#‘oh it’s always been accurate before!!!!1! >:(‘

[jinxvex]

omg haiii :3 #1 i just found your account and i love your works! the way you write is just… mwahmwahmwah. besides that! i’d love it if u could do a jinx x reader where reader is lowkey oblivious but jinx is super obvious with how much she wants to fuck… and when she finally gets to hit she degrades and dumbifies reader… orrrr am i just thirsty 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

♱ fantasy. ♱

oh girl this is sexy trust, WE IS THIRSTY TEW!! also thank you, you’re so sweet!! i’m glad you enjoy my works :))

syp. the first time jinx set her glowy shimmer-charged eyes on you, she knew she had to have you—and she always gets what she wants. no matter that you were friends and you were oblivious to her constantly undressing you with her eyes, fighting her urges to completely ruin, defile, and destroy you. you’d come to realize soon enough.

cw: nsfw content!!, dom!jinx plotting on that p***y (lol), sub!reader (i'm a switch!jinx truther but let me cook...), a lot of degrading + dumbification, cursing, dirty talk, some praise, teasing, mocking, she forces you to take it!!, mentions of oral/fingering/gun-play, strap-on sex, hair-pulling, pet names (toots, hon, babe, baby, bunny, etc?), possessiveness, nastiness galore (lord forgive me!), reader’s past sex life is purposefully written to be vague, + prob more

wc: 4.2k!!

jinx’s fantasies involving you started a month ago when she was off roaming the rowdy streets of the undercity for a market sale. well, before it. she had begrudgingly taken up silco’s orders to keep tabs on the shipment coming in and out before the market opened to the public. for what? ‘who freakin’ knows?!’ she thought.

in retrospect, jinx was never an overly sexual person. she understood what it was, why people participated in it, and her own sexual preferences but she’d never devoted much time to finding someone to fuck or to fuck her for that matter. she's fucked before, but that was it. plunging her long, slender fingers into her own cunt while reading a racy scene in a shitty romance novel was enough to get her rocks off. she figured something was missing but she brushed it off.

her mind was… elsewhere most of the time.

(a month ago...)

lost in her thoughts, per usual, jinx doesn’t see you standing in all your beautiful glory. she walks right past you, eyes darting along everything she can see to accurately take in the information silco wants her to report back to him. she's still preoccupied with the inner workings of her mind and not too much with the zaunite public.

well, that's bound to change one way or another.

suddenly, she's stopping dead in her tracks. something's changed. the air feels charged, full of opportunity and something else. curly lines, shapes, and colorful graphics fill her vision—overwhelming but she feels as though she can really see clearly for the first time.

her nostrils catch a whiff of something… sweet. inviting. like freshly baked cookies although it's almost incomparable to how truly delectable the scent is. she's taken by surprise at the smell of something so good, good enough to eat, to devour. she’s never smelt anything or anyone so delicious. it intrigued her beyond belief, she knew that whatever it was, she was going to have that thing.

that’s when in her own self-induced frenzy she'd caused by frantically turning and thrashing around to look for where the smell led her, she sees you for the first time. as radiant as ever.

everything's in slow motion.

you're leaning up against a metal post and speaking to a market vendor, your voice as sweet as ever chatting to them about ‘who the fuck cares’. your smile is the brightest she’d ever seen living in a place full of drug addicts, violence, and poverty like you’ve never been subjected to zaun in your entire life.

she watches as you flip your hair to one side, hips swaying and fingers twiddling against your satchel. she watches you so intently, that she can see your eyes blinking slowly, she can count your individual eyelashes and remember the number for the rest of her life.

to say the least, jinx is enamored by the sight of you, let alone your smell. images of how good you'd look naked, and what your skin would feel like against hers cloud her vision, creating the perfect first impression of you in her mind. she looks further at you, specifically your ass and the jeans hugging it perfectly as well as the curve of your hips. the veins in your neck travel further down beneath your shirt and she can't help but wonder what your chest would look like.

bare.

before this moment, she'd never thought of somebody in such a vulgar light; it put her in a state of shock. she let her mind wander even farther off into jinx-landia and she imagines what it would feel like to slide her fingers into your pussy and press the pads of them onto your g-spot. she wants to know what it feels like to feel you get wetter and wetter and what it feels like to make out with your pussy—to push your own juices into your mouth and kiss you dumb. she thinks about testing how deep your cunt could get—how pretty your ass would look riding a cock, tits bouncing in the air.

controlling herself was something jinx always had problems with, so she isn't surprised when she is unable to stop herself from approaching you. her feet seem to be dragging themselves towards you like some sort of magnetic force.

“hiya, toots,” spills from her lips before she can even stop and think about what she's doing.

you pause your conversation with whomever you're speaking to, looking over in her direction to find her staring intently at you. confused and a little petrified, you stand up straighter, as you aren't expecting silco’s adoptive daughter to be staring you down at the beginning of some random ass tuesday morning.

“uhm, hey,” you respond, sounding more like a question rather than a greeting in return.

‘this is gonna be so much fun,’ jinx’s eyes light up and she lets her lips curl up in a friendly smirk, running through ways in her mind how exactly she’d ruin your body, mark you up, and claim you for herself.

because no matter what, nobody else is ever getting a piece of you now that she's sought you out.

no fuckin’ way.

…

somewhere in the present, there’s an idea—a certain narrative established between you and jinx.

you’re friends. good ones.

you don't know what else would explain the obvious liking jinx has taken to you. what else would explain the way she’s always touching you, looking after you, and asking you personal questions? questions so personal they have your eyes widening and gripping the edges of your clothes.

"have you ever, y'know, done it before? had sex?"

"what sorta stuff you into? like, sex stuff."

"you ever touch yourself? what feels the best? just trying to see if i could learn somethin' interesting for myself."

you never answer, often opting to lower your head in silence. how could you? it was wildly inappropriate and quite frankly, jinx made you shy. maybe it's because she's so pretty, and bold, and has a waist so small and touchable that you just want to-

no! 'why does she care so much?' you ask yourself frequently. no friend has ever been so crass...

duh! she gives a shit because she wants to fuck your brains out 'n then maybe cuddle you a bit! but you don't know that...

jinx follows you around too, insisting you need protecting since "you're too pretty 'n perfect" to not have protection.

one day, she started walking you to your god-awful job and never stopped. her excuse was, "can't have anyone takin' advantage of ya so early in the morning, princess. janna knows they'd try with a face 'n a body like that...whew", she whistled to herself.

needless to say, she kept your life interesting. she always seems to find you, no matter where you are. like she can sense your presence anywhere. you figure she doesn't have many people to talk to, everyone's scared of her being silco's daughter and all. but, you don't have anyone either; no parents or friends. no girlfriend.

well that makes two of you. sort of.

you both are currently smushed together on her sofa in her hideout making bracelets—snacks, craft supplies, and sleepover galore surrounding you. earlier on in the day, jinx had swung by your apartment (how she found out where you lived, you had no clue) and invited you over for a sleepover for the first time. you were surprised she was trusting you enough to let you see where she retreats at night and where she spends most of her time eating, sleeping, plotting; scheming.

she has a knack for making you feel special; like it’s just you two in the world and nothing else matters.

she makes you feel alive.

you’re shaken out of your thoughts by a grinning jinx. yes, physically shaken. both of her palms are placed on your shoulders, gripping them tight and looking into your eyes almost as a way to silently ask if you’re having as much fun as her. heat transfers from her usually cold hands to your skin which has you internally reeling. you’re wearing a tank top, comfortable enough with her to show a little something extra, “whatcha thinkin’ about, hon?”

you smile back at her, “nothing.”

you swear you see her eyes flicker down to your chest for a split second but you ignore it. her eyes move quick due to the shimmer, ‘you’re seeing shit, girl’ claims the angel on your shoulder.

“hmm, you’re lying.”

“am not!” you counter.

“are too,” she doubles back.

“whatever.” you finalize, emphasizing the ‘ever’. you’re not interested in arguing with her any further or giving her the satisfaction of proving her right.

you focus on the friendship bracelet you’re creating for her, determined to make it as pretty as you can for her. you want her to wear it—like it. love it, even. it fills you with a sick satisfaction knowing that soon you’d be wearing each other's creations, way more than it would if you just saw her as a friend. you see her pause her movements out of the corner of your eye but you keep going.

the faint sound of her own bracelet dropping to the couch cushion causes your head to rise up, looking at her in slight confusion. you’re not shocked to realize that she’s already looking at you.

“’m bored,” jinx replies blankly, pouting cutely.

“and grass is green. what else is new? you’re always bored, girl,” you playfully nudge her arm.

“well… grass has more of a grey hue down here so-“

the funny but slightly depressing joke nearly flew over your head but the knowing smirk on her face clued you in on her shenanigans.

you gasp in disbelief and nudge her arm a little harder now, fighting to stifle your laugh under your breath, “ha ha. very funny.”

“yeah, toots. i’m extremely hilarious,” she holds her head up high and crosses her arms above her chest.

she pauses, “let’s play somethin’.

she faces you fully now, right knee switching from resting next to your left to mirroring both of your knees, parallel to you. she scoots closer, and by now you know her calculating personality. you know that whatever she’s up to, has to be mischievous.

“ever hear of truth or dare?”

you roll your eyes, “of course i have!”

“then, you know the rules… right?”

“yes, jinx. i know how to play,” you rebuttal.

maybe you should’ve known her attention span wouldn’t last long while bracelet making. even if the speaker blared her favorite music at her gadget station, filling the space with a comfortable ambiance.

she smiles widely, “then let’s fuckin’ play!

“it’ll be so. much. fun,” she gets closer to your face with each word to emphasize her point, biting her lip and giving you intense eye contact. sexually charged eye contact. but again, you don't realize.

“fine. fine! but you’re going first. you're better at this sorta thing.”

she leans back to give you more space, just enough space to where it's socially acceptable to still be incredibly close to your friend. she's clapping her manicured hands together as her smile grows bigger and her shoulders tense with excitement.

"truth or dare?!" she asks in a televised over-dramatic fashion.

"truth."

'too easy' she thought. although, 'this is good,' her thoughts linger further. she figures she should start you off easy.

jinx has now stopped her clapping to put a finger on her chin in a thinking motion, obviously pretending to conjure up an interesting question that she's probably already picked out in her head.

"hmm...have you ever had a boyfriend?" she asks confidently, putting emphasis on the 'boy' part of "boyfriend" in a mocking manner; like how a sibling or family member would tease you about a crush.

your eyes widen, already caught off-guard by her first question.

"uhm... no. i-i don't really like boys like that."

she licks her lower lip and smiles once again, unbeknownst to you because you've just confirmed that she actually has a chance to win you over. although, she had her suspicions when she first met you.

"ever had a girlfriend?" she questions further, a serious, eerie edge to her voice appearing at the thought of you ever even romantically touching another girl. hell, in any way, shape, or form.

blinking rapidly, you shut her down quickly, "what, no! never really got the… chance to."

initially, you were going to tease her by mentioning that she was only allowed to ask one question but, you couldn't help but shake the feeling that she wasn't going down without an answer from you.

"awesome, good to know! your turn."

"okay. truth or da-"

"dare," she cuts you off delightedly.

you file through your mind to give her something entertaining to do but you find absolutely nothing, your mind blank like always the very moment you get around her. jinx makes you feel like you don't have to live your life thinking so hard. it's peaceful.

"damn, you are bad at this game," she snorts.

"hey, i can't help it. you've gotta help me here."

she raises a brow, "i mean, you could ask me t'do basically anything. y'know i'd do it," she slowly cocks her head to the side, still gazing deep into your irises. her braids follow the movement of her head.

"make it nasty."

"what the hell am i supposed to do? tell you to take off your clothes?!"

she doesn't waver, "yeah. yeah, that's a good one. do it."

you gulp, throat now dryer than ever and your fingers hurt from tightly grasping the fabric of your sleep shorts, 'here goes nothing.'

"u-uh... i dare you to t-take off your shirt," you order weakly.

jinx doesn't even let you finish your sentence before she's crossing her arms in front of her to tug the tiny, thin tank top off of her body, you follow her hands and you watch her chuck it on the floor carelessly. you look back up at her only to realize that,

she isn’t fucking wearing a bra.

you gasp in shock and secret arousal, eyes darting to the spot below you as you avoid looking at her soft, perky chest any longer, not wanting to over-step or make her uncomfortable.

"hey, you're startin' to hurt my feelings, babe. gave you that idea for a reason. makes shit more... interesting."

you look up to meet her eyes and for the nth time, you see her staring right back at you, gaze charged with something more than usual. you may have been oblivious, but you weren't dumb, something was definitely going on here. something that friends shouldn't do alone.

but you can't stop. it's turning you on.

the game continues on for many rounds after that, you and jinx switching back and forth from truth and dare, learning more and more about each other as time passes by. you start to get the hang of her outlandish questions, answering them shyly but not as reluctant as before. something you'd never get used to was the hypnotizing way her tits bounced with each slight movement, entrancing you. you learn that she's had sex once before and that she likes rope play and getting her hair pulled.

she also mentions other personal traits of hers that make your head spin, "y'know when i get wet, i get reeeally wet. like water wet."

needless to say, you know more than you should. she seemed to not mind telling you these things either, almost excited to clue you in.

"truth or dare, baby?"

"truth," you choose once more, the pet name affecting your better judgment and the seductive tinge to her voice causing the wetness already present in your underwear to leak through to your shorts.

jinx doesn't attempt to pretend to think of a question, "tell me, toots. what turns you on? what gets ya goin'?"

"what do you mean? like some sort of a kink?"

"yeah, like a kink."

embarrassment falls over your face like a dam breaking. you have to lie. this was getting too up close and personal for your own good and the only thing that could save what's left of your dignity is a lie.

"i-i don't know..."

so much for a lie.

her unhappiness with your answer is expressed when you see her narrowing her eyes at you. she leans in close, nose brushing yours and you can feel her warm breath on your face, "i know you're lying," she says real sing-songy-like. she's teasing you, and enjoying it.

her slender finger points in your face, “no fair! showed you my tits, toots! play by the rules."

"okay! okay! god, this is so fucking embarrassing-"

"c'mon..," she urges you on, eager to learn more about your sexual side and what takes you cream. she desired to know what made your pussy wet before she stuffed you full. but again, you don't know that.

"i-um. i read something onc-,”

she cuts you off once again, “don’t got all day!”

you sigh, “okay! i like getting called names. mean ones,” you blurt out quickly—sick of her antics.

“and i think i like it…rougher?”

her seemingly continuous stare falters for a split second before a bubbly laugh escapes her throat, smiling bigger and better than she has all day.

“oh, yeah? you like it… rough? you like getting treated like you’re nothin’?” she laughs out incredulously and somehow she’s gotten closer to you, lips almost close enough to graze yours.

“jinx… i- what are you-“

“what if we… played somethin’ else? somethin’ a little more worth our while.”

she figures, ‘ay, i’ve waited long enough…i need her'.

“like what?” you inquire even though you're no longer oblivious, catching on to what she means by “somethin’ else.” you feign innocence.

you feel a calculating hand travel up your leg, they’re slightly sweaty and cold which makes a shiver crawl down your spine. your chest visibly quickens, eyebrows furrowing, and eyes glossy with desire. jinx, still maintaining eye contact with you, remains calm although internally jumping for joy as she's finally got you where she wanted you the moment she laid eyes on you.

"how wet are ya right now, toots? you look like you're 'bout to cream your fuckin' pants!"

you audibly gasp, and she continues,

"i bet you're just drippin' down there... this whole time i've been sittin' here thinkin' you're being tortured answering all my questions, but, the entire time you've been gettin' off to it, haven't ya?!"

a single tear gathers in your eye out of complete and utter embarrassment. despite that, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't fucking love it.

her hand stops at the edge of your top, fiddling softly with it, "you can tell me to stop, baby! but, i have a feeling you don't want that," she whispers against your lips. you feel her tug the bottom of your tank top tighter, balling it in her clammy fist.

"dont! d-dont stop."

and just like that, a switch flips in her head. she's grabbing the back of your neck and smushing her lips against yours, capturing them in a searing kiss that has your lips aching. as soon as you feel her tongue attempt to break into your mouth, you let her in.

you initially jump in surprise but quickly sink into the kiss once you get used to the overwhelming contrast between her cold hands clutching your waist and her warm lips pressed on your lips. soon, she's basically drooling into your mouth, tongue trailing over every detail of the inside of your mouth as if she's trying to memorize the space. it's disgusting, really. but, it makes your cunt sloppy.

jinx breaks the kiss to pull your top over your head. she throws it on top of hers. the same one she abandoned long ago at the start of the game. it creates a small heap on the floor of her cozy abode.

"fuckin' whore," she laughs.

you moan, biting your lip softly as a seductive tactic to keep her kissing you.

"wooow!!" she drags out humorously, pressing her hand against your throat and tightening slowly with each word that comes out of her mouth, "you really are a slut. you like when i'm mean, slut?"

you nod, words seemingly impossible to form at this point.

she tightens her hold on you, bringing your neck closer so her mouth resides next to your ear, "if you don't speak up, i'm gonna make it hurt. 's gonna hurt so bad, bunny. gonna torture you. ‘n i know it’s our first time and all! don’t wanna have to scare ya just yet!"

unable to stop rambling, she continues, "hmm... maybe i'll shove the biggest fucking cock i have into your tight cunt... no prep! betcha you'd take it so well. hell, you'd probably like it! you're nasty like that."

"maybe i'll stuff my gun in there...with the bullets inside."

"please, jinx. fuck me.”

she just smiles, “i thought you’d never ask.”

…

you swear you see your life flash before your eyes because of how hard jinx is pounding your poor, abused cunt into the couch cushion. she has you face down—ass up with your hands held together behind your back by her own hands. your face rests on the couch arm, halfway visible to her so she can marvel at your eyes rolling to the back of your head and crossing achingly.

her own eyes roll at the sight of you in such a lewd state, “fuck, toots! you’re takin’ this cock so good. suckin’ me in your pussy like a good little cockslut. mmph. jus' swallowing it whole, fuck!!"

her pace is fast but calculated; and planned. as always. she’s roughly rolling her hips into yours to produce the addictive whore-ish moans to spill from your mouth. she’s also focused on watching her cock disappear in you, your cunt swallowing her cock like it was supposed to be there. the open space is filled with creamy cunt sounds and skin-slapping noises.

“holy fuckin’ shit, hear that? ya hear that pussy creaming ‘round my dick? she’s talkin’ to me, baby!”

you speak, remembering her resentment towards you not responding to her, “y-yes! i-i do, jinxie.”

“yeah?! you think she’s tryin’ to tell me how much she loves me? how much she loves when i split her open on my dick?” she reaches below your stomach to slap at your clit right where the balls on the faux cock meet your skin and you shudder in pleasure.

“fucking love your dick, ‘s so good, s-shit!”

it’s like her mouth won’t stop. she’s relentless—bullying you with her words as well as her cock. jinx pulls you up by your hair so your upper body mirrors hers. she slows her pace to thrust deeper and harder in you, damn near knocking the wind out of you. that causes to you choke on your breath, and your mouth is open as far as it can go.

“h-hah! aww… ‘s just sooo good, isn’t it?"

"see what happens when you’re good for me? good lil’ whores get good dick, ‘n i love givin’ it to ya, hon.”

you’re uncontrollably moaning, voice echoing loudly as you beg her for more—to wreck you.

“more! m-more please!”

“more?!“ she removes her hand from your head to dig her nails into your hips so she can get deeper, so she can open you up.

“you. want. fuckin’. more?!” she slams into your pussy with each word.

your pussy is drooling with your arousal and the shared sweat between you and jinx. you can feel it squelching down your legs with every thrust and throaty laugh she lets out at your pathetic form.

“god, you should see yourself. such’a perfect slut.”

with every word you feel your pussy quiver, getting closer and closer to cumming around her cock. when you curl your toes and inch off of her to prevent yourself from orgasming a whopping 3 minutes in she’s not having it, quickening her pace but keeping her almost-painful thrusts deep.

“nope! gonna take it all. ya asked for it, toots! you begged me to stick my dick in you. so take all of it.”

“b-but ‘m gonna cum! don't wanna yet! oh my god, p-please!!” you beg her for the slightest bit of mercy.

uncaring, she leans down next to the side of your head, lowering her voice, “you’re gonna fuckin’ cum, ‘n you’re gonna cum telling me whose pussy this is. who’s is it, babe?”

“who’s feedin’ this cunt good dick?!”

“you, you! only you.”

“yeah, ‘s me. cum, toots. soak me—get me wet.”

and that was it, “fuck! ‘m cumming!”

you release a soul-crushing moan and triggered by your sudden high, you grip the edges of the couch arm and fuck your ass back on her to deepen her thrusts if that’s even possible. wetness squirts from your cunt and everywhere around you, soaking the entire space below you including jinx’s lower half. the last thing you remember before you pass the fuck out is the hazy, content look on her face and incoherent mumbles that probably consisted of,

“that was way better than a fuckin’ fantasy.”

…

PLEASE TAKE THIS FOOD WHILE I WORK ON MY SEV REQS!!🙏🏽🫣...

[r0manceplanet]

Hi iaaann if you’re comfortable can you write two time relationship headcannons😇😇!1!1! Im glad to see you posting!

A/N: Hey Lo! Yes, I can definitely write this for you :-) and thank you! And I hope you enjoy these :)

Also a little warning, this may or may not be OOC, I always try my best to make the characters as accurate as possible.

• oh boy where do I even start?? Well, I’ll have to congratulate you for being this fellas partner!

• You and Two Time would meet during one of the rounds, and you were new to it all, though they didn’t really talk to you much, I feel like you would most likely have to be the one to initiate it.

• They seem to be very closed off, and somewhat always on the edge. It’s always been like that before you would’ve came into the picture, after some time you would get them to step out of their shell more.

• And, once they’re comfortable around you, and after hiding they’re feelings for you, they would eventually decided to confess to you privately (since I feel like they wouldn’t want so much attention on the two of you).

• While you both are dating I feel like they would be wayyy more comfortable sharing who they are, and what problems they have (which I think we all know, so there’s no need to explain it).

• As for dates, they would definitely mostly be indoors like at home. I feel like they wouldn’t enjoy going out much at all, and if y’all were to ever go on a date outside of home then it would definitely be at more quieter places.

• Your relationship with them will be very calming and comforting, after some time waiting for them to confess it is so worth it, and don’t expect them to leave you anytime soon.

A/N: Ahhh I’m sorry if this is short 😭 I’m not used to writing the survivors lol, but feel free to request anytime!

[umblrspectrum]

still thinking about it so heres a bunch of stuff

[stylishanachronism]

PSA: if you use a formula that has Nothing to do with the problem you are trying to solve, and it gives you the wrong answer (because it is the wrong formula) it is neither my fault nor my problem that the amount of money you have earned is not the amount you were expecting.

[dawnwriterimagines]

The Guilty Plea

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x FEM!READER

Traitors Among Us (Part 1) and Innocents Among You (Part 2)

Verdict Due (Part 4) Clear Skies (Part 5)

Summary: As you're discharged from the infirmary, under watchful eye, you head to Laswell to talk on the rest of your now ruined military career. Of course, you're forced to confront your team as it happens, the last people on earth you'd like to see.

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

Running your fingers along the raised, pink scar across you cheek, the feeling of it...it really looked terrible. A part of you thought it would disappear, hoped it would, but it didn't. It just became severely more noticeable. Looking at this, you knew you'd always have to think of it. You'd sport this reminder for the rest of your life.

Looking away from it, you find your own tired eyes in the mirror, you haven't been sleeping well. Or at all. You can't remember the last time you got 4 hours, let alone 8. Dark circles still surrounded them but at least the bruising and the swelling had gone down.

You couldn't recognize yourself. Not really.

This woman looked so exhausted, so frail and so goddamn angry. It was accurate, it was how you felt. All of it. So, you supposed that the mirror's reflection was the truth, this was you indeed.

"If you need another day or two, no one will ask questions."

You glance over towards your psychologist, your fucking therapist, a nice little 'gift' sent over by the bureau to check in on your mental state after your ordeal. Glaring at him through the reflection of your mirror, he sighs, putting down his pen that slaps against his notepad, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"I'm going to Laswell." Ignoring his statement, you speak. "I'm ready. I'll pack up. Get back to base. Vera had me discharged from the infirmary. I can start ov--"

"Vera?"

"My nurse. You met her," you continued, annoyance spiking at the interruption. Your wrist brace squeaking quietly under the pressure of your fist tightening beneath the table.

"Right..."

"Do you listen to a word I say outside of...my 'trauma'?" You wonder, bluntly.

Your psychologist blinks, surprised, before clearing his throat, appalled. "If you feel I can be more attentive to your state of well-being throughout our process, than by all means--"

"Oh, so 'no'?" you lean back into your seat, a strained laugh leaving you. His lips press together and you continue before he can find the words. "Because whenever I mention leaving this fucking team, you either adjust our schedule for another two weeks or suggest hypnotic therapy, as if I need anyone else digging around to fuck up my mental state."

"I never meant to imply--"

"Oh, you implied it," you interrupted, gritting your teeth. "I know what I want. And I want off Task Force 141."

He taps at the leather of his notebook. "Scars heal, just remember that, Ms. (L/n). The reminders of your experience shouldn't have to haunt you."

"It's not the scars, I've had my share way before this," you admitted, rising to your feet. You exhale deeply that tells to the effort of it, the steel gear hinges along your leg braces shift with your change of position. Still getting use to them. "It's the person."

"Has she changed, you think?" the psychologist begins to write, getting somewhere.

"She doesn't exist anymore."

Finally, placing the mirror down and onto the side table, you pushed off of the table, rolling your IV pole along with you. Passing the chair your psychologist sits on, he closes his notebook with a frustrated huff, looking over his shoulder. "Session over for you already, Ms. (L/n)?" he sighs. "We've still got the hour."

"I'm done," you take the knob in your hand. Turning.

In more ways than one.

"You understand that, informing your captain on your leave is required of you. Have you spoken to any of them, in the last few weeks?" he spoke up, quickly. "I'm sure giving them a space to open up, share from their view--"

"Why should I care--"

"--will give you better understanding, better clarity of the situation they were in--

Appalled. "What the fuck?" Jamming the door closed with a loud, shuttering thud, you whip around. "IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM!" you could just rip your hair out. "Who--who says that to someone?!"

Your psychologist sits there, eyes wide in confusion. "What--"

"Christ, can you hear me? Can you--can you see me? I've got metal plates in my spine, braces holding my knees in place and nerve damage that'll never heal! Who gives a fuck about them!" your skin feels red hot, your face twisted in rage. "I gave my life! My life to this! And then I'm tortured, I'm threatened, drugged and beaten by my own team, my f--my family for eight fucking years..."

You continue with a heavy chest. "And I'm supposed to invite them for dinner to talk and listen them bitch and moan about why they thought it was necessary to beat me to death for two weeks?! Fuck you!" you spat. "I don't owe them anything!"

"That's not what I was trying to say, Ms. (L/N). I apologize, I overstepped. Come sit down--"

"Of course you meant it," you interrupted, mock humor. "Don't be a pussy, own up to it. Revel in your truth. Be tter yet--" you snatch a journal from the cabinet. Tossing it his way. "Make a note of it."

Turning the knob, you leave the room with a slam of the metal door.

---

You were officially famous. On the base, you were now a legend.

A story that would be mentioned and told at lunch for months. Probably years.

First, you were a rat. Next, you were innocent. This was the most gossip any of those in service had ever seen in their years of service.

An interesting reminder to those in service that you weren't safe off duty either.

You learned a few days ago that there was an update put into the interrogational unit, something about how to properly go about dissecting evidence and being on the lookout for enemy spies in the militia.

You guessed you had been told about it in an effort to be appeased by the thought that the head of control paid attention to anything beyond their own noses for once. But, you had little to no faith in a system that's nearly killed you on and off the field by now, so it didn't matter.

You doubted the new rules would be followed though, there was a plethora of things they'd done to you in that cell that were both illegal and unsanctioned. Most of all, that were expected towards an enemy, a prisoner of war at best, and not a fellow marine.

You arrive at the housing quarters, swiping your key card, pulling the handle and entering the wing. Immediately, you're greeted by a dozen eyes, conversations stopping short and clothes ruffling to silence, suddenly whispers fill the space and eyes turn away.

"Oh, god, it's her..." says one man in the far corner.

"Shut the fuck up, man!" came a harsh whisper back.

"I didn't know it was that bad..."

All those eyes on you, makes you pause in your step, looking around at all of your fellow soldiers, the men and women you've served with for years. Many you recognized, ate with, fought beside that turned their backs to you now. Out of respect? Out of distaste, morale, nerves, pity, it all didn't matter. It all felt the same.

The wheels attached to your IV pole suddenly sounded much too loud on the polished flooring, as you walked down the hall as fast as you were able to.

Breathing out deeply, you get to an elevator, pushing on the button, once, twice, three times, just open goddamn it.

With a ding, the metal doors open, and suddenly you're aware that people could be in the elevator, they could be in this elevator, he could be in this elevator. Your eyes flicker down to the floor, your grip on the pole of your iv tightens, your shoulders stiffen, waiting for a blow that will never come.

You stand there as the doors open up, the small space empty, the metal walls reflect only her and a streak of lighting from the ceiling.

Looking up slowly, finally taking a breath, before sliding the iv up and onto the elevator, following it as you press your floor number along the way.

The ride up is fast, a little rumble as it stops, and then the doors open. Faster than you were prepared for.

Peeking out down the hallway, luckily no one to bump into, which you were thankful for. But, it didn't make this hall any less haunting. You'd been cornered in this same hall, you could recall being hauled out of the room after the solid handle of a knife hits your temple.

You don't go down fast enough, whipping around as you stumble to take the wrist of your attacker, mostly for balance, it's Price. In shock, you're unprepared as Johnny's arm encircle your neck, locking you into position as you both stumble backwards onto the floor. He blocks your airways, hushing you harshly as you struggle, feet kicking out and your vision blurring as your team surrounds you. Your family.

That was quite the headache to wakeup with afterwards.

You hadn't quite remembered until now. Being back served as a hell of a kickstart to your memory.

Just a few more reasons to get the fuck off of 141.

Getting off the elevators, the metal doors sliding closed behind you, you make your way down the hall. The polished flooring creates a subtle squeak through the wheels of your iv pole, your hand absently running over the fading stitches along your side.

Passing the shadows of your tortured memory, the doorway of the office was closed, locked.

You pass Kyle's room.

Johnny's.

Finally, you rush up to the next room on the left, grabbing the handle, before beginning to twist, but then you're yanking your hand back as if the metal had burned you. Your back ramming into the back wall, catching yourself, this wasn't your room.

It was Simon's.

You'd spent hours, days, in that room. More than your own.

Why wouldn't you? You were about to get married to the man. You had more in this room than you had in yours.

Sharp breaths leave you, shivering in your effort to keep yourself together, your head goes back into the wall, swallowing down the ache in your chest.

You wait, muscles tensed and your body pressing back into the wall, hoping it'd absorb you if that door opens. Listening for every sound, any pin drop, even an exhale from beyond that doorway. Luckily, Simon seemed to be out for the day.

Hurriedly, nearly running, you steady yourself against the wall as you rush down to the corner of the hallway, finally finding your room.

Turning the handle, it's not locked, it's broken. It opens with ease.

Entering the room slowly, pushing the doorway aside, the crackle of glass beneath your boots as you step forwards, clothes and picture frames laying scattered.

The mattress flipped and ripped open, springs and cotton cut from it. Your wall of metals and certificates, from acts of bravery and mementos of valor, discarded, later you'd find them in the trash, one with a bullet lodged into the gold.

Sniffling as you leaned down, picking a specific frame off the ground, the only one that hadn't been broken. Laying along the ruined rug, with no care for the glass digging through your jeans, you stare at the still shot of your family.

The only family you had outside of Task Force 141, your father and his sister, military brats themselves, until their retirement. Your mother had passed, or just up and left, days after your 5th birthday, you weren't completely sure, the story kept changing every year. But, these two were the only family you've ever known, ever had, until you joined the military, following in their footsteps.

They'd been so proud when you arrived back after your first assignment, in truth you were heavily traumatized, but seeing them, you just had to smile. Having a family that understood the harsh toll on the line of a trooper, now a lieutenant, it was always easier to bring your troubles to them. But, they were also military nuts so "suck it up" was also a quick go to answer from your aunt, while your father was the smoother talker.

They had met Simon, loved him, his rank, his love for you, his seriousness. They trusted him completely with your heart.

So, when he called them, after the evidence leaked...

They believed him.

"What're you talking about?" You took the handle of the chair in your grip, easing you down into it as your legs do weak at what you were hearing. "I didn't...I didn't do it, Dad."

"Do you know how humiliating and disappointing--how it felt to hear him say that to me, hm?" he says, static crackles on the reciever. "My daughter...my own flesh and blood...working with terrorists--"

"I'm not working with anyone! Are you-" you huff out a breath of disbelief. "Are you even listening to me? I've never betrayed the code. How can you think that way of me?"

For a moment, he's silent. "Alright, then," he began. "Than, what'd you do? huh?"

"What--what..."

"Oh, come on, (Y/n)!" your father yells. "What did you do?! What could they possibly have had on you that made you the most likely target? You had to have had done something, been somewhere, were with somebody you weren't supposed to be with! They didn't just get that information from anywhere."

"What the fuck--" Your expression twists with frustration and misery, running your hand through your hair, pulling at it. "I've sacrificed every part of myself for this job, for this team, what do I have to gain from throwing that all away? They send me everywhere, places you've never heard of, places you'll never hear about and people you'll never have to meet, because of me! Why would you just believe Simon? Why couldn't you just wait to talk to me?!"

Hearing your father scoff at your words was painful. "What reason do I have not to believe him? He knows you, maybe even better than any of us. Besides, he was going to be my son in law--"

"I'm your daughter! Fuck Simon, what about me? You'd believe him instead?"

He sighs. "Listen, you're upsetting Cass. We didn't expect your call. I gotta make this brief..."

"You're upset?" pulling at your hair, sucking in sharply. "I'm the one who's permanently fucking altered here. What do either of you have to be upset about?!"

"Watch your fucking mouth!" he seethes. The anger in his voice isn't new, but the way he spits it at you is. "You did this to yourself, I didn't. Maybe that's what your nightmares were about, am I right? Your guilt?"

Wiping the streaks of tears that had fallen down your face, lips quivering and chest aching with sobs you frustratedly shoved down. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I don't deserve the disgrace that will come with you as my kin, I've lived my part of this war. No daughter of mine should even be in this fucking position," your father spat, disgusted into the receiver. Suddenly, he was the cruel, bitter old man your mother had always known him to be, you wished she had stayed to at least remind you of that. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt as much. "You should be ashamed of yourself, but at least you got yourself out it. The least you could do for us."

"Well--what does that mean?" you spoke, quietly.

"Don't call again..."

"Dad, no--" you break this time, a sob escaping you.

"Me and your Aunt Cass..."

"Daddy please, don't do this--"

"..We've decided to cut ties. We're not taking any heat from this, you're on your own," he finishes, clearing his throat, waiting a moment, listening to the pleads and cries of his only daughter, his once pride. "You take care of yourself. Goodbye, kid."

"Why can't you just believe me? Why?!" you cried.

"Don't come to the house."

"No, no,--" the line goes dead. And staring down at your phone, his caller id going blank and the call disconnecting.

Your phone all of a sudden feels heavy, the device and your hand falling down to your thigh, before the phone slips out of your grip and onto the floor. You sit there silently, until your tears drop up and even after.

Staring at the photo now was haunting in its own way, it was just another painful reminder.

Using the bed frame to stand to your feet, your grip on the frame is painful as you squeeze it, the glass cracks audibly.

"Bonnie..."

Whipping around at the sound of John MacTavish's voice, you back up a few steps at the sight of him, your back hitting the edge of your desk.

He reaches out as you stumble, before his fingers curl back into his palm as you find your balance, his hands receding back to his sides. He doesn't enter the room, just lingering just beyond the doorway, his eyes flickering around the room, guiltily.

"I didn't know--we didn't know you were out," he speaks quietly, as opposed prideful personality that translated into his voice usually.

You say nothing.

In the dark, your eyes are wide and your shoulders are tensed up, he can see the glint of your leg braces, the iv pole at the side, the scar beneath your eye. You looked terrified to see him.

"We were coming back to clean up today, just got back from...from a mission..." he stutters on his words, shifting his feet.

"It's been a week."

His lips press together hearing your voice. "I know..." Johnny glances around at the room he'd let those officers destroy, it hadn't been them, but they might as well had done it. "I know...we just...didn't know it was so bad."

"Really?" your voice is mockingly sweet, drawing out the word. "You didn't know? Well look..." you hold up your family photo, the light in the hallway catching on the glass. "You missed one."

Your hand dropping, the heavy frame comes down just as fast, ramming into the ground, the glass practically exploding on impact.

Johnny flinches, the photo of your family...He looks back to you, surprised. "Bonnie..."

Snatching the next closest thing from your desk, a ceramic cup. "Oh, wow, can't believe you guys missed this one," you chuck it into the wall. It breaks on impact, the remains scatter along the flipped mattress and onto the floor. "That used to be my favorite mug by the way."

The Scotsman worriedly steps forwards, 'Lass, I'm sorry--"

"FUCK YOU!" you spat, coming into the light. You're sure you look deranged, and you didn't care. You could've wrapped your hands around his throat, killed him right on the floor and you wouldn't have blinked. "It doesn't mean anything! 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', over and over and over again! As if you shouldn't be! Your apologies mean fuck all."

"I know...I know," he breathes. "But, I've gotta say it anyway, bonnie. I should've believed you, there was no reason not to. I know that now. I just--"

"Believe me!" you cut him off with a yell. "Trust me! Fucking 'HELP ME'!" you screamed with the same fever as your days in the interrogation room, that terrible cell, the cold, the burn and pain. "I cried it all to you, to all of you, and nobody came. Nobody came for me," you breathe in sharply. "It doesn't matter what you should've done. You didn't do it!"

Johnny's eyes are red, he opens his mouth, closes it and then swallows down whatever chokes him up as he looks at you. "I should've came for you. I wish I did. I wanted to, Bonnie..." he steps forwards, and you recede back away from him, your eyes narrowed with violence. "I'll never forgive myself for not listening to you. For not coming to help you. For laying a hand on you. I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I'm sorry..."

I'll never forgive myself... "That makes two of us," you assured.

Johnny's eyes widen, before they close, his guilt ever consuming. He can't help but understand, to respect your decision, to know things can never be ok again. "(Y/n)...."

Grabbing hold of the nearest thing, a pencil cup, you hurl it at Johnny. He doesn't put his hands up, flinching as it hits him, the metal clinking against his kevlar, eyes closing then opening, he stands still. "I don't forgive. I don't accept your apology. I don't fucking care about it!" with each sentence you throw something else his way, a broken frame, the trash bin, a pillow, the CD player.

His hand has to come up for the knife you unsheathe, a memento from one of your missions, it's rusted, ancient probably. But, you hadn't given it up to a museum or to pawn, you had nearly died on this mission, saving Johnny ironically. You had to keep it.

Seeing the weapon, his defensive position is instinctive but his hands drop just as fast, he understands, you need this. You deserve this. "If you need to..." he speaks. Your eyes flicker up to him, away from the knife. "If you need to, I get it..."

And you need to. You really fucking do.

Your grip on the knife is dangerously hard, it hurts.

Looking at Johnny, he'd been your brother in more than a few ways on and off the field, he had been your comfort, your friend, your family. You had bled with him, held onto him as he carried you from the battlefield, joked, laughed, screamed and cried. You've loved him for years.

He'd had a rough few nights you could see that. He was quieter, reserved. Almost as terrified to see you, as you had been of him.

And you could kill him right now and never bat an eye.

And so, throwing that knife was so fucking easy.

Johnny's eyes close as you do just that, fists clenching and teeth biting down on his tongue to prepare for the pain.

The ancient weapon whiz's through the air, the sound is sharp and he knows it will cut through him like butter.

The thud rings in the room, and Johnny's eyes blow open wide, holding his breath as he collapses to his knees, before turning to you.

You dig into the pile of clothes that had been cast aside, a pair of sneakers and a new shirt. You don't look at him a single time as you take it all, stuffing them in a bag, and leaving the room, passing him completely, a limp in your step.

Johnny releases a pained breath, tears finally leaving him as he looks up, the knife lodged into the frame of the doorway, just barely missing him. The sleeve of his uniform ripped open.

He sits there in the quiet, destroyed room. A testimony to the relationship he's destroyed between you.

Part 4!! OUT NOW

[boiohboii]

How would that keep us safe?

(Kimi Raikkonen x pregnant!wife!reader)

Inspo

When a formula 1 driver's car fails on them, they would a. be angry, b. go straight to their engineers, c. stay in the team's motor home.. but not kimi raikkonen, no sir, especially not with his pregnant wife on a yacht on her own.

or

in which Sebastian Vettel, Mark Webber and Jenson Button make fun of the infamous ice man for being head over heels for his wife so he just decides to double down.

WARNINGS: not proof read (when do I ever proof read this stuff), no sense of timeline whatsoever, just a small crackhead fic that came to mind. Thank you insta algorithm for the Kimi edits, the man is so fine omg, solid dilf right here people.

Masterlist

"God," yn huffed as she, for an accurate description, waddled alongside her husband, Kimi Raikkonen into the Mclaren garage "if you don't keep it in your pants next time I will chop it off."

"Yes dear." Kimi replied with a smile on his face, hiding his laughter as best as he could to spare himself the lecture that would inevitably make him laugh harder- he can't help it, his wife is much more adorable trying to give him an earful with her puffed cheeks, stomping feet and her belly looking like it's about to pop at any second.

It hadn't even been 30 minutes before yn started to feel the heat getting to her, making her fan herself with the collar of her shirt while glaring at the fan that evidently did nothing to help her out.

"Everything alright dear?"

"No, no!" yn turned to look at her husband "it's so fucking hot i feel like my skin is melting off and your daughter wouldn't stop kicking my bladder so no, nothing is fucking alright!"

While the engineers around gulped, scared for their lives, Kimi bit his lips to avoid smiling at his very cute, frustrated wife. He had gotten used to her snapping at him whenever any little thing annoyed her, he knew it's the least he can do and she always apologises so no harm done really.

"It's okay, here, how about you go watch the race from the yacht? Will that be better?" Kimi whispered as he stood behind his wife with his hands underneath her belly, lifting it up to give his wife some rest.

"Oh my god," yn groaned in relief "I really needed that, I love you."

Staying like that for a few minutes, yn agreed that it would be much better if she watched the race from the yacht in her swimming suit, the atmosphere and the clothing would definitely make it much more comfortable for her. And just as she was about to leave, new company arrived.

"Ohhh, did he piss you off enough to leave him before a race?"

"Damn Kimi, don't make a pregnant woman that mad, especially not your wife."

The voices of Sebastian Vettel and Jenson Button joined the couple, along with the laugh of Mark Webber.

"Oh, shut up." As much as Kimi tells yn that he would rather eat chalk than willingly hang out with these guys, he is indeed fond of them.

"He didn't piss me off," yn pulled her husband down so she could kiss him, smiling upon hearing two of the three newcomers groan and a whistle (of course it's sebastian) "i just feel like I will burst any second so I am going to watch the race from One More Toy"

"What the fuck is one more toy?"

"Oh, it's kimi's yacht."

"Our yacht."

Placing one palm on her belly while his other rests on her cheek, Kimi smiled at his wife "be safe, yes?"

"Yeah, of course."

Giving her a kiss on her forehead, Kimi let go of his wife, watching her head towards his yacht with the help of one of the interns.

"Be safe." Came the mocking voice of Jenson Button

"I'll be so safe." Sebastian continued as they both reincarnated the way Kimi and Yn were standing a few seconds ago; Jenson's hands on Sebastian's stomach and cheek

"I'm going to kill you on this track."

Deciding to join, Mark stood in between Sebastian and Jenson, breaking up their proximity and placing his arms around their shoulders "but how would that keep us safe?"

"An engine failure, yet again from Mclaren."

"It seems like Raikkonen is the one who will retire this race, what a shame."

"Everyone was hoping for him to win this race, he had been phenomenal these past few races giving one stellar performance after the other, truly a waste to see him go this early into the race."

"Well, it looks like Kimi is going to walk to the garage."

"That is insane, it's like a 20 minute walk, no?"

"And we are back, and oh my god, there is Kimi Raikkonen in his yacht, he hasn't got a shirt on, with his wife on his lap, the father to be could not care less in this moment ladies and gentlemen."

"What a legend, the Iceman strikes again everyone, leaving the race to be on a yacht with his family. And oh my god, it seems that the couple are having the time of their lives on their yacht 'one more toy' with snacks all around and their hands all over each other."

[kuromkiz]

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡ Sincerely, Mr. Crust | ʏ.ᴊᴡ

WORD COUNT : 25.5k PAIRING : yang jungwon x immortal!femreader GENRE : fluffy fluff, dash of angst, historical + immortal au

SYNOPSIS: you had lived a long life—emphasis on long—a fulfilling life nonetheless, but still, long. you wondered why whoever made you this way did it. to torment you? to torture you? had you done something wrong to begin with? whatever the reason may be, life started to become drab. until you met him. oh. what a devastatingly unfortunate occurrence it was to meet him.

AUTHORS NOTE : everything here is my own work. inspiration was briefly cast from a tiktok prompt mentioning immortals, but every other story plot is my own. aka this fic is my first tumblr child i raised her.

WARNINGS : mostly fluff, eventual angst, sort’ve slow build up, set in olden-day time but not historically accurate (no specific year set), brief mention of the word ‘fat’ (used in connotations of eating a lot of food), use of romanised korean words (noona, unnie, hyung, etc—i know, sue me!!!), mentions of alcohol and getting drunk/tipsy, slightly suggestive?? they get a bit kissy and handsy but not much more hehe, proofread, but im not that great at comprehension (a joke but there may be some spelling, grammatical, or general errors that escaped my reading)

SOUNDTRACK : ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : 1 / 1 6 ↳ no. 1 party anthem—arctic monkeys ↳ kiss me—sixpence none the richer ↳ somewhere only we know—keane ↳ a new kind of love - demo—frou frou ↳ what once was—her’s ↳ everything—the black skirts ↳ it’s only a paper moon—beabadoobee ↳ hurts me too - faye webster ↳ nothing’s gonna hurt you baby—cigarettes after sex ↳ heart to heart—mac demarco ↳ 面影 (omokage)—lamp ↳ i bet on losing dogs—mitski ↳ apocalypse—cigarettes after sex ↳ m. sped up version—anil emre daldal ↳ cry—cigarettes after sex ↳ 冬の影は哀しみ (fuyu no kage wa kanashimi)—lamp

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

any likes, comments, or reblogs are appreciated !! feedback is also welcome, just don’t be rude or disrespectful yk :p

© @kuromkiz on tumblr. do not re-upload or claim as your own

Happy. Happy was all you could use to describe the events splayed before you.

With a wicker basket cinched between your hips and your forearm, a bountiful amount of fruit toppled atop each other, a fond smile grew upon your face.

Children played amongst one another, big, toothy grins plastered on each one of their faces. It seemed to have been a game of tag, but it had been a long time since you ever experienced life as a youngin. Perhaps they changed the name?

You settled the basket gently upon the barrels behind your station, an easy access when you needed to bake something.

You had been working at your stall for quite some time, although mundane compared to your previous jobs, it served its purpose on funding your lifestyle, and also had an underlying breeze to it all. After all, baking sweet treats had always been your forte.

The night market was about to begin, and you had just arrived from a quick restock over at Jinah’s fruit stall, your infamous apple crinkle pie having been sold out even before the night got started.

You shrugged off your thick coat from your shoulders, and hung it upon the small coatrack tucked in the corner of your little shop. It was a little shabby, but it was comforting.

Fall had just begun, yet the breeze it carried with itself was chilly as ever. This upcoming winter didn’t seem to be the comfiest of seasons.

Swapping the coat for the brown work apron that only operated from the waist down, you quickly tie a knot around your hips, securing the garment. Followed by removing the metal bands you had accessorised with—they were ancient, but no one had to know that.

Finally, you commenced baking.

In doing this, you effectively stopped thinking about the issues of your current life. You zone out. Never a working day goes by without a good hour or two of your time spent on baking mindlessly. A beautiful thing it was.

Your shop wasn’t open at this time, but people could still see you, and the remaining goods you had kept on display. The only factor that showed you weren’t selling yet was the sign on the table of displays, and a little sign just in front of your little tent. You preferred baking at the stall, but there was a communal hub for all necessities near the markets that allowed you to bake your goods. This was the only time you were out of the stall—albeit leaving to get supplies—which had earned you quite the pile of books on a little stool beside the coat rack.

It had originally been your stool to sit when you got tired or the stall had been slow, but you came to realise that when you sat, you always seemed to wish you had a book in hand rather than staring blankly at the beige interior of your tent.

Now, with your back turned towards the front, and your head in the zone, all aspects of this life seemed to fade around you, a blur in the background of your mind. Even the man who thought it’d be great to start a conversation with your back became background sound.

Wait, man?

“Pardon me?” you turned in shock, like a doe in the woods. Your hands abruptly stopped kneading the pastry as you saw who had been at the counter.

He had been wearing a modest brown hat, which matched splendidly with his brown suit. He looked to be quite wealthy. Not royal rich, but rich enough where he wouldn’t need to visit this side of town. He alone looked expensive albeit. His face with all the clarity in the world, a sharp jawline contradicted his soft looking cat-eye’s, quipped with a gentle smile, and not a hair out of place.

To compare your appearances, you currently looked alike to a stray dog who had jumped out of the market people’s garbage, whilst he seemed to be a freshly baked pie that the owner spent a good fortune of time perfectly curating. A drastic difference you found.

Despite your obvious difference in status, the man smiled warmly as he pointed behind you. “Could you give me a book recommendation?” he had asked earnestly.

With a look that still resembled shock, you shook your head and put on your customer voice, not wanting to break the boundary between buyer and seller. Besides, he looked like he could tear your stall down if you said the wrong thing. He wouldn’t though, right?

“Oh! Right… Uhh. Just one moment please.” you smiled at him before turning to the pile you had created. Your finger followed each spine of books, before landing on a dark purple, almost maroon, hard cover, the title ‘Profound Feeling of You’.

You carefully pulled the book from the stack and did a quick flip through to scan it. “Here.” you handed it to him. “Despite the intimate title, it’s quite an admirable love story. It’s one of my favourites.” an unknowingly fond smile spread across your face, similar to the one earlier, as you spoke about one of your favourite books.

He nodded, before grabbing the book from your hands graciously. “Thank you.” a smile that mirrored your own plastered onto his face. “I’ll be back once I finish this.” he held the book up and waved it gently.

You nodded in agreement. “All good.” you nodded, about to turn back around to continue baking, but he spoke up again.

“When will you be open next?” he inquired.

You pondered momentarily before responding. “I’ll be here ‘till the night market ends if you read fast.” you shrugged. “But I’m here everyday of the week from dawn to dusk.”

“Perfect.” he looked bashfully to the ground. “See you then, madam.”

“Good day, sir.” you bowed your head, finally resuming your work.

What a lovely afternoon.

—

Exhausted. Exhausted was all you could use to describe how the night market splayed before you.

Maybe ‘depleted’, too?

Moral of the story: you were rich off of pies, but your energy had depleted tenfold of that profit.

Dusk was slow approaching, a hazy orange sunset yet to be revealed.

This night, you hadn’t expected such a surplus of customers and it felt like you hadn’t had a chance to look at what you made anymore. Perhaps working with one extra person could benefit you; they could take the counter and you could bake away all your stress, but business was tough, and you wanted to stay a solo stall.

After what felt like years (strangely enough, you felt like the previous years you lived weren’t as long as this very night), your final pie was sold. You still had some remaining tidbits for those who had missed out on the pies, but no one really bought them as they preferred the whole package—you feed the stray animals around the market your leftover waste either way.

The night market had slowed down by this point, and a lot of stalls were nearing closing time—yours too.

The engraved wooden sign with the words ‘NO PIES’ made its appearance on your display table, with your hand adjusting its placement so it sat perfectly in the middle of your tablecloth.

“I just missed them, didn’t I?” a familiar voice brought you from your focus.

Your gaze lifted from the wooden piece to the same man from earlier, stood in front of your display. With a regretful smile, you nodded. “Sorry, just sold my last one.” you replied sheepishly.

The man sucked air in through his teeth. “Shame.” he tsked. “Heard you’re the best around.” he complimented slyly.

Oh.

Your heart skipped a beat, a feeling you hadn’t felt in an extremely longtime—maybe in forever—rose within you.

Before he could see the redness on your cheeks, you quickly turned your head away from the man, zeroing in on the books still stacked upon your stool. “Well- They are… pretty good.” you reasoned, clearing your throat as a frog seemed to have jumped in and clogged your airways.

People compliment your skill all the time, how is this different? Perhaps it was the endearing smile that stayed stuck to his face, or even the excessively handsome face of his that you couldn’t erase from your mind in this current moment. You don’t even know his name.

An awkward silence gathered between the two of you as, he too, cleared his throat before speaking up. “I finished.” he abruptly stated.

Due to your clouded, fogged memory from the busy day, your mind instantly blanked. “Finished what?” you asked genuinely.

The man almost scoffed in shock—not in a derogatory sense, but one of disbelief more-so—as you displayed your indifference to the interaction of the day earlier. He hadn’t said anything, he didn’t need to. He simply lifted the book you lended to him—your favourite, not to mention—and waved it around playfully.

“The book.” he then stated. Finally it clicked.

“You finished? Already?” you asked in disbelief. You weren’t the fastest of readers, but reading at least one book a day improved your speed. You’ve only ever finished one book in a day twice, and they were short stories, not a whole novel. Albeit, you didn’t have long to read them, but the point still stood.

He nodded, almost proud of this achievement. “Yeah.” he murmured, rubbing the nape of his neck.

“What’d you think?” you inquired gleefully.

A smile that mimicked your own earlier in the day appeared on his face. “Wow, it was… amazing.” he huffed. “I feel like a new person.” he stated with wide eyes—a bit too wide for your liking. Was this sarcasm?

You narrowed your eyes at him, making eye contact with his own catish feature. The movement made him burst to laughter. “I’m sorry!” he chuckled, a hearty laugh that almost made you drop your anger, but you stood strong.

You shook your head, turning around to complete your finishing tasks to close your stall: pack the fruit back into the basket to bring home, seal the bags of flour and sugar, stack the pies trays and tuck them into the barrel on the left. After all, no customers would come by this time now, and you were spent from the day.

“I thought it was peculiar.” His answer wasn’t any better to his previous.

You looked over your shoulder for a second to look at him before resuming your tasks and responding. “Peculiar how?”

He gave some time to contemplate before answering. “It wasn’t quite the love story I expected; why was there no happy ending? Why did he give up? Why did she let him?” He shook his head, although you couldn’t see it. “I felt a multitude of emotions I hadn’t felt in a good while when reading it.”

You smiled to yourself as you packed up the pie trays. “So, not peculiar?”

“…No.” he said with a hum, like he was thinking to himself.

You snickered shortly. “Perhaps, unexplainably life-altering?”

“Okay now, Ms. Baker, I wouldn’t go that far.” He scoffed, leaning onto a barrel you had placed outside of your tent, acting as a makeshift table for those that wanted to try your creations immediately after their purchase.

His name for you struck a chord in you, making you realise something; you still didn’t know each other’s name. At this point, you didn’t feel like the one to initiate that conversation. “Well, Mr. Crust, I would go that far.” you boldly stated. This was your die-hard favourite, you wouldn’t let it live down its name. Even the man before you had to learn to love it.

“Mr. Crust?” he inquired.

You closed the lid to the barrel, and bent down to the floor to grab the basket of ingredients you would take home. “Mmh.” you hummed. “Your suit is the desired colour I look for when baking my pies.”

He nodded along, gaze flickering down to the sleeve of his blazer, understanding the name given to him now. “I see.”

Lifting up the panel blocking customers from entering your tent, you exited your small stall and stood face to face with the rich looking man in front of you, no boundary between the two of you anymore.

“Well then.” you began. “I’ll be off.” you smiled and bowed your head slightly in farewell.

With a regretful look on his face, the man too, now dubbed Mr. Crust, bowed his head as a goodbye.

As you turned to walk the same path you take on your way home, his voice calling out to you prompted you to look over your shoulder at him.

You lifted your eyebrows with interest, a kind smile stuck to your face.

“May I walk you home?”

—

Nervous. Nervous was all you could use to describe how the night splayed before you.

Maybe ‘confused’, too?

You walked side-by-side with the man who you let borrow your book, and now you allowed him to walk you home? What were you, imperil? You were immortal for heavens sake! Just how mindless were you?

Perhaps it was the hopeful look he had on his face; or the friendly nicknames the two of you gifted each other; or the fact that he, despite maybe being busy, came back to your stall to provide you with a small review of the book you lent him.

Or maybe, you felt that you had played your life a bit too mundane till this very moment.

That was a possibility, too.

But as you stole a glance to the man walking beside you, perhaps there was a chance you found him just a little bit handsome too. Just a possibility.

“What made you create a pie stall, Ms Baker?” he broke the silence.

You pondered on the question for a moment. The real reason you started it was because you had tried practically every job that could be attained by your level of class, never trying to achieve anything higher than what you were currently; sticking out amongst a crowd wasn’t the smartest of ideas. So, starting this pie stall was a good decision, until it became a hit, and you discovered two things.

One: you were quite the baker.

Two: staying out of peoples sight was definitely the better option.

Finally, you landed on a plausible option. “I’m a delightful baker.” you boasted, shrugging your shoulders.

A quiet chuckle resounded from him at your remark. “Well, you know, I still haven’t tried some of your stuff…” he hinted at the absence of a pie in his presence.

You tsked, mumbling under your breath, although the quietness of the night didn’t quite help to muffle your words. “Not my fault you came at the wrong time.”

“Could you repeat that for me?” the man stuck one hand behind his ear and pushed it forward, making his ear stick out from the side of his head. A mischievous smile peeking from his facade entailed that he was playing around.

Rolling your eyes, your pointer finger met with his chest, poking him once gently. “Well, what about you? You want to know all about me, I haven’t had the chance to learn about you.” you finally inquired, finger retreating back to your crossed arms.

“Let’s see.” he thought to himself, head tilted to the sky as if some God would send down some information to help him out. “Well, I work at the law firm a few streets away from the markets.” he began, adding more. “I’m the owner of the business, like you.” he playfully nudged your shoulder.

You shook your head and snickered. “We’re not the same type of business owner.” you reminded.

“Sure we are.” he pressed. “Look how flourishing your business is!”

A fond smile grew on your face as you thought about your growth, hints of red blossoming on your cheeks. “Continue.” you averted the subject.

Beats of silence passed before he carried on. “I don’t have much else to say, the business seems to take up a lot of my life.” he chuckled, but he didn’t seem all that happy. You knew the feeling, becoming so consumed with your work, you forget that you’re a person.

You simply nodded along, the two of you still following the track, before an additional question popped in your head. “If you’re so busy, how did you read my book?”

He smiled. “Glad you asked.” he hummed, reaching into one of his interior pockets and pulling out a small notebook, about the size of your hand you’d guess.

He flipped to the page he wanted to show you and pointed at the writing he had jotted down. “Here.”

You read the words on the paper carefully, following the lines:

7:30am—Open shop and start work

9:45am—Send papers to Jaeyun

IMPORTANT: make sure Sunoo submits the file on the ‘Hong family’

3:20pm—Follow up on the ‘Jin’ case

4pm—Create a sche FINISH BOOK FROM PIE LADY!!! Incredibly important.

“Was it so ‘incredibly important’ that you cleared your schedule, Mr. Crust?” you stifled a laugh.

Instead of bashfully reacting, he stood proud with his decision. “Of course, my lady, why wouldn’t it be a priority?”

You pouted and raised your eyebrows playfully. “I’m unsure, perhaps you had some special crime cases you urgently needed to plow down?” you poked.

He shook his head. “No ma’am.”

From then on, a comfortable silence weighed between the two of you. The remaining walk wasn’t so long, but you (purposefully) walked slower on this night.

Finally, you arrived at your building. A modest one at best. To be honest, it looked quite dreary and not something to show to a man like him, but here you were. Who cared what he thought of your house anyway?

You opened your mouth to bid farewell to the man, but your front door swung open before a sound could peep out.

“You’re home!” a little boy’s voice rang through your ears, before you felt a force rush into your legs and a small ‘oof’ following the movement.

“Yujin!” you lit up at the sight of the boy.

“My lady! You have a child?” the man spoke with bewildered eyes.

Oh right. The man who walked you home.

“Oh!” you exclaimed. “Oh my word, this is not my son.” you chuckled awkwardly.

You bent down to the height of the little Yujin, patting his head gently before squishing his chubby cheeks. “Yujinie.” you began. “Go inside, it’s cold out here.” you rubbed at his arms to warm them up. “Let me say goodbye to a friend, and I’ll be with you soon.” you smiled at him, watching as he slowly reciprocated it.

He nodded, marching back into the warmly lit house. “Come in soon, noona.” the little boy demanded.

You dismissed him with your hand, urging him to go back inside. He finally did, and closed the door behind him gently.

“My roomate, you could say.” you clarified finally, turning back.

This only made him more confused. “You’re housing a little boy?”

“Oh, not at all. In reality, he’s housing me!” you smiled, not a thought to how confusing your words sounded to the man in front of you.

“Pardon?” he furrowed his eyebrows, almost laughing at how ridiculous you sounded.

“You don’t understand, good sir?” you tilted you head slightly.

“I can’t say that I do my lady.” he leant against a wooden post of your porch, arms crossed comfortably. “Care to elaborate?”

“His mother took me in. I’m living with him and his mother.” you clarified again. “Would you like my date of birth with that?”

He pondered before lifting himself off of the wooden beam. “I wouldn’t mind.” he shrugged.

You shook your head. “You’re a nightmare.”

“You look like my dream.” he flirted easily.

Fighting away the heat creeping your cheeks, you reached for the door handle without breaking eye contact with the man. “Sure.”

He smiled, but another thought seemed to cloud his mind. The man contemplated his choices before bursting out his thoughts.

“Jungwon.” he said.

“Sorry?” your eyes widened in surprise.

“Yang Jungwon. That’s my name.” he repeated, almost breathlessly.

“Yang Jungwon.” you tried his name carefully on your tongue, before nodding. “Suits you.” you smiled.

“And yours?” he tentatively asked.

“L/N Y/N.” you quipped, a small smile displaying itself on your face.

“Pretty.” he mindlessly said.

You shook your head, your body entering the house with your head still barely peeking out. “Good night, Jungwon.”

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

With one last departing smile, you closed the door in front of you. A different, wider smile etched itself onto your face.

You hadn’t felt this erratic in a while.

It was exciting.

—

Amused. Amused was all you could use to describe how the morning after’s breakfast splayed before you.

Yujin folded his arms over one another, his previous curiosity having been crushed to the ground and beaten to a pulp. He had asked a simple question: “Who was that man last night?”.

You gave a simple response: “Not your business.”

Perhaps you could’ve been lighter on the blow.

The little boy sat across from you, awaiting his breakfast from his mother patiently, had puffed his cheeks to the point of bursting and furrowed his brows angrily. Had it been any other annoying little child that was soon to enter their first year of school, they would’ve lashed out.

But this boy just stared deeply into the depths of your soul, hoping to pull the answer out of you spiritually in some way.

“Yujin-ah.” his mother, Yebin, had sternly scolded from the stove she had been situated. One hand was placed on the counter to steady herself, whilst the other stirred the pot of soup carefully. “Don’t pry into people’s lives my pea.”

“But-“

“No.”

Yujin huffed, leaning over the table once coming to terms with this reality. “You win.” he whispered, yet continued venomously. “But I’ll find out someday, noona.” he narrowed his eyes at you, only retreating when a rough call of his name from his mother warned him not to cross the line.

You scrunched your face at the devil’s spawn before you—he was actually the loveliest kid you knew, but that’s beside the point—and stuck your tongue out at him.

Whether it be maternal instincts or your best friend knowing you too well, the call of your name resounding from the place of the stove halted your actions subsequently.

This rivalry was far from over.

After overcoming the initial tension—whatever that may have been between a grown woman and an illiterate child—a steady conversation flowed. You asked about his day previously, he responded with an extensive amount of detail. He asked about taking a pie to his preschool to which you agreed with little hesitation.

He then asked once more about the man of last night to which Yebin had swiftly placed a pot of freshly curated soup in the space between you, unintentionally interrupting her little boy’s pry into your life.

“Let’s eat!” she clapped, a victorious smile across her face as she sat in the seat beside Yujin.

“Thank you for the meal!” You and Yujin graced before you poured Yujin a bowl, then Yebin, then yourself.

Even after living the years you had, manners were never forgotten, no matter how much older you were than the others around you.

After the two said their thanks to you, everyone dug in. As the weather had begun to chill up, this morning was particularly useful in having soup for breakfast, creating a fuzzy feeling inside your chest that could only be described as warmth and comfortability.

As you ate, a flow of conversation followed.

“Jinnie.” Yebin said. His soft hum inclined her to continue. “Is your hanbok ready?”

He nodded swiftly, head about to fall into his soup from how deeply he resonated with the taste of motherly cooking.

“Are you sure?” he hesitated; was he sure?

Yujin dropped his spoon in his bowl, furrowing his eyebrows to jog his memory of his routine. Only to discover he, in fact, did not leave his hanbok out. His silence gave enough of an answer, paired with his eyes that slowly peeked to his left to catch a glimpse of his mother. “Eom-“

“Yujin.” you interrupted. “I’ll get it.” you smiled.

You stood to put your bowl in the sink, not forgetting to say your thanks once more, before heading to where Yujin and Yebin’s room was situated. Your hand on the golden handle pressed down as the wooden barrier granted entrance into the room.

Your eyes immediately landed on the smaller closet that lay next to Yebin’s, a cute symbol of their bond as son and mother.

It was small instances like this, where you wish you could settle down and have a family of your own, much like the two most important to you, who sat in the kitchen as you spoke.

Waving away the thought, you opened Yujin’s wardrobe to pull out a blue and white with a silver trim hanbok, lifting it up to admire it.

You thought of it on the little boy and your heart melted. It was so cute you felt like containing it all and then spontaneously combusting with happiness. Was this baby fever? You shook your head violently, ridding any lingering thoughts of your forgotten dream; you can never have children.

As you emerged from the bedroom, you poked your head from the hallway to peek out. “Unnie!” you called, watching as her head spun in attention.

She was sat drinking a cup of tea with a book in front of her—Yujin had went to wash the dishes—before she focused on your figure, raising her eyebrows in interest.

You pulled the hanbok in her sight to see if it was okay, and she nodded swiftly, gesturing for you to come out of the hallway. “Jin!” she called softly.

Yujin peeked his head past his shoulder once before patting his hands dry, having finished cleaning the last dish. His little feet padded over to his mother, eyes casting down to the blue hanbok in her hand; one of his favourites.

He smiled graciously, taking the garment in his own hands carefully, bowing before taking off into his shared room with his mother.

A hum resonated from you. You had sat down beside Yebin with your head falling gently atop her shoulder. One of her hands raised to pat your head gently. “I know.” she sighed, sympathising with you. She knew about your situation. “Live vicariously through the two of us, my dear. I want you to.” Yebin proclaimed.

Hearing this, a few tears shamelessly welled in your eyes.

One night, you had confided in Yebin after she read through a historic paper dating 50 years prior to the present. A painting of you and some other farm workers varying in age detailed a horrible famine that induced the farming industry’s boom. You weren’t sure how the artist had managed to sneak a shot of you into the painting, but the realistic image of your face was discernible, an almost mirror replica of your own face currently.

With your eyes downcast, your lies of the person in the image being your late grandmother had not pierced through Yebin, her eyes holding a strong wind you had never witnessed from her before. Thus, she inevitably had became aware of your predicament of a curse, vowing to stay by your side until the day she was lowered into the ground with white roses thrown along with her.

“Thank you.” you huffed, voice barely breaking a whisper. “Thank you for staying beside me.” A tear fell and cascaded along the surface of your cheeks, wobbling gently against the edge of your chin before splashing onto your undershirt you wore around the home.

“Aw, baby.” she cooed, lips falling to a frown, as her hand reached to push a strand of hair behind your ear whilst delicately brushing off the path of tears staining your cheeks. “Never think I’d abandon you, ever. I’m here always.” she reprimanded, hand falling to pat your shoulder.

“Eomma! Noona!” Yujin’s voice was heard before he was seen, ushering you to cast away your face from the hallway and wipe the tears that had grazed your face. “Am I decent?” he smiled warmly, giving a slow turn in his hanbok that made him look smaller than he was.

You turned your attention back to the little boy in front of you, hoping that his happiness was enough to distract him of the reddened eyes and lingering sadness you harboured. “Perfect!” you clapped, a genuine smile spreading from ear to ear. “You’re so cute Yuyu.” you asserted, hands reaching out to squish his chubby cheeks.

He frowned and pouted, but made no effort to move from your actions. “Noona.” the words slipped past puffed lips. “What’s wrong?” he asked gently, like he wasn’t some four-year-old boy.

“Nothing’s wrong little man.” you reassured, hand moving from cheek to head as you patted his hair gently. “I just yawned before, yesterday still made me tired.” a convincing smile wiped away the boy’s worry for you.

He sighed. “If you say so.”

One more ruffle to his hair left him frowning in disapproval. “Noona!”

—

Shocked. Shocked was all you could use to describe how the surprise separated by a door splayed before you.

With a tug on the handle and a quick ‘see you later’ to Yebin, you opened the front door with Yujin trailing behind you. Before you could step out from the house, the man leant upon the wooden post of your porch caught your eye before anything.

Your eyebrows furrowed in your state of confusion. “Sir Jungwon?” you tentatively asked, like if your voice was any higher decibel, he would’ve vanished.

His cheeky smile appeared as you came into his vision. “M’lady.” he breathed out. He moved to slowly approach you before stopping abruptly, eyes falling to your legs—well, behind your legs.

“Hello little guy.” he peeped. His eyes cast to your face, rounded eyes seeking an answer.

“I’m dropping him off at the children’s care.” you responded. “Isn’t his hanbok the most adorable?” you quipped, cheeks feeling fuller as your attention laid on the boy behind you.

“Noona…” Yujin grumbled. He huffed and rolled his shoulders. “I’m not cute.”

You tsked, patting his back. “You say that, and then you look like this, Yuyu.” you assured, giving a sarcastic smile that made him shake his head and let out another huff.

No word was said as he left from behind you and started his journey early, leaving the two of you on the porch.

Jungwon chuckled as his eyes followed Yujin, feet inclined to move towards the little boy. “He’s the cutest.” Jungwon reiterated.

A fond smile grew on your face as you walked ahead of Jungwon. “He is.”

The two of you walked side-by-side with one another, not a word spoken to break the silence. For some reason, the silence between you felt comfortable and normal, like you had known each other previously—impossible considering your situation.

Your eyes surveyed your favourite boy in front of you, watching as he kicked at the dirt below his feet. As your eyes followed the direction of Yujin’s downward stare, your eyes widened like saucers at the dirt that had wafted to the hem of his hanbok.

Instinctively, you sped up to Yujin and stopped him from walking any further. “Little boy!” you snapped sternly, eyebrows furrowed as you dusted off his clothing. “Pay attention to what your feet are doing!” you huffed.

Without looking at him, you could tell Yujin pouted his lips. “Noona…” his sad sounding voice made you avert your eyes to his face in concern. Instantly, a cheeky smile grew on his face. “Made you look!” he teased.

Your resolve faded and a smile grew on your own face, not before shaking your head disappointedly. “Ah, Yuyu.” you hummed, still dusting off his hanbok. “What am I going to do with you?”

From where he stood, Jungwon couldn’t help the fond grin that threatened to spread across his face; the sight of you in such a commanding manner with a child made his heart flutter and his stomach flip 180°. You were just the most breathtaking thing to him, and he’d only gotten closer with you the day prior.

“Mr. Yang?” your earnest eyes met his own, eyebrows raising in anticipation. “Did you hear me?” you asked.

Jungwon shook his head to return to reality, the bubbles and glowing aura that fawned behind you started to die down and the dirt of the path returned to vision, he’d really gone and done it now, hadn’t he? “My apologies, could you repeat it please?”

You snorted at his wavering attention. “Do you have anything to wipe this with?” you repeated, head tilting playfully.

“…No, sorry.” he finalised. “I can go look-“

“No, it’s okay.” you reassured, lifting yourself from your squatted position. “I’ll go.”

“But, my lady-“

“Please don’t bother yourself, Sir. Yang. I know this place well, I know exactly where to get what I need.” you reiterated, nodding in assurance.

Whatever Jungwon’s next words were died on his tongue as he simply agreed to your argument with a nod. “Be safe.”

“I won’t be long!” you said, mostly to Yujin. “Stay with him, okay?” you called, pointing an accusatory finger at Jungwon.

He raised his arms in mock surrender to which you snickered at, before turning and heading off to your destination.

Meanwhile, Yujin had squinted his eyes at Jungwon, scrutinising his very being. Upon turning to the boy, Jungwon had caught quite the fright when realising he had already been watched.

“Alright, mister!” Yujin grumbled, hands settling on his hips as he looked upon the man before him, eyes unwavering. “You’re suspicious.” he finally stated. “I don’t know why, but you are.”

Jungwon chuckled. “Okay.” he smiled whilst nodding, moving to squat so that he levelled out with Yujin. “And why do you say that, child?” he asked, genuinely curious on this kid’s perspective.

“You’re hiding something.” Yujin pointed accusingly.

Jungwon widened his eyes in disbelief. “Me?” he pointed to himself before looking around him quickly, surveying his surroundings. “What am I hiding?” he laughed in amusement. What a peculiar kid.

The boy looked side to side before gesturing for Jungwon to get closer. Swiftly, Jungwon grew closer, with his ear pointing towards Yujin. With a hand moving to cup around Jungwon’s ear, Yujin whispered quietly. “You’re interested in Y/N noona.” he finalised, hands falling to his sides after he spoke.

A soft laugh reverberated from Jungwon, his facade of hiding his allure for you starting to crackle. “Well, of course I’m interested in her, I want to be friends with her!” Jungwon tried to salvage his image.

Yujin just shook his head disapprovingly. “No, Mr. Liar.” he crossed his arms. “I mean, you want to court her, don’t you?” he raised an eyebrow, lips thinning.

If Jungwon were honest, the boy stood before him looked quite cunning. Fearless, even. He envied him.

“Why do you say that?” Jungwon questioned.

Yujin tsked. “I can just tell.” he hummed. “By the way, I’m her favourite, so if you want to try and take her attention, just know I’m first.” he whisked his head away from Jungwon quickly, chest puffed confidently.

Jungwon smirked. “Should we make this a competition then?” he entertained this idea, hand stuck out to shake the little boy’s own.

Peeking at the man through the slit of his eye, Yujin slid his own, smaller hand into Jungwon’s, shaking softly in agreement.

“Deal.” he contested.

“Deal.” Jungwon smiled fondly.

The boy was quite a cute kid, but currently, they were rivals. Neck to neck this battle would be.

Before Jungwon and Yujin could break both their clasped hands and intense stares between each other—it was mostly Yujin’s childish, yet cunning stare, and Jungwon’s amused one—you had arrived to witness the unknown chaos ensuing in front of you. “Have you two made friends?” you questioned, curious on whatever they were plotting.

They side-glanced at each other, until Yujin spoke for the both of them. “You could say that.” he shrugged.

Your eyes narrowed at them. “Were you guys bad-mouthing me? That’s quite rude you know.” you frowned, fawning an upset expression.

They just laughed at you. Maybe they were?

“My lady.” Jungwon smiled, hand reaching out to grasp your bicep. “You are one to be talked up about, not down.” he reassured, gently gesturing for you to walk alongside him.

You rolled your eyes. “Mmh, sure then.” you pursed your lips, averting your gaze. How can he say such things so… casually?

After you cleaned off the dirt from Yujin’s hanbok—which would most definitely need to be washed as soon as possible once he gets home—yourself and Jungwon walked on either side of the boy, holding his hands and surveying how he dragged his feet.

Each time he’d even barely graze the floor, you’d tug at his hand in your grasp, widening your eyes threateningly at him. And each time you’d do so, he’d meet you with a pout of his lips, almost tempting you to drop the stern act.

This continued until, finally, the bunch of you made it to the children’s care, spotting the normal lady that took care of the kids waiting at the front gate. She smiled warmly at you, hand outstretched to usher Yujin in. “Hello, cutie!” she gushed, cheeks becoming full with her smile. “I’m happy to see you once more, Yujin-ie.”

Her hand reached to pat his head to which Yujin smiled politely. “You too, Ms. Guk.” he bowed before rushing inside the house to meet his friends.

Boyoung, or Ms. Guk, turned to you with a smile. “It’s always a pleasure seeing you as well, Y/N.” she greeted, eyes drifting to the man beside you. “And this is…?”

Your eyes widened as she gestured to Jungwon. “Uh-“

“Her friend.” he smiled, hand reaching to shake with Boyoung’s. “I’m Y/N’s friend.” he reiterated.

As your eyes followed the path from his plump cheeks, to his arm which reached towards Boyoung, and finally landing on the rosiness settling upon her face as she too outstretched her own hand, you found yourself internally seething. He looks so happy? And so does she? And why does that make me angry?

A very abrupt and short conversation flowed between them, one that went unheard by your ears as your own thoughts clouded your consciousness. Only until Jungwon spoke up, were you brought from your internal turmoil. “Did you hear me?” he questioned, the friendly smile he seemed to wear constantly broke through your vision.

“Sorry?” you shook your head, eyes peering into his as you slowly focused back to reality.

He smiled gently at your confusion, finding your dazed and lost face amusing. “Let’s go.” he muttered, slightly above a whisper.

You found yourself nodding absentmindedly, turning to Boyoung to bid farewell.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!” she waved. Once Jungwon turned away from her, she mouthed to you bring him with you and pointed towards Jungwon’s back, to which you politely smiled and nodded, knowing that if he decided to escort you again tomorrow, her wishes would be met.

You waved again before turning away, huffing once you started walking away from the centre.

“Penny for your thoughts?” his voice spoke gently, breaking the silence as his head tilted towards you, a smile that he couldn’t seem to wipe off gracing his face.

Air left your nose briefly as you snickered. “No thoughts, kind sir.” you concluded.

Jungwon retreated, nodding whilst pursing his lips. “Okay��� sure. I’ll pretend I believe you.” he jabbed, hands conjoining behind his back.

You tsked, hand raising to slap his bicep playfully. “I’m not lying.” you prodded, arms moving to cross one another. You didn’t miss the way he hissed and rubbed at his arm.

“You’re so aggressive.” he sneered, though the playful smirk that played on his lips proved the absence of any anger.

“I’m not.”

“Sure.”

The both of you laughed off the jeers, walking alongside each other peacefully with an understanding silence settling. You casually admired the scenery, tall trees and lush bushes surrounding the dirt path you walked. Straight ahead were the stalls in which your specific pie stall was situated. It wouldn’t take longer than five minutes to arrive.

So, with the calm silence between you, you allowed yourself to soak in the ambience. It was a clear forecast, no cloud in sight, yet it wasn’t hot nor humid, a perfect temperature with a steady breeze. With the trees exponential height, the sun was covered, only patches of light littering through.

Though, this appreciation for nature overclouded your awareness, as you hadn’t caught Jungwon’s eyes sneakily surveying the area before looking at you in his peripherals. Upon seeing your distracted attention, he allowed himself to soak in the sight of you. You in all your glory. You in an almost angelic state. You in your most zen.

If he were honest, he’d known about you for a while. Maybe three months prior to your recent interaction was the first time he saw you.

The solitude you had found on this path with him countered the concentrated and intense energy you radiated from the little beige stall you called work. With the combination of baking inside the stall, and plastering a sign to tell customers you were waiting for your goods at the community hall, you were truly in your element.

He hadn’t only witnessed the times in which you were at a focused pace. He also watched as you flicked through pages of books you had begun reading, kindly declining any lingering customers and informing them to come at a different time later in the day as you had given yourself time for a break.

He admired your work ethic, yet balance with your own wellbeing. He believed you were quite wise beyond your years despite your young appearance.

He admired how you kept a consistent attitude to each of your customers, no matter how difficult or challenging they made your work.

He admired how hard-working you were, consistently keeping up the quality of your goods with no error—evident in each customers reaction whenever they take a bite, and, yes, he surveys them too.

And in the turn of your head as you glanced in his direction, eyes meeting his earnest ones abruptly, the world seemed to pause on its axis to solidify the moment. With interlocked gazes, you flashed a confused smile, a loose chuckle falling from your lips as you caught him staring. “What is it? Do I not look good?” you inquired, maintaining the eye-contact between you two.

Jungwon was almost breathless. Not look good? Not look good? You look heaven-sent! What do you mean ‘not look good’?; is what he wanted to scream at you, instead he opted for a clearing of his throat. “Of course not, there was a bug in your hair, I was just observing it.”

At the mention of a bug, your eyes widened. “A bug?! Where?!” you ducked, dusting off your head repetitively to rid yourself of the creature. “Is it gone?!” you asked hurriedly.

He swiped your hair twice, then brushed his hands together to dust them off before tucking them into his pockets. “Yes, it flew away.” he finalised.

You huffed a relieved sigh. “Thank God.” you breathed, hand falling against your chest flatly, soothing your pounding heart. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” you tsked, annoyance settling in as you registered a bug having been in your hair.

Jungwon smirked, not even looking in your general direction any longer. “If I did, I wouldn’t have gotten that show then.” he shrugged.

You deadpanned him before raising your hand jokingly to hit his arm.

He dashed away from you quickly, avoiding the threat of your hand. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he chanted, though the amused grin never left his face.

Your annoyed expression remained as you sneered at him, tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth like an agitated mother.

Before any teasing could pursue, you had escaped the trail and made it to the clearing of the markets. You and Jungwon walked towards your stall together, with you turning towards him once you arrived to bid your goodbyes.

Despite not wanting to show your reluctance, you felt as though you had been a bit obvious. Obvious with the way you looked at him expectantly when you had arrived, almost wishing he’d hang around with you. Obvious with the furrow of your eyebrows when he gave you that same kind smile he always seemed to wear. Obvious with how you hesitantly lifted your hand to wave as he walked away backwards. And obvious with the sigh that escaped your lips as he finally turned away—thankfully Yang Jungwon was oblivious.

You asked yourself once more; why were you upset?

The two of you had only began speaking the day prior, how had he charmed his way through already?

As you shook your head, clearing the thoughts from your mind, you lifted the wooden divider to your stall once more and started a days work.

The same, repetitive routine that you followed each day to make a living. You weren’t ungrateful, but you wish that your past expeditions allowed for some free time and extra currency.

Alas, here you were selling pies.

A long day it would be.

Selling pies.

Alone.

With no Jungwon.

…

A long day truly.

—

Dejected. Dejected was all you could use to describe how the emotions caused by an absent Jungwon splayed before you.

Maybe ‘disappointed’, too?

It was nearing midday and your break was fast approaching, which meant you’d have to get a pie delivered to Yujin’s care centre soon. And even with the surplus of customers, although not different from any other day, somehow after meeting the cat-eyed man, you developed a longing for him.

How silly.

You had lived for a remarkable amount of years and here you were worrying for a man you’d soon outlive.

Silly and naive.

You blinked away the thoughts wracking your mind, the idea of him a distraction to your routine.

That’s right, he ruined your routine. Your articulate, monotone, and consistent routine.

But, was that something you wanted? After all, you craved for a change in your life, perhaps this is what you needed?

“Ma’am!” a customer called for your attention, snapping you out of your inner monologue.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “My apologies!” you dusted off your hands on your apron. “How may I help you?” you gave a light smile to the man across from you.

He, however, did not reciprocate. Instead he rolled his eyes before staring at you viciously, pupils burning holes into your very being. “Any pies left?” he inquired, eyebrow raised impatiently.

You thinned out your smile, looking at him blankly rather than kindly—he wasn’t deserving of your energy it seemed. You turned behind you, seeing only ingredients and no pies. If you had made one now, it would seep far into your much needed break. “Sorry, no.” you apologised. “I’ll be going on a break in two minutes, sir.”

He scoffed. “Can’t ya make one?” he challenged.

In response, you gave a sarcastic smile, one that looked so sweet that it’d rot your teeth. “Unless I were a witch who could speed up time, I’ve nothin’ for you.” you shot back. How did he expect you to whip up a pie like it was no one’s business? It took time to create and perfect each good you created, especially your best selling pies. No way would you sacrifice your highly curated and delicious pie reputation just to meet this man’s needs.

With another roll of his eyes he peered at his watch. “How long ‘till you’re back?” he inquired, hand falling to rest on his hip.

“I’ll say about half an hour.” you proposed. “I’ll have to drop something off before I can come back here.”

He groaned, mumbling under his breath. “Does she think I have all the time in the world?” he huffed irritably.

Again, you shot an overly kind smile at him. “If you have no time today, come tomorrow.” you finalised. “I’m open everyday, sir.”

“Yeah, yeah.” he shook his head. “I’ll be back then.” he concluded.

Normally when you hear those words, your heart swells with pride, but now you only felt dread for the future. “Okay, sir. I’ll be off now.”

Turning around, you untied your apron and hung it upon your coat rack before grabbing the already bundled pie you were going to bring to Yujin.

Once you gathered the bundle in your arms, you turned to leave the stall, asking one of your neighbouring stall owners to watch over in your absence, to which they agreed.

You breathed a sigh of relief, that man having been the cherry on top to your tiring afternoon.

Just when you believed you were free, you heard his voice again. “Excuse me, Ms?” his voice caused a shudder to rush down your back.

You peered past your shoulder before turning to look at him fully. “Yes?”

He pointed at the bundle in your arms, finger jutted in accusation. “Is that a pie?” he asked.

In your tent, you hadn’t realised how he seemed to tower over you, his height matching Jungwon’s you assumed. This factor caused you to cower backwards slightly, especially as he ushered closer.

“Yes, I’m delivering it to someone.” you spoke truthfully.

He didn’t like that. “So, you tell me there’s no stock, and yet, here you are, with the stock in your hands? I have gold, don’t you want it?” he asked, taking steps closer towards you.

Your friendly demeanour began to falter as it started to fade into fear. “I’m sorry, sir, but this is important. I must gift it.” you pleaded. “I’m reminding you once more that you can come again later today or tomorrow.”

He huffed, eyebrows furrowing as he crossed his arms over one another. “Sure.” he chuckled, feet moving towards you slowly. “But, I want one now.”

The commotion the man created had caused a small crowd to form, whispers gathering amongst onlookers. A majority of them being customers, ones you had served previously, some were workers that had come to grab a bite at the stalls, and others walked ahead, ignoring the whole ordeal.

But one person, entering the clearing of the stalls, spotted you and the man’s disagreement. His eyes narrowed as he zeroed in on you, before looking amongst the crowd. No one was going to help you? He saw the difference in stature between the man and you, no way were you getting out of there unharmed if the guy made a move.

Despite leaving the law firm on his break and coming to the market’s to eat at his favourite stall, he had a new objective. Help you.

He changed his direction from the stall he was headed to, and charged over to the crowd urgently. His height was enough to squeeze through the small group of onlookers—as they looked back to curse whoever was pushing past them, they widened their eyes at the height difference.

“Hey!” he bellowed, emerging from the crowd. He moved to stand between you and the man, covering you from the enraged customer. “What do you think you’re doing? Bothering a young lady?” he dared. He easily exceeded the man, eyes looking down towards him.

But the man held his ground. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re interrupting our conversation here!” he fired back.

The taller guy laughed. “Conversation, or harassment? I think one outweighs the other here.” he hummed. “Defending yourself is futile here, if I were honest with you.” he countered.

The man scoffed, shaking his head as he backed up. “I’ll be back!” he suddenly said with a playful voice, peering past the man who was covering you and flashing a menacing smile.

You shuddered, thoughts of closing your stall just to avoid him began to bubble in your conscience.

“Are you alright?” the male in front of you questioned genuinely. His clothing was oddly similar to the one Jungwon had worn the day before, though his black framed glasses outlined his razor sharp eyes, a mole dotted under one of his eyes, and another on his chin.

You breathed out in relief. “Yes, thank you so much. How can I repay you?” you reached into your pocket for some gold to hand over as payment.

His hands reached out to stop yours from grabbing anything. “Please, you don’t have to give me anything.” he smiled graciously.

You shook your head in disapproval. “No, no, you deserve something in return.” you glanced up at him.

He chuckled at your hastiness. “Ms, it’s okay.” he hummed.

Sighing, you pursed your lips. “I feel bad though.”

He, too, exhaled, eyes casting downward in thought. “Here.” he prompted. “I’ll escort you to wherever you’re heading so no big, angry wolves come pouncing on you again.” he winked.

You scoffed in disbelief. “You’re kidding, what sort of payment is that?”

He smiled. “One that I’m willing to receive.”

You nodded in approval. “Smooth, Mr…?”

“Riki. Nishimura Riki. Or you can call me Ni-ki alternatively.” he smiled gently, hands tucking into his pockets.

“Ni-ki.” you hummed. “Alright then, thank you, Sir Riki.” you grinned, a genuine, thankful grin. “I’m Y/N for reference.”

He smiled back. “My pleasure, Y/N.” his hands reached to grab your bundle. “Let me hold that for you.”

“Thank you, kind sir.”

—

Intrigued. Intrigued was all you could use to describe how Riki’s personality splayed before you.

He was funny. Seriously funny.

Not a minute went by before he made you laugh, again.

The two of you had just arrived to deliver the pie to Yujin’s daycare, in which Riki was confused too.

“You have a child?” he asked, eyebrows raised in suspicion.

You chuckled to yourself. “No, sir, I do not.” you shook your head, finally arriving at the gate.

“Yujin!” you called from the gate, bundle still in the arms of the man next to you.

The door burst open and a gleeful looking boy came sprinting out. “Noona!” he called happily, his expression a ray of sunshine that cleared the negativity of earlier. As he approached, he looked to Ni-ki beside you, a perplexed furrow of his eyebrows indicated his confusion. “Who did you bring this time?” he poked at you, both physically and teasingly.

You rolled your eyes. “This is Ni-ki.” He waved as you gestured towards him. “He helped me with a complication at work.” you thinly smiled.

He nodded to himself. “Ahh!” he agreed. “Complykatson.” His arms crossed over one another. Perhaps this kid had an old man’s soul within him.

Before you forgot, you turned to Riki. “Here, Yujin.” You handed the pie over to him, making sure his little clammy hands secured the bundle safely. “Don’t have it all to yourself! Share with the others!” you demanded, hand pointed accusingly at him.

“I won’t! Gosh.” he pouted. You smiled fondly at him, giving his head a pat before he kissed your cheek when you leant down. “Have fun at work!” he bellowed, bowing his head politely at both you and Riki since his hands were too occupied to wave.

The two of you waved at him, waiting till the door closed behind him once he walked back inside.

You sighed to yourself contently. Despite the nuances of earlier that day, the smile that spread across your favourite boy’s face was priceless; no gold could buy that smile.

You turned to Riki, a smile sat warmly across your face. “Let’s head back now.” you stated, hands conjoining behind your back in a stroll-like posture.

He nodded. “This escort mission was quite calming, I must say.”

“It’s a lovely day today, must be that.”

He hummed, his head turning to you before he asked a simple question. “Do you deal with those sorts of people a lot?” he asked sincerely, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

With a simple huff, you chuckled pitifully. “Yes, but the ones that approach me after I’ve said we had no more products don’t happen as often. This one was probably the third time its occurred.” You reminisced to the times prior.

Ni-ki shook his head disapprovingly. “You should really get an additional worker with you.”

You shrugged. “I was looking into it, but there’s no one I know with that much free time or willingness to indulge in that sort of work.”

A silence settled between the two of you; Ni-ki gathered his thoughts while you stared at the ground beneath your feet.

Suddenly, he cleared his throat after a brief moment. “Well, you know, I could…” he trailed off, eyes wondering.

“…You could?”

“I could-“

“Y/N?” a familiar voice resounded in front of you.

You hadn’t even realised whilst chatting with Ni-ki, but you had already found yourselves at the heart of the markets, your stall only a handful of steps away.

As your attention switched from Riki to the voice, your eyes widened.

The man you had been wanting to see all day, the one who left you dazed for the hours you worked till now, the one who had been implanted in your brain since he took you to work this morning.

“Hyung?” Ni-ki spoke beside you. Hyung?

“You know each other?” You looked to Ni-ki in surprise, gaze switching between the two men.

“Mmh.” Ni-ki hummed, a smile across his face as he connected the dots. So this is what Jungwon was busy doing. He laughed to himself. “We work at the same law firm.” he clarified.

“Do you even have work?” you asked suspiciously. “Why are you both here, shouldn’t you be busy?” you pressed, stepping toward Jungwon with your hands crossed over another.

“Well, you see, I… cleared my afternoon.” he spoke sheepishly as he cleared his throat, your eyes widening at the prospect.

Your playful demeanour dropped as you looked at him. “You what?” A deadpan look settled on your expression.

Jungwon’s gaze looked behind you at Riki for a second before he looked at you. “I wanted to stay with you.” he responded in a near whisper.

“Are you serious?” you scoffed in disbelief, but a ghost of a smile stayed on your face.

“Yes… I finished all my work by lunchtime.” he stated as if it were normal to cram a days work within five hours or so. Riki laughed to himself briefly, averting Jungwon’s attention to his younger friend as he scrutinised him. “What is so funny to you?”

He shook his head disappointedly, but playfully. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?” Ni-ki teased, a smug grin settling on his face. He walked past you to whisper into Jungwon’s ear. “Sunghoon hyung is gonna hear all about this.” He laughed as he backed away, whilst Jungwon looked bewildered.

You were lost as to what happened. “What? What did you say Riki?” you tugged at his shoulder. “Why does Jungwon look like he saw a ghost?” you inquired, your confusion evident.

He simply laughed it off, waving his hand to dismiss your question. “Don’t worry, it’s not about you.” he blatantly lied, but you didn’t know that.

“Well… I still want to know.” you spoke sadly, hoping to garner sympathy points. “Can you tell me?”

“Gladly! Jungwon hyung-“

“Zip it.” Jungwon covered Ni-ki’s mouth. He cleared his throat before taking his hand off. “I believe you have work to do.” he spoke sternly, straightening out his blazer.

Ni-ki scoffed. “You’re one to talk, Mr. Yang.” he replied teasingly, tongue sticking out to annoy Jungwon.

Jungwon sneered at him, hand gesturing for him to leave, to which Ni-ki obliged. “Bye Y/N.” he patted your shoulder.

Your hand reached for his wrist which slipped through your grasp as he turned. “But, what were you talking about?” you attempted to get last minute information.

“Bye Ni-ki!” Jungwon interrupted, waving off Ni-ki sarcastically.

The younger mouthed the name Sunghoon hyung as he looked behind his shoulder before going to buy the food he wanted initially.

“What? What?” you were desperate to understand the joke, shaking Jungwon’s shoulder. “Tell me!”

Jungwon tsked, shrugging away your hand as he headed to your stall. “So! Ms. L/N, you have an extra worker for the afternoon.” he smiled, swiftly switching topics. His tooth-rotting grin tempted you into dropping your curiosity.

“Oh? And what do you know about baking pies Mr. Jungwon?” you teased, a smirk growing on your face as you walked closer to your stall and thereby approaching Jungwon.

He watched as you lifted the wooden board to the tent, grabbing it after you had already entered and stepping into the area. “Nothing!” He placed the board down gently, eyes wandering around the interior of your work. “That’s why you’ll teach me.” You pursed your lips at the wink he sent your way as you turned to grab the apron you had left and threw it over his head.

“Sir. Yang.” you started, your hands resting near his neck as you tightened the neck strap securely so it was neither loose nor tight, just right. You maintained eye contact as your hands traveled down to his waist, wrapping your arms to secure the waist strap too, though in the process you practically caged him in a hug. “Just don’t interfere with me, when I’m working behind you, okay?” You tightened the strap with finality, backing away as you looked to him innocently. Perhaps you were flirting, but perhaps he wouldn’t notice.

But notice he did. Jungwon looked at you with a stunned expression before he sputtered out. “C-could you repeat that for me please?” Your effect on him adamant in his actions, but you were blind to it, somewhat.

You smiled gently, teasingly, before patting his shoulder and turning to the back station. “Mind the till, would you?”

“Could you just-“

“First rule~!” you sang, finger pointed at him without your gaze turning back.

He huffed before trying again. “But I-“

“Ey!” you tsked, turning to him. Although you hadn’t even started baking yet, it was fun to tease the man.

He pouted. “You haven’t even started!” You deadpanned him before gesturing him to go on. “Could I suggest a payment?”

You scoffed. “You haven’t even worked yet and you’re already suggesting what I should pay you?”

“It’s simple.” he countered.

You contemplated before gesturing him to continue again.

“Can I get a pie at the end of the day?” A smile that gleamed upon his face appeared, one that was hard to deny.

“Ey~ won’t that be unhealthy? You’ll get fat by the end of the month, Mr. Yang!” you tried to reason with the man.

Jungwon turned away from you, mumbling to himself quietly. “It’s either I get fat from the pies or her…” He reached for the left side of his chest, gripping onto his shirt tightly.

His heart ached.

The man was in love.

After that stunt you pulled with the apron, how could he not be? He was a grown man and he allowed you to take control of him so easily, he was absolutely all yours. You just didn’t know yet.

—

Drained. Drained was all you could use to describe how your tiring work day splayed before you.

Perhaps it was the influx of female customers at your store—which definitely had nothing to do with Jungwon’s appearance.

Perhaps it was the simmering heat that magically, or better yet unexplainably, approached on the fall day, allowing droplets of sweat to formulate around the crevices of your neck, arms, and every body part that you had covered meticulously in belief of a colder day. It was an odd turn of events.

Or, perhaps it was the additional hand that made your cramped work space feel exponentially smaller than it was. Jungwon wasn’t a big guy. He was lean, yet still strong. Taller than you, but not enough that it strained your neck to look at him.

So, the suffocating air in your quaint stall couldn’t have been from him? Or was it the both of you? Or even a combination of that and the heat? Maybe the women too? Great heavens, why were they still lingering around?!

“Will you be here permanently?” A beautiful young lady, in all her poise and elegance, flashed a smile that could be written in history books for being so unrealistically gorgeous. Her hair cascaded from her scalp to her collarbone perfectly, as if no effort had been taken into her perfected appearance. Did she look this perfect because she was, or did the envy that began to transpire within you simply blow this one over? You didn’t know which option you preferred.

The girl next to her, presumably her friend with the closeness between the two, piqued up with a question too, standing on her tip-toes and giving another world-class smile. Was there some school that taught this? “If so, we’ll visit everyday!” She interlinked one of her arms with the girl beside her and the two bumped their shoulders against the other gently before, once again, giving an effortlessly curated grin.

This whole time, you had been leaning against the bench where you make your pies, as the remaining batch you had made was the last, and it was currently cooking in the communal centre.

Unknowingly, your arms had crossed and a look familiar to a scowl settled upon your expression. As soon as you felt the creases and tension in your face, you immediately dropped it, opting for a neutral one instead.

Within this time, Jungwon had responded. “I will not be here permanently.” This immediately sent a frown to both of the girls’ faces, but he continued. “But, I’ll come around occasionally when she needs the extra hand.” He gestured with his head towards you, a fond look appearing on his face, one you didn’t catch. “She’s a great boss you know? And baker too!” he praised, to which the two girls just giggled awkwardly, before the first girl spoke up again.

“Well then, whenever you do work, don’t hesitate to let us know.” She whispered the last part with a hand covering one side of her mouth. She reached into her small purse, the ones that all those rich people have, and handed Jungwon a small note. The paper itself looked like it cost more than your entire life—which was a lot. “You’ll find us here.” she finalised, throwing a coy wave to which the other girl followed, before they both walked away.

A sigh of relief escaped you. What a devastatingly unpleasant feeling it was to watch that interaction. Not because of any romantic feelings or anything. No. You don’t feel those types of emotions. You aren’t allowed to, nor are you ever going to. This was not a romantic feeling. Surely, it was just a fleeting admiration, right? Jungwon will be in the past just like all the other ‘lives’ you’ve lived in your time.

Right.

“Y/N.” The man had spun around, his conversation with the two ladies having already ended. “You seem to not be alright, do you want me to take over?” His eyebrows raised in concern, his expression worrisome as he raked over your figure; very spaced out and unfocused.

You almost scoffed with laughter at his suggestion. “No, sir. I’m just swell, I can’t imagine having you take over my stall, Mr. Lawyer.” you teased, the smile that seemed to always pop up on your face whenever you were around Jungwon appeared.

Jungwon diverted his attention to the floor and chuckled abashedly. “Got me there…” He rubbed the back of his neck.

You looked at him longingly before abruptly interrupting the brief silence. “Care to take out some pies?” you asked.

“Could a lawyer take on that responsibility?” he joked with you, meeting your gaze.

You giggled at his remark. “Wow, lawyers have a sense of humour?” Your expression was one of sarcasm, eyes blown wide and jaw dropped in shock.

He shook his head at you, but his smile remained. “Come on Missy.” he huffed, hand raising to pat your head. He ruffled your hair playfully to which you swatted away his hands. He dodged your hits as he made his escape. “Bakers are so aggressive!” he teased, lifting the board for you to leave your tent as well.

As you stepped out of the stall, you clicked your tongue at him in annoyance. “I’m not aggressive, you just get on my nerves.”

He hummed. “Really? What have I done to you that warrants this behaviour?”

You thought back to the women—an unusual amount of women to visit your stall in retrospect—and decided to not mention it, keeping your silence as an answer.

“Nothing?” he piqued with an eyebrow raise. His arm fell to rest against your shoulders casually, a very, no, extremely suggestive gesture in such a public setting. The two of you have only just made friends (?) and the market still had quite a few shoppers around.

Hastily, you shrugged off his arm and crossed your own over each other, making sure to create a subtle distance between the two of you.

“Sorry.” Jungwon mumbled, ashamed of himself for being so obvious. Couldn’t he take this slow?

You shook your head. “Don’t worry.” A smile graced your face as you looked to him, one that wiped away the worry of making you feel uncomfortable that Jungwon may have had. “I just… don’t want people to get the wrong idea.” you reassured him.

A brief silence followed before he spoke up. “What if I want people to misunderstand?” His eyes met yours in what felt like the most intense eye contact you had ever experienced. You could feel the bolts of electricity connecting your pupils to his. Your mind short-circuited and you barely stuttered out a response.

“S-sorry?” You wanted a replay of what he had just said. Had you misheard?

Redness crept up his cheeks as he averted his eyes from staring into yours, fearing he may lose himself in the process. “You heard me.” he murmured to himself quietly.

You didn’t ask any further questions. You didn’t want to. This interaction should never have happened. You and Jungwon interlinking should never have happened.

And yet, you let yourself feel. Feel how he makes your emotions run wild. Feel how a mere glance from him triggers a reaction for your heart to beat erratically. But in doing so, you also allowed yourself to feel the consequences of your actions. You felt extra protective over Jungwon. You felt an ache in your heart when he wasn’t with you. And worst of all, you felt love. The scariest consequence of them all.

Safe to say, the walk to the community centre had a worse outcome than silence, it was equally as awkward.

—

On edge. On edge was all you could use to describe how the act of closing your shop splayed before you.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the act of closing your shop, per se, but the man who still stuck around to close the shop with you. Unsettlingly strange it was to have been so hung up on Yang Jungwon, just for any and all emotions you had for him to fly out the window and be replaced with uttermost confusion. Did what he say meant he liked you too? Was he joking with you? Are your heart strings being tugged by a jerk?

“Y/N-“

“Here’s your pie, Mr. Yang.” you interrupted, words a bit more stiff than the casual air you would tend to use around him.

Slowly, Jungwon grabbed the pie with caution, eyes peering into your astray ones that couldn’t seem to look at him. “Allow me to escort you home.” he suggested, a plea for your attention.

But you wouldn’t have a bar of it. You needed to sort your thoughts. “It’s alright, Sir.” you smiled, finally looking at him just to turn away again. “I’ll be off.” you nodded your head in farewell before heading in the direction towards your home. You hadn’t spared him a glance, the act of looking back would have made it harder to walk away.

You continued the path towards the trail where you and Jungwon had come from earlier, almost exiting the clearing of stalls before a rush of steps coaxed you into looking at the commotion.

There wasn’t much to look at though as Jungwon had pulled up right next to you, straightening his blazer and tie before clearing his throat. He looked to your perplexed stare and just shrugged. “I can’t let a pretty lady like you walk home alone now, can I?” he questioned, to which you huffed.

“I can handle my own…” you pouted and looked away from Jungwon, the sight of his sculpted face too overwhelming to look at.

He simply nodded, but you didn’t see that, before he spoke up once more. “Sure… you don’t think the people in the market talking about ‘the pie lady’ being harassed in the afternoon was… you, right?” he pondered sarcastically, his lip jutted in faux curiosity and eyebrows furrowed just as such.

Your mouth opened to speak, but no sound left. You were rendered speechless until you uttered out a meek response. “That could’ve been… the other pie lady…”

Your reply only made him laugh. “And what other infamous pie lady is there?” Again, you were left collecting your thoughts, thinking of a way to escape this hurdle. When your reply came with nothing, Jungwon hummed. Abruptly, he patted your head gently, delicately. “I’m glad you’re safe now.” he hummed, concluding his teasing.

You reciprocated with a hum of your own. “Yeah, it’s really thanks to Riki. If he hadn’t shown his generosity, I don’t think anyone would have.” You shrugged at the thought, mind reeling back to the thought of the tall, sleek man.

Immediately at the prospect, Jungwon stiffened. “Oh? So it was Ni-ki who helped you?” he pursed his lips whilst nodding to himself. A brief thought of arriving sooner and the possibility that he would have been the one at your stead instead conjured in his brain, before your reply stripped him of his thoughts.

“And I’m glad it was.” you murmured. “How lucky am I to have had a lawyer as the person to stand up for me. I didn’t even pay!” you chuckled, reminiscing to the peculiar afternoon.

Jungwon grumbled. “He’s not even a proper lawyer yet…”

You shook your head with a smile grazing your lips. “Lawyer or not, he knew what words to say and what would get the man to back off. Either that or the other guy was intimidated by Riki’s height. Have you seen that boy?” Your eyes widened as you grasped the height difference between you and the younger man. The thought made you think to Yujin and the fact that he’d too outgrow you.

He scoffed at the way you were talking about Riki. “I’d think you just like tall men at this point.” he pouted, eyes casting to the floor as he kicked the rubble beneath him. Whether he intended you to hear it or not, you pretended like the words hadn’t even left his lips, opting to steer the conversation away.

“What’s your work like?” you inquired, curious as to what a day’s work entailed—and how he completed it all to work alongside you, though he didn’t need to know that.

Jungwon didn’t need much time to think until he replied. “You’d think it’d be busier than it is, but not much crime has happened to necessarily bring us in. Obviously there’s still crime, just no big cases of it.” He shrugged his shoulders conclusively. “Oh! And there is seven of us working, so the work that does happen is spread amongst us. A lot of our time is spent processing cases.”

You nodded, a smile forming on your lips. “Sounds fun, having such a big group of people to always be around. Are you guys friends?”

He nodded fondly. “Best of friends, I’d say.” he added.

At that, you snorted out a laugh. “That makes me want to have a partner.”

Jungwon turned to you with wide eyes. “Partner?!”

You looked to him in his panic. “Yes? Like… work partner? What were you thinking of?” you chuckled.

Jungwon cleared his throat before turning away. “N-nothing. I’m just interested in becoming your partner- Work partner!” he corrected himself, eyes darting to your figure to see if you caught his slip-up.

You thought over the idea before nodding. “That’d be nice actually… but you’re the owner of your law firm, wouldn’t that be difficult?”

“Right…” he physically shrunk into himself, thoughts of working alongside you a figment of his imagination, that is until he thought of a solution. “Hold on. There’s seven of us right?”

“As I’ve heard, yes.”

“How about one of us take each day of the week?” he suggested.

Once again, you played the idea in your mind and nodded when it worked in your head. “That’d be nice, actual-“

“Wait!” He put a hand up, even stopping in his tracks for some sort of dramatic effect—but you think it’s just so he can collect his thoughts. “No, erase that idea.” He shook his head, moving forward with a hand on his chin thoughtfully. His own jealousy and possesion over you willed him away from the option.

You huffed at his irrational behaviour. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Forget I said what I just said.” he stated calmly. He let a few more ideas run in his brain before his eyes lit up and he clicked his fingers. “Or—now hear me out—I transfer ownership to Heeseung hyung?” He turned to you with a beaming smile, one that looked as ridiculous as the idea he just spurted out.

You gazed at him in disbelief before bursting into a fit of laughter. “You’re funny Sir. Yang! Too funny, I must give credit to that joke. Whew!” You shook your head as you chuckled to yourself, until you heard no laughter on his end. “Why aren’t you laughing?”

Jungwon looked into your eyes then turned away, scratching his head in frustration. He couldn’t tell you that he was willing to do all of that just to stay by your side, he’d sound crazy. But the man had been in love ever since he studied the charisma of your work ethic, and then eventually, you.

He knew one day he’d tell you how he felt. Maybe right now. Maybe the next day. Maybe within the week. Maybe this month. What he knew, was that he couldn’t back out. He’d have to continually follow through or else he may lose your interest.

With your gaze and attention on him, he felt complacent, not quite complete—that would only happen when he could safely call himself ‘yours’—but he understood that what he wanted, what he needed… was you. Even if just for a bit he could have you, he’d grasp at it. And even then, he’d want to steal just a smidge more time to stay with you, since you were so utterly alluring to him.

Jungwon was in the trenches. But he dug out this path for himself, and it was his responsibility to find his way safely to you.

"I wasn't kidding around, Y/n." he finally mustered, his tone so serious it left you dazed for a short moment.

The stoic look to his face and the complicated words that left his mouth were enough to push you over the edge of your jumbled emotions. The tone in which Jungwon had set ran a shiver down your spine. "Jungwon." you began as you finalised your thoughts. "You know that's a reckless decision, right?"

Perchance, you could say that living for such a substantial amount of years, decades even, made you wiser, but in this moment with a considerably fleeting romance (for you anyway), you weren't quite as educated as you wanted to be.

How could love be so unpredictable and... risky. You weren't even certain that this man loved you back, and yet he was taking these risks for you. Sacrificing his job just to stay by your side? Now that was irrational. You knew what the right decision was from pure common sense, but how about you? What did you want to do?

You began again. "Stop thinking nonsensically." you warned. "What you're doing may cause more harm than good."

Sure, the conversation was about transfering ownership to one of his employees, which is big in itself, but in the grand scheme of things, in the underlying meaning behind each of your words, this was truly about commitment. A commitment sworn between the two of you. A commitment that should never occur.

"What if it brings more good than harm?" His eyes rounded as he looked to you, an innocent light sparked in his eyes, one that didn't know the truth of you, and the issues that reign from that very truth. Naive he was. Naive to think that you two could actually work.

You supposed you too were naive, for having the slightest inkling that something could spark from this. But, you knew that was a pipe dream.

And yet, you wanted to be selfish, to have him to yourself, to call him yours. You knew the consequences of this decision though; you'd leave him behind, you'd watch him grow old whilst you stayed in the same youthful looking body. How badly you wanted to grow old with him. To indulge in the thought of creating a family with him.

Naive, you thought to yourself once more.

"Y/N?" His voice brought you out of your thoughts.

Only then did you realise you had started crying.

Warm, strong arms wrapped around you tightly. You buried your face in the chest of Jungwon, his presence a constant in this moment, this fleeting moment. As you cried vehemently in his arms, he held you close. His arm held you securely at the waist, whilst his other hand pushed your head into him. He leant himself down so his head rested on your shoulder, overwhelming your senses as you felt his touch surrounding your whole being.

As you sobbed, your body wracked with tremors, your arms raising to cusp his broad back in your arms. You could feel his relaxed muscles under your fingertips, one of them specifically moving as he rubbed your back soothingly up and down.

Your hands tightened their hold on his shoulder blades, letting out every single emotion you felt towards this new love you felt within you.

Slowly, your mind reeled back to reality, and only then did you hear Jungwon's comforting words. "It's okay." "I'm here." "I'm not going anywhere." were amongst other things he chanted like a mantra. You gasped at his words, an overwhelmingly strong sob coursing through your body.

it wasn't okay. He wouldn't be there. And he was definitely going to be leaving. Whether he liked it or not, that was your reality. Everyone left you alone, to rekindle your life as you vowed to never become close with another again, only for human nature to ruin your plans as you found yourself indulging in the pleasure of making connections. However, you never felt love. The true, raw love from another human being, and vice versa. You've never loved so romantically in your life. Jungwon was your first, and it was apparent in his arms in which he held you so delicately that he was your last. You couldn't undergo this situation again. Never again.

—

Empty. Empty was all you could use to describe how your internal turmoil splayed before you.

Jungwon had long since gone from your front porch, his eyebrows that furrowed in concern and eyes that held a world of worry engraved in your mind.

You stared at your ceiling blankly, every possible scenario of avoiding Jungwon appearing in your head, and each one getting turned down due to the fact that Jungwon was too nice of a man to conduct a rude act against him. Why was he such a gentleman?

Eventually, you decided the best idea you had was to just blatantly ignore and avoid him. You only ever met at your work or your house, two of the main places you spent your time at. So it’d be a piece of cake right? Or… pie.

The next morning, you took the liberty of completely dismissing work. You cooped yourself in your home, shut out from the world. Yebin had knocked earlier to make sure you remembered work, to which you argued a mean cold had been thrust upon you.

“Probably the change of temperature tampering with my insides.” you proposed from your bed.

Yebin shook her head whilst laughing. “Sure, the common cold affects the person who cannot even perish. You humour me.” She looked to your “frail” figure and huffed. “Farewell then.”

It had been a fair while since Yebin left, by this time she would have arrived at work already. And now you laid on your mattress, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, the off-white plastered above you left little fuel for imagination.

You were close to lazily giving up and going back to sleep to avoid wallowing in your own grief before a knock resonated from your front door. Huffing slightly, you sluggishly hauled yourself out of your bed, your ivory chemise falling delicately against your thighs.

You imagined that your hair looked a mess—not at all tidy as it would normally be in its up-do—though you supposed the person at the door could only be Yebin returning to pick up something that slipped her mind when leaving the house.

The door opened with a click as you poked your head out.

“So sorry!” Your best friend funnelled out. You smiled knowingly before opening the door wider for her to enter. “Lord only knows what a mess I am this morning!” she huffed out in distress as she walked towards the kitchen to grab her packed lunch. “Next thing you know, I’d have forgotten my slip for work!” With her mind jumbled, she turned to you to kiss your cheek in departure.

Just as she was out the door, she blocked the door from closing before allowing herself back in. “I forgot my slip.” She laughed, an embarrassed blush falling upon plump cheeks. Yebin turned to you once more, looking at your bed tamed state and sighed calmly. “I appreciate you for putting up with me.” Her lips turned to a frown and you could tell she was becoming emotional.

“Oh stop, please none of this mushy nonsense right now.” You blatantly ignored her desire to be sentimental at this crucial time. “You’re late for work you gopher.” You ushered her out with your hand. “Out! Out!”

The last thing you saw was her waving at you before you closed the door in front of you.

Locking the door, you supposed now would be the time to make your breakfast. As you shifted to step to the kitchen, your door was knocked once more. With an amused grin, you turned back to the door.

“Unnie! I told you it’s not the time for sentimen-“ Nothing could prepare you for what was at your door. Supposedly, all that planning you did the night before on how to approach him if you bumped into each other would help you in this actually critical situation.

Yet, to your surprise, your mind hadn’t imagined you’d stand in front of him in such an unappealing matter.

Fact 1: You had just called him ‘Unnie’—sure you thought he was Yebin, but the fact still stood.

Fact 2: Because of all that planning, not much sleep met your deprived soul, so perhaps the dark circles running laps below your eyes were enough evidence of such—crying the night prior may have also factored into this one.

Fact 3: Chemise. Bed hair. A funny smile that was stuck between the amusement you wanted to greet Yebin with, and the shock of seeing him. Three very unflattering physical attributes to this mornings disaster.

Why was Jungwon here?

Better yet, why did he also look shocked?

“…Hello?” you said tentatively. The barriers you had spent the night before building were slowly starting to be threatened.

From where he stood, Jungwon had a full view of you in your most realest state—with your hair in a slight tangled mess, clothes you slept in on the night before, and no planned or curated tidiness. Just effortlessly you, and he couldn’t have been happier to catch you like this.

A smile spread across his face at the slight rasp in your voice as you spoke. “Hi Y/N… I, uh…” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, unsure if he should even expose himself so openly (although he had already done so a handful of times), but ultimately decided for it. “I went to the markets since I couldn’t help you to work today, but you weren’t there… so I got worried.”

The sincerity sparkling in his eyes made your resolve falter, but you couldn’t back down so easily. You chuckled nervously, eyes looking downward to not meet his gaze. “Well, I’m here now! So… you don’t have to worry.” You stiffened your smile to a line, kicking your foot absentmindedly at the floor before resting it behind your other, focusing your balance on one foot.

Jungwon’s eyes raked over your figure, sussing out your situation before clicking his tongue and sighing in curiosity. “Are you okay?” he wondered, arms folded as he was keen on figuring out your absence at work.

“Dandy!” you responded a bit too cheerfully. “A slight cough, but if anything, I’m fine.” You looked to him with a nod, confirming that you were safe and content with being alone.

He nodded, creating a brief moment of silence, before he returned with a suggestion. “Does that mean you’re healthy enough to come visit my work?”

You really wanted to think with your brain—like really, extremely, absolutely set on thinking with your brain—yet your wavering heart and cracking barriers choked out a response you knew you’d regret. “Yes, I am.”

—

Stupid. Stupid was all you could use to describe how your irrational actions splayed before you.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. You were so utterly stupid.

How could you let yourself back down so easily? It hadn’t even taken three minutes of his presence for your walls to come crashing down, what now?

As the two of you walked together in silence—more like you followed behind him as walking next to him became overwhelming—your chest felt tight with tension. It was as if tension surrounded your very being.

Not a word had been uttered since you made yourself presentable and left the house, nothing except for Jungwon gesturing with his head to leave as the simplest form of communication, thus you entered a realm of suffocating silence. That was tension in itself.

The unspoken tension forged between you and Jungwon, which you didn’t even know if he knew that that existed.

And then the tension with this very situation you found yourself in; connecting with the person you swore to ignore.

Once again, you felt stupid.

“You look like you’re arguing with your thoughts.” Jungwon abruptly interrupted the long stretch of silence. With his hands behind his back and his eyes peering at you every-so-often, you found yourself breaking through your thoughts and raking your gaze along the gravel road.

You shook your head. “I’m not thinking anything.” You lied.

Unlike any other time, Jungwon didn’t push. Instead, he chose to steal wistful glances at you every so often, trying to decipher the problem by himself.

In the end, he forced himself to tear his eyes away from you. If you didn’t want to tell him, there was a reason, and he respected that. But, god, did he want to know. And by all means necessary, he would make you feel better when he understood your current situation.

After a long—overwhelmingly silent—walk, the two of you arrived at a somewhat small, but modestly grand building. It blended with the other businesses around, but stuck out in its own neutral way.

“We’re here.” he mumbled, shooting a brief smile at you as he held the door to his firm open.

You nodded in acknowledgment before stepping into the quarters. You didn’t know what to expect from a law firm’s building, but it surely wasn’t anything shabby like your current position. In fact, it looked quite polished and pristine just from the outside, so there was no doubt the interior would match that expectation.

However, what you didn’t expect was to be met with five pairs of unfamiliar eyes staring inquisitively at you (and their boss), with a rather… perplexed yet knowing gaze.

“Boss!” A man stood up abruptly. hands pressed firmly against his sides as he bowed 90° at Jungwon, his tall figure bending down in a swift manner.

With furrowed brows, Jungwon responded. “What’s wrong with Heeseung hyung?” he deadpanned, shaking his head at the strange action from the eldest employee.

As he rose back up, the amused grin on his face indicated his unserious ideal of the formality, depicting his playfulness regarding the situation and his boss.

Another spoke up. “You finally back to work?” he teased, his smirk widening as his eyes flicked between the two of you. You hadn’t noticed, but behind his smirk lay an understanding of your dynamic with Jungwon through the whispers of their youngest intern, who was practically a permanent employee at this point, but he couldn’t escape the intern title even if he tried.

Jungwon rolled his eyes at the regard, opening his mouth to retort, until the back door opened with a dramatic swoosh!

With surprised eyes, a file slipped between his teeth, and coffee in either of his hands, the employee hummed in recognition. “Y/N!” he said, muffled by the cardboard between his lips—it sounded like jumble to your ears, but you digress.

When the familiar face of Riki suddenly appeared in your vision, you lit up at the sight of him. “Riki!” It was then you recalled the two working at the same law firm as confirmed the day prior. The walk leading up to this very moment had stigmatising thoughts consuming your very being, leading you to forgetting that your saviour was at the end of the path too.

Setting down the file and one coffee on an unoccupied desk and the other at the desk of the man who teased Jungwon previously—the one with the plentiful moles and knowing smirk—, Riki approached you both at the entrance with a stellar smile. “Has Hyung introduced you to everyone?” he questioned.

You pursed your lips as you thought to yourself. “…Briefly, I suppose.” Did a brief breakdown of each of his workers and what they meant to Jungwon to distract you after your own mental breakdown count?

“So a no.” Riki jeered, moving to stand beside you as he draped his arm around your shoulders, sneaking a glance towards Jungwon to gauge his reaction—spoiler alert: Jungwon becomes frozen and stiff when he’s annoyed, irritated, or, in this case, jealous, perfect for Riki’s plan of forcing the two of you together because he couldn’t bear Jungwon’s fawning over you any longer.

As he moved you along the room, arm still hanging around your shoulders, he gestured with his arm to each guy. In the table to your far left sat a cute man with full cheeks as he briefly waved to you, extending out a hand to shake your own. Riki introduced his name as “Sunoo”.

Moving to the left was “Jaeyun” yet everyone called him “Jake” as one time he expressed that foreign names were adequately unique and everyone wanted to poke fun at the guy, yet the name stuck—his charming smile and sly compliments couldn’t help but make you blush in embarrassment.

Next was the mole-faced guy who you thought looked quite stoic as you walked in, yet the smirk he wore as he teased his boss suggested anything but—his name was “Sunghoon” (and you didn’t know, but he and Riki had already formed an elaborate plan to get you and Jungwon together).

Two empty desks followed, then the tall man who bowed earlier, now sitting, was introduced as “Heeseung”, though you knew that through Jungwon’s response to his playfulness.

Lastly was the unbothered guy who was stuck on whatever paperwork he was filling out, sticking up a hand for a brief wave, before diving nose-deep back into his work. “And… that’s Jay…” Riki pursed his lips at the behaviour of his colleague. Pulling you in closer so he could whisper in your ear, Riki said very quietly. “He was here overnight so don’t mind his attitude, I swear he’s the kindest here, sometimes.”

You smiled in relief that you weren’t getting ignored and covered your mouth as you giggled at the silliness of your newfound friend, the sly grin tugging on his lips only pushing your limit further. You almost forgot the dread you felt upon coming here, but after experiencing the welcoming environment that they produced, you couldn��t help but to soften your stiffened shoulders and shielded expression.

From the distance—it was like two feet but to Jungwon it felt like miles—he watched a genuine smile spread across your face as you joked with Riki, and he couldn’t deny the pang he felt in his chest. He wasn’t and never was a jealous man, letting peace settle before any of his own emotions got the best of him. Yet in the instance where a conflicted expression haunted your face as the both of you walked together, and the contrast with the carefree and comfortable smile you wore currently, it was an undeniable bubble of envy that began to form in the pits of his stomach.

For the first time in his life, Jungwon felt jealous.

—

Tense. Tense was all Jungwon could use to describe how his concluded work splayed before him.

“Good work today guys.” Jungwon thinned out his smile, stretching his arms above his head as sitting in his chair began to take a toll on his lower back.

Murmurs followed throughout the room, agreeing to Jungwon’s testament. In his peripheral, Jungwon could see you laughing at something Jay had said, your teeth baring as your lips spread wide in a smile. Your head tilted back with a hand pressed to your chest as you calmed your racing heart. When you leaned forward once you caught your breath, you inadvertently leaned even closer to Jay.

The man hadn’t noticed, but the words that came out of his mouth sparked off a fit of laughter in you per sentence. “Am I really that funny?” he chuckled in disbelief, a grateful smile stretching the corner of his lips.

“Yes!” you giggled. Perhaps all the time you spent wallowing in your own pity left room for genuine happiness to shine—plus Jay was quite the jokester.

“Huh.” Jay said with a bit of pride, straightening his posture as he pursed his lips. “The guys don’t find me that hilarious.

You shook your head. “Well then they just don’t understand.” You swatted your hand in the air to disregard his statement.

Jungwon sighed, averting his eyes as he felt tension and envy fill up his chest. His lungs felt constricted for air as he couldn’t grasp the jealousy that seethed within him. He didn’t hate Jay. And he certainly didn’t hate you, so what was happening to him?

As he stacked papers on top of one another, standing them up and straightening them to be aligned with one another, he was hit with another pang to his heart as your giggles you attempted to suppress rang in his ears.

His head turned in the direction of Jay’s table again, gazing at you sat in the chair you had pulled up to chat with each of his colleagues. Throughout the day, you moved around the room, situating yourself across each of the guys’ table to familiarise yourself with them. Every single one of them, except for Jungwon.

The only interaction he had with you was the brief conversation at the front of your door and the path to his work.

In other words, it seemed like Jungwon was only ever able to watch you from afar, the distance between you feeling like planets away. As he reached closer, you stepped two steps back. He couldn’t deny the feeling of hurt welling in his chest, his throat, and every area of him that was consumed by you.

You were his constant, but at the pace he was going, your building relationship would become unstable.

He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t lose you. So the words that followed his fears were calculated. “Shall we have a team dinner?” he suggested from his desk.

And with the chorus of agreement, you found yourself sat across from Jungwon as the eight of you settled in a local restaurant. You couldn’t deny the awkward air flowing around you and Jungwon, though you found your strategising from the night before to work in this situation as you actively ignored Jungwon.

The person beside you took the brunt of your chatter, as you babbled on in Jake’s ear. Luckily for you, he had sat in the seat next to you upon arrival and was happy to keep a steady conversation moving.

Once again, Jungwon felt himself disassociating from the general chatter surrounding the table, instead zeroing in on the in-depth discussion between you and Jake. Everyone else at the table looked to their boss in amaze, never seeing this nervous yet wistful character of Jungwon.

They witnessed the way his shoulders dropped, his eyes rounded, and his inner cheeks bitten by his teeth, just from watching you talk to a person that wasn’t him.

Despite the chuckles the group had at this new side of their friend, Sunoo’s words piqued each of their interest. “How do we move these two forward?” he whispered whilst leaning forward.

The other four thoughtfully concocted ideas in their head, before Heeseung spoke up with a simple yet efficient plan. “Have them walk home together?”

Sunghoon shook his head and rested his chin upon his fist. “And if they don’t talk? Then what, it’ll just drive them apart.”

A collective silence followed their sighs, trying to strategise once more. “I think the issue here is that Jungwon is trying to find an opening, but Y/N is currently closed off from any possibility of interacting with him.” Ni-ki began, his eyes looking to each of the older guys. “Any suggestions on how to get her to open up?”

Another thoughtful period passed before Jay spoke up. “…I have an idea.” he said carefully. “But it’s a really… douchey idea and I’m not a fan for thinking it. Though, it may be our only option.”

They all looked to Jay suspiciously as he pointed at the drink menu before them, his finger laid on the words ‘soju’ and they all looked up nervously. “We should order rounds for all of us then.” Heeseung stated. “It’d become an issue if she were the only one drinking… and if she denies a drink we’ll come up with a new plan, okay?”

Collectively, they nodded and moved to catch the attention of the other three people on the table. “We’ll be ordering rounds of soju, you guys in?” Sunoo spoke up. As he was sitting at the end of the table across from Jay, he leaned on his elbows to look at the other end. His eyebrows lifted as silent way to convince the three into agreeing.

Jake and you had nodded, whilst Jungwon looked uneasy. “I don’t know guys…” he contemplated.

Next to him, Sunghoon nudged him with his shoulder. “Come on…” Sunghoon dragged out the end of the word. “It’s Friday, we don’t have work tomorrow.” he perusaded, but Jungwon still looked uneasy.

Ni-ki poked his head forward to look at Jungwon too. “Well we’re ordering some even if you aren’t having any.” he mused, head tilted provokingly.

“Fine, I’m happy to stay sober.” Jungwon shrugged, and thus an agreement settled amongst the table.

Everyone, but Jungwon would be drinking tonight.

—

Appalled. Appalled was all Jungwon could use to describe how the work of alcohol splayed before him.

Riki and Jake had already tapped out by this point, their heads splat on the table in front of them as the rest of the guys laughed at the synchronised effort of the two—although they were both too drunk to understand their joint actions.

Sunoo had his chin rested upon his fist, thoughtfully overseeing the chatter amongst the group, not having the energy to provide his input.

If it were just his friends, he would have stayed longer, yet the gnawing feeling of concern for you and your own drunk state pushed Jungwon to call it a night.

Although the tipsy and near-drunk conversations flowing were amusing, it was time to go home.

And as the boss stood up, all employees eyes laid on him, a knowing look shared between them all. “We’ll be off.” he said with finality gesturing to your stirring figure.

When you recognised that he wanted you to sit up, you let out a whine in disagreement. “Noo…” you dragged out the ‘o’. You huffed as a frown met your lips and you closed your eyes tiredly. “I don’t want to go yet…”

Jungwon battled with his inner thoughts that alerted sirens in his head screaming ‘DANGER’ ‘SHE’S TOO ADORABLE FOR HER OWN GOOD’ ‘DON’T BE A BAD GUY’. He pursed his lips as he rounded the table to your side. “Come on Y/N, we have to go now.” he spoke gently, kneeling to your sat figure as he placed a hand on your shoulder that he swiftly retracted to ensure you weren’t uncomfortable.

But you hadn’t even realised he was next to you already. You pouted, crossing your arms over the table, before resting your chin on your forearms. “But… ‘m having so much fun, Won.” you reasoned. Jungwon almost broke his resolve at the mention of a nickname you hadn’t called him ever before.

Clearing his throat, he bit his lip thoughtfully before trying again. “If you stay out longer, it’ll be dangerous.” he said in a mere whisper.

With your head still rested on your forearms, you turned to look directly at him. Your drunken state didn’t notice the close proximity between the both of you, as Jungwon’s eyes sparkled with surprise for a brief second. “What ‘bout everyone else?” you said sadly, your eyebrows furrowing in concern as you gazed at Jungwon softly, his handsome features still viable even in your clouded haze.

“They can handle themselves.” he reassured.

Your eyes fluttered close before opening gently once more. “Really?”

He nodded. “Ask them if you’re unsure.” he smiled, gesturing towards the guys that had been engrossed in a quite chatter.

Turning to the guys slowly, you sat up straight and looked to them before setting your eyes on Sunghoon—focusing on them all would have been too much for your brain to handle. “Will you guys be okay?”

With a discerning smile, they all replied with a reassuring agreement.

Your lips jutted out in disbelief. “You promise?” You raised your brows skeptically.

A few of them chuckled before they collectively replied. “We promise.” They were all a mix of tipsy and near drunk, but not to the point of full intoxication. They could definitely handle themselves and the fallen troops before them.

You conclusively nodded and turned to Jungwon again. “Well… they promised I s’pose.” you pouted once more. With finality you stretched and then leaned towards Jungwon, your torso falling onto Jungwon’s own heavily. You arms dangled as you nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent before muttering quietly. “Take me home, Mr. Crusty Yang?”

Jungwon was so close to passing out from the overwhelming presence of you, but he had to keep his mind from wavering. “Mm.” he mumbled as an agreement, slowly—albeit regretfully—peeling you off of his figure and standing up, then tugging at your arms to get you up.

You giggled as you felt the motion of getting up course through your body. Your eyes fluttered ever so slightly, yet you had a calm smile settle upon your face.

Carefully, Jungwon slipped his arm around your waist, not before quietly asking if it was okay for him to do so, and guided your own around his neck.

With a swift farewell to the guys at the table, the two of you made it out of the restaurant with little disruption.

For the moment, the only sounds were you and your quiet babbles that Jungwon had no response to, only ever replying with a curt ‘really?’ every so often.

It was only after a few minutes of walking did you start to feel the pain in your feet, and the unsteadiness you harboured from the effect of the soju. You didn’t want to trouble Jungwon, but inevitably you had to speak up. “Won…”

There it was again, the nickname that sent a rush throughout his whole nervous system. “Mhm?” he sounded.

“My feet hurt…” you said carefully.

Jungwon had no hesitation before he formulated an idea. “Want a piggy-back ride?” he looked down at you, resting your head against his shoulder. Watching as you nodded your head, you soon found yourself hoisted upon Jungwon’s back, with your arms laid upon his shoulders, and your hands interlinked with one another.

At first, you simply laid your head on his back, but that soon grew uncomfortable as it strained on your neck, so you pushed yourself up straighter against his back and rested your head in the crook of his neck once more. Quietly, you whispered out. “You smell good, Jungwon.”

He couldn’t contain the blush that flourished on his cheeks. “Yeah?” He didn’t know how to respond to such a remark, he was too flustered to think straight.

When you nodded your head, the brush of your nose against his neck sent tingles throughout his whole body, inevitably he had to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling. And with your conclusive statement, the two of you continued. The only chatter was you, suddenly having the urge to talk to him despite ignoring him the whole day, but Jungwon took any interaction he could with you and cherished it.

That was until you said something that set Jungwon off in the wrong way.

“I’m sorry…” you said in a somber voice.

“Why?” Jungwon furrowed his eyebrows, readjusting your position on his back so that your body wasn’t falling off him.

Words that Jungwon didn’t quite want to hear on this fateful night escaped your lips. “I don’t like you anymore, Jungwon.” you murmured, the air from your nose fanning upon the expanse of his neck as you tightened your grip and pushed your head impossibly closer to his.

Jungwon shut down. His steps faltered. His breath became shallow. Even the way he turned to look at your resting head was slow. “Really?” he whispered, the words almost going unheard by your ears.

With the haste in which you nodded, Jungwon just accepted, turning his head forward and burying any hope he had that fuelled his desire to be with you. “Then I guess we won’t be seeing each other much huh?” His voice trembled as the words left him, his lips betraying him as they shook with his words.

As you nodded again, Jungwon turned his head to the sky in an attempt to reverse the tears that were near falling. When he sniffled, your ears perked up as you turned your head to look at his side profile. “Wonie… why are you crying? Who made you sad?” you questioned innocently.

“Don’t worry about it.” he smiled, though his eyes clearly glistened with tears.

“But… how can I help you?”

He shook his head. “You can’t, Y/N, you shouldn’t worry about me. We don’t think of each other the same way.”

You paused, gathering your thoughts before spurting out another question. “Then, how do you think of me?”

In his peripherals, Jungwon could see your earnestly shining eyes peering into his very soul, and in the moment he couldn’t help but chuckle. What a fool he was for thinking this could work in his favour. “D’ya want me to tell the complete truth?”

You nodded.

“Even though you won’t remember?”

You nodded.

Well, shit, this was not how Jungwon thought he’d confess his love to you, but there’s always surprises for everyone. “I’m in love with you.” he stated blankly, staring straight ahead in fear of your reaction.

Any of his dying hope that remained was ultimately squashed as your unreadable expression dawned on him. “You… love me?”

Jungwon snorted at the realisation that he now served his heart on a silver platter for you. “Mhm.” he nodded. “I have for quite a while.”

Listening to his response, a smile spread across your face. As you sighed, an undertone of happiness under it, you suddenly perked up. “Perfect!” you spoke optimistically.

He raised a brow at your behaviour. “Perfect how?” His heart was practically shattered to pieces and the rejection in which he faced was certainly anything, but perfect—though it seems in your books that would be the case however.

“Because we’re on the same page of what we feel towards each other!” an uncharacteristically childish side of you was exhibited through this tale of emotions as you giggled triumphantly.

Jungwon scoffed in amusement. “Y/N… sorry to burst this bubble of yours… but I think we’re actually on complete opposite sides of the page here.”

“How?” you furrowed your brows

“Well for starters… I love you… and you don’t even like me.” he said, trying to decipher the connection in his head.

“Yes.” you reinstated.

Jungwon nodded. “So, where’s the connection?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you huffed.

“No, not really, quite the opposite actually.” Jungwon retorted matter-of-factly, the fragments of his dignity hanging on by a thread by your reassurance that you did not like him in the slightest.

You sighed once more before straightening your posture and tightening your hold around his neck. “I love you too.” you hummed, your lips briefly brushing against the bridge between his neck and shoulder-blades.

“Sorry?”

“I love you Jungwon.”

A pause. Then a laugh.

Then a hiccup that followed a faint sob.

And the two of you were lowered to the ground.

Despite your confusion, you found yourself crouched behind Jungwon as he squatted with his head on his forearm.

Tentatively, you crab walked to his side and tugged at this dress shirt. “Won?”

After another hiccup, Jungwon mumbled into his arms. “Don’t scare me like that.”

Slowly, Jungwon wiped at his cheeks and looked to you, your lips were swollen from you nervously biting them and your eyes looked as if they held every star in the universe. Man, were you perfect to him.

With a fond smile, Jungwon reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear. Swiftly, he moved his hand to caress your cheek softly and you nuzzled into his palm. “Shall we discuss this over a cup of water and a more sober mind?” he joked.

You giggled at his remark before nodding adamantly.

Sure, Jungwon had waited and watched from afar, yet all that hell was worth it to see that bright smile across your face.

The smile that was caused from him, just him.

—

Nervous. Nervous was all you could use to describe how the sight the man you were utterly infatuated with splayed before you.

This nervous energy was the same you felt those few nights ago when the very man in front of you walked you home for the first time.

Your eyelids flickered every now and then, the buzz of the alcohol still lingering in your system. As you sat upon the countertop, a glass full of water that had been refilled countless times at this point in hand, you stared at Jungwon with hearts in your eyes.

Yes, the nerves were very adamantly swirling through your being, but so was the love you felt blooming in your chest. How lovely of a feeling it was to have a reciprocated feeling of want from the person you were encapsulated by.

Jungwon turned around, now meeting eye-to-eye with you, only to find you staring at him, your full attention on him. His cheeks flared red and he quickly diverted his eyes. “W-why are you looking at me like that?” he gulped nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

You shrugged, a smile finding its way on your lips. “I don’t know… you’re just so handsome, I can’t help myself.” Your conscious mind was screaming in agony—in what world would you ever say stuff like this? The confidence built from the mere motivation of alcohol somehow allowed for you to exude this poise you wouldn’t have developed otherwise.

He chuckled nervously. “Oh, come on Y/N, don’t say stuff like that.” he exhaled as he shook his head. He was busy concocting a tea to help lessen the toll the soju would have on you in the morning, as well as to sober you up slightly so he knew you were at least somewhat aware of the conversation unfolding between you.

Teasingly, tauntingly, you tilted your head, a pout to your lips as you mumbled. “Why? I’m only saying the truth?” The sincerity in your voice only pushed a grin onto Jungwon’s face, a smug one at that.

“Oh yeah?” he jeered. After stirring the tea around and blowing on it, he turned to you, and continued the provoking atmosphere. “What other truths do you have in that pretty little head of yours?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, caging your figure in effectively between his stable arms, after handing you the tea.

You pretended to ponder, sipping the tea whilst humming. “Hmm… I’m not sure…” you playfully mused. As you settled the tea down on the counter, you met face to face with Jungwon again, a calm expression entrancing you. You looked down, innocence and teasing written all over your body.

Slowly, your hand moved from his situated ones on the countertop, guiding their way from his forearm, to his elbow, brushing over his dress shirt that had been rolled up to that point, and trailing over his bicep. Alongside your travels, your eyes followed each movement of your hand, carefully following and scanning each crevice that your hand marked.

Finally, they brushed up over his shoulder, caressing his collarbone before landing on his chest. As these ministrations continued, the both of you found yourselves breathing heavily, suffocated by the tense atmosphere. You could feel his heart beating recklessly against his chest. Your other hand soon followed, skipping the path up his other arm and immediately resting on his chest next to your nimble fingers.

“Your heart’s racing.” you stated, eyes flickering up to his own.

Jungwon inched closer to you, his body slotting in between your legs. “Yeah?” he whispered cockily. His hands moved to hold your elbows as he straightened his posture, head no longer aligned with yours. “Why do you think that is?”

You hummed, head tilting upwards to look at him. “Not sure.”

He lifted his brows in mock surprise. “You.” he simply stated.

Slowly, he moved his head closer to yours, words tumbling from his lips. “It’s always been you. Your eyes, your lips, my god, your lips.” he huffed out impatiently. “You’re so pretty to me Y/N, did you know that? You must know that you’re the prettiest girl in the world, yeah?” His nose brushed against yours as his lips were mere inches from your own.

You could feel his exhales fanning on your face, each breath drawn from the two of you mingling with each other. “Y/N, I’ll have you know that I’m a selfish man.” he rasped, eyes gaping into yours with a half-lidded gaze.

“Really?” you hummed, your hand reaching to connect behind his neck, fidgeting with the tufts of hair that met at his nape. “How so?”

He looked to the side in contemplation before looking into your eyes once more, “If you’ll let me have you, I’m afraid I can’t let anyone else take what’s mine.”

A smug grin settled on your face, the edges of your lips a taunting spell to Jungwon, whose eyes betrayed him as he glanced down to your change in expression. “Then I’m all yours.” you mumbled quietly, like you only wanted him to hear it.

Jungwon moved impossibly closer to you, noses brushing and lips ghosting over yours. If he moved in the slightest, both your lips would collide. “Stop me if I’m going too far.” he declared, not wanting to push the limit.

“Just fucking kiss me Jungwon.”

With no hesitation, your lips met with his in a moment you could only describe as bliss.

Pure, utter bliss.

His lips moved in motion with yours, hands raising to cup your face in his hold, effectively deepening the affectionate lock. You hummed as you felt your lips mold against each other.

Gasps of air left you exasperated, but you weren’t separated for long. As the both of you looked to each other, glazed over eyes and puffy lips, you met once gain with feverish haste, your desire for each other adamant in this very moment.

Jungwon groaned in satisfaction. The love of his life was finally in his arms. And he couldn’t have imagined a better way for the two of you to finally combine as one—there were a million other possibilities Jungwon had mapped out, even dreamed about, but none of them compared to the reality of actually having you to himself, in his grasp,

And on his lips.

—

Dazed. Dazed was all you could use to describe how the feeling of waking up after an experience synonymous to euphoric splayed before you.

You jolted up in bed, blood rushing to your head at the sudden movement. The tea Jungwon practically shoved down your throat certainly helped ease the progression and outcome of a hangover, but you had quite a bit—a lot—to drink.

Stepping out of bed, you exited your room to be hit by the smell of a comforting stew being brewed. With a growing smile, you called out as you approached. “Unnie! You know me so well!” you gleamed. As you poked your head from the hallway and peered into the kitchen, you were met with, once again, not Yebin.

Your shock was evident on your face, and your cheeks grew hot from the sight of Jungwon stirring the pot. He smirked as he turned around. “Unnie again? Will you call me Jungwon-unnie from now on?” he teased before turning towards the stove once more.

A flaming blush spread across your cheeks, even reaching your ears, as you crossed your arms and looked to the floor bashfully. “No…” you pouted, kicking your feet absentmindedly. “It was an honest mistake…”

He chuckled at your retort. “Oh? How about Oppa?”

“Get out.” you asserted, your face contorting in a way that only showed displeasure. What a funny sentiment. You were older by a plentiful amount of years, how humorous of him. “You wish.” you shook your head, snorting at the thought.

Your slippers padded against the floor as you took a seat at the dining table, resting your head on a propped up fist. “What are you making Won?” The nickname rolled out so casually, Jungwon almost missed the ring of it.

Jungwon coughed in surprise. “Hangover soup…” he murmured, looking as if he shrunk into his own figure whilst stirring the pot.

With a roll of your eyes, you huffed. “I’m not a light drinker you know? What’s with all this taking care of me business?”

Jungwon shrugged. After the drunken confessions from you the night before, he felt more confident and playful with his demeanour towards you. “Can’t a man take care of the woman he’s interested in?” he nonchalantly heckled. As your response followed a brief moment of silence, Jungwon followed up. “Can’t he?” He turned to you.

He tried to withhold the smile that threatened to appear once he bore witness to your inflamed cheeks and flattened grin, suppressing the very new, very raw emotions that came alight with your mistake of having one too many drinks. “You can’t just say that…” you muttered, turning away from him and looking out the closest window to you.

As he shook his head, he turned back to the stove and finished off the final touches to his stew. “By the way…” he began again after a comfortable silence settled. “Do you mind if we visit my work before heading to the markets?” he asked politely.

You hummed in response, looking forward to seeing everyone again despite being around them only a few hours prior.

Eventually, the both of you had made it out of the house hastily after finishing your first meal. Yebin took the liberty in dropping her son off at the daycare since she was well aware of your situation—she found out when she saw Jungwon folding the blanket he had slept with on the couch and took a fright to the unfamiliar sight.

Safe to say, it was an interesting way to wake up, and a fun night of interrogation would be determined in the near future against you.

Somehow, the crisp chill of the air refreshed your vitals, and despite it nipping at your skin, you basked in the brisk weather happily. Whilst you walked, Jungwon looked to his side and watched as your scarf slowly and unnoticeably slipped from your shoulder.

You were too engrossed in the fall foliage to notice the descent of your clothing, but the action of Jungwon fixing it up for you most definitely caught your attention. Looking up at him curiously, the concentration woven between his brows brought warmth in the chill of the weather before you. “Another conquest for the ‘woman you’re interested in’ perhaps?” you said teasingly, though a fond smile grew on your face.

A gleaming and contagious grin mirrored on Jungwon’s own, with a final tightening to your scarf to ensure no more breakage and micro adjustments, he spoke with finality. “Perhaps so.”

To hide the overwhelming feeling of love pooling in your heart, you stuffed your face in your scarf, the one Jungwon had just readjusted, and smiled freely beneath the covers. You shoved your hands in your coat pockets and marched ahead of him to deal with the consequences of accepting his love, and most importantly, your love for him.

Without a doubt, you were happy in this moment, but in the worst times are you reminded of your status in this world. This world that only left fleeting moments as your memories, and this too, will become a moment left behind in time.

Jungwon will pass on, and you will live with the regret of ever loving a person, stripping them of their ability to find and love another.

You hoped. You really hoped that this one could be your last. The one that stays. The one that will grow old as time passes. Where you grow old.

The ice in which you sealed your heart in began to melt and gave way for the entrance of Jungwon, much like the fall day upon you.

From behind, Jungwon latched himself onto your figure, caging you in a bear like hug.

With a selfish gleam and intention, you smiled up at him, planting a gentle kiss on his cheeks as you arrogantly believed in the hope of growing old with the man in front of you.

And as he squeezed you tight, that selfish ulterior motive couldn’t have been more apparent in the genuine smile you unleashed.

—

Detached. Detached was all you could use to describe how the feeling of being with a group splayed before you.

Somewhat out-worldly it felt watching the guys interact—laughter, banter, and brutal slander against each other. Though the massive smiles that stretched on each of their faces proved a bound of care and adoration they held within for each other.

And whilst you sat idly next to Jungwon, silently watching their interactions as they half-worked and half-talked, you couldn’t help but to feel regretful for all the other friendships and desires you opposed due to your circumstances, each tie you severed to save yourself only did more harm than good.

You replayed every memory, every person, every potential partner, and a wave of longing struck upon you. The only cause of breaking out of your thoughts was Jungwon leaning over and whispering in your ear. “I have a seperate office over there if you want to go somewhere private and alone.” he offered, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

At first you contemplated. You wanted to stay in this room with the others and bask in the feeling of friendship and sincerity, but that feeling was so overwhelming that you couldn’t enjoy a sliver of it.

So with a hestitant nod, you stepped over to Jungwon’s personal office, blocked off from the large square room that held the guys’ desks, and locked yourself inside.

His room was modestly decorated, a few art pieces hung up around the office. He even had a few bookshelves cascading upon his walls, a variety of books ranging from novels to lawful studies sat on display.

Upon closer inspection, a familiar maroon-purple book spine caught your attention. “Oh my god.” you whispered exasperated under your breath. In your grasp, was your favourite book. Your finger traced the words ‘Profound Feeling Of You’ delicately, then moved to open the book.

In your surprise, there lay a ripped page from a small notebook, the one that he kept in the inner pocket of his blazer, that had the schedule of his day from when the two of you first spoke. As you picked off the small paper, under it was a short piece of writing on the title page.

Tears formed in your eyes as you read the words in his handwriting. ‘Yang Jungwon!’ the first line stated. ‘Don’t get this ending with Ms. Baker! It’s wron inherently wrong!’ he wrote.

Flicking through the pages, you noticed that he had written on some lines, a small message to himself as thoughts he couldn’t contain were unleashed.

The part read— “And Jiangyi bore her eyes into Shenqi’s back, his figure disappeared into the abyss of the field “Shenqi!” she called. Was it her imagination, or did he pause in motion? “I love you!” she declared for a final time.

He did pause. And in his momentary hesitation, he turned to look at her, a broken look to his eyes as he smiled, a final farewell to his everlasting love. “Jiangyi.” he began. “Let me go.” he repeated the words he declared previously.

And Jiangyi cried. How could she let go, when all she’d ever done was hold on?”

You switched to the handwritten words on the side, an amused giggle leaving your lips. Jungwon had written, ‘Shenqi is not a real man’.

Shaking your head, you flicked to the last page, the last hoorah of the book. You hadn’t bothered reading the last few lines, the book practically memorised in your head after various break time readings.

Though, what Jungwon had written in accordance to his closing thoughts willed you to read it just once more. It read— “On her wedding, filled with the people she loved the most, her most beloved person she wished to stand before her, was absent in his wake. Hua Shenqi, that jerk of a man, should’ve been the one in front of her. A tear fell from her eye, and her soon-to-be husband smiled at her, though his figure practically merged into the background.

How could she convey the loss of a person who wasn’t even dead?”

Jungwon responded with his own take. ‘Ms. Baker was cruel to recommend this to me.’ he began. As you read, the words he had spoken to you displayed themselves on the paper. ‘A love story definitely, but… happy ending? No. Why did he give up? Why did she let him? Oh, good, I’ll bring these points up with her.’

You smiled at the memory, but he wasn’t finished. Eventually, he wrote below his previous, final words, and wrote a secondary conclusion in different ink. ‘Okay sure, Ms. L/N Y/N, maybe it was ‘unexplainably life-altering’, I’ll give you that!’

A blush blossomed on your cheeks as you settled the book down, slotting it back into its place on the shelf. Peering into his inner thoughts written on paper felt somewhat revealing, and you turned away from the shelves bashfully.

Who knew Yang Jungwon could pertain such petty thoughts?

—

Gratified. Gratified was all you could use to describe how it felt to have Jungwon’s persistence splayed before you.

Once again, you found yourself sitting idly on your stool as Jungwon greeted customers with a grand smile hooked upon his face, his dimples only emphasising his enjoyment of the situation as he took over your stall.

It seemed as of recent that as Jungwon had become more of a constant in your life, the days began to pass slowly, slower than ever before. You imagined it was some god having an ounce of mercy on you after prohibiting your life sentence from ending—though you knew eventually they’d have to stop toying with you at some point.

After a particularly tiring shift—what’s not tiring at this rate?—Jungwon turned to you with a long, dragged out sigh. His hands gripped the board behind him as he leaned his back against the front counter, forearms tensed as he squeezed the wood. He quirked a brow at your lethargic posture, a tilt to his head adding to the perplexity. “How long have you been staring at my back?” he queried.

You looked to him with a purse of your lips, before turning away to avert your gaze. “Only just now.” you murmured, the slightest pout to your lips. Your tone hadn’t held the confident flare it normally did, so Jungwon approached you carefully.

Once he was stood directly in front of you, he cupped your face in his hands and tilted your head up. “You’re lying.” he teased, that same flirtatious stretch to his lips encapsulated you for the nth time.

When you shook your head in disapproval, he squished your cheeks together with the palm of his hands. “Hmm… you’re weird.” he speculated. “Are you okay?”

You hesitantly nodded, but that same lack of assurance lingered. Jungwon knew something was up, but didn’t want to push your limits. With a firm smile, he leant down and pressed a kiss on your nose gently. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?” he whispered, hands moving to settle on your shoulders, giving them a light rub.

After quietly agreeing, he turned around once more to do all the dirty work you thrust upon him—he enjoyed doing the tasks you found physically taxing, which is why you found yourself sat on your stool rather than serving your customers.

How utterly tragic. Immediately as he turned, your enthusiasm couldn’t have been further down in the dirt.

He was a perfect man, this Yang Jungwon, so as you thought over the plan you contemplated whilst walking with him towards the markets—yes, another detailed, thought over, and arrogant plan—you felt guilty.

Not only were you planning to break off this situation despite it not having happened to its fullest potential, you weren’t going to explain it to him. Did you feel like a complete and utter jerk? Absolutely. But, after reading over the book again, your favourite, you had to reconsider your choices.

The book was your die-hard favourite for a reason, and it was because it reminded yourself of you. Sure, they weren’t destined to live eternally, but Shenqi had broken himself off from Jiangyi with no explanation. You didn’t even know why he broke it off, and you spent a precarious amount of your time trying to solve the mystery of his absence.

All conclusions led to, as you guessed, nothing.

It was ironic in a way. Jiangyi and yourself would never find out the reason for Shenqi leaving her, and Jungwon would never discover the truth to why you were soon to leave him. Cruel, is what it is.

Once more, Jungwon looked over his shoulder towards your direction, and hastily you plastered a reassuring smile on your face. In response he projected a tug to his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes, before he turned to the front to tend to another incoming customer. Was he aware of the situation he would soon face? Was this intuition?

Soon, the working day come to an end, and the sun kissed the land gently on the horizon. Jungwon dusted his hands off after closing the stall for the night, then turned to you with a satisfied expression. “Let’s go?”

You nodded, and he draped an arm over your shoulders. You let it happen. After all, you most likely wouldn’t experience a thing like this again.

As the both of you walked, Jungwon had chatted your ear off about what catastrophes occurred after you had escaped to his office earlier in the day. Something about another bet between the guys, a brief haggle between Jake and Sunoo, though it was mostly Jake’s fault for teasing the poor man, and some other probably important, probably entertaining event that faded into the abyss of your fogged mind.

“Y/N?” Jungwon had repeated. When you blinked at him in surprise, Jungwon chuckled in amusement, crossed with disbelief. “Okay, something isn’t right here Ms.” he shook his head. “You’ve been zoning out more often than normal.”

You hummed. “Hmm? What do you mean?” you plead innocence. Maybe if you acted accordingly, he would breeze past. But Jungwon wasn’t that type of guy.

With a retrained sigh, he opened up about his worries carefully. “It’s just…” he pouted his lips in thought. “You’ve been acting off recently… I just want to know if you’re okay?” Jungwon turned his head to you, eyes sparkling radiantly as concern was etched into his features.

Why? Why did you have to fall for such a good man? A considerate one? Not an ounce of wrong was in his nerves, his blood. Perhaps the gods weren’t slowing down time in your favour, but rather as an entertaining show to watch as you slowly developed deeper feelings for Jungwon.

“I’m okay.” you nodded, attempting to have some semblance to a content expression, but your facade was practically transparent as Jungwon saw right through you.

“But, you’re not.” he replied firmly, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

Your lips twitched in an emotion alike to annoyance? Irritation? “Mr. Yang.” No longer did you use an endearing nickname, nor his first name. You wanted your intentions set straight. “I said I’m okay, can’t you accept that?” you argued.

In a twist of frustration, Jungwon’s eyebrows pinched impossibly closer together. “No, I can’t. I won’t.” he huffed. “Sure, we aren’t exclusively official, I’ll give you that, but come on Y/N, I’m inviting you to lean on me. I just want to be here for you.” he declared steadily, voice unwavering.

Hesitant. You were hesitant yet the next words that followed the bite of your lips could not be reversed. You should’ve contemplated a bit further, but then again, it had to go according to plan. “Exactly, we aren’t each other’s person.” you angrily retorted. “So stop acting like we’re closer than we are.”

If you had plunged a knife into his chest, twisted it, then pushed it in some more, the ache he would’ve experienced wouldn’t have compared to what you had just said. “I’m sorry?” he scoffed in exasperation.

At this point, Jungwon had stopped walking, urging you to follow suit.

“You heard me.” you rebutted, your stance unwavering as you further pushed this agenda.

Jungwon smirked. “Did last night mean nothing?” he tested the waters. He nimbly approached you, hand reaching to hover over your cheek, but not quite gracing it. “Were my lips that intertwined with yours so eagerly just a figment of my imagination?”

You noticeably gulped, and Jungwon didn’t miss it. Yet, you were quick to recover your resolve. “Mm.” you shrugged neutrally. “Wasn’t much to me.”

The love of your life, the one whose kisses you cherished so deeply, the one whose presence was something you looked forward to, had a flicker of realisation pass through his mind. And it showed in his eyes. His previously determined, somewhat cocky attitude, faded into one of betrayal and disbelief. “Y/N.” his voice trembled unsurely. “You don’t mean that, right?” his creased eyebrows eased as they upturned in a naive sort’ve flair.

“I meant it.” you declared. “I regret doing all of that with you.” Your hands dropped to your sides, feeling both the weight of a pressing issue lifted from your shoulders, but a large hound of hesitance, regret, and guilt piled onto your conscience, overthrowing the feeling of liberty that you relished in momentarily.

Jungwon shook his head in disbelief whilst pursing his lips. He grabbed for your hands, taking them in his own as he squeezed you tight. Almost instinctively, he knelt down on his knees, a plead to your presence. “Y/N.” he whispered. Not once in this whole debacle did he raise his voice, and now, he was the quietest he’d ever been. “I love you.” he declared, and he hoped it wasn’t for a final time.

You paused. And in your momentary hesitation, you looked down at Jungwon with a broken look to your eyes. This was it. You smiled, hopefully a final farewell to your fleeting—though it seemed as if it’d be everlasting—love. “Jungwon.” you began. “Let me go.” your smile lingered as your words held an underlying meaning that went beyond the physical touch between the two of you.

And Jungwon’s lip trembled. How could he let go, when he had only just been able to hold on?

—

Hopeless. Hopeless was all you could use to describe the repurcussions splayed before you.

When you arrived at your door earlier, a grinning Yebin awaited your arrival as she was ready to welcome you with her interrogation and greetings. Only, you were crying and her happiness was exchanged for concern. “Huh?! Honey, are you okay?” Her eyes were blown with despair, empathy swirling through her core at the sight of your teary eyes.

You explained everything. You didn’t need to hide it from her.

Had it been Jungwon’s fault, Yebin was ready to swing her fist straight to his face, but your reasoning for breaking it off urged her to slap you on the back, lovingly—at least that’s what she wanted to convey.

“Are you out of your mind? ‘It’s best for the both of us’” Yebin mocked your words in a ridiculing tone. “Best for the both of you, or best for him? Y/N you should think for yourself sometimes!” she reprimanded. You opened your mouth to retort, refute, anything to defend your case, but she wasn’t done lecturing you. “I’m not sure if this was even best for him? He loves you, why would he accept this choice?”

Your lip trembled as you thought over her words. “Yebin.” you began, voice shaky. “I’ve lost so many before him. Those? I willingly gave it up, but this one- this one I actually thought could break whatever curse laid upon me.” You shook your head, hands reaching to grab at Yebin’s. “Lord knows the willpower it took to deny him, but if I didn’t do it now, when would the time come? When could I tell him that I wanted to end things, and everything would be better? This was the only way!” Your voice raised as the emotions pressing down on your heart began to flow out.

Yebin clicked her tongue, less in an annoyed sense and more in a defeated one. “Did you have to break his heart so recklessly though? Your heart?” She shook her head. “Y/N, you love him too.”

With a nod of your head, you agreed whole-heartedly with her statement. “I do. I love him till the ends of the earth.” you sighed emptily. “Which is why I had to. Don’t you think if I let him off delicately, he’d just barge his way back in? Yang Jungwon is not an easy man to avoid. This is the only way he won’t come back to me, he still has dignity you know?”

The woman across from you scoffed in amusement. “If it were you he lost his dignity for, he would do it in an instant and a thousand times over. You’re severely underestimating him.”

You couldn’t deny that you held onto that hope. That maybe someday he’d come knocking on your door, begging for you to stay with him. If he did, you weren’t sure what you’d do—you knew that running back to him was inevitable if ever he appeared in front of you, so you supposed you did know what you’d do.

In the whole ordeal, regretfully, you closed down your stall. The one thing occupying your day. There were a few reasons to this. For one, you wanted to limit any close or face-to-face contact with Jungwon, two, winter was soon to come and the convenience was there, three you didn’t want to see Jungwon up close, and four, Yang Jungwon. So maybe your reasoning was obvious, but excuses or not, it was the best option.

However, you contradicted yourself on many occasions. Perhaps you found yourself trailing him when you saw him, watching from afar as you studied his work ethic, his interactions, and… how he was coping.

Overall, he seemed okay. At work, initially, he wasn’t completely there mentally, though through your viewings, the guys helped him out immensely. You were grateful that he had a circle of people around him to support and advance him through the day.

After a while, you started to feel strange for watching him. And eventually your viewings of him lessened, and you found yourself seeing him every once in a while, a look of longing settling on your features, before diverting your vision and ignoring the feeling.

And then it happened. News spread that a humble, handsome lawyer was soon to be wed with a wealthy, beautiful woman from a prestigious family. You ignored it at first, not much interest in the marriage of two people you were unfamiliar with, until Yujin had tapped your arm and shoved a newspaper in your face.

“Noona! Look!” he pointed at one of the sections on the newspaper. The name Yang Jungwon alongside another woman’s name and the words ‘to be wed’ highlighted gave an inherent shock to your body as soon as you glazed over it.

Your eyes skimmed the paper and the details to his wedding were outlined at the end of the announcement block.

Safe to say, you found yourself entering a new event on your calendar.

—

Apathetic. Apathetic was all Jungwon could use to describe the wedding ceremony splayed before him.

Correction, his wedding ceremony.

The woman he were to be wed to was an arranged marriage that his parents had set up. The two of then hadn’t even gotten to know each other before the ceremony was settled.

So much for having the freedom of choosing.

He sighed heavily, clad in a brown suit, darker than the one he had first met you in. What a joke, he was still thinking about you even on the supposed ‘most important day of his life’. How could he not? He only wished for you to be on the receiving end of this marital contract, to watch you walk down the aisle, to slide the ring on your finger, to kiss you at the end when you complete your ‘I do’s’.

But that dream wasn’t a reality. It never would be.

As he awaited his soon to be wife at the end of the aisle, he bore his eyes into the shut double doors at the end of the church. Then she emerged, a stunning dress complimented her perfect figure. She was definitely beautiful, but she couldn’t live up to you. If this woman was perfect, you were out-worldly.

Jungwon had zoned out when she finally approached. Her father handed her off to him, and he gave a tight smile and a curt nod.

The ceremony was a blur. On his wedding, filled with the people he loved most—amongst other visitors who came just to witness a marriage—the most beloved person he wished to stand before him, was absent in her wake. L/N Y/N, that dream of a woman, should’ve been the one in front of him. A tear fell from his eye, and his soon-to-be wife smiled at him, though her figure practically merged into the background.

How could he convey the loss of a person who wasn’t even dead?

—

EPILOGUE

Paralysed. Paralysed was all you could use to describe how you felt upon witnessing the wedding ceremony splayed before you.

You had arrived in a modest yet secretive disguise, not wanting to be seen, or worse, recognised by Jungwon or presumably any of his friends that were a part of this ceremony.

You watched as she gracefully walked down the aisle, her wedding dress flowing behind her in a manner only reminiscent of an angelic presence.

Time seemed to slow down again as the painstakingly heart wrenching view of your first love interlinking in a binding love contract registered in your brain. And as he gave her a peck after their ‘I do’s’ you couldn’t help the flow of tears that left your eyes.

Many others around you had begun crying too, but for the reason of two people connecting as one, yet this very reasoning was what made you cry in a different sense.

People stood in applause, and you took this opportunity to briskly escape the church, a sob wracking through your body as you slipped out unnoticed.

It was only when you arrived home and looked to the dining table, your world paused briefly. There, sat on top of a few other pieces of mail, was a letter addressed to you. The handwriting looked undeniably like his, but you didn’t get your hopes up. After all, you just watched as he was married off to another woman.

Though, as you ripped open the letter, your presumptions were proven wrong.

Dear My Love, Ms. Baker, The Most Beautiful Girl in the World, Y/N,

It’s odd to think I’m writing you a letter.

I contemplated on so many occasions on whether or not I should come to see you, attempt to mend our relationship in some way. But the time never came.

I’ll give it to you Ms. L/N, you effectively stomped on my heart and walked off, but I don’t hate you. In fact I’m not even surprised that I still love you.

I’m getting married today.

It wasn’t my choice.

If it was, I’d have you in front of me with that beautiful smile of yours. Aren’t I the worst for thinking about you despite my engagement? My marriage?

Y/N. I have so many questions to ask you. But I’ll withhold from mentioning them, I wouldn’t want to burden you further with the looming questions in my mind. Though, I wonder if we can meet once more, perhaps in another life, where things will be different, and I can safely call you mine, hold you in my arms, and never ever let you go.

I read over the book once more—just to feel some connection with you—and I could only laugh at how our story seemed to align with theirs. Would you be Shenqi?

I’ll say this once more, as this’ll be my first and last letter to you. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

I don’t think I could truly love anyone as much as I loved you.

I miss you Y/N, and I hope to see you again, in our next life.

Sincerely, Mr. Crust.

ENDING NOTES: and that’s a wrap for Sincerely Mr Crust! im aware of how fast and rushed the ending was, but ill be honest i just wanted this over and done with LOL. i hope you enjoyed my story, and hopefully there’ll be more to come!! maybe some shorter stories bc obviously writing these stories are not my forte timing wise 😭😭 i hope to see you again next time <3

© @kuromkiz on tumblr. do not re-upload or claim as your own

[augustinewrites]

“just leave me alone!” 

megumi storms off towards his room as gojo’s easygoing expression falls away instantly, leaving you conflicted as to who you should check on first. (which is difficult to do when you remember that thirteen year old boys hate talking about their emotions almost as much as twenty-five year old ones do.)

you decide that megumi needs a few minutes to cool down, so you step into the kitchen first, where your fiancé is tearing open a new bag of candy a little more harshly than necessary. you lean your hip against the counter as he murmurs a greeting. 

“what was that about?” you ask. 

“he hates me,” he shrugs. 

“he’s a thirteen year old boy. he hates everybody,” you point out, but it fails to make him laugh like you’d intended. instead, his frown only deepens and he mutters,

“he doesn’t hate you.” 

you tilt your head slightly. “is that what this is about? me being his favourite?”

“i don’t know,” he sighs. “i…i just can’t seem to connect with him the way you’ve always been able to.”

“that’s not true,” you say quickly, unsure of what exactly you can say to make him feel better. it’s not like him to be so insecure. “you guys have had your moments.”

“not lately. i just keep pissing him off,” he huffs, unwrapping and popping a piece of candy into his mouth. “did i do something?” 

you open up the fridge to pull some ingredients for lunch, sighing. “i don’t think so, but nanami, shoko, and i were texting about it the other day—”

“wait, you’re in a group chat with nanami and shoko?”

“oh yeah,” you nod, setting your vegetables on the counter. “it’s mostly memes, but sometimes we talk about how messed up you are.”

he blinks at you a few times before muttering that you’d get back to that later. “what’d they say?” 

“they quoted a lot of freud, but the gist of it was that it’s normal for fathers and sons to butt heads.”

he frowns deeply at that. “so what should i do?”

“be patient. he’ll come around eventually.”

“easy for you to say,” he huffs. “you’re the only mother figure he’s ever known. he’s already had a dad.”

“satoru, he’s thirteen. he’s officially been with us longer than he was with toji.” 

you study his conflicted expression as he turns that information over in his mind. “okay, how about this? i was going to take him to the mall to buy new clothes after lunch, but why don’t you go with him instead?”

“that’s a great idea!” he exclaims, pressing his hands together excitedly. “i’ll take him to the bookstore too! can you find out what’s on his reading list?” 

“he’s not a little kid anymore,” you remind him. “you can’t just buy his affection with a new book.”

“i’ll buy him two, then.” 

“i love where your heart is at,” you start slowly. “but you just…have to give him space to let him come to you.”

he groans loudly, coming up behind you to press his forehead into the crook of your neck. you smile, tilting your head to the side and reaching up to pat his hair. 

“i guess this is good practice for when we have our own kid,” he mutters, stiffening when he feels your hand still in his hair.

“our own kid, huh? so does that mean you’re done bringing home strays?” 

“you three are all i need,” he tells you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “whatever happens next…is just a bonus.” 

BONUS:

[you] [1 attachment]

[nanami] Why is he dressed like Gojo?

[shoko]: like father like son huh

[you] satoru had a quarter-life crisis yesterday. just a small one. 

[shoko] i’m not surprised. his life is like a shakespearean tragedy.

[nanami] That is accurate.

[you] he’s trying to bond with megumi.

[shoko] by dressing him like he’s emotionally unavailable?

[you] what does that even mean?

[shoko] the sunglasses

[you] ?

[nanami] Elaborate further, please.

[shoko] eyes are the windows to the soul. 

[nanami] (the more you know gif)

[midascrow]

Lucifer x GN!Reader

A Fan of the Devil?

———————//————

synopsis: Charlie’s father is introduced to the hotels “Gardener”, and comes to find out that they’re a fallen soul from above. He’s also surprised to learn that they’re a fan of his.

warnings: religious pressure(?)

an: Part 1? If this is well received ofc. This is told from Lucifer’s perspective and therefore his view and inner thoughts regarding what’s going on around him. I also threw in the idea that he’s bad with names cuz that feels very accurate to me lol

—————————————————————-

He hadn’t expected his daughter’s friends to be so….eccentric, upon meeting them. Of course he knew Charlie’s heart bled gold for any sinner around, but he thought-, more so he hoped that she would keep somewhat better company.

Especially in the revelation of this “RaDiO DEmOn”.

Baggie- Mag- Vaggie, was alright he supposed. She loves his daughter, perhaps just as much as he does,that much he was sure. And while he was a bit disheartened by having not known of their relationship prior, he was still content and moved by the way the two leaned towards each others embrace as they spoke.

His heart ached. Just a bit.

“Are they up in their room again?”

“I think they’re in the Garden again, hon.”

Garden? The hotel had a garden?

“Oh! Oh maybe we could-“

“I don’t know…you know how they can be about us going in there..”

“Pshhhh! I’m sure it’ll be fine Vaggie! Plus remember how they always talked about meeting him??”

Meeting who? Who’s meeting who??

Was there some kind of owl in here?

“Dad!”

“Ah!”

Charlie blinked down at her father in an awkward beam, watching his red eyes dart around nervously, for a moment or two. “Who?!-“ His throat dried and swelled in embarrassment, cracking his voice as he fixed his pride with a dust off his hat. “Uhm…Yes? Char?” Nailed it. Totally. Very cool and suave of you big boss.

His daughter smiled, a crease in her brow before she clasped his arm and tugged him forward, away from the peering eyes of the others and down a long corridor. “There’s someone- Well-there’s someone who’s been dying to meet you! Yknow ever since they arrived here it’s just be non stop-“

Someone wanted to meet him? Why??

Surely they were a weirdo.

His grimace must’ve given him away, because Vaggie, who he hadnt noticed following them till the moment of, gave a small hum, to cut through her girlfriends words.

“They were a bit of a fanatic on earth apparently.”

He dead panned.

“A cultist.”

“No.”

“A satanist?”

“That’s not even what satanists do!”

“…..”

“….A banker-“

“Just-!….Wait and you’ll see.”

He fell silent at that, a frown pulled onto his pale lips as his feet dragged him towards wherever they were headed.

He was a bit stumped when they came upon two large doors, both decorated in shimmering glass mozaics, depicting two dividing scenes. An Angel; hands carefully cupped around a beautifully red apple, kneeled down towards the other mural, was depicted on the right. And on the Left, in the same position, with the same red apple, a demon.

He shifted uncomfortably.

“Wow Honey! I uh- Didn’t know this door even existed! It’s very cool, yes yes very cool- now let’s head back to the-!” He called nervously, a half witted laugh leaving his sharp tooth smile as Charlie nodded vigorously, shiney eyes aglow as she took hold of the golden handles of the ornate doors, pulling them open with a mighty huff as a golden light spilled from inside.

It was startling to say the least, fact proven by how Lucifer felt his wings practically shoot from his back in defense, feathers cascading down in time with the petals and leaves that followed an imaginary breeze through the threshold.

His ears strained to hear the quiet sound of rushing water and leaves shaking, birds chirping and insects buzzing quietly somewhere in the back.

His skin warmed. Not in the way it naturally did from hells weather, but as if the sun was beaming down on his skin for the first time in eons. Of course, he knew it was fake. But it was so close.

“Oh- shit! Charlie!” A voice barked beyond the golden glow of the garden, a figure stepping out from the shadows of a large bush, covered in leaves and flowers as they stumbled clumsily through, racing towards the door and slamming it shut, completely ignorant to the king beside their hip, who’s gaze pierced them in silent wonder.

He hadn’t felt that in a while.

“What did I tell you about coming in unannounced! You could throw off the entire ecosystem! The slightest temperature shift might make one of the flowers wilt or one of the fruits shrivel! At least warn me before-“

“Ahem.”

The sinner paused, shoulders jumping stiffly as they froze, finger pointed towards Charlie rudely from their rant before their gaze shifted to the side.

He heard the way their breath hitched, and his chest puffed slightly in pride, wings fluttering just slightly.

“Hello there.” He was being cheeky, he knew that, though his smile felt a tad too genuine, caused by the sheer awe that glimmered across the sinners face at the sight of him. “Lucifer Morningstar, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet.”

He couldn’t find it in himself to dislike that look. He was the avatar of pride after all.

And a small part of him took a rather large enjoyment in the stuttering and stumbling of the sinner before him.

“Y-Your highness! Oh my gosh-“ He grinned “I wasn’t expecting your company- I would’ve dressed more- well I-“ Vaggie coughed from the side, redirecting their attention as they picked the stray foliage form their hair and clothes in a frenzy, towards the garden around them.

With a startled gasp they quickly stepped to the side, nearly tumbling in their haste as they held their arm out, presenting the garden to the king. “It’s..it’s an honor to meet you Sir.” Your voice was steadier, but still thick with anxiety that stuck like molasses to your tongue.

He watched your hand tremble, just slightly. Like his.

His wings fluttered again. A warm feeling bursting through his chest and into his eyes, giving them that shine that reflected the faux golden glow of the sun in the large green room. “The pleasures all mine, My dear. Do you mind explaining what it is you have-.…here”

His smile faltered, gaze stuck on the tree that stood tall and proud in the center of the spacious garden. Its leaves and branches stretched far, each adorned by beautiful red..apples, that hung and shimmered in the light. He expected the familiar ache of guilt to swarm his heart, but was surprised when he found himself breathless instead.

“I hope it’s..somewhat accurate. I’ve only seen recreations of course, never the real thing..” Your voice was a bit muffled in his mind.

He felt you step cautiously beside him, as he continued to gaze reverently at the scene before him. Shadows and memories danced past his eyes and through the patches of sun that decorated the floor. He swore he could hear quiet calls and whispers mix with the rustling leaves.

“You made this?” It wasn’t really a question.

Plants weren’t common in hell. Especially none such as this. They simply couldn’t grow in the rotted soil that spread across his kingdom. And there was simply no pure water to be found that could sustain them. So how-

“I might’ve take a few things before I fell.” You laughed shyly, cheeks warmed under the sun and the intense gaze of the King that snapped towards you.

Lucifer finally got a proper look at you. At your eyes and your features. Your afflictions. There was no denying you were a human soul. It was clear as day and still beat deep in your being. But..

“You were in heaven?” He gasped, eyes wide, mouth agape as he turned fully towards you, the grip on his cane tight as he scanned over the few demonic markings that lined your body, and the big golden X that flashed across your entire being. For only his eyes to see.

A virtuous soul cast out? Was that even possible? To turn away a true, virtuous soul, one of the few who had made it into heavens gate from their life on earth-

“It’s safe to say I didn’t truly agree with heavens teachings. It was too…polished.” There was an easy going smile that matched your tone, as you let your eyes wander towards the tree that wisely outshined every other plant in the garden. You continued.

“Heaven wasn’t my first choice. Frankly I didnt believe in it to begin with. But my folks were..somewhat of zealots. They wanted the best for me, I know that. But I missed…” You paused, seemingly thoughtful as Lucifer watched you with rapt attention, you both becoming ignorant to the two lovers that slipped out.

Charlie smiled softly to herself. Her dad needed this.

“I missed the free will that their religion took away from me.” Your gaze was knowing, almost wise like the tree when it peered back into his own, and Lucifer swore he felt something crack. Something lift from his shoulders and pulled his wings away, letting them spread proudly, in a way he hadn’t felt or experienced in years. Possibly ever.

“You know….I always enjoyed the story of you they told on earth.” Lucifer grimaced again, the vision of you dimming for a moment as he glanced away.

“Is that so? I’m sure they’re singing my praises.” It was a dry laugh, his hands gesturing in a faux confidence, but his lips quirked when he heard your muffled one.

“No, many aren’t. Most seem to align themselves with Heavens view…” You hummed thoughtfully and stepped forwards into the soft grass that peaked through the cracks of brimstone. Lucifer followed, instinctively. He felt leashed by your presence, though not necessarily in a bad way.

“Though there are plenty, who think a little more like me. There’s many versions of your story. I always knew that the original couldn’t be the full story. Too..one sided. Time on earth taught me that there was always a second side. Someone’s else thoughts-, perspective. Falling only confirmed that.”

You words tangled with your fingers that fluttered across the branches of a close bush, caressing a small flower that curled into your touch. “The first thing I did was look for the story. Of the garden. I wanted to replicate it, though admittedly there was never much detail to go off!”

You laughed again and the sound was quickly becoming a favorite of his. It was gentle..understanding. It almost hurt.

“And when I read the story..it was different. More romantic for sure.” You flushed softly, cheeks warm again as you recalled the way the story of Lucifer and Lilith warmed your soul. “But..more honest. Heart breaking even. I couldn’t believe how horrible it was must’ve been…and never knowing how amazing your gift was..” you turned to him again, your gaze so earnest and true that it made him step back.

Lucifer couldn’t deny the warmth in his own cheeks. You were pretty..pretty? That felt mundane. You practically glowed in the garden. And while it wasn’t a perfect representation of what Eden had been, it was better.

Eden had always been..one dimensional. It lacked the depth and feeling that Lucifer had hoped to give humanity. It was gorgeous, there was no denying that. But it wasn’t real.

This…This, is what he had hoped for the garden to be. Alive. Truly alive.

And…you brought it life…because of him? It didn’t feel right in a way. Having spent so many years locked away by himself and mourning the sin and ruin he had created from his own selfish wish.

Selfish? Had it been selfish? At the time, when he had done it, it didn’t feel selfish. He wanted humanity to live. To be alive! Truly, and honestly alive.

And you were so Alive. You were dead here in hell and yet you were breathing life into this gorgeous scene because you chose to. You chose to fall too. You chose to be in hell.

Because of him? Because of his…gift?

It was ironic almost. Laughable even.

Your lips pursed, a worried sweat on your brow as you lost that roaring confidence that bled into your words prior. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to preach or anything-“ He stopped you.

“So-.…you’re a fan?” His lips screwed into a wobbly smile, embarrassment creeping up his neck at his less then poetic comment, though the laugh you graced him with almost made the shame worth it.

“You could say that. I personally think I hold the title of number one fan, but you know beggars can’t be choosers I suppose.” You gestured animatedly, a small smirk on your lips as you professed your..favor towards the king, and he gleamed.

“Well!” His hands flew to his suit, straightening it out and letting his chest puff out from its slumped frame. “May I know the name of my, alleged, number one fan?” His words were coy, smug as he gestured to you with a flourish that he had shown to the other residents. (Of course till you had so rudely stunned him to silence)

The smile you gifted him was holy.

“(Y/N)…Your highness.” Your bow was playful, a little awkward and strained, but it made him laugh.

“(Y/n), hm? I’ll be sure to remember that.” His throat cleared briefly, “I…hope you wouldn’t mind me stopping by sometime again soon..I’d like to hear a bit more about your garden.” He liked the way you looked at him in this moment. Disbelieving but so hopeful. Like he was something, someone to gaze at in such a way.

“I’d be honored.”

Maybe you had a fan of your own now, as well.

———————☆

[3d-wifey]

NSFT Alphabet: MK1 Johnny Cage Edition

A/N: Wrote this to hold you Johnny girls (gender neutral) over until I finish that smut 😙 Plus, I find writing these Alphabets for a character in preparation to write full-fledged smut for them is very helpful in capturing accurate characterization. It's almost like a writing exercise. I've written three different ones so far and I tried to keep them in character, if that makes sense. Like, I tried putting their personality and language in it. Okay, enjoy.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Talking. So much talking. But, honestly, did you expect anything else? As he’s pulling out, as he’s carrying you to the shower, as you’re washing his hair. And when it inevitably leads to shower sex, he’s talking then too. You’ll never meet a man who loves the sound of his own voice more than Johnny Cage.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

Uh, how ‘bout the artillery canons strapped to his arms? C’mon, I mean, who wouldn’t want a ticket to the gun show? 

Face. Is saying your face too cliche? Hear him out! You want specifics? He can do specifics! He likes the dimples that pop in your cheeks when he finally gets you to laugh at one of his jokes, the little crease you get between your eyebrows when he’s pissed you off, the adorable way your nose scrunches up when he does that one thing with his tongue that drives you crazy. See? Specifics!

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Pull out game…very weak. Embarrassingly weak, actually. He swears he’s never had this problem before. His ability to pull out in the nick of time has always been something he’s prided himself on. However, he vastly underestimated just how good you’d feel. He’s clean, you’re clean, and, hey! You both prefer the feeling of hitting it raw, the way nature intended it. However, your pussy’s like wet kryptonite. And he’s only a man. A very awesome man, but a man nonetheless. So birth control it is! Or, if you’re turned off by all the side effects, he can be talked into a vasectomy. It’s either that or give up the sweet, sweet embrace of your walls when he’s balls deep. 

On second thought, that vasectomy sounds pretty tempting. It is reversible, right?

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Johnny would leak his own sex tape. Plain and simple. He’d leak it from a burner account and watch the chaos ensue. There’s no shame in his game. Hey, it’s ranked the Number 1 Celebrity sex tape for a reason.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Is this even a question? Actors, singers, models, directors, producers. He’s THE Johnny Cage, Hollywood royalty. He’s fucked actual royalty. You’re in good hands—as long as he cares about you. If you’re a random hookup, then he’s not really working for your pleasure here. You’ll definitely cum, but it’s mainly a pit stop on his way to the finish line. 

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Reverse cowgirl. Johnny’s an ass man, through and through. He loves fucking up into you and watching your ass ripple with both of your movements. And he loves holding onto you. Big hands grabbing your waist, hips, thighs, and especially your ass. He also loves seeing you both in action. So reverse cowgirl + some artfully placed full-length mirrors = Him wrapping his arms around your stomach, rubbing at your clit, and forcing you to watch yourself as you desperately grind against him, AKA Heaven. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Oh, c’mon. It isn’t like him to be serious in any situation. He’s gotta slip a joke in every now and then. Get it? Slip a joke in?

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Wax on, wax off, baby. Smoother than a seal. Or, uh, some other sexy, hairless animal. You mourn when he waxes his happy trail. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

You’ll be surprised by how charming he can be. It’s not all jokes and great orgasms. It’s also loving touches, reverent compliments, and amazing orgasms.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

He’s got a healthy libido and a pretty stacked schedule, so sometimes a quick introduction between his hand and mini Johnny can’t be helped. But he’s also got a smoking hot girlfriend (you), so jerking off by himself is a rare occurrence. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Exhibitionism. What can he say? He’s a performer at heart and he loves an audience. But nothing crazy, just your average celebrity having sex on a yacht that’s in full view of the paparazzi. Or the occasional jerking off with you telling him how fast or slow to go. Oh, and you can’t forget about the sex tapes. Man, with the amount of videos he has of the two of you going at it, he could start an archive. You two have definitely ended up on the cover of TMZ and the front page of Twitter.

Voyeurism. But only for you. He’s enthralled by anything you do, including how many of your much smaller fingers will you stuff inside yourself to replicate the feeling of him stretching you wide. It usually leads to you begging for him to touch you, something else he’s in love with. Nothing wrong with a little hands-on audience participation.

Dirty talk. Normally, dirty talk is kind of basic to any old romp in the hay, but Johnny, being Johnny, puts his own Cage flair on it. Those corny oneliners somehow translate to the perfect thing to say to get you hot. He’s like Shakespear, if Shakespear was good-looking and not a virgin. You know what they say: everything sounds better when you’re horny. Who says that? Uh…

Fighting/Sparing which always leads to blood play. Winning a match gets Johnny’s blood pumping. The adrenaline of escaping death and the crowd hyping him up. And the crux of it all is you who happens to get especially wet when he comes to you covered in blood, grinning with a glint in his eyes that’s poorly hidden behind his blood-speckled sunglasses (a glint that many may describe as mania). And it certainly goes the other way. Watching you kick ass makes him harder than a diamond. Sparing together is a no-brainer that leads to fucking on his gym floor, or, honestly, wherever you two fall. Lui Kang must regret making you two his champions in this timeline with how often he’s walked in on you two. Offering to let him join probably doesn’t soften the blow, but, hey, it’s only polite.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

In his mansion. In one of his lavish beds, or pressed up against the wall-length windows. In his Bentley or in the back of his limo. He’s a big fan of fingering you under the table at an award show and then fucking you in a bathroom at said award show when he should definitely be on stage presenting. For whatever reason, walking the red carpet always gets him worked up. And going to the club together always ends with you riding him in the VIP section.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Such a complex question for a man with complex taste. I’m joking, Johnny is so easy. It’s actually ridiculous how easily you turn him on. Laugh at his joke, hard. Complement his acting or fighting, hard. Running your fingers through his hair/scratching his scalp, hard. Feel him up/tease him in any context, hard. You’re covered in blood after a win, hard, hard, rock hard.

“Are you King Midas? Cuz you make me hard with just one touch.”

“That one was actually kinda clever.” 

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing too gross. He’s all for sloppy, messy sex, but he has to draw the line somewhere. There’s nasty 👁🫦👁 and there’s n a s t y 👁👄👁. 

He likes to tease/do the opposite of what you say, but if you’re not 100% on board with what he’s doing, then he’s stopping it then and there. Remember: there’s nothing sexier than explicit consent!

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Preferred to receive before he started dating you, and only ever had the urge to go down on someone if he had been drinking before. After you started dating, he definitely loved it whenever you gave him head, but he didn’t realize how much pleasure he could get from giving you pleasure. 

He loves sloppy head, giving and receiving, so if you weren’t wet before, you definitely will be after he gets his mouth on you. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on when and where you’re doing it. And if you two are “allowed” to be doing it in said place.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Big fan of the guy who came up with the idea of quickies, enough said. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

C’mon. He’s the leading source of your sex tapes getting leaked. I mean, how do you think the paps keep finding you in compromising positions? A little tip-off to them while you take his tip, ha!

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

It’s like he runs off horsepower, good God. If you’re trying to go until he’s tired out, it’s gonna be a couple of rounds until then.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s a fan of dildos. Specifically, watching you fuck yourself with one. “Go ahead, baby. Show me how bad you want me.” And show him, you do. God, you know how to put on a show. But you shouldn’t have to settle for some random dildo. You’re with the Cage man, and he would get a mold of his dick made for you. And they say he’s not romantic. 

Strap-on. That’s it. And he takes it well ;).

Remote-controlled vibrators, for you and him. Hell, let’s make a game out of it. See who can last the longest in public, there are no losers! 

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

His version of teasing is doing the opposite of what you said to do. You want him to speed up? He’s slowing down and making sure you feel every inch inside you. Oh, keep his hands above his head? You gonna make him? He’s a total brat, but you knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to date him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Heh, yeahhh. He’s real loud. Moans, groans, screams, whimpers. You name it, he’s doing it. It’s the performer in him. And because he knows you like how he sounds.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

Tattoos? Sexy as hell. If you were to ever get his name tattooed on you (preferably a tramp stamp), then you might as well start planning what flowers you want in your bouquet. I could see him getting your name tattooed on him too. Probably on his pelvis, in the middle of his v-line. In case anyone ever needs a reminder of who his dick belongs to.  

Type of guy to dedicate a Mortal Kombat match to you, and then lose. Ah, I’m joking. He’d beat his opponent’s ass all because you promised him victory sex if he won and he doesn’t take victory sex lightly.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s got an 8.5–8.9 inch hog, shower not a grower. Little Johnny isn’t so little. There’s a reason he’s alright with doing full-frontal nudity if the scene calls for it. They’ve had to CG out his bulge in post-production in every Ninja Mime movie. It’s not his fault spandex happens to be the clingiest material known to man.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Higher than Mount Fuji. He’s a stallion in his prime with a gorgeous girlfriend. His spare time is filled with filling you. And you both tend to feed off of each other, so all it takes is for one of you to be the tiniest bit turned on, and then, boom! You’re both desperately grinding against each other in a supply closet. Ain’t that just the way?

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Depends. He’s kind of like a dog that needs to tire himself out before he can sleep. 

Click for a Johnny Cage-shaped surprise👀👀

[greynatomy]

make my heart race || leah williamson social media au

face claim - none (fem!reader)

author’s note - i’ve been into f1 fics lately and an idea popped into my head. i’ll disappear from the writing world again after this so please enjoy and lmk what you think!

p.s. the timeline isn’t real life accurate so dw about the dates so much

liked by charles_leclerc, williamsracing and 20,365 others

formula2 Y/N Y/LN IS YOUR 2020 FIA FORMULA 2 CHAMPION

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user1 that’s my girl!!!

user2 hell yeah!!

charles_leclerc she’s growing up 🥺 doing bigger things

↳ user3 AH i love this friendship

↳ user4 I SHIP THEM SO HARD YOUR HONOR

↳ yourinstagram wtf chucky don’t ever use that emoji again

↳ user5 SHE CALLS HIM CHUCKY😩 IM SLEEPING ON THE HIGHWAY

↳ charles_leclerc but that’s my face right now

↳ yourinstagram well stop it

↳ user6 MAMA Y PAPA, MAMA Y PAPA

user7 girls shouldn’t be in formula one

↳ user8 bitch are you blind?? this is literally the formula 2 account

↳ user9 she not there yet but best believe she will

lewishamilton congratulations y/n!!

↳ yourinstagram ONFGSHDBD LEWIS HAMILTON SEVEN TIME FORMULA ONE WORLD CHAMPION JUST CONGRATULATED ME

↳ charles_leclerc you’ve literally met him before…

↳ yourinstagram CHARLES SHUT UP LET ME FANGIRL

↳ user10 i love her

liked by charles_leclerc, user1 and other 17,749 others

yourinstagram chucky let me drive

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user1 why does she call him chucky?

↳ user2 they basically grew up together and she’s always called him that

↳ user3 it’s actually pretty cute

↳ user4 her charles and max started carting around the same time

user5 he’s so hot 🥵 my man my man my man

charles_leclerc you drove for five seconds and told me to take a picture

↳ yourinstagram okay???? don’t gotta tell them

↳ charles_leclerc maman always told me to be truthful

↳ user6 why do i ship

↳ yourinstagram you’re uninvited to my yacht

↳ charles_leclerc what yacht??

↳ yourinstagram 🖕

↳ user7 this is so sibling coded

liked by yourinstagram, scuderiaferrari and 22,738 others

formula2 BREAKING: @/yourinstagram steps up to @/f1 with @/scuderiaferrari starting the 2021 season on a three year contract 🪜

You got this Y/N! 🇪🇸

#F2 #RoadToF1 #Y/NY/LN

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user1 no way

user2 where all the haters at saying she wouldn’t make it??

user3 girls shouldn’t be in formula one

↳ user4 too bad!! she’s making bank while you’re rotting at home!

↳ user3 she still shouldn’t be in racing at all

↳ user5 boohoo bitch go cry about it!

yourinstagram i’m gonna miss you so much admin🥲

↳ formula2 we’ll miss you too! off to bigger things!🍾

user6 she’s replacing vettel??

↳ user7 yes and she’s amazing

scuderiaferrari so excited to have you join us!!

↳ yourinstagram forza ferrari!!!

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 345,638 others

yourinstagram new season, new car 😎

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user1 oh shit she’s gonna go vroom vroom even faster this year

↳ yourinstagram you know it 😏

charles_leclerc i got a new car too

↳ yourinstagram go to your own instagram this is all about me

↳ scuderiaferrari podium 1-2??

↳ yourinstagram all day baby!!

maxverstappen1 i bet my cat is still faster

↳ yourinstagram nah i’m taking your title this year

↳ user2 spicy y/n i’m here for it

↳ landonorris my car can go fast too!

↳ yourinstagram it better be able to cause if not… then idk bud

liked by f1, user1 and 364,829 others

scuderiaferrari PODIUM for both Charles and Y/n! Congratulations Charles for P3 and a HUGE CONGRATULATIONS to Y/N for winning her first ever Grand Prix!!!

Great day at Silverstone! 🇬🇧

#F1 #BritishGP

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user1 VAMOS!!!! 🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸

user2 P1 P1 P1

user3 first ever woman to win a formula one grand prix!!!

user4 is that leah williamson on the third slide??

↳ user5 who’s leah williamson?

↳ user6 who’s leah williamson??? she’s the captain of the lionesses!!

↳ user7 what sport is that?

↳ user6 football

liked by alexiaputellas, liawaelti and 132,738 others

leahwilliamsonn Had so much fun at my first GP with my hometown team @/astonmartinf1 💚

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user1 no way! i’m here too!!

user2 woso x f1 both my worlds colliding

astonmartinf1 so glad you could join us!! 💚💚

↳ leahwilliamsonn thank you for having me!

kyracooneyx did your research live up to your expectations?

↳ leahwilliamsonn don’t expose me

↳ liawaelti she didn’t do any research cause she wanted to be surprised

↳ leahwilliamsonn i guess it’s gang up on leah day 🙄

user3 have fun!

user4 i need her 😩

yourinstagram it was so nice to meet you!

↳ leahwilliamsonn thank you for coming up!

↳ yourinstagram i would be crazy if i didn’t hermosa 😉 come back soon, maybe to a different garage

↳ user5 nurse! y/n is off her meds again!

↳ user6 i don’t think we’re supposed to be here

↳ user7 we’re definitely interrupting something

liked by user1, user2 and 7,648 others

wagdates Y/N Y/LN seen out with Leah Williamson at a skate park in Spain days before the Spanish Grand Prix.

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user3 they said ‘fuck being secret’

user4 i love them already your honor!

user5 the highway looks comfortable to sleep in right now

charles_leclerc @/yourinstagram busted

↳ yourinstagram shut up

↳ user6 did charles just confirm?

↳ user7 what other confirmation do you need? they’re literally making out

↳ user6 it could be a friendly kiss 🤷‍♀️

user7 okayyy but why is no one talking about the HAND PLACEMENT?????

↳ user8 THANK YOU!! it was all i could seee

↳ user9 i mean if i was dating leah i’d want her to choke me too 🤷‍♀️

↳user10 preach sister 🙌

liked by leahwilliamsonn, liawaelti and 471,739 others

scuderiaferrari pre-race through our lense 📸

#Y/NY/LN #SpanishGP

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user1 leah better stay away from her she’s mine!

↳ user2 never seen anyone more delulu than you

user3 can’t wait for leah to show up

user4 she so so fineuhhhh

charles_leclerc @/yourinstagram is this a photoshoot or a grand prix??

↳ yourinstagram nothing 🤷‍♀️ just an inchident

↳ user5 i love this little relationship they have

liked by yourinstagram, user1 and 90,739 others

leahwilliamsonn Another amazing Grand Prix with @/astonmartinf1 🤍

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yourinstagram 🤤🤤🤤

yourinstagram ditch them and come to my garage

yourinstagram i need my good luck charm

↳ leahwilliamsonn we’ll see

↳ user2 the way y/n probably has her post notifications on 😩

user3 she looks so good i need her

liked by user1, user2 and 10,748 others

wagdates Y/N Y/LN runs to Leah Williamson in the stands after her home GP win!!

Relationship confirmed?!

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user3 NOWAY??? THEY DID THAT?

user4 IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE CROWD?

↳ user5 right when Y/N got out of her car, she ran straight to Leah, ignoring everyone else

↳ user6 UGH that’s so cuteee

user7 that should be me 😫

liked by leahwilliamsonn, charles_leclerc and 502,274 others

yourinstagram number one at home with my number one 🏆

👤 : leahwilliamsonn

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leahwilliamsonn so proud of you ♥️♥️♥️

↳ yourinstagram te amo ♥️♥️♥️

↳ user1 when will it be my turn??

charles_leclerc double date when?

↳ yourinstagram make an appointment with my manager

↳ alexandrasaintmleux a double date sounds great!

↳ leahwilliamsonn yeah darling a double date is a great idea

↳ yourinstagram …double date it is

↳ maxverstappen1 make that a triple date!

↳ yourinstagram yes! i won’t be stuck with chuck

↳ charles_leclerc i am offended

↳ user2 not them going 3v1 with y/n

user3 i need to stop being single

liked by yourinstagram, alexandrasaintmleux and 116,739 others

leahwilliamsonn who new going to watch cars go vroom will help me find the one

👤 : yourinstagram

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yourinstagram watching you kick balls is pretty interesting too

↳ leahwilliamsonn being a wag suits you

↳ yourinstagram never thought i’d be a wag but i’m glad i’m yours

↳ landonorris alright! we get it! you love each other…

↳ user1 lando just had to get his two cents in

↳ charles_leclerc you’re just salty cause you’re still single

↳ yourinstagram who taught you that word?

↳ leahwilliamsonn that might’ve been me…

↳ user2 i never thought i’d see charles using gen z slang

user3 wait who is leah kissing??

↳ user4 y/n y/ln she’s a formula one driver

alexandrasaintmleux we gotta hang out just the two of us! have a day without the two!

↳ leahwilliamsonn text me!!

↳ charles_leclerc what??

↳ yourinstagram without us??

user5 bro wtf did author just wrote a whole love story through instagram and twitter?

[themultifanshipper]

The party was wild. Las Vegas was no joke.

But the after party was what George was looking forward to the most.

Part 7 of One of the Boys

Warnings: smut, semi public sex, oral (both f and m receiving), voyeurism, the hotel cuck chairTM, mxm blowjob (plot twist spoiler oops), I haven’t gotten over my vampire!george obsession so a bit of neck marking and biting

You'd accompanied the boys to the club to celebrate with them all after what had been quite an intense weekend for everybody. The bass was pumping, drinks were flowing, and everyone was having a good time.

He had you bent over the sink, gripping the edge for dear life as he lapped at your glistening folds until you were a gasping, shaking mess, coming on his expert tongue twice before he let up.

At some point during the night, Max had dragged you into a bathroom, determined to have a taste of you before George inevitably whisked you off to his hotel room.

When you got too overstimulated to continue, he kissed the back of your thighs apologetically and pulled your underwear back up and your dress down to cover you, before turning you around and smirking at your fucked out expression.

“Doing okay there, schat?”

You nodded swiftly and leaned up to peck him on the lips with a smile.

“Never better. My turn”

You unbuckled his belt and sank to your knees in front of him.

“You know you don't have t- oh!”

You didn't let him finish his sentence, instead putting his leaking tip between your lips and suckling on it softly, which always shut him up with maximum efficiency.

He was breathless as you sank down on him more and more, and with how many Gin & tonics he had in his system, it didn't take long for him to lose control and grip the edge of the sink as he came in your mouth with a groan of your name.

You blinked up at him and opened your mouth to show him the bitter liquid on your tongue and he groaned at the sight.

“That's disgusting”

You chuckled and quickly spat the cum into the sink before answering.

“I'd believe you if your dick hadn't twitched”

He laughed softly while tucking himself back into his own clothes.

It took all of 10 steps before you bumped into the man of the night and his teammate.

You rinsed your mouth out with water and Max washed his hands before you unlocked the door and stepped back out into the busy club and into the throng.

“Oh hi guys!” you squealed, embracing George and Lewis in a hug.

George had a smirk on his face as he spotted Max behind you coming out of the bathroom.

“I see you've been congratulating our world champion” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and you rolled your eyes.

“I gave him a little treat, yes. His real reward will be after Abu Dhabi, though. Why?”

“No reason” he raised his hands in surrender “but I wanted to ask, or more accurately, Lewis wanted to ask if he could possibly join us tonight”

You whined frustratedly.

The last triple header had been hard because you'd been sore for 3 whole weeks thanks to the Ferrari 1-2, so it was in your best interests to calm down and take it easy so that you wouldn't be exhausted when the last race of the season rolled around.

You eyed Lewis hesitantly, contemplating your answer.

“I mean… you know I love you Lewis. But I don't want to start off too strong this time and burn myself out before we get to Abu Dhabi, you know?”

He laughed and pulled you into a brief hug.

“Don't worry I understand! We can be quite a handful” he winked at you and you smirked.

Yes, yes they were a handful. But you suddenly had an idea.

“But if you want you can watch… if that's okay with George of course” you batted your eyes at George and he slinked an arm around your waist.

“Of course he can watch us.” He smiled and gave you a brief reassuring squeeze.

You lay down on the bed as George got undressed, motioning for Lewis to sit down in the chair in the corner.

“Great!” You looked between the two. “Lead the way gentlemen”

Before he could however, George stopped him by grabbing his arm and he muttered something in the older man's ear.

Lewis' eyebrows shot up in surprise and his jaw dropped.

“Yeah. Okay” he said breathlessly and he sat down.

“What was that about?” you purred as George climbed over you, mouthing at your neck.

“Nothing, just a little challenge for Lewis while he watches us…”

You weren't able to dwell on it too long, because George slotted a thigh between yours and pressed into you while kissing down your neck and nipping at your sensitive skin.

When he got to your right nipple, he wrapped his lips around it and sucked, making your hips buck up and spread your wetness further up his thigh.

“That's it darling, use my thigh. You're such a needy little thing, I bet you could get yourself off just like this.”

You let out a low whine and sped up the roll of your hips, the drag of your clit against his skin was heavenly.

George tried to appear unaffected, but the feeling of you desperately rubbing your slick cunt over his skin was driving him wild.

And the sight of it was definitely affecting Lewis, who was white-knuckling the armrests of the chair he was sat in.

George’s cock was hard against your stomach and you reached down to touch him, but he grabbed it and pinned it over your head.

“Ah ah, I want you to get yourself off on my thigh first, sweetheart” He whispered, kissing along your collarbones. “Then you can have my cock all you want”

You whimpered as he pressed his thigh into you harder, and the friction was incredible.

It didn't take you too long to come after that, and while you floated in bliss, he peppered kisses all over your body, going lower and lower until he got to your thighs.

He sucked two of his fingers into his mouth, wetting them before pushing into you slowly.

Your walls pulsed around them and he grunted at the easy slide before adding a third.

You whined when he hit your g-spot, earning a sharp groan from Lewis, who you'd almost forgotten about.

You glanced at the man in the chair, expecting him to be jerking off to the show, instead being met with a pitiful sight.

Lewis’ whole body was tense as he stared at you darkly, but his obviously hard cock was still trapped within the confines of his pants.

You looked at George but he was completely focused on the fingers making lewd sounds as he pushed them in and out of you.

“George, why can't Lewis touch himself?” you panted.

He chuckled and removed his fingers, then climbed over you to rub himself through your sopping wet folds. There would be no need for lube tonight.

“Oh that” he smiled mischievously while he lifted your legs, hooking them over his arms as he got into position “I told Lewis that if he could be good and refrain from touching himself, I would suck his cock when I’m done with you” he shrugged, almost nonchalantly.

You were so stunned that he took that opportunity to push into you in one go, making you cry out at the sudden stretch.

He shushed you with his mouth on yours, swallowing your desperate noises as he moved his hips expertly.

He wasn’t particularly rough, but he took your breath away and his lips trailed over your jaw and down your neck to nibble at your soft skin.

He groaned at the obscene squelch of his cock burying itself in your sopping cunt and you took it all without complaint.

He was hitting all the right spots and you felt like you were on cloud nine, only the sharp nip of his teeth on your neck keeping you grounded as pleasure started building in your gut.

“So wet, so perfect, such a good girl for me aren’t you?” he teased when your breaths started coming in shorter and shorter as you approached the edge.

“She’s so good, isn’t she Lewis?” he smirked at the older man, who was being good and hadn’t touched himself.

Lewis bit his lip when you looked at him, all glassy-eyed and flushed, waiting for his answer.

“God yeah, she’s fucking perfect” he said in awe, and you whined at his words.

“She is” George acquiesced “and she’s all mine…”

His lips went back to your neck and he sucked a small bruise just below your pulse point, easily coverable, just a small reminder for you. When he was satisfied with his work he looked back at you, feeling you clenching around his cock.

“and she’s going to come on my cock isn’t she?” he asked you condescendingly.

“Mhm…” you nodded “Yes, I’m gonna come for you, I’m so close George!”

He smirked and snaked a hand around your back, lifting you up so that he was holding you close while he slammed into you from below.

“Good girl” he growled into your neck “Come for me, sweetheart. Let me see how good you can be for me”

He looked up at you in awe as your face contorted in pleasure and you came around his cock, moaning his name.

You tensed up and your back arched but he held firm, arms wrapped around you as he chased his own pleasure, using your body like a doll.

It didn’t take him long, your whines of overstimulation spurring him on and he finally let go, filling you up and sinking his teeth into your shoulder with a muffled groan.

You both calmed down quickly, giving each other an almost chaste kiss before he lay you down on the bed and pulled out of you gently.

“Your turn” George said, before smoothly sliding onto his knees on the floor and seductively crawling over to Lewis.

He turned to Lewis, and the man was already looking at him.

The older man’s jaw dropped at the display, and he stayed frozen as he watched George unbuckle his belt and pull at his pants.

He lifted his hips to help, and as soon as his cock was free it was down George’s throat faster than should have been humanly possible.

Lewis gasped and grabbed George’s hair, pulling it hard enough for the younger man to groan and suck even harder.

“I’m not gonna last long, George” Lewis grunted.

George hummed and redoubled his efforts, sliding his tongue along the underside of Lewis’ cock, just like he knew he liked.

“Jesus, your mouth”

It indeed took only a couple of minutes for him to shoot rope after rope down George’s throat, but he swallowed every last drop diligently.

Once Lewis had his clothes back on, he bid you goodnight and left with a small complimentary bottle of tequila from the mini-fridge. Lord knows what other after party he was going off to.

His voice was hoarse when he asked “How was that?” and Lewis (and you) laughed at how fucked out he sounded.

George came back into bed with you and tucked himself under the covers, wandering hands exploring your body as you giggled and tried to swat him away.

He just held on tighter, pulling your body against his, his front to your back.

You could feel him against your ass, and he was hard as a rock.

“Aww… did sucking off your teammate make you hard again?” you teased, but he pinched your side in retaliation.

“Maybe… but one thing’s for absolutely sure…” he nosed up the side of your neck and his hand went to cup the mess between your legs. You had also been affected by the sight of him and Lewis together.

“And what’s that Mr Russell, winner of the Las Vegas Grand Prix?” you giggled.

He smirked against your skin, sliding his tip through your folds.

“Your night, as fun as it has been, is far from over”

[pandapetals]

Guys Night

Logan goes out with the guys getting wasted making me a big softie.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

a/n: Okay yes i know it’s lowkey impossible for logan to get drunk but idc i need him to just be a cutie and plus i loved writing girls night so whatever.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

Logan had slowed down on the drinking after meeting you. What had once been a daily habit—a crutch to get him through the long, empty nights—had become more of an occasional indulgence. His healing factor made it nearly impossible for him to get drunk anyway, but the act of drinking had always been more about comfort than effect. A familiar ritual he could hold on to.

But when you woke up at 1:28 a.m. to the unmistakable sound of raucous laughter and slurred shouts echoing through the mansion, you knew something was off.

The soft click of the hallway light flickered on as you slipped out of bed, still groggy but now very awake with confusion. Opening the bedroom door, you stepped into the hallway just in time to see Jean doing the same, her brows furrowed as she looked down the stairs.

"Do you hear that?" she asked, her voice hushed but tense with curiosity.

You nodded, falling in step beside her as the two of you headed toward the source of the commotion. The muffled sound of laughter grew louder as you descended the stairs, and by the time you reached the bottom, the scene unfolding in front of you was... well, chaotic would be an understatement.

There, in the middle of the living room, stood Logan—or, more accurately, half stood while being supported by Bobby, Scott, Kurt, and Hank. Logan’s usually stoic and composed figure was now swaying precariously, his arms draped over Bobby and Scott's shoulders while his head lolled back with a dopey grin on his face.

"Logan, man," Bobby was saying through his own laughter, struggling to keep his balance under Logan’s weight, "you gotta be quiet, dude, or you’re gonna wake up the whole mansion!"

You and Jean both stopped short at the edge of the stairs, taking in the absurdity of the scene. Logan, who could barely get tipsy on the strongest whiskey, was absolutely, unapologetically drunk. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes glassy, and he was laughing—a loud, booming, uncharacteristic laugh that you hadn’t heard in... well, maybe ever.

"Oh my God," Jean whispered, her eyes wide with amusement. "Is that Logan?"

You shook your head, though you couldn’t suppress the smile creeping onto your face. "My Logan," you corrected, watching in mild disbelief as he tried and failed to take a step forward, his knees buckling under him, sending Bobby and Scott staggering.

"I love you guys," Logan slurred loudly, throwing his head back again. "Yer all... yer all great! I don’t say it enough... but I mean it. You're... you're my family." His words were barely coherent, each sentence slurred into the next.

Kurt was biting back laughter as he supported Logan’s other side, his tail flicking with amusement. "Logan, you’re very... affectionate tonight."

Scott, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as amused. "He weighs a ton!" he grunted, trying to shift Logan’s arm more securely around his shoulder. "Why am I doing this again?"

"Because you love me!" Logan announced, his voice far too loud for the middle of the night. "C'mon, Cyclops, admit it—you love me!"

Scott's face twisted into a mix of frustration and laughter. "Let’s just get him to the couch before he takes us all down with him."

Before they could manage that, Logan spotted you standing by the stairs. His entire face lit up in an almost childlike way. "Hey!" he called, his voice practically a shout. "There’s my girl!" He tried to step toward you, nearly pulling everyone down in the process, before Bobby and Scott yanked him back.

"Logan!" you exclaimed, hurrying over to him. "What the hell is going on?"

His eyes found yours, and for a second, the chaos seemed to fade as he focused on you, his grin growing impossibly wider. "You’re the best thing... the best thing that’s ever happened to me," he slurred, his words heavy with sincerity. "I love you... I love you so much, darlin’."

Your heart softened for a moment, but then Logan, seemingly overwhelmed with emotion, suddenly became teary-eyed, his expression shifting from joyous to oddly vulnerable.

"And I never told you about that time," he started, his words blurring together, "when I... when I broke Hank’s favorite mug by accident, and I blamed it on Bobby... I’m sorry, Hank! It was me!"

Hank blinked, clearly surprised, though amusement danced in his eyes. "Noted," he said, shaking his head.

Logan hiccupped and continued, completely unbothered by the tears spilling down his cheeks. "And that time I ate all of Jean's cookies and said it was an emergency ration!" He looked over at Jean, who was covering her mouth, trying not to laugh. "I’m sorry, Jean... they were so good."

By this point, Scott and Bobby were both cracking up, barely able to hold Logan up as he continued confessing all sorts of things—half of them making no sense.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," you said, half laughing, half exasperated, as you walked up to him. Gently, you brushed your hand against his cheek, wiping away one of his tears. "Logan, why did you let them get you this drunk?"

"I didn’t," he mumbled, looking adorably confused. "I just... I was just gonna have a drink... then Bobby bet me I couldn’t finish five bottles of whiskey."

Bobby raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I didn’t know it was actually possible!"

Logan hiccupped again, his glassy eyes focusing back on you, and without warning, he pulled you into an awkward, lopsided hug, nearly knocking you off balance. "I love you, sweetheart," he whispered dramatically, his words slurring against your hair. "You’re perfect. I don’t... I don’t deserve you."

You couldn't help but smile, your heart melting despite the ridiculousness of it all. "Alright, big guy," you said, patting his back. "Let’s get you to the couch before you start confessing more stuff."

Logan blinked down at you, his expression suddenly serious as he sniffled. "You’re gonna marry me, right?" he asked, his voice soft and vulnerable in a way that made your chest ache.

You looked up at him, gently guiding him toward the couch as the others helped ease him down. "Logan," you said, your voice soft but full of love. "We’re already married."

He smiled and then promptly passed out, his head lolling to the side as his body went limp on the couch.

The next morning, Logan was a mess. He stumbled into the kitchen with a massive hangover, rubbing his temples as if the slightest sound would split his skull. His usual gruffness was turned up a notch as he poured himself some coffee, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room.

Of course, no one was going to let him live it down.

"So," Scott stated, smirking from across the table, "how are you feeling this morning, buddy?"

"Shut it, Summers," Logan muttered, wincing at the sound of Scott’s voice.

"Oh, and Logan?" Jean chimed in, barely suppressing a grin. "I think you owe me some cookies."

Logan groaned, putting his head in his hands as the rest of the team burst into laughter.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in hand, watching the whole exchange unfold with an amused grin. Logan sat hunched over at the table, his head in his hands, and looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

"Rough night?" you asked, your voice laced with teasing, as you took a sip of your coffee.

Logan grunted without looking up, clearly in no mood for jokes. "Don’t even start," he muttered, his voice hoarse.

"Oh, I’m not starting anything," you said innocently, stepping closer to the table. "Just wondering if you remember anything from last night."

He groaned again, finally lifting his head just enough to squint at you through bloodshot eyes. "I don’t remember shit," he said, grimacing. "All I know is I woke up on the couch with a headache the size of Canada and everyone won’t shut up about it."

You couldn’t help the mischievous smile that spread across your face. "Oh, so you don’t remember the part where you confessed all your deep, dark secrets? Like that time you blamed Bobby for breaking Hank’s favorite mug?"

Logan's eyes widened slightly, and he looked at you in mild horror. "I... said that?"

You nodded, doing your best to keep a straight face. "Mmhmm. And the cookies. Don’t forget about the cookies."

Jean chimed in from the other side of the room. "Still waiting on those replacements, by the way."

Logan groaned again, sinking back into his chair. "Hell."

"But, you know," you said, leaning over the back of his chair, your voice softening as you teased him, "the best part was when you got all emotional."

Logan’s brows furrowed in confusion, and he glanced up at you, still squinting from the pain of his hangover. "Emotional?"

"Oh, yeah," you said, nodding solemnly. "You were crying—crying, Logan. Full-on tears."

Logan’s expression was one of complete disbelief. "No way," he muttered, shaking his head. "I don’t cry."

You grinned, raising your eyebrows. "You did last night. You were telling everyone how much you love them... even Scott."

At that, Logan looked downright mortified. "I said I loved Summers?" he asked, his voice filled with dread.

Scott, still smirking from across the kitchen, gave him a mocking salute. "Love you too, Logan."

Logan’s face twisted into a grimace, clearly regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment. "Kill me now," he muttered, rubbing his temples like the hangover was suddenly the least of his worries.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter any longer, the sound spilling out of you as you wrapped your arms loosely around his shoulders from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Oh, don’t worry. It was adorable," you teased, your voice playful but warm. "You even pulled me into a hug and told me how I’m the best thing that ever happened to you."

He blinked up at you, clearly trying to process everything. "I said all that?"

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, you did." You paused, leaning down so your lips brushed his ear. "And it only made me love you more."

For a moment, Logan’s expression softened, his eyes meeting yours with something vulnerable in them. He let out a quiet sigh, his hand reaching up to rest over yours, pulling you closer. "You’re messin’ with me, aren’t you?" he asked, though his voice was quieter now, less gruff.

You laughed softly, brushing your fingers through his messy hair. "A little," you admitted, "but you really did say all that. And for the record, I thought it was sweet."

He groaned again, his head dropping. "I’m never drinkin' again," he muttered, his voice filled with regret.

"Oh, I don’t know," you said with a smirk. "It was kind of fun seeing you like that. So... open." You leaned down to kiss his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your lips. "Plus, it’s not every day I get to hear you confess all your feelings."

Logan huffed, but you could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Guess I can live with that part," he mumbled.

"Good," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear again, "because I plan on reminding you of it every chance I get."

Logan let out a low growl, his hand tightening on yours as he pulled you around to sit in his lap. Despite his hangover and his grumbling, there was a softness in his eyes as he looked at you, one that made your heart flutter.

"You’re trouble, you know that?" he said, his voice a rough murmur as his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

You smiled, leaning into him, your forehead resting against his. "Only for you, big guy."

"Love you too, sweetheart," Logan whispered, the words gruff but real, the softness in his voice all for you.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of my First Friend.

In this strange new world, nothing is certain—not even one’s safety.

But through it all, you were with me. Always by my side.

Please don’t leave me behind.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

"Grrr...! This stupid thing won't close," Grim complains. He fumbles with the buttons on his robes, which refuse to be secured.

"That's because you've got two left thumbs... or, more accurately, no thumbs at all," his human companion teases. They crouch down, gesturing for him. "Here, I'll help you."

"Myahaha, that's my minion!" Grim scrambles over on all fours—definitely not like a cat. He's far more dignified than some glorified house pet or familiar.

"You're going to get your clothes dirty if you walk around like that," they scold him lightly as they cinch his robes shut, then dusts him off. They pause, going in to adjust his waistband, then the angle of his cap. "There you go." "All set for your big day."

"Our big day," Grim corrects, nudging them on the cheek with his paw. "We're a 2-for-1 deal, remember?"

"Right. Me and the almighty Grim-sama," they reply with a laugh, poking his little nose.

An ear-splitting sob disrupts the intimate scene. Three ghosts in top hats and gray cloaks sail in—one small, one plump, one scrawny—all wailing.

"I can't believe this day's finally arrived!"

"Grimmy and Prefect, all grown up... Off to tackle Twisted Wonderland head-on..."

"WAAAAH, I'm gonna miss my living roomies!!"

"Hey, hey, what's with the empty nest syndrome, guys?" The prefect huddles with the ghosts. They cannot physically touch, but the same energy is there, their arms lingering where the ghosts’ bodies float.

“B-But…!”

“Don't worry. No matter the time or place, we'll carry the spirit of Ramshackle dorm with us wherever we go.“ They smile sympathetically. “That means you’ll always be with us! This world, this life… and into the next.”

"D-Do you really think friendships can last more than a lifetime?" one ghost asks through his tears.

"For sure. So please… Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened. Can you do that for us?”

“O-Okay,” the trio blubbers and sniffles.

“Geez, you’re all a buncha babies,” Grim sighs, paws on his hips. “C’mon, we’re supposed to be celebratin’ US today!! Like my minion said, let’s see some smiles, yeah?”

“We’ll come see you off at the ceremony the,” the small ghost suggests. The cheer is strained, like he is holding back a torrent of tears.

"The ceremony…” The prefect’s eyes go wide and panicked. “Oh crap, we're going to be late! The headmaster should already be starting his speech...!"

"Not a problem, leave it to this Grim-sama. A teleportation spell's easy as takin' a tuna can from a kitten!"

"Sorry, guys. Gotta run...! We'll see you there?"

Grim expertly clambers onto the prefect's neck, making himself comfortable as a boa on their shoulders. The magestone dangling from his neck lights up, and the duo are enveloped in its glow.

The last sight before they blip away are the ghosts, waving good-bye with wet eyes.

A blink later, the two are among a crowd of students in the same uniform as them. Long robes, graduation caps affixed to their heads. They're lined up behind a stage, the curtain stained the dark sapphire of a night sky and dotted with sparkling stars.

Crowley's voice drones from the other side, amplified by a microphone. A waiting crowd murmurs appreciatively as he crows on about hard work, congratulations, and new beginnings.

"See?" Grim winks at his minion. "What'd I tell ya? Anything’s a cinch with my magic~”

"Great going, archmage-in-the-making. You really saved our butts," they say, ruffling his fur. “Come to think of it, were running late for our first day too… and the sorting ceremony before that. I guess we’re destined to be tardy together, huh, Grim?”

"Heh, you got that right!" He bumped his tiny fist with his partner's. “Let’s keep at it, you ‘n me! Grim-sama and his loyal minion, together forever.”

"Oiiiii! Grim, Prefect!!"

"Oh, that’s..."

They glance up, finding a group of boys making their way toward them in the crowd. One with a heart etched onto his face, the other, a spade. A wolf beastman, another with reptilian eyes and slicked back hair, trailed by a smaller, delicate boy and an android with a head of blue flames. Old friends from the other dorms.

"There you are. We thought we'd missed you." Deuce calls out, looking relieved.

"Idiot, we wouldn’t have missed them—you worried for nothin’. They're first on the chopping block cuz they're sooo special." Ace rolls his eyes. "Lu~cky. You get to show off and hog the spotlight before anyone else does.”

"We um... wanted to come and say good luck," Epel offers. "It's a big deal to have made it this far. Starting a new life in an unfamiliar world and all, it's a lot."

"Thanks, everyone. I really couldn't have made it these past few years without your support."

"Ah-HEM!" Grim coughs.

"... And Grim," the prefect added, scratching him behind the ears.

"This is really it, then." Jack is blunt, his arms folded. "Our last chapter at Night Raven College."

"Hmph! Is that all you have to say?! Surely you can muster up more oomph than that!! Today is not just that--it is the start of the rest of our lives." Sebek straightens, looking rather proud.

"Hmm..." Ortho taps at his chin contemplatively. "You know what? When words are not enough to express ourselves, action may be the next best thing!"

"... Wait, what exactly are you suggesting?" Ace asks suspiciously, an eyebrow raised.

"A group hug! For one final sendoff."

Sebek is the first to protest, his voice cutting through loud and clear. "I refuse!! There is absolutely NO WAY I am engaging in physical intimacy with you humans!"

"Not so hot on the idea either."

Ace and Deuce warily stare at each other. "Not happening," they chorus at the same time.

"Well, if the others don't want to, then..." Epel trails off.

"Guys, shut up and group hug already," the prefect groans, throwing their arms around their friends. Reluctant grumbles round the group, but no one makes an active effort to peel away.

“GACK!!” Grim chokes out, crushed between everyone’s chests. When their bodies recede, he collapses, vision spinning, seeing stars.

“Hahah, looks like Grim got flattened like a pancake,” Ace jeers. “Still got it in ya to waltz on stage after that?”

“C-Can it!! Of course I do!” he snaps back.

The timing is opportune. Right then, Crowley’s speech reaches them, a summons.

“… We will now begin calling up our students to receive their diplomas, starting with Ramshackle Dorm.”

“Looks like that’s our cue, Grim.”

“Let’s get goin’!!”

The prefect steps back and passes one final look to their peers. People from many different places, many different backgrounds. United at last.

“Go.”

They do.

Clutching onto their graduation cap, the prefect races up the steps from the wings. Grim bounding along by their side. Every stride equal against the other’s.

Like shooting stars, they’ve come so far. They can’t go back to where they used to be.

When they emerge from the darkness, they’re hit with bright sunshine and stage lights. Spring is in full bloom, welcoming them with balmy weather and armfuls of flowers.

The headmaster beams from behind a podium, gesturing for them to approach. In his grasp, two scrolls secured with navy ribbons.

Their diplomas.

“Presenting Grim and the Prefect, our special students sharing the spot of Valedictorian.”

Grim squeals, soaked up the adoration. He waves at the audience, flashes silly poses for the cameras. The prefect laughs, prodding him along with their hands.

“Come on, let’s not stall the ceremony for everyone else.”

“One moment.”

A smallish figure blocks their path. It’s a young man with crimson hair and heart-shaped ahoge. He holds out his hand--and the prefect, stunned, takes it.

"Riddle-senpai. You've returned."

"Prefect. Grim." He politely greets them, shaking their hands in turn. "May the Queen of Hearts and her spirit of strictness guide you as you cross this threshold in life. Remain disciplined, and I know you will both achieve even greater things."

Riddle releases, and another seizes their hands. This shake is rougher, looser.

"Congrats, you survived four years at this place," Leona purrs. He wears less of a smile and more of a bemused smirk. "Persisted, like the King of Beasts did."

His duty done, he casually drops them. Azul elegantly ducks in, his grasp firm and tone professional.

"Fufu. What an honor it is to reunite like this. Your benevolence has done much to improve our dear Night Raven College. The Sea Witch would surely extol your generosity."

"Prefect, Grim!!"

Azul steps back with a bow, making space for the next person.

Kalim practically collides with them, excitedly yanking their hands up and down as he chatters. "So good to see you again!! Gahahah, you haven't changed a bit! I bet you're much wiser now though--maybe just as mindful as the Sorcerer of the Sands was!”

Behind him, someone clears their throat. Awareness hits him and Kalim gasps, letting go of the graduates.

"It takes considerable tenacity to arrive at this milestone,” Vil says, clasping the prefect and Grim’s hands in his own. Then, he smiles ever so slightly. “… Be proud, potatoes. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed by the Beautiful Queen.”

He steps aside, allowing a gloomy, hooded figure to replace him. Idia grimaces, shielding his eyes from the lights glaring down at him.

“Tch… Dragged me out here for this,” he mutters, keeping his clammy, pale hands shoved squarely into his hoodie pockets.

A pause—and Idia managed an anxious smile. “GG or whatever. I guess even an amateur can clear hard levels if they’re diligent enough. The King of the Underworld was a noob at one point too.”

(“Is that really the most encouraging thing you could muster?” Vil tuts from the sidelines.)

With that, Idia shuffles off, joining the other ex-dorm leaders.

“Nyahahah, it feels nice to be recognized~” Grim snickers.

“Well, I certainly hope you haven’t had your fill yet.”

A frigid touch comes upon the prefect and Grim’s hands. That voice, like sudden nightfall. They find themselves staring up at a colossal shadow with leering green eyes, scales studding their forehead.

"M-Myah?!” Grim’s fur stands on end.

“Even you came, Tsunotaro!!” the prefect gasps.

“I wouldn’t miss this ceremony for the world,” Malleus smoothly reassures them. “I wished to lend my support to my dear friends and send them off with my blessing.”

He raises his arms to the open sky. Bright blue, barely a cloud in it. Sunlight pouring down, framing the ceremony in a golden spotlight.

“The Thorn Fairy’s utmost value is nobility. As you of the new generation sally forth into the world, let your souls shine as noble and true as her own.“

Uproarious applause rises, cheering and clapping combining into one frantic melody. The flowers blush, swelling large and healthy with color. The sun itself seems to brighten too, the wind lifting in a joyous, effervescent song.

“Congratulations...!!”

“Waaaah, Tsunotaro made the whole world light up!” Grim cries, eyes sparkling. “Heheh, okay, that’s a pretty good one—but watch out cuz one day I’ll be one of the top 5 strongest, most charismatic mages too!”

“Fufufu. I look forward to that day.”

Malleus bends down, his lips puling back to reveal luminous teeth.

“May you never be apart,” he whispers, so quiet that no one hears. Then, more loudly, “Congratulations. I wish you all a happily ever after.”

“I dunno what you’re goin’ on about, but thanks for hypin’ us up!!” Grim grins from ear to ear. “Today’s definitely… the best day ever!”

“I’m glad of it.”

And may it remain that way, forevermore.

[maddyjones2]

On not idolising creative people

In the wake of the various recent allegations involving Neil Gaiman, people have been both very sad that someone who they looked up to as an inspiration has, allegedly, turned out to be something less than entirely admirable, and are now looking to see who is now left that they can rotate into the spot of “the good dude,” i.e., that one successful creative guy who they think or at least hope isn’t hiding a cellar full of awful actions. One name I see brought up is mine, in ways ranging from “Well, at least we still have Scalzi,” to “Oh, God, please don’t let Scalzi be a fucking creep too.” Which, uhhhh, yeah? Thanks?

I have many thoughts about this and I’m going to try to make sense of them here, as much for myself as anyone else, so this may be messy and discursive and long (seriously, 3600 words, y’all), but, well, welcome to me. So, ordered by how these things come out of my head:

1. Stop Idolizing Creative People. Creative people are easy to idolize because they create the art you love, and that gives you permission to feel things, and to see yourself and your desires reflected in that art. That is a powerful thing, and from the outside, it can feel like magic, and that the people who do it are tapped into something otherworldly and admirable. Plus, they often get to have cool lives and get to know other cool creative people. They do things that are removed from the day-to-day aspect of a “normal” life, and they’ll even post about them on social media where you can see them. Sometimes, independent of their art directly, they’ll speak about their life, or life in general, and they’ll seem wise and considered and kind. I mean, what’s not to like?

But please consider that this is all an extremely mediated experience of this person. The art is the edited and massaged result of hours and days and weeks and months of work, into which the work of many others is also added. My novels originate from me, but it’s not just me in there, nor is the final form of the novel an accurate statement of who I am as a person, not least of all for the simple reason that I am not trying to tell my story in my novels. I’m creating fictional characters, and the world in which they make sense, for the purpose of the story.

Despite how it might look from the outside, this is not sorcery. It’s years of experience at a craft. It’s not magic, just work. A completed novel (or any other piece of art) won’t tell you much about the specific, day-to-day life and inclinations of the individual who made it, other than a general nod toward their competence, and the competence of their collaborators. Likewise what you see of their lives, even from the illusorily close vantage of social media, is deeply mediated. Lives always look admirable at a distance, when you can only see the lofty peaks and not the rubble at the base — especially when your attention by design is pointed at those lofty peaks. There’s much you don’t see and that you’re not meant to see. The vast majority of what you’re not meant to see isn’t nefarious. It’s just not your business.

Now, before I was a professional creative person, I was an entertainment journalist who spent years interviewing writers, directors, movie stars, musicians, authors and other creative folks. Since I’ve been on the other side of the rope, I’ve likewise met a huge range of creative people from all walks of life. Please believe me when I assure you that creative people are just people. Richer and/or more famous? Sometimes (less often than you might think, though). Prettier and/or more charismatic? Especially if they’re actors or pop stars, often yes! But at the end of the day they are just folks, and they run the whole range of how people are. By and large, the day-to-day experience of getting through their life is the same as yours. Outside of their own specific field of work, they don’t know any more about life, have no more facility for dealing with the world, and have just as few clues about what’s going on in their own head, as anyone else.

They’re just people. Whose work is making the stuff you like! And that’s great, but that’s not a substantive basis for idolizing them. It makes no more sense to idolize them than to idolize a baker who makes cookies you like, or the guy who comes and trims your hedges the way you want them to be trimmed, or the plumber who fixes your clogged drain. You can appreciate what they do, and even admire they skill they have. But holding them up as a life model might be a bit much. Which is the point! If you’re not willing to idolize a plumber, then you shouldn’t idolize a creative person.

(“But a plumber doesn’t make me feel like a creative person does,” you say, to which I say, are you sure about that? Because I will tell you what, when my sump pump stopped working and the plumber got in there, replaced the pump and started draining out my basement which had an inch of standing water in it, that man was the focus of all my emotions and was my goddamned hero that day. My plumber that day did more for me than easily 90% of the great art I’ve ever experienced.)

Enjoy the art creative people do. Enjoy the experience of them in the mediated version of them you get online and elsewhere, if such is your joy. But remember that the art is from the artist, not the artist themselves, and the version of their life you see is usually just the version they choose to show. There is so much you don’t see, and so much you’re not meant to see. At the end of the day, you don’t have all the information about who they are that you would need to make them your idol, or someone you might choose to, in some significant way, pattern some fraction of your life on. And anyway creative people aren’t any better at life than anyone else.

Which brings up the next point:

2. Fuck idols anyway! People are complicated and contradictory and you don’t know everything about them! You don’t know everything even about your parents or siblings or best friends or your partner! People are hypocrites and liars and fail to live up to their own standards for themselves, much less yours! Your version of them in your head will always be different than the version that actually exists in the world! Because you’re not them! Stop pretending people won’t be fuck ups! They will! Always!

This sounds more pessimistic about humans than perhaps it should be. When I say, for example, that people are hypocrites and liars, I don’t mean that people take every single opportunity to be hypocrites and liars. Most people are decent in the moment. But none of us — not one! — has always lived up to our own standard of behavior, and all of us have had the moment where, when confronted with a situation that would become an immense pain in the ass if we stuck to our guns, or demanded the inconvenient truth, decided to just bail instead, because the situation wasn’t worth the drama, or we had somewhere else to be, or whatever. We all choose battles and we all make the call in the moment, and sometimes the call is, fuck this, I’m out.

Every person you’ve ever admired has fucked up, sometimes really badly. Everyone you’ve ever looked up to has secrets, and it’s possible some of those secrets would materially change how you think about them, not always for the better. Everyone you’ve ever known has things about them you don’t know, many of which aren’t even secrets, they’re just things you don’t engage with in your day-to-day experience of them. Nevertheless it’s possible if you were aware of them, it would change how you feel about them, for better or for worse. And now let’s flip that around! You have things about you that even your best friends don’t know, and might be surprised to learn! You have secrets you don’t wish to share with the class! You have fucked up, and lied, and have been a hypocrite too!

You are, in short, a human, as is everyone you know and every one you will know (pets and gregarious wild animals excepted). And all humans are, charitably, a mess. This doesn’t mean there aren’t good people or even exemplary people out there, since there are, along with the ones that are, charitably, a real shit show. What I am saying is that even the good or exemplary people out there are a mess, have been morally compromised at some point in their lives, and have not lived up to their own standards for themselves, independent of anyone else’s standard for them.

One of the aspects of being an “idol,” I think, is that higher standard that other people expect of you — that in every situation where the aspect they idolize you for is in play, you will act in a manner that is right and correct by their standard, which of course you will likely not know about because you don’t actually know them (or often know that they exist). This is, by definition, an impossible standard to be held to — you didn’t agree to it, or to engage with it — and an impossible standard to hold other people to without their direct consultation. Every human made to be an idol is destined to fail at the job. You don’t even have to have feet of clay! You just didn’t know you were on a pedestal to begin with.

(This does not excuse shitty action. The fact people should not be idols in the first place is not exculpatory for the choices one makes on one’s own. If you’re sexually assaulting people, or being a racist or sexist or homophobe or other flavor of bigot, or using your situational power coercively (as just a few examples), then hell yes you are going to be called out on it. And to be clear, it is not unreasonable, to put it mildly, to expect people not to sexually assault other people, or not to denigrate other humans for being who they are, etc. But this only adds to the point about idols, now, doesn’t it. You don’t know what you don’t see, and you don’t know what you’re not seeing, until it is hauled out into the light one way or the other. If it is hauled out into the light at all.)

I don’t think anyone should idolize anyone, ever. It’s not great for them, and it’s not great for you, they probably didn’t ask to be idolized (and if they did, holy shit, fucking run), and in the end unless you’re so completely wrapped up in their lives that they have no secrets from you — which is never — you don’t know enough to make that call. People do it anyway, and then disappointment happens, but they shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Stop idolizing people. It’s not fair for anyone.

What to do instead? Enjoy their work, if they’re a creative person. Appreciate the kind and good aspects of their life that you can see, and the decent actions they undertake in public, with the knowledge that what you see of them is a mediated and elided version. Understand that we all have a different version of ourself for every person we meet, and that every person we meet has a different vision of ourselves in their head, and very often, those two versions are not the same. Like them, based on what you know of them! Love them, if it comes to that. And when and if you learn something new about them that you didn’t know before, let empathy guide you to a new understanding of them and what they mean to you.

And now, taking all of the above into consideration:

3. Absolutely 100% do not idolize me. I don’t deserve to be idolized because no one deserves to be idolized, but also, holy fuck, I do know me and I’m a mess. There have been lots of things in my life that I’ve done that have not been admirable or kind. I can be petty and shitty and competitive and cruel. I am lazy and inattentive and when I let things slide (which is often), I end up jammed up on my responsibilities, which makes me irritable and no fun to be around. I have a temper which goes from zero to sixty almost instantaneously; if I’m not actively paying attention to it, I can become a sudden, unreasonable rage monster, which is a burden to people I love, and I hate that fact about myself (pro tip: don’t travel with me, the rage monster comes out a lot then).

I can be controlling and demanding but I want other people to handle the details, i.e., executive asshole. I am strategic in a way that can be bloodless. When I’m insecure I brag a lot, which is unflattering. If you cross me, I won’t go out of my way to make your life miserable (that would require effort on my part), but I will absolutely enjoy when you take a literal or metaphorical tumble down the stairs. God knows I’ve enjoyed the failures of the people who have spoken ill of me, almost as much as I’ve enjoyed the fuming, spittling rage they’ve felt when I’ve succeeded. I spent years cultivating a snarky persona online and while that was fun (for me), I’m increasingly aware that when the tally is added up for Who Ruined the Internet, I’m not necessarily going to be where I want to be on that particular ledger.

And these are only the bad qualities of mine I wish to admit to you at the moment. There are others, I assure you.

So, yes: Who wants to idolize me now?

“But you seemed so nice when I chatted with you online/met you at the convention/saw you at that one place that one time.” Well, thank you, I’ve been in the public eye in one manner or another for three and a half decades now and I understand my assignment; my public persona is friendly and engaging and sociable and mostly fun to be with. It’s not a fake version of me — I am all those things! Honest! — but, again, it’s a mediated version of me designed not only to be a positive experience for the people who meet me but also to get my actually introverted ass through a whole day of events at a convention/festival/book tour/whatever. When I’m done I collapse into an introverted hole. When I came back from Worldcon this week, I slept for 15 hours the first day I was home. It wasn’t just because of jet lag or con crud.

I rather famously call my public face “performance monkey mode,” and likewise what I say about my (current) online mode is that I’m cosplaying as a better version of myself, one that is kinder than I used to be online, and more patient than I am in the real world. If you meet me when I am “off” then you will find that, again, these versions of me are me, just with some things dialed up and other things dialed down. But even that is still a different version of me than, say, the version of me which is at home (which is in fact extremely boring; that version of me doesn’t talk much and mostly stays in my office).

Many of you who have followed me over the years are familiar with me saying things like this, of course, and are likewise familiar with me pointing out that there are a number of things about my life that I don’t mention in public, for whatever reasons I choose. But it’s also true that I’ve been actively online for 30+ years now, and people feel reasonably confident that they have a good bead on me and that there’s not much about me that will surprise them or change their understanding of me. So to bring home the point there are indeed things you don’t know, allow me to surface just one previously unaired fun fact:

I have a concealed carry license.

(Or did; it expired this year and I didn’t renew it, because Ohio changed its laws so that you no longer need a permit to conceal carry in the state. These days in Ohio you can just wander about with a handgun stuffed down your trousers without training or licensing because that’s a real good idea, now, isn’t it. Nevertheless, the license is not necessary anymore so there was not much point in renewing it, although if the law had not changed, I probably would have renewed.)

Why did I have a concealed carry license? Well, ultimately that’s not important. The point is I had one. I didn’t talk about it before because, among other things, the point of a concealed carry license (to me, anyway) is that its existence is not meant to be known by anyone other than that great state of Ohio itself. I am aware, and this is a dramatic understatement, that I am not a person most people would expect to have had such a thing. That the fact I had one will cause a number of people to reconsider what they know about me, for better or for worse. Which is also my point. All y’all have just learned this thing about me! Think about all the other things you don’t know!

Oh, God, this is where Scalzi starts admitting to terrible, terrible things. No. I feel pretty confident I live a tolerably ethical life. Part of the reason for this is that I have what I think is a decent operating principle, which is: If I’m thinking of doing something, and Krissy called me right then and asked “what are you doing?” and I would be tempted to lie to her about it, then I don’t do that thing. Because Krissy is the most important person in my life, and I don’t want to lie to her about what I’m doing (I have lied to her exactly once. She knew instantly. I haven’t bothered lying to her since). This is not replacing Krissy’s ethics with my own; it’s me knowing whether by my own ethics, I would be ashamed to tell to her what I am up to. It works very well. As such, the Krissy Test is an operating principle I highly suggest to others, although I’d suggest replacing Krissy with whomever your life is most important to you.

Be that as it may, my ethics are not universal and some others might not find them sufficient, for whatever reason. I am well aware I still disappoint many people, and that there are people who find my life choices, known positions or public statements (or lack of them, as the case may be) problematic, or who simply wish I would be other than what I am. I can’t help them with this, but again, this is the point. Given the fact that I am a fallible human who has an entire stratum of his life not visible to the world — and the strata of his life that are visible cause significant numbers of people to be irritated and exasperated — is it not better just to not hold me up as an ideal person, or the “good dude,” much less an idol of any sort?

I mean, shit. What Would John Scalzi Do? Solidly half the time, I have no fucking idea. I have to think about it, whatever it is. I have to think about whether I know enough to do or say something about it. I have to decide whether it’s something I want to engage with at all, and whether my engagement with it is something that would be of value to anyone, me included. I have to decide whether engaging with it is worth the shit I will get for it. And then I have to figure out what it means that I am engaging with it, since like it or not I’m a Dude of Reasonable Significance in My Field. I try to be a decent human, when people are looking at me and especially when they are not. But I also know me, and all my flaws and weaknesses and compromises.

What Would John Scalzi Do? The best he can, in the moment. Is that sufficient? For me, yes, most of the time. Is that sufficient for you? That’s up to you.

The point to this all is that people are just a big fucking mess, including the ones you might for whatever reason find admirable. I am no different than anyone else, and you should not be under the illusion that I am anything other than a shambling collection of flaws embedded inside a human form, which also, in its defense, has some pretty excellent qualities as well. We’re all this way! You too!

And while I want you to like my work, and to enjoy the version of me that you see here and elsewhere, don’t put me, or any other person, on a pedestal. Pedestals are wobbly and and don’t give actual humans a lot of room to move. We will inevitably fall off. Keep us with our feet on the ground. That way, when we stumble, there’s a chance we can get back up, and keep going.

— JS

[kurishiri]

official IkeVil JP twitter role-played with fans as Roger

translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties. Please reblog, not repost!

and here are some of my favorite responses and some tidbits about Roger (and some others, through his eyes) 🥹👌 also I wouldn’t consider these spoilers; they’re more like bite sized fun facts you might find in a random scene in some random side story or event or something lmao also I don’t like the green gun emoji on my phone so I’m using the beer one instead.

1. Roger is trying to get along with Alfons (it’s not working so well though I guess, haha)

💬: Roger!! Have you been getting along with Alfons recently?

🍻: That’s always my intention, but whenever I see him he gives me a kind of disgusted look. So maybe he’s just shy or something.

2. maybe Victor is trying to get everyone drunk…?

💬: Roger, have you gone out to drink with Victor before?

🍻: I don’t think Victor really drinks outside. If anything, he’s the one bringing some good booze back to Crown for us. Could it be — he’s scheming something and trying to get us drunk?

3. Roger can crack a joke 😂👌

💬: I kind of just ate this without knowing what that liquid is, but what is it, actually? 🧪

🍻: That’s a love potion. If you drink it you won’t be able to think about anything but me——just kidding.

4. Roger and Ellis are the strongest!

💬: Who is the strongest in Crown?

🍻: Me, followed by Ellis. You wanna compare our strength now with an arm wrestle? Though I reckon you wouldn’t be able to win against me even if you used both hands.

5. Roger’s worst fight with Alfons

💬: Please tell us the worst episode of a fight you’ve had with Alfons〜!!

🍻: Once during a mission we got into an argument where Al and I almost died — that day I’ve never seen Victor look that quietly angry before.

6. drinking with William! (they’re the older bros of the group)

💬: What do you talk about with William when you drink with him?

🍻: Will knows a lot, so we’ll talk about all sorts of stuff. Like how Victor’s overworking himself, or how Jude’s got bad feet, or how Liam hurt himself again——wait, what are we, their guardians?

7. Alfons bombed the drinking date

💬: Hey Roger, what sweets do you like? Other than Alfons’ scone.

🪞: Are we talking about me? Oh, that’s my handmade scone that I put a lot of love into. Don’t you feel naughty with just one bite? What do you think is in it?

🍻: Hey, you, get out and go somewhere else already.

8. drinking with Elbie!

💬: Have you drank with Lord Elbert before? 🥺🍻💚💙

🍻: I have, yes. But I can never tell whether he’s drunk or not.

🪞: That’s because he always looks drunk.

🍻: Oy, Al, what are you doing here? Tonight’s supposed to be just me and the lil lady, so don’t get in the way like that. Shoo shoo!

9. Roger doesn’t just drink beer (surprise surprise!)

💬: What do you like to drink other than beer?

🍻: I also drink whisky, though I always prefer beer. What about you, lil lady?

10. Roger comforts you after a long day of work

💬: Roger, I finally finished work…

🍻: There, there, you did well. I remember your efforts very well. Good job today.

11. Jude and drinking, according to Roger

💬: When you’re drinking with Jude, have you seen him when drunk before? I want to know what he’s like when he’s drunk.

🍻: Can’t say I’ve seen him drunk before. It seems like that guy always got a calm look on his face, no matter how much he drinks.

12. what Ellis is like when drunk

💬: Cheers! I have a question, what is Ellis like when drunk?

🍻: Ellis isn’t that weak to alcohol… but he becomes a bit more fluffy than normal, I guess. But he can walk back to the castle just fine.

13. trying to get Ellis drunk…?!

💬: I heard Ellis is a little weak to alcohol. Have you taken care of him when he was drunk? Also how many cups does it take for him to become drunk?

🍻: Pfft, haha… Are you trying to get Ellis drunk? I’ll have you know Ellis is like a cute younger brother to me, so I won’t tell. I have taken care of him though——let’s leave it at that.

14. who can hold their alcohol in Crown?

💬: Who is the worst at holding their alcohol in Crown?

🍻: I think everyone in Crown is pretty good at holding their alcohol. But should we put that to the test? …No way, this really isn’t for me to gather information on them?

15. he be takin care of Crown when they’re drunk

💬: Who do you drink with most often? And have you taken care of someone when they got drunk!?

🍻: Taking care of someone… Ellis — no, Al, maybe? Oh, and also Jude… whoops, can’t say any more than that, or he’ll be after me.

16. what Harry drinks

💬: I always get the impression Harry drinks strawberry milk a lot, but when it comes to alcohol, what does he drink? I want to know 🦊🍸

🍻: Harry likes whisky soda. It goes well with chocolate, and I’ve seen him eating it together with the drink. Noww then, now that I’ve told you some important information, you’ll stop that lying fox from eating too much sweets for me, won’t you?

17. Roger’s advice for those who simp to the point of illness 😆

💬: My friends love you to the point they might be a little ill, Roger. They love you so much it’s too much for me to handle. Is there medicine to make them feel better?

🍻: I can introduce you to a doctor I know who has some good medicine. Want me to? His name’s Roger Barel.

18. he cooks?!?!

💬: I want to eat a meat entree with you, Roger! (this is sausage and roast pork that I made) 😋🍽️🥩✨ What’s your favorite type of meat? And what other foods do you like?

🍻: I would say steak, but any meat is good. But I also like salty things too. Sometimes I make things that go well with alcohol. Want some?

19. oh..? 😳

💬: Yippeeee✨✨✨ it’s everyone’s older brother Roger!! Congrats on your main story🎉💕 I really look forward to this summer! (I have 🦑 with beer)

🍻: You have as much excitement as Victor! For sure, look forward to it. I’ll make it a summer you won’t ever forget.

20. Roger’s recommended drinks

💬: I want to know your drink recommendations!

🍻: Mine is beer, beer, and more beer. Ah, having some ginger ale in between seems pretty good too.

21. he drinks with Ellis and Jude often!

💬: Out of the members of Crown, who have you been drinking with recently? Have you drank with them several times…! 🍻✨

🍻: I go out to drink with Jude and Ellis quite a bit. Well, I think I prefer drinking together with you the most though.

22. he loves meat at the end of the day eheh

💬: I’m thinking of drinking with you tonight🍻 What do you eat (snack) with alcohol? I’m thinking chips goes well.

🍻: My favorite is salty meat. But chips go well with beer too. Should we order some?

23. Roger’s advice for those who just turn the legal age

💬: I’ve turned the legal age, what do you recommend for a first timer…? Was your first drink a beer…?

🍻: At first, you should go for drinks that don’t have high alcohol content to see if you can drink it or not. Other than that, drink together with someone. For example, with me. And of course, the first drink I had was beer!

24. Roger’s favorite drinking partner is… ✨✨

💬: Is there anyone you want to drink alone with?? What types of things would you talk about with them!?✨

🍻: The one drinking in front of me, right now.