[Weak Hero] Wolf Keum X Reader: The Terrible, You.

1. The Terrible, You

To say Wolf Keum was a "scary person" was an incredibly naïve understatement.

Wolf Keum was the second most powerful member of the Union under Donald, second only to Daehyeon High School's Jake Ji.
The aftermath of his fights was the sole testament of his strength anyone needed, often only leaving behind a mangled challenger with fractured bones and a shattered ego.

In addition to being one of the strongest contenders of the Union, Wolf also dominated the entire population of Ganghak High School with a powerful fist and a lunatic glint in his eye.
The select few who were not fearful of him could only yearn to be him, or long to take his place. As temperamental and unpredictable as he was, that was a dream that would not soon manifest. He had a fearsome presence, and an even more horrifying reputation.

Those who had doubted the tale of three seconds were beat so bloody that the school hallways needed a new paint job. No student at Ganghak High who valued their lives dared to pick up their heads if they heard the telltale clicking of his shoes, even if another student was crying out for help.

Worst of all, was perhaps Wolf's complete and utter indifference to the bloodshed he caused. He never seemed remorseful when stepping over the body of his newly bloodied victims, nor when he wiped the spit and blood off his knuckles onto a bystander's uniform, a grim smile twisted on his face like a dare to even tremble the wrong way.

Tonight, as you stand in a dark and dingy alley between three crumpled bodies and Wolf Keum of your high school, you are reminded of this.

You kneel beside the bodies and take in the crimson blood seeping into the concrete underfoot, brows furrowed and mouth agape.

"Oh my gosh Wolfy, they're sooooo totally fucking dead!"
You were also unbelievably drunk.

You didn't see him fix you with a blank stare that would ordinarily make anyone piss their pants.

A dull, pounding pain in your head makes you rub slowly at your temples, a shitty attempt to dispel whatever alcohol was currently tearing through your system.
You had agreed to join your friends at a mixer after your classes, and because of the underwhelming selection of gentlemen, you decided to drown your night in margaritas and champagne instead.

When your friends sauntered off with the men of their choice, you took it upon yourself to walk home drunk and alone in the wee hours of the night- which only seemed like a bad idea when you found yourself in an uncomfortably moist and moldy alleyway.

Of course, from the cape of the night also came forth three cowardly scavengers that touted violence to get their way, even if it meant cornering a scantily dressed, drunk high school girl in the seedy underbelly of a slumbering city.

And though you never considered yourself to be a lucky person, it so happened that tonight, the stars aligned to bring that savage Wolf Keum to you; dark, cramped alley and all.

Your alcohol fogged mind could never understand it- why your heart thrummed so loudly, enchanted, when that same savage, Wolf Keum, connected a raging fist with the first man who dared lay his hands on you. Then, with the other two who attempted to defend their friend writhing on the dirty floor.

You would never understand, drunk on cheap drinks and wine, that Wolf Keum had only come through the alley to take a shortcut on his way home.

You would never understand, under that luscious and full moon hanging overhead, that Wolf Keum was already itching for a fight, and had started counting to three before he had even seen your small, quivering form against the shadows of the buildings.

But it didn't matter.

Nonetheless, in the combined stupor of your drunk mind and disappointment in the mixer, you were swooned. From the moment Wolf Keum reared back his fist to deliver a brutal, skull-rattling punch, your breath faltered, your stomach twisted tightly- and you were done for.

The moonlight seemed to exist just to illuminate him, unruly purple hair flying wildly as he landed one hit after another.
His eyes radiated in the dark with an eerie calm, unflinching even when blood splattered across his nose bridge and onto his cheeks.

You watched the scene unfold hazily, picking yourself up and wondering if you should stop him.

But he made quick work of them, dropping them into the same heaving, miserable pile before you could even slur out the garbled "Maybe you shouldn't" sitting in your throat.

And here you were now, crouched over their bodies in wild, alcohol induced fascination.

You watched one of the men open his mouth to spit at you, but his jaw dropped open loosely, clicking and crackling.

"Duuuude, I think you broke his jaw," You laughed, reaching out to bounce the poor man's bloody chin. "It's all loose and funny."

Wolf busied himself with slipping his glasses back on and pulling his uniform back into place.

You feel a twinge of hurt when he doesn't respond, and just when you're wondering if he'll ignore everything you say, Wolf speaks the first time that night. His voice low and clear in the crisp night air, and raises goosebumps on your exposed arms.

"I don't break jaws." He answered, "That stops them from talking."

He stepped over their bodies, and you wondered if he stepped on their fingers on purpose. You missed the dry smile on his face as their knuckles popped.

"Are you leaving?" You ask.

He doesn't respond, and when you look up, he's already gone.