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[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 14 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: Life with him is really good...Right?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder/gore/death, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation and low self-esteem, mentions of sexual activities, loss of identity, threatening, penetration, breeding kink, degradation kink, cockwarming, edging, overstimulation, sleepy sex (both consent!), not beta-read, if I've missed any warnings or tags please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

Life was good.

Uncharacteristically so even.

There was still a tiny part of you that was tense around him and that was for various reasons. One of them being, that you never really knew when his evil persona would take over. So far you could tell, albeit roughly, but there were always moments, when he would simply snap and there was nothing you could do about it. Was that a problem? Probably, but not to you, anyways. Why? Because life was good.

The little trip to the balcony hadn’t been a one-time thing. In fact, it happened more and more regular. Not only to get naughty, because he was a freak, who liked the thought of possibly getting caught – but also because, as he said, you’ve been such a good girl for me all this time. And I told you, sweet girl, I don’t want to keep you locked away. I just needed to make sure you’re mine.

That you were. Quite obviously.

That one time when you told him you wanted to leave, it had been exactly that. One time. The reasons for that outburst were in the past so far. There were still moments when you feared punishment and rightfully so. But to your great relief, you were both learning.

You were learning not to expect a painful blow, whenever you went out of your way to speak your mind (which wasn’t quite as often as you wished, but you were getting there). Slow and steady.

And he? He was learning, too. He was learning to leave you be and control the wild beast that lived inside his mind and soul. The darkness that surrounded him became lighter every day or so it felt to you. Of course he wouldn’t let you downright insult him, without at least some punishment in sight. But he was working on himself and his behavior. He didn’t hurt you without a reason. He didn’t hurt severely. And on some lucky days, he didn’t hurt you at all.

Slow and steady.

What was probably the greatest part of it all, it felt like a relationship. A real one. Two people who shared a life together, doing all kinds of things, sharing an intimate relation, but most importantly, you talked.

You talked a lot.

And now it wasn’t only through games and the fear of punishment. It wasn’t even only you who was forced to talk. No, he talked as well. The important things were still a big issue, obviously. He didn’t have a name, an identity or a past, when it came to you. But you had the great, undying hope that one day he would trust you. Trust you enough to let you know who he was and where he came from, what made him who he was and what was truly important to him.

Sometimes you’d get those tiny, little flickers that shone through his façade, his tight mask. The moments when the look in his eyes became faraway and distant, when his voice became softer and the tension in his body gave way to something quiet. Maybe one day that would be the version of him that you would get. Entirely and without question. Without the filter to rule out his emotions for him.

Until then, though, you would make do with what you had. And what did you have?

His favorite movie? The good, the bad and the ugly. What a question. Actually, anything with Clint Eastwood in it. Haven’t you seen the man?

His favorite musician? Ennio Morricone. Did you watch that scene in Inglourious Basterds, right before the Bear Jew comes out of the cave? That scene – and that composition – it’s reason enough to watch the movie. Aside from all the Nazis getting burned, of course.

His favorite food? Tteokbokki. But they have to be spicy enough to make your tongue fall off.

You smirked to yourself as you stood by the stove, slowly stirring the rice cakes in a black pan. He was talking movies all the time and that was a language you understood well.

In a minute you needed to add the spices and that disturbingly hot, red sauce. It was something you had cooked before, back in England. You had been scrolling aimlessly through one of your countless apps, which you normally used so you wouldn’t have to think and there you found some recipe that had been viral for a while. A Korean recipe with rice cakes in a sauce, topped with sesame and green onions. It had been quite the ordeal to find rice cakes back where you lived, but when you finally did and you tasted the recipe you had so carefully and lovingly prepared, you found it was worth it. It had actually been the first step into the life you were now living.

South-Korea, you had thought. Why not?

You poured the sauce in and wanted to try it, but decided against it in the end. You’d spend the next hour trying to soothe the pain in your mouth with bread and milk. With a soft sigh, you turned off the stove and served the food on two plates. You set the table with the gentle precision of a lovely homemaker. Even the napkins were folded prettily, giving the whole scene the last touch it needed to come off as…thoughtful.

Of course you never mentioned to him that you knew the dish. He had mostly likely thought it was just another Korean word he threw around and you’d forget immediately. And you had made no attempts to make him believe differently. So, when you began to cook this, it was with the intention to surprise him. A short glance at the clock showed you that it was almost ten in the evening, so he would most likely be home soon.

Home. What an odd thought.

You sighed again and washed your hands. A lecture you had to learn only once before in your life – spicy food didn’t quite match well with eyes.

You glanced around the kitchen once more, half-expecting him to be late. After he luckily gave you the books back, you asked yourself if you should go and read something, until he arrived, but that question answered itself, the moment you heard the door creak open. A nervous smile grew on your face and you nibbled on your lower lip. For some reason, a part of you was still afraid. A tiny bit, at least. It was like you expected him to punish you for good things. For being affectionate or caring.

But the moment you saw his head perk through the door, you knew you wouldn’t get punished tonight. Well, at least not, until you gave him a reason to…or asked him to.

His face lit up in surprised delight, his brows furrowed in a mixture of disbelief and confusion.

“Hello?” He murmured as he stepped closer and set the briefcase down on a chair. Your smile grew somewhat and you folded your hands behind your back.

“Hey.” You took a step closer and tilted your head to the side. “I made dinner.”

“I can see that.” He glanced at the lovely decorated kitchen table. You had put in quite some effort, looking through all the drawers until you found a tablecloth, lit some candles and then there was his favorite food. He looked from the table to you and smiled.

“And what exactly did I do to deserve this?” He raised a brow in suspicion. You returned the smile.

“I just felt like it.”

“So, you know Tteokbokki!”

You laughed quietly. “We’ll see about that. You should try it first.”

He hummed softly and stepped closer. You expected him to head for the sink and wash his hands, which he most definitely would, but before that, he stepped close to you, so close that you felt the warmth radiating off him and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. Then your cheek and then your lips.

You closed eyes and leaned into the kiss, immediately aching for more. But a second later he pulled his head back and smiled again.

“I just know I’m going to love it. Thank you.”

You felt yourself blush and so you averted your gaze. He finished up getting ready and then pulled out your chair for you, like the gentleman he was, or well, he could be.

The both of you settled down and you kept a keen eye on him to check his reaction, the second he brought the fork to his lips. You half-expected him to recoil in disgust, but instead, his brows furrowed and he hummed in approval.

“This is perfect.”

You scoffed in amusement. “Stop bullshitting me.”

“No, I mean it. It’s perfectly spicy, just the way I like it. And it’s homemade. Do you know how much that me-“ He stopped himself and cleared his throat. The filter. “I really love it. Thank you.” He squeezed your hand under the table.

You smiled again and leaned back in your chair, taking a moment to simply watch him eat.

When he saw you were staring at him, he cocked a brow. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Now it’s you bullshitting me, huh?”

That made you laugh. God, how beautiful this was. Just simple, plain banter. Back and forth, like normal couples shared. You loved it.

You loved him.

When you laughed, a cocky grin grew on his face. “Mhm. I still have it in me, don’t I?”

You smirked. “Oh, shut up. For an old man.”

His grin widened and he picked up the fork, bringing it to your lips. Wordlessly, you parted them and took the food in your mouth. It was painful, of course, but you tried to keep a strong façade. And failed.

He laughed and held out a glass with milk to you, of which you took a big, grateful sip.

“Why are you making it, if you can’t even eat it?”

“You like it.”

He hummed softly. “And you remembered.”

“It’s not that hard. I collect the few things I know about you like postage stamps.”

He snorted. “Oh, so now we collect stamps, do we?”

You grinned cheekily and gently nudged his shoulder. “Eat your abnormal spicy food and shush.”

He shot you another smirk and eyed you up and down for a moment. It left you feeling oddly comfortable.

“You’re beautiful.” He mumbled before he took another bite. Your brows shot up and you titled your head to the side. You were better now, when it came to this. Compliments and accepting them. After all, he had no reason to lie to you whatsoever, now, did he?

“Thank you. But why are you saying that?” Not as good as you thought, but better.

He brows furrowed. “And why wouldn’t I?”

You shrugged and he shot you a long, suspicious look. “I’m not taking it back.”

That made you laugh again. He sounded like petulant child and you loved him even more when he was like this. Just…easy.

Easy to love.

“Why are you laughing at me?” He joined your laughter.

You smirked and took another sip of your milk. “If you can’t tell, it’s already too late.”

Days passed, weeks even, and life was still good. Very much so.

Every now and then you would ask yourself, when will things take a dark turn again? You couldn’t help yourself. These first few weeks were stuck in your mind like a nightmare you hardly remembered and yet felt in every inch of your body. Even when you didn’t...

Your body remembered.

He had that in him. That dark, that evil. It would undoubtedly come out again at some point. That’s why you always tried to remind yourself, not to dive too deep into what you called your perfect world. At some point, you’d surely be in pain again.

Though, you had to admit, you were hardly in pain nowadays. Your mysterious man was a gentle man, when he wanted to be and that happened more and more these days. Whenever he came home, he’d make a habit of kissing you and asking you about your day. His smile came out, more and more often. On very rare occasions, when you got really lucky, you even heard him laugh. And not the mock-kind of laugh he’d have so well-rehearsed in his repertoire of masks, he had for the world to see, but the real kind. A sound so unbridled and genuine, so warm and endearing, it made something inside of you ache. Why was it so rare?

Of course he still hurt you sometimes, but that was more of a consented kind of thing. In most cases.

Whenever he decided it was time for you to cockwarm him, for example. God, you hated, when he did. Because you loved it.

You loved the feeling of having him inside you on any occasion, really. Sometimes he’d be reading the newspaper and have you on his lap, his free hand on your hip to hold you perfectly still. You always asked yourself, how on earth did he manage to read like that, without even cocking an eye brow, while you were nearly fainting in agony, because all you wanted was for him to move?

On other nights, and you were ashamed to admit how much you enjoyed it, you’d even sleep like that. You’d lay either facing away or facing him, but often clenched around him. He’d nuzzle his face in your hair and after a while he’d usually drift off like that, his breathing slowly soothing down to a soft sound. Sometimes, when he’d wake up in the middle of the night, you felt him move and grind his hips against yours, giving you the friction you so desperately desired. Sometimes it happened quickly, sometimes it took a few hours and sometimes it didn’t happen at all. But when it did and when it did take hours to get to that point, you’d normally be half-asleep and yet desperate. The second you felt him move inside you, it was as though a switch got flipped. You became needy and…

Wicked.

 For you, it didn’t matter how many times he fucked you. How many times he made you cum. When you felt him like that, you needed him. Ardently.

But in most cases you managed to be good for him, just like he asked you to. Good and perfectly still. When you did, you got rewarded. Which, in most cases, consisted of him going down on you and making you feel things with his tongue that made your toes curl and your breath stutter. He made you cum so good that you nearly forgot your own name.

At times, you did forget it. But odd enough, you didn’t really miss it. Names weren’t important. Not with him.

And then there were those other times. The times, when you got too needy, too desperate and, despite your better will, you found yourself moving against him, desperate for any kind of friction. That was when you got punished still.

Sometimes with a firm slap to get you back on track. That wasn’t enough to make you forget about your need for him though. Normally, you’d just fall back into the same pattern, given enough time. And after a while, he got more creative with his punishments. When he realized that pain was something that you were rather immune to, compared to other things, you were fucked.

Quite literally.

When you moved and disobeyed his orders not to…

He fucked you. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Not at all, actually.

That was until…

You came. You came every time with him, which was something you had highly doubted, before you started this thing between you. But to your surprise, you were more than relaxed with him. And so you came.

But he didn’t stop there. No, it was a punishment after all, right?

So, he kept fucking into you, like a feral animal. Even after you came and the pleasure quickly shifted into overstimulation. You got so sensitive, it was close to painful. But he kept going.

And then, oh God, you’d come again. Of course you did. He was good at what he was doing. You came again, shuddering and gasping.

And he still wouldn’t stop.

Even when your body arched into the air and you tried to get away from him, all desperate, he’d continue fucking you, until your mind was a mess and all you could do was stutter and whimper, cry even.

It was one of his favorite ways to punish you.

When he didn’t keep you on edge or withdrew your release for the time being, he made you cum until you begged him to stop, sobbing and whimpering.

Oh, the crying turned him on, you could tell. Because it normally ended with him filling you up to the brim. And then he’d go back to sleep, wouldn’t he? With his length still buried deep inside to keep warm.

Let’s just hope you learned your lesson now, darling. I’d hate to punish you again.

He had done exactly that the night before and so you found yourself lying on the sofa, feeling sore and exhausted. When he came home that night, you were still passed out on the couch, too sleepy to even open your eyes. He regarded your broken frame with a warm, yet subtle smile and set his briefcase down. He took a few slow steps closer and watched over you for a long moment, before he reached for the nearby blanket and pulled it up to your shoulders. You weren’t really fast asleep, just somewhere in-between, so you felt his knuckles gently caress your cheek. You mumbled something in response and you heard the way he smiled, before he vanished to the bathroom and you heard the way the water got turned on.

After a while you slowly blinked your eyes open and yawned. When you saw the blanket, a smile crept onto your face and you hugged the material tightly to your body. Slowly and carefully, you sat up and rubbed your eyes, before you decided to try and cook something for a change. You got better and better at it, considering how little you knew about the Korean cuisine. Yet you had to admit, it seemed healthier than anything you had ever eaten back home.

When you couldn’t think of anything, you decided to be safe and went for Bibimbap. It was a mixture of near everything and also the fastest thing you could think of. But before you even started, you went back to your room to grab a claw clip for your hair. You swiftly did it up and made your way through the hallway, when you saw that the door to his bedroom stood open. You saw his white shirt splayed out on the bed and you just knew it smelled like him. You bit your lip as you slowly tiptoed inside and picked the shirt up, only to bury your face in the material and inhale softly.

If this wasn’t home, what would ever be?

You hummed softly to yourself, before you swiftly slid off your caramel colored skirt and your black tank top, to put his button down shirt on instead. The material hugged your body like a gentle hug and you smiled to yourself as you rolled the sleeves up in the way he would. Of course the shirt looked fairly huge on you. You took a long glance at the big mirror and smirked. It looked like a dress on you, albeit a short one. You twirled around like a ballerina and took in the way your thighs were barely covered by the material. That gave you a wicked idea.

Of course your body was begging you to leave it be, especially after last night, but the devil inside your mind forced you to keep the shirt on and make your way back to the kitchen.

In the meantime, he had finished his shower and now he sat on the couch, with the newspaper in his hand. He wore a pair of grey sweatpants (the damned bastard) and a black shirt. His hair was still damp and hung loosely into his face. He looked delicious.

When he heard you approach, he looked up, ready to greet you, when he hesitated. His gaze roamed up and down your body in a way that made you bite back a smirk.

“Hello, darling.” He murmured, without ever looking up at your face.

“Why, hello.” You purred cheerfully and approached him with slow, tiptoed steps. His gaze wandered up your legs and torso, until he finally met your gaze.

“You look…”

“I thought it suits me better than you.” You teased.

His lips curved up into a slow smile. “I can’t disagree.” He took your hand, ready to pull you onto his lap. But after last night, you felt in dire need to take some action and control.

Not, that you didn’t somehow enjoy it. But still.

You briefly squeezed his hand, before you pulled yours away. You gave him a quick peck on the lips, then took a step back.

“I’ll go cook.”

His brows shot up. “I can-“

“No.”

You hid your smirk, until you had your back facing him. With quick, measured steps, you disappeared into the kitchen, all the while pretending not to hear his frustrated groan.

The next few minutes went by rather quickly. You did a great job cooking up some ingredients and even an egg, Sunny Side Up. You quickly set the table and eventually left some rice on the stove, to slowly simmer. With a soft, exaggerated sigh you made your way back to the living room.

“It’s almost done.” You murmured as you slowly approached him. When you looked at him, you deliberately missed his face and his expression became more and more dour.

“Good. I was thinking-“

“I nearly finished my book.” You interrupted him in a sweet voice, as you sat down on his lap, causing him to freeze for a moment. It only took him a second to relax, though he seemed to have forgotten that you had interrupted him and what he even intended to say in the first place.

“That’s…good.” He murmured.

“Just two more pages. I’ll finish it quickly, before dinner, okay?”

He cocked a brow and shrugged slowly. “Sure. Suit yourself.”

His shirt rode up your thighs and revealed more and more of your skin to his gaze. He didn’t even try to be secretive about it, he was straight-up ogling you. All the while you buried your nose in your book, without reading a single word. You had to save up all your energy as not to smile.

His fingertips brushed over the skin of your thigh and you did your best to keep your expression neutral. And he, he was just…

“Are you-“

“Oh God, I didn’t see that twist coming.” You closed the book and sighed. Then you shot him an innocent look and smiled. “That was a really good book.”

You leaned back against his chest and kept up your innocent façade, all the while the look in his eyes equaled that of a bear with his fish.

“You really-“

“I’d better go and get myself another one. I’m sure the rice needs a few more minutes.”

His hand ended up in the middle of the air, while you practically jumped off of his lap. He let out a soft grunt of frustration, while you slowly swayed your way back to the bookshelf. Of course your hips swayed along and obviously his gaze did the same.

You held a finger against your lips, pretending to think, while you slowly went about the rows and rows of books. And then, what a coincidence, a book in the last row caught your attention. You smiled and bent down, pretending to read.

At the same time, his patience snapped. When his shirt rode up further, exposing just a hint of your rear to him, he let out a low growl.

“That’s enough.” He hissed. You smirked, before you slowly turned and replaced the smirk with innocent surprise.

“What? What’s enough?”

“Oh, stop this.” He slammed the newspaper down on the coffee table and stood up in a swift movement. “Stop acting all innocent. You’ve been parading around here, half-naked and ready to…”

“To what?” You murmured and tilted your head to the side in feigned curiosity. He growled again and ran a hand over his chin. Only then did you see the obvious tent in his grey sweatpants. It cost you half your life not to look down there and trust your peripheral view.

“Don’t play dumb.” He murmured. “Get over here. Now.”

You licked your lips. “But the rice-“

“Now!”

That made you laugh and there went your innocent act out of the window.

“You minx! You’re doing this on purpose!”

You chuckled. “Well…”

The look on his face was near rabid. Only the foam was missing.

“I’ll forgive you this once, if you’ll be a good girl for me and get your ass over here.”

You smirked and took a step back, circling the sofa. “And if I don’t?

He hissed in response. “You don’t want to test me today.”

And for some inexplicable reason, right then and there, you weren’t scared. That tiny part of your brain that had continued to keep up the fear, albeit briefly and barely, was completely silent. And you knew he wasn’t going to hurt you, no matter what you did.

“Make me then.”

His eyes widened and he tilted his chin up. “Oh, that’s a mistake.”

You grinned. “Oh, that’s a mistake.” You mocked his voice.

With a movement so quick that it almost made you wince, he jumped over the back of the couch and stood before you, eyeing you like a predator. You let out a soft shriek and turned on your heel, running and laughing, without looking over your shoulder.

It took him only a second to put his hand on your shoulder, but it took you only a second to shrug him off and circle the coffee table.

“That all you got, old man?”

You could have sworn you saw his lip twitch, but that would have been too easy. He tried hard to keep his expression serious.

“Grew a backbone, did you?”

You raised a brow and smirked. “Oh, boo-hoo. Did I hurt you, oppa?” You hinted a mocking curtsy.

“Oh, you just wait!” He rushed to catch you from one side, but you quickly ran the other way. When he tried the other way, you went the other way, yet again. He gave a frustrated growl.

“What now, hm?” You smirked. “Giving up already?”

He gave you a long, wild look. For a moment you almost thought he was indeed giving up, but then he rushed forward and kicked the table out of the way. It rolled over and crashed against the wall loudly. Your eyes widened in surprise and you took a step back, but before you knew it, your back was already pressed against the wall and you had to tilt your head back to stare up at him.

“You caught me.” You whispered.

He clenched his jaw and reached out a hand. You were sure. You were still sure, that you were safe.

And then…

His hand slowly tangled in your hair and gently grasped the back of your neck. He leaned down so that your lips nearly met.

“I caught you.” He whispered back, before he captured your lips in a bruising kiss.

And you let the rice burn.

A few days later, you couldn’t even tell which day it was, because every day was but a collection of memories you kept replaying in your head, he was off to work.

And to no one’s great surprise, you missed him.

Every waking moment without him was empty. The emptiness was so intense, it left you nearly suffocating. All the while, all you could do was wait. Wait and eat. Wait and sleep. Wait and read.

Sometimes, you wrote. You remembered that one time you told him about your greatest dream.

To become an author one day. You didn’t even care, if anyone knew your real name, you just wanted to touch people with your words. Like the Bronte-sisters.

Ellis Bell, huh? And who would you be?

Hana, maybe. The thought made you equally as sad as it filled you with hope.

But that was about all you did. And after hours and hours, the day neared its end. Eventually it was far past eleven, so you were sure he would be late tonight. Of course you were concerned. As you always were. You had no idea what his job was, but you could tell it was dangerous.

The man in his clean suit and a briefcase full of secrets.

When it got closer to midnight and he still wasn’t back, you decided to distract yourself, by getting yourself ready. You changed into a beautiful, white negligee with a neckline made of pretty, see-through lace. You loved it. The silk made you feel like you were the most beautiful girl on earth. And you were sure, once he saw you in it, he would totally destroy it. Chew it off or tear it down, whatever worked faster.

You did your hair down (it was slowly growing back and you barely thought back to the dreadful day that he cut it) and took a last glance at your appearance in the mirror. You smiled at yourself, something you rarely did, and eventually made your way back to his bedroom to surprise him. On his bed, wearing nothing but the negligee and a pair of…

Where were the handcuffs? You frowned as you glanced around and didn’t immediately find them. You bent down to look under the bed, but still no cuffs in sight. Your frown deepened and you gave another quick onceover, before you decided that they most likely were in the wardrobe.

You opened it and knelt down, finding the knife and several guns in the process. The small shudder brought you back to reality and you exhaled softly, before you sat back and looked at the countless weapons. Had he ever killed someone with them? Most likely.

But for a strange, inexplicable reason, you didn’t really care. Not really. Because it wasn’t real. Not then, not there, not in that moment. What was real, was him and his…

Desires.

You opened your mouth and closed it, before your fingers slowly closed around a small handgun. You swallowed thickly and carefully held it up, only to realize it was far heavier than you always assumed. The material felt cold and wrong in your hand.

Your mind involuntarily wandered back to the day he pressed one of them against your temple or…his. You closed your eyes. The thought of him…

Him…

With a shuddery gasp, the gun slipped through your fingers and landed on the carpet.

There was no thought more painful than that one. You couldn’t lose him. Not ever.

You loved him. And you loved him far too much.

Enough, to be what he wanted.

Enough, to give in to his desires.

You took another deep breath and picked up the gun again, determined to take it back to bed with you. You wanted to surprise him, right?

All you had to do beforehand was to make sure that it wasn’t loaded.

A frown formed on your face, when you realized you didn’t even know how to do that. The thought of accidentally shooting yourself, while waiting for him to come home…It didn’t sound all too appealing, though it did sound like something that could happen to you.

You sighed and already gave up the thought of ever finding the cuffs, when you caught sight of something else instead. It was far in the back of the wardrobe and you were sure, for some reason, you weren’t supposed to see it.

Of course you weren’t supposed to touch his gun, either, but you felt he would forgive you, once he realized you were slowly submitting to his every desire.

Even if it meant him fucking you, while he held a gun to your head. In your mouth…Or, God help you, somewhere else.

You were twisted. You were sure you were. Because you felt it. You felt how the thought did things to you.

But for now you tried to push the thought aside and instead glanced back at the box.

Then again, what terrible thing could be inside there?

Someone’s teeth maybe?

Your soft smile disappeared the second you realized it was possible. You nearly recoiled in disgust. But then you realized, you had to know.

It couldn’t be teeth. It was too sick. Too deranged.

Too…him?

No. No, no, no.

As if in a trance, you picked up the light, wooden box and took off the lid.

No teeth inside. Only…

Fuck.

What was in there was so much worse than teeth.

Your forehead creased into a small frown, which grew further with every second.

And suddenly you felt nauseous.

No.

Oh, no.

You nearly dropped the box and backed away like you’d been struck, the moment you heard it.

“Goddamn it." He sighed impatiently and the door slowly closed behind him. "You weren’t supposed to see that.”

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Tag list 1:

@mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q

Author's note: Did I lately mention that I love you, guys?

Ps. The Tteokbokki and the teasing were anon requests! I loved them and I hope I did them justice!

[littlelamy]

thinking about rafe being more involved with sarahs life after the baby and spending time with them and taking the kid to school or maybe picking the kid up and seeing reader who is a teacher and they flirt or maybe it’s parent teacher conference and rafe tags along with john b bc Sarah can’t make it and him and reader are cute and flirting

the late afternoon sunlight filtered through the classroom windows, painting golden streaks across the desks and scattering soft shadows on the floor. it was quiet now, the hum of kids long gone except for a few stray drawings left forgotten on tables and the faint creak of your chair as you leaned back, scanning through a pile of spelling tests.

the knock on your classroom door startled you, pulling you out of the mundane rhythm of grading. when you looked up, you expected john b, who had mentioned he’d be dropping by for the parent-teacher conference. instead, you saw him. rafe cameron.

rafe leaned casually against the doorframe, one hand shoved into the pocket of his jeans, the other gripping the strap of a sleek leather backpack. his usual cocky smirk softened into something more polite, almost uncertain, as his eyes swept the room before landing on you.

“hey,” he said, his voice low and warm, like he wasn’t entirely sure he belonged here but was trying anyway.

“hi,” you managed, your surprise fading into curiosity. “can i help you?”

“i… uh, i’m here for the conference,” he explained, stepping further into the room. “sarah couldn’t make it, and john b roped me into tagging along.”

you blinked, trying to reconcile the guy who had a reputation for being a little too reckless, a little too intense, with the man standing in front of you. “oh. yeah, of course. take a seat. john b should be here any minute.”

rafe nodded, sliding into one of the kid-sized chairs with an amused grin. “man, these chairs are tiny. no wonder kids are always squirming.”

you laughed, the sound light and unexpected. “yeah, they’re not exactly built for comfort. you’ll survive, though.”

he raised an eyebrow, leaning his elbows on the desk as he looked at you. “is that a challenge?”

before you could respond, the door swung open, and john b burst in, his usual whirlwind energy filling the room. “hey, sorry i’m late,” he said, dropping into a chair beside rafe without missing a beat. “traffic was insane.”

“it’s fine,” you assured him, pulling out the folder with their child’s name neatly printed across the front. “shall we get started?”

the conference itself was straightforward, mostly you going over their daughter’s progress, showing off some of her artwork, and sharing notes about her strengths and areas for growth. but every now and then, you felt rafe’s gaze on you, steady and curious, like he was trying to figure you out.

when the meeting wrapped up, john b stood, stretching. “thanks for taking the time. sarah’ll be thrilled to hear everything’s going so well.”

“of course,” you said, offering him a warm smile. “she’s a great kid. makes my job easy.”

john b nodded, then glanced at rafe. “you coming?”

rafe hesitated, his eyes flicking to you. “uh, i’ll catch up. i just have a quick question.”

john b smirked, like he knew exactly what was going on, but didn’t say anything as he left, leaving you and rafe alone.

“so, a quick question?” you prompted, arching an eyebrow.

he grinned, leaning back in his tiny chair. “yeah, just wanted to ask if you’ve always been this good with kids, or if it’s something you picked up over time.”

you tilted your head, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “a little of both, i guess. i’ve always liked working with them. they’re honest, you know? no filter. keeps things interesting.”

he nodded, his expression thoughtful. “yeah, i can see that. you’re… you’re really good at it. i mean, i could barely survive babysitting her for an afternoon, and you do this every day.”

you laughed, feeling a warmth creep into your cheeks. “it’s definitely not easy, but it’s worth it.”

there was a pause, the kind that felt like it held something unsaid, and then rafe stood, towering over the kid-sized desk. “anyway, i should let you go. but… maybe i’ll see you around?”

“maybe,” you said, your smile lingering as he made his way to the door.

but before he left, he glanced back, his smirk returning. “or, you know, if you ever need a break from grading papers, i’d be happy to grab a coffee or something. on me.”

you raised an eyebrow, fighting the grin tugging at your lips. “i’ll think about it, cameron.”

he chuckled, giving you a small salute before disappearing into the hallway, leaving you alone in the golden light of the classroom, your heart fluttering in a way you hadn’t expected.

lamy's notes: i wouldn't mind doing more fics about rafe x teacher!reader! i hope you liked it!!

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesbabygirlx

[eunoiathewriter]

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 — Choi Su-bong (Thanos)

Sypnosis: Su-bong had always known who she was. For years they had been in the same class. Yet, it's not until now that he has started feeling like this. Like he's being pulled towards her. (Or, part 1 of headcanons about classmate Thanos falling for a girl in his class).

Warnings: Parental neglect, strict parents, mentions of abuse, smoking. Reader is referred to as a girl. Probably OOC, but this is about a part of his life we don't know anything about, so i can make stuff up either way.

Word Count: 10.1k

A/N: Since i promised to tag you @ivonhart

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had been in the same class as you since elementary school. Through all the years, he had the same role as class clown and often threw out jokes in the middle of class. Often getting reprimanded by teachers. Yet he was a favourite among his classmates and fellow younger students, though not really by the older ones.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who found school often to be something he disliked due to never really understanding the way teachers explained things. But he would look at students like you and your two friends who could understand everything and get in a sour mood.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who only had brief interactions with you throughout all your years in the same class but still knew you were the smartest in class.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who absolutely loathed whenever they did peer reviews in class. Usually he never wrote down any comments on his classmates works, knowing they always did a lot better than him anyway. So when he was handed a paper, he sighed heavily.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who overheard that you got his essay to review, and internally he cringed at this. Knowing what he had written and that it probably was not up to par with what such an academic student as you could write. Had anyone else gotten his essay, there would not be many notes, as most of them only verbally said if something was good or okay or even bad. But not you.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who forgot all about the essay he should be reading and the whole time kept his eyes trained on you. Watching your eyes move across his paper with a form of calmness, occasionally jotting down small comments on his paper that he wished to see immediately. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who averted his eyes from you when the teacher said to give the essay back to whoever you were reviewing. He grumbled a small "It was fine" to his friend Min-ki while handing his essay back. Just as he handed it over, though, he heard his name get called and turned only to be faced with you.

"Hey, here you go." You held out his essay for him to take, a small smile on your lips. 

"Oh, thanks..." Su-Bong took the paper from your hand with a tight smile, expecting you to walk off. But you didn't.

"I liked your essay, by the way, Su-Bong. I never really knew all of that about rap. There's just a few notes, but overall, it was great." 

"Thank you." He thanked not being able to withstand sitting up a little bit more from his slumped-over position. You gave a little nod and another smile before turning. Ha-eun, who stood behind you, handed yours back.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who frowned and looked through his three-page essay and the few notes you had jotted down for him. They were simple ones, only asking to explain a little further on one thing and a few small grammatical errors. Who knew getting to write an essay about something he liked would make him write a good one?

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who went home that day to his mess of a family and for once did not feel stupid after a long school day. Fixing the parts in his essay recommended by you so he could turn it in the next day to the teacher. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who was surprised when the teacher handed back the essays and patted him on the back for "stepping up". Seeing him get a score higher than he had gotten in a long time, especially in a subject that was not music.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who got stopped in the hallway by you after school as you asked him how it went with the essay. When he told how well he'd done and thanked you for the advice you'd given him, all you could do was shrug and say it was nothing. But it was something to Su-Bong.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who asked you then and there if you'd be open to helping him with schoolwork, to tutor him as his friends had said you were good at such things. And because his current one was shit. Getting a bright smile and nod as an answer made him raise his brows.

"You can?" He asked, a bit stunned.

"Of course," you nodded. "I'm more than happy to help."

"Are you free on Thursdays after school?" When he asked that, the way you smiled and your brows furrowed a little almost told him it was a stupid question. You were known to stay late and study.

"Mhm, just meet me in the classroom after school. I stay late often anyway."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who unconsciously then began to watch you more, not in a creepy way, but when he saw you, his eyes would linger on you for a moment. If you were in the classroom with friends and he walked past, his eyes would stay on you till he could no longer see you. When he heard your voice, his head would turn in the direction it came from, trying to locate where you were.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who enjoyed being tutored by you more than his old one. Unlike them, you adjusted the way you explained subjects to him. At first he had not understood a word you said, but after a bit of readjusting in your way of explaining, he slowly got the hang of it.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, whose eyes would flicker from the paper or book you were pointing to while explaining and back to you. His eyes would stay focused on you every time you checked his progress, the way you would mouth things that he could not hear and the way you would furrow your brows in concentration.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, despite getting to spend an hour or two extra with you every Thursday afternoon, could not find it in himself to strike up conversation outside of tutoring. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who would come to the classroom after school, having said his goodbyes to Min-ki and Dong-hyun as they left to get home, only to find you already in the classroom with your books out and earbuds in that connected to your MP3. He had no idea how you could do such long days in school.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who found himself actually improving after only three weeks of help from you, even earning himself more claps on the back from teachers. Even his parents took notice, getting to hear directly from his homeroom teacher of the change in his grades and quality of work as of late. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who never claimed to Min-ki and Dong-hyun that he had suddenly become an academic weapon when they pointed out their grades on the exam were still better than his. He had only said that "Shit’s easier to understand. It's weird." Which made his friends only shrug their shoulders because grades never really mattered anyway for Su-bong. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had been bored out of his mind while wandering the school halls, waiting for you to come to tutor him, had become a drag after ten minutes passed. But the sound that came from the gymnasium quickly caught his attention as he moved closer and creaked the door open slightly before sneaking in behind the equipment to investigate the sound. Much to his surprise, it had been you. Playing your violin. All alone in the gymnasium. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who accidentally made some gym equipment fall as he tried to get a better look, which caused him to curse a bit loudly. Looking up from his fallen-over position with a sheepish smile as you had whipped around and faced him, letting out a sigh at the realisation it was just him. 

"What the— Su-bong?" Your voice came out confused when you saw him.

He sat up and rubbed his neck. "Uhm... surprise?" 

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Didn't know you were a musician. Are you hiding a band in here too?" He dodged the question while standing himself up, watching as you put the violin down.

"That doesn't exactly answer my question."

"Well, I was waiting for you to tutor me, but you ditched me. So, technically, this is all your fault."

"I didn't ditch you," you shook your head. "I told you yesterday that I would be fifteen minutes late."

"Yeah, but you didn't tell me why." He watched as you snapped the buckles to your case shut. "Had I known, I'd have been here much sooner."

"Why?" You could not help but ask with a slight laugh. When your eyes met his with an expectant look, he averted them and tried acting nonchalant.

"Obviously to listen." He shrugged, turning away slightly before speaking again. "You're really good, by the way."

"Oh, I—thank you. But you can't just come spying on me."

"I wasn't spying. I was... appreciating. There's a difference. You're smart, so you should know that."

You chuckled at him, also not missing the flattery that he surely thought would get him out of tutoring. "You're not getting out of tutoring, you know."

"Man, seriously?”

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who was relieved that summer had come and that he would finally get a well-deserved break from school. While walking out of school with his friends, spotting you with your friends. Nodding his head at you when you shot him a smile, a way to tell you to have a good summer.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had in the beginning hoped that his summer break would at least not include sitting at home. Yet, it did. Neither of his mother or father being able to stay home or take him anywhere during the long break. He could not even hang out with Min-ki and Dong-hyun, who were out of Seoul for the entire summer.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who spent the first week of summer break lounging on his couch, watching TV, and eating whatever junk he wanted. Only getting minimal texts from the guys who were busy spending time with their families.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, after spending a whole week inside, decided he would go out and see if anything would inspire him. But it ended up only being him walking outside in the summer heat with earbuds in as they blasted his newly downloaded music. Rap, to be specific.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who weaved his way between people in the market, giving nasty glares towards guys younger than him who bumped his shoulder. Trying to find where that place that sold his favourite food was now again turned out to be a bigger hassle with so many people lingering around the marketplace.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who stopped in his tracks and had to backtrack a few steps with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows at spotting your familiar face among the crowd. Standing by your bicycle while paying for some groceries. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who could not help but make his way over, hands in his pockets, as he called your name and got your attention. Your face displayed surprise upon seeing him, having thought he would have been with Min-ki and Dong-hyun all summer.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who were surprised, although he did not let it show, to find out your friends Soo-min and Ha-eun were also gone for the whole summer. This has left both of you all alone and without friends to hang out with.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who asks to join in on your shopping round, claiming he has nothing better to do. Which he really didn't. Occasionally, he would poke fun at your seriousness when it came to choosing the right fruits. His joking around would only bring a small smile onto your lips as the two of you walked through the market stand by stand. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who insisted on walking with you to your neighbourhood, stealing glances at you every now and then. For some strange reason, he also felt strangely at ease with you, enjoying that you were so easy to crack a joke to. Every time, he earned either a small laugh or a small smile pulling at your lips.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who only reached the edge of your neighbourhood before you stopped him, saying that you could take it all from here. He watched you almost get onto the bike to cycle the last bit but was able to stop you before you were off.

"You know, we should hang out sometime." He said it as casually as he could, hands in his pockets while shrugging.

"Hang out?" You echoed, brows raised a bit. 

"Yeah. I mean, we get along, right? And besides, neither of us really has anything to do either way. So why not keep each other company?"

"I—uh. Hmm." You did not really know what to say.

"Beats sitting inside, bored, all summer." 

"I don't know, Su-bong. My parents are sort of strict about who I meet outside of school. Soo-min and Ha-eun are really the only ones they agree to."

Su-bong clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Come on, (Name). You're smart—I'm sure you can come up with a simple lie."

"If my parents find out, I will be grounded till I'm married." 

"I'm sure you can bat your lashes and come up with something to cover our asses. Or what, do you want to spend all summer alone and doing nothing?"

You sighed and thought about it before answering. "Fine. But my parents really cannot know about this."

"That's the spirit!" Su-bong nudged your arm slightly. "You got my number?"

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who walked home that day with your number in his mobile phone. Part of him began to wonder what lies you would tell your parents to be allowed to leave the house without having them hunting you down.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who later that night messaged you and asked if you would be free the next day. Only minutes later did he get an answer that you had nothing planned and a question of where to meet. Quickly, he sent back a place, a bit further from your home as he now understood you not wanting him in your neighbourhood, and a time that would at least let him sleep in.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who met up with you the next day five minutes late and could not help but poke fun at your obvious nervousness. Commenting on how you really had to relax a little, also pointing out that the only reason your parents would ever find out about this all was if you ever slipped up with whatever lies you made up. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who got surprised an hour or so into the two of you going around town, seeing how you began to loosen up. You were no longer looking around like a child hiding while eating sweets they weren't allowed. The tension in your shoulders left, and instead of just rolling your eyes at his remarks, you shot some back.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who went home after hanging out that first day, found himself having enjoyed it a lot more than he originally thought. It was different from when he hung out with Min-ki and Dong-hyun. Sure, they knew him well and had been friends with him since kindergarten, but still.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, after three days of hanging out, asked you if the two of you could please take your bike instead of walking. Because of his insistence, you said yes, much to his delight, but that also meant he had to sit on your bike carrier. This led to some arguing as you wobbled a little in the beginning, but when you sternly told him to just sit still and shut up, Su-bong was in no way about to test you and only answered with a slight smirk, "Yes, ma'am."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who would fill the silence between the two of you with anything rap-related. You had always known he liked rap and did it himself; he was not shy to ever announce it to the whole class. Surprisingly enough, you ended up learning a lot about the genre you had never indulged in.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who gets pulled along to your favourite bookshop one day and just trails behind you as you point out ones that you desperately wanted to read. He did not understand your love for words on pages, but he did not exactly complain because at least he had someone to spend the summer with. But he would furrow his brows questioningly when you left the bookshop without even buying a single one of the twenty-something books you had pointed out.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who realised you were not just an incredibly study-focused person, but actually someone who had never really gotten to do just whatever.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, after a whole week of hanging out, found himself enjoying your company more than he thought he would.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who dragged you along to the best arcade in town where he spent the majority of his money insisting he could win a prize from the claw machine. Finally, you stepped in and won the prize on your first try, leaving the boy to gape at you before jokingly calling you a "witch."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who focused on beating his own record at his favourite game while you stand off to the side, almost yelling at him to listen to your advice. When he does as you suggest and he wins, both of you high-five at the win.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who you pulled along to a part of the city where there was a whole neighbourhood with abandoned buildings filled with graffiti. The two of you find one that gives the best view of the city skyline, and from then on, when neither of you knew what to do, that was your place to go. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who did not call or message with Min-ki and Dong-hyun as much only three and a half weeks into summer break. The majority of his calls were instead to you, sometimes even calling when your parents were home. 

"Come on, ditch violin practice and come keep me company. I'm dying over here." His comment made you roll your eyes, as if he could see from the other side of the phone.

"Hm, no thank you. I don't feel like being strung up by my toes today!" You shot back at him, causing him to groan.

"And here I was thinking we were making progress." 

"Who is it you're talking to, (Name)?" Your mother suddenly glanced into your room as you sat on the bed.

"Just Ha-eun." You answered smoothly. The choked sounds on the other side of the phone and snickering made you want to smack him in the head.

"Oh, well, tell her I said hi!" Your mother smiled a little before retracting down the hallway.

"Dude," Su-bong lost it, laughter a bit muffled. "You didn't even hesitate. That was so smooth—look at you becoming a pro at lying!" 

You sighed and rubbed your face, but the smile still pulled at your lips. "Shut up." 

"No, I'm like actually impressed. Should I be worried?"

"For me to hang up? Yes."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who found himself thinking about you more often than he liked. His mind often went to think about what he had said, your reaction to it, what you would be doing the next day, and anything that had to do with you.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, after almost four weeks of hanging out, slung an arm over your shoulder to prepare for his proposition. Dragging out a "So..." while you gave him a side glance, awaiting whatever dumb idea he had now gotten to come out. When you told him to just tell you, he did as he was told.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who awaited your big blow-up, as you for the moment just stood and stared at him, blinking occasionally, as if he had just suggested the two of you go and steal from the local bank. Especially when all he had suggested was for you to sneak out one night. "Everything's more fun at night," he had claimed.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, instead of getting a full-on lecture, got a question of what the two of you would even do. This made a sly grin spread on his face as it sounded like you were not completely opposed to the whole idea. Was he a bad influence on you?

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who made out an intricate plan on how you were to sneak out. Both of you came to the conclusion that the upcoming Friday night would be perfect because your parents went to bed slightly earlier. Hours before your parents would come home, you for once showed Su-bong exactly where your apartment was and painted out your window (that was on the first floor, only two meters above the ground). 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who that Friday, at your decided time, waited on the grass below your window as you opened your window and tossed down your jacket for him to catch. Once you had jumped down and stood up, he could not help but make a single comment.

"Not bad for a first escape." Su-bong said with a smirk while handing you your jacket.

"Yeah, you're such a bad influence." You shot back sarcastically, already moving towards your bike by the bike stand and unlocking it. 

"I'm honoured you think so!" 

You shook your head, pulling out your bike and getting ready to go. But you could not help the growing smile, having grown quite fond of the boy's antics. "Just get on, idiot." 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had directed you to a 24-hour convenience store. He jumped off before you parked your bike off to the side and locked it. When you gave him a raised brow, he told you that he was "paying back" for all the free rides you had given him.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who followed you inside and had a hard time keeping up with your speed as you went from shelf to shelf and grabbed your favourite things. It ended up being more than he thought, but at the same time, you had been pedalling around with him on the back of your bike for four weeks, so it was really nothing.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who sat on the curb of the convenience store with you, looking at all the people going in and out and watching the star-filled sky. When a group of drunk university students walked past and two ended up toppling over each other, you and Su-bong could not keep from laughing.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who later that night, when the two of you were quietly sitting on the roof of the abandoned building, pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Taking one and placing it between his lips, out the corner of his eye he could see you looking at him. Without saying a word, he held out the pack to you, not expecting you to take one, but you did.

"Something wrong?" You asked while taking the lighter from Su-bong's hand, fingers brushing against his as he took an inhale.

"Since when do you smoke?" Smoke left his mouth as he asked that question.

"I don't do it often if that's what you think." You let out a breathy laugh, lighting the cigarette.

All you got was a dumbfounded face in response, like this was the biggest revelation in his whole life. So you explained further. "My dad smokes; I've taken some of his every now and then. He doesn't notice."

"For real?" Su-bong asked and earned a nod in response. Then it was as if he deflated a bit. "Damn. And I thought I would be a bad influence."

"Sorry to burst your bubble. My dad has a bit more influence than you."

"Wait a moment..." He sat up, exhaling the smoke in his mouth while looking at you with narrowed eyes. "Do Soo-min and Ha-eun know their angel of a friend smokes?"

"First of all, no, they don't. And second of all, angel?"

"What? It fits you, angel."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who that night helped you back up into your room through the window, having to give you a little extra push. Once you were inside and leaned out the window to wave bye to him, he could not help but notice the rather large smile on your face.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who learnt that you were not just smiles, politeness, and intelligence in the form of a human, but you had attitude and humour. It was a huge contrast to the polite and respectful girl who would sit in class and do her work. You did not shy away from a witty comment.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who later the next week after spending the day at the arcade, casually mentioned doing something later that same night. He had fully been expecting you to say it had been a one-time thing, but instead, as you grabbed your bike, he got an "I'm in" from you.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had not in the beginning of the summer expected to hang out with you every day, and now, also, some nights. It was almost as if he had forgotten about Dong-hyun and Min-ki.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who you would run around town with any time of the day, as long as your parents had no idea what you were doing. The adventures consisted of frequent visits to the 24-hour convenience store, urban exploration, bike rides around the closer neighbourhoods, sharing a cigarette or two, or even going around stores in town along with everyone else participating in Seoul's nightlife.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who would sit outside your violin lessons in the summer and listen to you replaying the same passage over and over till it would be perfect. He had no idea why the old woman who was your teacher had to be so loud about your mistakes, like screaming about it would help you in any way. It made him pull a face of disdain for the woman he had never met.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who would sometimes sneak inside the big theatre when you had lessons just to hide behind the chairs to listen to you better. The few times you had caught him out of the corner of your eye, he would give you a thumbs up as a silent way to say you were doing great. His goofy face and thumbs up would make you have to hold back a laugh while playing, causing your teacher to stop to ask what was so funny.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who you would laugh with after your lesson about the old woman's overdramatic reaction to a single smile. This would then lead to you complaining about the woman as Su-bong sat at the back of your bike and made comments that furthered your laughter.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who for some reason, after that first successful sneak out, began calling you angel. It would often leave you rolling your eyes at him, telling him to quit it, but the heat rising to your cheeks said otherwise. Su-bong could not understand the issue, just shrugging and enjoying the reactions out of you while continuing to call you angel. Instead of your name, angel was what he called you.

"Oi, angel! Over here!" 

"Yo, slow down! The hell? Are you trying to ditch me, angel?"

"Where you at? You're still at home? Hurry up, angel, I'm bored as hell out here!"

"What? You want me to start calling you '(Name)' like some stranger? No way, angel."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who found your reactions priceless, either the roll of your eyes with a small smile or a swift smack to the back of his head. No matter what, he loved them all. Because at least you were paying attention to him in some way. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who you noticed had almost no sense of personal space. It was nothing weird; it was just as though you, after only a few weeks, had reached the same level of friendship he had with Dong-hyun and Min-ki. There would be an arm around your shoulder at random times when walking, when you played an arcade game he would be looming right by your shoulder while poking you whenever you were close to winning, his hands would land on your shoulders whenever you agreed to yet another late-night hangout, and he would find himself grabbing the back of your shirt when the two of you navigated through crowds.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who sometimes in crowds just had his brain go blank, which made you tell him to just hold onto your bag's shoulder strap. It had once or twice happened that he just walked into a pole in the middle of the street, so you were just being cautious.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who still watched you closely, whenever he said something, was awaiting a reaction from you.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who one day suggested you both spend the day at his house. When you walked inside, you could not help but let your eyes go wide at the scale of everything; it was so much bigger than your family's apartment. They even had those fancy fridges with ice and water dispensers. The Choi family was truly rich.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who shrugged about his home, because for him it was a cold and boring one. There was no life, no baby photos of him or old photos of his parents, just two pictures of him and his parents. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who let you roam about his room and find whatever you wanted to entertain yourself, and in your case that had been his Nintendo. He was seated by his computer, downloading music onto his newest MP3. You had found yourself comfy at the foot of his bed while you played the game that had been in his Nintendo.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who immediately sat up from his relaxed position at the slam of the front door. You jumped at the loud sound, not used to such things. Glancing over at the boy, he was already on his feet, cursing under his breath.

"Fuck," Su-bong muttered as he heard the clattering of keys against wood. "My dad's home. Fuck. Come on, angel." 

He ushered you to get up, and you did so, not even arguing about the nickname. "What? What's going on?"

At first he did not answer and only grabbed your wrist lightly, cursing under his breath while trying to gently guide you towards his closet. When you put a hand on top of his on your wrist was when he turned to you, meeting your eyes. "Su-bong."

He stared at you for a second, hearing the steps that seemed to move towards the stairs. Su-bong then sighed. 

"My dad is not like your parents. He doesn't give a single shit about boundaries. If he sees you here, even if he doesn’t know you, he'll start talking shit to you and about you—" He cut himself off with a sigh, hearing the footsteps moving up the stairs. "Look, you don't need to experience him. Just hide—please."

Without another word, you just nodded. Su-bong quickly opened his closet for you to get inside before closing it. With ease he moved and dropped down onto his bed, just as the footsteps up the stairs moved towards his room. He grabbed the Nintendo on his bed and began fiddling with it.

No knock or form of signal that his father was going to come inside was given, the door only opening and revealing him. Su-bong glanced up at him before speaking. "You're home early,"

"And you're still wasting your time here." His father spoke with a grunt. “Did you do anything besides sit here like a bum all day?”

Su-bong stared at his dad for a minute before looking down at the Nintendo in his hands, shaking his head. “Nope. Pretty much perfected the art of breathing, though.”

“You know what, forget it.” His dad let out a sharp breath, waving his hand while pushing the door to Su-bong's room closed again. 

The boy sat for a moment, listening intently to the sound of footsteps descending downstairs once again. Letting out a sigh, he turned towards the closet. “Coast's clear, angel.”

Cracking the closet door open and easily slipping out, your eyes flickered towards the door before moving back to Su-bong on the bed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” He nodded, eyes moving all over the place until he looked at her and stood up. “Come on, let's go out instead.”

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had expected you to ask so many more questions after that day, but instead it was as though you had a silent understanding for his situation.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who one late night suddenly placed his hands on your waist while you were pedalling towards the abandoned buildings on the outskirts of Seoul. The sudden feeling made only your eyes glance down, as to not alert the boy behind you in any way. After a moment, you looked up as you shrugged it all off and let his hands stay there. It is a better way to keep himself stable and make your work easier either way.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had only felt how you tensed up a bit at the sudden contact, but as quickly as it had happened, you relaxed and focused back on the directions. He could not help the growing smirk on his face. If you had seen it, you would have asked what was funny or even smacked the back of his head for being "weird." But you could not see it.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who always knew you had a small digital camera with you wherever you went. Upon seeing something you deemed beautiful, you would click a photo of it. As of late, you had taken quite a few photos with your camera and sometimes made Su-bong wonder if there was something you did not label as beautiful.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who once stole your camera from where it was lying on the ground and turned it so the lens was turned towards him and snapped about seven or eight photos of himself. Swiftly, he then put the camera down as if it had always lain there untouched. You did not end up finding out until three days later when you went to print out some photos for your wall. You had to cover your mouth to not attract attention in the small store as you looked at the photos, also a bit surprised he got himself somewhat in frame. Su-bong did hear from you later that day about it, but he did not know you had actually not been able to resist printing three of them.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had never been in your family's apartment during the whole summer. As you put it, your neighbours, an elderly couple who had known you and your parents for many years, would more than likely tell your parents that a boy had been with you. But he did not blame you; this whole hanging-out idea was his to begin with.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who one night found himself wandering around your neighbourhood alone, escaping the hellhole of home his parents made it when they both were home at once. Glancing down the familiar road, he pulled out his phone, starting to type a quick message while walking down it. Once he spotted the window he was looking for, he saw a lamp had to be on even if the light curtains were drawn. With that, he sent the message. "Look outside."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who only seconds later watched as the curtains were opened and you looked out your window. A minute later your window was open, and you looked down at him.

"What the hell are you doing here? It's past midnight!" You whispered harshly down to the boy. He could not keep from smirking.

"I missed you, angel. Can I come up?" 

You shook your head but leaned out a little further in the window, gently clapping your hands as a signal for him to throw up his backpack. Su-bong did so, and you caught it with ease, pulling it through the window and placing it on your floor. "You're insane." 

When you pulled back into your room, swiftly moving to lock your door, it did not take more than two minutes before Su-bong's head peeked inside your window. You walked over, holding out a hand to help him inside with as little noise as possible. 

Climbing in through your window, he took a quick glance around your room. It was small but in a cosy way. Quietly he stepped down into your room, stumbling a little, from the window, and felt you loosen your grip on his hand, so he let go.

"You're lucky my parents are sleeping. They will kill me if they hear you." You said in a low voice while closing the window and drawing your curtains again. 

"Relax. I'm like a ninja." Su-bong joked, but the usual edge to it was missing. 

"You're a walking disaster." You turned around and faced him. "Seriously though, Su-bong, what are you doing here?"

There was nothing accusatory in your tone, so he shrugged while looking around, eyeing the music sheet on your desk. He then shrugged before answering. "Just didn't feel like being home. Can I stay?"

"I—..." You cut yourself off, your face turning with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'll just hang out here; you can do whatever you were doing." 

You just stared at him. 

"I'll be quiet. Promise."

A small smile pulled on your lips as you watched him look over the books on your bookshelf. "Sure. But if my parents hear you, I'll tell them you broke in.”

"Fair game, angel." Su-bong nodded and gave a light chuckle at your comment; his teasing smirk then returned. "So, this is where the magic happens.

"Oh, shut up!"

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who made himself comfortable on your bed with his Nintendo and MP3 player as you continued to look over some things for your next violin lesson. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who in a quiet voice made a comment about Soo-min and Ha-eun really having a whole wall that was almost explicitly containing photos of them and you. For the fun of it, he teasingly asked what he needed to do to end up on that wall. In response, all he got from you was "To stop annoying me." That would be impossible.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who you sternly told he should not sleep on the floor, but that he also had to keep to his own side of the bed if he did not want to get kicked out. Little did either of you know that both of you experienced an increase in heartbeats.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who a few days later repaid you for risking getting caught and allowing him to stay over with the typical convenience store snacks you liked. But you seemingly made no big deal out of it all.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who noticed you no longer just took photos of the landscape but had caught you snapping a few of him too. At times he would grab it from you and insist on taking one together, to which you did not say no. While these photos could not make their way on your wall without your parents questioning it, you still printed them and kept them in your desk. They laid with your favourite photos of you, Soo-min, and Ha-eun. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who noticed that you no longer would have a reaction whenever he called you angel. You went from telling him to stop it to not even blinking at the use of the nickname. At times, though, you would smile a little at the use of it, which Su-bong could not help but notice.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who was completely and utterly baffled to learn that you had never really listened to rap before, even if you would let him ramble on about it as if you understood. When you admitted this to him, he went wide-eyed, yelling out a loud "What?" while staring at you. This led to a long interrogation by Su-bong to figure out how you had never listened to the genre.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who made it his own mission to indoctrinate you into rap. It began with playing music from his MP3 player, watching you like a hawk for any sign that you liked the songs. When he would see your head moving the slightest to the beats, slowly bobbing your head along, he would nudge your shoulder while saying that you were finally listening to "real" music. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who started to, without your knowledge, download rap on a new MP3 player he'd bought. It was songs he considered the standard, basic but still good songs. All so you could somehow get into the genre even more on your own. When he was done for the night, he sat back and answered a message from Min-ki, only to then completely question his actions.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who felt like he was going through an existential crisis when it finally hit him that all he had been doing as of late was not something he'd even do for Min-ki or Dong-hyun. It all hit him like bricks being thrown in his face.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who now could explain why he felt like he gained something from hearing you laugh at his jokes. He now has his explanation as to why he wants you to listen to this music so much. He had to sit down on his bed and put his head in his hands, saying a single thing to himself, "Oh, fuck me." 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who went to sleep that night still in complete shock at this new revelation. How did he, of all people, find himself having feelings for a girl who less than a year ago he would not even know a single thing about?

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who the next day had the MP3 player in his back pocket the whole time you and he hung out. He was acting the same as always, jokes flying out left and right and endless teasing that made you simply shake your head. Whenever there was a silence that stretched for longer than a minute, he contemplated just handing you the MP3 player. He could just say it was one of his old ones and claim it was since you seemingly liked rap so much. But he put it off.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had just jumped off your bike as you slowed down to get off when you said you and your parents were going away the last five days of summer break, which was next week.

"Angel... no." He spoke as if you had just betrayed him in the worst way possible. You could not help but crack a sheepish smile at his antics.

"It's just for five days—" You went to explain, but his mouth went wider and immediately interrupted you.

"Five days? First Min-ki, then Dong-hyun, and now you? You're all ditching me. Do you want me to go crazy and start talking to myself?" He walked closer to you, trying to stay serious, but when you began laughing lightly, he could not help but crack a smile. 

He was playing around; of course he would not die without you for five days. But he had taken notice that you, unlike many others, did not find his overdramatic joking annoying but endearing. 

"You already talk to yourself." You pointed out to him with a small smile.

"That's besides the point,"

"I will have my phone. We'll still be able to talk."

"Hm," Su-bong hummed, agreeing that did work. His hands slipped inside his pockets, his right hand gracing the MP3 player still in his pockets. 

You shook your head, grabbing the handles of your bikes and beginning to walk the short way to your home. He quickly caught up, an arm finding its way over your shoulder. He could not help but like that you did not pull away from him, letting him hook his arm around you.

"Alright, angel. Since you're ditching me, you owe me—we hang out every day until you leave. No excuses."

"Sure." You shook your head at him. "Damn drama queen."

"Hey!"

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who later the next week, after having hung out every day without any excuses like you agreed to, still had the MP3 player in his back pocket. He found himself taking it out of his pocket when getting home every day and fiddling with it, like trying to think of when the perfect time to give it to you would be.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who the night before you were going away insisted the two of you go to the abandoned rooftop. Once there, he lit himself a cigarette as the two of you talked and joked about anything you could think about.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who raised his brows when you got a call from Soo-min as the two of you were talking. You answered without hesitation, and from how you were talking, he could tell you had not told her either about the two of you hanging out. A mischievous expression took over his face as he stepped on the cigarette.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who out of nowhere grabbed your wrist and yanked the phone towards himself so he could yell out a hello to Soo-min on the other line. You swiftly smacked him in the head with your hand as he laughed when hearing Soo-min's confused voice. You had rushed out a goodbye before turning and, while laughing, telling him it was not funny. But still, the thought of how Soo-min's face must have looked kept you both laughing for longer than it should have.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who later, when you were both walking back home, pulled out the MP3 player and handed it to you. At your confused face, he explained it had some good songs on it, just to get you started on rap. Jokingly he said you would now have something good to listen to during your almost three-hour car ride the next day.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who made up the excuse that the MP3 player was one of his old ones that he no longer used when you thanked him but said you could not take it. He turned away, hands in his pockets after so you could not see his face, all while shrugging his shoulders as if it was nothing special. You did not say that you knew he was lying; the MP3 player looked way too new. But it made your heart swell.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who the next day, for once during the whole summer, could not simply shoot you a text or even call to ask what you were up to because he already knew. You were in a car on your way to your grandparents. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who spent that first day more bored than he remembered himself being that first week of summer break. The majority of the time he spent in his room, playing games and only walking downstairs once that night when his parents were home to take up some food for himself.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who the next day went out on his own, having talked to Dong-hyun, who were going to come back the next day, late, when it was only two days until school started again. He found himself visiting all the places that you and he would go to.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who headed for the convenience store around 11 pm, the same one you and he visited, picking out some snacks and a drink for himself. When paying, the same guy that usually worked was there. The worker glanced around the aisles while scanning everything Su-bong had picked up. 

"Where's that girlfriend of yours?" The worker, a twenty-something old guy, spoke suddenly and with a hint of curiosity. 

Su-bong, who had his earbuds in and music from his MP3 player loudly playing in his ears, did not fully hear what the guy had said. He pulled the earbuds from his ears by the cable and furrowed his brows in confusion. "Huh?"

"The girl you're always here with." The worker cleared up, then let out a slight laugh before speaking again. "What, she finally ditched you?"

"She didn't ditch me, man. She's out of town." Su-bong spoke with a hint of annoyance, having hoped it would've been a quick in-and-out of the store.

"So, she is your girlfriend."

"Mind your own business."

"Damn, touchy." The worker smirked. "Thought you'd just say no."

Su-bong grabbed the cash from his pocket and unceremoniously slammed it onto the counter, startling the guy a little. He then snatched back his soda and snacks.

"Maybe I just don't like nosy cashiers who talk too much."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, once he was outside, sat himself down on the curb and popped open the bag of snacks just as his phone began buzzing. While chewing on a chip, he picked it up with furrowed brows, but when seeing your name on the small screen, he did not hesitate to answer it. 

"Well, well, would you look at that—one might actually think you are missing me, angel."

There was a pause before you scoffed lightly on the other side of the phone. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Too late," he answered. "You've been gone less than two days, and now you are calling me first? I'm basically a priority at this point."

"You are so full of yourself."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who talked with you for almost an hour that night, getting to know all you'd done while away. He liked it, sitting and listening to you explain the things you had done with your family ever since getting to your grandparents. While talking to you, he slowly began making his way home, occasionally taking a sip or two of his soda. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who spent the whole day after all on his own. But he at least figured out what to do besides being outside. The majority of it consisted of him playing games and listening to music, going out to have a cigarette once. But later that night, he not only got a call from you but also a message from Dong-hyun that he was back and wanted to meet up the next day.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who even if Dong-hyun came back and they hung out the last two days of summer break, got a few texts here and there from you, as if updating him on the strangest things you could think of. But he still appreciated that you still wanted to talk, seemingly having not grown tired of him yet.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who only shrugged and told Dong-hyun that his summer had been pretty uneventful. Su-bong vaguely told him that he kept himself busy while he and Min-ki were away. When Dong-hyun questioned this, saying that many of his calls had not been answered until late and that Min-ki had told him the same, as many of their mails had gone unannounced, all Su-bong did was shrug and repeat he had kept himself busy.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had to withstand Dong-hyun asking him repeatedly to actually tell him what he had been up to all summer. It was like he had become a walking headache to Su-bong; whenever he thought his friend was done asking, a new try at getting information from him was tried. Of course, Su-bong would not tell Dong-hyun and Min-ki—he respected you and did not want to have them running off and telling everyone in school on the first day, especially if you didn't want that.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who actually felt a bit bothered thinking about what would happen when school started again. He heavily disliked the thought of having to act like the two of you were not friends in school, too. With your parents, he understood, and he respected it heavily. Maybe if he did not feel the way he did for you, maybe if you were only a friend to him, it would not be such a bother. But you were not just a friend. No matter how he wanted to feel.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who were hanging out with Dong-hyun and Min-ki, who had just returned, the day before school started, felt his phone vibrate a little. When he picked it up and saw you had written that you were on your way home, he could not help but smile at knowing you would be back. It did not go unnoticed by his two friends; Dong-hyun immediately accused him of having a secret girlfriend, which made Min-ki raise his eyebrows in confusion.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who went to school the next day, was immediately swept up by Dong-hyun and Min-ki, along with some of the other guys in the same class. All of them were catching up outside before even walking inside school, seeing as there was a long time till they had to actually be in class.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who was deep in conversation with four other guys from your class when he spotted your familiar face. You were smiling as you slowed down your bike to park it, along with Soo-min and Ha-eun, who went to do the same. His eyes followed you as you hooked arms with Soo-min as Ha-eun was clearly telling the two of you something.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who got nudged by one of your classmates, Woo-jin, asking if he was even listening. He turned his eyes to the group of boys staring back at him, saying he zoned out, and they all shrugged, but the conversation continued nonetheless.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who caught your eye as you walked past the group of boys. Upon seeing him again, you shot him a smile and a small wave with your free hand that had not been hooked with Soo-min. When Su-bong noticed, he gave a slight smile and nod of acknowledgement. A part of him warmed upon seeing you again.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had to hear Dong-hyun, Min-ki, Woo-jin, and Ji-ho ask who that nod was for, as neither of them had seen your smile. Woo-jin and Ji-ho, both confused, got caught up by Min-ki and Dong-hyun about their speculation that Su-bong had spent the summer with someone.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, once they reached their classroom, felt like he had hit the jackpot. This year he sat one row behind you, diagonally to your right, from what he saw on the seating chart drawn upon the board. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who sat down at his desk quietly at first, decided to sit and not speak with you if that was what you wanted, but his spirits were lifted when you spoke to him first. You had turned to him, mid-conversation with Hye-ran, smiling and saying hey.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who you struck up a conversation with immediately, ignoring the confused looks on Soo-min's and Ha-eun's faces. You and Su-bong had never spoken like this before the summer. Sure, they knew you had tutored him last semester, but the two of you did not talk like this. This was new. The way you leaned closer and told about what you did those five days away.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had his conversation with you interrupted by Ha-eun, who finally asked since when you two were friends. Su-bong, who revelled in your slightly flustered expression, asked you to explain to your friends. He found it funny how when away from prying eyes, you were extremely calm, yet under the eyes of your best friends, you got flustered.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who sat back and listened as you, without much detail, explained how the two of you bumped into each other during the summer and hung out a few times. He wanted to laugh out loud—a few times was an understatement. It also amused him how you left out certain details, as if Soo-min and Ha-eun would lecture you about it. Dong-hyun and Min-ki both sat beside him and whispered about how this explained everything. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who got asked by Ha-eun and Soo-min if your parents knew the two of you had hung out, to which silence followed. The two girls had turned to you as if you had committed a crime for not telling them this. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who out of what had now become a habit, called you "angel" in front of both your and his friends. Your eyes had widened slightly while staring straight at Su-bong, who realised, but he could not help but pull an amused smile at your flustered face. The wide eyes from your friends that followed were as far as their shock could get, however, because just as they went to loudly ask their questions, the teacher entered the classroom.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who shrugged his shoulders at you when Ha-eun and Soo-min went to sit down, your eyes still on him. For the fun of it, before the teacher could speak, he whispered a quiet "Sorry, angel" to you. The people in front and behind the two of you heard, and your face heated up even more. Before turning to focus on the teacher, you shot Su-bong a pointed look, which earned a quiet laugh.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who prepared himself for you to lecture him after school, but did not expect what you did during lunch instead.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who barely had stood up to join Min-ki and Dong-hyun before you had stood up and grabbed his arm, effectively pulling him out of the classroom before your friends could get their hands on you. Dong-hyun and Min-ki whistled at the two of you before laughing along with some other boy in the class who had overheard. Soo-min and Ha-eun tried to catch up to the two of you but failed.

"Where are we—" He had barely any chance to process where you had dragged him off to before a hand hit him over the head. "Ow!"

"What the hell were you thinking calling me that in front of everyone? The whole class, at that!" You asked as Su-bong rubbed the back of his head. He took a glance at you before giving a slight grin to you.

"What? It's not like I said anything bad. Didn't you say you didn't care about that anymore?" 

You stared at him for a moment, your face still hot from the embarrassment that had hit you when some of the boys whistled as you dragged Su-bong off. His grin made you narrow your eyes before swiftly giving him another whack.

"Ow! Calm down, woman!"

"I don't care. But you could have just let me tell Soo-min and Ha-eun properly before." You ignored his dramatics and crossed your arms. Still, your eyes softened when looking at him, but it went unnoticed by Su-bong, who started to speak.

"Well, you can’t blame me for being honest. It's not my fault you're—" Before he could get any further, he felt you gently wrap your arms over his shoulders in a quick but tight hug. 

"It's good to see you again." You said softly to him, causing his heart to beat a little faster. Then, as quickly as you had hugged him, you pulled away. The boy quickly recovered.

"Five days and you miss me that much, huh?" He speaks with a teasing tone, nudging you lightly.

You rolled your eyes. "Don't push your luck."

"You know, you could have just said you missed me without hitting me first."

"Hm, that's boring, and you deserved it."

His grin softened into something more genuine. "It's good seeing you too, angel.”

— If you guys want a part 2, please tell me; I have even more ideas for this. Also, if you have an idea that I could add in that part, I'm always open to suggestions!

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Where Do You End Pt. 1

Main Masterlist

Read on A03! - Pt. 2

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, light angst, body swap, mentions of smut, humor, horniness, very weird

Summary/Warnings: You and Dean have found yourself in a body swap situation, but your bodies don't seem to be aware of that. They keep trying to do what they always do.

And what they always do isn't really something either of you what the other to know about.

Author's Note: Request from an anon! On god I made it as weird as it could get. I'm proud of me. Also, we're once again looking at multiple parts. Enjoy!

Word Count: 4.5k

This was fucking weird. 

Dean knew wasn’t exactly worth saying—it might be the most obvious statement in history—but this was so fucking weird. Weird in a way that made his brain feel a little fuzzy, that made his skin itch because there was no way this was real.

But there was certainly a way this was real.

And it wasn’t Dean’s skin that was itchy. 

She had nice skin. It was soft and comfortable to be inside of, the callouses on Her hands felt better placed than the ones on Dean’s, and there were scars that he’d sometimes touch on accident that felt more like art than stains. Her hair felt right whenever he’d brush his fingers through it. Her waist was perfect to hold whenever he’d brace his hands on his hips. And when Dean would reach up to rub his jaw, he’d be slammed with another reminder that this wasn’t his jaw. It was too smooth, at a different angle, and far too good.

This was the jaw he’d dreamt of holding and angling back. Of kissing a soft line across, sucking a small, dark mark on, or nipping at until everyone could see that Dean had been here. That his hand had wrapped around Her neck because she trusted him there, and he’d been holding Her chin up so She could look him in the eyes as they grinned at each other.

She had the prettiest smile. Her lips would curve up at the perfect angle, her eyes would shine like small stars, and every little line on Her face would serve as evidence that She was happy.

Dean hadn’t seen Her smile in a while. Not at him. Not like She used to. 

And he certainly wouldn’t see it now. He couldn’t.

All he could see was himself, across the room, rolling on the balls of his feet and sucking on his teeth as he thought.

As She thought.

This was so weird.

“I don’t like this.” She muttered, and Dean frowned. His voice sounded rougher, deeper, and heavier from outside. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, or how to interpret the small shivers up his spine and over his skin. 

“C’mon,” Dean said Her name, in her sweet and musical voice, and he liked how it sounded. He’d always loved how She said her own name, like it was an answer to something or the only lesson Dean would ever need to learn. “Is it really that bad to be stuck in my body-“

“Yes.” She snapped, raising Her chin and glaring down at him, and now his heart was beating faster. “This feels weird, and I don’t like seeing you be me. You’re doing it wrong.”

Dean frowned, and Her hair fell over his eyes. “How the hell am I doing it-“

“You’re sitting wrong. Your legs are too wide, I don’t lean like that, and when I frown it’d not supposed to look like I’m trying to murder someone.”

Dean disagreed with that last one. Shit, for months the only expression he’d gotten from Her was a frown that told him She wanted him dead. 

He didn’t blame Her. He wasn’t all too happy with himself either, but it had been the only option. She wanted him. She said She wanted him, and she hadn’t been lying, and that had been the worst thing in the world.

If She hadn’t really wanted him, Dean could’ve offered himself in all his broken, foul glory and She would’ve walked away all by herself. Dean never would’ve needed to worry about losing Her, because he wouldn’t have had Her to begin with. But She’d said Dean Winchester, I want you, and he’d fucking believed Her. He never believed people when they said that. 

And him believing Her meant Dean could lose Her. Could truly let Her down and get her hurt. 

So he’d said no. He’d lied with practiced ease—through his teeth and with a flat expression—and told Her he didn’t see her like that. That She was his best friend, and he’d just never felt that for Her.

She nodded, and backed off. Smiling less and frowning more and still joking with him but never bumping their feet together under a table or leaning Her head on his shoulder. 

It was what he’d wanted. She was safer, and still within Dean’s reach to just see Her, to know she was okay. But he’d never expected to touch Her again. He’d made his peace with the fact that She’d always be just a stretch away, but never his to hold.

And now he could only hold Her. Only rub Her thighs when he was thinking, only touch her face when he tried to brush Her hair away, only feel Her everywhere, every second, until he drove himself mad.

He didn’t know if he wanted to thank the witch that had done this, or kill them again.

Right now he was leaning towards the later, if only because he really didn’t like seeing Her in his body. It wasn’t just weird. It was wrong.

“You’re not exactly acting like me either, sweetheart.” Dean raised his brows, and watched his own face drop into a further glower. “You’re standing too much like a girl.”

She scoffed. “What the fuck does that even mean-“

“You’re too relaxed-“

“Relaxed?”

“Yeah.” He tried to raise his chin, but Her hair fell in his face again. He didn’t know how the hell he was suppose to do anything when he had to keep it out of his face. “And you gotta walk slower. We’re not in a rush-“

“I’m in a rush! I told you, Dean, I don’t like this-“

“I’m not a big fan either!” He snapped. “But what the hell are we suppose to do about it? Every time we’ve tried to tell Sammy he hasn’t heard us-“

She rolled Her eyes. And they were Dean’s eyes, but that was Her eye roll. “That’s the curse, dumbass. We have to break it-“

“I got that, sweetheart, but I’m not seeing how you plan to do that without help-“

“I have you, Dean.” Her voice—his voice—was louder. Firmer. Commanding. It made his gut warm, and his body—Her body—sit a little taller of his own accord. “You’re on research duty, buddy. Let’s go.”

Dean scowled. He hated it when She called him buddy. He wasn’t Her buddy, he was supposed to be Her-

Nothing. Dean was Her nothing, because he’d been so very careful to make and keep it that way.

And that knowledge never stopped him from wanting Her. Wanting Her so bad that, when he’d glance down at her hands, now in his control, he couldn’t stop wondering if he’d ever get to feel them like this again. Rubbing against skin and tracing over the curve of his lips and trailing nails on his legs.

It didn’t really count. That wasn’t Dean’s body that he was feeling. But the touch felt real, and he didn’t really want to let it go yet, not if this was the closest to holding Her he’d ever get. Just a small, torturous reparation for his sacrifice of never really having her, where he got to memorize Her body and keep it in his head forever.

“C’mon,” Dean said Her name, because he wanted a little more time. A longer chance to exist in this purgatory, because he’d never get the chance to fully enter heaven. “You don’t need my help-“

“Yes, I do.” She snapped, grabbing Her jacket from the bed and marching to the door. “Get up. We’re going.”

Dean didn’t want to get up, but Her body didn’t seem to agree with him. He pushed off the bed and gained an unsteady balance, because Her knees were oddly weak. She wasn’t weak—She hunted like an animal and had used this very body to knock Dean flat on his ass—but something was making him lightheaded and dizzy. 

He was probably just hungry. They hadn’t eaten since the curse hit. 

“If we’re doing this,” he grumbled, shuffling to put on Her shoes. “We’re doing it with food.”

“Deal.” She tried to shrug on Her jacket, froze when it didn’t fit around Dean’s body, and chucked it right at his face. “Wear that. I don’t want you getting me a cold.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but put on the jacket. She was already pissed, and this wasn’t worth fighting about.

“This is so weird,” She mumbled, shaking Dean’s head. “C’mon, Winchester, we’re fixing this-“

“Wait,” Dean frowned, patting his pockets—Her pockets—and scanning around the motel room. “Where are my keys-“

“You mean these keys?”

He turned to see Her holding up the Impala’s keys, a shit-eating grin on Her face. 

Dean narrowed his eyes, holding out his hand. “Gimme my keys.”

“No.” She shrugged, Her grin growing. “I think I’m good.”

“I’m not asking, sweetheart-“

“Okay. You take them, they’re yours.”

She walked out of the motel room, and Dean’s eyes widened. There was no fucking way She was driving his car.

“They are mine!” He shouted, sprinting after Her. “Just cause you’re in my damn body-“

Her body was faster than Dean was used to. He almost slammed right into Her back—His back—and an undignified sound left his when Her arms wrapped around his waist, catching him from a fall and holding him right to Her chest.

He’d never realized he was that broad. Or that strong. She was holding Dean like he was paper, and looking at him with shining eyes—he could see the real Her almost glowing in his body—and grinning with Her whole face. Dean’s whole face, with crinkles near his eyes he hadn’t known he had, and stubble on his jaw he’d meant to shave today.

Her hands were rubbing his waist. It was the small, careful circles he always dreamt of leaving on Her hips and arms. 

He wasn’t sure She knew she was doing it.

“Uh,” Dean cleared his throat, because She needed to let go now. Her touch was burning on his body, and they hadn’t really touched since the curse hit, so maybe they weren’t allowed to. “Keys.”

She shook Her head. “This is my one chance to drive, Dean-“

“It’s my freakin’ car-“

“And I’m you.” She raised Her brows, still holding him, and the fiery feeling got worse. “I’m driving.”

He should’ve fought more. But Her hand squeezed him lightly, and his whole body grew molten. 

She needed to let go of him now. 

He tried to grunt Her name, but it just came out breathy and soft. “You crash it-“

“I pay for the repairs.”

Dean scowled, but gave in. Right now She was stronger and taller than he was, and Dean didn’t really want to lose any dignity trying to physically take the keys. 

And She didn’t crash it. Dean watched Her drive with careful attention—grumbling about what She was doing wrong until She shot him the deadliest glare he’d ever seen—and She never even came close to crashing. Her hands were big and firm and broad on Baby’s wheel, and Her arms would flex when she shifted the wheel, and there was a set look of determination on Her face that made her jaw look shaper-

That was not Her jaw. That was his jaw. And his arms, and his hands, and he wasn’t sure why the hell his eyes had been wandering over himself like that. He didn’t know why the hell he could feel his heartbeat in his throat and stomach. 

He wasn’t in full control. When they parked, his body didn’t want to move until She helped him out of his seat, and Dean didn’t miss the look of confusion on Her face, like she wasn’t entirely certain why She’d done that. It was the same expression she had when She guided him inside, or when She opened the door for him.

Those were things Dean always did for Her. He wasn’t used to a hand on his back, or how nice it felt there. Secure, like a tether that told him he’d be alright. He didn’t understand why his body leaned closer to Her’s as they walked, or why his stomach kept doing little flips when Her eyes would fall from scanning over the diner and land on his.

He felt so unbelievably safe and calm. Hell, he’d never felt like this. Like the sky could fall and it would be fine, because the body across from his in the booth would catch it. 

This was a really weird curse.

“You’re going to take notes,” She said, pushing a stack of books across the table that She must have pulled out of her ass. “I’ll look for something online.”

Dean frowned, shaking his head. The fucking hair was in his face again. “Why do I have to do the notes-“

“Because I have better handwriting, and you have my hands.” She handed him a notebook and pencil, and their fingers brushed, sending small sparks of electricity through Dean’s blood. “Tell me if you find something.”

“Nah, sweetheart. I think I’ll have some pie and do the online research-”

Dean had started to push everything back across the table, but he froze at the glare on Her face. It was downright domineering, and did weird things to his brain. He felt fuzzy. 

“You’re doing notes.” She grunted, and Dean definitely felt at least a little dizzy. “That’s it.”

His voice was high and almost bratty in his own ears. He didn’t like it. “But-“

“Don’t test me, Winchester. I swear to god I’ll eat a salad.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll take you for a run.”

Dean tensed. “You wouldn’t fuckin’ dare-“

“You wanna bet?”

She’d won the argument again. Those were the arguments Dean was supposed to win. He was supposed to be able to talk his way out of anything with Her. To smirk and wink and tease Her until she broke rank from Sam’s side, and Dean didn’t have to do the stupid parts of the cases anymore. He hadn’t taken notes in years. He hated taking notes, and he wanted to keep pushing until order was restored and She was doing the notes—she usually loved doing the notes—but Her body had other ideas.

His mouth couldn’t figure out how to open and snap at Her. His body was molded and frozen into the seat whenever She’d look at him, and something kept humming in his chest whenever She’d talk. He was taking notes because he couldn’t remember how not to—how to grab the laptop or point at Her with a stern finger—and Dean’s was writing fast and neat, and his hand wasn’t cramping.

His foot kept aching to inch forward and press on Her calf. His fingers kept wanting to reach out and trace Her jaw. Dean wanted to sit on Her lap—he could never say that one aloud—because his body seemed to think it would be comfortable. 

This curse was insane. He didn’t need to try and act like Her anymore, because his body—Her body—still seemed to remember how She was supposed to move. He found his hands spinning the pen between Her fingers like he’d seen her do a million times. His legs were crossed on the booth instead of spread under the table. He ordered a burger, but he couldn’t eat it. It was too greasy and heavy, and he already felt a little sick from just one bite. 

She’d ordered chicken nuggets, and put Her usual disgusting amount of ketchup on the plate, but barely touched them.

They smelled really good. Dean was starving, his mouth watering as he couldn’t stop staring at them—or Her, in his body, but he didn’t really want to dwell on that—and when She glanced up at him, Her eyes flicked to the burger in front of him.

They traded plates without a word. And Dean had never seen himself eat before, but he finally understood why Sam was always so annoyed with him. She inhaled that thing, chewing loudly and wiping Her mouth with the back of her hand, licking her fingers clean and making disgusting smacking sounds-

The sounds should’ve been disgusting. Instead they settled in Dean’s gut, lighting a small fire he didn’t know how to stop feeding. He couldn’t figure out how to not stare at Her, arms braced on the table and brow furrowed as she read something on the laptop screen. 

He had to excuse himself to go get more drinks. 

“One beer.” He muttered, then immediately cringed. Beer sounded foul to his mouth. “Actually, make it a milkshake.”

“Hey, darlin’.” 

Some poor chick at the bar war probably getting hit on. The lady behind the counter seemed motherly. She’d handle it if it got out of hand, and Dean had bigger problems to deal with anyway. Problems like how if he didn’t have a milkshake right now, he might actually die.

“What flavor, sweetheart?” The server asked, and Dean frowned. Being called sweetheart was weird.

He responded with Her usual order—hopefully that would satisfy his unwelcome craving—and someone off the side cleared the throat.

“You gonna answer me?”

A hand landed on Dean’s arm, and he flinched. It felt clammy and wrong on his body. Like a weight that settled into his bones and sent a creeping, itchy feeling over his skin.

He turned to see a fairly tall, well-built man grinning at him with an almost predatory smile. It made his body go rigid, almost shrinking in on itself.

“Are you, uh,” he frowned. “You talking to me?”

The man laughed. It was too loud, with not warmth, and echoed like a gunshot in his skull. “Course I am, sweetheart. I don’t see any other pretty girls ‘round.”

Oh.

Dean was the poor chick being hit on. 

And he hated it. His body hated it. Not only was this man’s touch wrong, his voice was wrong. It slithered over Dean’s gut and chest, making everything in him recoiled and balk, because that was not how he was supposed to be called sweetheart. 

“I, um,” he glanced back to the booth, frowning when he realized She was gone. “Listen, dude, I’m not-“

“Dude?” The man laughed. “We can do better than that, baby-“

Dean might have visibly recoiled. He hated baby, only one voice felt like it was supposed to call him baby, even if it never had-

He didn’t know what was happening, or why he was having such a visceral reaction to something that should’ve been passive and boring. Dean knew She got hit on all the time, because she was a fucking knockout, and his usual reaction to it was a possessive anger he had no right to feel. Not disgust, or a weird desire to retreat and hide-

“What’s going on?”

That was Dean’s own voice. And there was a large presence behind him that felt reliable. That his body wanted to lean back into.

When Dean turned, She was right there with narrowed eyes. 

He didn’t love how he immediately felt better, and softer, and a little light-headed.

“Hey, man, you gotta wait your turn-“

“My turn?” She snorted. “Walk away from hi- her, buddy, or I’ll kick your ass. I can do that now.”

She puffed Her chest, and—as soon as his brain remembered how to not be static warmth—Dean would have to talk to Her about not abusing his body for unapproved bar fights.

The man scoffed. “Bro, there ain’t no way this is your girl-“

“She is.” Her voice was dry, her face flat. “In more ways than you can imagine. Go.”

Dean was starting to like this curse less. To start, he didn’t appreciate the speed at which the idea of Her being his girl had been dismissed. He also wasn’t a huge fan of how She’d called him his girl, and he’d liked it. She’d been talking about how Dean was in Her body, and she probably didn’t want a random creep trying to get in her pants. 

Dean’s body—Her body—loved the sound of Her agreement in his voice. It made him feel tingly. 

It didn’t help how She was touching him—holding his arms as She glared at the man over his head—and it kicked the feeling from a soft, warm hum to fireworks. Dean wanted Her hand to meld there and never let go. When the man walked away and She started talking, he never wanted Her to shut up.

“You-“ She swallowed, shaking Her head slightly. “Never mind. I found it.”

Dean blinked at Her. “It?”

“How to tell Sam.

“Oh.” He paused, mostly staring at her as the words sank in, and letting out a long breath of relief escape him when they did. “Awesome.”

She raised Her brows. “You’re pro switching back now?”

“I’ve always been pro switching back-“

“You said it wasn’t that urgent.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I changed my mind, sweetheart. What’d you find.”

She gave him an odd look—Dean couldn’t tell if it was hurt, annoyance, or absolute indifference—but continued. “We have to work around the curse.”

“What the hell does-“

“We can’t tell Sam that I’m you and you’re me. Every time we have the call gets dropped, or something loud has drowned us out, Sam’s literally fucking hangs up-“

“I know,” Dean drawled Her name, giving Her a flat look. “I was there for all of that-“

“Shut up. My point is every time we’ve tried to explicitly tell him, he hasn’t heard us. So what if we just don’t?”

Dean frowned at Her. “Your solution is to just freakin’… give up? Like we’re a kiddie soccer team that lost one to many matches, and we’re gonna quit and cry about it?”

“No, Dean. My goal is to not say it, but let Sam figure it out himself.”

“How-“

“Think of something only you and Sam know about. Something you’d never disclose to anyone else.” A wide, broad grin was stretching over Her face. Dean’s face.

He couldn’t keep living like this.

“We’ve got a few of those kinds of secrets, but I’m not-“

“You don’t have to tell me. You have to tell Sam, in my voice. Just like I’m going to say one of our secrets in your voice.”

It was a smart plan, and it would probably work. Sam knew She and Dean were being so annoying and weird about each other, so they wouldn’t be spilling deep, dark secrets anytime soon. Sam would hear them, and he was smart, so he’d figure them out. 

But Dean was mostly stuck on the last part of that sentence.

“You and Sammy have secrets?”

She rolled Her eyes. “We’re friends. Of course we have secrets.”

“About what?”

“It’s not a secret if I tell you.”

She crossed Her arms—Dean’s arms—and he wanted them to wrap around him and keep him warm and safe, maybe choke him a little or carry him around everywhere like he was the only thing She was meant to hold-

Jesus. 

“Whatever.” Dean muttered. He needed to get away from Her now. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

She frowned. “Can you hold it?”

“Yeah, but why the hell would I-“

“I don’t want you peeing in my body.”

Dean snorted. “Are you freakin’ serious-“

“Yes! You’ll have to wipe-“

“I know how to wipe, sweetheart. And you’re gonna need to take me to piss eventually-“

Dean could swear She blushed. He blushed. Goddamnit. 

“I’d hold it.” She snapped, standing a little taller. “You can go back at the motel, where I can go with you.”

“Why would you need to go with me-“

“I don’t want you touching me there, Dean!” Her voice was a low, hushed shout. “It’s- You don’t get to- I’d need to wipe, and make sure you didn’t look!”

“It’s just a pussy,” he said Her name slowly, and She looked like she was going to kill him.

His horrible body—Her body—wanted to either give in or push harder, until She snapped him in half. 

It seemed to like the idea of Her giving him anything at all.

Dean could work with that.

“Dean, I’m fucking serious-“

“So am I! It’s just a body, ” He sneered, and really wished She was taller. It was hard to be firm and authoritative when She was bigger. 

When this was over, he’d probably respect Her a little more. She shouted and him and Sammy all the time without ever flinching.

“Look, I get that this is weird as hell, but it’s nothing I haven’t seen before-”

 “You haven’t seen it before. It’s my vagina, Dean, and you don’t get to see it now. Hold your piss.”

Suddenly, it clicked. She cared that Dean would be touching Her. If it was Sam, She wouldn’t give a shit.

But Dean had lost the right to touch Her there when he’d decided he could never hold Her.

It had felt like a good idea at the time. Past Dean had understood that She deserved better, and She shouldn’t have to live Her whole life with a target on Her back. Past Dean had known that She’d find better, and he’d be forgotten in a few years, and it was better for his to have another good thing slip through his fingers rather than hold it and break it. Past Dean just wanted Her to be happy and safe, and She’d never be both as long as She was attached to him.

Past Dean had been an idiot. That son of a bitch hadn’t needed to pee this bad, and he hadn’t spent months with Her just in reach. 

Dean opened his mouth to say something—not an apology, because he’d make that choice in every life to keep Her safe—but before he could, She was moving. Grabbing the hook of Dean’s arm and pulling him out of the diner.

“That’s my body, Dean.” She snapped. “You’re peeing at the motel.”

Dean grumbled an agreement, and didn’t fight all that hard. He had bigger worries. She was pulling him through the parking lot, and he was letting Her. Shit, he was trying to jog a little to keep up with Her, maybe fall into her side. Just fall into Her. She opened the Impala door and he scowled, but let Her help him inside. Her hand touched his lower back again, and it set off fireworks around his ribs and through his intestines.

He felt weirdly warm and gooey, his skin was tingling again, and when he shifted slightly in his seat he could feet something wet between his legs-

Son of a bitch.

She’d been manhandling him, and he was turned on by it. Her body was turned on by it. She wanted to Dean to jump in his own body and climb it like a tree, and Jesus, that ache between his legs was unbearable, and he wanted his own cock inside off him-

They needed to fix this right fucking now. 

End Note: Brace for incoming smut and silliness and angst. Brewing a perfect storm over here.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[mapis-putellas]

𝑫𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔/𝑶.𝑩𝒂𝒕𝒍𝒍𝒆

She’s so precious I just want to squish her. Mentions of weight. Not in a bad way though.

Ona sat at the kitchen table, arms crossed tightly over her chest, glaring at the plate of food in front of you like it had personally offended her. You were oblivious, humming to yourself as you took another bite, sighing in exaggerated satisfaction. “Oh my god, this is so good.”

She exhaled sharply through her nose. “You are evil.”

You looked up, feigning innocence. “Me? What did I do?”

Ona narrowed her eyes. “You know.”

You bit back a smile, twirling your fork through the pasta, the creamy sauce clinging to the noodles. “I really don’t.”

Ona groaned, tilting her head back. “You cook every day. And every day, you make something delicious. And every day, I have to say no.”

“You don’t have to say no.” You retort.

Her head snapped back down, eyes widening in betrayal. “Sí, lo hago!”

You shrugged, taking another bite. “Not really. It’s just a few extra carbs.”

Ona muttered something under her breath, shaking her head. “It’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“That you can eat whatever you want!”

You smiled, nudging the plate slightly toward her. “You can eat whatever you want too.”

Ona scoffed. “No, I can’t.”

“Says who?”

“Says my diet plan.”

You rolled your eyes. “Your diet plan is ridiculous.”

She gasped dramatically, hand over her chest. “It is not ridiculous. It is for my job.”

“And my job is to make you suffer by cooking really good food.”

Ona groaned again, burying her face in her hands. “You are actually trying to kill me.”

You laughed, reaching out to tap her wrist. “Just one bite, baby. You know you want to.”

She peeked at you through her fingers, lips pressed together.

You wiggled the fork toward her. “Come on, just a little one.”

Ona’s eyes darted between the fork and your face, and for a moment, she looked like she was about to refuse. But then, with a defeated sigh, she leaned forward, allowing you to feed her the small forkful.

Her groan of pleasure was immediate. “Ugh, mierda.”

You grinned. “Good, right?”

She chewed slowly, eyes closed. “So good.”

You leaned back, smug. “Told you.”

Ona swallowed, shaking her head. “This is why I gained three pounds.”

You burst out laughing. “Baby, it’s three pounds. No one even noticed.”

“I noticed!”

You scoffed. “Because you weigh yourself like a maniac.”

Ona groaned, flopping back in her chair. “I have to be disciplined.”

You tilted your head. “But are you happy?”

She hesitated, then sighed dramatically. “No.” She grumbled petulantly.

You smirked, nudging the plate even closer. “Then eat.”

Ona stared at the plate. Then at you. Then back at the plate. With a defeated sigh, she grabbed the fork from your hand.

“Solo un poco más,” she mumbled.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult

[sunshineyuyu]

stereo hearts (s. mg)

★ summary: mingi’s had a crush on you since his freshman year. you’re a year older than him, infinitely cooler, and you share a love for music. one night, you end up making out in the storage closet of the campus radio station you both work at, and you end up getting closer. ★ pairing: mingi x f!reader ★ genre: smut, college ★ word count: 5.6k ★ tags/warnings: radio station dj!mingi and reader, reader is a year older than mingi, mingi is a computer science major LOL, reader is described as shorter than mingi, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, mentions of nicotine vape, frat party, american college setting, kinda sub-y mingi, kinda dom-y reader, slight dumbification?, reader is just a little mean to mingi, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, penetrative piv sex (with a condom!), minor super background seongjoong ★ notes: this one was written as a gift for @starhwas-bunny huhu, my bestie beta <3 ftr i have never dj-ed for a university radio station so hopefully this isn’t a super inaccurate representation of that experience. ★ masterlist | read on ao3

in the three years since mingi started volunteering as a dj at the university radio station, the little room they broadcast out of has become something like a second home to him.

three out of four of the walls are covered floor to ceiling with shelves that sag from the amount of vinyls, cassette tapes, and cds crammed onto them. tucked into one corner is a mini fridge that was found abandoned after move-out day years ago, and sitting on top is a weak little keurig gifted by the previous faculty sponsor. there’s a musty old leather couch shoved against the singular non-shelved wall, and in the middle of the whole room is the desk, overloaded with several monitors, a keyboard, and the sound board. the whole room smells faintly like sour coffee and old grandpa, but mingi has learned to love it all the same.

tonight, though, mingi would rather be anywhere else than here. grumpily, he blinks at the red numbers of the digital clock on the corner of the desk. 02:13 AM, it reads. he wishes he could go back in time and take a different shift, but the mingi from a month ago never could’ve anticipated all the developments that have happened over the last few weeks.

first, his compilers assignment is kicking his ass. he’s been working tirelessly on it for three weeks now, but his results are still a little off and the due date is fast approaching at the end of the week. he doesn’t even have any classmates to fall back on for help, since he’s taking the course a semester ahead of his other friends, and he hasn’t had enough time to make new ones yet.

second, his best-friend-roommate yunho just got a new girlfriend, which means he’s been spending less time hanging out with mingi. mingi likes to think that he’s not too clingy or needy, but he misses the routine of waking up to the smell of yunho burning breakfast and then getting in a game of valorant together before going to bed. instead, he’s had to play nice with yunho’s new girlfriend whenever she invades their apartment with her neverending peppiness, and sleep with noise-canceling earbuds because he and yunho share a wall.

he’s sleep-deprived and stressed and lonely and really wants a goddamn hug from literally anyone.

but he’s forced to toil away in the tiny campus radio station studio, where the playlist he’d painstakingly arranged last week to blend seamlessly between songs does nothing to soothe his anxieties.

⋆⋆⋆

there’s still half an hour left of mingi’s shift, but he’s already queued up all the music and timed out the ads, so he’s mostly just focused on chipping away at his assignment. the adrenaline from the celsius he crushed when he first arrived is already started to fade, and mingi is seriously thinking about digging out the elfbar from the bottom of his backpack (that he promised yunho he’d throw away) to extend the last fumes of his focus.

this train of thought is thankfully interrupted by the door of the studio being thrown open unceremoniously.

“shit!”

even on a good day, mingi is a jumpy person, and having the blinding light of the hallway enter the dark studio with no warning makes his heart skip several beats. his knee jerks up on instinct, and it whacks painfully against the bottom of the desk.

“ah, oops. sorry!”

standing in the doorway, haloed in fluorescent light, and appearing practically angelic, is none other than you. you have enough wherewithal to at least look apologetic, but mingi doesn’t care either way because it’s you.

you’re a senior—one year above mingi—and the one who trained him to be a dj when he was a freshman. back then, he’d been starstruck by how outgoing you are, the way you’d tease him with the familiarity of a close friend even though you were practically strangers. you have this eclectic but broad taste in music, and he likes that you challenge him to listen to new artists and genres.

and of course—you’re fucking hot. you’ve always been beautiful, with shining eyes and a big wide smile. but over the years, you’ve changed your hair style, dyed the ends, gotten a couple of piercings and tattoos, and it’s been game over for mingi ever since. 

so yeah, he’s had a crippling crush on you that’s only gotten worse with time.

“hi,” mingi says dumbly, massaging his knee where the pain has already mysteriously disappeared.

“hey!” you say breezily, beaming because it’s clear now that he won’t yell at you for scaring him.

“do you have the next shift?” mingi asks, using all his brainpower to compose a coherent sentence. he’s usually able to act relatively normal around you, but he’s all out of sorts right now, and it’s nearly 2:30 fucking am.

“oh, no,” you say. “i just really needed a caffeine fix, and this is the only place i could think of that’s still open on campus for me to get some.”

you both glance over at the sad excuse of a coffee station the studio has, and mingi lets out an undignified snort.

“it is what it is,” you sigh.

while mingi tries to think of a conversation starter, he turns back to his laptop so he’s not just staring at you like some lovesick puppy. 

your normally styled hair is thrown into an afterthought of a bun, but mingi likes that he can see the elegant line of your neck and the line of silver hoops stacked along your ears. you’re also wearing those rimless bayonetta glasses that he loves, and he always gets distracted by the little sparkle charm you added that dangles from the hinge.

“aw man,” you say. “there aren’t any pods left.”

mingi glances up briefly from his laptop to see you pouting down at the little box where they usually keep the coffee pods. 

cute, he thinks.

“hongjoong ordered more last week,” mingi says, waving towards the storage closet behind him. “but he hid them so people don’t try to steal them in bulk.”

at his words, you perk up and scamper towards the closet after dumping your backpack onto the couch.

with you out of sight, some of the nervous tension in mingi’s muscles finally bleeds out. mingi throws his glasses down onto the table and rubs at his weary eyes until he sees fireworks against the backs of his eyelids. he wishes he had even an ounce of the charisma that yunho has, but he’s so fucking tired right now that he can’t think of anything even remotely charming to talk to you about. eventually, he slams his forehead down onto the table and entertains the thought of knocking himself out. before he can let his imagination run too wild, he hears the sound of something heavy falling and a whispered “fuck!”

concerned, mingi straightens and rolls his chair closer to the threshold of the storage closet.

“you good?” he asks.

he forgot to put his glasses back on, so you’re really more of a blurry blob of a person, but somehow your sheepish smile still manages to come through.

“i found the pods!” you say brightly, pointing at a large cardboard box on the top shelf. “but, i can’t reach them.”

mingi huffs out a laugh and stands up. finally, it feels like something is going right for him tonight. you are short and need help, and mingi is tall and can help you.

he’s so hyper-focused on his task that he doesn’t think twice about crowding up behind you. doesn’t think twice about bracing one hand against your back to keep himself steady as he reaches with his other hand for the box. doesn’t think twice about leaning around your smaller frame to present you with the thing. 

“here,” he says, except it comes out breathy and rough because he’s just stretched his body for the first time in what feels like ages.

he doesn’t realize how close your faces are until you utter a soft thank you, and the words ghost along his cheekbone. he shudders at the sensation, and all at once the rest of his brain and body come online to recognize the position you’re arranged in.

it’s cramped in the closet, and mingi’s a big guy. his entire front is pressed up against your back, and the hand he’d used to balance himself has somehow slipped down to your waist, and you’ve turned your head slightly so that you can look up at him.

mingi stares down at you, and you’re seriously so close that he doesn’t need his glasses to see the way your lips part, the way your eyebrows furrow. 

“um,” he says intelligently.

oh-so-slowly, you push your glasses up onto your head and turn around to fully face him. like always, that stupid sparkle charm entrances mingi.

and then suddenly, he’s pulled down by the front of his shirt, and you surge up to meet him. your lips collide together with so much force that your teeth clack, but mingi doesn’t care because jesus fucking christ. he shoves the pods onto the nearest shelf to get his other hand onto your waist too. god, it’s been a while since the last time he’s made out with someone like this. while his mouth works furiously to remember how to kiss well, he fumbles his palms over the curves of your body. meanwhile, your fingers dance confidently along his chest and collarbones, finally curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. when you tug lightly, mingi actually whimpers.

he pulls back, embarrassed, but you look delighted.

“oh,” you breathe, grinning. “oh, fuck—make that noise again.”

mingi stares at you, uncomprehending and breathing like he’s just run a race. you tug again. mingi keens.

“cute,” you murmur. “c’mere.”

you don’t give mingi the chance to second-guess anything as you pull him back down. your chapstick tastes like peaches, and your tongue is doing things that mingi’s never felt before. you touch him everywhere—run your hands along his chest, his stomach, his back, his arms. mingi is putty in your arms, and he stops trying to hold back the sounds that you tease out of him.

you make out sloppily for what seems like hours. it’s so nice and mindless that mingi doesn’t even realize that he’s half-hard in his jeans until you finally take a step back. 

like the fucking touch-starved idiot he is, he unconsciously leans forward to chase after you. in response, you grin and press a single finger against his chest to hold him off.

“it’s almost the next shift,” you say quietly. “we should probably get out of here.”

“oh,” mingi croaks, as reality settles back in. “oh. yeah.”

you peck the underside of his jaw, and then leave the storage closet.

mingi stays for a second longer, collecting himself. finally, he grabs the box of coffee pods and follows you back into the studio.

he can’t get a read on you as you wordlessly retrieve your backpack. he mirrors your movement, albeit more lethargically. he feels like he’s drunk or high or both, body moving sluggishly, and he’s so so confused.

jongho, who’s taking the 3 am shift, shows up in the middle of your silence as a much needed buffer. it takes mingi five minutes to hand over control, and when he’s done, he’s disappointed to see that you aren’t in the room anymore. dejected, he says goodbye to jongho and leaves the studio, only to find you waiting in the hallway.

you look up when he stops in front of you and smile at him.

“walk me to my car?” you say.

mingi smiles shyly back at you. “yeah. okay.”

you start down the hallway, but mingi halts abruptly. “didn’t you- um- your coffee?” mingi stutters. jesus, he really needs to pull himself together.

you quirk your head to one side and then takes a step into mingi’s space. your gaze darkens, and your smile stretches into a smirk.

“nah,” you whisper, reaching to drag your thumb along his bottom lip. “i got my fix.” 

oh, mingi thinks giddily. she means me!

“c’mon,” you say, your face softening and your hand finding mingi’s. “it’s late.”

“yeah,” mingi says dreamily, trailing after you.

⋆⋆⋆

in the days following, mingi doesn’t see you at all.

this isn’t uncommon—you’re different years and majors, after all. but mingi is still bummed about it. he has your number, but he’s never texted you besides to talk about campus radio logistics. sometimes, you’ll send each other a new song or artist to nerd out over, but mingi feels like it’s a little too transparent if he texts you now when the last time you exchanged messages was weeks ago.

every night, though, mingi replays what happened in his head over and over again. how you had been the one to initiate, to guide and control the entire encounter—how that had turned him on in ways he’d never imagined. he tries vainly not to think about you when he jerks off, but right as he’s about to cum, his thoughts always stray to the way you’d tugged at his hair and cooed at his embarrassing noises.

in the aftermath, he’ll try to think instead of the way you held his hand while they walked to your car. the walk had been short but sweet. you’d been the one to intertwine your fingers, and mingi hadn’t been able to hide the stupid smile on his face as your hands swung between the two of you.

you’d given him one last kiss on the cheek before saying good night.

the rest of the night was a haze: walking to his car, driving home, falling asleep the moment his head hit his pillow without even changing out of his clothes.

⋆⋆⋆

it’s friday night, and mingi has managed to finish his godforsaken compilers assignment, so he’s planning on getting wasted.

mingi is still largely undecided on how he feels about yunho’s new girlfriend, but the one thing going in her favor is the fact that she’s the delta gamma social chair and—because of some bylaw somewhere—has automatic entry to every relevant frat party. she can even bring other people with her, as long as it’s not an egregious amount.

and that’s how mingi finds himself in the middle of an SAE party, just the right side of tipsy. he’s nursing a sweating can of beer and watching yunho and wooyoung absolutely destroy a couple of pledges at beer pong. when they win, mingi pounces on them, but ends up empty-handed as they’re each pulled into congratulatory embraces by their respective significant others.

suddenly, despite being surrounded by people, mingi feels incredibly lonely. it’s like he’s been doused in ice water, the way his head clears and his heart sinks. he knows it’s a passing feeling, knows that in two seconds his friends will turn their attention back to him, but the shots and beers from earlier tonight no longer sit right in his bloodstream.

under the guise of getting another drink, mingi ducks away from his friends and looks for someplace with a little more space and air. he wanders towards the yard, where there’s far fewer people. all of the lawn chairs available are already occupied, so mingi leans up against the wall and pulls out his phone. he’s two scrolls into his instagram feed when something collides into his side hard enough to make him let out a soft oof.

he thinks it must be some random drunk, but instead it’s—

you.

“mingi!” you shriek.

your arms wrap around his middle, and you gaze up at him with glazed over eyes. you’re wearing this tight black shirt with a big square neckline, and you’re all squished up against him so mingi gets an eyeful of your cleavage.

he swallows painfully.

“y/n!” he says, trying to match her energy without being as loud.

you peer around him, almost like you’re looking for someone else. “are you here by yourself?” you ask.

“no,” mingi says. “my friends are inside. i just wanted to get some air.”

“ah.” you nod sagely. “do you smoke? like—get high?”

mingi shrugs, and you bounce with glee. you drag him by the wrist over to a small cluster of people sitting around one of the few lawn tables available.

“sit sit sit!” you say, pushing him into the one empty chair before unceremoniously plopping yourself down in his lap. dumbstruck, mingi just sits there with his hands lying limply against the armrests as you shuffle around in his fucking lap to find a comfortable position. every ounce of his energy is going towards not popping a boner right now.

instead, he focuses on trying to recognize the people sitting around the table. there’s kim hongjoong, the president of your campus radio org, and his boyfriend park seonghwa. beside them is chaewon, your best friend, also sitting in the lap of some guy who mingi assumes is her boyfriend.

shit—what are these people assuming about him, then? 

“here,” you say, thrusting a small object like a usb towards his lips. “take a hit of penelope.”

“penelope?” mingi’s like, still reeling from everything that’s happened in the last five minutes.

you giggle. “my pen. here.”

obediently, mingi leans towards and fits his lips around the tiny weed pen. it’s been a while since he last got high—yunho and wooyoung both run cross-country and don’t like messing around with drugs while they’re in season. he tries to take a shallow hit, but doesn’t end up getting anything, so he throws all caution to the wind and inhales deeply. the tangy sour smoke hits the back of his throat harder than the smooth mintyness of his elfbar, so of course—

he ends up coughing.

little puffs of smoke leave his mouth and nose as he splutters. thankfully, everyone barely laughs at him. in fact, hongjoong hands him a bottle of water which he chugs gratefully.

“sorry, been a while,” mingi rasps, when he finally manages to take a normal breath.

you hum and brush some of mingi’s hair behind his ear. “cute.”

this nearly sends mingi into another coughing fit, but he manages to just laugh breathlessly instead. clutching the water bottle to him like a lifeline, he sinks back into his chair so that maybe he can be less in the spotlight.

“—anyway,” chaewon says, and mingi lets out a sigh of relief at the turn of attention, “sannie, tell them about all the shit they made you do when you were a pledge.”

san—the one guy mingi didn’t know—sighs and pinches chaewon’s thigh.

“babe, you can’t just make me tell this story to everyone. trade secrets, and whatever.”

hongjoong snorts. “so they got you pretty good, huh?”

“goddamnit,” san is like.

so san regails them with the harrowing tale of him pledging SAE, and mingi finally lets himself relax. san has this soft, earnest voice, and it’s nice to listen to. at some point, you press penelope into his hand, and even later, mingi works up the courage to take another hit. this one is much more successful than the last, and gradually, mingi works up a nice buzz. it spurs him to tug you deeper into his lap, fit his hands around your waist—jesus, have you always been this small compared to him?

mingi has no idea how long he spends there, vibing with you and your friends. he’s halfway to asleep when suddenly he feels something trail along his jawline. he feels the telltale graze of lips against his skin, and his pulse jumps.

suddenly, he is incredibly awake.

you nose at his neck, leave the lightest of kisses. mingi becomes hyper aware of his surroundings, and finally realizes that conversation’s been dead for a while. chaewon is fully straddling san in his chair, and hongjoong and seonghwa have disappeared.

“you wanna get out of here?” you murmur.

“yeah. yeah.”

⋆⋆⋆

mingi is aware enough to shoot a text off to his group chat with yunho and wooyoung letting them know that he’s going home with someone. he feels an odd rush of validation from the subsequent onslaught of vulgar texts and emojis he gets in response.

your place isn’t far from greek row, so they walk there. once again, you have threaded your fingers together, and mingi is noticing for the first time just how small your hand is compared to his. with your other hand, you scroll through your spotify playlists, trying to find one that “fits the ambiance” of the walk before settling for one titled vaporwave vibes.

mingi is just happy to be involved.

you’re a giggly mess as you stumble-walk-run into your apartment.

“roommate—?” mingi asks, as two of you toe off your shoes, and you turn up the volume of your music.

“chaewon’s shacking up at the SAE house tonight,” you say, grinning. you lean in close to mingi and poke his nose. “so you can be as loud as you wanna be, baby.”

baby?!

you lead mingi to your bedroom, where you spare a few seconds to turn on a lamp that casts the room into a soft pink hue and plug your phone into a speaker. you choose a different playlist—one with soft r&b and lofi.

then, you crawl onto your bed, swaying your hips as you do. mingi just stares at you, suddenly very out of his depth. this feels infinitely different from making out in a storage closet. this is your apartment, your room, your bed.

you’re leaned back against your pillows now, head cocked and eyes half-lidded.

you spread you legs and beckon mingi to come closer.

“c’mon, baby. let’s have some fun, hm?”

like a man possessed, mingi steps forward until he hits the edge of the mattress, and then he falls onto his knees, shuffling forward until he’s hovering between your thighs.

“cute.”

mingi waits for you to make the first move, because that’s what he’s used to, and you do. you hook your hands around his neck and pull him down, presses your lips together chastely. mingi’s eyes flutter close, and he lets instinct take over.

you must be wearing something like lipgloss tonight, because your lips are tackier than last time, and they taste like cherry. mingi’s intoxicated by it. he deepens the kiss, adds some tongue. his hands run along your thighs, your hips, your waist.

you do that thing with his hair again, and he whimpers. he feels you smile. you move his hands over your chest, inviting him to really touch, and he moans involuntarily when he realizes that you’re not wearing a bra under your shirt. 

“take it off,” you breathe, and mingi obeys immediately.

“fuckk,” he whines when he sees your tits. “fuck—you’re so—”

he surges forward and fits his mouth over one of your nipples and sucks. this time, it’s you who moans, and the sense of triumph rushes straight to mingi’s dick. after only a few minutes of worshipping your tits, mingi is already so hard he could cut through glass.

“you, too,” you say, trying to pull off mingi’s shirt. “take this off—take it all off.”

so he strips. first his shirt, then his jeans. he curses as he struggles with the button and the zip—when choosing his outfit earlier, he’d only been thinking about how this pair are a little tight so they make his ass look good. now, he’s straining to get them off without looking like an idiot.

finally, he manages to tug the jeans down to mid-thigh, which means you get a better view of the outline of his cock in his briefs. at least he wore dark underwear so you can’t see the frankly embarrassing wet patch that mingi knows is there. he’s always leaked like a faucet.

"god, i knew you'd be big," you sigh as mingi finishes shucking off his pants ungracefully.

he freezes, feeling a little exposed but also a little bold.

"you- have you thought about me- this before?" he asks.

"of course," you smirk. "big shy boy like you? that's my favorite."

you sit up onto your elbows and reach forward with one hand to cup his bulge. you squeeze, and mingi keens. it takes every drop of mingi's self-control to not cum on the spot. instead he falls onto his forearms and buries his face into your neck.

“fuck,” he squeaks.

you continue to work his dick through his briefs, but with such a light, teasing touch that mingi starts rutting helplessly into your hand to get more friction. it’s been a while since someone else has gotten him off, and the weed is making him so so sensitive.

"wanna- wanna make you feel good," he pants, but he can’t stop grinding down against you like some stupid fucking dog. 

"yeah?” you goad. “you wanna fuck me with your big dumb cock? do you even know how to use that thing?"

mingi whimpers. “yes, yes—please. let me- let me show you. please.”

“okay, big boy,” you whisper into his ear, finally letting him go. “show me.”

mingi doesn’t waste any time after that. he pulls off your pants and your underwear in one go. he’s practically drooling at the sight of your cunt and can’t help himself from running a finger reverently through your folds.

you’re wet.

because of him.

he drops down in front of your pussy and licks a line from your entrance to your clit. you fucking moan. 

“yeah?” you say, all dominant like always but a little breathless. “you gonna prep me first? gonna prep me for your huge dick?”

in response, mingi attaches his mouth to your clit and buries a finger into your hole.

“ah—fuck!”

one finger turns into two into three quickly, as mingi works you open, all while lapping at your clit. he has limited experience with this so he’s not super confident in his ability, but you’re making these high-pitched noises that must mean he’s doing something right. and then you tug at his hair, forcing his head back.

“thought you were gonna fuck me?” you say.

“yes, yeah, sorry.”

mingi has enough wherewithal to ask about condoms and lube, and while he tugs off his underwear, you retrieve the stuff from your nightstand. he’s so keyed up that he fumbles the condom, can’t get a good grip to tear it open, and finally resorts to biting one corner with his teeth to rip off an edge. it works, and he spits out the little piece of foil somewhere onto the bed beside them.

“oh, fuck.” he hears, and it’s the first semblance of a whine from you.

with renewed vigor, mingi rolls the condom onto his dick, hissing at finally getting some stimulation after being hard and untouched for so long.

“c’mon, c’mon,” you say, throwing the lube at him. “hurry up.”

he squeezes some of the lube onto his hand—there’s a light red sheen to it and a faint scent of cherry. feverishly, he thinks the smell of cherries is going to be ruined for him forever as he spreads the lube over the condom.

and then he presses just the tip into your entrance, and already he knows he’s not going to last long. you’re just too warm, too wet, too tight.

“jesus,” he whimpers, as he presses deeper into your cunt. “you’re fucking perfect.”

“fuck,” you groan. “you’re so fucking big.”

“gonna- gonna make you feel good,” mingi promises. “gonna fuck you so good.”

when he’s finally bottomed out, he takes a second. he hopes it looks like he’s just being considerate of his size, but really it’s mostly for himself, to make sure he’s not a one thrust wonder. and then you clench around him.

“fuck!”

it startles him into moving—with a strong grip on your thighs, he thrusts into you with so much force that the bed frame groans. 

“ah- yeah, baby. just like that. fuck, so good. so good, so big—so full. fuck!”

you babble nonsense into his ear, but every syllable fuels mingi’s determination. he snaps his hips against yours until his thighs burn, and then some more. but even in spite of his sheer will, mingi is just a guy finally fucking the girl of his dreams, and so his orgasm sneaks up on him entirely too fast.

“oh, fuck. oh, fuck. i’m sorry, i’m sorry—i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna—”

he collapses onto you as he spills into the condom, his entire body twitching with pleasure from the sensation. seconds later, shame and guilt wash over him. he pulls out and crawls down your body to shove his face into your cunt.

he fingers you while he eats you out again, this time quirking his fingers for your g-spot. he’s delirious and desperate—needs to prove that he’s not just some guy who cums without getting off his partner. needs you to enjoy this as much as he is—needs you to want more.

“yeah, yeah, that’s a good boy,” you praise as he laps at your cunt like it’s his job. “so good, baby boy. so good. yeah, just like that—gonna cum. gonna—”

mingi can’t help himself. he pulls back when you climax so that he can watch. he finger-fucks you through it, but his focus is on the way your face scrunches up with euphoria, the way your back arches off the bed in pleasure.

finally, you shove his hand away.

“‘s too much,” you mumble, burying your face into your pillows.

mingi collapses down beside you, completely spent.

he comes to a few minutes later, when he feels the bed shift as you sit up. he must make some kind of noise, because you duck down close, brush the sweaty hair off of his forehead and kiss his temple.

“shh,” you soothe. “it’s okay. you can rest, baby. i’ll clean us up.”

“wait—let me help,” he slurs, starting to sit up.

“no no,” you coo, pushing him back down. “don’t worry, baby. i got it.”

mingi hums, too tired and spent anyway to argue. it’s nice, for once, to be the one being taken care of. he snuggles contently deeper into the bed.

it smells like sex and sweat, but also something kinda sweet. oh, right—cherries.

he drifts off to sleep soon after.

⋆⋆⋆

the next morning, mingi wakes up disoriented, pleasantly sore, but incredibly well-rested. the weed helped offset the alcohol, and the only grossness he feels is from not showering or brushing his teeth before falling asleep.

the bed is unfortunately empty, but the smell of fresh coffee in the air keeps mingi from spiraling too much about it. he lopes around the room, searching for his clothes. he locates those godforsaken tight jeans (which take him far too much effort to stuff himself back into), but doesn’t manage to find his shirt, so he sheepishly wanders into the kitchen shirtless like a moron.

the mystery of his shirt is solved immediately when he sees that you are wearing it. the hem falls right below your ass, and when you move a certain way, mingi can see the bottoms of your cheeks and the hint of black panties.

jesus, even after having the orgasm of his life last night, he’s still so easy.

“morning!” you chirp, when you notice his presence.

“morning,” mingi rasps. “can i- uh- can i help with anything?”

you pause to shoot him a big smile. “no, don’t worry, baby. just sit down. there’s coffee in that mug over there. milk in the fridge.”

mildly stunned at the revelation that your pet names aren’t exclusive to sexy time, mingi follows your instructions. he retrieves a carton of oat milk from the fridge and adds it to his coffee before hopping on a barstool at the kitchen island. he positively inhales the coffee, which must be some kind of special blend because it’s especially fragrant, and watches you bustle around the kitchen with efficiency.

the two of you settle into a comfortable silence, and it’s strangely intimate—domestic—but mingi doesn’t let that part of his imagination run too wild. for his own sanity, it’s probably best if he just takes whatever this is with you one day at a time.

soon, you slide a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast in front of him. you prance into the barstool beside him, nudging it closer so that your knees touch under the countertop.

it smells heavenly, reminds him of weekend breakfasts with his own family, and before he can stop himself, he says,

“thanks, mommy.”

it’s the kind of shithead joke he pulls with yunho and wooyoung often, but with you, it drips with subtext. over the rim of your coffee cup, you raise an eyebrow at him, and he feels his entire face heat up with embarrassment.

“i mean- um—”

“didn’t know you were into that kinda stuff,” you coo. “guess i’ll have to remember that for next time.”

mingi digs into his eggs so that he doesn’t have to look you in the eye while he processes that. next time?!

the rest of breakfast passes uneventfully. you take the reins of the conversation, yapping about your thoughts on chaewon’s frat bro boyfriend. mingi gives all the appropriate reactions at the appropriate times and just basks in the joy of eating a home-cooked breakfast the morning after having sex with his long-time crush.

later, mingi will rinse off your dishes and load them into the dishwasher, and you will return his shirt to him before sending him off with another chaste kiss to the cheek. mingi decides to walk back to his own apartment even though it’s nearly a mile away. but the sun is shining and the birds are chirping and his phone—barely hanging on with 10% battery—buzzes in his pocket with a single text:

y/n l/n has invited you to collaborate on a playlist: mommy issues ;)

[nights-at-crystarium]

*inhales* I HATE BSKY FOR THAT

There's indeed a culture of hate/alienation towards artists that don't add alt text. The blocklist the op talks about sounds new but not surprising to me, people have been silently ignoring/refusing to share posts without alt text, and sometimes trying to be "helpful" by getting in your face and telling you that your art doesn't get numbers because of that.

Now. I finish a drawing. I resize it and put my little watermark on it, the only layer of protection I can do. I don't have the spoons for glazing it, I've given up on that for the same reason as alt text: too much extra busy work. If posting art 10 years ago felt like walking, today there are heavy weights chained to my legs.

Posting art nowadays isn't just uploading an image, adding tags, hitting the post button. NO, you go to downdetector and check if the platform isn't on fire. And, oh, did I mention that you've gotta crosspost to a dozen platforms? There are often outages which you'll feel acutely if you post regularly. No outages, all seems fine? Post and hope that the hidden ai content filters don't see the pornography in your art, no matter how sfw it actually looks to a human. Sometimes sfw posts indeed get erroneously labeled on bsky, which you can appeal, on tumblr your post's completely hidden from tags and dashboard in that case, you can only delete it and try reposting with minor edits. Done, passed that? Now you sit and hope that people actually like your shit. And then, on bsky, some twat walks up and "um ackshually where's your alt text? I won't share that."

Do you see how the only thing this notion can inspire is outrage? You have no bloody clue how mentally taxing it is to be an artist nowadays. Go fuck yourself if you refuse to share posts with no alt text.

You're harrassing a person and trying to police them into something that's still new and underexplored in the collective consciousness of an internet user. Some of us have been there for decades, some of us have trouble adapting to change, some of us don't have the spoons for it, you know what's that called? A person's autistic and you're attacking them.

I'm autistic and I can't force myself to do things that I don't want. No punishment in the world will encourage me to start adding alt text. By accusing me of being an exclusionary asshole YOU are being that to me, an autistic trans person fighting for their life every day as the internet, the only place where I can survive in, gets worse and worse at a terrifying speed.

observations

[overadores]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ somewhere in italy ୨ৎ Sophia Laforteza

"You're the sun that's setting right behind the ocean"

"I hope it gets you thinkin' about me"

୨ৎ synopsis. When Sophia returns to her family’s summer home in Italy for the first time since she was ten, she’s determined to immerse herself in European culture while helping renovate the house. But when she steps into a quaint local bookstore, she meets a perceptive bookstore clerk who immediately clocks her as a tourist. What starts as a simple exchange—asking for recommendations on where to eat and what to see—quickly turns into something more. As they explore the city together, Sophia finds herself drawn not just to the charm of Italy, but to the person showing it to her. However, with her time in Europe limited and emotions growing deeper, she must decide whether this summer is just a fleeting adventure or the start of something real.

୨ৎ tags. fluff, crack, smau, little writing, strangers - friends - lovers, mention of substance and alcohol, homophobia, tiny bit of angst, profanities, non-celeb au, kys jokes, suggestive themes.

୨ৎ pairing. sophia laforteza x reader

୨ৎ guests. le sserafim ( huh yunjin ). enhypen ( shim jaeyun ). katseye. other celebs.

"The feeling that I felt for the first time, Have a good summer without me"

୨ৎ status. on-going

୨ৎ author's note. This is an original work of smau, and is written for entertainment purposes only. Any names or characters, businesses or events or incidents, are fictitious and for the lore the place is going to be in Italy and in between of 90s - 00s, but still has technology like the 21st century. The characters identity have no relation to the actual persons/portrayers— and are solely based on the author's imagination. Don't bother looking at the timestaps 'cause it's not that important unless stated and also the face claim would be random masc peepz at pinterest so ctto. remind you that I put a lot of effort into creating my own story, and any similarities are purely coincidental! taglist is also open.

୨ৎ in queue. love in portofino - dalida; magnets - niki; mia & sebastian's theme - justin hurwitz; home - michael buble; young and beautiful - lana del ray; une barque sur l'ocean - andre laplante; heavy - the marias; soft spot - keshi; everyone adores you (at least I do) - matt maltese; must be love - laufey

୨ৎ profiles mommy issues only again by fetty wap again by fetty wap 2.0

୨ৎ chapters

01. bentornato!

02. first meeting

03. colazione, qualcuno?

04. crashing out

taglist: @fruityg0rl @wtfisthisnoclueman @goofymickeyr @falling-intoo-deep @itzkatflixs @spongebobtentacles @sibwol @kyanavanzinigf @leotapes

[xxchumanixx]

May I please request a fic where the reader (who's a famous singer) falls in love with Tim but is reluctant to fully trust and be vulnerable with him due to bad experiences she's had with men in the past? The reader could eventually write and sing a song about her love for Tim which blows up and even wins awards like Grammys too which makes their relationship stronger and she opens up her heart more? 🥺

Be myself

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, a bit of angst, mentions of physical abuse / hitting (please look for help if you're in an abusive relationship! Being abused is not normal and it shouldn't be simply endured and viewed as it) Word count: 2.421 Authors note: I don't know if I used the gif before (probably did), but it just fits perfectly. I know you linked Whats love got to do with it by our legend Tina, but I kinda didn't vibe with it. I hope you'll still like it, though (if it was even meant for reference to the song the reader writes). I'm in no way a songwriter, so I'm not at all sure about that small part i wrote there. I know I posted a sneak peak for something different, but this gave me so much motivation to write so i put it first. Enjoy!

He didn't know how he ended up with you of all people.

Not that he'd complain.

Never.

But a famous singer like you and a cop like him? It had to be fate that brought you together when him and his rookie had been called to deescalate a situation at a concert of yours.

He didn't expect to fall for you - hell, you probably didn't either. It just kinda happened after you gave him your number before him and his rookie left.

It had been meant more like a joke - yet he hadn't been able to get you out of his head and neither did you. So he texted you.

Three weeks later you went on your first date.

You had been cautious, bad experiences with previous boyfriends and dates branding you more than you'd have liked to admit.

And so you didn't.

The date went great, leading to another one shortly after.

Tim swore you were playing some magic trick on him. The speed in which he fell for you was shocking. In a few weeks you had him wrapped around your finger.

It didn't take long for him to admit his feelings to you, saying he'd understand if you weren't ready for anything yet, and as he rambled on, you'd cut him off with a kiss.

Because you were indeed ready.

At least that's what you thought.

Not that you didn't have feelings for him - you had, and they were strong. You just had trouble letting yourself be too open, too vulnerable.

To trust easily.

Though, right from the start, you knew he was different. He was interested in your career, yes, but in a way that didn't profit him or made him want to brag about his girlfriend being famous.

Or try and hit you if you didn't spend all your money on him. It had happened once, leaving a mark on your soul you had trouble getting rid of. Getting rid of the douchebag wasn't exactly easy, either.

But that was another thing.

No, Tim supported you, took days off to watch your concerts and be there for you. And maybe to have the time of his life with you in your wardrobe backstage.

For a while now, you had been working on a project - a new song that one day came to your mind when you thought about the past few months and your relationship with Tim.

It had almost been a year now, and you started to question whether your cautiousness was misplaced.

Not that you didn't trust him.

You trusted him more than you did any other man you'd been with, it just was like a habit of sorts. Some sort of protection your mind had put up in the beginning.

It wasn't easy to let that guard down.

It was one of the main parts you included in that song. How he made you want to be more open, to trust and give up that control you so desperately held onto.

To love without the constant fear of it all going downhill.

Your producer, Savannah, supported you all the way. You wrote your song, recorded it over and over again until you were a hundred percent convinced that it did Tim justice in a way.

Or rather his love for you. The way he never treated you differently even though you were famous.

Sure, there were times when his face would be plastered along magazine articles alongside yours - especially the beginning hadn't been easy.

Hiding a relationship wasn't easy and it certainly didn't work in this case, either. The first time it happened it had been on Instagram.

Someone had seen you and him together, taking a video and posting it for everyone to see. Once it reached a certain amount of views, it spread like wildfire, and everyone knew.

Tim wasn't very happy about it.

He understood that it was part of your life, but he didn't like it - and that included him - plastered all over the internet.

When you were shopping and hoarded by paparazzi or too many fans and he'd notice you were overwhelmed, he'd play the 'I'm a cop, please stand back' card, effectively getting you out of the situation.

Another thing you loved him for.

He didn't thrive on the constant attention, didn't suck it up like a sponge and used it to his advantage. Not like other men had tried to do before.

So why was it so hard to let go? Why was it so hard to trust, to let yourself be too vulnerable?

When you published the song, Tim had yet to hear it.

Yes, maybe you should have let him listen to it before publishing it, but you were too nervous. Too nervous he'd laugh at you, tell you that you were crazy for writing and publishing that song.

It would have also meant he'd question the origin - why you had such trust issues, had these problems of opening up.

You didn't want to be judged. After all, you still hadn't told him about it.

Only a few days later, you and Tim were driving in his truck home, when suddenly, the radio moderator announced your new song. Tim's gaze snapped to you - normally you'd show him your upcoming projects, talk to him about them.

He didn't know you'd just published a new song.

Your cheeks heated up as he stared at you in confusion before his gaze fixed back on the street. You knew he was listening, picking up on the lyrics.

Another thing you loved about him.

He didn't just hear the songs, he listened to them. Analyzing them, understanding them.

So it was no surprise he did understand this song, too. About a minute into the song he parked in his driveway, killing the engine but leaving the radio on.

You nibbled on your lip nervously, heart beating wildly as you tried to make out his reaction. You couldn't read his thoughts, so you had to rely on his body language.

And when he understood the song was about him, his gaze snapped to yours right as the second chorus hit.

You let me be myself, and I thank you for that.

You ban all the bad thoughts from my head.

No matter how hard I try, I can't find anything bad about you.

And I hope you see me like that, too.

You support me, give me strength,

It is wrong to hold you at arms length.

I love you and I hope you see,

that your're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

You swallowed, not interrupting him as he listened to the rest of the song. This certainly hadn't been how you'd planned this.

Sure, you wanted him to know about the song and all the things it expressed sooner or later, but when you published it, the thought of him hearing it that soon hadn't exactly crossed your mind.

When the song ended and the next came up, he immediately turned the radio off.

He stared at you, shocked, surprised.

In awe.

You bit your lip as his own parted, though nothing came out. His head tilted slightly, thinking.

"Is it true?" was the first thing he asked. "Or is it just... I don't know, a random love song?"

Your eyes widened slightly, and you shook your head. "No, it's not a random love song." you said. "It... It's about you, Tim."

He nodded slightly, still shocked. "What about the- the trust issues you talk about? Or sing, for that matter." he inquired further. "Or the 'keeping at arms length'?"

You swallowed, sighing quietly as you looked away. "It's all true, yes." you admitted quietly. "And I know I should have told you, and I know you're having a lot of questions right now, but... I'm sorry."

Tim leaned forward over the middle console and placed his finger under your chin to lift your head, his blue eyes meeting your Y/E/C ones. "Hey, you have nothing to apologize for." he said, shaking his head slightly. "Yes, it would be nice to know the details behind it, but I understand that you didn't tell me. Or show me the song beforehand, for that matter. It's great, by the way - just like everything else about you."

You blushed, suddenly feeling undeserving of him. He was way too caring and understanding.

"I mean, I assumed some things..." he continued, tilting his head from side to side for a moment. "But I never pushed you to tell me. And I won't now. Neither did you on the subject of Isabel. If you want to tell me, I'm happy to listen, but you don't have to. Just know that I feel incredibly honored and love you."

Tears burned in your eyes, and suddenly, you knew you could trust him with everything. No more keeping him at arms length.

"I love you, too." you breathed out, smiling through the tears. "I just- I don't know." you shook your head in sudden embarrassment. "Ever since I got famous all the men seemed to want the same thing. Fame, my face as their way into Hollywood. To brag about their girlfriend being famous and make themselves look more important. Or try and hit me for not spoiling them like the ungrateful bitch I am." you grimaced, and his eyes widened before they narrowed. "I know you aren't like that, I do. I just couldn't shake this... habit of closing myself off and trying to avoid another one of these situations. I'm sorry, Tim. I know you are better than them. That song is about you and it is supposed to express how I feel about you."

Tim smiled, cupping your face with his hands. "You're so much more than your career, Y/N." he told you, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "You're a caring, beautiful and brilliant woman. You're far more than I deserve yet I'm too selfish to ever let you go. I love you more than you can imagine, and I want you to know that I'd never try to get any fame or benefits or whatever from you or your career. Let alone lay a hand on you. I love you too much to risk us - not that I'd need your fame or money. I'm a cop and I love being a cop. My girlfriend just happens to be an amazing singer."

You laughed quietly, blushing more. His words spread a warmth through you like no one else ever did. "You're flattering me." you mumbled sheepishly. He cocked a brow. "I'm not." he said. "You are an amazing singer. You're amazing in general, all over."

You laughed once more, a smile on your lips. "You're way too good for me, Tim Bradford." you said. "I'm the one not deserving you."

He huffed, tilting his head from side to side again. "Debatable." he said. He leaned closer, capturing your lips in a sweet and gentle kiss. "Come on, let's head inside." he mumbled against them. "I want to celebrate this song."

It had been about two weeks until your song seemed to have gained massive popularity, and when the letter landed in the mail weeks later, you screamed.

Tim had rushed into the kitchen, gun drawn as he tried to find out what happened. When he saw you with the letter in hand, pressing a hand to your mouth, he lowered the gun, stepping beside you.

One look at the letter and his lips parted.

You looked up in your excitement, almost headbutting him where he was looking over your shoulder. "Tim-" you breathed out, cutting yourself off with another squeal. He grimaced at the high sound, though laughing as he moved to hug you from behind.

"Baby, that's amazing." he breathed out. "I'm so proud of you." You bit your cheek, heart pounding wildly. "I- I mean, I haven't won anything yet." you said, fingers trembling as they held the letter. "But..." "But you're nominated." Tim finished for you. "That's more than most can wish for. This is amazing, Y/N. God, I'm so proud of you."

You smiled widely, clutching the letter to your chest. You giggled and jumped up and down in his arms, pressing a hand to your lips. Tim laughed quietly, holding tighter onto you, his nose brushing the shell of your ear. In the last few weeks you'd grown even closer, and it all felt more right than ever.

"Told you you're amazing."

Nervous wasn't word enough to describe your current state.

The Grammys.

The fucking Grammys.

Never would you have thought this would happen. Who would have thought you'd make it this far?

Fidgeting with your small clutch nervously, you took a deep, trembling breath. Tim grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers and giving them a reassuring squeeze. You'll be okay.

The wait had been torture.

Waiting for the day to come, waiting for the announcements. It was like a dream come true, yet the wait left you on edge.

You'd been nominated for single of the year. Your song about Tim Be Myself had literally exploded, landing you a spot at the Grammys.

You inhaled shakily as the nominees were announced before the moderator opened an envelope. She drew it out, making the anticipation rise higher and higher until your heart suddenly slammed to a stop.

"Best single of the year goes to... Be Myself!" Your lips parted, not believing what just happened. Tim cheered, the crowd applauded, and you got up on shaky legs.

You couldn't believe it.

This was more than you could have ever wished for, and as Tim pressed a kiss to your cheek, giving you the biggest, most proudest smile you'd ever seen on him before he ushered you to the stage, you knew it.

You knew he was the one.

He was the one that treated you right. The one that loved you unconditionally.

And you'd be forever grateful for that.

Tag List

@laheysfilm @newobsessionweekly @augustvandyne @RookieTrek @dhundhchrih @nachofriess @dtftheavengers @wonderland2425 @skywalker0809 @freyathehuntress @caplanbuckybarnes @sacredwarrior88

[always1star]

the time we were together

toxic!sukuna x fem!reader (although can be read as gn?)

tags: angst, college au, cursing, arguments, use of y/n, alludes to sex (but nothing explicit, i dont write smut), cheating, yearning, closure, happiest ending i could make tbh, no part 2 im sorry

a/n: i didn't mean to write this but for some reason it just happened so enjoy my first fic lol. also this is NOT PROOFREAD

WC: 2.7k

You and Sukuna have been going out for some time now, maybe about five months. You met him at some random frat party. You had just been broken up with by your boyfriend of two years, and so you went to a party and took anything and everything anyone gave you. You were feeling super sick and all you really wanted was solace. After a while of sulking in the corner of this random disgusting frat house, you decided it was time to go home, as at this point you were high and drunk completely out of your mind. You gathered your things and attempted to stumble your way to some kind of exit. On your way out, you accidentally ran into this huge hunk of a man with bold tattoos. You started sobbing when he caught you, tears staining and fists clenching his shirt. He was absolutely bewildered and as people had begun to stare, he grudgingly took you home. After that night, you kept running into this random man you sobbed to on campus, and the rest was history. 

Although you and Sukuna have been going relatively steady for a while, you had hit a point in your relationship in which all you did was argue. And it is generally understood that after the honeymoon stage everyone often disputes with their partners, but Sukuna was terribly vicious. He often brought up how insecure you were, how it was your fault you were raised the way you were, how easily he could replace you. To say the least, Sukuna was an ass. He damaged your core like no one else could and it desperately hurt you to be with him. Still, you stayed by his side because you loved him, and hoped he felt the same way. You hoped because he would hold you as you cried, kissing away your tears, and whispering how sorry he was. You always forgave him, even if he did it time and time again. 

During the first stages of your relationship, Sukuna welcomed your presence. You two hung out often, and although not ordinary dates (he often took you to race on his motorcycle or would take you to sketchy parties), you had fun and were happy because he was there with you. Sukuna never was really into speaking reassuring or affirming words, but instead showed his affection with his actions. His hands would always be roaming your body, and you liked feeling the warmth of another person. He did things without you asking, like buying something you mentioned you liked or holding you even when you swore you were ok. While you smiled brightly and thanked him, he would just grumble “it’s whatever.” You would always laugh and giggle with him, and even though he never really laughed back himself, he entertained it. Sometimes you would catch him staring, and there was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite name. There was no doubt that he held a sentiment of adoration for you, maybe he even loved you. But now? His eyes only seemed to hold disappointment, anger, and annoyance. 

You had known from the second you met him that it would not be easy to be with him. He’s got a difficult, harsh, and cruel demeanor. You had hoped that maybe he wasn’t really like that, and that maybe he just had this bad-boy delinquent front to cover his vulnerabilities. Well, you were right, to say the least. But is the Ryomen Sukuna really going to be vulnerable around you, some random girl he met a few months ago that he just likes to use as a bed warmer? Hell no. You meant absolutely nothing to him and he couldn’t seem to get that message through your head. All this time, you thought that maybe he was just being difficult but that didn’t change the fact that he still maybe held a passion for you. 

One night, a particularly bad argument came up. It started as something that was completely meaningless. Him coming home a little late, you telling him you were too busy to cook dinner and that tonight you guys should just go get takeout, him mumbling that he was too tired to go out and that it’s nothing you can’t do on your own because you were a big girl and could handle these things. You apologized but said you, too, were too tired, and therefore did not want to cook. Sukuna’s temper just kind of blew up. “Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t even do this one little thing? You aren’t fucking helpless, Y/N. I’ve spent all day studying and working for you, and how dare you still expect more shit from me? Haven’t I given you fucking enough?” He threw his hands up in irritance, shouting at you, the previous exhaustion in his voice seemingly gone. “I’m sorry, I was just busy tod-” you tried to reason, but he quickly interrupted. “Busy? You were fucking busy? How the hell do you think I feel, huh?” He was walking towards you, and you were being backed into the kitchen counter. “Are you useless? No! You can’t even do small shit like this. How unloveable can you possibly be?” He continued to ramble and yell into your face, but you stopped listening. You rapidly tried to blink your tears away and to calm your shaky hands. Did he really just say that? You’re unloveable?

Eventually, Sukuna left the apartment with nothing but his coat and his car keys, mumbling something about how this is fucking unbelieveable under his breath as he slammed the front door shut. Your ears were ringing due to the newfound silence, the only thing being heard was your staggered breathing. 

A couple of days later, Sukuna still had not returned to your apartment. You assumed he had gone back to his. Neither of you had spoken a word to each other in two days, and you were becoming restless. You had to apologize to him, whether you were at fault or not. You texted him you were on your way as you started your car. You noted that as you were on your way, he never replied to your message. You approached his front door and rummaged through your purse to find the spare key to his apartment. As you unlocked the door, you took a deep breath in and recited your apology in your head. 

When you opened the door, the apartment was relatively cleaner than it usually was, save for the clothes littering the floor. Your brows furrowed as you noted a pink camisole and bra on the floor. Those definitely weren’t yours. Your heart was rapidly thumping, the sound filling your ears. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, and stormed off to find Sukuna.

You burst through his bedroom door to see a naked Sukuna and some girl you’ve never seen before. You watched as her eyes widened and as she scrambled to find some way to cover herself. She ran out the door past you. You were still standing in the doorway, frozen in shock. You held your mouth slightly agape, unsure of what to say or do next. Unperturbed, Sukuna sighed as got up from the bed to find his shorts somewhere on the floor. He ran his hand through his sweaty, almost drenched hair. Wasn’t he being way too casual about this? You found the strength in yourself to speak up. “How could you do this to me?” you weakly spoke, sounding as fragile as your now shattered heart. Sukuna put on his shorts and looked at you without shame, an agitated look painting his face. “I don’t owe you an explanation.” He continued to find his shirt. “What? We’re dating Sukuna. You can’t just-” you stammered, and he stopped you right there. “I’m not your boyfriend and you’re not my girlfriend,” he articulated every word like it was the most obvious thing ever. Your heart dropped. “And clearly, you didn’t think that. I liked what we had, Y/N. But if you’re going to be all possessive like this, then we should end things.” What was he saying? “What? Suku-” He deeply sighed and his voice began to rise. “Get out! Don’t make me say it again.”

Ryomen Sukuna had broken your heart. Really, he stole it from your chest and smiled at you as he crushed it in his hands. The next week after the “break up” for you was absolutely terrible. You skipped all of your classes, meals, and sleep. You just wallowed in bed, wondering what could possibly make you so unloveable. To think that he never really loved you – wait, did he really never love you at all? You recalled that you never said I love you. Those three words held a heavy weight, but you were thinking about how you didn’t need to say it to prove your devotion to him. It kinda made sense now. You should have never assumed your place in a man’s heart who didn’t have room for anyone, let alone you.

--------------------------------

Five months later…

Sukuna found it nice to be freely sleeping around again, finding himself at parties, clubs, bars, always having a girl on his side. Sukuna always woke up next to a new girl every morning (girls he never remembers the names of), quickly kicking her out so he didn’t have to deal with whatever she thought was between them. He would go on late night rides with his friends (that you never really liked) and would come home to drink a cold beer wearing only his boxers. Life was good to him.

But as Sukuna came home one night after a thrilling night out, he thought it just wasn’t as fun as it used to be. He plopped down on the couch and cracked open a beer and turned on his TV. Still, he felt something was missing. Maybe he missed the thrill of making it home and spewing lies to the girl in his bed. Maybe he missed the heated arguments and sorry's just to repeat the cycle. . Maybe he missed coming home to a home-cooked meal. Maybe he missed the warmth of another person. Maybe he missed hearing a certain voice. Maybe he missed waking up to a familiar face. Maybe, he missed you. Wait, what? That’s not true. He shook the thought away, thinking that he just missed having authority over someone. 

He was obviously lying to himself. Sukuna wondered what could fill this odd feeling in his heart. It was evident that the sex, drugs, and alcohol was no longer doing its part for him. He stopped going out and now spent his time in silence and solitude. He began to think about you, and he wondered what you were doing. He wondered how you would react if you saw him again. He wondered what you did after you lost contact with him. He wondered what you looked like now, if you were just as beautiful.

He needed to find you, whether it was for the closure for his flaming conscience or that needed to know if you still felt the same in his arms, he didn’t know. What was he feeling bad for now? Sukuna was never one to have genuine apologies or have feelings of guilt in shame. What was it about you that made him feel this way? Sukuna wanted – no, needed to put a label on this aching feeling, and then throw it out. 

It was a new semester, and Sukuna hadn’t seen you around campus. He realized that he still really wanted to see you, but he knew you wouldn’t react well. He didn’t care too much though, he just wanted to fix whatever was wrong with him. 

One day, Sukuna saw you on campus in the courtyard that was in front of one of your major’s buildings. You looked the happiest he had ever seen you. A smile was plastered on your face as you laughed with some friends. The same smile that he struck off your face. Sukuna used to think he liked your crying face more than anything, he thought your stupid smile was childish, but now he thought you looked so beautiful smiling. He silently watched you, something holding him back from approaching you.

Sukuna often spotted you in front of your building, and he longed to talk to you again. If he was watching you so often, of course you were going to see him too. One day, you spotted him. He tried to play it off by clearing his throat and looking away, but when he looked at you again, you smiled. You… smiled? Even after all the humiliation and suffering he put you through, you smiled at him. You seemed to wave off to your friends and began to speed walk to him. He panicked a little.

“It’s nice to see you again! I hope you’re doing well,” you greeted and waved to him. It hurt him to see that you were still kind and genuine even after all that he did to you. “Hi, um… it’s nice to see you too… How are you doing?” he awkwardly replied. Sukuna was always one to hold pride and confidence, but upon seeing you he seemed to lose all of it. “I’m really good! This semester is kind of kicking my ass but I’m still trying to stay positive, haha,” you beamed. He nodded once as a reply and a silence enveloped the both of you. He stared at you, and you really did look happy. He sighed and spoke up, “Y/N, I never really got the chance to say sorry. I know that I have done so much wrong to you, but please, can you forgive me? I feel like what I did to you is burning a hole through my heart, and I just can’t bear to think that I could do that to someone as pure as you,” Sukuna began to beg. It was odd to see a guy who never bent down to anyone, who put himself on a pedestal ranging miles higher than anyone else, beg. 

You thought for a second, taking in the unfamiliar sorrow gracing his strong features. You eventually spoke, “Sukuna, I loved you, did you know that?” His eyes slightly widened and he nodded slowly. You continued, “The whole time I was with you, I wasn’t sure if you loved me too. It hurts to be around you.” He nodded again, breaking eye contact to stare at his shoes. “I can’t quite forgive you for what you did to me, but I want you to know that if you find your happiness, then I will always be cheering you on for it. Don’t mess up next time.” Although your words held the heaviness of your feelings, you still smiled at him. Sukuna felt a throbbing in his chest. God, what did he do to you? What had he done? He desperately wanted to say, “my happiness is with you” but he felt that he didn’t have the right to. Sukuna felt tears in his eyes, all an unfamiliar feeling to him. He nodded once again to you, whispering a thank you. Not because you were offering your understanding, but because he wanted to thank you for being there for him, even when he couldn’t be there for you. Sukuna went off apologizing once again, clenching his fists to resist reaching out and hugging you. And, as if you read his mind, you quickly pulled him into your embrace. The two of you held each other, tearing brimming your eyes. The feeling of closure the two of you longed for was gained, and for a second all the resentment and pain was let go of, all that was left was love and understanding for each other. 

Sukuna watched you from afar sometimes. He had been hearing around that you were in a relationship… good for you. He hoped that whoever that weird tall white guy haired guy you were dating was, was treating you with all the love and respect that you deserve, all the love and respect that he couldn’t give you. And as he watched you laugh with some guy that wasn’t him, smiling ear to ear, he realized that happiness looked so good on you. To pay his repentance and to pay his final act of love to you, he gave a small somber smile at your radiating face for the last time, and turned around and walked away, now truly realizing the weight of his mistakes.

[nyxelestia]

I have an addition to this but that will require some addendums / additional points.

This got a lil long so I threw the rest under the cut but tl;dr

The interrelation and complexity of marginalized identities irl makes authors' usage of them as protective labels on content counterproductive and discourages community and empathy.

Either don't mention your identity, or at most save it for the author's note instead of the tag when it's a contribution instead of a protection.

We don't need to hide what parts of ourselves inform our writing, but we do need to avoid normalizing the sharing of personal information to justify writing choices.

Too Long But Reading Anyway:

I know the degradation of privacy is getting normalized everywhere else on the Internet, but that sounds like all the more reason to avoid dragging that new norm into fandom.

A lot of this comes from the fear of making mistakes in public. After all, many fans (especially young one) grew up with the hyper-awareness that damn near their entire lives -- or at least their entire lives since entering social media -- would be documented and therefore could be dragged up from the depths of the past and used against you. People are trying to achieve "perfection" not for a sense of superiority, but a sense of safety; "if I do everything right, no one can call me out." I'm telling you right now, bullies don't work that way. They'll find a way to twist anything and everything into harassment campaigns. It is much better to be willing to write outside your lived experiences, to learn and grow, to own up to any mistakes you do make, and be ready to tell anyone who tries to castigate you for mistakes you didn't make to go screw themselves.

A lot of these identities are fluid. Maybe you're still trying to figure out your sexuality or gender, maybe you'll convert religions, maybe you'll discover something new about your heritage, maybe you will be able to treat your disability such that you won't have it in the future, etc. The fact that your identity might change in the future doesn't change your past, so it doesn't affect why you are putting that label for yourself on a fic…but, it does mean that if some bully wants to cause you trouble, they can absolutely turn around and use this against you. Just throwing this out there as a follow-up to both the first and the second points.

Being close to or part of a marginalized group doesn't give you carte blanch to write whatever you want. You can absolutely be part of a marginalized group and also perpetuate stereotypes or problematic tropes. (e.x. Transformative fandom is heavily dominated by women, yet so much of the het fanfiction is also saturated with sexist or downright misogynistic tropes. Obviously, being part of the marginalized identity group didn't help anyone writing that marginalized identity group. This is just the most prolific example but hardly the only one.) And that's if your own marginalization really matches the character's to begin with. Some axes of marginalization are incredibly vast (ethnic experiences and disabilities come to mind) and encompass a wide variety of identities, so being part of one doesn't give you magical insight into all the rest.

I feel like this also ignores the way identities and marginalization experiences intersect with each other. If we're so focused on labels for one identity, we end up discarding the others. This applies even when thinking about fictional characters in completely fictional settings. Most of these settings will, to varying degrees, reflect our real world. By using an identity label for only one aspect of a character's in-universe identity that happens to reflect a real world identity, what does this about all their other in-universe identities that reflect real world identities?

Circling all the way back to OP's point (sorry for the hijacking!):

Fandom is made up of communities. That doesn't sound like much on the surface when everyone uses that as a buzzword, but what I mean is that fandom isn't an institution or object that exists without people participating in it. Fandom is the participation, fandom is the interaction, fandom is the mutual connections fans build with each other. The 'mutual' there is important; a lot of social media makes it very easy for people to feel like they are friends with someone, when that other person barely knows them or doesn't know them at all. (The word is "parasocial relationships" if you wanna learn more.)

The "Author Is X" tag is about the author as an individual. Sharing facets of yourself as an individual isn't an inherently bad thing. Sometimes, we're proud of that and want to share that; or our specific experience is relevant to the specific story we're telling; or we want to make others with the same identity who feel alone know that they can reach out to us. These are all ways that sharing part of your identity with your audience can build a community. (Hell, even just writing out this long ramble right now, I find myself debating whether or not I should mention my own ethnic heritage on the fanfic where my heritage is influencing the way I'm worldbuilding.)

But using it as a justification or as a defensive measure is inherently contradictory to the spirit of community and the pursuit of empathy. It's implying that an individual author is supposed to be on their own and only relying on their knowledge and experience to write something; or that the author who already wrote something had no input from people around them. Quite frankly, that's never true. It's extremely rare for someone to just start writing fanfic without some semblance of community, even if it's literally just the single fandom friend. (Never mind the fact that fanfic by default always has at least two creators, the author of the fic and whoever made the canon thing that the fanfic is about.)

When we ask each other how our various experiences affect our lives, that is a connection we are building. When we ask multiple friends for their various inputs, for the different ways they experienced the same marginalization as their identity, for the ways a marginalized identity might have impacted their lives (even if that identity wasn't their own), all of that is building connections and thus building a community. These are threads of empathy fans build with each other.

And we should be doing more of that.

One trend on ao3 that I feel uneasy about is the increased use of “author is trans” “author is disabled” “author is ace” etc tags.

On the one hand I can understand how it can feel like a reassuring sign for readers who are trans/disabled/ace etc that their lives are less likely to be misrepresented in that fic because the writer has lived experience.

But at the same time, when we’re writing fanfiction—about kids who can manipulate the force of the waves, about necromancy, about flying on dragons—I think the suggestion that you need to have lived experience to write sensitively about something is so limiting.

Like if we aren’t exercising the full force of our imaginations and empathy in fanfiction, where exactly are we doing it?

It also makes me sad because sometimes you can tell from the nervousness of the author’s note that the writer felt they had to justify their writing with their lived experience. And I don’t think you should feel ethically obligated to gesture toward personal and often painful aspects of your identity to justify writing you do in your spare time that makes you happy.

Some of the best fics I’ve read about disability have been written by authors that didn’t have experience with that exact condition and did heartfelt research and really let themselves inhabit it. And I think that’s a bravura display of empathy and the very best that fiction can offer: caring about a character enough, and caring about your readers enough, that you want to understand what it’s like.

Sometimes friends have asked me about my visual disability to better understand Zuko for their stories, and I’ve always found it really moving. It means they care so much about the fictional world that they want to get the real world right too. It means they’re learning and growing so they can make stories about disability.

It means they love the show, and it means they love me.

[ladysherreeamore]

Nic and Luke are a couple of shit stirrers

They wanted us to believe they are "just friends"

after they heard us saying it's what we needed to hear to stop shipping them but it's too late for that, we've invested 8 months of countless breadcrumbs and some were far too obvious to think it was just a coincidence or that it was about anyone else.

Here are some of the breadcrumbs we can't get over:

-Nic has worn Lukes milk shirt (pretty intimate and shady for her to do if he was dating A

-Luke has posted a Spain dump that is 100% Nic coded

-Nic said "people want me to marry Luke" in her Times article instead of saying he's just her friend

-Luke did his entire People Nic coded including Mimicking Nicola's poses, color coordinating with her, and doing his this or that interview which was Nic coded and also mentions marriage just days from when Nic mentioned marriage

-Nic wearing her claddagh ring (which is Luke coded) in the position in the position of being in a relationship then switching it to her left hand in the position of being married

-Nic has a polaroid of her and Luke on her phone as if they were in a relationship, which would ve weird if either of them were dating other people

-Nic already called it a relationship twice when talking about Luke

-They both liked multiple post from people who were friends to lovers and married

-Luke only going online to post about Nic, like, or comment her post

-Nic including a Kate Spade box that was Luke coded

-Nic posting old photos (suspicious)

-Nic disappearing as soon as Luke came back from Rome

-They both disappeared for Christmas and NYE and the adjacents and friends were shown to be with other people.

-Nic showed herself at dinner at an Italian restaurant (what looked like a date for 2) on her birthday but didn't show the other person or tag them

This is when things started to look suspicious:

-Luke's mom commented on a distant relative's Facebook post convieniently asking about cyprus and Spain (both places connected to Luke and A) and his mom just happened to mention "my son Luke's gf is from Cyprus" like she doesn't know who Luke was 🙄 why did she wait days just to make this comment? Would she say gf instead of girlfriend?

- Deuxmoi posting pap pictures of Nic and Jake that were obviously old and staged

- In an interview, the man just so happened to say "People want you to get married" 🤨 So he didn't know you mentioned that in the Time article? The PR team didn't tell him not to mention that? Why those exact words? I think Nic wanted that question to be asked to try another way to get people off the ship she kept going all this time.

- Luke was away from the spotlight so long and when he finally appears he just happened to bring the one person that would stir some shit up in the fandom and play like he's actually dating her

-Luke didn't post Antonia to his grid and the only way he would somewhat post her to his grid was with a black screen with a black heart and a link to a tiktok (not assiciated with her at all) to Boss business page that had a video of them where she isn't even tagged in 😂🤣💀💀

-Nic just happened to have an audiobook that she supposedly didn't write while it relates to her life with Luke? Are we sure she didn't write it? She does have an english degree! Are we sure this isn't a biography? Why did she showcase this out of all of the audiobooks? Why was it released the day before Luke's birthday? If she wanted the shipping to stop, why agree to this book? She isn't helping her case 🤭

Mr. and Mrs. Shit Stirrer

They have been listening to what we say on our post and on the lives so if you don't want them to know something, don't share it publicly

Things they heard us mention and have done:

- Some have said"Nic and Jake might not be a couple because they aren't holding hands with interlocked fingers" then they started holding hands with interlocked fingers in the next pap photos

- We all said Nic has never said "Just friends" so she said it in her interview after almost 8 months 😂

- Lukola's said "Nic must be in Luke's interview with him because he keeps looking to his left" he looked to his left in a video during the boss event

- We said "Luke may not be dating Antonia because he looks miserable and they aren't acting like a couple" after he goes inside and is abke to look at his phone he started looking happier and acting like a couple while he knew the cameras were watching them

If Luke starts doing anything he wouldn't normally do after we've mentioned it online, i'll know it's because they were watching us 👀

I think some of us may have been too close to the truth or they wanted to distract us from something 🤔

whatever it is i'll play along until the truth comes out

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

mc just falling asleep on ominis's lap and he's like i can't move like ever now. sebastian please get me a book

Trust and Torment | Ominis Gaunt x Reader

ANON! Thank you sm for your ask, this was so cute ;.; gave me a few new HCs for Ominis as well that I included heheh :')

I got an ask not long ago ab how I go about writing and stuff, so with this one, I visualized my general thought process is for when I start (excuse my chicken scratch writing). Not sure how helpful it'll be but I thought why not! <3

Words: ~3,200

Tags: Mentions of Smut, Pining, Romance, Fluff, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House

The faint crackle of the torches filled the quiet space, their warmth radiating in uneven waves that brushed against the cool stone walls of the Undercroft. The scent of parchment mingled with ink and the smoky aftermath of spell-fire. Ominis sat on the couch next to you, relaxing into the softened edges of the cushions—a familiar, worn comfort shaped by years of use.

Your shoulder brushed against his, a fleeting touch, but it sent a ripple of warmth through the air between you, one that lingered beneath his skin long after the contact had passed. The faint sound of your fingers turning the pages of your book mingled with Sebastian's muttering and sighing from where he sat across the room, scratching at his Arithmancy homework.

Study sessions like this had become the norm for the three of you in seventh year. What used to be lively gatherings filled with procrastination and teasing in years past had quieted into focused companionship, the looming specter of N.E.W.T.s demanding most of your attention. Tonight was no different.

Ominis seemed, as always, the picture of calm. His steady fingers brushed the braille of his book, the other hand resting neatly in his lap. But beneath his composed exterior, his thoughts were fraying. Sitting this close to you, with the faint scent of your shampoo wrapping around him, your shoulder occasionally brushing his own, he was hopelessly distracted.

It was maddening, really, how easily you unraveled him—how the simple press of your body against his own could splinter his focus into something delicate and dangerous. Because the truth was, Ominis rarely wanted to touch anyone at all.

Touch was not something he easily welcomed. His family had made sure of that—cold, distant, cruel as they were, touch had only ever been associated with pain or control. Even with his friends, Ominis had never been particularly tactile. The exceptions had been Sebastian and Anne, the only ones who had ever felt safe enough to let close. And then, of course, there was you.

You, who had never asked permission outright, but whose touch had never been unwelcome. You, who reached for him in passing—soft brushes of your fingers against his sleeve when you wanted his attention, the warm press of your palm to his arm when laughter had made you lean into him, the absentminded way you tucked his hair behind his ear when he was too deep in thought to notice it falling forward. He had never stopped you.

He never wanted to.

Because the truth he could never voice—perhaps even to himself—was that he was painfully, desperately touch-starved. And when it came to you, your touch was the most desirable of all.

It was getting harder to pretend it didn’t affect him. Harder to keep himself from leaning into it, from seeking it out. Harder to ignore the way his heart beat faster whenever you shifted closer, the way his fingers itched to reach for you in return.

This was just studying. Just work. He told himself that over and over again.

But the longer you read, the slower your movements became, and Ominis didn’t miss the way your shoulder leaned just a little more heavily into his. At first, it was subtle—your head dipping slightly, then snapping back up. A small shift, barely noticeable. But then it happened again. And again.

Ominis barely had time to register what was happening before you gave in entirely, your head resting against his shoulder with a sigh so soft he almost didn’t hear it.

His entire body locked up.

Oh. Oh.

He didn’t dare move. He didn’t even breathe. His brain, usually sharp and composed, blanked completely, drowned out by the deafening drum of his heartbeat in his ears. Your weight was warm and solid against him, pressing into his side in a way that sent his thoughts spiraling.

Surely this was a mistake. You were tired. You hadn’t meant to—

Then you shifted again, tilting, your warmth slipping lower.

And before he could even begin to process what was happening, your head slipped from his shoulder entirely, settling against his lap.

Ominis nearly had a heart attack.

The book in his hands slipped from his fingers, landing on the couch beside him with a dull thud. His breath caught so sharply in his throat that he thought he might choke on it. Every muscle in his body tensed so violently that he might as well have been Petrified.

Your head. Was in. His lap.

His brain was screaming. His body was screaming. His entire existence was screaming.

The soft press of your cheek against his thigh burned hotter than fiendfyre, and he was terrified to move even a fraction of an inch, as if any shift might wake you—or worse, alert you to what you’d done.

A chair scraped against the stone floor, the sharp sound slicing through his unraveling thoughts. Ominis didn’t need to see Sebastian to know that he had just turned, and, judging by the way the air shifted, was now staring.

“Well, well,” Sebastian mused, and Ominis could hear the smirk in his voice. “Look at that.”

“Don’t,” Ominis hissed, his voice sharp but barely above a whisper. His entire being was already on the verge of short-circuiting, and Sebastian Sallow’s commentary was the last thing he needed.

Sebastian made a thoughtful sound, far too amused for Ominis’ liking. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so… flustered,” he drawled, clearly relishing every second of this. “It’s adorable, really.”

Ominis’ hands hovered uselessly in his lap, his fingers twitching, aching to move, but paralyzed by the sheer catastrophe of the situation.

“Sebastian,” Ominis bit out a warning, his voice low and laced with something dangerously close to desperation.

Sebastian, of course, did not care.

The scrape of his chair echoed again as he stood, his footsteps far too leisurely as he strolled across the room.

“So,” Sebastian continued, his voice all casual-like as he stood over where Ominis sat on the couch. “Have you told her yet?”

Ominis’s stomach plummeted. His head whipped toward Sebastian, his pale eyes narrowing in immediate alarm. “Told her what, exactly?”

“Oh, you know,” Sebastian said breezily, tone far too innocent to be anything but dangerous. “How you feel. How you’ve been pining for her for years, how the mere sound of her laugh sends you spiraling, how you—”

“Sebastian,” Ominis hissed, his entire body going rigid as heat flared up his neck, spreading fast. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, as if gripping onto whatever composure he had left. “Will you shut up?!” His voice dropped to a hushed, frantic whisper, sheer panic creeping in. “What if she hears you?!”

Sebastian snorted. “Trust me, she’s not hearing anything right now. She’s completely out.” A pause. Then, far too smugly, “Although, if she was awake, this would make for a fascinating conversation.”

Ominis groaned softly, dragging a trembling hand down his face. He couldn’t do this right now—he couldn’t. His mind was already in tatters, barely keeping him together beneath the searing weight of you pressed against him. His heart was hammering so hard he was convinced it was audible, each heavy beat a taunting reminder of just how doomed he was.

“Look—”

“I am looking,” Sebastian interrupted, entirely unrepentant. “And she looks very comfortable. Entirely content, all cozied up in your lap like that.” His voice dipped into mock sympathy. “Honestly, I think she’s found her new favorite spot. Looks like you’re stuck here, mate.”

Ominis’ lips parted, but nothing came out. His thoughts were too much—too loud, too scattered, an impossible mess of holy hell what do I do and I can’t move I can’t move I can’t move.

Sebastian, because he was insufferable, only continued.

“And look at you,” he mused, his tone brimming with pure mischief. “All flustered and red in the face—Merlin’s beard, Ominis, her face is practically on your di—”

“Enough!” Ominis snapped, his voice a desperate whisper, his entire body burning. His hands hovered uselessly above his lap, fingers twitching, aching to do something—anything—but he didn’t dare move. He turned his head away sharply, as if that might somehow shield him from Sebastian’s relentless torment.

Sebastian laughed, warm and unbothered. “Relax, Ominis. I’m only joking.” A beat. “Mostly.”

Ominis wanted to die.

Sebastian sighed, entirely too pleased with himself. “Well, I suppose I could be a decent friend and leave you to your little—” he waved a hand vaguely, “—situation.”

Ominis felt the shift in the air as Sebastian moved, as Ominis heard the the lazy, purposeful way he strolled toward the exit. Finally.

But then—panic struck. He had no idea how long he'd be down here, now idea how long he'd be unable to move.

“Wait,” Ominis blurted, his voice sharper than he intended, but still quiet, tinged with something between resignation and pleading.

Sebastian paused. “Hmm?”

Ominis hesitated. He hated the way his fingers twitched at his sides, how stupidly vulnerable he felt, trapped in this moment, utterly helpless beneath the weight of something he wanted—ached for—but could not handle.

He swallowed hard, forcing his voice to remain even. “Could you… bring me something from dinner?”

Sebastian was silent.

For a moment, Ominis thought his friend was about to pounce on his uncharacteristic uncertainty, dig into it, use it to fluster him even more.

But then Sebastian chuckled, softer this time. Genuine.

“Of course,” he said, still teasing but gentler now. “Anything for the lap-bound prince.”

Ominis clenched his jaw. “I hate you.”

Sebastian only hummed, entirely unfazed. “I’ll make sure it’s something easy to eat,” he added, far too cheerfully. “Wouldn’t want you disturbing her.”

Ominis groaned, his face burning all over again. “Just go.”

With one last low chuckle, Sebastian finally turned and stepped out, the door creaking closed behind him.

Silence fell over the Undercroft once more.

Ominis exhaled a breath, but it did little to steady him. His thoughts were racing, still frayed beyond reason.

And you—blissfully unaware, still peacefully asleep in his lap—remained the greatest, most tormenting comfort of all.

Every part of him was acutely aware of you. It was overwhelming, like he’d been plunged into a dream he desperately didn’t want to wake from.

His fingers twitched at his side, his hand hovering uselessly in the air before retreating back to the couch, clenching into the fabric as if to anchor himself. He wanted—Merlin, he wanted so badly to touch you, just a simple brush of his fingers over your hair, something small, something to savor. But the thought sent a wave of panic crashing through him.

What if it woke you? What if it startled you? What if you looked up at him, bleary-eyed and confused, and he had to explain why his hands were trembling, why his breath was uneven, why he couldn’t stop thinking about you?

The mere idea of it made his stomach twist violently.

Yet his mind wouldn’t settle, wouldn’t let him rest. His thoughts churned, slipping into dangerous territory before he could stop them. Was this moment as perfect to you as it was to him?

No, of course not.

You were asleep, utterly unaware of the emotional devastation you had just unleashed upon him.

But still…

Sebastian, as infuriating as he was, was right. Your face was dangerously close to Ominis's pelvis, to the very peak of his torment.

Of course he had imagined you down there before. A million times. Your face, your mouth—Merlin, your mouth—and all the wicked ways he had dreamed of feeling it, of having it wrapped around him. It was a dangerous, recurring indulgence, one he had forced himself to bury, to ignore, to pretend didn’t exist.

But this wasn't that, he reminded himself sharply.

You weren’t here to torture him, to tease or tempt, to unravel him piece by trembling piece. You weren’t even aware of what you were doing to him—of how you had always done this to him, effortlessly, unknowingly. You were just… sleeping. Soft and trusting, warm and utterly oblivious, curled into him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if you belonged there.

So even as his body betrayed him, as heat coiled low in his stomach and his blood turned traitorous, as the cruelest corners of his mind whispered every half-buried thought, every shameful fantasy he'd ever had of you—he could not let his mind wander further.

Ominis forced himself to exhale slowly, counting each breath in a desperate attempt to steady the erratic rhythm of his heart. In and out. In and out. But it wasn’t helping—nothing was. His body was taut with restraint, his nerves raw beneath the unbearable weight of you.

And then, another thought crept in, unbidden.

Was his lap even comfortable enough for you?

It was ridiculous, laughable even, that of all the things he should be worried about right now—his lack of control, the way his thoughts teetered on the edge of something dangerous, the sheer agony of wanting something he could never have—this was what took root in his mind.

But it did.

Because you were still there, still sleeping, still soft and warm and so impossibly close. And Ominis had never been… particularly built. He was lean, all sharp angles and bony joints, nothing like Sebastian, for example, who was solid in a way that made people feel secure when they leaned against him. Ominis, though?

Was he enough? Was he warm enough? Soft enough?

Did you even feel comfortable? Or were you simply too exhausted to move?

Ominis’ throat tightened. His jaw clenched.

Stop it.

He shook his head sharply, forcing the thought away before it could spiral further. It was ridiculous.

He let out a low, shaky sigh, tilting his head back against the worn fabric of the couch. His eyes fluttered closed, as if shutting them might help him breathe, might help him find some semblance of control.

Minutes passed—or maybe it was hours, he wasn’t sure—before his restraint began to crumble.

His fingers twitched at his side, brushing against the edge of his robe, as though testing his resolve. He swallowed hard, heart pounding in his chest.

Don’t do it. Don’t move. Just sit here. Be thankful she’s even this close.

But his hand betrayed him.

Slowly—hesitantly—he let his fingers lift from the couch, hovering for an agonizing moment before finally—finally—settling gently on your shoulder.

He froze. Held his breath. Waited.

You didn’t stir.

Encouraged by your lack of reaction, he let his hand shift, his fingertips ghosting over the curve of your shoulder, barely daring to make contact. He moved so carefully, as if even the air around you might betray him.

And then—

His fingers brushed against the soft skin of your cheek.

Ominis stopped breathing.

Oh, this was—this was worse. This was so much worse.

You were so warm. So soft.

It was unbearable. It was blissful.

It was a catastrophe.

His fingers lingered, just for a moment, before moving again, his touch impossibly light as he carefully tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His throat felt tight, his pulse hammering so hard he thought it might shatter him from the inside out.

He shouldn’t be doing this. He knew that. He shouldn’t be indulging in something so selfish, so fleeting. And yet he couldn’t stop.

Being blind, Ominis had grown up with people making assumptions about him—about what he wanted, what he needed. One of the most common, most infuriating notions was that he must long to touch their faces, to “see” them with his hands. Strangers would offer their cheeks, their chins, without hesitation, as if they were gifting him something precious. He hated it.

To him, it had always felt invasive. Hollow. An empty gesture that lacked the intimacy people so foolishly believed it conveyed.

But you?

You had never offered. Never asked him to touch your face. Ominis wondered if it was out of politeness, or if you simply didn’t want him to. Maybe you thought he’d recoil at the idea.

And yet—selfishly, shamefully—Ominis had wished more times than he could count that you would bring it up. That you would offer, not out of pity, not because you felt you should, but because you trusted him enough to let him. To let him know you.

But you never had.

And now—

Now, he had his chance.

His fingers mapped the soft curve of your cheek, brushed against your jawline, and trailed down the delicate bridge of your nose. Every touch was feather-light, as if he was terrified he might shatter you, might shatter himself.

His fingertips ghosted over the curve of your chin, tracing the soft slope with a gentleness he hadn’t known he possessed. Every tiny detail of you was being burned into his mind now: the smoothness of your skin, the faint warmth radiating from you, the way your breathing remained steady, peaceful, as though his touch didn’t disturb you in the slightest.

It was intoxicating. It was terrifying.

It was everything.

His thumb brushed against the edge of your jaw, and his chest ached with the weight of everything he'd never said, everything he secretly felt. A quiet storm of longing and guilt swirled inside him, tightening in his throat, stealing the breath from his lungs.

What would you think if you knew? Would you pull away? Would you be offended by his presumption? Or would you—

He refused to finish the thought.

Ominis let out a slow, trembling breath, his thumb tracing one last, fleeting touch before he forced himself to pull away. His hand drifted back to your shoulder, retreating to safer ground, while the other, still trembling faintly, lifted to cradle the back of your head.

And then you shifted slightly in your sleep.

A soft, barely-there sigh escaped your lips as you curled just the slightest bit closer to him, seeking out his warmth as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Ominis's breath hitched. The tension bled from his frame, melting into something warmer, something deeper—something that made his heart ache in a completely different way.

Because you were here. With him. Safe and peaceful, trusting him enough to let your guard down in a way that left him utterly, completely speechless.

And finally—mercifully—the storm in his mind began to quiet.

Ominis let his head tip back against the couch again, his fingers brushing absently against your shoulder as his eyes slipped closed.

He didn’t realize when his breaths grew deeper, slower, or when the exhaustion that had been tugging at the edges of his mind finally overtook him.

All he knew was that you were there.

Safe. Close.

By the time Sebastian returned, juggling plates of dinner, Ominis was fast asleep—his head resting against the couch, one hand still gently cradling the back of yours.

[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

[thefemmefatalexo]

Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 1 - Invisible in the Spotlight

Summary: The campus buzzes with life, but you feel like a shadow slipping through the cracks—unnoticed, unimportant. At home, it’s no better. Your parents dote on your step-sister, the star tennis player, while you’re the afterthought they barely acknowledge. She’s here too, her perfect reputation casting an even bigger shadow over your existence. College was supposed to be your escape, but living at home and walking the same halls as her makes it impossible. Then he shows up—Satoru Gojo, the rich, arrogant engineering major everyone seems to worship. His smug grin and effortless charm are the kind of things you can’t stand, but when a ridiculous twist of fate forces your lives together, you find yourself fake dating the most insufferable man you’ve ever met. It’s just a deal, temporary and harmless—or so you try to convince yourself.

an: Welcome to chapter one guys! Feedback is appreciated as always hehe. Also, the taglists for all of my stories are still OPEN, so make sure to get tagged so you don’t miss out on any new chapters! SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{introduction} ; {next}

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Campus is chaos, as always. The sidewalks are packed with students rushing to their next class or chatting in tight little groups like they’ve known each other forever. It’s the first month of the semester, but it feels like everyone’s already found their place—everyone but you. You walk with your head down, weaving through the crowd as quietly and invisibly as possible. That’s been your strategy for years now. It works. Mostly.

You didn’t think living at home while attending college would feel so… stifling. At first, it seemed like the logical choice: save money, stay close to the familiar, and avoid the pressure of navigating both a new school and a new city. But now you’re not so sure. Sharing a roof with your parents and your step-sister, Mia, is starting to feel like you’re suffocating.

The comparisons never stop. Mia, the perfect daughter with her flawless tennis career and her endless achievements. She’s a campus celebrity in her own right—everyone knows her name, her face, her victories. And then there’s you. The one people glance at for a second before looking past you. The one who never quite measures up.

You pull your hoodie tighter around you as you pass a group of students standing by the fountain. One of them mentions Mia’s name, and you feel your stomach twist. Something about her latest tournament win, how she’s heading to the finals soon. It’s not surprising, but it still stings. She’s everywhere. Even here.

You shake the thoughts away and head toward the coffee shop near the engineering building. It’s your usual escape—a place to grab a moment of quiet before your next class. The line is long when you step in, but the familiar smell of coffee and the soft hum of indie music make it worth the wait. You tug your phone out of your pocket, scrolling mindlessly through messages you’re too tired to respond to.

That’s when it happens.

The force of someone slamming into you from behind nearly sends you tumbling forward. Your bag slips off your shoulder, and your coffee almost flies out of your hands.

“Whoa, careful there,” a smooth voice says, almost lazily, as though you were the one at fault.

You turn around, already annoyed, and find yourself face-to-face with him.

Satoru Gojo.

Of course, it’s him. Because who else would nearly knock you over and then smile at you like you owe him an apology? His snowy white hair practically glows under the fluorescent lights, and his blue eyes—hidden behind those ridiculous round sunglasses—glint with amusement. He’s tall, too tall, and he carries himself with the kind of confidence that only someone who’s never been told “no” can manage.

You’ve seen him around. Everyone has. Satoru Gojo is one of those people you can’t ignore even if you try. He’s an engineering major with top grades, an influential family name, and a reputation that precedes him. Girls throw themselves at him. Guys want to be him. He’s the king of campus—loud, obnoxious, and completely full of himself.

And now, unfortunately, he’s staring right at you.

“I think you dropped something,” he says, gesturing to your bag on the floor.

“No, really? Thanks for pointing that out,” you deadpan, bending down to pick it up.

When you straighten, his grin is still plastered on his face. It’s infuriatingly smug, like he’s thoroughly enjoying this interaction.

“You’re new,” he states, as if it’s a fact.

You glance around the room, hoping the line will move faster. “Why does it matter?”

“Because I know everyone here, and I definitely don’t know you,” he says, leaning casually against the counter like this is the most fascinating conversation he’s had all day.

“Congratulations. You’ve solved the mystery. I’m new.”

There’s a pause, and you can feel his eyes studying you, probably trying to figure out why you’re not falling all over yourself like the others do. “You don’t seem very impressed by me,” he finally says, and there’s a mock pout in his tone.

You can’t help but snort. “Why would I be?”

His grin widens, and for a split second, you see something flash in his eyes. Amusement? Curiosity? You don’t care enough to figure it out.

You step forward as the line moves, eager to order and leave before he decides to keep talking. But, of course, he follows.

“New girl, huh? So, what’s your name?”

“None of your business,” you reply, still not looking at him.

“Ouch,” he says, clutching his chest dramatically. “Cold and mysterious. I like it.”

You roll your eyes and finally make it to the counter, ordering the cheapest coffee on the menu. As you fumble with your wallet, you hear him behind you, ordering something unnecessarily complicated and way too expensive.

When you turn to leave, you catch his gaze one last time. His grin hasn’t wavered. “See you around, mystery girl,” he calls after you.

You don’t bother responding, walking out the door as quickly as you can.

But as you step back into the crowd, you can’t shake the feeling that he’s right.

Because as much as you want to stay invisible, something tells you Satoru Gojo isn’t about to let that happen.

[tikosblogg]

OK so the pol isn’t over, but my friend @millersgirl80 informed me that I have 60 something FUCK YES’S and 0 HELL NO’S so therefore LETS DO THIS SHIT. As promised I’m going to give you guys a little sneak peak of what’s to come!

WHO AM I?

Summary: Alice, the lead singer of the heavy metal band "Nightfire," whose outward persona masks a spiraling battle with addiction and an abusive relationship. Disowned by her parents at a young age, Alice finds herself entangled with a controlling boyfriend who exploits her fame and fortune, leaving her isolated and vulnerable. However, a chance encounter with Noah, the frontman of the popular band "Bad Omens," at a music festival, sparks a change. Noah, instantly drawn to Alice's talent and fragility, witnesses firsthand the darkness surrounding her and, driven by a growing concern, embarks on a journey to help her break free from the destructive cycle she is trapped in.

Side note: I am a huge fan of flyleaf, and Lacey sturn. The female lead is NOT lacey sturn, but she is heavily inspired by her. I will be using songs by flyleaf, and using them as the songs written by Alice and her band.

WARNINGS: angst, smut, drugs, drinking, verbal and physical abuse, talk of depression, anxiety, mentions of suicide. 18+ MDNI

A/N: READ THE WARNINGS 👆🏻 YOU ARE NOT FORCED TO READ THIS SO IF ANY OF THIS TRIGGERS YOU DO NOT READ IT. That’s all I’m gonna say about that. This fic will definitely be on the darker side so if you aren’t into that keep scrolling. I will have warnings at the beginning of each chapter. I’m so excited to write this, my friend tagged at the top will also be helping me with this. I hope you guys love it. ALSO if you would like to be tagged in the tag list for this story just comment on this post and I’ll add you to it!!😝