#he’s so oblivious that it hasn’t been a problem so far

[soars22]

My headcanon is that Nacho wears that Cucurucho mask because Cucurucho doesn’t want anyone else to know how much his kid looks like Bad. It wouldn’t do to show the other islanders how attached he is to the demon.

(They know. They all know. They keep quiet anyway. It’s Quesadilla Island; everyone has their secrets. Even if this one is more… questionable than most.)

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 9, Unselfish - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Jade Carthage (now officially a warning!), petty behavior on both sides, oblivious!Bucky, jealousy, insecurity.

Word Count: 2.1k

Previously On...: While on a cute little coffee date, you gave Bucky your seal of approval to start training Jade. You trust him and his love for you. This is definitely not the worst decision you've ever made in your entire life that will probably end up haunting your nightmares. Nope, not at all.

A/N: If I was Pocket, and this was real life (ah, if only!), I don't think I would have made it this far with Bucky (let's be real, though, no one in my real life is that good looking, or that seductively tragic). I would have washed my hands of him all the way back in Chapter Six, but! this is fiction, and fiction needs drama. Welcome to The Drama. We're glad to have you here. Mainly so that we don't have to suffer alone. All that to say, I definitely don't advocate for putting up with the kind of behavior Bucky will be displaying from this point forward. Toxic behavior is acceptable only in fiction, and only when we can recognize that it's toxic, and not something to emulate in real life.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready

You weren’t going to admit it, but you regretted giving your okay to Bucky training Jade almost immediately. If she wasn’t asking him for extra training sessions, she was calling him with some stupid request or another.

First, it was that the lights in her room weren’t working:

“It was weird,” said Bucky when he’d come back from looking at them. “All the bulbs in her room were loose. Only thing I needed to do was tighten them.”

You kept your mouth shut, simply arching an eyebrow at him and hoping he genuinely believed that.

Next, she was constantly wanting to eat with him. “She’s lonely,” Bucky had told you when he’d left to have breakfast with her for the fourth morning in a row. “She hasn’t made many friends here yet. I’m just keeping her company.”

You let it slide; it was just breakfast following training, after all, and you were usually already at work by then. You still had lunch and dinner with him everyday.

Until she started sitting next to him at dinner, as well. At first, it wasn’t that big of deal; she was just a body at the table, and you could ignore her with no problems. But she slowly began monopolizing Bucky’s attention throughout the meals, asking him questions about combat training, protocols, any and everything innocuous and Avengers-related that made you feel like you couldn’t speak up against it without coming off as irrationally jealous.

After three evenings of being completely iced out of their conversation, you started engaging solely with Steve. It wasn’t your classiest move, knowing how Steve felt about you (and how Bucky felt about the way Steve felt about you) and using it for your own advantage, but he was still your friend, your family; it would have been weirder if you hadn’t spoken to him, at all. Of course, Bucky noticed this, and in seemingly no time at all, dinner returned to its normal dynamic, though you felt guilty about your behavior and tried to include Steve more than you had before.

But soon, she took lunches, too, and you couldn’t really find away around that.

Then she was complaining that the Tower was so boring and could he show her around the city? At least Bucky always insisted that you accompany him if he was going to go somewhere with Jade. It wasn’t your ideal way of spending the diminishing amount of time you had with Bucky, but you tried to make the best of it, though she went out of her way to make jabs and backhanded comments at your expense.

“It was so generous for Stark to have paid for your college education,” she cooed when you were all walking around Central Park together. “I can’t imagine what you must have done to warrant such generosity.”

“I’ve paid him back tenfold by working for him,” you told her through clenched teeth. You were usually able to brush off these disguised accusations with ease, but there was something about Jade’s insinuation that your relationship with Tony had some sort of seedy beginning that filled you with white hot rage.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve worked very hard to get where you are today,” she oozed. “I bet Stark had you practically crawling on all fours to get you in your position.”

You felt the blood rising to your cheeks as anger flowed through you. You shot Bucky a glance, looking for him to tell her off, to defend you, something, but if he noticed the hidden barb in her words, he gave no indication of it.

“Pocket’s a genius,” he said instead, beaming at you and kissing the crown of your head. “Stark knew she was the best of the best, so it makes perfect sense that he would do whatever he needed to do to get her on his team. What was it you said, sweets? He got a good return on his investment in you.”

From outside of Bucky’s line of sight, Jade rolled her eyes, not pleased that her subtle attack hadn’t had its desired effect.

“Oh, Sarge,” she cried, grabbing on to his arm and tugging him away toward the pond, “look at the ducklings! Let’s go see them!” Now it was your turn to roll your eyes as Bucky turned to you with a shrug, as if to say “what can I do?” as he let Jade drag him away.

Annoyed, you chose not to follow, instead, walking along the path to buy yourself a hot pretzel from a nearby vendor.

“Hard being the third wheel when your friends are on a date, huh?” the vendor asked with a chuckle as he handed you your drink order.

“Excuse me?” you asked, pausing in the process of putting mustard on your pretzel. “That’s actually my boyfriend.”

The vendor looked taken aback. “You sure about that, honey?” He nudged his chin in the direction of the pond, where Jade was hanging onto Bucky’s arm as though he were a life preserver and pointing enthusiastically at the ducklings.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you snapped, grabbing your items and turning away from the rude man. You found yourself a bench where you could observe the two of them from a distance.

You had finished your pretzel and your iced tea before Bucky seemed to notice you weren’t alongside him. You crossed your arms over your chest and watched as he looked around for you, his face beginning to show panic when he couldn’t find you right away. Jade seemed to try to calm him down, but he wasn’t having any of it.

There was a small part of you, not so deep inside, that you weren’t proud of, that was glad to see him freak out at not being able to find you. Serves him right for ignoring you for her. You watched as Bucky jogged back to where he had last seen you on the path, calling your name, Jade following behind him.

“She probably just went back to the Tower,” you heard her say to him. “Why don’t we just enjoy the rest of our day, and you can meet up with her later? No point in letting her ruin our fun,” she added.

“Absolutely not,” Bucky snapped at her. “She wouldn’t do that! Fuck. I shouldn’t have gotten distracted.” He pulled out his phone and you knew he was going to call you.

You answered the phone before your ringtone could even begin. “Yes?” you asked, your voice cold.

“Baby! God, where are you?! I turned around and you were gone! I was worried sick.”

“I’m exactly where you left me half an hour ago, Barnes,” you said. “The two of you looked so fucking cozy; I didn’t want to interrupt your little date.”

You watched as his head shot up, scanning the path until he saw you sitting on your bench. When your eyes met, the relief on his face was unmistakable. You disconnected the call and sat waiting for him to make the next move.

He ran toward you, getting down on his knees in front of you before throwing his arms around you and pulling you into him.

“God, doll,” he murmured into your hair. “You were right behind us, and when I turned around after a second, you weren’t there, all I could think was that something terrible had happened to you.”

You glanced behind his shoulder to see Jade, hip cocked and arms across her chest, looking annoyed. “I didn’t mean to make you worry; I just got a pretzel. But that’s the thing, Buck,” you said as you pulled back from him, “I didn’t follow you at all and it took you thirty fucking minutes to notice.”

His face fell as the realization hit him. “Thirty minutes? Fuck. ‘m so sorry, Pocket,” he said, sincerity lacing his voice as he ran a hand through his hair. “That was shit of me. I don’t have an excuse.” He took your hands in his.

“See,” Jade said as she came up behind him, “she’s fine. Just being dramatic. I told you not to worry about her.”

“Vix,” Bucky said without looking at her, “go back to the Tower.” His voice was low and gruff as he spoke to her.

“What, like, by myself?” she asked, shocked that he would suggest such a thing.

“Yes. Alone.” Bucky said. When she made no motion to leave, he turned to look at her. “Now!” he growled before turning back to you.

“Fine, I’m going,” she said as she started to walk away, but not before sneering at you and flipping you the bird.

Once he was confident she was out of earshot, Bucky stood up and came to sit next to you on the bench. “This is the kinda shit you’ve been worrying about, isn’t it?" he asked you.

You didn’t respond for a while, just looked at him, trying to get your words in order. “I told you that I’m not going to control who can or can’t be friends with, Bucky,” you said eventually. “And I do still mean that. I don’t control you– no one controls you. But no girl is going to love seeing their boyfriend go off with someone else and completely forget about them.” You took a deep, sad sigh. “It hurts, Buck. It makes me feel like… like you only brought me with you out of some kind of obligation, and you’d rather I wasn’t here.” He tried to say something, but you kept talking. “I’m not saying that was your intention; I know it wasn’t. That’s just what it feels like. And maybe I’m being irrational, overly jealous. Maybe I’m being selfish. I don’t know. I’ve never done this before, this relationship thing. Ever. I’m just kinda… flying blind here.” You blinked away some tears that were threatening to fall. “Maybe I am too dependent on you. Maybe you’d be better off with someone who has their shit together and doesn’t freak out whenever another girl gets near you.” You shrugged your shoulders, feeling defeated.

Bucky fiercely wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you to his chest. “Stop,” he said, his voice almost a sob. “Stop saying things like that. It’s not true. I am begging you, never think that’s true. Pozhaluysta, lyubov' moya.” Please, my love. Bucky’s voice was raspy, as though he were choking back tears of his own. “Ty — vse, chto ya kogda-libo khotel. Vse, chto mne nado.” You are everything I ever wanted. Everything I need. “You make me so damned grateful that I fell off that train,” he whispered.

You pulled your head back, studying him in surprise. “Buck, you don’t mean that. You can’t mean that, not after everything—”

“It’s the truth,” he told you, hands coming up to cup your face, making sure you were looking at him, really looking at him. “If I hadn’t fallen, I’d have probably died in a German trench long before you’d ever been born, and the idea of it makes me sick. And everything—everything-that happened after, all of that led me to you. I can’t resent a single second of it, because it brought me here, now. Do you understand how fucking precious that makes you? How fucking special you are?”

You stared at him, stunned at his revelation. Bucky took your silence as an opportunity to pull you into him in a bruising, desperate kiss. If you’d been more self-aware, you’d have pulled back, embarrassed at being so brazen with your affection in public, but all you could do was kiss him back with every ounce of love you felt for him. And it felt so absolutely right.

Far too soon for your liking, you both had to come up for breath. Pressing your foreheads together, Bucky sighed contentedly. “What do you need me to do? I’ll do anything you need, you know that, right?”

You nodded, the movement of your head bringing his along with it and you both giggled. “I know,” you said. “Maybe no more outside-the-Tower excursions?” you asked timidly, hoping it wasn’t too big a request. “Or, if you still want to do them, maybe I don’t come with you? Being around her sets me off. It’s too much ”

“Consider them ended,” he said, without hesitation or pause. “Not even a question. I wouldn’t even consider going out of the Tower with her without you with me, and I’m not going to force you to spend time with her.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said softly. “I feel like such a controlling bitch.”

“No, baby, no.” He tucked your head under his chin as he held you to him. “That is the exact opposite of what you are.” You believed him, you really did, but it did nothing to quell the disgust you felt with yourself.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[daechwitatamic]

Of Ruin: Chapter 6 || KTH

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @/sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

//

Section Warnings: angst, hurt feelings, conflicts abound

wc: 6k

True to his word, Prince Taehyung shows up at your door about an hour after you and Namjoon clean up dinner. 

After your self-pity-nap, you’d showered and come out fresh. You’d ordered hot tea and buckled down to work, starting to make your way through the thick texts you’d brought from the university, looking for counters that might be relevant to this case. 

So, luckily, instead of a puffy-eyed, half-asleep wreck, the prince finds you clean, and caffeinated, and hard at work. Your image remains intact. Hooray for small victories, you think.

“I know your day hasn’t been ideal,” he says sheepishly, hands clasped behind his back. “Do you think a visit to Potato might make you feel better?”

Cute, you think. 

“Potato?” Namjoon asks, baffled.

“His amarisca,” you explain. “I sort of fell in love yesterday.”

Your face heats as soon as you’ve said the words; you hope they both know that you mean with Potato, that it’s not a reference to your illogical, absurd, and frankly embarrassing crush on the beautiful, otherworldly prince. Luckily, it seems both men are oblivious to your near misstep.

“You’re welcome to come, too,” the prince offers, turning to Namjoon. “I was just going to walk to my private stables and give her - Potato - some treats. I thought…” he trails off, eyes on your face, like he’s gauging your reaction. “I thought maybe Y/N might benefit from the walk and the fresh air. But of course you’re welcome, too.”

Namjoon’s face goes funny, like he’s doing those puzzle pieces again. “Thank you,” he says slowly, looking at you, not the prince. “But I’ll stay here. I can finish up writing what we were discussing. I agree, the walk will do you good.”

You want to snap at both of them, you don’t know what’s good for me, but you know they don’t deserve it. And you do want to see the amarisca again. 

“Let me get shoes,” you murmur, and head for your room. You return with sneakers in hand and in a thicker sweatshirt; the sun has been down for some time and you know the sea air will be chilly. 

Prince Taehyung leads you the same way he had the previous night, both in cloaks that you hadn’t noticed him holding until he handed one to you. You clock that Sateul trails you at a respectable distance - close enough to see you, too far to hear you, if she was human. Probably, since she’s not, she can hear every word. 

“This feels like a pity walk,” you admit a bit sourly.

Prince Taehyung gives you an indulgent smile. “I feel like you got hit twice today,” he says. “First, my mother frightens you, and then… it can’t have been easy to find out… what you did. That, combined with your little accident the other night… I honestly can’t believe you haven’t packed up to leave already.”

“I thought about it,” you say dryly. But the truth is, you want to work on the curse. You want to see more of the palace, of Infracticus. You want to spend more time with the prince.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he says quietly. 

You wonder if it’s only because he needs you to break his curse. A foolish thought, one that has no place amidst everything else swirling around your head. But still, the thought persists. 

Outside, the fresh air soothes you immediately, the temperature is just right, and you can hear the waves and the gulls in the distance. You do feel better, just walking silently side by side. The tension melts from your shoulders, tiny bits at a time.

“This is nice.”

“I’m not such terrible company after all?” he teases, a mischievous smile growing sideways across his face.

You scowl at him playfully. “It wasn’t about you. Today… really sucked. Sorry. But, I think I wanted to just retreat to my space and sulk for a while.”

He takes this in silently for a few strides and then offers, quietly, “I’m sorry again about my mother. I know my promises can’t mean much to you at this point, but her intentions weren’t to hurt you. She felt your magical signature - we all can - and was just curious. She wanted to know how strong it was. She’s… used to just taking what she wants, as I’m sure you can imagine. It didn’t occur to her that it might be frightening or unpleasant to you. I know that’s no excuse, but I hope you’ll forgive us.”

You listen seriously. You’ll forgive him, you think, if only because he is so damn earnest, and his skin looks pretty in the moonlight. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, which isn’t an answer, but he lets it slide. Your magical signature. You hadn’t even known you’d had that. You still don’t know what exactly it means.

You walk together a little further, your footsteps joining the shrill gull calls.

Eventually, Taehyung’s stride slows, and he leans his elbows against the stone balustrade, looking wistfully up at the deep purple sky. The periwinkles and violets of the early afternoon have faded to a deep mottled purple, the color of a third-day bruise. You can see that you’re very close to the staircase he’d helped you down the previous night, the ones that lead down to the sand.

The stars literally take your breath away. Taehyung turns to you, grinning.

“Better than above, right?” he asks, pride evident in his tone. 

“There are so many,” you whisper, eyes scanning the sky above you. It seems like every time you look away from a spot and then back to it, the number of stars doubles.

You stand side by side in silence, both leaning on the stone wall, eyes on the stars far above you. Finally, Prince Taehyung turns to look at you, frowning just slightly.

“May I ask you something?” he ventures. “I don’t want to upset you… but I’m curious.”

You smile a little wryly at the irony of this admission. You see the pattern from the Queen earlier to the prince now - admitting he may upset you, but entitled to the answer anyway. At least he has the decency to ask first.

“Go ahead,” you tell him. You’re feeling less on edge out here under the stars, with the cool breeze and ocean’s song. Whatever it is, you’ll face it.

“You really didn’t know?” There’s clear disbelief in his voice. Then, he clarifies, “About your magic.”

You shake your head, a stone skipping and sinking heavy in your stomach. “Had no idea,” you say with a sigh. “I really thought… I really thought I earned being good at breaking curses. I thought it was hard work, grit, that kind of thing.”

Understanding dawns on the prince’s face. “Ah,” he says, and then says nothing else.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Ah, what?”

He gives you a guilty smile. “I didn’t understand why you were upset. I imagined any human would be excited to learn that they were… more, that they had more.”

You eye him stonily. “Being human,” you say evenly, “is enough. It isn’t less.”

His eyes widen comically. “No,” he says quickly, waving his hands between you. “I didn’t mean that. It came out wrong. I just meant -”

“I know what you meant,” you mutter. “No, I wasn’t excited to learn that I’m… I don’t even know what to call myself now.”

He presses his lips together and regards you silently. Then, he says tentatively, “Your accomplishments are not erased by this, you know.”

You look sideways at him, listening. 

“Having a natural magical ability doesn’t mean you didn’t work hard. Your magic is inherent in you the same way your strong will is, your natural intelligence. They are facets of what makes up who you are. How you wield these things - that’s how you earn your accomplishments. You should not discount it.”

“I guess,” you mutter, but secretly, you consider this. “It’s just going to take some getting used to, I think.”

The prince seems to sense that there’s nothing more to gain from pursuing this topic. He starts towards the steps, helping you down as he had the night before. 

At the stable, he places a carrot in your outstretched hand, smiles wide when you let Potato eat it from your flat fingers, her lips tickling your palm. When you press your other hand gently to her snout, her fur soft and warm under your hand, it doesn’t feel like losing a dream, as you’d feared. It feels like stepping into it. Prince Taehyung watches you, eyes twinkling the whole time. 

After, you stand at the fence that creates a paddock in the sea, meant to let Potato swim but not too far. The waves crash just feet from you, and you worry absently about your shoes. 

Prince Taehyung leans his elbows on the fence next to you. “How was it going, before I interrupted? I could see that you were working.”

You shrug. “I feel like we’re near the end of what we can do with the information we have. Unless you let me observe you while the curse is working -”

He glowers. “I gave you my answer about that already,” he says tightly.

“- or unless I run some rituals with you… there’s not more to find. We’ve got all we can from the texts we brought, too.”

This makes him look at you, something sharp in his gaze. “Do you need to research more?” he asks, tone lightening, like he’s excited to help. “We have a dozen libraries in the palace - I never spend much time there, but I’m sure you’d find something helpful.”

This makes you smile a little. “I can’t imagine being alive for hundreds of years and not using it to read everything I could get my hands on.”

He laughs at this, nose wrinkling as he says defensively, “I have other interests!” As his chuckles die away again he adds, “Reading puts me to sleep. I never get past the first page.”

“What do you do instead?” you ask, genuinely curious. 

His grin turns a bit self-deprecating. “Eat, drink, and make merry,” he jokes. 

“Seriously!” you scold.

“I mostly am being serious,” he admits. “I socialize. I dance. I’m fond of music - I play many instruments. Sometimes I look at art, sometimes I try to make my own. I have duties as Prince, of course, but generally I find them interesting. I spend my time quite happily.” His expression turns a bit darker and he adds, “Or, I did. Until this.”

You look at him carefully for the first time since you’d first arrived. You’ve only known this version of him - tight-shouldered, a bit serious. You wonder if he was different before the curse - freer, lighter, happier. You imagine he must have been.

“We’ll fix it,” you promise, though you have no guarantee you’ll keep it. Going back to his original question, you add, “I’d like to see the libraries, if we could. A lot of curse-breaking is looking at precedents, seeing what’s worked before.”

“What exactly are you looking for?” he asks. “I don’t know much about the process, to be honest.”

You grimace. “I probably should have explained it to you better from the start. Like I said yesterday - my first step is to uncover each thread of intention in the original curse. Then when you’ve identified every thread, it’s kind of a game of finding the simplest, shortest amount of steps to counter them. Then, of course, actually casting it correctly can be challenging, too.” 

He’s quiet for a long time, and after a bit of silence - broken only by the crash of waves - you reach out and gingerly rest your fingertips atop his forearm. Like yesterday, when he’d held your hand down the steps, you thrill at the touch.

“They called me for a reason,” you tell him seriously. “I’ve never failed. Sometimes it takes me a while, and sometimes I have to try more than once - but I’ve never not been able to work it out, eventually.”

He doesn’t say anything, but you watch his throat work as he keeps his eyes on the distant horizon. 

“We’ll fix it,” you say again, more determination in your voice this time. “I’ll fix it. Okay?”

Eventually, he sighs and places his other hand on yours, covering it completely. “I have faith in you,” he says, something open in his voice. Like you’ve struggled through the underbrush in the woods and stumbled across a path, the way forward suddenly clear. “I trust you.”

You stay like that a bit longer, acutely aware of his hand on yours, until he sighs and withdraws it, casting a baleful look at the palace above and behind you. “It’s nearing midnight,” he says sadly. “I’d better get to where I belong.”

“Can someone walk me back to my quarters?” you ask, a little embarrassed. “I don’t know the way.”

He furrows his brow at you and reaches for your hand. “Someone?” he repeats, as if offended. “I’m walking you back.”

As if you should have known. As if there were any other option he’d accept.

You aren’t sure what’s happening here. You aren’t sure the purpose of it, the sense of it. But his wavy hair hangs over his browline, his deep eyes are on your face, and that hint of a smile flirts in the corner of his mouth as he waits for you. So you put your hand in his and let him lead you home.

—

In the morning, when Sateul comes to collect the dishes from breakfast, she informs you, “Prince Taehyung has asked me to accompany you to one of the private libraries today.”

You get ready quickly, though Satuel waits patiently outside your doors, at attention. The walk to the libraries is longer than the ones you’ve been accustomed to, and you notice you’re mostly headed up. In fact, the journey ends with a spiral staircase that almost gives you vertigo; you hold the wall gingerly as you take each step carefully. 

This particular library must be at the top of a turret. The view from the windows, peeking between bookshelves, is so phenomenal that you almost forget about your research. 

“I’ll be at the bottom of this staircase,” Satuel tells you. “Please call if you need something.”

“I need an ice bath,” you grumble, massaging your aching calves. Beside you, Namjoon shoots you a sympathetic smile. 

You spend the whole day there, perusing the bookshelves, pulling out tomes that might prove useful. Satuel brings you lunch at midday, and shortly after the three of you trek halfway across the palace to the nearest bathroom, just to go right back up those same damn stairs when you’re done.

But it’s worth it; it takes all three of you to carry back the books you and Namjoon select, about an hour before dinner will be served.

When you drop the books gently onto the low table in your quarters, Satuel heads back to her post in the corridor, and you and Namjoon look down at your haul.

“Not bad,” you muse. 

You settle in, picking up books at random and flipping through to find parts that might be relevant, scanning indexes. When dinner time rolls around, you both put in your order, stopping to eat when the food comes, and then getting right back to work. 

Somehow, you aren’t surprised when the prince arrives at your doors, even though he hadn’t promised to come by, not like yesterday. 

“I was going to ask if you made it to the libraries,” he says, smiling wryly, “but I can see that you have.”

You can’t help it - you beam. “I want to live up there.”

His smile turns into something playful. “That’s what you said about the seaside, too.”

You consider this. “I would like my seaside home to have a turret library,” you finally declare. 

“I’ll work on it,” he teases. Behind you, Namjoon quietly closes the book he was looking through. 

“Anyway,” Prince Taehyung says, clearing his throat a little. “Was it fruitful? Are they helpful?”

“I think so,” you say, looking at Namjoon for confirmation. “We’re working through the books we found, writing down the parts that are useful. It’ll take a while, though. We found a lot.”

“Good,” he says, nodding. “Good. I’m glad you’re making progress.”

You think of his silence by the ocean last night, how you’d felt the need to protect him, to reassure him. 

“We are,” you say solidly. 

He looks at you, tilts his head just slightly. “Can you afford to take a break? I was going to the stable. Namjoon, as always, you are more than welcome. You haven’t seen the amarisca up close, have you?”

“I haven’t,” Namjoon admits. “But I hate to say, I’m not as drawn to magical creatures as Y/N clearly is.”

You press your lips together, wondering if he’s including the prince in that list of magical creatures. 

“I’d like to go,” you venture timidly. 

You feel a little guilty - this isn’t part of the job, it’s adding nothing to your research, you’re leaving Namjoon behind and he’s looking at you with that knowing gleam in his eyes. 

But when you get outside the palace and look at the stars and smell the ocean, and Prince Taehyung holds your hand tightly as you make your way down sea-worn, stone steps… it makes all the bad parts quieter. The fear, the uncertainty, the homesickness, the grief you’ve experienced over the last few days… they don’t seem to cut as deeply when his brown eyes find yours. 

And as long as you don’t let yourself think too much about how pointless that is, how he’s crown prince of a land that’s not your home and you’re a nobody from a tiny university town… as long as you don’t think about that… the distraction is nice. 

This time, when he leads you down the stairs, his hand feels familiar and right as it closes around yours. 

You press a hand gently to the amarisca’s muscly, teal neck, stroking the soft fur there. Prince Taehyung puts his hand atop yours, guiding it down her neck and to the top again, his body pressed close behind yours. You look over your shoulder at him in wonder, and the smile he gives you seems tinged with a sadness that you don’t understand at all.

This time, on the way back, you stop and stare at the stars, and he leans close, close enough that your arms touch as you both look skyward. 

This time, as he leads you back up the damp stairs towards the palace, you tug on his hand.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask. Something in you aches to know the truth. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know. I learned my lesson the first day.”

“I told you,” he says, brow furrowing, “I’m invested in your well-being. If you’re unhappy enough to leave, then I’ll never get better.”

You don’t know if you believe him. You wish you would believe him. The alternative is just sad - you’re not stupid enough to think a six hundred year old Infracti with a crown on his head would be interested in a nothing human.

Focus, you think. Focus on why you’re here. 

When you return to your rooms, Namjoon looks half-asleep on the couch, the lights low.

“How was your field trip?” he asks, stretching and starting to rise. You realize he’d waited up for you. You’re not sure how you feel about this.

“I feel like I’m spinning in circles,” you admit. “Like I can’t remember what I’m really here for.”

“He’s charming,” Namjoon says carefully, pausing on his path to his bedroom.

You choose not to answer that. “We’ll get to work in the morning,” you say finally. “We’ll see what we can come up with, and we’ll work on getting home.”

You wait until Namjoon’s behind his bedroom door, and you bend down to rifle through the books you’d brought from the library until you find the one you’d hidden in with the others.

Beginner Spells and Magical Theory, something you’d never really studied. Something you’d never thought you needed. Something you hadn’t known was a part of you.

You take the book into your bedroom and sit on the edge of your bed holding it, but you don’t crack it open. Eventually, you slide it under your bed and head for the bathroom.

You’re not ready. Tonight is not the night.

-

Then, like a switch flipped, the prince stops coming to check on you. You don’t see Prince Taehyung - or any of the royal family - for the next two days. You and Namjoon stay in your rooms, books spread across the floor, papers on every surface. On the second day, Satuel takes you to the turret library, saying she has the prince’s permission to let you go there for a change of scenery. But he doesn’t come check in either night.

It’s the morning of the third day of solitude (well, solitude with Namjoon) when you roll dramatically over onto your back, the stone floor cool and solid beneath you, and bemoan to the wooden ceiling, “I think my brain is soup.”

“Soup sounds good,” Namjoon says from his spot about six feet away. Books are open in a full circle around him; he has no path out. It seems like an apt metaphor, you think.

“I’m going to be honest about something,” you say, eyes still on the ceiling. 

“When are you ever not?” he quips, but pushes the book he was reading a few inches away and turns to look at you, ready for whatever you’re going to drop on him.

“I think we have everything we’re going to have at this point,” you say, and then struggle to sit up so you can see his reaction. 

He frowns at you. “Why does that not sound the same as I think we’re ready?”

You sigh. “I don’t think we’re ready. I don’t think we have everything. But as far as asking the prince questions and researching what we have… I think this is it. We aren’t getting any further.”

Namjoon looks around the books nearest him, still frowning. “What do you suggest?”

You shrug, even though you do have a few ideas. “I think we should try with what we have,” you say. “I can usually get a read from the first attempt - I can tell if we’re on the right track, going in the right direction. I get a good feel for if we need to remove anything, and sometimes I can press for more.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows shoot up. “You want to try a counter-curse? Already? Do you think that’s safe?”

You tap your feet against the stone floor, thinking. “It’s not unsafe,” you say. “It just might not… seem very productive. But, to me, it’ll help. I just need everyone’s trust, I guess.”

He shakes his head. “I trust you… I’m not so sure about the King and Queen. You can’t just cast on the crown prince willy-nilly and hope something comes of it.”

“Willy-nilly,” you repeat with a scoff. “Very academic of you.”

He tosses a pen at you and you let it clatter to the floor after it bounces off your kneecap. 

“It’s not willy-nilly,” you defend. “The benefits outweigh the risks, Namjoon. I need some direction, and the magic will point me. What are we going to do otherwise, keep spinning our wheels down here while life carries on without us back home?”

He frowns more deeply, but drops your gaze. Finally he asks, “How confident are you that it won’t hurt him? Or, worse, put you out of commission? You know I can’t do this by myself.”

You ignore this last part. “I’m very confident that at worst one or both of us will need to rest for a day or two. Nothing worse than that.”

You stare at each other in silence, both doing calculations in your heads - risks, benefits, all of it.

“My grandfather put you in charge,” he says finally, and you know a victory when you see one. “If you think that’s the best step, I’ll support you.”

Hours later, after you’ve picked up all the books from the floor, after you’ve compiled all the paper you’d scribbled on and made just one cohesive list of counter-threads, after you’ve showered and changed into something presentable, you stand in a mostly empty room of the palace.

The King and Queen are seated. Namjoon stands just behind your left shoulder, ready to help if things go very wrong. Prince Taehyung stands across from you, looking drawn and nervous. 

He can’t be more nervous than you are, you think. Under the King and Queen’s gazes, you feel like a spectacle. 

“I would like to reiterate,” you say, holding up a finger, “that I very much do not expect this to actually break the curse today. However, it should cause no serious harm to try, and I expect that when we are done I’ll know if we’ve miscalculated anything, and a direction on what might still be missing.”

“No serious harm,” Prince Taehyung mutters, and you can’t help but smile across at him.

“You’ll be okay,” you promise. “It just might not be… pleasant.”

He grimaces, but remains quiet this time.

You glance at the paper on the small podium to your right, recounting the steps, mouthing the incantations to yourself as if you’re rehearsing. 

“Okay,” you say finally, holding up a palm for the prince. “I’m ready when you are.”

He seems to need to collect himself, then presses his palm up to yours and waits, anxious eyes on your face, pretty mouth turned down into a frown.

You begin reciting the opening incantations, the ones that call up your magic - the magic you used to think you pulled from the world around you, that you’re now learning comes from deep within you. 

You know when it works, you always do; the feeling is electrifying, thrilling, a euphoria you’ve never felt from anything else. Magic running through your veins like blood makes you feel alive in ways you didn’t know you could before you’d started practicing counter-curses. Now, the electricity runs stronger, as if the magic is magnified by the Infracti touching you. 

It occurs to you that this might be exactly the case. 

You move onto the next counter-threads, speaking slowly and clearly as you try to untangle the pain, the confusion, the suppression of self that Prince Taehyung experiences each night. 

You concentrate on the incantation, but you close your eyes and let yourself feel -  little flickering flame-fingers of magic reaching out and tentatively poking at the mess of magic inside the prince, trying to locate each single thread, ready to tug each one and - ideally - unravel the whole ball. 

You know it’s doing something when he flinches, then carefully presses his palm more firmly against yours, like he’s afraid he’s broken the connection. 

The tendrils of your magic report back - you can feel where each thread of your countercurse connects to a thread of the curse, ready to pull them out. You can feel just how much is left unconnected. 

There’s so much there that your magic hasn’t touched. 

The magic sings to you: not enough, it’s not enough, it isn’t enough, it’s not -

The connection breaks as Prince Taehyung’s eyes flash to fathomless black and there’s a split second where you’re afraid you did the opposite of what you intended, called forth the beast. But then his knees buckle and he starts to drop. 

The Queen shouts and stands, but your reflexes are fast, too. You have the prince by the elbows and you sink to the ground with him, gently. You feel rather than see Namjoon move closer, ready to help. 

By the time you’ve lowered you both to your knees, still clutching his elbows and using all of your core strength to try and hold him upright, he’s back - blinking human-looking eyes at you, fingers twitching and then clutching your arms back.

“That,” he mumbles, “did not feel nice.”

“I know,” you whisper, just for him. “I’m sorry. It’s over now.”

Namjoon makes it to you first, having been standing the closest, and he helps both of you clamber unsteadily to your feet. The King and Queen approach, and you gingerly let go of the prince’s elbows, watching to make sure he’s staying on his feet.

“I suppose it didn’t work,” the King says drolly. 

“I’ve got a pretty good idea where to go from here,” you say, and you do. But the prince is unsteady on his feet, fighting to keep his eyes open and alert. To him, you say, “It’s my professional opinion that you need to rest. You aren’t sleeping at night, and your body needs to recover from what happened here.”

“Then I expect an update tomorrow,” the Queen says coolly, and helps Prince Taehyung to the door, where he finally succeeds at waving her off and heads down the hallway, alone. 

The King follows his wife to the door and they depart as well, without a look back, let alone a goodbye. 

You turn to Namjoon, who is shaking his head at you. “That went well,” he says sarcastically.

“We’re missing threads,” you tell him, certain. “There’s a lot we haven’t uncovered yet. What we have is good - but there’s a lot more. I felt it.”

“So how do we figure that out?” he asks, voice a little rough with frustration. 

You miss Dr. Kim. Namjoon has certainly held his own down here, but you and Dr. Kim had a partnership, mutual trust. His expertise outweighed yours - he would have at least had a suggestion at a time like this, not scorn. 

“There’s a ritual I can try,” you say, thinking out loud. “If he’ll let me.”

“Considering you just tried to knock him out,” Namjoon says dryly, “I don’t think he’s going to be very agreeable.”

“I’m going to try to convince him anyway,” you say decisively. “And I think I should go by myself.”

“Of course you do,” Namjoon says easily, and your temper flares.

“Another person’s energy will affect the reading,” you snap. “I’ll get your energy instead of his. I don’t care what you think - I know this will work, so I’m going. I’ll see you later, at home.”

You leave abruptly, pissed off, not even registering that you’d called your little rooms home. 

Dansoo and Satuel are thankfully just in the corridor, as always, and you request to be taken to the prince’s wing. Satuel brings you, walking in silence ahead of you. When you reach the prince’s doors, she waits with you while one of his personal guards slips inside to ask if he’ll see you.

You’re honestly surprised when she returns and invites you in.

You find Prince Taehyung on the same couches you’d sat on your first night here, after Jimin had brought you to these rooms. 

“I knew you wouldn’t rest,” you say, and he turns to look at you. His face is unreadable, blank - even his humanlike eyes give nothing away. 

“This is resting,” he says evenly. 

You shake your head. “You should try and sleep.”

He turns away again, a defeated slump to his shoulders. “I can’t seem to,” he admits.

You frown, watching him carefully. “May I sit?” you ask. He holds out a hand towards the empty couch opposite him but doesn’t look at you.

You sit gingerly. “I’m sorry for what just happened,” you tell him seriously. “I know it was unpleasant.”

“It was,” he agrees, his voice tight and measured. 

“What did it feel like?” you ask. 

His shoulders tighten. “Like I could feel you poking around behind my ribs,” he says shortly. “And then it hurt.”

“I’m sorry it hurt you,” you murmur. You want to reach out and touch his arm, as you had a few nights ago next to the sea and under the stars, but something stops you. “I want you to know that it wasn’t my doing. The curse… protects itself, let’s say.”

This makes him turn to look at you. “The curse caused that,” he paraphrases, clearly unconvinced.

You nod. “I could feel my counter-threads connecting, and I could feel the threads we hadn’t made connection to yet,” you explain slowly. “But magic knows to protect itself. When I started trying to feel for those unconnected pieces of the curse, it - sort of kicked me out?”

He frowns. “Was it a waste of time, then?”

“Not at all,” you say quickly, encouraged. “What we just did confirmed which threads we identified correctly, and that there are some more to uncover.”

He takes this in silently for a few minutes. Then, he asks, “And, can we uncover the rest?”

“That’s why I came,” you admit. “There’s a ritual I’ve done… its purpose is to identify what’s in there.”

He scowls. “Why didn’t we do that from the beginning?”

You purse your lips, then try to explain. “Rituals like this… are always inherently risky. It’s better to figure out what you can with logic and magical theory before resorting to this.”

“Risky,” he echoes flatly. “Is it going to hurt again?”

You grimace. “It hurt a lot, huh?”

His jaw juts, just a bit. “Enough that I’m not eager to experience it twice in one day,” he says, a bit of haughtiness coming into his voice. He’s his mother’s son, indeed. 

“It won’t hurt you,” you say quietly. “But there does need to be a level of trust - of allowing my magic to poke around, as you put it.”

He doesn’t answer this. He seems to wobble where he sits. Then, he lifts his tired eyes to you. For a moment, he lets you see the exhaustion, the fear, the hopelessness. He looks desolate, nearly frail.

Then, something closer to anger slides onto his face, replacing the vulnerability you were sure you were seeing. “I haven’t slept in many days,” he says, not answering your question at all. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. “You should try. You need to rest.”

He blinks heavily, shoulders sagging. When he opens his eyes to look at you again, they’re wet and black, no longer magicked to seem human. Something hard takes over his voice, and he asks, “Can you help me? Can you make me sleep, venefici?”

“Yes,” you whisper, rising. “I can at least try.”

He closes those black eyes again, leans sideways until he’s laying down, knees bent.

You place your hands on his elbow and close your own eyes, feeling the magic rise up to you. Small spells like this were not your area of study, but you think you can manage. You at least know what to do.

It takes no time at all - less than a minute. His breathing deepens, his fingers twitch once. He is so beautiful like this, it’s hard to look at him. You remove your hand carefully and step away.

Prince Taehyung just called you witch.

–

Namjoon is waiting for you when you return. 

“How’d it go?” he asks, sounding like he means it, even though you’d sort of argued before you left. 

“I told him about the ritual,” you say, sinking onto the couch and dropping your head into your hands, emotionally spent. “He’s considering it.”

He looks at you appraisingly. “You don’t sound very happy about it,” he observes.

You sigh. “He’s just… not feeling great, from earlier. It’s fine.”

You sit there for another minute, your eyes on the ground, while he watches you, as if he might get more information out of you if he just waits it out. Finally you mutter, “I’m gonna get ready for bed,” and you slink off to your private rooms. 

It’s ironic. After using your magic to help the prince find sleep for the first time since his curse began, you lay awake, unable to help yourself at all.

<;- Prev | Next ->

hi there! thanks for reading!

i'm going to take a week off of posting this series, so there will be no update on friday, january 8th. instead, chapter 7 will post on friday, january 19th. thanks for understanding!

[outtoshatter]

This week's author spotlight is: the wonderful @raisesomehale! So many delightful fics to choose from!!

One-shots:

Beyond the Canyon Nook | T | 7k tags: spark Stiles, magical realism, found family Summary: Stiles has retrieved countless children from the shadows.

But Eli is the first child Stiles has found alone.

All I Want for Christmas, is You | E | 6k tags: post-canon, pack feels, Christmas fluff Summary: The sight of him is like whiplash.

Stiles and Derek have managed to keep up a reasonably active text-ship for the last few years (heavily due to Stiles’ undying persistence on the matter) but Derek’s recent inclination to jump around between continents paired with Stiles’ grueling school schedule has resulted in them not having been in the same room since Stiles left for Brown the summer after he graduated.

He’s broader. Taller. Hair buzzed short like it hasn’t been since he was a sophomore in high school, a scar nicked into the corner of his left eyebrow that Derek remembers hearing the story about (a frisky leprechaun with a bad sense of humor and a hard-on for blades.)

And when Stiles’ eyes catch sight of Derek across the room, his grin glitches into shock and he lets go of the door.

Which must be safety-weighted, considering the force with which it slams backwards against Scott.

Club Serenade | T | 822 tags: DJ Stiles, Bartender Derek, sexual tension Summary: Stiles, popular DJ at the Hale's club The Wolf Den, catches the attention of the bartender and part owner, Derek.

Serenading ensues.

Multi-Chaptered Fics:

Define "Dating" | T | 7k | 6 chapters tags: 5+1 things, oblivious Stiles, didn't know they were dating Summary: “You and Derek text each other memes?” she sounds both surprised and delighted - but more surprised.

“Well,” Stiles says, “I send memes. Derek sent me a picture of a newspaper comic strip, once.”

Lydia says, “Oh my god.”

- OR the 5 times people point out that Stiles might be dating Derek + the 1 time Derek tells Stiles they're dating himself.

Bite the Moonlight & Bleed Gold | E | 87k | 18 chapters tags: magical creatures, BAMF Derek, Creature Stiles, angst, mutual pining Summary: Seven years after being tricked and imprisoned by the Argents, Derek Hale finds himself off the blistering coasts of Antarctica aboard the Argentum Domina, an illegal prison ship out of which the Argents operate their behemoth, underground poaching empire. Bitter and packless, Derek spends his days working off his servitude by poaching creatures for Gerard to sell on the Black Magic Market, no future or end in sight. Until, Allison Argent brings him a capture case with a reward price so ludicrous that he has no choice but to accept.

The only problem is, the target creature shouldn't even exist.

Derek is flung fast into the deep webbings of a bigger mystery than he could have ever imagined. And discovers that, like this enchanting creature, not everything is as it seems.

Bonus wip:

light a spark | T | 37k | 9/15 chapters so far! tags: canon divergence, fluff and humor, energy bond Summary: “It’s not” - Derek cuts off as quickly as he starts, teeth gritting with frustration - “It’s not like the others it’s… There’s a reason I came to your house last.”

Stiles’ eyebrows raise. This is hands down the weirdest Derek has ever acted around him, and it’s making him curious. 

“And that reason being…?” He rolls the sleeves of his flannel up to his elbows and leans against his desk to start untying his shoes.

“I need” - Derek grits through clenched teeth - “Your help.”

Stiles just blinks at him, shoes in his hands. “That was excruciating to witness, just so you know.”

Go check out raisesomehale's AO3 page and don't forget to mind the tags, leave a kudos and maybe even a comment!

[teddywrites0]

𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐲. (𝐡.𝐲)

summary: yunjin has found herself crushing on her friend, who has a crush on someone else. it’s not as simple as that however, y/n is the first girl yunjin has ever liked… and you like a boy. (student!yunjin femstudent!reader, brief yeonjunxreader, brief angst, jealousy, pining, sunshine sunshine protector, reader is lowkey an idiot, friends to lovers.)

warnings: cursing, detailed descriptions of a fight, blood, detailed description of an injury, yeonjun is a douche (not a portrayal of him irl!!), the word “gag” once, let me know if i missed any!

word count: 2.1k

a/n: not proofread! obviously based off of that song that’s trending on tiktok, im not sure if it’s out yet (:

©teddywrites0: do not repost or translate my works! (reblogs are appreciated.)

she watched as you walked into the room, hair swaying with each step. you were an enigma, hard to figure out, but beautiful nonetheless. everything you did was beautiful to her as a matter of fact. she was just proud to be your friend, she was proud that she was the one you were walking to. “hey jen how’s that term paper going?” your rich voice rang through her ears like church bells. “you know i hate when you call me that,” she said softly with flushed cheeks, “it’s going fine, how about yours?” you sat in front of her in the small table of the library. “i finished last night, even though our professor told me to stop being such an overachiever.” you said sulking cutely. she watched as you looked down at your lap, it was adorable to her. “sometimes it’s good to overachieve, you’ve got a talent.” she complimented. you looked up with wide eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “you really think so?” she giggled at your innocence, “of course.” you reached for her hand, rubbing your thumb over the back. her smile dropped and she pulled back her hand. “are you alright?” you asked, oblivious to what a mess you just made to her stomach which was flooded with butterflies. “yeah.. yeah just fine.” she plastered a fake smile across her face. she would never admit her feelings even to herself, she thought she was silly. that maybe she just hasn’t found the right guy. the problem with her feelings.. just walked into the library. “god look at him, how can someone be so perfect?” you ogled. you had that fairytale look on your face. yunjin wanted to bury herself into the ground and never crawl back out. part of her wished you’d make a move on him and get it over with. he was popular, even if you were the most gorgeous woman in her eyes.. choi yeonjun wasn’t a relationship person. it didn’t matter if you hooked up with him, he’d be done with you in the morning. she wished it would just happen so she could comfort you when he says his trademark line, “i don’t do relationships.” so you would finally stop speaking about him. so she did what she did best, “just talk to him, if he rejects you move onto the next.” fake it. you sighed deeply, still staring as he typed away at his laptop. he looked up, meeting your eyes with a smirk. you quickly looked away, “holy shit we made eye contact, hide me!” you panicked covering your face with your hands. he was already standing up, walking coolly toward your table. yunjin rolled her eyes preparing for a pickup line or a faux compliment. “hey beautiful, couldn’t help but notice you staring.” he said as he took a seat beside you. yunjin wanted to gag. your hands remained on your face, burning with a fiery blush. “adorable, isn’t she?” he asked, acknowledging yunjins presence for the first time with a sly grin. he lifted his slender hand and gently removed your own from your face, “what’s your name angel?”you giggled nervously at the sudden contact, “y/n.” you said softly. “well y/n, go on a date with me?” now yunjin wasn’t expecting that. her stomach was in knots. usually yeonjun picks up a girl from a party, he’s never actually been on a date with someone as far as she knew. how does she know so much about him? he was her bestfriend, until college started. “yes! i-i mean sure!” you said grinning ear to ear. that’s when her heart sunk to her stomach. “alright sweetheart, meet me at that one fancy place on main street at eight.” he said tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. once he had left yunjin spoke up, “a gentlemen would’ve offered to pick you up.” you rolled your eyes playfully, “i’m sure he has his reasons.”

now here yunjin was, helping you get ready for a date that wasn’t with her. “do you think he likes red? or is that too sexy? i could do pink but i don’t want to seem too innocent.” you rambled while skimming through your closet like a mad woman. “just wear the white one. it suits your.. figure.” she said carefully. “you’re right. thank you again, for helping me.” you said as you began to take your jeans off. yunjin quickly turned around, “you’re welcome.” she said nervously. you furrowed your eyebrows, shaking your head and dismissing the thought of asking why she seemed so uncomfortable. once you were changed you stared long and hard in the mirror before turning back toward yunjin. “how do i look?” you asked fiddling with your fingers. she turned around, eyes widening, lips parting. “you look..” — “is it bad?” she quickly shook her head, “no you look gorgeous.” you smiled, pulling her into a tight hug and thanked her for the fifth time that night. “would you mind if i walked you? i just want to make sure you get there safely.” truthfully she did want you to be safe, but she also wanted her time with you to last a bit longer. “that would be great actually, but i wouldn’t want you to walk alone on your way back.” you said, pulling away slightly so your arms were still around the back of her neck. the proximity of your faces making her extremely nervous. “it’s alright i’ll wait for you outside.” it didn’t take long for her to convince you, you finally had let her go and she felt like she could breathe again. the night wind blew your loosely curled hair and yunjin had to stop herself from staring a few times. it was getting chilly, the sun had set and you repeatedly rubbed your hands together. to tell the truth she thought he was going to stand you up, but low and behold there he was, looking as smug as ever as he offered a hand to you at the entrance of the restaurant. he gave yunjin a quick look of accomplishment.

once inside yeonjun led you to a table, pulling a chair out for you and taking the seat across from you. “you know.. i’ve noticed how you look at me.” he said smirking. you blushed, “was i obvious?” he chuckled, “in lectures, in the library, i just don’t know how you didn’t notice me looking at you.” he flirted. you smiled softly, and shortly a waiter came to take your orders. he ordered an expensive wine, and the date went well. he was almost too flirty, you found it a bit overwhelming. if it were anyone else they’d think he was sweetening them up, kissing their ass if you will. but unfortunately for you, you’re oblivious to a lot of things. yunjin sat on a bench outside, hugging her cardigan to her chest. it had been over an hour, she really didn’t understand how all of a sudden yeonjun had seemingly become a date person. finally, you and yeonjun walked out, his hand against the small of your back. yunjin stood up, “ready?” she asked. you nodded before gasping, “i left my phone!” you ran inside before yunjin or yeonjun could offer to get it for you. “look at you.. waiting out here like some kind of body guard.” yeonjun said sourly. yunjin glared at him, “she’s my friend, and knowing you i’d like to make sure she’s safe.” he furrowed his brows, “what is that supposed to mean?” before she could answer you had rushed out, looking at the two in confusion. “is everything alright?” yeonjun smiled, “just peachy.” he then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. yunjin rolled her eyes. “jen you should sleep over!” you said. she pursed her lips into an awkward smile. you and yeonjun said your goodbyes and you interlocked your arm with yunjins. back at your apartment, she found herself zoning out through the story of your date. “and then he kissed my cheek and god it was magical, you saw it right?” she snapped out of her thoughts and nodded. “we’re going on another date next weekend!” you said, excitedly clasping your hands together. now this is weird. “i’m happy for you.” she said with faux excitement. “i’m going to see if he’ll join us for lunch tomorrow, if that’s okay?” you said, a hopeful glint in your eye. how could she say no to you? you always gave puppy dog eyes, whether it was intentional or not. it was everyone who ever knew you’s weakness. “that would be great!” she said, knowing deep down it would be hell.

he didn’t show up, you and yunjin sat in the campus cafe for thirty minutes and he didn’t show up. yunjin was more upset than you seemed to be. she watched you check your phone every five seconds, stare at the door in hopes to see him walk in. it was pitiful, and she was growing frustrated. “c’mon we’re leaving, he’s an asshole.” you reluctantly stood up, walking out of the cafe with yunjins arm around your shoulder. you wanted to cry, it wasn’t that big of a deal, you thought maybe he had his reasons. “listen guys are jerks, he’s not an exception.” she reassured you. you walked down the sidewalk gripping onto yunjins shirt while her arm remained on your shoulders. you were embarrassed, it was your first date in a long time and you thought it went well; but apparently not. she was pissed. you had to walk through the parking lot to get to the main campus. on your way, a couple making out against a car caught your attention. “gross.” yunjin said grimacing. “wait..” you said cautiously removing yourself from yunjins side and approaching them. “yeonjun?” you said quietly, a quiver in your voice. he turned around, no sign of remorse in his eyes. “hey sweetheart.” he smirked. the girl left with an annoyed scoff. “how could you?” you asked, tears welling into your eyes. yunjin caught up, slowly realizing what was happening. “we’re not in a relationship? how is it your concern?” yunjin pushed you slightly out of the way, slapping him harshly. “you are such a selfish, arrogant ass!” she shouted, gaining the attention of a few students. he scoffed, “you mind explaining yourself?” she shouted yet again. you watched in silence, choking back sobs. “i was playing the long game, sweetening her up until i could get a taste of that innocent p-“ she landed a punch square on his nose. you gasped and students started to crowd around the three of you. he hunched over, holding his bleeding nose. “i’m not going to fight a girl.” — “tough.” she said before kicking into his side. “yunjin stop!” you shouted. she couldn’t hear you, all she could hear was her heart pumping rapidly in anger. she shoved him and hit him anywhere she could. finally, having enough, he punched her back. “h-holy shit.” he said, realizing what he had done. her lip began to bleed, a deep cut tracing her bottom lip from his ring. you grabbed her wrist pulling her away from the crowd before a professor or campus police showed up.

you rushed her to the infirmary, “where the hell is the nurse when you need her?” you shouted. a note was left on the desk, “on lunch.” it read. “great.” you scoffed. you pushed yunjin down onto a cot gently. “y/n it’s okay really” — “no it’s not.” you interrupted rummaging through the supply drawer. you collected a cotton ball and some rubbing alcohol, “this is gonna sting a bit.” you said as you dabbed her lip gently with the alcohol coated cotton ball. she winced. you couldn’t quite see so you had to situate yourself to be standing directly between her legs. she looked up at you, it was so hard seeing you this close. “i wish you were a boy.” she whispered. “what?” you asked, “nothing.. it- it’s nothing.” — “jen.” you brought your hand up to cup her cheek. “y/n.” she whispered, voice shaking. you brought your face closer, leaning in. her lips were soft, and you weren’t sure exactly why it felt so right. you weren’t sure why you hadn’t done this a long time ago. you pulled away, leaning your forehead against hers. “what does this mean?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t know.. all i know is i want you to do it again.” she said with a slight smile. you smiled leaning into another kiss.

[aquaquadrant]

there is a ticking clock

Warnings: Mild language, shipping

Summary: Etho walks through the forest with a clock in his pocket.

A/N: Ik I’m late to the party but I’ve been on vacation, after I came home I binged Etho’s pov and then stayed up til 2 am writing. Y’all can blame @lunarcrown and this post for this one. Hope u enjoy, pls reblog if u do! - Aqua

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

~

there is a ticking clock

~

Etho walks through the forest with a clock in his pocket.

It’s a standard clock made of gold and powered by redstone, no bigger than the palm of his hand. He’s attached an iron chain to it, because he knows its intended recipient prefers to have a clock within view at all times instead of hidden away in an inventory. It’s easier not to lose track of time that way. Because if it’s out of sight, it’s out of mind.

Another clock is ticking against Etho’s wrist, beating with the same rhythm as his pulse. The numbers are green. The game’s just started and he has plenty of time. This is what he tells himself as he tugs his sleeve down to cover up the timer. He can still feel it, though. Always ticking.

‘You have twenty-four hours to live,’ Grian had said. ‘Good luck.’

Etho’s luck has held pretty well so far. He hasn’t died yet, he’s found a good team, and he’s even gathered some decent resources. Including enough resources to make a clock. Just four lumps of gold and one handful of redstone dust. Redstone is more precious to Etho than gold, maybe even more than diamonds at this moment, but he hadn’t given it a second thought as he put the clock together.

Like the other players, Etho has lived countless lives in countless worlds. But one thing that remains constant is that whatever world Bdubs is in, he needs a clock. It doesn’t matter if he’s in a world where he can’t sleep- which is a special kind of hell for Bdubs, Etho knows- he still needs to have one. 

It helps him, Etho thinks. Knowing when the night will come.

Etho knows what happened on Third Life; Scar gave Bdubs a clock, and Bdubs killed Impulse for him. Etho also knows what happened on Double Life; Bdubs and Impulse were soulmates, and Impulse gave Bdubs a clock as a token of their bond. Forgiveness and a promise all wrapped up in one gesture of kindness- and perhaps, something more.

They were married, back then. Etho doesn’t know what that means, now that they’re in a new world.

(The clock’s always ticking.)

Etho’s already found Bdubs in this world, but they’ve ended up on different teams. Bdubs with Scar and Cleo, Etho with Tango, Skizz, and Impulse- ironically. That doesn’t bother Etho. He’s never had a problem with Impulse. The guy is too earnest, too kind. Even when he and Bdubs were soulmates, he’d welcomed Etho’s allegiance with open arms- and perhaps, something more.

If Etho had been brave enough to ask. If Joel hadn’t been so committed. If things hadn’t gone so badly so quickly. That’s always how it goes, isn’t it? They think they have more time before it all goes to hell, and they’re always wrong.

But this time will be different. This time, Etho knows exactly how much time he has left.

(The ticking clock won’t let him forget.)

It wasn’t that hard to track down Bdubs. Etho follows his voice like a compass, weaving through the dense oak trees, ducking under branches, hopping over small craters in the dirt. He slips a hand into his pocket as he goes, just to make sure the clock is still there. He wraps the chain around his fingers. The metal’s cool against his skin.

He doesn’t call out to Bdubs, not yet. He only catches brief glances of the other player, a flash of red and white against the green forest. Bdubs is talking to himself, oblivious that he’s being followed. Or maybe he’s not. Maybe he’s just humoring Etho until he can get the drop on him, turn the tables on him. It’s a game of cat-and-mouse they play often, a thrilling dance. Etho’s always loved the chase, and Bdubs knows it.

Bdubs disappears around the side of a peninsula with a modest hill on it. The hill where Etho is currently setting up for a mob farm. Etho holds his breath as he follows, inching across the sandbank. His ears are pricked and his eyes are up, muscles tense, waiting for a possible sneak attack- but he hears Bdubs continue on the other side.

Etho steps around the corner.

Bdubs is walking towards the small island that is the top of Etho’s underground base- his and Impulse’s and Tango’s and Skizz’s. Impulse and Tango are currently working on it, flattening out the terrain to make room for the future structure.

Etho pauses, only a few blocks from the narrow sandback that leads to the island.

He’d wanted to do this in private. Like a secret pact, just between them. Impulse and Tango are on his team, the TIES. They’re allies; he shouldn’t be keeping secrets from them. But deep down, Etho knows who he’d choose if it came down to either of them or Bdubs.

If it came down to anyone or Bdubs.

They haven’t noticed him yet. Etho takes a step back, watching the trio. Bdubs has made it across and is chatting to Impulse from behind an abruptly placed door. Tango is still clearing land away. None of them notice as Etho turns around and sprints down the coast, his footsteps light on the sand. He leaps over the river and darts back into the forest, back into the trees.

No voices call after him. He stops to catch his breath.

Later. He’ll do it later- he’s got plenty of time.

(The clock on his wrist is ticking.)

He ends up going to Bdubs’ base at the top of the mountain, because- well. They have cows. Etho’s own team has tried multiple times to acquire two cows, to no avail. If Etho takes two now, he’ll have solved his team’s problem and given Bdubs a reason to come after him. He just knows it’ll tick Bdubs off. So he’ll take two cows now while no one is home and then Bdubs will come for him later and Etho can give him the clock then.

Except Cleo’s home, actually. And she makes it quite clear that the only way Etho is taking any cows is by force. Etho doesn’t want to get into a fight with Cleo; not this soon, not over this. So he concedes defeat and returns home.

He’ll figure out another way to get Bdubs alone, to give him the clock. He’s still got time.

(Always ticking.)

When Etho reaches the end of the forest that overlooks his base, he pauses. He can hear faint voices, and peeks out from behind a tree, not yet willing to reveal himself.

Bdubs is still on the island, talking with Impulse while Tango lingers beside them. Etho can’t make out what they’re saying from this distance. He tries to listen anyways, and catches only snippets. He watches intently, noting who has a weapon equipped, just in case anything should go wrong-

Something familiar is in Impulse’s hand. Something gold.

Etho’s heart jolts. His pulse thrums in his ears, beating in sync with the ticking of the clock. He can barely hear the loud exclamation Bdubs lets out, breaking into a wide grin as his face lights up with joy.

Impulse has given Bdubs a clock.

Etho’s heart drops into his boots. His grip tightens around the clock in his pocket. 

The three of them are still talking, out of earshot. Impulse’s face is happily flushed as he rubs the back of his neck. Bdubs is nodding enthusiastically, clutching the clock to his chest. Tango is watching with folded arms and an amused expression. Even without words, Etho knows what it means.

Suddenly, they’re turning towards Etho. He jolts in surprise, body tensing up as he’s split between running or freezing. He isn’t sure if they’re actually looking at him- Bdubs seems to be pointing more towards the mountain.

But he isn't going to risk it; spying from the treeline is a bad look. He emerges from the forest at a jog, casually making his way down the hillside, into the water, and is thankful that he’s wearing a mask that conceals most of his expression. They notice but don’t acknowledge him as he climbs onto the bank of the island.

“Yeah,” Bdubs is saying to Tango, “just right up the hill. Me, Cleo- 

“That you?” Tango asks, glancing up at the mountain.

“-Scar. And- yeah.” Bdubs blinks, nods his head. “Uh, and, we’re gonna-”

“B- Bdubs?” Etho calls softly, stepping forward to tap him on the shoulder.

His other hand is in his pocket, holding the clock, fingers twisted in chain. It ticks against his skin, like the clock etched against his wrist. His next sentence is already on his tongue, a sheepish yet amused, ‘Guess Impulse beat me to it, huh?’ as he pulls the clock out. It’ll get some laughs, but hopefully it’ll also get his point across to Bdubs. Hopefully he can still save this.

It takes Bdubs a second to process that Etho’s talking to him. “Yeah, we’re gonna create a-” He breaks off mid-sentence, head whipping over his shoulder to gawk at Etho. “Uh- may I finish?” he asks incredulously.

The words die on Etho’s tongue. Bdubs’ tone is- well. It’s Bdubs. All loud and brash and full of unrestrained emotion, never holding anything back. But something about it is different. Something about it is wrong. There was a very real shock there, almost a panic. Like he doesn’t want Etho to be here right now-

“For goodness sake,” Bdubs continues grumbling, face red, “come in an’ interrupt me, n‘less it’s an emergency, a creeper behind me…”

He’s still holding the clock in his hand. 

Etho just stands there, blinking. Impulse and Tango are snickering behind their hands, mistaking the situation as humorous. Not realizing there was anything behind Bdubs’ tone behind a teasing annoyance. Maybe Bdubs doesn’t even realize it.

(The clock is still ticking.)

Seemingly satisfied, Bdubs turns back to Impulse and Tango. He finds his train of thought, starting again. “Uh… I just-”

“Bdubs.” Etho finds his voice, stepping forward again. “I just- I just wanted to say-”

Bdubs fully whirls around this time. “Would you please?!” he shouts.

It should be funny. That’s how he means it, Etho knows. That’s what they do; they banter, they jibe. That’s just the dynamic they have. Etho picks at Bdubs, and Bdubs reacts. He pretends things annoy him more than they do. It’s funny. 

Unbeknownst to Bdubs, he’s given Etho the perfect setup. All Etho has to do is pull the clock out of his pocket, hold it out, and deliver his line. But the joke will stem from Etho’s lateness, the hilarity and redundancy of him giving Bdubs a clock right after Impulse already has.

And a joke like that hits a little too close for comfort.

Etho backs off, managing a chuckle. “Sorry, sorry…”

Bdubs smoothly picks back up his conversation. “We’re makin’ an amphitheater,” he tells Tango and Impulse, “and we’re just gonna sit and watch and wait when people die, and come back. It’s fun.”

“I like it, I like it.”

“Oh, great!”

“It’s nice…”

A small pause as the conversation lulls. Finally, Bdubs turns to face Etho. He puts his hands on his hips, one eyebrow quirked expectantly. “Yes, Etho?” he asks, like an exasperated school teacher. “Goodness.”

Etho’s heart pounds. The clock ticks.

(It’s always ticking.)

Etho shoves the clock deeper into his pocket and withdraws his hand. He shrugs as he turns away.

“Nothin’,” he breathes finally. He grins, letting the curve of his mouth shape a humor into his words that he doesn’t feel, and is once again thankful he’s wearing a mask. “Nothin’.”

Scowling, Bdubs throws his hands in the air. “What?” he demands, stalking a few steps after Etho as Etho retreats further; a shallow imitation of their usual dance. “All that for nothin’?”

A comical response, as expected. Impulse and Tango are laughing, oblivious. Etho makes himself laugh, too. He can’t feel the clock in his pocket ticking anymore, but he can feel the one on his wrist, beating with his heart.

(Tick, tick, tick.)

He’s out of time.

Etho doesn’t really pay attention to the conversation after that. He wanders into the shallows around the island, collecting kelp. It’s not cows, but it’s something. And after just a couple more minutes, Bdubs starts ambling back towards the shore, not even addressing Etho in his farewell. 

Etho wonders if he’s the reason Bdubs chose to leave now. He wonders if Bdubs would’ve stayed and talked more with Impulse, had Etho not arrived when he did. He wonders what would’ve happened if he hadn’t left, if he’d approached Bdubs at the start and given him the clock before Impulse.

He thought he’d had more time. That’s always how it goes, isn’t it?

(Yet the ticking hasn’t stopped.)

The next day, Etho walks through the forest with a clock in his pocket.

~

[d10nsaint]

“I WAS FEELING INSECURE—SO INSECURE THAT YOU MIGHT NOT LOVE ME ANYMORE.”

ft. Aki Hayakawa

tw: insecurities, personal comfort, slight self insert , h!m€n0

On some days— your worst, your insecurities skyrocketed. You’d stand before the mirror, wishing for everything to go away.Your insecurities had such a far range, from yourself and your body and habits, to your boyfriend and those who surrounded him.

To you, it just was that everyone around Aki was perfect—beautiful, strong, assertive—and you were, well, you. You weren’t a beautiful boss, or a strong devil hunter with a team to lead. You were a normal person with a normal job.

Aki never understood your insecurities. You were his world, his safe space, where he went for advice. He knew about your ‘days’, and just couldn’t understand. You’re so perfect— whats there to be sad about?

He knows to—sometimes—leave you alone during times like this. Things like these are personal battles and you cant overcome them with help—its a battle of your own mind and how you see yourself. He can only help you in the aftermath.

Sometimes, during these ‘episodes, you’d just listen to music on an outdated music player, with an old play going on in the background.

He knocked on the bedroom door, just coming back from work.

“..[name]? are you in there?” He noticed that Denji and Power weren’t home yet—it was so quiet. ‘I wonder what they’re fucking up now,’ he thought as he twisted the door handle open.

He slowly opened the door to find you sitting on the bed, head on a pillow, with your eyes at the cealing.

“..[name]?” He looked at you oddly. “Are you awake?”

Your gaze slowly shifted from the ceiling to his tall frame, peeking through the door. He looked so handsome, so effortlessly. He was also just so caring, so sweet. An amazing boyfriend. Multiple times, you’d ‘joke’ and say that he was too good for you.

“Aki,” you sighed, happy that it was him and not Power or Denji—you loved them, sure, but they were both insanely loud and ignorant, and at the moment, you couldn’t take the noise. You covered up the sigh with a light laugh, “Im sorry, I didnt hear you come through the door- come, sit.” You patted the sheets near you so he could sit next to you, exactly where he liked to be. But something was off.

He slowly shuffled over to sit next to you, as you propped yourself up again to lie down. He bent over to give you a quick kiss that seemed to put you deep in thought.

“ [Name], what’re you thinking about?” He seemed so confused and concerned—He was so genuine.

“I was just feeling so insecure,” you started, taking a deep breath before finishing, “so insecure that you might not love me anymore.”

A moment of silence filled the room before he let out a fake cough. “..why is that?” He was perplexed. Hasn’t he been taking care of you? Showing you affection?

You took a deep breath—what you were about to say was going to take a whole lot of guts, but it’ll also get so much off of your chest. You knew it was better to talk about your problems and come to a helpful agreement.

“Himeno.” Her name came out like a cracked whisper, maybe even a sob. “Himeno,..shes a reason that I feel like that.Shes always so close to you, so touchy. To any outsider, it looks like you both are dating.”

You turned over to the wall so you wouldn’t face him. You sounded so stupid. But you tried so hard for him, and he knew. At this point, you didn’t even know if he was being oblivious on purpose. How could a man not notice how close she was?

“ [Name], you know I dont like Himeno, we’re just co-workers. Sometimes, I even find her antics annoying.” He rubbed your back as he spoke, then leaned down to plant a kiss to the side of your neck.

“I dont know what i have to do to prove it to you, but I really dont like Himeno like how I like you.” He moved his body so he’d be getting off the bed.

“I’ll leave you in here. Tell me if theres anything you need,alright?” He walked to the door and almost finished closing it when you turned over a bit.

“Hey Aki?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

[myriadparacosm]

Black Beats Black - 2. Lotus

Chapter 1.

Read on AO3

It’s fairly simple. Love is quite easy to come by, which Regulus hates with a determined passion. It’s akin to a curse, one that is covered with a pretty bow and sugar to trump and confuse. It has no rules, no clear logic and it digs deeply into you to let you beg for more. A curse has the politeness to have a cure, however mad it might be.

The Hanahaki disease is deadly and straight-forward but a cure is much more complicated despite the easy logic. Many ideas came up to him during an uncomfortable sleep mixed with images of his brother suffocating and vanishing out of nowhere.

Drugging Remus Lupin with an Amortentia would be the perfect solution. Regulus would have no troubles to make some and more to have him on it for the rest of his life but trying to fool the Hanahaki is really dangerous, if it can even be. Even the fair cure by having your feelings returned might be tricky; confessing and being aware of the curse might falsify them and the Hanahaki is quick to hurt.

Regulus has frankly no idea if Lupin even returns Sirius’ feelings but he wouldn’t be surprised that he would confess out of sympathy to prevent his death— although it’s not certain as they are not on speaking terms. Whatever happened is not his concern, despite the curiosity, but it certainly caused the Hanahaki to flourish with a rejection from Lupin. He feels like he shouldn’t not underestimate the flowers. Even if he gets Lupin to requite Sirius’ love, it wouldn’t last long before Sirius catches on and the flowers might come back even fiercer.

Sirius wouldn’t even agree to any of this. Manipulating Lupin is out of the question in this case, even behind his brother’s back, and how the Hanahaki might see through it. Telling Lupin of Sirius’ fate might not make his feelings, if they are of love too, honest enough for the curse. He doesn’t have the time to try and risk his brother’s life. If it has only been two weeks and Sirius is already sprouting full-grown flowers, it means it's growing at an alarming speed. He looks like he is going to drop dead any time soon. Regulus doesn’t feel confident in losing any second.

He has heard and read about this curse before as its origin is a complete mystery - whether it’s a wizard who created it or an innocent reaction of one’s magic at being lovesick. So far, there is nothing new despite all the books he has been looking through today. Without much sleep or feeling like resting, his first destination has been the library hours before the elves start on breakfast.

No words are fit to reassure him or guide him in a direction to cure or at least stop the evolution of the Hanahaki disease. Everyone who had survived was because of a requited love confession.

Obliviating Sirius is a solution despite how drastic it might be. The Hanahaki flowers will die on their own without feelings to be fed on but he will still be living near Lupin for two years and it might come back. Too many memories will be wiped out and everyone is paying attention to Sirius with how loud and exuberant he is for this to be discreet and completely effective as of now.

Regulus closes a book to frustratedly slip it back in its place. Taking control of feelings through magic are mostly theories and he hasn’t read anything worthwhile to his current problem. He could probably get rid of Sirius’ love for Lupin altogether but it could cause many other problems to come with. People have tried to cut off their love to be healed from the Hanahaki but it has never been a success. His brother can not die under any circumstances or become an empty shell– he can find a solution to his madness.

“Regulus.”

At least, it’s not any of his friends. He expected Barty to track him down to figure out why he disappeared before dinner yesterday. While he doesn’t want to talk to any of them currently, he would have picked his friends being insufferable over Snape.

“What do you want?” He asks with a cool look, turning back to the book in his hand.

Regulus has a big suspicion that Snape is related to what broke the Marauders, Sirius’ exile, as he had looked weird for a couple of days. It can’t be a coincidence because of how much he and the Marauders have clashed over the years. He doesn’t really care about their endless fight but he has noticed the way Snape more or less ignores their little gang now instead of asking for a fight like any other day.

“You appear ready to empty the library,” he comments with a pointed look at the pile of books beside him.

“We don’t chat,” he reminds him and finally offers his attention. “What do you want?”

Snape is a Death Eater, if not the first one on the waiting list, and is at the head of every Slytherin ready to join the dark ranks. Perhaps he is out to try to recruit Regulus like he has implied before. His status of Pure-blood has slowly stopped hijacking his authority over most Slytherins but they are all obviously waiting on one sign from Regulus. This is probably why Sirius is planning to run away suddenly now. Their lack of involvement or fake interest won’t be enough to placate their parents for long, not when a possible war is slithering toward them.

“I’m merely curious if you are aware that your brother seems to have disappeared.”

“Has he?”

Snape’s eyes are dangerously sharp and brewing a scheme. His answer doesn’t appear to satisfy him and the slight unease that Regulus has noticed on him since this, apparently decisive, night two weeks ago evades him for a brief second.

“I know you have noticed it.”

“When your brother is as discreet as an Erumpent in heat every second of his life, you learn to keep him out of your mind as long as you can,” he replies and sorts out his books. “Whatever he did to you is not my concern, if you paid proper attention you would notice that we aren’t on speaking terms.”

Regulus needs to be careful. The only reason why he didn’t try to bring his brother back to his dorm is because someone will definitely notice it and the word will spread before they can stop it. His parents will go mad with the idea that he and Sirius are close. If they learn about the Hanahaki disease, they will probably kill him to not have a scandal over it.

“Hello there.”

“Putain,” he spits out through his teeth when he recognizes the voice.

Snape seems to share the sentiment by the glare he offers to James Potter standing behind Regulus with all the cockiness and inflated persona he likes to throw around. The library is usually saved from pests but apparently he picked the wrong day.

Thankfully not many books are worth the effort to bring them back with him so he swiftly casts them to fly back to their spots.

“Potter.”

“Sorry, am I interrupting?”

Regulus eats back his scoff but can’t hold himself back from glancing at him. James isn’t sick but you might wonder by his appearance, which he has noticed quite early on by the lack of his raucous laugh through the Great Hall. Everyone must have noticed it too, with Sirius estranged and the rest of the Marauders tiptoeing around with mute emotions compared to their usual demeanour of the last five years.

James is clearly sleep-deprived but he stands his ground. His eyes have lost their usual shine, edging to something more unfamiliar that Regulus finds no use on someone like James.

He almost looks at him and his eyes not quite soften but it shifts to something more raw. Regulus abruptly takes the three books that might give him some hope and walks away. Any other time he would have roughly bumped into James to get away but he already feels crazy with what went over yesterday.

At least it’s not James. Regulus has this small reassurance – he wouldn’t have known how to react if Sirius had gotten Hanahaki over him and died. For a moment, he pictured himself in his brother’s place, getting sick over love, but this thought quickly perished with the rest of his delusions.

With a deep breath and his stomach digging in hunger, he considers looking for Sirius before grabbing breakfast. The room they have found yesterday, because there is no way by Sirius’ reaction that he knew about it before, is a complete mystery too. Perhaps he could ask a house-elf about it since he has access to the kitchen now.

This will be a mystery for another day. There is no use in puzzling this room if it isn’t to help his brother. What he fears the most is that he is running out of time. Two weeks are long but he has read enough to know that the curse shouldn’t have developed this fast - of course Sirius is a fool and probably loves Lupin more than is necessary.

A hex is at the tip of his tongue before he thinks about it when his arm is abruptly grabbed. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t expected James to follow him.

“Reggie.”

“Let go of me.”

He does quite easily but Regulus still huffs and jerks his arm away with a glare. James has no traces of Quidditch nor does he seem to have been sweating, which doesn’t explain why he is awake so early and alone.

“What did Snape tell you?”

“Why are you speaking to me?”

James scoffs, bloody scoffs, at him which he has perhaps never seen before on him. Except that it quickly dims down to a mute fatigue that appears to frustrate him by the look in his eyes.

“I need to talk to you,” he says with a tentative smile.

“No.”

He steps in front of him before he can try to escape.

“Reggie, please.”

“Do not call me that.”

“Regulus,” James amends but his grin falls.

He is immensely frustrating. Regulus just knew James Potter would be a nightmare once Sirius started to write about him in his letters.

“You didn’t have fun with Snape?”

“Did he tell you something?”

James is truly worried sick by the swift looks he keeps casting around them. It could be because of Snape, which might be the opening Regulus could use to figure out whatever Sirius has done to cause this. At least to piece together if Lupin returning his feelings is a possibility or really a dead end.

“I can’t see how it concerns you,” he answers and cautiously covers the books’ titles in case he has the mind to check them.

“I don’t–” James scrunches up his nose before breathing out. “Listen, I know you were with Sirius last night.”

There is no way James could have followed them. Regulus or Sirius would have noticed it especially when the night had been dead silent outside of their arguments and fighting. It’s obvious the Marauders have their means to get around the school without being spotted but Sirius would have known.

“Really? I doubt it.”

“You were eating in the kitchen with him.”

A house-elf would probably mention it if asked but this possibility is a bit far-stretched considering James would have to make the effort and have the thought to even ask. Perhaps he is keeping an eye on Sirius like that. Regulus finds it a bit hypocritical when James hasn’t talked to his brother in weeks.

“I didn’t want to get dinner last night, that’s why I didn’t go to the Great hall,” he says. “I don’t even have access to the kitchen.”

“I know you were with Sirius,” James argues. “I just want you to tell me if he is alright.”

“Alright?” Regulus scoffs and digs his nails into one of the books. “You want to know if Sirius is alright when you share classes, a dorm and perhaps a bed with how you two wankers can’t let go of each other one second?”

James blinks sheepishly and his throat weakly croaks out before his lips purse enough to lose their colours.

“It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated? That’s rich coming from you,” he argues with glare.

“It’s not about me! But I can’t just ignore what— did he tell you anything?”

“I do not know anything about whatever mess you four created.”

He looks absolutely relieved and it makes Regulus furious to see how he takes his words as the whole truth without thinking twice– but worse is how whatever secret they are guarding appears to be more precious than Sirius.

Any other day, he would have thought about his wand and all the hexes he could picture in one second but he must be more afflicted than he thought as he roughly pushes James against the wall. This surprises both of them and for once. It's enough to shut James' famous big mouth from retorting. Actually, he seems to be also running out of air.

“Re-”

“Shut it,” he hisses and tightens his grip around his badly knotted tie, clearly he hasn’t woken up in a good mood, to trap him further against the stone. “You are the worst Potter. You stole my brother before throwing him away and now, poor you are playing all innocent and coy with me?”

James shakes his head and all the shock has washed away to panic. “What? I didn’t-”

“Did I say you could speak?” Regulus warns and feels himself slipping out of his usual control. Thankfully, he appears to have understood not to cut him again. “Do not come to me to plead for you and even less begging to know about Sirius. If I did see him or even talk to him it is none of your concern but I can assure you that you can scramble back to your friends without worrying about your secret because I’m sure Sirius will not whisper it even dead in his grave.”

“Let’s not exaggerate-”

“You lost him. And believe me, I won’t let you near him again if I can help it,” he feverishly warns, slapping James just in the right way with his words, but he still needs to take a breath to not spill out everything. “Sirius could have murdered someone and I would not let go of him because I know him. This is my brother who is too impulsive and brazen for his own good, which is why I know that whatever he has done must be incredibly stupid. Whatever he did is probably something he didn’t think through properly with a good twisted reason. You stole him for five years and whatever made you sick of him is good omen to me.”

“I’m not sick of Sirius,” he argues, finally aggravated but doesn’t push him, only stands his ground despite the hand close enough to claw his throat.

Regulus has many thoughts running through his head. Simply James being near him, their absent distance, breathing mingling and warning each other to not mind themselves upon this strange edge. It leaves him winded and almost broken at the realisation he can’t handle any of this.

He lets go, which surprises James by how he almost slumps, and quickly steps back.

“Please, your main problem is whether Sirius is spilling whatever stupid secret your lot has,” he sneers and exhales sharply through his nose. “Do not come near me or talk to me ever again. Next time I will hex your guts through your ears.”

Before he rounds the corner, Regulus tries to take a look as naturally as possible behind him. James hasn’t moved to his spot, at all, but he doesn’t wait to see if he glances in his direction to quickly walk away.

Regulus has let himself go. He tried to prepare himself for the whole– James Potter’s thing, as he might stick to Sirius but he has been caught by surprise again. A big part of him held some hope that James hadn’t truly turned his back on his brother. It’s not his concern and Regulus doesn’t feel up to pushing Sirius to tell, not when he is so obviously tortured over it and dying, but he can figure it out by himself.

Snape is probably involved, especially if he went as far as reaching out to Regulus for Sirius. They aren’t on bad terms but also not on good ones, both aware that they might work together one day, but it doesn’t mean they have to connect. He could be the reason for the downfall of Sirius, completely fooling the Marauders, but the way Snape retracted at the sight of James doesn’t fit with this theory. Either way if he is looking for Sirius it can’t be for anything good. While his brother can perfectly defend himself it’s probably not going to be helped in any way.

Whilst Snape is a sneaky one, Regulus can keep an eye out on his whereabouts, the most bothersome one is James. It’s obvious that the Marauders know their way around the castle and also how to hide but Sirius should have noticed him then. He is hiding as much as his so-called friends are ignoring him. What Regulus would like to know is since when James had been here– did he see Sirius in the toilet? The flowers? The torture? Just to ignore all of it. He is probably more concerned about Regulus being close to Sirius.

The thought disgusts him. At this point, he will take what he can get to forget about James even if it means completely destroying his shiny picture and indirectly influencing Sirius.

His brother is not present for breakfast and probably not hiding at another spot or table than the Gryffindor’s one. Lupin is eating breakfast beside Pettigrew. The latter appears to try to have a conversation with him but doesn’t get much response. They are beside Evans who doesn’t seem as careful as Pettigrew but she can clearly see that something is wrong. Potter joins them soon enough, still looking as messy as when Regulus left him. It’s a bit out of character for him. Not that he is perfectly up to the dressing code but compared to Sirius it’s far better.

Regulus takes a breath in as he watches Evans striking a conversation with him. They aren’t happy, clearly trying to be cheerful by how Potter throws smiles around, but they don’t want to attract attention compared to any other days two weeks ago. It’s ridiculous that Sirius gets the Hanahaki disease, over someone who doesn’t seem to care about him by his intense focus on his food, while James Potter has been throwing his undying love at Lily Evans who has always rejected him. This is unfair.

Not that he would wish that on James.

“What crawled in your bed for you to have this face so early in the morning?” Emmeline asks and makes a grabby hand to get Evan to pass over the plate with warm patisserie.

Regulus scoffs at her but his eyes don’t quite move from his target.

“He is sitting in front of Barty, this is probably why,” Dorcas mocks.

“Shut up,” Barty replies, flipping her off. “You are the one hanging out every day with the year below because you don’t have any friends.”

“You ought to not come to Hogsmeade this weekend or no one will find your body,” she warns.

“Reg, did something happen?” Evan asks. “Is that why you disappeared last night without getting dinner?”

“Shagged someone?”

Pandora gasps beside Barty, in front of her brother. “Did you?”

“No.”

“Something fun?”

“Nothing is going on.”

Regulus focuses on spreading jam over his bread but he can feel all his friends all looking at him. He can’t tell them about Sirius without explaining one way or another that he is dying, plus they are all persistent and smart enough to figure out what is the curse. His brother wouldn’t enjoy that and be even more difficult than he already is.

“Reg?” Evan insists.

He offers a glance but nothing else. Barty and him won’t stop pestering him about his absence last night because it has never been Regulus’ style. Sometimes he goes out to stargaze but he disappeared too early for that so they must have figured out that it’s out of his habits.

“Snape asked me about Sirius.”

“Why?”

“Does he want to shag him?”

“Barty it’s not always about shagging,” Emmeline says.

“It should be. Everyone would be less cranky. I’m talking about you Reggie.”

“I will curse your bed curtains to strangle you.”

“Well, your brother has been pretty quiet.”

“Yesterday McGonagall asked to talk to him after class,” Dorcas comments.

“What did she say?” Regulus asks.

“I figure it was to remind him that he should focus on class but I’m not sure,” she says. “But she seemed genuinely worried.”

Let Sirius be a favourite to a professor like McGonagall, he would scoff again if all his friends weren’t watching him closely.

“Too busy staring at McKinnon were you?” Emmeline whispers and quietly chuckles behind her cup.

“No. I just didn’t think I needed to stay behind to eavesdrop on their conversation.”

“Is it about him, Reggie?” Pandora asks with a look behind her shoulder at the Gryffindor table. “He didn’t make up with his friends yet?”

Regulus shrugs. “I suppose not. Snape asked me if I knew about his whereabouts.”

“And?”

“I don’t know anything about him and I’m happy about it.”

His friends don’t fully believe him but they aren’t alone enough to ask more about it at the moment, even if Barty insists by kicking and rubbing his foot against him before Regulus loses his patience by almost kicking him in his balls. Sirius doesn’t show up at breakfast and Regulus doesn’t want to give any hints to his friends so he keeps his eyes to himself.

Without the time to go check out on his brother because of the classes, his whole day is spent working on theories on how to get rid of the Hanahaki disease. His friends might actually help but he would have to give too many details for Sirius to be comfortable, that’s what he assumes for now and he would rather be too safe than not enough.

It’s different. Regulus has often wondered about Sirius over the years despite their close proximity. Usually, it’s about old memories and how they lost their importance, rotten by the sourness of their distance and difference, especially considering how better his brother seems to be. There is no mistake that Regulus doesn’t want to be Sirius, to be at the centre of the attention and trying so hard to break rules that nothing seems to matter to him at this point, which just makes him sick by the idea of it. Regulus is grateful that his brother is the embodiment of loud and brash because it leaves him free of his parents’ overbearing attention, anything he might come up with will never be as outrageous as Sirius. Though their certain attraction to men appears mutual which might make their parents outraged enough to kick Regulus too.

His brother is now dying. Fully embracing it by how the look of it and Regulus is convinced he can still read him well despite barely holding a conversation even back at home. Sirius admitting that he planned to run away is a clear sign that he has given up on it– which in itself also means that he doesn’t see himself living long enough to even try to get out of here. The risk is huge and Regulus finds himself terrified just at the thought and their parents’ reaction if it ever came to happen.

To be honest, he doesn’t know how he would have reacted if Sirius asked him to flee with him. Regulus is conscious of the path prepared by his parents but he also never thought of another option. Sirius is brave but also crazy. He runs with something that Regulus never got, an unattainable dream, and nothing can get him to change his mind. Of this, he might be jealous.

Regulus doesn’t quite know what he wants to become and whenever he tries, it always leads him back to Grimmauld Place, Pure-blood traditions, suffocating dinners and hatred served as a dessert. At least he has a home. Perhaps he has a lack of will.

“Sirius!” Someone hisses and Regulus quickly slows down to quieten his steps. “You need to talk to me.”

To his luck, he is behind them and can sneak a glance to recognize one of the Gryffindor’s girls - the one Sirius is always hanging out with and have many rumours about being a couple with: Marlene McKinnon. Regulus is by himself, which would annoy Dorcas because she is completely smitten and would try anything to have any sort of contact with McKinnon, but he has been looking for Sirius so he skillfully lost all his friends by saying he needs to train for Quidditch. Dorcas would have come but he knew she was too busy with an essay for her Charm class.

“I can’t,” Sirius argues and for once he tries to keep his voice down as much as possible. “I told you, I can’t.”

One could mistake Marlene trying to mug or intimidate him by how she stands her ground and doesn’t let Sirius side-step her from his spot against the wall. He isn’t relaxed, there is an obvious tension, but it seems more about anyone walking on this. Regulus stays behind the corner of the corridor and checks on anyone who might come around - they are near where they found the door leading to the hidden room.

“Wha– Sirius, what is going on? You haven’t been around our dorm at all, do you even change?”

“I’m fine. It’s better like that, alright?”

“I’m worried about you,” Marlene exclaims and ignores his shushing. “We all are but the lads don’t want to tell us about what happened.”

“Because it’s personal.”

“Personal, my ass. You look sick, are you? I haven’t seen you at the Great Hall either. Tell me that you are eating at least.”

“I’m bloody fine Marl’, just forget about me okay?”

“I’m not forgetting about you! Whatever happened between you and your boyfriends, it’s hurting you all and I don’t know if you’re being stupid boys who avoid talking about their feelings or something really bad.”

“Marlene, we really shouldn’t be talking,” Sirius mutters and there is a big rustle before it quiets down. “I don’t want you to get into this. It’s my fault and I’m just– letting them have their space.”

“Something happened with Remus, right?” She asks without losing any of her perseverance. “Don’t try to play dumb, I can see right through it. James and Peter are on tip-toes around him and he was barely talking without snapping until a week ago.”

“Is he– how is he?”

“You are asking me about Remus?” McKinnon articulates in disbelief. “Sirius, you are nowhere! Where do you sleep? Are you eating? I can see that everyone is worried.”

“I’m fine.”

“Why aren’t you coming back to the dorm then?”

“I don’t want to.”

“What about Quidditch? Why were you kicked off? Our first match of the year is this week-end against Slytherin”

“You’ll kill it, I’m sure.”

“You really are not playing anymore?” She asks, sounding completely stumped, and loudly exhales through her nose at whatever is his reaction.

Laughters echo down the corridor, rendering them dead silent. Regulus stays put, waiting for a few seconds as he realises the footsteps are coming this way, before rounding the corner to check on his brother and his friend. Sirius is nowhere to be seen just like his friend but he still hurries with the hope to have a glimpse of his direction.

McKinnon must have walked away because she hasn’t followed him. His brother is facing one of the many windows of the corridor, offering a perfect view over the Great Lake, and he doesn’t look exactly worse but Regulus can see that he isn’t feeling better either. At least he showered. His hair really needed it.

“Your friend worries about you.”

Sirius glances at him without surprise but still checks that they are alone. “Marlene is sniffing out gossip, nothing else.”

“Sure,” Regulus says to not pry on the obvious lie. “Aren’t you cold? You don’t even have your cloak on.”

“I’m hot so I run hot.”

“This is a very bad joke.”

“You have no humour.”

He kicks him in the shin and Sirius hisses in pain before shoving into him. Regulus glares at his grin.

“What do you want?” He asks and wisely steps back to lean against alcove. “Can’t get enough of me?”

“Ah, you have always understood me perfectly,” Regulus drawls. “Are you really out of the Quidditch team?”

Truthfully, he heard about it but figured he would be back in it after a moment. Sirius rolls his eyes but he is clearly not happy about it by how he crosses his arms and looks at the landscape.

“Whatever.”

Sirius enjoys Quidditch but not as much. What he prefers is probably the team spirit, playing with people, the adrenaline of flying and people cheering on. Regulus is far more into it - though the fame doesn’t matter to him. His brother probably got brought into it by James.

“Snape asked me about you.”

“What?!” He pulls him closer with a rabid tremor in his hands. His eyes are sunken with anxiety and can’t focus on him by how far they shrink - Regulus believes he might have a heart attack. “What– what did he say?”

“Nothing,” he replies without another second. “He asked me if I knew where you were but I told him to sod off.”

“He came to you?”

One thing he always had trouble with is following the myriad of emotions that rushes through Sirius in just a blink. The fear is still here but it got quickly eaten by the fury and a brim of protection.

“He didn’t do anything,” Regulus says with the most poised tone he can manage without sarcasm. “I know how to defend myself, Sirius. But I’m not sure you can right now. Whatever happened has him in the story, right?”

His brother squints at him and his grip softens. “He only asked for me?”

“Yes.” Sirius’s breathing slows down and his teeth finally let go of his bottom lip. He seems completely drained out as he lands back against the curved wall sheltering the window. Regulus has rarely seen him like this; even at home Sirius stays as emotionless as possible outside from their punishment sessions. “You still won’t tell me what this is about?”

“It’s not about me.”

“Now it is since Snape went as far to talk to me,” he replies. “Which means that it somehow includes you.”

“Reg-”

“Do I need to remind you of what is constricting your lungs until you die?”

“Shut it,” he hisses with haunted eyes jumping all around them.

“You’re that worried that your so-called friends’ secret gets out?”

“It’s not–” Sirius exhales with a gnaw on his lips, completely devouring and leaving them bruised like a bloody gut. “It’s not just a secret. It’s important– and I destroyed all of it.”

“Sirius, I’m not asking you to spill everything but you’re already in a difficult situation.”

“There is nothing difficult,” he argues.

“I’m not letting you die,” Regulus roughly warns.

His brother chastises him with a glare but he won’t play the secret thing to please him - not when he doesn’t help.

“What are you really doing here?”

“Don’t-”

“As if you would have noticed if I disappeared,” Sirius cuts and straightens his shoulders with no shame. “Don’t try to act like you’re looking out for me. We don’t talk, not even at home when the best chatterbox is a decrepit house-elf that would clean our butts with his tongue if he could.”

“Don’t talk like that about Kreacher.”

“Right, right, you’re his precious favourite.”

“If you talked to him like he wasn’t stupid maybe he would be nicer to you.”

“Why would I lose time trying to speak with our parents’ mad puppet?”

“Is that what you think of me too?” Regulus asks. “Why you decided to forget about me and get another brother?”

“I didn’t forget about you,” he snaps. “Prongs isn’t a replacement.”

“Because he is so great that you can’t even compare us? Sorry to remind you that I exist.”

Sirius glares. “You know it’s not like that. I never replaced you.”

“But you do think I am just like our parents,” Regulus argues with no quiver despite the wave of nausea itching up to his throat. “Because I’m a Slytherin and not a chivalrous, legendary, Gryffindor like you?”

“Really? You think I’m this stupid?”

“No, but I remember how you looked when I got sorted,” he spits back. Sirius had kindly spared a bit of his attention to his brother when Regulus boarded in the Hogwarts Express, forcing him to try to mingle with his new-found friends called the Marauders, up until he stared at Regulus like he betrayed him once the Choosing Hat was off. “Disappointed, betrayed, you looked at me exactly like that just for ending up in Slytherin.”

“You didn’t want to talk to me,” he accuses. “You always ignored me and I never cared in what house you-“

“You still didn’t say otherwise,” Regulus retorts with no shame despite the anger throbbing in his brows. “You do believe that I’m a Pureblood lunatic like your parents.”

“Well I never heard or saw you do otherwise.”

It isn’t a low blow exactly. Sirius is right, somehow, as Regulus never acted up like him or came face to face to their parents to express disagreements or arguments over their daily eulogy of Pureblood’s supremacy and the antipathy toward the rest of the world. They are the opposite - Sirius would argue for the sake of arguing and his lack of restraints while Regulus is conscious that it would be useless to argue with them, no matter his thoughts on the matter.

He hasn’t paid a real intention to any of it until he got to Hogwarts. To him it had been weird to be without the constant piercing eyes of their parents and it’s not correct but he felt lost without their guidance. He learnt enough here to know not to follow their ideas but there is still a part of him that sees them as their parents— a silly hope that they are harsh but fair when time comes. Their politics and veneration of Pureblood isn’t a part of Regulus anymore, just a formality to stay under their roof and to not be confronted by the large unknown if he turns his back to them like Sirius so openly does.

“You wouldn’t have asked me to run off with you,” he supposes with a heavy knot in his throat. “Despite what you told me.”

“You have this creepy collage of Voldemort’s articles on your walls.”

Regulus swallows down the shock, mute and lacking the nerves to feel it. The pitiful part of him wants to scream at him that he was never allowed in his room, especially with the explicit sign: Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black, but Sirius is aware of it.

“It is not what you think.”

“Oh please either you are a follower of him or have a bloody crush on him,” Sirius scoffs in disgust.

Regulus can’t lie about the admiration he had over Voldemort - not when their parents always praised and congratulated the wizard over every single thing despite not quite meeting him yet. It’s all about surviving is what Orion Black would tell when Regulus had only been 12 years old with a brain eager to be fed. Walburga Black would tell that it is more than that, a resurgence - la renaissance - of real wizards and fighting off the Muggles’ control over them. Regulus only saw a promise of freedom and a certain hope of control over his future by starting to fetch any crumb of information over Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters. His parents approved and have planned for him to join their ranks as soon as he finishes his studies at Hogwarts.

Except that he isn’t 14 anymore, where he has stayed unaware of the real impacts and torments over everything that isn’t Pureblood. Evan and Pandora discovered they were long lost twins, the latter being thrown away to not have another heir with the belief that a man will always be stronger than a woman; or the fate of Kreacher despite being as smart as anyone else in their house, only because he isn’t a wizard. Regulus would like to say he has become smarter over all of this but it still took him time to truly evaluate what his belief might create, how it will impact his life and the persons he loves. He is only hit with these realisations when he is back home and nursed back to their ‘traditions’.

“Not anymore,” he opts to say but his mouth stays dry. “I’m not as loud as you but it doesn’t me-”

“Reggie, it’s your life,” Sirius impatiently interrupts and leaves the alcove. “You do whatever you want.”

“Just listen-”

“I really need to be alone right now, alright?”

Regulus grows desperate over the need to fight but his words are tangled at the thoughts that Sirius won’t understand them. He wouldn’t have run away with Sirius, not because he wants to join the Death Eaters, but because Regulus doesn’t know anything outside of their parents. None of his friends are able to help him, perhaps in secret but he is painfully aware of how risky it is. Going with Sirius means to be pushed into this world that feels ready to spit out Regulus at any hint of weakness.

“Sirius…”

“I’m not coming back to Grimmauld Place during the break,” he says with his back completely turned to him. Regulus wants to see his face but doesn’t dare to touch him.

“Are you staying here?” It might be difficult for him to do so too with their parents but Regulus will ignore their letters. “Or to the Potters’?”

“No. I’m going— nowhere.”

“What?”

Sirius turns, looking like he got shot. “I can’t go back there.”

It’s obvious how their parents will react if they discover Sirius is cursed, especially with something as frivolous as the Hanahaki disease. There are a myriad of possibilities on what they might do to stop it— brainwashing, clawing out Sirius’ feelings and his entire being to mold him back into a perfect son, perhaps they will even let him die without blinking or fasten the process with a swift of their wands. Regulus takes a breath at the thought.

“And Potter won’t help you anymore?”

He shrugs. “Even if he did, I’m not going there to die.”

“Sirius, you won’t-”

“Reggie, let’s be honest,” he cuts with a staggering crack in his voice. “There is no cure. You’re brilliant, I’m not blind, but there is no way you will figure out a cure for this when so many people have already tried.”

He scoffs. “You-”

“I don’t want you to lose your mind over this,” Sirius enunciates with his words carefully pronounced as if to talk with a newborn. “I don’t want to go to Grimmauld Place even without Walburga and Orion’s usual crap. I’m going to disappear, alright? I get to pick where I want to die.”

“But I don’t want you to die,” Regulus blurts out.

He never dreamed because he never needed to. They had everything a child could ask for: a roof above their head, food, comfy furniture with their own space, an opulent heritage and ever-present parental figures who have prepared a clear path in life for them. To Regulus, there wasn’t a need to escape. Over time he has recognized that a cage will still be a cage no matter how well-decorated or how taken care of he might be— Sirius might have been smarter because he realised it faster than him and tried to sneak past the hefty bars to reach the outside. Regulus never quite understood where he was trying to go, why he would leave their comfortable life when they have everything they could need for. Everything seemed perfectly natural; they weren’t in a competition but both of them were jealous of each other and their parents compared them like new furniture needing some work - naturally to Regulus’ young mind. How else would they know who is stronger between them two? The question had never been about why such a thing matters.

Perhaps he is too naive. Once Sirius broke out, as much as he could, Regulus was left at a loss because to him it didn’t make sense. His brother did tell him once that he is too soft, ready to be sculpted into whatever their parents would, and Regulus only realised his point a year or two ago.

It feels like it’s too late.

Sirius stares at him with an unashamed surprise and a lack of words that leave his eyes weeping. Regulus feels his own body stunned and thrown through too many thoughts, feelings, hopes. He will never be a dreamer like his brother but now it feels like they swapped their places and Regulus is standing with no weapons.

They are brothers, up until Sirius found his escape within the shape of one James Fleamont Potter, and Regulus held on to this jealousy and incomprehension to be spiteful - hoping that Sirius will run back to him despite their nonexistent brotherhood. It obviously backfired and he wants to believe that Sirius also regrets how easily they fell apart and react like they are sworn nemesis now. Perhaps if Regulus has understood faster the path their parents have prepared for him does clash against who he is, something he understood through his friends over the years, then they wouldn’t be fighting over something like that.

“I need to go.”

“Sirius-”

“Regulus, I really need to be alone right now.”

He lets him go, only for the defeat in his brother’s voice. They aren’t ready to argue, not without digging up open graves to confront each other with their requited bitterness. Regulus would like to ignore all of this, sorely to focus on finding a cure for Sirius, but they won’t go anywhere without talking. It helps to think that his brother might die to hold back his pretence of not caring about his brother; though he actually can’t help it with how bad Sirius looks. It’s driving him mad how he can’t seem to make any progress. Sirius is no help and would rather be left dead than listen to him.

Regulus goes to the Quidditch field, feeling like he has the right to try to clear out his mind and frustration - as much as he wishes to take it out on Sirius because he is a real wanker when it’s his life on the line. He doesn’t even take out a snitch to rush after it, only letting himself fly by his mood.

Sirius seems to have also cut off his friends, even the ones apparently not concerned by whatever happened to his little squad, which is probably for the best if Regulus helps him. He hadn’t thought about it, outside of not bringing Sirius to the Slytherin dorm, but this could easily drift back to their parents’ ears and they won’t be happy to hear that Regulus is talking to him. He needs to stay discreet and he considers talking to one of the professors such as McGonagall but they are still under their parents’ thumbs, no matter if they are at school or not.

Before figuring out a cure, he will first need to get through Sirius’ thick skull. Regulus wouldn’t hesitate to force it down his throat or pluck the flowers himself but Sirius will not back down from being difficult. He is truly worried that his brother might disappear any minute just to spite him and die in some sort of redemption. There is James Potter who, despite worrying like a coward instead of asking Sirius, might be of help if Regulus really can’t talk to Sirius— but it’s his brother.

He knows him better than anyone. No one will help better than him.

Letting Sirius have his space is for now the best option despite how anxious it makes Regulus. His brother already has a lot on his mind and adding his Hanahaki disease being known by him certainly doesn’t help; what he said about them not knowing each other isn’t a complete lie nor a truth. It feels like they have never talked that much up until yesterday.

He needs to piece together a way to have more time for a proper cure. There are several wizards and witches who have written and studied the Hanahaki before that he can try to write to for more insight but this might take at least another week. Without adding in the fact that the fall break is around the corner and Sirius will definitely follow his promise on disappearing. Coming to Grimmauld Place won’t help his condition and if their parents learn about it— there is no cure to death.

Even if he gets more time and Sirius’ collaboration, it would all end once they are sent back home for the break. Their parents wouldn’t allow Regulus to stay behind at Hogwarts even if he promises it’s to study, which means he will have to go back home and find a way to still help Sirius if he doesn’t disappear without a last word. James Potter could probably drag him to his home even if they aren’t quite on talking terms. Regulus would be stupid to believe James would leave Sirius with no option - though the furthest he is from him, the happier he will be.

None of Regulus’ friends could shelter them. Pandora still lives at an orphanage despite Evan’s many offers for her to come back home - without mentioning that their father is still unaware of her. The Rosiers are too close to his parents to be certain that it won’t reach their ears and Barty’s house will cause too many complications. Dorcas might be of help but Regulus fears that his parents might still hear about it if another Slytherin notices it. There aren’t many Slytherins who don’t pry into others’ business and a lot would jump on the chance to have dirt on them two. Dorcas would keep the secret but anyone might spot them at the train station leaving with her.

The shower doesn’t help him to properly piece all his thoughts together but he needs it. At least he is soothed for a long minute. He opts to start by the most urgent matter: the fast evolution of the Hanahaki. Without a way to slow it down, Sirius could easily die before even winter starts. Two weeks and he is already coughing up flowers, it should at least take a few months to get up to that point. The curse has probably been there all this time, infiltrating his lungs, before the rejection triggered the bloom. Sirius is probably not eager to share about it so he hasn’t asked but Regulus supposes he has been thinking Lupin doesn’t like him back for a moment already.

It all comes down to feelings. There are ways to get rid of it but it’s incredibly dangerous and Sirius might never come back from the toll. Even if he manages to apply the curse to someone else, simply moving it, the flowers will continue to bloom in Sirius because he will still feel the love. Making Sirius fall in love with someone else is near impossible considering the Hanahaki curse doesn’t happen from a ‘simple’ love. Regulus has no clue if Lupin likes him back but he would think so from the few times he watched them around each other.

Sometimes curses can be countered with another one, cured by being eaten by a stronger magic, but Regulus isn’t sure it could work on the Hanahaki. Though there might be a way to weaken it through that, the question is if it will impact Sirius’ being and his feelings. Which means that using a curse to counter it or to give it to someone else are ideas probably not worth exploring. There aren’t many ways to discard a curse but there are ways to share it– he only recalls it when he is almost back to the castle.

Pureblood weddings have many traditions and blessings that are simply intricate ties to be sure of no divorce or any affair to break the families’ alliance. They are shown as the promise of eternal, undying and infinite love but Regulus has read enough about them to see through the lies. They are harmless curses up until the moment one of the spouses tries to break their vows.

More than often they try to get rid of their other half - poisoning, cursing, if not a desperate murder. The more unwilling someone was, the more intricate the wedding ties would be; the perfect Pureblood weddings. If Sirius ends up linked with one of these nuptial blessings then the Hanahaki will grow inside the other half too. The link is made to be a replica, to ensure that if anything were to happen they would occur and evolve at the same time to not leave any hope to the spouse who tries to escape the marriage.

There is a simple way to break them but just like to be made, you need a Pureblood to cast it which can be hard to come by. Especially when both families forced them together in the first place. With that, the Hanahaki will be distracted as it will have to develop into the other spouse but it will be completely ineffective if there is no unrequited love to feed on. The feelings won't be replicated which means nothing for the curse to get a hold on. It’s risky but can be easily cancelled if it doesn’t work.

“Still stuck in your head, Reg?”

Regulus purses his lips, tension running through his shoulders as the words he has prepared catch up to him. He glances at Evan who just came back from the bathroom of the Slytherin’s house. Barty shouldn’t be far but Regulus would rather keep this quiet for now.

“I actually need your help.”

His friend pauses in putting on his new shirt to look at him. Regulus charms the door of their dorm close and muffled to be sure no one hears it. It surprises Evan by the frown on his face.

“Is it related to your brother?”

“Am I obvious?” He wonders out loud as he returns to his bed, facing Evan, to grab on the book he has been studying.

He shrugs and finally finishes buttoning up his shirt to go to the Great Hall for dinner. “A bit. Though it’s probably more that your brother appears to have disappeared but you didn’t seem to mind up until now.”

Regulus has noticed it but supposed that Sirius was busy sulking or hiding after the downfall with his friends.

“Things have changed.”

“Tell me,” Evan says with a small helpful smile.

Contrary to what one would expect with only a look– Evan Rosier is a real snake. They have met before Hogwarts during one of the many Pureblood gatherings but without really getting along. He is smart and cunning, perfectly hiding all the cards up his sleeve. His appearance leads many people to underestimate him as his eyes shelter the crazy edge brewing there, contrary to Barty, and his face rests in a somewhat smile, whilst Regulus never really tried to cover his forever scowl. The perfect cover especially compared to any other Pureblood. He has always been smart enough to play the ‘simple-minded’ boy without minding the hits to his ego. Regulus probably wouldn’t be able to digest that.

He has heard many rumours about his good manners and how Evan ‘can not be one of these betraying snakes’ but it’s only because he has been prepared to play with people’s strings to make his ambitions and wishes real. No one appears to see through it which lets him have a fantastic reputation even outside of their house.

“I will need you to cast one of the nuptial blessings.”

Evan is shocked but quickly closes his mouth before getting ridiculous. “Pardon?”

“I can only ask you because you’re the only other Pureblood I would trust and I can’t do it myself.”

“What is this even for?”

“Not exactly for me but I will be one of the– half. A spouse.”

He croaks a reply and is obviously rummaging to find any sort of answer despite Regulus handing him the book opened on the page with the most effective nuptial blessing.

“This… Merlin’s balls. Why would you do that? And with who?” He asks in disbelief. “Have you actually lost your mind about James and need my help to get married to him illegally?”

Regulus glares at him furiously despite the vibrant blush overcoming him. “I’m not! I will never– who told you that?!”

“Pandora. She thinks if you stare at James any longer you will completely lose the plot and scheme.”

She is probably feeling his upcoming revenge but no matter Regulus will make her regret this thought, especially if she went as far as telling it - meaning she is very proud or amused or both.

“I have no intention of marrying this lunatic,” he hisses and clears his throat. “It’s for Sirius.”

Evan obviously waits for a sign that he is joking but his face loses any form of teasing or satisfaction. He looks as disgusted as Regulus feels about marrying his brother. The reason behind it might be worth it though.

“Are you mad?”

“Sirius is dying,” he blurts out before he can be stopped. “I’m not doing this by pleasure and he will probably fight me over this. I can’t tell you exactly what is happening but he is cursed– and will die soon. I’m afraid I won’t find a cure, which means I need time and this nuptial link will distract the curse hopefully enough to give me time up until winter to stop it.”

He wets his lips and turns back to his bed to gather himself. Without having to look he can read loud and clear the disapprovement in Evan. It’s expected.

“Are you sure he is cursed?”

“Yes.”

“What is the curse?”

“I’m not telling.”

“Then I’m not helping.”

“Evan-”

“No Reggie, you listen to me,” he argues, walking up to him with the book in one hand and an incredulous look on his face. “Do you listen to yourself? He has a curse killing him and you want to share it with him? Do you want to die?”

“It won’t affect me.”

Evan snaps his tongue and closes the book to throw it on Regulus’ bed. He brushes a hand through his borderline white hair before crossing his arms with a glance at the closed door.

“You can’t be sure of that, especially if you don’t even want to tell me what it is.”

“It’s Sirius’ life,” Regulus points out. “He never expected someone to figure out what’s happening to him. I only did by coincidence which I’m sure annoys him a lot already. I’m not going to make it worse by telling more people.”

“Why do you help him?”

This isn’t anything he expected to hear. He meets Evan’s eyes, their sharp edge doesn’t go as far as softening but at least he is honest about his question. Regulus hasn’t even considered that he could not help Sirius.

It’s true that he has never truly spoken about him in a real brotherly way. To be fair, they never really had a good relationship and Regulus is painfully aware of it. It seems that no matter the time or where they are, it has never helped their tension. Perhaps it comes from their parents and the way they grew up but– Regulus hadn’t asked himself if he should even help Sirius.

“It never crossed my mind to not help him,” he admits with a flat voice as he remembers his own words when he found Sirius head down the toilet. “Despite everything, he is my brother.”

Evan takes a deep breath and walks through their room aimlessly. “Is that why he is hiding?”

“Partly.”

“Do you really want to help him?”

“Wouldn’t you if it was Pandora?”

“Pandora and I are different,” he argues with a glare, the one that always comes up whenever it touches the subject of his previous lost twin. “We didn’t know each other until three years ago. You two have known each other your whole life and never got along.”

Regulus purses his lips. “I’m aware.” Painfully so. “But this changes everything and I wouldn’t live with myself if he dies.”

“So what? His upcoming death solves all your problems?”

“No.”

“Regulus, aren’t you scared he is playing with you?” Evan asks with his voice dripping in worry. “This suddenly happens out of nowhere, when he is left behind by all his friends, and probably turns to you until he finds someone else's help.”

“Sirius wants to die,” he cuts. Evan stares at him but he needs to take several deep breaths before digesting what he just said. His head falls into his hands after flexing his cold fingers to feel his bones. “I found him by chance yesterday and I had to fight to get any sort of answer from him. If this hadn’t happened, he would have probably ran to the Forbidden Forest so no one finds his corpse. One way or another, he doesn’t want my help in the first place because he feels like he deserves it.”

“Deserves to die?”

“Yes.”

It takes his friend a short minute to sigh and sit at his side on the bed with a light, careful, hand on Regulus’ shoulder.

“Will you really not tell me what this curse is?”

He looks up at him with a pursed smile. “I can promise you that the curse won’t affect me. It actually might give us more time, hopefully. If not– we will break the tie.”

“And he agrees to this idea?”

“I have not told him yet. We talked a bit today but we quickly argued… And I need to be careful that no one notices that we are in contact.”

Evan stares at him for a moment. “Do you really want to go this far for him? What happens when he dies or doesn’t?”

“He won’t,” Regulus repeats because never will he accept the opposite ending. “We are probably going to fight a lot and he is already tiring me out. To be completely fair, I might kill him myself if he doesn’t start to listen to me.”

“Again, why would you do all of this?” He asks with no judgement but still a drip of incomprehension. “I would do everything for Pandora, as crazy as your idea is, but you don’t have your relationship.”

“Have you ever considered her death?”

Evan startles with wide eyes. His taught demeanour is forgotten despite that he relied on it all his life.

“What do you mean?”

“I have never thought– of the possibility of Sirius dying,” Regulus articulates and wipes his sweaty hands on his knees. “It’s nonsense. We’re Blacks, one of the most powerful families in the wizarding world, with no worries about money or status over the rest of time and I thought this means we will never die. Except that it’s not the case and I shouldn’t have been this fooled.”

“That’s what we are taught,” Evan thankfully comments. “Us Purebloods will never have to worry about anything.”

“Exactly,” he breathes out. “But Sirius is dying. Dying. Which means I won’t ever see him again, even from afar, nor will I hear about some rumours or another of his foolish accomplishments through the corridors. What will happen to his affairs? Our parents might burn them and I wouldn’t even know what to expect if I truly looked in his room. What is his favourite item? I don’t think it’s a book and I’m not stupid enough to believe it’s one of the half-naked posters he brought from the Muggle world.”

His friend lays down on his bed with no request and clears his throat after a deep breath. “I never thought about this.”

“Me neither until now. It could be my fault, his, our parents or many things together but it’s my last chance to try which I never thought would happen. I miss him and I feel insane because he is right there.”

“You want to save him to spend time with him?”

Regulus sobs and feels Evan immediately reaching out to him before he even feels his tears coming up. “I can’t picture living without Sirius,” he gasps out but snatches any unnecessary words. “Which is why I need you to use one of these nuptial blessings to get more time.”

Barty is kicking at the door, furiously, probably been doing it for a moment now but they barely hear his shouts to be let in.

“Alright,” Evan agrees and tightens his grip on his shoulder as a last reassurance. “Do you think you will manage to make him agree to it?”

“No but these marriage vows do not need consent and I will hex him if he fights back.”

[heliads]

(Toms Peter x male reader) AGAIN OBLIVIOUS SMART READER, but this time with a little angst twist 😍…I hope— Onto the actual request. Peter making obvious efforts even flirting and taking the reader on a date once, peter thinking theirs something going on and calls the reader his boyfriend to which the reader asks shocked and surprise and Peter being embarrassed walks out (not sure which location you can fill this in) and a saddened and hurt Peter blows up on reader asking what is their relationship and if he’s just been leading him on which quickly calms down cause of everyone looking at them, and Peter just walks away and reader explains everything ( sorry this long ily)

a little angst twist? oh ho ho anon say no more (and never apologize for long requests i adore details)

masterlist

Peter Parker is oddly happy, and it’s really starting to freak you out. Usually, Peter showing some semblance of a positive emotion wouldn’t be that much of a surprise; you’ve seen him giddy over things as mundane as bonus time in a chemistry lab, but this is different. 

You can’t explain this sudden change in his attitude towards the world. It felt like it came out of nowhere. One day, he was the same Peter as always, the best friend you’ve known and laughed with since the two of you were small, and then something shifted and it’s like he won the lottery for all of life’s little victories. 

You’re not one to deny Peter his happiness if he can get it. This suspicion of yours doesn’t stem from you wanting to tear him down to some terrible state again. You’ve seen him after rough missions, how his entire frame seems to shrink by a good couple of inches when he feels that he’s failed. Peter has always been far too hard on himself, and if he’s doing better now, who are you to take that from him?

No, you couldn’t be more delighted to see Peter growing into himself like this. You just want to know why it’s happening. You and Peter have been good friends for a very, very long time. There is no secret that exists between the two of you, no rambling thought that goes unsaid. If something has changed in Peter’s life to make him this happy, he would tell you. Always. Or, he used to, and if anything’s affected that to the point where he feels like he can’t share it, you would be hurt more than you can possibly describe. 

The worst part is that Peter seems to have no idea that he hasn’t clued you into his change in situation. In fact, he seems to be suffering under the delusion that he already has. Every time you see Peter, he seems to hint at some cataclysmic event that you would surely know about. The fact that you don’t know it simply hasn’t occurred to him. 

Maybe, some little vicious voice in your head whispers to you, maybe he’s so happy because you don’t know. Because he’s got something good in his life that doesn’t involve you. That thought alone cuts more than any blade, because Peter has been yours for quite some time now, and if he’s someone else’s now, someone who isn’t you, you’d like to never think about that again.

That’s the problem of being a best friend, you suppose. You have a distinctive role to follow, specific shoes to fill. You’ll patch up Peter when he comes through your bedroom window at midnight, Spider-Man suit torn and wounds bleeding. You’ll listen to him ramble about a show he saw when you would much rather be finishing your physics notes. You will acknowledge that you will only ever be a side character in his life, someone who will one day be replaced by someone better. Someone he loves.

See, you’ve always been a little too eager to take what you want. You managed to delude yourself into thinking that you could be Peter’s best friend and love him too, and that is where you went wrong. You’re going to listen to him, and be by his side like nothing ever happened, but never, ever tell him how you truly feel. Maybe one day soon Peter will finally explain why he’s so happy. Maybe that reason will involve another person he can love more than you. Maybe that’ll be the day you finally lose your mind.

Until then, you are content with still having claim over at least some small part of Peter’s life. The two of you walk to and from school together, your paths only diverging when Peter goes to patrol and you go home. You eat lunch with him, you choose him as lab partner every time, and through it all, you understand Peter no more than you did at the beginning of all this when you first noticed that something had changed.

It unsettles you, you can admit that freely. You have always known Peter better than anyone, better than yourself. You can take one look at him and understand what’s going on in his head, you always have. So why can’t you do it now? Why can’t you figure him out just like any other day in the great stretch of years you’ve had with him?

Peter, for his part, remains unaffected by whatever turmoil is making a muck of your head and heart. He smiles more. He laughs harder. It’s easier for him to make it through a night without getting nightmares of the people he’s lost; although Peter never tells you that to your face, you can tell by the way the bags under his eyes have shrunk that something has improved. 

Whatever person has entered Peter’s life to change him for the better, no matter how much you resent them for likely replacing you at some point soon, you do send them a silent thank-you for that. Peter needs his rest. It might not come with you, but at least someone can coax peace out of him.

Peter lingers by your desk after class one morning. “Tomorrow is Saturday,” he says carefully.

“Yeah,” you reply, one eyebrow raised, “that is how the day after Friday usually works.”

Peter rolls his eyes, swatting you on the shoulder with a flier. “You’re insufferable. Anyway, are you still on for caffeine and calculus?”

You grin. “Aren’t I always?”

You and Peter have had a long-standing agreement between the two of you, a permanent reservation of your time. Every Saturday morning without fail, you meet up at one of your houses to go over that week’s homework, usually accompanied by coffee or tea or something else to make the study session feel more enjoyable. You alternate whose residence will be host to your caffeine-fuelled ramblings, and tomorrow, it’s Peter’s turn to play homeowner.

Secretly, you feel a spark of cruel pride flare to life in your chest. Whoever’s out there making Peter smile like a second sunrise, they clearly haven’t yet claimed enough of Peter’s time to get rid of your Saturday morning gatherings. No, those are still yours. It might not be that way forever, but it is for now. That’s certainly worth celebrating.

Peter nods, a nervous grin on his face. “Sounds good to me. Hey, what do you say we meet up somewhere else instead? There’s a coffee shop a few blocks from here that has really good lattes, I figure we could go out this time.”

He rocks back and forth on his heels, clearly fixated on your answer. You shrug, tossing a few more papers into your backpack before you zip it up and sling it onto your shoulder. “That would be nice. What, are you panicking because you forgot to clean your room or something, is that why we’re going somewhere else? Whatever the state of that place is, you have to know that I’ve seen it worse.”

Peter groans, his cheeks starting to flush a mottled pink. “No, you idiot, it’s not because of that. Thanks for the faith in my cleaning abilities, by the way. This is just because I feel like what we have is good enough to make public, you know? It would be fun. We could do it.”

“Yeah,” you say slowly, still not entirely sure what about this proposition is enough to warrant the clear amount of nerves racing through Peter’s entire frame, “I think we could. See you then.”

“See you then,” Peter repeats. 

The second you confirm that you’re fine with his plans, his entire disposition seems to brighten, going from churning with nerves to utterly confident. You wave goodbye to him, then head to your next class, shaking your head slightly with confusion. What is going on with him?

You suppose you’ll figure that out tomorrow. The rest of the school day passes in the normal fashion; each class seems to take hours, but soon enough you’re racing out the doors with everyone else. You and Peter part ways, and then you’re left to mess about at home until nightfall.

Peter’s waiting outside your door the next morning. He looks slightly different, and it takes you a moment or so to realize why. He’s dressed nicer than usual, no pun t-shirts or science factoids printed across his clothing. Peter’s wearing his good shoes, a cleanly pressed shirt under a sweater, everything he usually only dons for important meetings. You wonder what’s going on to make him think that today was something worth this much celebration. After all, it’s just another study session, right?

You and Peter make easy conversation while he leads you to the coffee shop. You place your orders once inside and grab a table. Sitting down, you glance towards your backpack. “Should I get the stuff out?”

“Sure,” Peter begins, but he’s interrupted by his phone vibrating with an incoming call. He checks the caller ID and makes a face. “Sorry, I’m going to need to get that. It’s May, I got back late last night and she hasn’t seen me in like a full 24 hours, which tends to make her a little overprotective.”

You laugh. “No problem. Tell her I say hi.”

Peter flashes you a thumbs up and accepts the call. You slow your rummaging through your bag as he speaks, trying not to make too much noise lest you disturb the call. It’s not like you’d be interrupting anything major, though. Judging by Peter’s responses, this is just May Parker checking in to make sure her nephew isn’t in Spider-Man trouble and in need of help.

“No, May, I’m great,” Peter is saying, “We talked about today, remember?”

A distant muffled question issues back over the phone, and, given Peter’s exasperated expression, this must be May saying that she doesn’t remember at all.

“I’m at the coffee shop,” Peter reminds her, “you know, with my boyfriend? He says hi, by the way.”

For some reason, Peter looks over at you as he says this. It’s as if he’s twisting a knife in your chest, because even though you have only just overheard mere words, you suddenly feel as if you could start choking on blood. His boyfriend. Peter’s boyfriend. So there is another person in his life. You had hoped that your fears were just that, simple conjecture, but perhaps you were right to worry after all.

Peter hangs up a few seconds later, utterly unaware of the fact that he’s just made your heart fall through your chest to the floor below. “Sorry about that,” he repeats, “Adults, you know? Can’t handle the fact that we might actually want to do stuff of our own accord.”

“Do you want me to go?” You ask, heart racing, “I didn’t realize you had plans, Peter, you should have told me. If I stay too long, am I going to interrupt him?”

Peter frowns, brow furrowed with confusion. “What? No, don’t go. We just got here, why would you leave?”

You gesture vaguely between the phone and him. “I heard what you said on the phone to May, you’re meeting your boyfriend here. When is he coming? I don’t want to mess with your schedule if that’s happening right after this.”

Peter snorts. “Very funny, Y/N. Anyway, what were you saying earlier? Something about getting stuff?”

You shake your head. “No, really, Peter, when is the guy coming? I don’t want to third wheel your date.”

Peter’s humor leaves him. “Y/N. My boyfriend’s already here.”

You glance around, suddenly suspicious of anyone and everyone in the shop. “He is? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Peter leans forward slightly. “Y/N, this isn’t funny anymore.”

“I know,” you say without a small touch of bitterness, “I know. Just answer the question, please? If I have to leave early, I don’t want to spend this much time arguing.”

Peter’s face has changed again, somehow empty of emotion and full of something terrible all at the same time. “You’re the boyfriend. You know that. Stop playing around.”

Your expression constricts before you can stop yourself. “What?”

Peter scoffs. “God, I can’t believe you’re doing this. We’re dating, Y/N. I asked you out. You know that. If you didn’t want to be public, fine, but don’t tell me now. Hell, if you really don’t want to face it with people around, that’s great. I’ll go, you can keep pretending.”

He stands in a rush, almost upsetting his coffee cup. Grabbing his phone from the table in one quick snatch, he all but knocks over his chair in his clear need to get out. You sit there in a daze until you hear the bell in the door aggressively chime with Peter’s departure, and then your senses come hurtling back towards you all at once.

You need to fix this, now. You may not have a single clue what’s going on, but you do know this: you cannot leave Peter hating you. Your chair rocks on its back legs as you push away from the table and follow Peter out. He hasn’t made it far, so you’re able to catch up without too much difficulty. Peter looks angry when you cut him off, but he doesn’t push past you, so you count that as a victory, however small. 

“I thought you didn’t want to be seen with me,” he says snidely. 

You sigh, the exhale just as harsh as his words. “I didn’t know,” you begin, but Peter cuts you off. 

“Of course you did. How could you not? I asked if you wanted to be more than friends weeks ago. Why are you only now pretending like this is something completely foreign to you?”

“Because it is,” you say weakly, “I have no idea when you asked me. Truly, I don’t. You know that. You know I would never do something like this. Please, just tell me when this happened.”

Peter’s countenance remains doubtful, but he indulges you and explains. “It was about three weeks ago. We were staying up late for that computer science assignment. You know, the one that took forever? I was trying to muster up my courage to ask you all night, and then I did, and you agreed.”

You wrack your brain trying to remember that moment. You and Peter had pulled an all-nighter to finish a coding project, and although you finally managed to get it down, your brain had shut down more and more as the hours progressed. At some point in time, Peter had turned to you and asked you something, something about how he really liked being your friend, something about how wouldn’t it be strange if you could be more–

“No,” you whisper desperately, “no, that wasn’t– I didn’t–”

“You didn’t know?” Peter asks, lips pursed.

You spin away from him, not needing to look him in the eyes to know how disappointed he is in you. “I didn’t,” you repeat, “I thought you were just asking if we were best friends instead of regular friends or something. I had no idea you meant any of this.”

“This?” Peter presses, “I’m assuming by ‘any of this’ that you don’t want to continue on as more than friends. Guess I misread that one by a mile.”

You whirl back around frantically. “No, no. Peter, I’ve been wanting something like this for months. Years, maybe. I just didn’t think that you would want it too. I didn’t want to get my hopes up for nothing, you know?”

Peter remains frustratingly, desperately still. “So you would want to date?”

“Yes,” you answer him, “I would. I really would.”

He hesitates a moment longer, than that same bright smile you’ve been seeing all this time shines onto his face. It occurs to you now that you’ve been puzzling over the source of his happiness for so long and it’s been you all the while. What a wonderful thought.

“I thought you’d never say it,” he whispers.

“Of course I would,” you reply, “it just might take me a while, you know?”

“That’s alright,” Peter says, “just as long as you mean it.”

“I do,” you promise him, and just like that you know it’s going to be alright. Peter believes you, of course he does. The two of you have believed in each other for quite some time now. It’s good to know that you’ll carry on in that vein for a very long time again.

marvel tag list: @namoreno, @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @callsign-scully, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero, @fadedver

[cittielinks]

Yoo Joonghyuk,  the student council president annoys the Book club president, Kim Dokja into joining the student body ( as well as scoring a date).

Everyone knew about Yoo Joonghyuk’s not-so-subtle infatuation with the book nerd Kim Dokja. 

The student officers are so tired of Yoo Joonghyuk blabbering about Kim Dokja this, Kim Dokja that. Kim Dokja doesn’t like black coffee, Kim Dokja likes this type of genre that, to the point that even student officers just wanted to quit.

Kim Dokja of course has been oblivious to all of this. Kim Dokja thought that Yoo Joonghyuk was just there to annoy the shit out of him.

“Yah! Yoo Joonghyuk! How many times do I have to tell you that I do not want to join your stupid student council! You cannot close my club! This is literally abusing of power” screamed  Kim Dokja as he slammed the door open. He saw Yoo Joonghyuk already looking at the door with his  brow raised.

“As far as I’m concerned, to be a club you must have members?” He said taunting. 

“I do have members you stupid bastard!” 

“Yourself is not included kim dokja!”

“I have Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung!”

“They’re literally middle schoolers—“

“Yeah? It’s because you took all the people who I invited to join my club!!” 

“Yeah? Like who?” 

“Han Sooyoung and Yoo Sangah !” 

“Well they liked it here! I think it’s better if you join me, Kim Dokja? I—“

“Okay enough with the lovers spat. We have a meeting in 10 minutes, Pres.” Jung Heewon interrupted. 

As much as everyone wants to see then together, it’s been so long and they haven’t been together!

Kim Dokja huffs and storms out the room, Yoo Joonghyuk sighed with deep fondness as he stared at the figure walking out. 

Han Sooyung gagged as she stared at this idiotic President. 

“You guys are so disgusting” Jung Heewon commented.

Almost every day, Kim Dokja was tormented by Yoo Joonghyuk. He often wondered why? … Yoo Joonghyuk is a stupid bastard he doesn’t need any reason for his weird behavior.

It’s always ‘Kim Dokja, be with me!’ Or Kim Dokja join me to run the school toegther. Kim Dokja I need you! Kim Dokja stay by my side.’

It’s so confusing, Kim Dokja thought. Yoo Joonghyuk is smart as hell anyone would be willing to stay by his side. So why him?

Kim Dokja was absent-minded all through out the day and when class ended he decided to visit the garden at the back.

“ —know that my heart beats for… only one for me…. no doubt—“ 

A confession? Kim Dokja thought. 

When he peaked through the wall, he saw the man he was always thinking the whole day, Yoo Joonghyuk and the class muse, Lee Seolhwa. And in that moment, Kim Dokja felt his heart broke.

He doesn’t know why. But for some reason his heart hurts. He ran away before he could hear anymore of it. And when Yoo Joonghyuk stared at the place Kim Dokja was, he shrugged. 

“Must be the wind.” He murmured and continued to gush over Kim Dokja to Lee Seolhwa, his close friend.

The next day, Kim Dokja was distraught.  He tried his best to avoid anyone from the council, most especially Yoo Joonghyuk. He couldn’t face him anymore. So he ran away, it’s a thing is good at.

Yoo Joonghyuk was confused, is Kim Dokja avoiding him? why?

When he ask the other student body they all shrugged and said Kim Dokja hasn’t been talking to them too. 

Yoo Joonghyuk was confused what happened? he wanted to confront Kim Dokja but he realized maybe Kim Dokja needed time to deal with his problems so he wait and waited and waited.

A day turned into 3 days into a week and finally after a month of Kim Dokja hiding from Yoo Joonghyuk, he could not take it anymore.

Yoo Joonghyuk cornered Kim Dokja after class. he frowned as he stared at Kim Dokja’s face. 

“We need to talk.” Yoo Joonghyuk said solemnly

“No we don’t.” Kim Dokja murmured as he tries to pass Yoo Joonghyuk only for the man to grab his wrist and drags him to an empty room. 

Yoo Joonghyuk closed and lock the door trapping him and Kim Dokja inside the room. Yoo Joonghyuk crossed his arms as he leans behind the door, he checks Kim Dokja looking for obvious signs of what might Yoo Joonghyuk do to have Kim Dokja hide from him for a month!

“Move, I need to go.” 

“No. Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” 

“N-nothing’s wrong? ! Now move—“ 

“You’ve been avoiding me, Kim Dokja. Why?”

Kim Dokja was silent his eyes not meeting Yoo Joonghyuk, he rubs his arms in an attempt to calm his beating heart. 

Yoo Joonghyuk slowly moved closer to the small man. Kim Dokja backed away only to be met by the wall and before he could move out, Yoo Joonghyuk placed both his arms beside him, trapping him with no place to run. Kim Dokja gulped still not looking at the taller man. 

“Did I do something wrong? tell me please. I can’t take this silent treatment anymore.” Yoo Joonghyuk muttered his voice cracked as he stared longingly at Kim Dokja. 

“…”

“Baby, look at me” 

Kim Dokja snapped, he glared at the man. 

“Do not call me that! don’t you have Seolhwa?! I don’t need you to give me mixed signals anymore! Fuck you! ” 

Yoo Joonghyuk blinked, Seolhwa? What? 

“What are you talking about baby?”

“Weren’t you confessing your love to Lee Seolhwa last month? Do not call me baby!” he laughed bitterly as he rolled his eyes. 

It took a moment before it finally clicked. Yoo Joonghyuk laughed and hug Kim Dokja. Kim Dokja tried to break free but Yoo Joonghyuk tightened his grip.

“Were you jealous? I’m sorry baby you don’t have to be jealous. Seolhwa isn’t my type not at all in fact I like men but most importantly I only like you.” 

What?  “What?” 

Yoo Joonghyuk pulled away still holding Kim Dokja near him and stared at the starry eyes of the man he loves.

“I love you since the first time I’ve laid my eyes in you. Every since I saw you at the library reading a book without care, I know right then and there that I wanted to give you the whole world.

And when I heard you wanted to read more, I ran for president just so I can give you the luxury of reading more books. baby, I like you. I love you so much” 

Kim Dokja was speechless, Yoo Joonghyuk likes him? without any warning, Kim Dokja’s tears began to run down his cheeks.

t took awhile for Yoo Joonghyuk to calm Kim Dokja down but Yoo Joonghyuk got a boyfriend and a kiss afterward anyway

[mari-lair]

Hello, sorry if I write something wrong I am using the translator not is my native language.

I love your fic, your watch is running honestly, it is my favorite fic but I saw that this is pre-canonical and I had my doubts about how the events of the manga They would develop with the relationship of Teru and Aka's fic, for example, the relationship between Aoi and Akane's childhood friends would not be there, I would like to know how the separation arc would develop because in the manga when that happens, Akane only loses his ability to control time but without major damage but here xD poor aka, and the current arc of the festival with the great clock and the blood kills supernaturals.

This has nothing to do with it, but knowing that Aka liked Sosuke's photos a lot, if he dies and is condemned at school, I only see Aka, not knowing who he is but liking his photos a lot and I would start to fill him with questions about what he was like be a human being and teru just saying: now also in is your problem.

I'm sorry if it's too long, I just wanted to get my doubts out of my head, I hope I don't bother you.

have a nice day

Thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying the Aka fic! and I am always happy to talk about it! :D

I know I used the ‘pre-canon’ tag, and while I do want their world to be the tbhk world (with some artistic liberties), I am afraid the canon plot has already been kicked so hard it is far easier to treat it as a disconnected au in the same universe. 

We don’t need to go as far as the Grim Reaper Sacrifice’s arc for major changes to show up, the reason Nene met Hanako in the first place is because she wanted to date Teru, the equivalent of a school celebrity that you can only ‘score’ with magic, but by the time canon start, Teru would already be dating Aka: He is off the market.

So if she could see Teru with a lover I can’t imagine her trying to break them up to get Teru to date her, so she would not eat the mermaid scales.

The butterfly effect of this, plus Akane not existing, would be insane, and it would just pile up with time (cause I know canon teru has info about the supernatural that hasn’t been revealed yet, and since the fic is in his pov it just doesn’t work. He can't be a mysterious character with big secrets as a narrator). I just used ‘pre-canon’ so people would know Teru would be aged down, the most I’ll do is make references every once in a while about a canon thing... I’m sorry if it gave you hope for the future anon...

Your ask does make me imagine how Aka would handle meeting mitsuba and a severance though.

Poor Mitsuba would catch no breaks if his ghost met Aka, you are right that Aka would be a nightmare. Mitsuba, even when he tries to be as annoying and intimidating as he can, isn’t nearly as intimidating or cold as Teru, so Aka is completely unshaken when he is called a ‘pushy pervert!’ or anything of sorts.  And when Aka learn Mitsuba took the pictures?? He’ll be unbearable (Mitsuba would be a tiny little bit happy someone like his photos so much, but still mostly annoyed) Mitsuba’s rest will have no peace.

As for the severance: Aka would be doing a school patrol with Teru during obon, and since there are no signs of struggles (Akane isn’t there to fight the supernaturals), or glasses left behind it would take Teru some time to realize someone was kidnapped, he may even be oblivious to it until Aka start cracking.

(The rest of this reply contains spoilers. Not plot spoilers but tiny information about Aka’s that wasn’t revealed in the fic yet, so it could be taken as fun facts or spoilers depending on what kind of info you value.)

Both would panic, Aka does not know about the severance and one of his biggest fears is to disappear, so watching his body crack would make him lose it. Considering Teru would panic too but try to be calm, Aka may believe this is the end and cry, (he isn't exactly a crybaby but he does cry far more easily than Akane.)

Teru would freak out because he knows how Aka’s memories work: The supernatural is a keeper of the present, so he was ‘built’ to live in the present. Memories of his day-to-day life are harder to forget than memories of something that’s detached from it. 

For example: If a student graduate and never show up again, Aka will forget memories about them far easier than memories of someone he sees every week. If he is put somewhere that he has never been before and he doesn’t know anyone, he will have no connections to his school life and lose his memory way way faster so that he can avoid being stuck in the past and just enjoy the present, adapt so this new place is his new home.

So Teru is scared of just how much Aka might forget. He gives him the bracelet full of bells that he had given Aoi, and makes him promise to not take it off no matter how ‘itchy and uncomfortable’ the bells fell for a supernatural (the bells are his only guide towards whatever boundary Aka lands on).

[addledmongoose]

find the word tag game

Thanks to @daisygrayce for the tag. Follow them here

My words are remember, aspect and forever.

Tagging @inahc3, if you're so inclined. Your words are cottage, photos, and impressed.

-------

Before Shax could concoct another insult, Asmodeus said, “We need you to kill the Messiah.”

“You want me to kill Jesus.” I raised an eyebrow. “Hasn’t the poor bastard been through enough?”

“If he’s dead,” Furfur said, “he can’t destroy the world.” He ran a sharp nail over the arm of the sofa, leaving small divots in the leather.

I flipped an empty scotch bottle at his head, catching him hard on the nose. The bone cracked, and blood gushed from his nostrils. He clapped his hands over his face. “Ow! What in Satan’s name did you do that for?”

“Stop ruining my new furniture.“ I turned back to Shax. “He already died once. If I remember correctly, and I do because I was there, it didn’t take. He did a weekend in Hell, returned to Earth for a bit, then went to live with his mum. And anyway, why don’t you kill him if you want him dead so much?”

“We can’t risk the attention,” Asmodeus said.

-------

She looked at me in wide-eyed shock. “Wait, he was the serpent in the Garden of Eden?”

“The very one.”

“So was he literally a serpent, or was that a metaphor?”

“Literally. It’s his aspect. It’s why he has snake eyes.” I raised my chin toward the duke. “He can transform just like she can. All demons have an aspect. Asmodeus’s is a cat, obviously. Beelzebub’s is flies. Anyway, we talked on the Wall, and he was very kind, not at all like what I’d been told demons were like. Over the next six thousand years, we met off-and-on until we eventually became friends, even though it was too dangerous to acknowledge it until very recently. I haven’t wanted him to be anything but who he is for millennia. Though I wasn’t always the best about showing it. I can be a bit of a bastard sometimes as he’s wont to point out.”

“I had a crush on my first girlfriend for six months before we ever went out on a date, and that felt like an eternity. I can’t imagine what being in love and never acting on it for thousands of years must be like.”

-------

His eyes lit up when I called him “friend,” then dimmed again as he considered our problem. “Besides, the only reason they’d cast him out is because they want to start Armageddon another way. It doesn’t really solve the problem.”

I closed my eyes against his obliviousness and gripped the back of the sofa with both hands, once more leaving punctures in the leather. “At least you’d be alive,” I spat out.

“And trapped in Heaven,” he said quietly. “Forever. While you’ll be in Hell.” He let out a ragged breath and bent his head. His next words were barely a whisper. “Spending eternity with the memory of yo—of what was and the certainty that it never will be again is far worse than death, Crowley. I’m not that strong.”

My throat clenched, and I crossed my arms firmly against my chest. I heard him move closer. He stopped near me, so near I could feel his body heat, but he didn’t touch me. I held my breath and kept my eyes tightly closed.

[electricbluebutterflies]

Jess/Leto + freezing even though it's not winter anymore

Roughly on the line between Choice- and mid-era, PG-ish, also on ao3.

There are days, once in a while, when Jessica wonders if her existence was as perfectly planned as she was once told it was.

Early spring, for instance, on this planet that is starting to feel like home. A month between the two storm seasons, warm enough that she can go outside and not fear for any bit of exposed skin, but… not much more than that. Her body runs cold, and she thinks sometimes that she must’ve been bred for a desert planet but then someone else’s plans changed last-minute and now here she is and-

“It truly amazes me that you can move in so many layers.”

Her partner means well, she knows. At worst a fascination with her behavior and how she has adapted in these years, never any harm meant but still-

“There are some advantages to my femininity,” she replies, not even giving him the pleasure of eye contact. “Like not losing an appendage to frostbite.”

“Didn’t you once tell me that your home planet was even colder?”

She did, she supposes, in the way that little details drift out over a number of years. Which in turn ought to have been enough time for her to acclimate, but-

“Dry cold,” she murmurs. “Different.” Like crawling under a rock, she thinks but won’t say because that’s the kind of bitterness that causes more questions she doesn’t want to answer, but-

“Still…”

“I adapt,” she says, and that ought to be the end of it, and it never is, and-

“All this and you won’t even set foot outside.”

Her partner has a great number of appealing traits, Jessica reminds herself, but perceptiveness has never been one of them. Gave her unexpected freedom in the early years, gave her the opportunity to find her way and oh at least he knows he runs oblivious, but-

Perhaps this is even more innocent, she reminds herself. Their mornings are so rare, and often by the time they find their way to each other in the quiet of night she’s shed most of those layers, and… it is entirely possible that her partner simply does not know some of the small things she does, and she can’t ever fault that, and-

“I can’t be so sure where the day will take me.”

She is not, let her defend herself, up to anything at the moment. There are none of her schemes or projects, no long-term plans in play beyond the cultivation of their son and really there isn’t much one can actually do with a four-year-old, not within these boundaries, not trying to move slower than her own training went and-

Her unpredictable nature means that in a few hours all of that could be different, but for now she is peaceful. For now…

They are, at least, long past the point where her partner would make some comment about how she could have nicer things if she wanted them. She knows, and she has adapted accordingly, and her routines this time of year are still what they are and-

“How do you still surprise me?”

Jessica laughs despite herself. There’s something very warm about these moments, and… she will always carry hidden complexities, they both know this, but not for any reason beyond comprehension issues. Effort only goes so far no matter the purity of intent, and-

“Something this small is enough to do that?”

“Something this small that I’d managed not to know despite-“

She’s half tempted to make a comment about how paying more attention to her would solve that problem easily enough, but it’s too early for a fight and again the intent, again-

“I’m comfortable,” she says like that’s the only thing that matters, and for the moment it is. Still that voice in her mind that wants to be appealing to her partner, but… quieter now, she’s noticed. More accepting of the fact that she hasn’t actually had to try in years. More…

“You do have your priorities.”

“You haven’t actually said anything disapproving, so-“

Not that she’d listen if he did, she’s tempted to add, the addition of a few underskirts to her daytime attire will not get in the way of intimacies that tend to happen at a different point in the daily cycle anyways and-

“Nor did I mean to. If something-“

She crosses the space and takes a heartbeat of a kiss, best thing she can think of to silence both of them. She does not want a fight, she repeats in her mind, she does not have any desire to escalate this situation, it is too early and nothing has actually been done and-

“Let it go,” she murmurs against her partner’s skin. “I know your worry often makes sense, but not… not about this, love.”

“Slightest confusion, not-“

“They sound the same in your voice. And it’s too early and you don’t need the distraction of me and-“

Her voice breaks before she can say something fully self-deprecating, and she backs away before he can try to calm her. There is time but there is not time, and she is not quite ready to face the outside world, and she pulls on her outer dress and gives her partner a sharp look like see-this-is-how-you-had-no-idea-what-I-do and-

“How much else do I not know about you?” he asks, a softer comment than it would’ve been five years ago but still-

“Would you spend the rest of your life listening to me?”

“Isn’t that what we mean to do anyways?”

Another temporary approach, another kiss, eyes closed because she cannot be conflicted by the way he looks at her. “Not like that, love. Not… not like that.”

She slips away again, this time out and down the hallway, dealing with her hair as she moves. Too early for such compromise, and if the trade-off is that her spiral bun looks a little less than perfect until she sees a mirror…

So much she keeps hidden, most of all her doubts. How much matters anymore?

[sunnyvillager]

Just like the last few times this bright ‘n friendly face has reared her head ‘round Donnel’s store, he doesn’t even think for two seconds ‘bout looking down at what she’s up to– why should he? Quite frankly, he reckons that it’s none of his business.

Well, it quite literally is– that’s his produce and his livelihood she’s scooping up into her satchel– but that’s not what he means. All sorts of people do all sorts of odd things for survival, Donnel knows. So if one or two veggies are suddenly missing from his shelf, should he really care that bad? He can always grow more. That’s kind of one of the perks of being a farmer.

“Well, thank ya kindly!” A large grin is painted across his face, a glint in his eyes. Most folks in these parts can hardly recognize a top-of-the-mill squash when they see one! They just think a squash is a squash, nothin’ more, or nothin’ less, they can rarely discern what crops are at the top of the tiers of this store. This girl may be a petty thief, but she’s got eyes all right! “I wouldn’t go that far,” a nervous laugh escapes him, and his cheeks flush with pride, “but I put a lot o’ love into what I do!”

Pretending to be oblivious, Donnel turns his back to finish up rearranging the oranges– these are some damn good oranges, he thinks, they’ll sell like hotcakes! Maybe he should stock hotcakes, too, he's gotten pretty alright at cookin' so he could probably manage somethin'– and listens intently. One, two, three items rustle their way into her bag– maybe more! He doesn’t have the deftest ears, but he can definitely hear her take something.

It’s pretty sad, Donnel thinks. This lil’ community he and his wife have settled themselves into has been pretty darn nice, and pretty accepting, but the fact that there are folks struggling to get by to the point they hafta be stealing? That’s enough to tug Donnel’s heart right outta his chest! And he understands how it must feel– it’s probably humiliating for some people to ask for help, hence why this lovely lady would rather swipe a few fruits from the shelf instead of asking, begging, outright for freebies– so he's been closing his eyes and pretending that she hasn’t been snagging his carrots like they’re candy on Halloween. But...

Embarrassing or not, Donny must admit he’s feelin’ pretty nosey round about now, and he thinks he might have a smidgen of a right to know why she’s stealin’ so blatantly from him. Or, maybe, he can think about a workaround– something to stop her from snaggin' so much without being too mean. “So,” he draws a step back towards his counter and for a moment he looks down at the produce stand she had lingered at all that time– the potatoes are quite nicely arranged, like you wouldn’t notice one goin’ missing, like it had been covered up, “yer quite the enthusiast. Ever considered gettin’ into growin’ yer own crops?”

After all, that’d solve all her problems, right?

Harder to get hungry when you can grow your own rations! Heck, maybe Donny could even teach her! At the very least, he’ll throw her some seeds ta get her started. Donnel can’t help but get excited at the very thought of havin’ a protégé or somethin’...!

Turn-Up! [Patty & Donnel]

[rosesbxrry]

The Laundromat

Pairing: Stranger! Heeseung X Stranger Fem! Reader

Genre: Smut🔞 (Minors DNI), college AU, neighbours!

Warnings: unprotected sex (pulling out), Heeseung being a pervert, male masturbation, fingering, panty stealing thing, voyeurism (as in publix sex in the laundromat), reader being a pervert as well, handjobs, lots of cursing, dirty talking, and a bunch of unwash laundry. Hopefully I didn’t miss out anything else

Summary: Heeseung had just moved into his own place after abondoning his roommate. With a laundromat and you, his hot neighbour in the new building, eveything seemed perfectly good until he open the dryer machine, only to see a baby pink panty.

The problem? It has your name on it.

Main masterlist

Word count: 3, 220 words

Lee Heeseung described himself as an ordinary college student who was just getting by. 

He went through the same shit as any graduated high school student does; move out of your parent’s house and get a taste of what the adult world feels like. To say he struggled was an understatement really, because he did move out together with his best mate Beomgyu, whom he made a pact with since high school— sharing a flat together once they’ve escaped from the clutches of their parents. 

The freedom tasted sweet, if only Beomgyu didn’t ruined it by having sex with a random chick every night. 

Heeseung was no prude— as a young healthy man in their early 20’s, he had he’s shares of hook ups and sexual fantasy evident by the amount of porno magazines and DVDs under his bed. 

At first, he was kinda turned on by the voyeuristic aspect of hearing your roommate having sex. With the walls being extremely thin, he could hear every moan and wet sounds that it got him jerking on his white bed, pajama pants down to his knees with a hand on his hard leaking cock. But when he starts to hear it every fucking night, Heeseung wished he didn’t have a dick to get hard. 

It didn’t help that sometimes it sounded like it came out of a bad porno. He had to wear noise cancelling headphones just to burn the midnight oil to finish an assignment at two in the morning. 

The last draw was when he went to the kitchen one night, oblivious to the fact that Beomgyu was doing the devil’s tango on top of the island bar seat (He was wearing headphones on so he didn’t realize in the beginning). Heeseung crashed at Jake’s place for the moment because ain’t no way he was eating cereal there anymore after witnessing that. 

It took him a few weeks just to find a good place when he scored a good deal on a studio apartment not far from his campus.  

The monthly rent was reasonable, he didn’t have to share with any roommates and he had exclusive access to all the facilities in the building, including the laundromat at the ground floor beside the gym. 

It felt like a reward after all the sufferings he went through. 

But this was all just the beginning. You see, there was one tenant in the building that got his attention. 

The first day he used the laundromat, it was late in the afternoon. He was minding his own business, learning on how to operate the machines when you waltz in, clad in freshly used workout clothes that were sticking tight to your figure.

Heeseung can’t help but stare at you in the corner of his eyes, your ass peeking out from the leggings you wore, back facing away from him as you used the coin exchanger to get some change. Even with the loud music from his air pods and the blinking lights from the washing machine, he can’t take his eyes off you. 

Heeseung hasn’t been indulging himself sexually, which he blames it on Beomgyu and his studies for repressing the need for it, but you were literally the hottest thing he’d ever lay eyes on. 

He contemplated introducing himself but he backed off every time due to his cowardly nature, and the fact that he can’t stop the bulge forming whenever you were in the laundromat with him. He was your neighbor in a way after all. It wasn’t like he wanted to get in your pants right? Wrong. He very much wanted to dive straight into them. 

It didn’t help that you were always wearing workout clothes drenched in your sweat. 

It’s been like this for the past few weeks— he would secretly look at you, run away in embarrassment after finishing his laundry and touch himself with the thought of you, whether it was in the shower or on his bed. 

It was so fucking wrong for him to that, but you look so fucking hot wearing that shirt without a bra on, perky nipples visible under the fabric. He was glad that it was one in the morning with no one else doing the laundry except for you and him, enabling him to be the only one who got to witness it. 

Heeseung was a routine man. He likes to do his laundry precisely at a spot that no one else would use. He uses the one at the far corner on the left, the lowest row possible that he had to squad down in order to reach it. When he opened the lid without much thought, he closed it back hastily in shock.

No, this can’t be true.

He slowly opened it back, and low and behold, a baby pink panty was just sitting there. 

Heeseung stayed in his position while staring at the article of clothing, confusion plastered on his face. He was sure that no one else would use this spot, but he was naive to think that, clearly. Don’t panic, Heeseung. Just move it to the next machine and act as if nothing happened. The male made up his mind, pinching as little fabric as possible from the undergarment before pulling it out of the machine. 

He was gonna toss it in the other machine when he noticed a label on the inner seam of the waist. It was labelled with a name on it, specifically yours. 

L/N Y/N written clearly. 

Heeseung stood there in bewilderment. Fuck, what was he suppose to do now? He could be a good normal person and leave it in the machine and just use another one. You were bound to notice it was missing and come looking for it next time. But the perverted side of him, the one that has been aching for you, wanted to keep it to himself. 

And he did. He tossed it in his basket and brought it home. 

The things that he did to that article of clothing was unimaginable. 

He smelled it first, and it was definitely washed, the faint smell of floral and detergent was evident as he pushed the fabric closer to his noise. The little void inside of him wished that it was a used one, hoping to catch a whiff of your arousal in any way possible.

God, to be able to smell the juices of your pussy, he would do anything to do that. 

Heeseung was laying on his bed, pushing his pants and boxers down, pumping his hardened dick with one hand while the other was grabbing your panty, smoldering it on his face.

“Fuck.” he let out a desperate moan, thinking about the curves on your body, and the sweat that was dripping down your neck after you work out. Your scent sends shivers down to his cock, tiny precum trickling down his length before Heeseung gathers it, spreading it across until the tip of the head.   

“Your so fucking hot, Y/N. I wanna fuck you.” 

Heeseung moaned in pleasure, hips bucking on his hand, imagining that it was yours that was jerking him off, delicate and soft hands with blue nail polish pumping his cock. He swipe the tender head with his thumb, sending shockwaves of pleasure as he hump the air with his back arched, the familiar knot in his stomach burning for more. 

“More, please.” His whines filled the room, moving your panty to his shaft and rubbing the cotton fabric of your underwear with every thrust of his hips. His stomach rises and falls, feeling the delicious friction of the panty against his pulsating cock. 

“Please, please.” He whimpered. “Y/N, please fuck me.” His desperate request to you was lost in the empty room as he neared his high.

He closed his eyes, imagining that you were on top of him, your wet pussy filled with his big cock as you ride him, hands on his thighs, fucking yourself dumb until you cried his name out. He would have the beautiful view of your tits bouncing with every movement, his hand gripping on your hips to speed up the pace. 

Heeseung groaned in agony, biting on his lips as he was close to orgasming. He imagines sucking on your nipples, eating your folds and pounding into you with your head down and ass up, feeling your panty giving him the most beautiful pleasure before he cums, soiling the cotton fabric with his hot seeds. 

Strings of moan echoed the room as he pump his cock continuously, feeling ropes of hot semen smearing the fabric of your panty. His breathing was labored, mouth open to savor the last of his delightful high before feeling the evident flush on his skin due to cold sweats. 

Heeseung used your panty until your scent was no longer there. 

He watches the baby pink panty among his clothes, the bulk of clothing spinning around the machine as he washes his shame away. With his head down, he began to wonder what was wrong with him. He was definitely classified not only as a pervert but also a panty stealer. 

He folded your panty and placed it ontop of his side table. There was no way in hell he would return it back to you with the amount of dirty things he did to it. 

Heeseung usually does his laundry every Monday, dead in the morning when no one was there. His schedule switches from time to time where he does the laundry at odd times due to restricted time.

It was three in the morning when he decided to do his forgotten laundry, hoping to end his lazy ass for procrastinating on doing his chores. 

With his air pods and a basket full of dirty clothes to wash, he stops in tracks when he spots you at the glass window of the laundromat. He backed away to hide himself in case you saw him, peeking at the corner to see what you were doing at this late hour. 

You were squatted down in front of the dryer, the one he specifically always uses. Heeseung felt his heart beating fast and throat getting dry, thinking you were there searching for your missing panty. But when you place your bra inside the machine,  leaving through the back door of the laundromat, he blinks his eyes in surprise.

To say he was shocked was an understatement. 

Did you leave it there on purpose for him to find?

So many questions bombarded his head. He slowly went inside after he was sure you had left, making his way to the machine. He opened it to see the red bra staring back at him, and pulled it away to make sure your name was there. It was. 

He decided to grab an empty paper and pen from his place to write a message, telling you to meet him at exactly the same time dead in the morning. He left a message inside the dryer but took the bra with him. 

Heeseung was sure you and him were the only ones using that specific machine because when he saw you in the elevator one day as he squeezed through the amount of people, the stare you gave him allowed him to be confident that you saw the message loud and clear. 

He was shitting in his pants waiting for you in the laundromat. 

He doesn’t know what to say— should he confront you about leaving your undergarments on purpose for him to find? Or should he apologize for taking it in the first place? So many worries cross through his mind when he hears the door opened, turning his head to see you walking towards him shyly. 

You wore a blue cardigan with white flowy skirt, in contrast to your usual workout clothes. 

The both of you stood there awkwardly, facing each other but with your gaze averted from one another. The tension was tense as neither of you found the courage to speak first, but when Heeseung took the chance to open his mouth to say something, you pushed him to sit on the empty bench; totally taking him off guard. 

When you capture his lips with yours, you taste as sweet as he imagines. He tightens the grip on your hips, letting you lean down further with your hands on his cheeks to deepen the kiss— he lets your tongue explore the cavern of his mouth. Your scent invades his senses, the same one that sticks to your bra and panty (yes, he smelled the bra you left him too)

It was at this moment that Heeseung realized that his fantasy was coming true. 

A soft moan left your mouth, sending all the blood rushing to his shaft. He was becoming dizzier the more you moved your lips, saliva coating at the edges of each other’s mouth. When you let go of his mouth, tugging at the hairs on the back of his neck, you said something that had him exploding. 

“I wanted to kiss you so bad.” Your breath was hot against his cheeks as he saw the lust swimming in your eyes, causing him to swallow down. 

“Really?” His voice cracked a bit, not believing the words coming out of your mouth. You now grip on his shoulder, resting your forehead against his as you nod your head. 

“Of course. I wouldn’t leave my underwear for you if I didn't want to.” Heeseung flushed when he heard you say that; so you did purposely leave it for him to find. He brings your waist closer to him, standing in front of him with your lips close to his. 

“I want you so bad.” He whispered, the lust evident in his voice. 

You grab onto one of his hands that was resting on your waist, leading it under your skirt. Heeseung let out a gasp when he felt his fingers touching your wet folds, feeling the dampness between your legs. You were not wearing any panties. Fuck. 

The dent on his jeans grew bigger when he rubbed your soaked folds, earning whiny mewls from you as his lanky fingers probed your pulsating hole. You lurch forward when he pushes a finger inside, letting out a high pitch moan when he slowly rubs the inside of your walls. When he moves to enter another finger, scissoring your hole with back and forth motion, you are holding him by the shoulder to regain some balance, feeling your knees buckled at the pleasure that washes over you. 

“You like that?” He taunts, liking the way your face contracts with pleasure with each movement of his finger. 

“Hmm…love your fingers fucking me.” You move your hips to reciprocate his fingers that were moving in and out of your hole, your juices leaking down your inner thighs. You move down to palm his dent, earning a groan from Heeseung’s pouty lips. 

“Want to feel your cock in me.” you unzip his jeans, searching for a way to free his hardened shaft from the confinements. With skillful hands, you pump his dick out of the hole of his boxers, he’s precum coating the palm of your hand as you move to jerk him. 

Heeseung hissed at the warm contact but he let out a chuckle, watching you desperately rut your hips against his fingers for more friction. “Your pussy is drenched, you know that yeah? Are you ready for my cock baby?” 

You let a string of incoherent words of affirmation, lost in the way his fingers were moving inside of you that tears were starting to form at the corner of your eyes. You move to straddle his waist, holding onto his dick as you slowly push him inside. He aids you by holding on your waist with both hands, watching you choke as he stretches you out. 

“Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this.” His eyes rolled at the back of his head, feeling you engulfing his cock with your wet and hot walls. 

“Hee you're so big, you're stretching me out.” You moan, pushing down yourself as close to his hips as possible, needing to feel him fill you up. 

His heart stirs when you breathe out his name. You knew his name. 

When you feel yourself adjusting to his size, you start bouncing on his cock, holding onto his neck as you feel him thrust into you as well. The wet sound of skin slapping and the moans filled up the vacant laundromat, echoing in the dead of morning when every tenant was still sleeping.

The both of you were glad that the CCTV inside was broken, making you feel less shameful at how loud your moans were as Heeseung continued to pound into you mercilessly. You burrowed your face in the crook of his neck, feeling his hands wander under your cardigan, hearing him letting out a curse when he pinch your bare nipples. 

“Fuck, no bra too?” He growled close to your ear, causing you to yelp when you felt him dick twitch inside. He played with your breasts, thrusting roughly into you to the point where your legs felt like jelly. 

“Are you that desperate for me to fuck you huh? Baby wants my cock so much that she puts on a show just for me?” Your fingernails scratch at the skin of his neck, unable to move your hips at the amount of pleasure overwhelming your senses. But Heeseung didn’t mind doing all the work, rapidly ramming into you until you felt the familiar knot in your stomach. 

“I’m close.” You sobbed into his neck, feeling him hitting your g-spot over and over again, not letting you rest in between thrusts. His finger snakes into the front, thumb latching on your tender clit, causing you to go haywire at the feeling. 

“That’s it baby, cum on my cock.” He coaxed, your pussy clutching onto him tightly and sending him over the edge at the stimulation. All he could think of is his clumsy thrust and your wet pussy sucking him in, feeling dizzy at the amount of pleasure that was about to unfold. 

He lets you cum first, the loud whine that emitted from your mouth sends shivers down his spine as he rides you out of your high. When he reaches his own high, Heeseung pulls out in time for the ropes of his semen to drip down his jeans, dampening the area together with your juices. 

Heaving breathing filled the silence, and the sound of the flickering fluorescent lamp from time to time. You lay snug on his chest, feeling the aftermath of the orgasm relaxing your muscles. Heeseung pushes his bangs with one hand that was sticking to his forehead, adjusting his legs to give you more space to sit on his lap.

“I guess we’re beyond introduction at this point huh?”

You laugh, the embarrassment evident in your tone. He laughed as well, his chest moving up and down at the thought that you had wanted him the way he wanted you. But the real question was— Heeseung moved to look at you, eyes staring back at you with a cheeky smirk. 

“Do you still want your bra and panty or can I keep it?” 

[chenle-dressed-in-black]

Hi ! Are you open for requests ? If so, could you do something like Mafia!NCT Dream (or whatever unit) reaction to you saving them ? (As a stranger) Please 😊?

✰ 𝕞𝕒𝕗𝕚𝕒!𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ✰ | you, a stranger, save his life

m.list

     I’m back with another dream mafia reaction, because they’re so much fun to write! I’ve been feeling very inspired to write recently and I’m making the most it. Thank you all for your patience as I work through your long-awaited requests. My mafia writings contain depictions of violence, death, weapons, language, and things of that nature, although none in excess! Chenle’s is hella suggestive btw. These are fairly long, so enjoy~

Mark

     It’s just past lunch time at what could perhaps be called the most beautiful cafe in all the city, but you haven’t found time to grab food yet—business needs to be settled first. You’re lying on your stomach on the roof, watching the people below through a skylight. Sitting behind the counter are all three of your targets, perfectly oblivious to your presence and your partner, Haechan, who is wiring the explosives in the break room this instant. 

     As you scan the cafe’s patrons, one catches your eye. He’s wearing round glasses and headphones, bumping to music only he can hear. He scribbles small lines of words onto a napkin with a blue pen, black hair too short to fall into his eyes. You wonder if it’s poetry or music. Even from this far away, you know he smells good. You frown, pitying him for what’s to come.

     Then you see Haechan peek out of the break room—which is your signal. You know what you’re going to do. Before you shatter the glass of the skylight with the handle of your favorite knife, you double check your line. It’s secure. In the flash of an eye, you’re descending from the ceiling and landing gracefully on the floor of the cafe. Another colleague is firing  rubber bullets to break all the perfectly polished floor-to-ceiling windows. Screams erupt. Under the protection of chaos, you throw a knife into the hearts of each of your targets. They’re your special knives, with your group’s logo engraved in the center. You want to take all the credit for this operation.

     The boy hasn’t even noticed what’s happening, his music is so loud. You walk over to him, realizing that you’re dressed like a Matrix character, and tap his shoulder. He looks up, eyes going wide. 

     “Hey,” you say nonchalantly. “How are you doing today?”

     He makes a face. “Fine? What the hell is going on?”

     “That’s wonderful,” you say, checking your wristwatch. “Look, there’s gonna be in a explosion in about two minutes, so unless you’re prepared to meet whatever god you believe in, you might wanna take that back exit on your left over there, . . .”

     “Mark.” He gathers his belongings with haste. “It’s Mark.”

     You guide him to the back hallway, steering him away from the corpses of your enemies, and removing a card from your pocket. You put it in his hand. “Y/N. That’s my number. Call me about any damages you incurred today for compensation or if you just wanna, you know, talk.” 

     “Right,” he says with furrowed brows. “Thanks, I guess.”

     You open the back door for him, grinning. “Yeah, yeah. No problem. Talk to you later then, I hope?” 

     “Umm, sure. I’m gonna go, you know, so I don’t die. You should, too.”

Renjun

     “Hey, duck!”

     The boy in the beanie turns your way, giving you a puzzled expression. “What did you say?”

     “Didn’t you hear me?” You’re yelling across the mall now as you run towards him. So much for not drawing attention to yourself. Luckily, it’s so loud you aren’t sure anyone really notices—or cares. “Fucking duck, dumbass.”

     While his expression doesn’t change from one of sheer bewilderment, he does kneel down enough that only the wind from the throwing star brushes his head. Standing back up reluctantly, he watches as the target runs away, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. 

     You watch her flee with a smug grin. That should send a message, you think.

     “Excuse me?” the boy says. “Can I stand normally now?”

     As you approach him, your eyes narrow and a fire lights in you. “What’s wrong with you? The second someone tells you to duck, you fucking do it. No questions asked. You’re lucky you still have that shiny hair.”

     “What just happened?” he asks. “Did you have something to do with it?”

     You roll your eyes. “The whole throwing star act? Personally, I prefer a simple bullet.” 

     “We need to call the police. Somebody just tried to kill that woman!”

     “Don’t be ridiculous,” you say through a laugh that abruptly fades before your next words. “You need to come with me, though, so you can sign the NDA.”

     “That can’t be legal.” 

     “Oh, no,” you agree, guiding him toward an exit. He tentatively walks with you. “It won’t hold up in court for a second, but if you break it, you know . . .”

     As you move your thumb across your neck in one line, poking your tongue out for dramatic effect, he freezes in place, but seems rather resigned to his fate. “This is so fucked up.”

     “Right? I hate it, too. It’s so bureaucratic! Like, we’re the kind of people who attack enemies in malls, not the kind who make people sign documents.” Throwing an arm around his shoulder, you start walking again. “But if you don’t go, I’ll have to gag you, put you in my backseat, then hold you somewhere until you agree to sign it. And, honestly, I’m kind of hungry so I want to finish this quickly. Are you hungry? We could pick up some food on the way.”

      “Fuck you,” he whispers, packing venom into each syllable. “How long is this gonna take?”

     “Okay, there’s no need to be rude. I did just save your life, babe.”

     He glares at you. “Don’t call me that.”

Jeno

     One second Jeno is walking down the street on his way to a convenience store, then you’re pulling on his arm. He stops walking, taking you in. You’re wearing black from head-to-toe. 

     “Hi,” he says. “You pulled?”

     You let go. “Sorry, my name is Y/N. Can you trust me for a sec?”

     “I don’t really know you, but I’m Jeno. Trust you about what?”

     When a gunshot sounds down the street, you reach for his hand and lace your fingers together. You take off so quickly that he almost trips. Then you’re running together. 

     “My friends are looking for someone with pink hair!” you say, urging him to run faster with your hand. “You don’t want to get mixed up with them.”

     You love the humor in his voice. “Do you have a lot of friends with guns?” 

     “Just the normal amount.” After another gunshot that is alarmingly close, you pull him into an alley and push him against a brick wall next to a dumpster. “Can you trust me?”

     “Okay,” he says as you step close to him. Really close. He wonders for an instant if you’re going to kiss him. Then you remove your cap and place it over his head, tucking in the ends of his bright hair. “What are you doing?”

     “Y/N, where the hell did you go this time?” 

     “My friends,” you say. “If they think you’re our guy, they won’t ask questions. Look, I’m sorry, but there’s one thing I have a reputation for that will let their guards down.”

     “And that is?”

     “This.” You put your lips on his, giving this everything that you’ve got because it needs to be convincing. The fierceness with which he kisses you back brings a gasp to your lips. Five minutes ago, you two didn’t even know each other and now you’re . . . doing this. And it’s really good. You don’t even have to pretend anymore as one of your colleagues enters the corner of your vision. 

     “Fucking hell,” she says. “You’re so easily distracted. Come on, we’ve got find him before he gets away. Y/N! I am officially cockblocking you, so come on.”

     You pull away from Jeno, giving her a death stare. “I’ll catch up in a minute. Go.”

     She mutters something underneath her breath then returns to the main street. Turning back to Jeno, you offer him a victory smile filled with mischief. Caught up in the absurdity of it all, he laughs. “I just made out with a stranger. Easily distracted—do you do this often?”

     “Occasionally.” You turn to go. “Thank you for your service, Jeno. I’d wear a hat tomorrow if I were you.”

     “Wait,” he says. “Where can I find you?”

     “I’ll find you. My friends and I are good at that, too. See you around, Jeno.”

Haechan

     “Excuse me, sir,” you say, coming behind a young man dressed in expensive clothes standing next to a very expensive car. “Were you about to check into this hotel?”

     He looks you up and down, half impatient and half amused. “Yeah, why?”

     “You’re very handsome and I’d feel bad if anything happened to you there, so take a word of advice and try the Hilton across the street. It’ll save you some money, too, not that it looks like you’re running short on it.”

     “Who are you?” he asks, closing the door of his car. “And that sounded a lot like a threat. If you want money, I can give you some. How much?”

     You rest a hand on your hip. “I have plenty of money, thank you. I’m trying to warn you, not threaten you. I won’t beg you not to be an idiot. The choice is yours. You’re welcome.”

     “You didn’t tell me who you are!” he calls as you walk away. 

     “No one.”

     “Is the J.W. Marriott a dangerous place for me, too, then? I’d prefer that over a Hilton.”

     You grin at him. “Plenty safe, rich boy. Be careful, though, because the gelato is to die for.”

     “Come get some with me,” he says. “My guardian angel. To say thank you for protecting me.”

Jaemin

     Approximately five minutes after your groups sends an assassin into the safehouse of an adversary, you’re informed by your de facto boss that the assassin has entered the wrong apartment. She doesn’t even have to explain for you to know that you’re expected to remedy the situation—you’re the best damage control in the game. 

     “Any information on whose apartment he did go in, then?” you ask, tying your hair back to get it away from your face. You tighten your shoelaces and put a hand on the belt at your waist, making sure your weapons are still there.

     Your boss frowns at her tablet. “It’s a 21 year-old guy called Na Jaemin.”

     “Is he cute?” When she sends you a disapproving glance, you wave it away. “Kidding. Hopefully he’s alone, or just has a one-night stand in his bed. Hoping he didn’t throw a rager and let everyone he knows crash there. Wish me luck.”

     The lock has already been picked by the hitman, so you open the door quietly and examine your surroundings: no wasted twenty-somethings lying around. It’s perfectly silent without a hint of the assassin anywhere. But he’s here. If he’s in the bedroom, which there only appears to be one of, you’re running out of time. You pick up the pace, risking a floorboard creak or two. 

     He’s hovering over a sleeping man. So Na Jaemin has spent his Friday evening all by himself, then. Because speaking may wake him up, you come up behind the assassin and twist his arms behind his back, trying to pull him from the room silently so you can explain the clumsy mix-up. The sooner he’s in the right place, the better. 

     Catching you by surprise, he spins from your grasp and hits you across the face. It’s loud enough that Jaemin stirs as you stumble back. The hitman moves towards him, grasping a knife. 

     “Damn it,” you whisper, unfolding a metal baton from your belt. “Wrong house, dude. It’s the building over.”

     Jaemin jumps out of bed, reaching for his bedside lamp and raising it like a baseball bat. He’s shirtless. “Who the hell are you? Get out of my house.”

     It’s as if the assassin didn’t even hear you, because he starts to launch the knife at Jaemin. You make the reckless mistake of getting in the way. As the knife cuts into your abdomen, your entire body clenches in pain. 

     The shock stuns the man for a split second—long enough that you hit him across the throat with the baton, knocking him to the ground as he claws at his neck for breath. You can feel the knife inside of you, but you know better than to remove it now. 

     “I said, this is the wrong house.” For good measure, you smack him across the head. He goes all the way down. Clutching the knife handle, you turn to Jaemin breathlessly. “Sorry about that. Wrong address.”

     He’s by your side, having thrown the lamp aside. He looks down at your wound. “I’ll call an ambulance. Here, sit down.”

     “Don’t!” you say. “There’s a trained medic outside. I just need to—“ You double over when a wave of agony hits you, grunting. “—get outside. Please help me.”

     The room starts to spin, but you feel his arms around you. Is he holding you? Then everything fades into darkness. When you awaken, you’re in a bed in your group’s headquarters. Jaemin is staring at you nervously.

     You try to sit up, then groan. He’s by your side in a second. “Don’t try to sit up. You’re okay. I talked to some of your . . . colleagues. You risked your life to save mine, even though I’m a stranger. If you need anything, I’ll be here for you as you recover.”

     “Recover from what? It was just a little . . . oh my God.”

     You both examine the bandages that have mummified your torso. “You had three surgeries. The knife hit your intestines. Let me bring you some water.”

Chenle

     Tonight, Chenle is breaking into the main facility of your group in search for a stolen artifact that a posh historical society desperately wants returned—the reward is blinding. He’s made it in deep, near the heart of everything, with little trouble. That is, until you spot him. 

     All of the sudden, the lights go out and he’s swallowed by complete darkness. He stiffens at the sound of someone around him, but he can’t position where. 

     Your mouth is close enough to his ear that it makes him shiver. “You’re the one I like. I spend a lot of time watching you and your friends. If anyone else found you first but me, your head would be going on a podium next to that old vase you’re here for.”

     “I don’t believe I’ve had the honor of knowing you the way you know me, though never fear—I’m already starting to reciprocate your endearing admiration.”

     One of your hands finds its way to his tense shoulder. “Call me Y/N.”

     “Lovely to meet you,” he says, carefully clipping his tone. “What will you do with me now?”

     You click your tongue, still merely inches away from him. “There are so many options. I could take some of your fingers off or we could spend some more time in the dark—in a more comfortable setting, of course. Or I could give you to my friends.”

     “You’re making me blush, Y/N.” There’s undeniable amusement in his tone, whether it’s a farce or not. “You’ll enjoy our time together much more if I’m allowed to keep my fingers, darling.” 

     He lets you pull him down the hallway, which is still dark. “I can arrange that. Maybe I’ll keep you for myself for a little while. I won’t let the others touch that pretty head of yours. How does that sound?”

     “I’m all yours.”

     Maybe Chenle should be more opposed to the idea of being a hostage, but you paint a compelling picture. He knows he’ll be out of here eventually. The next few weeks will not be boring, to say the least. Whatever he’s in for with you, he’s ready. He just hopes you look half as attractive as the sound of your voice against his ear.

Jisung

     One every three months, a few of you get together and terrorize the streets of a neighborhood, but it’s all in good fun. You pocket some cash, steal some nice watches, and bruise a few egos. No one takes it too far. 

     You’ve just swiped the pearl necklace of a sour woman when you hear the sound of someone whose robbery is definitely being taken too far. The snaps, cries, and echoes can only be the sound of someone getting beaten. Tucking the pearls into your bag, you approach the scene. 

     “If it isn’t my least favorite person in the entire world breaking our unspoken rule not to kill someone on our nights out,” you say, catching sight of a particularly unbearable member of the group kicking a tall boy with white hair on the ground. “Knock it off.”

     Hardly sparing you a glance, he packs in another kick. The boy cries out. His mouth is bloody. 

     “Come on, leave him alone. You’ve already robbed the poor guy of everything—surely there’s a limit to how much you can harass and beat him. Have some mercy.”

     “Get lost, bitch.”

     You stand your ground. “Are we really going to do this right now? I’ll kick your ass, prick.”

     “Whatever,” he says, getting one final blow in before stepping away. “I’ll just go find someone else. Asshole.”

     “Fucking douche.” Slowly, you come to the boy. He gives you a desperate look of pleading. “It’s gonna be fine. I’ll stay here with you until an ambulance comes, but you have to promise not to rat me out.”

     He nods frantically. “Don’t—don’t go. Please don’t leave me.”

     “I’ll stay,” you say, smoothing his hair back from his forehead to soothe him. You dial for an ambulance. “I’ll stay with you.”

     “Thank—thank you.”