started, "it's just...neat, i guess?" I like old and vintage staff; they have some kind of charm on them."

"Like Ratchet!" You laugh at the Datsun naive comparison of the Medic with some old radios.

Sun streaker observed with a side eye the two of you. Beside how stupid and boring the jokes between you two were, he didn't understand the small bond you shared with his comrade.

He couldn't understand how you did it; keep it up with all of his talking! Not only that, you were kind enough to remind him of the main subject and get him back on track. Your compassion over that bot was commendable, yes, but of everybody, why him?!

He really wanted to accept Hound even with all that earthy loving staff, but that almost like Prowl copy wlaking around was a mystery to him!

" Sun! Are you coming or what?"

And while he was regretting every aspect of this day, he heard your voice calling his half-said name while you and that other idiot were reaching the market.

"It's Sunstreaker! Not sun!" He screamed while reaching both of you!

"It's your name!" Laughed Bluestreak.

"Yeah, I want it all in one phrase."

"Ok, ok, as you wish!"

The place was quite big, and, by the looks on the faces of people, unfatered by Bluestreak turning into a giant robot, it seemed that you two had been usual customers around. A few sellers even greeted him, showing him a few of their newly found vintage products, and he even remembered a few of their names.

Now, that's explained the pile of junk that he had started to pile up in his quarter.

Sunstreaker, on the other hand, felt uneasy around all of these humans. He always claimed to be fleshy-tolerant; he knew that, despite their so many flaws, they could make a few good staffers and there, yet what he felt was different. He felt... out of place. And not only about the market; it was what was between you and Bluestreak. 

He knew that you and the machine were closed; you loved to spend time with the young one, acting more like an older sibling to him, and Sunstreaker Just couldn't grasp half of what you both shared. 

Not like that wasn't his fault somehow...

You did give him so many chances to get closer, and he just dumped them all down without thinking twice, yet you were still friendly and nice to him. He didn't know if you were just stupid or too nice for your own good. 

"Hey Sunstreaker!" Your voice took him back to the real world. "We can go to the arts area if you like! It's not far; I bet you can find something that you like!"

"You don't have to do that if you don't want that."

"Nonsense!" you laughed it off. "We're here together, right? It's a chance to explore that area too!"

"Like in the videogames!"

"YEAH!"

He snickered but tried to hide it immediately. That was a joke that he could understand.

///

He needed to admit it; the area was packed with interesting works and hidden gems. Many of the ones that were working there were artists themselves or re-sellers that somehow ended up there for one motif or another. In many cases, they were artists that no one ever gave them a chance, idiots that could not recognize talent even if smacked with it, or ones that did in fact find some good species and decide to put themselves in the market, less full of pompous conosseures.

He had found himself a few times stopping by, admiring a few of the paintings in some of the small stands, many of them watched by some elderly people that arrowed their eyes once he approached them. Unlike the other vendors, they weren't that used to seeing a giant robot roaming around.

"Find anything of your liking?"

You approached him, watching the same portrait of some geometric forms made with different colors on a black-pitch canvas.

"...I guess..."

"We can ask the price if you want!"

"You couldn't accept it anyway..."

"It can be a future present; who knows!"

He looked at you again, feeling that strange grasp on his spark like the previous day. He tried again to draw you away from him, and you were still there. He cleared his throat, like if there was anything to clear, keep on watching the paintings...even if now it was more like a distraction from his thoughts than something else.

No one was ever able to get him, only his brother. Sideswipe, his Spark Brother, the One with whom he shared not only a life but his Spark itself, was the only mech that he genuinely appreciated. He knew how to get him; he knew that he could speak to him; if no one could, he was the only one.

And then you came in the picture. Sideswipe was good with you, but he was good with everyone. To let him get along with you was natural, and, since his nature, Sideswipe was the main reason why at the beginning you were able to have some time with Sunstreaker, despite his unsoffarable nature.

But then you started to be nice to him, even on your own. You weren't like his brother; you were...softer, brighter.

You were the second person in the universe that didn't turn away even after he treated you poorly.

"You've been awfully quiet," you spoke, checking a small canvas with a few flowers in it. "Something in your mind?"

You were in his mind.

"...nothing serious..."

"...You sure?" You raised your eyebrow, noticing that he had been checking the same paintings for minutes now.

"...well-"

"Y/N! Come here quick!!!"

Bluestreak called back to you, pointing something in the next stand. You suddenly left the canvas, running towards your friends.

Sunstreaker felt...irritated. 

Bluestreak could have every day with them...

Right?

///

You checked the clock again, then started to look around. How hard is it to lose two big chucky robots around?! Well, easily you guessed, since both of them were gone almost an hour ago, but it seemed a little urgent. You didn't actually catch what was happening at the moment; what you knew was that, at some point, you noticed Sunstreaker getting closer to Bluestreak, told him something, and then they both started to walk away. You noticed Bluestreaker making a few gestures to you, like telling you that he was coming back, but that was all.

Now you were there, waiting, hoping that they didn't dump you there.

You started to consider taking the bus to get back home when you noticed certain yellow cars coming closer. Despite noticing that one of the two was back, it seemed strange nonetheless since Blue was the one missing now.

"Hey, it's all okay? You disappeared all of a sudden!"

"Yeah," he said, in a strangely calm and relaxed tone. "There was an issue at the base; they needed him like...pronto."

"Oh gosh! I shouldn't have asked him to accompany if he was that busy today."

"No, no, it was a sudden thing; he said he's sorry that he had to leave like this."

Well, it seemed legit—even if it was quite odd from Blue to just leave you there without a proper farewell to the next days. And, with all the respect of the bot, it was strange that Sunstreaker didn't get the chance to run away from you both, even if it meant more work for him... But, besides the oddity, there was literally no explanation for why Sun should have lied to you. For what purpose then?

You learned that Sun was someone quite difficult to read, even for you, but if he decided to stay, then why question him? 

"Allright, shall we go?"

"Uh?" You looked at him a little buzzed, while he was already pointing to some more stands, specifically one that sold some statues.

"You wanted to see this market; if I leave you alone, I won't hear the end from Bluestreak."

That was...surprising. He, the One that had never accepted one of your invitations, never had hanged around with you or the other, and never partecipated in any of the earthly activities together, had just agreed to stay longer there.

"You know that you don't have tò, right?"

"Yes, you're right."

And with that, he kept on going, while you started to follow him.

///

It was...a nice day! It surprised you..and himself. 

You had a few minutes of embarrassing silence, awkward moments of not taking jokes, and some more miscommunication, but something came out of it.

He finally started to get out of his shell, making some jokes that were both yours, and you learned some more things about him—as him of you.

He seemed more relaxed than ever, satisfied for something even—maybe for the objects that he was able to get that day—that were quite a few, where he even had found the money you'll never know.

You never noticed, maybe because he had done it on such rare occasions, but his laugh was completely opposite from the one that Sideswipe tended to do. While Sideswipe laughed like a thunder, it was strong, warm, and contagious in some sense. Sunstreaker laugh instead was like made of crystals, soft as a whisper and low as a baritone. Sometimes it was hard to perceive it, but it became clear when you managed to notice the small grin on his face when he had just stopped laughing or thinking about something hilarious.

"You need to tell me how you convinced them to take everything at my place!" You exclaimed, sitting while he was riding you back home, some small smooth jazz on his radio.

"I'm persuasive; what can I say?"

You hummed a little, still checking the list that showed how much you, especially him, had bought, while you held your smaller purses in your backpack.

"You know," you broke the silence. "I was that sure that, after Blue had to leave, you would have left me there on my own... I'm happy that you didn't!"

"Oh?" He had an interest in his voice, like waiting for a result. "Why is that?"

"Because you opened up a little with me! I love it—this day, I mean, a lot! We should do it again!"

"Well... technically Ratchet told you to help me to bond... so I guess it's not such a bad idea..I have a few places that I would love to visit."

You accepted the offer right away; almost all of them were art-related, but they seemed reachable even for you. He had explained that, since you really had some sort of kick for art, to help you grow your expertise. It seemed like a genuine motive, so in the end accepting was an immediate reaction.

He dropped you home, not after having a long talk for a few minutes near the sidewalk, just chatting about what you needed to do in the next few days, your future visits, some programs made with other bots, and some usual stuff.

He left only after you had entered your house, showing a gentle side that it was quite unexpected by him.

During the ride back at the base, SunStreaker wasn't nervous about what was going to happen; he was just bothered because the worst-case scenario was a long talk with Prime about his behavior...And maybe a silent treatment from Bluestreak that sounded far too good for his own likely. No, the worst thing in his head wasn't some kind of punishment; it was that the first voice he had heard after turning on his radio was the snickering voice of his twin.

"How did your date go, Sunny?"

"No comments...and it wasn't a date!"

"Ah! And why did you make up an emergency call for Blue then?!"

"He bothered me."

"Ummm, my guesses are that you wanted to stay alone with a certain human, imma, right?"

The long silence, followed by a burst of laughter, was an enough answer.

@prowler-prowlz

[icewindandboringhorror]

Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~

(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)

[todayisafridaynight]

This might not be anything, but while writing about your fics, the way you have the characters' mannerisms down PERFECTLY got me thinking about mirroring...

There's a lot of it in 7 (Horii is a directorial genius etc etc), most of it more intentional than these probably are, but there's something so interesting about mirroring that takes the tone of a (relatively) fond memory, a familiar gesture, and inverts it in the way shown here.

OH I'M GLAD YOU'VE NOTICED THESE TOO I think I mentioned it months back (or I drafted a post 'bout it but didn't think it was anything noteworthy) but I always really did like how the Arakawa Family mimicked each other's mannerisms (also circling back to how Jo and Masato calling Ichiban 'Ichi' presumably after picking it up from Arakawa)!

Aoki actually does the same sitting gesture too! I went back to double check and skim through the rest of the game's cutscenes, and as far as I could tell unless I skipped a scene, it really is only these three that do this specific pose:

It's such a small detail but I love it immensely and it really does highlight their connections with each other and it drives me insane

[motherforthefamicom]

every once in a while i get reminded of yttd existing and its just like. damn i know that game.

[seafoam-taide]

You know I thought for awhile that I was just a rare type of person who sure, liked people well enough but was okay being alone didn't necessarily need anyone and NO. NO. NO. OH MY GOD . YOU GIANT DUMBASS. NO HAHAHA NOOO NOPE

[killjoy-prince]

Ray's After Ending is so funny because for a good chunk of it, most of the RFA members are knocked out by V's sleeping gas (Saeran is immune, Saeyoung isn't present bc he was kidnapped by his agency under his father's orders and MC wakes up in like an hour) but the game has a call feature where you can call the characters and it would be a waste if you couldn't use it bc the characters were unavailable so instead they have other people pick up the call (Jumin's driver picks up Jumin's phone, Jumin's father picks up Zen's phone, Yoosung's friends and mom pick up Yoosung's phone and Jaehee's coworkers pick up Jaehee's phone) and we do get to learn about the characters from outsider's point of view but it's so funny to me that these people are visiting their loved ones and suddenly the phone rings and they decide to just. answer it. and start talking to this stranger they've never met

[netaro--yowa]

YAYYY MISHA THEME!!!

MISHA 💖💓🩷❤️💕💖💓🩷💖❤️💖💓💓💖🩷💓

[dq1]

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