#ireland really has its shit together on that front

[displeasedfrog]

Wishing I was the king of England rn so I could abolish parliament for long enough that I could use my funny little treasury funds to fix Avery glaring (and not so glaring) issue before then creating a new parliament to watch over Britain whilst I go help other countries with a new law that cannot be repealed that allows a majority vote from the public to execute people in parliament if they piss off enough of the public. Also there would be taco Tuesday.

[neovisioned]

♡ꜜ broken mirrors﹫jaehyun jung

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

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

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

word count : 25k exactly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then, Y/N. So be it !” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have no idea.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

People have told you many times. 

“Curiosity killed the cat.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Curiosity killed the cat.

“Right now !” 

Curiosity killed the cat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, kid.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You back away. 

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

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

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

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

“I should go home.”

“You should go home.” 

“Nice shirt.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday night. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again and again, you tap on the glass.

“I’ll get you out, I promise !” 

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Let Chaos Reign

Chapter 3- Don’t Provoke The Bear

Summary: After getting your shit rocked by the Avengers, you now wake up in a strange new place even more pissed off then you already were. Also that one pretty looking dark haired guy won’t leave you alone.

Warning: reader being chaotic, Bucky trying his best

Masterlist - Chapter 2

Eyes still closed you can feel a soft pressure holding you up, slowly parting your eyelids, you’re soon greeted by the sight of bright lights circling you overhead, though they remain unmoving. On further inspection, once you force yourself into a seated position, you take notice that you’re in some kind of flat spherical glass holding cell.

Blinking groggily, you look down to find your clothes are all still on your body, suddenly a pang of fear hits you at the thought of your mothers necklace. Reaching for it, you’re relieved to feel it’s still with you. Thanking whoever will listen for that bit of good fortune in this otherwise adverse predicament.

Shifting your gaze back to the current situation of the room, you’re able to see around to some sort of large cavernous lab area with a multitude of that armored man from earlier, though you can tell there is no vital life that stirs within them. Guards maybe? Decoys? You have no idea.

Suddenly your eyes catch movement from the left door, a dark skinned man in black clothing and a single patch over his left eye appears. “Good morning. I’m Director Fury.” He smiles with a friendly nod, arms clasped behind his back while he walks over to you, “Or should I say afternoon?”

Getting off the elevated bed, you wander towards the thick glass keeping you from him, “Where am I?”

Fury nods, “Better question you should be asking is how long you’ve been out for, cause damn, you can sleep.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

He chuckles knowingly, “I almost couldn’t believe it myself when the team told me. But wow, holding back both Vision and Wanda for as long as you did. I’m thoroughly impressed.” He boasts for you, genuinely fascinated by your daring feat.

Right, those two.

You frown, gaze hard set and intimidating, “Where the fuck am I?”

“Well for one, you’ve been out for a whole 15 hours since they found you unconscious but alive after getting blasted by Vision and Wanda. Weren’t sure if you were gonna make it, seems the universe has yet to take you out.”

Pursing your lips together in irritation, you glare through the glass at him, “Well I’m not exactly from here so....doesn’t matter. Tell me what this place is and where the fuck I am!”

He holds up his hands, “Alright no need to get heated.” Before clasping them behind his back as he begins pacing slowly back and forth in front of you, “You’ve created quit the stir since arriving in Ireland. My intelligence first received a message indicating a storm greater then a category four hurricane, which by our standards is pretty damn massive. Soon a fun little video of you throwing some busses around like rag dolls peaked my interest. And give or take a couple days, here you are.”

Giving him a deadpanned stare, you cross your arms, “The mystery of the century. Where am I?”

“Alright fine I won’t leave you in suspense, you’re in New York State. In a very secure and safe facility home to the Avengers. Nice place huh?” He smiles, dark eyes looking elsewhere as he gives a little once over of the room.

“I’m in a cell.”

“Yes. But it’s a clean cell.”

Suddenly you slam your left fist against the thick glass causing him to flinch, “You have no right to hold me here! Release me. Now.” You growl darkly, golden irises appearing to almost glow with your building vexation.

“Can’t do that.”

“Alright then, if that’s how it’s going to be. Then I’ll do it myself.”

A second later he’s genuinely startled as you cock your arm back before slamming it into the clear thick glass. With the power of bending the material and your people’s strength, the glass cracks into a fist sized area. Satisfied with this, you do it again and again before a voice startles you.

[Miss, please refrain from breaking that. Mr. Stark has requested that you stop immediately.]

“Agreed.” Says Fury as he hustles over to the far wall, bringing his arm up to his mouth, he speaks but you can’t tell what he’s saying. What nonsense is he even doing?

Ignoring both of them, you punch the glass a fourth time before the voice interrupts again. [Miss. Please suspend your advances. Mr. Stark is on his way.]

Halting your fist from punching a fifth time, you take a step back and bring yourself to the center. Positioning yourself in a fighters stance, legs slightly bent, arms held about 90 degrees; you thrust them forward causing the metal contraption to creak and whine in protest.

Holding your arms close to your body now, you make two tight fists before violently punching at the air; the metal holding in the glass slams forcefully against the far wall. Destroying a couple of those stoic armored sentinels in the process.

“What the fuck?!” Yelps Fury in surprise as he falls to the floor from the force of the impact, “Hey! You better stay right the fuck over there!” He warns while cowering in the corner, nothing to really threaten you with but his voice. That is until he pulls out a stunted black gun, like the ones you have seen on the Norwegian police. You ignore his threats anyways.

Taking your first steps out of the desolated cell feels almost euphoric, your body embraces how strong and dangerous you feel among this place and what has presented itself to you within her walls. A man and his words, a disembodied voice telling you to stop fighting your way to freedom. Ridiculous, they have no idea who you are.

You take a single step left when the man, Fury, shouts loudly, “Stay right there!” Your eyes find the gun held tightly within his grasp, “I will shoot!”

You don’t care for this shallow warning, there are things in this universe more important then a mortal mans fearful intimidation. Opening up your palm, the gun flies out of his hands while he gasps with a start, eyes wide and panicked as you turn the short nosed barrel towards him. Closing your fist, the gun combusts to nothing more then destroyed metal and hard plastic as it clatters to the floor.

He watches in disbelief as you then turn to your left before taking the first door that reads exit above it; you wander past a long hallway until you come across a door leading to a long flight of stairs to some floor with a sign reading - Parking Area - the door is obviously closed.

This is too easy, you think suspiciously, somethings not right.

Opening up the door, you’re greeted by a large cavernous glass and metal room holding a large black aircraft on the far end, a couple more vehicles parked in various areas spread about the place. And not a soul in sight.

Hustling along into the room, you’re able to reach the door on the other side, opening it, you cautiously stick your head out. Ahead of you is a large green yard stretching all the way back to a tree line with trees placed neatly along a road leading up to the facilities main entrance area.

To your far left is a large river, but still, you have no idea where New York is. This is all unfamiliar territory to you, so finding the Ancient One is going to be a tough fucking job.

Not seeing anyone, you take your first couple steps into the open. Soon you’ve made it halfway across the grass headed for the tree line before the sound of gravel crunching causes you to pause and turn around to face the intruder.

So close. The woods are right there.

Clenching your fists, you keep a defensive stance as you stare him down, this man is undoubtedly familiar. He’s dressed in boots, jeans, a pair of cloves for some reason, and a faded grey t-shirt that’s mostly covered by his forest green jacket, while his long dark hair is washed and sits handsomely around his face. Blue eyes staring at you apprehensively, “We’re not here to harm you.” Cautiously says the man in a soft tone of voice, hoping not to provoke you again.

“Then why was I just locked in a cell?”

He pauses for a moment, “Uh, okay, yeah that looks bad.”

“Precisely.

You turn to leave, yet his voice makes you stay, “You don’t have to be on your own you know. I don’t know what you’re looking for, or who....but doing it alone will only take longer. We could help you, if you want.” He suggests with the tiniest hint of a smile. You don’t trust him.

You look towards the lake before finding his gaze yet again, your golden eyes admittedly sadder as you softly answer him, “No one can help me.”

He takes a step forward, face softening, “I felt the same way once. Alone and confused, not sure where to go, no one to trust. Believe me, it sucked......so, I’m just hoping you’ll listen. That’s it.”

“Well, I don’t particularly like any of you. And so far you’ve all gotten in my way and fought me....I have no reason to trust a thing you say.”

He purses his lips together and nods, you’ve got him there, but nonetheless he takes another step forward, “Sorry about that.” He mutters while rubbing the back of his neck, “Uh, let me try and start over....I’m Bucky. And I am definitely not here to fight you. Promise.”

Eyeing him up suspiciously, you take a step back, “Y/N Lavpranthus..of Vanaheim.” You finally reveal, albeit with a smidge of apprehension, however you are not one to hold back your own name if someone is to speak freely theirs.

Bucky nods, incredibly grateful for your calm demeanor for the moment and this first bout of information given willingly by you, though he has not a single clue where Vanaheim is, this is progress. Good progress; perhaps the team was right to send him out first as their guinea pig against the big bad wolf.

Stupid in retrospect, but so far it’s appeared an effective strategy instead of Tony’s idea which was to have Vision and Wanda knock you out again. Not an efficient way to make friends who can throw busses around like its nothing but a bag of grapes...and all without even touching them.

Bucky reveals the flash of a smile as you slowly calm your once defensive stance, though you’re still wary of his true intentions, “Y/N.” Repeats Bucky with a genuine grin as he tests out your name on his tongue, “Never heard that one before, it’s beautiful.

Taken aback by his kindness and sincere compliment to your name, you finally let your guard down, “My mother gave that to me, it was her sisters name, though she died before I met her. Guess it doesn’t matter now...” He frowns as you share a dismal look with the ground, remembering the events that brought you here in the first place. 

Family.

Soon your anger rises once more as you think of your brother, that conniving piece of shit, “Bucky....I-I can’t stay here. I have to go, you wouldn’t understand. And I don’t want you to be involved....fuck....he probably already has scouts hunting for me.”

Bucky’s brows furrow in confusion, who would you be talking about he has no idea, “Y/N, no one could hurt you here, alright. This place is pretty damn guarded. I mean, we are the Avengers.”

Shaking your head you take a step backwards, “No, none of you understand how dangerous he is, I’m lucky he didn’t kill me when he had the chance.”

“Who tried to kill you?”

Finding his worried gaze once more, you back closer towards the woods, a knowingly loathsome look crossing your features as you frown, “My brother.” And with that do you make a swift exit into the trees, out of sight in an instant.

Bucky takes a hasty step forward before looking back at the base where all of the Avengers are watching from the windows, they collectively make a go-get-her motion with their hands, indicating that Y/N is now his problem.

Fantastic, he thinks sarcastically, half the team can fly and I’m going after a demigod with family problems.

——

Jumping over fallen trees and ragged roots alike, you’re swifter then a young leopard under the treetops, it’s admittedly incredibly freeing that you almost get lost in the rush of it all as your boots pound against the leafy ground.

Arms pumping you quickly along while you run deeper into the woods, you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt so free, though your fun soon comes to an abrupt halt when something hard latches onto both of your legs, instantly you begin falling towards the quickly approaching earth.

With lightening reflexes, your hands are thrusted outwards while you emit a blast of air that saves you from suffering brain damage or a bruised face. The wind aids your body in stabilizing itself once again; now standing with your lower legs tied collectively by some metal clasp, you quickly clap your hands together before focusing your release.

The metal clamps rip apart from off of your legs, freeing you in an instant, “What the fuck was that about?” You mutter to yourself when what would you know it, there’s Bucky standing not even twenty feet from you, an apologetic look on his annoyingly handsome face.

He raises his gloved hands into the air, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how else to stop you...”

Shaking your head in disappointment, you take a step in his direction, “Bucky, you’re going to really wish you didn’t just do that.”

“Uh.” Is all he’s able to mutter before you send him flying backwards with the force of a small windstorm, you watch in amusement as he breaks some branches on his way to the ground.

“You really don’t like following orders now do you?” He hears you chuckle, “I like that. You’ve got a brave heart I’ll admit.” He watches as you walk into view, a knowing smirk adorning your beautiful otherworldly features, “Courage, it’s good. Even after what I did to you a couple days ago, you still came to speak with me when no one else dared, it’s valiant. You would be a noble warrior in my homeland.”

Bucky could have blushed if not for the stick poking uncomfortably into his back, “Thanks....you seem like...uh....an experienced...woman.” Mutters Bucky, mentally cringing at how unbelievably stupid that just sounded in comparison with how gloriously divine you are.

You snort, “Easy on the eyes and a skilled fighter. Guess conversation is too adept for even the likes of you.”

Bucky shows you a cheeky grin as he jumps to his feet, “Well....uh...you don’t really know me that well yet.”

You laugh at his weak flirting skills, “Too bad I’ve got elsewhere to be. I bet you’re fine company.”

“Right...right, yeah...” Mumbles Bucky with a nod, not really confident he’s gonna be able to sway you completely to his side, he just needs you to come back with him to the base. That’s it, well, in a calmly manner. “Uh...do you even know where you are?”

You open your mouth to speak but pause as you actually have not a single clue where you really are, brows furrowed you answer, “Upstate New York.” Your accent dripping strong with a tinge of uncertainty that greatly annoys you.

Bucky smiles, “Do you know where that is?”

“Well.....not completely but I’m willing to find out, elsewhere. I don’t need help, believe me.”

Bucky throws his hands up, “I believe you. It’s just....I don’t think you’re gonna find your brother without a little guidance here...”

“Don’t patronize me!” You snap angrily, eyes practically glowing gold as you fill with irritation; he’s trying to distract you from your goal, you don’t need any help from anyone. Your brother would never dare ask for such a thing if he was in your place, he probably would have killed this man in the facility yard without a second thought. “You’re all just prying little bastards, I have no business with any of you when my personal quandary is concerned!”

Clearly noticing he’s struck some kind of nerve, and remembering he’s been tasked with gathering as much information about you as possible while striving for the end goal of a truce. Bucky stupidly pressures you further, “Your brother can’t be that terrible, I mean.....what did he do?” Asks Bucky with a casual shrug, a sudden pang of fear flashing through his eyes as you send him a nasty glare.

You don’t even give him a moment to react before his forest green jacket is ablaze from your quick thrust of flame out of your fist, Bucky instantly yelps in surprise before swiftly throwing the burning fabric off of him before he catches fire himself. The jacket falls to a flaming heap on the forest floor, “What the hell?!” Yells Bucky, eyes wide at your incredibly abrupt act of hostility.

Whoosh!

And Bucky’s flat on his back with you right on top of him, kneeling down to meet his startled gaze, his breath hitches as you forcefully grab his stubbled jaw. Your eyes two golden coins of tempered rage, “You have no idea what he has done to me or my realm, you’re lucky I’m not like him or you’d be a burnt corpse adding to the ash of the universe. Pray you never meet him.” Your lip quivers in angered emotion as you lightly squeeze his jaw, “And if we meet again, I assure you someone will die.”

Bucky keeps still as stone as you finally release him from your admittedly powerful grasp, soon you rise to your full height, giving him one last conflicted look before sauntering off into the bushes.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he had, chest rising heavily as the adrenaline rush of the fire and you touching him brings him back to reality. He’s on the ground in the woods and you’re absolutely no where to be seen. Soon he jumps to his feet and jogs in your direction until he reaches a gravel road leading back to the Avengers Facility.

You’re gone, just like a phantom in the shadows, gone.

Shaking his head in frustration, Bucky treks back to the base where Steve, Tony, and Natasha are waiting for him outside, all equally curious as to what the hell happened.

“Looks like you were unsuccessful, Barnes.” Quips Tony as Bucky throws him a dirty look.

“She’s...just.....complicated.” Mutters the tired Winter Soldier with a frown as they follow him to the front doors.

——

Bucky slouches comfortably into the back of the lounging rooms giant plush couch, a heating pad seated blissfully against his bruised back from all the times you knocked his ass to the ground today. Sam, Tony, Steve, and Natasha seated in various areas around the lounging room as they give him a break to rest.

Though the peace is soon broken by the sound of Tony’s irritating voice, “You at least get a name to hold against that psycho?”

Bucky throws him an annoyed glance, “She’s not a psycho, and her name is Y/N....I can’t remember her last name. It was something Middle Earth-like I don’t know.”

“Y/N?” Repeats Steve, “That’s different.”

Bucky’s face shifts to concentrated puzzlement, “Yeah, I know....it’s just, she said Y/N of Vanaheim or whatever that means....not sure but she’s definitely not from around here.”

“Really? What drew you to that final conclusion.” Jokes Sam as Bucky mutters an incomprehensible fuck off while the Falcon chuckles.

Natasha’s voice suddenly enters the conversation, “So she’s after her brother?”

Bucky nods, “Yep.”

“And doesn’t appear to know her way around this world either?”

“Yep.”

Natasha hums in thought as Sam speaks, “Damn. I wonder what happened to her before she got dumped into our world...”

Bucky suddenly sits up, “It’s just....she said some people are probably already after her, uh....her brothers guardsman I think?”

Steve takes a step forward, eye brows raised in interest, “Guardsmen?”

Tony nods, “Or are these some type of glorified assassins? I’m just putting this out there, but we really need to get this shit under control before she ends up destroying a building next. Or these, whoever is after her, decide to...oh I don’t know...kill some civilians while they’re at it.”

Bucky’s face shifts to puzzlement, “Dammit. It’s kinda my fault she ran off.” They all give him a varying amount of intrigued expressions as he sighs, “I was just trying to get more info out of her and then I talked about her brother and she set my jacket on fire, before throwing me to the ground and roughly grabbing my face to threaten me, she was really mad too.”

Sam smirks, “Did you enjoy it. Getting manhandled by a pretty lady in the woods?”

“Sam.” Mutters Steve like a disappointed father reprimanding his son.

“Come on Buck, it’s okay, you can tell us. Was it nice?”

Bucky throws him a deadly glare, “Actually it was, I felt very loved and comforted.” He quips, voice dripping in sarcasm before a more thoughtful expression crosses his features, “But she didn’t actually hurt me. I don’t know, she almost looked conflicted to leave....I don’t know it happened so fast.” He mumbles, closing his eyes as he falls back into the comfort of the couch.

“Well as much as I’m enjoying this time together with all of you...” Says Natasha, “We now have a person from an unknown world on the loose with incredible power and the means to use it as she wants. We all know where that can lead us.”

“With more collateral damage then what Ultron gave us.” Adds Tony, “Fortunately this time it won’t be my fault...like that makes a big difference I know. Still, she’s the Avengers newest problem now and we don’t have a damn clue where Miss. Anger Management is.”

“Uh, not exactly.” Starts Bucky as they all turn to look at him. Sam raises an intrigued brow, “What do you mean, not exactly?”

“I, well uh-when she was threatening me, well one of the times she was threatening me...I was able to plant a tracker on the inside of her one pocket. Then she pushed me into the grass and ran off into the woods, I couldn’t keep up even if I tried. She was just gone, but at least I was able to do that. It’s something.”

“Barnes.” Says Tony slowly, “And you’re just telling us this now? When we could have been sending some intelligence or agents or even ourselves out to find her.”

“Sorry but I was recovering from getting beaten up by a beautiful demigod to remember so soon,” Sasses Bucky, “but yeah, that aside, she’s got a tracker on her so all I’d need to do is pull it up on my phone and I’m good to go. Well, as long as she hasn’t found it yet.” 

“If it’s just like that, you’re sharing with the rest of the class.” Says Tony while he wanders over to the television mounted upon the wall, “I’m gonna have you link with the tv, I don’t wanna miss a second.”

With a dramatic sigh does the Winter Soldier lean over to grab the thin metal device from off of the coffee table in front of him while Tony flicks on the large tv screen. Once all is set correctly and synched up, the others watch on in curiosity as he scrolls around a bit before finding the app and clicking on it, a couple passwords are sent in and accepted when the screen then shows one option labeled -Unite_1P - between two white bars within a sea of black.

He taps the label and the screen changes to a view of North America resembling that of google maps, but the screen soon shifts to zoom in on a moving pin point in red that’s traveling a couple miles far northeast of the Bronx, where it appears that Y/N happens to be trekking through some forest heading downwards towards that designated part of New York City.

Steve’s eyes trail over the red pin point, “So that’s where Y/N is going?”

“Seems like it. And she hasn’t a damn clue where she’s actually going either.”

Sam keeps his gaze locked onto the map as well, “And what does she want exactly?”

 “She said something about finding her brother but that’s honestly it, I tried to help her but it was almost pointless. She’s on her own mission now, and no ones going to get in her way.”

Steve sighs, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“What?”

“Y/N. Someone getting in her way, someone just trying to lend a hand and she takes it the wrong way and then...”

“I know man, but I don’t think she’d do that to some innocent person. At least I don’t think she would.” Worries Bucky while everyone takes a moment to process and stare at the screen, red pin point still moving slowly towards New York City. The creak of wood is suddenly heard and all five Avengers turn their heads towards the abrupt noise of Director Fury who’s found himself a spot to stand in the large room.

“Unfortunately we don’t know that. And as the worlds mightiest heroes. It’s your collective duty to always assume the worst. She’s strong, has a goal, and appears able to get it if she tries hard enough. It’s admirable, and yes she’s no Loki...but she is a danger to Earth the less we know about her true intentions and the longer she’s out of our reach.” Explains Fury, “Barnes you’ve done incredibly well. But our apparent need for you has increased as well, so I suggest you smack on a band-aid because we’re going to have a nice civil conversation with her whether she wants it or not.”

“Me?”

“Yes you. You’re the only person she hasn’t tried to send a chunk of metal at, you got close, you got the information. We need you to do it again.”

Steve looks to Fury, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. What if she...”

“I’ll do it.....” They all give Bucky a collective array of questionable facial expressions as he shrugs, “What? I think she’ll listen, maybe, okay I’m not one hundred percent sure if Y/N will hear me out. But I gotta try right? She’s conflicted inside, she’s hurt and alone....if I just have a moment, another moment, I think I could get to her. I think she’ll listen.”

Fury smiles as Steve lowers his gaze, “That’s what I like to hear Mr. Barnes. And don’t none of you worry alright. We’ll be close, at a safer distance of course, but close in case anything goes south. Now the day is still young and we have a demigod to find, I assume you all know what to do.”

Steve looks to the array of assembled heroes, “Suite up..well actually...just Bucky.”

The designated man of the hour rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.”

-

Tagged: @buckylokisimp @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender  @a-girl-who-loves-disney @bizarrebibitch @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @jmstz @thehornytitties @staygoldsquatchling02 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @mischiefmanaged71​ @noragracebrewer   @atomicpersonacheesecake  @thescarlettvvitch @shawnartmendes​

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Oh okay well Danny tells Ryan that they’re “going to talk in the morning” at the end of the Was it good? peice and I would like to see that. Maybe Danny telling Ryan some of the things that happened to Nate and making him super uncomfortable? Idk I like Danny protecting Nate it’s interesting

CW: Referenced past torture and pet whump, referenced alcohol use, brief reference to dissoci@tion

Follows on Was It Good?, takes place the next morning

Ryan wakes up with maybe the third serious hangover he's ever had to find a glass of water and a couple Tylenol on the side table next to the bed.

His hip hurts, a strange tight ache over his old tattoo, and he feels like his mouth is full of cotton and his head has been used as a bowling ball. Fuck. He never gets hangovers - it's the family blood, Dad says, with a hint of his brogue and a slight smile. Just how the Michaelsons are.

Their liquor doesn't touch us the same, Patrick had said when Ryan asked, tipping a glass to him, eyebrow raised. That's why I import the liquor my own people once made.

It had made perfect sense at the time. Now, though... what people? The Michaelsons have all left Ireland. They're all here now.

In any case, it'd been his dad's shit he'd been drinking last night, and too much of it. The world's faint queasy spin tells him that, even if last night is still a mess of nonsense impressions slowly coalescing back together.

He takes the pills and drinks the water after, ignores the uneasy twist of his stomach, and pulls on a t-shirt, soft as second skin, and wanders out in that and his boxers.

Danny is up before dawn, every day, and today is no exception. His brother is sitting at the kitchen table, coffee in hand, staring out the window over the kitchen sink at the fading depth of night, finally giving way to pinkish sunrise.

When Ryan enters, those wide blue eyes move immediately to him. They are not soft, or sad, or lost - they are precisely focused, and the skin under the red of his scars is pale, nearly colorless under a smattering of freckles. Both of them pretend Danny's whole body doesn't still twitch with a need to slip to his knees on the floor as soon as someone enters. "You took, um, the pills?"

His voice is soft. And still Ryan feels unsettled, something between uncertainty and guilt. "I did, yeah." He moves to pour himself a cup of coffee, the peppermint mocha creamer he'd bought changing dark brown to silky tan. Not that you need much, with Danny's coffee.

Ryan could half believe in magic, really, just from seeing how Danny didn't seem to do anything different but his coffee is still always the best.

Danny's eyes are still on his back. He can feel the weight of them, settled there. His brother, who flinches and murmurs to himself and looks at anything but whoever is talking to him... staring. Directly.

He turns slowly around, and as he does the memory of his brother's voice slips in from the night before. Strong, and even. Angry. I want to talk about this in the morning. A Danny he'd thought had died up in Canada, resurrected, reborn to defend...

Ryan's stomach drops as the whole night, fuzzy but mostly there, slots into place. "Oh, fuck," He whispers.

Fingers around Nate Vandrum's neck, closing tightly, Nate's green eyes wide and lost in terror, calling him... what?

Pl-please, Ashley, please-

Danny snorts, glancing away from him and then back again. His hands are closed around his coffee mug so hard his knuckles are white under the scars there, too. "Not too, um, blackout drunk, then," Danny says. There's a wry sarcasm there, something so familiar and so lost to Ryan that it hurts to hear now.

This is how his brother sounds, a little irritated, cynical. Not weak and soft and pliable, bending to suit whatever he thinks he has to be to stay safe. This is the brother Ryan has lost, not quite resurrected maybe, but maybe opening his eyes beside the open grave.

He's somewhere between, Ryan thinks, between the angry, dancing boy who disappeared and the broken, frightened man Ryan brought back home. He's holding himself together like this, so carefully, fighting so hard not to slip away.

Ryan sits slowly down at the other end of the table and tells himself to have the courage to meet his brother's eyes.

He manages - barely.

"No, I... I remember."

"Good." Danny slowly lifts the mug to his lips, sips, sets it down again. Like he's acting out a routine of normal, each move robotic and tightly controlled. "You can't... be cruel to him, Ryan. Like that."

"No, I know. I lost my temper a little, that's all. It's... it's not that big a deal, Dan." Ryan rubs at the back of his neck and tries on a shamefaced smile. It falters when Danny's expression hardens, like lava solidifying to rock, harmless on the surface but still hot enough to burn.

"You could have hurt him, Ryan," Danny says softly. His voice is so low, and so strong - both at once. "You, um. You did hurt him."

Ryan nods, again. He feels like a kid sitting in front of his mother after getting caught skipping curfew. He feels like Danny skipping curfew, the disappointed annoyance from their parents. Ignoring that it had almost always been Ryan's idea to sneak out.

"I... I get that. I didn't-" Ryan takes a breath and groans, leaning on his elbows, rubbing hands over his face. "Fuck. I hear all the shit that bastard did to you, and I think, Vandrum was right fucking there, Danny! Right there! And he... did nothing."

Danny sets the mug down and it clatters with the trembling of his fingers, nearly splashing out entirely. Ryan looks up and catches the sight of a bead of red on Danny's lower lip, chapped skin torn. Redder than his scars, more immediate.

"He didn't do, um, nothing," Danny whispers, barely audible. His strength is fading, pulling back inside him. Ryan's brother will just... fuck off somewhere and the stupid goddamn puppy will be there instead.

Dr. Rosa has a whole thing about this, about trauma and Danny protecting himself, something about identity and like a lot of really uncomfortable questions about their childhood Ryan has no idea how to answer...

"What did he do, then? Huh?" Ryan finds his finger jabbing in the air, watches as if from outside himself as Danny flinches back. "Tell me. What did he fucking do?"

"He, um." Danny shifts, drops his hands into his lap. His hair, shaggy and unkempt, is a riot of red waves and curls around his face. "Watched. Or... helped. He-"

"Danny, please. I'm angry enough, don't make me even more pissed at this guy-"

"He, he didn't want to, Ryan." Danny looks at him again, and Ryan watches tears glitter in his blue eyes, one run out and get caught in the crevices dug in by scars, follow its map over cheekbone and down to jaw. "He hated it. But he-... but I-..." Danny breathes, that awful fucking thing he does now to calm himself.

Breathe on, hold for a few counts, breathe out. Again and again. Ryan knows what he’s doing, inside his head, and it makes him sick.

My name is Red and I belong to Abraham Denner, and then those stupid rules - and there’s like fifty of them - over and over again until his breathing calms, until his hands settle.

Until he’s good.

The bastard, the fucking demon piece of shit that laughs at Ryan on the stand... Abraham Denner taught Danny to do that. And now, free of him, the Denner bastard about to waste away in prison for life... He still does it.

He still needs it.

Ryan's eyes drop to the scars around Danny's neck, a collar he can't take off, and he swallows. His stomach turns. He pushes the coffee mug away, the smell and taste of peppermint are making him sick now. Too cloying, too sweet, too much in the face of his broken brother's pain.

"I'm alive because of... of him," Danny says finally. "D'you see?"

"Yeah, cause four years later he found a fucking conscience-"

"No. No!" Danny's hands slap down on the table, rattling the ceramic mugs, and his breath is faster, airier. Whistling, almost. "I, I... No. Because he, he, um... He suffered, for me. With me. For four years."

"You suffered," Ryan says, voice flat. "He watched."

Danny looks at him, and there is a darkness there, a shadow around eyes and mouth, that Ryan can't always see. But he sees it now. "He, um. Was made to watch. That... That's suffering, too.”

“Bullshit.”

Danny’s jaw sets. “Don't touch him again, Ryan."

"Don't plan on it."

"Please." Danny's voice drops, almost to a whimper. "Please, Ryan. He's-... He's the only real thing."

"What?" Ryan blinks, but Danny is already pushing himself up, moving away staring out the window at the sunrise as he dumps his coffee into the sink and rinses out the mug. Automatic, thoughtless cleanliness.

Danny doesn't look back at him. He's so tall, towering over everyone, and he is still so... very small, in his fear.

"Abraham could take everything," Danny says, lips barely moving, his eyes locked on the sky slowly turning blue with the morning light. "Everything from me. He did, he, um, he could... do it again. But he never took Nate."

He turns to look at Ryan, and there's a brief flash of Danny again, really Danny, his big brother's flash and fire, before it fades under the weight of what has been done to him.

"You could take Nate away from me," Danny says, voice low. Almost weak. "Please... Please don't, Ryan. Don't touch him again. Don't b-be Abraham, in this house. Don't... Don't. I need... I need, um, this time. With Nate, while I have it. Before he... Before it's over. Before he comes back for me."

He leaves the kitchen with Ryan still staring, guilt an inferno that will burn him alive at the pleading uncertainty in Danny's face, his voice. The door to Danny's bedroom opens and shuts, almost silently.

Ryan is left alone to say, to no one, "But... He can't come back for you. He"s going to prison."

Danny acts like Abraham Denner could just fucking walk out of it.

---

@whump-it, @bleeding-demon-teeth, @finder-of-rings, @burtlederp, @astrobly@whumpywhumper, @18-toe-beans, @pumpkinthefangirl, @special-spicy-chicken, @swordkallya, @moose-teeth, @untilthepainstarts, @whumpiary,  @lave-whump @raigash @cupcakes-and-pain, @whump-tr0pes, @wildfaewhump 

[walker-journal]

Lenan and Lampchops (Adam and Caoimhe)

Characters: Adam Walker (Hunter- Tapir), Caoimhe Brennan (Leanan-Sidhe-Sadie)

Timing: Before the events of Hell’s True North

Summary: The search for Nell continues on a deceptive world of sheep and stray sod where Adam happens to run into, Caoimhe, one of the music professors who isn’t quite as surprised about Sheep Hell as she should be. 

Content Warning: Gun Use

Adam looked into a bright sky with unfamiliar stars and other verdant worlds of fields and jungles that loomed in the sky. Fields of soft grass extended unbroken toward the horizon, undulating in the breeze. Towering thickets of Illuabris Ferns, larger than he’d ever seen them grow on Earth, were pillars of black and violet  that stood stark against the rolling green. 

Vegetable Lambs grazed around the Hunter, paying him no mind as they basked in the off-color light of alien suns. Adam had been wandering for what felt like many days now, but the strange sky didn’t give much clue if that was true. Only the deterioration of his clothes, now bleached by sun and sporting tattered holes hinted that the Hunter had been hiking for far longer than he realized. He couldn’t even count how many of these barometz lambs he’d eaten to keep his strength up, the rest of the herds always just staring with dull dispassion as Adam butchered and cooked one of their number. 

He was lost, and had been so long enough for  his tactical gear to fray, fade, and make  Adam look more like a beleaguered deserter than someone who’d come here  armed to the teeth on a mission. 

The Hunter had to admit that of all the worlds he’d been to so far while trying to find Nell, Lambchops Land was definitely the most surprising with its ass-kicking at the moment, and it hadn’t even given him a scratch. 

Adam felt a flicker of a paranormal presence that definitely wasn’t another goddam lamb. He crested another hill at a slow cautious gait, raising his rifle at the…

The new music teacher?

Wait….was that her? Was he…?

Ok, so if her chest burst open and she’s been a Lamb Alien the whole time Adam was just done, so done.

“Hey ...uh..Professor Brennan,” said the sunburnt ragged soldier, “what brings you to Lambchop Land?” 

It was like something Caoimhe had seen in a picture, or dancing between the flames of the bonfires they’d light in Ireland. It was a world forever just out of reach, only as permanent as any single tendril of flame. It was beautiful, painted in hues of blue and green, all movement as the grass swayed back and forth, a patchwork quilt of stars overhead, and–

And Vegetable Lambs. Vegetable Lambs as far as the eye could see. They dotted the otherwise pristine landscape, cutting figures of cotton-fluff and fruit against the horizon. The peaceful breeze brought with it the bleating of different herds. It was by far the best portal Caoimhe had poked her head into yet: picturesque with a touch of levity.

Then the view changed with the barrel of a rifle. She followed the length of it up until she was met with ruffled hair and sun-bleached clothes, and the kind of weariness only seen in well-worn travelers who hadn’t seen home in far too long. He looked out of place, a single ragged figure painted in dusty pencil over a backdrop of vibrant oils. It was a concept, but Caoimhe wasn’t sure it quite suited him. The way his grip sat against the rifle, she thought maybe he might better fit in the climax of an old western; the twanging of the guitar builds.

“Just me.” She held her hands up for a moment before letting them fall back to her side. He looked like he’d been prepared at one point in time. This trip wasn’t an accident for him. “Would you believe me, if I told you I just stumbled in? Can’t say I expected White Crest to be so...dimensionally inclusive.”

Adam cocked his head at the music professor, features moving from confusion to frowning wariness as her lack of disorientation set off alarm bells in his brain. The Hunter could feel that she wasn’t human but didn’t narrow things down much.  

“I’d believe it,” Adam affirmed. “There have been some other folks that’ve gotten yoinked by these space rips,” the planar wanderer noted. “White Crest is in a weak spot in reality,” the apocalypse prepper claimed, not really bothering to pretend ignorance when he was gun totting on the Veggie Lamb Planet. “I just hope we can find some way to seal that shit up before everything goes to hell...like permanently y’know?”

Adam sighed. “So uh...you would have happened to have seen a portal anywhere?” 

Yes.

Caoimhe hesitated a moment. She’d pegged it right, he was prepared. Whatever had actually brought him to a planet of Vegetable Lambs, he at least had a mission now. And it seemed like the knowledge to accomplish it, if he could ever find a portal again. If she helped him find a portal again. His expression shifted, and her eyebrows lifted; curious.

He needed help, something curious in and of itself, considering. The portal she’d come through herself wasn’t too far away, obscured by the rolling hills. If he could manage to walk a straight line for more than a few minutes, he might even be able to stumble back through it without her help. But the state of him told her he’d been trying just that, to no avail. If something had him that turned around–

“I haven’t been here very long, so logically there should be one not too far away.” She kicked the grass at her feet. “If we put our heads together, we can find a way out. Don’t think either of us will be doing much good solving the portal crisis here. Any ideas what’s caused it yet?”

“I uh...can’t find my way,”  Adam admitted. The Hunter reached into his pack and pulled out a battered compass. Adam closed his eyes and placed home at the forefront of his mind, focusing on the faces of friends and the DIE fraternity house. The compass Penelope had enchanted on the eve of their last night began to spin. The sorceress’ magic sensed the intention of Adam’s heart and soon the compass needle was dutifully pointing the way to portal back White Crest. 

The only problem was, no matter how far Adam walked on these paradisiacal rolling hills in the direction of an exit, he kept circling back and retracing his way out. 

“This compass was enchanted by a witch to help me find the way,” Adam said, choosing to simplify the painful knot of emotions that came with this gift. “But no matter what happens I keep circling back.” 

Adam shook his head at the question of a bigger picture. “I know there are keys and big-ass worm boring through dimensions but I’ve got no idea how they all fit together yet.”  

“I’ve gathered.” Caoimhe grinned up at the disheveled Adam, obviously having been wandering for longer than he ever should have been. Curiosity brought her the rest of the way up the hill to stand next to him. It was a neat trick, to say the least. With a needle to point him exactly where he should go, he should have found his way out long before the sun could bleach his clothes. The hills were just redundant enough to be confusing, but not that confusing.

“You focus on the compass, then. Nowhere else, just the compass. I’ll make sure we’re not doing any circles.” Placing a gentle hand on his elbow, Caoimhe led them in the direction the compass pointed, a direction she knew would eventually yield a portal and a ticket home again. “You know, if you ignore the fact this portal has you all sorts of twisted up, it’s kind of beautiful.”

It was. Blues and greens and yellows and the gentle bleating of the Vegetables Lambs. It was rather harmless, but then, Caoimhe still knew exactly where she was standing and in which direction she needed to go. “Keys and worms. That’s...way too vague. Have there always been portals, or did I just move in at the wrong time?”

“Yeah in a Little House on the Prairie butter-churning sort of way,” Adam admitted, controlling himself enough not to flinch Caoimhe put his hand on his elbow. His Hunter senses send icy hot pinpricks through him at the paranormal woman’s touch and not in the sexy way. Adam was thankful that his time in White Crest had made the feeling of being around supernatural beings routine enough that he didn't go into fight or flight mode as much as he used to. 

“So uh, is finding your way out in the country just a superpower you’d got then,” Adam asked as they crested another hill of strange colorful plants whose tendril polyps writhing and curled in the sunshine. Outright asking ‘what’ Caoimhe was seemed a bit on the nose considering that she was in a helpful mood. 

“White Crest is in a like, dimensional weakspot,” Adam posited, seeing no reason to conceal the information considering how literally to hell everything was going. “It’s properly why there are so many demons and whatnot around, but this is definitely a huge spike in Hellmouth stuff.” 

With Adam following, Caoimhe let go and walked a few steps ahead. Her fingers curled into her palms and she spun herself through a few different answers. What she did wasn’t a superpower, though some might construe it as such. With their eyes glazed over and their hands moving over the keys of a piano, with a whole world of inspiration spreading itself in front of them. The divine muse. Caoimhe swallowed. It wasn’t a superpower. It was a mystical science at best. She wouldn’t go so far as to say a curse; she could hear her mother screaming from Ireland.

“Have you considered you might be exceptionally good at getting lost?” She cast a glance his direction, tone light. She had a feeling he wasn’t. She had a feeling he’d see right through her dancing around the point. “I’ve spent a lot of my life traveling, you tend to get good at the cardinal directions.”

She didn’t want to be seen. “Lovely. Welcome to White Crest, right? Portals and Hellmouths, and– what, what is that?”

The sun blotted out and the bleating seemed to increase in volume. Something deeper and louder broke through the din, then. Something Caoimhe could feel rattle in her chest.

“I mean...that’s fair,” Adam allowed, sunburned face breaking into a smile at Caoimhe’s counterpoint as he kept his eyes locked on the compass as they weaved their way through blossoming heaths and swaying forests of Illuabris Ferns. 

Caoimhe’s exclamation raised Adam’s gaze to the verdant valley spread out below them. 

In a cleft between four grassy hills was a circle of cairn stones. Within the cairn circle was what seemed to be a pit of pure sunlight that shone like a beacon in the sudden gloom that’d encroached across the sky.  

Beyond the sunwell was what Adam had first taken to be an enormous tree before it shambled forward on hoofed feet. It was then that the Hunter realized it was a giant Barometz, bigger than any Earthly ecosystem would’ve made possible. It’s roots were a cluster of long hooved legs and scrambled forward like a bovine millipede. Engorged clusters of Vegetable Lambs hung from its branches in the matter of grapes on a vine, their discordant cacophony of shrieking growing closer. 

“Well shit, its like a…. Megalamp King.” 

“It’s coming our way, is what it is.” And directly in their way. Caoimhe thought throwing a dog on a piano might sound better than the thing trampling its way towards them. She’d heard middle-school bands who could give it a run for its money. Which was all entirely ignoring the fact that one misplaced, vine-thick hoof could squash her. It was a beautiful place, but she really didn’t want it to be the last place she ever saw.

“We shouldn’t be too far from the portal, but…” The sound of shuffling and the increasing din of the creature moving towards them was almost too loud, “We’re going to need to get through or around that. And unlike you, I don’t have a rifle.”

Nor were her gifts particularly suited for Vegetable Kombat. Round one, fight. “Any ideas?”

Adam reached behind to his back and produced a metal sphere topped with a fuse clip and safety  to offered it to the professor. “I’ll fire at it and try to draw the Lamb Tree off the side,” he suggested as the towering Barometz began to lumber up the hill. “Run to the portal while I distract it. When you get there, pull this clip and throw this explosive at it.”

Adam doubted a handheld grenade would actually kill something this big but it’d at least buy a moment or two hopefully. “That might give me enough to run to you and we can get the hell out. Sound good?”

A bomb. He handed her a bomb. And really it shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise, considering the rifle with which he’d greeted her, but Caoimhe still took a moment to stare at it. Her strengths had always been a little more subtle. It was in gentle but purposeful touches, encouragement, making someone weak just for existing and creating in a space with her. Adam’s strengths appeared to be explosive weaponry.

“...Sounds better than anything I could’ve come up with.” Caoimhe took the metal sphere gingerly, like it was liable to go off if she squeezed it too hard. Okay, she knew how a grenade worked. She’d watched movies before. She was entirely prepared. She nodded, “Just make sure you don’t get lost trying to find me.”

She cast a grin over her shoulder and ran. And it was shaky at best. The kind of grin worked around a desperate joke and a heart hammering a sharp staccato against her chest, through legs that felt more like jelly than muscle and bone. The ground shook as she did her best to flank it, each thunderous footstep displacing the earth around it. A quick glance up and Caoimhe could catch wide-eyes with different clusters of Vegetable Lambs dangling off the main beast, their mouths dropped open but the cacophony too loud to pick out the individuals.

She was going to throw up. Perhaps not right in the moment, but later, after the adrenaline fully wore off. After she had a chance to remember how tightly she’d been holding the grenade and how many times she’d almost tripped over her own feet. How the grass itself seemed to tangle around her ankles and she could only catch glimpses of Adam through the weaving roots and swaying lambs. She might even laugh, too. Since when was a lamb so horrifying?

By the time she spotted the portal, her chest burned, and it would be so easy to jump through and be done with the whole experience, but Adam. She pivoted around, pulled the pin, and lobbed the grenade as hard as she could.

Adam sprinted out of the ensuing cloud of splintered wood and sheep guts, wiping fleece and gory vines out of his eyes. He bled from an array of bites from entire clusters of ravenous sheep and burns from vine constriction. The Megalamp Tree staggered in a panicked frenzy, thrashing out wildly in the splinters and smoke. Enormous limbs carved deep furrows through the bright grass as they slammed blindly down. Adam wove back and forth among the heather as he tried to avoid the descent of column-like branches and the vegetable lambs being flung everywhere like shrieking dandelion seeds. 

Adam sprinted over to Caoimhe, plastered in bloody fleece and leaves. He looked over to the vortex swirling between the cairn stones. “Thanks! Nearly got strangled by the Bo-Peep there.” 

Caoimhe almost didn’t expect to see him come out the other side. Between the thrashing off the Megalamp Tree and Adam’s penchant for getting completely turned around, the odds were not in their favor. But he rounded the thrashing beast with a thanks and Caoimhe promptly doubled over, dry-heaving into the once-serene, swaying grass. For a moment, a thumbs up was all she could manage over pulling in one breath after another.

She was made for classrooms. For violins in bar bathrooms and crooked smiles and french horns and running from her problems. Adam was obviously built of tougher stuff. He didn’t seem much phased by red-stained fleece and sticky leaves. He had a rifle and a bomb, and something twisted in Caoimhe’s chest, but she wasn’t going to question him when he’d handed her a ticket out. He was made for something else.

“I found the portal.” She rubbed at her eyes and grinned behind the column of her forearms. She found the portal, and he fought their way out. Caoimhe supposed she should be thankful. “Wouldn’t have been much good if I had been crushed, though.”

The ground shook as clumps of lambs fell wildly onto the ground, little feet scrambling every which direction, lost. Whatever Adam was made for, she was glad she’d found him. “Thank you.” She crooked a thumb over her shoulder at the mess of a beast behind them, “That was all you. I think...I think maybe we’d both have been stuck here.”

She stopped short of a ‘we make a good team,’ and settled for a thankful smile, stepping back to make sure he was able to pass through the portal and casting one last glance at the mess they left behind them.

[briars-glenn]

Get to know me better, I guess?

rules: answer the questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better!

tagged by @ocheeva

nickname:

Briar, which seems a bit redundant but eh

pronouns:

she/they

star sign:

Libra, as I’m sure many could “guess” (whenever someone asks they usually go “that’s what I thought”)

height:

5′3 aka 161cm

time currently:

6:50 pm PST

birthday:

10/10, that’s right I was born perfect

favorite bands/groups:

Ok, listen, I love music and I could go on and on so I’ll just list my last few played.

1975, Mother Mother, Fall Out Boy, Nothing But Thieves, Panic! At The Disco, 5 Seconds of Summer, Paramore, Hey Violet, BTS (No I don’t stan, I just like their music), BLACKPINK.

favorite solo artists:

Really? Ok you asked:

Etta James, Louis Armstrong, Cab Calloway, Lizzo, Beyonce, Ariana Grande, Halsey, Megan Thee Stallion, Estelle, Erykah Badu, Mitski, Jessi, Ke$ha, Cardi B, Doja Cat, P!nk.

you thought I was joking didn’t you?

song stuck in your head:

none rn, but just wait 10 min

last movie watched:

Strange Magic (2015) its so good, y’all should watch it fr

last show you binged:

Peaky Blinders (honestly I’m only watching for Alfie, I’m so glad he came back 😍)

when you created your blog:

May 10th will be 8 years (Holy shit!!) on this hellsite (affectionate).

last thing you googled:

the year Strange Magic came out

other blogs:

I have a blog to chronicle my 2014 trip to Europe as a 16yo high-schooler @briars-europe​

why you chose your url:

this is my glen where I curate my online experience, and the proper glen was taken at the time so theres 2 n’s cause I’m not creative

do you get asks:

no bc I am smol and any anons get eaten by the code immediately

how many people are you following:

470, but like half are inactive now and I’m too lazy to weed them out.

how many followers do you have:

like two-hundr.....417???? Where the fuck did all of you come from??

average hours of sleep:

*presses my palms together in front of my mouth* sooo, anywhere between 4 min hours and 10 hours? idk man I’ve got so many things that fuck with that on top of being a senior uni student.

lucky number:

??? Idk, 10? Evens tend to treat me well

instruments:

Absolutely none! i have -190/10 hand-eye coordination, so yeah. I did “sing“ in choir though. (I say “sing” bc I can’t read music well and only ever copied/”mockingbird-ed”)

what I’m currently wearing:

legit? a Seattle sweatshirt from an old roommie, grey joggers, gay (rainbow) socks and my blue-light glasses cause I’ve been in class for-fucking-ever today

dream job:

Can I get paid to just travel? Like I just go around the world and just like talk to people and experience perspectives that are different to mine and maybe focus on history/the food systems of a place? Idk what you’d call that job but I want it.

dream trip:

I’d visit my grandmother’s ancestral home(s) in Ireland with her. (somewhere in County Kerry or Cork I think, in the south)

favorite food:

Chocolate, specifically milk/semi-sweet

favorite song:

I thought we’d talked about this

top 3 fictional universes you’d like to live in:

Oooh, this is gonna be hard to pick,

Doctor Who (It’s so similar so its a easier transition), Sherlock Holmes universe (ACD version or maybe the Jeremy Brett style, NOT Bendifart Cuccumbersnatch’s as much as I enjoyed watching it with Jet), and finally, I gotta circle around to Strange Magic, just cause I wanna be a fae with pretty wings too.

TAGGING:  Listen, I’m tagging 5 people and that's it. @erdsthenerds @the--queen-of-hell @biisalvatore @aconissa​ @achievebisexuality​ @superbcandyangel

[365days365movies]

March 17, 2021: Darby O’Gill and the Little People (1959) (Part One)

Éirinn go Brách! Ireland forever!

Who doesn’t love St. Patrick’s Day? Other than snakes, I guess. Although, for the record, that’s never made any sense. There have NEVER been snakes in Ireland, like, at any point in the geological record. And yeah, I know, “that’s because St. Patrick chased them all away”. Yeah, OK, whatever, hand me a green beer (or a Shamrock Shake; either works for me, gonna be honest).

This is the day where everybody in the USA is an honorary Irish person. And this is coming from a Black dude with distant Scottish ancestry, don’t ask about that last part THAT’S WHERE THE DARK HISTORY IS

...Slavery. ANYHOOOOOOOOOO

Every major city in the USA has a St. Paddy’s Day celebration. Chicago colors its river green, NYC has a massive parade, Boston gets FUCKING DESTROYED every March 17. It’s an American tradition. And you may be wondering why I’m talking about the USA, instead of talking about Ireland. Well, uh...I’m not Irish. And I don’t know enough about their SPD rituals to comment accurately, so I’ll erring on the side of caution, to be honest with you.

Plus, given today’s movie, I actually think it’s somewhat fitting that I’m talking about the American perspective of Irish folklore and traditions. So, with that said...leprechauns.

In Irish folklore, the leipreachán is...barely a thing in early mythology. Yeah, the first appearance of the leprechaun was in a medieval story called Echtra Fergus mac Léti, where a man named Fergus is nearly dragged into the water by three leprechauns, who are water spirits, and tricks them into giving him three wishes. So, uh...WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?

Well, whatever it was, the leprechaun eventually transformed into the green-wearing, gold-hoarding, shoe-fixing, prankster sprite that we know it as. In Irish folklore, it’s one of many MANY different spirits and supernatural beings, but it’s one of the only ones that made it over to the USA. And BOY DID IT. Other than Lucky from Lucky Charms, you’ve also got Warwick Davis’ horror movie version.

There’s also the mascot for the Boston Celtics and the Notre Dame Fighting Irish, not to mention the less-than-great borderline racist association with Irish people by assholes. Honestly, it’s not even borderline. But despite that, it’s still an internationally well-known part of Irish folklore. And part of that renown lies in today’s film, Darby O’Gill and the Little People.

I really should watch more live-action Disney movies one of these years, but this was always going to be the first. A friend of mine always talks about this movie, alongside the film The Happiest Milionaire. You know who you are. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. ALLIGATORS.

But OK, let’s get into it! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

We begin in Rathcullen, a small town in Ireland. A young woman named Katie O’Gill (Janet Munro) is visited by an old woman, the widow Sheelah Sugrue (Estelle Winwood), who impresses upon her the need to get married, as she’s a young woman, and that’s all you can do as a young woman in this time period, other than cleaning house and raising children, of course.

Katie’s a catch, and the talk of the boys of the town, but hasn’t chosen anyone in particular to be wooed by. As they’re having this conversation, the household is visited by Lord Fitzpatrick (Walter Fitzgerald), who’s come to look for her father, the eponymous Darby O’Gill (Albert Sharpe). She goes to get him, as he’s at the inn telling stories. Fitzpatrick walks around the estate, which is his. Darby and Katie simply mind it. When Fitzpatrick comes in, he speaks with widow Sugrue, who IMMEDIATELY BAD TALKS AND BETRAYS THE O’GILLS, in order to promote her own son! FUCK OFF MS. SUGRUE YOU’RE A BAD FRIEND

Her son, Pony Sugrue (Kieron Moore) is a strapping young man, a known brawer, and...well, kind of a dick. In the pub, Darby’s telling stories of a leprechaun that he met once, and Pony mocks him for it. The bartender tells him off, and tells Darby to continue his story. And the story turns into a flashback soon enough.

On a dark night, on a mist-covered mountain, Darby is speaking with the king of the leprechauns, Brian O’Connor (Jimmy O’Dea), having trapped him there with naught but his gaze. He forces Brian to give him three wishes, and he’ll let him go. The wishes are first for his health, then for a large crop of potatoes, and finally, of course, a pot of gold.

However, King Brian asks for his fourth wish, and claims to be a generous man. He asks for three additional pots of gold for three friends. However, this was a trick, as making a fourth wish undoes the rest of them all together. This ends the story, as King Brian does a merry jig and all that. One of the friends that Darby wished for says that he’d never accept the gold, as it comes from the devil himself. Darby says that he’d donate it to the church in his stead. 

But that’s a little awkward, considering the presence of Father Murphy (Denis O’Dea), who’s actually there to get some help in carrying a new bell for the parish. Pony offers his services, but only for cash. Kind of a dick, that Pony. Murphy changes tactics, and kinda manipuates Darby into doing it. But just then, Katie comes in to tell Darby of Fitzpatrick’s visit, and hauls him away from the pub. On the Fitzpatrick estate, the Lord gives a tour to the replacement for Darby, one Michael McBride (Sean Conn...noooo...it can’t be.)

HOLY SHIT IT’S SEAN CONNERY! He was in a Disney movie? Holy shit! And this is before James Bond! So, before playing an English spy, he played an Irishman...and he’s Scottish. Dude, did Connery ever actually play a Scotsman in his career, what the hell?

OK, so Darby and Katie are basically getting kicked out, with Michael set to replace them. After some negotiation of retirement terms, Darby agrees, but doesn’t tell Katie right away. She was born in the house that they’re now being forced to move out of, in about two weeks time. In that time, Michael will stay with them to smooth the transition fully. That night, after dinner, Michael pleads with Darby to tell Katie, but he’s still putting it off for now. Darby goes to his horse, Cleopatra, and heads up a mountain, back to where King Brian was first seen. Cleopatra runs away, though, and Darby goes up the mountain alone. When he catches up to Cleopatra, she’s already at the summit, next to a well glowing gold. And then, uh...she starts to glow.

Cleopatra rears up, and Darby falls to the bottom of the well, which is where he’s found by the eponymous “Little People”, who take him to King Brian himself. There’s a dance going on in front of a large golden throne, with all of the little people in attendance, and King Brian playing a giant bagpipe on the throne itself.

Darby is welcomed in by the king, and allowed to survey the various treasures collected by the little people. The throne, fun fact, once belonged to the throne of King Fergus, from the original myth that originated the leprechaun! Very cool! However, that’s tempered by the new information that he can never leave. This was apparently a favor by King Brian, for spreading the stories of the leprechauns throughout the town, and bringing them fame. This was all meant to prevent Katie from finding out about Darby losing his job.

Seeing that Darby’s upset, King Brian offers him a chance to play a Stradivarius violin, which Darby reluctantly accepts. He plays “The Fox Chase”, a lively tune that’s genuinely quite fun and pleasant to listen to. The little people agree, and dance along with the music as Darby plays. The whole sequence is actually quite impressive and fun. Then, Darby shouts “Gone away”, prompting the lot of them to go on a fox chase on their own tiny horses, in a VERY impressive shot! Seriously, it’s very cool, considering that this is from 1959! 

The little folk, tricked by Darby’s music, leave the lair of Knockasheega on the mountain, leaving Darby alone. He attempts to steal some of their gold, then takes off out of the mountain, escaping the lair. But holes in his pockets cause all the gold to fall out, leaving him with nothing. He finds Cleopatra waiting outside for him, then the two head home once and for all.

Fully expecting Brian to find him again, he prepares for his arrival. Sure enough, King Brian shows up, angry that Darby seems to have spurned his good favor. But Darby, ever the suave talker himself, once again tricks King Brian into drinking an alcohol called poitín, which is also called Mountain Dew. Which is amazing.

As Darby and King Brian Do the Dew, Darby gets King Brian to participate in a singing and rhyming game, called the Wishing Song. And honestly...I’m having a really good fucking time with this movie. It’s folksy, and very heartwarming in tone for whatever reason. I’m just having a real good time with it, y’know?

So, Darby gets Brian good and sozzled, distracting him entirely until the morning. See, in the daylight, leprechauns lose their powers entirely. Darby, decisively with the upper hand as well, uses his cat Ginger to trap Brian. Trapped once again, Brian agrees to grant Darby three more wishes. Having anticipated this, Darby uses his first to make King Brian stay with him while he decides on his wishes. And, to fully ensure that the little king goes nowhere, Darby produces a sack, which he puts the leprechaun in, before shoving him into a chest in the barn.

 Great place to pause, so we can start the second half! See you there!

[sicparvismorrigan]

Crisis of Faith

The will of God brings a young and impressionable Trinity soldier to the attention of Commander Konstantin.

Tomb Raider/Rise of the Tomb Raider/Konstantin

Viewpoint: 3rd person female Trinity soldier OC

Warnings: blood, descriptions of violence, PTSD, religious fanaticism, stigmata

Word count: ~2.5k [complete]

A short fic I wrote because I wanted to play with Konstantin’s heavily religious side.

Read on Ao3

Death.

Ailish sat up on her cot, freezing cold. She was drenched in sweat and panting heavily. It was pitch black in the gulag and she tried to slow her breathing so she wouldn’t wake her comrades. She listened carefully, there was snoring coming from all directions. Nobody had heard her, not yet.

She was safe. She was surrounded by big men with weapons, nothing could hurt her here. All the prisoners were securely locked up. Ailish reached down and felt the comforting cool steel of her own pistol in its holster.

She breathed in deep and counted 1...2...3... before breathing out again. Her pulse was still racing and she could feel her heart trying to leap out of her ribcage.

Safe. I’m safe.

It had been nearly two years since Yamatai and Ailish still had nightmares. She knew exactly what it was: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. She had heard the guys talk, knew some of them struggled too. She had seen a few get discharged because of it. She’d spent a long time trying to convince herself she was fine. But in fact, she really wasn’t.

She needed air. Ailish quietly got out of her cot and shrugged on a few more layers before making sure her pistol was strapped to her body, just in case. She tiptoed past the guys by the light from her torch, and made her way out to the old guardhouse that was their temporary mess area. She just wanted some space to calm down.

Empty, thank God. The embers of the fire were enough to keep the warmth going. She pulled up a chair and settled in to watch the glow.

She kept replaying the last moments of her nightmare over and over in her head, despite trying her best to push it away. They were in that god-awful pit again, suffocating from the fumes. She checked ahead and yelled Clear! back to her second, Charlie. As he moved past her she heard something big land on the rock of the cavern floor behind them. Charlie swung back around and screamed at her to get down as a God-awful roar filled the cave, rattling her bones. He raised his gun to fire and Ailish shrieked at him stopitsgonnablow-

bang bang

 

BOOM

A flash of white light, then darkness. Waking up in terror once again from the memories that haunted her every night. At least she was alive, she had made it out. Charlie hadn’t, she couldn’t save him. She still blamed herself. The guys had tried to convince her again and again it was an accident, but she should have been there. In her dreams, she’d seen Charlie die a hundred times over, each more horrible than the last.

She had never been so close to quitting as she had after Yamatai. She had composed her resignation letter in her head on the helicopter ride back to civilization, but had never written it. Something told her it wasn’t time yet. She’d spent just over three years working with Trinity at that point and never questioned her beliefs before the clean-up mission to that hellhole. By all accounts it was even worse during the Nishimura expedition. She shuddered, it didn’t bear thinking about, how anyone could survive there for any length of time she’d never know. So many bodies. And in some places, the smell, it was unholy.

It didn’t help her sleep at night, but at least she had got a promotion out of it. The salary was great, which was a major reason for her staying put. Ailish was trying to help her parents put her younger sister through Yale, and every cent counted. Her mom and dad had just been grateful, and thankfully hadn’t yet asked where the money had come from. She didn’t want to have to lie. They’d hit the roof if they ever found out. As far as they were concerned, she was still working as a paralegal in Chicago. God, she missed her sister. She hadn’t seen her in months, and now Ailish was off-grid in Siberia. Freezing cold, snowy, desolate Siberia.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a voice outside. A deep voice, American accent. It sounded a lot like the Commander. She really hoped he wouldn’t come into the guardhouse. He was intimidating, and she’d never been in a room alone with him before. He sounded like he was talking on the phone.

“...and what did the doctor say?”

...

“Okay...Ana, are you smoking?”

...

“Yeah, I know, but-“

...

“Listen, she’s on the move. She may even already be in Siberia. I need you back here.”

...

“Got it, see you soon.”

 

Who was Ana? Was it his wife, girlfriend, daughter? Who was the other ‘she’ he was talking about?

Ailish heard footsteps coming up to the door and the latch lifting. Oh boy, here we go. I wasn’t eavesdropping, Commander, I swear.

He stopped dead when she saw her at the table. Obviously not expecting anyone else to be awake at this hour. He slid the cellphone he was carrying into a pocket and nodded at her before closing the door behind him. “Sergeant.”

“Evening-“ Ailish checked her watch. “Ah, morning, Commander. Sorry, sir. I’ll get out of your way.” She slid her chair back to leave.

“Stay. You were here first.” Ailish sat back down immediately, wide-eyed. “What are you doing up so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep, sir.” Not strictly true but she didn’t want to feel like a little schoolkid telling her superior she had a bad dream.

“Likewise.” He pulled up the chair opposite her and sat down with a sigh.

Something was bothering him, he seemed fidgety. Ailish didn’t really know what to do so she started twiddling her thumbs and rambling to fill the silence. “Gee, the weather’s really turned these past few days, huh? Ha ha...kind of makes me wish we were back in Syria. Although it was almost too hot-“

He cut her off. “Moscovitch, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re not on duty, you don’t have to call me sir.”

“Uh- yes. Okay, si- eh...Command- uhmm...”

“Konstantin is fine.”

“Okay.” It felt weird. Ailish wasn’t even sure if that was his first or last name. “You can call me Ailish. It’s slightly less of a mouthful than Moscovitch.”

“Don’t hear that name very often.”

“Yeah, it’s a weird one...my parents have always had this fascination with Ireland. It means ‘noble and kind’ or something like that...I dunno...”

He looked at her for a long moment. Ailish opened her mouth to speak again when a wolf howled up in the mountains. She grabbed for her pistol and her other hand tightened on the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white.

Konstantin saw her reaction and frowned. “Relax, it’s just a wolf, they don’t come down here-“

“Yeah, I know.” She started hyperventilating and bit her lip hard to fight back the tears. For God’s sake, don’t cry in front of the Commander. She hated hearing the wolves at night. Rationally, she knew they were miles away, but the sound still caused her pain.

For a moment she was back on Yamatai, wedged in a rocky crevice listening to the snarling as they hunted for her. The smell of rain, tree sap and decay all around. Her hands shaking as she pointed her rifle at the opening, just waiting for jaws and teeth to emerge around the corner and grab at her.

“Oh, shit.” This was going to be a bad episode. She’d had panic attacks increasingly often and could spot the signs of one approaching. Fortunately they usually hit when she was alone or could sneak away, but now she had no such luxury. Ailish knew this one had her beat.

Konstantin’s mouth tightened. “Language.”

She had time to blurt out “Terribly sorry sir!” before she slid off the chair onto the floor and crawled under the table.

The tears were now pouring out and rolling down her cheeks. What an embarrassment. She’d fought so hard to prove she was equal to the guys, and now she was being a silly little girl.

She felt the Commander’s boot gently tapping her back. “Mos- Ailish? Are you okay?”

“I will be, in a minute.” She panted.

Through the panic she heard the other chair scraping backwards. To her surprise Konstantin crouched and got down to her level under the table, facing her. Was he supposed to do that?

“You’ve normally got it together, Moscovitch.” Oh no, back on a last name basis. She’d definitely messed up. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

Ailish shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “Just need a sec.”

The only sounds in the room were her panting and the low crackle of logs in the burner. She felt his gloved hand on her shoulder.

He quietly spoke. “Listen, I read the Yamatai report.” It was strange, how calming his voice was.

Ailish looked up, misty-eyed. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “I didn’t know they’d be sending a woman.”

“I’m just as capable-“

“Quiet. I’m saying it’s impressive you completed the mission, and even led part of the way, that place sounded like a nightmare.”

“It was.” Charlie, I should have saved you.

“And I am sorry you lost Corporal Collins. I know you were close.”

“Yeah...” she sniffed loudly. Her heart still hurt, so much. “He was like a brother. Charlie would have done anything for me. And I would have done the same for him.”

His eyes softened. “I know what that’s like.”

It meant a lot to Ailish, getting commiserations from a Trinity leader. Normally, you could forget about that sort of thing. Rourke had co-ordinated the Yamatai mission and hadn’t said a word to her when he had met them back on the mainland for debriefing. Dominguez had been silent too, though he had been one of those who had approved her promotion. They could be a heartless, insensitive bunch sometimes.

But she hadn’t expected the Commander to have a soft side. He actually reminded her of Charlie. Konstantin had a scarred-up face but there were similarities for sure. Blonde hair, blue eyes, they walked with the same purpose. He wasn’t bad-looking actually, as long as the light was dim.

Ailish eventually rallied and crawled back into her chair, still breathing quickly. Konstantin sat down too, regarding her with something akin to concern.

“Tell me the real reason you’re here by yourself in the middle of the night.”

She swallowed hard. “I...I have nightmares still.”

He shook his head. “I think you should talk to someone about this. If you’re serious about staying with Trinity. It would be a shame to bail out now that you’re a Sergeant.”

“I’m fine.” Ailish mumbled.

“You’re really not. I know someone who might be able to help, a doctor.”

“No, honestly...” Please no doctors, they might kick her out. She needed the money for Ellen’s tuition, she had to stay.

“I trust her, she’s with Trinity. Her name’s Wilkens. If I order you to see her you can’t say no.”

“Then I suppose it’s settled.” Great, just great.

“Indeed.”

He suddenly pulled his gloves off and took her hand in his. Ailish fought not to pull back out of his grasp. Was this really appropriate? Her free hand was reaching for her pistol when she realised he was just checking her pulse.

“Much better. Almost back to normal.”

She managed a small smile. “Thank you Commander.”

Ailish realised her hand felt strange under his, like a bug was crawling on her. She glanced down and started. “Your...uh, your hand is bleeding.”

Fresh blood was running down between her fingers onto the table. It was creepy as hell, she tried not to shiver. She’d been a bit squeamish about blood since she’d seen a literal underground river of it in Japan.

He didn’t react, just looked straight into her eyes. Ailish didn’t know what he expected her to do. She could still feel it trickling down her skin. Was he not alarmed that his hand had just started pouring blood? She was becoming visibly uncomfortable when he finally answered her.

“They’re old wounds. It happens sometimes.” He held up his other hand, palm facing towards her. “See?” That one was also dripping crimson.

Ailish almost gagged. Ugh, now she knew why he wore gloves all the time, even in the heat of Syria. What was the name for those wounds? Stigmata, or something like that. A sign of divine favour, apparently.

The urge to ask how he got them was overwhelming. Actually, she better not, it was maybe a touchy subject. The Commander could be...violent. She’d seen what he could do when he was pissed off. She had the fleeting thought that maybe he would hurt her, or worse, if the mood took him. Everyone else was asleep, who would know?

He spoke, jolting her back to reality. “Did you pray on Yamatai, Ailish?”

She nodded, not breaking the eye contact. “Yes sir, for my life, almost constantly.”

“And you truly believe in what we are trying to accomplish?”

“Yes sir.”

“Hmmm...”

There was a long pause, he seemed to be having an internal conversation she wasn’t privy to. Finally he nodded. “Keep your faith, Ailish. You have already been tested, and you’re still here. I believe you are destined for something greater, like myself.”

“Sir?”

He smiled at her, but it was cold and calculating, he reminded her of a shark. His eyes were suddenly dark and empty. 

“The name Ailish is Celtic, yes. But did you know it has a different meaning in Hebrew?”

“You know Hebrew?” She asked in surprise. He ignored her.

“Your name means consecrated to God.”

She wasn’t sure she liked his train of thought. Ailish knew he was one of the more devout members of Trinity, but she didn’t know how deep it ran.

“I’m sorry, Commander, I’m not sure what you’re getting at...”

“I want to keep a closer eye on you, Sergeant. You report directly to me now, do you understand?”

“Yes sir.” She nodded, albeit reluctantly.

“And let me talk to Wilkens. We’ll help you, don’t skip out on Trinity yet.” He finally let go of her bloodstained hand. Ailish could smell it, metallic.

Konstantin stood up, pulling his gloves on. “I have a feeling we’re going to need you for something important.”

Ailish was dumbfounded, what had she agreed to? She didn’t like not knowing, but the Commander wasn’t a man you just said no to.

As he opened the door with a blast of cold air Konstantin turned back, giving her that empty smile again. “Get some sleep, Sergeant. That’s an order.”

“O...kay.” The door clicked shut, and he was gone.

Ailish glanced down at the mess on her hand. She felt like she’d been marked in some way.

Stigmata.

What did he mean?

Consecrated to God. What was it that Konstantin, or some other higher power had planned for her?

What was her purpose?

***

Thank you for reading!

~ Anyone who has read Behind Trinity Lines will recognise the character of Dr. Joanna Wilkens, I couldn’t not include her somehow! She is awesome and I love her. All credit to @BrittanyTheScrivener on Ao3 for Jo’s character. Her work is brilliant, if you haven’t read it I highly suggest you do

~ Sergeant Ailish Moscovitch, her family and Corporal Charlie Collins are my characters, all other characters mentioned are property of the Tomb Raider creative team and I take no ownership of them

~ I feel I should mention that nothing in this work is intended to cause offence or be blasphemous in any way. I myself am not religious at all but I am respectful of those who choose to be and anything I’ve written is only exploring character traits already displayed in the Tomb Raider video games

~ I have no current plans to update this with more chapters, it was intended to be a one-shot. I just really wanted to play with Konstantin’s heavily religious side. But if there is interest I might continue the story...what exactly does Konstantin have planned for Ailish? Where does she fit in with the events in Rise of the Tomb Raider? What will Ana think of her? What would happen if Ailish and Lara ever crossed paths? This could get interesting...

[sienna-writes]

Butterfly Blood // update 1

woo! first writing update on this WIP so far! (Finally!!). Since I don't want to include huge spoilers on this book, as I might one day end up publishing (who knows), I will be splitting these posts into chatting about my process, character development, edits etc. and then include extracts that aren't too spoilery! I think it'll be okay for the first sections of the book, especially as alot of the first few chapters is character building and imagery to set the scene, tone and atmosphere.

Also, the working title of "Bleeding Out" that I HATED with a PASSION is finally gone! My novel is now called Butterfly Blood based on a excerpt way in the future of the story. (Which I'm very excited to share c: )

I wrote the prologue after I’d finished the first chapter, to introduce the book and it’s mystery in a more captivating way than it had initially been introduced.

Frog finds himself underground in the middle of a forest with no knowledge of his surrounds, his past, or his identity. He clings to one certainty, that he is and was raised by frogs. (This book is a bit wack, just roll with it.)

As he crawls into the middle of the road, a truck starts hurtling toward him and careens off the road last minute. The driver drops down and searches for for Frog, but cannot find anyone.

There is no blood, no screaming, no mangled man wailing on the ground. Reluctantly, the driver withdraws from the dark and locks himself in the enclosed cabin of his truck, steadying his breathing.

As the exhaust sputters to life again, and tires tug against the initial friction of the gravel, the disappearance twists the driver’s thoughts.

His passenger clings with sticky tree frog palms to the trucks stomach; well-oiled organs huffing heat and fumes onto his face.

So this book actually began with a very horribly written chapter. The structure was a mess and for some reason I kept bombarding the reader with information about my main character Rowan and really pushing forward the idea that she’s an energetic person... Which was stiff and just poor writing, honestly. (Also, I've changed my ideas since about how I want to characterise her.) But out of the 3000 word (approx) start, there were salvageable aspects, and those went into the first chapter along with a lot more fleshing out of the scenes, setting and character. I also finally decided on a tense and perspective after being super inconsistent with it and unable to make my mind up.

But! We got there in the end, I just thought I’d share my struggle since writing is not a perfect process and there is a lot of rearranging, and sometimes it feels like pulling teeth.

The premise of this chapter is to set the scene of Blackerwick (a fictional, dreary british seaside town), introduce Rowan (our main character), and the complex relationship with her father, who has become insular over the past month before the story starts.

—excerpts;

A little world building and set up!

Everything about the sleepy town Rowan’s family had moved to is soaked in a distinct achromatic despondency. Inland residents slumped and slogged in their routines, never caring to change them, almost afraid of living. It had confused Rowan at first when she’d come here from Ireland at fourteen, how much the dull town contrasted its landscape. It seemed undeserving of such beauty; a tall mountain range to the left of Blackerwick, and beyond it a city; wide stretches of moors headed toward the forests, and beyond the forests—the ocean. It was as if all the world’s natural beauties had congregated here millions of years ago as the earth slid into place, waiting for settlers to enjoy it. They didn’t even seem to notice.

    Fading out of view behind her, a mangle of dark rooftops mesh amongst each other, a severe contrast to the pallidly painted house fronts, and chimneys slice into the sky, puffing endlessly on their pipes.

Hot air is exhaled from the horizon, tugging striking, unruly orange hair from her heavy ponytail as it whistles past her face. She closes her eyes peacefully against the feverish winds, her clothes buffeting and pounding as if fighting it off. Grinning, she leans toward the sea, trusting its breath to hold her weight.

In the course of this chapter Rowan has had an altercation with her teacher and gotten a detention, pushed through the forests toward the beach, and now is returning home. She rouses her dad’s attention by feigning a headache, because he doesn’t bother with her unless he sees she is in pain etc. Now for some quality mild gore!

    Turning, she leans in to hug him when she realises there’s blood gushing from her nose.

    “Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit! Not again!” Rowan scoops shaking hands to her nose, tacky blood spilling over her fingertips. “Dad, Dad!”

    He is already on it, tipping her head back into his cupped palm, holding tissues tightly to her nose. She wheezes and sputters, the world spinning as she lurches toward the sink, clinging to the draining board to keep her balance. Everything red, the four walls of the kitchen, red. Her blurring vision, red. Everything bleeding like her gums beneath grinding teeth as she bites down on the impulse to say something. She wants to scream, or throw up, head swimming as her world tilts upside down. Her skull rests in her father’s strong palm, a fleshy safety net.

Wash your mouth out with soap, ma’am. 

I was considering having Rowan not swear around her father, but her mother is pretty aggressive and her dad (Karmen) swears regularly, so it doesn’t seem too outrageous anymore. (I could never, my mum would flip).

When the bleeding slows finally, and her chin closes in on her neck again she notices her father’s shirt is covered with dried, grubby gore. It looks like he is bleeding out from a deep gash notched into his chest. His heart clawed savagely from its dwelling. 

Karmen being a worried dad is best dad;

     “You said not again.” He says finally, as she gathers herself, filling glass after glass with water and gulping hungrily, throat tilted toward the sky.

    “I’ve been getting more than usual recently.” She replies nonchalantly.

    “That’s shouldn’t be normal.” He says.

     Rowan shrugs, “I’ve always been prone to bleeding and bruising.” As if to defend herself or prove her case, she pulls down her jeans slightly, revealing a black contusion on her hip. It fades into swarthy purple and blue; a gradient discolouring her pale freckled skin; a deep ink blot, as if the flesh had been punctured with a fountain pen.

    Her dad hisses sharply. “How did you do that? I told you not to go into those woods anymore!”

Ok! Enough blood! I really made nosebleeds overly dramatic lol.

Anywho!

the first 2000 ish words of this chapter follow Frog (he's later named Mint), and let me tell you, his perspective came so naturally, and was such an interesting world view to write in. I'm not saying i like him, but I enjoy writing him for sure.

This chapter was initially 2100 words and I intended it to be a brief introduction of mint, but I merged it with the next one because I thought they joined together nicely. The other aspects of this chapter introduce more of the friend group (honestly the only relevent characters within this group are Damian and Jamie, the rest are low-key assholes) and set up later events.

—excerpts;

Mint is wandering in the forest, and hunting.

He slinks into step with the deer as it rises, shaking his head as it shakes its placid mane. Serenity slices the air in two.

     Frog strikes.

    The blade almost glitters in the air as it shoots toward the limpid animal’s vulnerable throat, veins pulsing beneath frosty, translucent fur. Incorporeal beast. A surreptitious streak in the night, headfirst, embedding with a gurgle and a coarse, barbaric scream. Deer’s aren't meant to sound like this. Like a human, like something capable of feeling and hurting. Frog wriggles the blade out of its fleshy sheath and exhales into a whistle. He looks gleefully at the drowned grass damp with blood. Gushing over his squirming toes.

      Its crown tumbles to the soil, antlers embedding deep into the foliage at Frogs feet. He sits beside Stag on the floor laden with pine needles--wreathing its glazed face like christ’s crown-- and strokes the un-bloodied fur of its forehead, holding its unblinking, waxy glare. Frog is the victor.

Frog/Mint is hunting! He kills a stag! Then he brutally dissects it;

      Peeling away at the thick membrane enshrouding Stag's skull, with tender interest, Frog carves muscle and fat from its head, pellucid and opaline, dropping the pale crumbs of carcass onto the ground. The deer’s dense ghost is not yet cold in his crimson tinted hands. 

Rowan feeling numb, because oh boy us writers like to see our characters in pain;

The water is scalding. Rowan breaks out in goose bumps. Catching her reflection in the rippling bathwater she almost doesn’t recognise herself. Flushed, pale cheeks. All sharp edges, cheekbones slicing beneath the eyes, graceful slanting nose scooping down into a slight point. Her lips protrude from her face, full and large, accommodating an easy smile. Rowan pulls her downturned lips into a small grin. The constructed happiness blurs in the water. Holding her breath, she leans into the baths hot grip, filling with her fiery hair.

    The silence smudges in her ears.

I also wrote some banter-y dialogues but I think I'll share them another time... After they've been edited.... a heck ton... There's an over exaggerated smoking description in this chap too but I've shared that before heh :)

I hope you enjoyed this LONG overdue chapter update! So far there are 7 chapters, so I have a lot of updating to catch up on! :)

I don’t have a tag list at the moment, but if you’re interested in this wip and want to be on it, then please send me an ask or a comment and I’ll add you :)

Tag list, ask to be added or removed;

@alicewestwater @elaz-ivero @coffeeandcalligraphy @hanwatchingmovies @sirfitzroys @chloeswords @nev-953

[lily-of-the-eyrie]

Here’s that long-overdue revision of that cast sheet attached to my first info post on the 35th, featuring the Colonel’s team! 🍊 

Extended character sheets & HCs below:

🍊 The Colonel

Born: 1700 Age (in 1750): 50

The fatherly commanding officer of the 35th. Known for the sincerity in his concern for the rest of his soldiers, from the oldest of officers to the newest of recruits, he’s well-loved by his men.

The type to regularly check in on his subordinates, he keeps a close eye on everyone to make sure they stay out of trouble. It’s not only about making sure everybody’s doing their job, though—if he notices a soldier looking like they’re down in the dumps for one reason or another, he’s never afraid to step in and talk to them. As such, he wound up knowing quite a bit about a lot of his men’s personal lives (but he wouldn’t tell another soul, you have his word on it). On the other end, said men agree that he’s a very approachable boss.

Generally a gentle teacher, he’s not a huge fan of using corporal punishment like it’s the one solution to every problem. But he is still quite the strict disciplinarian, and holds all his subordinates to high standards. While this means he wouldn’t flog anyone over an improperly-cocked hat or a sloppily worn coat, do expect those concerned to get advised about it (relentlessly, if they persist in their inattentiveness).

Through his eternally busy days juggling the regiment’s management with Templar work, he makes it a point to ensure that his soldiers are well taken care of. He took it as his obligation and duty to them as their leader, and a proper reward for their loyalty and the hardships they suffer through in the name of their service; however, he also inwardly also saw it as a way to make up for the unfortunate and worrying frequency with which his men seemed to, in one way or another, keep getting caught in the crossfire of the Templar-Assassin war, which follows him wherever he goes as a member of the Templar Order. 

===

Through the years, the Colonel had accumulated something of a close team of soldiers within his own regiment whose members had, at some point in time, had an unfortunate run-in with the Assassins, and are therefore more aware of the shadowy war unfolding around them than the rest of their oblivious comrades. Not all of them are full time Templars, but if the Colonel needs a few extra hands to help him carry out some Templar duties (or even anything else outside work, really), they’re always ready to chip in.

Here’s a quick chart for everyone, sorted by age:

===

🍊 John

Born: 1697 Age (in 1750): 53 

One of the veteran sergeants within the regiment, John’s the oldest member of the gang—older than even the Colonel himself, in fact (by 3 years, to be precise). Usually found somewhere near his boss, he’s the only actual ring-carrying Templar in the party, and serves as the Colonel’s personal aide in the Order’s matters. 

Calm and even-tempered, he’s attentive to his charges, who in turn consider him someone they can easily talk to about their problems. He’s grown into a sort of mentor figure in the barracks, and as such, if there’s any internal trouble brewing among the soldiers, he’s often the first to pick up on it—he’s got eyes and ears on every wall.

A really, really old friend of the Colonel’s, he’s been standing at the man’s side for the last 40 years, serving as his assistant since the day Monro stepped into the barracks as a fresh-faced greenhorn no older than 16. The arrangement had been the work of the Colonel’s father, who’d wanted someone to help his son settle down into his new life with the army and the local Templar network—a request that John had volunteered to fulfill. 

While that was the first time the two of them met, the story goes way further back. John's father was a soldier who had once fought alongside Monro Sr. in Flanders during the Nine Years War; coming along with the latter’s family when they moved over to Ireland, he’d been serving them as a guard. An Assassin attack targeting Monro Sr. at around this time ended up killing John’s father in the process; feeling responsible for his friend’s death, the Colonel’s father decided to help support the man’s widow and 5-year-old son even after the Monros moved back to Scotland. Eventually, when he got older, John joined the 35th Foot, and was only too happy to help when he heard that his longtime patron’s son was coming over.

Having stood side by side with the Colonel for literally his whole career both as a soldier and as a Templar, they’d been through a lot of shit together, and John knows a lot of things about his boss many others have no idea about. From paltry episodes like watching young Ensign Monro fumble with the regimental colours for the first time to life-or-death situations like covering for each other during clashes in Assassin territory, he’s been there and done it all. If you want to hear an interesting story about the Colonel, you can try grill John for one (he’s one tight-lipped fellow though, so it won’t be easy).

Given his circumstances, he’s got a good reason to not be very fond of Assassins, but doesn’t let it get to his head, and he’d long outgrown any leftover considerations of petty revenge. He’s more concerned about avoiding the same fate that befell his father now.

While it took him a very long time to get promoted to Sergeant, he has no intention of going any higher, since his current position puts him in the best place to still stick around the rank and file. The Colonel can approach any of the officers anytime and keep tabs on them himself, but seeing that there are things that most of the common soldiers would consider too petty or crass to talk about right in front of him, that’s pretty much John’s front to cover (though the privates, on the other hand, have somewhat noticed that whatever they tell John seems to find its way to the Colonel’s ear soon enough, and do use him as an unofficial multipurpose helpline from time to time).

Took a liking to muskets for their versatility, and makes it a point to get good at using one…which he did, earning the jealous glare of the resident self-proclaimed best shot, Philip.

🍊 Thomas 

Born: 1726 Age (in 1750): 24

An easygoing fellow who takes things in stride, he believes the cheapest and most effective way to lessen any kind of misery is to let go of them ASAP. Though he’s incessantly chirpy for most part, his friends do appreciate his ability to keep people’s spirits up even in trying times.

Joined the army for the money—coming from a family on the verge of poverty with too many children but too little money to afford an apprenticeship for every one of them, and rather enticed by the idea of traveling around by joining the army, he took up soldiering instead (plus he thinks the uniforms look cool).

Very close with William, one of his older brothers who signed up together with him. While they’re polar opposites in terms of personality, they’re pretty much joined at the hip in everything else. You’ll see them going around together most of the time.

After an incident involving working together with the Colonel and John to save William, who had gotten kidnapped by some thugs in 1743 shortly after they joined the regiment, he’d grown to be quite attached to his commander, and is always ready to do anything for the man (yes, he always goes around camp looking like the Colonel’s biggest fan and isn’t ashamed of it). He’s usually up and about running errands for the Colonel.

Good at cooking, he seems to always know the right moment to flip a pancake or take the stew off the fire, or exactly how much salt or sugar to put on something. While most of the other soldiers considered cooking just another part of their daily routine, he approached it like a hobby (and will totally offer to run errands for you in exchange for some condiments he couldn’t obtain by himself). In the meantime, his mates are more than happy to leave cooking duties to him—especially William, who’s fully aware that he can’t cook for shit and owns it.

Always hungering for cooking ingredients, Thomas will often frequent the garrison’s gardens looking to trade materials with some friends, and spends a lot of time at the town markets. Once out in the wilderness in the colonies though, he’s often found wandering among the light infantry company in search of wild mushroom picking tips or the like... Or he might just go bug Gist when he’s around. 

🍊 William

Born: 1724 Age (in 1750): 26

Thomas’ more responsible older brother.

Tries to keep Tommy out of trouble 90% of the time, but may be tempted to join in for the remaining 10%.

Aware of their family’s unfortunate financial state, suffering from difficulty in finding other kinds of work, and seeing joining the army as better than being a vagrant, he decided to go along with his brother’s career plans. Still, he’s hoping they don’t have to get sent right into the frontlines…

Got kidnapped while on patrol duty once. It turns out that the kidnappers were affiliated with the Assassins, and were paid to beat some information out of a particular redcoat which their sources told them could help with identifying a suspected Templar—except they got the wrong person (they were actually looking for John). He was eventually saved with the Colonel’s and Thomas’ combined efforts, but the incident did leave a few scars, the most noticeable one being the cut right across his face.

Needless to say, he came out of the experience a little worse for wear, but grew the same attachment his brother did for their commander. The Colonel was still a Captain back then, but still, seeing one of your higher-tier superiors come to get your commoner ass out of trouble in person is pretty powerful stuff.

While not as impulsive and/or courageous as his little brother, William is the more strategic of the two. He doesn’t get much credit for it as a foot soldier whose on-the-job effectiveness depends on how well he follows orders, but if you’re planning a sneak attempt into or out of an Assassin hideout and need someone who can think on his feet, he’s your man.

Very good at cards, so much that anyone who played against him will say that the only winning move is to not play at all. He jokes that it’s all because his bad luck is all getting used up elsewhere, but honestly nobody knows how he kept such a good win-lose ratio.

Not a very good cook. He can help with preparing the materials, but once they’re in the pan or the pot, it’s Jesus-take-the-wheel time. 

🍊 Philip

Born: 1721 Age (in 1750): 29

A ladies’ man with a showy streak.

To his credit, he never brags about something he didn’t work to earn.

Joined the army primarily to impress a girl he was smitten with, and was always eager to drill, march, or anything “soldierly”. Unfortunately, the girl ended up taking off with someone else instead, which threw him off for a bit. The Colonel, noticing that the promising new kid everyone’s talking about seemed rather distraught, helped him get back up on his feet (…by taking him to go blow some stuff up together in the training field, but the point was that it worked).

He’s always trying to stay on top of the class among his colleagues, but is a good teacher to his juniors. He’s also got something of a friendly(?) rivalry going on with John.

When not on duty, he’s usually hanging out in the nearest pub, charming (or trying to charm) the local ladies over some drinks.

He loves the view from the guard towers, and will continue to loudly proclaim it no matter how many insinuations about intelligence and high altitude his friends lovingly toss at him (it’s something of a running joke at this point, yes).

A sharp-eyed fellow, he’d often be the first guard, if not the only one, to spot some shady hooded figures slipping around the base. The other guards seem to think that he was hallucinating or making things up because they never saw anything...but not the Colonel, who gave Philip a toned-down explanation of the hooded figures’ identity, and tasked him with keeping the base safe from them as well as he can.

🍊 Henry

Born: 1721 Age (in 1750): 29

The local stick-in-the-mud.

The second son of a relatively prosperous landowner, he lived a comfortable life growing up. Having dreamed of joining the army since he was a boy, he’d joined in as soon as he can, and had plans of paying his way up the career ladder quickly...until a string of bad business deals soured the family finances, rendering the plan unfeasible. Not keen on quitting halfway through (and more than a little in denial about his now flatter, lighter purse), he resolved to just earn those promotions with sheer hard work instead.

This did give him a bit of a complex about his superiors though, especially the lower-ranking ones, since he believed the only difference between them and himself is that they had money and he didn’t. Of course, he couldn’t talk shit about them openly, but he does fret about it a lot…

He grew to be a bit of penny-pincher, a trait he saw as common and inevitable among the foot soldiers due to their very meagre pay, but didn’t expect the higher-ranking, definitely better paid officers to have—which was why he was surprised to find out that the Colonel, unlike his presumably rich fellow commanders, seemed rather stingy himself. He turned up his nose at this in the beginning, until the Colonel took notice of his management skills and entrusted him with some of the renovation projects he’d been doing on the side. Having discovered that said projects were where most of his superior’s money had gone, his opinion of the Colonel took a turn for the better.

Eventually warming up to the job, he grew an attachment to the idea that it was a thing worth doing well, and had been pouring his full effort into it ever since. The Colonel’s quite pleased with this development.

His renovation-related errands often sends him right at Paul, one of the regiment’s grenadiers who had previously worked in construction. They became good friends pretty quickly. 

Speaking of which, even outside his errands, Henry tends to hang around Paul a lot—since he’s a rather slight fellow, Thomas theorizes that he may have felt safer standing close to people who look like 100-year-old trees...

Tends to overthink things, needs to be watered with reassurance regularly.

Highly susceptible to the cold, he doesn’t do very well during winters. He’d really rather stay indoors when it’s snowy outside...

While he spends a lot of time with paperwork, he’s also an impressively fast runner, and could beat the rest of the group easily in a footrace—a fact that he’s inevitably rather smug about.

Since his involvement with the Colonel’s work mostly centers around his renovation projects, Henry’s the one least exposed to the Assassin Brotherhood among his friends. However, he does have an extensive knowledge of the Colonel’s friend network outside the army, and often wonders why they all wear that fancy ring. 

🍊 Paul

Born: 1715 Age (in 1750): 35

The quietest of the bunch. Neither wordy nor loud, you won’t hear much from him while at work.

Formerly a bricklayer by trade, he joined in for a more stable, less seasonal income. He’s usually found quietly doing whatever task happened to be assigned to him that day, and probably one of the few people in the camp who isn’t bored to death by sentry duty.

It was during one such shift guarding one of the army’s storehouses during the regiment’s stay in Cork that he first encountered an Assassin. While by no means a careless fighter, he’d also never seen a hidden blade before—a disadvantage that nearly got him killed. Surviving the assault by the sheer luck of help arriving before he bled out to death on the ground like the rest of his comrades around him, he’d been wondering about the strange blade ever since—until he saw the Colonel going toe to toe with someone wielding one such weapon like he’d been doing it all his life. Naturally, he’s got some questions for his commander, who taught him just enough to keep himself and the other soldiers alive should they run into another wielder of this mysterious blade.

On a more informal level, he’s more or less the unofficial babysitter for the party, in charge of breaking up petty bickering between William and Thomas, playing Henry’s therapist, trying to make sure Philip doesn’t drink himself under the table when fooling around at the bar, etc. The Colonel’s quite thankful for his looking out for the others, since he often couldn’t do it himself.

He took a liking to fishing, seeing it as a hobby where he can sit alone in peace for a (rather long) while. During off hours, you might see him by the quayside or on the shore.

🍊 Extra HCs

Given their varying circumstances, all the boys have differing levels of awareness when it comes to the Templars’ and Assassins’ existence. ・John knows pretty much all the ground details of the Colonel’s Templar operations and sometimes even tags along with him on them, but he doesn’t sit in meetings the Colonel has with the Order’s higher-ups (Birch, Lawrence, Haytham, etc.) ・The Walsh brothers, given their close-and-personal encounter with the Assassins, kinda know that (1) there’s this thing called “the Assassin Brotherhood”, and (2) for whatever reason, they’re out for the Colonel and his friends. They’re not sure what to make of it, but they’re 100% certain they’re not going to let those shady guys have their commander. ・Henry has no idea whatsoever about the Assassins, and with his specialty being renovation-related desk jobs, he doesn’t really have the chance to run into them. ・Philip and Paul only know that if they see someone skulking around the base wearing a hood and has a knife strapped to their arm, they can’t be up to any good; however, the Colonel had ordered them not to engage these suspicious figures unless they get too close to the fort/camp, and be extra careful when they choose to fight them. 

When it comes to splitting up into groups for work, John, Thomas, and William tend to work with the Colonel on out-of-base activities, while Henry, Philip, and Paul watch the base while they’re gone. However, when the situation calls for it, they can get swapped around; for example, if the Colonel needs extra help on the bone-crunching side, he could bring Paul instead of Thomas or William (though those two tend to get antsy if you split them up, no matter how much they deny it, so there’s that to consider too—team management is such great fun /s)

The Colonel originally had no plans to adopt so many people in his own regiment, since he risked tipping off the Assassins about a Templar’s presence in it if he did, but well, sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way you planned it to be. In the end, rather than repeatedly letting his men get stabbed for a war they never even knew existed, he decided to let a few of them know what they’re up against. He’s fully aware that he’d get in hot water with his Templar seniors if he starts handing out adoption papers to all his soldiers like it’s going out of style though, so he does keep a cap on it, even if it means he can’t always save them all—a fact that plagues him a lot.

That said, he does find his little accidental gang to be very lovable, even if some of its members do not have their shit together sometimes...but they’ll grow up eventually. 

On the group’s end, knowing that their boss actually gave a damn about their problems and whether they lived or died did a lot to solidify their loyalty to him—or, as they like to call it, their “sense of teamwork”.

📝 Miscellaneous Notes

Thank you for reading! I’ve been toying with the idea of giving the Colonel some friends among his own troops, and well, it’s not AC until the Assassins get involved, so I tried writing in how the common redcoats under his command would have potentially interacted with the Brotherhood—something which we all know happens quite frequently 👀

When developing this crew, I made it a point to tie them into the Colonel’s story in one way or another—this ranges from callbacks to stuff us players had had to do (Henry w/ renovation sidequests, Paul w/ warehouse raids), bits of info in the Colonel’s lines (Philip’s story grew out of that gunpowder line at Ben Franklin’s place), and main story quest-type ideas (Thomas & William’s story was written as something that could’ve fit into an Assassin-related Templar mission). John’s a bit of a special case: his job is mainly to be someone who knows what’s really going on other than the Colonel himself, because otherwise the poor man wouldn’t have anyone to talk to 😂 Also I thought it’d be nice to give the Colonel someone who’s to him like Lee or Holden was for Haytham, so there he goes 😀

Given how this entire gang’s story happened pre-1750 and I haven’t fine-tuned all the details of that segment of the Colonel’s backstory yet, I might still change a few parts of that character data table (this is why their birthplaces are so vague 😂), but this is what I’ve got so far.

[agentmothman18]

YouTube Zombie AU

I have no life-

When the first out break came, thousands had been infected with the disease. If it could even be considered that. Jack, who had been staying over at Felix's house that weekend, was mortified this was actually happening. So was everyone else that got to witness over the television screen. First hand experiences didn't come until the 3rd month for the Irish man, the outbreak only recently spreading across the continent.

Felix was Jacks childhood friend, they didn't grow up together since Felix had to move around a lot. It was mostly a back and forth from Sweden to Ireland for their family. But one the months Felix did come to Ireland, he and Jack would hang out. When Jack got old enough, had a job and a stable income, he would take vacations to go see his Swedish friend. And through Felix he met Marzia, the Swedish mans girlfriend. Jack instantly liked her, he knew the woman would make Felix a better man in the end and seeing how happy the two were together made him happy.

But when the disease spread to Ireland, where the three had decided to stay for a while, it was like watching flies drop form zapping laps that people hang on their porches. Everyone had been so unprepared, even with the 3 month warnings. Flights out to the nearest base camps left within days, Jack and the couple baring making it on one. It was hard for them, not just leaving home to head to Fort Knox but also to see so many people die. And in such gruesome ways that made his stomach turn just remembering.

'Everything's going to be okay.' He remembered Marzia telling them this. Optimistic that the government would find a cure and fix this mess. When that was brought up though, a couple two rows down form them spoke about how this was God punishing them. That the human race was so messed up that God planned for this to happen to them, to punish them in the nose sadistic was possible. Jack would have applauded the god for its cruel ways, but during the moment that was the last thing he would have thought about. To busy trying to keep up with what was going on during the time.

The base camp didn't last long, maybe a month had went by before things fell apart again. To many people gathered in one area was soon realized to be a horrible idea and those that survived split in different directions. It was during that time that Felix had lost Marzia so the Rotters, both watching in horrified shock as the woman's scream was drowned out by her own blood filling her lungs. Felix would have died there too if Jack hadn't ripped him away from the scene. The Swedish has fought against him, screaming and crying for Jack to leave him with her. It tore Jack apart, his heart breaking for his best friend.

After that, things had been different for the both of them. Felix had shut down, becoming a shell of the happy man he used to be and Jack has toughened up. Maybe not physically, though that did increase too, but now he wasn't scared or felt guilty when it came to shooting the walking dead. Nor living people who wanted to kill them. They both found out the hard way that some survivors turned to cannibalism during this mess of a life time. It was disgusting and something Jack would never stoop so low to.

In the presence of today, it was just Jack and Felix. They've traveled, on foot, from Kentucky all the way to Cheyenne, Wyoming. There were plenty of close calls along the way, both from Rotters and survivors. It left Felix without a working right arm, broken from a scuffle with a beefy man who wanted their guns. Jack felt bad he couldn't do more than just align the bone and wrap it, they didn't have pain medication or even the right material to keep the bone from slipping out of place and healing wrongly. "We should rest." Jack said, glancing to his broken watch for the millionth time. It stopped working back in Missouri, so they couldn't tell the time other then looking at where the sun was in the sky. So with a sigh of slight annoyance, jack glanced to the orange-ing sky.

"We can't until we find cover." Felix let out a hiss of pain when he moved his broken arm, the makeshift sling was pinching at his skin. Jack hand nodded in agreement, leading them farther down the barren highway. They were surrounded by trees and the occasional car, which they would stop to check for supplies, but no houses to take cover in.

About two more miles of walking, Jacks feet had had enough for the day. They'd been walking since sunrise with breaks only to rest or eat what little they had. "I give up." He kept his voice down, not wanting to catch the attention of any lurking Rotters. "Well just have to settle in a car for the night."

"Or that house." Felix pointed behind Jack, who whipped around fast enough to almost cause himself whiplash. He had been sure moments ago there was no houses near by, now there was one? The lack of food and sleep was really getting to him. But the house was there, just hidden so he wasn't going completely crazy yet.

With a simple nod of the head, they made the short trek to the house. It was an old country looking house, two stories with white chipped paint on the walls. Even a cute wrap around porch, a house you'd see on old country movies. Jack had told Felix to stay outside while he checked the place out, staring with the perimeters of the house before venturing inside. He had checked every nook and cranny by the time he was sure it was safe, poking his head out the door and motioning for Felix to come in.

"We'll head out in the morning." Jack spoke quietly to Felix, who nodded and didn't hesitate to head for one of the upstairs bedrooms. He was exhausted and in pain, Jack couldn't blame him. When there was a definite click of a door shutting upstairs, the Irish man finally moved from his spot at the door. He took the living room couch, wanting to stay on the ground floor in case of an emergency.

And for the better half of the night, things were peaceful and quiet. It wasn't until what felt like 2 in the morning that Jack woke up to the front door creaking open. By now, those that were still surviving have learned that the Rotters were smarter than they once thought. They were evolving, for the worse. So for a door to be opened was nothing to the dead.

As quietly as Jack could, he rolled off the couch and landed on the floor with a soft thud noise. He freaked out for a moment that he had given himself away but the footsteps coming into the house had went for the kitchen. It gave him enough time to get his gun ready in one hand and a knife in the other. A panicky feeling bubbled in his stomach, making his hands shake for a mere seconds before he calmed himself with a deep breath. He cringed at the creaking floor beneath him, cursing when movement in the kitchen ceased for a moment. Then, he heard voices.

Quiet voices but ones to set him on edge just as bad as the Rotters screaming. "Just get the food and go." A deep voice, smooth and commanding had spoke. Jack felt a little at easy that they weren't interested in them but that didn't mean he was going to let them leave with their food. So, against better judgment Jack had pushed the kitchen door open with his knife hand.

"You're not taking anything." His voice was monotoned, no emotions held in it thanks to the months of hell. Though just a quickly a light had blinded him and there was a click of a gun being cocked ready for its first shot.

"Look, we're not looking for trouble." Another male voice had spoke out, less deep than the first one but almost sounding apologetic. "We just need a bit of food and we'll leave." Jack squinted against the blinding light, moving to the side to get out of its way. The movement didn't cause any problems thankfully, and he had hesitantly lowered his gun. Jack was still a kind person at heart, even if this new world has made him cold.

The light was shinned up towards the ceiling, providing light for the whole room. Jack could finally get a good look at the two, one wearing a mask with a straight line for a mouth and two dots as the eyes. The other had the being of a bread growing, it was kept trimmed though and complimented the mans features. Something about the pair seemed different than most survivors they'd come across. Less aggressive was one thing for sure, but there was a feeling in Jacks gut that told him he could trust them. A bubbling feeling that felt almost comfortable.

"How much food do you have?" Jack asked, putting his gun in its holder on his hip and the knife back in his boot. And to his surprise, the two took their backpacks off and emptied them on the table. There was barely anything; two bottles of waters, three cans of soup, and two packs of those cheesy cracker things. Felix and him didn't have much but they at least had way more than these two. There was also a few guns that clanked down onto the table after falling out, no bullets though he realized. "Damn." He mumbled, his tone sympathetic.

"Most the gas stations on this stretch have been whipped clean." The man without the mask spoke, he looked exhausted in the dim lighting. "If you keep heading northwest on this road you'll be dead in a day. Rotters are crawling around about two miles up." He informed, much needed information considering that was where him and Felix were heading.

"Thanks for the heads up." Jack gave a simple nod with his thanks. "Where are you two headed?" He asked, heading to the cabinets to grab spare food.

"Kentucky." The other had spoke, voice slightly muffled by the mask. Jack cringed at the mention of that place, bad memories surfacing. Grabbing 4 cans of soup and two bottles of water, Jack turned and set it on the table with their stuff.

"If you're headed for Fort Knox, it's a bust. Place got overran with Rotters about two or three months ago." He told them, most his days running together so it was hard to tell how many months it was exactly.

"Well shit." Mr. No-mask groaned, a hand running over his face. "Then I guess we're headed no where." He sighed out, glancing to his masked friend. Jack watched the two, words getting lodged in his throat from trying not to speak them.

"We could head to the NAS down in Meridian." Both Jack and the man without the mask looked to the one with the mask. Jack was dumbfounded, that was months away on foot and for all they knew it was just like Fort Knox. But it there was a chance, for these two at least. For him and Felix, they refused to go anywhere with many survivors. Not after what happened last time.

"To far away. I'd rather die by Rotters than walk that far-"

"What are your names anyway?" Jack cut in, wanting a name to the two he was giving half his food too.

"Oh, my names Mark, this is Cry." Mark had introduced them, motioning to the man with a mask who was Cry. It seemed a little silly to call someone that but he wouldn't say anything about it, some people liked to keep their identity under-wraps even in times like these.

"I'm Jack." There was silence that fell over them for a moment, before the Irish man spoke up again. "If you're not leaving for Meridian, you're welcome to join me and my friend." Jack offered, something he never thought he'd be doing. But four seemed like an okay amount of people to have, more than that was to much.

The two seemed shocked for a moment, looking at each other in a silent conversation. Jack could only keep up with have of it, guessing what they were saying by what he saw Marks facial expressions do. But in the end, they both nodded to each other in their unspoken agreement and turned towards Jack. He was expecting them to decline his offer.

"We're in then."

[inkdrinkershadowsinger]

Thoughts/Background Goblet of Fire

What kind of creepy graveyard is this? Skeletons crawling over one another? Snake hidey-holes? Is this Nagini speaking or can she hear Voldemort from that far away? This just shows how fast she is as she moves along the ground here. Literally, we have here the Angel of Death equipped with wings and a scythe, which normally the Grim Reaper carries.

One light on in the caretaker’s house which is right next to the family graveyard? We are assuming that this is the Riddle estate, correct? Wealthy families like that would have had a family graveyard near their home. Also, that house in the background, Riddle Manor? Is super big and though it is dark looks grandiose.

The house here, looks well lived in, but at the same time, almost like it has only recently been inhabited. This is a kitchen, but it looks like there is a shovel on the wall, and only one light?

Still, only one light on in the main Riddle house. Wormtail can’t even draw a curtain? Dang.

Those are some old fashioned keys. I understand that this is a Manor or whatever, but this takes place during the nineties? No one thought to update the locks on this place? Frank mentions, “Those kids”, like people breaking in has been a real problem. Why not update the security? Also, who has been paying for the upkeep of this place? Lucius? Some secret Dark Lord Corporation? Is that why they are old school? Because we all know that wizards like to keep everything super, super, super old school?

Seriously, who is keeping up this place? The topiary is amazing!!

He looks like he is walking up a sort of backdoor entrance or servant’s entrance.

He is the caretaker for the grounds, but can’t dust a little? That clock needs a good one.

The light wasn’t muted because no one was casting a lumos, they were simply using a lamp that had the fabric bits removed that dampen the light.

The way that Barty is smiling when Nagini perches herself on Voldemort’s chair is fucking terrifying.

Ron’s room really is all orange. Such a fanboy.

The Burrow is in such a great spot. The little pond in front, the trees, the openness. The house itself is incredible. Still, only one light on. Whose? You can see the group walking away. That has to be Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room. Or Ron forgot to turn off the light, again.

They are all having to run to keep up with Mr. Weasley because he gets his cardio, bitch.

Mr. Weasley is rocking that straw cabana hat because he knows Muggles son!

Such a beautiful shot!

Did they travel through a worm hole here? I know the director or whoever had to make a creative choice in how this was going to be portrayed, but…. Idk.

Everyone is flying around, the arena is clearly segregated into Ireland’s colors or Green, Red, and Yellow, perhaps hinting at the final score of the match? Nice job, filmmakers.

What is this guy juggling? It looks like toy merecreatures almost.

Orange is the Weasley families favorite color. They’re just owning it at this point.

The pitch looks like it is in the inside of a volcano or a mountain.

Some people have seats right on the grass of the pitch? So, if the Weasle’s have bad seats at the very top what would the very lowest seats be classified as?

Who knew that a job qualification for Professional Qudditich players is the ability to adequately throw and spark fireworks?

Krum is a showoff.

Those are omnoculars? What Ron has to his face?

The way that they were all packed in together, it’s a wonder the whole place didn’t burn down with all the incendios they were throwing around.

They are all wizards, underage or not, and this is a life threatening situation, and yet, no one is firing back at the Death Eaters?

Okay, so everything did get torched to the ground. None of these tents had some fire retardant?

That amount of spells coming at the trio.

That style of hat that Crouch is wearing has got to be some ministry trend. Wait until they all hit the trucker hats in the 2000’s.

That Dark Mark is really cool.

I love her hat though. It looks like something that would have been worn to the royal wedding.

Seeing the train is always stunning.

I love the collection of sweets here. Colorful, to attract the youngins.

This is a really colorful movie. The third one was very muted while still being stunning. This and the next one experience with splashes of color that are just beautiful.

They are passing a big lake in the background there. Out of the window just looks wild and remote.

He addresses it clearly to Sirius Black. Is that a qualification for the owls to know where they letter needs to go or do they just have to have been there before? I need to know the specifics of owl travel.

You get to see the whole scope of how large not only Hogwarts is ,but the grounds, and I love that.

You see Neville in this first sequence as they are watching the other schools arrive as well as Fred, George, Ginny, Colin, Harry, and Hermione. Angelina Johnson is in the background behind the twins.

The sails on the Durmstrang ship looks like it is decorated with a two headed dragon. Is that the symbol for Durmstrang?

So while Dumbledore is chatting, Hagrid and Flitwick are behind him chit chatting.

There are two levels to the head table in this movie. The main folk are sitting at the higher table. Snape is leaning against the wall, not directly related to them at all. I bet he hated first days at the school.

Snape is one hundred percent mimicking Dumbledore’s speech for a hysterical Flitwick in the background.

The bald guy behind Dumbledore looks asleep, straight up.

Are butterflies the symbol for Beauxbatons? That would be very interesting. A creature that transforms completely into something else.

Hermione and Ginny are the only two who know what’s up in this shot.

Dumbledore was giving Madame Maxime eyes.

Filch is just standing dead in the middle of the Durmstrang wizards.

He is still standing there when Krum and Karkaroff walk in.

The kids so promptly follow Dumbledore’s instructions even though some of them are probably embarrassed about having to sing the school song.

But not Harry James Potter. He is living for this song.

Again we get so many shots of the school in this movie.

You can see the house point containers behind Dumbledore’s head.

You can see them again after the goblet is revealed.

Is that a tower of marshmallows?

OMgosh! The sky acted up when Crouch Jr came in because Hogwarts knew that he wasn’t who he said he was!!!!

The cup is so primitive looking compared to the container that is in.

It almost looks like each layer was created by a different faction of the wizarding world as a whole. That could definitely be a fanfic.

The perspective starts on the Durmstrang ship which again features a dragon.

Cages, nets in the background of the DADA classroom.

There is also a lot of glass and mirrors in the room which almost makes me think of a fun house where you don’t look like yourself in any of the mirrors which is super fitting for Crouch Jr. at this phase.

Why does Hermione look so suspicious already?

And what is the use of all the bugs, Crouch Jr. you sick mother f-er.

Who needs fifty overflowing worms in a jar?

Dean Thomas is straight up rocking a composition notebook from Walmart on that desk. He is representing Muggle culture at its finest.

Crabbe is wearing a ring. Is that his heir ring? That would be interesting as we see the younger generation start to really get pulled into the war in this film.

The portrait on the stain glass crying. We have all seen this, and appreciate the majesty.

We love a rain soaked Robert Pattinson.

Everyone is just watching the battle between the twins and Hermione.

There is no other light in the Great hall except for the Goblet? Dumbledore does love his aesthetic.

Snape is like, get me out of here.

And that display of power is why all of them dang kids sing that dorky song.

Who is Cedric kissing here as he goes up to the head table?

The cup is like the opposite of the Goblet of Fire. It is shiny and bright and new while the goblet is ancient looking.

You can see Harry’s scar quite prevalently in this shot.

The Hogwarts trophy room. I have never connected this before. It is huge.

Karkaroff has gold fillings.

What are the spinning trophies and where can I get one?

One light on in the top part of the castle.

Pensieve memories are blue, and the Goblet’s fire is blue. Coincidence? Fic writers, you tell me.

The suns on the curtains in the boy’s dorm is a nice touch.

Ron has a homemade quilt. I bet he gets those for birthday gifts instead of the infamous Christmas sweater. Molly Weasley is a boss.

What are all of these trophies for? I bet Dumbledore keeps all the ones that the various clubs and groups have won over the years.

Magical cleaner?

The scope of Hogwarts is amazing.

The owlery is literally covered in bird shit, like every inch. Dumbledore clearly instructs Filch not to clean it to deter frisky students.

Is that a cat on the stairs there?

I can’t ever decide if the Common Room looks too big or too small, here.

Harry talks about Voldemort so casually. But I guess if someone tried to kill me year after year we would form a sort of familiarity.

Those cabinets in the back are filled with board games. Bet me. Gryffindors are notoriously bloody, and game night, gets wild.

I bet Neville spends a lot of his time in the lake just researching and studying all of the different plant life.

Neville cares not at all for the drama behind him. He’s just like, “Give me the plants”.

I love that bright orange flower. Hagrid ain’t no fool. He knows how to get the ladies.

The mist in the background could almost be taken as fog, but then you think about the dragon’s and it literally could be smoke.

Hagrid representing all of the men who are shorter than their women.

There looks to be about six dragon handlers here.

They are carrying branches or their wands lit with fire at the end. Is that to confuse the dragons? Make them think that they already covered that area in their territory and are thus safe?

The handler on top gets bucked off the cage. He is done with this job.

I’m sorry, but those badges are ingenious. Do we know in the movie that Draco is the one that made them or is that fanon?

Those Hufflepuffs are nasty.

The sculpture that is seen in that scene in the courtyard looks like the same one that is present in Half Blood Prince. Do they also move around the castle at will?

Harry pushed Draco, and that guy in the back is like, “Yes, let’s have a fight.” Then he and the other guy straight up bounce when Moody pops on the scene. But Goyle is ride or die. Or maybe they ran and got McGonagall because she came really quickly???? Hmmm??

The walls are all green and lightly moss covered. Gorgeous.

Like, is there a legit list of all the things that teachers cannot do. 1. We do not use Transfiguration as a punishment. 2. Trying to main or kill students is expressively forbidden. 3. Flashy robes are allowed and encouraged. Share in the glorious pattern of life.

Crouch Jr. should have been shitting his pants at being at the end of McGonagall’s wand.

Again with all the mirrors. So, Crouch Jr. can make sure that his transformation isn’t slipping?

What are the faces in the mirror here?  

All the clues were there, and I didn’t see a single one. This movie and book is a masterpiece of plot. Plain and simple.

McGonagall was like, “Let’s not have the arena with the dragons so close to the castle, eh, Albus?”

There is a bed for each of the champions in this tent. Could no one transfigure a couch?

They have punch and muffins in the background. “Lime punch before you fight a dragon?” “Sure.”

I never noticed that blue in Madame Mazime’s hair. I love the school spirit that she is showing here. Dumbledore seriously thought of mimicking her. He would look bomb with a tie die beard. Convince me otherwise.

Filch is featured spectacularly in this movie.

The trunk at the bottom has a red cross on it, making this very likely an emergency tent that just so happens to double as the waiting area for the champions.

Colin made that sign for Harry.

I feel like that chain, oh, I don’t know, could have been magically reinforced or something.

How does his glasses stay on? I bend over, and mine are on the floor.

Even Draco here is like, “Come on, bro.”

Snape knew he should have stayed in bed.

So, does the waterfall seen here does that fall into Hogwart’s grounds as well because that would be awesome for field trips. My love for this ancient, magical castle in the middle of nowhere is unmatched.

Where was Seamus during that challenge? I did not see him.

The picture of the woman in the far left is very striking.

The Black Lake is a huge expanse. I always think of it as kind of small, but it is massive in this movie.

The pastries in the back are floating along the table. So cool.

Mrs. Norris just chilling, waiting to see these pitiful humans embarrass themselves.

Why can’t they have healed Harry? I understand the look, but dang, people continuity.

Neville has got them shiny dancing shoes. Augusta was very pleased when Neville asked her to buy them for him.

Hermione is a queen, and she knows it.

There is that semi circle of stone again from the third film. Hmmm….

Ginny’s friends are coming in with the support. Love a squad.

There was fruit on that table. I always wondered if they got snacks and what not during the daytime, between meals.

What was the need of carriages if the ball was held at the school?

Ron waited until last minute to even try on those robes or he definitely could have worked something out.

Owl sculptures are supporting the fires here.

Krum is dumbstruck by our girl.

Somehow she loses Krum to argue with Ron.

Is that couple making out at the table?

People are dancing in the hallway?

A gaggle of girls are crying on the stairs. Every middle school dance ever.

I’m telling you, whoever designed this cemetery had a very messed up imagination.

Neville stays out all night long. It is morning coming through that window. You dog, you.

Half of the allure of going to Hogwarts is to get to become a prefect and use that bath. Let’s be honest.

Crouch Jr. hates his life right now.

All of those books are like represent my best life.

Half of those students are like, “Yeah, no, you took all my money last time.” Because let’s be real, no one bet on Harry, and Fred and George scored big time.

Those top tiered placed have got to be enlarged with wizard’s space because they are quite small, and the whole school plus the two others are expected to attend each trial? Yeah, not big enough it seems.

Harry is a show off.

Seamus is wearing Hogwarts merch. Like where did he get that? A catalog? Gift shop in Hogsmeade?

You can see the merpeople’s ancient village here, or hints of it. Archways, etc.

Fleur looks legit worried here. Like Harry was right to not trust Dumbledore to ensure their safety when he can’t even tell Fleur who is out of the competition by this point that her sister is going to be okay.

Why are Fred, George, and Ginny right next to Malfoy and Co. for this shot, shouldn’t they be at odds? Or was that the best spot and neither were giving it up?  Or plain movie making reasons?

Harry is wearing a wand holster on his leg. Fanfiction writers catch all the details.

Seamus is like, “I am Harry’s hype man. I will keep him from getting hypothermia.”

Why did Hermione turn French here for that line?

Rescue….. that’s a strong word here, Dumbles.

Crouch Sr. is such an interesting character. He knows what it is like to lose a family, and he has his guard up because of that. Their story and their family is so interesting to me for some reason.

I think that’s the closest that Crouch Jr. gets to breaking character.

If you were born in the nineties you had at least one of those jackets that Hermione is wearing here, and if you had more, you had them in several colors.

Who bewitched Mad-eye’s eye? It is a very powerful magical object in its own right, right?

Please see my post about Sirius and Azkaban.

As soon as Snape is mentioned Crouch puts his head in his hands because he knows Dumbledore is going to have to have a say.

Dumbledore is looking so closely at the details that he misses the bigger picture in Harry’s dreams and Moody’s actions.

It’s so weird that Snape has a storage area for ingredients near Dumbledore’s office. I bet that Snape has several storage areas spread throughout the castle.

Snape could have just looked inside Harry’s mind, and be done with it, but no….because plot.

Neville is carrying yet another plant behind the trio here.

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle are so carefree here that you almost forget that the happiness of youth that they have at Hogwarts is about to go extinct just like Harry and his friends. All of the kids in this story face a sharp change in perspective after this book.

I like that Harry has fake Moody, Krum has Karkaroff, Fleur has Madame Maxime, but Cedric has his dad because he gets to say goodbye to him.

The maze is just a massive headgame.

Do you think the reason that Fleur ultimately becomes close enough to Krum to ask him to her wedding is because Krum sought her out and made serious recompense for him being imperioused while in the maze?

They are just resorting to brute strength there at the end. The maze making them forget that they are capable wizards. A jelly legs jinx probably would have had much the same effect.

Angel statues I get, but this big dementor, grim looking thing holding the bones of Voldemort’s father. I just don’t get it.

Cedric gave Peter a chance to speak or stop, but Peter again took the cowards way out, and blasted Cedric before he really had a chance to fight back. What a punk bitch.

I’m glad that you are forced to choke your own self Peter because you deserve it.

Voldemort’s transformation here is both stunning and horrible.

The Death Eaters come out of the Dark Mark’s mouth.

Their masks here are different then the ones used earlier in the morning.

Voldemort is snatching their weaves here, and I love it. Stupid klan robe wearing wizard Nazis.

Voldemort puts his foot on Cedric’s face. Like, son, you need to pay for that privilege.

A lot of the Death Eaters here look like they have like staffs. I don’t understand.

A Death Eater in the background is litearlly clapping when Voldemort makes Harry bow, like get a hold of yourself, Hershel.

The statue, again, in the background presents such a striking image as the two duel.

The spell that Crouch Jr. urged Harry to learn is the one that saved Harry.

Harry just wanting to physically protect Cedric’s body with his own. Just heartbreaking.

I’ll never not sob when I hear Amos Diggory sob, “That’s my son! That’s my boy!”

Fred and George look to follow Crouch Jr. and Harry out. Do they tip off the professors?

Doesn’t Crouch know what it is like to stand in Voldemort’s presence? He was just babysitting the man, I mean, dang. Fangirling is one thing, but you have business to handle.

Don’t insult my Neville. I will throw down.

The mirrors are gone at this point. It looks like Crouch has almost packed up because he knows that he will no longer be needed.

Not his blood, ahhhhh!!!!!

Snape puts such flourish into his casting. That scene at the carriages earlier in this film. He looks like he is rearing back away from Karkaroff, but he is merely preparing to cast one fanciful, flourish of a hex on the man.

Just stick your face in the crazy Death Eater’s face, Harry. Great thinking. No wonder Snape doesn’t hold your intelligence in high regard.

We don’t get one look at Professor Sprout. This boy’s Head of House?

Look at all that magical cooperation, and yet, none of this was used in book seven, or any book after except for mentioning Fleur married Bill, and Harry learned a little tidbit about the Deathly Hallows symbol from Krum.

I love this film. It is stunning, and truly made me a diehard HP fan. I don’t think I will ever really tire of it.

[anomiezine-blog]

Left Unity: A Discussion

‘Brian: We mustn’t fight each other. Surely, we should be united against the common enemy?

Mass of fighting lefties: The Judean Peaple’s Front!!!???

Brian: No, No. The Romans!

Mass of now peaceful lefties: Ohhh, yeah.’

-Monty Python’s Life of Brian

The subject of left unity was discussed at our last meeting, and as you might expect there was a great deal of skepticism expressed by those present. Since the split in the First International in the late 19th century Anarchists and Marxists have rarely seen eye-to-eye. To that extent nothing in this article is particularly new. It is interesting that while most of those that chose to comment are not paid-up members of any political grouping, let alone a party, that the concerns they express about working with Marxist groups could have come from George Orwell himself. This can either be viewed as evidence of our intellectual laziness or that the criticisms are cliche for one obvious reason, that they are true! I will leave it up to you to decide.

This article is a collection of opinions expressed by four individuals who attended that meeting. I have used fake (but humorous) names for the contributors just in case any far-right trolls come trundling by, and feel the need to track us down and harass us. I would encourage anyone interested in the subject of left unity to comment underneath.

Lobo: ‘Where to begin with the concept of Left Unity? Besides the historical precedent of the crushing of the Makhnovist movement in the Ukraine by the Red Army, or the tragic betrayal of the Spanish Revolution by the Commintern, there has been little evidence recently that the Marxist-Leninist parties (in the case of Ireland: the Socialist Party, the Workers Party and the Socialist Workers Party) have anything but contempt for Anarchists and Libertarian-Communist ideas. This is not particularly surprising to me. I was a member of the Socialist Party for several years in my late teens and early 20s, and remember well the derision expressed behind closed doors for Anarchists. We were dubbed ‘juvenile leftists’, ‘liberals’ and ‘a danger to the revolution’. The attitude of these cultists, because that’s truly what Marxist-Leninist groups are, has not changed one iota since the early 20th century. This is not to absolve Anarchists now or in the past of blame for the lack of Left Unity. I know plenty of hipster Anarchists that would rather read Bakunin and listen to Frank Zappa records from the safety of their cushy flats paid for by their parents than involve themselves in the class struggle. It’s dreadfully easy to be ironic in this day and age…Of course as we speak Anarchists and Marxist-Leninists cooperate in broad coalitions: whether it be for repeal of the 8th Amendment or campaigns for council housing. And should there ever be a threat from the Fascist far-right we would, of course, band together for protection, but this hardly equals Left Unity. In practice it’s more of an insurance policy against Fascist violence. I think fundamentally that Marxism-Leninism will inevitably lead to authoritarianism, as Bakunin first stated in 1870s: ‘“Either one destroys the State or one must accept the vilest and most fearful lie of our century: the red bureaucracy.” I think the evidence of multiple failed Stalinist states, from East Germany to North Korea, during the 20th century proves that point amply. Therefore, as Anarchists we should not seek anything but cordiality with Marxists, for fear of history repeating itself.’

Green Lantern: ‘Left Unity seems to be possible to a certain extent and under certain circumstances. History has proven that political parties and groups that lay on the left side of the political spectrum came very close to each other in several occasions mainly to fight for social rights or against a common enemy (i.e. fascism). However, when the prominent question was the seizure of power, the split was inevitable. Anarchists have to oppose any type of power/government, so they easily become an easy target to blame from leftists in such situations. So, what can we as Anarchists expect from any type of Left Unity? Well, nothing special in the long run, but let’s keep our eyes open for any positive actions that might assist us towards our goal for more democracy, freedom and end of hierarchy.’

Darkseid: ‘In general, although Left Unity’s presence becomes more and more dynamic, info necessary, due to social and political turbulences, which tend to destabilise and divide the people, it is my contention that it still lacks coordination and influential initiatives. Although their voices have begun to echo louder and a shift has been observed in people’s mindsets regarding left Unity’s ideas and principles, it is devoid of any substantial organisation and unity, which, in the long run, results in it being considered a form of minority. Its historically biased history, together with its suffocating internal conflicts, already predisposes a difficult path ahead; however, their members appear quite reluctant and hesitant to take substantially drastic actions, almost to the point of apathy. Which is disappointing, due to the fact that the pressing matters it addresses, such as environmental issues, anti-capitalist agenda, LGBT, gender equality, should have thrusted it to one of the “hottest” talk in town.’

Superman: ‘To me it is amazing to hear Anarchists complain about working with other left wing groups. The more histrionic seem to think that to work with other leftists will automatically lead to the a repeat of {famous historical event where we were stabbed in the back}. This seems unlikely, as…How to put this gently? It’s not the 1930s anymore! There are barely any Communists and Anarchists left for one thing…I mean we’re not like the immortals from Highlander, but if things keep going the way they’re going ‘there will only be one!’ In other words we can’t be so picky as to who are bedfellows in the class struggle are. Secondly, if we really are worried about Marxist-Leninist parties and their penchant for seizing power, well let’s not work with them, but you can’t label all left wing parties and groups Marxist-Leninist, because that’s lazy and sectarian thinking of the worst sort. There are great activists in even the most bureaucratic and toxic parties. We should be trying to talk to as many like minded people as we can, not demonise half the left because the leadership of some socialist groups are shit. There is a happy medium between blissful irrelevance and Kronstadt, it’s called using your commonsense to figure out objectively who you should ally with, and who you shouldn’t. To me that is left unity. And it’s also the only way our ideas will get off WordPress and into the real world.’

[thisishawkins]

The Parting Glass

This is the follow-up to The Beautiful Ones. I didn’t expect to write this, it just kind of happened. Please, enjoy!

- K

____________

Of course, you did not expect to die in Teller-Morrow parking lot. But, you had a feeling, and stinging realization, really, that you'd die young.

After all, Teller deaths are early-onset and bloody.

*

Gemma was catatonic.

She was the last to arrive to the lot, tires screeching and leaving hot, black marks on the cement.

The sound rang in her ears when she spotted Jax clutching someone, his upper-half huddled over whoever it was. But, the white Cortez adorned feet gave it away.

Opie had tried to tell her it was you, but she had hung up the phone as soon as, “You need to come to the lot.”, left his mouth.

Her stomach dropped and her mind raced simultaneously, pushing her to book it out of her Cadillac, leaving the door wide open, and the headlights cast over the dark lot.

The ambulance was parked nearby, having already pronounced your status, but Jax wouldn’t let you go, at least until Gemma arrived.

She pushed through the guys, wishing that her eyes were deceiving her, that this was just another nightmare.

One of her children was holding the other, one moving and one not.

She couldn't recollect what happened after.

Out of all the things Jax had witnessed and done, this scared him the most: his mother in this barely responsive stupor.

She'd been in it since the ambulance took your body.

Her throat was still sore from her anguished yells and wails.

She sat at the head of her kitchen table, smoking the last of her morning blunt, the arm holding it balanced on the other as she stared off into space.

Jax just stood to her right, placing his keys on the countertop as he stared at his mother, tears building at the rims of his eyes.

“Ma.”, his voice broke.

He'd slept four or five hours, max, in the near two days since you'd passed.

Gemma didn't even react, her gaze still focused elsewhere.

Jax took a couple steps closer, gently placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Mom.”, he repeated just a touch louder.

She looked at him then, his face seeming like a beacon in the darkest of night.

She quickly stubbed the blunt out, still looking at her son, her only child left. A sad smile replaced her unreadable expression, and a tear crept down her cheek.

“Jackson.”, she replied gently.

She stood up from her chair, bringing him to her in a tight embrace, closing her eyes as she felt more tears coming.

Jax held her just as tight, a lone tear making its way down to his mouth.

He heaved suddenly, grief bunched up in his chest and sorrow in the back of his throat.

“We have to bury her.”, he told her.

Gemma slowly pulled away and looked at her son, seeing the pain in his eyes made her fragile heart crumble even more.

She nodded, “I know, baby, I know.”

*

Though Teller-Morrow was closed, Gemma was in the office anyway, grabbing a couple of photos of her three children that she had in the desk, pulling them out every once in awhile.

As she ducked down to look into the drawer, there was a distinct knock on the doorway between the office and the shop.

“Sorry to bother you, Gemma, but I have to give you this.”

Her head popped up then, her left hand pushing her bangs away from her vision.

Chucky held an envelope in his non-wooden hand, his eyes glassy as they spotted the broken-down state of Gemma, something that looked so foreign on the Queen of the Bikers.

Brows pulled together, she stood up from the office chair, stepping toward Chucky.

He gave her a small smile as he handed her the envelope.

Before she could say anything, he was gone, walking back through the garage.

She flipped it over in her hands to reveal one word on the front.

Mom

She immediately recognized the handwriting.

She snatched her glasses from the desk and placed them on the bridge of her nose, her eyes scanning the word over and over.

Slowly stepping toward and sitting down on the worn, plaid office couch, she passed her thumb over the inked words, as if memorizing their feeling.

Gemma opened it carefully, not wanting to ruin it, remembering that you always folded the tab in, never licked the stale glue to seal it because of the taste. A smile nearly made its way to her lips at the memory.

She slipped the letter out of the envelope and unfolded it.

Mom, it said in black, thin script.

If you're reading this, I've gone to wherever Thomas and Dad are.

Please do not get lost in your grief over me. That is easier said than done, but it will only ruin you and break the club more. And nobody wants that, especially me.

Although I've had my misgivings about this life, I know that I made the right choice by staying. There was no me without my family or the club.

I have to admit, this life has been good, despite our definite misfortunes. You, Dad and Clay built an empire, and raised us the best you could. The club is our family, even if it is messy, brutal, and completely insane. But, I'm glad it was my life, even if at times I told you that I wanted out.

However I left this world, I want you to focus on our love and what we had rather than what you've lost. Family is the only thing we have, you taught me that. So, cherish life as it is now. Love Jax, Tara, the boys, Opie, and the club more because I'm not there to do it.

Remember that time when you took Jax and I to Big Sur, when Dad was in Ireland? That was one of the best days of my life. Even though we were all still grieving over Thomas, I felt happy. Like I could still feel that even though we had already been through so much.

It made me realize that as long as I had my family, that my big brother and my mother were safe, everything would be okay.

So, in the end, you will be okay, too.

Thank you for always being the most strong and supportive mother that a daughter could ever ask for.

I will love you forever, and I will see you again.

Y/N

Gemma didn't want it to end, because she could hear it as if you were in the room with her.

So, she read it twice more, tears covering her all the while.

Before she could read it another time, she heard the rumbling of a bike.

Pushing herself up from the low perch of the couch, she walked up to the blinds, two polished fingers spreading two apart.

It was Clay, not Jax.

She watched as he gingerly got off of his bike.

He began to make his way towards the office, but he stopped, looking back.

She knew what had caught his attention.

The cement was still stained with your blood.

_________

Opie was at a loss, really.

Like with Donna’s death, he needed retribution. Revenge was the name that would haunt him, nothing else, and his dreams would be a plague on his mind until he retrieved it.

But, this was a different hurt, much deeper. It only made him feel worse, feel guilty. But, why?

Lyla had taken the kids to the park, giving Opie the time and space to cope.

But, he would never fully cope. Not him, not Jax, not Gemma, not anyone.

He was standing in the kitchen, nursing his third cup of coffee, and the house was silent, cold even.

There was a knock at the front door, and Opie immediately set his mug down before stocking over to the front door.

He jerked it open, revealing a small, twitchy man.

Chucky.

Brows pulled together, Opie grumbled, “What’re you doing here, Chucky?”

He opened his mouth then closed it, not really knowing how to begin.

Instead, Chucky settled with holding up an envelope.

Opie beckoned him with his hand, and Chucky handed it to him.

He looked down at its face, and it read in a familiar script.

Harry

Before he could ask Chucky, he was already pulling out of his driveway.

Opie barely remembered to close the door.

Leaning against the counter, next to his mug, he opened the envelope, unfolding the neatly folded contents.

Opie,

The front got your attention, didn’t it?

He smiled for once, thinking about the amused expression that had to have been on your face when writing that.

You know, thinking about when we started calling you ‘Opie’ makes my head spin. Feels like another world away, and it is.

Anyway, if you have this letter, it means I’m gone.

However I died, I hope it doesn’t leave wounds too deep. The club doesn’t need more baggage, more weakness.

I hope it’s not too much to ask a few things of you, considering the circumstances.

Look after Jax. I know that he can take of himself, but he’s much better when he has his brother on his side. That is asking a lot, with all the shit that has gone on, but whether you think so or not, he is on your side. Always has, always will be.

He is going to get reckless, we both know that. He’ll get lost in the pain and revenge. And whoever killed me, that’s exactly what they want. So, don’t let him, the club, feed into that. Don’t allow that hole in our family, our club, expose us to our enemies. You can avenge me, but try and do it quick, and get over it. The club has worse things to worry about.

So, please don’t go chasing my ghost.

You don’t deserve more pain, you carry around enough, so I’m sorry for putting this on you. I wish I could have helped you more than I could have. Truth is, Ope, I’ve been in love with you since I was nine years old. You’ve been my savior, my best friend. Don’t be mad that I never said anything. You’ve had Donna, and Lyla, and you need them. They make you happy. I couldn’t ruin that, even if you did feel the same.

Cherish Lyla and your kids. She’s good for you, and your kids need you.

And, once my death is settled, make Jax realize his place. He told you once - you can’t be half in, half out. So, he can’t either. Get rid of Clay, whether it be Mayhem or cutting him off. The club needs it.

Wish I had the chance to tell you this in person.

I love you.

Y/N

He placed the letter onto the counter, and his hands went into his hair before they covered his face.

Opie loved you, he knew that now.

He shook his head, hands still covering his now stinging eyes.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”, he mumbled, voice breaking, “I love you, too.”

_________

Tara lowered Thomas into his crib, having just fallen asleep after over an hour of crying for Jax.

She was defeated, to say the least.

Not just with the boys, because they could sense that something was off.

Abel had even asked where his Aunt was, and if he could go visit her later.

Luckily, Jax was there to explain things as lightly as possible.

Though she'd witnessed and fixed many people in her career, she'd never been so scarred from failing to help you. And seeing Jax, Gemma, and the club in such a mess made her feel worse.

If she couldn't help you, or her family, what was she to do? Afterall, if it wasn't for her not having a weapon, you probably wouldn't be laying in the morgue at St. Thomas.

Although Jax didn't blame her, she had a feeling that Gemma might, which was a storm that she wasn't ready to endure.

“Alright, Abel, ready for a bedtime story?”, she asked him with a tired, gentle smile as she walked into his bedroom.

He sat up in his bed, with three books that he was silently picking through with a round of 'eenie-meenie-minie-mo’.

He finished before he nodded, hugging the chosen one to his tiny chest.

She sat on the edge of his bed, and Abel gave her the book.

“These are some nice choices, Abel. We've never read these before.”, Tara commented, eyes scanning over them.

“They are ones that Aunt Y/N gave to me.”, Abel's small voice replied, his mind remembering when she took him to buy them.

Tara gazed at him for a second, feeling tears prickle at the edges of her eyes, blinking them away.

“You're such a smart boy.”, she told him, heart clenching.

He beamed.

Tara began reading the book he picked, but near the end, he asked her, “When will I get to see Aunt Y/N, again?”

She stopped mid-sentence. It took Tara all that was left in her not to tear-up. Instead, she let out a small sigh, and shifted her eyes from the vibrant pages to Abel's blue, Teller eyes.

“Someday. She's gone away for a little while. Remember what Daddy said?”, she tenderly replied.

“She's with Grandpa.”, he responded.

“That’s right. And even though she's not here, she's still with you right here, okay?”, she said, pointing to his heart.

“Okay.”, Abel answered, a small frown slowly forming.

Tara finished the book, tucked him in, kissed his forehead, and walked toward the light-switch.

“Mommy?”, Abel asked, and Tara turned around.

“Can I write a letter to Aunt Y/N?”

Tara's heart sank, barely being able to smile, and nodded.

“You can tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”, he smiled.

“Good night.”, she told him.

“‘Night, Mommy.”

*

It was around 8:30, and it was nearly dark outside when Tara's phone rang. The caller ID said it was the office phone at the garage.

“Hello?”, she said, expecting Gemma or one of the guys to reply.

“Tara, it's Chucky.”

“Oh.”, she replied, surprised, “Is everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I mean, Jax and the guys are fine.”, he explained, “I just have something for you. From Y/N.”

Confused, she sputtered, “O-okay.”

“Is it alright if I bring it to you? I don't mean to intrude or-”

“Oh, no, no, it's fine.”, Tara told him. She was still confused, and a little worried.

“Okay, I'll be right over.”, he answered, not really knowing how to end the call.

Sensing this, she told him, “See you soon.”

*

Twelve minutes later, Chucky was at the front door.

Tara looked through the peep-hole before she answered, feeling the cold metal of the hand-pistol in her backside that Jax gave her.

She opened the door, and Chucky supplied his small, slightly uncomfortable smile that was normal for him.

He took something from his back pocket, and it revealed to be a single envelope that had Tara's name on its front.

Taking it in hand, she stated, “Thank you.”, meeting his anxious eyes.

He offered a quirk of a smile and a nod before making his way back to his car.

She shut the door, and turned all of the locks, brows pulled together and her mouth set into a small frown.

Stopping a second to make sure that Thomas wasn't crying, she continued on toward the kitchen table, taking a seat.

Tara glanced at the front once more before opening the creme envelope.

Tara,

If this has made its way to you, I am no longer with you.

I know we've had our differences, but I want you to know that I love you, and am glad that you are with Jax, the mother of my nephews, and my sister.

I cannot emphasize enough how important you are to our family and the club.

With that in mind, please decide on the life you want with us. I can except and completely understand your desire to leave and have Jax leave with you, but make that decision final. Do not keep switching sides. Either stay and replace Gemma, or leave and rebuild. If you don't make it clean-cut, it's going to be bloody.

And I do not want you to get hurt, especially because of the boys. They need you, and so does Jax and the club. And Gemma, whether she would ever admit that or not.

Tara mouth quirked up into a smile at that, allowing herself to cry.

I'm happy that we've grown closer, finally another woman other than my Mother to share the struggle of being amongst the sea of (stinky) men. God, have you smelt some of them lately?

Tara chuckled through her tears, feeling as if she was sitting across the table from you rather than reading your last words to her.

Anyway, you get my point. When the time comes, let the boys choose what they want. Imagine, Thomas a doctor and Abel an auto-mechanic/biker, or maybe even reversed.

I know that both you and Jax don't want this life for them. Truth be told, I don't either. But, I don't think we really have a choice in the matter.

Just take care of them, and my brother. Remember, all of us love them.

Good luck.

Love,

Y/N

By the end, Tara was pacing around the kitchen.

“Dammit, Y/N.”, she thought, carefully sliding the letter back into the envelope.

She wondered if anyone else had received letters, and when she would expect Jax home, in her arms and clean of the blood he was bound to be spilling.

___________

Needing something to do other than think about you and club business, Chibs was fixing up a bike that a retiree had brought in a few days ago.

He had just taken a break, failing to scrub away the oil and grease that had worked it way into the divots of his handprints, when Chucky walked into the garage.

“Aye, Chucky.”, Chibs greeted.

“Chibs.”, he nodded, “I-uh, need to give you this.”

He handed the letter to Chibs, and without a word, like with Gemma, he was gone.

Chibs's brown eyes studied the front of the envelope, which in thin, black script read Filip.

He opened it with care, hoping to not taint it too much with his soiled prints.

Chibby,

If this letter is in your Marlboro-loving hands,

He grinned at the comment, though sadness still evident in his eyes.

I am no longer here to steal more cigarettes from them.

The grin immediately disappeared.

I am so thankful for you, my Scotsman, one of the best men I've ever known.

Although Jax and Gemma are bound to get lost in their grief, despite me writing letters to them as well, you need not get lost in it, too. Focus on fixing the club rather than revenge. It'll blind everyone from what SAMCRO needs instead of giving it what it deserves.

I know you will do the right thing, not matter what it takes.

Whatever happens, make sure you and your family are safe, and that my family and the club are settled. You and Bobby are the only ones that I trust to do what is best for all of us.

Please, take care of them. Help Jax. We both love you so much.

I'll see you later, ready to share another smoke and a smile.

Love,

Y/N

A couple of tears met his salt and pepper goatee and jawline.

Filip Telford would always miss you.

___________

It was near one in the morning when Jax finally parked his bike into the lot.

It took a big part of him to not look at the stained cement, another permanent reminder that his little sister was dead.

He'd found some leads about who was responsible for your murder and why, the specks of blood on his Air-Force Ones were evidence of that.

Your wake was tomorrow, and it seemed like he was barely close to finding any answers. It drove him mad.

Your death was also a nail in the coffin to his fate. He was going to die bloody, too. After all, that's what Tellers do.

For once, he was the only one in the lot.

He strode into the clubhouse, going towards Church.

Turning the knob and opening the door, his eyes were already set on the gavel.

It and the reaper were bathing in moonlight, beckoning him over.

He didn't sit down at his throne. Instead, he looked from the moon to the gavel, tracing the gavel with his fingers, noting the way his rings caught the light, contemplating how life got to this.

Jax's blue eyes flickered to his seat. Something white sat on the black leather.

A letter.

His heart stopped at the all-too-familiar script written on the front.

Jax took it in hand, before going straight from the table to the bar, grabbing a beer.

Before he knew it, his hands and feet were climbing up the ladder to his favorite spot, the chirping of crickets accompanying his steps.

It wasn't until he had taken a sip of his beer that he opened the envelope and retrieved the letter.

Jax,

I'm gone, and I'm not coming back.

I know it's in our blood, but please do not get lost in the hatred, the revenge, the self-loathing. That's asking a lot, but I don't need you to die with me. Everyone needs you.

Dad didn't want this for us, and I know that he was right in wanting that. But honestly, who would we be without the club?

A smile full of sorrow crept onto his face, his eyes already glassy.

Once you've sought revenge, leave it at that. Get Clay out of the picture. I don't care if we still need him. We are all better cutting that tie.

Then, lead this path away from a bloody end. One of us has to make it out.

Get the club out of all of this mess. Whatever you have to do, do it, because someone else is going to die along with me if it continues.

I've been thinking about everything for awhile. What Dad did, his manuscript, what Mom and Clay have done, and what's in our hands. You and I have wanted out at some point, but we've always came back. Why? What is so alluring? The violence? The power? Is it fate?

Are we the good or the bad ones?

I wish I had these answers. If one of us did, life would be different, and much less gruesome.

I'm sorry that you and Tara didn't get the life you wanted together. You both deserve happiness. The boys deserve a future without all of this. But if fate is real, it has other plans.

If we had a choice in the matter, I'd be alive, right?

Do not make our parents mistakes. Set things right. I'm sorry that I'm not there to help you do that.

And, do not put my death on yourself, like I know you will. The weight you carry is unimaginable. I wish I would be there still to help lessen the burden.

Take care of our family, and our club.

I love you, big brother. I hope I won't see you soon.

Good luck,

Y/N

Jax wiped away the wetness that coated his face as he stuffed the letter into his kutte.

What would he do without you?

At that, his gaze landed on the bleak night sky, only a few stars blinking back him.

He stared at the biggest, closest one.

“Hi, little sis.”, he greeted aloud, a trembling smile making its way onto his exhausted face.

“I will.”, Jax told you, nodding, “I will.”

[mysweetestcreature]

Meus Amor (Hogwarts!Harry) Part II

(Banner by the lovely @pretty-hazza)

***

Series Masterlist

***

They’ve been inseparable since the start of the spring term, even more so now since they’ve taken their relationship to a more intimate level. Harry chooses to ignore the disdainful looks that some of her fellow Gryffindors give him when they see his arms wrapped protectively around her, or while he waits for her outside the portrait hole. They think he isn’t good enough for her.

And maybe they’re right.

However, it doesn’t change that fact that he’d do anything for Y/n. She’s the person that’s keeping him together and maintaining that last bit of goodness within him that he so desperately is clinging on to. He absentmindedly grazes the white sleeve that covers his left forearm. Sometimes he can feel it burning, and it just becomes a reminder of how fucked he is. The thought of her finding out what he’s done in these past few months makes his insides twist in the most excruciating ways. He’s ashamed of himself. Just looking at her looking at him with such fondness and pride––she doesn’t care what any of those nosey pricks have to say, she’s proud to call Harry her boyfriend––has guilt shredding through him like a knife. 

Whenever he finds himself tensing up from all his stress, just the touch of her hand against his brings him back to earth. Her smile––gods, how he could just admire it forever––is his lifeline. If she senses something off about him, she doesn’t say anything. The less she knows, the easier it will be to keep her out of his mess. 

To him, she’s perfect. There aren’t enough words in the English dictionary that can describe how much he loves her. Yet, he knows he doesn’t deserve her because she’s just so pure and full of optimism, finding the good and magic in even the darkest of things. She deserves someone who won’t put her at risk, and his heart constricts because that someone might not be him. But he’s not strong enough to let her go. He’s not strong enough to tell her to get lost because he knows he won’t survive it.

Especially with what’s soon to come.

***

Artemis drops a copy of the Daily Prophet in his lap during breakfast. The front page is a report on the most recent Death Eater attacks, one of which occurred not too far from Hogwarts. They don’t choose their battles anymore, instead they wreak havoc on anyone and anything that gets in their way. He skims over the text, ignoring the animated picture of Scrimgeour from a press conference. It just reminds of that fateful day in December when his father had turned his back on his own family. 

“Could you give me the sports page?” Niall asks, his mouth full of toast and jam. “Heard Ireland might be going to the World Cup again!” Harry rolls his eyes and plucks the page and shoves it in his friend’s face before he continues to flip through the remaining parts he’s got left. A particular name catches his eye on page four, it belongs to his girlfriend’s father, Nicolás Y/l/n. The Auror had been interviewed on what the Ministry is doing to keep the community safe. 

“I assure you all, that my men and I are working tirelessly to protect our families. So far, we’ve been able to put over two and half dozen Death Eaters in their rightful place in the cells of Azkaban. We will not stand down until our streets are safe and we can go back to living in peace.”

The article then goes on to praise Mr. Y/l/n for having lead his team during a raid of a safehouse that You-Know-Who’s followers had been hiding in, making at least a dozen more arrests. He’s a good man, with a moral compass that would put Harry’s family to shame. And it’s obvious he’s extended those ideals to his daughter because she really is just kindest person. 

Hands suddenly wrap around his eyes. A stifled giggle erupts from behind, and he can hear Niall let out a soft chuckle from right next to him. “Hi, love,” Harry greets. The hands fall from his face and onto his shoulders.

“How’d you know it was me?” Y/n pouts, as she squeezes herself in between the two boys.

Harry leans in and presses his lips to hers, letting them linger a little longer than he would usually allow in front of so many people. “Couldn’t imagine anyone else wanting to make such an effort.” She sticks her tongue out at him, then reaches for a blueberry left forgotten on his plate. Her face scrunches up from having picked up a ridiculously sour one. Harry fawns over how cute she is as her lips pucker from the taste, and he kisses her forehead as she takes a long gulp from his goblet. 

“There’s a reason why I left them there.” He wipes a dribble of pumpkin juice from the side of her mouth with his thumb. Y/n lightly hits his arm, then tries her luck at a seemingly succulent strawberry, humming in triumph when its sweet juice tickles the roof of her mouth. 

“No food over at the Gryffindor table?” Niall teases, but she shrugs him off. When she walked into the Great Hall this morning, it had occurred to her that she never sits with her boyfriend during meals––not counting when they eat out in Hogsmeade––and she thinks that’s absolutely ridiculous. Luna Lovegood sometimes trades a spot at the Ravenclaw table to sit with her friends in Gryffindor, so why shouldn’t she be able to sit here?

“Thought I’d eat breakfast with my favorite guy,” she kisses Harry’s cheek, who in turn takes her chin between his fingers and kisses her deeply, completely disregarding the pairs of all-too curious eyes that darted their way.

They move naturally with each other, her fingers playing with the hem of his jumper. He snakes an arm around her midsection, letting his hand run up and down her sides. He can hear Daphne and Pansy squawking in disgust from a few seats down. It only makes this all the more enjoyable because Daphne still refuses to leave him alone, even after she watched Y/n and Harry waltz out of his dorm room, clothes completely disheveled from their previous engagements. He sucks her bottom lip, the remnants of that strawberry still fresh on her tongue. 

Niall lightly nudges her back, and the couple turns to face him with annoyed expressions on both of their faces. “That’s so sweet, Y/n. I don’t know what to say.”

***

It’s the first time he’s ever been in the Room of Requirement. Lost items and things just thrown in here stacked high in numerous piles all throughout the space. There are mysteries within the room, treasures for anyone willing to scout through the clutter to find them. About a month ago, he’d found a collection of muggle children stories compiled into one large book. He’d given it to Y/n and laid his head in her lap as she read them out loud to him. Something about a girl falling into a hole and entering an imaginative world, or some nonsense like that. There might have been a rabbit, but he really can’t remember anything because he had been so comfortable that he’d been dozing in and out of sleep. 

If only he could be doing that instead of spending all night cooped up with Draco Malfoy as they try to mend this bloody vanishing cabinet like they’ve been doing since their return to school in January. 

The platinum blonde haired boy stares at the hunk of wood with such hatred that Harry thinks his steel grey eyes could potentially set it on fire. “Fucking piece of garbage,” he kicks the front right leg of it, cursing to himself once more. He then plops himself down on one of the chairs with broken arms across from it. 

They’ve been at this since after dinner. Once Harry had walked Y/n back to her common room, he came straight here. She had tried to convince him to spend an extra hour with her and Liam, so they could teach him how to play Monopoly. It took everything in him to say no to her, but he did promise that they could do it some other night. (Although, he doesn’t know how a game with non-moving pieces could ever be enjoyable.)

Harry shakes his head and pulls his wand out from the pocket of his robes. He’d recently come across a book while he and Y/n had been in the library on how to fix these kind of things, but the mere words in black and white had made it out to seem like the simplest task to accomplish. From what he’s read, the repeated use of mending spells should have been enough to do the trick, but they’ve been doing just that for a good four months. He’s said the repairing charm so many times that Niall says he’s been muttering it in his sleep. 

“It’s no use,” Draco tries telling him, but Harry keeps at it. Spell after spell leaves his mouth with the hope that one of them will make even the slightest alteration. All they’ve been able to transport are inanimate objects, which had been somewhat exciting at first, but the initial amusement quickly faded because they’re expected to sneak in an entire group of living Death Eaters. Whenever they tried living creatures, their lifeless bodies are what reappeared. Who knows what sort of shit they’d be in if they managed to severely incapacitate those above them.

A cage of pixies used in their second year––when Gilderoy Lockhart had foolishly set them free, the wanker––sits on the end table next to him. He casts a freezing charm on them to immobilize their movements long enough for him to grab one without starting a riot. Quickly putting it inside the cabinet, he says the counter-spell and immediately hears the pixie banging itself against all four inner corners. 

This is where they fall short every time. Getting a living creature to the twin cabinet at Borgin and Burkes is the easy part, they’ve only done it about seventy-something times. It’s the return trip that’s giving the two Slytherins immense amounts of stress that Harry could quite literally blow his top.

“Harmonia Nectere Passus.” The cabinet falls silent. Harry opens it up ever-so slightly––just in case the blue mischief maker is playing tricks on him because that may or may not have happened last week––to check if it’s empty. No sign of it when he opens the door all the way. The slight glimmer of hope––the same kind that bubbles in him when whatever it is that they stuff in the cabinet disappears. He closes it and repeats the previous incantation. 

“Harmonia Nectere Passus.” A soft thump comes from inside. He rests his head against the door, eyes shut tightly because it’s more than likely that it’ll just be another failed attempt. There’s no sign of movement, but he still wants to think otherwise. Draco barks at him to open it, and Harry mentally counts to three before swinging the door open.

“Fuck.” No such luck. The pixie’s dead body lays on its side at the bottom of the cabinet. Its once electric blue skin, a dull grey. He lets out an aggravated sigh, then falls into the chair next to the other boy. “I just don’t get it, we’ve tried everything!” he exasperates, running a hand down his face. While he wants to believe that maybe there’s just something they’re missing, he knows for certain that they’ve been attentive. 

He feels like he could punch a hole right through the bloody thing. All he wants to do now is to reduce it to ashes, at least that way he won’t have to look at it ever again. His head hangs low and he brings his left ring finger to his lips. 

“That’s an interesting ring,” Draco speaks up after a few minutes of silence. Harry simply nods, a small grin forming when he reads the message on the warm metal. Sleep tight, I love you! He can just picture her curled up under her sheets, Ashes sprawled out by her feet as she flips through another book or magazine. “What does it mean?”

“Who says it means anything?” he counters. 

The blonde-haired boy snorts, and that may be the first time since the end of fifth year that Harry’s heard him do so. “All jewelry holds some kind of meaning,” he boldly states. “If it didn’t, then no one would bother to wear them.” He holds up his right hand; a large bulky ring sits intimidatingly on his finger. “This was my father’s ring. I wear it because it serves as a reminder of why I’m slaving away in this hellhole with you. Vol-” he clears his throat, “The Dark Lord wasn’t too pleased with him when he got caught. Now my mother and I have to pay for his fuck-ups.”

Harry lets the words simmer and really take the time to digest them. They’re all the same. Each child of fallen Death Eaters, forced to partake in something that they never signed up for. He looks down at his own ring, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. 

“It’s for my girl,” he finally admits. Letting out a breath he had been holding this entire time. “She’s my reason for doing this. I just want to protect her.” He leans back against the chair and stares up at the ceiling. He doesn’t know why he’s opening up to Draco Malfoy, but he guesses if there’s anyone who will understand his position, it’s him. 

***

Harry loves rubbing his thumb over her ring while they walk hand in hand. The conversation that he and Draco had had about their reasons for doing all of this still fresh in his mind. The matching ring she wears reminds him that there is purpose to this shithole of a life, and he’s positive that she’s his. They walk aimlessly around Hogsmeade, stopping to look at a few window displays and stopping in Tomes and Scrolls (she needs to pick up the latest issue of Witch Weekly), before settling on booth seat in the Three Broomsticks. Harry orders them a few butterbeers, before sliding in next to her on the cushions.

“Did you remember to ask for Madam Rosmerta’s extra sweet version for me?” Y/n asks, and Harry playfully rolls his eyes at her. He’s been actually trying to get her to lessen her sugar intake––sometimes she gets terrifyingly hyper that he just doesn’t know what to do (although when the mood is right, it does come to his advantage) ––but it’s failing miserably because it only takes one look into those damn puppy-dog eyes for him to bend at her will.

“Of course,” he nudges his nose to hers. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I couldn’t remember the enormous sweet tooth you have?” 

She lets out a giggle, then leaves kisses on his cheeks, jaw, and chin. “So, I got a letter from my mum yesterday…” she pauses briefly when the waiter brings them their butterbeers. They both take long sips from their mugs, indulging in its sweet butterscotch flavor. Harry lets out a content sigh as the liquid fizzes in his mouth. He watches as she sets hers back down on the makeshift napkin coaster. A nervous chuckle passing through her lips as she busies herself with the handle of the mug “…and she was wondering if you’d want to maybe want to spend the summer holiday with us?” 

“Yeah?” He tucks her hair behind her ear and over her shoulder. To say that he’s rather stunned would be an understatement. He’s never been in a relationship long enough to do the whole ‘meet the parents’ thing. Would they like him? Fuck, he already knows that Mr. Y/l/n won’t! After all, he had been present during the arrest and the trial, which means he must know who Harry is. 

“Yeah,” she smiles, scooching in closer so that she’s basically sitting on top of him. Just imagining how much fun it would be to spend an entire summer with him excites her. “I mean I get it if you don’t want to…” she pauses, twirling one of his curls around her finger, “…with all that’s going on with your family and all.” Her bottom lip tucks between her teeth, as she tries not to look him directly in the eyes. Of course, she’d understand if he has to say no…but Merlin’s beard she’s praying he’ll say yes because she may or may not have already mapped out the things that they would do together, last night. 

The depressions in his cheeks become more prominent as he leans his forehead to rest on her temples. “I’d like that.” Her shoulders relax and shrug forward as she turns just enough to meet his lips. They both giggle into the kiss but maintain the connection for as long as possible. 

***

Dearest Harry,

I haven’t heard from you since you went back. You haven’t responded to any of my previous letters, and I guess I’m to blame for why you’ve distanced yourself from us. It was the hardest decision that I’ve ever had to make. For years I feared that my children would follow in their father’s footsteps. You of all people should know that. However, the extraneous circumstances had presented themselves, and it left me no choice but to push aside my pride for the better good of this family.

Even Gemma had been upset with me when she found out about you. She didn’t speak to me for a few weeks after you boarded the Hogwarts Express back to school. You know her, ever the protective big sister to you. I’m not sure if you two have been talking, but in case you haven’t, please find the time to at least send her an owl. She misses you…we both do.

I understand if you still need some more time. My biggest grievance is that you had to get involved in whatever it is your father has started. You have so much potential, of which I’m afraid has been snatched from beneath your feet. Believe me, if there had been another way, I would’ve fought for it. Unfortunately, luck is not on our side. As much as it hurts me to see you and your sister have to suffer through this mess, there is just no turning our backs on this.

I know you may never forgive your father for all that he’s done. If I were in your position, I don’t think I could have handled the situation as well as you have. I would have most likely done something brash, like runaway to some island off the coast of Denmark. But please remember, he still is your father. And if everything goes accordingly, we have a chance at becoming a family again. Isn’t that what we’ve wanted all along? 

Your father loves you, Harry, never forget that.

All my love,

Mum.

Harry crumples the paper up and tosses it in the nearest waste bin.

***

In all of his Hogwarts career, Harry has never studied this early for his final exams. But here he is, sat in a chair surrounded by textbooks from each one of him and Y/n’s classes. Usually, he’d study a good two and a half weeks before the scheduled dates. He’s a good student, gets high marks in all his classes and balances that all out with Quidditch. What he’s trying to get across is that he’s more than able to hold off with the studying, especially when June is six weeks away.

“We could go back to my room,” he peppers kisses up her shoulder and to her neck. Y/n giggles as she pushes him away.

“As much fun as that sounds,” she starts. She picks up her Arithmancy notes and holds them centimeters away from his face. “I think we could benefit from a few extra hours in here.” His face falls flat, groaning as he bangs his head against the open Transfiguration book. 

Y/n finds it extremely amusing how childish he’s being right now. He starts grumbling to himself, flipping to Chapter 23 to read up on how to change the color of one’s eyebrows. She massages the back of his neck, before turning back to study over all these complex equations that Professor Vector expects them to know how and when to use.

It takes about half an hour until Harry grows bored again. He tries to entertain himself by making paper cranes and sending them off to random parts of the library, but that can only really stimulate the mind for so long. He rests his chin on the table, his eyes flickering over to Y/n. She looks so beautiful when she’s completely focused, with her lips quirked to one side as she scribbles through problems in her muggle notebook. He doesn’t even try to resist the urge to kiss her again. 

“You’re being awfully clingy this afternoon,” she says pointedly, but doesn’t pull away when his lips make their way up to her own. She supposes half an hour is enough to deserve a break. 

***

She’s infatuated with the how the pinkish pearl colored liquid that sits in her cauldron smells. Today, Slughorn is having them try their luck at brewing Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world. (It must be noted that they are NOT allowed to remove any product from the chambers, and each brew will be thrown out soon after dismissal.) Every time she breathes in through her nose, scents of strawberries and hot chocolate and Harry’s cologne send her senses into a whirlwind, and she doesn’t know how much more of this seduction she can take. 

“Sit still, will you?” Liam looks up from his brew. It’s easy for him to say, he had brought nose clips to class and didn’t even think about bringing her a pair. 

“I can’t help it!”

It’s like her entire body feels all hot and bothered, and she fans herself with the flap of her textbook to get some sort of air circulation going in this stuffy excuse of a room (it’s the hormones talking). Y/n looks over to her boyfriend’s table, he’s concentrated on finishing up his potion––and sure does he look good doing it. Now, it’s like his scent is the only one emitting from her cauldron. All she can think of doing is running her fingers through his gorgeous brown curls and poke at the dimples on his cheeks. Yet, she nearly gawks when she notices that he’s being surrounded by Greengrass and bunch of other serpent girls that she hasn’t bothered learning the names of. 

“If you were my bird, I would never let another girl get that close to me,” she rolls her eyes and turns around to see Enzo Hopkins, another Slytherin, smirking at her. “Pretty girl like you? Deserves better than that twig.”

Y/n can’t help but snort. Ever since her and Harry had become official, she’s been getting some unwanted attention from this boy. Apparently, he and Harry have some a not-so-great history, and Hopkins has been jealous of him ever since. It started when both boys were looking to fill in the last chaser position back in third year. It had been Harry who had come out with more scored points, but Hopkins had insisted that Harry had cheated––even went as far as to accuse the keeper of fancying him––in order to outdo his own score. And that’s just one of the reasons why they don’t quite get along. (He may have fancied Daphne around the time she and Harry had hooked up, but that has yet to be confirmed.)

“Still not interested,” she tuts, shaking her head because the guy really can’t take a hint. But she doesn’t expect him to grab her elbow to drag her just centimeters from him. His breath smells like the roast beef from the Great Hall, and there’s a little piece of salad stuck between his canine and first premolar. 

“You’d be better off with me, babe. Could give you everything you want. I bet I could make you feel better than Styles ever cou-” Hopkins lets out a cry of pain and slouches over to cradles the area between his legs. 

She towers over him now that he’s been reduced down to his knees. “Don’t call me ‘babe.’”

Their little scene is enough to catch everyone’s attention. Harry’s eyes lock on her, and he’s taking long strides over to where she stands, her arms firm on her hips as she watches the way Hopkins hisses through his gritted teeth. 

He wraps an arm around her waist. “Did–did you do that to him?” She gives him a proud nod, admiring her handy work. 

“Good heavens, what happened here?” Slughorn gasps at the sight. 

“He rammed into the corner of the table, Sir,” Y/n explains, her voice dripping in false innocence. “You should really be more careful, Enzo.”  

The boy lets out a disgruntled screech as he barks at one of his friends to help him up. The rest of the class quickly falls back into their routine, but Harry stays by her side a bit longer. Once Slughorn is out of ear’s shot, Enzo turns to him. “Better keep that bitch of yours in line, Styles, or she’ll get what’s coming to her,” he sneers and inconspicuously taps over his sleeve, fully aware of what its affects would be on Harry.

This makes Harry tense up enough that Y/n can feel his body harden against her. Her boyfriend’s face is hard and indecipherable, a look that she hasn’t seen since they first met. Harry drops his arm from around her and steps towards him.

“You touch her, and I swear, I’ll ki-” but Y/n tugs at his arm before he can finish his sentence. She urges him back, employing Liam to stand in between the two.

“Just ignore him, yeah?” she places a hand on his cheek and nudges him to face her. “Harry, look at me,” she pleads. “It’s nothing but an empty threat.” His chest continues to heave, but he manages to peel his eyes away from Hopkins to look at her. Her eyes exude worry and a slight amount of fear, and Harry doesn’t know if it’s because of what the prat had just said or maybe it’s him.

***

She pushes the mashed potatoes on her plate around with her fork. Her thoughts wandering over to what had happened in Potions. Harry had been so…un-Harry. It’s the only way she can describe it. There was something about the way his eyes had turned shades darker that she can’t seem to shake off. It’s like he had turned into a completely different person in a matter of seconds. Sure, what Hopkins had said had been rude and downright misogynistic, but the boy has been known to be all talk and no action.

“Earlier,” she starts, capturing Liam’s attention.

“What about?” he asks, wiping his mouth with his napkin and setting it to the side.

“It’s just…I’ve never seen him get like that before,” she stares down into her lap, her lips purse tightly to form a straight line. Her eyes find him from across the room, busy listening to Niall to notice her staring. He looks completely calm as he hunches over plate and forks a few pieces of chicken while chuckling at something his friend must have said. No traces of that earlier coldness, he’s back to being her Harry. 

“You can’t blame him, that Hopkins was a right git.”

Maybe Liam’s right. What if it was just his way of defending her? She shouldn’t be getting her knickers in a twist over that! And she’s confident that her boyfriend would never partake in such violence. She sees the way he is with people. The other day, he had helped a first year Hufflepuff pick up all her books when some bully had zapped her a hole in her backpack, then had grabbed said bully and made him apologize. 

He’s a good guy. She wouldn’t be so in love with him if he weren’t. The way he handles all the bad talk about him and his family is extremely admirable. What she’s heard people say about him can be so foul. They have no right to assume anything about him. Just because his father is a Death Eater, doesn’t mean anything. Harry is his own person, and she knows how much he hates being branded because of his name.  

That’s why she really wants him to meet her parents. Her mother seems to already like him, of course, that’s just based on what Y/n has told her in her letters. It’s her dad that she’s slightly worried about, but she hopes that when he sees how amazing Harry is and how utterly happy he makes her, he’ll accept him as hopefully a permanent resident in her life. 

***

That damn cat.

It’s impossible to take him anywhere without him running off. What’s worse is that he somehow managed to escape both their watchful eyes, and now he’s lost somewhere in Hogsmeade. 

“Ashes?” she looks under the bench outside of Honeydukes, then behind one of the rubbish bins across from the Hog’s Head Inn. Harry stops a few of the townsfolk and describes the cat’s physical attributes. 

“He’s around this big and about this tall,” he uses his hands as means of measurement. One of the two witches is deaf in her left ear, so Harry nearly screams into her right. “A cat. C-A-T,” he annunciates, but it still proves to be useless. 

Y/n stops to think. If she were her cat, where would she scurry off to? Ashes really likes food, but she’s already scavenged through the trash. The Shrieking Shack, maybe? No! He’s much too cowardly to even go near it. 

“I honestly have no idea where he could be,” she drops her face onto Harry’s shoulder. He rubs her back and lets out a long breath. “What-what if we never find him? He can’t fend for himself out here! He needs me to cut his fish into small pieces or else he won’t eat it!” 

Harry snorts, which earns him a glare from his girlfriend. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll find him. He’s probably found his way to the owlery,” he says. “Remember? That’s how I found him.” She nods her head, and he takes her hand to leads her to the Three Broomsticks because all this searching has famished him like no one would believe. 

When he opens the door, they nearly collide with someone. Harry rushes out an apology but stops as soon as he recognizes the platinum blonde hair. 

“Ashes!” she squeals. He looks down to see the cat cozied up against Malfoy’s right leg. “So this is where you wandered off too, you silly cat!” She picks him up and continues to lecture him. 

“Saw him clawing at the door to the toilets,” Malfoy says, Harry notices the way he studies her movements. It makes him feel slightly anxious because Malfoy knows exactly what she means to him and he doesn’t like having him––and any other member of that group––so close to her, even if they’ve become somewhat friendlier over the past few months. It’s nothing against Draco in particular, it’s just a reflex he’s developed. 

“Thank you for looking after him,” she says gratefully, ignoring the way Harry’s hand tightens around her waist. “Maybe you’d want to join us for lunch?” 

“I’m going to have to decline,” Draco says, his eyes locked with Harry’s. “but maybe next time.” She watches as he and Harry exchange understanding nods, then Malfoy excuses himself and steps around them. They watch as he disappears through the door. 

Y/n turns back to Harry. “What was that?” she questions. 

“What was what?” he plays off, putting a hand on her shoulder as they find themselves an empty table. It’s in the middle of the room, right next to a group of fifth year Ravenclaws. His eyes glaze over the menu, and she knows this is his way of avoiding the topic. “You want your usual, love?” Before she can even answer, he’s halfway to the bar. 

*** 

The last game of the season, Slytherin versus Gryffindor, and the crowd is absolutely going crazy to see who will take the Inter-House Quidditch Cup. All the players gather in the center of the field, as they listen to Madam Hooch give her pre-game spiel about having a ‘nice clean game’––which everyone knows never happens, especially when these two opposing teams go head to head.

So far, Gryffindor is leading by twenty points. The golden snitch has yet to be seen, which gives the Slytherin chasers enough time catch up. Luckily, Niall (who is the team’s keeper) is able to catch the quaffle before it passes through the left ring and tosses it to Harry when the latter quickly sweeps by on his broom. With it tucked securely under his arm, he dodges his way across the field. Y/n holds her breath as he makes it close enough to attempt his shot. She watches as he throws it up in the air and hits it with the back of his broomstick, right between Weasley’s hands, and through the middle ring. 

“Ten points for Slytherin!” Zacharias Smith announces through the loud speaker.  

The rest of Slytherin House erupts in cheers, and she joins in despite being sat with those from her own house. She can’t help it though because he just looks so good in that uniform, and those nice fitted pants make his thighs look extra good and give his butt a nice plumpness to it. Just before the game, she’d pulled Harry into an empty classroom while he was on his way to the locker rooms. It was just so she could give him a courage boost, and he didn’t mind it one bit. 

“I know you want to support your boyfriend and all, but the least you can do is take off the jumper,” Liam motions to the back of her grey jumper with STYLES embroidered on the back in emerald green lettering. He pulls his hood over his head and seeps further into his seat, even goes as far as to cover over the side of his face “You’re embarrassing me.”

Y/n pulls the strings of his hoodie so that it completely obstructs his vision. “Oh, hush,” she giggles. Another wave of roars breaks out, and she turns her attention back to the game. Potter and Harper neck and neck as both seekers chase after the golden snitch. Some of the other players pause midair to get a glimpse of the action. 

“Potter and Harper have both spotted the snitch! Who will get to it first?”

She looks for Harry, who uses their momentarily distracted states to snatch the quaffle right from Ginny Weasley’s arms before she even gets a chance to see him coming. He flies towards the goal rings, a bludger hot on his tail when one of Gryffindor’s beaters––she hadn’t noticed which one––hits the erratic ball in his direction. 

“Harry, look out!” she screams, covering her eyes because the bludger is just that close to knocking him off his broom. Four players have already been rushed to the Hospital Wing, which clearly proves her point that flying is just about the worst thing about the Wizarding World. Once one is able to apparate, there really is no purpose in having to ride that death stick. In their second year, Ron Weasley had crashed his father’s flying Ford Anglia into the Whomping Willow. Point validated. 

A gasp spreads amongst the crowd, and it only worries her further. “I can’t watch,” she turns to face away from the game. 

“Styles scores another ten points for Slytherin! Both teams are tied with 100 points each.” 

She turns on her heel and looks through the cracks between her fingers. “Oh thank, god,” she breathes out and shakes Liam’s arm in excitement. When Harry looks her way, she blows him a kiss which has the cute little crevices of his cheeks popping out and he shoots her back a knee-buckling smile that she loves so much. 

***

The Black Lake glistens in the moonlight, its water reaching out to encompass the rocks that scatter across the sand. It’s peaceful here, only the sounds of the night filling their ears as they lay against a tree, a blanket transfigured into a cot beneath them. A half empty bottle of firewhisky is passed between the two of them, intoxicated giggles carrying through the air whenever one of them burps aloud. 

Half of the student body are cramped in Gryffindor Tower, celebrating how Potter had been the first one to gets his hands on the golden snitch. Had McLaggen not hit the bludger into the Slytherin seeker’s broom, the turnout would have probably been different. But that’s Quidditch, a brutal mess of a game. All of Y/n’s friends are up there basking in their house’s victory, but she would much rather spend the night enveloped in his arms. 

Harry finds that drunk Y/n is the cuddliest person in the world. The warmth brought about by the alcohol burns her cheeks and has her leaving sloppy kisses over his face. And she tells him stories that he’s sure she’s making up as she goes.

“…and that’s why river trolls and mountain trolls don’t get along!” she exclaims.

And she’s just met with his laughter. “That’s enough for you.” He takes the bottle from her hands. A cute little pout splays across her lips, and he really can’t help himself and just kisses her. His hands roam up her sides as he listens to her whimper into his mouth. 

She can taste the firewhisky on his lips, or maybe it’s the flavor coming from her own. Whatever the case, she feels like she’s on cloud nine. Her fingers travel underneath his shirt, marking crescents into the toned muscles of his back.

“We’re outside, love,” he chuckles when he pulls back. 

It’s most definitely the alcohol talking, but she’s feeling uncharacteristically frisky. Her hips unintentionally buck up, pushing pressure into his crotch region. “Don’t care.” He lets out a groan and buries his face into her neck, sucking tenderly on her pulse while her hand palms him through his trousers. “Want to make you feel good.” It’s as though her words are wrapped within a halo, and his mind gets all fuzzy as she wraps her legs around his hips and turns them over. 

“I-I want to try something,” she blushes, her fingertips gently pulling his trousers and boxers down by their waistbands to about just below his thighs. They’ve only been intimate a handful of times and have yet to fully familiarize themselves with each other’s bodies. Plus, there was a very explicit article in Witch Weekly entitled, “How to Please Your Wizard in Bed” and her curiosity had once again gotten the better of her. How could she not read it? 

“What’s that, pet?” he rasps. He only ever calls her that in times like these. She doesn’t respond, instead settles herself in between his legs. His breath catches in his throat when she takes his stiff member in her soft hand.

She watches how his eyes close and his head falls back onto the cot. The rise and fall of his chest uneven as she jerks her hand up and down. “Does…does this feel good?” Her front teeth sink into her bottom lip. 

“Feels brilliant,” he croaks, and he bucks into her hand. This gives her a bit more courage. Before he’s got time to process her actions, her hot breath tickles the swollen tip, her lips just barely connecting with the skin. Dribbles of pre-cum bubble from the slit, and her tongue grazes over it, the new and welcoming taste of him sliding down her throat, and she swears she can even feel it once it’s gone down into her belly. With the adrenaline coursing through her system, she confidently takes a good amount of him into her mouth. Her tongue running over each vein and swirling over each curve. She really is trying to drive him mad, that he’s completely sure of. 

Not a single coherent sentence can escape him. All the words feel jumbled as he revels in how good she’s treating his aching cock. Salazar save him because he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to last if she keeps this up. He watches through hooded lids as she bobs her head over him and gathers her hair in his fist, wanting to get a better view of her pretty lips sucking him off. He tries to control himself, resisting the carnal desire to fuck her mouth, but it’s becoming too much for him to fight. His hips buck forward, enough to send his cock into her tight throat. Tears start to prickle behind her eyes, but in no way does she want to stop. The control she has over him, she loves it. She loves how he’s completely dependent on her to help him reach euphoric bliss. 

“I’m about to-fuck…” he whines. His knuckles grip the edges of the cot tightly between his knuckles. He’s so close, his senses heightened, every nerve in his body being washed over by the feeling of him tumbling over the edge. Their eyes meet, his mouth parted as he watches her jerk the base of his cock, while the rest of him is still entrapped between her swollen lips. The vibrations of her moans are the last bit he needs. His eyes shut tight when his orgasm rips through him, long white ribbons of his hot cum fill her mouth.

She swallows every last bit of it. The salty-sweet taste giving her goosebumps all over her body. She really can’t believe she just did that, and yet she’s so happy that she did. Some sort of fulfillment comes out of him falling apart right in front of her. 

“That was…that was bloody amazing,” he pants, pulling her back up to lay on his chest. He covers her lips with his, still able to taste himself on her. 

“Yeah?” she muses, tracing circles on his sweaty torso. 

He nods his head vigorously. “Most definitely.” 

***

In their fourth year Barty Crouch Jr. (who was posing as Mad Eye Moody) had given his class a demonstration of the three Unforgivable Curses. It had been the first time that most of them had been exposed to such cruelty in the seemingly sheltered environment of their beloved school. A poor harmless spider had become subject to such treacherous treatment, each spell casted with such carelessness, that some students still carry the burden of that day deep within their chests. 

Unfortunately, two out of the three are part of the Sixth-Year curriculum. Today the Gryffindors and Slytherins gather around Professor Snape, as they are forced to learn the Cruciatus Curse. Y/n stands in between Liam and Harry, leaning into the latter’s side as she hides her face in his sleeve as Snape does a demonstration of his own on Mr. Filch. The caretaker’s yelps of pain bounce off the walls.

“I hate it,” Y/n mutters. How in the world is this appropriate to teach? Learning about it is one thing, but having to actually subject another to it? It’s outrageous! There might be a war simmering to the surface, but that doesn’t mean that this is the only way of fighting it, right? And maybe Y/n is foolish for wanting to see the glass as half full, but it’s all she can afford.

Her father, is having a field day at work. New Death Eater activity has been swarming around Wizarding England, which means he can barely blink twice before another problem strikes. Knowing that her father is out there, coming face to face with these types of dangerous enchantments as he and his fellow aurors infiltrate a crime site…it’s beyond scary, and all the more nerve-wracking.

None of this is new to Harry, however. In fact, he’s seen those red zaps of light torment others more than he can count. He brings his girlfriend into his chest and covers his hand over one of her ears. He lets his mouth hover in her sweet-smelling hair as he keeps his eyes forward. “It’ll be over soon,” he tells her, rubbing soothing circles on the small of her back. She lifts her head up and nods slowly, and he kisses her forehead and whispers a few more words of reassurance. 

“You are to only perform this with the mildest of intensity, do I make myself clear?” Snape turns to the class, his face as unreadable as ever. He orders for everyone to break into pairs, and each student rushes to find a partner that will hopefully go easy on them. Y/n groups with Parvati Patel, which leaves Harry and Niall together. 

Almost immediately, Niall is letting out little cowers of pain––and Harry has only put in the bare minimum of his efforts––hunching over on his knees. “He said lightly!” the Irishman cries.

“It barely grazed over your arm. Not my fault you’re a ninny,” Harry teases. “C’mon then, have at me.” He holds his arms out low at his sides, signaling for Niall to hit him. That flash of red light hits him in the shoulder. He can barely feel it at all. It’s almost as though Niall had just thrown a pebble at him. 

His friend is clearly annoyed, huffing as he mutters a few colorful words under his breath. “What are you, immune or something?” 

“I’ve got a high pain tolerance, is all,” Harry plays off, but the truth is, is that he’s experienced much worse in these past few months. The memories of his initiation still fresh in his mind, as they replay over and over until he passes out in his bed from exhaustion. But then even then, fragments of it still haunt his nightmares. Whenever he closes his eyes, it’s all he can see.

The cloaked figure grasps Harry’s wrist tightly between his fingers. The fingertips of his other hand dancing over the naked skin of his forearm, his long nails tauntingly scraping over a long prominent vein.

“Your father would be very proud,” the figure says, the strange sound of empathy tensing the muscles in Harry’s jaw. He takes out his wand and holds it above the untainted flesh. Harry looks up to meet his hostile eyes. His chest hurts, he can feel the blood drain from his body as the wand pokes at him. There are a few tears fighting to flow out, and Harry has to close his lids shut to conceal such a moment of weakness.

Not here. Not with these people around. Not with all that’s on the line.

An incantation flows through the air and once it reaches his ears, it feels as though his skin is on fire. Excruciating pain courses through him, but he doesn’t dare flinch. Harry holds his breath, just waiting for it all to just end.

After what feels like hours of standing there, the cloaked figure releases Harry’s wrist. He opens up his eyes, and they immediately land on the raw markings that take up the length of his forearm. It’s terrorizing. The feeling of it ingrained permanently on him makes him feel as though he’s just taken a bludger to the stomach.

It feels wrong. He feels like scum. What would she think of him now? These markings on his arm, claiming him as part of the world he tried so hard to pull away from.

He’s a fraud.

Suddenly he remembers that he isn’t the only person in the room. He lifts his head and finds himself surrounded my masked men. And although he cannot directly look into any of their eyes, he can feel an expectancy as he turns back to the seemingly bigger figure.

He takes a deep breath in through his nose, his nostrils slightly twitching as he meets the cloaked figure’s gaze. The man’s rotting teeth on full display as he smiles wickedly at Harry.

Harry looks past the man, over his shoulder. His mother and Gemma stand small behind him, they give him soft nods, their mouths formed in thin fragile lines. The lump in his throat is forced down, and he takes just a few moments to find the strength to allow these next words to come out. All he thinks about is that he’s doing this for all of them.

3…For his sister.

2…For his mother.

1…For her.

He bends his body forward, his face parallel to the floor, looking at the cloaked figure’s dirty, bare feet.

“My Lord.”

His eyes open at the chilling scream of agony, and he immediately recognizes it to belong to his girlfriend. He snaps his neck in her direction, his blood runs cold when he sees her in a heap on the cold marble floor. 

A crowd quickly forms around her, and he has to shove each person out of the way just to break through.

“Get out of my way!” he barks at them, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike fearfully clear a path for him. By now, everyone knows that they’re an item. And while not everyone in his house is as accepting as Niall or even Malfoy, everyone knows and respects the name Styles.  

Or so he thought.

By the time he’s pushed Lavender Brown to the side to get to her, Liam is trying to help her get up, but she can barely move. Her face is scrunch up in pure anguish, barely able to pick her upper body up. 

“What the fuck happened!?” Harry yells at Parvati, as he gathers Y/n in his lap. “Love, are you okay?” his tone less harsh. He cups her face, wiping away the pained tears that scatter across her flushed cheeks. She weakly shrugs her shoulders, her head falling into the crook of his neck as she takes staggered breaths. 

“We had just finished, but then someone struck her out of nowhere!” Parvati says hurriedly. 

A few sniggers catch his ears. He turns to his left and sees Hopkins, smirking down at them, with a wordless exchange with Liam, Harry carefully moves Y/n to rest in his arms. Before she even has time to process that he’s no longer by her side, he’s back on his feet. His eyes are blazing as he gets up, his head spinning with rage as the boy continues to look at him with such smugness. But it’s quickly wiped away when Harry leaps at him, collar scrunched tightly in his fist, the tip of his wand nearly piercing through his neck. No words are able to come out of him because his mind is clouded and all he sees is a belligerent shade of red. 

“What’s wrong, Styles? Your Gryffindor girlfriend can’t take a little pinch?” Hopkins taunts. Although, the nervous flicker of his eyes to Harry’s wand is not unnoticed by those around them. Niall tries to get in between the two, but it proves useless because there’s no getting through to Harry.

“I warned you that if you ever touched her I’d-”

“You’d what? Kill me? You don’t have the balls,” he continues. Harry seethes at him, his knuckles turning white from how hard he grips his wand. “Go on then, you know the spell. Big Death Eater like yourself.” The last part is spoken low enough so only he can hear it.

All eyes are one Harry, each pair anticipating his next move. They all know him to be more of a pacifist, one of those who rarely got involved in any fights (unless those playful headlocks with Niall count, but surely, they wouldn’t). Y/n tries her best to get back on her feet, but it’s as though she can still feel the jolts of electrifying pain eating at her. Fear drowns out the feeling, however; she’s afraid of what Harry will do. 

But surely, he isn’t capable of committing something as extreme as that…right? Never has she seen him so enraged. It’s another side of him that she never knew existed, and it scares her because she knows that this isn’t her Harry. She scolds herself for being so weak because she knows that she’s the reason why he’s gotten so worked up. 

Liam tries to hold her down when she tries to get up. “Don’t move, you were hit pretty hard.” 

The words are right at the tip of his tongue. Hopkins is right, Harry does know the spell, and he damn well knows how to use it. It already tastes bitter in his mouth, as the dark part of him itches for him to just spit it out. He mouths the first word, but the second remains caged by the sensible part of him that won’t allow for him to truly become what he’s always despised. But he wants to say it, wants to show Hopkins––and everyone watching them––that no one touches his girl. 

“Harry…” he hears her call his name. Her voice strangled by fear and desperation. “Harry, please…” His wand pokes harder into the boy’s throat in such frustration. He’s not a murderer, nor does he have any intentions of getting sent to Azkaban and sharing a cell with his negligent father. He’s better than that.

At least that’s what he wants himself to believe. 

It takes all the self-control he has left to release the tight grip he has on Hopkins’ collar. His wand being stuffed back into his pocket. With one last hardened look, he turns his back to him. 

She’s finally able to breathe again, the constriction in her chest easing up as he walks away from him. Their eyes meet, and she motions for him to come back to her. With one last glare over his shoulder, Harry picks up his feet and wills himself away. 

***

The Hospital Wing is full of the moaning and groaning of students suffering from varying ailments. A few beds down, lies a girl who had somehow managed to curse her nose off while trying to remove some of her acne. So even though her face is as clear as day, the obvious absence above her mouth really does take away from her flawless skin. There’s also a boy who has been laying there unconscious for two days because of some freak mishap out in the Courtyard.  

“I’m fine, really,” Y/n whines, but Harry shakes his head as he tries to keep her still in the hospital bed. She’s a tad bit annoyed because she really doesn’t need to be here, especially considering the state of everyone else. But he can be just as stubborn as she and refused to take no for an answer as he carried her right to Madam Pomfrey’s door. 

“Could’ve fooled me.” His voice lacks the usual cockiness. As he sits down beside her, an arm under her head as he mindlessly plays with the bottoms of her hair. Since coming here, he can barely look at her without feeling guilty. It’s supposed to be his job to protect her, but he let this happen. What’s even worse is that he allowed a stupid school bully to hurt her, how is he ever going to stop The Dark Lord from doing the same?

He closes his eyes and lets his face fall into her hair. Her sweet scent evening out his irregular heartbeat. Despite not wanting to be here, Y/n is glad that he’s relaxed a great amount since earlier. She kisses his collarbone and runs her hand up and down his thigh.

She gargles the words in her mouth, chewing on her tongue before it accidently slips out of her. “If you could, would you have done it?” And she immediately regrets the question.

He takes a few moments to respond, and she thinks her heart might stop beating. He lifts her chin up with the back of his knuckle. Her eyes lift from his mouth up to his eyes. They’re not as dark as before, but the light in them still visibly absent. 

“I think I might have.” 

It’s the way he says it, each word sounding more regretful than the last. She takes in his appearance, the way his jaw tenses so much that the sharp bone nearly breaks through his skin. Does he mean it? A new question rises to the front of her mind, but she won’t push him any further.

They sit in silence. Both of them having nothing else to say. All she can do is give him a small nod of understanding, her eyes disconnecting with his. She turns back and rests her cheek against his sturdy chest. She begins to feel her eyelids getting heavier as she focuses on his heartbeat. As hard as she tries to fight off sleep, the warmth from his body isn’t helping her in the slightest. A yawn passes through her lips, and she finds herself snuggling further into him. He pulls the white sheets of the infirmary up just below her shoulder. The back of his fingers graze over her cheek as he lulls her to sleep. Once her eyes remain closed, he presses his lips to the spot between her eyebrows. His own eyes closing as he inhales deeply.

“I won’t ever let anything happen to you.”

***

It’s nearing curfew, the sound of the soles of his leather shoes tapping against the marble flooring echo through the nearly empty corridor. Madam Pomfrey had quite literally pushed him out of the Hospital Wing and towards the staircase, despite his incessant pleads to let him stay. “I assure you Miss Y/l/n will survive a night without you, now shoo!” she had said to him. And it’s not like he doesn’t have faith in the matron––she’d mended quite a few of his broken bones during Quidditch season––but he’s afraid of what could happen when his girlfriend isn’t right next to him. 

The lighting falters drastically in intensity as he reaches the dungeons. Only the illumination from the mounted torches guides his way towards the stone wall that conceals the entry way to the Slytherin Common Room. Before he can carelessly mutter the password, he stops. A daunting presence makes itself known behind him, the hairs on the back of his neck rise up as he lowers his gaze down to the floor. His eyes trail backwards, until they are met with the long black robes that cover the black shoes.

“Professor,” he draws out the word as he slowly pivots on his heel. 

Snape’s long, greasy hair cupping the perimeters of his cheeks, an unamused look distinguishable in his black irises. Without a word, he’s dragging Harry by the back of his collar towards a secluded area of the dungeons. Harry knows better than to resist, but that doesn’t stop him from letting out grunts of frustration as he gets thrown against the wall. The professor releases him, his hand snapping open as if the fabric were made of fire and thorns. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Snape’s low and nasally monotone voice bites at him.

Harry scoffs, pushing himself off the cold stone wall and standing up to his full height. “I was going to head back to my room, but it seems as though you have other plans for me.” 

The older wizard glares at him. “While you may find humor in all of this, I am trying to make sure that you keep on track. Which means such behavior exemplified earlier must be put to and end so that you can fulfill your responsibilities. Do you understand me, or are you too taken by your feelings for Miss Y/l/n?” he sneer. Harry narrows his eyes at the former potion’s master. His tightened fists hidden by the sleeves of his robes. Whenever he hears any of these people mention her name, he’s immediately brought on edge.

“The deal was that she stays out of this,” Harry spits back. “I’ll keep up my end of the bargain if you lot keep yours.” There’s a fire in his eyes, sparks of blazing fury overtaking his clear green orbs. This had only been the first strike, but it had been enough to send Y/n to the hospital wing. He doesn’t think he can fathom what further potential threats will hold. 

Snape lets out a bitter laugh. “As difficult as it may be for your teeny mind to comprehend, The Dark Lord is testing you. He has got eyes everywhere, so I advise you watch yourself and think twice before you get yourself in a situation that I guarantee you will not survive. None of you will.” And just like that, he flips his cape and marches down the corridor until his figure is lost in the darkness.

The younger wizard is left standing alone in the empty corridor. He leans back against the wall, sliding down until his bottom hits the marbled floor. His arms balance themselves on his bent knees as his head falls forward. A small puddle forms right beneath his nose. 

***

A/N: After 324908 delays, here it is! It’s a bit shorter than the previous part, but I didn’t want to rush through it too much. There are so many things that I would like to happen, and if you guys are willing to bear with me, I think I can make this into a full on series! (Each part will probably be a minimum of 10k words.)

What do you guys think? What what will happen next? Will Y/n find out about Harry’s secret? Send in your comments and questions here!

[harrywavycurly]

Alice tried not to let it bother her, she tried to just act as if everything was fine and the fact that Niall hadn’t talked to her all day wasn’t making her feel uneasy. She let out a frustrated groan as she looked at her phone for the fifth time in the last ten minutes and was still met with nothing. She placed her chin in her palm as she leaned onto her desk trying to get her brain to focus on the work she needed to get done but she just couldn’t be bothered to think about anything other than what Niall was doing that was keeping him from talking to her.

“So what are you and that Irish dude doing tonight?” Her thoughts were interrupted by Vivian’s voice as she leaned against the doorframe of her office. Vivian and Alice met while interning and Alice knew they were going to be best friends when they both complained about the lack of free snacks in the break room. “You gonna finally tell him you love him and then have hot rough Valentine’s Day sex?” Alice just rolled her eyes as Vivian wiggled her eyebrows while stepping into the small office.

“He’s in New York for the week.” She explained as she glanced at her phone when she saw the screen light up only to frown when she saw it was just an Instagram notification. Vivian just took a seat in one of the empty chairs in front of the desk with a huff as she looked at the worry lines appearing on Alice’s face as she looked at her phone.

“So like Skype sex then?” She watched Alice shoot her a glare as a small smile worked its way onto her face. “I mean i hear it’s amazing, take a screenshot of his package for me I kind of have a bet going about how big he is.” Alice couldn’t help but laugh as Vivian just shrugged and began picking at the polish on her nails.

“Sadly we kind of can’t have sex at all since he doesn’t even know how I feel about him and then there is the whole issue of us not talking.” Alice looked down at her keyboard to avoid seeing the look she knew Vivian was giving her. She knew the look very well by now, her eyebrows would be raised and her mouth would be hung open while her eyes would be wide out of shock.

“What the fuck? Alice what do you mean you aren’t talking?” Her tone was harsh as she stood up from the chair so she could glare at her friend. Alice just let out a sigh as she turned her head so she was looking up at Vivian as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“He just hasn’t texted me today, he’s kind of a busy dude though Viv so it’s not a big deal.” She hated making excuses for Niall, she found herself doing it a lot lately and it was beginning to annoy not only her but everyone around her as well. Vivian rolled her eyes as she listened to Alice’s lame excuse as to why her supposed best friend wasn’t talking to her.

“You know what? Fuck this.” Alice raised an eyebrow as Vivian reached over and took her phone off her desk. “We are getting drunk tonight, Niall Horan isn’t the only busy person and when he sees all the fun party snaps we are going to send him he’s gonna blow your phone up so fast he’ll be the one admitting his feelings for you.” Alice just laughed and nodded her head as Vivian tucked her phone into the pocket of her slacks.

“Pick me up at 7?” She asked as Vivian turned and headed for the door of Alice’s office.

“Sounds good, you better have flowers for me. I’m a classy bitch and I deserve flowers.” Vivian stated over her shoulder making Alice laugh as she watched her turn and head back to her own office with Alice’s phone still in her pocket. “And no you’re not getting this back until the end of work today.” Alice shot her the bird when she poked her head back into the office making her just laugh and stick her tongue out at Alice before finally going back to her office.

By the time Alice got home from work she had almost forgotten all about the fact Niall hadn’t texted or called but she was soon reminded when she entered her kitchen and saw the flowers on her counter. He had sent them to her the day he left, letting her know he would miss her while he was in New York. She slid her phone out of her back pocket, unlocking it quickly and scrolling through her texts till she found Vivian’s name so she could double check the time and plans for the evening.

A few hours later Alice was opening up her door to a very happy Vivian who held a bottle of Tequila in her hands. Alice just laughed as she moved to the side so Vivian could walk past and make her way to the kitchen to find the shot glasses.

“Figured we could do a little pre gaming.” Vivian explained as she sat a shot glass in front of Alice who was biting on her bottom lip, tequila and her never have gone well together.

“Cheers to us,” she raised the glass up and smiled as Vivian poured herself a shot. “Happy Valentine’s Day!” With that the two clinked glasses and downed the shot, the tequila burning as it made its way down their throats.

“Did you really get me flowers?” Alice giggled as she watched Vivian eye the roses in the vase on the counter. She looked away as Vivian picked the little card from the arrangement so she could read it. “Are you kidding me? He sent you flowers the day before Valentine’s Day? Let me guess they are so that when he pulled the shit he’s pulling right now you’d just forgive him because at least he sent you flowers while he was gone.” Vivian’s tone was full of annoyance and Alice knew she was at least partially right, Niall always seemed to blow her off a few days after gifting her something and it was a pattern she wished would stop recurring.

“Can I get another?” Alice picked up her empty shot glass and handed it to Vivian who just tossed the little card over her shoulder as she smiled and took the glass and refilled it before handing it back.

“Party on Wayne.” Alice laughed as Vivian lifted her now full shot glass. She reached over and clinked their glasses together while Vivian shot her a little wink.

“Party on Garth.” The two leaned their head back and quickly downed the liquid causing both of their faces to scrunch up from the burn of the tequila. “God why do we do that to ourselves?” Alice asked as she slid her empty shot glass towards the middle of the counter while Vivian just shrugged as she put the top back onto the bottle before placing it back onto the counter next to the flowers.

“Let’s roll doll face! Time to party like we don’t have work tomorrow!” Alice laughed as she watched Vivian do a little dance before grabbing her clutch and heading for the front door with Alice following behind her, grabbing her purse before both of them left her apartment and towards their favorite bar just a few blocks away.

“S’just that I don’t know,” Alice mumbled as she took the final sip of her second martini, Vivian just laughed as she watched her friend struggle to find the words to answer her question. “He’s really handsome.” Alice stated as she placed the now empty glass down onto the bar. Her and Vivian had made themselves comfortable at the bar an hour or so ago and they’d already managed to finish two drinks and a shot that was bought by a very nice man who was sitting a few barstools away from them.

“You can’t just be friends with him because he’s handsome Alice!” Vivian huffed as she reached into her clutch for her chapstick. “I know you love him, but I also think it’s about time he knew it.” Alice just shrugged as a she smiled at the bartender who grabbed her empty glass and headed off to make her another extra dirty vodka martini.

“Oh that’s not the only reason I’m friends with him you asshole, he’s actually quite nice you just don’t know him like I do.” Alice explained as Vivian handed her the chapstick, she quickly applied it to her lips before handing it back. “Besides I can't just tell him I love him all willy nilly it has to be like something big and grand.” Alice stated as a fresh drink was placed in front of her causing her to smile while Vivian just rolled her eyes as she watched Alice take a nice big sip.

"You should propose!" Alice couldn’t help but lean her head back in laughter at Vivian’s words, as if she would just drop to a knee and ask Niall to marry her without him even being aware she even had feelings for him in the first place. “I’m not kidding, you can’t get much bigger or grander than proposing!” Vivian’s eyes were wide with excitement as Alice just rolled her eyes as she took a big swig of her martini causing her to wince a bit as the burning sensation hit her throat.

“How m’I gonna propose when the dude won’t even text me?” Alice whined as Vivian reached over and grabbed her drink so she could steal a sip of it. “Can’t marry someone who can’t text me back on Valentine’s Day!” Vivian just rolled her eyes as she finished off Alice’s drink for her.

“Oh he loves you, know he wouldn’t just ignore you he’s probably been in meetings about his next album or some shit.” Alice shrugged as Vivian placed the empty glass down on the bar. “Maybe he’s been thinking about you all day and is in the middle of a writing session for his newest song called Alice with the Slow Hands!” Alice laughed while Vivian just shot her a wink with a grin on her face.

“So I just drop to one knee and propose? Do I get a ring? How does this work?” Alice questioned making Vivian just shrug and giggle at the worried and confused expression on Alice’s face that had her eyebrows pinched together and her bottom lip poked out in a slight pout.

"Ah yes, the old Irish tradition. He's gotta say yes or he has to pay." The two of them turned their attention towards the bartender who was cleaning a whiskey glass with a small smirk on his face. Alice raised an eyebrow at him making him chuckle as he leaned over resting his elbows on the bar.

“Oldest trick in the book to get a man to marry you, just go to Ireland on Leap Day and propose, you don’t need to have a ring but you can if you'd like. If he says no he’s got to buy you a silk gown so either way it’s a good deal." His voice was serious as he stood up so he could place the now clean glass back on the shelf. Vivian reached over and smacked Alice on the arm causing her to shoot her a glare as she rubbed at the spot while Vivian rolled her eyes.

“See! It’s an Irish tradition! Niall is Irish, it’s perfect! A sign actually because guess what bitch,” Alice watched her friend pull out her phone and scroll on it for a moment before a grin took over her face as she shoved the brightly lit screen into Alice’s face. “It’s a fucking leap year!” Alice felt her mouth drop as Vivian squealed in excitement making the bartender just laugh and shake his head as he began making someone’s drink.

“Holy shit.” Alice placed a hand on her forehead as a smile slowly made its way onto her face causing Vivian to grin. “I’m gonna propose!” The two girls wrapped their arms around each other in a tight embrace as the bartender placed two shot glasses down in front of them.

“On the house, good luck love I hope the lad says yes.” He gave Alice a smile before heading back down to the other end of the bar. Vivian picked up one of the glasses and handed it to Alice who was still just smiling at the realization that she was in fact going to propose to Niall.

“So if he says no to the proposal, this silk gown thing, does he get to pick it out? Or like do you just send him the bill when you’re done shopping?” Alice couldn’t help but laugh at Vivian’s questions, as if Alice knew any of the answers considering she didn’t even know about this tradition an hour ago.

“Just take the shot Viv we’ll worry about the details later.” Vivian just shrugged and nodded her head before taking the fruity tasting shot, a smile appearing on her face as she stacked her empty glass on top of Alice’s.

“Alice Olivia Horan,” Alice felt her cheeks get hot as Vivian teasingly nudged her in the side with her elbow. “Not bad, way better sounding than Hailee Horan. Who wants their initials to all be the same letter? No one, that’s who.” Alice instantly felt her mood shift at the mention of Hailee. She couldn’t deny that Hailee was actually a really nice person, Niall had introduced them at one of his little parties and Alice even somehow managed to get added into a group chat with her and Niall which mainly consisted of them sending memes and funny selfies to each other but still she couldn’t help but feel weird everytime someone mentioned her.

“Don’t start Viv.” Alice warned making Vivian just roll her eyes as she placed her arm around Alice’s shoulder bringing her closer so their heads were touching.

“I love you,” Alice just smiled as she felt Vivian place a sloppy kiss to her cheek. “Don’t worry we are gonna make Niall your husband.” Alice giggled as Vivian pulled away from her so she could grab her clutch from the top of the bar. The two of them managed to get off their barstools with little trouble but when they got outside the bar they both decided that walking all the way back to Alice’s apartment just wasn’t going to happen.

“Goodnight lovey! Have sweet and sexy dreams about your soon to be husband!” Alice rolled her eyes as she fumbled with her keys while Vivian leaned her head out of the window of the Uber that had just dropped Alice off outside her apartment building.

“Bye Viv! Love you!” Alice shouted before opening the door that led to the lobby of her building, she looked over her shoulder and giggled as she saw Vivian blow her a kiss before putting her head back inside the car. “M’gonna propose to my best friend.” She slurred to the security guard who watched the front door, when he just nodded his head and went back to watching the monitors in front of him Alice felt a pout take over her face. She pushed the up button and waited for the elevator all while giving the security guard a slight glare, she didn’t know why he couldn’t even give her a half assed congratulations.

When she finally managed to get inside her apartment she smiled as she slipped off her shoes and headed straight for her bathroom, tonight deserved a bubble bath. She tossed her phone onto her bed as she undressed and started running the bath water. A smile appeared on her face as she tossed in a bath bomb instantly making the water turn into a mixture of pinks and purples. The warmth of the water instantly made her relax and let out a sigh of content when she leaned her head back against the edge of the tub as she sunk further into the water letting the bubbles surround her.

The sound of her phone going off is what made her open her eyes what felt like hours later but was really just about fifteen minutes. Alice looked around and frowned when she saw that the majority of the bubbles had disappeared, she let out a groan as she carefully stood up and grabbed the towel she had set next to the tub, quickly wrapping herself up in it once she had stepped onto her plush bath mat that felt soft on the bottom of her feet. She rushed into her bedroom and grabbed her phone only to frown when she saw she had missed the call, she unlocked her phone and felt her heartbeat start to quicken when she saw that the person had left a voicemail.

“Hi love, m’sorry I missed our dinner date. Jus got so caught up in some meetings and den met a few people fo some drinks and ya know how dat goes.” Alice couldn’t help but sigh as Niall’s voice filled her room as she put her phone on speaker so she could head back into the bathroom to change into her nightgown. “How was yer day? Feels weird not talkin to ya and jus blabbin away to a machine. Did ya get the flowers I sent ya? Fuck, keep thinkin yer gonna answer. Uh well uhm I guess jus call me back? Happy Valentine’s Day, love ya. Miss ya a bunch.” Alice just stared at her phone with her arms crossed over her chest while she chewed on her bottom lip.

She looked over at her clock on her nightstand trying to figure out if she should call him back or if she should just let him sweat it out and call him tomorrow. She ran a hand over her face as a groan escaped her lips, she was annoyed that even though he had gone the whole day without talking to her she was still itching to call him back because he sounded so cute on the phone all flustered over the fact he got her voicemail. Finally she pulled back the covers to her bed and climbed in, she reached over and placed her phone on the charger deciding that if Niall could go all day without thinking of texting or calling her than she could go all night without calling him back.