#soon the vultures will have friends

[hylianengineer]

My new laptop just got its first stickers - vultures from @quailtea ! They're so adorable, I am putting them on everything. Vultures on my laptop, vultures on my phone, vultures on my sd drive.

[peridots-pixiwolf]

yknow I play a lot of hard games but usually not "took 73 days to beat" hard

[cryptidcasanova]

Lover Boy

Mob!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: It's the Bridgerton carriage scene, but make it mob!Bucky.

Warnings: Angst, light Smut, Language, Possessive Bucky.

3.5k

The poll results are in, and I couldn't help but think this might be a good way to remedy both sides.

You were mortified.

One hand fisted against quivering lips, and the other gripped at your clutch. As if anything else could go wrong tonight. Shaky steps guided you down the carpeted stairs.

There was another gala, another meeting of the power players in town. And it was another night wasted at the hands of James Barnes.

You hated how much you cared for him. You still cared for him even after all the stunts he pulled to pull you away from the Maximoff heir. Always had.

Ever since you were kids, you remembered having that love-sick look in your eyes. You grew up with inner-circle families and were friends with Rebecca, Sarah, and their brothers. And Bucky? Well, shit, he was always there with his dark hair and curious eyes. It was hard not to fall for him.

Even as you grew up, numbing yourself to the reality of the business and the choices that came with it, you couldn't ignore him forever. You knew that Bucky was raised to be powerful, honorable, and frightening. You knew the stories – of all the beautiful women who couldn't tie him down longer than a night or two. You knew how he flaunted some new girl at every event. It was hard not to overhear them whispering among the men.

'What about her?' and the laugh on his hips saying, 'She's just a family friend. Don't worry about her; I'd never be with her like that.'

You knew he would break your heart, and still. You loved him.

Again, mortified.

He was your first kiss on some lonely night when you couldn't help but ask him. But that had been ages ago. He was grown now, the head of the family and the king of his empire.

But there was something different about tonight, something predestined that started long before you stepped outside your door. It started out as Sam's idea weeks before, in the same bar where you ended up every weekend.

He wanted to try and get you to mingle among the local 'rabble-rousers' as if he pretended not to be one of them. Your laugh at his suggestion pulled Steve and Bucky's attention from across the bar.

"You want me to do what, exactly?" You teased. "Throw myself in the way of wealthy investors and scout out the competition? That's much more up Nat's alley; there's a reason why they call her the Black Widow, you know –"

"No, nothing like that," he shook his head, that charming grin on his lips. Once Sam got an idea, it took a lot of work to dissuade him. "Look, there's more to this life than watching shipments and making small talk with the hens in town." He paused, knowing all the time you spent logging backorders and saving face with the mercs' wives. "I want you to be happy. We all do."

You leaned against the bar, pressing your palms against the hardwood.

"So you think it's time for me to settle down?" You challenged with a smirk. "Get married to some silver-spoon jerk upstate?" Sam's smile turned close-lipped as he noticed the other's approach.

"We could help you find a good one." At least he sounded hopeful.

"In this town?" Steve overheard, tapping his beer on the hardtop. "You're gonna need all the help you can get."

Your sneaking suspicion grew as they hounded like vultures. You looked from Sam to Steve with weary eyes. The only one with less enthusiasm was Bucky. Bucky, who usually was primmed with pressed shirts, was tired. His hair fell into his face, his shirt wrinkled, and his tie long discarded at one of the tables.

"You want to help me find a man?"

Bucky looked to his friends with a hooded expression, letting his hand reach out before him. With the click of his tongue, he softly smirked.

"We'll help you find a man. Have we got a deal, doll?"

It was a business handshake, one full of promise. And as soon as you grasped Bucky's hand, one you'd come to regret.

You didn't expect their advice to work so well…or so quickly.  

At the gala, Bucky strolled over with that sly walk and pressed navy suit, conveniently carrying your favorite drink in hand after Pietro ordered you both dirty martinis. You never cared for the drink, but you weren't about to tell him that. But trouble started when Bucky slid between you with that close-lipped smirk.

"They must have made a mistake at the bar," He explained with a shrug. "I remember you liked these. Here, doll." Bucky said, swapping out the drink in your hand before sliding away. No one could fault you for your eyes lingering on him as he walked back to Sam and Steve.

Later in the night, when you were dancing along and finally falling into a rhythm with Pietro, Bucky interrupted again. It was the turn of the tides, the slow pace of the music building, until it felt like one of the underground clubs.

All the weeks spent flirting and learning more about the Maximoff family were crumbling before you. You were a fool to think it would last.

The music built to the familiar strum of old songs you used to listen to, and before you knew it, Sam, Natasha, and half the crew surrounded you on the dancefloor, pulling you away from your date. And it was all orchestrated by Bucky, leading them like a pack of wolves. You knew that look, the suave pull of his hand through slicked-back hair. And then, before you knew it, you were dragged away from the dancefloor.

"Hey," Pietro called over the music, pulling you to the side. "I like you. I do, but this isn't working."

"Wait –" You tried, reaching for his arm. But he was quick to deflect, and embarrassment warmed your cheeks.

"Whatever you're looking for," his eyes moved from Bucky and dropped when you noticed. He looked down with a sad smile. "Whoever you're looking for, I hope you find it."

It felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

"Please don't go."

But it was too late. Your plea was lost as he pushed himself away. Everyone saw it. All your friends' efforts and your attempts to find the one were wasted. Your feet carried you away too fast to notice the somber look Steve gave Bucky.

"You're running out of time, punk."

The city lights passed in a blur as a taxi drove you farther from the gala. The searing ache in your chest left you confused.

For years, you dreamed of Bucky Barnes, hope a dangerous feeling companion of yours. But you knew how he felt. You were nothing more than a friend; he had made that abundantly clear. But you couldn't cut the tether, even while someone else caught your interest. Pietro Maximoff was handsome and kind and loved his sister more than the world. But with Bucky's interruptions, it was no wonder why he didn't want to get involved.

But it still hurt.

A sob was swallowed back, but you couldn't stop the tears from rising. You were pitiful. It was the last time you'd ever ask the guys for help.

But the thought was gone with the sudden screeching of brakes. It made you hold on to the headrest in front of you. Trying to peer around at the commotion, you didn't expect to be cut off by two black SUVs. A moment later, a ringed hand banged on the taxi's hood.

"Get out of the car."

You knew that voice. And as you looked through the windshield, you could see Bucky Barnes peering back.

He was as poised as he was at the party, and the sharp look had you bracing the seat. The bitter spark of rejection caught the light, burning into brutal frustration. You didn't want to talk to him. You didn't want to see him. Not now.

"No."

He tilted his head to the side at the challenge.

"Get out of the fucking car." Bucky gritted. "I need to talk to you."

His voice was teetering dangerously into territory you had only heard about. It was his back rooms, no nonsense voice that snapped you back into the moment. Like hell it would work on you. So it was to be a standoff, one that that you weren't ready to back down from.

Once Bucky realized your position, he took a new approach. You could hear his intentional steps against the pavement as he reached the driver. He didn't say anything but dug into his pants pocket, his fingers flicking through his wallet smoothly.

"Unlock the car," Bucky ordered, pressing cash bills against the window.

The immediate click of the locks didn't help your bellyache, nor did the split second of peace you had before Bucky forced the door open and pulled you out of the cab.

"Are you crazy?" You barked, forcing him to release you as the cab sped off in the other direction.

But you were left in the middle of the road in Barnes territory, the sweep of their dark SUVs cutting off any chance to get out of this conversation.

"What's gotten into you?"

"I didn't want you to leave the party." He explained, his words softer now. "Not like that."

You couldn't believe him. You followed their advice to try and bag a good guy, but to what end?

"What?" You dared to challenge. "I don't know what you want from me. I'm not in the mood, James."

The curl of his name lingered, making your intentions clear. You never called him by his first name. And Bucky didn't like it one bit.

"Let me take you home."

As if you had a choice.

You choked on a frustrated snarl, wanting to hide and cry away your worries and wanting to claw at him like a villain. You hated it. You hated the pressure of his eyes, blue and dark against the night, to get in the car.

So you lifted your head high, took a steeling breath, and walked ahead of him. You were separated from the rest of the world in the backseat of his company car. The divider was a saving grace. You didn't want one of the drivers to see you like this.

But Bucky followed behind so quickly, getting in and closing the door before you could protest for space. You chose to stare out the window instead of looking back at him. The car lurched forward, and you took a moment to find balance.

"You're unhappy."

"No shit."

"Please," He started, turning his shoulders in toward you. Even out of the corner of your eye, you knew he wouldn't let this go. "Please talk to me. Don't close me out. I hated seeing you leave like that. Whatever Maximoff did, I'll fix it."

"You can't fix it!" You finally said, turning to him and gripping his shoulder in frustration. "You say you want me to be happy, to find someone, and then manage to scare off anyone that has the potential to do it." As your voice raised, heat radiated from your cheeks down your neck. His eyes were wide, listening to your grief. "He left because of you. It's not like you have feelings for me. What's the matter with you?"

You couldn't stand to look at him, not when he was so close. His cologne burned your nose, and you desperately needed him to get out of your system.

"Doll," Bucky breathed. He inched his way closer, not letting the anger of your words settle over him. "What if I did have feelings for you?" You would almost call his stare desperate. And then you confirmed it as his shoulders dropped, turning toward you. "It's all that I've wanted to tell you. And I can't see you with him." He admitted.

He moved with purpose all night, not intending to ruin your time with Pietro but to show you that he was the one who needed you. He should have been the one to hold you between dances and order you fine drinks. He should have picked you up so that you would never dare to get in a yellow cab.

But you weren't some wilting flower. You knew the risks of your following words.

"We're friends, Buck."

You held yourself together. You were strong and brave and gripping your heartstrings.

"Yes," He agreed. "But we…"

And for once, he was at a loss of words. The years wasted pining after him would finally be out in the open. You could finally be free of his torment. His eye contact was overwhelming; if he looked away, you would disappear.

"Look, We've been friends for a long time." And with an ounce more of bravery, you sighed. "But I'd like to be more than friends." You admitted. "I want to be so much more than that."

You were waiting for the other shoe to drop. But Bucky leaned closer in earnest, over the seat and bringing his face close. There was no teasing, no torment in his expression.

And with the tip of his chin, you were lost, pulled tight into a kiss and letting it blossom as cold metal snaked around your waist. You dreamed of his touch, and it burned down your throat like honey whiskey.

When you opened your eyes, Bucky had moved. He was no longer in the seat, now chest to chest with you. He was kneeling in the cramped space, the divider shielding you from the driver and the outside world.

"Do you know why Sam offered to help in the first place?" His words were slow as he pulled away, loud enough to hear. "Do you know why Steve jumped on board and corralled us to join? It's because he is tired of me dragging my fucking feet."  

"Bucky-"

But he closed the space for another set of slow kisses, deep and intentional.

"I've been an idiot." He admitted. "The guys know how I feel about you. I think they've always known." Another kiss as you pulled back, gripping the shoulders of his jacket. Expensive fabric under your fingertips, hot breath against yours. You were dizzy.

"And you agreed to help with this idea." You noted.

It wasn't a question, no challenge in your words. He agreed to help find you a man. Bucky took a hefty exhale.

"You know the business. It's not safe –" but you raised your hand with a groan, not buying his excuse.

Your fingers brushed over the curve of his chin, the sharp line of his beard a welcome sensation. God, you only ever dreamed of this. You savored the feel of him, your hand moving up his ear and combing your fingers through his air. Buck's eyes were darker than you've ever seen, his open mouth curving up in awe.

"'s not safe." He whispered. "I'm not gonna put you through that."

It was a weak defense. You knew the coterie of mercs, the warehouses, the shipments. You knew all of it and were aware of the danger. But it wasn't like you could cut ties and leave your life behind. You weren't sure you even wanted to.

"You wanted me to find someone else?" You dared to ask. The whisper died as he shook his head.

"All this deal did was make me jealous." He affirmed. "And tonight," His eyes raked down your frame. He never did finish his thought as lust washed over him. A breath passed between you two. "I never meant for you to hurt over it."

The limited space lets you mimic his actions, noting his heaving chest, blue eyes, and the pout of his kissed lips. How he kneeled down in front of you, crowding your space, made you dizzy. While your mouth curved up into a wanton grin, you couldn't help but chase another kiss.

Each touch melted the last of your anguish. The night was long forgotten as soon as he pressed forward, flattening you against the back of the seat. While you pulled up for air, his other hand moved to cup your chin. And then, with your eyes locked on his, he tilted your chin, eyes staring into the roof of the sedan as you felt lips against your jaw.

Hot, languid kisses burned against your pulse. The scrape of his teeth and burn of his beard drove you wild. And as he pulled back, his hand released your chin, following a mesmerized pattern down your skin.

The palm of his hand cupped your neck, down your shoulder, pulling down the thin strap of your dress. Your soft skin was on display, and Bucky's expression was wonderous. But his hand continued mapping, cupping the curve of your breast. A tactful squeeze left your head falling against the seat, a soft gasp on your lips, and your hand blindly reaching up to cover his. With a sharp breath, you found his eyes again. His pink lips were parted, eyes pleading with you.

You knew Bucky was a man of action, but this was uncharted territory. Your nod and an affectionate squeeze of his hand pulled him from his reverie.

He needed more, craving your skin. And as his hand fell from your chest to a solid grip on your ankle, you craved his exploration.

Shallow breaths were traded for deep, hungry kisses. Years of longing, of yearning for his touch and affection, finally were coming to a head. The brush of his tongue left your mind reeling, and regardless of the heat, a trail of goosebumps followed the path of his hand. Under your dress, he lingered over the smooth skin of your calf, over your knee, up your thigh, and to the meat of your hip. Rough, dexterous fingers carved prints into your skin hot enough to burn.

You refuse to miss a moment, eyes fixed on Bucky's as his palm covers the top of your thigh, the intention sitting heavy in your stomach. A live wire of nerves, you can feel him from the heat of your cheeks buzzing down to your toes.

And then, palming where you needed him most, your mouth dropped open with the softest of moans.

Bucky's eyes are wide, but it doesn't last as he finally lets himself get lost. As his eyes close, you admire the curve of his nose and his soft, dark eyelashes. But Buck is greedy, and as he peels his way under the cloth of your panties, you, too, close your eyes. Fingers are nimble, caressing your dripping seam under the dress.

You're a vision.

Convulsing under his touch, rogue pulls off his fingers drip honey down your thighs. Your breath is heaving, and your chest is dangerously close to falling out of the dress. Bucky finds refuge by rubbing slow, devastating circles against your clit. Every hitch of your breath and moan spur him on until you are staring at him with such reverence he thinks he'll collapse.

There's a magnetism, the long-lasting chemistry drawing you nearer to him. He swallows your moan as he slides a finger inside. You're in a desperate frenzy, pulling him close and arching into his body. He spurs on a need you've never had, demanding his smoldering kiss as you shake in his arms.

He's all you've ever wanted. You're crazy to think it could have ever been anyone else.

And then the car jerked to a stop.

There's a breathless laugh as he pulls away, Bucky's forehead resting on yours. You kept a hand on his cheek, thumb brushing his chin. Maybe, if you just ignored it, the outside world would go away.

That is, until you see a porch light turn on from your periphery. You try not to let embarrassment flood your system as you realize your situation, with one of your closest friends knuckle deep in the back seat.

Bucky doesn't share your distress.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, finally pulling his head back. Bucky smiled. His fingers lingered longer before pulling away, leaving you empty and wanting.

You must have looked as desperate as him, finally looking down at the brutal strain in his pants. But you had no time to overthink as his fingers carefully plucked at your dress strap. He was putting you back together, smoothing out the burn of his touch as he sat up.

If you begged, you were sure that he'd ravage you right there in the seat. But you tilted your head to look outside. You needed a distraction, anything to regain your good sense.

As you focused on the brownstone, you knew where he took you. You were in front of his house – the Barnes family house. He said he was taking you home.

"This isn't my place."

His smirk reached his eyes, and as he pulled open the door and jumped out, his gaze was fixed on you.

"For fucks sake, doll," Bucky's eyes were soft, still blown out. He held a hand out. "We've known each other our whole lives. I'm crazy about you. Are you gonna come up with me or not?"

And with an ardent stare, as if he hung the stars himself, you reached for his hand.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 12 - Sensory Play]

Pairing: Soft Dom!Yoongi x sub f.!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, second chance!AU, Gangster!AU

Kinks: romantic love making, morning sex, somnophilia, he wakes her with oral sex, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), hair pulling (m.receiving), biting (m.receiving), finger sucking (f.giving), body worship, sensory deprivation with a sleeping mask, praise kink, good girl kink, sensory play, knife play, wax play, but nothing of it hurts her, use of a vibrator, orgasm control & edging, subby girl tears, lots of begging, he is so gentle and loving with her, penetrative vaginal sex in missionary, hand holding, choking (f.receiving), loving dirty talk, creampie, strength kink, protective!Yoongi, she feels so safe being his sub, loving aftercare, some plot: mentions of past struggles with sex because of bad mental health, mentions of corrupt police work, the character growth we all wanted from Yoongs

Wordcount: 5.4k

a/n: all you had to say was say gangster!yoongi and vanilla sex and I KNEW I had to give you the sequel to TCOFU about their mountain holiday. like! do we all get her now and why she couldn’t leave him? like he is really that man omfg oh lord

Yoongi regrets a lot in his life. Quite frankly, he regrets most of his life. He regrets the choices he made and the consequences they bore. He regrets the people he killed because he couldn’t save them and regrets the people he killed because he was reckless. He regrets the hearts he broke and the dreams he crushed. He was a good person once, someone with ambitions and dreams. He was someone who wanted to change the world for the better and he truly thought that he could. And then reality woke him and turned him from a dreaming boy to a hopeless man. 

Yoongi still remembers the breaking point. The true, actual breaking point. He remembers what lunch he had that day. Bibimbap with sausages because you ran out of beef the day before. Yoongi loved eating it, but soon felt it sit in his stomach heavily. Yoongi remembers what he wore that day. His uniform with his favourite pair of socks, which he couldn’t look at after that day. Yoongi also remembers that he cried on the toilet that day because that day was the moment he felt helpless for the first time. A crime happened in his precinct, but the criminal was never punished because it was his boss. His former captain, who was caught with pornographic images of non-consenting women on his hard drive. It was swiped under the rug because he was friends with a politician in a rather high position, who just so happened to know some vultures which called themselves reporters from the press. The women were never allowed justice and the captain ended up working for another three years. Yoongi woke up that day and then began making decisions which were so right at first before he was blinded by the power they brought him.

He became a cop who lived two lives. By day he tried to serve the law and by night he disobeyed it for the sake of helping those who were forgotten by it. It was honourable at first but then he became greedy and the decisions he began making were regretful.

Yoongi regrets a lot of the things he did. He regrets the choices he made, the choices he didn’t make and most of all, he regrets how he treated the person he loved most.

You.

He regrets most how he treated you. 

He became cold, distant and took your affection for granted.

He regrets it. He really does. You have always been the person most important to him and yet he treated you like shit. When you broke up with him, he expected it but never welcomed it. He knew he needed to change for your sake. For his woman and his love. He never thought that you would take him back, but you did and he swore to himself to make you not regret it. 

Yoongi woke before you from the thunderstorm outside. The thunder ripped him awake, making him think for just a moment that he was in danger until he remembered where he was. In the mountains with you far away from the cursed city with its disgusting people. 

You wanted to leave it behind and he wanted to make it possible. He knew that you were struggling for quite awhile now. He also knows that it was mostly his fault and regrets it so deeply that it hurts, but he also knows that the city was at fault. It is dirty and corrupt and filled with suffering. You always had a good heart and an empathetic soul and this city ruined you. Yoongi thought that he could fix it for you, he hoped that he could, but he sometimes thinks that he only made it worse. You said so yourself. He fucked it up, just as much as he fucked you up. Yoongi truly regrets a lot in his life.

Thunder cuts through the silence. You flinch in your sleep, instinctively drawing closer to him. Yoongi shushes you quietly, brushing his hand over your head in soothing. Your body instantly relaxes, a content sound leaves you in a sleepy sigh. Yoongi feels happy witnessing it.

He thinks that he might have finally done something right with this holiday. Yesterday he watched you take a deep breath and relax your shoulders afterwards. You haven’t done this in so long. The day before that, you ate two portions of lunch because you finally had an appetite again. In the car on your way to the mountains, there was a moment where you talked about how beautiful the landscape was. And right now, you are smiling in your sleep as he pets your hair slowly. You are starting to feel like the woman he fell in love with all these years ago. Not burdened by the suffering of others, not suffocated by the toxic fumes of the city, not shackled by your own thoughts. You feel like you and you look happy. 

You look really happy. 

Yoongi traces your eyebrows, heart taking each beat just so he could gaze at you for longer. You are the very reason he breathes. From the very first moment he loved you, he knew that he would do anything for you. He would set the whole world on fire for you. Even kill and he has done so in the past. The scar running down his face will be a visual reminder of it for the rest of his life. On most days, he hates looking at it because he feels ugly with it, but on some days he remembers that if he wasn’t carrying this scar right now, you would have to run around with the memory of being violated by cruel monsters which call themselves men. He stops hating the scar then and swears that he would do it again. He would take a knife to the face over and over again if it meant that you will always be safe. He took this oath years ago and swears to never break it.

Another thunder cuts through the silence as if God Herself was whipping the sky. You flinch awake from it, taking a deep gasp of fear. Your eyes show your feelings.

“Hush, it’s okay. It’s just thunder”, Yoongi whispers, cradling your cheek.

Your fearful eyes lock with his’. Your voice doesn’t want to come out as your lips form his name.

“It’s okay. You’re safe”, he promises and kisses your forehead.

You exhale deeply, touching his chest. His skin practically comes alive where you touch him. You are so warm from sleep.

You crane your neck so you are looking up into his eyes. Thunder and lightning. You don’t flinch anymore, instead, your lips curl into a toothless smile.

Yoongi retorts it, brushing his thumb under your eye.

“I’ve been awake for a while. The storm woke me. I thought someone was trying to fucking shoot me.”

You agree with a knowing snicker and a nod of your head. He chuckles with you.

“I watched you sleep.” He traces the slope of your nose, forcing your eyelids to grow heavy. “You smiled in your sleep.”

“It’s because I’m happy”, you get out and shiver with your entire body, “Yoongi, I feel comfortable”, you confess, cuddling into his chest.

Yoongi hugs you, kissing the crown of your head and closing his eyes. Comfortable might be a normal state to most people, but you haven’t felt like this in too long. Yoongi cherishes your confession deeply. 

He begins running his fingertips up and down your back. It draws you closer to him and for your happy purr to meet his ears. 

“Do you like this?” he asks you in a barely there whisper.

You nod your head, humming your answer. He answers you in a hum as well, continuing his touches. 

You fall back to sleep like this, cradled in his strong arms and against his safe chest as he pets you slowly. The rain and thunder lull you back to sleep as well, now that you know that nothing can hurt you. You are with him and he will always keep you safe.

You don’t quite know how much time passed, but it must have been enough for the thunderstorm to stop. Only rainfall can be heard now. But that isn’t what wakes you. No. Warm, slick pleasure between your legs does. 

“Ah”, you get out, sleepily arching your back and reaching down to see what is making you feel so good. Your legs close around a head, your fingers meet bundles of soft hair. 

Strong hands touch your inner thighs and push your legs apart again. The warm, slick pleasure stops in a sucking sensation. Lips against your inner thigh, teeth in soft bites as well. Sucks and licks and kisses. 

“Good morning, beautiful”, Yoongi rasps between his kisses, “don’t let me wake you, just relax”, he breathes and connects his eager mouth with your pussy again. He sucks and licks, moaning softly each time your clit is between his pouty lips.

It feels so good that you can’t help but whimper. He is so warm and soft. Judging from how wet you are, he has been doing this for quite a while. That explains why your dreams started to become so sinful.

You are delirious from sleep, both numb and sensitive, so what he is currently doing is a lot. You can’t talk yet because you are too tired, making a small sound and twisting his hair. You do it so weakly that Yoongi barely feels it. 

He smiles and tongue kisses your clit with his eyes closed in bliss. You are especially precious when you are sleepy. You get so weak and quiet despite trying to be so strong and loud. Yoongi swears he would do unspeakable things to anyone who dared to disturb you in this state. His protectiveness almost makes him feral. 

But he doesn’t let the feralness consume him. No. He runs his big, strong hands to your waist and places a protective touch on the softest part. Your skin dimples where his fingertips lie. Yoongi knows the meaning of to have and to hold when he can hold you like this, when he can have you like this. 

Your weak body writhes helplessly, your throat produces a small sound. Yoongi soothes you by rubbing your waist and purring around your clit. 

“Oh my god”, you get out in a breathy whisper and whimper, legs closing around his head in a quick twitch and body convulsing in the sudden high his purrs drag out of you.

Yoongi moans, wrapping his muscular arms around your tensing legs and moving his hot tongue on your clit eagerly. Your noises are heaven to him. So sweet, so cute, so perfect. He loves nothing more than making you feel good.

You sob softly, overwhelmed by what he makes you feel. You aren’t even properly awake yet to take in the sensations and now he has you orgasming. It feels like too much and yet so good.

He expected you to orgasm quickly, but not that quickly. He is delirious, rutting the sheets with his aching cock as his tongue makes sweet love to your pussy. This is heaven to him. True heaven. 

“Sto…stop”, you breathe out after your high turns into overstimulation. “Plea..stop…” 

Yoongi listens to your begs, kissing a path up your naked body. It wasn’t always naked but he undressed you so he could gaze at you and worship every inch of you. He missed you a lot in the three months you and he were separated. He needs to truly appreciate every second with you and memorise it so it will always stay with him.

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, kissing your tender skin slowly. Like this, his hard cock rubs against your thigh. He is naked as well because he wanted to share the state with you. Perhaps there is even a chance that he spent a good ten minutes holding you as you slumbered so his skin could finally feel you again. 

You sigh and chase him. Yoongi understands, giving you what you crave so deeply. A kiss. A slow, deliberate tongue kiss where each second counts and each movement is filled with emotion.

You shiver, burying your hands deep in his soft hair and making him shiver with it. You and he draw closer, skins touching and lips moving with so much more passion. This is the first time you and he have sex here. 

Yoongi has been wanting, craving, you ever since this holiday started, but he knew not to pressure you. You seemed drained and in need of healing. He wanted to give you time to do so. He held back, but he can’t hold back anymore. 

The way you kiss him, lets him know that you don’t want to hold back either. You bury your fingers deeper in his dark hair, making him purr contently. 

Yoongi has the thickest and healthiest hair ever. It is dark black, except for when the sunlight hits it and turns it a warm dark chocolate brown. He wears it slicked back on most days because he wants to look his best as police captain. When he is with you like this however, tangled in the sheets with your bodies still warm from sleep, his hair is unstyled. It is messy and it is soft from the lack of product. It hangs into his face or gets ruffled when you play with it just right. You could honestly write songs about his morning hair.

You break the kiss to look at him in his pretty state. You open your eyes. Darkness. A nervous sound leaves you, fingers coming up to touch your eyes. Soft fabric. How peculiar.

“Don’t be scared. It’s just an eye mask. To heighten your senses”, Yoongi assures you, tracing it gently and with it, ridding you of your fear. “Do you want me to take it off?” 

“No.”

You drop your hands again, sighing his name. He kisses your neck, talking to you like this. He rests his hands on your wrists, long fingers stretching along your palms. There is no pressure involved, neither strength, and yet you still feel so claimed. In a good way of course.

“I want more of you”, he purrs, running his thumbs up and down your tender wrists. 

You whimper and squirm, legs opening.

“But don’t worry, I know you’re not ready yet. Let’s play a game.”

“A game?" you talk in the kind of voice you only possess when you are in subspace. It is soft and a little higher in pitch and brings out Yoongi’s desire to protect. 

“Yes a fun game. You’ll like it.” 

“Please.”

Yoongi begins kissing your face as he talks. It feels so good to receive. Everything he does and did to you feels so good. This is what you needed from him for months. 

“Okay so, next to us are five things. My necklace, my knife, a candle, your makeup brush and a leaf. You have to guess with which of the things I’m touching you. How does that sound?” 

“Fun. Really fun.”

“Yes?”

You nod your head, putting your hands above your head in a submissive squirm. Yoongi smiles, heart skipping a beat in giddiness. He would do anything for you. He really would.

“I knew that you would like it. Any of the things you don’t want me to touch you with? I guess most are soft, except the knife and wax. I won’t cut you and the wax will be hot, but not painful. Is it okay for you?” 

“Yes, really okay.” you writhe and sigh, parting your legs for nothing in particular. 

“Good, that’s good. You can stop this anytime you need to. Your voice matters, sweetest. Your safety does as well.”

You whimper in emotion, healing from deep wounds. This is exactly what you needed from Yoongi. This kind of care and love and safety. You were so scared that giving him another chance will end in your heartbreak, but instead he is proving to you how honest he was in his promises to change. 

“You’re important to me”, he kisses your cheek, “you’re so fucking important.”

“Yoongi”, your voice trembles as it leaves you. 

“Mhm, my sweet girl.” He kisses your ear softly and straightens up. He rubs his hands up and down your stomach gently. “Ready for the first item?” 

“Yes.” 

“Don’t be scared to guess wrong. There won’t be punishments, just rewards.”

“Rewards?” 

“Mhm, guess correctly and you’ll find out.”

“Okay”, you sigh. 

Yoongi climbs off your lap. You listen with bated breath. The sheets ruffle as he gets comfortable. Then sudden silence which he breaks in a soft rasp.

“Ready?” 

You nod your head.

“Use your voice, sweetest.”

“Yes, I’m ready”, you whisper cutely, sending his heart into overdrive. 

With a racing pulse, he lowers the brush to your collarbone.

“Oh”, you gasp with the first touch, chasing it. 

Yoongi lets your skin soak up the feelings, guiding the brush up to your shoulder and down your arm. He dances it over your chest, circling your nipples. Then he guides it up your other arm, over your shoulder and back to your collarbone. 

“What’s the first item?” he asks you in soft spoken voice, guiding the brush back to your nipples to circle them. He is obsessed with the way your body reacts. Goosebumps and swollen nipples. You are so beautiful with the most perfect reactions. 

“Feels nice.”

“Of course it does, but what is it?” he is chuckling his words, finding you beyond adorable.

“Uhm..”, you shudder as he tickles your neck with it, “brush?”

“Mhhm good girl”, Yoongi praises, placing the brush aside to get your reward. He turns it on.

You instantly move your head into the direction of the sound, gasping his name.

“Can you guess your reward?” Yoongi asks, guiding the vibrator down the inside of your thigh. 

You moan weakly, writhing on the sheets. You nod your head because you can’t talk. The vibrations feel so good and they’re coming close to where they feel otherworldly. You are so excited. 

“Do you want it?” 

“Please.” 

Yoongi takes your consent and connects the vibrator with your clit, rubbing circles on it. You wail up weakly, hands instantly reaching down to grab his wrist. Your legs close around him, but fall open a moment later, toes curling in the sheets.

“Is this nice for you?” he asks you, eyes flitting between your pussy and your face. They linger on your chest as well, soaking up the view of you writhing in pleasure.

“Nice”, you whimper, rolling your hips up into his touch.

“That’s good”, he says and then falls into comfortable silence with you. 

Not that the moment is truly silent. The pitter patter of rain enters the room. The low purr of the vibrator mixes with your quiet moans and breathy sighs. Yoongi’s own heightened breathing matches you. But there is no traffic, no loud neighbors, no emergency sirens or people cursing on the streets below. There is no city. No burden. Just you and him and nature. 

Yoongi knows from how quickly he brings you to the edge that you are truly enjoying the sex you are having. When he fucked in the past, trapped with you in his penthouse or your small apartment, you often struggled to reach climax. Sometimes you didn’t orgasm at all, no matter what Yoongi tried. And be certain that he tried. Your pleasure has always been important to him. He tried, you tried but the city had an awful grip on you, keeping you tense and nervous and too anxious to truly be in the moment. 

But not anymore. You gasp and tense in the way you always do when you are close. It happens so fast that Yoongi feels high. You are so into this, so relaxed. He is doing this to you. He is making you feel good. Yoongi wants to give you an orgasm, but knows not to rush it. If you climax, you should really enjoy it. You should crave it so violently that you have nothing else on your mind.

He takes away the vibrator, soothing your squirms with gentle touches.

“I was close”, you whine.

“I know sweets, I know”, he kisses your neck, “it’ll be worth it. I promise.”

“Oh god.”

He kisses your cheek and sits up, “next item. Guess whenever you are ready.” 

You wait with bated breath and an aching pussy. You really wanted this orgasm. Sheets ruffles, silence. The sensation. 

“Oh god”, you get out, arching your back to chase it. 

Something metal and tangly. It is cold and light. He guides it down your sternum and stomach, letting it tickle your belly button before he guides it up to your neck. 

“Chains…” you moan, writhing from the memories of feeling them hit your skin whenever he fucked you deep. 

“Good girl”, Yoongi praises, rewarding you by tangling them over your face. He makes sure that they hit your skin in the ways they sometimes do when he is buried inside you. 

You chase it, moaning his name.

“You’re thinking the same, right?” 

“Yes. Yoongi…”

“I fucking love being with you, my sweet girl”, he says, tickling your face one last time before he gives you your true reward. 

The vibrator. He keeps the same setting and the same spot, but rubs your stomach the entire time. Your moans are louder than before, your pussy so much wetter and your hips a lot more restless. 

It also takes you way less time for your orgasm to be close. Yoongi really draws out the moment he takes it away from you, keeping you on the edge until the last second.

“No please”, you beg, bucking your hips against nothing, “please.” 

“Patience, sweetie, patience. You still have three more items to go.”

“Please.” 

“Patience”, he whispers and lifts the third item, “time to guess. Focus on the sensations, not your pussy. Do it for me, sweetest.”

“Yoongi, oh god”, you whimper, almost spilling tears. 

“Take a deep breath for me.” 

You obey only to have it knocked out of you when sudden burning warmth hits the skin of your chest. You sob, arching your back and twisting the pillow edge. 

“Wax, aah”, you mewl, feeling dizzy. It is hot, but it’s not painful. Exactly how he promised. You still weren’t ready for how good it will feel. 

He starts at your sternum, leaving a puddle of it on your skin. Next he covers your breasts with it, your soft flesh first and your nipples last. You sob again when he covers them in the hot wax, pleasure soaking so deep into your fibers that you find it hard to breathe. 

“Good girl, correct again. Is it too hot?”

“No, feels so good. Yoongi please fuck me, please.”

“Patience, sweetie. First you need your reward.”

“Please…”

As the wax hardens on your chest, Yoongi presses the vibrator against your clit again, rubbing it up and down for a change. You mewl his name, digging your heels into the sheets and thrusting against the toy. Judging by how much your voice pitches, you are already close. 

Yoongi takes it away, pinning your hips down easily as they try to squirm.

“Please no more edging, please”, you beg in desperate croaks.

“Sorry sweetest, sorry”, he rasps, kissing your neck and jawline. “It’s soon over. I promise.”

“Yoongi please just fuck me, please.”

“Soon, sweet girl, soon. Two more items. I promise.” 

You mewl, squirming in agony. Yoongi sits up and gets the fourth item. He decides to guide it over your stomach and thighs. You instantly open them wider, skin covered in goosebumps.

“Your knife. Feels so good.”

“Good girl. Mhm your skin is so soft. I could cut it, mark it as mine, but I won’t”, he lulls, tracing the inside of your shaky thighs.

“Please do. I’m yours.”

“Another day. promise”, he says and picks up the vibrator. He puts the knife aside, using his unoccupied hand to pin down your squirming hips. 

He managed to edge you to a point of such sensitivity that he only has to keep the toy on you for a few seconds before your body tenses in your approaching high.

He takes it away, shushing you lovingly when you keen in agony. He lies down next to you, cradling you against his chest and kissing your cheek. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“I can’t do it anymore please”, you beg, “please I want to be with you, please.” 

“One more item, I pro-”

“No! Please. I want to be with you, please.”

Yoongi sighs in defeat.

“Okay. You can”, he gives in.

“Please I wanna see you, please Yoongi.”

“Okay, sweet girl”, he whispers, pulling the blindfold off your eyes. When you beg like this, he can’t say no. He has to fulfill your every wish.

You instantly look at him, spilling tears because of how happy the view of him makes you. 

He wipes your tears away, speaking to you in a soft voice.

“Why are you crying, my love? Is it getting too much for you? Should we take a break?” 

You shake your head and open your legs.

“Please. Be with me.” 

Yoongi smiles in order not to tear up. He hums a yes, nodding his head vigorously before dropping it against yours. His right hand cradles your cheek safely.

“I’ll always be with you, my love.” 

“Promise me.”

“I promise you”, he says and climbs between your legs.

You roll to your back, following him this way. He takes your hands and pins them in the pillow above your head, holding them tightly. 

“I'll always be with you.You have me”, he says and seals his promise by finally connecting with you. 

You and he moan together, hands squeezing the other’s and eyelids fluttering. Both of you refuse to close your eyes, wanting to see the other. 

“You have all of me, my sweetest girl”, he says and picks up a deep and gentle pace. “All of me, you’ve got all of me.”

“Yoongi”, you whimper, body shaking instantly. You spill tears, sobbing softly.

“Does it hurt? Are you getting tight again like you sometimes do?” 

“No, feels so good”, you sigh and place his right hand on your throat. 

Yoongi moans your name, hips stuttering in shock. 

“Please”, you beg and Yoongi knows what to do.

He applies pressure on your veins, watching the last piece of sanity disappear from your pretty eyes. You roll them back and moan. You moan in ways you haven’t moaned in too long. Quite frankly, Yoongi already forgot that he could help you make such noises. 

“You know I don’t believe in god, not with the kinda suffering the motherfucker allows to happen to innocents, but holy fucking god”, he gets out and picks up speed. Not too much. Just enough to make your back arch and your toes curl. 

He drops his forehead against yours, resting on his one elbow. His fingers are still holding your neck, feeling your pulse race uncontrollably.

“Holy fucking god, baby. Fucking god.”

You reach up with your free hand, twisting his hair. It feels so good. All of it feels so good. You don’t know what is happening to you. Sex hasn’t felt like this in so long. Can it really feel that good? Can you really be so without burdening thoughts?

“Don’t stop please.”

“Mhhm never. Gotta make you feel so fucking good.”

“Good. Yoongi. Ah!”

“Fuck I was such an idiot, fuck I forgot how alive I feel when I dedicate my all to you.” He thrusts into you deep and passionately. “I’m on a high, my sweet girl. You feel so good”, Yoongi gets out, letting you taste each word.

“Yoongi please.”

“Too much?”

“Please can I cum? Please.” 

“Fuck”, he curses and growls, kissing your nose softly afterwards. “Do you need more?” 

“No, just please. Soon.”

“Whenever you’re ready, sweetest. I’m right here. Your Yoongi’s right here. I’m not fucking leaving you again. I’m here.”

“I love you”, you sob and break. He didn’t even get to let go of your neck before you fell victim to your high. You simply feel way too good. There was no other way.

“I love you too. Ah, I’m-”, Yoongi’s voice breaks and turns into desperate whimpers as your intense high throws him over the edge as well. 

He makes sure to keep moving, so you could really enjoy yourself. And oh how you do. 

You are so lost in your pleasure that you pull him close enough that you manage to bite down on his shoulder. 

Yoongi mewls in pain, guiding your mouth away gently with the hand he once had around your throat. You instantly take his fingers inside your mouth, sucking them eagerly as you and he ride the waves of your shared highs. 

Once you and he come down, his fingers are messy from your drool and you seem so deeply satisfied that you can’t help but cry. 

Yoongi instantly cradles your face, kissing your tears away. 

“What’s the matter? Too tight?”

“No, I feel safe. Yoongi, I feel safe.”

“Oh.” 

You haven’t felt safe in so long. He knows that you don’t mean physically safe, but emotionally safe. 

He smiles and rolls to his side, taking you with him in his arms. He lets you cuddle into him and use his chest to get through your tears. 

Yoongi knows that you need this cry. He put you through so much and you went through twice as much on your own. Knowing that you can finally cry about it, is healing to him as well. 

Once you calmed down, you feel sleepy and cold. Yoongi cocoons you and him in the blanket, allowing you to rest your head on his arm while he traces your face. His head rests on a pillow which he folded up half to make it sturdier. You are looking up at him. He smells like him. Good, clean, masculine, familiar. He smells so calmingly familiar. 

“What are you thinking?” he whispers, tracing your brows and nose.

“Just that I’m happy.”

“You are?” 

“Very. I haven’t felt like this in ages.”

“I know. I…” he struggles with his words, gnawing on his lower lip.

You reach up and begin tracing his scar. He instantly knows that he is allowed to talk freely.

“I know you’ve been struggling with enjoying sex. I could beat myself because I know it’s partially my fault.”

You shake your head, “it was never your fault. You tried to make it good for me. I could see that you did. It was the only time I felt like you actually tried for me.”

He furrows his brows, “I’ve done so much wrong in my life and most I’ve done to you. I’m so sorry, my sweet girl.”

“Thank you. I know that you’ll be different from now on. That Us will be different again.”

“I will. We will. I fucking promise you. And I-”

“And you never break a promise. I know”, you interrupt him in a soft whisper.

Yoongi’s smiles, nodding his head. You giggle because it feels good to know him so well and be known in return.

“I felt so good today.”

“That’s good. That’s all I want when I’m with you like this.”

He brushes his thumb over your eyelid gently. You close your eyes with a smile, enjoying his tender touch for a moment.

Once it passes, you look up at him again.

“I’m scared of going back.”

“To the city?”

“Yes. I’m scared.”

“Don’t be. I’ll take care of it. I promise I’ll make your life happy again.”

“What do you mean?”

“You won’t have to return to the city if you don’t want to. I meant it when I said that I’ll fucking set it on fire if you want me to.”

“What about your job? The things you keep hidden from the law?” 

“I’ll take care of it. You won’t get hurt, I promise.” 

You cup his cheek, eliciting a shaky gasp from him. Your eyes widen as you stare deeply into his eyes.

“I’ll kill whoever needs to be gone. Just tell me.”

“Oh sweetest”, he kisses your forehead before cradling you against his chest, “don’t make such promises. I don’t want you to have to get your hands bloody.”

“But-”

“No buts. I’ll get my hands dirty, so you won’t have to. Now enough about the future, right now I wanna hold my woman and let her know I’m entirely here for her.”

“Good. I’m glad you are”, you say and melt into his strong embrace.

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part three.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - smut, alternate universe (modern), sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub, guided masturbation, edging, pet names, sex toys, multiple orgasms, mentions of body image Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. / part four. | masterlist

“Hel-lo, is the idiot in the room still with us?”

A slender hand waves back and forth, back and forth, until you awake from your everlasting daydream.

Annie Leonhart sits across from you at your favorite coffee shop looking like the cat that caught the canary.

That knowing smirk hasn’t left her face since she sat down.

Curling her fingers, she pulls her arm and returns her hand to join the other under her chin once she’s finally caught your attention.

The small blonde squints her icy blue eyes, observing, deciding on what you’ll say before you launch your defense.

“That good, huh?”

Embarrassment is your first folly.

"I— What?!”

“I know a blissful climax cloud when I see one.”

“Annie.”

Sometimes Annie could be an ass, too smug for her own good, but she was a fiercely loyal friend and colleague.

Everything is meant in jest — at least, to you. Not many others got to avoid her wrath.

You lean over the table, reaching your hand out to cover her mouth.

She manages to duck your advances, expertly so, and rears her head with a small chuckle.

“Relax, no one’s listening,” she chides.

“That’s not true,” you argue under your breath. “It's a small shop. You know the vultures circle this place.”

“Not since the old thirsties got busted for their smutty book club — which, quite frankly, I resent losing.”

"You resent?" you repeat, mirroring her squint. “But you never ended up joining the old lady book club.”

“Mm, I didn’t,” Annie agrees, picking up her coffee cup to sip leisurely. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t listen. I looked up a couple of those titles for myself. In retrospect, they had good taste.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead.”

She pauses, setting the cup back on the table.

“So… are you going to make me work for the details, or what?” she finally leads, getting to the point while you skate around it with imaginary triple axels. “Did you call again after Friday?”

You did.

In fact, you've called several times — almost every night since last Friday with the exception of Tuesday, since you’d fallen asleep as soon as you hit the couch after working overtime.

It’s now another Friday afternoon, one week from the first time you’d called the hotline, and you’re wondering what constitutes bordering on addiction.

“I have,” you confirm. 

“That’s all you’re going to say?” she chastises with a grimace. “Boo — tomato, tomato.”

“What?! What did you want me to say?”

“For starters, who the guy is.”

“Not happening.”

“Loser.” A beat passes. “But it’s not Bert?”

You shake your head vehemently.

“Definitely not Bert.”

“Thank god,” she exhales. “I like you, but I don’t know if I like you enough to be calling up the same dude to get our rocks off.”

“Jesus, Annie.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a prude.”

You pick up your own tea, sliding it across the table before taking a tentative sip.

“I don’t know how you freely talk about this like we’re trying out restaurants.”

“Because it’s not real?” she suggests, and your stomach flip-flops. 

You know it isn’t. 

It’s a job.

It’s his job.

“I don’t know,” Annie continues, sitting back against her chair with her arm draped across the curve. “It’s no strings attached and hot. I’ll never meet Bert, and he’ll never meet me, and it isn’t like he’s going to ask to hold my hand and beg me to meet his mom.”

“You’re such a commitment-phobe,” you comment with the roll of your eyes. “You won’t ever meet anyone’s mom.”

“Yeah, because I’m not a psycho,” she replies with a snort. “I take it you went premium?”

You nod once. “Levi suggested it.”

Her eyes widen, delighted, and you scowl at your own stupidity.

“Levi?”

Ah.

Fuck.

"Wait." You sit up taller. “Don’t—”

“Oh, that’s a hot name.”

“Annie, I swear to—”

She sours to herself. “Damn, that’s so much hotter than moaning Bert.”

The tea in your cup bubbles from your chortled breath. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, not my favorite name ever, but that’s fine — because it’s more like he’s moaning Annie.”

Paired with a wicked grin, your friend winks at you.

“We have two very different wants.”

You squint, and her grin widens. “Wait, do you—”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh my god, Annie.”

“What?!” she chirps with a chuckle. “You like the bossy ones, I like being the boss. You’re not allowed to kink shame me. We’re in this shit together.”

“Who said I like being bossed around?!”

She points her finger at your facedown phone.

“Porco Galliard bosses people around. I’m not stupid. And you scream ‘I don’t like being assertive’.”

Great.

The same observation Levi made over the phone without ever meeting you in person.

“Whatever, that isn’t the point,” you wave off, deciding to try and swerve the subject. “I wanted to ask: how many times do you call a week?”

Annie presses the tip of her tongue against her cheek as she considers.

“A week? Maybe two, three at most. It used to be a hell of a lot more, but I’m working a lot of late nights.”

“When you say ‘a hell of a lot more’, do you mean—?”

“Daily?” she finishes for you then tries to recall. “Why? Are you daily right now?” 

You hate yourself for a second. 

“Sort of? It’s only been a few days, but—”

“Hey, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She reassures in that randomly serious way Annie can pull on a rare occasion.

Making fun of people might be her favorite pastime, but if she can sense true withdrawal from her friends, then she’s quick to stop. 

The blonde reaches over the table to pat your hand, but it’s hardly a comfort.

Annie is about as comforting as raw-dog wearing a hand-knitted sweater by an amateur: it's itchy, too tight, and you want it to stop immediately. 

“You’re a grown woman with grown woman money. If guys can go get blue balled at the strip club, then why can’t we call a hot guy over the phone?”

Again: not comforting at all.

With reluctance, you nod.

“You have a point.”

“I know I have a point.”

“Then again, I don’t know how long term this fix can be,” you reason. “It’s very expensive.”

“Yeah, but you know what’s more expensive?” Annie retorts. “Hooking up with a stranger at a bar who’s abysmal in bed. Maybe not so much for your wallet, but definitely for your ego.”

“And your sanity,” you agree, “if they’re weird.”

“Or a creep.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“A weird creep that happens to be a serial killer.”

You both give each other a look, an unspoken conversation of two delusional women saying ‘exactly’ in a singular gesture, as you sync the sips of your drinks.

.

.

— —

.

.

  “Do you ever — ha — use to — oh — ys?”

You’re not sure why you’re so chatty with your rabbit vibrator barely hovering over the hood of your clit.

A week ago, you would've been trying to smother yourself with a pillow for talking.

However, with each night you’ve called Levi, the more comfortable you’ve become.

More bold, if openly using toys tells him anything.

The avalanche that brought you here was quite swift.

Traffic lights no longer remind you of the cars on the road but the man waiting for you on this hotline.

A willing striptease; a compliance to do what you wish but let him take the lead.

All you had to say was ‘my hand’s getting tired’ during an edging session.

All Levi had to reply with was ‘if you had a toy, I’d allow you to tag it in’.

Allow.

Like you’re completely under his spell.

Like you couldn’t have been using one from the get-go, but you listened.

You said you did.

He said grab it.

(God, you always listen.)

Now you’re here, legs spread in the center of your bed with your phone sitting between the valley of your breasts as you talk to him through the speaker.

“I am right now,” Levi replies in that diplomatic way of his, the lift of his voice telling: he’s amused by the way you try to speak to him, even when you’re ready to scream with impatience.

“I meant on yourself,” you exhale shakily.

“On myself?”

“Like on c-calls,” you stammer, forcing yourself to focus.

He loves when you lose your mind.

You refuse to cave so fast tonight.

“A mystery for another day,” he teases, before adding in a firmer tone: “You earned it. Touch it to your clit, but don’t go inside yet. I want you wet and ready for me, understand?”

“You’re so mean.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he softens for just a moment. “And don’t talk back.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you joke, before pressing the device against your clit.

The vibrations surge pleasure down your legs, causing your toes to curl.

You’re not sure if it’s the ‘sir’ or the moan you emit that makes him groan in return.

“The answer is no,” he finally states.

For a second, you think you did something wrong.

Then you circle back, remembering what you asked in the first place.

Right.

The toys question.

“You don’t?”

“Not on me, no.” He exhales, slow and steady. “Too busy making sure I’m hitting the script.”

That’s the funny thing about these calls:

The fourth wall? 

Broken.

He doesn’t pretend to be your boyfriend for the night, just as you don’t pretend he’s only yours.

You’re aware he’s a sex worker, just as he seems to open up about his profession when speaking to you.

At first Levi wouldn’t — it was meant to be a fantasy — but each night he’s divulged more.

Like how he used to be in the military. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he has an affinity for tea, going so far as to have a mild cup with you after a session in lieu of a cigarette. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he’s a Capricorn. (Unrelated to sex — kind of.)

In the midst of learning about him, you’ve learned about yourself.

You’re less vanilla than you originally thought.

With Porco, things felt regimented.

Scheduled.

You weren’t willing to open up your heart, much less your legs, because he was too cold behind closed doors.

Focused.

Driven to his work and passions.

Levi, on the other hand, will suggest leaning against the wall with your hand in your underwear, eyes forced to watch yourself in your full-length mirror.

To worship yourself, when he can’t.

To pump your fingers into your weeping core, when he can’t.

To give over complete and utter control with the promise that you’ll come as many times as he asks you to, because if he could be in this very room — this very apartment — he’d easily do it himself.

With Levi, you’re bold.

With Levi, you’re in.

So you’re not shy to arch your back, moaning into the receiver when you feel your first orgasm approaching you like the incoming tide.

“Levi,” you whimper his name, “can I—”

“Shit, baby, you know you can,” he practically purrs, already knowing what you’re going to ask. “C’mon. Let me hear that pretty little voice of yours, huh? Just for me?”

“Just for—”

The last word is garbled by the way your teeth clench, legs snapping together as the first climax hits after a relentless twenty-minute edging session.

It’s unreal.

It’s pain.

It’s bliss.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

(Freedom.)

You pant, pulling the vibrator away from your body for a moment to catch your breath.

You hear him hum with approval on the other end, a low rumble against your chest.

“That’s a good girl,” he says after a beat. “Feeling better?”

“So much,” you confess breathlessly.

“You sound better.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Didn’t do much.”

“Oh shut up,” you scowl before laughing.

Turning off the toy for a momentary reprieve, you allow yourself to catch your breath as you grin up at the ceiling.

“Always so goddamn modest.”

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffs, shifting on the other end of the line. “Can’t take a damn compliment to save your life.”

You make a face like he can see you in the dark, but you decide to continue the conversation.

That’s a new thing the two of you have picked up — talking.

Lots of talking.

You get off, sure, but he knows your work drama, your chore schedule — your mailmen even have the same first name, funnily enough.

“I’m serious, though,” you exhale. “Do you ever like… get off? Without toys, obviously.”

“During a call?” he clarifies, and you nod. He answers like he can see it. “No, not — not typically.”

“Wow, so you’ve faked an orgasm with me,” you tease with a blissed out snort. “Shame, shame, I know your name.”

“I what?”

“Faked it,” you clarify, fluffing your pillows behind your head as you situate yourself on your bed. “As if I don’t hear you breathing all heavy and shit over there.”

Then something unusual happens.

The man grows quiet on the other side. 

Nothing shuffles.

No huffs or ‘tchs’.

Just… silence.

“Levi?” you ask, brows knit.

A beat passes, but he answers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you good over there?”

“I— yeah, fine,” he clears his throat.

Uh-oh.

You frown immediately, blinking twice. “Sorry, was that a weird question?”

“Not at all,” he clarifies, gruff this time, “just… I said not typically, not never.”

…oh.

Oh.

Suddenly you abandon the rabbit and sit up in bed, eyes as wide as saucers.

“Wait.”

“Scarlet.”

“No, did you actually—”

“I already said too much.”

“No, wait, you can’t just imply that you’ve gotten off with me then abandon ship here, Levi!”

“I’m not abandoning ship — why do you say such weird shit sometimes?”

“How many times?!” you yelp.

“I’m not answering that.”

“Holy shit,” you exhale, “I’m so mad I didn’t pay attention.”

It’s like you can hear Levi squinting, narrowing his eyes with uncertainty on the other end of the phone. “...why would you be mad?”

“Because maybe I want to hear you get off, too?” you suggest simply.

Another agonizing breath of silence.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you place your phone on your sheets and pick up the vibrator, contemplating your next move.

“Because I would totally love to just… I don’t know, make you moan, too? See what you taste like? Feel you lose control, pull my hair, hold my head down while I wrap my lips around—”

“Baby.”

Two syllables shoot out of his mouth, as if overwhelmed with shock.

Huh.

An Uno reverse in your favor.

You’re no Shakespeare, but what you say is as honest as words can possibly be.

“I picture you all the time,” you confess softly, pressing the rabbit vibrator’s first function.

A low rumble begins, and you guide it between your legs.

You’re already soaked from your session.

There will be little give to the toy.

“When we’re not on the phone together, I wonder what it would be like. I could be at work. I could be at a coffee shop. Like, holy shit, I was meeting with a friend today and all I could think of is how badly I’d love to just take you to it — maybe disappear in the back hall, find a bathroom? I’d bend over a sink. I don’t wear skirts all the time, but I’d wear one for you.”

You hear shifting on the other end of the line, but Levi is deathly silent.

Mindlessly, your hand takes hold of the vibrator and you press against your entrance.

With a tiny whimper, you push in, deliciously enveloped in a sea of vibrations.

“You wouldn’t need to wear a skirt.”

Suddenly his voice appears, and you accidentally push the vibrator further in, causing a strangled moan to exit your mouth. 

“Le—”

“Pants are just as easy,” Levi cuts you off, a thread of a whisper. “Couldn’t take that much effort. Wouldn’t give a shit if anyone saw your damn clothes at your ankles.”

Suddenly the room burns.

“I just know you’d fill me up so good,” you whine, and there’s a sharp hiss on the other end.

“Jesus Christ.”

There.

You hear it: the waver in his voice.

“Yeah, baby,” he concedes. “I’d fill you so fucking good.”

You whimper, a pathetic little noise at the base of your throat, and he exhales a large breath — as if he’s been holding back this entire time.

“Promise?”

“When have I ever led you astray?” he challenges, a bit more strained now.

It’s the hottest thing you've ever heard.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” you breathe, ragged and wrecked, and there’s a small groan on the other end of the line.

“You already do, baby.”

“Not how I want to,” you argue in return, body pulsating with the growing need to release a second. “You’re so good at making me cum, but all I want is to take it how you want me — bend me over and fill me up, push me to my knees and stick my tongue out—”

“Fuck,” he curses sharply. “You’re so good for me. So, so fucking good, not fuckin’ fair.”

“Wanna cum with you.”

He groans, louder this time, and inhales the most deliciously jagged breath you’ve ever heard.

“Right there, baby,” he forces out. “C’mon. Give me one more. Just one more.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You purposefully bite your tongue when you come a second time, squeezing your eyes shut with all of your senses focused solely on your ears.

A grunt, as if he’s holding back just the same before exhaling, slow and languid.

In your mind’s eye, you see it: how he uses his teeth to hold up his t-shirt, painting his abdomen with streaks of white as he holds himself back from climaxing too loud. His whole body trembles. He squeezes the tip, milking himself for all he’s worth.

Pulling the vibrator from your body, you turn it off and toss it elsewhere on your bed. Your body curls around your phone, trying to stay quiet so you can listen.

Shaky.

Exhausted.

Not typically, not never.

You say nothing, can’t, but a small giggle of euphoria emits from your throat.

Surprisingly, Levi chuckles back with that drugged slowness that comes with exhaustion.

“You’re too damn giddy after two orgasms,” he chastises, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Uh-huh, Huff ‘n Puff,” you tease right back, and he tsk’s right against the phone.

And in your heart, you know—

Know you’re in deep shit.

Know that you like Levi, even if it’s impossible to like a stranger.

Maybe when you get this month’s credit card bill, you’ll sober up from your crush.

But not right now.

Just not right now.

.

.

— —

.

.

  The next morning, you’re up bright and early.

Skip the elevator to the apartment lobby.

Walk down the stairs to kickstart your adrenaline.

Skip the coffee at the local shop.

Choose a small cup of chai instead.

By the time you make it to the gym, you’re more ready than you ever have been in your life to take on the day.

.

.

— —

.

.

  Forty-five minutes later, your sweat even has sweat.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, the endorphins from a tough workout only make you feel that more excited to get your shit together. To be more mindful of your time.

(Totally not because your last call with Levi was unreal. Nope.)

Overall, you went from hating your life to — well, this.

Whatever this is.

Owning your self agency and worth after a pitiful breakup?

Unfortunately joining this gym had been Porco’s idea — he’s a treadmill hamster, and you got swindled by the sea of abs under his tank tops.

A ‘couples activity’, whatever that meant.

(Being sweaty and tired without an orgasm to finish it off never did feel rewarding.)

After the breakup you considered trying to get out of your 6-month contract, but Porco dipped first.

He joined Pieck’s crossfit endeavor somewhere else in the city, leaving you and this dingy little gym to commiserate together.

Now?

Now, you excitedly get ready in the morning to the gym — not to get thin or look a certain way to appease anyone else. A revenge body is bonafide stupid.

No — you don’t want to be anything but stronger.

Because Levi would probably think it was hot if you were stronger.

Maybe the next time you call, he’ll be impressed that you’ve taken to strength training. 

Maybe he’ll give you some pointers — one more topic of conversation to be had.

Setting down the free weights back on the rack after a thorough cleaning of the equipment, you step out of the way of the other regulars gearing up for their workout and head towards the locker rooms to shower.

In the small pocket of your leggings, you hear your phone vibrate. 

Digging your hand in to fish it out, you see a familiar name on your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Yo [A. LEONHART]: We’re all going out Tuesday for drinks – u in?

All.

All means the department.

All might mean Porco and Pieck.

Annie must sense your apprehension, before adding:

[A. LEONHART]: Porky probs not going, Pieck’s got a family thing

 

Well, that’s two positives.

[ME]: I’ll think about it. [A. LEONHART]: Think about it????

[A. LEONHART]: 🍅🍅🍅

Her and her fucking tomatoes.

You snort and begin to write back—

But not before accidentally slamming chest to chest into a stranger.

The phone flies out of your hand like a bar of wet soap.

Like a Scooby Doo short, it alley-oops to the sky then smashes down against the black-speckled rubber gym floor.

Before you can even react, the person you’d bumped into is bending to crouch on the floor.

“Shit. My fault.”

Every cell in your body freezes.

Time ceases to exist.

They scoop your phone into their hand, flipping it over checking for damage. 

Luckily, the screen is intact. 

No fall damage.

But that isn’t why you’re frozen.

As they rise to full stance, your eyes are still downcast. 

From their sneakers your eyes crawl up, up, up — noticing the basketball shorts that cut just above the knee with compression under armor peeking beneath.

On his torso is an emerald green tank top, clinging to his flexing abs, the fabric speckled with sweat. 

His collarbones are defined; chin just as sharp as his cheekbones.

Then you meet his eyes.

A blue-ish gray.

The man standing before you runs on the shorter side — under average height for a man.

His ebony hair dangles and sticks to his sweat-slicked forehead, the ends pointed and shaggy.

It takes a moment until you realize you’ve seen that hair before.

While you’ve taken to walking on the treadmill for your warm-up these last several weeks, he’s typically nestled in the strength training corner of the gym alone. 

Every morning that you’re here, he is also here diligently working on his physique.

He’s always in some squat position or lying on a bench, so you never paid attention to his face—

He’s fucking gorgeous.

“Looks like it’s fine,” he says casually, and your stomach falls out of your ass.

Baritone.

Smooth like honey, low like a rumble.

There’s no way.

There is absolutely no way it’s—

“Here.”

The man holds your phone out for you, brows knitting curiously. 

You can’t speak. 

Hell, you can barely breathe.

He shakes his hand to wake you from your shock.

“Take it.”

You know that voice like the back of your hand.

Wordlessly, you reach a shaky hand towards the phone to take it back.

You part your lips to speak, but no words exit.

All you can do is grasp your phone and pull it to your chest as you catch the scent of his deodorant with a mixture of musk when he passes by, none the wiser.

By the time you turn to say something, anything—

Levi from Scout Services Hotline dips into the men’s locker room.

.

Author's Note:

...oops.

Thank you for reading part three of P4! I continue to be blown away by the response. Because of your encouragement, I wrote one of the fastest updates I've made in ages. How are we feeling now? Let me know in the comments!

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

[esthercore]

I don't know if it's a thing yet or not, but Yandere Aventurine x Talent Motivation Department - employee reader!!!

Yan!Aventurine who was handed in your care when he first joined the IPC. Since the two of you were of the similar age range, and you always had been such a sweetheart in Jade's eyes, she personally hand picked you as the guide for the latest stone heart. The boy all your to nourish and train: to be graceful, fancy, extravagant and make him someone fitting the title of a Stoneheart.

Yan!Aventurine who at first was too cold and distant, barely talking to you, and extremely depressed when left alone. But after seeing you waking up at unholy hours, to prepare for his day, working more than you were needed to for your paycheck, spending time with him in silence even in your off hours, all that just to give him company and make him feel not alone, he realized that your compassion was genuine and you cared for a monster like him, cared for a slave, a killer, a loser, all hell went loose.

Yan!Aventurine who despised his work, the stuffy environment, and especially the opportunist people surrounding him, so he get attached to you, the only genuine person in his life, his lovely caretaker. Slowly starting to grow extremely dependent on you emotionally once he knew you really care for him, refusing to learn how to do his hair properly, or proper dining etiquettes, etc. just so he can be in your care for longer.

Yan!Aventurine who doesn't wear all the flamboyant clothing and way too many accessories during his missions because he likes to be extra/maximalist, no. He does so because he's trying to wear all the gifts you have ever given to him all at once as many as possible, to show his appreciation, and to keep you close to him in spirit, just in case this mission happens to be the end of his life.

Yan!Aventurine who can't believe a person as kind and gentle as you is actually real, as he see you worrying about everyone around you. Helping elderlies cross the road, patching up little kids playingin the playground, baking for your friends whenever you feel like, greeting every stanger you see with a smile, trying your best to brighten everyone's day. Pathetic, you were truly pathetic in his eyes, so vulnerable for any vulture to pick you up and tear apart, a fucking push over.

Yan!Aventurine who soon realizes how much more power he has over you, his mindset starting to getting corrupted with his workplace, and the inner panic realizing how your time as his caretaker is going to end soon. Slowly he started tugging in a few strings to dwindle your reputation in your department through some ugly methods, no matter the cost that now remain hidden is his mind, long forgotten in the future. After all, he can't have his lovely caretaker to be placed with some other no-good person who will only take advantage of you! You caring for someone else, talking so lovingly with someone else, letting someone else lay on your thighs as you pat them asleep, letting someone else bring you expensive gifts as a token of appreciation, letting someone else making you laugh, letting someone else get so close to you.

Letting someone else replace him.

Yan!Aventurine who offers to move in together in his new bigger house now that he was in an established position, just when your position as a respected member of talent motivation department is threatened to fall and your salary starts getting cut short, in the guise of repaying your kindness, knowing damn well how desperately you needed to save some housing money and can't reject.

Yan!Aventurine who was always there for you as your friends and coworkers started growing distant from you, and coddling your anxieties away when mean rumors about you started spreading around, comforting you just like how you used to comfort him, despite being the reason you cry in his arms.

Yan!Aventurine who start taking you out to work parties or hang outs, as your work load started decreasing, and you grew lonely with your friends leaving you, charming his way in your heart, loving the way you started blushing around him, and fully taking advantage by teasing your more to see your cute reactions, adoring how this all was meant for him. Your love, attention, care all for him.

Yan!Aventurinewho gently shifting your 'roommate' duties, to more domestic one, like cooking, cleaning, and anything that was indoors, preferring to do groceries shopping either by himself or together, making sure your contact with others remain as minimal with others for the sake of his own sanity.

Yan!Aventurine who was shocked when you were the one to confess first, his heart beating fast in his ears, face red, and tears welling in his eyes, as he collapse in your arms, surprising you with the hug and the chats of i love you's.

Yan!Aventurine who almost can not believe his life is really true, as he lean against the doorframe, watching as you feed the little cat cakes he got. You now leaving your work to take care of your lover, leaving behind the people who left you just due to some stupid rumors, and now sporting the title of a stone heart's lover, enjoying your life of luxury.

Matchmaker! Jade who always had a gut feeling you two were meant for each other, since the day she appointed you.

[killertoons]

I've got ideas and a theory for the recent welcome home updates (10/18/2024)

Walk with me-

So that short story alone already showed pulling ideas from Edgar Allen Poe with the tell-tale heart and the cast of amontillado

(I wouldnt be shocked if they reference other Edgar Allen poes works like the raven soon but that's me cheating to peek at clowns kofi and I won't speak further on that-)

Basically Sally is doing a rendition of the tell-tale heart and poppy got cast....only she doesn't want to be involved. It's a scary tale, and for those who didn't take advanced English

The story of the tell-tale hearts about a man so absolutely freaked out by this old man's eyes to quote

'I think it was his eye! Yes, it was this! One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture- a pale blue eye, with a film over it.'

So the man sets out to kill him, does so by lurking in the dark for 7 straight nights till finally the 8th night he finally does so, dismembered him and hide the pieces under the floorboards!

But when police came to investigate...he could hear both but a beating heart under the floors and from his guilt he admitted to the murder and ended the tale with

'"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed!- tear up the planks!-here, here!- it is the beating of his hideous heart!"

So already Sally doing a rendition of this tale is wild already as I imagine it's been changed to be more family friendly for the neighborhood, but poppy isn't up for it.

And Sally's sad about it! And of course the neighbors all know why poppy actually didn't wanna do it. And Sally trying to be a good friend realized the play scares her so they gotta do something to let poppy have her cozy state of mind away from anxiety

So they form their plan-

To cask of amontillado her into her house, brick by brick.

Another famous story by Edgar Allen Poe, that one is about a guy luring someone he had a dispute over into a cellar and bricking him up down there to rot.

It's a revenge story, one we have no details other than a man was wronged (we never learn the reason) his anger and vengeance taking center stage.

Through the entire story time, the neighbors are supposed to be following a book along as a read aloud story but they keep breaking into separate lil conversations or making quips to each other... Till the end where audio is lost on the rest of the story after poppy was bricked away.

However...

Because we have the secret website we can check there and what's found was....worse

Poppy in the dark of her barn and something is lurking with her in the dark.

By the end someone gets her out but the sounds of the people aren't named... although they sound familiar to us

I could say what we were all thinking and state the obvious "oh those must be the puppeteers! That was poppy's puppeteer having a freak out moment-"

Which I personally agree but there's more to it.

Do y'all know how big birds puppet works?

It's one person in there, with a screen to tell you where to go and a script taped inside while they maneuver around like this!

I imagine poppy is the same way since she's based design wise off big bird

Now with this in mind, add how hard it is to move or see or perceive where you are in general in that suit. How clasterphobic your gonna be if you can't get out!

I get clasterphobic trying to get out of a dress that fits too tight at the store, I can't imagine how scary this would be especially if your on your own in the dark room as well!

with only your lantern to read your lines and something to occupy yourself- maybe knitting as it's a hobby you picked up-

When you hear breathing that's not yours. From within the suit. A suit that's JUST big enough for you, mind you.

So it be impossible for anyone else to be breathing...only you forgot someone.

The puppet suit itself...is breathing.

And there's scratching at the door, something else is lurking in the dark with you but you can't see it. You can't get out, the suit can't leave but your mind is stuck the doors open but in another world it's closed and sealed-

But I'm getting ahead of myself

What is said is...what if that IS poppy reacting in the dark to something...but also it's the puppeteers reaction to poppy as well. They share a mind and A space for a moment in the dark where their fear matches them and it doesn't break till the door opens and the puppeteers talk..

I think the horror is going higher as both sides are gonna start interacting more and more with each other..

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Scorched Earth.

A Grab Bag For A Very Lovely Anonymous Commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Warrior x Reader.

Word Count: 1.3k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Mentions of War/Death, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, and Kidnapping.

You saw the torchlight hours before he reached your cottage.

Bright and brilliant, a red stain ebbing through the trees and bleeding into the dark sky. The forest was dense, the canopy stifling, yet somehow, the light he and his soldiers carried was awful enough to pierce through it all, to burn away every behind them and fill the open air with thick, choking smoke. You could’ve tried to flee, it wasn’t as if you couldn’t guess what was coming for you, but you didn’t keep a horse, and you knew better than to stave off the inevitable. He’d catch you, no matter how far you ran, no matter how many times you refused him. He’d promised as much, the first time he declared that you’d be his.

Rather than escape, you stayed where you were, perched on the rotting wooden steps leading up to your door and watching the oncoming flare. His scouts, dressed in black and prone to circling your meager home like vultures, reached you before he did, then sergeants, piling in by the dozen, well-armed and jeering and carrying his insignia with a sort of heady arrogance. Finally, he emerged from the growth, surrounded by his lieutenants and mounted on a sleek, grey steed larger than any you’d ever seen before. He was a far cry from how you’d seen him last – his bandages gone, his pitch-black hair grown down to his shoulders, the rags you’d been able to lend him traded out for shining armor clean enough to catch the torchlight and glow scarlet. A great-sword sat at his hip, two more curved blades crossed over his back, but you couldn’t seem to find much joy in his fortune. Not when you’d soon be counted among one of his many, many precious things.

As he dismounted, the movements practiced to the point of thoughtlessness, you rose to meet him, hyper-aware that this would likely be the last time you’d be able to stand on equal ground. “Wren.”

It wasn’t his name. You’d misheard him, the first time you asked; made what you could out of the slurred syllables he’d been able to spit out and never found the time to look back. Even when he started to recover, when he was able to hold onto consciousness for longer than a minute at a time and more than just your clumsy stitching held the jagged cut stretching from his shoulder to his hip shut, he always failed to correct you. His real name – Wyvern, given to him as an unknown orphan after he slayed his namesake and delivered its head to a king who’d let him massacre armies and rampage through the countryside as he pleased – was something you had to learn the day he left, the day he told you who he was and why you’d found him bleeding out in a stream all those months ago. He’d asked you to come with him, back to the castle, and through tears, you’d told him that you wouldn’t have helped him if you’d known you were saving the life of a murderer. He’d tried to kiss you, and you slapped him and told him to get out of your cottage.

It wasn’t his name, but he smiled like it was, taking a step toward you. His soldiers started to close in, but he held up a hand, keeping them at bay. “Beloved.” It was a familiar petname. It used to make you blush, stammer, want to make flower crowns and kick your feet and learn to play some ridiculous stringed instrument. Now, it just made your stomach turn, your vision dim at the edges with rage. “I’m sorry I took so long to return to you. I had to gather a few friends – thought you should meet the future guests of our wedding.”

There was cheer from his soldiers, a flash of a grin from Wren. You stiffened, squaring your shoulders, but he remained unaffected, his expression only softening as you forced yourself to respond. “I meant what I said. I could never love a man with blood on his hands.”

If he heard you over the milling of his soldiers, the crackling of his torches and the distant sounds of the forest’s nightlife, he clearly wasn’t listening. Rather he closed the remaining space between you and him and took you in his arms. Your feet were off the ground in a moment, your chest against his chest in another, being spun idly as he let out a throaty laugh. “God,” he sighed, when he finally came to a stop. The sharp corners of his plated armor dug into your skin at odd angles, and his hold on your waist was tight enough to bruise. You’d had to ask him to be gentle before, to mind his inhuman strength when he touched you, but it was a lesson he just couldn’t seem to take to heart. “I missed the sound of your voice. I’ll have to take you with me on my next campaign - I don’t know if I could stand to leave you at court for all that time.”

“Put me down,” you hissed, hitting his shoulders with as much force as you could manage. He abided you, but didn’t let go of you – just moving his hold from your hips to your hands, taking them in his own before you had time to pull away.

“I couldn’t. I absolutely couldn’t. Most of the knights are absolute bastards, and you’re too sweet – they’d try to take you for themselves in a heartbeat. No, I can’t let you out of my sight for a moment, can I?” He paused, his face lighting up with apparent zeal. “You’ll adore the castle. I’ve already secured a cottage on the edge of the grounds, and you’ll have full reign of the gardens. We won’t have to—”

“Stop.” You attempted to wrench yourself out of his vice-grip, and when that failed, let out a ragged groan, tears already forming in the corners of your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“That’s not true.” His smile didn’t so much as waver. “You saved my life. You told me that you loved me, and I love you, too. How would either of us ever be happy if we were seperated?”

Something deep in your chest ached. It was impossible to look at him and not picture the countless mornings you’d woken up by his side, the countless days you’d passed teaching him how fish and tend to a garden, the countless nights you’d spent bundled beside a fire sharing stories with a man you thought you’d loved. It was impossible not to think about what he’d done and wish you’d driven that knife into his stomach yourself.

“I can’t love someone like you,” you said, finally, because you couldn’t bear to say anything else. “And I’m not leaving my home.”

At that, you could’ve sworn you saw something register in his dark eyes. He was quiet, his enthusiasm fading, and for a second, you thought he might’ve understood. For a second, you thought he might call away his soldiers, get back on his horse, and leave you to your quiet suffering.

Then, he leaned forward, his lips coming to rest against the top of your head. “Beloved,” his voice was low, stifled your skin. “You don’t have a home. Not without me.”

Abruptly, he pulled away from you, raising a hand and looking toward his soldiers. While you were left in the dark, they knew their signal, surging forward in a chaotic wave of yelling and footsteps. You pressed your form against Wren’s side, clenching your eyes shut and bracing yourself, but there was only a burst of heat, a sudden visible even through your eyelids. Another kiss, this one pressed into your cheek and chased with a soft chuckle.

When you could bring yourself to look, you found not a volley of arrows or a hundred swords all pointed at your neck, but your cottage engulfed in flame, shining golden in the oppressive night. Your shoulders fell, your mouth opening, but you failed to make a sound. Wren wasn’t as stunned, grinning as he pulled you close and pressed his lips into yours, the kiss delicate and tortuous all at once.

“Don’t worry,” he muttered as he pulled away, his tone so soft and so gentle, you could almost tell ignore the blood-soaked cruelty lingering just underneath it.

“The only home you need is with me.”

[herpsandbirds]

Do you have any pictures of birds doing things?

BIRDS DO ALL THE THINGS!

I may have a few photos of things being done for you...

Taveta Golden Weaver (Ploceus castaneiceps), male constructing nest, family Ploceidae, order Passeriformes, found in Tanzania and Kenya

photograph by Yi Park Soon

Flame Bowerbird (Sericulus ardens), male showing off a bright blue berry, family Ptilonorhynchidae, order Passeriformes,endemic to New Guinea

photograph by @dustinchen0728

Southern Ground Hornbill (Bucorvus leadbeateri), male, eat a tasty bug!!!, family Bucorvidae, order Bucerotiformes, Kruger National Park, South Africa

photograph by Mogens Trolle

Vernal Hanging Parrot (Loriculus vernalis), hanging upside down...because, family Psittaculidae, order Psittaciformes, Maharashtra, India

photograph by Raj Dhage 

Three friends share a carcass and conservation at Potrero Ranch outside of Kingsville, TX, USA.

Black Vulture (Coragyps atratus), family Cathartidae, order Accipitriformes

Harris Hawk’s aka Bay-winged Hawk (Parabuteo unicinctus), family Accipitridae, order Accipitriformes

Crested Caracara (Caracara plancus cheriway), family Falconidae, order Falconiformes

photograph by Josefina Espinosa Salumunek  

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Mirror Mirror - L.SM

🎇Who: Lee Seokmin x female reader 🎇What: Strangers to friends to lovers, magic au, fluff, some smut, sprinkle of angst 🎇Wordcount: 15.9k 🎇Warnings: Mentions of death/ghosts but nobody dies, profanity, Seokmin’s thighs (yes they need a warning), biting/hickeys, body worship, oral (f), pervert Wonwoo, technically there’s a rather large age-gap but magic stuff makes it meaningless

Summary: The glass shimmers, a gentle breeze tickles your cheeks. It's working. After all this time it's- "Ow," the human suddenly sprawled on the floor in front of you whines as he rubs his sore knees. It didn't work. You really thought it would work. You look up at the glass in front of you. It's solid again. The breeze is gone, and it didn't work. You’re still stuck, just as you have been for years. Except now, this too-trusting stranger is stuck here with you.

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- The single biggest juciest thank you to @wongyuseokie for making the beautiful banner! Look at that beauty, pure talent that, I am awed and endlessly grateful, thank you, darling 💗💗💗

This day was bound to come. You knew it logically; knew that one day your absence would be noticed, and the vultures would swarm to claim that which you had kept safe for so long. You knew it was coming; you just didn’t realise it would be so soon.

You can only stand on the outside watching in, as your home gets emptied of all your precious belongings, years of carefully collected curios and priceless pieces. All tossed into cardboard boxes and carried off out of your line of sight in the hands of people who have never cared for you or your belongings. People who have never taken the chance to understand that it isn’t just blood that runs through your veins, that your mind isn’t twisted with delusions, just open to such wonders that they will never see even with their eyes wide open.

It hurts. 

You can’t bear to watch the only signs of the fact that you lived a happy, adventurous life full of whimsy and beauty which most can’t comprehend, get pulled out of the home you had made for yourself. Gutted until no sign of joy is left. It feels too much like they’re tearing your heart and soul from your chest.

So, you leave. 

You walk a world that only has glimpses of light left, little pockets of life amongst the dull stillness you’ve grown too accustomed to during the past months of aimless wandering. 

You walk, and walk, and walk until that hurt in your chest feels more like an old scar than an open wound, and then you turn around and walk back.

By the time you return, your home no longer looks like your own, nor does it look like an empty shell. There’s a brightness to it even if it’s so dull in your world, life and comfort tucked in amongst the half-built furniture and half-unpacked boxes. 

You wonder how long you’ve been gone. 

Curious of who now resides in the home you never intended to leave behind, you wander through the mostly dark house until you find a bright room and cross the master bedroom with ease, to lean towards the mirror and peer through the glass. 

The bedroom is still, lit by the natural rays coming through the open window revealing that whoever the new homeowner is, they must’ve focused on unpacking this bedroom first. 

The large bed has clearly held a slumbering being already, and lazily discarded clothes lay on the fluffy rug beside the bed as if thrown off before a tired person had climbed into bed the night before and have yet to pick the items up.

A glance at the cute, colourful clock on the bedside table tells you that it’s almost 10am. 

Without thinking, you glance to the other side of the bed and find that the bedside table isn’t a matching set of two, only a lone table, so you think it’s safe to assume this person is single, and by the lack of other rooms set up that they also live alone. Or their housemates haven’t set up their own mirrors yet, or maybe simply don’t have them. 

A sudden gasp and the sound of items clattering to hardwood flooring makes you look further into the room, leaning closer to the glass to get a better view. 

You don’t expect to find big eyes already on you. But it does explain the shocked sound and dropping of items; you imagine most people would be a tad surprised to find a woman standing in the reflection of their mirror.

Deciding that there’s no point trying to hide now, you lift a hand and wave at the gawking man. He seems to be growing paler by the second. Surprisingly, he lifts one hand to wave back at you slowly, seeming to be moving on autopilot. 

“Hey,” you greet. Maybe you should’ve stayed quiet though, because as soon as the word is out of your mouth, the man’s eyes roll back and he collapses to the floor unconscious amongst the toiletries he had earlier dropped. “Oops.”

Of course, there’s not a lot for you to do, no way for you to shake him awake or interact with him in any way while he’s unconscious, so you just thunk your forehead against the glass with a sigh and wait.

Luckily, the man comes to after only a couple of minutes, relieving your boredom and the worry that was starting to niggle at the back of your mind as you considered that he could’ve hit his head, or maybe had a delicate heart that you had inadvertently caused havoc with by simply existing in this way.

At first, the man seems very confused as he shuffles up, rubbing his head a little signifying that he had banged it, but at least you don’t think it was hard enough to cause any concern. He peers around himself at the floor and his items there, clearly trying to do the mental maths to find out the reason he woke up sprawled amongst his toiletries only a few steps into the bedroom.

You decide to just wait for him to remember on his own and simply watch him slowly gather the toiletries utterly puzzled. 

It’s when he’s got his arms full and almost standing upright, knees still bent from his rise that he seems to recall the events leading up to waking up on the floor. He freezes in a squat, eyes slowly turning wide before his head woodenly turns to the large mirror fixed to the wall beside the dresser. 

When your eyes meet, you wiggle your fingers in a wave. He screams, drops the toiletries, and runs out of the room leaving you staring at the splatter of conditioner and tiny pieces of broken plastic.

“H-hello?!” 

The timid call matched with faint knocking wakes you up from your nap on the dull couch. You stretch and yawn as you get up to shuffle through the dim home and enter the bright bedroom. 

The man is standing on the other side of the glass, one hand raised in a fist as he tentatively knocks against it, his eyes flickering around the reflection. 

He looks determined, yet there’s still a fear in his eyes that you really can’t blame him for having. Though it does make you roll your eyes when that fear grows exponentially when his eyes find you entering the room. 

“I can’t hurt you, no need to look so scared,” you point out while nearing the glass. Understandably, the man scuttles back a little when you get close enough. “I can’t reach through, look,” you reach out, yet your hand hits the glass with a thunk. “See? I can’t touch you; you can’t touch me.” 

“Oh.” To your genuine surprise, it seems that is all you need to say and do for the man to lose all fear, as he steps closer to the glass and smiles at you a little. “Sorry, I’ve never met a mirror ghost before, I don’t know the rules.” 

“I’m not a ghost.”

“You’re not?” He tilts his head a little, lips pouting slightly as he thinks. “Are you some kind of fae?” 

“No, I’m a witch.” 

“Wah, really?!” He lights up, lips stretching into a wide grin. This is not how you expected this to go, especially considering that your first two meetings consisted of him passing out and running away screaming. “That’s so cool! I’ve never met a witch before! Can you show me some magic? Can you teach me?!” 

“Uh…” You’re so thrown off by his genuine enthusiasm that you can do nothing but stare dumbly at him for a few seconds. “Not from here, no.” 

“Oh.” The man frowns, shoulders slumping in disappointment. “That sucks. I’d love to learn magic.” 

“I mean, I can make a deal with you, if you really want to learn?” You offer, deciding that this emotionally open man may just be naive enough to trust a stranger in his bedroom mirror. 

“What kind of deal?” He looks at you suspiciously and folds his hands over his chest protectively. “I’m not giving you my soul.” 

“Your soul?” You can’t help but laugh. The man’s expression does a weird twitchy thing before his arms drop to his sides and he looks at you with round, sparkling eyes. “What would I do with that? I’m no demon and even they don’t claim souls much anymore; there’s an overpopulation issue in hell, you know? Too many assholes these days.” 

“Hell’s real?” 

“Anything’s real if you look hard enough and believe.” 

“Unicorns?” 

“Okay, no, that was just a drunken fairy sticking twigs to horses’ heads and covering them in fairy magic to make them sparkle, and fuck with humans.”

“Huh, okay,” he responds in easy acceptance of your words. You can’t help but wonder what kind of absurdities you could tell this man to be fact, and he’d accept it without question. You didn’t know such naive people even exist in adulthood.

“Right so, would you be willing to make a deal with me?” 

“Yeah! Sure!” He beams, nodding happily already.

“I haven’t even given any terms yet. You don’t know what I’d ask of you.” 

“Oh, right.” His expression turns serious, and his tone follows when he speaks next. “What do I have to do for you to teach me magic?” 

“Get me out of this fucking place.” 

“Oh, you’re stuck?” 

“Do you think I’m in here for fun?” You deadpan.

“I don’t know! I told you I’ve never met a witch before! I don’t know what witches like to do for fun!” 

“Right, well no, this is not my idea of a fun time. I am stuck and I need someone in the real world to get me out.” 

“How?” 

“I assume by doing the reverse of what I did to get stuck in here,” you reply with a shrug. “I can write down the incantation and a list of what you need to get.” 

“Okay.” He looks at you with nothing but trust and patience, eyes so pure and innocent and posture open. 

As you turn to go to the kitchen to get the memo pad and pen from the fridge, you silently decide that once you’re out of here and back in the real world, you’ll teach him how not to be such an easy target, alongside the magic lessons.

“Okay, everything is all set up!” The man announces as he gets to his feet in front of the mirror, as if you haven’t been watching him carefully set up all the items from the list on the floor in the places you instructed him to. 

“Good job,” you praise in a murmur, sort of distractedly as your eyes dart over the symbols drawn on the glass to check for the nth time that they’re exactly the same as the ones you had shown him on one of the many pieces of memo pad paper now littering the floor by your feet.

When your eyes land back on the man, he’s grinning proudly at the short praise you had given him. Clearly, he’s very easy to please. Must be nice. 

“Alright, whenever you’re ready.” 

“What will happen?” He asks as he steps forward to press one palm to the glass while his other lifts the piece of paper where he had earlier copied down the incantation which you had shown him through the glass. 

“The glass will move and then I can step back through.” 

“That’s it? No levitating items or fire or-” 

“That’s it. I can show you that stuff once I’m back in the real world.” 

“You will?” You hum in confirmation with a little nod that makes his smile turn excited. His shoulders wiggle a little with gleeful anticipation. It’s admittedly pretty cute. “Okay, okay, I got this, I can totally bring a witch out of her mirror world and back into the real world, you got this, Seokie.” He murmurs to himself under his breath. It only really occurs to you then that you don’t even know each other's names. 

Oh well, plenty of time for that once you’re back in reality.

You watch intently as the man, Seokie as he referred to himself, takes a deep breath with his eyes closed before opening them and immediately starts to read aloud the words written there in a language he doesn’t know, but he doesn’t seem to care that he has no idea what he’s actually saying.

You definitely need to teach the man something about self-preservation once you’re in the real world.

The incantation should work; you’ve revised this same spell so many times since you first got stuck here, a reverse of your own spell that trapped you in this world of your own making. Previous versions of the incantation have never worked, you’ve tried this a few times with various humans through various mirrors, yet nothing. 

But this time, it should work, you’ve fine-tuned it. It has to work.

A breath catches in your throat as you notice the glitter of magic under Seokie’s palm.

The glass shimmers. 

A gentle breeze tickles your cheeks. 

It's working. After all this time it's-

"Ow," the human suddenly sprawled on the floor in front of you whines as he rubs his sore knees.

It didn't work. 

You really thought it would work.

You look up at the glass in front of you. It's solid again. The breeze is gone, and it didn't work. You’re still stuck, just as you have been for years. Except now, this too-trusting stranger is stuck here with you.

"I quit!" You exclaim, throwing your hands up in frustration and turning to walk off. 

"Wait!" The human screeches as the room gradually darkens with your exit. You don't look back, but you hear him scramble after you. “Why’s it so dark?” He murmurs once he’s close enough that he’s almost pressed to your arm as he wraps his long fingers around your forearm like a lost child. 

“There aren’t any mirrors in these rooms,” you answer, motioning to the dark, lifeless rooms you pass. Dull copies of his own house, full of subdued versions of his own belongings. “No light can reach them.” 

“Oh. But it’s not entirely dark, at least…” You feel his gaze on you. “Not where you are. Do witches have glow in the dark auras or something?” 

“Glow in the dark auras?” You repeat as you stop and look at him incredulously. 

“Yeah…I am guessing by your expression that glow in the dark auras are not a thing.” 

“Not that I’m aware of,” you reply with a shrug, then turn and continue forward to leave the apartment. “Doesn’t mean it’s entirely non-existent though, just that I’ve never seen or heard a thing about it.”

“Everything exists if you believe,” he paraphrases your earlier words as he toddles along at your side while still holding your arm to stay in whatever the not-a-glow-in-the-dark-aura surrounds you and gives off a soft, naturally warm light like a cosy little bubble to light your way and keep you safe. 

“Yeah,” you affirm simply. “But not that witches have glow in the dark auras. It’s just a detail of the original spell, so that I can always see where I’m going and what’s around me clearly, even outside of lit spaces.” 

“Ahh, so you can’t make me a human glow stick too?” 

“No,” you laugh. “Not in here at least.” 

“Don’t you have magic here?” 

“Don’t you think I’d have already left by now if I had magic?” 

“Not if it’s like a one-way door,” he reasons with a shrug. “Maybe you could walk through but not back.” 

“Mm, I see the logic but no, that’s not it. It’s supposed to be a swinging door, I can come and go as I please but evidently, I fucked up somewhere.” 

“Ah.” 

You’re not sure how long it’s been since Seokmin not Seokie, even if he always smiles brightly when you call him the nickname, tumbled into your mirror world, and got stuck with you; it could be hours, could be days, could be longer. There’s no way to tell the passing of time here unless you happen to be in a lit room with a clock, but even then, that doesn’t always give you an accurate reading if you can’t tell how many days have passed since last you looked. 

There was a room with a calendar some time ago, but when you last visited it had all changed and you no longer could sit and watch the little old lady knit scarves for grandchildren that never visited. You refuse to let yourself linger on why she’s no longer there, and now a young couple with a yappy dog that pisses on the rug all the time have painted over the pencils marks on the walls tracking heights of her loved ones who rarely even answered her calls. 

For hours, or days, or weeks, or months, you don’t know, you and Seokmin spend most of your time in an abandoned department store where there are fake rooms set up to display assorted items for sale. A lot of the store is smoke damaged, and most areas vandalised on top, but even broken mirrors bring light into your world.

Sometimes, you’ll sprawl over a dusty couch or bed and watch Seokmin gather broken items to throw into bins and sweep up. He’ll fetch items from elsewhere and set up the area of the moment until it’s all pretty and cosy. Only for it to be back to the vandalised state the next time the pair of you return after leaving the lit place. 

At first, it had made Seokmin visibly sad every time you two would return somewhere only to find his hard work to be for nought. For the lit space to reset in your absence as if he had never stepped a determined foot there in the first place. 

But now, Seokmin has somehow injected his sunny disposition into even that inevitable cruelty and declared that it’s ‘like those games where you have to fix up and decorate rooms, and I have endless chances and possibilities!’ You have no idea what games he means but you admire his ability to spin it into something positive. At least it gives him a better chance at keeping his sanity.

When you’re not camped out at the department store watching Seokmin play interior decorator or making up skits and plays to act out with whatever props are to hand to make you laugh until you cry, the two of you tend to wander around the dull city looking for different lit spaces to hang out and explore. 

Before Seokmin fell through the glass into the mirror world and you were alone, you never cared if a space was lit or not, you know there is nothing else living in this world so there’s nothing that can hurt you even in the darkest places where you can’t see past the edge of your glow. 

But Seokmin hates unlit places, he’s afraid of the dark and always has been, so now you avoid them and have never stepped foot in the pitch-black spaces since he arrived.

Somehow though, there’s always a new lit space to explore, more games to pull out of cupboards while people aren’t home, and sometimes barely manage to scuttle out of sight when they return. 

A few times, Seokmin has asked why you hide from everyone when they could potentially free you from the mirror world. You always say the same thing ‘I don’t want to face the same disappointment again.’ Eventually, Seokmin stops asking and you can’t tell if it’s to protect your heart or his. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You ask the man at your side, and not for the first, second or third time either. In fact, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve repeated those words.

“Yeah, it’s been long enough,” he confirms, squeezing your hand slightly, with his long fingers locked between your own as he stares at the front door. The door of a home that was once yours, once his, and now someone else's. 

“It’s not like we’re on a time limit here, we don’t ever have to come back if you don’t want to.” 

“I need to see who lives in our house now,” he assures and bravely reaches out to open the washed-out door. 

It surprises you both that the entrance hall is lit, and you both quickly notice the mirror above the side table against the wall. 

“Didn’t expect that, not many houses have hall mirrors,” you admit.

“I meant to put one up, never got the chance,” Seokmin informs with a little grin before the two of you enter the house and shut the door behind you.

There’s no wind, no creepy crawlies, no strangers to follow you inside but you both still always shut entrance doors behind you as if holding on to that little piece of reality.

“Huh, it’s lit everywhere,” the man comments as he peers around the living room doorway, and then the kitchen doorway opposite. “What weirdo puts a mirror in their kitchen?” 

“A big one.” 

“Big one,” Seokmin giggles, making you let go of him to shove him. “Hey!” He laughs as he stumbles, and then looks at you with an attempt at a stern expression, yet he’s still smiling too much and his eyes sparkle with the same joy he always looks at you with. You can’t say that yours don’t hold that same glimmer for him either. 

“What?” You reply innocently while backing up towards the stairs. 

All Seokmin does is point a finger at you in warning before you’re turning and running up the stairs while laughing happily, with him right on your shadow making dramatic growling sounds. 

He’s getting much better at those noises too; he rarely even chokes in his attempts these days. You’re oddly proud of him for that.

As you run through the house, you vaguely notice that Seokmin’s observation from downstairs seems to be correct up here; every room and hallway is lit with at least one mirror per room. It’s very strange. 

You barrel into the en-suite of the master bedroom without thought and try to shut the door on Seokmin to playfully lock him out, but he’s too close and slams it open. 

“Huh?” The deep, male voice makes you both freeze, then look over to the mirror expecting to see someone there. But from this angle, the room on the other side of the glass looks entirely empty. 

You motion for Seokmin to stay there and quiet before you turn and sneak further into the room to try and figure out where the man on the other side is. 

Though the bathroom is entirely empty, so you stop and stare confusedly at the mirror. “I can’t-” you start to tell Seokmin that you can’t see anything, yet suddenly from the doorway in the reflection, the very edge of a person steps into the room so you quickly clamber into the bath and lay flat against the porcelain hoping that the stranger won’t be able to see you in the reflection. It’s a pretty big bath with high edges that you got installed yourself so that you can soak properly. You briefly wonder how long ago that was.

You have no idea what Seokmin is doing; you can’t really risk lifting to pop your head out from the bath just in case the stranger is still in the bathroom and facing the mirror. The last thing you need is to scare the man into falling and cracking his head on the tiles. You may not live in the house anymore, but you really don’t want it to be home to a ghost just in case you do manage to return one day.

Although there is literally only one person it can be, when Seokmin suddenly appears leaning over the bath a few moments later, you shriek in surprise, making him laugh.

“Who’s there?!” Comes from the other side of the glass followed by rapidly approaching footsteps. 

A shared, panicked look passes between yourself and Seokmin before you reach up to grab his t-shirt at the same time as he climbs into the bath. You pull him chest to chest and wind an arm around his waist to urge him as close to you as possible while your free hand cups the back of his head to tuck his face into your neck. 

You really hope that the sides of the bath are tall enough to block Seokmin from the mirror’s view too. This is a rather…awkward position to be caught in.

“I swear I heard something…” The stranger mutters, voice clear enough despite the distortion of the mirror that you can tell he’s in the bathroom. “Maybe I should stop drinking energy drinks at midnight.” 

“He does what?” Seokmin whispers appalled against your skin. 

You don’t know if you should laugh, shove him away from your sensitive skin or pull him closer encouragingly. You decide to do none of the above, both because you don’t know how to react and because you really don’t want to get caught like this by the stranger.

“Whatever, guess I’ll just go to bed,” the man mutters before noisily leaving the room in a way entirely opposite to how he had entered. 

It feels like he made himself heavy footed and closed the door so audibly on purpose, so when Seokmin starts to move, you hold him tighter to keep him still. 

Thankfully, Seokmin listens to your silent demand and fits himself as close to you as possible, where he remains perfectly still except for the rise and fall of his torso as he breathes carefully to not risk his back rising too much. 

Each breath blows hotly over your neck and honestly, you want to scream. It’s too much to have the attractive man so close; you’re pretty sure you can feel his flaccid dick pressed between your bodies and it’s taking everything in you to not focus on that.

“Fuck,” the stranger curses under his breath after what feels like hours of being laid there. It must’ve only been a minute or so though, you don’t imagine he would waste so much time on trying to catch what he must assume is a ghost in his bathroom. 

This time, the open and consequent close of the door is at a much more believable level and you assume the man has given up and actually gone to bed this time. 

Still, you wait, counting out 3 minutes in your head before you loosen your hold on Seokmin. 

Slowly, he lifts his head out of the gap beside your neck and tentatively pushes up to cautiously peer over the edge of the bath to the mirror. When he lets out a breath of relief, you know that the coast is clear.

“He’s going to be tricky,” Seokmin comments, keeping his voice quiet as he looks back down at you. 

“Did you happen to notice where the mirror is in the bedroom?” 

“No.” 

“Me neither,” you frown a little. “We can’t risk it, even opening the door could be seen if the mirror is in the right place.” 

“So, we stay in the bathroom forever?” 

“I imagine he will leave the bathroom door open at some point and hopefully we can figure out where he is or hear him leave the bedroom so we can sneak out then.” 

“Isn’t the whole house full of mirrors?” 

“Don’t remind me,” you complain, prodding at his waist, making him jerk and let out a truly disturbing sound from the sudden ticklish jab. It probably says a lot about how long you two have been around each other that you don’t even react to the sound anymore, and he doesn’t get embarrassed about it like he used to.

Sometimes, you do genuinely wonder how long you have been stuck together now. How many days you’ve spent side by side sharing space in a way you never have with anyone before. You really don’t think you’ve ever developed such a deep connection with anyone before. You don’t think you will again either.

But mostly, you try not to think about how the world keeps spinning without you, and the fact that the world could end and you might not even notice for decades if you don’t go to the right lit places. 

You’ve never let Seokmin in on that thought process though, you don’t think he would be able to handle that potential truth.

“So, bathtub sleepover?” Seokmin grins, as if this doesn’t even bother him. 

It’s strange how such a soft man can be so unperturbed by things like this. You do wonder what kind of a life he lived before this to let so much just roll off his back, but you don’t ask about it. You don’t want to remind the sweet man of all he has been forced to leave behind thanks to you. 

Seokmin has cried and broken down in front of you before, somewhat regularly at the start when he would remember something; a schedule he’s been forced to miss, or a memory prompted by something you pass or interact with. And every single time as you held him and listened to him sob his broken heart out, yours shattered too. 

You think your heart has ached more for him than it ever has your own loss. You think it hurt worse seeing him cry that first time than any of the times an incantation had failed and you realised you’re still stuck here for however much longer. 

At first, you hadn’t tried hard, or at all, to entertain Seokmin or play along with his games, but now you’ll go along with anything he wants if it keeps him smiling. You never want to see him so broken again. Watching him cry even once, is one time too many.

Lee Seokmin deserves nothing but good things and you’ll do everything in your power to try and hold yourself to that silent, secret promise to make him happy for the rest of your lives.

“Bathtub sleepover,” you agree with a simple nod.

Together, you shuffle around until you’re laid on your sides against the porcelain and facing one another. 

Not for the first time, you’re struck by how beautiful Seokmin is as you lay there looking at one another. It’s a dangerous position to be in. You usually don’t face each other for very long like this because you don’t trust yourself to not act on the way your heart feels so full of love for this man yet beats harder against your ribs as if trying to shove you closer to him with every thud. 

Yet when you find yourself inches from Seokmin, it’s not because of your own actions.

Seokmin has moved closer to you until your legs are tangled and his left palm is hovering so close to your cheek that you can practically feel his touch already. 

A soft murmur of your name follows, blows over your lips like an unspoken question. Like an answer, you tilt your chin upwards, lessening that little gap between your faces. He lets out a shaky breath of relief before tilting in and kissing you softly. 

His hand gently lands on your cheek to allow his fingers to curve against the shape of you and hold you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever touched. 

It feels like a lot. Like almost too much. Like that rapid thudding of your heart is trying to send the words you’ve been holding in your chest out of your throat and into the air between you. You kiss him harder to stop them from flowing.

In return, Seokmin’s hand holds you tighter, his legs curl to tug you that bit closer as he presses against you and teases your mouth open easily with his to flit his tongue out in search of your own.

The mirror world is perpetually at room temperature, it never gets hot or cold, but right now you think you could burn up if not for the natural cool of the porcelain pressed against your back as he urges closer and traps you there between his heated body and the bath.

“Shit, shit, fuck,” Seokmin curses amongst heavy breaths as he suddenly pulls back with his eyes squeezed tightly closed. 

You can only stare at him dumbly, utterly dazed by the way he had kissed you as if trying to devour you entirely in the most incredible of ways. 

Slowly, you both gather your breath back. 

Seokmin shuffles back, giving you space again as his eyes flutter open to peer at you with uncertainty. “I’m sorry,” he apologises softly.

“What? Why?” 

“For…kissing you like that.” 

“Did I push you away?”

“I backed you against the side, I-” 

“Seok,” you interrupt, and scoot closer to take his face into your hands. He looks at you with round eyes, some of his nerves melting away at your tender touch. “You did nothing I didn’t like, except move away.” 

“Oh, really?” 

“Mm, I’d tell you if you do anything I don’t like.” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise,” you nod and seal it with a sweet kiss that makes Seokmin smile at you when you settle back down and put your arm around his waist. “You’ll tell me too, yeah?” 

“Mm, yeah,” he agrees. “Lift your head.” You do as he asked, even if you don’t understand why. Though it makes sense when he moves his right arm out from between your bodies to lay across the gap where your head was a moment ago, allowing you to use his bicep as a pillow. “I’ve always wanted to hold you like this.” 

“Take this as permission that you can, whenever you want,” you hum as you curl up against him and tangle your legs back together while your eyes shut. “I like cuddling.” 

“I like you.” Your eyes blow wide open, and you look at him. “What? You think I kiss any woman I meet in the mirror like that?” He scoffs a teasing laugh. 

“Maybe, I don’t know what you got up to before meeting me.” 

“You never ask.” 

“I don’t want to remind you of what you lost because of me.” 

Seokmin’s smile is understanding as he leans down to kiss you softly. “It was my choice. I wanted to help you, and it didn’t work, it’s not your fault. I’ve never blamed you for me being stuck here, Sunshine.” 

“I haven’t even tried to figure it out, I gave up trying to find a way out,” you admit in a voice so soft it could almost be considered a whisper. 

“You don’t want to go back?” He looks at you confusedly. “I thought you did?” 

“It’s been a long time for me, Seokie, I don’t know how long, but things have changed in the real world. I’ve seen technology change so much since I’ve been stuck here. It’s not a world I know anymore. I have nothing left out there.” 

“You’ll have me.” 

“It could just be a year or so for you, maybe less, you might still have a life to go back to.” 

“And I’ll take you with me,” he promises, talking a little firmer when you open your mouth to retort. “I want you by my side when we go back. You’re my Sunshine, you make me happy-” 

“If you start singing that song,” you warn, giving him a stern look that makes him giggle.

“I wasn’t going to. I was just stating facts. You do make me happy, and I can’t imagine living without you. When we go back out there, we’ll be together, okay? I’m not going to abandon you for my old life. I want to make a new life with you, okay?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“More sure than I have ever been about anything. I…I love you and it’s okay if you don’t love me back, I can wait. Or…well I love you and I’ll accept whatever you’re willing to give me.” 

“You’re so fucking stupid.” 

“Thanks,” he deadpans. “That’s exactly what I want to hear when I declare my love for the first time to the only woman I’ve said those words to and know I won’t to anyone else.”

“Seriously? You’ve never loved anyone before?” 

“Not like this. If we were out there, I’m pretty sure I’d have bought an engagement ring ages ago.” 

“So fucking stupid,” you reiterate desperately, before kissing him in the same way. Seokmin makes a surprised noise yet quickly melts against you, gripping a fistful of your t-shirt at your back as you press close to one another. 

“Giving me mixed messages,” he murmurs dazedly when you pull apart and look at one another. “You can’t call me stupid for loving you then kiss me like…like you…” 

“I didn’t call you stupid for loving me, I think that’s very wise, a great decision to love the person who would do everything possible to make you happy because they’re so fucking in love with you-” you’re cut off by Seokmin surging in to kiss you with the same desperation you had kissed him with a minute ago. 

“You love me?” He rushes out, during a quick break he creates in the kiss, yet doesn’t give you the chance to answer as he slots his lips back against yours.

With the passion Seokmin kisses you, you understandably assume things are going to develop and clothes fly off. Yet when you slide your hand under his t-shirt and barely get to feel his toned stomach, he turns his head out of the kiss and grabs your hand to still your movements. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask confused. 

“Not like this,” he replies, fluttering his eyes open as he turns his head back to look at you, now leaned up a little so that you can peer at one another comfortably. 

“Then don’t kiss me like that!” You complain and remove your hands from him entirely to cross over your chest. “I thought you want to fuck me and got excited for nothing.” 

“I do, I do, like so much. Seriously, Sunshine, I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long,” he assures so seriously that you believe him, and can’t help but giggle at how serious he is while talking about wanting to have sex with you. 

“Then why not now?” 

“I really don’t want our first time to be in a bathtub, babe,” he chuckles, and shuffles back to create a less heated gap between you, where he settles and tugs you in to cuddle. “Once we get out of this bathroom, we’ll go find a nice bed where I can lay you down and worship you like you deserve.” 

“Seok…” you murmur shyly, before tilting your head up to kiss his jaw softly. “You’re too good for me.” 

“Nah, I think I’m just right for you, Goldilocks.” 

It must be the next day when you wake to the muffled sound of the shower running. Carefully, you wriggle out of Seokmin’s hold and roll over to peer over the top of the bath. 

The mirror on the opposite wall is big enough that at this angle, you can catch sight of the shower and a male figure blissfully unaware under the water with his back to the mirror. 

Knowing that this is your chance, you turn over and put a hand over Seokmin’s mouth so that he doesn’t make a loud sound as you nudge him awake. His resulting snuffle is muffled so well under your palm that you barely catch it. 

He looks blearily offended at being woken up, but when you signal him to be quiet as you remove your hand from his mouth, he understands and nods to show as much.

One of you always keeps watch on the mirror as the two of you manoeuvre out of the tub silently, and then out of the bathroom. 

“Oh, thank fuck,” you breathe out as the two of you walk further into the lit master bedroom. 

Seokmin makes a noise of agreement, then tugs you in to kiss sweetly. “Good morning, Sunshine.” 

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Seokmin’s eyes round out at the pet-name and he gives you such a soft, adoring look that you find yourself kissing him before you’ve even registered it. A self-preservation instinct to prevent yourself from melting into a pile of goo from the loving expression of the man who owns your heart, soul, and ass.

There must be some residual tension in you both, left over from your tryst in the tub however many hours ago it was. Although the kiss started innocently enough, it doesn’t last long and you both get lost in the feeling of the other’s mouth as hands travel with interest over one another.

All thoughts of the man in the shower completely leave your mind. All you can think about is Seokmin and how you want to feel his mouth and hands all over you.

Clearly, Seokmin has the same thoughts in mind, because in no time at all, you’re at the edge of the bed with your top and bra somewhere on the floor behind where the man is kneeling before you and working on removing all of your clothing.

Of course, you’ll be damned if you don’t even the score; as soon as he’s got you naked and tries to lean down between your thighs, you reach out and tug on his t-shirt. Seokmin isn’t shy at all about yanking the material off of his torso and once you can see his beautiful, toned body, you understand why he didn’t hesitate.

“Well, shit,” you murmur, dragging your hungry gaze over his skin.

“Mm, can I taste you now?” Comes his distracted reply, eyes glued between your thighs with nothing but pure desire in his dark eyes.

“Get naked first.”

“Fully naked?” He lifts his head just enough to peer at you mostly through his lashes. “Can I keep my boxers on for now?”

“Why?”

“I want to focus on you but I get distracted when my dick’s out,” he admits sheepishly. “I’ll think it’s time to fuck you but I want to make you cum on my tongue first.”

“Well, I can’t reasonably say no to that,” you muse and hook your fingers under the waistband of his jeans to pull him closer. “C’mere.”

Seokmin doesn’t need to be told twice, he’s more than happy to crowd up against your front to kiss you while your hands work on his button and zipper. He helps you shove the denim down his thighs, which are way thicker than you had realised.

The reveal makes you stare at him dumbly as he sits on his butt to shimmy the material off of his legs in a frankly awkward looking manoeuvre. It says a lot for how attractive the man is, and perhaps how whipped you are for him, that even the ungraceful flapping of his legs to kick off his jeans and toe of his socks, doesn’t dampen your arousal at all.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” He questions upon getting back on his knees and facing you, only to realise that you’re staring at him with widened eyes and mouth parted in shock.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” you reply almost breathlessly. “How are you real? Did I make you up for company after being stuck in here so long?” You touch his chest and marvel at how solid his heated skin is under your palms. “This is a very vivid hallucination.”

“Baby,” he chuckles shyly while putting his hands over yours to press your hands flat to his skin. “I’m real, you’re real, this is real.”

“Fuck.”

“You okay?”

You lift your gaze from staring at his body to look into his utterly adoring gaze that is already locked on you. “I am never letting you leave me.”

Seokmin’s cheeks bunch as he smiles at you all big and genuinely happy. “I’m never going to want to.”

“Good.” You slide your hands out from under his to flow down his body, trace over his abs and around his waist to pull him as close as possible with your hands firm against his lower back. Seokmin makes a surprised, yet very happy and interested, sound at your actions before his lips are back on yours and filled with a new layer of hunger.

When you’re both breathing heavily and the kiss breaks, he starts a trail of heavy kisses down your neck, stopping to tongue over the swell of your breasts from between them as he pushes them in closer either side of his face so that he only has to turn his head and adjust a little to give both attention.

Though he doesn’t stay there long, the man is on a mission he is determined to succeed in. His path travels lower and you lean back on your palms to give him easier access to worship your stomach with his mouth.

Obviously, it’s been a long time for you, but you’re very certain that nobody has ever taken the time to give your body so much attention like this, not without it being a means to an end. But this, this certainly isn’t a partner building you up ready to fuck.

This is a man who is taking his time to love on every inch of your precious body because he wants to, because he enjoys doing it and showing you how beautiful he finds you without words.

If possible, you think you fall a little more in love with Seokmin with every press of his adoring, attentive lips to your skin. If your breath wasn’t already hitching and chest stuttering with the mix of intense arousal and love for this man, you would tell him those three words you know he’s pressing into your skin.

Perhaps that’s why you feel so full of love for him right now; he’s filling you with so much of his own that yours is overflowing and wanting to spill out to him. Like a never-ending feedback circle. You think that doesn’t sound so bad. A never-ending love with Lee Seokmin sounds pretty wonderful, actually.

The words are about to fly free from your mouth when his lips press against your clit and your eyes fly wide in surprise. You hadn’t even realised you had closed your eyes, or that his head is now between your thighs; you had been too caught up in the sensation of being loved and doted on so thoroughly.

“I love you,” you blurt, making Seokmin freeze in surprise at the sudden declaration. Which immediately makes you laugh because he has his tongue halfway out of his mouth with clearly every intention of swiping it against you. “You’re so cute.”

“What?” He garbles out around his still poked tongue, then abruptly pulls it back into his mouth looking a little embarrassed, though he quickly smiles at you and presses a kiss to your stomach just above your belly button. “I love you too, Sunshine. Now stop distracting me, I have important things to do.”

“Sorry, I’ll keep my love to myself from now on,” you retort playfully, and nudge his shoulder with your thigh.

“Good,” he jokes back. You nudge him again only to gasp loudly and fly one hand out to his head when he latches his mouth to your inner thigh in retaliation. He bites first, not too hard but hard enough that you know there will be a minor mark left behind. And then, he sucks on your flesh until you know without even looking that there will be a massive bruise left behind. It’s just a shame it won’t last.

Things kind of blur together after that. A haze of pleasure caused by a sinfully exquisite mouth licking and sucking your thighs and pussy; greedily slurping up every drop of arousal that drips out of you and smearing it against his chin and cheeks almost on purpose as if he’s trying to fucking bathe in it. But you barely notice that.

At some point, you drop onto your back against the mattress due to the intensity of pleasure running through your body thanks to the man between your thighs, who you are genuinely starting to think must be some kind of sex god based on his incredible physique and skill.

You don’t realise you’re on your back until your eyes flutter open with every intention of tilting your head down to look at Seokmin, you just know he has to look like sin personified right now. But you don’t get the chance.

As soon as your eyes are open, you find the mirror and spot the dark eyes staring intently at you from the other side.

You shriek and sit up, all but shoving Seokmin away in your rush to get your naked body off of the bed and out of the mirror’s view.

“What? What is it?” Seokmin asks, not even offended and instead looking more worried by your reaction. “Is it a spider?” He pales a little.

“I found the mirror,” you whisper, crouched a little to his side with your arms around your body as if the man in the real world can see you at this angle. But he had been reclined on his bed staring up at you enraptured. “Wait, that pervert!” You grab Seokmin’s t-shirt to yank over your head as its closest, then crawl onto the bed to glare up at the huge mirror fixed on the ceiling.

The man is still laid there with nothing but a towel around his waist, though he has one hand over his crotch, over the obvious bulge of his erection and you’re pretty sure it’s not out of any kind of shame.

“You were watching us!” You accuse, pointing up at him.

“If you don’t want me to watch, don’t have sex in my mirror,” he retorts simply, as if it’s so normal in his life to look up when laid in bed and see something in his mirror other than his own reflection. Then again, the man has a mirror above his bed, you’re pretty sure the guy lives a life very different to the one you lived pre-mirror. Mostly, you think he’s a giant fucking sexual deviant.

“We’re not in your mirror, pervert.”

“Looks it to me.” He shrugs and adjusts his position a little to bend one leg up, planting the flat of his foot casually on the mattress. It makes the towel blissfully hide his erection as the material slides down his thigh to bunch. You’re just glad it’s still long enough to hide what’s underneath from view.

You do not want to see this guy’s dick, no matter how generally attractive he is.

“If you’re not in my mirror, where are you?”

“A mirror world,” you answer simply, not seeing any harm in telling him that. He seems genuinely curious and something tells you to humour him at least a little.

“What’re you doing there?”

“Having a great time until you interrupted,” Seokmin grumbles from where he’s still on the floor at the edge of the bed, but now he’s got his arms folded on the mattress and head laid on them so he can look at you and the mirror.

The man looks over to Seokmin in the reflection as if he hadn’t even noticed him until now. Then again, he hadn’t moved his intense gaze from you at all so you’re not surprised. “So, I saw.”

“Hey!” Seokmin darts up onto the bed to stand in front of you and point threateningly up at the mirror. He’s still just in his boxers so the backs of his essentially bare thighs are right in your face and you can’t help but stare. They’re so thick and distracting. “That’s my girlfriend! Keep your eyes to yourself, pervert!”

“Relax, man, not like I can do more than touch, and I wouldn’t do that without her consent anyway.”

“Which she wouldn’t give; she’s in love with me,” Seokmin sounds so proud of that fact that you’re successfully pulled away from ogling his thighs to instead tilt your head back to peer up at the back of him with a smile.

You have no idea how you got so lucky to have the most precious man to have ever exist get himself stuck with you, and then fall in love with you, but you’re certainly glad about it. Not the stuck part, just the love and luck part.

“Sit down,” you giggle, tugging on Seokmin’s hips until he relents and drops down onto the bed in front of you while still glaring warningly up at the mirror. You wrap your arms around his waist and stretch your legs out either side of his. Seokmin gives the man in the mirror a smug look.

“You two look good together,” the man comments easily, mindlessly tracing his fingers over his lower stomach at the edge of his towel.

“Your erection already told us that,” you deadpan.

“That was because of you,” he informs shamelessly. “You’re gorgeous, you know?”

“She is and she’s mine,” Seokmin reiterates, making the man roll his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m not fucking stupid, I got that. I’m just paying a compliment, chill the fuck out, man.”

“Alright, you two, enough,” you scold them both gently, and press a kiss to Seokmin’s temple when he pouts at being told off. The soft kiss does its job and wipes the pout away, a content little smile replacing it on his lips.

“Did you die in my house or something?” The man asks, making you look back up at him. “Isn’t that how it works? You get stuck where you died?”

“We’re not dead,” Seokmin informs.

“What? You’re not ghosts?” The man looks genuinely disappointed, making you huff out a laugh. “Then what the fuck are you?” He’s almost pouting. Definitely sulking as he drops his leg down and crosses his arms over his chest while slouching further down against his pillows.

“Living humans,” Seokmin retorts, then turns his head to side eye you questioningly. You’re not sure when you two developed this silent communication to this degree exactly, but you know what he’s asking you without words and nod simply in permission. Seokmin looks back up at the mirror. “Well, she’s a witch.”

That makes the man perk up a little. “A witch? Really?” You nod in confirmation. “Do you know any ghosts?”

“Do you know any ghosts?” You retort with a scoff. “What makes you think I know any ghosts just because I’m a witch?”

“Just thought that, you know, supernatural beings…”

“What? You think we all know each other? Gather once a month for the monthly supernatural beings meeting?”

“I was just asking,” the man grumbles, once again pouting a little.

For a man who so confidently and shamelessly palmed his erection while watching you in the mirror not even ten minutes ago, he really seems to pout childishly a lot.

“Do you know any ghosts?” Seokmin takes the chance to turn his head to whisper to you.

“Oh, yeah,” you confirm just as quietly, making him giggle as he turns back around and leans happily back against your chest. “You seem very into ghosts,” you comment loudly to the man who peers back at you, lips still protruding a little.

“I’ve wanted to meet one for a long time,” he admits.

“Is that why your house is full of mirrors?” You muse, Seokmin looks very confused even if he remains quiet. “You hope you’ll trap a ghost in one, right?”

“I can’t tell if the fact you know that theory means it’s true or we’ve just been on the same websites,” he mutters.

“What’s a website?” You ask Seokmin in a whisper.

“Internet,” he answers just as quietly, to keep your conversation private. “I’ll show you when we get out. Maybe this guy can help, you can make a deal to introduce him to a ghost, bet he’ll at least try to help.”

“You may just be right there, sweetheart.” You hum thoughtfully as you look at the man above you for a few long seconds. “What if I can potentially help you out?” You offer.

“Help me out? By helping me meet a ghost?” The man asks and sits up abruptly, eyes wide in eagerness when you nod. “What do I need to do in return? I have money and I’ll let you fuck in all my mirrors without even looking and-”

“Alright, calm down ghost boy,” you snicker amusedly at the pure excitement on the man, he looks about two seconds from vibrating out of his skin and offering you his very soul in return for helping him meet a ghost. “Nothing like that, you help us and we’ll help you, no money or goods exchanged. Though you will need to get some supplies.”

“Yeah, sure…wait, you’re not going to like, sacrifice me or something, are you?”

Both you and Seokmin laugh.

“No,” you assure, shaking your head a little. “Nothing like that. It won’t hurt you at all, we just need you to perform a spell for us.”

“Yeah, sure,” he agrees easily. It would remind you of Seokmin’s own easy agreement however long ago, if it wasn’t for the fact this man doesn’t seem anywhere near as innocent and pure as Seokmin. Then again, you don’t think anyone is.

“Can we move to another mirror? this is really starting to hurt my neck,” Seokmin requests, already sitting up straight to roll his head around and stretch his neck.

“Mm, yeah,” you agree, so Seokmin gets off of the bed and starts to gather your clothes tossed over the floor while you look back at the man above you. “Is there a more reasonably placed mirror in this place?”

“There’s a dressing table in the next room,” the man informs while pointing to his right.

“Alright, meet you there. Put some clothes on though,” you suggest, though based on your firm expression, it’s not really a request, before you climb off of the bed.

“Fine.” You hear him mumble in response even if you’re no longer in front of the mirror.

“You look good in my shirt, by the way,” Seokmin murmurs to you when you’re on your feet in front of him where he’s already in his jeans and is fastening them.

“Maybe I should keep it then,” you suggest playfully.

“Is this you saying you want me to walk around topless?” He gasps theatrically and covers his nipples with his fingers, making you snort on a laugh. He breaks at the sound and laughs too while dropping his arms.

“If you were topless all the time, we’d only ever be doing one thing,” you give him a significant look that makes his lips twitch into a little smirk. You’re pretty sure you’ve never seen him smirk, and you’re pretty sure that he could make you do an insane number of things with that single look.

“That doesn’t sound so bad, doesn’t sound bad at all,” he reaches for his waistband, ready to remove the clothes he had just put back on.

“I can hear you two, you know!” The man’s exclamation makes both you and Seokmin jump before sharing a look, then giggling. “Can’t you keep your hands off of each other for five minutes so we can stick to our deal?”

“Sorry, pervert,” Seokmin calls sweetly.

The man sighs heavily. “My name is Wonwoo.”

Although Wonwoo eagerly runs off as soon as he’s copied the list you show him in the dressing table mirror to enthusiastically collect everything on it, it’s a few days before he attempts the incantation purely because it’s a few days before you show it to him.

After the last time that it went wrong, you know the previous version needed some work, and now that you have Seokmin at your side to think about, you really want to take time to mull over the spell and think through every step and syllable to get it right.  

And perhaps you did get distracted a few times by Seokmin sprawled over the bed keeping himself occupied with the items Wonwoo leaves in there once Seokmin asks him to decorate the spare room with something other than mirrors, even if Seokmin had called Wonwoo a pervert again.

Though Wonwoo had kept to his word and hasn’t spied on you two again, in fact he doesn’t even enter the spare room unless one of you has appeared to him in another mirror to request his presence. Maybe he’s not as much as a pervert as you both initially thought. Or maybe he just rates meeting a ghost more important than his voyeurism.

When you think you’ve got the incantation right after working over the spell so many times even Seokmin can recite it from memory in his sleep, you find Wonwoo in the lounge. The TV is on in front of him but he’s glued to his laptop and as the mirror is on the wall behind the couch, you can see the screen.

You don’t really know exactly what he’s doing, typing and looking somewhat intense, but you catch the big letters on the screen like a title; GFA.

“What’s that?” You ask curiously. Wonwoo immediately shrieks and flings himself off of the couch with his laptop. He hits his hip on the coffee table and knocks over his can of energy drink, but it is almost empty so even though it tips fully, only a few drops fly out before he manages to right it.

“Don’t sneak up one me!” He accuses, pointing a finger at you while closing his laptop with the other hand and sliding it suspiciously under the table.

“I would accuse you of watching porn but one, that was all writing and two, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t care if I caught you masturbating to sex videos.”

“Masturbating is nothing to be ashamed of and I’m not ashamed of my body or preferences so if you happen to see that, I don’t care.”

“Fair enough,” you shrug and lift the paper in your hand while climbing up onto the couch on your knees to press the sheet against the glass. Wonwoo scrambles over, kneeling on his couch to read the writing.

“I’m still very impressed that you can write backwards,” he comments offhandedly, flicking his gaze to you past the paper then back again.

“I’ve had a lot of time to develop useless talents.”

“It won’t be useless if this works. I’m pretty sure I’d mess up if you wrote normally and I had to try to reflect the words myself.”

“Mm, suppose.” You shrug. “Aren’t you going to copy it down?”

“Ah, right.” He nods in agreement, then wanders off to pick up a notepad from the side unit and a pen before returning. He stands there on the other side of the couch, pad resting on one hand as he routinely glances between it and the mirror to diligently copy the entire spell down. “What language is this?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, just curious.”

“Not one you need to worry yourself about. You won’t encounter it again.”

“It’s a dead language?”

“Not exactly, just not used by humans.”

“Ah, a supernatural language. Does each supernatural species have their own language?”

“What am I? An encyclopaedia?” Wonwoo pauses in his writing to look at you curiously. “What?”

“Just weird you say that.”

“How? Loads of people say that.”

“Most people now have never touched an encyclopaedia unless for a special interest.”

“What? But they’re so useful and full of knowledge!” You gawp. “How do you get all that information?”

“Google.”

“I don’t know anyone with that name.”

Wonwoo cracks a lopsided grin. “You’re really old, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Wow!” He grins brighter and climbs onto the couch to get closer, even if there’s no way he can actually reach you, still, you back up as much as you can without moving your hand from the mirror. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.”

“And how long have you been twenty-six?”

“Since my twenty-sixth birthday,” you deadpan. “Just copy the fucking spell, pervert.”

“Alright, grandma.”

“I swear when I’m out of here, I’m going to choke you,” you warn, though immediately backpedal at the slight glint you notice in his eyes. “No wait, forget that; you’d probably like it.”

“Yeah,” he agrees so shamelessly that it makes you laugh. He grins at you, pleased at making you laugh, then focuses on copying down the rest of the spell.

“Aw, did you make it all romantic for us?” Seokmin coos as the pair of you enter Wonwoo’s bedroom and find that he’s lit a bunch of candles around the room and at the base of the mirror, which he had moved from the entrance hall wall and into here to prop against the wall at the foot of his bed.

Other than the mirror on his ceiling, this mirror is the biggest in the apartment even if it only reaches his chest. Still, it’s much better than trying to climb through anything smaller. You appreciate the effort.

“The guy in the store said I should get them, said they’d be useful to me,” Wonwoo answers where he’s kneeling in front of the mirror and focused on setting up the items around him.

You and Seokmin kneel in front of the mirror, and you smile as Seokmin tells Wonwoo where to put everything based on how you had told him when he performed the spell. You’re surprised he remembers so well; you really hadn’t expected him to even recall the ingredients used for the spell, yet he still seems to remember it all somehow.

“Alright, that’s everything,” Wonwoo announces when he’s done arranging it all and leans back to sit heavier on his feet and plant his hands on his thighs while lifting his gaze to look at you. “I just need to read the spell now, right?”

“Pretty much,” you confirm and shuffle a little in place. “Put one hand on the mirror as you read it so the magic flows into the right object.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo shuffles closer and puts his left hand to the mirror as he picks up the paper with his right.

“Don’t lean on it though,” Seokmin quickly warns. “Trust me.”

Wonwoo gives Seokmin a questioning look yet doesn’t say a word and just nods, lightening his palm against the glass a little before he focuses on the paper. “Ready?”

As soon as you and Seokmin have both agreed, Wonwoo takes a breath then starts to read.

Even though you have no access to magic and magic cannot enter the mirror world, you can feel it growing with every word Wonwoo speaks.

“It’s working,” you whisper awed, gripping Seokmin’s hand tighter in your own. Seokmin doesn’t respond other than lifting your connected hands up to place a kiss right where your fingers are laced together.

As Wonwoo recites the words, the glass shimmers while magic layers over it, before it melts away and the slight breeze of Wonwoo’s fan reaches you both. Seokmin gasps softly and holds your hands closer to his mouth.

By all means, it looks as if the spell is working and perfectly too. Wonwoo’s hand hovers in midair, though you can see a pressure against his skin showing that in the real world, the glass still exists.

There are still a few lines of the spell left so you sit very still in wait, as if any slight movement will ruin Wonwoo’s concentration or the spell, and this will once again fail.

Yet when Wonwoo finishes talking and looks at you, you still don’t move. “Aren’t you coming through?” He asks confusedly and slowly lowers his hand as if dragging it down the glass, but there’s nothing there and his fingers slip through into the mirror world.

“He’s not getting pulled through,” Seokmin whispers with wide eyes that he quickly turns on you. “That-that means we can go through, right?”

“I…I guess so,” you confirm and nod a little. “You first.”

“What? No, together,” he argues, turning to face you better with a frown on his face. “We’ll do it together, Sunshine.”

“It’s better to go one at a time. Wonwoo isn’t a witch, he has limited magic so we can’t say it will be strong enough to pass through together and I’d rather you go through first, Seok.”

“That makes no sense, you’re a witch! You could just magic me through if it closes between us! I’m just human, I can’t do that!”

“You can recast the spell in Wonwoo’s place.”

“I messed it up last time, I can’t-”

“I trust you, now go before it shuts with us both here.” You pull your hand from his and try to push him to the mirror.

“No, baby, you go-” Before Seokmin can argue anymore, you shove him backwards at the same time Wonwoo grabs the back of his t-shirt and yanks Seokmin through the mirror.

The pair tumble to the floor heavily, displacing items and breaking the only black candle in the room. Instantly, the mirror closes back up.

“No!” Seokmin yells, darting forward to run his hands over the glass and frame of the mirror as if he’ll find a secret compartment to open the doorway back up.

“Shit,” Wonwoo curses as he yanks his jumper sleeve over his hand to smack out the little fire on the carpet from the candle. Luckily, it goes out easily and Wonwoo picks the candle up to inspect carefully while Seokmin rushes to set all the other ingredients back up.

“Get another candle,” Seokmin orders, glancing at Wonwoo with eyes shining with the threat of tears.

“I can’t.”

Seokmin immediately whirls on Wonwoo, eyes wide and frantic. “What do you mean you can’t?!” He demands, reaching out to snatch the broken candle from Wonwoo’s hands, which he desperately tries to fix. “We can’t do the spell without this kind of candle!”

“The store is closed, it’s 1am, Seokmin.”

“When does it open?” Seokmin’s head snaps up to look at Wonwoo, not even trying to stop the tears that start to trickle down his cheeks. “We need to go as soon as it opens, Wonwoo! We can’t leave her in there! She’s been stuck there for so long!”

“I know, I know,” Wonwoo soothes, reaching out to hold Seokmin by his shoulders. “We’ll go first thing, okay? We’ll get her out tomorrow, I promise.”

“You mean it?” Seokmin sniffles and Wonwoo nods, offering his pinkie. Shakily, Seokmin removes one hand from the candle to link his pinkie with Wonwoo’s to seal the deal. He wipes his face dry on the back of his arm before he faces you with a watery smile. “We’ll get you out tomorrow, baby, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree softly and offer a soft smile that Seokmin returns.

An hour later, you watch the two men fall asleep on Wonwoo’s bed, exhausted from the magic, and change of atmosphere in Seokmin’s case. Yet even as you lay there staring up at the mirror on the ceiling above you, counting the rise and fall of Seokmin’s chest to try and lull yourself, you don’t sleep at all.

“We should make a habit of this,” you comment where you’re sitting on the counter beside the sink in Wonwoo’s en-suite and facing the mirror where you can see Seokmin enjoying his first shower in potentially years. And you are enjoying the sight of your naked boyfriend’s skin pinkening in the heat of the shower as water trails down his body and glistens in all his delicious dips and curves.

“What?” Seokmin peers over his shoulder at you and squints to protect his eyes from the water. “You want to shower together?”

“That’d be nice, but I just mean watching you shower,” you answer honestly and let your gaze obviously drag up and down his body.

“Baby,” he chuckles, partly shy and partly scolding. “Don’t look at me like that. You know I’ll get hard.”

“And?” You smirk and lean back on your palms behind you at the edge of the counter.

You know that if Seokmin was in the room with you, he’d panic over the position and make you sit upright so you don’t risk toppling backwards. But there’s a mirror separating you and steam fogging up his side of the glass enough that he can’t clearly see you anyway.

“Put on a little show for me, huh, sweetheart?” You suggest with a smirk.

“I don’t think Wonwoo would like me jerking off in his shower.”

“Think of it as getting back at him for watching us.”

Seokmin makes a considering face before abruptly turning to face the mirror, and then drag his hand over his abs down towards his hardening cock.

Just as he gets his hand around it, dark gaze locked on you through the glass, there’s loud knocking at the door making him shriek in surprise and you groan in annoyance.

You can’t clearly make out what Wonwoo says on the other side of the door thanks to the noise of the shower echoing through the mirror, but Seokmin can and responds in an affirmative before he looks at you. “Wonwoo’s back.”

“Yes, I got that, baby,” you tease. “Unless he found a ghost all on his own.”

“Right,” he grins sheepishly. “He’s setting everything up.”

“Okay,” you swing around to jump off of the counter.

Seokmin whines when you start to walk away so you backstep and look at him. “You’re leaving me?” He pouts at you.

“I’ll see you in a minute,” you giggle. “And then a little after that, I’ll be kissing your pretty face.”

“Not if I kiss you first,” he jokes, winking at you and consequently somehow getting water in his eye. “Ow!”

You wait until Seokmin is no longer whining and fussing over his eye before you exit the bathroom and sit in front of the mirror to watch Wonwoo check over everything.

“Wonwoo,” you call softly so he looks up at you. He had heard you sit down, heard the faint rustle of your clothing through the mirror but he had been too focused to greet you, not that you much care. “Will you cast it?”

“What? Me?” His eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I thought Seokmin was going to?”

“That was last night when you had already cast it once. You’ve rested and eaten since then so you have the energy back.”

“Okay, but why not Seokmin? Is he not strong enough or something?”

“He’s plenty strong enough, I just… I’m not sure what condition I will be in once I step through. I’ve had no magic for so long, been stuck in this world for so long that I’m not sure how the real world will affect me anymore.”

“Like…badly?”

“It won’t kill me, but it might hurt. I…I’ve done a lot of questionable spells in my life that have left marks on me, marks that were very painful to gain in the first place so I can’t imagine regaining all of that feeling all at once will be particularly pleasant.”

“Oh, no, I suppose not,” Wonwoo murmurs. “You don’t want him to see you like that.”

“It’s not that, I imagine it’ll be inevitable that he sees it, but I just don’t want him to feel responsible for whatever happens, any pain I may feel once I’m there.”

“Ah, I see.” He nods in understanding. “I can cast it. Is there anything I need to do before then, to prepare for when you’re back? To help?”

“There isn’t time to prepare for any eventualities, just if any fires appear, throw sugar on them.”

“Sugar? On fire?”

“Fire sprites love sugar.”

“Fire sprites, cool, right.” Wonwoo nods absently, absorbing the words, before he turns his head to the bathroom. “The shower shut off.”

“Let’s do this now.”

Wonwoo only nods once in agreement before his left hand is on the glass and he’s reading from the paper in his right.

Seokmin enters the bedroom with his hair dripping onto the small towel around his bare shoulders and a pair of Wonwoo’s shorts hanging low on his hips when Wonwoo is halfway through the spell. You just smile at him when he walks over with wide eyes, shocked that Wonwoo is reading the spell he thought he was supposed to cast. But he doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t want to risk it failing.

As soon as Wonwoo is finished reciting the spell, he reaches through the mirror and you grab his hand. As he pulls, you launch yourself forward while squeezing your eyes closed, just in case.

When your eyes open, you find Wonwoo’s own already open and on you from where he’s laid against the carpet with his right arm around your waist and his left trapped between your bodies with both of yours.

“Hey,” he greets with a lopsided grin.

“Hi,” you reply a little dumbly, then laugh disbelievingly and sit up, uncaring that you’re on his hips. Wonwoo doesn’t seem too bothered by it either and just lets you sit there to take in his bedroom from the real world. “Smells cleaner than I expected for a pervert.”

“Hey!” Wonwoo bats your thigh, though he’s grinning still and not really offended.

“Sunshine,” Seokmin’s soft voice makes you look directly at him. He’s kneeling just outside of the ring of magical ingredients, the black candlestick still burning away and keeping the doorway open.

“One sec,” you speak and clamber off of Wonwoo to blow out the candle and seal your mirror world back up.

You have no idea if you will be able to open the door again now that there’s nothing there; the spell Wonwoo read was designed for living things, not an empty shell, after all. The mirror world could be lost to you now and honestly, you think you’re kind of glad about it.

Though when you turn to face Seokmin with every intention of throwing yourself at your handsome boyfriend, your head starts to spin and your sight goes fuzzy at the edges.

Something must be happening to you outwardly too, because even through the rapidly growing blur, you can clearly make out the panic on Seokmin’s face. You don’t hear him call your name as he darts over to catch you before you hit the floor, but you see his mouth moving to make the syllables.

For a second you fear that the last time he says your name to you will be lost to the buzzing in your ears, but then everything goes black and you’re unable to feel anything anymore.

“Hey,” you know the voice even if it takes you a moment to place it.

“You,” you grumble, turning your head a little.

You hear a gasp and someone yelling in the room, but you can’t make sense of it; your hearing is muffled like you’re underwater.

“So, you’re finally back, huh?” He muses. Even as just a voice projected into your head, you can practically see his amused grin. “About time, I was getting bored.”

You barely make a noise in response and focus on trying to lift your heavy arms in an attempt to rub at your ears and try to displace whatever is blocking your hearing, but you can’t lift your limbs even an inch before having to drop them again.

“I’d take it easy if I were you, kiddo, your magic is unstable so that sweet little witch nurse has put a suppressant on you. Of course, you could easily break it, but then you’d likely lose control and hurt your new boyfriend. I’ll be by to meet him when the time is right, by the way. Gotta play my role right, huh?” He sniggers. “Just relax and let the nurse witch bring you back piece by piece; you’ve been without magic for decades now, you can handle a few more weeks of being weaned back into it. Oh, gotta go, a certain someone’s fluttering for attention. Look after yourself, kiddo, I’ll be around soon enough.”  

You feel the presence in your mind leave and your hearing starts to filter back in.

“Sunshine? Are you awake?” Even dulled around the edges, the sound of Seokmin’s gentle, caring voice has your heart thrumming happily in your chest and your lips tilting up slightly in the start of a smile. “Ah, there she is,” he whispers as your eyes flutter open and land on him where he’s leaning over the bed from your right, one hand on the beside table to support him and the other holding your hand on your ribs. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Seokmin smiles brighter and sniffles as he sits on the bed at your side and wipes his cheeks yet the tears keep rolling down. “I was so scared I had lost you.”

“Told you, I’m never letting you go,” you remind and squeeze his hand in yours.

He laughs softly and leans over to nuzzle into your cheek before just staying there and breathing you in. You can feel his tears of relief rolling down onto your ear, and it’s a little ticklish, but you don’t try to move him and instead bring your free hand up to run through his messy hair.

“Hey,” Wonwoo’s voice makes you remove your focus from Seokmin and look over to where Wonwoo is standing at the foot of the bed with who must be the nurse witch. At the very least, he’s the only other person here and you can feel the magic in him. But he’s certainly not little like the voice in your head had said.

This guy is taller than Wonwoo and although it’s not by much, the pure breadth of the guy makes him look twice the size of Wonwoo, even if the stranger is slouched a little, making himself look smaller as he smiles politely at you.

“This is Mingyu, we met on a chat site,” Wonwoo introduces.

Before you can question what that is, Seokmin speaks up softly, “Internet thing.”

“He’s a nurse so I called him to come make sure you don’t die on us.”

“Nurse, huh?” You question, raising an eyebrow at Mingyu who grins sheepishly at you. When you raise a questioning eyebrow and purposely push against the containment spell he has on your magic in a way that he’ll sense it and understand what exactly you’re asking, he shakes his head a little, telling you that no Wonwoo does not know that he’s a witch.

It's not your place to out anyone so you just hum and nod in thanks. “Appreciate you coming you help out a stranger, Mingyu, thank you.”

“Of course,” Mingyu replies with a genuine smile. “I’m always happy to help where I can. How are you feeling?”

“Heavy.” Seokmin immediately leans off of you, thinking he’s causing it but you pull him back and hold him until he gets comfortable tucked up against your side with his head on your shoulder and face tucked into your neck, one arm and leg slung around you.

“That should pass, you just need a lot of rest and to take things easy for a while.”

“Mm, okay,” you agree easily.

“I need to get going for my shift now but I’ll be back tomorrow, okay? Wonwoo has my number if you need me before then for any reason.” You just nod in understanding so Mingyu turns and leaves with Wonwoo right behind him to walk him out.

“Are you really feeling okay, other than the heavy thing?” Seokmin asks softly a few seconds later.

“Yeah. It’s just my magic returning and my body readjusting to real life.” Something suddenly occurs to you making you inhale sharply and curse, “fuck.”

“What? What is it?” Seokmin leans up onto his elbow to look down at you worriedly.

“Just realised I’m going to have to actually eat, drink and use the toilet again now,” you mutter displeased. Seokmin’s expression turns relieved, understanding that you’re not in pain like he had feared, before he chuckles and settles back down against you. “It’s all so inconvenient.”

“Yeah, I got used to not having to do any of that and Wonwoo keeps reminding me to stay hydrated especially.”

“Bet he loves that,” you joke.

“He says it’s like he’s my dad, except I’m older than him and he’s seen me eating out my girlfriend, so we have a messed-up family.”

“We do,” you agree, making him laugh. “So, I guess that means you know how long since you got stuck with me there?”

“Four years. I should be thirty-one right now, but I’m not.”

“Ah, you can integrate back into your previous life with little issue; the lack of aging for four years isn’t a big deal.”

“Mm, Wonwoo tried getting me to call my family but I’ve been too worried that you wouldn’t wake up. But now you’re awake, I’ll call them and tell them that…I don’t know, I don’t really have a reason for being missing for four years. I don’t want them to think I got kidnapped or something.”

“The alternate is that you willingly left, Seokie.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” he sighs heavily and turns his face into your neck.

He surely can’t breathe with how closely he’s tucked in but you leave him to it. A handful of seconds later, he turns his head back around and takes a few big breaths to refill his lungs properly.

“Maybe I can just claim amnesia for the past few years. I went for a walk, fell over and hit my head, and woke up in some stranger’s house unable to remember anything. And that stranger turned out to be the love of my life and now four years later, my memories have returned and I want to introduce her to my family ahead of our wedding.”

“I wasn’t aware you’re getting married, Mr Lee.”

“Mm, told you; I would’ve already bought you an engagement ring by now in the real world and you know, if I’ve not been in some magical alternate world for the past four years, that means I would’ve proposed to my girlfriend ages ago and we’d be planning our wedding.”

“Assuming she’d accept the proposal.”

Seokmin darts up to lean over you with a pout. “You would reject me?”

“Guess you’ll have to get a ring and find out, huh?”

“I will,” he promises, looking so earnestly determined and so, so, so precious that you can’t help but giggle adoringly before tugging him down to kiss. “I love you, Sunshine.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“Will you meet my parents though?”

“In a few weeks once I’m all better,” you agree easily, making him smile.

“Okay, I’ll hold off making the call until then because I know they’ll want to meet right away. And it’ll give us time to get our stories straight and time to buy a ring…shit…I’m broke.”

“Guess you need to get a job then,” you peer around the room, then start to shuffle. “Help me sit.”

Once you’re upright, you look around the room again to realise that you’re in the spare room, the room you and Seokmin shared in the mirror world.

Wonwoo enters with a tray holding a big bowl of something steaming and a couple bottles of water. “You look as if you’re looking for something,” he comments as he hands the tray to Seokmin, then climbs up to your free side and gets comfortable himself.

“Have you had the floors redone since living here?” You wonder, looking at Wonwoo who shakes his head so you look at Seokmin. “Did you?”

“No, why?” Seokmin asks as he mixes the spoon around the bowl. You quickly glance at the contents and realise it’s some kind of thin soup, then look away to the corner by the door. “Pull up the carpet there and the third board in.”

“What? Why?” Wonwoo looks at you like you’re crazy. “Do your witchy powers know something?”

“No,” you scoff. “My memory knows something.”

“Wait, you’ve been in this house before?” He gawps.

“It was hers before it was mine,” Seokmin informs.

“Wait, are you the woman who went missing here in the 60s?” Wonwoo looks at you and Seokmin chokes on absolutely nothing. You just nod. “Dude, you’re dating someone older than your parents.” Wonwoo grins at Seokmin.

“S-seriously?” Seokmin looks at you with wide eyes.

“I don’t know how old your parents are but I assume so, I was born in 1938,” you admit with a little wince knowing exactly how it sounds, even if you look 26 still, you’re a hell of a lot older. You don’t really want to know what the year is but you don’t have much of a choice.

“Well, you’re the hottest 90-year-old I’ve ever seen,” Wonwoo jokes, before cracking up laughing at the look you give him, half murderous for mentioning your age and half shocked that it’s quite that old.

“My grandma is only 82,” Seokmin’s dumbfounded mutter makes Wonwoo laugh hard enough that he has to get up and leave the room. “No, wait, 86 now I guess.”

“Please stop,” you plead as you look back at Seokmin. “I am this close to having a mental breakdown, I didn’t realise it’s been that long for me.”

“Oh, right, yeah, I suppose it has, huh?” He frowns at you a little. “It’s a whole new world for you, I can understand now why you didn’t care if you returned or not.”

“Yeah,” you tentatively touch your fingers to his where they’re curled around the edge of the tray on his lap to keep it still. “I…I understand if you want to call your parents now and go back to them and…forget the past four years for real.”

“What?” He quickly puts the tray on the side table so that he is free to face you fully and take your face into his hands, making you look up at him instead of staring forlornly at the gap that no longer exists between you. “Sunshine, I’m not going anywhere. I told you that, remember? You said you’re never letting me go and I said I won’t want to go anyway. I mean that.”

“Still? Even knowing that I could’ve babysat your grandma?” You ask, unintentionally pouting at him a little with round eyes of worry.

“I won’t lie, that would be weird, but also kind of funny,” he giggles, then leans forward to kiss you softly. “I love you, Sunshine, and I’m going to marry you and maybe…we can have a family of our own. You can teach them how to do cool spells and I’ll teach them that age doesn’t mean a thing when your wife is as hot as mine is.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” you huff, yet break into a smile and pull him in by his t-shirt to kiss.

You’re disturbed a few minutes later by a noise in the corner and look over to find Wonwoo ripping up the carpet, a toolbox at his side.

“The third board?” Wonwoo asks loudly a moment later when he’s got the carpet back far enough.

“If I remember correctly.”

“Never know at your age,” he retorts, then laughs when a decorative pillow hits the back of his head.

You hadn’t thrown it, you’re far too weak for that right now, but you had given it to Seokmin and pointed at Wonwoo so your beautiful, loyal boyfriend had lobbed it over at the technically youngest member of your trio, even if he’s thirty-two.

You tug Seokmin in for a grateful kiss, then let him go. He immediately picks the tray up yet places it back down seconds later when Wonwoo gasps loudly, the floorboard in his hands. “What? What is it?” Seokmin asks, rushing over to peer into the hidden compartment. “Holy shit, is that a spell book?!”

“You notice that and not the box of fucking gold jewellery?” Wonwoo gawps at Seokmin in disbelief, then reaches in to pull the open lidded, almost overflowing box out tentatively.

As soon as Wonwoo’s out of the way and approaching the bed to sit on, and rummage through the jewellery at your side, Seokmin dives back into the hole to grab the book and other items with intrigue.

“These aren’t real pearls…right?” Wonwoo asks once he’s opened the only jewellery box in the container and taken note of the pearl necklace within.

“Of course they are,” you scoff. “Why would I have fake pearls?”

“Because having real pearls is insane! They’re worth so much!”

“Are diamonds still worth something?” You ask, plucking up a bracelet from the box.

“Yeah, a lot.”

“Then I guess we’ll be able to afford to get out of your hair soon enough.”

“As in move out?” Wonwoo pouts at you a little. “But…I’ve gotten used to not being alone and there’s plenty of space for the three of us. Well, more than just plenty; you know how big this house is, there are more bedrooms left unused, you can have a magic workroom or whatever.”

“You really want us to stay?” Wonwoo nods, looking a little shy to admit it.

“Okay,” you agree, and reach over to squeeze his knee a little with a teasing grin. “We’ll stay and you can be uncle Wonwoo and babysit for us one day.”

“You know what? I like kids so I’m okay with that,” he shrugs and focuses back on the jewellery so you plop the bracelet back into the box almost carelessly. You’ll have to remember to remove the protective, anti-damage spells on anything you sell beforehand, selling anything with magic attached is never a good idea.

“Is this your magic wand?” Seokmin gasps, suddenly clambering onto the bed and holding his hand towards you. You look at the item in his hand and laugh before nodding a little. “Wow, that’s so cool!”

“You can have it now; I haven’t needed that for a long time.”

“A long time,” Wonwoo comments, and sniggers when you backhand his leg.

“Wow, really? You’re good enough to not need a wand?”

“Mm, some basic spells are easy for anyone to do wandless, but more advanced stuff requires it until you have a certain handle on it all.”

“I bet you would’ve defeated Voldemort easily.”

“I have no idea who that is,” you remind, and both men light up before sharing a grin.

“Potter marathon?” Seokmin asks.

“Hell yeah. I’ll go buy popcorn,” Wonwoo agrees enthusiastically.

“Popcorn?” You ask, eyes widening with interest. “The sweet kind?”

“Ooh, there’s so much you’ve never tried!” Seokmin gasps excitedly bouncing on the bed at your side while Wonwoo gets up and leaves the room. “So many treats and foods and drinks and movies and shows and-”

“Seokie,” you interrupt, putting your hand over his mouth. “Calm down, there’s no rush. We have the rest of our lives to do everything.”

Seokmin gently pulls your hand down onto his lap and laces your fingers together. “Yeah, we do. A long happy life side by side, right?”

“Forever and always, sweetheart.”

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[perfectsunlight]

[31] DO IT

warnings: emotional distress, family conflict, intense feelings of isolation and public scrutiny.

ivory had always been afraid of being forgotten. not by her fans or the world—but by the one person who mattered most. even as a child, she would wake up in the middle of the night, wandering to her mother’s room, needing reassurance that jennie was still there. sometimes, she’d stand quietly in the doorway, watching the steady rise and fall of her mother’s breathing, too scared to wake her but too terrified to return to bed without knowing she wasn’t alone.

it was a fear she never spoke of, one that existed in the spaces between phone calls, in the empty chairs at school performances and birthday dinners. as she grew older, ivory learned to bury that fear beneath layers of independence and a carefully constructed persona. she became untouchable, unbreakable. but deep down, the fear never really went away. it just evolved—into a gnawing ache, a quiet desperation that simmered beneath the surface.

no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, no matter how fiercely she told herself that she didn’t need anyone, especially not jennie—there was always that part of her, that small, terrified child, that craved her mother’s presence. it didn’t matter that the world saw jennie as an untouchable icon, a woman too busy for mundane things like school recitals and family dinners. to ivory, jennie wasn’t a superstar. she was her mother. the one person whose absence felt like a constant void in her life, no matter how full her schedule or how loud the applause was at the end of the day.

as a child, it was easier to forgive. ivory could accept the excuses—the concerts, the tours, the interviews. her friends’ parents worked, too. it was normal, she told herself. but as she grew older, the empty seats at her events became harder to overlook. the brief phone calls shorter. the excuses thinner. and yet, despite all of that, ivory couldn’t bring herself to truly resent jennie. 

she couldn’t. she wouldn’t.

but she was scared. scared that one day her mother's calls would stop altogether. scared that the distance between them would grow so wide, neither of them would be able to bridge it. and now, standing at the center of this storm, that fear felt closer than ever.

the headlines hadn’t stopped since paris.

who is jennie’s mystery daughter? did k-pop’s queen secretly have a child? blackpink’s jennie: a liar and a mother?

the press had latched onto the grainy photos and videos of their argument like vultures circling a fresh kill. ivory had seen the way they twisted the story, the wild speculation that spread like wildfire across social media. the world now knew jennie had a daughter. 

and they knew it was her. 

jane had spent years keeping her identity hidden, living under the radar while the world worshiped her mother. she had liked it that way. the anonymity, the freedom to exist without the suffocating weight of expectations that came with being jennie kim’s daughter. but now? that fragile shield had been shattered, and the world was closing in.

the calls had started soon after the story broke. jennie, frantic, trying to reach her—voicemail after voicemail, the panic in her voice barely contained. ivory had listened to each one with growing dread, her finger hovering over the play button as her heart raced in her chest.

“valentine, please. i need to know you’re safe.” “jane, please. please just let me know you’re alright.”

there had been so much desperation in her mother’s voice, the kind ivory wasn’t used to hearing from her mother. jennie was always composed, always in control. but now, she sounded as if she was unraveling at the seams. and ivory couldn’t take it. she couldn’t bear to hear her mother like that, not when she had caused this entire mess.

so she ignored the calls. all of them. 

when the familiar buzzing showed on her screen every few hours, it felt like an unwanted reminder of the chaos she had unleashed, a storm that tore through both of their lives. each vibration sent a sickening twist through her stomach, a reminder of the gravity of her actions.

after the confrontation in paris, ivory had fled the hybe building, overwhelmed and reeling. she didn’t want to face anyone—not the paparazzi waiting outside, not her mother, and certainly not herself. so she slipped away, taking a cab to a small, rundown hotel in the heart of seoul, far from the flashing lights and the stares that burned into her skin.

her managers knew where she was, and they had told her to lay low until they figured out what they were going to do. 

the hotel was shabby, with faded wallpaper and a flickering neon sign that buzzed incessantly, but it offered a strange kind of solace. she checked in under a fake name, wanting to escape the reality of who she was and what she had done. here, she could hide from the world, drown in her thoughts, and figure out how to untangle the mess she had created.

days passed in a blur of solitude. the room was small and dimly lit, with a single window that overlooked the busy street below. she could hear the sounds of the city—the chatter of voices, the honking of horns, the distant thrum of music. but within those four walls, it felt as if she were in a different universe, one where time stood still and the chaos outside faded into a dull hum.

ivory found herself staring at the walls, the phone silent for days. she had turned it off, the weight of it resting on the nightstand like a stone. the outside world felt like a distant echo, muted and blurry. she had done this to think, to find clarity amid the storm of emotions that threatened to engulf her. but instead of solace, she was confronted with a suffocating silence that pressed down on her, amplifying her thoughts until they roared in her mind.

every night, she would curl up in the thin hotel sheets, staring at the ceiling as tears soaked into the fabric. the headlines blared in her mind, the way the world painted her as a reckless daughter, a girl who had turned her back on her mother. each image she had seen of jennie—stoic yet clearly shattered—felt like a knife twisting deeper into her heart.

maybe she had gotten it wrong all along? maybe it wasn’t jennie who was a bad mother, but perhaps ivory was just a bad daughter?

the thought gnawed at her, burrowing into the cracks she’d tried so hard to seal with layers of resentment and self-protection. for so long, she had told herself that her mother’s absences were her choice, that they were symptoms of a life she’d constantly chosen over jane. but maybe she’d been too harsh, too quick to judge. maybe, instead of seeing her mother’s absence as abandonment, she should have seen it as a sacrifice—the kind of sacrifice jennie had made over and over again for a career that demanded so much of her.

she remembered the times her mother had tried, the small efforts that jane had always brushed aside. 

the hasty texts on long flights, the brief hugs at drop-offs. the late nights when the idol would tiptoe into her room just to check if she was sleeping, her gaze lingering as if she could somehow make up for all the time she’d missed. ivory had shrugged those moments off as mere gestures, believing them to be obligations jennie fulfilled out of duty, not love. but now, lying alone in the dim room, the reality of it hit her in waves. what if those gestures had been her mother’s way of holding on? what if, in those tiny efforts, her mom had been showing her all the love she knew how to give?

the guilt was like a weight pressing down on her chest, making it harder to breathe. ivory had been so focused on what jennie hadn’t done. she had zeroed in on the moments she’d missed, that she’d blinded herself to the ways her mother had tried. she felt stupid now, like a fool who’d misread the intentions of someone she’d thought she knew.

and here she was now, hiding away in a hotel room, and pushing away her mother like she had always done. perhaps it was the only thing ivory was good at?

the irony stung. for so long, she’d told herself she didn’t need anyone, that she could stand on her own. but now the feeling of jennie’s absence left her hollow. what she wouldn’t give to hear her mother’s voice, to feel her arms around her, reassuring her that no matter what, she was loved.

she just needed to know that even though the world hated her, jennie didn’t. but how could she face the woman who had done so much for her now? how could she call and ask for comfort from her own mistakes?

it was unbearable.

the silence was thick, suffocating, punctuated only by the soft, shuddering breaths she tried to keep at bay. her hair clung damply to the sides of her face, sticking where her tears had traced lines over her skin, and she made no effort to brush it away. she was too tired, too drained to fight it. the shame was a living, breathing thing, curling around her ribs and squeezing until she felt she might break. she wanted to call, needed to hear her mother’s voice if only to remind herself that she hadn’t lost her for good. 

but fear held her still, paralyzed by the thought of what jennie might say—what if this time, she’d gone too far?

her mother had built her image, brick by brick, a fortress against the world. for as long as she could remember, jennie had been untouchable—a figure of grace and strength who carried her fame with an elegance that shielded them both. she was not only a mother but a force, someone who had learned how to guard herself against scrutiny, judgment, and the eyes of millions. 

and in one single night, ivory had torn it down entirely.

the thought made her throat tighten. it wasn’t just her mother’s disappointment she feared; it was the possibility that she might have broken something between them beyond repair. she could almost feel the weight of her mother’s silent gaze, the look jennie gave when words failed her, a look jane had always dreaded. how many times had jennie shielded her from the world, made sacrifices so she could have a semblance of a normal life, always trying to balance her career with the quiet reality of motherhood? 

the young idol slowly shifted to grab her phone, finally powering it on for the first time in days.

with a trembling hand, ivory unlocked her phone, its glow casting an eerie light across the dim hotel room. notifications flooded the screen—missed calls from jennie, countless unread messages, and a storm of news alerts she didn’t have the strength to open. she ignored them all, her thumb hovering over the search bar instead. she hesitated, feeling the familiar ache in her chest that had kept her silent for days, and then she typed in her mother’s name.

the videos started playing softly, her mother’s familiar voice filling the empty room like a gentle balm. some were clips from concerts, where jennie laughed and shouted with the crowd, her voice confident and warm. others were softer interviews, where she answered questions thoughtfully, her tone composed and steady. ivory’s heart twisted as she listened, letting her mother’s voice settle over her like a blanket, the sounds wrapping around her loneliness and fear.

as the videos played, she closed her eyes, imagining that jennie was right there beside her, as if these recordings could somehow bridge the distance between them. she could almost hear her mother speaking directly to her, calming her fears, reassuring her like she used to when jane was little, waking from a nightmare.

she remembered the times jieun would have to do the same thing she was doing now. jane always had trouble sleeping whenever jennie was gone. whenever her mother was away—on tour, at a shoot, anywhere the demands of fame took her—ivory would find herself wide awake, the shadows in her room feeling bigger and darker without jennie’s reassuring presence. the quiet would fill her with a familiar fear, that gnawing ache that maybe one day jennie might not come back at all.

on those nights, ivory would wander down the hallway, blanket in hand, and find jieun still awake, often reading by a small, warm light. jieun always seemed to know what was coming. she’d reach out, patting the spot beside her without a word. “couldn’t sleep, huh?” she’d ask gently, her voice soft but steady. ivory would nod, curling up beside her grandmother as she reached for her phone.

they’d spend those late hours scrolling through videos of jennie, watching old interviews and clips from concerts. her grandmother would play each one as if it were a lullaby, knowing that jennie's familiar laugh and voice were the only things that could ease ivory’s fears. ivory would lean her head against her grandmother’s shoulder, letting her mother’s voice wash over her until her eyes grew heavy, lulled by the warmth of her grandmother and the comfort of hearing her favorite person’s voice, even if only through a screen.

now, alone in a cheap hotel room, ivory found herself reaching for that same comfort.

the hum of jennie’s voice blurred the line between reality and memory. as she drifted further into sleep, ivory could almost believe that her mother’s hand was stroking her hair, whispering that everything would be alright, that no matter what happened, they’d get through it together.

when morning came, ivory slowly pulled herself from the mattress and forced herself to get up and shower.

the water came down in torrents, cold and sharp against her skin, but ivory barely felt it. she stood there, shoulders slumped, the steam from the shower swirling around her in thick clouds. her hands gripped the edge of the glass shower door as her mind spiraled, the weight of the decision she knew she had to make crashing down on her like the cold water that refused to wash away her guilt.

she had to do it. she had to put out a statement—one that would sever the last thread of connection between her and jennie. the world had already begun to twist the narrative, speculating and spinning stories. it was only a matter of time before the pressure would reach its boiling point, and she knew if she didn’t act quickly, everything would unravel even further.

but even as she told herself this, a pit formed deep in her stomach. the words she’d have to say—the lies, the betrayal—they burned in her chest. she couldn’t stop imagining jennie’s face, her voice on the other end of the phone, pleading for ivory to come back, for her to let her in again.

she could almost hear jennie’s voice now, asking, "why? why are you doing this, jane?"

the weight of her mother’s potential reaction was almost too much to bear. but there was no other choice. she had to distance herself. it was the only way to protect jennie from the media storm, from the chaos that ivory had set in motion. 

if she was ever linked to her, it would only drag jennie further into the mess. and she couldn’t do that to her, not after her mother spent so many years in the crosshairs of the public.

but at the same time, she couldn’t ignore the wrenching pain twisting in her chest, the unrelenting ache of tearing herself away from the only person who had ever loved her unconditionally. it wasn’t just the public denial—it was the emptiness of choosing silence over connection, the silence that would stretch between them, forever.

her breath caught, and before she knew it, the tears started to fall.

she didn’t bother to wipe them away. the water mixed with her tears as they streamed down her face. each sob felt like a jagged stone pressing into her chest, each breath a sharp reminder of what she was about to do.

she stood there for what felt like hours, the water running cold against her skin, as the weight of the decision consumed her. she wasn’t ready. she wasn’t ready to break her own heart. but what else could she do?

it was the only way to protect her mother. it was the final act of love she could show—to shield her from the chaos, just like jennie had done for her for many years.

the young idol’s body wracked with silent sobs, her shoulders shaking with the force of them, as the cold water continued to cascade over her, doing nothing to numb the pain. the girl slid down the wall of the shower, curling into herself, her body trembling with exhaustion and sorrow. the sobs finally quieted, replaced by a dull, hollow ache. she stared blankly at the drain as the water swirled down it, as if it could wash away the decision she was just about to make. but it wouldn’t.

there was no undoing this.

but as she looked at herself in the foggy glass, the reflection staring back at her seemed like a stranger. her eyes were red and swollen, her hair clinging to her face, but it wasn’t the image that haunted her. it was the feeling—the deep, gnawing emptiness that settled in her chest.

she wasn’t ready to be this person. the one who had betrayed the woman who had given her everything. 

it felt like an eternity before ivory got out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel, her body still trembling from the emotional storm that had passed through her. she stood for a moment, just staring at the floor, as if hoping for some sign, some sense of clarity, but nothing came. the room around her was still, and the weight of the world seemed to press down on her shoulders.

the idol opened her notes app, typing and deleting words over and over again. what could she say? or what should she say?

the sound of her fingers tapping against the screen felt deafening in the stillness of the room. each word she typed seemed hollow, inadequate—nothing could capture the depth of the turmoil swirling inside her. ivory’s thoughts were a mess, jumbled fragments of regret, guilt, and fear crashing against each other, leaving no space for the clarity she desperately needed.

finally, the girl decided on a few short, simple sentences. this would give them enough information for now. it would do its job, it would be a swift, clean cut.

with trembling hands, the idol opened instagram. all le sserafim members had access to the group’s social media. it seems that still rang true even in the midst of her controversy. do it. you coward, just post it. 

ivory screamed internally, the weight of the decision suffocating her as she paced frantically around the tiny hotel room. her feet moved almost instinctively, a frantic attempt to outrun the rising panic that clutched at her chest. she felt like she was suffocating, the air thick with the pressure of what she had to do, the knowledge of the damage she was about to cause, and the raw, burning shame that threatened to undo her.

she gripped the edges of the dresser, her knuckles white, and tried to steady herself. her breath came in short, uneven bursts, each inhale too shallow, too jagged. the sound of her heartbeat pounded in her ears, deafening and unrelenting.

the phone sat on the bed, waiting, but it felt like it belonged to someone else—someone stronger, someone more composed. not her. not the girl who had ruined everything, who had just irrevocably hurt the one person who had loved her unconditionally.

jane ran a shaky hand through her damp hair, the strands sticking to her face, her palms clammy with sweat. her mind screamed at her to just do it, to just press post and be done with it. but her body refused to listen, frozen in a state of panic, unable to make the final step.

she thought about grabbing a drink from the minibar, or a cigarette from the convenience store across the street. just something, anything, to numb the ache, to quiet the voice screaming inside her head. anything to give her the courage to end this.

instead, she found herself pacing again, faster this time, her feet slapping against the carpet floor as she raked her fingers through her wet hair. tears blurred her vision as she thought about the hell she was about to unleash.

she would never be able to fix this, to look in her mother’s face after what she’s going to do. how could she live with herself knowing she was the one to destroy whatever was left of their fragile relationship? that it was her delivering the final blow?

every step felt like a mile, every thought twisted into another dark, suffocating reality. jane grabbed the phone again, holding it in her trembling hands, but she couldn’t bring herself to unlock it. she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to stop crying, but the tears wouldn’t listen. they streamed down her cheeks in hot, unrelenting trails, as if her body was rejecting the very decision she was trying to make.

the voice in her head, her inner critic, was louder now. you have to. and all she could do was cry harder, fall to her knees on the floor. she knelt hunched over the small device in her hands. ivory wiped her hot tears away, but they kept coming, the grief and shame bubbling to the surface, threatening to drown her.

“fucking do it,” she whispered hoarsely to herself, as though forcing herself to speak the words would somehow make it easier. but it didn’t. the room felt smaller, and the decision felt heavier. it felt like the entire world was pressing down on her, suffocating her, forcing her to face something she wasn’t ready for.

she was stuck. terrified. mortified.

the phone was still in her hand, and the post still wasn’t out. it felt like the silence of the room was mocking her. the minutes dragged on, stretching into eternity, until she collapsed onto the edge of the bed, holding her phone like a lifeline, but too scared to actually use it.

“i’m sorry, mom,” she whispered into the empty space, the words barely audible, as if apologizing to the void might make it somehow less real. “i’m so sorry.” the young girl swallowed thickly, her throat tight and raw, the weight of her words nearly suffocating her. she could feel the tightness in her chest as if it might collapse in on itself, her body trembling with the force of her guilt and regret. the silence of the room was deafening now, every breath she took louder than the last, like an unbearable countdown to a moment she knew she couldn’t escape.

but she had to. she had to do this.

the tears kept coming, streaming down her face with relentless force. she squeezed her eyes shut, her whole body shuddering with sobs that felt too deep, too jagged to put into words. it was as though her very soul was unraveling with each breath.

ivory tried to steady herself, but the weight of what she was about to do, what she already had to do, was suffocating. she couldn’t breathe. she couldn’t think. she couldn’t speak.

her hand shook as she clutched her phone, the cold screen and hotel walls staring back at her like a silent witness to her unraveling. she could hear her pulse hammering in her ears, each beat like a loud echo in the stillness of the room. the weight of the moment pressed down on her chest, so heavy it felt like she might drown beneath it. she swallowed again, her throat a dry, cracked thing, a raw, burning sensation creeping from her chest to her neck. the very air seemed thick with suffocating tension.

for a heartbeat, time stilled.

the phone felt like a foreign object in her hand, as if she no longer recognized the tool she was holding, the tool that would carve the irreversible. ivory’s fingers hovered over the screen, trembling with a fear that left her weak, her vision blurred by the constant stream of tears falling from her eyes. the words she had written earlier, so cold and detached, flashed in front of her like a cruel reminder of her betrayal. 

i’m sorry, mom. i’m sorry. i’m sorry.

“i’m sorry,” she audibly whispered again, a choked sob catching in her throat. the words tasted bitter, like they weren’t enough, like they could never be enough. her voice broke on the apology, and the sound of it made her stomach twist. the silence that followed it was even worse.

the room felt impossibly small now, as if the walls were closing in on her, boxing her in with her shame. she was suffocating, trapped between what she had done and the consequences of it that she could already feel closing in. the tears came faster, her chest tightening with each sob, each breath more frantic than the last.

with trembling hands, she scrolled down and found the post she had written. there it was—her confession, her betrayal, sitting on the screen, waiting to be sent out into the world.

it felt like an eternity before she could bring herself to press the button. each second stretched into infinity, like a thousand hands were holding her back, pulling her in different directions. she wanted to scream, to throw the phone away, to forget everything and run. but she knew she couldn’t. this was the only way.

with bated breath, ivory closed her eyes, feeling her heart race and her body tremble, and, with one final breath, she pressed post.

the screen flashed. her post was up. 

for a moment, there was nothing. the room was still, her heart beating in her chest like a drum, the silence deafening in its weight.

then, the floodgates opened. the weight of what she had done crashed down on her, each wave of grief so overwhelming it nearly knocked the breath from her lungs. she curled in on herself, sobbing uncontrollably, the phone slipping from her fingers, the screen glowing faintly in the corner of the room. 

from her position, she could see the influx of comments, each a nail in the coffin of the grave she had made. she had lied. she had denied her own mother in front of the entire world. but it was the only way. the only way to shield jennie from the relentless scrutiny, the only way to keep the world from devouring them both.

jane knew the headlines would only grow worse from here. the media would turn their attention to her, dissecting every part of her life, trying to uncover the truth. but she didn’t care. as long as they left her mother alone, as long as she didn’t have to endure the harsh spotlight again, ivory would take the heat. 

and she would do it alone. there was no going back.

all she could do was sit there, curled up on the floor of the hotel room, her heart breaking with every sob that tore through her.

she had posted it. she had betrayed her mother.

and now, nothing would ever be the same.

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CLOSED.

[myfeetrcolddd]

Say Please

The word 'Please' was foreign to Theodore Nott, he never needed to say it because he always got what he wanted, and with all things said he was never rejected.

When Theo had set his sights on the girl of the week his friends hadn't been surprised, they only figured it was a matter of time before he noticed the girl, she was beautiful, stunning, like she was blessed by the gods themselves, and she seemed oh so innocent. And they all knew Theo liked the idea of ruining seemingly innocent things.

What none of them, all but Pansy it seemed, had expected, was for her to reject Theo. Not that she wasn't capable of it, Theo had technically been rejected plenty of times, but it was all by girls who were trying to play hard to get, and at first Theo had told himself it was just that, her playing hard to get.

But a week passed and she was still rejecting him, rolling her eyes and scoffing at the sight of him, and Theodore was becoming effectively obsessed with her, and everyone saw it, everyone but her it seemed.

"Get lost, Nott." She scowled at him as she tried to walk around him.

"Can't, I'm drawn to you like a moth to a flame." He said and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure there are plenty of things you can't do, like take no for an answer. Now, get out of my way." She shoved past him and shook her head, "Bloody prick." She mumbled to herself, and despite herself she glanced back to see if he had walked away, but instead she found him staring after her he faraway look on his face.

She looked straight ahead and tried not to think much of it.

It'd been a week of this, of him following her around the school like a dog on a leash begging her to even talk to him and her trying her best to ignore him.

She hadn't expected him to be like this, to be so persistent, everyone knew about Theodore Nott and his habit of going from girl to girl without a second thought. She had always disliked the way girls were always falling at his feet, how he never had to ask for it, for the girl to even look his way let alone consider do things with him.

If he wasn't such a man whore Y/N was sure she would have already done things with him, because she'd be dumb not to admit he was hot.

She was in one of the farther corners of the library, hiding from the messy haired Slytherin boy. And she was thinking about how, throughout the past two weeks, Theo hadn't even actually said the magic word, he never said please.

She smirked to herself, and decided that she would finally put both herself and Theo out of their misery.

🦖🦖🦖🦖🦖🦖🦖🦖🦖🦖🦖🦖🦖🦖🦖🦖🦖🦖🦖🦖🦖🦖

"So you've finally decided to talk to me?" Theo smirked at the girl who stood in his door frame.

"Can I come in?" She asked, and he nodded. So she walked in and closed the door behind her. "You know, Theo," She said lowly, her voice filled with lust as she walked slowly around around him like a vulture circling its prey. "I always thought you were quite nice looking."

"You flatter me, princess." He said, breathlessly, waiting for her to initiate something.

"I know." She smirked at him, coming to stand right in front of him, "But i realized something earlier," She stepped closer to him, "You've never, not once, in the past two week, said please." Soon she was so close that if he really wanted he could just lean down and kiss her.

Theo found himself leaning in, and he was only a breath away from her lips when she pressed a finger against his lips, keeping him from kissing her. "Nuh uh" She tutted and pushed him back towards his bed, forcing him to sit down so she could look down at him.

She let her fingers trace the outlines of his face. She leaned down and started to kiss his neck, sucking and licking and going lower. The reached to grab her hips, but she stopped him and stopped all together. "No touching, only if you say please."

Theos eyes darkened and he growled slightly, she grinned. "C'mon Theo. Say it." She teased him, rubbing his bulge and kissing his neck. She could see him making fists with his hands, stopping himself from touching her. "Just one simple word and we'll both get what we want." I whispered, nipping at his ear.

"God," He groaned, and his hands were on her and soon she was flipped onto her back on Theos bed with him above her, "Please." He said, his voice raspy and dripping with lust, she grinned at him before she pulled his head down and smashed his lips onto hers.

She could feel his hands feeling everything, anything, and soon his mouth wasn't on her lips, but they were on her neck, the soft spot behind her ear, her collar bone, her breast, and down, down, down.

[circeyoru]

You Think It’s That Easy? _ Part 2 = Requested

[Yandere Human & Demon!Alastor x Arranged Marriage!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 2 (here)

You heard of Alastor’s death from the news, an accidental while he was in the bayou in the dead of night, mistaken as a deer by a couple of hunters and feasted upon by their hunting dogs. When the mistake was realized, it was already too late. Alastor was already dead

But that wasn’t what concerned you. It was the news that tied Alastor’s death to the death or disappearance of another individual. The Bayou Serial Killer, which has been ever so active as if possessed, stopped all activities after Alastor’s death. Loyal fans of Alastor’s radio show said it was a coincidence, some even trying to provoke the silent killer to prove Alastor’s innocence. To everyone’s horror, Alastor was not so innocent

The Bayou Serial Killer is and was Alastor, the famous radio host. Though to you, Alastor was more than that, he was your childhood friend and a good partner of a false marriage to satisfy both side’s parents, then later continued to ward off suitors for either of you two. Now there was one more identity of Alastor in your mind

A heartless killer

You realized that the late nights Alastor had before you left were all Alastor’s murder playtime. You should have known when he brushed off your worries for his safety, he whispered that he’ll be fine since he is confident in his self-defense. He didn’t tell you it was because he was the killer everyone feared

Yet the moment you felt a chill down your spine was when you remembered the promises Alastor made to you

“I’ll keep you safe.”

“You know I can deal with your troubles if you just ask, right?”

“I won’t let anything or one harm you, never.”

“Anyone that crosses you will face so much misfortune, you know?”

“Hahaha! How dare they prey you like vultures when you have me.”

The suitors that came to you and disappeared soon after… You now know what happened to them. Alastor happened. He killed them all. But you can’t understand why. What was the reason behind the killing and how had you never known?

That wasn’t the issue. The issue was that you felt guilty and fearful of the news. Couldn’t you have prevented all Alastor’s killing if you were more attentive? If you two hadn’t been as distant from each other to living your preferred lives, would things be different?

As a reminder to not be too involved with yourself and ignore others, you kept a red radio on the shelves by your books in the living room. Also a reminder that Alastor was gone

It wasn’t long before weird things started happening. First was that the radio would start up itself without anyone going near it, it wasn’t even powered so it was practically impossible for someone to turn it on or for the radio to play anything. First it was classic music, then it was love songs you’d hum from time to time, after that was eerie slow music with screams from time to time

Then items around your home would disappear and reappear somewhere. Your work left undone would be miraculously done when you wake up to continue doing it, even when you napped on top of it

You tried taking it to the shop to fix it but the shop owner said it was in perfect condition, no malfunction. You tried throwing it away even, but it appeared back on your shelf at its usual place

But when you tried banishing the radio with paranormal experts, those people that helped you all disappeared and then their bodies turned up like something clawed at them or poke something sharp into them. As weird as it was, police chalked it up with a raging deer or bears. Neither were good ends

What you’re worried about was how your lover, now husband was missing ever since the radio started piecing out your name and sweet nicknames that reminded you of Alastor

It wasn’t until once you got drunk and stumbled through the streets, trying to get home. You were pulled into an alley with someone trying to force themselves on you. In that drunken daze, everything was a blur and you weren’t in your right mind, so you didn’t even know why you called out that name

“Help… someone… Help me…” You tried fighting off or at least struggle against the grip but your limbs all felt like noodles. “Al… Alastor…”

“Of course, Love.”

You didn’t see the shadows raise and clawed hands gripping so tightly on your assailant’s arm that they released you. You knew you slumped down against the wall, your head bobbing back and forth and your hair all over the place to the point of covering one of your eyes

You didn’t hear your rescuer tear your attacker like paper, blood overflowing like a spring fountain, yet none got onto you. The screams of pain and the cries of mercy from your attacker who has now become the prey

The scene you saw, your mind didn’t register it, you were way too intoxicated from all the alcohol you drank to drown out your loneliness. You left Alastor, then he died and his secrets brought to light made you feel like you were not supportive enough. You missed your husband who’s on missing posters. Everything was so frustrating and sad at the same time

When it was all done, Alastor, in his shadowy form, kneeled in front of you, staring into your eyes. His fingers snapped and both of you reappeared back at your home. You in Alastor’s hold, carried like a princess, like during the wedding you two pretended to have and Alastor carried you all the way to the dance floor

“You’re so red, Alastor.” You slurred, eying his coat that was in a shade different from how you remember, why was it red? He wears dark brown ones. Your finger poked his cheeks, “Your smile’s too wide, if you smile this much, you’ll hurt your cheers.”

“It’s fine, Dearest.” Alastor spoke. Did you even hear the radio filter over his voice?

“I want to dance… I missed dancing with you…” You lamented as you lowered your finger to lay on your stomach with a pouty frown. “It’s been so long…”

“I think you need to rest, Darling.” Alastor started moving to your room. How did he know? No, did you even notice the way his eyes glowed when you mentioned missing him?

When you were laid down on the bed and tugged in, your clothes were magically changed to clean ones comfortable for sleeping soundly. “You’re leaving when I fall asleep… I just know it…”

The urge can’t be ignored. Alastor spent too long waiting and he is ready. “Well, if you agree, we can be together forever.”

“We’ll be back again?”

“Yes. If you shake my hand and wear this.” Alastor showed you a familiar band of gold. He kept it all these years, when he could first go to Earth due to your soul being binded to his, he searched high and low for it. 

Your confused and tired mind honed in on the ring. A familiar and comforting thing you given up, tears swell and a hand reached for it. “We’ll be back? Alastor…”

“Yes.”

“Okay…”

When your eyes opened, you were met with a major headache and an unfamiliar room. Looking around, you tried to get your bearings. While you did, you tried to remember what happened. Was this some stranger’s home? You immediately lifted up the blanket and looked under, sighing when that didn’t seem to have happened in your drunken state

You finally took in your surroundings. It wasn’t unfamiliar now, it was nostalgic. A replica of the appearance of what was your shared bedroom with Alastor when you two were still playing house. You shook your head, expecting all this to be your hallucination

Yet it didn’t fade back to what was supposed to be your bedroom. Confusion and fear set in. As did the memories of last night. What happened? Did you hallucinate Alastor appearing and saving you? But that didn’t look like Alastor. That can’t be Alastor. A monster. A demon. That’s what it was

Though Alastor was the only one to make you feel that at peace and calm and relaxed. The voice was his, just with an odd radio filter

The door to the room opened and the Alastor you met last night appeared in your sights. He closed the door behind him, smiling, “Welcome home, Dear Wife of mine.”

As Alastor had sworn, he brought you to Hell. You were his and he was yours. Try to run and it won’t be successful. For the two of your souls are bound together.

Note: I'mma out of ideas for this one, so before you ask for a part 3. Just know that the likelihood of it happening is very very rare since I got other series that's more active now. There could be trivia or asks, that's what I consider to be extra parts to this one.

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @chirimeimei @gameperson23100 @marukun @belletifeshyl @craftyperfectiontragedy

[alittlepassionfruit]

Here are my three least favorite takes on ALL:

1. Jude is unlikeable and an asshole; couldn’t wait for him to finally do it.

People are so uncomfortable with “imperfect” victims, specially when they have never experienced any abuse themselves. Jude can be stubborn, snarky, petulant, bitter, cynic, a liar, hateful and vengeful even. Yes, those are all negative characteristics. No, I don’t think he needs to justify those behaviors to the reader (to the people in his life, maybe). Why is he not allowed to be that way sometimes? Why does Jude have to explain to you, the reader, what triggers that behavior in him? Why does he have to rise above? Normal people are not immune to being assholes. Well, neither is Jude. That being said, he’s actually a really wonderful, compelling person and there’s about 100 scenes that demonstrate that, which is why it’s really hard for me to understand how anyone arrived to the conclusion that he’s unlikeable. I think it says more about the reader than it says about Jude.

Side note: One time I read a comment from someone complaining that Jude made fun of someone (not to their face) for the way they pronounced a vegetable. That was it. That was their example of Jude being an asshole. That was his crime. God forbid a former gardener has opinions!

2. Jude ending up so rich doesn’t make sense. He shouldn’t be so wealthy.

This one is funny because it usually comes from the same people that call this story trauma porn. Oh, so you wanted him to stay poor? You would have liked to see him SUFFER MORE?

Also, Jude didn’t aspire to have money just to have it. His whole purpose was having enough money to cover his extensive list of medical bills and to be able to protect himself and never depend on anyone else for anything. He is intelligent, disciplined, and so traumatized he would do anything to occupy his mind long enough to avoid leaving space for his thoughts. That’s how he succeeded in learning complex subjects and multiple languages: he didn’t want to think about shit else!

3. Jude “fell in love” with his best friend Willem.

As soon as I read this sentence in that Vulture article, I chuckled.

That simply never happened. I genuinely believe that’s the wrong way to describe their transition from friends to lovers. Jude loved Willem as a person, as friend, his best friend. They ended up dating because Willem realized he was in love and asked for a chance. Not because Jude was sighing looking out the window, lovesick for Willem, waiting for a chance. If anything, after much thinking on his end, Jude was basically like “I guess.”

[adventuringblind]

Oscar the Matchmaker: Chapter Six

Oscar Jack Piastri x Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: The media goes crazy over the trio

Warnings: some sexual innuendo

Notes: considering the next chapter to continuation of their steamy encounter at the end. What do y'all think? 🤔

Masterlist

The build-up to the next race was terrible. The media had been swarming her at every opportunity. Even taking liberties to follow her places.

Her PR team had been keeping things as controlled as they could, but the fans are a force to be reckond with.

They left for Hungary early. She had requested they do so. She wanted time to settle down before she had to run around through people. A request which both boys made happen.

Now, she lay wrapped between them in their arms. It's a peaceful place to be. If she never had to leave, then she'd gladly stay here forever.

"Do you think the fans will still like me?" She whispers into Oscar's chest.

"My answer is still the same. Yes, they will still like you."

"If they start saying shit then I'll personally see that it stops." Adds Max. His words vibrate against her back in a soothing way. "The teams know your story. They saw what happened. You have no obligation to share that information if you don't want to."

The fans seem to be divided. Some say she has the money to make it look like she's the victim. Others say it's obvious she's the victim. Some fans are even saying that their relationship is just a massive cover.

Thankfully, her grid friends had come to the rescue. They all posted about her; about them. All of them writing things so kind it made her cry.

~

Media day came around far too soon. The boys make sure to walk her all the way to AlphaTauri, as is routine.

This time, they are joined by Lando, then they pick up Charles and George, and at some point Carlos and Alex.

The group waves her off to the safety of her garage. Watching her meet up with Yuki at the door.

"If any of the vultures ask about it, I will be setting the media pen on fire." Max claims through gritted teeth.

She thought she would be in the safe with the Thursday driver press conference. She was wrong to assume anything. Apparently, drama makes them bring her back.

It gets a little better as she sees that the other two didn't escape it either. They make space in between them for her to sit down. Charles and Pierre are on the far end of the couch chatting before things get started.

All three of them lean in for a hushed conversation.

"Plans for answering unwanted questions?" She asks.

"Sarcasm. Unless you want to answer differently." States Max and Oscar shakes his head in agreement.

They make it through the first part without any odd questions. It's the open floor where things start to get tricky.

"Will Buxton, Skay Sports: question for Max, Oscar, and Y/N." She tries to suppress a groan. Of course it would be him. The one who loves to make Max out to be a villain and her to be a slut. "How does it feel to be out to the world? Could you give us any insights into your relationship and if there is any truth to the rumors?"

Cue an angry Max and stone cold Oscar. She almost wants to laugh at Will and his poor choices.

Max goes first without anyone having to ask. "I personally feel great. It wasn't how we wanted it to happen, but I'm glad that I can hold their hands in public now."

Oscar goes next. Probably to give her time to think. "So me and Y/N have been dating since F2, and Max joined us early this year."

A shock rolls through the crowd. There's one rumor taken care of at least. Now, she can choose to do the rest nicely or sarcastically. She chooses both.

"There are a few rumors going around right now. The one about us being fake is a lie. We've been together for a while now." She looks between her two counterparts for reassurance. They give her warm smiles and encourage her to move forward with whatever she wants to say.

There is definitely a shake in her voice this time as she continues. "The rumor about me being the aggressor is also a lie. I don't need to prove anything to anyone. I've been through enough already and am not keen on reliving it. Oscar and Max can attest to the fact that I will make myself sick trying to talk about it. I order to not cause a scene, I will no longer be speaking about the matter."

She comes out of the press conference and immediately falls onto the ground, clutching her stomach. She's grateful her PR manager is there waiting for her. Otherwise, she probably wouldn't be able to keep going.

Oscar and Max help her up, watch her drink some water, and then return to their own garages.

"Do you want to try and get media over with now? Or do you want to wait a bit?"

She can't help but admire the level headedness of the kind woman beside her as she will be losing her patience with the questions she's been trying so hard to push away.

~

Max wants to scream. Maybe even punch something. Or preferably, someone.

He storms his way through the media pen. Nobody even stops him as he does. His PR manager told him to him to go find Oscar as the Aussie has apparently been getting the brunt of the inappropriate questions since their female counterpart had been escorted away for a break.

The trio and their PR managers have a new group chat for this very reason. The drama of their coming out has made all six need to stay in communication.

So, when he got word, he was released to go help his partner escape the awkwardness of the situation. Because nobody is going to mess with Mad Max and make his partners uncomfortable.

He finds Oscar in the middle of answering a question. A microphone to his mouth and eyes flickering everywhere searching for an answer he doesn't have.

Without any hesitation, Max stands right next to his boyfriend and interjects himself into the conversation.

"Speak of the devil, here is Max right now!" says the interviewer enthusiastically. "I was just asking about the nature of your relationship since you are a world champion and dating not one, but two rookies."

Oh, the nerve. Max has half a mind to ask the interviewer who's dick he had to suck to get his job and see how he likes it. "Not sure what you're implying, Mate?" Max tilts his head in feigned confusion. He can just barely see the two PR managers almost giggling out of the corner of his eye. The Dutch has a way of making the media regrat they ever asked such things.

"Just wondering how things between the three of you work. You know- If you're helping them in their career at all."

He feels about ten seconds away from jamming the microphone into the reporter's skull. But he refrains since his PR manager is even letting him do this.

"I honestly don't think they need any help. If you're implying that they are using me, I'm using them, or this is anything other than our love and respect for one another, then I will kindly ask you to fuck off." Max grabs Oscar's hand and the Aussie tries to give a PR worthy smile. The two walk over to their managers and both are shaking their heads at him.

~

All three of them collapse in a heap on the bed. Media day was absolutely exhausting. The trio had been dragged through a PR nightmare on loop.

"If I never talk to a reporter again, it'll be too soon." Max grumbles. The other two hum I'm agreement.

It took a minute for the two males to make out the small whisper of 'I'm sorry.' The female had been guilty about everything that happened. She has started to constantly apologize for things out of her control.

"I think I know the perfect way to relax and pull your head away schat."

Oscar runs his fingers along her spine. His eyebrows quirk up at Max in curiosity.

~

A bath.

Max's plan is a bath.

She's grateful that the Dutch has a bath bigger than the other two. It's not massive in the way of a hot tub. Yet it's perfect for the three of them.

The water is warm on her skin. Her back rests against Oscar's chest. Max is facing them to make the space more comfortable, but she wishes he were right next to them so she could lean on him too.

Even after everything, they are still here. Something about that thought makes her feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"Have you heard from your family this weekend, Osc?" She asks. The Aussie had been summoned home by his mother and demanded he bring his two partners along with him.

"Pretty sure my family loves you two more than me." He laughs. "What about you, Maxy?"

Max lets out a heavy sigh and sinks further into the water. "Dad has been texting me occasionally, but I've been ignoring him. Mom and Victoria want to meet you both in person soon." A small smile tugs at Max's lips. The Dutch loves his sister and his niece and nephew. "And you Schatz?"

She grimaces at the thought. "A few texts here and there."

"About?"

"How I should come home and pray away my sins." She rolls her eyes. "They think you two should do the same. That all of us need to stop whoring around."

Oscar smirks into her neck. "The only thing I intend on worshipping is you."

She can feel the heat rise in her cheeks at the implications.

Max sits up again and leans closer to her. "Or maybe you want to be on your knees praying to a different alter."

And there is is. Every working brain cell turned into mush. She whines at the thought. Almost shocking herself at the noise.

It's going to be a long night.

[exhaslo]

Corruption Ch5

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4

Warning: Minors DNI, smut, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship?

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

Four months, eight days until D-Day

Your body was sore and exhausted. The amount of second guessing you had towards this Super Hero gig was high. This was not something you were used too. What were you thinking when you decided to fight straight up crooks on the street?

You barely survived a roach crawling in front of you. All of this crime fighting was taking a toll on your physical and mental health. You were so tired that you were worried someone would catch on. This secret life of yours needed to be worked on better.

What's worse? Actually villains are starting to pop up! Who the hell would have thought that there was a Vulture in this day and age. Nothing like the one from the great hero age, but goddamn, enough to make you want to cry.

"You look like shit," Miguel grunted as he entered your office. You replied with a whimper as you rubbed your eyes, "This is exactly why my experiments will-"

"Better humanity," You whispered, finishing his sentence. Miguel just gave you a quiet glare before taking a seat on your couch,

"You know what to do. I got knots from dealing with the idiots down in lab two."

"When am I ever going to get repaid this wonderful favor?" You asked with a tease, approaching him from behind.

"When you do as much work as me," Miguel scoffed in response.

You just chuckled weakly towards him as you massaged his shoulders. Thanks to your night life, you were too tired to argue or complain with Miguel during the day. You weren't sure if Miguel liked that or not yet.

Dozing off as you pinched Miguel's shoulders, you tried to focus on your main task. You needed to find a good time to approach Miguel as Spider Woman. You needed him to listen to you. To answer your questions.

--------

Miguel had closed his eyes for a moment as you relaxed his tense muscles. It wasn't long for him to feel your touch soften that he regained his senses. Right as he went to complain, Miguel felt your head rest against his neck.

Confused, he glanced towards you, finding you asleep. Your breathing was soft as your hands still rested against his back. This would drive any man crazy, but not Miguel. Getting up, Miguel was careful to lay you against the couch.

"What's got her this tired?" He muttered under his breathe, "Lyla-"

"Let's see. (Y/N) recently signed up gym membership, telling her friends that she feels like she's too fat. Oh, she's also being flirted with by the new IT guy. Let's seeeee-"

"I didn't ask for all that," Miguel rolled his eyes before glancing back down at you, "If she had Spider Woman's strength, she wouldn't be this tired...but I wouldn't know that until I get a blood sample from that hero."

"Don't say that too loud or poor (Y/N) might cry in her sleep," Lyla teased as Miguel started to leave the office.

With a quick lock behind him, Miguel ignored his AI-whom was having fun with the situation. In order to stop hearing his AI, Miguel requested Lyla to set an alarm for you. Today was the day that the last prisoner was going to be tested.

Miguel needed you there.

"Oh, and Lyla, have that new IT guy join us for our experiment today. We could always use more...witnesses."

--------

You gasped and shot up from your slumber to the sound of a roaring alarm. Attempting to calm your racing heart, you spotted Lyla in the corner of your eyes. She gave you a simple wave and informed you of Miguel's experiment that was starting soon. Your fave turned a million shades of red once you recalled what happened before you slept.

"Lyla! Is Miguel angry with me?!" You panicked, trying to fix yourself up. Lyla smiled as she appeared before you,

"Miguel can never be angry at you!"

"But-"

"Trust me!"

As much as you wanted to doubt Lyla's words, you knew that Miguel has done worse for smaller things. Perks of being his only friend here...if that was even safe to call yourselves. It were moments like these that really made you wonder what Miguel was thinking.

If he didn't like you, then what were you to him? The thoughts sometimes made you go insane. Most of the time it just led you to crying when you were alone, wishing that Miguel would just show you some affection.

Hurrying to the lab, you grabbed your tablet and readied for the notes. You could still feel your heart aching as you wondered the look Miguel was going to give you. As you arrived, you noticed a few different and new faces.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" The new IT guy waved to you.

"Oh...Hey, Aaron. Um, what are you doing here?" You asked.

"Mr. O'Hara said something about wanting to have someone ready to fix the machine if it broke down."

Ohhhhh, Miguel had something up his leave. You just gave Aaron and innocent smile since you didn't have the heart to tell him that he is being played. Though, you never took Miguel as one to hate any of the IT people. He let them work since they were the only ones aside from him who could fix his stuff.

"So, (Y/N), if it isn't too much trouble, I was wondering if I could take you out-"

"(Y/N), did you get enough rest?" Miguel hummed lowly as he approached you from behind.

You could feel your body warm up as Miguel pressed his weight against your back. This was the closest Miguel had ever been to you! Hesitating, you turned to face him, almost feeling hazy from the direct contact.

"S-Sorry, Miguel. I...I didn't mean to fall asleep," You apologized. Your breathing hitched as Miguel placed his hand against your cheek,

"It's fine. I've been working you too hard," His voice was low and sweet, turning you into putty.

--------

Miguel hid his smirk as he watched poor little Aaron shake in anger. Oh, the joy in taking away one's love interest. It was Aaron's fault. How dare he have eyes on you. Didn't he know better? You belonged to Miguel.

Miguel was a selfish man. While he may never make a move on you, it was still fun to show off that you belonged to him. Even now, just a few sweet words of concern and a small touch of affection nearly brought you to your knees. Now, Miguel couldn't lie, that look you were giving him was tempting.

"Let's start the experiment. (Y/N), watch closely."

"Yes, Miguel," You cooed, running off to your usual spot.

Miguel chuckled darkly before he turned to face Aaron. The poor man was holding back so much.

"Aaron, thanks for coming. Do make yourself useful."

"Yes, sir."

The anger in his voice was hilarious to Miguel. Before Miguel started, he reviewed everything once more. This was the last prisoner. This one had to succeed. It just had too! Miguel was going to resort to desperate measures if nothing came out of this.

Growling in anger at the thought, Miguel told everyone to start the experiment.

---------

If it were possible, hearts would be floating above your head. You couldn't hide your smile as you started to take notes. Perhaps Miguel did have a heart inside him! His touch was so gentle and warm. You had wanted to melt right into his palm.

"ARGH!"

Gasping lowly, you came back to your senses as the poor prisoner screamed in agony. This was cruel. Glancing at Miguel, you saw his face twist with pleasure. How could someone be so heartless? No, you had to see the light in him.

Miguel can still be saved!

"I'LL KILL YOU!" The prisoner screamed.

You shivered as you felt your spider senses go haywire. Something was wrong, but you couldn't act. Not here. After another moment, the prisoner broke free from the chains-his body now morphed into a half spider.

Eyes widening in horror, you watched as the scientists tried to restrain the prisoner. Miguel, on the other hand, was laughing. Finally, he had a success. Although, this was still far from what he was looking for. This was still far from him cloning you.

"Youuu!"

Once again, your spider senses went crazy. You returned your attention to the prisoner and gasped as he charged towards you. You needed to move, but like how you used too. You couldn't move like you do now.

"(Y/N)!"

--------

This was great. Perfect even. Finally, Miguel had something successful! Although, this wasn't exactly what he was hoping for, but anything at this point is a win. Miguel could just keep testing on the prisoner to see what helped make this time different.

Hearing the pathetic attempts of his coworkers to subdue the prisoner, Miguel hissed as he had Lyla get security. Why was it so hard to find good help?

"Youuuuu!"

Miguel let out, yet another, sigh as he turned his attention to the feral prisoner. His brows furrowed since the idiot was charging straight towards you.

You, frozen like a deer in headlights. Miguel wasn't sure what this feeling was inside his chest, but he dashed towards you. Lord, you were dumb, but move!

"(Y/N)!" Miguel roared out.

Why wasn't he fast enough? Miguel cussed as you screamed, rolling onto the floor as the prisoner dashed into the bench you were sitting. Finally reaching you, Miguel picked you up and hurried out of the lab. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you started to sob.

"Get back here!!!" The prisoner screamed.

"Tch, worked better than I expected." Miguel hissed before coming to a halt.

His wonderful test subject had crawled on the ceiling and landed right in front of the exit. Your grip tighten around Miguel as the two of you stared at the fearsome beast before you. Unable to hide his displeasure, Miguel scoffed,

"Killing me is too dull, why don't you have some more fun with it?" He spoke to the beast.

"Oh? I'd have you strapped on that table, screaming and dying like all the others." The prisoner hissed as acid dropped from him mouth. You tugged against Miguel's lab coat,

"M-Miguel, what are-"

"Fine, but let this little lamb leave. You can kill the lot of us after," Miguel offered, placing you on your feet.

"Miguel, no-"

"Deal, but only to give her a running start. I'll devour her after I'm done with you all."

Miguel chuckled lowly before turning towards you. You trembled slightly, not wanting to let go, but Miguel gave you a push towards the door.

--------

You nearly held you breathe as you stepped out of the lab. Once the door shut, you dashed towards the closest closet with no camera. Miguel was trusting you to get Spider Woman, that or he actually had a death wish.

Either way, he saved you....so now you were going to do the same.

"I'm coming, Miguel."

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Next Chapter

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