#forgot how nice it feels to just. not do line art.

[ink--theory]

besitos redux

redraw of this old thing from 2020 lol

[vero-niche]

a fellow english major, really happy to see someone who's proud of their degree <3

you know that "no love, no matter how brief, is wasted" line? i think the same applies for knowledge too - no matter how useless it may seem, knowledge acquired is never in vain.

[desperatelyseekingcannibals]

Telling Hugh Dancy about trans masc Will and more...

As some of you already know by now, I went to Boston Fanexpo this past weekend for another stop on the unofficial Hannibal 2024 Reunion Tour.

I had planned to do autographs on the Friday before the Hannibal panel and had brought some gifts for Hugh which included a copy of Adapt. Evolve. Become: The Genderqueer Fandom of NBC's Hannibal, which I compiled and edited last year. I also got him to sign my own copy (above).

It all moved quite quickly, but I did have the chance to explain that it's a volume by and about trans, non-binary, and genderqueer Fannibals that includes art, fics, essays, and personal pieces. He seemed intrigued and I said I hope he'd have the chance to read it and that the art isn't explicit/sexual but some of the fics are - he laughed and said he appreciated the warning.

It was all quite the whirlwind, especially after coming all the way from the UK, so I was absolutely mortified when I remembered the next morning that I had talked with a few trans Fannibals who had specifically asked me to let him know that he/Will is a trans icon. So I went back up to see him again on the Saturday morning when it wasn't too busy (and get more stuff signed) and this is what happened:

[I wrote notes down right after so this is as close an account I can get without having filmed it!].

Me: I saw you yesterday Hugh: I remember (smiley-friendly) Me: I gave you a book Hugh: I remember (smiley-friendly) Me: well, I forgot to tell you. A few trans Fannibals reached out to me to tell you that Will is a trans icon to them and we all love you for it. Hugh was surprised (in a nice way) and I was pretty much going to walk away then - job done and feeling like time for me to stop bothering Hugh lol. But before I could walk away he sort of held out his hand to stop me and said something along the lines of - I don't mean this in a disrespectful way, don't take it the wrong way... I'm genuinely curious- I get that it can be about identity- but what is the connection to Will and being trans? Luckily - my essay in the book is exactly about how Will can be read as trans, so I sort of gave him a summary of that. I explained that (obviously) both Will and Hannibal can be read as queer, and that - especially as both characters have dominant masculine and feminine traits, it's also easy to read them both as trans or in some way genderqueer. He was nodding and agreeing, so I further explained that with Hannibal, he is fully formed - he's already whatever he is - which Hugh also agreed with. But that Will is still becoming, still transitioning and therefore can be more relatable to trans fans who see that journey in themselves. So although it's not necessarily the same journey - there is enough to it that it resonates with trans people. I said that in the show there is also the added bonus of Will being seen and accepted for who he is, just as trans people wish to be. He was nodding along and agreeing with me and then he thanked me for explaining that. It was pretty quiet previously but I'd been there a few minutes so the queue was building up a little but he was so focused on me - so genuinely intent on hearing what I had to say and learning more. SO I CARRIED ON. (lols) I explained to him that it goes further than the show, that we have found a community in the fandom and that many trans people have a catalyst in their life that sparks their journey - like Will had in his friendship with Hannibal. For us it might be a person, an event, or even a TV show. I explained how the fandom are so supportive of trans people - that we are SEEN. That I for one wouldn't have been able to afford top surgery without the kind donations of Fannibals back when I was not in a good place (mentally or financially). That we all help each other and for some of us that has been life-saving. He did the hand on heart thing and said "wow" and was clearly moved. I said to him that so much of this is in the book, that I completely understand if he doesn't want to read the fanfic, but I really hope that he will at least read each of the personal pieces - that each of the fics and art also have a little write up from their creator about what the show and/or fandom has meant to them and their gender journey - how important this has been in our lives. He repeated a couple of times that he would definitely read it. I thanked him and he held out his hand and gave me the most genuine hand shake I've had in my life.

I want to really stress here how much this was instigated by Hugh. That he really wanted to know more and understand and didn't even look at the slowly growing queue but was instead intently focused on knowing more about the trans Fannibals and about why this show and the characters mean so much to us.

I then went off and spoke with a few Fannibal friends in the queue before getting around the corner to another Fannibal friend and having a bit of an emotional moment/breakdown. I can't even explain how grateful I am that he gave me the opportunity to explain all this to him. And I was especially glad I got to tell that Will is a trans icon because I'd have felt terrible if I'd have not done that after people had asked!! Thank you for trusting me to pass that message on for you!

💖

I know for many of you Adapt. Evolve. Become: The Genderqueer Fandom of NBC's Hannibal might have gone a little under the radar. So here is some more about that >>

It was compiled last year for Trans Hanni Day, edited by Max Turner of (and in conjunction with) A Coup of Owls Press - and published under Max's ACoO imprint.

It features essays, personal pieces, fanart and fanfic by and about trans, non-binary, genderqueer and otherwise non-cis Fannibals.

IT IS FREE TO DOWNLOAD, however we ask that if you do that, please consider donating to one of the linked trans orgs if you can afford to (or a similar organisation/charity of your choice).

It can be purchased on Amazon, however, as the proceeds go to charity, and Amazon only gives royalties, more is earned/given if bought directly via Max's shop.

Dearest trans Fannibals, please know that YOU ARE SEEN!

[anonymous-existences]

I just had a thought prompt bullshit.

Prompt DCXDP

Band Danny Fenton(17), his ex is Dash Baxter

New Fan of Danny Damian(17), His Recent Ex is Jonathan Kent

Two heartbroken fuckers

One is a majestic gay singer with a heart of gold and a possibly suspicious identity and odd friends.

One is Handsome Gay Rich Boy Son who has a secret vigilante life who's absolutely Smitten with the "civilian" singer Danny

It's not immediately like sort of a dense At Feelings Idiots then going to Idiots In Love Type of relationship.

So it starts with a Heartbroken Damian trying to cope through the intense unfamiliar emotions and finds a Recently Debuted and Slowly Going Viral Band Named "Phantom's Core" or "Ecto-Heart"(this sounds like a song title ngl—) and he realizes, Damn the songs are relatable as shit, he just starts listening to them and their new songs all the time and then BOOM! They're famous now because Damian Wayne keeps Posting About them and now his room is half filled with Masterpieces Art and Stuff and the other half is The Band Posters and Fanart Of Danny Fenton the Lead Singer.

Then he soon realizes they're also in the same school as he stumbles upon him in their 2nd years and having the same classes, that's where the slow burn happens, Damian is nice and smiles towards Danny but not much to others.

The Batfam is absolutely going paranoid, I mean it's Damian Wayne. He's smiling?? LAUGHING?? and GETTING ALONG WITH A CIVILIAN?? It's a miracle if anything for Them because he's gonna be much nicer when Danny is around to visit and do projects or Homework or study nights with Damian.

Alfred already approves of the Kid, he's nice kind hearted clumsy sure and also it's the fact that he's covered in scars that were clearly not "accidents" as the kid tries to excuse it.

Maddie and Jack are supportive parents and Bruce Wayne cannot absolutely not adopt Danny because of that and Damian also opposes cuz he has a crush on the Boy.

MY LINE OF THOUGHT NOW!

How does Danny CONFESS to an already Inlove with Him Damian.

A song Album Called "Confessions to Your Shadow" with 6 + 1 song that has their first letters that spells like

D

A

M

I

A

N

+ this song that's titled "I think I'm Inlove."

YES! HAHAHAHA

Idk how to do the phantom aspects and the vigilante parts yet but that's my prompt.

Edit: I forgot to add the inspo.

It's ROMANTIC HOMICIDE LIVE VERSION <33

[gremlinmodetweeker]

To Market to Market, to Buy A Fat Hog

Okay so this one made me really sad guys. Yes this is more alpha König and omega reader. This one actually made me feel really bad for König. I promise you it will get better! I do!!! I keep saying it because I really do mean it!!! AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Anyways, in this part, König sends you out to market to pick up groceries, and you find a cute alpha who actually seems to like you. Meanwhile, König struggles with appearances and his feelings.

Anyways!

TW: near infidelity (does not actually happen but comes close to a kiss), König feeling very sad and conflicted

Wordcount: 3.8K words (about 9 pages in google docs guys this is big)

Art from this post

Story Below the Cut

To Market to Market, to Buy A Fat Hog

As it turned out, cooking for König was no joke. He was an alpha, so it wasn't a surprise to figure out that the man liked to eat, but what you didn’t realize was that he was picky about it to boot. He was so picky that you’d had to resort to finding your own transportation to go down to the grocery store to find more ingredients.

“What are you you doing?”

You turned around to see König standing behind you in the front hall, posed somewhere between the stairs and the landing.

“We’re out of tomatoes,” you replied, “I need to go to the store to get some more.”

“Why do you need tomatoes?” König asked.

“To make the ratatouille that you wanted so badly,” you explained as you sat on a wooden bench to put on your shoes, “you asked for it last night, remember?”

König nodded, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I forgot about that.”

“Didn’t you say you were looking forward to this?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’ve been looking forward to the whole week,” König replied with a smirk.

“That’s just great,” you sighed as you brought yourself up to your feet.

“You know it’s going to rain out there, right?” König asked curiously.

“Oh,” you reached down to pick up an umbrella, "thanks.”

König watched as you fumbled with your keys before he asked, “So you’re going out like that?”

You looked over your shoulder at him, “Is there something wrong with how I look?”

König shook his head, “No, no not like that. I’m just wondering if… Well, maybe you should wear something a bit nicer?”

“Why?’ you scoffed, “are you worried about your ‘image’ again?”

König said nothing, letting you fill in the blanks for him.

“Alright,” you rolled your eyes before brushing by him to head back upstairs, “then tell me what to wear.”

“Something nicer,” was all the clarification König gave you before heading off to the backyard. To do what, you didn’t particularly care enough to think about.

Once you were upstairs in your bathroom, you stared at yourself in the mirror. Maybe König did have a point; you looked like you’d been hit with a truck that morning. The bags under your eyes were deep and heavy, and your hoodie had stains all over the bottom and along the cuffs of your sleeves. If you sat on a corner and held out a cup, you’d probably be able to make up your entire grocery bill in an afternoon. What a miserable state you were in!

You decided that what you were looking at was not up to snuff, not for you at least. Evidently not for König either, but that wasn’t the point.

With a few brushes of powder and a nice new set of clothes, you were able to face your reflection with a smile. It was a hollow, fragile smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. You tried to focus on the victories, no matter how pyrrhic they felt.

You sashayed back down the stairs with a self confident grin only to be faced with the man who sent you upstairs in the first place.

His icy eyes were wide, glancing around frantically before settling them on his feet.

“Is this good enough?” you asked.

He didn’t say a word, just nodded quickly. You figured that was about as much flattery as you’d get out of him on a good day.

“What store are you going to?” König asked in a quiet voice.

“To the big one,” you replied, “you know, the one down the road.”

König set his lips into a line, then asked, “Why don’t you go to the farmer’s market? It's a Saturday. They should be open today.”

“How would I get there?” you asked.

König dug his hands through his wallet and pulled out a blue and green card, “This is for the bus. You know how to use the GPS on your phone, right?”

You nodded.

“Just look up farmer’s market on the app,” König offered, “it should get you there quickly.”

“But what about money?” you asked.

“Ach,” König hissed as he pulled his wallet from his jeans again, “take this. It should be enough for the groceries and then some for yourself.”

“Are you suggesting I get myself something nice?” you smirked dryly at the irony.

König paused to tilt his head so he could look you in the eyes, “Maybe. You can keep the bus card, too. You’ll need it more than me.”

“Is there enough money on it?” you asked.

“It’s synced to my card,” König replied, “it’ll charge me automatically. Don’t worry about loading it.”

You tucked the card into your own wallet, thinner than his by a landslide. With all your bearings checked, you patted down your dress and gave König an award-winning smile.

“I’ll be back soon,” you grinned.

“Text me when you’re coming home,” König told you as he turned to retreat into the home, “and when you get there. And when-" he clenched his jaw, "just keep me updated, bitte.”

You didn’t say a word, instead stepping through the door and slipping outside. You pulled out your phone and punched in König’s suggestion to find what you expected to be the farmer’s market. You didn’t stop to see if König was waving you goodbye from the window, instead marching to the nearest bus stop to get started on your route.

The bus wasn’t particularly crowded, but there was a beta male in rut that had evidently forgotten to take his pills this morning, making the entire bus reek of oceanic vinegar. He’d obviously tried to hide it with extra scent blocker deodorant, but he was failing miserably. Most of the others on the bus shot the poor fellow cruel looks, to which he withered in on himself. It wouldn’t surprise you if he’d been sent home from work to get himself some pills to stop stinking up the office.

Thankfully, aside from the beta male, there weren’t any great upsets along the way. The walk to the market was thankfully brief, though a drizzle started and you had to put up your polka dotted umbrella as a shield against the weathers. You’d spent too much time perfecting your lipstick to have it smudged by a few drops of rain. Just once, you wanted to feel like you looked nice. It wasn’t like König did anything to help you in that regard. Rather, you felt that when you were around him, you were about as attractive as plain cardboard or white wallpaper. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even let himself look at you, which though while a regular occurrence, still smacked of obstinate rudeness that cut you like a thousand papercuts. Each nervous glance away was another slit upon you. At this point, you were surprised your heart was still beating in its place in your chest.

You skulked through the market in a search for ingredients. You didn’t really need to go out today, but you wanted a break from the silence of the home. After spending so much time in the silence, the hustle and bustle of the market jostled you to and fro with the crowds. You were twirled around this way and that before you were able to stumble you way towards a decent-enough looking stall filled to the brim with bright red fruits.

Only once you were too close to be ignored did you realize that the stall was advertising cider and vinegar, made fresh from the very same apples that had drawn you in.

“Hey!” a tall alpha stepped up to greet you, “see anything you like?”

You, you wanted to say but you held your tongue. Instead, you looked over the merchandise before picking up a small bottle.

“Um, how much is this?” you asked as you passed over the cider.

“Oh this is on sale, actually,” the alpha laughed, exposing his bright white canines, “it’s just for today though.”

“Only today?” you parroted.

“Only for today,” the alpha agreed before screwing you with a strange look, “say, where’s your collar?”

You blinked as you reached up to your neck.

“Oh, I must have forgotten it at home,” you admitted shyly, ashamed you’d forgotten such an important piece of protection for yourself.

“How long have you been here?” the alpha frowned.

“Not long,” you said as you fingered the empty air around your neck, “I must’ve forgotten it when I went out this morning.”

“Well it’s not safe for an unclaimed omega to go around without a collar,” the alpha hummed before holding up a hand, “just wait right there. I’m gonna go talk to someone.”

You nodded and let the man hurry off to talk to an alpha woman who worked the other side of the stall. She glanced over at you with a quick smile before looking back at her coworker, letting him return back to you with a comment accompanied by a nod of her head.

The alpha stepped back from behind the stall to stand by your side, awkwardly squeezing into the space beside you as carefully as he could to avoid actively pressing in on your inner bubble.

“So, I talked to my boss, and she said it’s okay if I take a break and help you around the market,” the alpha smiled timidly, “it’s just… I’m worried somebody might hurt you.”

“Wait, really?” you blinked owlishly as you looked up at the man.

“I mean it’s not safe to be without a collar,” the alpha insisted, “so it only makes sense that I watch over you. I, uh, I have a lot of omega friends and they tell me it’s nice to have someone around to keep them safe.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” you felt a bit fuzzy as you smiled at the messy-haired brunette, “but you don’t have to if it’s too much-”

“It’s nothing,” the alpha interjected before wincing, “sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt it’s just, you know, I’d hate to let you go and have you get hurt or-”

“No I get it,” you helped the poor man out, “I just didn’t want to pull you away from work and…”

You both smiled fondly at each other. Maybe it was something about not being used to an alpha’s affection, but the man’s brown eyes were warm like honey and tea as he took you in. You were suddenly grateful for König insisting that you wear something nice. Wait, König!

“Oh, um, I’m sorry but I should probably just call my alpha to come get me,” you cringed at the thought of having to phone up that miserable lout to drag you back into that horrible home.

“Wait, your alpha let you out like this?” the alpha frowned, almost looking crestfallen, “that’s weird.”

“Well,” you sighed, “we’re in a weird relationship. I’m supposed to be his mate or whatever, but I just… He’s not really in it.”

“Oh you got matched?” the alpha perked up, “I had a few friends in the matching program.”

“You did?” you asked.

“Yeah! They’re all like, ‘Shaun you really gotta sign up for this matching program’ way back in high school, but now they’re all sad and miserable with their matches,” the man laughed before catching himself, “my name’s Shaun, by the way! Sorry about that, I forgot to introduce myself. What’s your name?”

You gave your name with a laugh, “I guess I forgot to introduce myself too!”

“Makes the two of us, I guess,” Shaun chuckled, turning with you to start walking the aisles with you, “so, what’re you here for anyways?”

“Just a few veggies and stuff,” you replied, “my alpha wants me to cook for him.”

“So he let you out in public but expects you to be a perfect little omega for him?” Shaun scoffed, “sounds like a great guy for sure.”

“Well,” you bit your lip, “it’s more complicated than that. See, I really wanted him to just, you know, be my partner but he wasn’t too keen on it. So I was thinking that maybe if I made him jealous, maybe he’d be more interested or something?”

“And how did that go?” Shaun chuckled.

“Well, he called me out pretty quickly and then told me I could make it up to him by cooking for him,” you explained, “so I guess I really got myself in this mess.”

“But you only did it because he wasn’t paying any attention to you?” Shaun asked, helping you navigate around a tight bend by using his body as a battering ram through the crowd.

You blushed furiously, “I mean, is it too much to ask? I really thought the matching system would work, but… Well…”

“Usually it works,” Shaun offered, “but not always,” he helped you step out of the way of a passing baby stroller, “some people say it takes a couple of years to work, but I just think it’s a bit overrated.”

“So you never signed up?” you asked.

“Nah, it’s not like people would really want me, anyways,” Shaun admitted, “I’m an alpha O with a degree in agriculture working at a small farm. I don’t make much, and not many people are into alpha Os.”

“Really?” you asked curiously, “why not?”

“Not as big as alpha Bs and not as stable as beta As,” Shaun explained, “but whatever. I bet you get it as an omega.”

“Omega O, actually,” you laughed when Shaun winced, “yeah, it’s not always fun. But hey, I get by.”

“So I’m guessing you’re matched with an alpha A?” Shaun cringed.

“Yeah! I’m told the matching system puts alpha As and omega Os together for some reason?” you shook your head, “it’s crazy to me.”

“Absolutely,” Shaun agreed, “oh look! You said you needed veggies, right? My friend runs that stand over there!”

Shaun pointed somewhere but the crowd obscured your vision. So thus you pushed forth behind him before coming into a small clearing.

“Shaun! Long time no see!” a tall beta woman leaned on the wood stand.

“Laura, we literally just talked two hours ago,” Shaun rolled his eyes before standing to the side, “I’m just here because this little omega over here forgot her collar back home. But yeah, you wanted to get some things, right?”

After a bit of social chit-chat, you left with a couple of baskets brimming with fresh produce. Included i the bundle was a jar of fresh tomato paste and a bottle of olive oil, courtesy of the Italian pasta maker in the stand beside you. The beta man running the store had been more than glad to help you out when he overheard you explaining your situation with König, though he had tried to make you take a particularly spicy sausage to try and ‘get back at the swine’ but you’d had to turn him down.

After touring the market once more, you sat down at a bench with a paper bag of cinnamon sugar doughnuts between you and Shaun.

“Thanks for helping me around here,” you said before taking another bite of the fresh-baked treat, “wow these are so good. You were totally right about these.”

“Those old ladies know what they’re talking about,” Shaun agreed as he took another doughnut, “but yeah, don’t worry about it. I’m just happy you’re safe and all that.”

“It’s nice to meet an alpha that’s not a major dickface,” you grinned, wiping the sticky sugar away from your fingers.

“Most alphas are pretty chill actually,” Shaun wrapped his sticky fingers together, “I mean, we have to take those emotional regulation classes all the way from grade one until we graduate. Most of us learn how to chill out a bit.”

“So that’s why you’re so nice?” you asked cheekily.

“I mean, I like to think I’ve always been pretty cool,” Shaun tossed you a sly grin, “just don’t tell Laura that. She thinks I’m weird.”

“And why’s that?” you kicked your feet beneath you on the bench.

“Oh, I dunno, because I like comics? Or maybe it’s ‘cause I can quote entire movies in one go,” Shaun laughed, “but I think that just makes me cooler.”

“You might be on to something,” you agreed before you heard a small ping! came from your pocket, “one sec I just need to check something,” you said as you pulled it out to check your notifications. König. “Shit,” you hissed, “it’s König.”

“König? Is that foreign?” Shaun asked.

“One sec I just gotta text him back…”

Hello? Is everything alright? You haven’t texted me in a while and I want to make sure you’re safe.

You hissed and typed out a quick reply before hitting ‘send’ and pocketing your phone again.

“Is this ‘König’ guy your alpha?” Shaun asked, looking at you with a melancholic expression.

“Yeah,” you admitted, “he was just checking if I was okay.”

“Really?” Shaun snorted, “from the way you put it, it didn’t sound like he cared about you at all.”

“Well he doesn’t,” you sighed, “but he has to keep up ‘appearances’ all the time.”

Shaun groaned, “That sounds fucking awful.”

“It can be,” you agreed, “but sometimes… Sometimes I wonder if maybe he does care.”

“If he did, he wouldn’t let you out of the house without a collar,” Shaun reasoned with you.

You hummed, looking down at your sugar-dusted fingers ass they fiddled among each other. You could feel the granules of sugar melting into a sticky paste against your skin, sticking with each brush of your hands against each other.

“It would be nice if my alpha cared about me,” you sighed.

“Well, why do you need him to care about you?” Shaun asked, “and anyways, can’t you break the match?”

“Omegas can’t break matches,” you informed him dutifully, “only alphas and betas have the right to break matches.”

Shaun slumped in his seat.

“Oh…”

“It’s stupid,” you spat.

“It’s sad ‘cause like…” Shaun shrugged awkwardly, “you seem really cool.”

“Do I?” you laughed, “because I’m not.”

“People say I’m not cool either,” Shaun smiled, “so I guess we’d work pretty well together.”

You turned slightly to look at him from the corner of your eyes. He wasn’t looking at you, instead focussing on his own hands, coated just like yours were. His shaggy hair hung low over his face, giving him an innocently youthful expression. He seemed so sweet, so different from the alpha that kept you caged in his home…

“We would,” you agreed, carefully reaching your hand out to his.

He took it carefully, almost afraid to respond to your touch.

“Your alpha wouldn’t like this, would he,” Shaun turned to look at you, his eyes almost golden in the sunlight.

“He wouldn’t,” you agreed, “but I don’t really care.”

You leaned in close, but just as you closed your eyes, your phone rang.

You snapped back to attention and wrenched it out of your pocket. It was König. You watched it ring once, twice, then tucked it back into your pocket.

“I don’t really care what he thinks,” you huffed.

“So, um, I guess you gotta go home now?” Shaun laughed, the tension between you thoroughly shattered.

“I guess,” you sighed before perking up briefly, “can I get your number? We can still talk and stuff. I’ve only just moved here, so it would be nice to know someone locally.”

“Sure, uh, just hand it over,” Shaun took your phone from you, trying to suck the sugar off his fingers before typing away and handing it back to you, “sorry about all the, uh, sugar and stuff.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you tucked your phone back into your pocket before typing your number into his and giving it back to him, “but yeah, it was great meeting you Shaun.”

“It was great to meet you too,” Shaun grinned.

“Well,” you looked at the bus stop across the street, “I guess I gotta go now.”

“Call me when you get home, yeah?” Shaun asked as you walked off.

“I will!” you promised and turned back to the bus.

“Where were you?” König hounded you as soon as you stepped through the door.

“I was out at the market,” you replied as you hauled the groceries into the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you text me?” König asked, drumming his fingers against the countertop nervously.

“I forgot,” you said as you put away a bag of carrots, “it happens.”

“But you…” König squinted and frowned, “where’s your collar? Did you already take it off?”

“I forgot to take it with me,” you replied quickly as you whirled around to put away a bunch of tomatoes.

You turned back to the counter but slammed into König’s chest. You stumbled back to glare up at him, but his worried face caught you off guard.

“Were you okay?” König asked, placing his palms on your shoulders, “nobody hurt you, did they? How could you forget your collar? You need to take care of yourself, ja?”

“I was fine,” you pushed back from him coldly.

König stepped to the side to let you carry on putting away the produce, shrinking in on himself awkwardly.

“Are you sure?” König asked nervously, “you smell… Different.”

“Somebody helped me around,” you explained easily as you turned away. When you turned back, König’s face had become downright stormy.

“Who helped you,” König’s voice was flat and cold like an iron sword.

“Some guy at a stall,” you tried to shake off the nerves that crawled up your back.

“An alpha?” König stepped in close.

You stopped what you were doing to look back at König closely. He had leaned in close, almost menacing in how he now crowded your form.

“Maybe?” you shrugged, “I didn’t really pay attention.”

König stopped you from turning away and leaned in close. Before you could say anything, he rubbed his neck against yours quickly, once on each side. He stepped back, but kept his grip on your shoulders.

“Better,” he said quietly.

“What’s wrong with you?” you spat.

König watched you carefully, taking in how you puffed up with frustration in his hold. A part of him seemed to soften as he took in your form.

“We need to keep up appearances,” König replied dryly.

“That’s bullshit,” you scoffed.

König ducked his head, but the grip on your shoulders tightened. He grimaced, then turned back and tucked you into his chest.

“Appearances matter,” his voice cracked slightly, but you didn’t mention it.

Instead, when you stepped back you trailed a hand on his chest, “Why do you care so much?”

“Appearances,” König choked out.

“That’s not why you care,” you tried to let your hand fall on his cheek but he was quick to duck away.

“It’s all that matters,” König’s voice was faint as he left the room, “it’s what keeps us safe.”

You watched him leave the room quietly. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, but you weren’t as eager to pick up the phone this time.

AU Masterlist

[poppy-metal]

Art punishing you as Tashi sits in an arm chair directing him. You're lying over some pillows on the bed sobbing and pleading for mercy as Art clutches his belt tightly in his hand, but there's none in her eyes as she smirks at you. The only word she utters is: 'Harder'

RUFF RUFF

no nice cop <///3 just two mean ones. you probably acted really out of line and usually your testing of the rules just irks tashi - arts always been lenient with you - more than willing to coddle you. most of the time. sometimes you do piss him off though -

thinking you probably forgot to check in with either of them because you were flippant enough to let your phone die while you were out with friends. at a club no less. and it's not like you're not allowed to have fun - but they need to know you're safe. you dont update them and arts sick with worry over it - on the verge of wanting to file a missing persons report and pacing back and forth. tashi's more calm, but worry pinches at her too - she knows you probably just had too much to drink and haven't checked your phone but there's always a chance something bad happened -

you don't text them back until the afternoon the next day - and you already know from the clipped way they both respond you're in trouble. arts never short with you - but his 'Okay. Thanks.' when you finally reassure him you're fine makes you swallow nervously. you feel terrible because you know the kind of person he is and you read back to messages he sent you last night while you were black out drunk and the desperation in them.

the sub has a responsibility, too, not just the dom. by the time you're picked up and brought to their home you're near tears and buzzing with the need to be punished yourself, without prompting. you were so bad. part of the deal of being their sub was letting them know your whereabouts and checking in and you'd failed.

you don't expect art to be the one doling out the punishment, though. he's given you spankings before - though always over his lap and by his hands - warm and intimate and more for pleasure than pain.

you want it regardless - maybe even more so because it's art doing it, knowing you'd worried him the most - seeing the hurt in his eyes under the cool gaze. you know he's genuinely angry with you, which is rare. it makes tashi the one you look to with your pleading eyes when you're gripping the comforter in your hands, the sound of arts belt sending a shiver down your spine.

"color?" tashi asks you - and you make yourself sink into the bed and arch your back, offering your ass and showing you know you deserve this.

"green," you whisper. feel art inhale behind you as he nudges your legs apart just a little. you wonder if he knows the best position to be in from receiving these kinds of punishment himself. everything he learned about domming he learned from his wife, after all. being a switch makes him more knowledgeable than either of you - you, a full sub, and tashi, a full dom - he knows how to wield the belt properly and he knows how best for you to take it.

"you know why you're being punished?"

you nod.

"say it."

shame courses through you. "I didn't check in with you when I should have. I made you worry."

"are you sorry?"

"yes."

tashi crosses her legs. jerks her chin, "tell him."

you glance behind you, meet arts eyes. there's a storm brewing in them - he's angry - that left over fear for your safety transferred into all this pent up energy he needs to release. you lick your lips, mean it genuinely when you say - "im sorry -"

the belt is wrapped around his fist - the metal end gripped in his palm - and that's one small mercy - tashi would have had the metal part the part that lashes your skin - she'd draw blood. nothing about it would draw pleasure - just pain. you have no doubt the beating art is about to dole out will hurt - but you're thankful he still cares enough for you at the moment to not want to hurt you too badly.

his gaze flicks up from your waiting ass to meet your eyes - his jaw clenching. "I don't know if you are." he says softly. "but I plan on making you."

your cunt pulses at that - you turn your face back to the bed and have just enough time to breathe in once before the first hit comes.

the belt is leather - and art knows what he's doing.

it stings immediately - so much worse than his palm does - it jolts your body up the bed and leaves the spot where the belt landed burning when he pulls it back. the yelp that leaves your throat is loud but you just curl your fingers into the bed harder - brace yourself for more lashes to come - for alot more burning to happen -

by the first 5, your body is tense and trembling and by 10, you're actively crying. you stop being able to keep count after the double digits - just choking on whimpers with every smack against your bare flesh - and yet everytime your color is asked, you gasp out "green," you know your limits - you can take this. more than that - you want to take it.

even when tashi bites down on her lip and suggests art do it harder - and art obeys - you don't tap out. you very nearly do - feeling like if he hits you just one more time he's going to split your flesh and you'll never heal - never be able to sit comfortably again in your life - but you've had worse - you've taken and survived worse - and despite the pain - your cunt stays throbbing -

it's not fun - it's a punishment - a real one, a correction you'll work hard not to have to endure again - but you do endure.

when it's done - and the belt clatters to the floor and your art comes down and he's kissing the side of your neck and your cheek and turning your head so he can see you, glassy eyed and flushed - "did I do good?" is all you want to know.

he kisses your lax mouth. none of the tenseness he carried before is there anymore - worked out of his body - his hand cards through your hair so gently. "you did amazing, baby." another kiss. "so good. tashi's getting something for the pain now, okay?"

you hum, stretch toward him like a cat and he lets you nuzzle him - you stay on your stomach because you know moving onto your back will just make your ass scream right now - so you rest your head in arts lap as he strokes your hair for you. murmurs about how beautiful you are and how proud of you he is. he's in awe of you, really.

your tears dry up quickly, only to prick back up again when tashi rubs ointment on your tender ass - so fucking sore and her voice is soft when she says "this will help soothe the burning feeling. it's gonna hurt to sit tomorrow, maybe for a couple days. but I'm going to take care of you - we both are."

if there's one positive from having your ass beat it's this - the aftermath. being treated like a utter princess - not like you aren't always spoiled, but they don't let you lift even a finger the next couple days. you spend most of your time in either arts lap - or curled up against tashi - she even gets you a special heating pad for your butt that feels really nice. it aches a little too much to have sex - the bouncing of your ass back against flesh as it smacks would irritate your skin too much, but that doesn't stop art from eating you out so gently it makes you cry - doesn't stop tashi from rubbing your little clit and pressing her favorite vibrator against you - doesn't stop art from rubbing the head of his cock through your folds, telling you all the ways he's gonna fuck you the second you tell him it doesn't hurt anymore -

you might cave a day earlier than you should - just because the ache of your tender ass bouncing on and off arts strong thighs is a kind of pain you adore.

[zbis]

Helloo!! Hope you're doing well! I just saw your post asking for requests on what to write and couldn't help but to take the opportunity😭

What do you think about doing the rest of the legal line on the accidentally ejaculating in your face prompt?? (If not everyone, especially gunwook, ricky and hanbin 😳)

Btw, this is my first time ever doing an ask, love your work!!

ahhh this is super late bc i forgot i had this written but here it is! im glad you enjoy my work btw omg ><

more legal line reaction to accidentally ejaculating on your face (part 2) ; part 1

* ˚ ✦ minors dni : contains smut

hanbin ⍣ ೋ

would be very apologetic. is watching you the whole time with a frustrated expression. probably takes a long time to cum so he likes to watch you to get himself more aroused. once he’s close he’ll curse and buck his hips up into your mouth. he would 100% cover his face as he cums like hand fully over his entire face lol. self indulgent moment here but his moans would be so pretty omfg. when you start choking on his cum he’ll calm down and ask if you’re ok. is genuinely worried bc sometimes he gets really lost and doesn’t know his own limits. speaks so softly?? it’s such a contrast to how rough he can be sometimes.

"o-oh shit- are you ok? lets clean you up hm?" with the sweetest smile on his face omg

ricky ⍣ ೋ

thinks it’s so fucking hot. says things like “im gonna cum” but mumbles it so really it’s on you if you don’t move away. at first it’s a genuine mistake like he doesn’t really mean to come all over your pretty face but oh my god your expression and his translucent white load dripping down your face- it gets him so high. from that moment on, he would literally pump his cum onto your face, not in a degrading way it’s more like “im painting your face” way. calls you pretty and tells you nice praises. “you like having me use you like a canvas ☺️” “my favorite work of art” bites his lip and tries not to smirk bc he knows you’ll get annoyed at him.

you just accidentally unlocked a kink for him honestly.

gunwook ⍣ ೋ

stop he would feel so bad. most likely acts like a mix of matthew and gyuvin. you would be so keen on pleasuring him and he would be so caught up in reaching his high that he doesn’t realize when he cums all over your face. his mouth is all hung open and once he takes a peek of you he’s like “omg omg��. he gets SO RED and embarrassed. literally tries to wipe it away and asks if you’re ok. “sorry i- idk omg”. the moment he wipes it off your lips he gets so silent and his intrusive thought is like “put ur finger in their mouth 😈“ if he does, he would do it so slowly and sensually but like with a curious aura surrounding his actions. would def get turned on again.

he’s definitely shy but once he knows what he likes, you have to be able to keep up with him.

[blueathn]

Obligatory coffee shop au art

Close-ups and ramblings under the cut because I spent waaay too long on this

Welcome to my brain soup.

Disclaimer, I didn’t really plan this piece and just kept adding concepts as I went, so it’s kind of all over the place. It’s more a big patchwork of dumb ideas I got excited over, rather than a well thought-out drawing, but I like it as it is! It feels like my brain did when I was reading htn :]

1. The whole concept behind this is just "Vintage coffee ad but make it the griddlehark coffee shop au". I was aiming for cheerful but also not quite right, in a very stock photo kind of way if that makes sense. Gideon is smiling but she is not a willing participant in this. Also that coffee is cold.

I - very predictably - took inspiration from Leyendecker’s work, since his ads and posters are the first that come to my mind when I think "vintage ad", and also because I do feel like his painting technique is close to how I naturally paint. This is not meant to be a study of his style tho, I didn’t try to break it down on more than a very superficial level.

2. 3. Nothing special to say, just Gideon’s arms (her perfect biceps are hidden from view lest they cause a riot in the cafeteria). Also arm hair. I feel like it’s becoming a recurring feature in my art lol

4. I debated whether or not to add a foam skull on the coffee then ultimately decided against it. That’s one skull too many, and honestly Gideon neither has the skill nor the patience to attempt one. Let’s be real, if they let her have access to the pitcher she’d make tits. So here is your tits-free coffee, courtesy of the Cohort photoshop editors.

5. Isaac, sporting the Fourth’s blue not only in dress but also in his questionnable choice of eye makeup. They have matching haircut only so Jeanne can showcase how much better it looks on her.

6. This is where I finally have something clever-ish to say. Thoughts ! I have them ! Sometimes. So. Harrow. You can’t see it but she has a nose piercing as well - this is relevant to spreading my agenda that Harrow is full of bone (piercings, that is). Sue me, I forgot that they let her keep her face paint in this scene. Onto the actual thought process.

This is where Abigail interrupts the scene, before Harrow can catch a glimpse of barista!Gideon. Her interruption is shown by the unfinished look of this panel : the sketch lines peeking through (in a reddish hue, to mimic sanguine, the red chalk that artists used to draw sketches and studies - and also because the contrast of the colors makes it pop better against her skin) + the rendering is messier from the neck and down.

Abigail is blocking half of Harrow from view - I wanted to have her hide Harrow’s eyes and thus line of sight entirely, but I feared Harrow wouldn’t be as recognizable with more than half her face hidden, frowny eyebrows and all.

Abigail herself is meant to look out of place here, without taking too much attention away from Gideon. I drew her in a much simpler style, using a more monochromatic palette and cell shading, to contrast against the rest of the gang, where I used a lot more color variation and a more detailed & textured painting style.

That’s about all I have on this, if you got this far thank you! Your support is much appreciated. If you liked this drawing I’d be overjoyed if you reblogged it and left your thoughts in the tags/notes! I’m always happy when I read them, even just a "#nice" makes my day.

[blasphemousclaw]

thank you for being so normal about the hornsent 🙏 Thank you cause jesus christ. anyways for the ask ermm The hornsent npc melina or messmer

you’re welcome I just got so attached to the hornsent while playing the dlc! after watching Belurat burn in the story trailer, going into the ruined city in the game and seeing all the graves and mourning spirits really affected me, and I’m honestly shocked that such a huge portion of the fanbase didn’t feel the same way. also they are literally so cool like look at their art and architecture. their armor sets. their divine beast dancing lion. if people can’t enjoy that because they’re “evil” well I have great news. they are not real

anyway here’s capital H Hornsent my best friend Hornsent

• favorite thing about them

how his quest ends with him attacking us no matter what we do. I know I know! it’s so frustrating that we can’t convince him we’re on his side! but the fact that he tries so hard to push us away just makes me love him more! he refuses our second offering of scorpion stew because he isn’t here to make friends, he’s here to win he’s given his life for his revenge... his line “I wish not to friendship kindle” drives me crazy because we have this moment of human connection with him, which he acknowledges, but he can’t let himself lose sight of his purpose! admit it Hornsent. you like me

also his character design and voice acting are fantastic

• least favorite thing about them

I already like how his character is handled but I think it would be even stronger if he or someone else dropped a few more details about life in Belurat before the crusade. he enacts his revenge not just in the name of his murdered family but his entire culture, and it would be nice to learn a few more hornsent cultural details through him!

• favorite line

“What’s this? Do you think me in need of alms? Ah… but this dish. Tis fare o’ the tower. I remember fondly this kin-clad scent. …Brings back memories I’d all but forgot. This, by my troth, is but a dismal copy. Indeed, I think it rather plain to see… things once broken can never be the same.”

I love the scorpion stew interaction so much! “things once broken can never be the same” hits so hard after exploring Belurat and seeing the city’s destruction, and pairing this dialogue with the scorpion stew description is even more tragic: “Traditional meal of the hornsent. Once made with love by a certain elderly woman for the family table.”

• brOTP ОТР whatever this is

Hornsent and Tarnished. what if I could fix him

• nОТР

I don’t think about this at all

• random headcanon

the marks on his face are burn scars from the fires… I think he had hair but it mostly burned off. maybe I’ll draw what I think his face looked like without the limitations of the npc character model sometime

• unpopular opinion

I don’t think he was a greater potentate! I think it’s strongly implied that he lived in Belurat before the crusade, not Bonny Village. I think he sought out the potentates’ caterpillar mask because it’s used to enhance focus and banish feelings of doubt in one’s purpose, which makes perfect sense for his revenge quest

• song i associate with them

once again please leave any suggestions in the replies/tags!!

• favorite picture of them

not to boost my own content but this was hysterical

[orange-demons-deactivated2024]

Chun Li x gn!reader

it was hard to get inspiration for chun li when all the other fics were spicy in content, especially the art for her omg. but here are some relationship hcs. enjoy! art is by kina nishimura. this was an ask, i forgot to link it rip.

You want to ask Chun Li out on a date? How cute. 

Seeing the extent you've proven yourself as a fighter and as her student makes her feel honored. 

But don't think she'll give you special treatment just because you're in a relationship now. It's actually quite the opposite. 

She would expect more out of you if she's giving you private lessons, so don't let her down!

Chun Li also styles her hair in various ways and would let you help her with it, but only if you have delicate hands. She wouldn't want you to be yanking on any knots in her hair. 

It's not rare that she lets her hair down, but a lot of people don't see it. And if you comment on it, she'll give you a little laugh asking if you like it.

She understands when people stare at her hips and thighs because she knows that's what they tend to see when they look at her. But don't go out of your way just to comment on it, cause she doesn't like it when people have things to say about her body.

Chun Li would want you to be at least acquainted with Li Fen before you ever start a relationship with her. 

She's put the past behind her and wants to live a slow life, that's why she settled to teach self-defense to the people in Hong Hu Lu. 

And if you've reached full mastery, she would ask you to help teach Kung Fu alongside her.

Of course, with a little envy from her loyal students. 

Chun Li is getting older, so she wants to at least experience what it's like to have a sense of community.

She's had her fair share of people professing their love to her, but she would always try to turn them down gently.

Being with her opens a Pandora's box that'll make them run off with their tails between their legs. 

And depending on how you ask her out, she'll do the same. 

It wasn't until you caught her one night, on a rare occurrence that she was roaming through Chinatown as she was picking out a gift for Li Fen for her birthday. 

Doing the same, you decided to join her for the night. 

You've been hanging around them for quite some time and she's happy to see that Li Fen has made another friend. So she's glad that you care for her as much as she does. 

Chun Li admits she's been thinking about you often since you've been taking part-time jobs in Hong Hu Lu.

And she's flattered that you go out of your way to visit her even though you're busy with your own stuff.

So she'll give you a chance once you pop the question to her.

She can come off as motherly and protective once she gets into a relationship. 

She also treats people with the respect they deserve and wants to help others as much as she can. 

But as kind as she is, she won't allow it if people ever judge you. Poking fun, she understands but full-on criticism is where she draws the line. 

No one's perfect and everyone has their fair share of scars, so she hates to see others being super judgmental. Especially if they didn't know you. 

You're her precious student and life partner, so of course she'll get a little protective. 

She's also a traditional woman, so she appreciates the domestic lifestyle. Like waking up in the morning next to you and enjoying a cup of tea in the evening sun. 

Working as an Interpol officer gave her more wrinkles and grey hairs than she could count. So it's nice to take things one day at a time. 

Chun Li can help you pick out some clothes if you like. She likes to go to the mall with Li Fen and look for new outfits to add to her collection. 

She would feel the soft fabrics between her fingertips and find the best deals before she tells you to put it on. 

When you do, she says how cute you look, and to give her a little spin. 

Chun Li is the type to share food and will hold out a sample for you to try. And chuckles when you bite down on it because of the way your cheeks puff up. 

On the topic of food, she has a major sweet tooth. So expect to go on dates that consist of trying new dessert spots.

She's also sentimental, so she would like something for you two to wear all the time. Mostly to show that even when you both are apart, you'll still always be together: matching necklaces or promise rings. 

It's cheesy but she loves it.

Chun Li would love to help you with your makeup and paint your nails.

She never has the opportunity to do it with other people besides Li Fen, so she would get excited if you asked her to do so.

Her ideal date is to find a place free from so much background noise, like grabbing a bite to eat at a restaurant or visiting a Peking opera. 

She didn't have many chances to go on dates growing up, so she missed out on certain aspects when experiencing social relationships. 

Even though she doesn't look it, she gets slightly embarrassed when she's put on the spot. For example, when playing the Erhu, she'll only play it for you when there aren't a lot of people around because she's not as confident.

And she gets bashful when you compliment her skills.

Chun Li would give you pecks along your face, starting from your cheek and landing on your lips. 

And behind closed doors, she would wrap her arms around your neck and pull you close to her body when she gave a long passionate kiss. 

Don't get too shy on her now, because this is only the beginning. 

All in all, she's glad to have a companion and a partner to stick by her side through the chaos because it's not something that most people can say they've done.

But you can. And she's happy you do.

You and Li Fen are special to her, and she'll do anything to put your happiness above everything else.

She'll make sure of it.

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Can we have a deeper analysis in Sabo's shape language study please? It's amazing how you make him give different vibes with just his hair and I like to understand how does that work.

Oh. I'm SO glad you asked.

(The Post In Question)

Okay so this isnt the first post ive made about shape language,

Here are the others:

ASL Shapes Strawhats Shapes

i'm just gonna copy and paste the definition i have for shape language from those posts here so i dont have to write it all again.

Shape language is defined as “a concept used in art and animation to communicate meaning based on shapes we are familiar with” (source). This concept uses circles, triangles, and squares to convey an idea of the “personality” of the design without using any words.

In designs, using circles and rounded edges in your silhouette and detailing gives the design a soft and squishy look. They tend to be harmless, approachable, or changeable.

Designs using squares gives the design a solid, sturdy, and strong look. They are supportive, reliable, and inflexible

Lastly, triangle designs are sharp and directional. They are dynamic, dangerous, and unpredictable.

That's base level but here's more in depth description of each design for ya:

this one is up first!

You may notice how in this design, his hair isnt in large clumps like the others are. His hair falls delicately and waves gently with little to no hard angles.

In this design, i was trying to convey the idea of "he wasnt born to fight, but he's molded himself into someone who will." I tried to depict that by making his hair all light and feathery, his facial features soft and rounded, but also showing how he's modified his body in a pointy and aggressive way.

I didn't want to only go hard edges with the piercings though because much like he's strayed from his mold of being delicate, he's also strayed from his mold of being a cruel noble. so some of his piercings are rings, AKA: Circles.

You may also notice the different in how I've drawn the collars of these guys. the collar of this Babo's black coat falls softly, and its' arc is rounded. The shoulders don't have any padding and it rounds at the corner.

This Man Is Round.

Next up is this Freak

This is supposed to be Triangle Him.

His hair is in larger, hard angled clumps. Indicating that he probably cut his hair himself. He did... greattt. I already headcannon him as someone who cuts his own hair, but i dont think this one ever gets any better at it.

The hard angles on his teeth, his scar, his jaw, his collar, that line i forgot to erase on the left, and his coat all give indication that this guy is Dangerous and you probably shouldnt mess with him.

I didn't have any real deeper meaning to this version, I just wanted to make him look as opposing as I could. this guy is "what you see is pretty much what you get."

Even though he doesn't have a lot of deeper meaning, I think this one is my favorite of the designs. I really love these colors on him and his hair was really fun to draw. I think I wanna draw him again at some point. I think this version of him would be very funny paired with Koala. I'm chuckling thinking about it:

Koala and her Armed and On Fire kindergartener

And lastly this guy

Sabo's base design is very rectangle coded. From his Hat, to his face shape, to his coat. So this version was very easy to make as I didn't actually need to change that much!

I think maybe I could've made his design a little more complex? But also I think there is a beauty in simplicity for this one. He looks straightforward, reliable, and kind. He seems like the kind of guy who gets his hands dirty, not because he likes doing it, but because he does what he must for the greater good.

I really love his hazel eyes, too. I think it brings a nice warmth to his design that is really nice.

Additional comments:

I love talking about this stuff. I love designing. I love art. I love drawing so much it's so fun

Everytime I get to sit down and make some funky doodles my brain feels like 🧠🤸🧘🧜🧚🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️🧚💃💃💃💃💃💃

If you got this far thanks for reading :)

I usually have a description for my designs and my choices and stuff and I forgot to do one for this post, it makes me happy to see that it was missed :)

[yuzukult]

crush 03 | jww & oc/reader

title: crush 03 / part of the attacca series pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader/oc (ft. seokmin) rating: 16+ (mentions of sex, but no act of sex) genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, racecar driver!au, mechanic!au wc: 7.4k summary: all he knows are fast rides, drag-strips, and speed ovals until he meets you, someone that’s got his heart racing instead of his car. warnings: explicit language, smoking, suggestive content (but nothing follows through), mentions of sex a/n: sorry i actually finished this weeks ago but forgot to post it.. embarrassinng frfr

This place looks… a bit shady.

The address Wonwoo sends you doesn’t show a brief description on Google Maps as it normally does, and it’s missing a preview picture of what the location is supposed to look like. When you pull up into the driveway, the asphalt fades into a dusted dirt road with cars of all ages, models, and manufacturers that line up against the fencing before you notice a building with an open garage on the opposite side.

That’s where you spot Wonwoo, crouched over in a white tank and torn up black jeans with a soiled rag over his shoulder. The driver’s window of an old Chevy is down, and Wonwoo has his forearms resting against the panel, casually conversing to the operator of the vehicle. He’s… got nice arms. But that’s besides the point.

He taps against the door. “Tell me when you need me to take another look at the ventilator. Should be workin’ this time around, but if not, Imma have to advise you to get ‘nother car.”

At first, you didn’t get to make out the facial features of who was inside. The reflection of the beaming sunlight hitting the front windshield made it arduous to identify the driver, but when she peeks her head out just barely, you could pinpoint the owner of those pearly white teeth anywhere. It’s the cute flag girl that Seokmin took home that one day.

“Why? When I could just keep coming back to you instead?” 

But in lieu of reacting decrepitly to those pretty lashes that brush against her cherry tinted cheekbones like Seokmin does, Wonwoo is a major contrast when he slaps the top of the car with a charming smile. “Sweet, but it’s better to see your mechanic less and not more. Head home now, and only call if something happens to your car.”

With a failed sigh and pout, she waves goodbye to Wonwoo who watches as her car takes off.

Although when his eyes lands on you and your shitty ass Toyota, a show stopping grin tugs on the corners of his mouth. Wonwoo gestures for you to come to where the flag girl was earlier, and part of you feels a bit… special from the way he looks at her then at you. He seems happier, excited, even. 

Why couldn’t Seokmin look at you in that way?

Hopping out of the car, you puff your cheeks. “When I said I’d let you take me on a date, I didn’t think it would be here at your shop.”

“I know girls like you,” he begins, crossing his arms before leaning against the doorframe of the garage. Raising a brow, you’re not sure where he’s going with that, but you remain silent to let him continue. “You probably get asked out often and have the most boring dates. What’s the last date you've been on?”

That required some thinking. Maybe it was that guy you met on Tinder and took you out for a candlelit steak dinner. Or even that one dude who took you to that art gallery.

You don’t respond though because Wonwoo seemed to have wanted to guess himself. 

“Steak? Dim lighting, candles, maybe? Museums? How about even a walk by the river or waterfront, letting the cool breeze hit your face? Bet he tried to get into your pants after, which was why you didn’t call him back.”

That last one got you. You’ve been on that one before too, and had the same scenario happen. “What are you getting at here?”

He leans over to open your door wider, and you step aside. Reaching to pull the tab that pops the hood of your trunk, it only confuses you more on what he’s going to do next. “Well, I wanna be memorable, not some guy you went out with. Imma teach you how to change a flat.”

“I don’t have a flat.”

“Make believe, doll,” he chuckles, slamming your door shut. He walks to the back of your, pushing the trunk up, and his eyes skim the contents of the back. That term of endearment from Wonwoo is a new one, and for some reason, if it came from someone else, you’d be disgusted. But from him? It’s… kind of alluring? “Why you got so much junk in here?”

You flinch, immediately rushing to his side when the memory of what’s in your car comes to mind. “Oh shit, I—”

“Emergency one night stand kit?” He quirks a brow, lifting up a little tote back with the words woven into the canvas fabric. “You don’t look like the type.”

“It was a gift!” you exclaim, heat rushing to your cheeks as you snatch it back from him. “The contents inside don't match what the writing insists the purpose is for, I promise. I don’t do one night stands.”

“I know.” Wonwoo watches you in amusement, adoration swirling in his pools of chocolates he calls eyes. “You're one of those hopeless romantics. It’s taking a lot for you to even come on this date with me.”

You roll your lips in response, avoiding his loving gaze as you shuffle the stuff to make way for the lid of the compartment at the bottom of trunk. “How would you know that?”

“Because I see the way you look at Dokyeom, and it’s kind of the way that I look at you.” You choke on your saliva. Were you really that open of a book? Surely, it was true, but you didn’t think you were that obvious.

Dokyeom. It’s weird how Seokmin is your supposed best friend and yet there was so much about him you didn’t know. There was something underlying that he was hiding, and you want to dig deeper. Who was Dokyeom as this version of himself that he never once shared before? 

You clear your throat, warmth rushing to your cheeks. Wonwoo is rather bold. “Um, so… are you gonna teach me how to change my tire or what?”

Wonwoo knows he caught you in that moment, but he doesn’t pry for more. “Aight, well roll up your sleeves and let’s get our hands dirty, love.”

He shows you the compartment to find the spare and tools, the latch that you’ve always looked over is the one he pulls to expose another layer of your car. Was that what it was for? You sort of just threw your shit on top of it and hoped for the best. 

“Here, you’ll find your spare tire. I highly recommend that you don’t just ride it forever just cause you got it on. It’s a spare, it’s temporary. Don’t ever use it for long, it’s not meant for it.”

There’s a long, metal tool he brings out that resembles a cross. “This is a wrench,” then he grabs an unfamiliar mechanism in the shape of a diamond with a flat top, “the jack,” and finally, he points to the tire that peeks out just barely. “Lastly, the tire. Kinda heavy, but I can help you—”

“I got it,” you state daringly, shoving him to the side. 

He chuckles at your boldness with that look of veneration on his face like you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. “Okay, well, grab that—” Wonwoo gestures at the tire, watching carefully to make sure you don’t hurt yourself, “and just… lay it on the ground. And we’re gonna put the jack under the car.”

Oddly enough, Seokmin never really wanted to teach you how to change a tire. You’ve mentioned it to him once before—you found yourself on the side of the road on a highway, phone up to your ear as you frantically called your best friend to be your knight in shining armor. 

And when he arrived twenty minutes after your cry for help, he slammed the car door behind him with that smug look on his face as he said, “You rang?” 

But that was when he was more reliable.

These days, your calls are missed and you rarely see him as often as you used to. He’s so caught up in his new life, his career, and all the girls that you’ve only become a sliver of importance to him.

Somehow, you end up with a smear mark on your cheek from moving all the equipment around. Wonwoo thinks you’re cute like this; admittingly, you were just a girl he found attractive with an amusing attitude. But that night. That night the two of you exchanged numbers—it was the first time he ever met someone that tugged on his heartstrings in this way. How’d he get looped into talking to a girl over text for hours?

“Like this?” You query, looking up at him from below. The tire lock is fastened onto the lug nut of your rims with a socket wrench in your hand. “So, I just…”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo leans over, hand on yours as he shoves the head of the tire iron to fasten against the lock. “Then you just…” he drifts off, and instead of pushing you aside to do it himself as Seokmin would’ve, he guides you with his movements. Thrusting his weight and yours against the wrench, he turns it multiple times before the first one releases and drops onto the floor with a clank. “The first one is always hard because it’s anti-theft, but the other ones are a bit easier. If you can’t get it out, just… put your hands on the hood of the car and jump on it. Wanna finish it off?”

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.

Getting the lug nuts off was easier than you thought (were they on tight enough to begin with?) The tire tilts over to you, and you’re quick to catch it and set it aside. Wonwoo rolls the spare in your direction, watching as you puff your cheeks with a layer of sweat on your skin. You don’t seem bothered, despite the droplets that stream down the side of your neck, and he sort of expected you to confront him about this being a first date. Who takes a girl to learn how to change a flat for a first date?

Not many guys, that’s for sure.

With Wonwoo, he doesn’t act like a savior. When you’re struggling with pulling the tire off, he doesn’t come in and take over—he asks if you’d want his help, and when you’d reply with ‘no,’ he stays put. 

“Okay, next, you should put the spare where you took off the flat. Then secure it with the nuts, and put the car down with the jack. You should be good to go after you use the wrench to tighten it some more.”

“Hold this for me,” you drop the wrench in his palms and he’s fast in abiding. Aligning the spare tire to the bolts, you mount them by tightening the lug nuts into their initial spots by hand. Finally, stepping back, you lower the vehicle with the jack as he advises, snatching the tool back as he snickers at how focused you’ve become. 

You use all your strength—practically the entirety of your weight impeling into the wrench to secure the bolts in place. With a puff of exhausted air, you shove it back into Wonwoo’s hold. “Okay, done. Check it.”

He eyes you impishly, making his way to the spare that you proudly installed yourself, casually popping the head of the wrench to fit the lugs without much difficulty. Wonwoo does it with ease; everything happens so fluidly, from the way he checks the tightening of the lugs to the kick of the tire to see if it would slip out in any way. Your breath gets caught in your throat, a bit anxious of the results, but when he turns to you with a soft smile, your chest releases the tension.

“Wow, impressive for the first try. You sure you’ve never changed a flat before?”

“Promise,” you cheekily grin back. He’s sort of… cute. He reminds you of those flakey croissant pastries, expectant on the outside that the dish you pair with a cup of coffee would be just buttery. But taking in a bite, the strawberry jam spews from the insides, the fruit preserves leaving a candied taste on the tip of your tongue.

This was just part of the date, you soon learn, because after Wonwoo helps you wash your hands in the sink in his garage, he leads you behind the building where a field of green lies. 

His auto shop was located on the borderlines of the city and the suburbs—just a couple blocks over, if you took a step to the left, you would’ve been on the outskirts of the city lines but one move to the right, you’ll find yourself in the heart of the crowd of skyscrapers. Farther back of the property, the dusty road fades into a green field (well, sorta. It’s got patches, definitely needs some TLC, but you digress), and although it’s not the prettiest with scattered pieces of car junk across the lawn, his setup that he has displayed makes it… cute. He’s got this red and white checkered blanket that lays on the grass, boxes of screws on either corners and a hammer thrown at the other. 

You glance over at Wonwoo.

He’s quick to shove it off the blanket, dropping the wicker basket where the hammer once was. 

“Were you premeditating a murder?”

“If the night doesn’t go well, maybe,” he jokes. “I’m kidding, I had a feeling it was gonna get windy and I didn’t want the two of us spending half the day trying to get the thing to stay still. I did it myself before you came.”

He’s kinda cute.

“I couldn’t dress as nicely, I realized I don’t think I own any pairs of pants without a grease stain on it,” Wonwoo admits apologetically, plopping down on the blanket in his raw hemmed black jeans and the short sleeve button up that he doesn’t bother actually buttoning up. Part of you is tempted to ask him if he bought those jeans like that or if he cut it himself (you think it’s the latter). 

Seokmin always had a thing about his appearance. The cleaner and slicker you seem, the more name brands that decorate your clothing, and the type of vehicle you drive says a lot about you. 

But to Wonwoo, it’s clear that those things don’t matter. 

He’s not rich in terms of the money stashed in his pockets or the digits in his bank account, but his wealth resides within his personality and knowledge. As you slice off a piece of cheese to pair with your cracker and prosciutto off a charcuterie board he attempted to make (you give him props for this as he humbly mentions he gives all the credit to those moms on forum websites posting their recipes), you learn more as to why Wonwoo never went to college—both willingly and unwillingly. And yet, he harbors so much wisdom in terms of cars and racing, earning all your respect that he chose a non-traditional route and remains successful.

You recall that night over the phone how he wished he could go to college, but he doesn’t have the means to. Wonwoo dropped out of high school during his senior year, just months before graduating, and although he didn’t fully explain why, the admiration in your gaze when he mentions he’d gotten his GED several months ago is evident. 

Wonwoo isn’t what you’re used to; growing up, it was established that you were to meet a man with a bachelor’s degree, and the bonus is if he obtains a master’s. When your hands are stained, whether it be grease from the stove, oil from a car, flour from dough, or paint off a canvas, it’s recognized as a labor intensive job and the more physical work you do, the less intelligent you are.

This was not the case. 

Admittingly, he doesn’t know anything about kinematics or conservation of energy, but he knows what to do when your carburetor is failing or if your water pump leaks. Analyzing the works of Shakespeare or reading a novel without dozing off wasn’t quite his forte, but he’s better in other fields and there’s so much admiration for that. “I like jobs that give back to society,” he said that night, and it gifts you the perspective that there is more to the world beyond being employed at a corporate company. Wonwoo sets a different standard for you, but even on a sweet date like this where he’s pouring a glass of moscato for you as you watch the sun setting in the horizon… you can’t help but let your thoughts flood with Seokmin once again. 

When Wonwoo’s eyes curl into moon crescents with a laugh so buttery and deep, you discern a lot more clearly how much Seokmin has a hold on you. A great guy sits before you and you can’t get your head unwrapped from Lee Seokmin.

“When’d you get into racing?” You ask, deciding that maybe if you get to know him better, you’d stop thinking about the guy who’d rather be at a rooftop bar downtown with a girl he just met fifteen minutes ago. “I’ve never seen you at any of the tournaments.”

“Mmm,” he hums, brushing his hands off each other from the crumbs. “About a month before that cup. One of the sponsors of the stadium saw me racin’ on the streets a couple months ago. Once he found my name, he got me a competitor’s license and forced me on the track. Said somethin’ like he’d help me pay for everything, including two months of mortgage on my shop.” Wonwoo shrugs, reaching over to grab another cracker from the bag. “Two months is a lot. Plus, if he’s paying for everything else and all I needed was a crew, not a big deal. It’s really just a money game.”

You purse your lips. “Any reason for him to want you to race?”

“It’s probably gettin’ boring watching Dokyeom win all the time.”

Oh. You never really thought of it like that. “But he won the circuit,” you clarify. “I don’t get it.”

He grabs a handful of the crackers and lays it across the wooden board for you, adjusting himself on the picnic blanket as he tilts his head to the side. “Yea, but I also came in second with milliseconds on the clock. Not to mention that this is the first of the series–I think they just want somethin’ new to the competition ‘cause there hasn’t been any fresh meat lately. Or, if there are any, they ‘un really last.”

You quirk a brow. “You’re not fresh meat–you raced on the streets.”

Wonwoo winks playfully. “You know that, but they don’t.”

There’s a lot to unpack–the recruiting of Wonwoo into an industry that he didn’t really see himself in, only to be lured to race with a bribe because it was getting boring to watch Seokmin win so frequently? You have a never ending list of questions, ones that Wonwoo couldn’t necessarily answer, but one you were suspicious enough to keep digging. But when Wonwoo lifts the honey dipper made of turned wood to collect the honey from the jar and onto your chunk of cheese, he says one last thing that erases all your curiosity.

“Dokyeom almost got a monopoly on stock car racing. No new consistent racers in the past two years entering this category, instead they’re headin’ off to Formula 1 or drag. They’re losing all potential new money ‘cause there’s nobody that can match his potential. Thinkin’ that the guy just wanted me there to get the ball rollin, let people know that it’s not impossible to beat the Lee Seokmin.”

Popping the piece of parmesan into your mouth, you roll your lips. “Well, you didn’t beat him either,” you tease, and he rolls his eyes with a smile tugging on the edges of his lips. He’s got the same sense of humor as you do, and he makes it a little hard not to get enticed by his charms. “So what of it?”

“I didn’t have to beat him, I just had to get close enough,” he grins. “Why? Are you not impressed that I didn’t beat him?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Mm,” he nods slowly while feigning a frown. “Damn. Should’ve told me earlier, maybe I would’ve actually tried beating him then.”

How did this conversation end up looping right back into Seokmin when you asked to distract yourself from him?

“Do… Do you even like racing, Wonwoo?”

“Honestly?” he glances over at you before looking back at the sunset. The hues of warmth that radiate the ordinary star is a pretty sight as it shines on his face, and it’s evident why he’s enamored by many. “No. I like cars, and I love the speed, but I prefer being under the hood than behind the wheel. Knowing how the gears turn and what’s the reason for the black smoke and why your car stutters is more appealing to me than burning rubber on asphalt.”

“Hm,” you hum, remaining silent to bask in the fresh air. You say it often, but Wonwoo is…different. He indulges in the present moments in life; he doesn’t dwell on the past, in fact, he embraces it and learns from it. The type of person that travels with a loose agenda, a couple locations and hot spots in mind to touch, but never abiding by what’s written as if it’s set in stone. 

He’s carefree. Flowing like linens hanging dry on the clothesline on a warm, breezy day.

“And what about you?” he asks, those chocolate swirling orbs just full of adoration and interest. Wonwoo looks at you in a way that you could only dream for Seokmin to do the same, but he’s slowly easing you into the idea of it being someone else. “Do you like cars? Racing?”

“Have you seen my car?” you laugh, quirking a brow. “To me, a car is just something that takes you from point A to point B. Otherwise, it means nothing to me.”

“Funny, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Tilting your head to the side, it’s your turn to gaze at him with intrigue. 

“You just… see cars differently than I do,” he says with a soft smile. “It’s not bad, but it holds so many meanings for me, left core memories, and for you, you blatantly say that it’s a means of transportation.”

You feel bad for saying it like that but… it is just a car.

“It may seem like just a car,” he begins, and you think for a second that he reads your mind. “But every meaningful moment in my life had a car involved in it.”

Maybe Wonwoo has a point—it’s like how some people just view a croissant as just a flaky pastry you could have with coffee in the mornings or tea in the afternoons. But others, the aroma of freshly baked croissants imbues the kitchen, creating a wave of nostalgia sweeping over them. The residual butter left on their fingertips when they tear into the crisp, crescent shaped pastry is a sign that it’s been made with the utmost love, just as their elder relatives baked it.

“Do you have something like that?” It’s… a good question. Truthfully, you’ve never thought about that before, and maybe it’s from the way you live your life, but you’ve hardly stopped and just immersed yourself within a moment. “I… I don’t think I do. I’ve been so caught up in preparing for what’s next that it’s never crossed my mind.”

“Well,” he begins, taking a bite from a cracker. “Let that be something you figure out before the next time we meet.”

You quirk a brow in amusement. “You’re already thinking about another date?”

“Aren’t you?” He mimics your expression. “I thought you’re always thinking one step again. Unless, you don’t view me in that way and decide that there wouldn’t be a next time?”

There is definitely a next time. 

Actually, there ends up being a lot of “next times.”

In fact, meeting with Wonwoo has become a routine. 

There’s excitement that runs through your veins, similar to the adrenaline rush that Seokmin raves on about when he races, except this is simply because of your eagerness to see Wonwoo after work. Once the clock strikes five, your bag is already slung over your shoulder with the door shut behind you.

Some nights, you find yourself drowning in projects with deadlines, stuck in the four walls of your office that feel like they’re closing in. It’s suffocating—spending more than the required eight hours in what feels like an enclosed space, wishing that you could be anywhere else but there.

That is, until you and Wonwoo grew closer.

You never thought of yourself as someone who would find comfort in the sound of tools clanging against each other or on the concrete ground. Wonwoo likes to blast a mixtape he made back in high school—which basically was just a list of songs that you’d know the lyrics to because you used to have it on full volume with your whole emo getup back in your rebellious and angsty teenage years.

When you started to spend more time in his shop, he made a note to build a make-shift desk for you–yes, it was basically a tool cart with a long piece of a wood plank, but with the wheels locked, a swivel chair he used to run reports at his shitty computer (that was also on another tool cart) and a lamp he bought from Walmart (it has a pink base, he thought you’d like that), it felt welcoming. After a long day at the office with work still not done, this change of scenery is nice, especially since Wonwoo makes it crystal clear that he wants your company.

Some days are more uneventful than others, but nonetheless, they’re nice. You liked the calmness–there was something soothing about that roar of the engine when Wonwoo would lean into the open window to turn the key in the ignition for a test run.

Today, though, falls a bit outside of that placid routine.

You drop by, mostly because you’re bored and you don’t want to be alone in your apartment, plus it’s almost guaranteed that Wonwoo would be at the car shop (well, also because his place is literally… connected to it. You opened the wrong door trying to find the bathroom once, only to see this huge backroom that looked like a loft. Wonwoo loves work so much that he lives in it).

As you enter the garage, eyes glued to the screen of your phone, your car keys dangle from your fingers as you’re tapping away. “Do you wanna order dinner? I heard there’s this Chinese place a couple blocks down–they deliver so we can just call–”

“Ehem,” Wonwoo clears his throat, arms crossed over his chest. Attention now on him, that’s when you notice the other four men in the shop, casually sitting on the couch, leaning on a car, and standing beside Wonwoo. “Um, so these are my friends.”

Friends. Wonwoo introduces you to them; Mingyu, Minghao, Seungcheol and Vernon are their names, and from what you recall, they seem to have been the same guys that were on his crew back at the track. They’re all car guys, you learn, knowing Wonwoo from way back and it makes you wonder if they knew Seokmin–or well, Dokyeom–at the time but you don’t probe for more. If Seokmin wants to remain mysterious, then he can stay that way.

“So,” Mingyu, who is definitely over 6-feet tall, begins cheekily, pushing himself off the car. “Are you the reason why Wonwoo won’t come out with us to drink? We’ve been asking him for the past month to come out and he keeps giving us bullshit excuses.”

You blink blankly. Was… Wonwoo turning them down to see you?

“I’m sorry,” you turn to stare at Wonwoo for a brief moment before turning back to Mingyu. “Was… Was he doing that? I didn’t even know.”

“He must like you,” Seungcheol chimes in, snickering as Wonwoo smacks Seungcheol’s chest with the back of his hand. “What! I’m just sayin’. You never reject us. Except for that one time your mom came into town, but other than that, you’re basically always comin’ with us. Did a surprise drop by… lo’ and behold. Jeon here's got a girlie.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes as he twists around to snatch a carton of cigarettes off the shelf of his supplies. “You came for the cigs, bro. Stop saying shit. You’re gon’ scare her.”

“Ohhhh,” Minghao chimes in teasingly. “So you care about what she thinks of you–thinks of us. That’s cute,” he hops up from the couch before coming over to you. “If Jeon gives you a hard time…” with a wink, he then gestures to the other boys to follow. “Just lemme know. Or any of them. We’ll be back around, so we’ll catch you later. Nice to meet you, cutie.”

When they leave, you’re left alone with Wonwoo once again.

“Am I holding you back?”

Wonwoo stares at you blankly with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the red tool cart roller. “Holding me back from what?”

You shrug, putting down your phone onto the make-shift coffee table (it’s just a creeper parked on a cardboard box). “I don’t know. They made it seem that way—I mean, we’re not really dating, so I feel bad if I’m… holding you back from anything. You should see your friends—whether or not we are together.”

“I can make that decision for myself,” Wonwoo shoots back, pushing himself up as he makes his way to the car in the garage. “They’ll see me around, not a big deal. And yeah, I’m down for Chinese. You tryna get me the vegetable lo mein?”

You eye him carefully. The thing with Wonwoo versus Seokmin is that he says it straight up—no hesitation, no crazy maze where you need to probe for clues to reach the end, and he doesn’t expect you to figure him out in a heartbeat. Wonwoo inspects your actions, and if you give it away that you don’t understand, he’s transparent with how he answers.

Wonwoo doesn’t feel like the game of cat and mouse.

“Do you want to share sweet and sour chicken and maybe some wings?”

“Of course. And make sure they have Coca Cola—not Pepsi.”

When you’re both sitting on his secondhand couch of the garage, utilizing one of the ULINE tool cabinets as a more sturdy table, there’s boxes of Chinese food that’s sprinkled all across. His carton of lo mein is now empty, remnants of the grease left on the sides with bits of bean sprouts too small to grab with his chopsticks and the bones of the chicken wings are left on those crappy napkins that you’d find in fast food joints and coffee shops, saturated in the oils and probably leaving marks on the cart. Wonwoo eats fast but he always stays seated until you finish your meal despite being done his.

He used to keep his garage cold, the overhead rolling door made of metal and not including much insulation from the weather outside, but ever since you’ve kept him company more frequently, he’s installed some ceiling mounted unit heater to keep the area warm. The humming of the machine is what breaks the silence between the two of you, but Wonwoo doesn’t fail to bring it up, nonetheless.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brows furrowed in confusion. “You usually are babbling about your day right about now. Didn’t you and Sunny go shopping yesterday? She didn’t spill any gossip?”

You roll your lips. Are you normally that talkative around him? And if so, are you really that comfortable?

“Um, yeah, we did,” you begin, placing down your carton of rice. “And sorta. Not really. Mostly complained about work.”

He makes a sound by sucking in his teeth before sitting up to rest his elbows on his knees. “Alright, what’s up? Tell me.”

Normally, you’d just… tell the other person to let it go. Even with Seokmin, when he pries, you’re quick on your feet to tell him to ‘not worry about it’ and that ‘this unreasonable feeling will pass eventually.’

But Wonwoo is great at breaking barriers that you never thought you’d do.

Placing down your chopsticks, you let out a sigh along with the drop of your shoulders. “Okay, okay. I just feel bad. We’re not official—and that’s entirely on me, and I really do enjoy spending time with you—whatever this may be—but I also don’t want to be the one to hold you back on things like going out with your friends, meeting other girls, or just… I don’t know. Seeing those guys just made me think of that. I know that you might like me and—”

“Mm, hush.”

You blink blankly.

“Listen,” Wonwoo begins, hands together stiffly in semblance to this situation. “That’s on me too, right? I don’t think you’re leading me on, in fact, I think you’re establishing boundaries—like you are now. I went on a date with you, and it didn’t work. So be it. But—let’s make this clear, we are friends. I’m good with you coming over here whenever you want. And yea, I do like you. You gimme a lot of reasons to, but that don’t mean we can’t be friends. And if it makes you feel any better, I do hang with ‘em, they’re just bein’ dramatic because I spend my weekdays with you the most.”

“Oh,” you reply doltishly. “I didn’t think of it like that.”

“Well, start,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Look, I know that you and Seokmin have these unspoken feelings and I’d rather you resolve them if you decide to take anything further. I’m cool with just chillin’ as friends, and we’re not doing anything wrong by it. I just may be a lil’ sweeter for you is all, only cause I got a crush. But my feelings aren’t hurt by it.”

This is… different.

Although you constantly say that Seokmin and Wonwoo are opposites (well, duh, they’re not the same person), it’s almost become repetitive and annoying how frequent you come to these “realizations.” Wonwoo has evidently seen a lot in his life, endured a lot, and due to that, he’s… emotionally mature. 

As for Seokmin—well, need you say more?

Somehow, the end of the evening isn’t awkward. He makes you laugh with a story about how a client came over, exclaiming on the top of their lungs how the backseat wouldn’t prop itself up, only for Wonwoo to find the seat belt covering the opening that holds it up. Although it was very tempting to smack a $300 invoice to his customer, he chose the better route of just telling them upfront what the issue was.

Although he’s understanding, prioritizing the friendship he’s created with you, he doesn’t make it hard to consider him as more than a friend.

“Well, you look giddy.”

“Hmm?” You respond dumbly, looking up from your phone full of texts. Wonwoo ended up feeling bad that his friends thought he’d been neglecting them, so he agreed to go to a bar tonight with them and maybe hit a club afterwards–but that doesn’t stop him from constantly messaging you. “Me? Or Sunny?”

P flicks your hand. “You, you idiot.”

“Oh.”

Sunny snorts in amusement, placing another strip of meat onto the grill. It sizzles from the impact of heat and the fat content of the beef, steam filling the air for a brief second before the ventilator sucks it up. “You didn’t tell us about that date with Wonwoo. You dodged all the texts in our group chat.”

You shrug, grabbing the spare tongs to help Sunny add more meat onto the grate. “Um, because it’s kind of weird.”

P raises a brow. “And how is it weird? Was he strange?”

Sunny’s attention is off of cooking now, diverting toward you. “OMG. Did we make you go on a date with a weirdo?”

You glance over at the two. “Wait-what?” Pretending to resume to the grill, you poke a couple of the raw pieces that lay across with another set of tongs. “No, no. He… He’s honestly great. I haven’t felt that connection with someone in a while–he taught me how to install a spare tire–”

P blinks blankly. “He taught you how to change your spare? What kind of date is that?”

And for a moment, a wash of judgment appears across Sunny’s face but it softens when she finally realizes. “... Because you told him that Seokmin promised to come and “save the day,” didn’t you? Then Wonwoo probably thought for a first date idea… teaching you how to change a spare…”

Then it clicks for P; her shoulders loosen and fall when she’s aware of the meaning behind the date. “He… didn’t want you to depend on Seokmin anymore.”

Sunny frowns, flipping over the meat on the grill. “If that’s the reason… Why’s that weird? Sounds sweet. If anything, I kinda give him props for that. Did he at least take you out to dinner?”

You chew on your bottom lip. “Well, he made a whole picnic basket.”

Both Sunny and P glare at you. “And what’s wrong with that?”

“He’s… not Seokmin.”

Gross. It sounds pathetic leaving from your mouth.

The looks that Sunny and P give you are full of pity. How could you be so weak for a guy that doesn’t even respect you enough to hide when he has flings? Someone who claims that they’re yours, but they spent most of their time pursuing anyone but you. It’s a constant recurring thought, and the reminders are always smacking you in the face and yet, you’re here, sitting in front of your two best friends after going on a date with someone who could potentially give you the world and more yet Seokmin still remains on your mind.

“Listen,” P begins, placing down her chopsticks by the side of her plate. Sunny clears off the grill and lowers the fire, mimicking P’s actions with her tongs. “Sunny and I talked about this, and we realized that yes, although we really don’t support this unrequited love between you and Seokmin, it’s still your life and your choices to make. We want you to know that we’re by your side, and behind you through it all, even if you end up with Seokmin, but we’ll say this one last time.”

“We think you should move on, love.” 

Your phone lights up beside you, Wonwoo’s name on display with the preview of his text. He asks if you like mint chocolate, a debate that he and his friends have had since God knows when, and it may determine if he wants to keep chasing you. When you unlock the phone, Seokmin’s chat is pinned to the top with your message being the most recent and sent two days ago. He just… disregarded the picture you shared of the two of you in college, his arm over your shoulders with smiles stretched across your faces.

“It’s… It’s hard,” you admit, and this time, it feels like the weight on your chest releases. “I think… I’d already had this idea that he and I would end up together engraved in my brain that I can’t seem to let go.”

“Well, how about this? You at least keep giving Wonwoo a shot if he does make you happy or if you’re even remotely interested. He seems sweet, and he also seems to know where you stand with Seokmin, which makes it easier to not have to explain to him the situation.”

You roll your lips. “I–Okay.”

Just then, your screen lights up again. Speaking of the Devil.

Wonwoo [11:54PM]: You can hold off on that political question for later. Since you’re still awake… my other friends wanna meet you. Wanna come out and grab a bite w us?

Quickly, you show your phone to the girls.

“Fuck yeah, tell them to come here,” P nearly shouts, and you hush her. “Forreal, give Wonwoo the address. We’ll get more chairs–switch tables if we gotta. I’m tryna see him in person.”

Sunny starts touching up on her makeup in her compatible mirror. “Get them to come! It shouldn’t be too far from where they are, right?”

It wasn’t.

In fact, Wonwoo and his friends were a couple blocks down–when you sent him the text of where you and your friends are, he eagerly sent a screenshot of Google Maps to show how close he was. 

When they walk into the BBQ joint, it’s very hard to miss them. For one, you spot familiar faces—Mingyu, Minghao, Seungcheol and Vernon from the shop, followed by three other guys you never met personally before, but you remember them from Wonwoo’s pit before the tournament. It makes you wonder—did he just hire all his friends to be his pit crew members? And if he did, that’s… impressive. You don’t think you could name any of Seokmin’s friends that would spend their Saturday rushing to change his tires—not to mention that they probably aren’t even trained to do it.

Then, you spot Wonwoo. He pushes through the group, shuffling to see where you are, and when your eyes meet, his smile doesn’t fail to stretch across from ear to ear. 

“Hey,” he says breathily, probably from all the shoving. “It’s… Good to see you. Kinda thought you were avoiding me after the mint chocolate question. It can be a touchy subject for some people.”

You let out a laugh; it’s so genuine and warm when it releases from your chest that it causes both P and Sunny to raise a brow at you before glancing at each other.

You’re different around him.

It’s so clear to both your best friends why Wonwoo is the choice you should make, and you’re displaying it right now. The comfortable body language, the laugh, and how you introduce them to him without any nerves. He’s so sweet when he offers to cook (only for one of his other friends to snatch the tongs from him with a hiss to take over, it’s still the thought and attempt that counts).

Wonwoo takes the seat next to you. Of course he does, he likes you, but there’s something inside of you that has trouble with swallowing that information. And truthfully? It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy his company or want to reject his feelings—if anything, you’ve caught yourself imagining the what-ifs. 

Then, Seokmin’s face shows up in those fantasies.

It’s a reminder of why you need a remedy for your lovesick symptoms, mostly because if a guy like Wonwoo is here with his rowdy friends, unable to keep his eyes that are full of adoration for you, then why would you waste your time with someone else right here?

You could… You could see yourself falling for Wonwoo. It’ll take time, that’s for sure, but you don’t think it’s impossible.

“How do you like your steak?” He asks, tongs in hand as he turns his head away from the grill to look at you. “Medium? Fully cooked?”

“Medium rare,” you answer, and Wonwoo serves you first before kindly asking the same question to your friends. P and Sunny are impressed, rolling their lips to suppress their giggles and teasing, wiggling their brows in your direction. 

“So,” P begins, putting down her chopsticks. “We heard you’re a racecar driver.”

He chuckles, rubbing his nape awkwardly. “I–I wouldn’t necessarily say that. Was a temp thing.”

Seungcheol nudges Wonwoo. “Don’t act all humble. It’s aight to say it, you’re a racecar driver now. You got to compete with Kyeomie, I’d say you deserve the title.” He winks teasingly, but you know he says it to give Wonwoo the push he needs. Seungcheol naturally leads their group of friends; you’ve seen him gesture to Mingyu to grab the tongs and start cooking when he sees plates empty, tell Minghao to ask the server for more drinks when the liquid in the glasses get low, and even just now, when he encourages Wonwoo to be a little bolder. Wonwoo’s pit crew wasn’t just his “pit crew”... they’re his friends. You admire that.

The night runs smoothly. P and Sunny are so impressed and smitten with Wonwoo, constantly encouraging you to make moves on him. Quite frankly, you even… forgot about Seokmin for a moment.

That is, until your eye catches him entering the restaurant.

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[mirikitakato]

[Translation] Skits of "Our magical party wiz you" and the staged reading ""A Mixer After the Mission"

Good day, everyone! I have translated the skits and the staged reading from the “Our magical party wiz you!” (Mahoawa) event on January 28-29th, 2024. It took me a while, and this is not the full translation for the 2-hour show. There are also Q&A activities involving seiyuus and some additional skits with characters. However, I translated all the skits featuring CaiOwe and the 20-minute main skit "A Mixer After the Mission" written by the devil Tsushimi Bunta!

Please feel free to share the link to the translation or screencap it to react.

Characters: Oz, Arthur, Mithra, Rutile, Cain, Owen, Snow

(The Day’s skit)

Owen: Hey, are you kidding me?

Mithra: That's my line.

Cain: Hey there, you two. Let's not start off on such a tense note, alright? What's going on?

Mithra: The thing I just had for lunch is called Napolitan pasta. This guy has more bacon in his bowl than mine, not fair at all.

Cain: More bacon? How nice!

Owen: That's not nice, comparing to that pudding he has. Mithra's pudding is bigger than mine.

Mithra: Obviously, because I eat faster than you.

Owen: You were just eating everything randomly, weren't you? Ah, I feel sorry for that pudding, being eaten by someone like you.

Mithra: So you're not giving up? How unsightly.

Owen: Hah? You want to die?

Mithra: Just what I want.

Owen: Cuore Memini–

Mithra: Athrim—

Cain: Wait, hold on!! Let's not start a fight out of nowhere! You'll wreck the place.

Rutile: Ah, how about this? Since we're in a theater, why not have a competition fitting this place?

Mithra: A competition fitting this place?

Rutile: Let's have the spirits of this land as judges. Since they love singing and art, we could have a poetry competition. What do you think, dear spirits? (The audience applauds)

Rutile: Thank you.

Mithra: Well, okay. I'm the strongest at writing poems.

Owen: I won't go along with your ridiculousness. Such a stupid game.

Mithra: Oh? Is it because you don’t have confidence?

Owen: Aren't you just led by the nose?

Cain: Please don't start a new round of quarrels, guys. Owen, if you're not interested…

Owen: Fine, I'll participate. With Mithra's brain, my victory is assured.

Sir Knight, let's start quickly *kick*

Cain: Ouch! Why did you suddenly kick me?!

The theme is “Winter”. Owen, you first!

Owen: Eh? Me?

Cain: 321, GO!

Owen: The…the winter sun…on top of the sky…turns into…a frozen white jade…

Rutile: Wow, what a beautiful imagery!

Owen: On the snow field…there's…a fluffy dog…but his fur sheds…and vanishes with the wind…

Cain: Ahhh, he was so fluffy, though.

Mithra: That's it? Well, no surprise that you're at this level

Rutile: But the first part was great! I couldn't have come up with “frozen sun”!

Cain: I also love fluffy dogs, they’re like winter. When you see your dog getting shaggy, you know winter's here. It's a shame his fur fell out.

Owen: Oh, you like that? Then why don't I turn you into a big hairless dog and throw you into an extremely cold place where it snows all the time?

Cain: Why do you come up with words to insult me so easily?!

Cain: Next theme is “Northern Wizards”. 321, GO!

Mithra: On the snow field…there is a fluffy dog.

Owen: Wait, don't copy me.

Cain: It’s even the same dog.

Mithra: Standing there is a creature more majestic than a dog, a huge crocodile... and the strongest and most fearsome, me...

Mithra: Hmmm, sounds weird. Rutile, you are up.

Rutile: Huh!? Uh...if you step on the shadow...

Owen: Hey hey, it'd be cheating to ask others for help, wouldn't it? Rutile, don't say more.

Rutile: I'm...I'm sorry. I can't resist answering when someone asks me...

Mithra: Huh? Is there a rule against asking others?

Cain: Well...no, there isn't. Sorry, I forgot to set rules. But I trust the spirits (audience) will judge fairly. Let's hear Rutile's first.

Rutile: Yes! Owen's expression was particularly poetic, and Mithra was great at involving others.

Cain: I see. Both had unique elements in their poems. What do the spirits think?

(The audience applauds)

Cain: I see. Congratulations, Owen and Mithra, you share the victory!

Rutile: Congratulations!

Mithra: Winning was too easy. Poetry seems like child's play.

Owen: You just won without a fight. Let's start over.

Cain: The spirits seem pleased, making the atmosphere livelier and more energetic here.

Owen: That means…

Mithra: Then...

Owen/Mithra: *fighting each other* Cuore Memini/Arthim!

(The Night’s skit)

Snow: You're back too. Just walking around, not bothering anyone and not killing anyone?

Owen: You think I'm Mithra? I don't do those things. *sound of chewing*

Cain: What are you eating?

Owen: Dango from a nearby stall. It's right over there, by the red gate.

Snow: You're right, it smells sweet and delicious.

Cain: I noticed it too when I passed by earlier today. But I was so full that I couldn't eat anymore, so I didn't buy any.

Owen: Because you had too much Napolitan pasta, didn’t you? What a glutton, ordering such a large portion.

Cain: I couldn't help it! It was so delicious. After that, I walked around the streets with Rutile for a long time and started feeling hungry again.

Hey, give me one.

Owen: The song of hot dango.

Cain: What?

Owen: If you want one, sing. This is a payback for making me do weird things during the day.

Cain: Are you still holding a grudge over that...? Eh…Impromptu singing? I've never done that without a drink...

Snow: How about this? They also sell hot drinks near the red gate. It's slightly sweet and tastes a bit like wine, but it's actually non-alcoholic.

Cain: Thanks. Ohhh, it smells good. Now this can set the mood I need...

Owen: Cuore Morito

Cain: Ugh!?

Snow: Owen!? What did you--

Cain: ....He he he...there...is a pile of hot dango...~

Snow: Cain!?

Cain: Dango dango~~ Taran taran tan tan~

Owen: He's started drunken dancing and singing now. How clumsy and amusing.

Snow: Dear! Did you cast a spell on Cain? That kid took just a sip and he's already drunk.

Cain: Ha, ha ha...Let's take off our clothes to dance and sing, everyone...

Owen: Do it, do it~

Snow: Wah!!! Wait--! Noscomnia!

Cain: What just happened?

Owen: What, we were just getting to the good part.

Snow: Phew, that was close. Are you okay, dear? You were only dancing and singing, don’t worry.

Cain: I can’t remember…..But then that means I fulfilled Owen’s request?

Owen: Well, you could say that. Here, I'll give you a dango, catch it. *throw it away*

Cain: Ah! Hey, don’t just toss dango around like that!

The staged reading "A Mixer After the Mission" written by Tsushimi Bunta

Arthur: Look, Lord Oz, there are fireworks lighting up the sunset sky.

Oz: Indeed.

Rutile: It seems people are setting off fireworks to celebrate the resolution of the recent event. How beautiful.

Cain: Strange occurrences took place at Granvelle Castle. Although very dangerous and tricky, fortunately, we managed to solve them successfully.

Snow: That's right, the people on the street are also very happy. Beautiful music is coming from the square, it feels delightful.

Oz: Indeed.

Snow: Ah, dear Oz, the young wizards are all very happy now. You should sometimes respond to them with something more enthusiastic, like "Wow! That's fantastic!"

Arthur: Just watching the fireworks with Lord Oz makes me happy enough. And is this music the same as the one played during the inauguration ceremony?

Cain: Yes, the sound of fireworks, the music from that day, and the laughter of the people. Just hearing them makes me feel like I've been transported back to the day of the inauguration ceremony.

Arthur: The sages and their wizards gathered on the terrace of Granville Castle and waved many times to the people.

Rutile: After that, a lot of things really happened. Time has really flown by since then. Being able to become so close to Lord Arthur, Uncle Mithra, and others is like a dream.

Speaking of which, where are Uncle Mithra and Mr. Owen?

Cain: Hmm? Oh, I don't see them either. Weird, they were with us just a moment ago.

Snow: Maybe they went to confirm "The Legendary Wind Passage"?

Arthur: What is "The Legendary Wind Passage"?

Snow: The land in this area is blessed by the wind spirit, thus strong winds blow sometimes. The most famous one is a passage where there are always violent storms. It is said that only the strongest wizard can pass through this legendary passage.

Arthur: So it’s the strongest passage?

Snow: Exactly, the strongest passage, literally as the words imply.

Cain: I'm pretty sure those two are competing to see who can fly through that passage faster.

Rutile: I am very confident in my broom-flying skills and would like to participate too...

Mithra: Arhtim

Arthur: They're back. Welcome back, Mr. Mithra, Mr. Owen.

Mithra: We're back.

Owen: Ugh, that was the worst.

Mithra: Oz, it is said that only the strongest wizard can pass through the wind passage - the strongest path, and I have conquered it. In other words, I'm the strongest. Your strongest throne has been taken away by me. How about that? Don't you want to say something?

Oz: Wow, that's fantastic.

Mithra: Huh?

Oz: Wow, that's fantastic.

Mithra: What's that?

Oz: Wow, that's—

Mithra: Shut up, you're noisy.

Arthur: Lord Oz, your level of agreement is truly superb.

Speaking of celebration, it seems that Lord Oz, Mr. Mithra, and Mr. Owen have never participated in a mixer.

Oz: Mixer?

Arthur: A mixer is to celebrate an encounter. If possible, how about holding one now? I feel a bit regretful not being able to join the social gathering with Lord Oz and others.

I also want to plan a mixer for 22 people including the Sage.

But now that we are here, how about practicing this bonding event in advance?

Mithra: Interesting, I want to join this thing called a mixer or something

Arthur: Thank you, Mr. Mithra.

How about Lord Oz?

Oz: Yes.

Arthur: Thank you so much!

How about Owen?

Owen: I won't. It's boring.

Cain: Don't say that.

If we sit face to face in a social gathering, we can understand each other better and maybe become closer.

Owen: When did I say I want to get along with you?

Cain: I want to get along well with you.

Owen: I don't want to. As if I would go.

Cain: Uhmm okay, that's good then! I actually don't want to get along with you either, but I have to do this because my lord is here. Lucky for me that you refused me first.

Owen: Oh? So you actually don't want to get along with me?

Cain: Yeah, why should I want to get along with you? You took my eyeball.

Owen: Ha ha, what a pitiful Sir Knight.

Owen: Then I will reluctantly join this mixer. Let's get close to each other, shall we?

Cain: Is that so?! Thank you, Owen!

Owen: Huh?

Cain: That's good for you, Arthur.

Owen: What does this mean?

Cain: Everyone, let's join in the fun!

Owen: Hey? Hey!

Arthur: I see!

Speaking of which, the Sage told me once…in mixer, people are supposed to have some special events.

Rutile: Special events?

Mithra: No matter what those are, it’s not a problem for me

Arthur: I don't know the specific details. Let's try to find out.

Rutile: I think I have an idea! (Rutile starts singing)

Rutile: Why do you want to drink? Why do you want to drink? Because you want to drink, so you drink!

(T/n: He is singing a parody of なんで持ってんの, a japanese drinking song)

Arthur: *confused voice* W-what song is that?

Rutile: This is the kind of song everyone sings at the beginning of a mixer.

Cain: Somehow, it feels like I’ve heard it somewhere before.

Rutile: Really? I created this song, though.

Cain: Really? But it sounds a bit familiar… Anyway, since we have songs, there should also be dances, right? Like dancing in pairs at a ball.

Arthur: That sounds appropriate! Perfect for social occasions to celebrate new encounters.

Owen: So how about this?

Owen: We play a game where one person acts as the king and the rest are retainers who follow the king's orders.

Cain: This game might not be suitable for this event, right?

Owen: …it isn’t?

Cain: It could make the atmosphere tense. It doesn’t seem like a social game.

Rutile: Although it sounds fun, I don’t think it's suitable for social gatherings.

Owen:…Hmmm, whatever.

Arthur: So, what dishes do you think should be served at the party?

Rutile: Dishes, huh? If there’s a grand feast at the mixer, the atmosphere will be livelier.

Cain: You must be hungry, Rutile. How about roasting a whole pig or something?

Arthur: Sounds like the mixer will be quite lively.

Rutile: It does sound that way! A roasted whole pig would be nice at a mixer.

Owen: Hey, how about this?

Mixing a hot sauce puff into a plate of sweet puffs filled with thick cream.

Cain: Absolutely not. That's a terrible idea.

Owen: Why?

Cain: Well, it's just not feasible. People who eat the hot sauce puff would be in for a bad time. This is meant to be a rare opportunity to meet new friends, and doing this would definitely make the atmosphere tense.

Owen: …Wouldn’t that make everything surprisingly lively though?

Cain: No, absolutely not. This would make it difficult to warm up the atmosphere. Think about it carefully— putting hot sauce in the puff for people to eat. It's going to be very tense, I'm telling you.

Rutile: I would certainly feel nervous…

Owen: Hmmm, whatever.

Snow: Ah, now I remember!

Rutile: What is it, Lord Snow?

Snow: Dear Sage mentioned a "first impression" game that seems to be held at the mixer.

Rutile: A game of first impressions?

Snow: Yes, for example, a question like "Who looks the gentlest here, or the richest person," and then you point to someone intuitively.

Snow: I hope everyone points to me when being asked "Who is the cutest person here?"

Oz: He just blurts out his wish.

Mithra: I definitely don't think you're the cutest person. If you asked who the scariest person is, I'd probably point to you.

Snow: I'm not scary. I'm obviously very cute.

Rutile: Very cute, indeed. But since we’ve met before, it might be difficult to judge as if it were the first time.

Snow: No worries. If it's just for a short time, I can erase your memory!

Mithra: Hah?

Owen: Erase memory?

Snow: Noscomnia.

Snow: Great, now we can play the first impression game!

Snow: Okay, after preparing, let’s point out who the cutest person here is.

Arthur: What just happened?

Mithra: What kind of terrifying magic was just used?

Owen: Step any closer, and I'll kill you.

Owen: Cuore-- Mithra: Arthi-- Oz: Voz--

Snow: Wait, wait, don't be so excited yet

Mithra: What do you mean?

Owen: Who are you?

Oz: Voz–

Snow: I said wait! Now everyone is playing the First Impression game.

Rutile: First Impression game?

Snow: Yes, it is to determine who the cutest person here is in the first impression.

Cain: Hold on a minute, I don't remember anything, not even you or myself.

Snow: Well, don't worry about that.

Cain: Don't worry?!

Snow: Yeah, don't stress about it, it's no big deal.

Cain: Is it really okay?

…Well, I suppose it is!

Rutile: Great, I don’t remember anything either, so I feel relieved to hear you say that.

Mithra: What's going on? That boy's complete lack of any sense of crisis is making me irrationally angry. My stomach seems to be hurting too.

Rutile: Oops, brother over there, do you have a stomachache?

Drink some hot potion to soothe your stomach, it'll help. I'll warm it up for you now.

Ah, but... T/n: Usually Rutile calls Mithra "Oji-san," but he's addressing Mithra as "Onii-san" now.

Mithra: What's the matter?

Rutile: This potion is very bitter. Brother, can you handle it? Will it be difficult for you?

Mithra: Not a problem. If need be, I can even eat grass.

Rutile: Ha ha, you're quite the wild one.

My first impression of you, brother, is that you're a very wild person.

Mithra: Ah, thank you.

My first impression of you is that of a careless person.

Snow: Look like someone knows how to play the game already!

Arthur: Hm? If you look closely, you two have the same eye color.

Cain: Ah, you are talking about me?

Owen: Me?

Rutile: That's right. Maybe you guys are brothers?

Ah, I feel like I have a brother too.

Cain: Do I have a brother?

*look at Owen* Can I call you big bro then?

Owen: What a joke. First of all, how could I have a brother with such weak magic power?

Besides, just from the appearance point of view, my hair color is similar to that guy’s.

Arthur: Are you talking about me?

Owen: Your magic power is pretty strong. Maybe we really are brothers.

Arthur: …Big Brother!

Owen: What's wrong~

Oz: Wrong…!

Arthur: Ah. Oz: That’s definitely wrong, although I don’t know why. Arthur: You over there… Oz: …Are you talking to me?

Arthur: …Sir, you have been silent until now.

Can you say a little more? That way we can get to know your personality better. Maybe the cutest person here is you.

Oz: I have nothing to say to you.

Arthur: Why?

Oz: *Silence* Because I have nothing to say.

Arthur: But why?

Oz: *Longer silence* Because I don't have anything to say so I won't say—

Arthur: Why—!

Snow: So, you guys have nothing to say. Okay, I get it! Let's begin! When I ask who the cutest person here is, everyone points to me.

Mithra: Isn't this cheating?

Snow: Humph! Forget it, let's not ask you; let's ask the spirits of this land.

(Snow asked who is the cutest, who is the noblest, who is the sexiest, and who is liked by animals. The audience responded with Snow, Arthur, Mithra, and Owen. After that, Snow returns memories to everyone.)

Arthur: Where are we?

Owen: Feels like there's a gap in my memory...

Cain: And I feel like I just had a strange dream...

Snow: Ha ha, the first impression game was so much fun!

Oz: I don't remember anything...

Cain: I want to join in too.

Snow: But you already participated.

Cain: Eh? I did? My memory's a bit fuzzy.

Owen: Too bad for you, then.

Snow, did you cast some strange magic on us?

Arthur: I feel like Owen and I were brothers...

Oz: Wrong.

Snow: Ha ha! That was so fun!

Mithra: So, what about the mixer to celebrate our encounter? Is this the end?

Arthur: No, it's not over yet. It's been a while since we last met.

Let’s reminisce about the events from when we first met until now.

Mithra: Are we talking about my heroic deeds?

Arthur: Mithra, Owen, Lord Oz, Cain, Rutile, Lord Snow, and our other esteemed comrades. And let's not forget the heroic deeds of our dear Sir Sage.

Cain: From the Ancient Birds and Beasts to the Resurrected City of the Dead. Three monsters attacking Granville Castle. And the perilous adventures in the Western Kingdom.

Rutile: Too many to recount. Let's share our stories tonight as we delve into the memories we share with the Sage.

Owen: There might be some pages I'd rather forget completely though.

Arthur: Even so, these are the nostalgic scenes that shape who we are. No matter how embarrassing or heartbreaking they may be, let's hold them dear in our hearts. Like precious friends, let's cherish those dark pages with tenderness.

Oz: That’s just like you, who is good at loving others.

Arthur: It's thanks to you, Lord Oz, and the watchful eyes of everyone else, that I'm able to do this. Now, everyone! Let's prepare some warm black tea and sweets. Get ready for our trip down memory lane, with the sound of fireworks and the music we love, while listening to everyone's laughter.

--- END ---

[femoso-seben]

Baba Yaga Task force 141 X John Wick! reader

Tw: animal abuse, references to pregnancy, mention of miscarriages, blood, gore, violence, death

Gender neutral uses Mx for Mr/ Mrs it’s gender neutral.

Married life— you never saw that for yourself. You also never saw yourself fall for a military man. It almost feels like a sick joke. An unsanctioned killer meeting a legal one is a sick joke.

You met him on a work trip, honestly how you two got each other’s phone number was quite the funny ordeal. You met in line to be seated, turns out he was your seatmate. You gave him no mind, occasionally you two would give each other nods.

You notice him at the same hospital you. You were on a mission, and he had a bullet wound. Your eyes lock and life continues. With one of your work friends, you have noticed him in a group across the restaurant from you. You locked eyes, a strange thought passed between us, why are you here?

The last straw was sitting at your window seat only to hear a low “bloody hell.” You look up to find him again. You couldn’t help but laugh. This is ridiculous.

“I see you again stranger,” you smile. He scratched his head mumbling some more and sitting down.

“What’s your name?” You ask as he sits down next to you.

“Simon, you?”

“[Name], nice to meet you.”

You two had to exchange numbers, it was too coincidental. You only talk for a few minutes before going back to your own devices. You kept getting more job requests. With a sigh you picked on in England, you were heading there so might as well do a job there.

You two didn’t talk for a few months, you honestly forgot he existed. He texted you out of the blue, it was small and simple. It was a short conversation. Never too long never too deep. Occasionally when you were in England and so was he you meet up for coffee or tea.

It was casual— situational. You saw nothing long-term with him, not even a romantic relationship maybe just acquaintances. Two years— every six or more months you two would have a small conversation. Two years of on and off, before it got really serious. Before he got serious.

It was like a dam had broken loose. You answer your texts, more often. You two ended up calling too. It was fast a tumble and the relationship roared to life. It was all in a span of three months.

He moved in with you— into your expensive New York home. He brought his dog with him, Riley, a cute German shepherd. A well-trained one. Living with Simon, you learn one thing for sure— he’s a man of routine. He established on quickly.

We kept our jobs private and our relationship on the download. It took him a few months to mention his work— it was in passing that you learned he’s a special operator in the military. You are a traveling art appraiser.

You two both agreed, that work is something we don’t talk about. It was another three years of quiet dating both heavily busy. He was gone for months sometimes better half of a year, which was perfectly fine for you, you’re busy too. Very busy. It was five years into your relationship did he brought up marriage. He’s… joining a dangerous task force and wants to seal the deal.

You said yes— but before you could plan the wedding, you had to leave the game. Leave the underworld. The continental and the high table won’t let you go so easily. You’ll have to pay a debt. Before the two weeks were up you must complete an impossible task— kill the three most prominent underworld leaders. With one blood oath later, you were free.

Free from being the Baba Yaga.

Free from being Wick.

Free to marry.

Free to be a doting partner for Simon.

By the time you come back, you already started doing venue shopping for the wedding. You both agree to a private wedding with just your friends, he had none who are civilians, and he chose to keep his career away from you.

The wedding was sweet. Private with less than fifty people attended. The wedding ring barrier is Riley obedient and sweet carrying the pillow with the rings. You chose the rings, they’re thin and plain something that denotes marriage but also could be simply overlooked as accessories. The world didn’t need to know you two were married just you two.

You became a Riley. You didn’t want your old name— not the name of a killer. Neither did he, but you made it clear, you were happy to have his last name. And he was happy to live in your house. He had a slight chip on his shoulder— he wanted to provide for everything.

You came to a compromise. He pays for most of the housing utilities and you pay for the house tax. His money is the family’s money and yours was yours— and the children’s. You didn’t argue on that— you both know he could quit his job and you two could live rather comfortably on your money. But you could clearly tell providing made him very happy.

It’s what made him feel worthy… worthy of you.

Three years of marriage and most of the time he was away, always on the clock even on break. Only a few people in his line of work knew you existed, a CIA agent and his captain. No one else. And that was fine with you.

Retirement life is great. You spent most of your time figuring out what you wanted to do with your millions. Three years in and the two of you were considering starting a family. A few children would be too bad, You’re retired and Simon has mentioned retiring from the military, no time soon but in time for raising kids. You never consider raising kids. Hell, you never consider marriage or leaving the underworld life.

“My love,” you turn to see Simon setting his military bag down and rushing to you for a hug. “How have you been?” He murmurs.

“Not much Sí just wondering where I put the nursery.” You hum. From the backyard, you hear Riley storming into the living room and jumping onto Simon.

Life was blissful slow and trouble-free.

Until you decided to walk the street with Riley. Coming back from your surrogate who’s 3 months pregnant, lovely woman. Simon would bring his military friends over— forced by his team. You’re are very surprised, how strange this is but you don’t mind the new guess.

As you walk down the street at night Riley on highly guarded. You weren’t scared and had your gun in hand. Simon insisted you get gun training. Something to do with his pass. He only said he lost everyone he cared dearly and he did not want to lose you too. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you already knew how to shoot a gun.

You kept your mouth shut, he took some pride in protecting you— thinking he was protecting you. Why would you take that away from him? His sense of peace and duty? You didn’t mind playing into his fantasy. It’s rather cute seeing him be all protective, you never had that in your life until now. It was everything you wanted— to be wanted. You even got your concealed license to lessen his stress. Playing the perfect spouse was very… peaceful— heavenly really.

Riley’s sharp bark regains your attention. You look up to see a group of men running into the alleyway. You step into the shadows and hope to avoid them. They were speaking in Russian.

“What the hell man! You killed a Pregnant woman!” You froze and looked at them silently.

“She got in the way,” one brash boy sneers.

They continue to argue about killing the woman— they were only meant to rob her. Riley stayed silent but he was ready, ready to fight. You hear them stumbling closer, you make a loud noise and walk from the darkness.

This has nothing to do with you— your eyes caught something. That purse— just like your surrogate. You look at all of them up and down, at the stolen items in their hands. You recognize them all.

Your heart breaks.

That lovely woman— Anne. They killed Anne and your baby.

“What you looking at?” One points their gun at you. Riley begins to bark at them sneering and snarling his teeth at them.

“You killed Anne,” you mutter silently. You picked the surrogate— a friend of a friend. She was so happy to help you two. A thanks for helping her get het out of an abusive relationship. She had her life ahead of her.

With one swing at you, Riley jumps up and latch onto the arm. Another shot Riley in the stomach. You swing hard, mind going blank as your training kicks in, systematically each of them out. Breaking their hands, arms, and neck. You didn’t feel like letting them live.

Once you were done you pulled out your phone and called for a reservation for dinner. You left the coins on the body and ran home to get your car and take Riley to the vet.

Simon is not going to be happy, about this. About his dog, about our surrogate, about the baby. That is not the news he needed. But you called, he deserves to know.

“What’s wrong love?” He answer his tone tired and muddled. Evidently, you woke him up.

“I have bad news,” you begin.

He couldn’t come back early, he was deployed in a foreign country. The news was bad and you know Simon would be worried until he gets back. More for you— he’s worried about your feelings. Sweet man.

He liked Anne. She was bubbly and kind. Happy to be a surrogate and a babysitter if needed. A friend’s friend. He wasn’t so sure about her but you could tell she had grown on him. She was a surrogate a few times.

The funeral was shocking. The culprits never caught— of course, they wouldn’t, you handle it. You called your contacts and told them to leave the bodies out for the police to find— victims of a gang shootout. You have Anne’s remaining family and a small sense of peace.

A week passes and you continue to look for another Surrogate. Adoption came to mind, you were adopted. Not by the best people— they used you like a child soldier… so be it. Your child will be happy, you promise them that.

Would Simon consider adoption?

Does he even want children after this… mess?

You checked in on Riley his wounds were recovering nicely. You rest in your bed sleeping soundly. Your husband be back in two days.

The loud sharp squeal of Riley awoken you to a house of eerie cold silence. You scramble to your feet and go looking for Riley, maybe he opened up his wound. You appear at the top of the stairs to see— that bastard.

“Arseni.” You called out coldly in Russian, as you slowly descended down the steps. Once a brother in arms, a friend, now he’s in your house beating your dog.

“Mx. Wick,” his thick Russian accent twists into a cold sneer as he inches closer to you. “You killed my son!” He screams in Russian. You cock your head to the side, as one of his men kicks Riley to the side. He let out a loud whimper and crashed into the ground. Unmoving and still.

Your cheeks feel like a molten and a burning hell fire seers into your cheek. You clench your hands until your knuckles turn white. Your nose flares, lips pull back into a sneer. You stared at Arseni, ready to punch him.

A sharp pain seers into your abdomen as one of his followers shoots you, three rush forward with metal bats and begin to beat you. You let out a low groan as the metal left large bruises on your right side. Your head rings out in agony as one hit you in the head. Your vision blurs violently as it slowly goes blotchy and red.

You kick one of them and rush to the kitchen pulling out knives and trying to get to a hidden gun in the cabinet. The three ran after you, hitting you in the back with their bats. You stumble forward crashing into your marble counter.

Your bloody broken hands grab onto a knife and violently slash the person behind you, cutting one of their neck. You grab him by the back of his head jab the knife up into his neck and watch as the life dies in his scared eyes. You threw his body at the nearest attacker and went for the other.

You shove the knife into his torso and repeatedly punch the man in the face, breaking his nose with the second punch. Blood spewed out like a faucet.

Pew!

A bullet rips through your right biceps and into the side of your cheeks. Before losing momentum. You spat the bullet out and shoved the man in your arms against the last attack. As you did so you repeatedly stabbed the bloody man in your fist in the neck. Blood shoots onto your chest, staining your white shirt red.

You rip the knife out of his neck and face the last attacker. You plunge the knife right into his right eye and he crumbles onto the ground. You stop for a second, breathing hard as your lungs burn from the lack of air. You never stop working out, but your skills truly did become rusty. You rush to the cabinets and retrieve the gun.

You’d tumble back to the living room, your house trashed and photos burning in the middle of the expensive rug you bought. Your lips are pulled into a sharp frowning sneer. You flip the coffee table over smothering the fire pit. You stumble to your dog, Riley whimpers as you touch him, he is alive.

You grab your keys and rush Riley back to the vet, for immediate care. You left him there overnight. As you drive back your body is bruised and sore. As you drive back a car crashes into yours.

“That’s yer hoose?” Soap gawks at the large modern sleek design of the house. It’s large with a large yard— how the bloody hell did Simon afford this?

Gaz pressed his face against the window a wide smile on his face, it was a beautiful home. Price also stared, it was so American in design. It looks like a nightmare to defend with all those windows.

“My partner bought it,” Ghost grunts. His brows knit together as he saw the front door wide open, the window around the door shattered and broken.

“What the fuckin’ hell—“ he floored the car to the garage and rushed out and into his house. His living was a mess blood and dents in the wall.

“[name]!” He shouts. Silence greets him back, and his heart stops. “Riley!” Not even his dog was around.

“What the fuckin’ hell happened here?” Gaz asks slowly walking into the ruined house. Besides the mess, he could tell this house was beautiful, expensive, and enviable.

“Whit hav we got here?” Soap mutters walking deeper into the house his accident seeping into his worried tone.

“Ghost!” He shouts, seeing the three dead men in the kitchen. Ghost tore into the room and froze, his heart sunk and he rushed in checking to see if anyone was his love. They weren’t. He looked around the room and noticed that the cabinet with the hidden gun was open. He looked in, the gun was gone.

Ring ring!

He booked it to his landline a retro thing that you insisted on keeping. He lifts it to his ears.

“Is this… [name]?” A woman asks.

“No, I’m their husband,” Simon states.

“Your dog Riley just came out of Surgery, you can pick him up later today.”

Ghost signs and sets the phone down. The lady had no idea where you went after you dropped off Riley. She did tell him you were covered in blood and looked beaten up. You had refused their help to call the police. His dog is safe— but you were gone, gone with the wind.

What is going on?

His house is messed up. These random bodies are in his house. His spouse missing! What is going on?

His heart bounds violently against his chest as his heart falls. Where where you? Where were you taken? His worst nightmare came true— losing you. His hands slightly shake and he lets out a long sigh.

“You ok mate?” Gaz asks touching him on his shoulder.

“My partner is missing.” Ghost simply states. He walked to the garage, your car was gone. Your really nice vintage car is gone. His brows furrow together as anxiety sets in.

Ghost walks back into his house and pulls out his phone to call you. He hears the faint ring of your ringtone upstairs. The second floor was normal, with no destruction. In your shared room the lamp was still on, and blankets were thrown to the side.

He walked back downstairs trying to think. His eyes widened and he pulled his computer out. Sometimes he forgot about the security cameras he hid in this house, in the panic he had forgotten he set them up. The task for gather around to see what’s going on.

Simon’s blood rushed away from his cheeks, and he paled at the sight. His love, his light being beaten to a bloody pulp on the floor by some thugs. He switches cameras to the kitchen and to his shock he witnesses you kill all three. He could have mistaken the first kill as an accident. But the others look calculating, methodical— you could fight?

He hadn’t brought up self-defense classes yet. He wanted to, just in case his job would affect you and the baby…

“Damn, they can fight,” Gaz mumbled with awe. He switches back to the living room camera and watches as you flip the dining room table over to put out the fire scoop up Riley and drive off.

“I didn’t know your spouse could speak Russian,” Price mumbles rubbing his chin.

“Neither did I,” Ghost furrowed his brow. What were you hiding?

Ring ring.

Ghost stands up and answers the phone, his heart falls into the pit into the pit of his stomach. His hands slightly tremble, your prize car was found run off the road in a hit-and-run, and you were nowhere to be found.

“Mx. Wick,” you look at the concierge of the continental Hecate and smile politely. It took a few hours to get to the Continental Hotel.

“Make me a dinner reservation,” you calmly state. You had to get rid of the bodies in your house before your husband got home. She smiles and nods and makes the call for your residence.

You slide a coin over, “I like a room,” she smiles and nods setting a room up for you. You left the hotel and moved down the sketchy alleyway until you found an Asian restaurant. You knocked on the door as an old man appeared— a doctor.

“Doctor,” you greet.

“Mx. Wick,” he greets back letting you in. He was a black-market doctor. He patched you up and you limp back to the continental and heading back to sleep nicely.

You had asked Hecate to set up a meeting with the manager, Bereket Gerhold, you needed him to set up a meeting with Arseni. You sign close the curtains and go to sleep.

You’ll call Simon once this is all over. He must be worried. You aren’t the type to leave him— in the dark. He’s probably worried sick… you weren’t planning on leaving him high and dry after bringing his work friends over. How embarrassing, what a mess. You hope he didn’t find the bodies, how do you explain that? Any of this? You have a sleepless night.

Simon stared at the CCTV. He’s in shock, your Ford Mustang Mach 1, was slammed into violently by a black Mercedes. He watched it over and over again. How the Mercedes shoved your prized car out of the frame and into an abandoned warehouse where the cameras were long broken.

A bus came around. There was nobody left behind, just blood and broken car parts. Ghost caught a glimpse of the logo, the Continental Hotel. He thanks the police and leaves the station to find his team waiting for him.

“Where ur we gonna go?” Soap asks as Ghost reapproves the care.

“The continental hotel,” he states gruffly.

“There’s one in New York City, mate,” Gaz spoke up after looking up the hotel.

They drove off. Ghost had been to the hotel, he had seen it here and there. It’s an international hotel, for the rich. What were you doing there? He knows you’re rich but why go to a hotel and not the hospital? Not call him?

It’s late when they arrive at the continental. They walked in and people turned to them. They were outsiders— out of place. They ignore them and continue to walk to the front door.

“May I help you?” A woman asks.

“I want to know if my spouse is here.” Ghost firmly states.

“Name?” The woman asks.

“[name] Riley.”

“We have no one under that name.”

“…[Name] Wick.” The woman stops and looks up at him before a pleasant smile graces her lips. She picked up a phone and called someone. Simon felt his heart race, you were here.

“There are guests down here for you,” the woman says. She nods and hangs up. She handed over a key and told him the room number.

You sigh and stare at the door. Simon will be here soon. You change out of your bloody clothes and into a bathrobe. You chuck your bloody close into the bathtub.

You freeze and look at the door. The door handle slowly turns. You frown as a woman walks through the door a gun in hand. Arseni must have put a price on your head.

“Cordula,” you greet politely. “Wrong room?”

“Right room,” she pulls out her gun you just manage to dodge the bullet. You lunge at her wrestling her to the ground. She knees you in the groans a few times but you don’t let go slamming her back repeatedly into the ground.

She wrestled her hand free and shot you in the shoulder. You wince and let go of her. You back off holding your left shoulder. The door burst open and you see the burly body of your husband. He froze, seeing Cordula with a gun. Before she could even move to point it at him he had her on the ground pinned.

“Soap!” He calls in a Mohawk man steps in and switches places with him.

“My love!” He pulls you into a deep hug. He mumbles worriedly into your ear, “Why aren’t you at the hospital?” He pulls slightly away to gaze at your face. Touching it with tender care and love.

His eyes widen as he notices the blood oozing from your left shoulder. Something hit you in the side and you fall into his arms someone from outside of the hotel shot you in the side. Simon grabbed you and rushed you away from the window and out of the room.

“Shit,” you grumble in more pain. Now both sides of your torso have a gun wound.

“Gaz call the police—“

“Don’t.” You snap. You stagger to your feet and knock on the door next to your room. A familiar man answered it.

“Mx. Wick,” he greets everyone shocked, “are you working again.”

“No, can I narrow your phone?” You ask politely and a little curtly. Velimer steps aside and lets you in.

You call Hecate and tell her of the situation of the attempted murder on the continental ground by Cordula and the assassin out of the continental. She was understanding but a little dismissive.

“My husband almost called the police, I advise you to solve this, also summon the doctor to the continental I’ll be at the bar.” You hang up and give a curt nod to your neighbor.

“Let’s go downstairs,” you tell your husband and his friends.

“What do we do with her?”

“Bring her along the continental will deal with her.” You stagger off to the elevator. Simon snapped out of his shock and moved to support you even though you couldn't stand.

“You need to go to the hospital now.” He urges worry laced into his tone. You needed to tell him the truth but where do you begin? What do you say? How do you explain the madness of the underground crime world to an outsider?

Hecate was waiting for you when the elevator door opened. She took Cordula and you know her life is at an end. You stagger off to the bar. Your husband frowns watching as the strange concierge takes your attacker away.

Why were you so calm? What is going on? Why aren’t you going to the hospital? So many thoughts run through his mind as he chases after you.

“Love,” he calls out, “you need to go to the hospital, not the bar.”

“Relax—“

“You are bleeding!” He snaps not directly at you but at the whole situation. He’s stressed and very on edge. The one thing he spent years trying to protect is injured and he has no idea why. How wasn’t safe, this hotel isn’t safe, sure the hospital would be safer than here.

“Simon,” you sigh, he wouldn’t understand, “I am the safest here.” He looks at you strangely and watches as you walk to the bar.

Ghost stared at your staggering shuffle. Why were you acting so strange? He turns around to turn to his team. They had the same look. The strange woman comes back and Ghost approaches her.

“What is going on?”

“What do you mean?” She asks politely.

“Why did she attack my spouse?” He asks in a low dark tone. The woman pursed her lips before breaking into a smile.

“Codula broke the rules—“

“What rules?” Soap steps toward.

“The rules of the continental.” The woman smiles.

An old staggering man rushes into the hotel, the clerk points towards the bar and he waves rushing by with a man old fashion doctor's bag.

“Who’s attacking my spouse?”

“Have they not told you?” The woman leans forward. Ghost looks down at her tag, Hecate. She smiles.

Ghost backed up and b-lined it to the bar. He found you sitting in a recliner getting your shoulder wound checked out.

“My love,” he calls out his tone shaky but stern. You look with tired eyes and his heart aches in pain. You look so exhausted and tired. Are you scared?

“Who’s attacking you?”

“His name is Arseni Anastas—“

“The Russian mafia boss!” His eyes widen. He rushes over grabbing your hand gingerly and with care.

“What happened?” He searches your eyes with a worried expression. Your calm gaze didn’t help ease him, were you just petrified that you just couldn’t comprehend what was going on?

You calmly pull out a cigarette which is something you do only in times of stress if the furrowed brow deepens. You took a puff and blew out the smoke.

“Simon,” you softly stare leaning your forehead against his. “What I will tell you will change your opinion of me forever, you might hate me, you might want to leave me, but can you promise me you’ll listen?” You ask holding your pinky out for a promise.

“Promise,” he utters linking his pinky with yours.

“I am a former hitman. Arseni Anastas is targeting me because I recently killed his son, who killed our surrogate and child.” You answer with a concise tone.

He bolts up and takes a walking lap around you and the doctor who moved down to your torso to clean the wound. He looked at you before looking away there was a pained look in his gaze.

“Why didn’t you walk away?” He finally asks.

“Anne didn’t deserve to die like that,” you state taking another drag of the cigarette, “besides I found those fuckers after they did it. They weren’t remorseful.” You hum.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t realize it was Arseni’s bastard son… still would have killed him.” You hum. The doctor finishes up and you hand over a gold coin. He gives you a nod before hustling away.

“Would you and your friends like drinks?” You turn to your passing husband.

“Don’t run away from this conversation—“

“I’m not Simon, but I hate for your friends to stand around clueless. So let me get them some drinks and you can collect your thoughts before we talk again.” Your state.

Ghost and look at you eyes widening, Are you always this commanding? It’s so different. You used to go with the flow. He watches as you walk out of the bar dragged his team to the bar and paid for their first few drinks.

They sat at the counter giving you two some space. You got Simon some whisky and sat it down on the table and sat on the recliner again. You gesture to the other seat and Simon sat down.

“How long?”

“I’ve been one my entire life raised in this— economy.” You hum taking in another drag of the cigarette and letting the smoke set in your lungs before breathing it out.

“When did you quit?”

“Right before our wedding.” He stared at his glass of whisky. He couldn’t look at you.

“You lied about your job—“

“It’s my part-time job,” you correct, “it wasn’t a lie just not the full truth.” He down the drink and look you in the eyes. There was nothing but betrayal in his gaze. How could he ever trust you again?

“Is that where you got all this… blood money?”

“… Naturally.” He felt his gaze burn into your face searching for humanity. You like to look away but that is cruel for him, he deserves to know.

“So my dog was hurt because of you.” You take a sip of your bourbon and sigh. You feel the divorce coming.

“Arseni’s son…. Would have mugged me either way and you trained Riley to defend me, he would have gotten hurt either way. I saw red that night and killed him and his friends.”

You look into his pained eyes. He could barely look at you. You set your drink barely drink on the table and leaned in. Letting the smoke of your preferred poison ruin your mind for a microsecond.

“Simon, they broke continental rules trying to kill me.” You tilt your head and stare at him, “I am more dangerous than Arseni.”

You stand up and look at his friends before turning back to Simon, “Go home, let me handle this.”

“Are ye crazy,” the two of you turn around to see the Mohawk one, Soap was it… yelling “Ghost yer gonna let them do ‘is by themselves?” You turn back to your husband, Ghost? He looked at you.

“What’s your plan?” Simon asks after a moment of silence. You know he worked hard on controlling his emotions, he didn’t want to be like his father.

“I’m going to have a meeting with Arseni, he leaves me alone or I kill him.” You state. He frowns, that wasn’t a plan.

“Do you know what you're doing?”

“Yes, Sí I’ve been killing far longer than you, do you know what you're doing?” I ask. Not to be condescending but as a warning. He looked at you, you didn’t know to ask condescending questions, so he didn’t take it as that.

“And how do you know he won’t shoot you before the meeting.”

“You can’t kill on continental ground.” You state. They all look at you strangely. They all had the same look, what kind of rule is that?

“Surely you do realize the underground world is far older than your government? Then your military? Then the political wars? I live in a world of honor and regulations. I am the safest here.” You reiterate your words from before. You could see realization dawn on his face.

“How are you going to… kill him? What if he stays here permanently? You won’t be able to kill him,” Simon states.

“Well… your CIA friend must be looking for him. Either I get him or your government gets him.”

“So you're using us—“

“Don't overthink it, love,” you said looking down at him, “my other plan was to scorch the earth. Originally I was going to hunt him down… personally that’s still my preferred method but I like to end this as on as possible.”

“Damn Ghost yoo found yourself a spitfire!”! Soap cheers which earned him a glare.

“Oh,” your turn back to Simon. “I owe a Blood Oath to an Italian mobster.”

“What does that mean?” He leans back folding his arms. He’s guarding himself from you.

“If he comes to find me, I must do what he asks. It is a blood debt.” You state firmly.

“And why do you owe him one?”

“Because I left this life to marry you.” You state which took him by surprise.

“Can we talk in the lobby?” Simon asks setting his empty glass down. The confusion was gone and he made up his mind, or at least he came to redemption.

You two walk into the semi-quiet lobby the air conditioning drowning out some of the muttering of other people. A few turn to you, of course, they did. You two found a small corner to stand and talk.

“…why didn’t you tell me?” That was all he could say.

“I didn’t want to chase you away.” You honestly tell him. He cups your face rubbing his thumb tenderly against your cheeks.

“I wish you told me before all this.”

“This is pretty last minute.” He slightly cracks a smile.

“Let me help you.” He murmurs pulling you into a hug.

“I don’t want you getting hurt.” You mutter back.

“[name] I can’t know you're doing something dangerous without me… I can’t lose you, too.” You pulled you close and kissed your lips tenderly. As you pull away you see the manager walking in.

”[name],” you pull away and he turns around to look at the older man. He’s in his 50s or 60s by the look of him.

“Berket,” you greet walking up to him.

“And what do I owe the pleasure of Mx. Wick?” He asks with a fond smile.

“Set up a meeting with Arseni, I like to chat.” You fold your arm.

“Why?”

“Simply we need to chat,” he stared into your eyes before nodding.

“You must be their husband,” Berket turns to Simon with a strange smile looking up and down.

Ghost felt his body tense under his gaze. He gently grabs onto your arm protectively. He didn’t like this man, how he talked to you like you were a child. It infuriated him.

“They did quite a lot to leave this life for you, an almost impossible task.” He walks past and towards Hecate.

“What does he mean, love?” He asks softly still holding onto your arm. His grip travels down and he laces his fingers with yours.

“To leave this world you must do something major, most can’t do the task that is asked of them. I was able to, after getting help— the blood Oath.” You explain.

“You’re not truly out are you?” He mutters pulling you into a hug once more.

“Not fully, once I finish that blood Oath I will be.”

“Are you sure?”

“I hope so.” He frowns as he studies your face.

“What did you get us into?” He murmurs before lifting your chin to kiss you deeply.

“Us?” You ask.

“Us.”

“Who knows,” you murmur.

“Let’s get back to the others and figure out an actual place,” he takes you by the hand and walks back for the bar. “And we can get you some clothes later.”

You blink a few times before chucking, “I forgot I was wearing a robe.” He chuckles and you find the three chatting with the bartender.

“Is there a private place to talk?” He asks me.

“Go get them and I’ll talk with Hecate.” You hum. As you turn to leave he didn’t immediately let go he looked at you longingly before slowly letting go. He watched you leave.

You approach Hecate, “I need to use your armory.”

“Why?”

“Need a quiet and safe place to talk with my husband and his colleagues, my hotel room isn’t safe.” She froze for a second before smiling.

“Of course.”

“Will you also bring me a new suit?” You ask. She nods. You turn around to see all four men walking towards you.

Hecate walked us to the vault and the men froze gazing at the wall-to-wall guns on display and a nice couch in the middle. You sit down on the couch, your husband joining you. The other leaned Against the wall or checked out the guns.

“Why so many guns?” One asks. The other one, besides Soap, pulled out a cigar and began to smoke.

“Safety protocols.” He turns to you confused.

“So the plan?” The cigar man asks.

“Arseni Anastas leader of the Russian Mafia will be coming here for a meeting with me, with the help of the manager,” you start.

“We can contact Laswell to see if they are looking for him,” Simon speaks up.

“We can call the police swat team—“

“We bought them out,” you state interrupting Soap.

“The FBI will have to send their people, people who have nothing to do with this hotel chain or this world.” You state fiddling with the helm of your robe.

“So this place is highly corrupt?” Cigar man asks.

“Completely.” You state looking at all of them. The room grew silent as each began to think.

“Can’t you just kill him?” Soap asks.

“I can but not on continental grounds. I’m bound by rules.” He nods.

“Let’s contact Laswell, she might have a plan.” They nod. The cigar man pulled out his phone and began to call someone.

“So…” the dad cap man begins, “is the… Baba Yaga real?” He asks.

“Yeah is he?”

“Gaz, Soap,” Simon said sternly.

“What?” Dad Cap asks, “If their other hitmans out there surely the Baba Yaga is real!” Soap and Gaz turn to you expectingly.

“Yeah Baba Yaga is real.” You sigh, you forgot about your notoriety, you forgot to tell your husband. This could break your relationship again… fuck!

“Who? Baba Yaga hasn’t been seen in years did he finally die?” Gaz folds his arms speculating.

“No.”

“Then what happened?”

“I retired.”

“Oh— Your Baba Yaga?” Soap said his eyes widening in shock. You since at his volume.

“Yeah.” He looked you up and down, you didn’t look like much. You could see Simon staring at you in shock as betrayal clouds his eyes again.

“Only the Baba Yaga could do what the high table asks and leave this hellish world alive.” You tell him sternly.

“So… you know… we are hunting you?” Gaz mumbles.

“Figured.” You state standing up as Hecate walks in with a nicely pressed suit tailored to your body “I’m shocked you hunting me when all my targets have been other criminals.” You hum as you begin to put on the pants.

“How did you track down Azhar Maktar when we couldn’t even find him?” Soap asks watching you intently as you change into the black suit.

“The continental and a few connections,” you state.

“I see… will the continental help us.”

“I doubt it, you can ask but they will turn you down.” You tell them. You put on the white dress shirt hiding behind Simon’s body to as you change. You walk from behind him suit on and ready to slay.

“Can you help us locate another man?” Soap asks.

“Who?”

“Vladimir Makarov,” your face scrunches up. Hearing that familiar name.

“That bastard.” You mumble.

“You know him?”

“Met the motherfucker on a mission, got in my way so I beat him near death. Since then every few years he sends men after me trying to kill me.” You wave your hands before walking to the wall and looking for a nice gun to have.

“Do you know where he is?”

“No, my guess is somewhere nowhere Russia.” Soap groans and looks at you with slight disappointment.

“Is Makarov part of the underground network?” Simon finally asks.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t heard of him, but he could be using a proxy.” You explain, too which he nods.

“Alright,” you all turn to the cigar man who sets the phone down. “There is a warrant on Arseni Anastas. We are given the authority to get him.” He tells his crew. They all nod.

“We’ll have to drop by a base—“

“Too far,” you inturupt Gaz. “You’ll have to work like a hitman. Let’s get you suits.” You turn to them with a wicked smile. They all look at you confusingly.

“What will a suit do?” Gaz asks.

“Besides fitting in with the continental it can also protect you from bullets unless you want to risk it.” He nods.

“So where do we get the suits?” Cigar man asks.

“I know a place. We’ll borrow a car from the continental and drive there.” You explain.

“You stay here,” Simon immediately states. He looks down at you with a serious expression, “You're the target.” You sigh but nod.

“Before you go you need to know a few things.” You state pulling out a notepad. You wrote down two addresses, one for a tailor and another for a Sommelier.

“When you go to the Sommelier ask for him and when you meet him ask for a tasting. If you don’t like what he gives ask for something robust,” they stared at you a little confusingly, “Simon in your case ask for dessert.”

“Why?” Gaz slowly asks.

“We talk in code,” you explain.

“When you go to the tailor and ask for an Italian suit, it’s for a social event, tactical lining, and rush to order. Have it delivered to the hotel, got it?” You tell them. They all nod committing your words to memories.

“Let me get some coins,” you murmur.

“Coins?”

“You need to pay for it somehow.” You walk off and walk back to your destroyed hotel room. You retrieved a handful of coins and pocketed it.

“Here,” you hand over the coins to your husband. He looked at them weirdly. “Assassin currency pays what they ask for.” He nods and studies your face.

“We’ll be back soon,” Simon kisses you on the forehead.

As they depart the hotel you let out a sigh and sit down at the bar. You order another round of bourbon and smoked another cigarette. You mind your own business as people come in and out.

A few hours passed before they returned. They looked a little frazzled and very warn out. Simon sat across from you and handed over the unused coins.

“What— that was an experience.” Soap mumbles pulling a chair up next to you.

“Are those guns legal here?”

“Yes,” you answer, “yes it is.”

“So… what now?” Simon asks.

“It’ll be a few days until the suit will be done.” You begin putting out your cigarette on the ashtray. They spent their time casing out the continental waiting for their suits to be made.

Simon spent most of his time around you, asking questions here and there. You could tell with every answer you gave stressed him out even more. You pitted him, this must be so… daunting to learn.

“Love,” you look over to see your husband walking up to you.

“Yes?”

“Let’s go over the plan again,” you sigh but nod. It’s the twentieth time he asks but you know it comes from a place of pure love.

“We’ll be having this meeting in the bar. Gaz and Soap will be sitting at the bar while you and Price watch on from the lobby.” You recite again. He nods along.

“I rather be inside the room.” He spoke up finally telling you his honest desire. You looked at him. His team agreed he shouldn’t be in the room and so did you. Not because you didn’t want him there, just if it gets tense, you didn’t want him to see you at your worst.

“It’s not up to me,” you state, but to some degree it was. He turns to you eyes full of worries and grief, eyes that seem to study you with every second his gaze lingers. You knew he was trying to remember everything about you, your face, your smile, your voice, everything.

“It’s going to be ok,” you reassure him. You touch his thigh and he gazes down at your hand. He slowly nods.

“Promise me you won’t do anything drastic.”

“I promise.”

“Wow… these suits are, are almost perfect,” Soap mused to himself as he moved his arms up and down.

“It still feels a little constrictive.” Gaz mutter.

“Italians like to hug so the suits are a little more comfortable to move around in them.” You explain as you pick up a knife and slip it up your sleeve.

“I feel like James Bond,” Gaz smiled looking at himself in the mirror.

You slightly smile and look over to your husband who silently watches you. You give him a reassuring nod before getting up.

“Are you ready men,” you look over to see their Captain, Price speak up. They nod and head out, leaving you and Simon one last moment of peace.

He pulls you close to him and softly kisses you one last time. It was far longer than any kiss he had ever given. It was a goodbye as it was a final “I love you.”

“Be safe.”

“Of course,” he left the room.

If it was anyone else besides your husband you would have laughed. Be safe… You’re the Baba Yaga, you have no need to worry. You sigh and look around the room. Your anxiety is kicking in even though you’ve done this a hundred times… was it because you have something to lose now?

Ring ring

Your hotel phone goes off, you stand up put your cigarette out in the ashtray, and lift the phone.

“Yes?” You answer.

“Arseni Anastas is here.” You thank Hecate and exit your room. You made your way down to the bar. As you enter the lobby you find both your husband and the captain sitting At opposite places slowly studying everyone’s movement.

You round the corner to the bar and there surrounded by a few men was Arseni. He turns to you with this wicked cold glare. You sat across from him.

“Arseni,” you greeted coldly.

“Wick,” he sneers back, “come to beg from my forgiveness?”

“Hardly, I am asking you to walk away from this—“

“You killed my son!” He roars before falling back to Russian insults.

“And you’re done killing my surrogate and child,” you coldly stated. He turns back to you annoyed and frustrated.

“I’ll give up when he’ll freeze over.” You stood up lit another cigarette and stared down at him.

“Then let’s take this outside off of continental grounds.” You suggest moving away from the plans.

“I’ll kill you one way or another!”

Creak!

The window to the bar shatters as a bullet hits your bulletproof vest. You sense and take cover. Arseni that fool! His men turn on you guns ready. But then both Gaz and Soap caught on to the madness.

Bullets fly across the continental bar. You see Arseni and a few of his men rush for the exit. You scramble to your feet and chase after him.

“[name!],” your husband shouted but you were out the doors. You grab the onto your suit and use it to hide your head.

As the last bodyguard left continental grounds you unsheathed your knife and stabbed him in the neck. You restless the gun from him and shot him dead.

Ba ba ba!

It hit your suit. You winced in pain. Though they stopped the bullet they did not stop it from hurting like hell. You shot two more dead. A few other hitmen came rushing out, they were waiting for you.

You lungs behind a car and check how many rounds you have left. You sigh and begin to quickly take out the hire hit. You changed up to a semiautomatic gun and mode down two more.

Arseni jumped into a car and knocked out an assassin on a motorcycle. You hopped on and raced after them, leaving the continental behind.

You chased him down to a run-down building. You groan realizing this will be a shoot-out. You enter the building slowly ready to kill your target.

They came flooding out like ants to a food pile. It was almost like an all-you-can-eat buffet. They made it so easy. You swing around ducking and dodging as you take out one person after another. Every once in a while exchanging your gun out for a newer one.

By the time you reach the final door, you are completely out of it. You were very rusty, in your skills but it seems like your body hasn’t forgotten. You know tomorrow you be sore.

“In here!” You froze and duck down behind the railing and look to see who just arrived. To your shock, it was your husband and his friends.

“[name]?” Simon calls out.

“Here,” you shout back before standing up.

“You were supposed to wait!” He worriedly stated anger laced with in his tone.

“Did you do this?” Gaz asks seeing the dead boy littering the ground.

“One last room,” you state.

“Let us handle it.” You looked at your husband before sighing and nodding.

You stared at the door, your hands itching to enter. The door slowly opens in in their costing was Arseni. He looked at you with vile and hate.

“You're a filthy pig,” he snarls. Soap pushed him forward and walked him away.

“Finally this is over.”

“I doubt it’s that simple.”

--------

8.4K Words

@makandcheeses, @100percentlazybonez, @selinbaskaya

[mxtantrights]

famous dc! au (bruce's version)

PART ONE - untitled_script.docx / raw_sketch.jpeg

When you felt the warm sun on your eyes you didn't quite know where you were yet. Last night was intense and for almost all of it you were sober. At beginning of the party you weren't.

Last night was more of a launch for you. Your name had been whispered in these circles for months now. A couple of articles written up about you and your art. It was time to fully immerse yourself into this world.

Of course you showed up as an emerging artist with no art. What's an artist's struggle without art? Exactly. If you came with someone to hang on one of the walls you think you would have fainted from all the attention. Being there and people knowing your name was enough to tilt your world.

That's how you ended up spilling some of your drink on an unsuspecting victim. You sobered yourself up after that. Trying to get through your nerves with liquid courage wasn't going to help. You had to find other tactics.

As the night went on though you kind of forgot about your nerves. With the help of one person in particular. Now that you think about it you can't believe you're about to say his name in connection with yours. But it's the truth.

Bruce Wayne helped you last night.

And then a couple of hours after that. And a little more into the wee hours of the morning. But it was more than that-something is missing. You reach over to the other side of the bed and find it empty.

You open your eyes and the sun fully blinds you. So you turn around in bed. You're naked. That seems about right. Your eyes take focus on the other figure in bed with you. He's got his back turned to you, so all you can see are the scratches that go from his shoulders to his lower back.

A bit startled you sit up on your forearm.

The movement must be felt because all at once he's turning around and your brain doesn't have to work overtime to recognize Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne in bed with you. Bruce Wayne with nail marks down his back.

You sit there for a while. Just watching him. Your chest heaving up and down. You try to steady your breathing but you can't quite seem to catch it in the first place.

"It's impolite to stare." he says.

Your eyes widen, "You're awake?"

He opens his eyes. Bright blue staring right back at you. A shadow of a smile lines his lips. It was a stupid question but he doesn't make you feel as such for asking.

"Good morning." he says.

You pull the covers over your chest a bit more.

"Good morning." you say and clear your throat.

"Had a nice night?" he asks.

You can't help to laugh a bit, "I don't know. Jury's still out."

Bruce hummed, then he wrapped his arms around your middle, bringing you closer to his body. You instinctually wrapped your legs around his.

"Law really isn't my strong suit." he says.

"It's more of mine." a voice by the door says.

You and Bruce both look over quickly. That's right. Harvey! Now that you think about it Harvey was the one that walked you into this room last night. Somewhere after Bruce was telling joked and before the tenth person came up to introduce themselves to you, Harvey made an appearance.

With all the slyness of a fox he whisked you away from the donors eager to commission something from you. He took you far away from the crowd for about an hour. Then Bruce had joined the two of you.

You're looking at him and he's smiling right at you too. He has a tray of food in his hands. A glorious spread of breakfast foods.

"I thought you'd be off, chasing a script somewhere." Bruce says.

There's an edge to his voice now. One that wasn't there a few moments ago. You start to think it's like jealousy or something. Was Bruce jealous of Harvey?

Then your mind rattles with the fact of last night. Harvey may have dragged you off someplace, but at no point did either one of you invite Bruce. He knew just where to be and when too.

You look at Bruce and then back at Harvey. You do this a few times until the words seem to fall off your lips.

"You were looking for a third?" you ask.

Harvey lets out a guffaw from by the door. Bruce's arms which are still around you seem to go slack a bit. You don't know how that makes you fell at this very moment.

"Not in the sense that you're thinking." Harvey answers.

He walks over and sets the tray down. The orange juice and the waters shake as they settle on the side table. Harvey then climbs over you and Bruce both. His arms caging you in, but you didn't feel cage. You felt probably the most free you've felt in a while.

"we've been talking a while now about how we're missing something-someone." Bruce says.

You can feel his hand come up to brush against your cheek. You may look fine on the outside but on the inside you aren't sure any of this is real. Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent are in bed with you. Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent don't want this to be a one time thing with you.

"and you think that's me?" you whisper

"Bruce knew the moment he laid eyes on you." Harvey explained.

You don't miss how vague that is. He could have laid eyes on you at the party. Or at some earlier time, where you weren't noticing. And you don't miss how he only answered for Bruce.

You look Harvey in the eye now, "and you?"

"I knew before him." he offers.

Vague. Vague. Vague. The logical part of you is begging for more answers and more words. But the other side, the side that spent hours tangled between the sheets and these men is telling you that you don't need anything else at this moment.

You smile at him, then at Bruce. Harvey leans down and places a peck on your nose. Bruce's arms tighten around you once more.

[babybreadddd]

sorry no cure

characters: hyunjin x f!reader, established relationship

summary: (for u to find out!)

warnings: angst, cursing, arguing

a/n: its my first short fic, i hope you like it! ending is up to your interpretation, might do a pt2 ?

wc: 1.2k

in reality hyunjin isn't like this!!!! they are all cute, nice and friendly!! this is not the actual character of hyune!!

nothing was going your way. your heartless boss just dumped paperwork on you - on a weekend and demanded it to be done by monday. he took advantage of your willingness, your eager-to-please personality to make you do his dirty work. and at what expense? 

you suffering, toiling on a saturday, one where you should be enjoying your day at home with hyunjin. 

well, there was no point stopping your work. hyunjin wasn't home. he was out, going to a dance class. 

i have to finish this quick, then wash up and clean the house... then i have to go grocery shopping, and maybe pay my sick dad a visit? if i finish my work, maybe i could get a quick treat. like, some acai? 

oh, wait. you can't. money's tight, and well, acai is expensive. right. 

you sighed internally. all you could do as you trudged through your work was to hope that hyunjin would come home in a good mood and comfort you, and what you could do now, was just to keep your mood from spiraling. too many worries spinning around. you couldn't keep this up for much longer. 

hours passed quickly. with each passing hour, bottles upon bottles of caffeine were downed, your mind becoming a hazy mess as you mindlessly do your work. 

you can't take it anymore. you detach yourself from your work and let your body slump on your chair. your eyes hurt, so you close them and leave your mind wandering. 

screw your boss who doesn't respect your boundaries. screw you, who doesn't have enough guts to stand up for yourself and say no. you brought this suffering upon yourself, and now you're facing the consequences of your actions. 

none of this could have happened if you said no. it's not like you would be fired if you said no. just accept reality - you're a people pleaser, and you're so easily manipulated by people. in all honesty, doing someone else's work isn't pleasant, but you feel validated. you live for the commendation, the acknowledgement, the applause. no matter how bad it feels, as long as someone validates you - that you've worked hard, you're someone, someone kind and loveable - that's all you care about. 

and seeking that feeling, that validation has led you to this hell of a mess. it's all my fault right? you need to stop seeking validation, and just do your work well, and not overwork yourself. sounds simple enough? 

the creak of the door opening sends you out of your trance. you see hyunjin, mustering a slight smile at the sight of you. he's definitely tired and exhausted. 

you're still deep in your emotions, but you manage to get out a small "hi baby. how are you?"

"fine. did you get my art supplies?"

shit. his art supplies….you were too absorbed in doing your work that you forgot about it. 

well, he's gonna get mad at you and then there goes your whole day. you can imagine it in your brain - work, arguments, maybe even sleeping in separate rooms? fighting with hyunjin over the smallest things often progressed to long, cold days of isolation where no exchanges would take place, and each would ignore the other, until one of you finally gave in. 

no. i can't let that happen. it was painful for both of us last time, it hurt both of us. 

you swallow your pride and mumble out a "sorry."

"sorry no cure, y/n."

you gasped internally. yes, hyunjin could be a little snarky during arguments, but that- wasn't that crossing a line? you always promised each other that no matter what, sorrys were the way to fix arguments, no matter how many apologies it took. 

the word "sorry" in an argument meant so much. it meant putting your pride down, telling yourself you were wrong and that you'd do something to make amends.

the fact that he'd rejected a "sorry"? it's just paint supplies, it's not even something as important as missing a date! besides, he only does painting in his free time, and he barely spends time with me, what more painting? 

"if sorry isn't a cure, then i'm not sorry for not getting you your painting supplies. get it yourself if it's so important." your emotions exploded. you were tired and irritable, and now you had to argue with the stubborn hyunjin? nevertheless, it hurt you so much to spit those venomous words out at him, but how could you break in front of his snarky comments? never.

an expression appears on his face, but it disappears quickly. you're not sure what it is, but you could pinpoint it to be something of horror and shock. 

i've done some horrible damage this time.. i'm going to pay for it sooner or later. in fights like this, the worse thing you've done is to say some sharp words, give him the cold treatment and wait for a while before someone gives in and you both will be good. but this time, you're not too sure. 

your pride, just put down a few seconds ago, begins to rise. you give him one more jab, scoffing lightly, "go get them now. you'll come back to a nice and quiet house with no one to quarrel with you. you like that? of course you do. i bet you hate me because i've failed you so many times." 

that was the breaking point for hyunjin. he stepped closer to you, your gaze meeting his. your instinct was to flinch and take a step back, but for the sake of your pride, you didn't. instead, you stared right back into his eyes, emotionless. 

before you knew it, you felt your composure cracking as you stared cold and hard into his brown eyes, each willing the other to break. you felt yourself breaking under his glare. exasperated, you sent him a death stare before you took your phone and keys, and muttered a quick "i need space" and left your shared home. you desperately wanted to take back your sharp words that plunged a knife straight to his heart, but how could you? you can't. 

in arguments like this, you can't just turn back. you swallowed your pride to say sorry, and he rejects your apology? real nice of him.  

and that's how you left him. you might've felt a little better if he had begged you to stay, but you knew he didn't want to give you the satisfaction of knowing he wouldn't want you to leave, that he still loves you, and he's sorry. that's hyunjin though. 

4 sentences exchanged and that caused a fracture in your relationship with him. all you wanted when he came home was to give you comforting hugs and cuddles to soothe you from the stress of your work. and you'd do the same too, and you both would have a cozy day together. turns out fate had other plans for you. 

you won't be coming back to this apartment for a while. you've plunged the knife in, turned and twisted it and there was probably nothing you could do to patch his broken heart back up. besides, you'd need to wait for him to cave first. 

unknown to you, he was already working out a plan to get you back. you'd hate it, but it'll bring you back to him. 

don't copy my work/post on other platforms! thanku :))) reblogs are appreciated and thanks for reading!