#as well as discussing how 'innocence' can be subjective...

[fungi-maestro]

Questionable Images 1/2 - The Question #8 (1987)

[yesimwriting]

omg i’m so happy ur taking young coriolanus requests!! i’d love a oneshot of him falling for reader (whos from the districts) and him trying to deal with it

Summary: Coriolanus has no interest in his assigned tribute beyond her potential assistance in helping him win the Plinth prize...or at the very least, that's what he tells himself.

Warnings: Coriolanus being kind of delusional (in deep denial) and possessive, jealousy, a crush being treated like a terminal illness, Coriolanus trying really hard to talk himself out of said crush by comparing the reader to an animal/pet in his internal thoughts

----

His nails dig into the soft skin of his palm with enough force to leave stinging crescents in their wake. He's too far gone to feel the marks, to know when to relieve pressure to avoid breaking skin.

When the idea of having the best and brightest of the Academy's senior class was initially presented, the concerns about having such prominent members of the Capitol interacting so closely with representatives of the districts was highly contested. Most of the outcry had been from concerned parents--wealthy fathers and overly doting mothers desperately attempting to convince their leaders to not subject their poor, innocent children to that kind of proximity with something considered so other.

After all, those from the districts are closer to animal than man. If an outburst of hatred doesn't result in a Capitol heir's life and potential being cut short, perhaps some sort of disease would take them instead.

Coriolanus had found that part ridiculous. Not the way the tributes were seen, but the level of coddling the Capitol elite were willing to openly mark their children with. There are ways to mentor from a safe distance and there hasn't been public knowledge of a strange and fatal virus running through the districts in some time.

Now that he's here, standing at the zoo's entrance under the cover of night, food that he can't truly afford to waste tucked into the pocket of his coat, he realizes how naive he had been to not head their warnings. He's come down with something, that's the only explanation for the sweat coating his palms and the nervous turning of his stomach.

This infliction is something that you've done to him. Unintentionally, of course--your lack of cut throat nature and maliciousness had been a disappointing discovery at the time--but still true. Why else would he come here to feed you when his family can barely feed themselves?

Coriolanus walks further and further into the zoo until the familiar cage is in view. There are a no peacekeepers inside of the space and less than a hand full patrolling the perimeter. It's late and the games are tomorrow morning, any of the tributes that wanted to cause problems would have done so by now.

It shouldn't matter to him, none of them would turn him away. The mentors weren't explicitly told to stay away which means that the peacekeepers wouldn't bother him. He could always say that he's here to discuss last minute strategy, that the earlier bombing had cut his time short and that Dr. Gaul had given Academy students permission to make up that time if they so wished. But the thought of having less of an audience soothes him slightly.

He stands where he had stood beneath the daylight, near the corner, as far from the other tributes as physically possible. Regret begins to knot his stomach. Everyone's asleep. This will be the most alone together the two of you have ever been. It's also so dark, and you're likely asleep as well. How will he find you? Is it wrong to disturb the last peaceful rest you might ever experience?

The more he thinks, the more an urgency he can't wraps itself tight beneath his bones. The sensation, a likely byproduct of his ailment, makes him wish that there was some way to scratch beneath his skin. Right no longer matters, and neither does his growling stomach that begs him to just eat the food he had taken from the Academy's lunch and disappear back into the night. He needs to see you, to see that--

"You're going to be okay." Your voice, a soft whisper that brings him back to the present.

You're awake, the vague shape of your crouched form resting against one of the artificial rocks. You're also comforting someone with a much larger frame. Something in his chest turns to stone.

Here he is, wandering the Capitol streets in the dead of night, a pocket full of food that he had hidden from his own family for your sake and you're--you're not thinking of him at all.

Maybe his infliction had been more intentional than he thought possible. Your kindness could be a ruse and Coriolanus has heard rumors of your people. Some say that your ancestors practiced spirtual arts in order to enchant others. Perhaps you've bewitched him.

His own naivety burns through his chest. You're supposed to be his. If that's how it is, then he's freeing himself of you and your kind eyes and honey-laced voice. He'll--

"Coriolanus," a surprised, careful sound that's much warmer than your attempts at soothing someone had sounded.

His name forces the pinching feeling in his chest to be replaced by an uneasy warmth that crawls its way up his neck. He's suddenly glad for the darkness.

He follows your silhouette as you quickly push yourself to your feet with no regard for the boy next to you. Your movements are swift yet quiet, and the care behind them keeps him steady. You don't want to wake anyone; you want this to be just you and him.

"You're--" You stand so close to the bars that it'd take nothing at all to reach for you. "You're here." You place a hand on the bars that divide you, fingers curling around the cool metal. "Are you okay?"

The question is laughable. He's at the tribute zoo only a few hours before the games begin because some instinct had made seeing you again feel as important and necessary as breathing.

But you're not asking about that. You're asking about him, about his injuries from the bombing. "I'm fine," he assures you, "A little scraped up from the debris and I did lose consciousness, but I was treated for all injuries."

You're finally close enough for the moonlight to make a difference. He can make out the unruliness of your hair from the way that life has treated you since your reaping, the form of your tattered dress, your facial features and...the long gash that now marks your forehead.

"And I was told that you were as well." Someone in passing had mentioned that the tributes were cleaned up after the bombing. They weren't prioritized or given valuable resources, but they were cleaned up. Injuries were cleaned and dressed to prevent infection from getting in the way of the games.

You frown, tilting your head slightly as if to hide the length of the mark. Something in his chest tightens again, the sensation much more aggressive than before. Your smooth, gentle skin now marred...

His own defensiveness hits him like a physical blow. Coriolanus blames the feeling on familiarity. The desire to keep you in the best condition possible is no different than what someone would feel for a prized pet. You're his tribute, after all.

"It sort of happened after."

Panic seizes at his chest. After. One of the peacekeepers or another tribute had hurt you. "Who?" The coolness of his own voice shocks him.

You angle your head downwards, the motion distinctly dismissive. Coriolanus won't accept that. Who are you to hide something like this from him? After everything he's done for you, don't you trust him? His arm moves forward without his permission, pulling at your arm so that your body shifts closer to the bars. His other hand then slips between the poles and grasps your chin firmly between two fingers.

He tilts your head, giving himself the space needed to examine the entirety of the cut. It stretches down the start of your hairline and stops just short of your eyebrow. Not too long or wide, but the dried blood still smeared on you implies that it's deep.

"Who did this to you?"

His hold on you is steady, but not so tight that you couldn't step away if you wanted to. You hold still as he takes the time to examine the rest of your face for injuries. Your acceptance leaves a metallic taste in his mouth. Coriolanus releases you like you might burn him.

"I don't--" Of course you don't want to tell. Your nobility runs so deep, you don't care what it costs you.

An odd wave of distress washes over him. The night air feels wrong against his skin, too cold for the thin clothing he put on in his hurry to get to you. "You shouldn't alienate your mentor the night before the games."

Your lips pull down into what feels like a pout. You stare at him with wide eyes. "I'm not trying to alienate you." The genuineness of your words knots his stomach. "I--I'm glad that you're here, that you're okay." Usually, sugar coated words from you are enough to crack at his exterior. He's feeling a lot less amicable tonight. "The girl from district 4 was aggravated tonight. I think she wanted to intimidate the other careers into listening to her so she targeted Wovey and I was kind of--around."

Translation: your too-good-for-the-arena heart took over and you inserted yourself in a conflict that had nothing to do with you. "I told you to be careful."

You nod solemnly at the reprimand. Your lips part, but before you can say anything, the sound of your name steals your attention. You turn away from him, keeping one hand on the metal bars. "Yeah?"

"Are you coming back soon?"

The question jabs at him like a thumb finding a bruise. The tribute you were comforting may come from the same district as you, but that means nothing in the grand scheme of things. By morning, your destiny to be rivals in the arena will be sealed. He won't risk anything for you the way Coriolanus is. He'd snap your neck in an instant if it meant going back home. Surely, even you're not kind hearted enough to not see that.

You crane your neck to look back at him, but your body stays angled towards the other tribute. The urge to hold you in place, to bring your attention back to him physically aches. Is your final meeting before the games really going to be cut short because of some other tribute? The look you give him is apologetic enough to make his chest constrict. After all he's done for you.

"I'm talking to my mentor." Your response dislodges something from his chest. "Why don't you check on Wovey? I think that'll help."

The sound of shuffling fills the space, and then that's that. The two of you are as alone as two people like you can be.

"It was nice of you to come here," the admission leaves you carefully, "I-I tried to see what happened to you after, but they brought us back here so quickly, and I--"

"It's alright."

He never expected for you to be at the hospital. The mental image is strange enough as a concept in itself. You, sitting in one of those stiff hospital seats, waiting desperately at his bedside. You, in the same room as his cousin and grandmother, all three of you concerned and co-existing. It doesn't fit, you're not like them. You're district. That's inherently lesser, inherently replaceable no matter the level of your charm or--or appeal.

But if that's reality, than why was your name the first thing that stumbled past his lips when he woke up? Why was his first thought after being discharged about getting back to you? Why does the fact that you were sitting with the male tribute from your district turn his stomach? Why does he now have a personal vendetta against the girl from 4? These can't possibly all be things that someone would feel for a favorite pet, can they?

This train of thought is nauseating, and the last thing he wanted for the final night before the games. "I was worried." You force these words out in a jumble of colliding syllables, like if you didn't pry them out fast enough, they'd never manage to find their way out.

Coriolanus watches you carefully, imprinting the details of the small crease between your eyebrows and your nervous eyes to memory. The look tugs at something dangerously close to fondness. "Then you know how I'lll feel tomorrow." That, in itself, is a confession pulled from him the same way a rotten tooth would be extracted. "How I'll feel until you come back."

You stare at him, eyes wide. "If this is about the prize money the peacekeepers talk about, you're doing a good job."

There's a stiffness to the way you say this, a guarded quality that soothes him more than it should. The thought of him only being invested in you only because of what he can get out of your success displeases you.

It's instinct to want to ease you. It'd be easy, too. All it would take is a comment that implies that he can be here for more than one reason. The response sits at the back of his throat. Is that why he's here?

The natural answer is of course. Why else would he lose sleep? What other reason could he have for risking taking Academy food and exposing his poverty? Something he's rarely willing to do for himself and his own family.

"A person can want more than one thing at the same time."

You can't hold his gaze, eyes cautiously darting downwards. The display of shyness makes things feel a little warmer. It makes him bolder. Coriolanus moves his hand again, letting his fingers cover yours. You don't move away.

"I almost forgot." His free hand makes its way into the pocket of his coat, finding the carefully folded napkin. He's going out of his way to emphasize the casualness of food. The only thing caring about this gesture is that he had thought to come, not the food itself. There's no such thing as scarcity in the Capitol. "Here."

He offers the neatly tied fabric in the gaps between the bars. You don't attempt to take back the hand pressed between the pole and his own palm. You take the gift in your free hand and don't attempt to let go of him until you realize that you won't be able to untie the makeshift parcel with one hand.

You open it slowly, examining the contents of his offering carefully. Two biscuits, a few crackers, a small wedge of cheese, and another baked good that reminds him of a denser, more durable version of cake.

"Thank you," The truth to your gratitude forces something uncomfortable to wedge itself between his ribs.

You don't start eating right away, your head instinctually turning back. He realizes what you're doing almost instantly. "If you're going to share everything I give you, there's not much point in bringing it."

A little harsher than he meant to be out loud. It's not your fault. Your family is large and of a taking care of each other mentality. If there's food for one, there's food for all.

You nod, accepting the criticism the way you usually do. It's a good thing that you're so pliable, that you're eager to keep the usual comfortable atmosphere between the two of you. Sometimes, though, it feels a bit like kicking a puppy.

Carefully, you bring a cracker to your lips, chewing cautiously. Taking anything makes you guilty, another byproduct of your upbringing. Sometimes Coriolanus wonders if all of this would be easier if you were brought up like the majority of district children, more ravenous and unapologetic.

You'd told him about your mother before, a free spirit who works in a textile factory that produces lavish fabrics instead of standard peacekeeper uniforms. Even though the work isn't much different, you spoke about it like it made all the difference. My mother loves beautiful things so much she doesn't even care about who they're for.

That had been the first time he had found himself thinking about your appearance. If your mother's love is reliant on beauty, he realized, then you must have grown up with consistent affection.

You speak of her, of your entire family, in a way that confirms his hypothesis. You've told him stories of the way she hangs up the prettiest fabric she can find to hang up and turn one room into two--a necessity with so many of you living in a set of conjoined apartments.

"You're..."

You trail off, pressing your lips together nervously in a way that he's gotten used to. It usually signifies that you're concerned about being impolite. That's another thing that doesn't fit the district mold, even here you hold onto manners and social cues. Even when you first met him, you had fallen back on habit. He had introduced himself as your mentor and you absentmindedly asked how he was in that way that people do when they run into an acquaintance.

Normally, if he presses or even just prompts you once or twice you'll reveal your initial thoughts. They're rarely what he expects them to be. Instead of responding to the light raise of his eyebrows, you pick up a biscuit before stretching your arm towards him.

"Oh, no I'm--"

"You're hungry." That's what you almost blurted out.

You don't mean anything by it, or, at the very least, not anything beyond the realm of worry. Heat rises up Coriolanus's neck slowly but surely. You know nothing of his world and yet you knew that to have his hunger exposed would be embarrassing. You know that it's not the kind of hunger that comes from missing a meal or two on a particularly busy or chaotic day.

"Don't worry," you tack on, "It's not noticeable unless you know what to look for."

The comment is a little too reassuring, too on the nose. Can you read him that easily? Coriolanus takes the biscuit before he can pick apart your comment any further. The corner of your mouth shifts into an almost smile. You then break apart the wedge of cheese and try to hand him that along with most of your crackers and a piece of the pastry.

"No, I can't take all of that."

You stare at him oddly. "You've been injured," you stretch your hand out again, "You need your strength."

There are several reasons why you need your strength more than he does, but he can't figure out how to insist on that without making it seem like this is a final meal. He doesn't want to give you a chance to see it that way, so he takes the a little less than half of what you're offering. "Compromise."

You nod, accepting his terms. He's unsure who starts it, but the two of you end up sitting in front of each other. You smooth the napkin out in front of you, setting up what's left of your food like a makeshift picnic. "My mother used to take me for picnics."

"Yeah?" There's something about your stories about your life back home that are attention drawing. It's not so much mundane content of life in district 8 and the fact that it still managed to produce someone like you, it's the way you speak. You're expressive and bright.

"Mhm," you finish off your first cracker, "Eight isn't exactly full of nature, but there's this wooded area past the factories and if you know where to go, you'll find this clearing that's practically untouched. She'd go there sometimes on days off when she needed to collect wildflowers to turn into paints and she'd bring who she could...me, my siblings, cousins..."

You pick up a piece of cheese, setting it on a cracker. "Neighbors, sometimes." Your voice wavers in a way that sticks out. Despite an initial tearing up on your first night, you haven't cried or behaved in anyway that indicates that this could be your end. He doesn't want you losing hope now. "Tanner used to go with us."

It's whispered with the intensity of a confession. The boy you came with, the boy you were speaking with--you grew up with him. That's a bond that's not as easily dismissed. That's something strong enough to challenge his connection with you.

Why does it matter? He's earned enough of your trust, you spoke in a way that earned more donations than anyone else. You trust him enough to actually fight in the arena. It--it doesn't matter if you...

"Do you care for him?" The question surprises both of you equally. His own bluntness, the slight edge to his tone...it's too much for a mentor.

"Uh," you sniffle once, "He was a good friend when we were little, our families know each other." An knot so tight it's difficult to stay sitting there twists his stomach. "We're a little less close these days."

If you comforting him during the dead of night, losing sleep during your last chance to rest is your version of less close, Coriolanus doesn't even want to imagine your normal. "You shouldn't expect any loyalty during the games, the second the count down begins, there's no such thing as friendship."

You wipe at your face with the back of your palm. "What makes you so sure?"

Your question isn't a challenge or an attempt to convince him that the boy would never hurt you. You're asking because you're curious, because you want to know his thoughts. "Human nature."

It's more nihilistic than he usually is in front of you, but his patience is wearing thin. The soreness of his body is starting to catch up with him and wasting the little time you have less discussing someone so insignificant is draining.

His annoyance has to stem from how little the other tributes matter to him. That's the only reason he can piece together, especially when his brashness is likely pushing you away.

"Then why can I trust you?"

Another question that you mean. It's not a slight or an attempt to indicate that you're not there yet with him. He didn't come here to cast doubt on the bond he so carefully helped build.

He can't look at you as he speaks, "Because I'm going to do anything I can to get you back."

You nod, your eyes retreating to focus on your lap. "For the prize money, for your school."

He picks at the edge of his biscuit, a few crumbs falling to the ground. "I already told you, I want more than one thing."

That's not exactly what he said...this reiteration of it is more blatant. Heat burns his face. You peak up at him through your lashes.

If you had been born in the Capitol, you would have done well. You're found of civility and social norms despite a lifetime in the Districts and despite only knowing you stained in various levels of grime, he can tell that our features are pleasing. Polished, dressed, and brought up differently, you would have been a regular Capitol darling.

Coriolanus shakes his head once, an attempt to dismiss his thoughts. Why care about what you could have been? Why imagine what you'd be like if you were part of his word?

"You're not going to--to rely on him in the arena." It's framed as a question, but in reality, it's more of a hopeful statement.

You pause, genuinely thinking about your response. "No." You rest a hand on your bent knee, gently scratching at the skin. "Not rely."

The answer isn't concrete enough, but he has no right or reason to say much else. "Don't let your guard down. Not for anyone."

You nod, reaching for what's left of your biscuit, "I won't, I promise."

"Good, I'll be watching and I'll remember when you get back."

Get back. You wipe at your cheek with the back of your palm. "Yeah, when I get back."

The dryness of your voice cracks at him. If you consider yourself defeated before even stepping into the arena, you won't come back to him. For him. For the Plinth prize.

He shoves the thoughts down as deep as they'll go. They don't manage to get very far, crowding his throat in a way that makes it hard to breathe. Coriolanus doesn't trust himself to speak, so instead he slips his hand between the cage's bars. He lets his hand sit there, palm facing upwards in a silent offering.

Coriolanus stares at his arm as a way to prevent himself from taking in your reaction. A beat passes, and then the tips of your fingers are brushing against his before settling against his palm. He squeezes your hand tightly, so tightly he's aware that it's probably uncomfortable, but the prospect of holding you so tightly that you can't vanish is too assuring.

"Do you have to--to go soon?"

He adjusts his hold on you, bending his fingers so that they can rest between yours. The rest of his household is asleep by now, but they'd be able to tell if he spent the night here and that would worry them. It would also make the morning much more complicated...he'd have to shower and change before the games begin in order to hide where he spent the night.

"No," it leaves him before he realizes what he's saying, "I can stay as long as you'd like."

A hint of a smile tugs at your lips, "Good."

That makes something in his chest feels like it's going to burst. He shouldn't care. He should see this open display of clinginess as an inconvenience. And why would he risk getting caught as someone that spent the night on the floor of the zoo when there's nothing left to convince you of?

The answer strikes him so harshly he nearly lets go of you. He didn't just want you to ask him to stay to prove something, he wanted the excuse to stay. He--he wants to be near you...and not in the way that someone wants to spend time with a puppy.

The truth to it is simple. Straightforward. He cares about you.

He can hear that you're speaking, but your words are too distant to mean anything.

"Coriolanus?"

No. No. He--he isn't meant to care about you of all people, to feel these kinds of--No. No, he can't. He's not biologically wired to. And yet, he can't let go of your hand.

"Coriolanus?"

He squeezes your hand even tighter. "You didn't ask me."

"What?"

"The other thing I want, you didn't ask me about it." The words leave him in a rush, an uneasy mess that he needs out.

Confessing turns these kinds of thoughts into reality, an undeniable force that he wishes he could vanish. But maybe if he gets it out, the ache of it will be expelled from him. Maybe he'll finally be able to think about something else that doesn't involve analyzing your every expression like your life depends on it.

"No," your eyes are wide, a deer realizing they're not the only ones at the watering hole, "I-I didn't."

A small part of him is disappointed that you don't take the opportunity to press. You usually do, chatting like you're a regular friend and not his tribute. "I'll tell you anyways." He swallows, gripping your hand like a lifeline. You squeeze back, a silent display of support. "It's you."

Your hand goes slack in his. Coriolanus warns himself that it's best to keep his eyes away from you, to not read any--he breaks, gaze snapping upwards to watch you.

"Me?" Your voice is fragile and impossible to read. You lift your intertwined hands as best you can between the poles that make up the cage. You lean forward, pressing your lips against the back of his palm. Your eyes briefly fall shut.

"I--" You set your intertwined hands back in place. "I think the practical thing to do would be to forget about me." The rejection cuts through him. All he can do is stare. "You know what's going to happen tomorrow."

Your twist your hand in an attempt to steal it back as you push yourself upwards, adjusting so that your weight is on your knees. Coriolanus instinctively shifts forward, grabbing your arm to keep you close. He moves to sit up on his knees. "You're going to come back." You stop trying to push him away. "Do you care about me?"

"You're being unfair," your whisper is harsh, "Even--even if I win, where would that leave us?" He's silent. "I'll be back in a cage and you'll stay on the outside, only this time they won't be in proximity to each other."

You're logical. You're right. And he can't bring himself to care. "Do you care about me?"

"Of course I do," the response is frustrated, exhausted, "I think I might even--" Your mouth clamps shut, eyes briefly leaving him. "I think I love you." You drop head, giving Coriolanus only the slightest glimpse of your now glassy eyes. "But what does that matter?"

The word loosens something in his chest. He gets as close to the bars as physically possible, pulling on your arm in a way that almost makes you fall forward. The new proximity seems to drain any remaining fight from you.

He leans forward, his lips finding yours in the space between metal. It takes you a second to catch up with what's happening, but once you do, you return the display of affection. He pulls your bottom lip between his own before releasing you enough to let you breathe.

"Is this real?" The question takes its time coming out, slow and through pants. If he thought thinking about you before was a type of sickness, then this is something terminal. You nod instinctually, urgingly. "Then we'll find a way." You're both resting your head against the bars. If it wasn't for the invasive metal in the way, you'd be resting against each other. "Just come back to me, and everything else--we'll figure it out."

He can write to you. He can find an excuse to bring you back to him. Maybe another aspect of the games--something that requires victors to visit the Capitol.

You nod, acceptance finally coloring your features as you squeeze his hand. "We'll figure it out."

----

a/n i've gotten so many Coriolanus/thg requests,, pls feel free to keep them coming <3

[xoxotria]

starcrossed | hjs

pairing: professor!hong joshua x student!reader

themes: professorxstudent relationship, flirting in public, smut

warnings: none

tick. tock. tick. tock.

time was moving painfully slow today. normally you’d find dr. hong's class interesting but today you just couldn't seem to focus for some reason.

well—you couldve been focusing on the lesson if it weren’t for your stupidly hot professor teaching, his attire slightly different from his usual because the first few buttons of his shirt was unbuttoned whilst his tie hung looser than it normally would around his neck.

it was as if the world was plotting against you to actually do well this semester because of the temptation speaking to the entire class infront of you.

you shouldn’t be having these kinds of thoughts for your professor (he wasn’t that much older, just your senior of 2 years as he had graduated early) but goddamn was he fine. you just couldn’t help but think of him that way—his perfect head of hair that is perfectly messy and perfectly wavy on days he doesn’t gel in place. he's tall and buff. some people describe him as somewhat on the thinner side but i can tell he has more than some hidden muscles under his suit. his big brown eyes are hypnotizing; and his pink plump lips—fucking perfect.

don't even get me started on his hands. hands that i've imagined on my body in the most inappropriate ways—gripping, spanking, rubbing, choking.

he's a profiler so he's probably picked up on the fact that you were attracted to him. and you no profiler but you think he's attracted to you some way too. he looks at you when he thinks you don't notice (but you do). and they're not just any kind of looks; they're long looks, looks that start at your legs and end at your eyes. like that one time you just so happened to wear a short skirt and thigh high socks. walking in late and stopped him mid sentence as he watched you take a seat on the front row. he quite literally choked on his words. and in that moment you felt such a boost of confidence to be able to get that sort of reaction out of him. seeing what you did to him turned you on enough to be miserable for the rest class.

today you were not wearing a short skirt and you were bored. you wanted to get his attention somehow. it's wrong—so wrong.

but this couldn't hurt right?

you remembered you were wearing a tight fitting tank top under your sweater. you decided to discreetly pull down your top and take off your sweater then lean forward and pretend to be engulfed in the subject he's discussing, showing quite a bit of cleavage just enough to get his attention.

he usually paces from one side to the other when he discusses to check if the class was still listening. and you happen to be sitting towards the right side of the room and he's walking towards the left so you wait patiently for him to turn around.

he's walking. walking. walking. and turn.

"what i find interesting is the part where jane says that a lady's imagination jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment. what do you think she—" he stopped dead in his tracks; he spotted you.

you smile innocently as you feign to be listening intently to the discussion.

"uhh, ahem" he clears this throat nervously.

"miss, what do you think she meant by this?" he improvised, catching you off guard.

people started to turn their heads in you direction so you instinctively leaned back and slightly pulled up your tank.

shit, he got me there.

you could see a small smirk form on his face as he waited for your answer.

"well..." you start hesitantly, "that women are used to being disillusioned."

"that's your take?" he cocks his head and raises an eyebrow.

"yes. that's how i interpret it. how would you sir?" you both start to engage in a back and forth. your gazes locked on each other.

"i believe she refers to women's ability to develop deep feelings for someone when they respect them," he walks a few steps forward with both hands in his pockets. you nod your head slowly in agreement.

"i suppose you're not wrong. but the two don't necessarily contradict each other." you add, feeling more confident now with your answer.

"mmm you're right miss. I can always count on you to give me good answers."

you had laid low for the rest of the class, periodically answering some questions for recitation. he had avoided lingering too much on your side of the room probably to remove suspicion on his side from his flustered outburst.

"that's all for today, class. have a good weekend."

slightly embarrassed from what happened earlier in class you try to leave swiftly, passing by the professor's desk avoiding eye contact.

"miss, may i speak to you for a second?" he called out behind me as you curse under your breath for not getting out faster.

you turned around hesitantly and saw him sitting at his desk, looking at papers; almost as if he hadn't called you over. you walk back to his desk as the last few students leave the classroom, leaving us alone.

you start to get nervous as your brain imagines all the things he could say to me.

could he be mad about what you had said in class? is he gonna call you out for your flirting? is he gonna kick me out of his class? fuck—that can’t happen. this was a prerequisite for another class you have next semester.

"the last paper i assigned was due yesterday, you haven't turned it in" he looks up at you as he props his arms up in front of him and interlocks his fingers, resting his chin on his hands.

you had let go of a breath you hadn't realized you were holding—a late paper you could handle but him calling me out or worse dropping you from his class? another story.

"i'm sorry professor, i haven't finished it yet" you make slight puppy dog eyes in the hopes he'll be the tinest bit forgiving. normally he hates it when students turn in their work late and you did not want be one of them that he mentally puts a label on for being tardy.

"can you have it done by tomorrow? i'll be in my office at around 9pm, you can drop it off then. normally i wouldn't open office hours on weekends but i can make the exception; just this once."

"i can do that. i'll have it done by then sir."

"good. you're a bright student, i wouldn't wanna see your grades suffer due to tardiness." he leaned back on his chain and places his hands on his lap.

your eyes had drifted towards his lap—it almost looked like an invitation but you knew better than that.

"thank you dr. hong i greatly appreciate it." you say with all sincerity as you watch a small smirk form on his lips.

does he like it when i call him that?

"i'll see you tomorrow at 9pm sharp, miss."

well, fuck. no escaping him now.

⋆˚🐾˖°

you've finished your paper as soon as you got home and now your mind is being filled with tempting ideas you should not be entertaining.

what if i wore a short skirt again? no. it'll be too obvious what you trying to do.

but wouldn't that be the point though? what point was i making anyways? am i really considering trying to get my professor to sleep with me? you groaned as you jumped into your bed.

the thought kept looming over my head the next morning, during the day, in the afternoon—the entire time i was awake and before i knew it it was time for me to get ready. it's settled—you want him and you wanted him bad.

⋆˚🐾˖°

you walked into the campus surprised that the main buildings are even open at 9pm on a saturday. the halls were so dimly lit, you almost couldn't find his office if you didn’t know the way to the room like the back of your hand.

you were late but that was on purpose. you were hoping it'll get a rise out of him. you decided to put on the same skirt and knee high socks as the last time, except your skirt is slightly more hiked up and you were wearing a very form fitting cropped sweater.

once you reached the door with his name on it you stop for a moment to muster up courage. you loved his name, it really did suit him.

you knock on the door and hear a faint, "come in."

you open the door to reveal a room that looks like any typical college professor’s office; but in a good way. it's lit up by a few lamps and candles, there's books on shelves and on the floor all opened as if dr. hong rummaged through it for research, there's a small couch with throw pillows and a blanket and his desk is facing the door—it was homey. you liked it.

it's not until the click of the door closing that he looks up from whatever he's doing. he does a quick double take and gulps and from where you were you could see him shift in his chair slightly.

"you're ten minutes late," he leans back on his chair and intertwines his hands together on top of his lap.

"there was traffic leaving my house i'm sorry." you lied.

"do you have the paper i asked for?"

"yes," you reached into you bag and dug out a folder with your essay neatly tucked inside and walked over to his desk and handed him the folder.

"i wanna read it over and give you your grade before you leave. please, make yourself comfortable."

you obliged, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of his desk and dropping your bag in the other.

he began reading my essay while you observed him. it was evident he was trying extra hard to focus. as he read and turned the pages you were entranced by the way his fingers moved and caressed the paper softly as if it was fragile.

at this point you were starting to imagine his hands on you again, creating a wetness between your thighs in probably the sluttiest panties you owned and if you had been a bit more entranced you wouldn't have noticed all the times he snuck glances at you while he read the paper he seemed to be approving, which was another relief.

finished he dropped the folder and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

"it's a great essay, A+." he finally spoke.

you let out a breath you didn't notice you were holding.

"thank you dr. hong.”

"you're a great writer," he complimented, "but you really need to work on the tardiness."

"yes, you're totally right. i will work on that sir."

silence filled the room and all that raced through your mind was that you had to make your move.

now or never.

you stood up slowly and walked around the desk, your finger tracing the smooth wooden surface. you don't say a word and can tell he's trying to decipher what the hell you doing. once you were all the way around you sit on the desk, right in between his legs.

"what are you—"

"do you like having me as your student, dr. hong?"

he gulps and shifts in his seat, "yes."

you hooked your foot under his chair and pull him closer watching as his eyes drift towards your lips then up to your eyes again.

“what’s your favorite thing about me being your student?”

"uh, well, you're very smart and—"

"are you sure it's not staring at my ass and legs when i wear skirts like this?" you cut him off, leaning forward slightly.

he exhaled through his nose, looking deep into your eyes and you see he's giving in. concern flashes in his eyes for keeping things professional as it fades into lust and desire.

"i do like it when you wear skirts like that," his voice was no longer hesitant. he knew you wanted him just as much as he wanted you—and that was all he needed not to be nervous.

"mmm, why?" both of you were inching closer to each other. you could smell the perfume he wears to class that always seemed to get your attention in more ways than one.

god, did he smell divine.

"because i can imagine lifting it up to fuck you bent over my desk." his hand began sliding up your leg feeling you up as he did.

your breath got caught your throat when you heard him say it.

"that's what you're gonna do to me?"

"mhm, maybe that'll teach you a lesson on being tardy all the time." he stood up slowly, towering over you with both his hands are now caressing your thighs—his thumbs getting dangerously close to your soaking core.

"then teach me, doctor."

a smirk grew on his face as it did on your own as you challenged him. he tilted your chin up with his finger and leaned down slowly—painfully slowly. your lips graze each others as he avoided kissing you fully.

"can i kiss you?" he asked, your lips nearly touching.

"you can fuck me." you said impatiently breathing getting heavier.

"but can i kiss you?"

it confused you that he wanted to be a gentleman now after explicitly telling you he wanted to fuck you bent over his desk but then you realized he was just teasing you some more.

"yes." you breathed out before pulling him in by the back of his neck and practically going in tongue first.

he immediately pressed his body against yours, and you pulled him even closer by his cardigan. once you was clutching it you thought: why does he still have this on?

you quickly started to unbutton his cardigan as if your life depended on it whilst he slid his hand in your hair pulling on it by the roots.

"you're greedy huh? i bet you're already soaking wet."

"why don't you see for yourself?"

how you even got to utter that sentence was past you. you just needed him and you needed him now.

he grinned before attaching his lips to yours again and slithering his hand under your skirt and into your panties. you moaned softly into his mouth at the feeling of his fingers sliding in your folds and brushing against your bundle of nerves with the fingers you fantasized so much about.

"i hadn't even touched you and you were already this wet for me? all this for me?" he slid his hand out and put his fingers in his mouth and sucked—your mouth hung open in both shock and desire.

that was fucking hot.

"i wanna taste more of you, babygirl." he said looking at you through half hooded eyes.

he got down on his knees and scooted you forward to align himself with your entrance as he then began peppering kisses up ypur thighs as he hiked the skirt up more and more.

once you were exposed he kissed your clit through your underwear—at this point you couldn't help but groan as you grew heavy with anticipation. he hooked a finger on your underwear and tugged them off before he kissed your clit again. this time his lips made direct contact with your skin and a louder moan escaped your lips—you swore you could see your juices coating his soft pink lips.

he started licking softly and slowly. your hips beggining to rocking against his face almost as if they had a mind of their own. he picked up the speed just a little bit and then he stayed in that pace.

fuck this man is driving me insane. i want him like this—all day and everyday, always.

like waves your pleasure kept rolling in as he fucked you with his tongue. you could feel the familiar knot building up in you as began panting and moaning like crazy as his tongue danced slowly on your clit in circles. that's when he inserted a single finger and hooked it upwards hitting that one spot that makes you cry out in pleasure.

"oh fuck!" you cried out pulling his face deeper with your thighs as you crossed them behind his head as you heard him moan in response. your hand was tangled in his beautiful head of hair and you tugged on it slightly.

you couldn't believe it. he's moving ever so softly but you can feel so much pressure building up and then it crashed down on you—hard. body began shaking uncontrollably as your thighs clenched together locking him in but he didn't stop what he was doing.

it wasn't until you had come down from your high that he detached himself from you. this man really had you seeing stars for a moment.

he got up and kissed me again tasting yourself on him—his lips felt so nice on mine that i could kiss him forever.

"get up." he commanded softly as you followed.

he pushed his chair to the side and turned you around kissing your neck as he ran his hands all over your body with you becoming a moaning mess again.

"say my name." his hands grabbed my breasts as you felt your eyes roll to the back of your head from the way he played with your nipples with his fingers.

"joshua." you moaned out.

he groaned into your ear and quickly bent you over pressing his hard dick against your ass.

"you see what you do to me? every time i see you in class you're teasing me. coming into my class late in a short skirt like a slut."

he lifted your skirt and gave your ass a slap, making you jolt and moan at the same time from the sting it left.

"are you gonna keep being a bad girl? or are you gonna take my dick like the good girl you know you are?" he whispered into your ear as he spanked you.

"why can't I be both?"

"i knew you were greedy from the start." he chuckled lightly before pulling back to unbuckle his pants and get rid of his underwear.

he lined himself behind you grabbing unto your hips for support.

“do i need to use a condom?” he asked.

i shook my head no.

“i’m on the pill.”

you heard him say a quick fuck under his breath when he realized that he could cum inside you without worries.

"fuck!" he cursed as he inserted his dick in you.

"you're so big," you breathed out as you felt as if your voice had left your throat for a moment.

"you can take it."

once he was fully in he thrusted in slowly so you could adjust to the pleasurable pain.

you gave him the signal and he started to thrust faster. small moans and whimpers can be heard from both of you along with the rattling of his desk.

he took a handful of your hair and pulled, making you moan louder and even though the building was pretty empty both of us could still be heard by guards so he grabbed your panties and stuffed them in your mouth to muffle your loud moans.

"that's my good girl." he said in between pants as he lifted your leg and placed it on top of the desk to get a better angle.

"touch yourself." he whispered into your ear as your fingers found your clit feeling him thrust in and out of you.

you were getting over stimulated feeling both your fingers and his dick sliding in and out of you at a fast pace.

you could tell he was trying to holding back moans as he panted out.

“you look so pretty taking my dick like that. it looks so much better than i even imagined in my head.”

all you could do was moan and cry into your panties. you couldn't really tell him you were so close, but he could tell by the way your walls clenched around his dick.

"cum for me my sweet girl."

you felt the knot in your stomach dissolve as your orgasm crashed over you. you swore you came so hard you squirted and blacked out for a moment.

“fuck joshua!” you cursed as he still thrusted in and out of you, chasing his own high.

he quickly turned you around feeling his high and pushed you on your knees to cum in your mouth. his mouth hung open in an O shape as his hips buckled into your mouth. you swallowed every last drop and stared at each other for a moment—both out of breath.

"quite the mess i made." you said looking up at him, slightly embarrassed after catching your breath.

"was that the first time you squirted?" he asked as you nodded.

he took your hands and helped your stand. your legs we shaking like a baby deer's as he helped you to your feet and pushed your hair out of my face.

"don't be embarrassed. it was very sexy. and i'll take care of the mess."

he chuckled as you nodded and smiled back at him.

"did you learn your lesson about being late?" he placed his hands on your waist and you rested yours on his shoulders.

"if this is what i get for being late then i'm gonna be late everyday for the rest of the semester."

and the sound of his laugh filled the room as you smiled at him.

"fine," he replied, "as long as you wear outfits like this more often."

you had placed a soft kiss on his lips before pulling away.

“deal.”

so tell me, how can something so wrong feel so good?

[rubberduckyrye]

Okay in all seriousness. There's something that I REALLY want to talk about as an open discussion with the fandom, but. This is not going to be a very nice thing to hear/talk about.

It's about how Gonta is treated by the fandom.

As a fan of all the V3 characters now, and as someone who has always been a fan of Gonta, and as someone who has many mental disabilities and two diagnosed neurodivergancies... I'm tired of playing nice about it.

You all need to stop being ableist towards Gonta.

I've mentioned in the past that I don't like shitting on personal interpretations. I don't like saying something is or is not canon because narration is just a big web of text that you try to decipher with your own personal biases, experiences, and thoughts. That's why two literary analysts analyzing the same text with the same literary criticism rules can come to wildly different conclusions--why people develop different headcanons from the same canonical information.

But one of the things that challenged my integrity is just how many people view Gonta as this innocent, naive, ignorant, baby boy who can do no harm/never has a complicated/dirty/violent/sexual thought in his life ever.

This incredibly ableist interpretation of the character bothered me for, well, obvious reasons (See: It's fucking ableist, need I say more?) but I never challenged it as harshly as I am now because to be frank, it's not my place to tell people how to HC a character. It still isn't. But I've pretty much given up on my integrity on the subject and have decided to go all in on discussing why this interpretation of Gonta is just. Really bad.

First of all, not to promote my own analyses here or anything, but I think this analysis I did of Gonta explains a LOT in regards to the ableism the cast gives him in canon. I also think that this subtle ableism is why the fandom is so bad with Gonta's characterization in headcanons and fanfic--because they've seen how the cast treats him, and they think it's normal. They don't see the microaggressions, they don't see the subtle ableism in the cast--they just see this big giant idiot who speaks like Tarzan in the English version (which... I don't actually know why people assume Tarzan (Thinking of Disney's version) is stupid. Like as a boy he had to reinvent the spear with no one to guide him on how to do it. He was able to strategize and outsmart "civilized" men in the final showdown. Still I digress) and don't see the literal genius behind his social awkwardness.

There is also another very important point I'm going to make in addition to this, and it's going to be very uncomfortable to Gonta fans who insist he's nothing but a sweet baby who only has pure thoughts. Especially to the fans who insist he "can't be sexual" or think it's weird to ship him with his peers.

Sorry to burst your bubble, but... Gonta blatantly has sexual desire and gets horny right in canon.

This is further clarified here:

It wasn't a matter of Gonta didn't want to touch her because touching someone in their underwear was inappropriate, or being flustered because she was in her underwear which is inappropriate...

It was literally a "weird feeling" that made him unable to approach her or touch her. A "weird feeling" that Miu makes pretty obvious as to what it was--sexual arousal.

He literally was sexually attracted to and felt sexual arousal from looking at Miu in her underwear. He had sexual feelings and thoughts about Miu. Why?

Because Gonta is a young man.

Gonta is a brilliant, talented young man who has normal human thoughts for someone his age--sexual desires, upsetting thoughts, complicated thoughts, ectect. He is not a child, he is not mentally stunted (I've been informed that people have literally said this on Ao3 for the NSFW Gonta fics, please for the love of god stop that)

I think the reason why Gonta fans typically want to keep him as a "pure baby child who can do no wrong" is because treating him like the young adult that he is makes it harder for them to justify Chapter 4. Every time I've seen a Gonta fan that hates Kokichi, it's always followed by the sentiment of "Kokichi manipulated and abused Gonta into killing Miu, so it's all Kokichi's fault." They're afraid of nuance and liking a character with the grey morality of genuinely thinking Mercy Killing the cast is a viable option, because it challenges their own morals about the character they adore.

To those people who read this and are upset: You can and should like Gonta! Gonta is a magnificent character who showcases the subtle way microaggressions can manifest and hurt people, he's a good-hearted person and a literal genius, he cares deeply for his friends and loves everyone with upmost sincerity.

But.

You need to re-evaluate your stance on Gonta if you think he's a stupid, naive fool who Kokichi manipulated. You need to re-evaluate why you think those thoughts, why you think Gonta being shipped with anyone is "Kinda weird" or "has weird consent problems" or "give you the ick." You have to challenge yourself and ask yourself uncomfortable questions in regards to why you treat Gonta like a child when canon has proven otherwise, why you think he cannot have violent or sexual thoughts, why he can't think mercy killing his class is the only way to save them.

This isn't an attack on you--but understand that these specific takes on Gonta? They are ableist in nature. They belittle and dismiss him, they treat him like a child, an idiot who can't think for himself--and you have to come to terms with the fact that Gonta is a far more complex character with complicated thoughts and feelings who is a young adult. Not a child. A young adult.

So again, ask yourself this: Why are you treating this young adult like he's a toddler?

[grabyourpillow]

My favorite Conclave fanfics (so far)

in no particular order

Encounters with Turtles - MostRemote ( @mostremote )

Under the pontificate of Innocent XIV, Thomas Lawrence attempts to further social reform while navigating a web of personal struggles. Caught between his troubling feelings about Vincent and a crisis besetting Aldo, Thomas is forced to reckon with the boundaries of friendship, love, and sexuality.

Wonderfully written, very credible and sensible. Love the insight in how the reform process would actually go, how Vincent would try bringing about change, how queer people perceive their place in the church. Bellini is just mwah chef's kiss in this, I can actually hear Stanley Tucci. Ongoing

And This Shall Be A Sign Unto You - Roguekaiju ( @roguekaiju )

He had hoped to see how Vincent was handling the rush of a Vatican Christmas, had hoped to offer some encouraging words ahead of the next few busy days, to tell him, truthfully, that he was excelling.

Lovely lovely fic that feels intimate and warm. Explores the things that hold meaning to Vincent, as he accommodates his new life in the Vatican. There's baking. Complete

Canticle - Marie ( @dagensdatter )

“Do you know some people say you are as John the Baptist to him? Make straight the way of the Lord.”

I don't know how to describe this fic, other than it fulfilled all my wishes in terms of how Vincent and Thomas would navigate what it is between them after the conclave; and how Thomas examines his faith. The writing is incredible and gripping, and incredibly fine-tuned on all that is faith. Introspective. Utterly DEVASTATING, in a good way. Complete

Oh, Sister - Veganthranduil ( @veganthranduil )

The first year of Pope Innocent XIV’s papacy, through the eyes of Sister Agnes.

Brilliant brilliant fic, told though the unyielding, perceptive, hard-working eyes of sister Agnes. It brilliantly explores, the dynamics with Vincent, Lawrence and co intertwined with the daily life of the sisters and also how enforcing systemic change would actually work, with attempts and mishaps. It's so clever to go with Agnes's point of view and hardly anyone wrote it when it makes SO MUCH SENSE. My description doesn't do it justice so... just give it a shot. Complete

No Small Consolation - searchingforserendipity ( @searchingforserendipity25 )

“Do you think our saintly dead come to us to remind us of our tasks?”

He seemed surprised, to have said it at all. But that happened often, when people spoke to Vincent; all his life, it had been so.

Listen, i can't get enough of the scenes between Vincent and Lawrence, and there were so precious few in the movie. This fic feels seamlessly like one of them. Love it. Complete

the very hairs on your head are all numbered - Ruthvsreality

Pope Innocent XIV has long hair. For some reason unknown to him, this is an issue.

This is such a fun one. It's difficult to make a fun yet credible one in the Conclave universe and yet this fic manages it! It's an entirely plausible discussion that Vincent might be subjected to. made super fun because... Well. Ray. Bellini. Vs Vincent being just "???" Complete, very short

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part six

About the ending of this one: don't hate me! Hate Hotch :)

Warnings: angst! the usual! a meeting with Strauss, Rossi knowing Hotch too well and it annoying the fuck out of Hotch (lovingly)

Everyone knows the case isn’t over, but it might as well be. With nothing else to uncover and Lila safely returned home, the BAU team is called back to Quantico.

Hotch makes sure that the Monroes have some security round the clock in their neighborhood, especially on their street. He doesn’t think anything will happen, but then again, no one can ever be certain. 

The problem is that they can only afford the security for so long. One week, at the most.

You ignore Hotch the entire way home on the jet. In your defense, you ignore everyone. You put your headphones in and curl up in one of the chairs toward the back, perfectly secluded from everyone else.

Hotch watches you, trying not to look as worried as he feels, and hating that he feels such deep worry for you. Sure, your words stung earlier, that he’s the last person you’d want to work for, but they weren’t entirely untrue. You are the last person he expected or wanted to walk through those glass doors. 

He hasn’t had the chance to discuss your placement with Strauss, but he will. Either it was pure coincidence that she placed you here, or she thinks she’s being funny. If it’s the latter, he hopes she can see how hard he isn’t laughing.

Rossi lightly kicks Hotch’s leg under the table. He raises his eyebrows when Hotch drags his eyes over to him.

“What?” Hotch says, settling down further into his seat, glancing at the file he’s supposed to be going over. “Got a cramp?”

Rossi scoffs. “Do you?”

Hotch hums. “When do you think they’ll send us the sketch?” He’s trying hard to change this subject to anywhere but where Rossi wants to take it.

Rossi, of course, ignores Hotch’s question. “I’m guessing she didn’t appreciate you prying into her past.”

Hotch focuses very hard on one word in the file, wondering if he might make it catch fire. “No, she didn’t.”

“Well,” Rossi sighs, looking out the window. “Serves you right.”

Hotch’s eyes snap up, glaring tiredly at his friend.

“What?” Rossi asks innocently. “It’s too soon. You should’ve known better.”

“You know just as well as anyone that in order for this team to work well together we need to have an established level of trust—”

“Save the pep talk,” Rossi waves him off. “I think you just can’t stand being left out of the loop. There’s a missing piece here and you can’t take it.”

Hotch doesn’t know if Rossi is still talking about you or not. “Richard said—”

“I heard what he said,” Rossi interrupts again and Hotch really wishes he’d stop doing that. “And if it was anything that concerns us, don’t you think it would’ve come up in her background check? That you, as Unit Chief, have to go over.”

Hotch can’t say that he disagrees there. He does go over the background checks, just a glance, really. Maybe his eyes lingered on yours a little longer, so what? Maybe he tried to focus on smaller details to puzzle you out, so what? That’s not a crime.

What is criminal is hiding things from the team, especially the Unit Chief. He hates to pull rank, he really does, but when one of the FBI’s Most Wanted sits in an interrogation room and says he recognizes your newest agent, isn’t that cause for concern? Especially when said agent refuses to elaborate?

Why would Richard Monroe of all people recognize you? Or a younger version of you, so he says, because you’re older now than he remembers. Did he see a picture of you? How and where and why and from who? 

Rossi is right. There’s a missing piece. And Hotch can’t stand it.

+++

Hotch gives you the following day off. You know damn well that isn’t standard, and that everyone else is still going into the office, but you don’t argue with him. He’s as surprised as you are about the fact.

Instead, you sleep in, you have a slow morning, you make brunch, and you do everything in your power to not think about your father.

It’s easier said than done most days. It’s hard not to think about him when there’s so much you don’t know — so much you’ll never know.

Because he’s dead. You know that for a fact. Got a phone call from the prison ward and everything.

Still, your mind wanders. You hold your coffee close, the mug practically burning your palms, but you’re too in your head to feel it.

Lila…everything about it was so similar to your situation. Kind of. Given that you still don’t know who kidnapped her, and you might never find out, it could be a freak coincidence. 

You roll your eyes at yourself. Coincidence. Yeah, right. You stopped entertaining the childish idea of those long ago. Everything happens for a reason, which is why you have such a gut feeling about Lila. You just need to get to the bottom of it.

But you have no clue how.

+++

When you return to the BAU the following day, well rested and somewhat less anxious, you head straight for Hotch’s office.

Not because you want to. God, no. Hotch summoned you via text while you were still on the freeway.

You make him wait, though. You need coffee first.

After a pit stop at the staff coffee pot, and then at Emily's desk to chat, you waltz into Hotch’s office without knocking — his blinds are open and you can clearly see he isn’t busy — earning you an exasperated look from your new boss. 

“Don’t give me that look,” you snap without thinking. “You’re the one who called me for a meeting when I wasn’t even halfway here yet. So what? What do you want?”

Hotch really wonders why he tries to be patient with you. “Sit down.”

“Gladly,” you smile, knowing it has to look as fake as it feels. You lower yourself into one of his stiff chairs across from his desk.

Hotch takes a moment, clearly pulling himself together, before he asks, “How are you?”

Your coffee freezes midway to your mouth. You drop the mug back down, resting it on your thigh, letting it burn you there. “Fine,” you give a little shrug. “Thanks for the day off, boss.”

“I thought you might need it,” he replies, like he’s caught you in something.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“I think you’re being an asshole on purpose,” you conclude. “I think I make you nervous, and you’re not used to that, so you take it out on me by being an ass.”

“Projecting, are we?”

“Proving my point, are we?” you grumble, ignoring how right he might be. You take a scorching sip of your coffee. “What did you actually want?”

Hotch stares at you for a moment, studying your face. You stare right back at him, unperturbed.

He’s going to learn that two can play at this game whether he likes it or not.

He’s the first to look away, down at the files on his desk. “The sketch artist spoke with Lila.”

“And?”

“She refused.”

You sit up straighter, nearly spilling your coffee. “What?”

Hotch’s eyes lift to yours. “She refused.”

You sit back again, propping your elbow on the arm of the chair to rub your forehead. “Okay. So what does this mean?”

Hotch threads his fingers together on his desk. “Her mom is going to talk to her, see if she can convince her to talk to the artist again.”

You nod slowly, looking out the window. “Okay. That’s good.” You’re not sure if she will. Or if it’ll get her in any trouble. She’s just a kid.

Hotch stays silent. Your coffee burns your thigh just enough finally that you move to rest it on the other arm of the chair.

You pause, looking over at him without moving your head. Your eyes narrow. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I thought you might like to know.”

You turn your head, smirking. “Missed me?”

He frowns.

You lift your coffee to your lips, waiting for Hotch to say something else, like you know he will.

He does. “I thought you might be able to shine some light on why she refused.”

You glare at him, but you finish your sip of coffee. “And no one else on the team was capable of shedding light?”

He stares you down. You return the favor.

You’re the first to cave this time. “What do you want from me, Hotch?”

“The truth would be a great start.”

All you can do is laugh, so you do, hanging your head. “Great meeting.” You stand and head for the door, raising your mug. “I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”

You hear Hotch push his chair back as he raises to his feet. “We’re not done.”

You pause, but you stay at the door. “You just don’t know how to leave well enough alone, huh?”

“I can write you up for insubordination.”

“Go ahead,” you shrug. “I could use another day off.”

On that note, and before he can hold you captive any longer, you yank his office door open and escape to your desk.

Hotch watches you through his open blinds. The way you settle into your desk chair, the way your hand shakes as you lift your mug to your lips. 

It’s not that he can’t understand why you won’t confide in him -- or, well, it’s less about confiding and more about just telling him the truth. He doesn’t need to be your confidant, or anything remotely friendly. God knows you wouldn’t want that. 

But this is serious. A serial killer recognizes his agent, shakes them up so bad they have what he can only assume was a panic attack in the parking lot, and he’s supposed to, what? Forget he saw anything? 

Forget like his life didn’t flash before his eyes when he saw you crouched down, fighting to take in a single breath of air? Forget like he didn’t pace his entire apartment last night, recalling everything he knows about you to try to ascertain why an FBI’s Most Wanted would recognize you as a child? Forget like he didn’t nearly make himself sick with the implications of that?

It’s uncharted territory for him. Members of his team have hidden things from him before, but they’ve let the truth out. They’ve let him help.

You don’t seem keen to do either of those. Again, it’s not like he doesn’t understand. The two of you aren’t exactly each other’s favorite person -- and won’t ever be. But the nature of the work you do…this isn’t something Hotch can just let go.

+++

The next week at the BAU passes similarly and without much fanfare. No new cases come in -- surprisingly -- but a few seminars come up, some mountains of paperwork, and a meeting with Strauss.

The latter comes as a shock. You think for sure that it is Hotch’s doing, and you’re entirely prepared for a fight. You’re either being fired, reprimanded for your behavior, or who knows what else.

What you don’t expect is for it to be lunch. Plain and simple.

“Thank you for joining me,” Strauss says, in an uncharacteristically good mood, guiding you over to her comfortable chairs. “Sorry for the formality. It’s the easiest way to schedule these things. Please, sit.”

You sit across from her, waving off the apology. “Not a problem. I was a little worried, so I’m glad it’s only lunch.”

“Why?” she asks. “Is everything alright in the BAU?”

“Oh, yes,” you laugh it off. Hotch just hates me, but not to worry, the feeling is mutual. “Just new job jitters, I suppose.”

“Ah, still adjusting?”

“You could say that,” you nod with another sheepish laugh.

“Well, you shouldn’t worry,” she says. “I hear your performance is exceptional, and you fit right in.”

You raise an eyebrow. Hotch told her that? “Oh,” you try not to show your shock. “Thank you, I’m…I’m glad to hear that.”

She smiles. “Aaron can be a little rough around the edges, but you’re doing fine. Don’t worry. Ah, there’s lunch.”

Sandwiches are brought in, leaving you no time to really process what she has just confirmed. 

And he is never going to live it down.

The rest of your lunch meeting passes by easily. To your surprise, Strauss steers the conversation away from the BAU and toward how you’re settling in here in general. 

“It was a big move, I heard,” she says. “I hope the area is treating you well?”

“It’s great,” you nod. “I do love it here.”

Of course, work topics come up, such as professionalism among the team and how those lines blur around some. She doesn’t linger here, though, so you think nothing of it. 

“A new case will likely come tomorrow,” she says. “You’ll hardly ever be without one this long. Consider yourself lucky.”

You laugh at that, mostly to hide your scoff. You wouldn’t consider yourself lucky to be without a case because it only means Hotch’s focus is on you instead of catching a killer -- which is a much better use of his time. Safer for him, too. Because with every passing day you come closer to spilling hot coffee down his suit.

Kidding. Kind of.

“Mm! I do have one thing to ask you,” Strauss says suddenly.

You swallow your nerves and look at her expectantly.

“Richard Monroe,” she starts, and you feel your blood run cold. “He’s still cooperating in their investigation, however,” she pauses, lacing her fingers together. “He’s asked to speak with you.”

You blink. “With me?”

She nods. “You clearly made some impression on him. He’s apparently been asking for you for a few days, though they only just notified me this morning.” She pauses to sigh. “Do you have any idea what he might be after?”

You shake your head, dusting crumbs off your leg. “No idea.”

“Alright,” she accepts your answer far too easily. “Well, if there’s time, and if he keeps asking, I might ask you to go speak to him. Just to…keep the peace, I suppose. We can call it research for the BAU.” She waves her hand. “But it’s not at the top of my list.”

“Of course,” you nod slowly. “Just let me know.”

She smiles. “I’ve taken up enough of your lunch time, so I’ll let you get back to work.” She stands and you do as well, a rare moment where you’re itching to get back to the bullpen. “You’re going to do just fine here. You’re already exceeding expectations, so well done. Keep it up.”

“Thank you,” you return the smile, your chest expanding from the praise. It’s nice knowing your boss’s boss thinks you’re doing well, no matter how Hotch acts when you’re in the same room. Checkmate.

+++

Hotch scowls at the paperwork before him as he listens to your laughter filter up to his office. You returned from your meeting with Strauss in a frustratingly good mood and have been joking around with Morgan for half an hour.

Fed up, Hotch shoves his chair back to shut his door. Maybe he slams it. It doesn’t matter.

He hears the conversation come to a halt. Good. Maybe now they’ll get some work done for once.

He signs off on what he needs to, closing the folder and moving on to the next. And the next. And the next.

Before he knows it, he’s the second to last in the office again. Rossi knocks once on Hotch’s office door before he opens it, one hand holding his coat over his shoulder.

“Working late?” Rossi asks, striding in and settling down across from Hotch.

“Yes,” Hotch says, not looking up from the paperwork. He still has a mountain to get through, and maybe it could wait until tomorrow, but he needs to focus. On something that isn’t you.

“Want to get a drink?”

“No.”

“Alright. Any particular reason you’re so grouchy today?”

Hotch sighs, looking up at his friend and hoping his eyes convey the best I’m not in the mood look that he can. 

He must succeed, because Rossi presses even more. “Doesn’t have anything to do with, say, a certain new agent who seemed to be in a great mood today for the first time in a week?” He pauses, musing. “Or maybe it’s the fact that said new agent didn’t say one word to you today?”

Hotch’s jaw tenses. It’s true. Neither of you spoke to the other today. Plenty of glares were shared, though, which is the same as words for you two.

Rossi leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Aaron. She’ll come to you if she needs help. If she wants help.”

No, she won’t, Aaron wants to say, but he can’t. Because what’s his reasoning? Something he doesn’t want to admit.

The facts are that Rossi doesn’t know you. Rossi wasn’t there when Hotch first met you on that case all those years ago. Rossi wasn’t there to watch you try to do everything yourself and nearly fistfight Hotch every time he tried to take one thing off your plate. Rossi wasn’t there to watch you nearly get yourself killed because you refused to ask for help. Rossi wasn’t there to see the panic that had crossed Hotch’s face when he saw your reckless behavior. 

Rossi doesn’t know you. Not the way Hotch does.

Which is why after Rossi leaves, Hotch gathers his things, and stops to see Penelope on his way out of the office.

[sy-on-boy]

My 2 cents on the plot / thematic relevance of Ch 95

This is not about advancing Plot B or showing Anya's school life (which is still true but has been discussed), but rather the overall theme of education and war. There was an excellent post about how Eden is at the frontline of the cold war and it is subtly shown through the innocent lens of the first graders (I can't find it now, would link it if I could). And I think that perfectly applies to Ch 95.

Quick recap on some references about education/students/war throughout the series (that I remember at the moment):

Sylvia gravely condemning the Berlint University Student Terrorists during the Doggy Crisis arc (Ch 20) and saying "did you learn nothing about war at your university?"

Henderson talking about his experience as a history teacher (Ch 27.5, Short Mission 4) and quote: "Yes, well, I have always maintained that there is nothing to be learned from the memorization of time lines. From the grand efforts with which our forefathers crafted society to the foolish notions that sent them racing to war, to not study the human element at history's root is to not understand history at all"

Note that Damian's best subject has been established to be history, and his family (father) has been involved in war, at least Donovan was PM during most of the war (established by Melinda in Ch 91). Donovan is also a graduated Imperial Scholar (Ch 64).

The Red Circus group started out as a peaceful student demonstration "advocating for peace and quality" (Ch 72) and "speaking out to protect the weakest members of our society". And Billy Squire said, "We were a respectable movement that fought for our cause with respectable means. It was the state that turned violent against us. So I'm not taking criticism from a member of the establishment (referring to Henderson, an educator). I'm gonna see to it that they reap what they've sown." Billy's daughter Biddy was killed by the state at a protest.

Less of a point, but Becky is the daughter of the CEO of a major military manufacturer. Despite their very likely involvement in military conflicts because they sell arms, the Blackbell cohort has been depicted positively so far: Becky being a kind, wonderful friend to Anya, Becky's father doting on her, and Martha again being kind and dignified (and also being an ex-soldier and acquainted with Henderson).

Eden Academy is a major setting for SxF and the themes of politics, education, and war are embedded in it. The students involved in protests/groups are older (the university students, Billy's daughter), but the political implications remain even among the youngest of the students— the first graders.

Hence, Ch 95. When mere first graders are shown to fight to gain connections, which can be political as pointed out by Henderson: "In the world of politics, dances serve as major social events". But of course, they are kids, so they see it more playfully and innocently, especially Becky with her shipper lens on.

Of course, there is also the aspect of getting to know other people better out of interest (the boys asking Anya and Becky to dance because they were impressed after the bus hijacking). But as people have mentioned, nobody mentions this to Damian despite him being equally involved in saving the class (all three of them got a star). The girls aren't interested in Damian as a person, they're interested in him as an asset because of his family and their power.

And I can see the teachers trying to diffuse the tension and create camaraderie with their friendly competition. To me, this reads as the teachers fully realizing "the battlefield of political maneuvering", and they want to remind the kids to have fun, to show good sportsmanship, to unite the kids, to operate as a class and be friendly with one another, and overall make it more lighthearted. It's nice to see the classes work together and get excited / win as a unit, especially compared to the more "individual" bits of fighting for a dance partner later.

We get a bit of comparison between Bill and Damian, with Bill showing good sportsmanship while Damian scoffs at him. But Damian ends up becoming ultra competitive and telling his classmates to not screw it up.

Like the Dodgeball chapter, Damian is clumsily attempting to lead the class by doing good in his quiz, while getting stressed and yelling at his peers when they don't succeed like he did. So he's not really a good leader. Like how him being good at history does not necessarily mean he is good at being peaceful (Short Mission 4 ends with Henderson staring in exasperation at Damian + Anya bickering with each other). But obviously, he is merely a child, and he is naturally immature.

At first Loid is all for advancing Plan B and analysed Anya's suitors in a rational (reductionist?) way by ranking them in terms of gaining intelligence, but he remembers this is just a dance, Anya is a kid, and she should do whatever she wants. Loid (and the adults) are very aware of the political side of the gala, but ultimately they want the kids to have fun and not worry / worry less about politics.

Because they're kids! They'll grow up and learn more and be politically active later, but right now, they're just kids. Kids who don't know much about the world but are eager to make the world a better place.

In the end, we get a panel of Anya and Loid "teaming up" to win Damian's hand for Plan B / world peace. The Damian-Anya dynamic is cushioned with the silly crushy feelings, but underneath it, Operation Strix continues to be a core motivation.

I find it interesting that Endo chooses to focus on the first graders and their innocent view of the world / politics. It's embedded everywhere and especially in a prominent school like Eden, but the kids don't really realise it / realise the severity of it. Heirs and heiresses are educated at Eden and grow up to have incredible influence and the power to shape the world. Our protagonist's best friend comes from a family that manufactures arms. Henderson mentions the importance of learning history to avoid making the same mistakes (ie. war).

So Ch 95 is a cute prom chapter. But I think it also helps to show the themes underneath the fun, bubbly interactions.

[clemelntine]

More sex (and also emotions ofc)

ep 2+3, ep 4

We got three scenes in episode 5: flirting in the sauna, flirting and foreplay in the garage, and the scene at Styles place (it felt like more than foreplay but its not quite sex)

So there are two main themes/concepts i look at here. I was gonna do these separately in two posts, but they connect too much, so this was more convenient

Style and his observance

Fadels trust issues and the giving/taking of vulnerability and trust.

In the sauna, Fadel approaches Style, but as soon as he gets a little push back, he feels the need to push back even harder. He was willing to date Style partially because Style had convinced him he is serious about their relationship. He made it seem like he is obsessed with Fadel (which he is). This is the type of reassurance Fadel needs after his last lover left him (or died or something. He has trust issues now, tho). When he saw fear and hesitance on Style's face, he started doubting the devotion that Style had previously shown and decided within a second to put his wall back up. He deflected saying he didn't even like Style that much [liar], and when Style shows interest again (by pulling him back when he tried to leave), he says they're still on trial. Showing a bit more interest but still being very weary.

Styles' reaction to this is somehow perfectly what Fadel needed/wanted. He immediately sees them being on trial as a challenge and takes this gladly. We see his demeanor shift from uncertain to a little cocky because this isn't just a normal competition; it's one he is certain he'll win. He knows Fadel by now and is slowly climbing his way into Fadel's life, all he has to do is to keep on climbing. So he does. He immediately gets closer to Fadel and starts touching him. He rubs his hand over Fadel's stomach, an imitation/mirror/parallel of their first time together in the sauna. Which evidently was Style's first foot in the door to Fadel's heart. And it once again works as Fadel wants to go to Styles place.

But Style is unsure, maybe because he is scared of a serial killer being brought into his home. He suggests they opt for a quicky in the sauna instead. Fadel didn't specify that he wanted to have sex at Style's place, but Style knows him well enough by now what Fadel means. I mentioned in my previous post about the scenes in episode 4 that Style always watches for Fadel's reaction, both during sex and when he teases Fadel. He's learned that Fadel playing along with him isn't as obvious as his own teasing (for example: Fadel silently chopping the meat while Style narrates/commentates dramatically). So although Fadel's comment is small and seems innocent Style quickly reads it as a reaction to his flirting and (correctly) assumes Fadel wants more.

After Fadel gives some arguments and Style can no longer find another reason to refuse they do go to his place, but Style still seems quite scared. @airenyah made a good post about Style and his progress of trusting Fadel this episode.

When they get back to the garage, Style talks about his dad trying to set him up with a mechanic and how he wants to find and choose his own man. This statement is another assurance to Fadel that Style really does want him. He was able to get a boyfriend relatively easily but instead decided to go through all the effort to pursue Fadel.

When this causes Fadel to hug Style from behind and ask "And you chose me?" Style changes the subject to sex. Once again makes what would seem like an innocent comment into flirting. He is also, once again, right though. He read Fadels body language and the room and came to the conclusion that Fadel would want to finish what they started in the sauna. Fadel continues this flirting, proving Styles suspicion was correct.

When Fadel kisses Style, he doesn't reciprocate for a bit. He just stands there in an almost teasing manner at first. It's not quite the pacifism he showed during their first time (discussed in this post) or the time in the kitchen (in this post). But he does still want Fadel to work for it.

It is once again Fadel who takes of Styles shirt. In this post I mentioned @respectthepetty s post where they talk about how Styles eagerness to show his skin (clothing choices) is a direct contrast with Fadels secrecy. And I feel we've seen enough scenes of shirts being taken of for me to conclude that they use it to show a need of finding out someones secrets. Laying them bare to find out more about them and to show a demand of vulnerability.

In my episode 4 post I said that Fadel ripping open Styles shirt is a response (like a counter attack) to Style making a comment about how he knows that Fadel missed him. Style revealed something Fadel hoped to keep a secret and in response/revenge, Fadel layed Style bare (this time physically).

This whole time Fadel had been distrusting of Style and trying to find out what his motivation was. So him repeatedly taking of Styles shirt is just a continuation of this search.

Fadel jokes around the idea of garage sex and roleplays being a customer whose car needs fixing but who doesn't have any money. @secriden points out in this post that this is very much something that fits Styles teasing flirting. Although it is very cute to see Fadel adjust to and play around with Style, the roleplay has a slight bittersweet feeling to it. It's all in a joking manner and plays into the pornografic vibe that sex in a garage had, but also shows us an alternate tiemline (be it very over dramatized and sexualized). Both Fadel and Style want to date each other but have something they are hiding from the other, thinking that revealing the secret will break them apart. They both wish it they didn't have this secret, that they might have met under normal circumstances. And had they both lived normal lives, then Style crashing into Fadel could have been the beginning of a normal relationship. The roleplay of customer and mechanic is them taking on easier roles and indulging into the idea of a relationship without the guilt of secrets and conflict.

After the cut-off, we see them again, and they both have their sock and shoes of. I have nothing to say about this, honestly. Just they did that. Right.

Both of their shirt us slightly open (Fadels showing more skin). This is another example of the visibility of skin being used as being emotionally open and vulnerable. In this scene, they both share quite some things about themselves. But it is most noticeable for Fadel, who stumbles his way through Styles questions and reveals more about himself than he probably wanted to. We start this scene already prophecizing this. At first, he is okay with his shirt exposing some skin, but as soon as Style acknowledges that skin and the scar on it, he tries to cover himself up. Scars are also a literal look at skin exposing secrets.

At Styles place, while Fadel is lying on the bed looking like he is watching a show, Style takes off his shirt. This is the first time he has taken off his own shirt. After the double date where Fadel said he doesn't trust Style 100% percent and doesn't think he ever will, Style has found a new challenge. Even though he can't tell Fadel everything, he is desperate to share as much as he can. That's why this time, he doesn't wait for Fadel to take off his clothes but takes the initiative himself. He shows that he isn't waiting for Fadel to ask for it he'll lay himself bare because he wants it. He wants to be open with Fadel.

Style continues strongly with his agenda of always watching Fadel and looking for his reaction to the things he does. I will never let go of the theory (/fact) that Styles number one mission it so make Fadel feel good and he so carefully watches Fadel so that he can better read him and adjust to his wishes.

This is also our first time seeing Style undress Fadel. He doesn't take off Fadels shirt necessarily but pushes it up far enough to still expose his stomach and chest. Following the theme of exposing skin to expose secrets, it is also in this scene that Style adamantly claims that he'll be Fadels 100%, and they will trust each other. It is not a direct demand for Fadel to be open, but it's a start on Style wanting answers. Previously he had been rather passive/teasing when asking Fadel to tell things about himself (or carefully around the topic, to assure he doesn't go to far), but in this episode Style fully goes for jt. He really does want to know Fadel and wants him to feel like he can tell Style he is a hitman.

[novaursa]

Between Pride and Fire (the pride)

- Summary: It was a challenge of the hunt that drew the lion to you, but it was your fire that made him yours.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the fire

- Next part: of fire and gold

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

You sat near the window of your chambers, gazing out at the bustling streets of King’s Landing below, lost in thought. The royal hunt felt both like a distant memory and an event that lingered too vividly in your mind. The tension of the past week hadn’t helped, with Viserys’s occasional hints about a potential Lannister alliance only serving to fuel your unease.

“Gods, you’re moody these days,” Rhaenyra’s voice cut through the quiet, pulling you from your reverie.

You turned to see your sister entering the chamber, her silver hair catching the light as she sauntered toward you. She settled onto the bench beside you, her expression both curious and teasing. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked. “You’ve been brooding ever since we returned from the hunt.”

“I’m not brooding,” you replied sharply, though the edge in your voice betrayed you.

Rhaenyra smirked, her violet eyes narrowing as she studied you. “Oh, you are. You’ve been staring out that window as if your thoughts are a thousand miles away. Or,” her grin widened, “a thousand miles west.”

You stiffened, shooting her a glare. “Don’t start, Rhaenyra.”

“Start what?” she said innocently, though her teasing tone made it clear she knew exactly what she was doing. “I’m merely observing. It’s obvious, really. You must miss Lord Lannister.”

Your glare deepened, and you turned back to the window, hoping she would drop the subject. But Rhaenyra, being who she was, pressed on.

“I mean, he was rather persistent during the hunt,” she continued, her voice lilting with amusement. “And Father seemed delighted by it. Maybe he’s already planning your wedding. Imagine it—a grand ceremony at Casterly Rock. You, draped in gold and crimson, standing beside your insufferable lion—”

“Enough!” you snapped, turning to face her fully, your cheeks flushed. “Gods, you’re unbearable.”

Rhaenyra blinked, taken aback by the sharpness of your tone. But then her eyes narrowed with interest, a sly smile playing on her lips. “You’re not denying it,” she said softly, leaning closer. “Something happened, didn’t it?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding as you debated whether to tell her. But the memory of Jason’s smirk, his touch, his whispered words—it all bubbled to the surface, and before you could stop yourself, the truth slipped out.

“We were… together,” you admitted quietly, refusing to meet her eyes.

Rhaenyra stared at you, her mouth falling open as she processed your words. For a long moment, she said nothing, and you could feel her shock radiating off her.

“You—you what?” she finally managed, her voice rising in disbelief. “You slept with him?”

You winced, glancing toward the door to ensure it was closed. “Keep your voice down!” you hissed. “And yes. It happened. Once. During the hunt.”

Rhaenyra leaned back, still staring at you as though you’d grown a second head. “Gods above, you’re as reckless as Daemon.”

You scowled at the comparison. “I am nothing like Daemon.”

“You slept with a man outside of marriage,” Rhaenyra shot back, her tone sharp but tinged with disbelief. “And not just any man—a Lannister. That’s exactly the sort of thing Daemon would do.”

You opened your mouth to retort but faltered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. Rhaenyra leaned closer again, her initial shock giving way to something else—curiosity.

“Well?” she asked, her tone conspiratorial now. “How was it?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What?”

“How was it?” she repeated, her expression earnest. “Was it… enjoyable?”

Your face grew even hotter, and you turned away from her. “I am not discussing this with you.”

“Oh, come on!” Rhaenyra pressed, grinning now. “You’ve already admitted to it. You can’t leave me in suspense. Was he clumsy? Overeager? I’ve heard things about men like him.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re avoiding the question,” she countered, clearly enjoying herself. “You’ve experienced something I haven’t yet. Indulge me, sister. What was it like?”

You hesitated, torn between annoyance and the bond you shared with Rhaenyra. Finally, with a sigh, you relented. “He… knew what he was doing,” you admitted reluctantly. “He’s arrogant, but he’s also… skilled.”

Rhaenyra’s brows shot up, and she leaned forward eagerly. “Really?”

“Gods, don’t make me regret telling you,” you muttered, glaring at her.

She grinned, her curiosity clearly piqued. “I won’t. I promise. It’s just… I can’t believe it. You and Jason Lannister. Of all people.”

You shook your head, exasperated. “It was a mistake. One that I don’t intend to repeat.”

Rhaenyra tilted her head, studying you. “Are you sure? Because it seems to me like he’s left quite the impression.”

You didn’t respond, turning back to the window as your thoughts drifted once again. Rhaenyra’s laughter echoed softly in the chamber, and though you tried to ignore her, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder if she was right.

Servants bustled about, and courtiers whispered in clusters, but the focus of attention was a large velvet-lined box that had just been delivered to you.

You stood before it, arms crossed, while your father, King Viserys, practically beamed with excitement. Rhaenyra lingered nearby, clearly intrigued but feigning disinterest, and Tyland Lannister stood stiffly to the side, his expression one of poorly concealed unease.

“Open it!” Viserys urged, gesturing toward the elaborate box. “Let’s see what Lord Jason has sent you.”

You sighed heavily, already dreading whatever awaited you inside. Jason’s penchant for grand gestures was nothing if not predictable, and you could only imagine the sort of monstrosity he had deemed appropriate. With a reluctant glance toward Rhaenyra, who smirked knowingly, you stepped forward and unlatched the lid.

Inside was a small statue, crafted with exquisite detail. It was a likeness of your dragon—a stunning creature of black scales with amber undertones, named Morrath. The statue was carved from dark obsidian, with golden inlays capturing the shimmer of Morrath’s unique coloring. The dragon’s eyes were tiny gems of polished amber, and its wings were spread as though mid-flight. It was objectively beautiful, but the arrogance behind the gesture soured any appreciation you might have felt.

Nestled beside the statue was a rolled parchment, sealed with the Lannister crest. You snatched it up and unrolled it, quickly scanning Jason’s bold, flowing script.

Princess,

This humble trinket is, of course, unworthy of capturing the majesty of both your dragon and yourself, but I trust it will serve as a reminder of the passion of your spirit and the flames you ignite in all who are fortunate enough to know you.

Speaking of fortunate, your esteemed father has hinted at a royal visit to Casterly Rock. I eagerly await news of when I might host you and your family in proper Lannister fashion. I shall spare no expense to ensure you are impressed—though I suspect you are not easily so.

Until then, I remain your devoted admirer,

Jason Lannister

You rolled your eyes and thrust the letter toward your father. “Hideous,” you declared, gesturing at the statue. “Send it back. I have no need for his trinkets or his flattery.”

Viserys, who had taken the letter eagerly, frowned in disappointment. “Now, now,” he chided, scanning Jason’s words with a smile. “This is a thoughtful gift. Lord Jason clearly went to great lengths to have it made.”

“Thoughtful?” you retorted, gesturing at the statue again. “It’s garish. And as for his words, they’re as self-satisfied as he is.”

Rhaenyra snorted softly, hiding her grin behind her hand, but Viserys ignored her. “I will not allow you to insult a gift so freely given. It would be rude to return it.”

“I think it would be a fitting response to such arrogance,” you muttered under your breath, though your father’s pointed glare silenced any further protests.

Viserys turned to Tyland, his face bright with enthusiasm. “Lord Tyland, you will deliver our reply to your brother personally.”

Tyland stiffened, clearly alarmed by the prospect. “Your Grace, I—”

Viserys waved a hand, cutting him off. “Tell Jason that we are grateful for his generosity and that he may prepare to host us within the month. I am eager to see Casterly Rock, and I’m sure my daughter is as well.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Viserys raised a hand, his tone softening. “This is an important alliance, my dear. Jason is a lord of great standing, and his interest in you is a compliment to our family. Do not let your sharp tongue ruin what could be a prosperous match.”

You scowled, biting back your retort, while Tyland shifted uncomfortably. “Of course, Your Grace,” Tyland said stiffly, bowing. “I will ensure my brother receives your message.”

Viserys smiled broadly, clearly pleased. “Excellent. Jason will be thrilled.”

Rhaenyra leaned closer to you as Tyland exited the room, her voice low and laced with amusement. “A statue of Morrath? I must admit, Jason is persistent. Almost as persistent as you are annoyed.”

You shot her a glare, but she only grinned, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “I’ll break it before we leave,” you muttered.

Rhaenyra’s laughter rang out as Viserys clapped his hands, calling for preparations to begin for the royal visit. The statue of Morrath remained where it was, a silent reminder of Jason’s audacity—and of the inevitable chaos his presence would bring.

The towering silhouette of Casterly Rock loomed on the horizon, its banners flapping in the wind. Tyland Lannister approached the gates with a sense of mounting dread, his horse’s hooves echoing off the stone bridge that led to the castle’s entrance. The journey from King’s Landing had been long and uneventful, but the task awaiting him at the end was anything but.

By the time Tyland was escorted into the grand hall of Casterly Rock, his nerves were fraying. The gilded chamber was as ostentatious as ever, with tapestries depicting the triumphs of House Lannister lining the walls and gold-flecked columns gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the high windows. At the far end of the hall, Jason Lannister sat lounging on a high-backed chair, one leg draped casually over the armrest as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

Jason looked up as Tyland approached, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face. “Brother,” he said, his voice rich with amusement. “What an unexpected surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Tyland stopped before him, bowing briefly before straightening. “I come with a message from King Viserys.”

Jason’s grin widened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Oh? And what might His Grace have to say?”

Tyland hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. “The king and his family will be arriving in a few weeks for a royal visit. He expects Casterly Rock to be prepared to receive them.”

Jason’s eyes lit up, and he let out a low chuckle, clearly delighted. “A royal visit? How splendid. I trust the princess was pleased with my gift, then.”

Tyland’s expression tightened, but he said nothing, which only seemed to amuse Jason further.

“She hated it, didn’t she?” Jason guessed, his tone light and unbothered.

“She found it… garish,” Tyland admitted reluctantly. “She wanted to send it back, but the king forbade it.”

Jason laughed, the sound echoing through the hall. “Of course she did. That’s what I like about her—she doesn’t simper or fawn like the others. Still, it seems I’ve won Viserys over. That’s a start.”

Tyland sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jason, this is not a game. The king’s visit is an honor, but it’s also a significant responsibility. You must ensure everything is perfect. This isn’t just about you—it’s about House Lannister.”

Jason waved a hand dismissively, already rising from his seat. “Relax, Tyland. I know what’s at stake. Casterly Rock will shine like the gold it was built upon. The king and his family will be dazzled.”

Tyland frowned, his unease deepening. “And the princess? What do you intend to do about her?”

Jason’s smirk returned, his eyes containing mischief. “What do you think, brother? I intend to win her over.”

Tyland groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Jason, you’re incorrigible. If this goes poorly—”

“It won’t,” Jason interrupted, his tone confident. “I’ll ensure it doesn’t. Besides,” he added with a grin, “I have a feeling she enjoys our little battles more than she lets on.”

Tyland shook his head, muttering under his breath. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Jason clapped him on the shoulder, his expression one of pure amusement. “Nonsense. You’ll thank me when this all works out. Now, let’s discuss preparations. I want Casterly Rock to be unforgettable.”

As Jason began outlining his grand plans, Tyland could only hope that his brother’s arrogance wouldn’t lead to disaster. The royal visit was bound to be eventful—whether for good or ill remained to be seen.

The soft breeze of the morning carried the scent of sea salt and the distant hum of King’s Landing’s bustling streets. You stood on the balcony of your chambers, the statue Jason had sent you cradled in your hands. Morrath’s likeness glimmered faintly in the sunlight, the obsidian and golden inlays catching the light in a way that was undeniably beautiful. Yet, as you stared at it, your fingers itched to let it fall.

It would make a satisfying crash, you thought, imagining the shards scattering across the stone courtyard below.

Jason’s letter had been infuriating, dripping with arrogance and self-satisfaction. His audacity to send such a grand gesture—a statue of your dragon, no less—felt less like a compliment and more like a challenge. The memory of his smirk, his touch, and his whispered words from the hunt still lingered too vividly in your mind, and the sight of the statue only made it worse.

You lifted it slightly, peering over the edge of the balcony. It would be so easy to let go.

But then your gaze caught on something small—a tiny detail on the statue’s base. Leaning closer, you saw that the base had been inscribed with a phrase in High Valyrian: "My fierce dragon, you are beautiful and strong."

Your grip tightened as you read the words, and to your annoyance, you felt a pang of regret. Jason might have been insufferable, but the inscription revealed a thoughtfulness you hadn’t expected. He had noticed your strength, your fire—things most lords dismissed or ignored.

You cursed under your breath, your earlier resolve crumbling as the faintest flicker of doubt and guilt crept in. Dropping the statue now felt… petty, even childish. With a frustrated sigh, you turned away from the balcony and carried the statue back into your chambers, setting it on a small table by the window.

“Foolish trinket,” you muttered, glaring at it as though it had personally offended you. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to destroy it. For now, it would remain—much to your annoyance.

Meanwhile, Otto Hightower stood rigid before King Viserys, his expression measured but firm as he voiced his concerns. Alicent sat nearby, Prince Aegon playing quietly at her feet, though her attention remained fixed on the unfolding discussion.

“Your Grace,” Otto began, his tone carefully respectful, “I must implore you to reconsider this journey to Casterly Rock. The realm needs you here, especially with the situation in the Stepstones escalating. Reports indicate that the Triarchy is growing bolder. Your presence in the capital is essential.”

Viserys frowned, setting down the goblet of wine he had been nursing. “Otto, I’ve heard your concerns already. The council is more than capable of managing the Stepstones in my absence. Daemon is there, and he seems eager to prove himself. Let him handle it.”

“With respect, Your Grace,” Otto pressed, “Daemon’s methods are… unpredictable. And while the council can advise, they cannot command the same authority as their king.”

Viserys’s irritation was evident as he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “This is not just a journey, Otto. This is about fostering ties with one of the most powerful houses in Westeros. House Lannister has been a steadfast supporter of the crown, and Jason has shown genuine interest in my youngest daughter.”

Otto’s mouth tightened. “Your Grace, the Stepstones are a pressing matter. And while I understand the importance of alliances, surely there are other ways to secure House Lannister’s favor without uprooting the royal family.”

“Other ways?” Viserys’s voice rose slightly, his tone sharp. “Are you suggesting I abandon my daughter’s prospects for the sake of a conflict Daemon is already addressing?”

Alicent, sensing the growing tension, spoke up gently. “Your Grace, perhaps there is a compromise to be found. The conflict in the Stepstones is a matter of the realm’s stability, but so too is ensuring the future of your family. A brief visit to Casterly Rock might suffice.”

Viserys softened slightly at her words, though his irritation with Otto remained evident. “A brief visit, yes. But we will go, Otto. That is final.”

Otto inclined his head, though his jaw tightened. “As you say, Your Grace.”

Viserys sighed, gesturing for a servant to refill his goblet. “I know you mean well, Otto, but you have a tendency to focus on what you think is best for the realm without considering what is best for my family.”

Otto bowed again, though his expression was carefully neutral. “Your family is the realm, Your Grace.”

“Indeed,” Viserys replied, his tone weary but firm. “And I will ensure they are secure—both politically and personally.”

As the conversation concluded, Alicent reached for Aegon, lifting him into her lap. Her gaze lingered on Viserys, her expression thoughtful. She said nothing more, but the faint crease in her brow betrayed her concern.

Otto departed shortly after, his steps measured but brisk. Viserys remained in his chair, taking a long sip of wine as he gazed out the window. “A royal visit will do us good,” he muttered, as though convincing himself as much as anyone else.

Alicent, ever poised, simply nodded. “Of course, Your Grace.” But her quiet tone hinted at her own doubts. 

The golden sun dipped low over the western horizon, casting shadows across the sprawling halls and courtyards of Casterly Rock. The scent of freshly laid flowers mingled with the salty sea air wafting in from the Sunset Sea. Servants bustled about, polishing gilded fixtures, arranging lavish tapestries, and ensuring every corner of the castle gleamed with perfection. The king and his family would arrive tomorrow, and Jason Lannister had spared no expense in preparing for their visit.

Jason stood in the grand dining hall, overseeing the final touches. The long, oak table, polished to a mirror-like sheen, was adorned with golden chargers, crimson and black silks, and elaborate floral arrangements in the Targaryen colors. He had even commissioned special candles laced with Valyrian fragrances to burn during the meal—a nod to his guests’ heritage. A harpist practiced softly in the corner, the music light and unobtrusive as Jason surveyed the scene.

“Impressive,” Tyland said, stepping into the room. His sharp eyes swept over the grand display before settling on his brother. “I didn’t think you had it in you to put this much thought into something.”

Jason smirked, folding his arms. “I’m full of surprises, brother. Besides, this is no ordinary visit. It’s the king and his family. You think I’d let them walk into anything less than perfection?”

Tyland raised a brow, his tone skeptical. “Perfection? You’ve outdone yourself. This is beyond what even the king would expect. I didn’t think you cared this much.”

Jason’s smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with pride. “I care because this is about more than just the king. It’s about her.”

Tyland groaned softly, rubbing his temples. “Of course it is. I should’ve known.”

“Don’t look so dour,” Jason said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “The king’s favor is important, yes, but winning her approval? That’s the real challenge. And you know I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.”

Tyland sighed, gesturing to the opulent display. “You think all this,” he said, waving a hand toward the gilded table and intricately arranged flowers, “is going to win her over? She’s not exactly the type to be dazzled by wealth and extravagance.”

Jason grinned, leaning against the table with an air of confidence. “You underestimate me, Tyland. This isn’t just about the gold and the silks. Every detail here is tailored—to impress her, yes, but also to show that I’m paying attention. The harpist will play Valyrian songs, the feast will feature her favorite dishes, and the wine? Straight from the Arbor, of course.”

Tyland stared at him, clearly taken aback. “You know her favorite dishes?”

Jason shrugged, his grin widening. “I asked around. People talk when you loosen their tongues with gold.”

“Gods,” Tyland muttered, shaking his head. “You’ve really gone all in on this, haven’t you?”

Jason straightened, his tone turning serious for a moment. “This isn’t just about me, Tyland. If this works—if I can secure her hand—do you realize what that means for House Lannister? A connection to the crown, to the Targaryens? It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Tyland frowned, though he couldn’t entirely hide his reluctant admiration. “And if it doesn’t work? If she rejects you?”

Jason chuckled, his confidence unshaken. “Then I’ll have tried, and House Lannister will still have made an impression on the king. But she won’t reject me. Not after what we shared.”

Tyland winced, his discomfort evident. “Must you bring that up?”

Jason smirked, clearly enjoying his brother’s reaction. “Relax, Tyland. I’m a Lannister. We always pay our debts—and I intend to pay hers in full.”

Before Tyland could respond, a servant approached, bowing low. “My lord, the chambers for the royal family have been prepared. Shall I escort you for inspection?”

Jason nodded, straightening. “Yes, I want everything checked twice. Leave nothing to chance.”

As the servant scurried off, Jason turned back to Tyland. “Come. You’ll want to see this. I had their chambers decorated to honor their lineage—dragons, Valyrian motifs, the works. Even their baths will be infused with oils imported from Essos.”

Tyland followed reluctantly, muttering under his breath. “You’ve gone mad.”

Jason laughed as they strode through the halls, his voice echoing with unshakable confidence. “Mad? No, brother. Just determined. Now let’s make sure the princess has no choice but to notice.”

The brothers disappeared into the winding corridors of Casterly Rock, Jason’s voice fading into the distance as the final preparations for the royal visit continued. The Rock, for all its grandeur, had never felt so alive—and for Jason, tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

The royal carriage creaked as it swayed along the winding road to Casterly Rock, its wheels crunching over gravel and stone. Inside, the air was stifling despite the open windows, the relentless summer sun bearing down on the royal procession. You sat in the corner of the carriage, fighting off a dull headache that throbbed behind your temples. The chatter of courtiers and the clatter of hooves outside did nothing to ease the ache, nor did the incessant enthusiasm of your father, King Viserys.

“This is a grand day,” Viserys declared, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Casterly Rock is a wonder of Westeros. To see it firsthand, to be hosted by Lord Jason himself—it’s a sign of great fortune.”

You rubbed your temples, biting back a groan as your headache intensified. Beside you, Alicent shifted uncomfortably, her pregnant form making it difficult for her to find a comfortable position. Her face was pale, and her movements sluggish as she balanced Prince Aegon in her lap, his small hands grasping at the embroidery on her gown.

“I’m sure it will be a fine visit, Your Grace,” Alicent said softly, her tone polite but weary. Her eyes briefly met yours, and you saw a flicker of shared exhaustion in her gaze.

Rhaenyra, sitting opposite you and your father, leaned forward slightly, her expression tempered but cautious. “Father,” she began, her tone measured, “perhaps we shouldn’t put too much stock in this visit. It’s a show of good faith, yes, but alliances of this nature can take time to build.”

Viserys waved a hand dismissively, a broad smile still plastered on his face. “Nonsense, Rhaenyra. Jason Lannister has already shown great interest in your sister. He sent her that fine statue of her dragon, didn’t he? A thoughtful gift, if I’ve ever seen one.”

You stiffened slightly at the mention of the statue, your headache flaring as the memory of Jason’s insufferable note came to mind. You hadn’t brought Morrath’s likeness with you, much to your father’s disappointment, though you doubted Jason would be offended.

“Thoughtful, perhaps,” Rhaenyra said carefully, her violet eyes darting toward you for a moment. “But that doesn’t mean we should expect too much. Lord Jason is… enthusiastic, but such things can be fleeting.”

Viserys frowned, his jovial mood dimming only slightly. “Enthusiasm is precisely what we need. I’d much rather see my daughters courted by men of passion than by dullards. Jason Lannister is a capable lord, and his interest is genuine. If this visit goes well, who knows? Perhaps there will be a match.”

Your headache worsened as you listened to your father’s musings, and you leaned back against the carriage wall, closing your eyes briefly. The motion of the carriage, combined with Viserys’s unchecked optimism, was grating on your nerves.

“And Rhaenyra,” Viserys continued, his tone growing more serious, “once this visit is over, it’s time for you to take a tour of the realm.”

Rhaenyra blinked, surprised. “A tour?”

Viserys nodded firmly. “Yes, a proper tour. You’ve had plenty of suitors send petitions, but it’s time you meet them in person. Let the lords of the realm present their cases directly. You are the heir to the Iron Throne, after all. It’s only fitting that you see more of the kingdom you’ll one day rule.”

Rhaenyra’s expression darkened, her jaw tightening slightly. “And if I find none of them to my liking?”

Viserys chuckled, clearly unbothered by her resistance. “Then you’ll have to keep looking, my dear. Who knows? Perhaps you’ll find a lord who shows as much interest in you as Lord Jason has shown in your sister.”

Rhaenyra shot you a sharp look, one eyebrow arching as if to say, This is your fault. You met her gaze briefly before turning back to the window, unwilling to engage in another round of bickering.

Alicent shifted again, adjusting Aegon in her lap as he began to fuss. “Your Grace,” she said gently, “perhaps we should focus on the visit at hand before making plans for tours. The realm’s stability is paramount, especially with the conflict in the Stepstones.”

Viserys sighed, though he didn’t seem particularly troubled. “The Stepstones will hold. Daemon is handling that situation, and the council is capable enough. For now, we focus on Casterly Rock and the future of this family.”

You clenched your hands in your lap, biting back the urge to comment. The weight of Viserys’s expectations, combined with Jason’s persistent overtures, felt suffocating. As the carriage swayed and creaked, you silently vowed to endure this visit with as much grace as you could muster—but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Jason had something planned, and that your father would only encourage him further.

Rhaenyra leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms as she stared out the opposite window. “This is going to be a disaster,” she muttered under her breath, though her voice was loud enough for you to hear. You didn’t disagree.

The gates of Casterly Rock swung open with grandeur, revealing Jason Lannister and his delegation waiting to welcome the royal family. The sun gleamed off the lions adorning the gates, and the sea breeze carried the faint scent of salt and blooming roses from the meticulously kept gardens within the Rock. Jason stood at the head of his retinue, dressed in colors of House Lannister, his armor polished to perfection. His hair caught the light, and his confident smirk betrayed his anticipation. Beside him stood Tyland, whose expression was considerably more reserved.

As the royal carriage pulled to a stop, a hush fell over the gathered courtiers and servants. The doors opened, and Viserys stepped out first, beaming with excitement. Alicent followed, holding Aegon’s hand as the toddler stumbled slightly, his bright eyes wide with curiosity. Rhaenyra emerged next, her regal demeanor a stark contrast to the faint scowl you wore as you exited the carriage last.

Jason’s gaze locked on you immediately, and his smirk deepened. “Your Grace,” he said, bowing low to Viserys, “welcome to Casterly Rock. It is an honor to host you and your family in the greatest stronghold in the west.”

Viserys’s smile widened, his voice warm as he clasped Jason’s arm. “Lord Jason, the honor is ours. Casterly Rock is as magnificent as I remember. I can see your family’s pride in every stone.”

Jason inclined his head graciously, though his eyes drifted back to you. “I’ve ensured that every detail of your visit reflects the esteem we hold for the crown—and for its most radiant jewels.”

His words earned murmurs of approval from the Lannister courtiers, and Viserys chuckled, clearly pleased. “Well said, Lord Jason.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead forcing a polite smile as Jason’s attention lingered on you. His gaze was far too knowing, and the faint glint of amusement in his green eyes set your nerves on edge. He stepped forward, extending his arm toward you with exaggerated courtesy. “Princess,” he said smoothly, “may I escort you?”

Viserys, delighted by the attention Jason was giving you, intervened before you could reply. “Of course, of course! She would be honored.” He gestured encouragingly, and you had no choice but to accept.

Your smile was strained as you linked your arm with Jason’s, the warmth of his hand resting lightly over yours sending an unwelcome jolt of familiarity through you. He leaned in slightly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Remind me, Princess,” he murmured, his tone wicked, “was it the table or the bed where you first said my name?”

You stiffened, your lips pressing into a thin line to keep from reacting. “Careful, Lord Lannister,” you whispered back, your tone sharp. “I doubt your guests would appreciate you being carried out of your own hall in pieces.”

Jason chuckled softly, his laughter warm and rich. “I missed you too,” he said, the amusement in his voice only deepening your irritation.

By then, Viserys had joined the two of you, Alicent and Rhaenyra following closely behind. Jason reluctantly released your arm, bowing again as he did so. “Your Grace, if you’ll allow me, I’d be honored to escort you into the Rock myself.”

Viserys accepted with a smile, clearly impressed. “You’re a fine host, Jason. It’s no wonder your reputation precedes you.”

As the procession moved into the towering halls of Casterly Rock, Jason fell into step beside you once again, ensuring he remained close enough to make his presence known. The opulence of the castle was impossible to ignore—lion statues flanked every doorway, and the walls were adorned with tapestries depicting the triumphs of House Lannister. You couldn’t deny the grandeur, even as Jason’s proximity grated on your nerves.

“You must tell me, Princess,” he murmured again, his voice barely above a whisper, “did you bring the statue I sent you? I’d hate to think it’s gathering dust.”

You shot him a glare, your voice equally low. “I left it in King’s Landing. I thought it would appreciate the peace and quiet.”

Jason laughed quietly, his eyes alight with amusement. “And yet here you are, as sharp as ever. It’s good to see some things haven’t changed.”

Viserys, oblivious to the undercurrent between you, glanced back at the two of you and smiled. “You seem to get along well, Jason. That’s good. My daughter has always had a discerning eye.”

Jason grinned, his charm turning effortless. “It’s no challenge to appreciate someone as remarkable as the princess, Your Grace. I only hope to be worthy of her esteem.”

Viserys beamed at the compliment, and you forced another smile, your irritation simmering beneath the surface. Jason’s arrogance was infuriating, but his skillful handling of your father—and his undeniable charm—only made it harder to dismiss him outright.

As the procession continued deeper into the castle, Jason leaned slightly closer once more, his voice soft but teasing. “You’re lucky the king is here to keep me on my best behavior, Princess.”

You shot him a sharp look, though your pulse quickened despite yourself. “Don’t push your luck, Lannister.”

Jason laughed again, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “Oh, but Princess, I live to test boundaries.”

And with that, he straightened, his confident smirk firmly in place as he resumed his role as the perfect host. You bit back a sigh, bracing yourself for what you knew would be a long and insufferable visit.

The great hall of Casterly Rock was nothing short of breathtaking. Golden chandeliers cast a warm glow over the long tables laden with an opulent feast—roasted boar, honey-glazed pheasants, spiced wines, and an array of delicacies rarely seen outside the west. Tapestries depicting the victories of House Lannister hung from the walls, while a harpist played softly in the corner, filling the hall with soothing Valyrian melodies.

Jason Lannister presided over the affair with his characteristic charm. He sat at the head of the table beside King Viserys, who appeared utterly delighted with the grandeur of the evening. Rhaenyra and Alicent, seated nearby, were quieter but respectful, though Alicent’s gaze lingered wearily on Aegon, who was seated beside her and clearly growing restless.

You, however, had been placed several seats down, a strategic position that you had thought would keep you away from Jason’s immediate attention. But as the feast wore on, you noticed his gaze drifting toward you more often than not, his smirk deepening each time he caught your eye.

Finally, after a particularly jovial toast, Jason turned to Viserys, his tone casual but deliberate. “Your Grace,” he said, lifting his goblet in a gesture of camaraderie, “might I ask a favor? It would be a great honor to have the princess sit beside me for the remainder of the feast. There are matters I would like to discuss with her more privately—matters of mutual interest, of course.”

Viserys, his mood buoyed by the wine and the atmosphere, chuckled warmly. “Of course, Lord Jason. My daughter’s presence would do any man honor.”

Your stomach sank as the king gestured for you to move, his smile leaving you no room for protest. To refuse in front of so many onlookers would risk creating a scene, something you couldn’t afford. Forcing a tight smile, you rose and made your way to Jason’s side, acutely aware of the delighted whispers among the gathered Lannisters and their retainers.

“Thank you, Princess,” Jason said smoothly as you settled into the seat beside him. “It’s always a pleasure to have your company.”

“I doubt that,” you muttered under your breath, keeping your expression neutral.

Jason’s grin widened, but he said nothing, turning back to Viserys to resume their conversation. The Lannister retainers nearby looked positively radiant, their excitement barely concealed. It was clear they saw this as a significant step toward cementing ties with the crown. Tyland, however, sat further down the table, his expression unreadable but his gaze flicking uneasily between you and his brother.

Jason, ever the perfect host, navigated his conversation with Viserys skillfully, discussing trade agreements, the prosperity of the Westerlands, and Casterly Rock’s unmatched wealth. He used every opportunity to subtly praise you—your poise, your intelligence, your discerning nature—all of which delighted the king.

When the conversation finally turned to another topic, Jason leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slightly toward you. His voice dropped to a low murmur, his tone once again tinged with that maddening mixture of amusement and arrogance.

“Finally, a moment to ourselves,” he said, his golden eyes glinting as they flicked to yours. “Tell me, Princess, are you enjoying the feast?”

You took a sip of wine, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s fine, Lord Lannister. Your harpist is talented.”

“Ah,” he said, his tone teasing, “but not as talented as you. Though I imagine your talents lie elsewhere.”

You shot him a warning look, your voice dropping to match his. “Careful, Jason. You’re still within earshot of the king.”

Jason chuckled softly, clearly unbothered. “What can I say? You bring out the rogue in me. Perhaps later, you’d care to see how I’ve redecorated my chambers. I’m sure you’d appreciate the finer details.”

You narrowed your eyes, your voice cold despite the blush creeping up your neck. “I’d sooner throw myself off the Rock.”

His grin widened, and he leaned closer, his voice dropping to an almost scandalous whisper. “You didn’t seem so opposed to my company last time, Princess. Shall I remind you?”

“Try it, and I’ll remind you why Morrath’s fangs are sharper than your wit,” you hissed back, your tone laced with irritation.

Jason laughed, the sound low and rich. “Gods, I’ve missed this. You truly are one of a kind, Princess.”

You bit back a retort, forcing your attention back to the table as the next course was served. Jason, however, seemed content to revel in your frustration, his smug expression never faltering.

The rest of the feast passed in a haze of polite conversation and strained smiles, Jason’s proximity making it difficult for you to relax. Every word he spoke seemed designed to needle you, and every glance he gave you carried that insufferable smirk. Yet, for all his arrogance, there was something disarmingly charming about his persistence—a fact that irritated you even more.

As the evening drew to a close and the hall began to empty, Jason leaned in one last time, his voice a low murmur meant only for you. “Think about my offer, Princess. My door will be open.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, rising from your seat with as much grace as you could muster and retreating toward your chambers. Jason watched you go, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful as he swirled the wine in his goblet.

“Soon enough,” he murmured to himself, already planning his next move.

[zuyoo]

s-ecret. yūta x afab!reader, ﹙외설﹚ drabble

CONTENT WARNING — college setting, suggestive content & images, mdni! 17+ content below.

SYNOPSIS — wherein the classroom’s good boy, okkotsu yūta, finds out the quiet girl’s secret… your secret.

ZUYOO’S NOTES — not proofread, ignore timestamps, enjoy reading my loves <3 click the “s” in s-ecret to see the masterlist!!

yūta was known for being the classroom’s good boy, the purest person in the room. and you were—not known. at all? maybe. but you liked it that way.

you aren’t known; in a nice way. they see you, greet you whenever they get a chance, then go back to whatever it is that they were doing. you could say that you were lucky with your classmates.

yūta is a class representative, so he’s one of the few that greets you by the door. he’s also the one in charge of knowing his classmates’ whereabouts.

at the beginning of the year, you attempted to skip class—but to no avail when yūta found you coincidentally when you were about to leave. he thought you were lost and offered to lead you back to the classroom, and you had no choice but to oblige.

yūta is usually the one that helps you in general. like that one time where you dropped your bag and caused tons of your items to scatter all over the place. students from other classes just stared at you as you picked up your items, but yūta didn’t hesitate to give you a hand when he saw a glimpse of the scene. he usually tutors you as well, in classes that you don’t do well in.

still, you get stares and whispers on a daily basis, it’s not like you could avoid it when you look like a typical nerd from a western high school movie. thick glasses, hair always tied, carrying books everywhere, no friends… plus, you may look like a typical nerd but you’re actually pretty dumb to be considered a one. since it is just a persona you present in public— so yeah, there will definitely be no escaping from gossip of how you look miserable and lonely.

though, they’re right. it does get lonely sometimes, which is probably the reason why you kept interacting with people… in social media, that is. your classmates? bearable. people from other classes? absolutely not. they don’t deserve a second of your time.

but why social media? were you seeking for attention? validation? no, not really. more like—ego, of some sort. the feeling of posting yourself and getting a boatload of compliments is so… accomplishing.

you can confidently post yourself all over social media and it wouldn’t matter… because nobody knew that it was you. and it makes you feel like you’re on top of the world. though, it could get in your head sometimes—decided, it would be better to simply stay friendless in real life. and so you continued to hide behind your quiet nerd girl persona.

your attitude and looks in social media compared to the persona you present to everyone in real life are immaculately contradictory. which made you feel confident that not a soul would know that you’re just another girl in the internet, selling herself for a mere ego boost. but oh, were you so wrong.

and as if the soul leaving your body was suddenly sucked back in, you snapped out of the trance you were in and froze.

how did he know? did someone find out? or did i just mishear him say it?

you panicked while keeping a straight face, but your facade faltered, then and there, when he continued to speak.

what does he want? how can i assure that his mouth is kept shut? this was only supposed to be a tutor session… how did it turn to this direction?

there was a train of thought running through your mind, but yūta was quick to change the subject back into the previous topic you were discussing before he dropped the massive bomb you’ve been trying to hide.

so quick-witted. impressive… and scary.

yūta okkotsu may be called the most innocent person in the room, but not even a single person in that room can read him. always a step ahead of everyone and is humble about it that everyone simply forgot that he was a genius. he was far too knowledgeable to be pure.

he used your weakness to simply gain your attention. which then makes you question, what else are you capable of, yūta okkotsu?

cont.

—rbs & comments r highly appreciated!!

© zuyoo — do not copy, plagiarize, or translate my work without my permission. i only upload my work in tumblr.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman - Part 1

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe : Military School

Summary : Ona has to leave Barcelona against her will because her mother decided to sent her to a school in Manchester.

Words : 4k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Monday, October 5; 6:45 AM - Home.

« Get up, Onii!!! »

I jump when a little bundle pounces on me, screaming. I groan into my pillow as he laughs in my ears before getting off my back. I turn over as quickly as possible to catch him before he runs away. The surprise rings in my ears even before his shrill scream, but I don't let go of him.

« Joan... » I begin in the calmest voice I can manage. « How many times have I asked you not to wake me up like this? »

« Mmmmmh... »he pretends to think. « I don't remember! »

« You'll see! »

A mix of cries and laughter fills the room as I attack him with tickles along her ribs. He tries to struggle, but I'm far too strong for him.

« St-stop », he says between laughs. « P-Please... Oniii! »

« Ona, let go of your little brother. He'll be late otherwise! » my mother reprimands me as she passes by my bedroom door.

« You're lucky this time! »

I release him and get out of bed to go to my closet. I sigh when I see that a large number of clothes are missing.

« Are you taking me to school this morning? »

I turn around to see my little brother watching me from the edge of the bed where he's sitting. He's so innocent. He makes me want to go back to when I was his age. Everything was simpler. It's rather ironic, considering he keeps telling me he wishes he were as big as I am. My many discussions about my departure don't seem to have sunk in, given his question. I'm afraid he'll hold it against me over time, as this isn't the first time I've left home. I approach him, crouching down to his level. His doe eyes and sad expression don't make it any easier to say what I need to, but I go ahead anyway.

« Joan... » We've already talked about this. You know it's not possible.

« But I don't want you to leave! » he raises his voice. « You just got back... »

I tense up when he lowers his head to hide his sorrow from me. I feel so guilty for causing him so much pain. He doesn't deserve to be caught up in all this mess. I gently stroke his cheek to encourage him to lift his head.

He makes a pout that could melt anyone's heart, mine first and foremost.

« I'm sorry, little heart... I'm really sorry for putting you through all this. You know that if I could stay, I would. You know that, right? »

« I don't want you to leave! » he shouts again. « Stay, please. »

Now he's crying, which only makes me feel worse. His tears bring tears to my own eyes. I hold him as tightly as I can and stroke his hair to soothe his sadness.

Joan is undeniably my weakness in all this. I feel so guilty about leaving again. I have to stay strong and hide my feelings to avoid making his reaction worse. If it were up to me, I would stay. I resent my mother for sending me to that damn school thousands of miles away. It cuts me off from the few loved ones I have left.

« When will you come back? »

« I have no idea », I shrug. « We'll see. Anyway, I'll call you regularly. »

« Promise? »

« Of course, if I'm allowed to, I will. »

« Is it very strict there? »

If there's one thing I don't like about kids, it's their curiosity. They just keep asking questions and can ask the same one ten times to get an answer. It's not so bad, but in my situation, it's annoying because I don't have the answers myself. He just reminds me why I've been stressed all week since the news broke.

« Well, you know what? » I change the subject. « If we hurry, I'll try to negotiate with Mom to take you to school before I leave. »

« Really? » He smiles with all his teeth.

« Of course! I just have to make sure I don't miss my flight. If we leave a bit earlier, I can drop you off before going to the airport. »

« YAY! »

I laugh at his excitement. I help him get dressed so he can quickly head downstairs. His departure allows me to clean up his mess and get myself ready more peacefully. Fifteen minutes later, I join him downstairs.

Dressed and with makeup on. I find him in the large dining room talking with his father and our mother. I don't bother to stop and head straight to the kitchen. I sit on a high chair behind the bar that faces the kitchen. I smile when I see a cup of hot chocolate and a freshly prepared pastry waiting for me.

« Good morning, Sam. »

« Oh, hi Ona. »

He moves to the counter so we can be face-to-face and chat while I enjoy my breakfast. I've had this habit since... well, since he started working here, to be honest. Samuel has been our cook for a few years now. We're almost the same age, give or take five years. His dishes are truly outstanding. I'll really miss them. They say the food in boarding schools isn't very good.

« So, you'll take me to school then? »

« What's this about now? » asks my mother, entering the room with Joan.

« I told him I'd drop him off if we leave a bit earlier. »

« Did you really have to tell him that? » she snaps.

« It's the last time I'll see him for a long time, you could make an effort. »

I maintain my gaze firmly. She eventually capitulates with a sigh. I suppress a smile that could change her mind. I always win when it comes to staring contests. I'm proud to have irritated her, but even more proud to have won.

« Fine, hurry up then. »

« Yay! »

My brother knows how to lighten the mood. I take a sip from my cup to hide my amusement as he dashes out of the kitchen, with my mother chasing after him, yelling to be careful on the stairs.

« Tough leaving, huh? » asks Sam.

« Not really. The hardest part is leaving Joan. Take care of him for me, please. »

« Don't worry about that. He'll be fine, unlike you », he says through gritted teeth.

« I'll be fine too », I assure him.

« I hope so. It would be nice to see you alive again », he jokes. 

I roll my eyes with a smirk. We've always had a good relationship. At first, I even thought he had a thing for me. I realized it was a mistake later when I found out he was dating this guy named Paolo. I had a good laugh. As a lesbian I was surprised that Samuel was gay too.

« Shall we go, Oni ? »

I turn to Joan, who has returned with his backpack on. The time for goodbyes has come. I smile at my brother and get up to put my empty cup in the sink. Then, I walk over to Sam and give him a tight hug.

"It's all going to be okay, you'll see," he reassures me.

"I'll try to call. Can you put Joan on when you get the chance?" I ask.

"Promise. I really hate goodbyes," he adds, pulling me back into his embrace.

I laugh, playfully tapping his shoulder when I notice his teary eyes. It's touching since I've never seen him cry. I leave before I end up in the same state. I miss Sofia, my governess, who has a day off today. I said goodbye to her yesterday, but it's not the same. She's a bit like my second mom. She always knew how to lend a listening ear when I needed it. I go up to my room to check that I haven't forgotten anything. I also stop by the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I'm sure everything's in order, I put on my jacket, grab my bag, and take one last look at my room. It's time to leave if I want to take Joan to school, so I head down the stairs without rushing.

Hector has put your suitcase in the trunk," my mother informs me as she waits. "Do you have your ticket? »

"Yeah," I reply, patting my pockets to double-check.

"A taxi will drop you off at the school."

I half-listen to my mother's final instructions about my arrival at my new life. I look up when I realize she's wrapping up her verbose explanations, which I could have done without.

"Are you going to be okay?" she finally asks.

« Does it really matter to you?" I retort rhetorically, brushing past her to reach the entrance. She sighs behind me as I open the door. It's all her fault anyway. I look at the cobblestone driveway where the car is already prepared with Joan inside. I greet Hector, our driver, who is standing nearby. I descend the stairs and glance to my left at our garden where Marcus is. I give him a small nod. Asshole. He's my mother's boyfriend. He's not entirely to blame, but I've never been able to like him. I avoid looking back at the landing where my mother might play the model mom, waving me off as if I'm going on vacation. I've never liked formalities, so I head to the front seat of the car. Hector has long stopped making remarks about it. He settles in beside me and pulls into traffic once the gate opens. I watch the house recede in the rearview mirror. Here we go... We're on our way. Before starting my new life, we make a stop at Joan's school. Hector wishes him a good day as I step out to walk him to the gate. The hardest moment arrives... I crouch down to his level. He immediately wraps his little arms around me for a hug.

"I don't want you to go," he says softly.

"Look at me, Joan," I ask gently, lifting his chin. "It's going to be okay, alright? I'll come back, don't worry."

"Will you think about me a lot?"

"I'll do nothing else."

"Will you call me?"

"If I'm allowed, I will. I promised you, little one," I say, touching his nose with my finger. "Sam and Sofia will pass you the phone if it's me."

"I'll miss you."

He hugs me again, and I squeeze him as tightly as I can. I kiss his forehead before helping him with his backpack.

"I love you, Ona!"

"I love you too, sweetheart! Now, go play with your friends."

He runs off to join them. I wait until he looks back to wave at him with a smile. I make sure not to show any emotion so that at least one of us is reassured. I turn around when I'm no longer the center of his attention and settle back into the car. Hector starts driving towards the airport without saying a word. Everyone knows these are the toughest goodbyes for me.

"Are you okay?" he asks, handing me a tissue.

I hadn't even realized I was crying. I nod and smile gratefully as I take the tissue. The journey lasts half an hour to reach the airport. I have plenty of time to check in my luggage and go through security before the flight. Hector insisted on accompanying me the whole way, despite my repeated assurances that he didn't need to stay, though I appreciate his presence. Boarding time arrives quickly, and we head there after passing all the checks.

"We'll take care of Joan, don't worry," he tries to reassure me.

"Thank you."

"He's a big boy now, you know."

"Yes, he's grown up so much," I reply with a faint smile.

The intercom interrupts, announcing the boarding call. I turn to my driver, whom I've always appreciated. He's in his forties, but we've always had a special bond. He smiles tenderly, and we share a hug. I take the opportunity to thank him for everything before joining the line that has formed. I teased Sam about his state earlier, but I'm not much better at the moment. At the end of the line, I present my ticket to a hostess who tears off a portion. A security guard beside her checks my navy blue Eastpack once more, then they wish me a safe journey... "Safe journey," my ass, yeah. I move forward without a word for boarding. A second hostess welcomes me onto the plane and helps me find my seat number. Luck seems to be on my side for once. I have a window seat, and my neighbor who arrives shortly after me is an elderly lady. I'll have peace and quiet for the entire journey. I switch my phone to airplane mode. I put my headphone on. Music will help me sleep since I have two hours to kill. I start my music just as the intercom instructs us to fasten our seatbelts because takeoff is imminent. Indeed, a few minutes later, we're airborne. I watch our ascent through the window with a thoughtful expression. "Hasta la vista Barcelona... Hello Manchester !"

Monday, October 5th; 10:25 - Manchester Airport.

Damn it... Not only did I forget about the time difference, but I also forgot about the temperature change here! I'm finally in my taxi after taking some time to find my driver with his tiny sign. We're now stuck in monstrous traffic. The scenery is different from Barcelona. I'm going to miss my city more than I thought. I put my headphones back on just as my driver announced that we still have a way to go. He explained that the school is located away from the city center, but right now, we're stuck in the middle of it. We just need to manage to get out. Given the traffic jams, I have more time ahead of me. I could have done without it, considering how my imagination has come back in full force. I know nothing about the school she's sending me to. As if what I went through wasn't enough. Something like this had to happen to me again.

I hate having to listen to my mother and do everything she says. I'll be twenty in a few days and I still have to do as she pleases. If I hadn't messed up, I might already have a job by now. Now, here I am stuck on the other side of the Europe, with no one. Thanks, Mom, thanks a lot! My stress level shoots up again, though it had subsided thanks to my nap on the plane. I managed to catch up on my sleep. Nothing can change now. I'm here, and it will be difficult to turn back. The driver tries to make conversation, but he understands it's a lost cause. I can be a real wall when I want to be. He seems relieved to have finally arrived after forty-five minutes on the road. We would have certainly taken less time without the traffic jams. I get out of the car while the driver takes care of my suitcase. There are no buildings here, just a few houses around and even then. I didn't see any bus stops either, which I don't like too much.

The driver told me it was impossible for him to go any further. I understand why now, seeing what's in front of me. A huge, very impressive metal gate blocks the road. OK, what is this place? It's surrounded by an impenetrable high brown stone wall. It might have had its charm in another context. I feel like I'm standing in front of a prison entrance. I read the sign proudly standing above the gate: Camp Wiegman. What the hell is this mess? A camp? I wanted to ask the driver if he had the wrong place, but he was already gone. What an asshole! He better hope I don't run into him again next time! I groan in frustration and resign myself to dragging my feet and my suitcase towards the reception. A woman in her fifties is there, with glasses dangling on her nose. She looks up and smiles warmly at me. At least I'm not dealing with an old hag.

"Hello. You must be the new one, right?"

"I guess. Ona Batlle," I introduced myself.

"That's right," she said, looking at a sheet. "Come in, I'll notify them of your arrival!"

A door next to the large gray gate opens. I push it and roll my suitcase inside. Surprisingly, the taxi wasn't wrong after all. This place is huge from what I can see. I don't know where to look, it's quite... breathtaking. I don't dare move, not knowing where to go. The door is now closed behind me, preventing me from getting out. I wait a few minutes, and still, no one comes. The receptionist smiles at me every time I look at her. I guess someone will come to get me.

"Welcome to Camp Wiegman, Ona!"

I jump and turn toward the voice. A blonde woman stands before me. She has glasses and smile at me. I frown as I shake the hand she offers me. The only question that comes to mind is: Who is she?She must have understood.

"Excuse me, I haven't introduced myself! I’m Marina Wiegman, the director of this camp."

"Why does that name sound familiar?"

"I'm a friend of your parents" he explains.

"Oh."

I can't manage to say anything else. They've put me in a damn camp run by their friend. Great! This is getting worse and worse! This whole situation reeks of trouble.

"Follow me, I'll give you a quick tour of the place."

She orders me to leave my luggage, saying someone will take care of it. So, I leave my suitcase but keep my backpack. We walk down the large tree-lined avenue. It looks like a beautiful place... until you see what's hidden inside. I wasn't wrong. This place is gigantic! I can't see the end because of the buildings in front of us, but the horizon is already impressive. We take a left where I can see two fields in the distance surrounded by perfectly maintained grass. As we get closer, I spot a macadam field and a grass field, both fenced. Next to that, there’s a huge brand-new gymnasium. We don't go inside, but she indicates there are several rooms that I'll discover over time. We continue the tour in the first building on the left. It’s attached to the central building. This one houses the various classrooms, according to her. There’s another similar building just behind, connected by covered walkways. They don't seem big, only having one small floor each. One thing is for sure, the decoration is far from warm. Everything is as cold as the weather outside. It's raining, by the way. I already miss the sun I left behind in Barcelona. All the buildings are made of gray bricks. The only place that seems less gloomy is the new gymnasium. We exit through the back of the second building after a short passage and continue to the right. We pass the cafeteria, then the dormitories which are at the other end. She indicates that the staff dormitory is behind the student one. We complete our loop by returning to the central building. It’s the heart of the place and houses the administration. It looks very large. The upper floor must be her personal quarters. We continue inside where we are greeted by a hall before accessing the offices. We pass through a door with a sign indicating the secretariat. We walk down a long corridor with several doors labeled with names, most of them closed. We finally reach her office at the end. She invites me to sit on a chair, which I do without hesitation.

"I'm sorry I could only stop by briefly, but work keeps me very busy."

"No problem."

"Alright, let's get to the point. Did your mother explain anything to you?"

"Not really," I replied honestly. "Just that I'd be here for a long time."

"I see," she said. "I've been informed about your issues. Do I have your permission to share this information with the staff?"

"I'd prefer you didn't."

"As you wish. Do you know it's usually hard to get into this kind of camp?"

"Believe me, if I could have avoided it, I wouldn't be here," I retorted.

"Many applications were rejected this year. I shouldn't even be taking on another person in the middle of the year. You should see this as an opportunity! Your mother contacted me. I owed her a favor, so I reconsidered your application after someone left."

"I could have done without it," I muttered.

"We are a strict establishment," she continued, ignoring my comment. "We have clear rules that must not be broken under penalty of sanctions."

"Hmm."

"We are a half-university, half-military camp."

I sat up straight. Did I hear that correctly?! Military? This has to be a joke! She frowned as I laughed.

"What's so funny, Ona?"

"Military, seriously?" I laughed even harder.

"Military, indeed," she confirmed. "Well, it's a big word. You simply have the right to supervision and guidance by instructors alongside your classes. We are a special private educational institution."

"Didn't see that coming."

I hate her. There's no other word. Sending me to a place like this?! Does she want to turn me into a little soldier or what? If she thinks I'm going to go along with this, she's dreaming! I can already tell I'm going to have fun driving them crazy. They'll get so fed up with me that they'll send me back themselves.

"Since you're just starting, you'll be under the responsibility of an instructor for a while," she informed me. "This person is the one you should listen to first. They will help you adapt, guide you, and discipline you if necessary."

"Yeah, yeah."

I couldn’t care less about what she has to say now. I've been tuning out since she mentioned it's a military school. I did catch that all devices are banned in the camp except in the rooms. Phones included. Great! Well, at least I can use it in the room I'll have the pleasure of sharing with a roommate. It won't change much; I'll act as if I'm alone. I don't plan on staying here, so I'll make sure not to get attached. The best thing would be to leave as quickly as I arrived. She finishes by giving me my class assignment. Wait, they have classes here?! Surprising for this kind of school. She hands me a paper with my schedule and the names of my teachers. I don't even bother to glance at it. I don't know anyone anyway. Wiegman's monologue is interrupted by a noise at the door. A young girl enters after getting permission. She introduce herself as Lotte Wubben-Moy the adoptive daughter of the director Wiegman.

"Lotte will show you to your room in the dormitory. Once again, welcome, Ona. I hope I won't have to see you in my office anytime soon!"

"Yeah, thanks."

I leave the office, ignoring the hand Lotte extends. I wait for her in the hallway while she quickly says goodbye to her mother and closes the door. She leads the way since I don't know the place well yet.

"Your name is Ona, right?"

"Yeah."

"Did you have a good trip?"

"Don't bother trying to make conversation"

Her face falls at my harsh and curt tone. At least she understands not to talk to me. I'm furious with my mother. How could she send me to a military camp! I can't swallow it. It doesn’t even make sense! I now understand why she didn't give me any information about where she was sending me. She just handed me a ticket and said I was leaving home. If I had known, I wouldn't have even gotten on that damned plane. Then again, maybe I would have. She didn't give me much choice. It was either this or she would cut me off and throw me out on the street. That was clear. I don’t know if she would have actually done it, but I didn’t want to take the risk.

We walk along the outside to reach the right side. We arrive at the dormitory I saw earlier. It's larger than the classroom building we visited before. It has three stories. We pass through wooden doors. I'm surprised by the interior. It's a bit cheerier than what I've seen so far since arriving. We're greeted in the hall by a large wooden staircase that leads in two opposite directions. We go up and take a right. Lotte explains that the dormitory is divided into two sections. We stop on the first floor where we reach a long corridor. There are two more floors, but they are for the first and second-year students. I'm surprised she still dares to talk to me after I so harshly rebuffed her. She stops her explanations when we stop in front of room 19. From what I've observed, the even-numbered rooms are on the right and the odd-numbered ones are opposite. She steps aside to let me enter first. The room is nothing special. It has the bare minimum. Two single beds dominate the middle of the room, each with a two-drawer nightstand next to it. A lamp and a clock radio sit on top. On the other side of the bed, two wardrobes face each other. The one at the far end is next to a window, the only source of natural light. Finally, there are two desks at the foot of each bed. There's just enough space to pass between each piece of furniture. I open the only other door next to the entrance to discover a bathroom that is also nothing special. Surprisingly, it’s rather modern. It has a shower, a small sink with an extended countertop, and a mirror above. There’s also a toilet and a laundry basket. I close the door and move into the room with white walls. There's no decoration, so it still feels rather cold, once again.

"Well, here you are," she breaks the silence. "Your suitcase is already here, as you can see. I'm going back to my room. If you need anything, come see me. I'm in room 3, first floor."

"I'll be fine, thanks."

She nods before closing the door behind her. I sigh, looking around the room. What am I doing here? I have to survive a year. A fucking year that I plan to cut short. They don’t know who I am, but they will soon. My name is going to be known to the staff very quickly. If I understood correctly, I'm free for the rest of the day. I pull out my iPod from my pocket and check my phone. I must have sent a message to my mother when I got off the plane. I'm relieved to see she hasn't replied. She would have faced my wrath, and this time, I’ll have trouble holding it back.

My suitcase is at the far end of the room, right under the window. I guess that’s my side. I check by opening the first wardrobe. I close it immediately upon finding it full and lie down on the bed at the back. I would have chosen this one if I had the choice. I like having the window on my side, even though I doubt it will be of much use given the weather outside. I grab my bag to get something to eat. I’m glad I thought to bring snacks. Given the time, I would have been starving until dinner since I didn't eat lunch. I then slip my headphones into my ears. I use this quiet time to gather myself, staring pensively at the ceiling. I still can’t believe where I am. A military camp. This is going to be interesting... depending on your point of view, of course!

[etz-ashashiyot]

About Me/FAQs

You can call me Avital. I am a non-binary traditional egalitarian Jew living in the US. Any pronouns except they/them are fine. (!היא/את בעברית, בבקשה. תודה)

I really appreciate human interaction. That being the case, if you follow me and I don't already follow you, please send me a DM with the following:

What you want me to call you (internet name, username, nickname, whatever)

What brought you here and made you want to follow me

Something random about you that you feel comfortable sharing (pet pics are always welcome too <3)

I had a whole lot of other rules on my previous blog to weed out the faint of heart, but I genuinely don't know how well that worked, so instead I will simply put roughly the same information below as resources and recommended reading. Fair warning: I will operate from a baseline assumption that you've done the reading and therefore will not be explaining anything in them.

I also had a listing of my firm opinions and other miscellaneous information. That got long and unwieldy, but a lot of people seemed to appreciate it, so I will post roughly the same list under the cut.

The current username refers to my current symbol of a tree of lanterns in the starlight. This is related to my desire to create self-symbolism, old school style (like I really want to create a family crest, a flag, a seal, and other heraldic nonsense. Why? Because it delights me, of course.)

This page is under construction and subject to change at any time.

B'vracha,

Avital

Recommend Reading

For followers who are Christian, were Christian, are non-Jews who grew up in a Christian culture and/or have only learned about Judaism through Christianity, these links are very helpful in unpacking some of the antisemitism you were taught:

Better Parables (specifically the article about Pharisees, but read the rest of the site too, it's great)

Antisemitic readings of the Temple table-flipping incident in the New Testament

The current Israel-Hamas war and just המצב discourse in general require a lot of background knowledge to discuss intelligently, and not just propaganda. There is a LOT of antisemitism in the public around this topic and it is having serious real-world consequences for Jews all over the world. The mis- and disinformation is causing problems for everyone involved. Islamophobia in the West has increased as well. If you're going to engage in this discussion, I am respectfully but forcefully asking you to read the following sources. They are useful regardless of where you fall on that political scale.

There Is No Magic Peace Fairy

Ways to help: [1], [2], [3]

Muslim organizations advocating for peace, education, positive interfaith relations, and fighting antisemitism

This is perhaps my best summary of my own feelings on the whole thing

Is your pro-Palestine activism hurting innocent people? Here's how to avoid that

Please learn what Kahanism is, because it actually is what people think Zionism is. Zionism is simply a desire for Jewish self-determination in our ancestral homeland of eretz Yisrael. Kahanism is a type of racism that cloaks itself in Zionism but is fundamentally bigoted.

A non-exhaustive list of antisemitic incidents, attacks, and pogroms during [OP's] lifetime

An exceptionally long and thorough explanation of antisemitism and antisemitic violence throughout history

Why The Most Educated People in America Fall for Antisemitic Lies by Dara Horn (tumblr link in case the article link gets broken)

This explanation of the atrocities endured by Soviet Jews and how the legacy of Soviet antisemitism undergirds western "antizionism-not-antisemitism." If you call yourself an anti-Zionist, this is required reading.

An excellent overview of the basics

This is nowhere near complete information, but it's an important start. I will very likely continue to add resources as they become available and would love to create a primer on this topic more generally.

If you don't believe that October 7th happened or wasn't that bad, or really any atrocity denial please read this article from a reporter who was shown the actual footage, as well as this article documenting its effects on him.

If you are still in denial about the pattern of gender based violence, sexualized torture, and widespread rape as a war tactic committed by Hamas on 10/7, you are legally required to read this article.

About the blog:

I’m going to try my best to keep this blog to primarily Judaism, comparative religion and theology, with the occasional side sprinkling of queer & trans stuff, BUT it is absolutely a personal blog at the end of the day.

I talked about Israel and המצב stuff a lot on my previous blog and will likely continue a bit over here too. I welcome a broad swath of opinions, so long as they objectively treat all parties involved as human and deserving of safety, stability, freedom, dignity, and peace. That is apparently a large ask these days, and a not-small part of why I keep talking about this issue. Please be part of the voices that give me hope for the future, okay?

Minors can follow and interact but please keep in mind that I’m probably closer to your parents' age than yours if you do want to interact with me directly.

Interactions:

Rude asks will be deleted. Harassing blogs will be blocked and probably reported.

I consider anything even remotely in the vicinity of trying to proselytize to me to be “harassing,” or at a minimum, rude. Just FYI.

Otherwise, nice interactions are welcomed.

Banter is encouraged; trolling will be ignored

If you are a goy and want to argue with me about Jewish theology, you have to match my perfect score on this popquiz, no cheating by looking things up during the quiz. I learned Judaism as an adult mostly through self-study so you have no excuse. If you're invested enough to argue with me you're invested enough to do the reading homework. (To clarify: I'm happy to explain Jewish stuff to anyone who is sincerely asking or just have a friendly comparative theology discussion or whatever. But I have zero patience for those who want to argue with me about basic shit claiming they know more than me, especially if what they're claiming they "know" is not only wrong but antisemitic and wrong.)

If I don't respond to your interaction, there's a strong chance that I (a) have no idea what to say and am thinking about it, (2) totally meant to respond and just forgot after the notif disappeared, and/or (3) got incredibly busy. It's not personal! Please don't be shy about following up with me if you like. I promise that if we have a problem that is fixable, you'll know. If we have a problem that is not fixable, you'll be blocked.

I am currently learning Ivrit and am delighted to have interactions in Hebrew. Please feel free to message me, reply to posts or reblog, submit asks, etc. in Hebrew and I will do my best to read and respond to it. (Responses will be slower, but not for lack of appreciation of your thoughts!)

Anything else, just ask.

Hard stances:

You're not going to change my mind on these things; I've looked at the evidence, my personal experiences, and thought about them long and hard, and I am not going to be swayed by an internet rando. I can (often, but not always) co-exist just fine with people who I disagree with, but if seeing my posts about this is going to upset you, just do us both a favor and block me now please.

I am deeply distressed at how many people are choosing to live in a "post-factual society" where the truth is based on truthiness vibes and the politics are based on the quippiest of slogans. I don't care who's doing it, misinfo, disinfo, propaganda, atrocity denial, and gaslighting are BAD. There is no nuance here; these are bad things. They are bad if they go against your cause and they are bad if they "support" your cause. No cause is better than the truth.

If we cannot have a discussion where we are operating from the same baseline reality of verifiable facts, we cannot have a productive conversation and I will not engage with you. We can agree or disagree on a lot and that is fine, but facts matter.

If you cannot be reasoned with in accepting verifiable facts as reality, you need help. I'm serious. That is cult behavior. Get off tumblr and get help.

I don't know how to tell you that you should care about other people. If you don't see the inherent worth in other human beings' lives, I can't fix that. Go take that struggle to G-d and heal your soul.

I support the right of the Jewish people to self-determination in our ancestral homeland of Israel, the same way that I support other indigenous groups' right to self-determination in their ancestral homelands. If you don't, I'm going to need you to examine why Jews should be singled out of every other group to be denied this right or denied support in seeking it. That said, I definitely do not agree with many of the decisions made by the Israeli government, especially (but far from exclusively) regarding their treatment of Palestinians. I think both Jews and Palestinians deserve to live in peace, safety, freedom, dignity, and self-determination for both. No one is going anywhere; any real solution must recognize that. I tend to favor this proposal by A Land for All as an ideal (and given the grassroots nature of this idea, I think it could work pragmatically too, if the political will exists on both sides.)

I reject the Zionist/anti-Zionist dichotomy altogether for a number of reasons: 1) It impedes conversation because too many people agree but will never know it because they refuse to talk about what they actually mean by those labels and instead make assumptions about the other group. 2) It inherently puts the validity of an existing state up for debate rather than looking at real solutions for the future. You cannot unmake the state of Israel without widespread atrocities, but you can figure out options for everyone to live together in peace and heal from the collective trauma. 3) It also makes it way too easy to play Good Jew/Bad Jew and "Zionist" has basically become the slur de jour for "Jew." It sucks that people took a Jewish word for an important Jewish concept and made it synonymous with "bloodthirsty racist," but personally I don't think arguing over that at this exact juncture in time is helpful.

Bottom line: I'm a humanitarian and a pragmatist, and I care about all the people who call that part of the world home.

Update: for real, if you have trouble seeing Israelis and Palestinians both as human and deserving of safety, dignity, freedom, and inherent worth as living human beings, I don't want to know you. I don't want to talk to you. Go fix yourself.

🌻 I stand with Ukraine 🇺🇦

Free Iran from the Islamic Republic // Women Life Freedom

Abortion is a human right and should be safe, legal, available on demand, and shameless. It's a necessary medical procedure and it's completely barbaric that we're still talking about it as anything else.

Birth control, abortion, and no-fault divorce are actively positive parts of society and building healthy families.

Transition care is healthcare and also a human right. Allowing people to transition prevents self-harm and suicide, and has an extremely high efficacy rate with an exceptionally low level of risk or regret. We now have well over a century of data on this.

That said, detransitioners who are still supportive of trans people/aren't transphobic are more than welcome here, as any exploratory process deserves the right to say, "Interesting! But nope!"

Transunity, ace/aro positivity, and just inclusionism in general, 100%. Fuck off with anything else.

Queer might be a slur in the mouths of some people, but my identity isn't. Don't reblog my posts if you're going to tag it with "q slur" or "q word" or censored in some way. I'm not Gay as in "I prioritize cis men over the entire rest of the community" but Queer as in "my personal labels are none of your business but my political stance on queer liberation sure as fuck will be."

If you don't vaccinate yourself and your kids for any reason other than medical necessity, and especially if you promote anti-vaxxer views and the associated pseudoscience, you are actively harming the most vulnerable members of society for entirely selfish reasons and that makes you a bad person. I hope your kids bypass you to get vaccinated.

Wear a mask 😷

[thefallenangelsgang]

Fuck it, I'm throwing my hat on the ring about the Emil announcing Nate from Fallout 4 is the bystander Soldier in the Fallout 1 opener.

First and foremost, it was a stupid thing to say. As he backtracks to later, the conceit of Fallout's protags is they are supposed to be anyone (and that issue is precisely why some people hate the extensive prewar character background given to you in Fallout 4). For the lead writer to pull a JK Rowling (why would you do that? None of those went over well) is such a major marketing misstep that it wouldn't surprise me if Emil gets reprimanded for it before we even get into the implication of what he said.

Emil your voice is as good as God when it comes to the canon. You can't just say shit like that and expect it to go well. Especially considering the implications.

Speaking of the implications, I'm not mad about Nate being a war criminal. It's a coloring I actually would welcome if the games discussed concepts like Capitalism, Racism, and War in any meaningful way anymore. And if Emil also didn't say this.

Fallout's canon is rooted in reality. That is part of its whole thing. It's fun to do goofy shit like becoming the Silver Shroud and having a make believe superhero fight with the Mechanist or write a woman obsessed with Nuka Cola so much she traverses two games to basically kidnap the CEO's cryogenically preserved head so she can talk to him for all eternity, but the setting is very much rooted in reality.

You aren't dealing with fictional countries, you aren't dealing with fictional races, you aren't dealing with fictional hypotheticals. That is The Elder Scrolls job. You are dealing with actual countries, actual racism, actual history, and actual fucking politics. You have to be mindful of what you are doing and saying. You can't just do things because it's an interesting plot device without first thinking about the implications.

Fallout's world is a heightened version of our own, a path we seem to stumble towards with ever passing year unless we do something about it. It fucking sucks. I'm sure writing it feels like prophesizing the future and eats your soul a bit. It would mine. But that doesn't mean Fallout can just take a sharp left in terms of story and reality and get away with it.

To have Nate be the bystander Soldier and then meet him when he has a very good thing going for him (an expensive house during an inflation crisis, a robot butler, he gets into a vault for free for fucks sake) very much speaks to life rewarding him for his crimes. There is no hatred in his words when he looks at the flag of the country that made him kill innocents. His speech is speaks of remorse for leaving his family and the cycle of war, it does not speak of the horrors. Of watching you comrades bleed out in the Anchorage snow. Of the scream of shells overhead. Of the fear in civilians eyes as your buddy puts a bullet between them.

You all have to see how it looks like the man is fine with what he had to do during the war, right?

Not interacting with these concepts enough paints a picture of apathy and acceptance. In this day and age where being keeping the government honest and responsible for their actions is so important, that isn't going to slide without it being EXTREMELY purposeful, which it is not. It's tone deaf and lazy.

I respect a lot of what Emil has done in the past, but I am not above keeping him culpable when he has something so delicate in his hands. I hope this situation is what he needed to get his head on straight, or is the light bulb moment where he realizes he needs to pass the torch onwards. There is no shame in subject matter becoming too much as time goes on. There is shame in letting a previously critical series become the very thing it was criticizing.

He is going to keep getting dragged until he realizes that or he manages to convince the fans to be complicit in the degradation of setting. In doing so he is going to lose Bethesda most of its biggest fans who well and truly love the series and what it stands for.

But that's just my take, and I'm just a kid who studies polisci and history and can't shield myself from the inherent horror of nuclear war no matter how much I try.

War really never changes

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 4 Prompt: Questionable Holiday Movies

Like many, I chose Gremlins.

Tags: Post Season 4, Everyone Lives, Movie Nights At The Harrington's House, Established Relationship

wc: 1225 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

When Eddie pulls up at the Harrington house he’s come to frequent in recent months, the driveway is full of bikes. Those damn little shits, Eddie thinks, shaking his head as he parks the van on the curb in front of Steve’s house. The curb where said bikes should be instead of taking up prime parking real-estate for actual cars. He’s going to get ahold of one of his damn sheep and scold them for their carelessness. It’s one thing to leave them littering the lawn, but the driveway? Have some decency!

Moseying his way to the front door, Eddie makes it all of a few steps onto the bike cluttered driveway before he hears familiar voices shouting at each other. All the blood drains from his body in an instant. Mind raising through a hundred and one ways that something might be wrong.

He was a pessimist before, but his brief stint with the Upside Down has really taken a toll.

Double-timing it, Eddie bursts through the front door and down the hallway into the Harrington’s open living room. Thankfully, he doesn’t find any signs of blood, floating bodies, or otherwise distressed children. Instead, his eyes land on Dustin and Steve who are glaring at each other by the television set.

“You’re uncultured!” Dustin shouts.

“Shut up, Henderson,” Steve snaps, hands on his hips. “I am not uncultured. You’re uncultured!”

Dustin gasps, more offended than he should be. He takes a step closer to Steve, puffing out his chest to make himself look bigger. “You take that back.”

“No.”

As the heated argument morphs into a silent stare-down, Eddie takes a moment to assess the rest of the room. Robin, Max, and El are on the sofa, leisurely enjoying a bowl of popcorn. The rest of his Sheep are scattered around, attention focused on the mountain of Family Video rental tapes on the coffee table.

“What the hell did I walk into?” Eddie asks when he realizes no one is going to fill him in.

“Dingus and Dingus Jr. are arguing,” Robin supplies.

“S’nothing new,” Max agrees.

“We are not arguing,” Steve grumbles.

“That I can agree on,” Dustin says, nodding his head. “I am having a discussion with Steve and his lack of taste in Christmas movies.”

“First of all, Henderson, taste is subjective or whatever,” Steve says, hand abandoning his hips for a moment to flounder through the air. “Secondly, it’s not a discussion if you spend the entire time yelling at me for something you’re wrong about.”

“I’m not wrong! Dammit!”

There’s a part of Eddie that wants to see how this plays out. He’s no stranger to the epic Steve vs Dustin arguments conversations. There’s still a stain on the carpet in his own bedroom after an innocent debate over the best ice cream float combinations turned ugly. On the other hand, Eddie’s had a long day of getting yelled at my stupid customers, he could use some quiet.

“Gentleman,” Eddie says, clapping his hands. He moves between the two scowling men — well, man and teenager. Though, maybe Steve doesn’t deserve to be called a man right now either considering he’s arguing with Dustin in the first place. Whatever. He’s standing between them is all that matters. “What seems to be the issue today?”

“Why do you make it sound like we always have issues?” Steve asks at the same time Dustin snatches a VHS tape from the floor and practically shouts, “Steve says Gremlins isn’t a Christmas movie.”

“Because it’s not!”

“It takes place on Christmas Eve!”

“That doesn’t make it a Christmas movie!”

“Are you even listening to yourself, Steve? Of course that makes it a Christmas movie!”

“No, it doesn’t! It has nothing to do with Christmas!”

Eddie’s sandwiched between the two of them now, ears ringing from the volume their voices have reached. No one else seems to be interested in refereeing this particular argument and Eddie can’t really blame them. Maybe he should have let them hash it out themselves. Too late now.

“Alright, alright,” he sighs, nudging them both backward with his outstretched hands. “Valid points have been made on both sides.”

Eddie playing mediator does nothing to pull the scowls off Steve and Dustin’s faces. If anything, he thinks they might have deepened. He’s in too deep to stop now though, so he powers on.

“But unfortunately one of you is correct,” he says, clasping his hands together under his chin. He rocks on his feet, head swaying from side to side as he offers both Steve and Dustin apologetic gazes. “Stevie, sweetheart, I’m afraid Dustin is right on this one.”

“Ha!” Dustin shouts, throwing his hands up in victory. “I told you!”

Steve scoffs. “You’re a shithead, Henderson.”

“A shithead who is right!”

“You know what,” Steve says, trailing off.

Eddie catches the mischievous glint in his eyes. The same one he used to sport down the halls of Hawkins High with Carol and Tommy as they bitched about everything and anything. Eddie was never on the opposite end of Steve’s bitchy attitude, not important enough back then, but he certainly witnessed it more times than he can count.

Eddie’s willing to bet Steve gearing up for something that’s going to make Henderson retract his victory. Sure enough, he slinks up close to him and slings an arm around Eddie’s waist.

“Hey, baby,” Steve says, voice dripping in sweetness.

This isn’t going to be good for Eddie.

Steve's hand trails into Eddie’s back pocket and gives his boney ass a light tap before retreating.

“If you want more of this,” Steve says, slipping his hand into Eddie’s back pocket. He lets his hand hover there for a moment before he gives Eddie’s boney ass three lighthearted, teasing taps. “I suggest you join my side of this little discussion.”

A loud gasp escapes Eddie as Steve squeezes his ass cheek before withdrawing his hand completely. Glancing over, Eddie finds Steve staring at him with that same glint in his eyes and a cocky smirk on his face.

“No,” Dustin shouts, shaking his head. “No! That’s not fair. It’s illegal!”

“Sorry, Henderson,” Eddie says, genuinely apologetic in tone. He does think Gremlins is a Christmas movie, but the threat of not having Steve’s hands on him ever again? Well, that’s not worth defending Gizmo and the rest of those evil bastards. “I’ve had a change of thought. I don’t think it is a Christmas movie.”

“God dammit!” Dustin swears, stomping his foot. “See, this is why I didn’t want you two dating! You’re ruining my life!”

“Oh, quit being dramatic, Dustin,” Lucas says, rolling his eyes. “Let’s just pick something else.”

“Yeah! It’s just a movie, dude,” Mike chimes all.

“Screw all of you!”

As the room resumes its chaos in a different form — the boys arguing over what else they can watch seeing as Gremlins is out of the question. Eddie finds himself being ushered over to the recliner, where he’s promptly pulled into Steve’s lap.

“You know Henderson is right about that movie?” Eddie whispers, nuzzling into Steve’s chest.

Steve hums, closing his eyes for a moment as Eddie places a featherlight kiss to the two moles dotting his neck. “Don’t tell him, but I’ve actually never seen it.”

Eddie pulls away swiftly, nearly sending himself toppling off Steve’s lap. Thankfully, Steve’s reflexes are fast and he steadies Eddie with a firm around his torso. “You’re evil, Harrington,” he quietly chuckles, shaking his head.

“Gotta keep his ego in check somehow.”

[malleusarcanum]

⚠️: make sure you're not eating

Mc: *pulled the wrist of Sebek vigorously* you owe me a brief discussion about-

Sebek: Human! Why would you come up with such uncommon subject.

Mc: What? I haven't said much...

Sebek: don't underestimate my knowledge my human friend. I already know what your discussions about.

Mc:....

Sebek: do you really want to discuss this.

Mc: Ahh.. yes that's what I'm here for

Sebek: Well if that's what you desire

Mc: ???

*Sebek looked at his pants and starts to unlock his belt*

Mc: what are you doing?

Sebek: discussing about my brief---

*almost unziping his pants*

Mc:what?!!! THE HECK!! THATs NOT IM---

*stopped after hearing the creak of the door then looked who opened it*

Riddle: Disgraceful...

Trey : Why only...the two of you?

Deuce: What..

Cater: the...

Ace: F***

Vil: the bird is ready to soar

Rook: Je n’en reviens pas!

Epel: the horror

Jack:?!

Leona: Why not mine?

Ruggie: Not the time for those

Azul: My contracts are available for memory erasure...

Floyd: this is more worse than on tv

Jade: you just said what's on my mind.

Ortho: hey I can't see! *Jeered while struggling to take off Idia's hand on his eyes*

Idia: some things in this world are not meant for little ones

Jamil: We should have rescheduled this meeting

Kalim: So that's why they're missing

Silver: I wish this is just a dream.

Lilia: Mc! Sebek! How could you?!!!

Mc: T-this was j-just a misunderstanding!!

Jade: tsk, tsk tsk looks like she is no longer innocent

Floyd: Off all creatures?! Why Sebek!

Sebek: Well she said about brief discussions....

*all of their heads turned to Mc waiting for an explanation with eyes almost aching to kill*

Mc: not in a literal way!!! it means I need to talk to him about something!!!

All of them: about? *Eyes still fixing on Mc with disbelief*

Mc: about..... * Doesn't want to tell the secret only Sebek knows. That they broke the queen of hearts statue.*

Leona: alright I'll forgive you as long as you ask mine?

Riddle: as if she'd ask to a potato sack.

Ruggie: speak for yourself tomato head!

Ace: No one talks to riddle like that! Except me...

Jack: were you saying something? *Said while punching his fist together*

Deuce: Why can't you shut your mouth in times of trouble? *whispered to ace*

Ace: I can't stop when I'm pissed!

Deuce: then control yourself! I'm not a babysitter watching out a kid bragging nonsense.

*they started to fight and all of them watched as they do*

*Floyd secretly hold the hand of mc out of the meeting room*

Floyd: Let's get out of here shrimpy

Lilia: Hey! Where'you taking her?!

*Lilia's voice is too loud it reached everyone's ears and their eyes fumed once they saw Floyd ready for battle*

Vil: So this is a battle to whom apple will do it.

Mc: D*mmit just stop the nonsense

Azul: can't hold back to such divine price

Kalim: Charge!

*they fought at each other, throwing various magic while speaking sharp interactions that filled the room with war like scenery*

*Mc wrenched it jaws*

Mc: When I count to three and no one stops!

*Thinking of what can make them stop*

Mc: No one will receive a lick on a neck from my own tongue!!!!

Mc: one!

*they already stopped*

Mc: .....

Mc: Curse you d*mn brain

Malleus: Mc! Want to taste my egg!

*exclaimed after entering*

*all of them turned their heads on him ready for another round*

Malleus: what did I miss?

*tilted his head while holding a plate of well cooked and mouth watering omelette*

[endthedream]

5 1/2 coffees to love

pairing: barista!jungwon x customer!reader (she/her)

summary: When Jungwon finds out you hate coffee, he makes a bet with you that he will be able to make you fall in love with coffee. But what if you fall in love with him instead?

words: 15.3k

story colour: yellow

notes: This is for my fellow coffee haters and probably the fluffiest fluff I’ve ever written. I hope you enjoy this story and always remember to spread kindness!🪽

masterlist of enhypen as jobs

Coffee.  A beverage brewed from the roasted and ground seeds of the tropical evergreen coffee plant. One of the top three beverages in the whole world.

And you hate it. You absolutely despise it. The bitter taste, the obnoxious smell. Everything about it makes you want to take whatever plant it comes from and destroy it forever.

Okay, maybe you’re just being a bit dramatic. But still, you don’t get how people actually enjoy that drink.

When you first tried coffee, you were 5 years old. You saw your mom drink it every day and as a curious child, you wanted to try it too. So, when your mom wasn’t watching, you grabbed her cup and drank a sip. Almost immediately your face scrunched up in disgust and you let out a small yelp.

“Oh sweetheart.”, your mom cooed, taking the cup from you. “You’re too young to like coffee. But believe me when you’re older you will like it just as much a mommy does.”

The second time was when you got into high school. The sudden pressure and the amount of homework kept you up a lot, so you thought that coffee might help you with the tiredness. You even went as far as to go all the way to a coffee shop to get professionally made coffee. And still the moment you got back home, ready to take a sip and stay up all night to study, you learned yet again that coffee isn’t something for you.

The third and until now last time, was when you met your best friend. Sunoo and you met up in your first year of college. The two of you immediately got along and now you’re not only best friends, but also roommates. The only problem is, Sunoo is a vivid coffee lover. He claims to not be able to get through the day without coffee. You heard him praise the beverage every day and since you were older and more mature, you thought that maybe now you will like it. But once again you were wrong. Not even Sunoo’s special preparation could change your opinion on coffee.

So, now you’re here. In your second year of college, sitting at the kitchen table, trying to study, and having to endure the obnoxious smell that lingers around the apartment.

“I swear, if you make that face again while I enjoy my coffee, I will pour it on you.”, your best friend speaks up from his seat on the couch.

“I just don’t get how you can drink that, Sunoo. What is there to enjoy about?”

Your best friend rolls his eyes and walks over to where you sit at the kitchen table. He puts his cup down in front of you, on purpose, and takes a place on the other chair.

“You just haven’t had good coffee before.”, he states with an innocent smile on his face.

Good coffee? Does good coffee even exist? You doubt it.

“Honestly, I gave up on liking coffee and so should you. I mean, not on liking coffee, but on forcing it upon me. There are other things I can drink. Like a good hot chocolate or Red Bull if I need some caffein. And see it as something positive. It just means more coffee for you.”

Your best friend shrugs at your answer, already used to your stubborn side and knowing that it has no use trying to start a discussion with you about that subject. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

There is nothing you hate more than exam week. Not only is your head exploding from all the knowledge you have to force into it, but the lack of sleep you’re getting is making you look and also act like a zombie.

But it’s over. Well, at least until the next exam week starts, but that’s for your future you to worry about. All you want to do is go home, change into comfortable clothes, and spend the whole weekend sleeping.

„Let’s go into a café.”, your best friend says the moment you get into your shared apartment.

“What?”

“Let’s go into a café.”, he repeats himself, taking your bag from you and tossing it on the couch. “Come on, it’s fun. A friend of mine is working there, and I always wanted to check it out. He’s working today and I just know the two of you will get along.”

“You have friends?”, you ask amused, throwing yourself on the couch with a groan. “Besides that, I just had the worst week of my life and all I want to do is sleep.”

Sunoo rolls his eyes, before sitting down beside you, taking your arms and making you sit up, which you did but not without letting out some protesting whines. “First of all, I do have friends, thank you very much. And second, that’s exactly why we should go out. You need some distraction and I’ve heard that the café makes the best hot chocolate and strawberry cake.”

You can’t deny that that offer sounds good. So, with a few mumbles of complaint, you stand up and walk towards your room.

“What are you doing?”, Sunoo asks, watching you leave.

“Changing. Which you should too, so we can leave soon.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

The moment you step into the café, you are thankful that Sunoo made you come here. The smell of fresh baked goods overpowers all the sleepiness in your body. You can almost ignore the smell of coffee. But just almost.

The café itself is rather small, but one of the prettiest things you’ve ever seen. The place is filled with a lot of green plants, fairy lights on the yellow walls and couches on the side. The tables are decorated with cute yellow napkins and behind the counter where the machines and the display window with the cakes in it are, hangs a little sign reading ‘today is your day’. It has you smiling a bit, loving the positive and comfortable atmosphere in this little space.

The yellow theme makes it even better. While yellow isn’t particularly your favorite color, it works as a little happy.

“Wow, Sunoo, this is the coolest place I’ve ever seen. Why didn’t you bring me here earlier?”

Your best friend admires your beaming face, having been worried the whole week about your wellbeing. Sunoo knows that once you want something, you do everything possible to achieve it. In this case it’s good grades. He knows how hard you study to be on top of your class and how you will neglect every important thing in your life to get this achievement. Important things like sleeping, eating and your social contacts.

“I’m glad you like it, Y/n. Oh look, there is Jungwon.” You follow the eyes of Sunoo to spot a young boy talking to an elderly woman. He is leaning down, intensively listening to what the woman is saying and smiling politely at her. You immediately notice the dimples that form on his cheeks. Cute.

“Let’s sit down and wait until Jungwon can take our order.” The café is mostly empty, aside for the older woman. And you’re thankful for that. Crowded spaces aren’t exactly your preferred type of place to hang out.

Sitting down with Sunoo at a nice table gives you some time to look around the café yet again. Somehow with every time you look around, you see something new appearing in the small space. A new detail that makes this café even more adorable. Like the small sundae formed out of clay that sits on top of the counter. Or the picture of a croissant sitting in front of the Eiffel Tour while drinking a coffee hanging on the wall. You also notice the way all the plants are in perfect order, not one stands out of line or is overgrown. They are perfectly trimmed and look like they get watered regularly. The yellow napkins are formed into little butterflies with a small chocolate treat on them. They too are perfect. Folded so precisely, you swear that if you just had to make one, you would have lost your nerves. But what is yet the sweetest and also most considered thing, is the little mental health cards all over the room. Small cards with different quotes, positive affirmations and motivations on them. You swear that you just walked into heaven. How can this place be so perfect and yet not overfilled with people?

“I’m sorry for the wait.”, a voice brings you out of your thoughts. “Oh! Hey, Sunoo! You really came.” Looking up, you see Jungwon smiling at your friend.

“Of course! I could not miss out on this place. And you didn’t lie, it’s amazing. Right Y/n?” Suddenly the attention of both men is on you.

All you can do is nod, giving a quick thumbs up.

“Y/n? You must be Sunoo’s best friend. He talks a lot about you.”, Jungwon exclaims, giving you a sweet smile. Damn, that really is his charm.

“You talk about me?”, you ask your friend with raised eyebrows. “I knew it. You are obsessed with me.”

Sunoo lets out a scoff. “Don’t let it get to your head. I’m just mentioning the person I’m literally living with.”

Before the two of you can continue to argue, Jungwon gets in between. “What can I get for you? Have you decided on something to order?”

“I want a mint chocolate mocha and chocolate cake.”, Sunoo says, beaming up at Jungwon.

“Well, for me a hot chocolate and a strawberry cake.”

Jungwon writes your orders down on a little notebook that he carries around in his apron. “Your order will be here soon.”

You watch as he leaves, truly captivated by him. That doesn’t go unnoticed by your best friend. “What’s got you so kept up?”

“Hm?”

Your friend can’t help but chuckle as he looks at your confused face. “Oh, someone has a little crush on Jungwon.”

“What? No. I just met him five minutes ago.”, you exclaim, shaking your head.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t find him cute.”

Well, maybe you do think he is cute. How can you not? The small dimples that appear whenever he smiles, the cute cat-like features he has and the kindness he carried the moment you stepped into the café. Maybe it does sound like you do have a crush on him, but that’s not the case. You could never catch feelings for someone this fast. You were never a believer of love at first sight, even if you call yourself a hopeless romantic. For you love is something that blossoms over time. It’s built up from trust and trust can only be formed with a lot of time passing by. It’s built on respect from both sides. Without that love is simply not possible, so you won’t even consider it. Not with someone you met a few minutes ago.

“A mocha and chocolate cake for you, Sunoo and hot chocolate and a strawberry cake for you, Y/N. I hope you enjoy it.”, Jungwon speaks in a gentle voice as he puts your orders on the small table in front of you.

“Do you have a few minutes to spare?”, Sunoo asks Jungwon, already taking a bite of his cake.

“Yeah, there isn’t a lot going on at the moment, so I think I have a few minutes. Why?”

“I thought maybe you can join me and Y/n, so we can talk and catch up a bit. And you two can get to know each other a bit more.”

“Sure, why not.”, Jungwon agrees, sitting down on the empty chair between you and Sunoo.

“How’s English Lit going?”, he asks Sunoo who in return lets out a deep sigh.

“Same old. Mr Walker is still as mean as ever.”

Now it’s your turn to let out a sigh. “God, don’t even let me get started.”

“Why?”, Jungwon asks. “You’re in the class too?”

“In the class? No, I’m suffering through it.”, you frustratingly munch on your cake before continuing. “I cannot stress enough how this man should not be a teacher. Don’t get me wrong, he can explain good and has so much knowledge, but when it comes to human interactions or empathy, this man is lost. You know how in English Lit we are supposed to discuss English literature and also express criticism towards it, which leads to discuss and so on. Whenever someone criticizes something or even just expresses their opinions, he declines it and continues his lesson. He gives us no room to voice our thoughts. He just does his thing and goes.

“And the assignments. They are longer than my will to live, I can tell you that much. I spent so many sleepless nights writing and doing research and what do I get? Nothing. He just grades it and sends it back, no comments, no helpful tips, just the grade and that’s it. I’m honestly so sick of it. I want all my hours of sleep back.” Dramatically you let your head fall on your arms, realizing a little whine.

“Sorry.”, Sunoo says, rubbing the back of his neck. “We just had exam week and she is exhausted. And well, since she doesn’t drink coffee to keep her awake, she pretty much could fall asleep anywhere at this rate.”

“You don’t drink coffee?”, Jungwon asks, his voice laces with a bit of shock.

“Nope.”, you state, lifting your head up again. “Hate it. Worst drink in the whole wide world. Disgusting. Disgraceful. Infuriating.”

Jungwon lays a hand on his heart, gasping loudly. “How can you say that to a Barista? Coffee is the best thing this world has ever experienced.”

You just roll your eyes, taking a huge sip of your hot chocolate out of spite. “I highly doubt that. But I can’t argue with coffee lovers. You guys are strangely stubborn.” You give Sunoo a pointed look to which he just sticks his tongue.

“Believe me. Try one of my coffee’s and you will change your mind.”

“Don’t even try.”, Sunoo intervenes. “I’ve been trying for over a year to get her to like coffee, but she just won’t. You will just waste your time.”

“Oh no, believe me. I can make her like coffee.”

You let out a laugh, which sounds more like a scoff. “Nice try, but I don’t believe you.”

“Okay, then let’s make a bet. If I can make you fall in love with coffee, you will have to do something for me.”

“And if you don’t?”, you ask.

“Then I will have to do something for you. Anything you want.”

“Anything I want?” It’s a good deal, you think, but is it worth it having to drink a lot of coffee?

“I don’t have the time to come to your café every day.”

“Well, then how about once a week? It gives me time to perfect my coffee creations and give you the best versions of it.”, Jungwon grins, holding his hand out for you. “Do we have a deal?”

You sigh, taking his hand in yours and giving it a firm shake. You would do anything to prove to a coffee lover that coffee isn’t that great. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t! Just see, you will become a coffee lover!”

☕1: Mocha

Rain. There is something so comforting about rain. The way it feels when soft, cold droplets of it fall on your heated skin. Relaxing your muscles and making you feel like you’re floating on top of a cloud into paradise where all your worries in life disappear and you can just exist. The smell, how it creeps up your whole body and makes you want to stop and take it in until even the dwell of it disappears. And you don’t mind that you come home with soaked clothes and wet hair. You don’t mind the coldness that lingers on your skin. Because the moment you dried your hair, changed your clothes, and got yourself a cup of tea, you can sit in front of your window and watch how the streets get washed up from the rain. You observe the cars driving into puddles and splashing the water in every direction. You watch as a couple, sharing an umbrella, walks past your apartment building, arms wrapped around each other to keep the other one warm from the coldness of the rain. And you look at the rain drops on your window, betting in your head on which one will win the race, happy when yours won and disappointed, when you focused on the wrong one.

You wrap your blanket around you tighter, as you hear the door to your apartment open. Knowing it’s Sunoo, you stand up, tiptoeing out of your bedroom.

“It really had to rain today.”, you hear him complain. “Out of all days.”

You snicker a bit, watching how he tries to fix his wet hair in the mirror of your hallway. “Don’t laugh at me.”, he speaks up, pouting in your direction. “Not all of us are rain lovers.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Rain is awesome.”

Sunoo walks into the kitchen, taking out the rest of the Chinese food the two of you ordered yesterday. “Yeah, when you sit at home and don’t get wet.” He puts it on a plate and into the microwave. “Want some too?”

“No, I will pass.”, you say, heaving yourself on top of the kitchen counter. “I will save my hunger for later. I want to eat another strawberry cake when I go to the café.”

“Oh right.”, the boy exclaims, taking out the plate and digging into his food. “You’re meeting up with Jungwon today. Excited? Nervous? Giddy?”

You pull your eyebrows into a frown. “Why should I? I’m just fulfilling my side of the bet.”

“Yeah, and also meeting up with a super cute boy. I saw you looking at him. You definitely find him cute.”

You roll your eyes, jumping down from the kitchen counter and walking back into your room. “Cute or not, I’m just there to proof him wrong.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

Entering the café, you are immediately overcome with the same tranquility as last week. Insane how one place can make you feel so at ease.

“You made it!”, you hear a familiar voice exclaim. You look up to see Jungwon behind the counter. He’s dressed in a white shirt with blue pants and his apron on. You notice the little print lingering on the left side of his chest. ‘Café Sunshine’. Last week you didn’t look at the café’s name, just amazed by the unique furniture, but it definitely makes sense why the café is named that way. Despite the rain you feel like you have stepped into the definition of sunshine.

“Yeah, sorry for being late. My bus driver thought it was necessary to talk to another bus driver for 5 minutes.”, you roll your eyes, sitting down at the same table you sat at last week.

“Don’t worry. Because of the rain no one came in today, so I had a lot of time to perfect your drink.”

You nod at him, showing him a slight unsure smile. Being honest with yourself, you have to admit that you’re a bit scared. It’s been a long time since you last tried coffee and trying it in front of someone who makes coffee as a living is intimidating you. You don’t want to be rude if you don’t like it. Despite loving to prove coffee lovers wrong, Jungwon is still mostly a stranger to you. A really friendly one as well.

“Okay, but please don’t be too disappointed. I really don’t want you to put so much time in it just for me to hate it.”

He just smiles at you, his dimples on full display. “Y/n, don’t worry, okay? I love making coffee and you just give me a reason to practice more, that’s all. And if you don’t like it, I will just finish your drink.”

You let out a deep breath, that you weren’t aware you were holding, clearly relieved at Jungwon’s reassurance.

“So,”, he says, putting the coffee down in front of you. “this is a Mocha. It’s a variation made from espresso, hot milk, and liquid chocolate. I even put a little cream topping on it to make it look cuter. And the same chocolate and high milk content makes the Mocha taste very mild and sweet. I gathered that you might dislike coffee because of the bitterness, so this is a great start.”

You listen to everything Jungwon tells you and you have to admit, it makes you smile a bit. He really put a lot of thought into making a coffee that might match your taste.

“Thank you, Jungwon.”, you say, grabbing the cup with one hand. You can’t lie, it looks pretty good, and the chocolate almost covers the smell of coffee. But just almost.

“Y/n.”, Jungwon calls out your name, making you look right into his worried eyes. “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to. You know that, right? I know we have a bet, but I would never force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

You show Jungwon a smile, appreciating his kindness. You swear this boy couldn’t get even more perfect.

“It’s not that I’m uncomfortable, I’m just scared of the taste. Last time I drank coffee I had a full on fit and had to drink a liter of milk to make the taste go away.” That earns you a little chuckle from the boy sitting in front of you.

“I have an idea.”, he says, standing up and walking back to the counter. He grabs a plate and puts a piece of the strawberry cake you ate last week on it. Walking back to you, Jungwon puts the plate down in front of you and takes a seat again.

“Here.”, he says showing you his dimpled smile. “I saw you enjoying this cake last week. If you don’t like the coffee and need to get the taste away, just eat the cake.”

“I like your way of thinking.”, you state in a teasing voice.

You grab the mug once again, this time taking a small sip. The first thing you taste is the strong flavor of chocolate, but sadly that isn’t lasting long. Because two seconds later the espresso makes itself present on the flavor buds in your mouth. And while it’s not strong, you still shudder slightly at the bitterness.

Jungwon watches the whole scene, amusement clearly written all over his face. “That bad?”

“No, it’s not bad. I mean, it’s not good either. It’s just the bitterness.”, you answer, already shoving a spoon of cake into your mouth.

“You’re really a tough case, huh?”, Jungwon remarks, leaning his head on one hand, watching you with his cat-like eyes.

“Warned you before, but you wouldn’t listen.”, you shrug, sighing at the welcoming sweetness of the strawberries. “Want to just call it quits and admit that you won’t get me to like coffee?”

“What?”, Jungwon exclaims, eyes wide and mouth agape in fake shock. “Calling it quits? Never. Darling, this is just the beginning of this journey.”

☕2: Cappuccino

Jungwon wasn’t kidding when he told you that this was just the beginning. For the whole week he kept on texting you, sending you different designs of coffee and hyping up his recipes. He told you he is trying even harder to make you like the next one but when you tried to get some hints regarding the next coffee, he declined immediately, telling you to be patient.

And as much as you hate to admit it, you are actually looking forward to meeting him again.

Other than last week, the sun is out. Shining down on earth and painting it in a soft glow. That doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the people living in your town. The once empty café is now filled with people to brim and instead of calmness washing over you when you enter, you feel a wave of stress overcoming you.

You’ve never been a people person, preferring staying at home in the comfort of your room where no one can disturb you. The only person you really tolerate is Sunoo and that also took a while until it got to that point, even if he is the complete opposite of you. Sunoo is a social butterfly, making friends wherever he goes. And while that sometimes annoys you, you’re happy your friend has that ability.

“Hey, sorry Y/n. I will be with you in a second. Sit down and I will bring you your coffee.”, Jungwon says as he passes you by, already hurrying to the next table he has to serve at.

You look around the room, recognizing some familiar faces from your college. It was bound to happen that this place wouldn’t stay hidden for a long time, but you’re kind of sad that so many people discovered this place and disturb your peace and quiet now.

Instead of following Jungwon’s instruction, you stay standing at the entrance. You don’t see a free table anyway. Every table is occupied by students who are loudly talking to each other. You see how Jungwon easily makes conversation, laughing at the things the students say and in return making them laugh at whatever he remarks.

Envy is what’s filling you. You wish you could have this ease while talking to people. You wish you could just get over yourself, sit down and drink that damn coffe so you can go back home. But not only envy is filling you, disappointment as well. You were really looking forward to this. To spend time with Jungwon and trying something new. The whole weeklong you texted each other, not only about the coffee, but about random events in your life.

He told you how his cat at home only cuddles with him whenever she’s sleepy and how when she’s awake, she is a little diva. He also told you that that’s probably the case because he treats her like a queen, giving her everything she wants and almost never being able to say no. You told him how you miss home sometimes. How you miss your weekly family night game evenings where you would destroy your brother at Uno and how all of you would lose your nerves over board games.

You shared a lot with each other and for some reason it wasn’t even hard. It felt so easy talking to him, opening up and sharing stuff that took you a while to tell Sunoo. It’s like you’ve known each other for years already. So, it’s understandable why you notice the slight feeling of disappointment coursing through your veins.

Jungwon notices you not moving away from the entrance and while he gets a few seconds to spare, he looks at your face. And what he’s greeted with worries him. You’re pale. Your face shows clear signs of unease. And he feels stupid. He feels stupid because you told him how you don’t like crowded spaces and he forgot. He should have cancelled today and made you come back on a less crowded day, but he forgot. He was simply so excited to see you again and show you the coffee he’s been working on, that he just forgot. But you’re here now anyway and he would regret it if he just sent you away.

So instead, he ignores the call for his name from one of the tables and makes his way over to you. He gently takes your hand and guides you behind the counter where the register stands. “Wait here.”, he tells you in a gentle voice before walking back and grabbing a chair. He takes it behind the counter and places it down in front of you. “Just sit here, it’s the furthest away from all the people.”

You show him a small appreciative smile before whispering a quiet thanks.

“I’m going to serve one of the tables and then I’m right back with you, okay? We can try the new coffee then. Is that okay with you or do you rather want to go home?”

Going home sounds tempting, but you’re already here and while you still feel a bit of panic in you, you actually really want to stay. For the bet, of course.

“No.”, you croak out. “I want to stay. I will wait here.”

Almost immediately, his face breaks into a wide grin. “Okay, great. Give me a few seconds and I’m right back.” And with a bit more speed in his walk, he goes to serve the customers. From your position you have a good view of the table Jungwon is standing at. You recognize the girls sitting there from your math class. You see how they twist their hair as they talk to Jungwon, giving him flirty looks with their eyes and a small laugh escapes your mouth. Because while they’re obviously flirting, Jungwon seems to be oblivious to it. He notes down their orders, giving them polite smiles and keeping the conversation light. It’s cute.

When he returns a few minutes later he smiles, a bit relieved you’re still sitting in the same position as before. “I’m making your coffee now and believe me when I say I perfected this one.”

You watch as he walks over to the machine, only three steps away from you and starts his work. He looks like he’s been doing this for years by how professionally he handles everything.

“You know the girls were trying to flirt with you?”, you say, giving him an amused smile.

“What?”, he asks, thinking he heard you wrong over the loud noise of the coffee machine.

“The girls at table 3, they were flirting with you.”

“Really?”, he questions, looking back just to see them smile and wave at him. “I didn’t notice.”

“I know.”, another laugh escapes your mouth. “You’re so oblivious to it, it’s honestly funny.”

“So, you find it funny, huh?”, he asks teasingly, raising his eyebrows. “Not so funny if I would put a lot of salt into your coffee.”

You gasp. “You would never.”

“Oh, watch me.”, he says but before any of you can continue, a voice interrupts you.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to be a bother.”, the elderly woman that you saw here two weeks ago states. “I just wanted to pay, it’s a little too crowded in here for me today.”

Jungwon gives her a gentle smile before putting down your half-made coffee and walking to the register. “You would never be a bother, Mrs. Sim. Okay, you had your usual so that makes 8.99.”

The lady takes out her purse and lays the money on the table. “That your girlfriend?”, she asks, a sly smile on her face.

“Oh, no.”, Jungwon stutters out, cheeks turning into a slight shade of red. “She’s my friend.” You give the lady a shy smile, trying not to let your heated cheeks show.

“What a bummer. She’s pretty.”, she takes the change out of Jungwons hands and gives you two a last smile. “See you tomorrow, Jungwon. Have a great day, you two.”

Jungwon returns back to the coffee, a slight tension of embarrassment lingering in the air. “You know this lady well?”, you ask, trying to break the tension.

“Oh yeah.”, he clears his throat, trying to hide his cracking voice. “She’s my friend Jake’s grandma and was really close friends with my grandma. I look up to her because she’s been huge part of my life for as long as I can remember.”

You watch him as he purrs milk into the coffee, creating some kind of pattern. “That’s so sweet. She seems really nice.”

“She is.”, he remarks, walking over to you and handing you the cup of coffee. “Tadaaaa. I even made coffee art for you.”

As you look down at the hot liquid in your hands, you can’t help but smile. With the milk foam he created a little heart on top of the coffee.

“Aw.”, you coo at the boy in front of you. “This looks so pretty.”

“Now you only have to like it. It’s a cappuccino. Pretty much everyone that has stepped foot into a café has heard of it. Cappuccino is an Italian coffee drink made from an espresso and hot milk froth. I put a gentle sprinkle of cocoa powder on top to make it sweeter, but not too much because I didn’t want it to distract too much from the original taste.”

A call of Jungwon’s name interrupts the small moment between the two of you.

“I will be there in a second.”, he replies to the customer, still looking at you. “We have to hurry up a bit today.”

You nod, slowly guiding the cup to your lips and taking a little sip. Jungwon watches you intensively and you try your hardest not to show your dislike for the coffee he made.

“You don’t like it.”, he states.

“No, it’s fine. I mean, it’s coffee, but it’s fine.”, you try to convince him.

“Y/n, don’t lie. I can clearly see how you don’t like it.”, you can see the flash of disappointment in his eyes, but he quickly tries to play it off and shows you a bright smile. “Third times a charm, right? Next time you will love the coffee.”

And for some reason you really hope you will. Even if that means you lose the bet.

☕3. Bómbon

“How do you even know Jungwon? I mean it’s not like he goes to our college.”, you ask Sunoo who lays beside you on the couch, watching an episode of a k-drama you found a few days ago.

“He did.”, Sunoo answers, eyes focused on the tv. “We met at the history course first year of college and just sat beside each other for a while. Before he dropped out of college.”

“Why did he drop out?”, you ask, turning your body so you can look at your best friend better.

“I don’t know.”, he mumbles. “Never told me. Every time I saw him, I forgot to ask and now it would be too weird to bring it up now.”

It’s a shame, you think. You didn’t know that Jungwon was at your college, if you had, maybe you could have been friends earlier. Or you would have never talked to him. That’s the most likely scenario. If it weren’t for Sunoo bumping into you and spilling coffee on your favorite shirt, you would have never talked to him. Sunoo felt so bad that he searched online where your shirt was from and bought you two new ones. He gave those to you the next day and told you he bought an extra one in case someone else bumps into you and ruins the shirt again. After that, Sunoo decided to spend everyday with you. He walked with you to class, accompanied you to the library to study and trusted you enough to tell you his whole life story. And almost a year later, the two of you are roommates. Walking around each other with unbrushed teeth and bed hair, crying your eyes out after watching a sad k-drama and caring for each other whenever the other person lays in bed with a cold.

To sum it up, you have seen each other at your worst and that all wouldn’t have happened if Sunoo wasn’t so determined to be your friend. Without that happening, you probably would sit in a tiny apartment, watching tv all by yourself and wondering where the hell you went wrong with your life.

“Sunoo?”

“Yeah.”, the questioned man hums, still trying to focus on the drama that’s playing.

“Why did you decide to be my friend?”, you ask him. Noticing that you have the urge to talk, Sunoo grabs the remote control and stops the k-drama. Moments like that happen rarely, where you start a conversation leading to a deeper and more emotional topic. That’s why he faces his body to you, giving you his full attention before he says his next words.

“Well, if I spilled my coffee on any other person’s favorite shirt, they would have lost their minds. They would have either cried or started screaming at me. But you just smiled at me. You told me that’s it okay and that you get that my mind was somewhere else.”, he smiles at the memory of the day you two met. “You even went as far as telling me that the life of a college student is stressful enough than to worry about a shirt getting ruined. But even through your kind words and your bright smile, I could see some sadness in your eyes. I could tell you really liked the shirt, but instead of making me feel bad, you tried to comfort me.”

Sunoo leans forward, taking one of your hands in his. “And from that moment on, I knew that I had to have someone like you in my life. And as cheesy as it sounds, but everyday that I get to spent with you as my best friend, I’m glad that I spilled my coffee all over you.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

A frown appears on your face as you read the ‘closed’ sign that’s hanging on the door of the café. Looking through the window, you see no one inside, not even Jungwon. Did you mess up the day? But you clearly remember Jungwon telling you to meet him here on Saturday. Maybe he forgot. Or maybe you did read the message wrong. Unsure, you take out your phone, checking your messages.

Jungwon: Let’s meet up on Saturday. It’s less crowded then. Does 2 pm sound good to you?

It is Saturday and while you’re here 10 minutes earlier, you don’t see how it can be closed. The café normally opens at 8 am and closes at 5 pm.

You sigh, putting your phone back into your pocket, taking one last look into the café. You get ready to just go home and spend the day either doing left up work for some assignments or just get into the bathtub with the book you’ve been wanting to read. But before you can even turn around to walk back to your apartment, you hear a familiar voice calling for your name.

“Y/n”, Jungwon calls out. “Wait up.” He jogs over to you, keys jiggling in his hand.

“I’m so sorry. I wanted to be here earlier, but my mom had a problem with her phone, and I had to fix it for her.”, he explains as he opens the door to the café, holding it open so you can be the first one to enter.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologies, Jungwon.”, you say, as you sit down at your usual table which thankfully wasn’t filled with students this time. Jungwon tosses his jacket on the chair next to yours, walking behind the registers and getting his machines started.  

“Why aren’t you taking the ‘closed’ sign away?”, you ask him, watching how he ties his apron.

“Because we are closed today.” His answer is kept short as he’s already focusing on making your coffee.

“What do you mean closed?” You walk over to him, hating the distance between the two of you. You hate to admit it, but you like looking at him when you talk. For some reason, you find the small facial expressions he does whenever you talk to each other adorable. And those dimples. Yeah, can’t get enough of them as well.

“I closed the café today, because I wanted you to feel comfortable while trying the coffee I make. And well, last week I could see how the only thing you wanted to do was go home, so I made sure today that won’t cross your mind even once.”

You feel heat crawling up your neck, painting your cheeks in a red color, as you listen to Jungwon’s words. He closed the café just to make you feel more comfortable.

“Jungwon, you really didn’t have to.”, you say, but as soon as those words leave your mouth, he dismisses them.

“Y/n, it’s important to me that you feel comfortable. I know that this is all a bet we try to win, but over the last three weeks you became a dear person to me, and I will do anything to try to make you as happy as you can be while spending time with me.”

Butterflies fly wildly through your stomach, and you think you might have to throw up. What is happening to you?

Before you can answer him, which you weren’t even sure if you can, he takes the cup of coffee and walks back to your table. You trail behind him like a puppy and take a seat, looking down at the two layered coffee.

“This one is called a Bómbon. It’s originally from Spain. It’s just two ingredients, espresso and sweetened condensed milk. It has two layers, because the condensed milk holds the espresso up without mixing it like milk would do. It’s perfect for someone with a sweet tooth.”

If you had to decide between the two coffees you’ve seen and this one, you would choose the Bómbon based on its looks.

“Well, it already won, because it looks good.”, you remark, making Jungwon let out a small laugh. Another wave of butterflies’ courses through your belly as you hear the gentle sound. Maybe you’re getting sick.

“Give it a try.” And like routine, you take a small sip, ignoring the waiting eyes of Jungwon.

But this time is different. While you can still taste the lingering bitterness of the espresso, the sweetness of the condensed milk is almost completely washing it away. You know, you will still not order this for yourself next time you go to a café, but you can admit that it’s not bad.

“I actually kind of like this one.” Jungwon’s eyes widen at your statement, making him look like a little child on Christmas.

“Wait really?”, he asks, not believing what you just said.

“Yeah. I mean, I will probably not order it again, but for coffee it’s good.”

Jungwon could just accept that, say the bet is over, get his side of the prize and move on with his life. But for some reason that still isn’t enough for him. Three weeks ago, he told you he would make you fall in love with coffee, the same way he fell in love with it. You, telling him the coffee he made is good, but you won’t drink it again, isn’t what he meant when he was proposing the bet.

When he heard you admitting to hating coffee, he felt a crack in his heart. Jungwon was surrounded by coffee his whole life, his grandmother introducing him to the wonders and varieties of it. He learned to love coffee at a young age. When he was ten, he could do better coffee art than most of the big café owners in the city. And while he accepts that every person has different tastes and opinions, something in the way you were so sure of yourself made him want to challenge you. Because who could change your mind if not him? Even his grandmother would have tried to do the same.

So, he can’t give up on the bet. Not when he is that close to making you like coffee. He just has to find the right one for you.

And maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t want the time with you to be over yet and searches for an excuse to see you again. Even if it’s just once a week.  

“Jungwon?”, you gently call for his name. “Are you okay? Did I upset you?”

“No!”, he croaks out, clearing his throat before continuing. “You could never, Y/n. Especially not with expressing your honest opinion.”

He shows you another smile. “I think I already know what coffee to do next.”

“Next? Didn’t you win the bet. I mean I liked this coffee.”, you tilt your head to the side, giving him a confused look. And he thinks that this might be the cutest thing you’ve ever done.

“The bet was to make you fall in love with coffee, not to make you like a drink that you won’t ever touch again in your life. I want to make a drink that you can’t get enough of.”

You look at him, out of words. “The determination you have.”, you say, shaking your head. “But this can’t go on forever. We have to set some kind of limit or else I won’t even have the possibility to win this bet.”

“Okay, how about two more coffees. If I can’t make you fall in love with any of those, you won.” Once more, Jungwon holds out his hand for you. You take it, giving it another firm shake, sealing the new deal.

“To whoever wins the bet and has to fulfill the wish of the other person.”, you cheer on, holding the coffee up in the air.

And while Jungwon is watching you, he isn’t sure who he wants to win the bet anymore.

☕4: Frappuccino

The sun is shining brightly, laying warm on your skin, and filling you with happiness. Maybe that’s why Jungwon decided to close the store again and have the two of you meet up at the local park. On any other occasion you would have thought it was date, but since you know this is all just for the bet, you quickly dismiss that thought.

Instead, you sit on the small park bench with your eyes closed and a small smile on your lips as you enjoy the warmth of the sun. Considering it just being the beginning of spring, the sun hasn’t shown its face in its glory a lot. So, you take in every ray of sunshine you can before it decides to go away again.

As you sit on the park bench, waiting for Jungwon, you take in your surroundings. You listen to the soft chirping of the birds that fly over your head, searching for things to build their nest with. A little squirrel, happy about a nut he found, quickly making its way across the wide meadow of the park to the tree it houses in. Kids are playing on the small playground, running around, and laughing until their stomach hurts. You see the parents, watching their children with fondness in their eyes, wishing to be a kid again and having back this ease in life. An older lady sits at the small pond, throwing bread into it for the ducks to eat. Which they do, giving their approvement of the bread in the form of loud croaks. A blue butterfly makes its way over the meadow, flying gracefully and settling down on a flower not far away from you.

While you watch all of that unfold, your thoughts keep on drifting away to one specific person. Jungwon.

The two of you spend the whole week on the phone together, calling each other after every hard day and talking until late in the night. Just for the two of you to wake up the next day tired, but with fond memories.

The more you talk to him, the more you realize the constant feelings you have when you’re around him. While you do have butterflies swirling around your belly whenever his name is just mentioned, you don’t feel nervous around him. Of course, your cheeks turn into a soft shade of marron when he compliments you and your breath sometimes stocks for a moment, when he gets closer, but you still feel comfortable around him. Completely at ease. Like you do when you step foot into the café. Jungwon makes you feel like you could conquer the world if you wanted to. Encouraging your every dream and never failing to make a miserable day better.

You realize how you suddenly don’t want the bet to end. You don’t want to not see him every week anymore.

All you want is to spend everyday with him. Listen to him ramble about the customers that visit Café Sunshine, hear him laugh at a bad joke you tell and look at you with his wide eyes and dimpled smile.

But the more time you spent thinking, the more anxious you got. You two never met up outside of the café. It was always at the same location, the same comfort zone. What happens if you two realize that outside of the café you might not get along that well? What if he was so dazed by work all the time, that he never actually took a good look at you. And now out in the open with the sun shining so bright, he might change his mind about you. While you don’t think Jungwon is shallow, a part of you still makes you want to cancel the meet up.

You are so kept up by your thoughts that you don’t even notice someone sitting down beside you. Jungwon watches you with an amused smile, seeing that you’re deeply lost in your own thoughts.

But that gives him some time to take you in.

Because of the sunny and warm weather, you opted to wear a yellow summer dress that makes you look like you’re out of a Disney movie. There is some part of him that hopes that you put this dress on for him. That you put this dress on thinking about the theme of his café and him and wanted him to notice that. But he ignores that thought and instead decides to just keep on watching you. As creepy as it may look like, Jungwon finds it really comforting. Sitting in silence with someone, appreciating nature and just living in the moment. These are moments Jungwon doesn’t get often since he works at the café all day long. And when he gets home, he is too tired to do anything except for laying in his bed and sleep. It’s no surprise Jungwon barely has any friends. There are regulars that come to the café, but most of them are elderly people. Sometimes, like two weeks ago, there are people his age at the café, but college life is hard. The constant study and the lack of money is keeping most of the students away from his café. He understands that, of course he does, but part of him is disappointed. Jungwon wished he could make more friends, have people to talk to everyday about the things that are going on in his life. Have people to go on trips with, making late night drives to McDonalds and laughing at the lamest jokes together. Have karaoke nights, get completely wasted together and have one of those 3 am deep talks. That’s all Jungwon wants. And while he does have Jake in his life, he doesn’t get to have those things. Jake moved to Australia two years ago to study. So Jungwon really has no one. No one but you.

And for once in his life, he thinks he can really have all the things he has ever wished for with you. He sees this kind of person in you that he doesn’t want to lose, that he can’t lose. It’s been 4 weeks of texting, calling, and meeting up once a week and he already can’t imagine a life without you. It’s weird. It’s weird how you can meet a person and from one to another day that person is one of the most important people in his life.

Jungwon also can’t deny the underlying feelings he’s evolving for you. He isn’t stupid. Of course, he notices the way his body reacts whenever you step into the room or when he hears your voice over the phone. It also doesn’t help that he thinks about you everywhere he goes. Somehow, he sees you in everything. When he goes grocery shopping and he sees hot chocolate, he thinks about you and the first time you met. When he walks past a book shop, he thinks about you and your constant complains about your stupid English Lit teacher. And only yesterday when half the city was covered in rain and the other blessed by the light of the sun, he thought about you. He wanted to send you a picture of the rainbow that was forming in the sky, telling you how beautiful it is. And if you agreed, he would have told you that it’s not half as beautiful as you. But of course, he can’t do that. He can’t do it because you would think he is weird to tell you such things. And he can’t do it because there is no way you could ever reciprocate his feelings.

Jungwon notices that quite some time passed by, so he decides to gently tap your shoulder. You wipe your head around, looking right into his eyes. By the sight of his face, you let out a sigh of relief.

“You scared the shit out of me, Jungwon.”, you say, a small laugh escaping your lips.

“Sorry, I’ve been sitting here for a few minutes, but you were so deeply in your thoughts, I didn’t want to disturb you.” Blush creeps up your neck. Have you really been that kept up in your mind that you didn’t even notice Jungwon’s presence right beside you?

“Penny for your thoughts?”, he asks, scooting a bit closer to you.

“Oh.”, you stutter a bit. “Uhm, just college stuff. Assignments, exams, deadlines, you know the drill.”

Jungwon nods and you can see something changing in his face. Did you say something wrong?

“Let’s pick out a place to sit, I brought a blanket and some things from the café.” You nod at his words, standing up and following him as he walks through the meadow. He finds a place where the grass isn’t high and no flowers bloom, so you two don’t destroy anything. You help Jungwon lay out the blanket and together you plop down on it.

“Want to know what special drink I prepared for you today?”, Jungwon asks, already opening the small basket he took with him.

“What a stupid question, of course I want to see it.”

He laughs at your choice of words and gets out a plastic cup, putting it down in front of you. “I have to say, I went against all my barista morals with this one.” You take the cup in your hand, gasping slightly as you feel the coldness in your hands. “This is a Frappuccino as Starbucks likes to call it. It’s basically espresso, milk, ice cups and whatever sweet thing you want to have in there. Normally I don’t make stuff like that. I like to stick to the classics, but since it’s really hot today I thought that it would be nice for you. And I heard a lot of people say that this is a great starter drink for people who don’t like coffee. I never made it before, so if it sucks, I’m so sorry. Blame the Starbucks recipe I followed, not me.”

You listen to his ramble with a small smile on your lips. It’s cute how much thought he puts into your weekly coffee meet up. You just wished he would do it for you and not for the bet.

“Well thank you, Jungwon. It looks pretty tasty. What sweet thing did you put it?”

“I put in caramel, since it’s one of the sweetest things I found in the café. I hope you don’t mind.” You shake your head, finding his constant appeasement adorable.

“I don’t mind at all.” The cold drink in your hands feels refreshing compared to the hot weather. You’re not used to these temperatures, having lived in cold winter for a few months. But you can’t complain, you love that the sun finally shows its face again.

Without thinking much, you raise the cup to your mouth, placing the straw between your lips and taking a small sip. All while Jungwon watches you with an expecting look on his face. This is the second to last coffee he made for you. Of course, he still has one more chance to prove to you the wonders of coffee, but the hopes that this one will be the mind changer for you are high. After all he has to remind himself that this is a bet. A silly little bet the two of you agreed on, nothing more.

“You’re torturing me with your poker face. What do you think?”

“If I’m being honest with you,”, you start your sentence looking down at the drink. “I like the ice in it since it’s really cooling down my body, but the drink itself is okay, I guess.” You shrug your shoulders but keep your gaze down, so you don’t have to see the flash of disappointment on Jungwon’s face. “I liked the drink last week better. It tasted more real, you know. I could taste how much love you put into the coffee and this one tastes really artificial.”

Even though Jungwon feels a bit sad that you don’t like the coffee he made today, a part of him feels proud on how you can taste the differences in the coffee he made. Last week as the weeks before, he made the coffees with a lot of time and love, not thinking much of it and just following his passion. With this one he tried too hard. He tried too hard to find something you could like and forgot what this is actually about. He made something that he would never sell in his own café, and it felt  so wrong, but he was so desperate to find something you will like, that he went against his own comfort.

“Thank you for noticing that, Y/N. I promise you that next week I will make something I stand behind again, instead of trying to copy coffee from Starbucks.”

You smile at his words, putting the drink down again. “Oh, I almost forgot. I brought you some iced tea in case you don’t like the coffee.” Jungwon grabs the basket and takes out the drinks he brought, along with all the snacks he made himself.

“Jungwon, you didn’t have to.”, you coo, looking at the delicious treats. You can feel your belly grumbling, remembering that the only thing you ate today was a bowl of cornflakes.

As the two of you munch on the snacks in silence, you remember the conversation you had with Sunoo not so long ago.

“Can I ask you something?”, you speak up after a while, making Jungwon look up from the cake in his hands. He nods softly, dimples appearing on his cheeks. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but it’s just something that’s been on my mind.”

You clear your throat, moving on the blanket so that you sit facing him more. “Sunoo told me that the two of you went to the same class for a while last year, but suddenly you stopped going. When I asked him why, he said he didn’t know. Why did you quit college and started working at the cafè?”

Jungwon knew this question would come sooner or later, but the timing of it still catches him off guard. He thinks for a few moments, not sure how he should answer you.

“Well, I started going to college because I wanted to get a higher education. I always loved going to school and if you believe it or now, but I never missed a day of school when I was still in high school. I didn’t quit because college got too much for me, I loved going there. I loved the stress of the deadlines. I loved spending nights studying and I loved attending all the classes and gathering new knowledge.”

“Then why did you quit?”, you ask.

“Because my grandma died.”, he says, his voice breaking at the end of the sentence. “It was all so sudden. She was fine before and then suddenly I got a call in the middle of class telling me she was at the hospital.”

You scoot forwards, taking his hands into yours and giving them a soft squeeze. “My grandma spent her teenage years dreaming about owning a café. It’s all she ever wanted. Back then she didn’t have a phone where she could google recipes for coffee. She had to teach it to herself and that’s exactly what she did. My grandma sat in the garage with a coffee machine she got from an old store and coffee beans she stole from her parents and worked on the perfect coffee recipes. While other teenagers her age had lemonade stands, my grandma had a coffee stand. She sold the coffee she made and saved the money.”

You can see the fondness in his eyes as he tells the story. “One day as she walked through the city, she saw a for sale sign in front of a small building and when she looked inside through the window, she knew that this was it. This was the place she wanted to build her café in. And against her parents’ will, she did. She bought all the furniture and put months into making it look the way it is. My grandma was the one who painted the walls yellow, who created a save space for people and made everything that’s on the menu herself. She created a place where everyone can be themselves, where no one is excluded, bullied, or shamed in any way. She chose yellow because it symbolizes optimism, energy, joy, happiness, and friendship.”

“From the second I was able to walk I learned all about coffee. How to make it, how to serve it and how to create my own recipes. She taught me the knowledge I have today.” You get lost in his words, the story playing in your head. And you are thankful. Thankful to a woman you’ve never met for not only giving Jungwon something he talks about with so much passion, but for also being such a huge positive part in his life.

“She also named the café after me.”, he adds, a shy smile forming on his lips. “When I was a child, I would always smile. At stranger in the supermarket. At the waitress in restaurants. I was a happy child and so she gave me the nickname sunshine. She would always call me by that name. And one day when we walked into the café together something clicked inside of her. She made this place to bring joy into people’s life and no word describes it better than sunshine.”

You grin at that yourself, finding the little nickname fitting. From the moment you met him, you noticed the positive energy about him, like he baths in sunshine every day. Something about just being in his presence makes all your worries melt away.

“So, when I heard the news, I knew I couldn’t give the café up. My parents are busy at their own workplaces. And no one could have continued my grandma’s dream better than me. I mean, she taught me everything she knew, everything she put into the café. The only logical thing was to drop out of school and continue what my grandma couldn’t finish. It’s what she would have wanted.”

You nod at his words, taking a few seconds to process all the information you just got. Jungwon gives you that time, looking down at your hands which are still holding his.

“I’m sorry for what happened with your grandmother. I’m really sorry you had to go through that.”, you start, squeezing his hands softly again. “And I love how passionate your grandma was about her dream. I admire her for building up something and putting so much time and energy into it. I can’t even imagine how hard that must have been. But I have one question.”

Jungwon’s head lifts, gently tipping to the side, signaling you to continue. “You said that your grandma would have wanted for you to run the café. But do you want it?”

Jungwon is taken back by your question, his face forming into a frown. If he wants this? He never thought about it. For him it was a no brainer. He loves making coffee and talking to people, hearing new stories and making their days better, even if it’s just for a few minutes. Jungwon knew no one could do the job better than him and that his grandmother would have never trusted anyone else with the café. But does he actually want it? He never thought he would be at this place. He thought he would finish college and get a high paid job his parents chose for him. Jungwon never thought he would drop out of college to become a Barista.

He looks into your eyes, uncertainty still lingering in them. “It’s not what I planned for myself, if I am being honest with you, but it is what I want. I love doing it and I can’t imagine my life without going into this little café every single day.”

You smile at him, pleased with his answer. “Are you happy? Happy with the decisions you made so far?”

“Yes.”, he answers. This time without a hint of hesitation. “Yes, I am happy.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear.” You let go of his hands, grabbing your iced tea again. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

And in that moment as Jungwon hears the words that leave your mouth, he knows that there is no way out anymore.

He has fallen for you, way too hard and way too deep.

☕ 5: Vanilla Latte

Over the whole week Jungwon barely texted you.

He wished you good luck on one exam you had and texted you the details of the next time you meet up, but other than that, he stayed silent.

And while you could have just texted him, part of you was holding you back. You never talked about what the two of you are. Friends? Acquaintances? Or more? Is this going to end after the next time you meet up? Or have the two of you become so close that you will still want to see each other afterwards?

Mulling over those questions, you didn’t want to text Jungwon, thinking that it will just confuse you even more.

Jungwon on the other hand waited for you to text him. While this sounds super childish, he just wanted to see if you reach out to him yourself. Maybe he just thought you missed him as much as he missed you this week.

As Jungwon stands in front of the milk counter in the grocery store, he doesn’t notice a figure approaching him.

“Jungwon?”, he turns around, being faced by a bright smile.

“Sunoo, hey. It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other. How have you been?”

Sunoo sets down his grocery bag that’s already filled with plenty of things. Jungwon assumes you send Sunoo to shop for the items you need, since you told him once how much you hate going grocery shopping and how time consuming and energy draining it is. “I’ve been great. College life is stressing me out, but it’s nothing I can’t manage. What about you?”

“That’s great to hear, Sunoo.”, he sends Sunoo a soft smile. Even though he barely sees Sunoo anymore, he was an important person in Jungwons life for a few weeks. He was the only friend Jungwon had in class, a person he could talk to in his breaks and someone he could exchange notes with. It also helped that Sunoo always knew how to make Jungwons day a bit better. “I’ve also been good. The café is getting more popular, which means more work for me, but I enjoy it. The people are all so kind and I’ve never had this many good conversations with strangers before.”

“That’s amazing, Jungwon. I’m so proud of your accomplishments.” Sincerity laces Sunoo’s voice, clearly happy for his friend. “I would love to continue talking to you, but I have a hangry girl in the apartment and if I take any longer, she will be even more obnoxious than she already his.”

He can tell Sunoo is being sarcastic, but he can’t help to be jealous about it. Sunoo gets to see you every day. He comes home everyday to you.

Jungwon envies him for that. Not only does he want to see you every day, but he also wants a great relationship with you. He wants to be able to tease you and make jokes until your belly hurts from laughing. He wants to come home to you and watch as you study, listening to your complaints about the work and lending you a helping hand. He wants to be the person you put your trust in, the person you rely on when things get tough. But he can’t have that and it’s tearing him apart.

“How is Y/N?”, he asks before Sunoo can leave. “We haven’t texted much this week.”

“Oh, she’s good, I guess. Stressed out and sleep deprived, but other than that fine.” Jungwon just nods, sending Sunoo an appreciative smile before turning back to the milk. Sunoo notices the change in his behavior, seeing right through him. Everyone with a working pair of eyes can clearly see what is going on between the two of you. “But she misses you.”

Jungwon wipes around at those words, eyes wide and mouth agape. “What?”

“She misses you. She talks about you everyday and how she can’t wait to see you again on Saturday.”, Sunoo smiles widely, grabbing his bag again and throwing it over his shoulder. “She seems to really like you, because I never heard her talk about someone as much as she talks about you.”

Jungwon doesn’t know what to answer. A million thoughts swirling around his brain.

“I really got to go now. Have a great day, Jungwon. We will hopefully see each other soon.” With that Sunoo turns around, disappearing in the big store and leaving Jungwon to stand there alone with his thoughts.

What is he supposed to do now?

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

There are signs of nervousness seen in your steps as you walk to the café. Everyone that’s passing you by can notice that. The way you pick the skin on your fingers, how your tongue darts out every five seconds to wet your lips and the obvious shaking of your limps. People could also think you are on hard drugs, but you quickly dismiss that thought.

You don’t even know what exactly makes you so nervous about today. Maybe it is because you haven’t heard from Jungwon and you’re scared that you did something wrong. Or maybe it is because you know this day will end your bet and you have no idea what will happen after it.

The uncertainty is really driving you insane.

You tried talking to Sunoo about it, explaining him your situation and having him understand you. But you quickly noticed how that did not work out, because all your best friend said was ‘Just confess to him. Tell him how you feel and how you don’t want to stop seeing him. What’s the worst that could happen?’

The worst is that you will end up making a fool out of yourself. You still hope that the least Jungwon wants is to stay friends with you and continue your weekly meetups. You don’t want to ruin that just because you feel nervous about him. It’s not like you do have feelings for him. It’s probably just a stupid little crush that will go away as soon as the two of you leave the getting to know phase.

Still, you stand in front of the café, a place you feel comfort and happiness in, and you can’t get yourself to actually open the door.

Seeing you through the window, Jungwon walks up to open the door for you. “Hey Y/N, come in.”

With hesitant steps you walk past him and almost immediately, the familiar feeling of tranquility washes over you. You take in the scent of fresh baked cake and newly brewed coffee, thinking that this could possibly be the last time you stand in here. And you notice the slight scent of Jungwon.

Every time you walked into the café you noticed a scent that you couldn’t recognize. Not a bad smell, just something that mingles with the normal scent of the café. Only last week when the two of you sat in the park together, you noticed that that scent belonged to him. And weirdly enough, it brought you comfort. Maybe it is because you associate it with the Jungwons’ workplace or maybe it is just Jungwon himself that makes you feel that way.

“Are you okay?”, he asks as he pulls out the chair - of the table you always sit at – for you to sit down.

“Yeah, I’m fine. What about you? Did you have a stressful week?” As you watch how Jungwon makes his way to the counter to prepare your coffee, you notice how you could never get sick of looking at him. Everyone with eyes sees Jungwon’s obvious attractiveness. His sharp features, the cat-like eyes, his silky brown hair, the wide shoulders, and the dimples. God, those dimples will kill you some day. You could look at him all day long and not get tired of seeing his face, of seeing his smile or the concentrated look on his face whenever he makes coffee. But not only does his appearance allure you, but his personality as well. The witty comments, the way his voice changes whoever he is talking to, his friendliness as he talks to customers. The way he leans down to talk to the children who come to the café, showing them a warm smile as he gifts them a free cupcake. The care he shows for the people he loves, even if it’s sometimes not as noticeable. The passion he carries for his job and the things he loves. And his mind. The thoughts and opinions he carries with him. The way he voices his feelings and tries to never hurt anyone with the things he says.

You could never get tired of that. You could never get tired of him.

“My week was good. The café is booming with new customers, so I have a lot to do. But I’m not complaining. I love how this place gets more and more recognition the more time passes by.” He walks back to you with a see-through cup in his hand that he puts down on the table in front of you.

“This is a Vanilla Latte. It’s not been on the menu for so long, I just added it a few weeks back. It is made of espresso, steamed milk, a little bit of fine foam and lastly vanilla syrup. It’s sweet, maybe he even a bit too sweet. But I thought since you kind of liked the Bómbon, this will be a good choice for you.”, he smiles, sitting down on the chair beside yours.

“What will happen if I don’t like it?”, you ask him, eyeing the coffee in front of you.

“Then you won the bet.”, he answers you, stating the obvious.

“No, I mean what will happen to you? Will you be disappointed?”

“Yeah.”, he says. “I think so, but there is nothing I can do to change that. Even though I put a lot of effort into making those coffees for you every week, it was still fun for me. And a way to practice my abilities. So yeah, I will be disappointed, but I will also be happy that you at least tried to understand me and my love for coffee.”

You nod at his words, taking them in. Part of you was afraid of taking a sip, just like the first week of your bet, but this time for a complete different reason. This time you aren’t afraid of trying something new. This time you are scared that whatever will happen after you take a sip, will change the relationship between you and Jungwon. Now you really want to like the coffee.

Your hand trembles as you reach out for the cup, but the warmth of it eases your nerves, even if it is just a little bit. You lift it to your lips and before thinking too much you take a sip, already used to this routine. Jungwon, as perse, watches you with wide, curious eyes. The hope of turning you into a coffee lover still lingers inside him.

“So, what are your final words?”, he asks after a few seconds.

“It’s definitely the best one you made so far. I really like how strong the vanilla flavor is.”, you answer, trying to end it on that.

“But?” He hears it in your voice and sees it in your face.

“I’m sorry, Jungwon. I just really don’t think coffee is for me. I am so thankful how hard you tried, and I could really see and taste the love and time you put into this. And I’m so proud of you and you should be too, because you have a real talent and make a lot of people happy with what you do.” You smile at him, putting the coffee down in front of him. “But I guess I will just stay with hot chocolate.”

A shy smile forms on Jungwons lips as he hears your kind words, and he can feel the heat crawling up his neck. “Thank you, Y/N. You don’t know how much your words mean to me. And don’t worry about not liking coffee. As you said, it’s just not for you. Even someone like me has to accept that there are actually people out there who don’t like coffee.”

There is something lingering in the air. Like the two of you desperately want to say something, but the words don’t want to come out. You feel the mood visibly shift into awkwardness, uncertainty, and maybe even longing. You can’t handle it. You can’t handle the mess of the feelings inside of you and the way Jungwon looks at you right now. His eyes shimmering with a feeling you can’t describe. He is looking at you like he can read you. Like you are open book to him, and he knows all the answers to the questions that circle around your mind.

It’s getting unbearable. You think you might break under his gaze and spill out every question that you don’t even have an answer for. And that’s not what you want. As long as you aren’t sure about things, you won’t talk to him about it.

So, instead you get up from your seat, earning a confused look from the brown-haired boy. “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, sorry. I promised Sunoo to be home early so we can have a movie night.” You put on your jacket, grabbing your bag. “Thank you for everything Jungwon.” You send him a wave and a small smile before heading to the door.

“Wait!”, he calls out for you, making you turn around. “You won the bet. What about your prize?”

“I will get back to you for that one. See you, Jungwon.”

And before he can say anything else you are out the door, leaving him and taking half his heart with you.

☕ 5 ½ Affogato

In fact you did not get back to Jungwon. He can’t lie and say that he hasn’t been waiting every day, checking his phone regularly to see if you texted him. Even when he hears the door open, his head whips up just to be disappointed that it’s not you coming to the café.

When the first Saturday came around, Junwon felt weird seeing other customers in the café and not just you. He felt as if a part of him was missing. Somehow, he couldn’t get himself to stop thinking about you wherever he went.

You on the other hand spent most of the last days in your room. Except for the times you had to go to class. You keep on mulling over the things in your head, trying to figure out your feelings. It doesn’t make sense to you that you have feelings so strongly for someone you just met. You thought that the feelings would go away as soon as you didn’t see Jungwon anymore. Thinking that it was just a small crush. But the more time passes and the longer you go without seeing him, the more you long for him, the more you miss him and the more you have this wrenching feeling inside of your chest. When Saturday came along, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You wanted to go to the café, surprise Jungwon and tell him all the thoughts which have been plaguing your mind. But you couldn’t. There is a part of you that still isn’t sure if what you feel is genuine and a part of you is afraid of rejection. Just because you feel that way doesn’t mean he will. You yourself have doubts on how fast those feelings blossomed. There is a huge possibility that he just did all that for the bet. For the sheer satisfaction of being right. Of proving a point.

All of this didn’t go unnoticed by your best friend. Sunoo has been worried about you ever since you came back from the last time you met Jungwon. He noticed that something went wrong and as he tried to talk to you about it, all you did was dismiss him, telling him you didn’t want to talk about it.

But Sunoo is sick of it. Sick of seeing you so sad and he decides that something has to change.

He ignores your sounds of complaint as he enters your room, muttering for him to leave as you hide yourself under your blanket. “Get up.” His tone is stern, the complete opposite from his normal sweet and friendly voice. It makes you peak your head out of your blanket to look at him.

“Why?”, you ask, making him sigh. Sunoo sits down at the edge of your bed, pulling your blanket down.

“I want you to stop drowning yourself in self-pity and instead get up and do something against whatever it is your feeling.” You sit up, knees against your chest, wrapping your arms securely around them. “Stop being so oblivious and open your eyes. I don’t know what exactly you’re going through, since you won’t tell me, so I’m just going to assume. You are in love with Jungwon, but you are scared. Not only that he won’t like you back, but you are scared of love itself. You fear the potential heart break that it can leave. You think that if you feel this worse already even though you are not even dating, you don’t want to know what it feels when you actually get your heart broken.”

Sunoo takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair and thinking carefully about his next words. “But that is not how life works, Y/N. If you go through life, afraid of everything that might hurt you, you won’t live. You will hold yourself back from opportunities, from new doors opening. You will stay where you are right now, not moving an inch forward. And believe me that’s not how you want to live your life. So please, for the love of God, go to the poor boy and confess your feelings. I met him at the store the other day and when I told him that you miss him, you should have seen the way his face lit up. He is head over heels for you. He closed his god damn store on Saturdays for you just so that you could feel comfortable while meeting him. He researched coffee and spent a lot of his time making them just to find something that you will like. And when you had a bad day because of the college stress he spent the whole night on the phone with you, making jokes and trying to get you to laugh. That’s not something someone does just because. Jungwon does those things because he likes you.”

“You really think so?”, you ask, your voice small and showing all the doubts that gathered over the days.

“I know so.”, Sunoo answers, squeezing one of your knees softly. “Go get your man.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

You never thought you would be in a situation like this. It almost feels like you’re in a movie.

The way you run to the café, 5 minutes before it closes, just so you could catch Jungwon before he leaves. The wind blowing your hair through the air and the flowers of the cherry blossom trees, swirling around, painting the scene even more dramatic than it already is.

By the time you arrive at the café, you are out of breath and covered by the pink flowers. But you don’t care, you storm into the small building with determination.

Jungwon stands with his back turned behind the counter, washing the dishes since there is no one in the café anymore. “I’m sorry.”, he says, back still turned to you. “I’m closing now. You can comeback tomorrow and I can make you some delicious coffee.”

You smile at his words, walking up to him. “You can’t even make an exception for me?” At the sound of your voice, Jungwon turns around. Forgetting that his hands are still wet and drenching his apron and the floor with it. But that is not important. What is important is that you actually stand in front of him.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Well, I won the bet. I came to claim my prize.” A smile graces your lips, but Jungwon doesn’t know what he means. He doesn’t know anything. It’s like his brain stopped working the moment he heard your voice.

“Yeah, right.”, voice breaking in nervosity. “What is it you want me to do?”

“I want you to go on a date with me.”

“What?” Jungwon can’t believe his own ears. Did you really just say that?

“I want you to go on a date with me.”, you repeat. “Over the past few weeks, I noticed myself slowly falling for you. I didn’t tell you because I was scared. I was terrified of getting hurt, to the point where I thought that shutting you out and denying my feelings for you was the best way to deal with this situation. But I quickly got to see that it only caused the exact opposite to happen. I started missing you so much that I felt like a piece of me was not with me anymore. I realized that I can’t live like this. I can’t keep running away from things the moment I get scared and finally face my fears.” You smile at him, tears forming in your eyes.

“I like you, Jungwon. I like you so much, it’s scary. But even considering all this, I want you in my life. No, I need you in my life. And you may not feel the same thing, but I can’t go on knowing I never tried.”

Junwon doesn’t know what to say. No words want to leave his mouth. So instead of saying anything, he walks around the counter and stops right in front of you. He pulls you closer to him and the next thing you know you feel his lips softly pressing against your own.

You melt into him, gripping his shoulders tightly as you kiss him back. You get lost in his scent, in the softness of his lips and the warmth inside of your heart. And you know that this is something you could get used to.

“How about we have it now?”, he asks you after breaking the kiss. His hand tugging a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Start what now?”

“Our date.”, he states, letting go of you and walking back behind the counter. “I have the perfect idea. Sit down please.”

You do as he says, watching him work on something. Jungwon joins you not long after, placing a big bowl of ice cream in front of you.

“This is an Affogato. It’s not really coffee, more of a dessert. But it is vanilla ice cream with espresso shots. I got this idea last week and thought you might want to try it out.” Jungwon grabs a spoon himself and together you take a bite of the dessert he prepared.

“Thoughts?”, he asks, the situation way too familiar to the both of you.

“Meh, it’s fine. But I think I will just stick to normal ice cream.” He laughs at your words, a bright cheerful laugh, that fills your whole body with joy.

“I really thought that could be the last thing to change your mind and make you fall in love with coffee anyway.”, he says, a small pout adoring his lips.

You can’t help it but lean over and place a gentle peck on his lips. “Well, I didn’t fall in love with coffee, but I sure as hell fell for someone else.”

You watch as his cheeks turn into a soft shade of red, adoring the way he looks when he’s shy.

“And I sure as hell fell for you too, Y/N. More than you can imagine.”

Bonus

☕4 years later

“I’m sorry, we’re closed.”, you say as you hear the door of the café open. Busy washing the dishes, you didn’t even look over your shoulder.

“You can’t even make an exception for me?”, you hear a familiar voice say. Turning around you are met with the face of your boyfriend, flowers in his hands. This scene seeming way too familiar to you.

“Jungwon!”, you exclaim, drying your hands and walking over to him. “What are you doing here? You are supposed to be resting. I thought you were sick.”

Jungwon shows you a sheepish grin. One of hands reaching up to rub his neck nervously. “Well, about that. I may or may not have lied to you about being sick.”

“What?”, you say, a frown forming on your face. “Why would you lie to me about that?”

Jungwon lays the flowers down on the counter before reaching one of his hands into his pocket. “I had to get something.”

Looking down at his hands, you see him pull out a small velvet box. And before you know, Jungwon is already kneeling down on one knee.

“Y/n, we’ve known each other for the past 4 years and those have been the best years of my life. Before I met you, I felt alone, completely distant from the world. But when you came into my life, suddenly everything made sense. You accepted my love for coffee and even tried to love it as well, which we know didn’t quite work out as planned. You gave me the life I always wanted and now it’s my turn to give you something in return. So, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

Tears stream down your face as you look at the man before you. The man that has done nothing but give you all his love for the past four years. The man you would do anything for. And the man you want to the spend the rest of your life with.

So, there is really no other answer to his question, but…

“Yes. Yes, of course I will marry you.”