#i think this game can be so mysterious. I can sit there and go “wait wtf” and it’ll feel so interesting

[gummygowon]

hands? | jeong yunho

word count: 2.8k

genre: smut sprinkled with crack and a dash of angst and fluff, close friends to ???, friends!yunho x afab reader

warnings: reader has slight body insecurities + bro's fingers just go crazy tbh

author's note: guess who's back. but on a fr note please be nice this is my first oneshot in a fat fucking minute after this godamn cb i needed to write something about someone omfg.

"y'know shigaraki's hand thing would lowkey be kinda hot if he wasn't so crusty." one of your friends, wooyoung comments on the anime's villain.

"what the-"

"you're kinda on something." you agree as you tilt your head watching shigaraki fight deku with one of the hands on his face.

you look back on the couch to see your other friend yunho sitting back looking horrified while wooyoung raised his soda can as a 'thank you' for agreeing with him.

"let me get this straight, you think the tomura shigaraki, the fucking villian in my hero academia is hot? the one with his literal deceased family member's hands all over his body?" yunho asks still horrified at your comments.

"okay, well not when you put it like that." you huff in fake annoyance.

"so what the hell is hot about him?"

"hands! the hands yunho!" wooyoung jumps in and answers as if it's the most obvious thing.

"okay...what about hands?"

"it's like a niche thing some people find hot on others." you explain trying not to out yourself as a hands freak. but lord, jeong fucking yunho had the most beautiful hands out there. they're long and slim and his hands are huge. his hands are just amazing at pc games.

"yeah, haven't you seen y/n checking your hands out when you play val?" wooyoung adds, his eyes not even leaving the tv.

you throw your hands up in defense, "now why am i catching strays?"

"am i not wrong?"

"ok ok, i get it. hands are hot-"

"-thank y-"

"-and y/n finds my hands hot." yunho adds with a devious smirk earning a chuckle from wooyoung.

"alright! time to get the fuck out!" you stand up and throw the pillow you were holding at yunho.

"nooooo, the episode isn't done yet!" wooyoung whines as you shoo him off the couch.

"there's two minutes left! go home!" you argue as you start cleaning up the living room.

"aw man." wooyoung pouts as he collects his jacket and leftovers from the dining table.

"we can finish the rest of the season next week when i don't have work the next morning." you offer trying to compensate.

"deal." your friend says as he slips on his shoes. "thanks for hosting!"

"of course!"

wooyoung was truly the only one who understood the concept of getting the fuck out immediately as you turned around to see yunho lazily collecting his things.

he 100% wants to talk about what wooyoung said.

"sooo, you really like my hands?" yunho carefully asks in case you launch another pillow at him.

"if i answer honestly, will you get out of my apartment?"

"yeah, yeah, definitely."

you give yunho a death stare noticing the fakeness in his voice.

"i swear i will!"

"good." you say unfolding your arms, "then yeah i think they're hot."

"wait really?"

"no more questions!" you quip pushing yunho to the door.

thankfully both wooyoung and yunho had dropped the topic of hands around you after that binge night at your apartment but that doesn't mean that you were still thinking about it. the situation with wooyoung outing your desire for yunho's hand. definitely not yunho's hands...

okay to admit though, you had a little crush on yunho but it's one those things where if he made a move on you, you wouldn't be mad about it. you've been friends with him since your second college after meeting him through wooyoung and even then you thought he was a little cute but it wasn't enough for you to be ballsy with it. wooyoung also definitely had his suspicions of you liking him too but he always had his knack for just knowing who peopled liked.

yunho on the other hand was a little bit of mystery when it came to his dating scene. you didn't really ask about what type of girls he was into or who he was seeing because partially, you didn't wanna feel jealous. you heard from wooyoung and your other friends gossip about yunho's flings with him at parties. the only recent fling he had was a kind of awhile ago but who knows if she's still in the picture. not like you were keeping track or anything.

luckily, yunho also wasn't weird about the whole situation either. things were still normal between the two of you. even the next binge event at your place was normal. you guys were able to finish the season without any mentioning of hands.

wooyoung had to take off a little earlier than usual since san called him about something going wrong in their apartment leaving yunho to help clean your place.

"you wanna play mario kart after we clean? i brought my switch." yunho offered.

"don't have to ask me twice" as you throw yunho the lysol wipes for the table.

after a quick cleaning session, yunho began setting up his switch and connecting it to your tv. you quietly sat next to him watching yunho use the controller to maneuver around the tv. there was something about how long his fingers were and how quickly they were moving the joysticks around. his hands were extra veiny today too.

the pads of his thumbs could definitely fully cover your n-

"are you good?" yunho asks pulling you out of your thoughts, as he offers you one of the controllers.

you shake your head as if it would get rid of the dirty thoughts, "yeah, mhm."

"okay buddy." yunho says as he drops one of the controllers into your hands. he definitely didn't buy it.

there was a moment of silence as yunho goes to open the game and without even looking at you he asks, "you really like my hands huh?"

"excuse me?" your heartbeat that already increased was literally about to burst out of your chest. "i thought i already answered this question."

"i mean, yeah." he shrugs just now looking back at you, "but i wanna hear you say it again."

"absolutely not." you protest.

"okay fine but how about this, if i get the fastest time you have to admit that you looove my hands and if you win, you can ask me any truth or dare question."

"anything?" you bargain with a mischievous raised eyebrow.

"yes."

"deal. you go first."

here's the thing, you were an absolute god at this game and yunho although he is competitive literally has no shot at beating you unless he cheats. so this little race should be a piece of cake. nothing you can't handle.

you guys had decided that the both of you would race on rainbow road and were able to pick what character and car they wanted. deciding to be an honest player, you sat back and watched yunho drive. this time while yunho was playing, you were too busy focusing on how he was doing to even think about his hands. you had to admit though, he was doing really well even though he shelled here and there.

"done!"

"five minutes and thirty seconds." you call out right after. "not bad yunho but we'll see about that."

"okay, sweat."

that nickname earned yunho a middle finger and you sticking out your tongue at him.

as you were selecting your character and tweaking the car, you could sense yunho moving closer to you. not enough to touch you but enough to be all up in your space. out of the corner of your eye you could see him fidgeting with something with his hands. his fingers were twiddling with an object that you couldn't quite make out.

focus. you think as you shake your head and return your full attention to the screen.

after completing your car design, you were ready for the race to begin. while waiting for the race to begin it's countdown, you let your eyes linger back to yunho's fingers to find out what the hell he was playing with. was he shredding a napkin? or playing wth the extra controller?

"y/n?" yunho's voices brings you out of your trance as you realize that you were holding down the gas for too long causing your boost to backfire.

"shit."

"lock in y/n." yunho teases turning his body towards you more, allowing his hands to appear perfectly in the corner of your eye.

"shut up." you growl back at him.

the rest of the race continues somewhat smoothly without any more yunho distractions but fuck that start really fucked up your time. you were closing in on the finish line coming in almost second place until some fuckass throws another red shell at you causing your character to spiral for a few seconds before resuming the track.

"what the fuck!"

"and that's time!" yunho shouts after your outburst. "five minutes and fifty-five seconds."

"that fucking red shell and you!" you turn your anger towards yunho and grab one of the couch pillows and chuck it at him.

"yah! i still won! admit it y/n!" yunho taunts doing a little celebratory dance on the floor.

your lips form into a thin line as you glare at him and shake your head.

"ah, ah, you bet on it."

avoiding the dare, you jabbed your fingers into yunho's side to "tase" him, knowing it was one of his most ticklish spots. you watch in glee as yunho starts to spasm on the floor from being tickled so hard.

"y/n! you little shit!" yunho shouts in between laughs as you kept tickling his sides.

deciding to be nice, you slow your attacks on him to let yunho catch his breath but he takes the opportunity to grab both of your wrists in one swoop. before you knew it, you were leaning over yunho's face with your arms hanging above your head. a blush crept on your face as you realized the position you were in.

"admit it." yunho said with a sick smirk on his face. it's like he took pleasure in making you flustered.

in no position to retaliate, you surrender. "i think your hands are hot jeong yunho."

"thanks pretty." yunho's eyes flicker to your lips for a split second. "wanna see what else they can do?"

too many things just happened. first of all, you losing in mario kart which never fucking happens then you basically getting manhandled by one of your closest friends and lastly, you were enjoying every moment of it. you were too nervous to use your voice so you just nodded along to whatever yunho just said.

you could see the lust fill in yunho's eyes while he talked. "i need words pretty."

"y-yes, i do." you mumble out. "please."

"thank you angel." yunho smiles before swiftly switching positions with you. "that was all i needed."

lying on your back, you stared back up at yunho who had a whole different demeanor ten minutes ago.

"do you know how long i've waited for a moment like this?" yunho asks his face a mere two inches away.

"why keep waiting then?" you tease back.

"you're right."

before you knew it, yunho leans forward and captures your soft lips earning a small gasp from you. his hands slowly traveled down your body as he swiped the bottom of your lip which allowed him access to your tongue. the thirst for each other was so strong after such a long time of waiting. did yunho like you this whole time too?

regardless of what he thought of you, he was devouring your lips. eventually, he traveled down your body leaving wet, open mouth kisses everywhere. he didn't stop until he figured out your sweet spot. yunho's lips came to a stop making you whine.

"can i take this off angel?" he asks softly, motioning to your shirt.

"yes, please."

"fast learner." yunho teases as he slips the shirt off of you.

instinctively, your hands fly to cover your chest when you realize you were almost fully topless in front of him. yunho notices your sudden shyness and stops moving. "what's wrong pretty?"

it was too embarrassing to admit that you were hella fucking nervous to be this exposed in front of yunho but it was too late he already read your mind. "don't be shy angel. we can put your shirt back on or i can take mine off so we're even?"

with a sweaty hand, you tug at his shirt with a pout. "can you take yours off too please?"

"since you asked so nicely." yunho grins as he slips off his shirt revealing his toned body. "now we're even."

a small smile appears on your lips as your arms return to yunho's neck. "thank you."

"of course, anything for you angel." yunho pecks your lips. "are you good to keep going?"

"yes." you breath out looking into his eyes. something about yunho just made you feel good. he just felt so familiar and comforting.

yunho leans back down and goes back to devouring your lips still not satisfied. he was determined to find your sweet spot if that meant kissing you all over your body. now that your shirt was off, he spent a little extra time on your boobs. he would alternate between kissing and sucking them before leaving an experimental hickey here and there.

it wasn't until he went back on your neck that he buried his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder making you gasp. you could feel yunho smirk once he realized he found your sweetspot. this time he mercilessly attacked your neck with open mouthed kisses leaving you moaning.

god, did he take his sweet time with you in this little spot. however, it wasn't enough to satisfy the growing arousal pooling down your legs. "yunho, please" you pant out, "need more."

"oh?" yunho pulls away from your neck making you whine once more.

"please yunho." you beg and tug at one of his wrists, leading them to the waistband of your pants.

he didn't say a word as he went to work on unbuttoning your pants and helping you slide them off. to test the waters, he cupped your clothed cunt and felt how fucking soaked you were. "angel, you're dripping."

"please." you moan out. "yun please."

"'m sorry pretty." yunho gives you a quick kiss as an apology before slipping his hand into your panties.

another moan escapes your puffy lips as yunho slips in one his long fingers. yunho kept his eyes on you as he moved his finger at a maddening slow pace.

fuck, even with just one of his fingers, it's exactly what you fantasized about. but you needed more. now.

"yun, please. i need more."

"okay, angel."

hearing your pleas, yunho slips not just one but two more fingers in you earning another gasp from you.

"fuck!"

again, yunho starts off with his sick, slow pace letting you adjust to the size difference. he loved watching your face contort in pleasure and a sense of pride washed over him as he realized that he was the one making you like this. all needy and fucked out without even needing to take his dick out.

slowly but surely, he quickened his pace without you even asking. multiple moans fell from your lips but they all got buried as soon as yunho captured your lips again. he swallowed every noise that came out your mouth which made him lose his mind. you sounded so fucking hot.

it wasn't too long until yunho's lips fell back into the crook of your neck earning him another loud moan. he would nip and suck on the spot before relieving the pain with a wet kiss. even with his mouth busy on your neck, his fingers never relented it's pace. the combined pleasure was absolutely insane. the warming sensation in cunt grew so intense that you couldn't hold it any longer.

"yunho, mmmh-fuck. 'm close." you moan, "so close nngh."

"come on angel." yunho encouraged, "give it to me pretty."

somehow his fingers sped up even more making you cry out even more. "too much yun!"

"angel, please." yunho moans into your ear, "give it to me. you can do it baby."

"fuck!" you cry out again, before finally letting go all over yunho's fingers.

"just like that angel," yunho praises as he continued to work you through your orgasm.

you were out of breath once you finished, your eyes closing in satisfaction.

"i'll be right back angel." yunho says as he presses a warm kiss to your forehead. the loss of his fingers made you whine.

with heavy eyes, you watched as yunho disappeared into the kitchen. a moment later, he came back with a clean rag and a glass of ice water.

handing you the water, he gently cleaned you up. finally getting to see just how much you came he couldn't help but tease you.

"so you like my hands a lot then."

[silentheiss]

Sun rises in the east, flowers bloom in the spring and Luo Binghe deserves better. These are simple truths Shen Yuan lives by.

On Monday he wakes up at noon, reads newest PIDW chapter as he eats what can be called breakfast if one is being generous, and curses the author. After, he spends unadvisable hours playing gatcha games, boils water for ramen, and writes the most seething, derogatory comment highlighting every instance of his favorite character suffering unnecessary pain.

Shen Yuan knows the book is nearing its completion — even Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky cannot drag it out for much longer — and he has a crawling suspicion that Luo Binghe might not get what he deserves. And he deserves so much. He deserves everything.

Once in his bed, in the early hours of morning, Shen Yuan still can’t stop thinking about it. About him. He closes his eyes and for a moment, just for a short moment, he lets himself imagine.

He imagines sitting on the edge of Luo Binghe’s king sized bed, gently, quietly, as not to wake up the fearsome Emperor. He imagines Luo Binghe sleeping fretfully, his beautiful brow furrowed. Poor thing is unable to relax even in his sleep. So many things to do, so many monsters to fight.

Shen Yuan lets his hand reach for Luo Binghe’s soft curls. He can almost feel their softness as he runs his fingers through them.

“Ah, Binghe.” He whispers. “I know I keep saying this, but. You deserve so much more than this.”

Shen Yuan imagines that Luo Binghe stirs in his sleep, moving just a little bit closer to him.

If only… if only Shen Yuan could do something to make Luo Binghe’s life a little easier. Lighten his burdens just a tiny bit.

Wait. It’s his daydream, isn’t it? He can do whatever he likes- well, whatever he dares to do.

If Luo Binghe had one good friend, wouldn’t that friend protect him when possible? Shen Yuan would like to be that person.

He imagines leaving a small note on his pillow. A note describing the poisoning attempt being planned in his harem right now.

Luo Binghe of the latest chapter doesn’t know about it yet and Shen Yuan suspects it’s going to bring him a whole lot of trouble. Cautioning Binghe makes him feel sated.

As an afterthought he imagines placing a small chocolate bar on top of the note. Just because Binghe deserves something sweet.

He strokes Luo Binghe’s hair one more time and imagines the man sigh contentedly under his touch.

Then, feeling his fantasies turn into pure delusions, Shen Yuan makes himself stop and open his eyes.

The light of the morning sun shines through his curtained window. Shen Yuan sighs and tries to summon sleep, somehow.

*

*

*

*

Luo Binghe sits up with a start. His eyes fly open, burning red, and survey the room. It’s empty. Of course it’s empty, who would’ve dared-

And yet, he can swear, just a moment ago, he felt a soft touch and- no matter. He must’ve dreamed.

Just as he’s moving to lie back down, Luo Binghe notices something right there, on his pillow.

A thin, foiled package of something that smells faintly sweet, and underneath it, written on the thin, perfectly square, strangely white piece of paper, a note.

So someone was here.

Luo Binghe grabs the paper and reads unfamiliar handwriting, huffing at the letter’s contents. It’s as likely to be complete falsehood as it is likely to be the truth. He sniffs at the paper but can’t detect anything at all. As if no hands ever touched it.

Then, he grabs the second offering and unwraps the silvery foil to sniffs at what he guesses is an unusual, highly suspicious, treat. The smell is a little off. It’s not like anything he ever smelt before.

Without a second thought Luo Binghe drops both items into the nearest drawer and crawls out of his bed.

Maybe his guard saw something. He needs to find this mysterious benefactor and he needs to do it as soon as possible. No one enters his rooms uninvited and leaves unharmed.

[puriiinz]

POSTED | smau abby a.

VIII; DIORAMA

contains: cursing, mentions of getting beaten (nothing serious)

masterlist | next

after quickly getting dressed, getting in ellie's car, complaining and finally sitting down at yn's favorite cafe (to make yn shut up) ellie started to talk.

"imagine if we see abby here with her secret girlfriend, being disgusting and kissing"

yn looked at ellie with confusion. "why would we imagine that?" making ellie shrug. "would be fun."

they sat in silence for a few seconds, ellie trying to eat the ice in her drink and yn ripping a napkin into shreds— until dina leaned forward, squinting out towards the sidewalk where the cafe had a few tables.

"is that—?"

"dina i swear i'm going to beat your ass. stop joking," yn said.

"i'm not— look! that's abby right?"

ellie laughed (a little too loudly for everyone's liking) and started to point at abby and the girl sat across from her.

"holy shit, that is abby!"

"why are you jolly about this?" yn grumbled, annoyance and another feeling she couldn't name in her chest, but she couldn't stop looking at them.

it was abby. her arms on the table with her sleeves rolled up slightly, fucking laughing at something-probably stupid- the other girl said. and that girl was laughing too, literally what was so funny? the economic and political state of the world?? please.

dina squinted again, this time trying to figure out who the other girl was. "wait— ellie look."

"huh?"

"look at her, is that the streamer girl?"

now both dina and ellie were squinting, being so fucking obvious, and yn was staring down at the table, too embarrassed to do anything else.

"can you guys stop staring at them? they're going to notice us..."

dina pressed her finger on yn's lips, shushing her. "now we know who abby's been tweeting about."

yn pushed her hand away, checking to see if her lipstick smudged. "i guess..."

"what are they even laughing about? no way something professional is being talked about there."

"they could just be funny." yn offered.

dina looked at her confused, "do you think they're funny?" making yn grumble about how it 'doesn't matter what she thinks'.

ellie was still staring at abby, but now with a more serious expression. "why is she smiling like that? she's gross..."

yn said nothing, her jaw too tight for her liking. her orthodontist was going to kill her. just when she was going to look away the girl fixed something on abby's hoodie. and abby didn't even react. didn't blink, didn't flinch. like this was their routine. she really needed to get her ass whooped, because who doesn't react when someone reaches out? exactly.

dina leaned back, stretching out her legs. "so, what do we do about it?"

yn frowned, "about what?"

"abby being in love and annoying." dina said. "she's being cryptic, tweeting about her without mentioning her once."

ellie looked at her confused. "since when do you know what cryptic means?"

"can you shut up? like actually." dina looked at ellie with an annoyed look. ellie shrugged, "i mean, i want to know what her type is." after no one said anything she added, "what? she never tells us, and dina's curious too! right?"

dina puckered her lips, mumbling out an "i guess." yn sighed, putting her head in her hands.

"i'm not striking up a conversation with her about her type."

"you don't have to," ellie grinned. "we'll trick her into it."

yn blinked "what?"

ellie then leaned in, whispering to seem mysterious. "we could make her play a game... like truth or dare."

"or we describe random people and ask if they're her type." dina added.

yn was starting to get even more confused. "why are we even talking about her type right now? plus, she's good at dodging stuff." yn mumbled.

"because, my darling, we want to learn more about her!" ellie shot yn a totally-non-creepy smile. "anyway! like you said, she's good at dodging. so we're going to trap her."

noticing yn's concerned look, dina came to the rescue. kind of.

"we'll corner her... emotionally?"

"i'm not emotionally cornering abby." yn said flatly.

dina raised a brow, "why are you so against this?"

"i just think it's wrong to force her into talking." yn argued. "what they want to be private?"

"then she shouldn't tweet about it with hashtags." ellie rolled her eyes. "if she makes it our business then it's our business." she shrugged.

yn sighed, eyes drifting towards the window. abby was still there, still smiling like life is all rainbows. and still not noticing them being creeps.

"okay." dina said. "we invite her over. maybe for a video. something casual. game night. and ambush." she looked at yn, "harmless."

yn nodded, even though something inside her felt wrong. "sure..."

because at the end of the day abby was her own person, not hers. but maybe the girl's who's across from her.

but yn didn't care that much.

[thatonegrimm]

Hello! I would like to request something! So do you know that one trend where you would hold out your hand to your partner just see what they would do with it? Can do something along those line please! Thank you so much! - the donut wizard 🍩

Hi 🍩 anon! That trend is so cute and yes—I know exactly the one you mean! 😭💖 Here you go!💌

🌙Saja Boys x Reader – “What Happens When You Hold Out Your Hand?”

No explanation. Just your hand, extended toward them. How they react says more than words ever could.

----------------------------

🧿 Jinu 

You were standing in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil when you turned and quietly extended your hand to him.

Jinu blinked.

“…Do you need help up?”

You stayed silent.

“…Did you… drop something?”

Still nothing.

He started to sweat. “Are we… are we doing a handshake? A pact? A blood ritual?”

You just tilted your head, palm still out.

Carefully—so carefully—he took your hand in his, fingers curling warm and tentative.

A beat.

“…Do I win?” he asked softly.

You gave his hand a light squeeze and smiled.

He looked stunned.

You could practically see the internal monologue: Physical affection unlocked. Achievement: Holding Hands Without Dying.

Later, he wrote it in his journal.

“7:42 a.m. – Hand was offered. I did not mess up. They smiled. Possibly magic?”

----------------------------

💪 Abby 

You were both sprawled on the floor after stretching. You casually rolled over and held your hand out toward him, palm open.

No words. No cues.

He took it immediately.

No questions asked.

Just bam—your hand engulfed in his warm, calloused one like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You blinked. “You didn’t even hesitate.”

He shrugged, bringing your hand up to rest on his chest. “You held it out. You don’t gotta say anything.”

You stayed like that for several long, peaceful seconds.

“…Okay, I need it back now.”

He clutched it tighter. “Nope.”

“Abby.”

“You gave it. It’s mine now.”

You tried tugging.

He pouted. “But it’s so soft.”

----------------------------

📚 Mystery 

You were curled up in the corner of the couch when you casually reached over, palm up, toward Mystery as he passed by.

He stopped mid-step.

Stared.

You didn’t say a word.

He stared some more.

Then—without warning—he dipped down and rested the side of his head against your hand.

No words. No emotion. Just… plop.

Your fingers instinctively threaded through his hair.

He made a sound like a low sigh. You think it might have been a purr.

You didn't say anything, and neither did he.

But he stayed there for a long time.

(And later, when you tried it again, he came over immediately. Like you’d pressed a button.)

----------------------------

💋 Romance

You held your hand out while he was brushing his hair.

He turned, saw it—and gasped.

“You dare offer your hand to me?”

You nodded solemnly.

He practically glided across the room and dropped to one knee like a Shakespearean ghost, cradling your fingers in both of his.

“My love,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to your knuckles. “My muse. My unspoken poem.”

You bit back a laugh.

Then he flipped your hand over and kissed the center of your palm.

“You know I can’t resist this kind of thing, right?”

You shrugged. “Just wanted to see what you’d do.”

“Dangerous game, sweetheart,” he said, eyes smoldering. “Next time, I might not stop at the hand.”

You yanked your hand back.

“Temptress,” he muttered, dramatically wounded.

----------------------------

🔥 Baby

You held out your hand while sitting across from Baby on the floor during game night.

He looked at it.

Then at you.

Then back at it.

“…What?” he asked, suspicious. “Is this a trick?”

You shook your head.

He narrowed his eyes. “Am I supposed to do something? Bite it?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“…Fine.” He took it cautiously, then mumbled, “Feels kinda nice, I guess.”

Then three seconds later, he laid down and dragged your arm with him, pressing your hand to his cheek like a little space heater.

“I didn’t agree to this part,” you said, amused.

“You started it,” he grumbled, already sleepy.

“Are you… cuddling my hand?”

“I’m not answering questions.”

By the time the others came in, he was fully curled around your arm like it was a favorite plushie.

Nobody dared to interrupt.

----------------------------

M-List

[beastyeastfreak]

Self Aware! Beasts x human! reader

Link to og post

Cw and tags: Fluff, kinda a crack fic, romantic.

Summary: The beasts have found their way out of the device to meet their partner, little do they know their partner isn’t as small as them.

Written pre silent salt

Mystic flour

🌾 - She had been waiting for the opportunity to escape the confines of the game for a long time. As her ability to break rules and speak to you in various ways came to her, so did the ability to enter your world. She had not let on she could do that for some time, she wanted to ensure she would not crumble or lose her powers as she paid you a visit. Her intentions were to bring you with her, so you could sit at her side and do whatever you did to control the kingdoms at her disposal.

🌾 - The day was finally here, she had ensured everything would go smoothly and you had just opened the game and began speaking to her, moreso complaining about something that had went wrong in your life. She’d look up at you, “I can fix this all for you,” she said which you stopped. She continued to speak, finding a sliver of enjoyment at your reaction. “I will show you,” she sounded ominous which made you frantically start to explain it wasn’t that bad and you weren’t that frustrated.

🌾 - You stopped as that cakehound loading animation played before your phone shut off. You set it down and walk away. As anyone would think, you assumed she was about to come out your phone like the girl from The Ring. But as you watched your phone flicker brightly… you saw a little cookie standing on the screen.

🌾 - “Why is everything so large..?” She spoke and turned to see the giant human she had been speaking to for some time crouched beside the desk looking down at her. You were bigger than expected, she was frankly expecting you to be cookie sized not witch sized.

🌾 - “Aaaaaaaw you’re so smaaaaall~” You croon and pick her up. Cupping your hands under her, she cant help but feel a little shocked that her entire plan of dragging you back to the kingdom and keeping you seemed to have been thwarted. “Is there a purpose to your behaviour?” She asks as you lift her to your face. “Sorry, you’re so tiny! I forget you were like a cookie or whatever,” you respond. “You’re so cute even though you’re so scary! I could just eat you up-“ she stared darkly at you. “Sorry, bad choice of words..”

🌾 - She seemed to get over your statement relatively quickly. Floating to her feet and standing in your palm. She didn’t know how she’d get you in the game with such a difference in size and strength, not to mention you had no flour within you for her to manipulate. But maybe she could find other ways to use you to her benefit, you did seem very witch-like after all…

Burning spice

🏜️ - If there was a barrier, Burning Spice was sure to break it. He was somewhat offended at the notion he was trapped in another prison but once he realised what was happening he knew he had to escape. There was a wall between him and his beloved which made him powerless to turn all your issues to rubble!

🏜️ - You had opened cookie run one day, the first thing you did was say hi to Burning Spice who was standing in an area where your decorations had mysteriously disappeared. He laughed, “your face will be priceless when i inflict my wrath upon your world!” You snickered in a sort of “yeah right” kind of way. He grinned, “do you not believe me? Let me prove it!” He said as your phone began to vibrate making you drop it. You walked away from your phone, now looking for something to defend yourself with as the phone flipped around and flashed its screen.

🏜️ - The screen suddenly sparked and a small red figure jumped out from it, weapon sparkling. “HAHAHA! Kneel before the Great De-“ He was cut off as he looked over at the human, much larger than him, he may have chosen the wrong battle…

🏜️ - You stare in shock for a moment, hoping for dreading a muscular beast towering over you. “Ha! Look at you! A mini destroyer!” You say and walk over, dropping the toy sword you grabbed for self defense. “Do not patronise me! I will crumble you!” He roared but you picked him up, hands wrapped around him watching him squirm. “D’aaaaawwww you’re like a feral kitten~” you coo and pet his head, making his antennae push back. “I am not a pet!”

🏜️ - You giggle, “sorry, i cant help myself,” you say and open your hands letting him stand. “You’d be wise to treat me with respect,” he growls. You grin, “Alright i’ll stop messing with you…” you snicker and continue under your breath, “baby spice…”

Shadow Milk

🃏 - He couldn’t contain himself! Candy Apple Cookie and Black Sapphire cookie thought he had finally lost what minute amount of sanity he had. He knew he looked and sounded insane, Black Sapphire cookie was more curious than worried. “So… Master, i can only assume you have some marvellous plan in the work… which you’ve decided to share with the… sky…” he hesitantly asks with Candy Apple cookie tailing after. Shadow milk cookie grinned and floated over. “Of course! Im going to see my Darling Y/N!” Candy Apple cookie turned red and shouted “WHAT?!”

🃏 - “I’ve never heard of this.. Y/N cookie…” Black sapphire cookie said skeptically. Shadow milk cookie raised an eyebrow then grinned wider. “Ill bring them here… right after a romantic entrance!” He said in a dreamy tone before summoning a black portal and flying into it.

🃏 - You were doing dishes in an empty house, it was dark and you were in a good groove. You were pulled from your work as you heard familiar laughter down the hallway. You frown, you must’ve left Cookie run on. As you turn the faucet off you watch as the light from your bedroom has a tall figure standing in it. “Oh Y/N~! I have come to pay you a visit,” Shadow Milks voice rang through the home. You stood up straight, “that’s impossible!” You say watching the figure move in the light as if looking around, you begin to move through the hallway hesitantly. “And yet here i am! Ready to kiss you silly!” You rather liked that idea, you walked through the door to see a small floating cookie… not a human.

🃏 - You stand shocked, before smirking. “You want to kiss me?” You say and he whips around, face visibly scared. “Ohohoh! You’re much bigger than anticipated! Maybe just a peck on the cheek will suffice?” He tried to hide his fear, probably that they’d eat him. “Oh no, i’ve waited so long for a romantic kiss, you just want to give me a little smooch? That wont do… come here!” You say before jumping forward trapping the cookie in your hands. You press your lips to his face with an audible “mmmmmmwah!” Then let go of him, he transforms into a paper puppet, descending slowly to the floor making small flustered noises.

🌷 - You worked so hard and it hurt that Eternal Sugar cookie couldn’t do anything! So she began to search, and test and finally she cracked the code. She would come to you after another gruelling work day and she would hold you in her arms, carrying you back with her to spend the rest of your life with her in the garden.

🌷 - Soon she did just that, she watched as you opened the app while laying on the couch. Tiredness prevalent in your eyes. You tried to do you tasks first but she wouldn’t allow it, when you went to her she said “You look exhausted! How about i help you relax?~” She says before the game shuts down, your phone shuts down for that matter. You do what you can but it just wont budge. Its only when you tiredly drop on your lap and lean your head back against the pillow, something happens

🌷 - A soft purple mist forms around your phone putting the scent of a perfume like aroma into the air. You look back down, a white pair of sugary wings opens up wafting the mist away. She looks around then sees your face, her head tilting. “How… unexpected,” she seems confused but doesn’t let on any negative emotions. You seem just as confused.

🌷 - Your confusion shifts to adoration, “you’re so pretty.” Sitting up, you hold her in your hands like an injured bird, your hands cupping around her but leaving space for her to see you. She laughs, “how sweet.” Shes a bit scared to say the least, maybe she should have accounted that you were likely not a cookie.

🌷 - “I didn’t expect you to appear like this,” you say running your finger over her wings in a feather light touch. “I almost want to keep you for myself and never let you go back,” you say. Is this how her angels felt about her? She felt honoured and nervous at the same time. “Well… lets not go that far just yet, im here to help you.” She says and flies up to the back of the couch out of your hands. You tilt your head, “help me?” You ask placing a hand over the back of the couch. “Help you relax… your height will not deter me from helping you find happiness.”

[cressidagrey]

The Old Wolves

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Part of the The mysterious Mrs. Piastri Series.

Summary:  Some other people have Thoughts™

Warnings and Notes:As requested by @leodette

Big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble 😂

Group Chat: The Old Wolves 🐺🐺🐺

(Members: Mark Webber, Nico Rosberg, Sebastian Vettel, Kimi Räikkönen, Fernando Alonso, Jenson Button, David Coulthard)

Nico Rosberg: ⚠️ hello? ⚠️ excuse me??? ⚠️ MARK ALAN WEBBER YOU ARE SUMMONED

Sebastian Vettel: Just to confirm, I didn’t hallucinate that, right? Oscar Piastri has a wife. A whole wife.

David Coulthard: Excuse me?? Wife as in legally married? Not “my partner” or “my girlfriend” but wife???

Fernando Alonso:married. married-married. like vows and paperwork and tax returns

Jenson Button: I thought it was a joke. I laughed. I pointed.

THEN OSCAR WAS LIKE “She’s amazing. 10/10. Would always marry her again.”

David Coulthard: Was this a soft launch? Or a slap across the face with a marriage license?

Fernando Alonso: Lando spewed water. 

David Coulthard:I thought the fanstage was a prank at first. He said “my wife” so casually I thought he meant someone else’s wife

Mark Webber: ...It wasn’t that big a deal.

Nico Rosberg: HE SAID “MY WIFE.” MARK. MY WIFE.

David Coulthard: Mark. Buddy. Friend. When were you planning to mention that your golden boy is MARRIED?

Sebastian Vettel: Mark. Mark. Be honest. Did you officiate the wedding?

Mark Webber: 🙄 No. I didn’t officiate anything. And yes, he’s married. Has been for a while.

Nico Rosberg: FOR A WHILE????

Fernando Alonso: define “a while”

Mark Webber: Look, they didn’t want it public. It’s not like he gave me permission to plaster it across the paddock, alright?? It’s private.They wanted it that way. And I respect that.

Jenson Button: You knew he was married for HOW LONG???

Mark Webber: Since 2019.  They got married straight after graduation. Quietly. No press. No announcements.

Kimi Räikkönen: good wedding announcements are annoying

Nico Rosberg: FIVE. YEARS???

Sebastian Vettel: That’s not the point, Kimi. The point is that Mark has been sitting on a whole secret Piastri wife like it’s casual trivia

David Coulthard: No wonder the kid’s so composed. He was married at an age when the rest of us were still figuring out how to microwave spaghetti.

Fernando Alonso: He met her when they were teenagers, didn’t he?

Mark Webber: Yeah. High school sweethearts. She's brilliant. Calmer than Oscar, if you can believe it.

David Coulthard:

You let us all go on thinking he was some shy little rookie with no game

Turns out he’s been married since 2019?? He wasn’t even in bloody F3!

Nico Rosberg: I want to say I’m shocked. But honestly? That makes so much sense it’s offensive.

Jenson Button: Wait. So all those years you said “Oscar’s doing well, he has a good support system,” You meant “he has a wife”?

Mark Webber: Yes.

Sebastian Vettel: So you’ve just been—what? Watching the world speculate if Oscar’s single while knowing full well he’s married?

Mark Webber: Yup.

Sebastian Vettel:You’ve had us discussing Oscar’s “lonely young genius energy” for YEARS. I defended him in press. I said he was focused. Laser-focused.Not married-in-a-cottage-with-wildflowers focused.

Nico Rosberg: I hate how smug you are right now.

Jenson Button: What’s her name?

Mark Webber: Felicity.

David Coulthard: Felicity Piastri. That sounds like someone who could ruin my finances and my life and I’d thank her.

Sebastian Vettel: We need a picture.

Mark Webber: No you don’t.

Fernando Alonso: does she like paella?

Mark Webber: I’m muting this chat.

Kimi Räikkönen: send photo or at least tell us if she drinks

Mark Webber: She restores vintage cars and taught Oscar how to budget.

Jenson Button: ...okay but now I really want a picture.

Mark Webber: You’re all insufferable.

Nico Rosberg: You kept a wife from us, Webber. A WIFE.

David Coulthard: Imagine what else he’s hiding.

Jenson Button: Don’t be dramatic. It’s not like Oscar has a kid too.

***

Text Messages: Mark Webber & Fernando Alonso

Fernando Alonso: Mark.

Mark Webber: Oh no.

Fernando: A child?? A whole child, Mark?? You let me spiral over the wife situation and now there's a daughter???

Mark: Hi, Fernando. Hope your day is going well.

Fernando: Don’t you dare Webber-PR me. There is a toddler in this world who is part Oscar Piastri and YOU KNEW.

Mark: Yes, I knew. Yes, she’s wonderful. No, I didn’t tell you, because—as I’ve explained multiple times—they wanted privacy.

Fernando: You mean to tell me You watched me spend two years saying “Oscar is very mature for his age” WHILE HE HAD A BABY AT HOME AND JUST LET ME KEEP TALKING LIKE AN IDIOT

Mark: Correct.

Fernando: YOU KEPT THE F1 BABY OF THE YEAR FROM ME, MARK.

Mark: I wasn’t going to send out a group memo like “Hey everyone, Oscar has a kid and she builds Lego wind tunnels.”

Mark: Her name’s Beatrice. Bee for short. She’s three. Adorable. Terrifyingly smart. Obsessed with suspension geometry.

Fernando: You’re joking.

Mark: She corrected me about toe angle last Christmas.

Fernando: Mark. How old was he when she was born?

Mark: Nineteen.

Fernando: Oh my God.

Mark: Married Felicity the year before. Quiet ceremony. No PR. She was doing her master’s. He was racing F3. And they still made it work.

Fernando: You’re telling me that while the rest of the grid was busy doing shirtless sponsor shoots and pretending to be single on social media, Oscar Piastri was changing nappies and reading bedtime stories??

Mark: Yes. And building a sim rig while Bee napped in a carrier on his chest.

Fernando: This is insane. He’s been a father the entire time. He’s been a dad through his entire F1 career and no one knew?

Mark: Oscar’s very good at compartmentalising. And Felicity is… Well. She’d sue God if she thought He was interfering with Bee’s bedtime.

Fernando: I want to be annoyed at you for hiding this. But also. I respect it. Deeply.

Mark:Look, they weren’t hiding her to be shady. It was about privacy. Safety. She had health problems when she was born. They wanted to keep it quiet..

Fernando: She’s going to run the FIA by 2030, isn’t she?

Mark: Or the planet. Honestly, we’re just lucky she uses her powers for good.

Fernando: unbelievable. I liked being the grid’s biggest mystery and now we have Oscar “secret wife, secret daughter, still emotionally unbothered” Piastri

Mark: He’s an overachiever.

***

Group Chat: The Old Wolves 🐺🐺🐺

(Members: Mark Webber, Nico Rosberg, Sebastian Vettel, Kimi Räikkönen, Fernando Alonso, Jenson Button, David Coulthard)

Nico Rosberg: MARK. MARK WEBBER.

Sebastian Vettel: You have got to be kidding me. A CHILD??? A WHOLE CHILD??? She’s THREE. THREE YEARS OLD. Mark. Mark.

Jenson Button: A child???? He has a child????

Sebastian Vettel: OSCAR PIASTRI HAS BEEN A FATHER THIS WHOLE TIME??? MARK?

Nico Rosberg: You KNEW and didn’t SAY ANYTHING???

Kimi Räikkönen:This is what happens when you let Australians do PR.

Mark Webber: Good morning to all of you as well 🙃 Yes, I knew. Yes, she’s three. And no, I didn’t say anything, because it wasn’t mine to tell.

David Coulthard:SOME of us would have sent a gift if we’d known  baby Piastri existed. Instead, I found out from INSTAGRAM DURING BREAKFAST and nearly choked on my tea.

Nico Rosberg: MARK. MARK. WHY DID YOU NOT TELL US THERE WAS A TINY HUMAN WITH OSCAR’S GENES???

Sebastian Vettel: You knew. You let us all scream about “how composed Oscar is” like idiots while he was clearly surviving on three hours of sleep and toddler snacks.

Jenson Button: He has a KID, Mark. A child. 

Mark Webber: They wanted privacy. I respected that. It wasn’t my story to tell.

Fernando Alonso: He’s been a dad for three years. It’s not new.

Nico Rosberg: YOU KNEW TOO??

Sebastian Vettel: This is a conspiracy.

Mark Webber: They kept it private. It’s not my story to tell. Oscar and Felicity wanted Bee to grow up without the circus.

Jenson Button: …Bee? Wait. Her name is Bee?

Mark Webber: Beatrice. But she goes by Bee.

David Coulthard: That’s adorable. I can’t even be mad.

Sebastian Vettel: I can. I was unprepared. Emotionally. Also spiritually.

Mark Webber: Her favourite plush frog is named Jenson Button.

Jenson Button: Excuse me???

David Coulthard: Wait—what?

Mark Webber: It was a gift from me. She was born in the middle of the 2020 season. I was sleep-deprived. It was soft and had big eyes. I panicked and called the frog Jenson Button. She takes him everywhere. He’s her emotional support frog.

Jenson Button: You PANICKED and named a frog after me???

David Coulthard: Oh this is rich.

Sebastian Vettel: This is the legacy you deserve, Button. Ribbit.

Nico Rosberg: I cannot believe this.

Jenson Button: I have never been more flattered and insulted at the same time.

Nico Rosberg: So let me get this straight. Oscar Piastri, a man we all described as “quiet,” “level-headed,” and “mysterious,” has a wife, a child, a hidden life, and you’ve known the whole time.

Mark Webber: Yes.

Sebastian Vettel: Mark. Be honest. Is there another secret child we should know about?

Mark Webber: Not unless Lando has one. Which, to be clear, I do not want to investigate.

Nico Rosberg: Unbelievable. A secret wife and child. You’re lucky that baby is cute, Webber.

Mark Webber: She is. And she can say “sector times” better than most race engineers.

Sebastian Vettel: So to recap: – Oscar has a wife – Oscar has a daughter – Fernando and Mark are secret-keeping menaces – I now need to emotionally recover – Jenson is a frog

David Coulthard: Normal day in Formula 1.

[lovelake]

In which you find out who the person leaving you continuous love letters is and return the gesture

solivan brugmansia x gn!reader | 1.7k wc, fluff, reader is friendly, awkwardness, nervousness, hyugo’s very involved, deryl and geo (briefly, just in the background), tiny implication of masturbation if you squint

note: i felt a little iffy writing about lockers because they’re uni students but that’s how it is in the game so (ᵕ—ᴗ—) this was supposed to be out while most people were still in college (because i think people in the semester system are already out for break) but i didn’t make it in time </3 as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated

masterlist read on ao3

Lately, your existence has been put on the same pedestal as that of everything beautiful in the world.

You’ve been getting love letter after love letter ever since Valentine’s Day. At first, you thought it was some sort of misunderstanding—they got the wrong locker. It wasn’t until certain details in them were specific to you that you finally got the message across. This secret admirer really was yours.

You picked up on quirks in the handwriting after rereading them so many times. Separated letters frequently molded into random strings of cursive. The horizontal lines on the t’s are low, they look like upside down crosses. 

If the writing itself wasn’t sweet enough, there were also doodles left on the margins and corners. Flowers, hearts, and oddly enough, pumpkins. 

Life was more fun with romantic secrecy in the air.

Sometimes it was embarrassing, though. You’d trip, drop a paper, or miss a shot of a wrapper to a trash can—and your mind would immediately go to, did they see that?

The question hovered over your head for months like a cloud. Who are they? 

—

“Don’t eat so close to me,” Sol mumbled to Hyugo, angling himself away as he continued writing. He didn’t want the wind to blow any crumbs onto his paper.

“Another letter? You’re so romantic, Sunny! It almost makes me lose my appetite.”

Yes and no. It was a letter for you, but essentially, it was just a draft for now.

“Do you think it’s working?” Sol asked with a sigh, vulnerability in his question.

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t. Have you seen their reaction to finding one in their locker?”

“A couple times.”

“And?”

“They were smiling.” Sol’s own answer prompted a faint one to form on his face.

Love and commitment wove through each and every word until the end result was practically a written serenade for you, and only you.

—

Whether by sheer luck or fate, you didn’t have to do any snooping to find who your secret admirer is. The answer came to you.

“Pass your homework towards the front of the class.”

Stuck in the very first row, you patiently waited until you were tapped on the shoulder and given a stack of completed homework.

As you were making the stack look presentable, you noticed a familiar looking ‘t’ on the title of the last paper. No way. Was the person sending love letters in this class? They had to be sitting at the very back if so.

Knowing their name wouldn’t help, you didn’t know anybody in this class because group activities weren’t required.

Acting nonchalant, you stretched your back from side to side and took the opportunity to look behind you. But you couldn’t really see because of all the people in your way. 

Next idea. You “accidentally” dropped your pencil and leaned over in your chair to catch a glimpse. 

Their head rested snugly against their forearm, you couldn’t see their face. Black and dark green long sleeves, that’s all you were getting. Okay, you could wait until class ended for the mystery to be revealed.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The clock mocked your excitement for approximately fifty-five torturous minutes. 

Class ended, students scrambled.

After quickly gathering your things into your arms, you (not very discreetly) turned around. There was no reason to, there were two doors and you usually went out the front one since it was close to you.

But only in this way were you able to fully look at the person who’s been making even the shittiest of weeks feel better.

Tall, pierced ears and lips, eyelashes that look long even from a distance…

Your secret admirer is handsome in a pretty sort of way. Even so, he looks like someone who would give his crush a necklace with his blood in it rather than lovey-dovey letters. 

You must’ve been awe-struck for too long, time slowed.

As soon as he caught on to your staring (gawking), he immediately walked out of the room, leaving his friend talking to no one. “…and then–huh? Sunny? Sunny! How rude…”

“No fair. You have long legs, you walk faster than me.” Hyugo eventually caught up to Sol. Their lockers were next to one another’s.

Sol’s body felt hot. You had looked at him with intent for the first time ever, not just an accidental glance or something. He tried to compose himself as he opened his locker to put one of his books away.

Were you finally noticing him? He had so much love to offer, all you had to do was embrace the soul that was so willing to give it to you.

“…I have to use the restroom.” He most certainly does not, at least not in the way it’s intended to be used.

In the midst of being over the moon, he failed to see that you were nearby.

You know where his locker is.

Now there’s only two things left to do.

—

i. WRITE HIM A LETTER

Now back at home, you felt insecure. Just a bit. All his letters were beautiful: nice expensive looking paper, sentences all in pen (somehow he never made a single mistake, there were never any words scribbled out), and lived in envelopes that had pretty dark red wax seals prior to you opening them.

Well. You didn’t have any envelopes. Your paper was college ruled with three holes on the left. Your pen was gel-point and smeared when you wrote too fast. And, you didn’t have any white-out in case you made a mistake.

“This is silly.” You tell yourself, shaking away your doubts and picking the pen back up. 

You didn’t harbor the same feelings that he did to you, how could you, when you barely came to know of his existence? Either way, his letters always left you feeling giddy. And who knows, maybe a potential future relationship awaited you.

So, you got to writing. 

ii. DELIVER IT TO HIS LOCKER (GONE WRONG)

Time passed by ever so slowly the next day, it always did when you had something to look forward to. Butterflies ran rampant in your stomach, concentrating in class was hard, especially the one you shared with him.

You waited until the end of school, the letter already in your hand as you (hesitantly) made your way there. If anything, it looked like you were holding a folded graded assignment with a big giant F on it, nobody would suspect it.

“Hey, maybe that’s another letter for you Geo! Your locker’s full again isn’t it? Have you even gone through them?”

“Be quiet.”

They couldn’t be talking about you. They just couldn’t.

Thankfully, those guys turned a corner. It would’ve been awkward if you all kept walking the same way. And who’s Geo, anyway? Is he really that popular?

You leaned against the wall, your other hand preoccupied by your phone as you waited for the after school crowd to die out. Checking the time, you had a tutoring session upstairs in ten minutes.

Eventually, the only footsteps you could hear were distant. Putting your phone away, you swallowed your nerves and approached his locker.

Well, here goes nothing.

You start slipping it in. 

Somehow, your body flinches before your hearing processes anything.

“Woah! Is that a letter for Sunny?”

Shit. 

Wide-eyed, you looked over. The letter was still in your hands, only the tip of it was rammed into the locker ventilation hole. 

Day one of trying to mimic your secret admirer and you already failed. 

Just your luck, his best friend was here too. Even so, you could only focus on him. His expression matched yours, but his was from being incredibly flustered rather than embarrassment from being caught.

You didn’t know what to say, only one word slipped from your lips.

“…Hi.” 

Hi.

Hi?

Hi?!

“Hi!” Hyugo greeted you back with a grin and wave, catching your attention for a split second. Like the good best friend he was, he nudged Sol your way. 

Looks like he was too stunned to talk, you’d have to break the ice more. All the words he held right now, you were sure you’d already read them all.

You brought the letter back down.

“I may have…figured out that you were the person sending me letters. Unless I’m wrong! And in that case I can leave and…” 

“How’d you figure out it was me?” 

Surprisingly, his voice is soft. 

“Because of your t’s.”

“…My t’s?”

“Yeah. You write them differently. Not differently in a bad way! Just…I’ve never really seen anyone write them the way you do.”

One of his brows raised. You thought you offended him until he smiled. That alone put you at ease.

“This is for you,” you handed the letter to him. His fingertips briefly kissed your skin.

The paper didn’t so much as crinkle in his hold, he was being gentle. You were grateful he wasn’t bold enough to start reading it on the spot, you would die.

He opened his locker with his free hand and fetched a crumpled-looking paper. He stammered a bit over his words as he held it out to you. “It’s…It’s not done yet.”

It was a draft full of scribbles and crossed out words. So, he did make mistakes. Just that he worked on a draft before putting everything onto the fancier paper. Somehow, that just made his gestures all the sweeter. 

“I think this one will be my favorite,” you tell him, no sarcasm present.

You were kind and welcoming, exactly what he needed in a world such as this.

"I love-" Sol's overly strong confession was interrupted by Hyugo elbowing him.

Finding a clock on the wall, you curse under your breath. “I have to go catch a tutoring session but it was nice finally meeting you. What’s your name?”

“You can just call me Sol.”

“See you tomorrow, Sol!” 

You repeated his name under your breath over and over to commit it to memory as you walked away. “Sol, Sol, Sol…” 

He was stuck in place, never taking his gaze off you until you turned the corner. Your voice echoed in his head, a catchy melody he would never tire of. 

See you tomorrow, you said. Like you would be talking to him from now on. Like you wouldn’t be put off by him casually approaching you. Like you were friends now.

Hyugo lightly pinched Sol’s arm, he got no response.

Sol looked down at the letter, he was holding something sacred—you put thought into it, something in your possession (your pen) had touched it, your fingerprints were all over it. Does this count as indirect hand-holding?

He needed to read it, and he would, once in private.

“Let me see, let me see!”

“Touch it and I’ll kill you.” 

“…Jeez, and then who’ll clean up all your messes?”

[softtdaisy]

daddy kissed the babysitter / Aaron Hotchner

summary. its time for hotch and the babysitter to tell jack they are dating -except the boy already knows.

words count. 2 200

what to expect. pure soft and teenagers in love at this point

a/n. guess who's back THE BABYSITTER i had this idea when i couldn't sleep last night and i needed to do something super soft and i'm so happy to write for my babies again!!!

babysitter masterlist | criminal minds masterlist | F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

“So Jack, verdict?”

“Hm,” the boy put a hand on his chin, thinking for a good ten seconds in a very mysterious silence. You and Hotch both waited, you with your hands joined in front of your face, and he with his arms crossed on his chest and a very amused smile on his lips. “Nine out of ten!”

You let out a joyful scream that made Hotch explode in laughter. He watched as you ran to Jack, grabbing him and making him spin around with you. The boy couldn't help but laugh as he wrapped his arms around your neck to ensure his safety. 

“That’s a victory, my friend!” you said, sitting him on the counter before offering your hand to check him. Something Jack did immediately before reaching for his dad, who was patiently waiting next to you. 

If Jack had been a very good eater for years, he had developed a kind of aversion for vegetables these past weeks. You swore to Hotch that it wasn’t your fault—you always made sure to give this boy good, varied, and balanced meals. But none of your questions lead to the answer to why Jack refused to eat anything with vegetables.

And so you made your very own mission to find new meals to prepare that Jack would love. Needless to say, it has been very difficult and full of obstacles. 

The good thing out of this, something that made Jack happy about the whole game, was that you decided to take a picture of everything you made and asked Jack to grade it. So you could have a book of all the attempts, the successful and the failed ones.

And tonight was a victory.

“See, I knew we could do it!” you told Hotch, hitting on his chest playfully. If you felt his hand on your back, you didn’t see the look he gave you. Full of love and appreciation. 

He knew the time you spent finding new recipes. You called him when he was away about your ideas to get some advice. Even when you slept there, when Jack was asleep and you had a great time loving each other again, you would tell him about your latest tries. You took this mission at heart—like everything when it came to him and Jack.

“I can confirm it was a nine out of ten,” he replied with a smile that couldn’t leave his lips. And one of his favorites. Because if Hotch wasn’t there to try some of your latest meals, you always made sure to keep him a portion. With Jack’s grade and comment on it. 

And sometimes more. 

He remembered laughing at your “If you don’t like it, I will quit.” or “Remember you love me, and if you hate that, it doesn’t mean you hate me.” Or feeling his heart melt at your simple “I love you” with hearts around the words.

You loved him, and he loved you. And Hotch felt bad sometimes that you were the only one to know that. Even though you kept saying you were fine with having a secret relationship.

“Can I get an ice cream to celebrate it?” Jack asked with his not-so-innocent smile. You bit your lips because that little boy knew how to play with your heart. Thank God, you weren’t alone in the room; otherwise, you would have had another ice cream night.

But Hotch’s hand left your back to ruffle Jack’s hair. “Not on a school day, buddy.” 

Jack’s pout didn’t even last long—he knew it was a lost battle before asking for his dessert. 

And soon he was in Hotch’s arms, ready to go to sleep. 

You were finishing cleaning the last dishes when you saw his little head straighten up. “You’ll be here tomorrow morning?” He sounded sleepy already, and you wished you could give that boy good news before sleeping.

“Sadly no, buddy.” You dried your hand before walking to them. “But I’m picking you up after school, ok?” You caressed his cheek softly before putting a small kiss on his forehead while he nodded to your offer. 

And one look up proved to you that Hotch had listened to your exchange too.

They both disappeared to Jack’s bedroom, and after you finished cleaning, you went straight to the balcony to enjoy a moment of calm.

After a few minutes, Hotch joined you outside. Sitting in the chair in front of you just to grab your ankles and put them on his thigh. There was something intimate in the way his fingers started caressing your naked skin in the most natural way. 

For a minute, he took the time to appreciate his life like this. Cases over, and no need to go to the bureau the following day. His son peacefully sleeping in his bedroom you three redecorated over the past weeks. And you, sitting on his balcony, in the very same chair you sat on every night. Just like you always belonged there. 

You weren’t even facing him, your eyes lost in the sunset playing in front of you. The way the sun was going down on the city. You could get used to the view. You already did, somehow.

And Hotch could get to this view too.

“I think we should tell him,” he said, with a sweet smile on his face. 

You turned your head to face him, a confused but playful look in your eyes. “Tell him what?” 

“That we’re dating.”

Oh. Was the only thing that left your lips. Because it was also the only thing in your mind. And Hotch waited for the thoughts to build in your head, still tracing lovely figures on your legs. He knew it was a lot, especially coming from him.

You had the discussion once or twice. 

When Jack came home one day, he asked in a very serious tone why his babysitter was sleeping here sometimes when none of his friends’ did.

Or when Jack got sick one day, the very same day Hotch was coming home late, and he asked you if you would be his new mom. You blamed the fever for the question, especially since he never asked that again. But it did something to you. And to Hotch too.

Knowing his son wasn’t only looking for a maternal figure, he was looking for it in you.

You got up only to sit on his lap a few seconds after. “Is that what you want, Aaron?” you asked Hotch, feeling his hand going up and down on your back. You didn’t want him to go over his own limit just for you. This wasn’t the plan. It won’t ever be.

You brought a hand to his cheek so you could feel his head move when he nodded. “I want us to be a family.” 

The face you made, full of tenderness, made him laugh softly. Hotch brought his hand to your neck to move your face closer to his. And the kiss you shared, short and sweet, was the only agreement you both needed.

“What we can do,” you started with your hand traveling on his chest, “is to make and have dinner all together on Saturday night, like a family. And then we can tell Jack, Is that ok for you?”

His laugh resonated in your ears. “You’re really buying our love with food, aren’t you?” He asked with his frowned brows and his amused expression.

“I’ve learned how to seduce the Hotchner boys,” you replied with a wink before kissing him again.

The thing was, Hotch went on a date the following day, and your family weekend got compromised.

Until he assured you he would be on the jet on Saturday and here for the dinner—just not for the making part. “That’s a big excuse to not make dinner, Aaron; you could have just said it,” you texted him. 

With Jack’s approval, you decided to go on a pizza night. Hotch had asked Rossi for good addresses to grab everything because apparently “you can’t make a pizza night with my nephew with the wrong products.” At least, these were the words that had been reported to you. 

So there you were, preparing the base while Jack was writing the ingredients each of you three wanted on their pizza. 

“Does your dad have good taste, or do we need to sell him?” You asked Jack with a serious tone but a playful smile that made him smile back at you. 

“Yeah,” he started before putting his pen away. “I think he’s good.” That kid was raised well. 

You kept talking about everything and anything until Hotch came back and the pizzas were cooked. Everything was going perfectly. Except for the little stress you and Hotch felt at the idea of telling Jack the truth about you two.

At some point during the dinner, he grabbed your hand and kept caressing your skin with his thumb. 

The dessert. The plan was to wait until dessert to tell Jack. And so when you went back to the kitchen to grab the ice cream you bought for the night, you knew it was coming. 

Having no idea it was coming closer than you thought. “When will you move here?” Jack interrupted his dad to ask the question directed to you.

Your head still in the fridge, putting everything away, you heard Hotch ask, “What do you mean, Jack-Jack?”

“Well, you two are lovers, and lovers live together.” 

You hit your head against a shelf. “Lovers live together,” you repeated in your breath while turning around to face the boy. A boy who clearly didn’t seem to understand the importance of his words. He was looking at you both like you were the weird ones for not understanding what he meant. Like his question just popped up in his head, and he didn’t think more of it. “What do you mean…me and your dad are lovers?” you said, walking back to the table—with no ice cream in hand.

This time, he was the one to look up with a confused face. “He called you ‘love the other day. And Dad looks at you the same way he was looking at Beth. And I saw you kiss.” He saw you kiss.

You couldn’t resist the laugh that was growing in you. A nervous but very relieved one. You put a hand on Hotch’s shoulder, a hand that he grabbed immediately. You could feel the relief in the way his fingers were softly squeezing yours. “Since when do you know that?” he asked his son, who simply shrugged.

“I don’t know.” 

“And…” Hotch continued. He looked up at you for a second before putting his eyes back on Jack. “How do you feel about that?”

Again, Jack simply shrugged. “I don’t know. I like you,” he said, looking at you. And that was the only explanation you needed. Jack liked you. Not just the babysitter that he was seeing almost every day. Not just the babysitter that was taking care of him. 

You. He liked you.

And Hotch felt the same way. You could tell from the way his face moved again to look at you. Everything looked peaceful on his face, from his eyes to his smile. You could almost swear he won a year or two with the stress away from his features. He didn’t have to hide his love for you in his own home anymore.

“Hm.” Jack’s voice was low. “Where is the ice cream?”

“Right, the ice cream,” you laughed, pointing at him like he made a great point. And so you went back to grab it, making sure not to hit your head this time. 

The subject didn’t come up again for the rest of the night. Turns out Jack had a lot of subjects in his little head that could keep you all up for hours. 

This time, having Hotch’s hand in yours didn’t feel like a secret or forbidden gesture.

This time, when Jack went to sleep, you promised to be there without feeling like you were hiding anything from him. 

“You know, he might be right.” Hotch said later, when you were lying in bed together. Your head on his chest, your legs tangled up together, and his hand creating new forms on your back. 

You moved to rest your chin on his chest. “Sure. About what?” 

“You could move here.” His head slowly moved to your hair to brush it. And you could imagine it. A life where you didn’t have to wonder if you would even stay the night or come back home. Where you didn’t have to pack another bag anytime you came to his place. Where you could spend every single morning with your two favorite men in the entire world. Where you could wake up to Hotch’s kisses and be greeted by Jack’s smiles. 

Yes. You could. And you wanted that.

“One thing after another, Aaron Hotchner.” You still replied, moving to give him a small kiss on his lips. “I don’t want you to get tired of me already.”

He knew you were joking. Because there was no way he could ever get tired of you.

Tag List: @kiwriteswords@monzabee@raysmayhem-72 @kajjaka @pastelpinkflowerlife (if you want to be in it, ask me and I’ll be happy to add you x)

[uss-butterscotch]

Yet another between seasons 3 and 4 fic

Eddie tries to unravel the mystery his newest sheep are caught up in that somehow involves Steve Harrington

Part one

- - -

Eddie wasn’t sure what he was expecting from the group of freshman he had taken into his group, but it certainly wasn’t them claiming to be buddies with the disgraced king Steve Harrington. It had started when Henderson had asked how long Hellfire meetings would go.

The little twerp rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well I need a timeframe. Steve said he’d give me a ride home after, but he’s not just gonna wait in the parking lot forever.”

“Yes he would, and you know it.” Wheeler retorted before Eddie could respond.

“Well yeah, but he already spends like no time with people his own age outside of work, it’s getting a little sad.” Henderson said, and Eddie was starting to wonder who this Steve guy was. ”I don’t want to add another reason for him to not have friends.”

“What are you talking about?” Sinclair joined in. “He’s like constantly hanging out with Robin.”

“Yeah! And he refuses to make a move on her! I think he’s lost all his game. And sitting in a parking lot for hours waiting for a group of nerdy freshman isn’t gonna help.” Henderson replied dramatically.

When Dustin had first brought him up, Eddie had figured Steve was like, his stepdad or something. But the more it went on the more lost he got.

“Okay, okay,” he interjected, stopping their weird conversation before it could get any weirder. “Whoever this Steve guy is, you can tell him to pick you up at eight.”

“Oh, you probably know him.” Dustin said, which Eddie highly doubted, since the only Steves he knew were his uncle’s poker buddy, and the former jock/bully/general asshole that was Steve Harrington.

“He graduated last year.” He continued, and that narrowed down the list of Steves in a unpleasant way.

“You’re not talking about Steve Harrington.” Gareth said, looking up from his lunch for the first time during the conversation.

“Yeah, we are.” Henderson replied, and Eddie shared a look with his friends.

“No way Harrington spends his free time driving you twerps around.” Eddie said, thinking if he was a character in one of his campaigns he’d be insight checking them all so hard right now.

“Unfortunately he does.” Wheeler said lazily as he pushed his meatloaf around his tray.

“Nobody’s forcing you to get in the car when he picks us up.” Dustin snapped.

“What, and ask Nancy for a ride? That’s worse.” Mike responded.

“All of you shut up,” Eddie called, once again derailing their strange conversation spiral. “Let me get this straight: King Steve has no friends besides some band geek that he can’t even manage to date, and spends his free time driving a bunch of freshman around?”

When none of them answered him he threw his head back, cackling. “Oh this is too good.”

He kissed his hands and threw them up, as if beckoning to the heavens. “Oh it’s all true! What goes around truly does come around.”

He was too busy reveling in the downfall of the personification of everything he hated to notice Henderson’s simmering rage across the table from him until he slammed his fists on the table. “Steve’s a good guy!” He shouted.

Eddie gave him a dangerous look. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Dustin asserted. The kid had guts, he had to give him that.

“Tell that to Jeff in freshman year, with his head in a toilet while Harrington egged his buddies on.” Eddie pushed.

Dustin looked between him and Jeff briefly, but his defensive aura didn’t waver. “He’s not like that anymore.”

Eddie scoffed and leaned away from the table. “Yeah, and I live on the moon with my fairy godmother and a million dollars.”

Dustin had apparently heard enough, because he picked up his bag and stormed away. Wheeler and Sinclair watched him go for a second, before sharing some kind of psychic communication. Eventually Sinclair got up and followed after him.

“Oook what’s his damage?” Eddie asked.

Wheeler sighed. “He and Steve got really close last year. Dustin was in some trouble and Steve helped him out. And then the thing with Billy, and the-“ he stops abruptly before continuing “the mall, and now I guess Dustin sees him as like, a big brother or something.”

“Ok that explains like, nothing.” Gareth says, “The thing with Billy? You mean when Hargrove smashed Harrington’s face in last year?”

Mike nodded. Unhelpfully not explaining further. Giving them a look like they were the crazy ones.

“And what does that have to do with Henderson?” Eddie prodded.

Mike huffed and crossed his arms. “He was there. We all were. Billy was looking for his sister and she was hanging out with us, and he said some shit about her not associating with ‘people like Lucas’, and then he attacked him, and Steve stopped him, but Billy fought dirty.”

Mike shook his head and looked away. “We thought Billy was gonna kill Steve before Max was able to stop him.”

Eddie shared a look with Gareth and Jeff, trying to judge if they were buying it. It was no secret that Billy was an asshole, and a violent one at that. Wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to believe he was a racist too.

“Ok, so Harrington got is face beat in to stop a racist asshole. That doesn’t cancel out all the shitty stuff he did before.” Eddie stated.

“Yeah, also, you mentioned the mall?” Jeff cut in.

“Yeah.” Mike said like it was obvious.

“The one that burned down?”

“Yeah,” Mike was picking at his fingernails now. “We were there for that too, with Steve.”

He looked like he was thinking hard for a second before continuing. “We got separated in the fire, so I don’t actually know exactly what happened, and they don’t like to talk about it, but when shit was going down Dustin, Steve, Robin, and Lucas’ little sister got in a pretty bad situation. The way Dustin tells it, Steve got them out, but he got pretty hurt in the process.”

“Jesus Christ, is there any disaster in Hawkins you guy’s weren’t there for?” Eddie said.

Mike gave a humorless laugh. “I wish.”

They all let Mike’s story sit for a second before they all started firing off more questions.

“What was Steve even doing hanging out with you guys when Billy showed up?” Jeff asked.

“So you’re trying to tell us he’s some kind of hero for saving Dustin from the mall fire?” Gareth added.

“Come on, Wheeler, he dated your sister, you can’t really think that highly of him.” Eddie finished.

Mike squinted at them for a moment before scoffing, “Honestly, none of it is any of your business,” he turned his gaze to Eddie, “and yeah, he did date my sister, and he was kind of douchebag like two years ago. And for the record, I don’t even really like him that much, but he did save mine and my friends’ lives more than once, so I think I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and not automatically assume he’s a complete asshole.”

At that he also grabbed his bag and his lunch tray. “I’m gonna talk to Dustin, try to get him to see your side of it, but maybe you guys should try to see ours.”

Eddie watched him follow his friends out of the cafeteria. Shaking his head. “Man I never pegged them as the type to hero worship some jock.”

Gareth shrugged. “Sinclair maybe, I overheard him talking about joining the basketball team last week, but Henderson? No way Harrington puts up with him.”

“Maybe if Henderson cools off by Friday we’ll see if Harrington really is there to pick him up.” Jeff mused.

When Friday came around, find out they did.

The session ended up going until about 8:30. When Eddie called it a night and Henderson looked at the clock, he started packing up in a hurry.

“Shit, Steve’s probably pissed we kept him waiting.” He practically shrieked.

“Dude, chill out, he’s probably just out there failing to chat up Robin. Again.” Lucas said, collecting his things at a more relaxed pace.

Dustin barely had time to hear him though, as he raced out of the room with a hasty goodbye to the rest of the group.

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Steve talks a lot of shit, but if it really pissed him off that much, he wouldn’t do it.”

Eddie paused his organizing of his dice to shake his head. “There you go again talking like you’re friends with Harrington.”

“Whatever, thanks for the great session, Eddie. See you on Monday.” Lucas said as he left.

Wheeler was still there, taking his sweet time packing up his things. “What, King Steve’s not taking you with him?“ Eddie asked.

“Oh, he is. I just like making him wait as long as possible. Plus, his and Dustin’s dumb secret handshake takes so long they’ll probably still be doing it by the time we get out there.” Mike replied, rolling his eyes.

“They do not have a secret handshake.” Gareth said, incredulous.

Mike shrugged. “Believe whatever you want man, all I know is that it makes us about 5 minutes late to whatever we’re doing.”

Eddie shared a look with the rest of his friends, simultaneously deciding that if this secret handshake existed, they had to see it for themselves. They left their stuff behind and made their way out to the parking lot to see what must have been the end of the handshake, which consisted of what looked like a brief light saber fight and Dustin spilling Harrington’s imaginary guts on the pavement.

“What the hell,” he whispered as he watched Harrington animatedly ask Dustin how it went.

As Henderson talked, he watched Harrington wave to Lucas across the parking lot and notice Eddie and his friends in the doorway. His smile faltered slightly, becoming a little awkward, as he waved to them too.

Eddie’s brain was too busy trying to process everything he was seeing to have the wherewithal to do anything back. Looking back on it, he wished he would have stuck his tongue out in his signature devil move, but alas, he’d have to save that for another day.

As he watched, Henderson got in a fight with a girl in the front seat of Harrington’s beemer. At first he thought it was a little odd that Harrington would bring a date to pick up a bunch of high schoolers from D&D, but then he recognized her. Robin Buckley, the band geek the freshmen had mentioned was Steve’s only friend.

Eventually, Harrington broke up the fight. “Henderson you can sit in the front when you’re the one who just got off a 5 hour shift on a Friday night.”

He watched Buckley stick her tongue out at him through the window as he joined Lucas in the back. Then Harrington checked his watch almost anxiously. He opened the driver’s door and said something to the kids in the back. When he reemerged from the car he did something Eddie never would have expected. He started walking towards them.

Not only was he walking towards them, but he was looking at them almost like he was about to-

“He guys, is uh, is Wheeler still in there?” He asked, looking between the four of them. He sounded almost nervous. Good Eddie thought, let him squirm.

“No actually, we had to sacrifice him for our satanic ritual.” Eddie replied, his brain finally catching up to the situation. His friends snickered behind him.

Harrington had the audacity to look worried, like he almost believed him, until he looked behind them and apparently saw what he was looking for.

“What the hell is taking so long, dipshit?” He asked.

“If I’m not allowed to say dipshit in front of you why are you allowed to do it?” Mike fired back without missing a beat.

Harrington just rolled his eyes, somehow resembling a tired parent. “Just get in the car, I was almost worried you fell into the-“

He stopped abruptly, not unlike the way Mike had the other day, Eddie noted in the back of his mind, and glanced at the Jeff, who also seemed to notice.

“…Toilet.” Harrington finished lamely, and was met by a classic Mike Wheeler judgemental grimace. He cleared his throat and added, with a hint of annoyance, “Just get in the car, Wheeler. Your sister will kill me if you’re not back by 9.”

The evening’s surprises kept coming when Wheeler, for maybe the first time in the month that Eddie had known him, dropped his pinched expression and sounded almost sincere when he mumbled “Sorry, didn’t mean to like, actually scare you.”

Steve just nodded in reply. As Mike made his way to the car, Harrington lingered for a moment looking like he was trying to convince himself to do something.

“Hey, uh,” he started eventually, “thanks for lookin’ out for them.”

And with that he gave another awkward wave and walked a little too briskly back to his car. Eddie had a brief thought that he should probably stop watching them, that he should head back inside and stop thinking about it, but found himself unable to look away as Harrington got into the car, yelled something to the back seat, and pulled out of the parking lot.

They were gone for a long moment before Gareth spoke up. “Ok so Harrington’s definitely been replaced by some sort of alien robot or something, right?”

“Yeah I’d say that’s the most likely explanation.” Eddie said, still staring at the spot the car had disappeared from.

Part 2

[no1blacksapphirefan]

Hi, really loved your self-aware crk posts and found myself rereading every single one you got (its just so peak!! 🫠)

But imagine somehow managed to get out of the game and into the real world by some mysterious means and seeing the one they perceived the be “god” no longer through a screen, especially gingerbrave and gang + pure vanilla and white lily and deceitful trio

(Would they take human forms or just stay in cookie form in smaller scale?)

Thank you so much omgg? Very sweet of you <33

Ofc Gingerbrave + his gang will be purely platonic as they're kids

You're a parent now to 3 kids/j

I'm not too sure about Candy Apples age so hers is also platonic just encase

I decided to make them have a human form for this but if anyone wants to hear what I think will happen if they stayed in cookie form feel free to tell me or send an ask when it’s opened again 🙂‍↕️

✦ Small Info: In my version of the Self-Aware AU, GingerBrave and his gang see you as bascially a parental figure, you've been with them through all their stories and intentionally or not you probably have them 5A. Most canon minor characters see you as something similar.

Gingerbrave omgongomg?? He didn’t think it was possible. Shadow Milk actually figured it out?? As he stands up from the ground he was sitting on and looks at you amazed, he quickly runs up and hugs you, despite your horrified expression. He tried to calm you down and explain the best he could while trying to contain his excitement from meeting you. But well, he isn't exactly successful.

His attempts don't help, he realises he’s just freaking you out more as you look at the others with him, oh yeah his friends came as well!!

He tries to give you space but oh he's still so amazed to be meeting the person who has joined him on so many of his adventures. Plus you ascended him to 5A right? That's good right?? (Don't tell him it's because he's a common, he hasn't found out yet)

Strawberry she quickly apologies for GingerBrave, she isn’t sure what to do at first…this is her God, someone she thought she’d never meet but…wow you’re here now…and she has the same form as you…by that she means she’s not a cookie. She takes a look at mirror if it’s nearby and silently looks at herself before quietly walking up to you.

She isn’t sure on what to say, she doesn’t want to freak you out more as your eyes dart to every new addition to your room. She silently tries to offer you a lollipop, hoping it’ll cheer you up and when you do accept it she’s so happy. She is a bit scared of the new environment, especially as it is technically completely new but…you’ll help her right?

She doesn't want to be a bother but if you could help her explore your world more she'll be so happy, just one trip. Even if it's just too a shop, she just wants to hang out with her God and see their world.

Wizard he wants to go back. Well okay he’s 50/50. He’d love to stay with you and learn more about you and well…help calm you down now that there was like 8 other cookies…humans? In your room right now on the other…he isn’t sure how it’ll be back at home…well he can stay for a bit longer, it won’t be everyday you get to meet your god and have a new form.

He pulls GingerBrave off you so you could get a bit more breathing space and oh how he wants to ask a few questions about your world and you and the game and— right…he should wait until you’re more calm and settled first. He quickly apologies for the questions he accidentally blurted out.

Pure Vanilla is probably the one who successfully calms you down. He gently explains what happened, Shadow Milk (who I can see is so giddy about his new form) had wanted to come see you for so long but as he finally figured it out, he and a few others got caught in the transportation. He helps you up and offers to clean up the mess they made which, well not even offer, he starts to clean up anyways, it’s the most he could do after they came uninvited.

Deep down he’s so nervous, oh my, oh my god. He’s actually here with his “God” the one who he cared for, for so long ever since he became aware. His heart skips so many beats as he thinks about it, oh and you’re so pretty in person. He wishes he could see it everyday…well…maybe now he can, if this is permanent…you don’t mind right?

He doesn’t mind cooking and taking care of you if it means being able to stay with you.

White Lily she almost instantly apologises. Not even knowing where she was until she looked up and saw you, with such a scared expression. She didn’t do anything for a bit, letting GingerBrave and his friends talk and/or explore your room. Not speaking as Pure Vanilla calms you down.

This feels like an invasion of privacy, no it IS. An invasion of privacy, oh god she feels like she’s the worst, well it’s not her fault but-

“White Lily?”

Your voice snaps her out of her thoughts as she looks at you, quietly nodding with a smile. She’s just nervous…maybe a bit scared as well as you do hold so much power when they were in the game.

But seeing you so gently ask if she’s okay despite the fact they were technically intruding on your personal space? Made her feel a bit better, and when you offered to take her out to your garden to better calm down? Who’s she to turn down her beloved Gods suggestion.

Candy Apple when she sees you and White Lily leaving after saying you’ll be in the garden, she quickly follows, leaving a giddy Shadow Milk looking in a mirror and a wandering Black Sapphire. Now whether or not she’s making White Lily uncomfortable with her tailing, not even tailing she made it obvious: she doesn’t actually care if she is, plus she wants to meet the God herself. Not only is her master Shadow Milk cookie so interested in you, so is her co-worker and she won’t lie. She’s also so interested in you.

She tries to talk to you, interrupting White Lily. Only stopping if you gently ask her too or promise you’ll have a chat with her in a bit. She’ll be sulking but if you go back to her after talking to White Lily as you promised, she’ll feel all better again.

She may bombard you with questions about your world and new things she wants to know about the game. Essentially doing what Wizard cookie accidentally did but she’s not leaving room for you to reply, she’s just making sure you have ample things to talk to her about.

She loves hearing you rant.

Black Sapphire oh? Not a bad style at all, he quite likes his new form. He knew helping Shadow Milk with creating an escape would be worthwhile. Only problem is now there’s a few pesky cookies with you as well.

He doesn’t follow you and White Lily (and Candy Apple cookie) out. Instead he decides to just take a look around the house, he isn’t sure how long they’re able to stay (he hopes forever) but may as well make himself feel more at home right?

When you come back in with White Lily and Candy Apple, he quickly walks up to you to have his turn to talk and to take a closer look. My, seeing his “God” up close, what a sight you were. He has to contain himself though, not yet. He'll have to stick to just talking to you and small hand holding if you'd be so kind.

Just listen to his voice, he tries sweet talking you and getting on your good side if he wasn’t already there, he knows you might be cautious due to him being a Deceit Trio member. He just wants to make sure you trust him better than anyone else.

Shadow Milk once he gets over the initial happiness of how he looks, he looks for you, nearly tackling you into a tight hug as he sees you walking with Black Sapphire. Oh he dreamed of this day and now it was finally here!! He wouldn’t let the fact some other pesky cookie had somehow joined him, cuz you were here with him now.

It was so delightful, now you can have your focus on him only, he can finally hold you, show you the tricks he’s practiced so much to get your attention. He can tell you were still rather..confused about the situation. Fret not he’ll explain better than Pure Vanilla did.

Oh he’s so happy to have succeeded, how he hopes this is permanent…If not, no harm in trying to get back permanently. You don’t mind a new roommate right?

.

.

.

Funny thing guys, I started writing this when I was super tired and planned to schedule it for the middle of the next day, but when I was reading back to check on the typos I probably made I realised I wrote GingerBraves name as GingerGrave, so luckily I checked haha...

[hischiershoe]

Can I please request “You know, I only came here tonight because I heard you’d be here. How ridiculous is that?" With Luke Hughes. It just screams him.

thank you for sending in! i kind of changed the prompt a bit but not too much Warnings: a little angsty but not really, not a ton of dialogue til the end, one singular smooch

Luke had never been much of a partier. Sure, he would always go when his friends or brothers would drag him along, and he'd try to have fun, but in truth, he would rather be anywhere else. He would much rather be at home playing pool or playing stupid games with a few people at the house. At least, that's how he used to feel until he met you.

The first time you met Luke was a year ago when you'd been dragged to some house party with a group of your friends. They wanted to go because they heard there were going to be some cute hockey players from your university there, and you went to make sure they had a safe way home. When the four of you had gotten there, they insisted you go outside with them because that was where 'they' were.

While they flirted with a group of boys you'd long forgotten the names of, you sat off to the side and scrolled on your phone until they decided they were ready to leave. You felt him lingering a few feet away from you until he actually made the jump to sit next you, making sure to keep a respectable distance between you.

"Hey," You heard him clear his throat, "You okay?"

You put your phone down and let your gaze flit to the unnamed boy to your left, eyes landing on a tall, lean guy who had a messy mop of curls on his head. He was cute.

"I'm good," You nod, straightening your back as you focused on him, "Just waiting for my friends."

"Me too," He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, "I'm Luke, by the way."

From that moment forward, you looked for Luke in every crowd at every party, and he did the same for you. The two of you spent the entire summer seeking one another, but never taking the next step to further whatever your relationship could've been called. At first, you thought it was fun, thinking of it as a little game the way you'd always seek each other out. Though, you'd hoped that he would ask you for your number before he left for the summer.

He never did.

You tried to forget about Luke, to accept that it was nothing but some sort of weird summer fling without the actual fling part, but that was easier said than done. Before last summer, you never paid attention to the hockey subculture at Michigan, but now that you knew who he was, that became nearly impossible. Everywhere you went you saw his name, his picture, his friends.

It sounded silly to say out loud because you didn't really know Luke, just a version of him that you saw for a few hours, but you couldn't let go of him.

When the next summer came, you attended a few parties in hopes that you might run into Luke again. You'd even asked a few people about him, but you always came up empty. Your friends didn't know about your side quest, but they could tell something was off with you, and they made it their mission to find you something to take your mind off things. Well, someone.

Luke loved playing for Team USA, he really did, but he was so ready to go back to Michigan for the summer. He was ready to relax, to have some time out of some sort of spotlight, to find you again. He hadn't stopped thinking about you since he left for training camp last year.

He regretted not asking for your number before he left, but every time he would try and do it he would chicken out. No matter how many times his brothers or friends would encourage him to finally ask out the 'mystery lover girl', he couldn't bring himself to actually do it.

"I'm not talking to him," You groan as you walk up the driveway with your friends, "I'm not interested!"

"No, you're too interested in your random mystery boy," Josie throws her hands in the air, "Just give Logon a shot! He's really nice and he isn't bad looking. Please!"

Unfortunately for you, you were easily swayed, and that was exactly how you ended up uncomfortably pressed against the brick with an overly chatty boy next to you. To Josie's credit, Logan was nice, but he had barely let you get more than five words the entire time you've spent with him. At one point, you zoned so far out that you didn't hear anything he said until he was grasping at your bicep.

It was then that Luke walked out the backdoor, his eyes subconsciously scanning the crowd for you until they finally settled on an all too familiar side profile. He faltered in his steps, watching as a guy he vaguely recognized stepped closer to you. He couldn't look away, no matter how much he wanted to, he was forcing himself to stay rooted in place.

Luke eventually tore his eyes away from one when one of his college friends called out his name and dragged him back inside, and you were left with no idea that he was even there.

After a while, you managed to escape your dull conversation with Logan and found your friends again. Josie tried to make her attempt at a setup by saying she would be the DD, which made you nearly burst into laughter because she was already a bit too far gone for that to happen. Towards the end of the night, people slowly started to trickle out of the house, but the girls insisted they wander out back with a few others before heading back home.

"Hey, isn't that Luke Hughes," Hope slurs, pointing to a tall figure who was walking towards the boat dock.

It was embarrassing you quickly your head turned, how quickly your feet began to move in his direction with a certain determination to your steps. You can hear the girls talking behind you, making the very clear connection to Luke and your mystery boy. Despite his obvious ghosting from last summer, you still found yourself wanting to see him and talk to him. Maybe even get an explanation if you were lucky.

"Hey," You called out, slightly startling him as you sat next to him, "You okay?"

Luke's focus snapped towards you, his eyes wide and swimming with an emotion you can't quite place. You give him a soft smile as you take him in, noticing that he let his hair grow a little bit longer than he had last summer, noticing how much bigger he had gotten since then.

"Hi," He finally breathes out, his lips forming your name almost like he was testing it.

"Hi, Luke," You softly greet, "Long time no see."

"Yeah," He nervously chuckles as he looks away from you, "Yeah, it has."

Luke's mouth drops open like he wants to say more, but he doesn't. Instead, he grips the edge of the dock so tightly his knuckles were beginning to turn white. His face is barely illuminated by the light seeping down from the house, but you can still see the apprehension on his face. His brows are furrowed and his nose is slightly scrunched up, and it makes you want to pull him in by the shirt collar and kiss him.

"Do you want to know something," Luke suddenly bursts out, though he keeps his gaze in front of him.

"Of course," You curtly nod.

"I just got off a ten hour flight like four hours ago," He admits as he finally looks at you again, "But I came because I asked a friend if you'd be here, and he said yes. How crazy is that?"

Your face twisted with shock, his words ringing in your ears as you stared up at him. He'd been traveling all day and he should be sleeping, but instead, he was here. He came to a party, even though he didn't like them to begin with, because of you?

"Why," You swallow the lump in your throat, "Why because of me?"

"I wanted to see you again," He plainly states, but you can hear the hesitancy in his voice, "I fucked up last year by not getting your number because I was scared, but I didn't want to do that this summer. I was fully ready to ask you when I saw you earlier."

"Earlier," You ask, tilting your head, "Why didn't you then?"

"Well, you looked pretty busy," He scoffed. He sounded... annoyed? For what reason, you weren't sure.

Wait. Earlier you had been with- Oh.

"Luke," You stifle back the amused giggling threatening to slip through, "Are you jealous?"

"What?! No! Of course not," He hastily defends, roughly shaking his head in denial, "It just would've been rude to ask for your number if you're with ano-"

You cut Luke off by surging forward and placing your lips on his. It was a short kiss, nothing too over the top or romantic, but it was enough to render him speechless as you pulled away from him. His eyes were still closed, his lips slightly parted and his breathing shaky.

"I'm not with anyone, idiot," You playfully groan, covering his hand with your own, "I come to every party with the hope that you'll be there, so if you're crazy, then so am I."

[inseobts]

I really liked your truth or dare mystery one piece character, I was wondering if I could get a truth or dare one with just a Luffy x fem reader please :)

Truth or Dare

luffy x fem!reader

the game went way too far for his liking so why don't play it with just the two of you now?

words count: 1.1k

tags: fluffy, sfw, humour, jealousy, you kiss someone else btw

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The Thousand Sunny is alive with laughter, the salty ocean breeze mixing with the warmth of lantern light. The entire crew lounges on the deck in a messy circle, drinks in hand, voices overlapping in the easy chaos of friends at ease.

It all starts when Usopp slams his mug down, grinning like he’s just thought of the greatest idea ever.

“Let’s play Truth or Dare!”

At first, no one takes him seriously. But then Chopper gets excited, Robin looks mildly interested, and suddenly, everyone is in, even Zoro, even Jinbe... everyone.

The dares start out simple, Franky striking ridiculous poses, Brook singing a song about panties (expected), and Chopper nearly passing out from chugging too much juice. But as the night drags on, the dares get bolder, maybe even too much.

And then Sanji turns to you.

“Y/N-swaaan~,” he croons, eyes twinkling with mischief “Truth or dare?”

You narrow your eyes at him. He looks way too pleased with himself “…Dare.”

A chorus of oooohs erupts from the crew. Even Zoro, who has been largely disinterested, cracks an eye open.

Sanji grins like the devil himself “I dare you… to kiss someone.”

Your face heats up instantly “Wait, what—?!”

“Doesn’t matter who,” he continues smoothly “Just someone in the crew. I know you’re asking yourself why I didn’t just say to kiss me but I’m a gentleman, I wouldn’t force it into you and our love goes beyond all this.”

The atmosphere shifts. Sanji is nodding and smiling at himself, and you feel the weight of everyone’s attention.

“No one believes you Cook” Zoro says going back into his sleep position.

“I’m not going to let you ruin the mood mosshead, just sleep, it’s not like she’s gonna choose you over me anyway” Sanji says lighting up his cigarette, receiving a “tch, she's not going to choose you neither” from Zoro.

As you turn to everyone to choose.

Brook lets out an exaggerated gasp. Chopper turns as red as his hat. Franky grins, hyped as always. Usopp dramatically leans away, waving his hands.

But the one person who doesn’t react?

Luffy.

He sits beside you, legs crossed, hat tilted forward as to try to hide his expression. His usual grin is still there, but his fingers drum against his knee, and his gaze, sharp and unreadable, flicks toward you.

You exhale, trying to think. If you have to do this, you might as well make it fun.

So you turn to Robin, smirking “Alright. C’mere.”

Robin blinks before chuckling, clearly entertained, and even leaning forward. But before anything can happen...

“W-Wait, wait, WAIT!” Sanji nearly falls over. His eyes are practically hearts “It has to be a man!”

You gape at him “What?! You never said that!”

Sanji looks scandalized “W-Well, I meant to! It’s only fair! This way it wouldn’t be a dare!”

Robin hides a laugh behind her hand “How predictable.”

Zoro snorts “Just say you want it to be you, next one she chooses that isn’t you you’re gonna say it has to be with some blonde cook with weird eyebrows? You dumbass.”

Sanji dramatically ignores him.

You groan, scanning the crew “Fine. Who won’t make this weird?”

“I VOLUNTEER!” Usopp practically throws himself forward, hand raised.

You squint at him “Why do you sound so desperate?”

“I’m just trying to save you by being a good friend” he insists.

Sanji gasps making his cigarette dramatically fall from his mouth to the floor "W-what... I... You... no!"

You sigh, crawling over to him “Alright, fine. Let’s get this over with.”

You lean in, pressing a quick, barely-there peck to Usopp’s lips before pulling away just as fast.

The crew erupts into cheers, except for Sanji who is crying with his face on the floor.

“WOOOOO!” Franky pumps his fists “THAT’S A STRONG DARE, BRO!”

“Y-YOHOHO! HOW THRILLING!” Brook cackles.

Usopp looks like he’s just survived a war “That was terrifying, I won’t help you out ever again in my whole life.”

You laugh, about to move on—

And then you feel it.

You turn slightly and lock eyes with Luffy.

He’s staring.

And not in his usual, carefree way.

No.

This is different.

His jaw is tight, his eyes dark, expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his hat. His fingers curl slightly against his knee.

Something in your stomach flips.

But before you can say anything...

“Next turn!” Usopp blurts, eager to move on. The moment passes, the game continues, and Luffy grins again, laughing along like nothing happened.

But you know better.

Luffy isn’t the type to say what he’s feeling right away. He’s not like Sanji, who makes grand declarations, or Zoro, who voices his irritation without hesitation.

Luffy holds things close.

And right now?

You have a feeling this is one of those things.

Hours later, the crew scatters, heading off to sleep. The laughter fades, leaving only the sound of the waves and the soft creaking of the ship.

You remain on the deck, leaning against the railing, staring at the ocean.

But you’re not alone for long.

“You still wanna play?”

The voice is low, familiar.

You turn and there’s Luffy, standing just a few feet away, hands in his pockets. His hat is pulled down slightly, but his eyes are locked onto you.

“…Play what?” you ask.

“Truth or Dare.”

You blink “Everyone went to sleep, it would be just the two of us…”

He nods.

Something about this feels different.

“…Alright,” you say slowly “You first.”

Luffy tilts his head “Truth or dare?”

You exhale “Truth.”

A pause. Then—

“Did you feel weird when you kissed Usopp?”

Your stomach clenches.

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. You weren’t expecting that.

You hesitate, but you already know the answer “…Yeah.”

Luffy’s lips twitch. Not into a grin. But into something… else.

“Me too.”

Your heart stammers “You—”

“Your turn” he interrupts.

You swallow “Truth or dare?”

He smirks “Dare.”

You hesitate, then, suddenly feeling bold, you blurt “I dare you to tell me what you’re thinking.”

Luffy’s smirk widens.

“That’s easy.”

You freeze.

“I think,” he murmurs, “I didn’t like seeing you kiss someone else.”

Your breath hitches.

Your pulse is too loud, your thoughts too scrambled.

“…Your turn,” you murmur, voice barely steady.

Luffy grins, tilting his head “Truth or dare?”

“…Truth.”

He leans in closer, close enough that you can feel his warmth, his presence consuming every ounce of space between you. His voice drops lower, still playful, but almost serious.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

Your breath catches.

You should’ve picked dare.

Your world stops.

You stare at him, wide-eyed, heart hammering.

Luffy just watches you, waiting.

And for once you don’t overthink it.

You grab his vest, pull him down, and kiss him.

He puts his hand on your cheek and kisses you back, softly.

[edamameiyok]

ikaw at ako (sophia laforteza x reader)

"'Di ko alam ang gagawin kung mawala ka buhay ko'y may kahulugan tuwing ako'y iyong hagkan."

(i don't know what to do if i lose you. my life has meaning every time you kiss me.)

synopsis: sophia, ever since she met you, always vowed to protect you at all costs. when a mysterious illness begins to plague your entire life, she does everything she can to support you no matter what. however, what if you're already too late to save? tags: heavy angst, hanahaki!au, college!au an: this is not a REAL portrayal of the people mentioned in this fic. all events are fictional and are for entertainment purposes only. CW: major character death. reader has a medical condition. mention of blood. swearing. kissing. wc: 6.7k

⏯ now playing: ikaw at ako - johnoy danao

“When it’s your first turn in chess, you have either the choice to move your pawn one space forward,” Yoonchae watches as Sophia takes one of her pawns and moves it as she described. She watches closely, her head tilted to the side as the Filipina continues to explain, “Or… you can move it two spaces forward.” She then takes the same pawn and moves it one more space. 

Sophia looks up at Yoonchae, an easy smile on her face, but the younger girl notices the tired look in her eyes. 

“Why are we playing this again?” The younger one asks. She places her elbow on the table and rests her chin in the palm of her hand. She watches as Sophia picks up one of the pieces— the horse-looking one, Yoonchae identifies. Sophia stares at it, deep in thought, and a slight smile paints her features.

“I don’t know. I hate this game.”

Chess was always confusing to Sophia. 

It was a lot of rules to keep track of, and the strategy aspect always gave the Filipina girl a headache. But, for some reason, it was everything to you. 

And as your best friend, naturally, it became everything to her as well. 

It’s not an exciting activity to watch by any means, especially if you have no idea of what's going on, but she loves to watch you play. Sophia always finds herself at your little chess team meeting when her classes are over for the day and watches you from the other side of the room, waiting patiently for your practice to be over. She has never seen you so passionate about something, and every time she watched you play, it still surprises her how well you knew the game.

Sometimes, when the other members of the team would file out of the room for the day, you would continue to sit at your spot. You’d stare at the chessboard as if pondering the next move, as if someone had the upper hand on you. During these moments, Sophia would humor you and stride over to the chess table, taking the seat across from you as if she were a new opponent challenging you to a game. 

This time, though, she decides to play the match. “I’m a chess champion, you know?” She starts, leaning over the table with her elbows propped up, her chin resting against her fists as she eyes you teasingly. She smiles at the way you roll your eyes, but the way the corners of your mouth quirk up tells her that you aren’t actually annoyed with her presence. 

Your eyes stay trained on the chessboard as you take one of the pieces– the bishop, Sophia thinks. She watches as you move it three spaces diagonally. “Oh yeah? How long have you been playing?” You ask in a lifted tone. Sophia scoffs playfully and takes one of the pieces on her side. She pretends to know exactly where to put it and attempts to move it, but stops when you click your tongue. 

A small laugh escapes her lips. “Shit, am I moving it wrong?” Sophia looks at you with crescent eyes, her chess champion facade faltering as you nod your head with an amused smile. 

You point at a spot on the board. “It can only move forward. I suggest you put it here if you want an advantage.” 

Sophia nods and does as you say. She whispers under her breath, “I was just testing you.” You tilt your head at her words, smiling as you move another one of your pieces. It’s the same one she just moved, but you move it farther up the board, successfully taking one of her pawns in the process. Sophia rolls her eyes at this. “I thought you said I had an advantage.” 

You chuckle and look up at her, a twinkle in your eyes that Sophia finds herself getting lost in. “Just because I took one of your pawns doesn’t always mean you’re cooked.” Her mouth forms an “O” shape at your words and quickly picks up another one of her pieces– the queen. 

However, you quickly stop her, grabbing her hand. “Oh, not her. Don’t do that!” You tell her in a firm tone. She can’t help but giggle at your serious demeanor. Sophia knows this game is for fun, but she always finds it endearing how you treat all of them as if it were life or death. 

She cocks her head at you and bites her lip to contain the smile that wants to spread across her lips. “Why not the queen? Scared, Y/n?” 

You roll your eyes, scoffing. “The queen is the most important piece in the game. You shouldn’t use her yet, especially if you have other moves you can make.” You explain. Your hand stays wrapped around Sophia’s, and she stares at you, her heart beginning to beat rapidly in her chest when she feels your grip tighten slightly. 

“I thought the point of the game is to take the king, isn’t he the most important?” Your eyes continue scanning the board, and you let go of Sophia’s hand, pointing at another piece. 

You look back at Sophia, and she has an urge to reach out and fix your glasses. They’re slightly askew, and she has to bite her tongue, almost telling you how cute you look with them on. You don’t notice how she admires you, too focused on the game your best friend started as a joke. “Your queen can go anywhere on the board. She’s the one who can get you closer to checkmate, or at least a check.”

Sophia nods at your words, looking away from you with a slight blush on her cheeks. She places the queen back down in its spot, then grabs the piece you point at. She stares at it for a moment, trying to remember how it’s meant to be moved. Your hand finds hers again, and you guide it in the right direction. “He’s your knight,” You whisper, settling Sophia’s hand on the piece’s new spot on the board. 

Your hand stays on hers as you look back up at the Filipina, smiling softly. “Check.” Sophia is about to cheer despite not knowing entirely what that meant, but a cough suddenly escapes your lips. You let go of Sophia’s hand to cover your mouth with the inside of your arm, and she frowns, reaching out to grab your shoulder tightly. “Y/n?” 

You shake your head, waving her off. You begin to pat your chest gently as your coughs finally subside. The look you give Sophia is gentle, as if to ease her worries. “It’s just a cold, don’t worry, Fia.” She purses her lips at your words, not believing you, not even for a second. You reach out to her, grabbing her hand to hold in your own. Your thumb caresses the back of her hand as you smile softly. “Come on, let’s go get dinner.” 

Sophia prides herself on being one of the top scholars at the university you both attend.

She has always been on top of everything, never allowing herself to fall behind in her studies. Teachers have always praised the girl for being a diligent student, and every time, you always commented on her being a ‘nerd.’ She always bit back at your words, however, and often reminded you of your own ‘nerdy’ hobby. For someone so impartial to school and the rules, it still surprises Sophia to this day how you became so interested in the game of chess. 

“It’s exciting once you know how to play,” You always claimed. “Don’t knock it till’ you try it.” 

And she has, she always tries to understand, but it never seems to click in her head. 

But it’s a lot better than the alternative activities you could have partaken in while in high school. You at some point mentioned the idea of joining the wrestling team, but Sophia quickly shot the idea down, scolding you for even thinking about something as dangerous as that. She listed all the reasons why you shouldn’t, even sent you a few articles that detailed the long-term effects of becoming a wrestler. 

She was very relieved that you stuck with the chess team instead, and honestly, she definitely prefers seeing you in the cute sweater vest and tie you’re required to wear as opposed to those silly singlets. 

Now, you’re on a chess scholarship, attending university because your parents told you to (Sophia knows the real reason was to stay by her side, but she doesn’t comment on it. She simply teases you for it on random occasions). You’re still terrible at school, and Sophia still lectures you for it. 

Who can blame her, though? Sophia has big dreams; Dreams about becoming famous on Broadway one day. 

You, on the other hand, don’t know what your dreams are. Sophia often asks you what your plans are, but you never have a put-together response. You’re studying psychology, but other than that, you don’t know what would come after. Your best friend asks you about graduate school, internships, and more, but you’re not sure what more you can give. 

This mindset of yours grows tenfold when a mysterious illness creeps into your life. 

Its arrival was quiet, unexpected. One day, you were healthy and ready to take over the world, and then the next, you struggled to breathe. Every other sentence was followed by a cough that looked too painful to endure. Against all rationale you tried to make with your best friend, you ended up going to the doctor to get a diagnosis. 

What you came back with scared Sophia even more.

“They don’t know what it is,” You casually told her after the visit to the clinic. You continue playing a round of virtual chess on your phone, ignoring the look Sophia gave you. “I’ll just have to see what it becomes, I guess.” 

Sophia narrows her eyes. Something she always disliked about you was your ability to overlook anything, no matter how important it is. You often failed tests in high school because of careless mistakes, and tournaments were lost due to underestimating your opponents’ ability to catch onto your play style. It frustrated Sophia that it never bothered you – there’s always next time, you’d say. 

But, what if there isn’t a next time? What if that was your last shot? 

Sophia sits with you on the couch in your apartment, feeling more upset by her thoughts as you continue to sit in silence, playing chess as if your health weren’t on the line. She hits her limit when you let out a slight cough, reaching over to snatch your phone out of your hands. Your head snaps toward her, a pout forming on your lips. “Fia… I almost got checkmate.” 

She ignores your whines and places your phone on the other side of the couch. “I don’t like the answer you just gave me.” Her voice wavers as she speaks, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden. Sophia crosses her arms and tries to remain level, but when you shrug your shoulders, she can’t help but feel as though she’s losing her mind. “Y/n!” 

“Sophia! That’s what they told me, okay? I don’t know what else to say…” You reply incredulously. You lean back against the couch with a sigh, avoiding her stare that burns into your skull. 

Her heart drops at the sullen look in your eyes. Despite your attempts at pretending everything is okay, she knows deep down you know exactly how serious this could be. She decides not to stress you out even further, scooting closer to you to lay her head in your lap. Her eyes close slowly when she feels your fingers begin to thread through her hair. “I’m here for you. Always,” She whispers. 

You hum in acknowledgement, opting to remain silent. She lies there, memorizing the way it feels to be this close to you. She engraves the feeling you give her inside her chest in hopes that she will be brave enough to say something. 

She isn’t, though. Not yet. 

Sophia doesn’t like to worry about you in silence. 

She’s very loud about it, always letting passersby hear the latest news when it comes to your health issues that you don’t like talking about anyway. But, Sophia doesn’t care or listen to your pleas for her to shut up. She wants you to get better; she doesn't like knowing that, every day, you’re declining by the second, and there is nothing anyone can do. 

Sharing a class with you isn’t easy either. Mid-lecture, she would watch you leave the classroom during one of your many coughing fits. The lesson would continue, and it has come to a point where the other students in class wouldn’t even blink an eye. But Sophia stares at the door as if your life depended on it. She counted the minutes until you came back. She would sit and wait as if there was a timer that would go off any second, and you’d be gone. 

Sophia has spent 10 years by your side. She plans for 10 more, and maybe forever if she’s lucky. 

Sophia sits across from you at one of the chess tables. You chew at the bottom of your pen as you stare at the pieces. Each move you make is calculated, executed with precise movements that always make her squint at you. 

You’re practicing for another tournament, and she can tell it’s an important one by the way you shake your head at a piece you’ve moved, how your hand shakes when you record what you did in the notepad Sophia gifted you last Christmas.

Next Christmas, she wants to get you a new chess timer. She thinks about it when she glances at it once more, and notices how one of the buttons is perpetually stuck pressed down. You wave it off, telling her that it still works, that it doesn’t affect how much time you have left. 

But Sophia wants you to have all the time. She doesn’t want you to worry that it will go away too quickly. 

You cough slightly, covering your mouth with the inside of your arm as you move another piece with the other hand. 

She sits up straighter at this, frowning. “Let’s take a break, mahal.” You shake your head in response, your attention back onto your notepad. You jot down what you’ve done once more and go back to the game. Sophia rolls her eyes and reaches over the table, placing her hand over yours to stop you from continuing. “You’re taking a break.” She tells you firmly, squeezing your hand. 

You look up at Sophia and sigh. “Fia…” She squeezes your hand even tighter and narrows her eyes at you. 

“You don’t get to say no, Y/n.” Her voice is loud with desperation, and it causes you to jump slightly. Sophia lets go of your hand and stands up from her seat. She kneels and grabs your chess box, shoving it into your hands. It’s her way of telling you to clean up the pieces, and it works as you begrudgingly unlock the box to begin putting everything away. 

She stands back up and crosses her arms, watching your every move in silence. “Why do you like this game so much anyway?” Sophia asks, her playful tone coming back. She uncrosses her arms and pokes your shoulder. “I swear you love it more than me.” 

You pause what you’re doing to look at your best friend with an annoyed expression. “Maybe I do.” Sophia scoffs and swats your shoulder, daring you to keep playing with her. You chuckle lightly and continue cleaning up, your eyes back on the task at hand. “I love you more than anything, you know that.” 

Sophia ignores the way her heart beats faster at your words. She looks down at her feet, her cheeks flushed, and giggles. “You still haven’t answered my question.” 

There’s a beat between you both. Sophia is about to make another comment, something much more humorous, but you beat her to the punch. 

“I like that I always know what comes next.” 

Sophia opens her front door one day and sees you crouched down in front of her house’s flower bed. You don’t notice her standing there, seemingly lost in your own world as you stare at the flowers Sophia’s mother recently planted for the springtime. 

She waits at the doorway for you, her head tilted as she stares at you curiously. After a few minutes, she decides she’s done waiting and walks up to you. She crosses her arms, opening her mouth to tease you, but your voice cuts her off. “Do you know what flowers these are?” She can’t help but giggle at your question and shrugs, finding your fascination with the flower bed to be amusing.

She crouches down next to you and looks at you with a soft smile. “No… I honestly wasn’t paying attention to her plans for the flowers this year.” Her response elicits a weak chuckle from you. She notices how quiet it sounded, your laugh lacking its usual brightness, but she bites her tongue, not wanting to annoy you more with her constant questions and worrying. 

“They’re Forget-Me-Nots.” Sophia furrows her brow, not expecting an honest answer to your own question. She looks back at the flowers and reaches out to them, holding one of their petals in between her fingertips. She smiles at the beautiful baby blue color it displays.

“How’d you know that?” She asks, her eyes still on the flowers in front of her. The urge to pull one off its stem comes to Sophia, but she knows it would make her mother mad. Sophia’s mother takes pride in being yard of the month, a title they’ve earned many times from their stupid HOA. There are so many flowers to take, but somehow, her mother would notice something missing from the bunch. 

As Sophia continues to weigh her choices, your voice fills the silence, “I’ve been… Really interested in flowers lately. Like, their meanings and shit, I guess.” Your words are followed by another chuckle that sounds more familiar. Sophia looks at you and sees you looking back at her, your eyes twinkling in a way that she hasn’t seen in months. 

It catches her off guard, taking her breath away. She thinks about when you were both younger, jumping into lakes without a second thought and riding your bikes at night with the lightposts illuminating your path, your laughter filling the quiet neighborhood. 

Despite how long it’s been since those days, she knows it’s still you. Sophia still sees you as carefree, full of life, with nothing to lose. You were reckless and full of a childlike rebellion that always excited Sophia’s structured life. 

She stares at you and wonders what changed in between. But she still doesn’t question you, for fear of losing this moment. Instead, she opts to continue the conversation with a lighthearted tone, “What? Are you gonna be a florist one day?” You laugh in response, shaking your head at her claim. Her smile grows wider when she watches you pluck one of the flowers out of its bunch and hand it to her. 

“Guess what these mean,” You ask softly, a tinge of teasing in your tone. She looks down at the flower in your hand, then looks back at you, shrugging her shoulders. It’s easy enough to guess, Sophia knows that– It’s probably in the name. But she loves how you explain things, she loves that you seem to know everything. 

You chuckle at her silence, taking it as a cue to tell her despite the lack of an answer. “It’s a promise to never forget.” Suddenly, you furrow your brows, a cough escaping your lips. You cover your mouth with the inside of your arm, and Sophia watches you worriedly, instinctively reaching out to place a hand on your back. She rubs it gently as you continue to cough, and she feels her lip begin to tremble. 

There’s something about the way you cough this time. Sophia watches you clutch at your chest, as if there was something in your lungs desperate to be free. You try to take a breath, but it comes out as a wheeze, providing you with more discomfort than before. You looked in pain. Sophia scoots closer to you, feeling helpless as you remove your hand from your chest to grasp at your neck. 

“Y/n…” Sophia whispers, tears spilling out of her eyes, watching you struggle with your illness. You turn your head away from the girl, covering your mouth with your hands. To her relief, the coughing finally ends, and you remove your hands from your mouth, revealing the Forget-Me-Nots in your palms. Sophia quickly reaches over and grabs your wrist to get a better view of them. 

She notices their baby blue color, now stained an ugly crimson. 

Sophia surges forward, wrapping her arms around your neck and buries her face into the crook of your shoulder. Her tears begin to stain your shirt, but she doesn’t care. “Y/n–”

You cut her off. “Can we ride our bikes?” The request throws the Filipina off guard. She pulls away from you with an incredulous look in her eyes. 

“You just coughed up blood, and you want to ride our bikes?” You stare at her, a dim look in your eyes as you nod slowly. The flowers fall out of your hands as if discarding the evidence of your deteriorating health. It’s a silent plea to live in blissful ignorance, to be kids again in the quiet suburbs you and Sophia used to rule over like a kingdom. 

She stares back at you, her cheeks stained with tears. There are so many questions that linger between you both, and Sophia has never been the one to let them go unanswered. But there’s a hopeful look in your eyes. 

“I don’t even know if there’s air in my tires,” Sophia says through a sniffle, smiling slightly as she wipes the remaining tears out of her eyes. 

You stand up and hold out your hand to your best friend. “I’ll put air in them.” 

She ignores the fact that your hands are stained red. Sophia grabs onto your hand and pretends nothing is wrong. She allows you to pull her onto your feet as if you were both going to fight the monster together with wooden swords and untied sneakers. 

She follows you to her garage and thinks about how she could never forget you. 

You start to insist on more consistent bike rides with Sophia, and she always obliges. 

She doesn’t quite understand the reason, but every time she sees you outside her window, it reminds her of summer days back in grade school. 

Sophia walks out of the garage with her bike, a helmet on her head, and another one in her hand. She throws it at you, and you catch it with ease, rolling your eyes as you place it on your head. “I said I don’t like wearing my helmet.” 

She gets on her bike and begins to pedal away from you, yelling over her shoulder, “You put it on, though!” 

She smiles widely as she looks down the street and pedals as fast as she can. The smile grows bigger when she watches you speed past her, the helmet strapped securely onto your head. 

You end up at the riverwalk, a place you and Sophia often occupied when you were younger. When you both started attending university, it became nearly impossible to find the time to go. But, after bickering back and forth about where to go next, you two finally decided on the secret spot you found in middle school. 

Your bikes lean against the tree by the water as Sophia skips rocks across the river, and you sit on the ground, drawing in the dirt with a stick you found. It’s peaceful; The only thing that can be heard is the slight rustling of the trees and Sophia’s failed attempts at skipping stones, only ever hearing the loud plops into the water. 

“Show me how to do this again, please?” Sophia whines, turning around to look at you with a pout on her lips. You look up at her with wide eyes, seemingly snapped out of the thoughts in your head. She bites her lip to contain the laugh that wants to escape as she watches you scramble to your feet, nearly tripping over yourself as you run up to the girl with a childlike excitement. You snatch one of the rocks out of her hand, taking a step back away from her to get more room. 

“Just flick your wrist, like this,” You try to demonstrate; however, you end up flinging the rock right into the water. You both stand in silence as the rock sinks to the bottom. Sophia hears you click your tongue, and she doesn’t allow you to say another word, bursting into laughter. She holds her stomach as she doubles over at the unimpressed expression on your face. You groan, bending over to grab another rock. “Okay, you caught me off guard,” You huff out, standing up straight for another attempt. 

Sophia takes a deep breath as she watches you try again. She regains her composure once she sees the rock skip smoothly across the river, the satisfying sound of its jumps echoing in her ears. A gentle smile forms on her features as she looks at you. She looks at the freckles on your cheeks, the curve of your smile, how your eyes crinkle at the slight breeze that picks up. Sophia loves everything about you, and it terrifies her how in love she is with you. 

When Sophia first met you, you were both 11 years old. You had just moved into the neighborhood, and her first impression of you was how stupid you were. She spotted you by the pond that hid behind the trees in your neighborhood and watched you in disapproval as you lit firecrackers to throw into the water. 

Her first words to you were: “Are you stupid?” 

And yours, in return, were: “Yeah, kind of.” 

But despite that interaction, Sophia stuck by your side. As she got to know you, the feeling to protect you grew. The thought of anything happening to you scared Sophia– she believes you could grow old together. She doesn’t know when things changed, but the desire for something more overwhelmed her. Being in love with you meant the risk of losing you, and Sophia couldn’t fathom that. 

As she stares at you, though, she wonders if it’s a risk that she would need to take. 

“I love you, Y/n,” Sophia whispers. You look at her, and Sophia notices a flicker of something in your eyes, but she can’t put a name to it. “You’re my best friend.” 

You blink at her. Sophia’s heart drops as you look away from her, a noticeable shift in the air. 

“I love you too, Fia. More than you know.” 

Your tournament comes quickly, and of course, Sophia is there to watch you compete. She walks with you toward the building where it’s being held on campus, and she notices how you’ve put space between you and her. The Filipina frowns at this. Usually, on your tournament days, you’d be buzzing with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Your hand would never leave Sophia’s as you rattled on about the other opponents. 

It’s a conversation Sophia never understood, but it’s a moment where, for once, she’s not the one filling the silence. It’s always you listening so attentively, letting her vent without taking a breath or pause. But she loves listening to you talk even though it’s only about stats, or the moves you’ve been practicing to use during the tournament. 

But you walk silently, head bowed, with your hands in your pocket. You’ve been looking less like yourself— so exhausted, no vibrance to your eyes or smile. It has come to a point where you’ve gotten weaker as the weeks have gone by. The pep in your step is nowhere to be seen, and Sophia worries you’ve become a shell of your former self. 

She thought it would be different today, but she hates to think that this could be the worst your illness has made you appear.

Sophia stares at you; she tells herself to be strong as tears begin to prickle in her eyes. She hates to see you in pain— she never has. Your reckless behavior when you were younger always led to Sophia putting bandages on your scars, kissing your bruises despite your protests. She never told you this, but seeing you in pain always made her feel somewhat distraught. 

Now, you couldn’t even imagine the war going through her head every time you coughed. 

“You’re so quiet, I don’t even know who you’re competing against today,” She says, attempting to start a conversation. She hooks her arm with yours and pulls you close to her side, ignoring how you tense at her touch. Sophia continues, pretending everything is normal for your sake, “How am I supposed to know who to sabotage?” 

You smile weakly at her words. “Is that how I’ve won my tournaments in the past?” Sophia lights up when you match her playful energy, bumping her hip with yours. 

“Duh. You actually suck at chess and it’s been me helping you all along.” A chuckle escapes your lips, which is suddenly followed by a cough. Sophia’s brows furrow worriedly, but she relaxes when it doesn’t continue, her eyes softening when you pull your hand out of your pocket to lace your fingers together. 

You take a sharp breath, the discomfort on your face present as you do. “Well, I’m glad I have you then.” You squeeze her hand tightly, and Sophia squeezes back, suddenly stopping in her tracks. She pulls you back slightly, and it causes your head to turn toward her, eyebrow raised in questioning and slight confusion. “Fia?” 

She lets go of your hand and walks up to you. Her eyes lock onto yours as she reaches up to adjust your tie, fixing it before getting closer to the tournament. “Why do I always have to fix your tie before these things?” A playful smile spreads across her lips as she pulls at your collar gently, an action that causes you to look away briefly. 

“You’re my good luck charm.” You proclaim. She notices how your voice shakes slightly, but she brushes it off as nervousness. 

Sophia lets go of your collar and finds your hands again, holding them tightly. She tilts her head, smiling up at you as she asks, “What kind of charm would I be?” 

You look back at her, the twinkle she loves so much present in your eyes as you reply, “An anchor.” 

You’re down to your last opponent, and the stakes are higher than ever. 

Sophia doesn’t understand how collegiate-level chess works (or any form of chess, honestly), but she knows that everything depends on how you do during this match. She knows whatever you do in the next few minutes rests on your shoulders. 

The room is thick with silence as the match continues. The taps on the timer are the only sound, going back and forth like a game of tennis. Sophia watches every move you make, biting her lip in anticipation. Your opponent taps the clock, and it’s back to you. Your hand moves quickly, picking up one of your pieces to move. 

But in an instant, it falls out of your hand. The sound of the piece falling to the ground causes several people in the room to gasp in surprise. Sophia jumps out of her seat when you begin to cough loudly. She runs over to you, but you’re already out of your seat, making your way out the door. The officials of the tournament watch in shock, and words are being exchanged amongst the other teams, but Sophia ignores them, running after you. 

She watches you run into the bathroom, and she quickly follows you, entering it as you close the stall door. “Y/n! Are you okay?!” She walks to the stall you occupy, crossing her arms as she stands in front of it. Sophia feels tears begin to form in her eyes as she hears you cough again– the sound so familiar, yet it always seems like your last. 

Tears fall from her eyes as she bangs on the stall door with her fists. “Y/n, let me in right now!” 

“F-Fia…” You manage to say. Your voice sounds hoarse as you try to continue, “Fia… I’m done, okay? It’s- It’s over.” Another cough follows your words, and Sophia shakes her head frantically, refusing to believe your words. She doesn’t know what you mean, but she’s afraid you’re talking about the latter. 

Her fists bang against the door again, even harder, a desperate attempt to get you to open the door, to keep fighting whatever it is you’re struggling with. “Y/n, open this fucking door or I’m crawling underneath it!” She yells, slamming her hand against it in frustration. There’s a silence on the other side, and your coughs have finally stopped. However, a feeling of dread overcomes the Filipina. 

She’s about to get on her knees to use the alternative way to get to you, but the door swings open, revealing you in slight distress. Tears spill from your eyes, and there’s blood on the corners of your mouth. Tiny splatters of crimson stain your collar, and Sophia notices how your tie is no longer around your neck, now gripped in your hand, which is also slightly bloodied. She glances at your other hand and squints, noticing the baby blue petals sticking out of your fist. 

Where those came from, she has no idea. Sophia’s mind runs wildly with thoughts as she stares at your current state of chaos. Her best friend since childhood, her Y/n, stands in front of her like a ghost. 

She knows the clock is ticking and everything that matters rests on these last few seconds you might have left. 

Sophia doesn’t think before she acts. If there is anything she has ever learned from you, it’s that life shouldn’t be lived in the fear of having no time left. And with that in mind, she cups your cheeks, pressing her lips against yours. 

It’s messy, and it tastes metallic, but when you kiss her back, it’s as if for the first time in months, it’s a hell of a lot easier to breathe. 

You and Sophia walk out of the building, hand in hand. It’s as if a miracle appeared because, against all odds, you managed to win the match. You wear your medal around your neck, a bright smile on your lips as you swing your interlocked hands back and forth. “I can’t believe you chewed the Arbiter out…” A chuckle escapes your lips as you look down at Sophia, amused. “Like, they were gonna give me my time back… I had accommodations.” 

Sophia scoffs and leans her head against your arm, closing her eyes. “My bad for thinking he was gonna give you shit for what happened.” She suddenly stops walking, tugging your hand so you can turn toward her. When you do, she pulls you close, her hands finding your shoulders. She stares up at you lovingly, relief washing over her as she realizes you’re starting to look like yourself again. She isn’t sure what has changed, but she has an inkling it has something to do with the kiss you two shared earlier. 

With that in mind, she smirks, reaching down into her pocket to take out her lip gloss. You look at the item in her hand and you laugh loudly, throwing your head back. “I can’t believe you right now!” You say through your laughter. The sound is music to Sophia’s ears as she applies the gloss onto her lips, capping it once she’s done. She puts it back into her pocket, and her hands return to your shoulders, this time though she��s much closer than before. 

“I think you owe me a better kiss, Y/n.” She tilts her head, her eyes flickering to your lips. 

You raise your brow, smirking as you lean in a little closer. “Do I?” The scent of your shampoo fills Sophia's senses, and she can't believe it took her this long to have you in her space like this. She couldn't believe that, before today, this was a possibility.

She nods and wraps her arms around your neck, tilting her head up. A warmth resonates through her body as she whispers, “It’s like. Emotional compensation.” You chuckle, your nose bumping against hers cutely. The crinkle in your eyes helps Sophia realize that the wait was worth it.

Your next words, though, makes her feel confident in this jump with you.

“I love you, Fia. I’m in love with you,” You confess, breathlessly. The light in your eyes returns as Sophia smiles in response, a soft giggle leaving her lips. 

She plays with the hairs on the back of your neck and looks at you as if this is what it’s all about– to be loved by you. “I’m in love with you, Y/n.” 

The confession is sealed with a kiss. She doesn’t know this, but your lungs feel much lighter. Your burdens wilt away at Sophia’s fingertips. 

Sophia gets the chance to love you for a beautiful two years. 

And now she will have to remember you longer than she knew you. 

While you struggled with whatever it was all those years ago, something else was hiding behind closed doors, lying dormant. After that went away, another illness decided it was its turn to wreak havoc on you. This time around, though, you remained the same. You loved Sophia vibrantly, giving her the best of you despite your condition. Before it took you away, Sophia was able to gift you that new timer. For your last Christmas together, she gave you a new tie to wear for your first National Chess Championship. 

But you never got to go. Instead, you were buried with it, and Sophia straightened it out for you before finally being laid to rest. 

Sophia still doesn’t quite understand your love for the game– she still finds it silly. But she feels closer to you every time she moves a piece, remembering how you used to do it with a calculated ease. As she stares at the chessboard, she pretends you’re sitting right next to her, telling her what she should do next. 

Her eyes catch Yoonchae grabbing one of the pieces, a small smile forming on her lips as she sees the other girl struggling to remember what to do with it. “That’s your knight,” She whispers. Sophia looks away for a moment and sees the framed picture of you that sits inside the trophy case. All of your awards surround it, but her favorite item amongst them is the Forget-Me-Not she placed there on the first day of Spring. She smiles at the picture before looking back at the chessboard, pointing at a spot for Yoonchae to claim. 

“You can move it here.” Yoonchae nods and moves her knight, placing it down where Sophia instructed. She looks at the older girl, waiting for her to make the next move. 

Sophia nods and thinks for a moment. She assesses the pieces in front of her and takes a deep breath, picking up her queen. She moves the piece one space to the right and bites her lip, realizing what she has done. 

“Checkmate.”

a/n: pls put the pitchforks down im so sorry it had to be done... anyway, lmk what you think haha... hah... </3

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[honeymoonjinmain]

⚀ 001 ❀ ☾

It takes at least twenty dead people before you acknowledge that this isn't a regular gameshow. Now, you have to decide who to align yourself with before you're the next to be eliminated. masterlist

❀ hyunju x reader ❀ ☾ namgyu x reader ☾ this chapter contains graphic violence, future chapters will contain sexually explicit content and mcd. mdni. 13.5k

For the first twenty minutes you stand underneath the vacant overpass, you’re certain this is a set-up. It has all the trappings of one; a filtered voice on the phone, an anonymous benefactor providing the card with very little information. The location itself is in the midst of being churned up and developed into a new neighbourhood. Everything is silent bar the rhythmic flap of a sheet of untethered tarpaulin catching the wind.

Despite the blatant attempt at isolating you, you’ve gone along with whatever this mysterious game may be nonetheless. If you’re honest, you didn’t even really have to think about it. 

When things first went south and you were new to living life off the grid, in staying invisible, it felt like a means to an end. A temporary fix until you could save up enough money to pay off the sharks and accumulate enough evidence to exonerate yourself in the eyes of the law. 

Those first couple of weeks especially were filled with near-daily brushes with death and detainment, but you still had this fire within you that said ‘just for now, just a little longer.’

You can’t pin down when exactly that spark sizzled out. These days, you’re just treading water and waiting for a miracle.

The hopeful and naive part of you, however tiny it’s become, thinks the sharp-cut business card zipped up safe in the front pocket of your backpack might just be that miracle.

An icy wind slips through the worn fibres of your jacket and chill you to the core. You consult your watch. Any minute now. As you wait, you hop from foot to foot, trying to bring some warmth back into your toes. 

Minutes tick by, and you wonder when it’s time to just give up and find a place to hunker down for the night. It’s probably too late to walk back into the city, but with how dark it is already, you’re having trouble spotting any promising options for shelter around here. 

You give yourself five minutes of lazily blowing misty plumes of air around you before it’s time to come back to reality.

The headlights flood your vision on the fourth minute. 

Breath catching in your throat, you stumble back onto the sidewalk - if the loose concrete gravel could be called that - and squint at the oncoming vehicle. 

It slows to a stop beside you, purring lowly. Shielding your eyes to help your them adjust, you call out an uncertain, “are you the guy I called?”

With a few more blinks, you manage to bring back your focus. It’s not a car, but a broad black van that idles in front of you. The door closest to you isn’t open all the way, but does sit slightly ajar as an invitation. 

“Whatever,” you mumble under your breath. At this point, with the tips of your ears so cold they burn, riding to wherever in a vehicle is enough of a reward to justify the risk.

Inside, the interior looks upscale but well-worn. The seats are black fabric, two rows of them behind the driver’s section separated from you by a partition. You glance behind you. “Are more people coming?” you call out as you slide the door closed behind you. 

Ahead, you receive no answer, bar the feeling of the van pulling away from the sidewalk and doing a tight U-turn to get back the way it came. “Hey,” you try louder, leaning forward to knock on the grill, “I can hop in the back if we’re- Fuck it.”

Just because they’re determined to ignore you, doesn’t mean you’re going to start this off by being rude. Plus, the temperature in here is warm enough to make what little skin you have exposed tingle in relief. Whoever is driving is steady at the wheel, and the promise of a nap tucked away in the backseat is too tempting. Finding out whether this is a genuine gameshow or a front for an organ selling ring can wait for tomorrow.

With a yawn, you prop yourself up on your knee, hooking a leg up and over the centre console to try and avoid getting any dust on the seats. It’s dark in here with no overhead light or streetlamps outside, and so you’re riding blind as you gingerly pull yourself through the narrow gap, your back leg joining the first. 

A speed bump knocks you off balance and you let gravity toss you onto the rear seats, but instead of taut fabric, your right hand lands on something soft, almost like…

You reflexively snap your hand off of the swathe of hair like it’s burned you, back pressed against the side of the car as your heart catches up with the fright. Even as an automatic apology leaves your lips, you know there’s no point. 

In front of you, half slid onto the floor, is an unconscious woman. Her face is slack but weathered, and it was her ponytail, splayed out on the centre seat, that you’d fallen onto.

Dread roils in your stomach. Idiot, you snap weakly at yourself, you’re a gullible little idiot.

Feeling foolish and more than a little scared, you frantically pat down your backpack for the familiar outline of your phone. You ignore the artificial light stinging your eyes and scroll down your contacts until you see his number.

Detective Hwang. 

Fucking ironic that after all the time and effort you’ve spent trying to evade him that your best choice for survival is giving him a call - you wonder if he’ll appreciate the humour in it, too - but you’re finally willing to acknowledge that a life of imprisonment is, in fact, preferable to death.

The signal is fine, you’re conservative with battery life, but as you wait, the line just rings and rings. 

“Come on, pick up, seriously,” you beg shakily, glancing up at the partition every few seconds. The van is still moving smoothly like there’s not so much as a stoplight in its way, and you dread to think how far out the driver is taking you. 

The call clicks through to the most professional voicemail you’ve ever heard, but your attention is caught by a strange hissing sound. The air shifts around your ankles, and as you squint down into the shadows, an acrid smell hits your nose. Within seconds, you feel a little lightheaded. 

Fighting the urge to cry, you look back at your phone to see the seconds patiently ticking up, waiting for you to leave a message. “Listen,” you start, coughing to clear the thickness building in your throat. “Detective Hwang, I give up. I’ll stop running, but I need your help.” 

The dizziness closes in on you like vertigo, but you take shallow breaths and ignore it as best you can as you methodically give him your name (as if he wouldn’t recognise your voice already), what had happened so far, and some details of the woman across from you. “I’ll send… Just- I’ll- Let me send a pho- a photo to you. Wait.” 

Your mind is melting, fingers shaking, and the chemical exhaustion inflicted on you is so all-encompassing that trying to keep your eyes open physically hurts. Nonetheless, you swipe desperately to open the camera app. Your photo, blurry as it is from your trembling hands, captures enough detail in the flash that you hope it’s at least helpful to Hwang. 

Coughing weakly, you attach it to a text message and send it through. You can blame whatever drug is coursing through your veins, or the emotional distress life on the run has caused you, and certainly the impending feeling that you’re going to be dead very soon, but your fingers keep typing, sending message after message for as much consciousness as you have left.

I hope this helps. 

Imr eally scared

I forgot to tellyou abot the man 

ABout what the man looked like that i played ddajki with

Hes

I cant think of his face now

I cant think anything theis gas is

Detectve hwang i t i just want you to know i think youre a reall y good person

D

Im sorry

You wont believe me but ididnt kill him

Im sorry

Sleep melts off of you like rain on snow. That bliss of unconsciousness slipping through your fingers, leaving you vulnerable again to the harshness of reality. 

This time, however, there’s a little give to the ground beneath you, and an uplifting chorus of violins echoing from somewhere above you. Sluggishly, you blink your eyes open, groaning at how brightly-lit this space is, and look around you. 

Straight above, you see metal bars painted black, forming a hull that houses a mattress. It’s linked to yours by several struts and a skinny ladder. Bunks? Further out, you realise with a start that there are countless more rows of bunk beds extending not only on that side, but on all four. 

The music seems to speed up, growing louder as you hear a unison of groans, yawns, and grunts of confusion. As bizarre as this situation is, you’re alive, you’re warm, and you’re lying in an actual bed. The thought of getting out of it to go investigate further is in the vast minority. 

Instead, you turn around and press your cheek into the cotton-clad pillow. Raising the beige blanket over your head only slightly muffles the music, but it’s enough to allow sleep to begin creeping back into the outskirts of your mind. If this is how you die, at least there’s a silver lining first. 

Surprisingly, the music fades away to the background ambience of people shuffling around. It’s bliss. You even shuffle around in bed enough to realise you’re wearing fresh clothes, too. It’s impossible to say how long you flit in and out of shallow consciousness, but you’re more than content to let the time slip by. Who knows what horrors await you when you’re forced to get up?

Distantly, you hear the swish of sliding doors opening. You clutch your pillow a little tighter, burrow down a little more.

“I would like to extend a heartfelt welcome to you all.” The voice is modulated, just like the one on the other end of the phone line. “Over the next six days, you will participate in six different games.”

You shoot up in bed, blanket falling to your lap. Games? In disbelief, you crawl to the base of your bed and begin hurriedly descending the ladder so you can see what’s going on. As you do, the voice continues. “Those who win all six games will receive a generous cash prize.”

When you finally make it past the rows of beds, you’re surprised by a barrage of oddities. First, the space is much larger than you’d anticipated - lined in tile, the ceiling must be at least two stories high on its own, and the area you woke up in is only a third of the width of it. A mirrored forest of bunk beds is directly across from you, but a broad plain of polished concrete separates them. 

This is where the second aspect strikes you. There must be hundreds of people gathered on the floor, faced away from you. They’re all in matching teal tracksuits - still somewhat groggy from sleep, you belatedly realise you are too - with numbers sewn on the backs. Your eyes scan the numbers; as suspected, they go over four hundred, though you don’t see any beginning with a five. 

You twist around, trying to pull your jacket to see. Thankfully, out of the corner of your eye you catch a matching patch sewn on the left front of the zip-up. 123. You rub at it absentmindedly as you keep moving closer to the crowd. While it’s a little unsettling being reduced to a number, it also gives you a weird sense of belonging. Whatever this is, you’re a part of it.

“Excuse me,” a resolute voice calls out across the room. Towards the back a tall, striking woman with a blunt fringe slowly descends the steps. “If we’re just playing games here, then why’d you basically kidnap us? How can we trust you now?”

Murmurs of agreement flit through the crowd, but you’re focused on who the woman - designated as number 120 - is addressing. The third piece of this confusing puzzle is the people that seem to be running this all.

There are nine people in total that have gathered in a line along a raised platform at the front of the room. The one in the centre appears to be the speaker. All nine of them are clad in bright pink jumpsuits with hoods up. Beyond that, they also are completely concealed head to toe. Black combat boots and gloves below and expressionless masks above. The eight guards flanking the leader have black masks with white circles in the centre. The leader, a square. 

“My apologies.” He answers the woman’s question. “Please understand it was a necessary step taken to maintain the strict confidentiality of these games.”

A relieved laugh bubbles out of your throat, earning you a few disgruntled looks from other players loitering at the back. It is a gameshow. The over-the-top hall, the dramatics of picking you up off the street, the goofy costumes. 

Your smile falters for a split second as you realise your face is going to be plastered on public television - or perhaps streaming - when it’s released. You’re unsure how you were even selected for this show given your pending criminal record when you stop to think about it. 

Another voice from the crowd. “What’s the deal with the masks, then? I guess that’s meant to be a secret too?”

Now that the silence has been broken by a few players, several more questions are raised around the room. You, on the other hand, try and stow your worry. Best case scenario you win some prize money, but either way, all you have to do is get away from here as soon as possible. For now, you need to stay focused on winning and just trust in your ability to stay unseen on the outside. 

“To ensure the fairness and confidentiality of the games, it is our policy not to disclose the faces and identities of our staff to our participants. We ask for your understanding.” 

You vaguely recall trying to contact Detective Hwang last night and cringe in irritation. That’s going to bite you in the ass, all because you got spooked. A hand slips instinctively into your pocket, but you come up empty. Come to think of it, your backpack hadn’t been with you either. You wonder when you could pull one of them aside to ask where they’re storing your belongings.

It seems other players are sharing your same concerns. “Did you people strip me when you shoved me into this?” That is a little weird, you will admit.

A young man with a shock of purple hair has removed his shoe to wave it mulishly in the air. “What’s the deal with these shoes? Where did you put mine? They’re fucking limited edition.” A thick black line tattooed down his neck flexes when he fumes at them. “They’re hard to find, you know! They don’t even make them anymore. Are you gonna replace them if they get damaged?”

“I mean, look at this.” A beautiful girl with pristine braids in her hair has shucked the jacket to scowl at it. “This is way too big and the colour’s awful. Can’t I have the outfit you guys are wearing instead? I’m a fan of pink.”

The leader is clearly not swayed by her suck-up tone. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. To ensure the games are run smoothly, you must wear your uniforms.”

No wonder, you figure. It would be impossible to keep track of everybody if it weren’t for this number system. Some others continue asking after their own belongings - you’re relieved to hear the leader confirm you’ll get them back after the games - but you’re more curious about the facility itself. Spread along the tall roof, as well as a few installed sporadically further down the tiled walls, are small surveillance cameras. 

You can’t imagine they’ll be getting much clear footage with those, and there don’t seem to be any speakers. Besides that, you haven’t seen a single camera operator. Presumably, this is just a place for you to rest between filming. You muffle a snicker at the thought of four hundred people doing confessionals.

Over the protests of the crowd, the click of a remote brings a large screen above the staff to life. Your smile falls at the sight of a young man getting brutally slapped in the face after losing a round of ddakji.

“Player 333, Lee Myunggi,” the leader introduces. You shift a little at the repeated smacks the recorded Myunggi is grimacing through. “Age 30, former owner of the YouTube channel MG Coin. Promoted Dalmation, a new cryptocurrency, leading his subscribers to lose a combined 15.2 billion won.” Your jaw drops at the sheer number, as well as the fact that the staff would be airing his scandal so publicly. “He then shut down his channel and disappeared. Currently wanted for fraud and violation of multiple communication and investment laws. Total debt: 1.8 billion won.”

So at least you’re not the only wanted criminal here, you figure, though it’s a hollow reassurance. If the pink-suited man outs your business, there’s not a chance anybody is going to want to form an alliance with you in the games.

One by one, all the people that had spoken up just before are revealed on the screen by full name and amount of debt. You cross your fingers and mentally beg whoever’s listening that this means you’ll be spared from that embarrassment. 

As the videos play out, your previous enthusiasm at being here begins to wane. It is pretty fucked up that the recruitment process for contestants would involve physically assaulting them. You vividly recall the sting of your cheek so hot it felt like sunburn. If you knew you were being filmed… It’s no use dwelling on that now.

To your relief, the final person mentioned by name is an older man by the name of Im Jeongdae, assigned as 100. Somehow, he’s managed to accrue a debt of ten billion won. It’s a dizzying amount, surely the most of anyone in the room. They must have some pretty incredible researchers on their production team to have found this many desperate people. 

100 is not impressed by the accusing looks he’s receiving from the other contestants. “What are you looking at?” he cries indignantly. “Think it’s easy to get loans that large? They don’t give out ten billion to just anyone. You have to work in the big leagues for that!”

“All of you here,” the leader cuts in, “are living on the brink of financial ruin. You’re on the edge of a cliff saddled with debts you cannot hope to pay off.”

It seems like this is a pretty dark reality show. You wonder if they’re going for a feel-good redemption arc theme, but then again, it’ll be pretty hard to see people get eliminated and know they’re going back to such hard lives. 

“When we first approached each of you, you understandably did not trust us. But, as you know, we played a game; true to our word, we gave you the money when you won. Because of that we earned your trust. You called and volunteered to participate in this game of your own free will. So this is it.” The square-faced leader pauses for effect. “I’ll give you one last chance to decide. Will you go back to living like useless trash, running from your creditors, or will you take action and seize the opportunity we’re offering you?”

You flinch at the harsh wording. You’re vaguely aware of stories that go around about reality shows that are poorly or manipulatively run behind-the-scenes, so maybe this is par for the course, but hearing that in the monotonous voice of the leader is pretty jarring. His colleagues have left him, too, but he’s no less intimidating standing alone.

Up above you, you notice belatedly the screen has switched away from the bodycam footage to a simple 456 people. You haven’t heard of a show on this kind of scale. The chances of winning feel so slim that it’s a little disheartening. Nevertheless, you’re enraptured as the lights go low and a translucent golden pig lowers down from the ceiling in time with a chiptune. 

“What you see now,” the leader explains, “is the piggy bank where your valuable prize money will be stored. As I said, you will play six games. After the conclusion of each game, more prize money will be added to the piggy bank.”

The music cuts off. A spectacled man with tight curly hair asks the question on everyone’s mind. “What’s the total prize money at the end?”

“The total prize money is 45.6 billion won.”

Your mouth drops. It’s unthinkable. That could pay off 100’s astounding debt four times over and still be left with change. And for you… You’re absolutely getting ahead of yourself as you begin picturing hiring the world’s best lawyer, perhaps safe passage out of the country while you work on your defense. Donating some to the man’s family. Investing resources into Detective Hwang’s department so he can find the sick fucks that truly deserved to be behind bars. Further out still, you can just picture a life like the one you held before all of this went down. 

Ahead, the leader is announcing the option to vote after each game to quit or continue, but you can barely hear it for the ringing in your ears. You were expecting a few million. Something that could put you in a decent position to try and untangle things yourself. After a middle-aged man at the back of the room asks, the leader also confirms the accumulated prize money will be split among the remaining contestants after a game if the group votes to leave. 

You’d be pretty hard-pressed to want to leave early. 

A sudden cry catches your attention. Rising on your tiptoes, you can just barely see a petite grey-haired woman smack the man from just before. 

“Ma? What are you doing here?”

“That’s what I was gonna ask you!”

You listen more than watch as the apparent mother-and-son duo have a spat over both of them coming here. As they both want the other to leave, their argument becomes louder and louder until the son finally turns to the square-masked leader with a frustrated shout. “How could you drag an old lady into this? You’re crazy! What if she were to fall or something? Are you guys liable for that?”

That’s an interesting point. You certainly haven’t signed any documentation about consent for filming, liability in case of injury, anything like that. Don’t things like this typically have a pretty elaborate administrative process before you can even get to set?

Like they read your minds, the eight guards from before return, each one wheeling a small podium laden with stacks of paper. Nobody else seems to pay them much attention, more interested in the family feud in the centre of the room.

They all awkwardly stand in silence while the bickering continues. Eventually, the leader speaks up. “If you wish to participate in the games, please sign the player consent form.” Finally something official. A few of your worries dissipate. “Those who do not wish to participate, please speak up now.”

The crowd naturally diverges into lines. As far at the back as you are, you’re in no rush to try and get there early. Taking the chance to have a look around, you jump in surprise as you feel a poke in the back between your shoulder blades.

You spin around and are faced with an attractive young man, hair just below his chin and tucked behind his ears. Despite his sharp features, he has mischievous eyes and a small grin as he points down at your chest. “We’re neighbours.”

You furrow your brow, dumbly looking down at where he’s pointing, then back at him. “We’re wha- Oh.” His jacket reads 124. Consecutive numbers. You send him a grin back. “I guess we better stay close together then, huh?”

He picks up on your suggestive tone and presses his lips together with a low hum. “Maybe we should go somewhere private to discuss strategies.” Absentmindedly, he lifts his hand to his mouth and begins tugging on a silver band around his middle finger with his teeth. With his sleeve pushed up his forearm a little, you see the beginnings of a tattoo with slightly faded colour. You don’t know what good karma in life you’ve cashed in to have your ideal type dropped right in front of you, but you certainly aren’t complaining. “I do have one worry, though.”

“What would that be?” 

He leans in to pat your chest twice just above where the number is. His forwardness takes you off guard, and you feel caught in a snare as he gives a wry chuckle. “Player 123. One, two, three. Like a baby learning numbers for the first time. Did they give you 123 because you’re slow?”

Disbelief makes you huff a laugh. “They must have mixed our numbers up. No wonder my shirt is baggy.”

“I won’t stop you if you want to take it off.” No concept of personal space, he reaches out to latch onto the hem of your shirt, yanking lazily at it. “It’s okay, baby 123. If you stick beside me, we can win together.” 

You open your mouth to respond, but something catches his wandering eye and he straightens up immediately, dropping your shirt. You turn around but can’t work out who or what his intent gaze is trapped on. A hand slides down between your shoulder blades, exactly where he had poked before, as he presses his body almost flush against yours and dips his chin to speak in a hushed tone. “Come find me when the first game starts.”

With that, he’s leaving you cold and weaving through the slowly waning lines of people. In a daze, you step forward to join one of the lines. Soon enough, you’ve reached the front of the room. To your surprise, the form is a single sheet of paper with only four clauses. It’s nothing the leader hasn’t told you already; no mention of cameras, footage release, creative rights, anything like that. It’s unbelievably barebones, and while you worry a little about the legitimacy, it’s obviously such a well-funded and resourced show that if they were shady, they would surely have been exposed by now. 

A little odd that you’ve never heard of this show before, though. Must be new.

You sigh, figure it’s better than just walking away after all this fuss, and sign. 

You’re one of the last to do so, and to your surprise, there’s already a steady stream of contestants leaving through a side door on the right of the stage. Anxious to not miss the start of the game, you rush forward to catch up.

The tiled corridor quickly falls away into another cheesy decor choice. Most of the interior out here is a softer pink than the guards’ suits, but it’s interspersed with pastel yellow accent walls and teal doorways in a similar shade to your tracksuit. 

Stranger still, the path forward seems needlessly complicated. A few guards - also with circle icons on their masks - are stationed at a few balconies, and thank god for that. If it weren’t for the single-file line you’re in, you would get lost in here in a heartbeat. 

It’s honestly kind of a pain making your way through. You can see parts of the queue further to the front doubling back around on different levels. There’s no way this can be that entertaining for an audience to watch. When those in front of you slow to a halt in a small clearing, you’re relieved to hear a female voice over a PA system provide you with some instruction.

“Attention,” she requests placidly. “The first game is about to begin. Once your picture’s been taken, please follow the nearby staff’s instructions and proceed as directed towards the game hall.”

The players in front of you move forward and as they do, you see five pink partitions in the centre, each with a small display screen and camera. ‘Smile!’ instructs a tinny voice from one of the screens. 

Your feet drag. When was the last time you voluntarily had your picture taken? The concept alone makes you feel tense, like you’re broadcasting your location to the world. Bad enough Detective Hwang has probably already started looking into your messages. 

A guard behind you steps forward. “Please take your picture and continue to the game hall.”

You hate that the mask and modulated voice spook you a little. Pushing aside your worry, you step forward in front of one of the screens. That same voice tells you to smile, with the camera’s live feed showing you a preview as it counts down. With a sigh, you put on your most sweet, law-abiding citizen smile and quickly move on down the following corridor. 

What greets you at the end of your winding path is a massive open plain. Sunbleached dirt or perhaps sand below, and a gorgeous blue sky above. You tilt your chin up, ignoring the rest for a moment to truly enjoy those warm rays. For a moment, you dream again of you a few months or years in the future, perhaps going on a hike or a tropical holiday with friends. Maybe even a partner. 

“Attention, players, welcome to the first game.” The PA is significantly louder here, presumably to carry across a large space. It cuts through your fantasy. Don’t get ahead of yourself. You reluctantly open your eyes again to pay close attention to the rules. “After you enter the arena, please stand near the entrances and await further instructions.”

You huff. All that for a ‘please keep waiting’ announcement while the last stragglers catch up. Taking the time to look around properly, you see the high walls around you are painted to look like a nature scene. From afar, the cornfields and trees are quite convincing; the clouds, somewhat less so. A few ‘houses’ stick out from the walls to give it a more three-dimensional appearance. In your opinion, it seems like a bit of a waste to build all of that instead of just putting up a fence or something to keep people inside. Must have something to do with how it’s all filmed, you suppose. 

The more bizarre thing is the giant statue at the far end of the field. It’s built and painted like some sort of oversized girl doll. It stands in front of an even taller, gnarled tree. The doll has an orange dress, white socks, and black shoes. They’re really riding hard with the childish theme. You figure it must be some sort of nostalgia-kick for audiences.

The PA lady repeats herself several times - progressively more grating, in your opinion - until the doors finally close behind the last contestants.

The crowd keeps murmuring until the announcement comes. “Welcome to the first game. You will be playing Red Light, Green Light.” Childish indeed. “Players who cross the finish line within the five-minute time limit without being eliminated will win this game.”

You let out a little scoff. This sounds like the most boring gameshow, you can’t fathom how on earth they got enough funding for 40 billion won as the prize itself, let alone production costs. With a squint, you scan the hall again. There must be some sort of wildcard, some plot twist. If you’re lucky, you might spot something on your way across.

“Everyone!” a desperate shout cuts through the noise. A middle-aged man with cropped hair stands in front of you all, waving his arms to gather everyone’s attention. “Everybody, you need to pay attention! I have to tell you something; listen carefully. This isn’t just a game, it’s more than that.”

And 124 was worried you were slow, you muse smugly. You push your way carefully to the front to try and get a better look at the guy in case his appearance holds any clues.

“If you move after red light, if you lose, you’re going to be shot!”

Your pleased smile falls.

“Excuse me, sir,” a lady further down from you pipes up, impressed. “What exactly are you saying? That we’re all going to die playing Red Light, Green Light? Really?”

“Yes!” 456 states emphatically. “If they catch you moving, you’re going to be killed. They’re going to shoot you. There’s guns in the walls!”

It does seem a little distasteful to have that be the ‘twist,’ but you look around nonetheless to see if you can find any of them. The walls look perfectly unadorned to you. They must come out when the game starts, you suppose. A good strategy could be to stay close to the middle surrounded by people so you’re harder to aim at. 

Speaking of strategy… You rise to your tiptoes and look back through the crowd of people, but there’s too many to track down your sly ‘neighbour.’ 

“That sensor catches you, you will die!” At the front, 456 is still going on. “You see that big doll thing there? Look at it! Its eyes are like motion-trackers. If it sees you move, you die.”

Big talk of shooting aside, the sensors you buy into. How else would they be able to see you all? Keeping in the midst of a group is definitely the way to go. 

“No matter what,” 456 continues desperately - you’re impressed at the dedication the actor is giving this character - “do not panic. Remember everything I told you. Stay as still as you can, don’t try to run away on a red light!”

From beside you, a tall, well-built man clicks his tongue with an easy grin. “They’re really hamming it up in here, aren’t they?” He mimes holding a gun at you. “Red light; don’t move!”

You put your hands up in mock surrender. “Please, I have a family!” 

“I’m so sorry,” he hangs his head, and pretends to cock the gun. “I wish I didn’t have to…” 

At the dramatic gunshot sound effect he gives, you step back and clutch at your chest, making pained noises. 

With a chuckle, he lets up the charade and gives a slow sigh. “You know, I racked up hours in the gym like crazy between making the call and getting picked up. Come to find out we’re just jogging across a field like ten-year-olds.” 

It hadn’t even occurred to you to try and prepare for the show. “Right? Surely this is too easy. What happens when almost all of us get across?”

He clears his throat and puts on the monotonous rumble of the leader. “Congratulations on passing the game. Your collective share is: three thousand, two hundred and seventy won.”

“As long as I have enough for the bus ride home,” you quip. You figure it can’t hurt to make another friend in the games, especially one as physically capable as him. You introduce yourself just as the doll sings out, “green light!”

You begin rushing forward, sticking more or less in the middle as per your strategy. The man stays by you step for step, even though you’re sure he could overtake you in a heartbeat. “Jungwon,” he calls out with a warm smile, “nice to meet-”

He cuts himself off when the doll calls, “red light!”

Everyone freezes in unison. Ahead of you, 456 has his arms splayed wide, a frenzied look in his eyes. “Good job! That’s it, you just have to keep calm. Make sure you move and stop at the right time.”

“Does he think we don’t know the rules?” Jungwon asks through tense lips. 

You have to bite down on the inside of your cheek at that. The theatrics are honestly a little distracting. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for the second round to begin. The two of you move together. Your theory of staying concealed in the middle is not as possible for him, given how he’s at least a head taller than anyone around you. 

You skid to a halt in time, watching 456 warily as he yells at the group again, hands up by his mouth. “Good! Just try to relax, stay where you are.” Somebody beside him mumbles, and he shushes him instantly. “Speak with your mouth covered. It could be seen.”

Just to be safe, then, you run forward on the last round and finish by ducking your face and covering your mouth with a hand. “Maybe I should’ve asked for a job here instead. Must be pretty good pay.”

You hear a faint huff of air, but Jungwon stays perfectly still. Each round, you move closer to the other end, but they’re such quick rounds that it’s pretty slow going. 

You and Jungwon both use the man’s tactic of dropping your heads and covering your mouths to share quips back and forth as he yells out to the players every time. You’re relieved the two of you started chatting beforehand, otherwise this would be the most boring game of Red Light, Green Light you’ve ever played. 

After a few uneventful bursts of scampering forward, the clock is down a minute and a half. By your estimate, you’ve probably made it around a third of the way across. Manageable.

Gauging the timing by now, you brace yourself to move. Instead of the sing-song chant of the doll, a strange whistle, crack, and thud echo in the space. You’re no stranger to the sound of a gun. 

“It is paintball,” you hiss victoriously to Jungwon, muffled by the hand over your mouth. Admittedly, the noise made your heart skip a beat, but at least some people are going to be eliminated. 

“Nobody move!” 456 screams. “You must not move!”

“No shit,” Jungwon mutters.

The PA declares player 196 as the first eliminated. Before the next round can begin, you hear a piercing scream, followed by another crack. Like a dam bursting, shouts and cries mingled with paintball shots surround you. You’re reminded of people that scream on the plainest rollercoaster rides. Who knew there were so many skittish people playing the game?

“No, stop moving! If you run, you will die! You’ll die if you don’t stay still!”

Elimination after elimination, 456 shouting at you all the while, you and Jungwon remain perfectly frozen. 

“My theory,” you muse through the screams, “is that he’s not the only actor.”

“You reckon?” 

“Think about it. 456 is such a random number of contestants. Maybe there’s really four hundred and fifty of us.”

Jungwon hums in thought. “And five other actors?”

Once all the people who moved are finally eliminated, the PA system repeats the rules of the game. Your heart begins thudding in excitement. “Dude! What if that’s the real game. Find out who all the actors are.”

“Almost like mafia…” he whispers in awe. 

You pause. “When we get back, let’s discuss it more. There’s another guy we can get on our team too.”

At last, the doll speaks up again. “Green light!”

The two of you begin to dash forward, but as you look up, you see nobody else is moving. Before you can work out why, the round has concluded. You feel surprisingly vulnerable without your mouth covered. 

Suspicious, when the doll opens and closes another round, you stay still like the rest of the group. You must have missed something. Deep in the back of your mind, doubt is unfurling.

With your eyes up, you can see 456 has made his way to the front of the crowd yet again. It looks like he’s the only one that’s gone any further. With his mouth shielded in the crook of his elbow, he calls out loud enough to still be heard clearly. “We have to keep moving! If you don’t cross the line in time, they’ll still kill you.”

It’s difficult to fight the urge to share a look with Jungwon. All the excitement has fled the arena; it’s left a palpable void behind. The people you can see in front of you are actually trembling, so much you’re worried they might be eliminated. That niggling uncertainty only grows stronger by each taut second. 

“Look at the doll’s eyes,” 456 continues, the red light dragging on and on. “They’re cameras that scan the field for motion. But they’re not able to detect you if you’re behind something.” Your breath catches in your throat as he splays his fingers behind his back, demonstrating his point. “So if you’re short, line up behind someone who’s taller than you. Single file, like you’re forming a conga line. Time’s running out; we have to go at the next green light!”

The timing feels a little too convenient, but the doll is chanting, “green light,” and everybody is finally moving forward again, albeit shakily. 

Jungwon has immediately stepped in front of you. Without turning his head to look back, he addresses you. “Just like he said, stick behind me the whole way. They’re taking this shit way too seriously, it’s-”

He cuts himself off early to be on the safe side, just as the doll is concluding the round again. You have your mouth covered, but choose to keep your head up to stay more aware. Admittedly, while most of the remaining crowd is in half-formed lines, you feel immediately reassured being behind such a tall and broad contestant. It’s all about strategy, you affirm to yourself as you keep your core tensed up. 

Out the far peripheral on your right, you see a player get jerked backwards in a blur. The sharp snapping sound that rings through the arena comes a split second later. You can’t really make any details out, but you could’ve sworn the paint flew backwards, not in front of her. 

Your confusion doesn’t linger long, however, as another player, directly in your line of sight this time, is gunned down. In startling clarity, you see the way dark red pools around her on the sand, a distinct hole punched straight through the number patch on her chest. 

Your thighs start trembling. In case he hadn’t seen it you want to call out to Jungwon, but despite having your mouth firmly covered, fear bolts through you and you can no longer bring yourself to speak. 

“Green light!”

By the time the round concludes, the lines are all but fully formed. You’d heard the gravely crunch of people lining up behind you. The countdown on the digital panel is steady and relentless. 

“Don’t move, nobody move,” 456 calls out again. It hits you in a heartbeat just how wrong you were. He’s not an actor. He’s not exempt from elimination. Yet he’s putting himself in the line of fire to try and get more people across the line. “Just a little longer.”

Ahead of you, Jungwon flinches with the hat-trick of gunshots over to your left. As soon as the doll opens another round, you’re rushing forward. 

Every time, the volley of shots in dead silence is harder and harder to bear up against, but you grit your teeth. The two of you have formed an unspoken tactic of sprinting forward a few seconds, then slowing to a halt conservatively early to ensure time to find a stable position. 

You can’t hear anyone getting shot right behind you, so it must be successful enough, but it’s slow going. 

“Let’s go!” 456 screams out at some point. “Keep it together! You’re near the end, you’re almost done!”

Almost done indeed, you muse. You have less than ninety seconds left, and still some ways to go. 

Clearly worried about timing himself, Jungwon reaches behind to grab onto your hand blindly and yanks you forward the second the doll turns. 

He leaves stopping a little too late to find stability, and his grip on your hand is iron tight as he tries to hold himself upright on the awkward angle he’s at. 

Because he was trying to keep a hold of you, he’d been leaning back, and now, under the lethal surveillance of the doll, he’s unable to stand back upright. 

“Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up,” you chant lowly through frozen lips, but the doll is taking her time gunning down those who’ve moved too soon. 

Time grinds to a snail’s pace. One nanosecond at a time, you see a wobble in Jungwon’s stance as his shoulder dips a little too low from the strain. Visibly tremoring, he does manage to hold the slightly new position, and for a moment you’re able to fool yourself into thinking the motion sensors didn’t capture his slip.

The deafening clap and hot spray of blood across your front says otherwise. 

Due to the way he was holding himself, he falls back heavily, and you’re powerless to stop the weight of him from knocking you down too. 

With one hand pulled forward in his grip, it’s your opposite side that hits the unforgiving ground first. You can’t even cry out, as petrified as you are of being the next elimination. 

You wait as his number is called out, and brutal seconds drag by. To your numb surprise, instead of a bullet saved just for you, you’re next met with the whirring sound of the doll spinning back around. 

There’s a whine in the back of your throat that comes out unbidden as you try to push him off of you, but there’s no way you can overcome the dead weight of his muscular build from underneath him. 

“Fuck, come on,” you cry out, slowly reaching a hysterical pitch as you writhe uselessly beneath the man you’d been joking around with minutes before, “get off, get off!”

“Red light!” You’re forced into a despairing silence. Completely pinned, only your head peeks out from around him. Frozen as you are, you’re stuck staring up at the open sky. The dark peppering of a small flock of birds arcs overhead. Not bad for what is likely the final thing you’ll see.

Gunshots ring out, but still none of them strike you. Like in life, Jungwon is concealing you from the sensor even in death. 

It’s a hollow comfort, though, as 456 had already said you were dead if you didn’t cross the finish line. That’s it, then. 

“Green light!”

A new voice calls out; a warm hand brushing back your hair. “Are you alive, dear? Oh goodness, Yongsik, come here!”

You can’t turn your eyes up enough to catch who has knelt beside you, but you hope the owner of that comforting voice can interpret your blinks as gratitude.

This time, nobody new is eliminated, and a new round quickly opens. “Yongsik!” the lady demands, before her tone changes. “You, young man? Please; show some mercy!”

Below, you just manage to catch the out-of-focus outline of someone gripping onto Jungwon’s motionless torso and holding steady himself once the doll again turns to face you. 

One death. As a flurry of players flows past you, the immense pressure is lifted off your chest, and the warm hand on the crown of your head immediately slides between you and the ground to prop you up. 

You just have enough time to pull your legs closer before you’re forced to stop. A new hope is bubbling in you, and as the countdown slips below a minute, it’s all you can do to be patient while other desperate players are shot down. 

“Green light!” 

Scrambling to your feet, you turn and give a breathless “thank you so much” to the handsome young man at your side and older woman just behind. 

“There’s time for that later, just keep going, dear.” There’s a determined edge underneath her maternal tone, and it strengthens your resolve. 

Once you’re all permitted to move forward again, you notice with a spark of hope that you’re almost at the finish line. You could cry in frustration when the round lasts only seconds, but you bite down on your cheek instead. 

Thirty seconds. 

Clearly others are getting panicked, too, as this time the freeze period drags on and on. After several shots, you’re too upset to keep counting. 

Twenty seconds. The older woman keeps pace with a middle-aged man guiding her by the elbow, and the four of you all dart forward as fast as you can. 

If you weren’t so close to a complete nervous breakdown, you might cheer out in sweet relief once your feet pass the thick line of pink chalk in front of the doll. Instead, you collapse to your knees with a sob.

Turning to face those yet to pass, you see a trio clustered together close to the finish line, 456 among them. It doesn’t take long to see why him and another woman have hunched over on either side of an older man.

His legs dangle uselessly beneath him, one profusely bleeding from the thigh. He’s been shot.

You glance up at the timer behind you as it slips into single digits. Both 456 and the woman - 120, you actually recognise her as one of the people who spoke up in the dormitory - could move much faster without him, especially as it comes down to the wire, but neither give up.

Down to the final second, they heave him forward and collapse across the finish line.

The doll doesn’t call for another red light, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Five minutes have passed, and the timer beeps.

A moment of uneasy silence, and a condensed barrage of shots concludes the game for those unfortunate souls who were too slow in crossing the field. To your horror, despite him having crossed the line with the assistance of 120 and 456, the wounded man is gunned down himself, spattering his saviours in blood.

Overhead, broad panels close in over the walls. “Red Light, Green Light is now finished,” the PA chimes out unnecessarily as the light around you dims. Manning the exits, pink guards wordlessly watch as you all catch your breath and bearings.

It’s strange, leaving all those bodies behind. Throughout the game, you were running purely on adrenaline, and it’s taking a few moments for the inky dread of the situation to really set in. On your side of the line, the survivors have fallen silent. The dead, more silent still. 

Like driving past a car accident, your eyes are locked onto the bodies. Every single one of them had a reason for being here. They had entire lives that led to a single day where everything ground to an instant halt. Sick curiosity forces you - and many others - to scan over the carnage. Past a sea of blood and corpses, Jungwon’s larger build sticks out like a sore thumb. Staring miserably at him, you suck in a sharp breath when a minute flicker of movement catches your gaze. Did he-? 

You freeze, breathless despite your panting, but squint as you might on that Jungwon’s right arm, everything seems perfectly still. Maybe they’re all pretending, this could be some huge prank. Even as the words come to mind, you acknowledge your brain is probably just trying to cope with denial. There’s no way he was moving. There was no way it’s all fake. You had felt the heft of a dead man on top of you less than five minutes ago. This is real.

Someone is speaking beside you. For now, you shake that thought off before twisting round. 

It’s the older woman, and even as you tune into her words, the woman is running her hands up and down your forearms as if to keep you warm. “-before, dear. It looked like you hit your shoulder on the way down.”

With a blink or three, your mind catches up. “Oh, I,” automatically, your hand reaches up to rub across your opposite shoulder, but you recoil when dry fabric gives way to the tacky slide of congealing blood. Letting out a shiver, you blink up into the sun. “It’s fine, it doesn’t really hurt.”

The older woman is unconvinced. “You could be in shock,” she ventures half to herself, and gives your arms one final squeeze before she turns back to her son. “Why can’t you go to the gym and get some muscle like that young man over there?”

“Ma,” he blushes, reaching up idly to adjust his glasses, “I do go to the gym, you know. I could’ve lifted it myself but the other guy just got there first. Plus,” he continues quickly when she screws her face up, “I was focused on making sure you survived. That’s what a good son does.”

She huffs, turning her chin up towards the late sun, even as large shutters enclose you in with a loud mechanical grumble. “‘It,’ what a disgrace. They may be dead, but they’re human beings just like us.” 

He leans in apologetically and the two begin to converse in tones too low for you to pick up without focusing. Catching the message, you rub the rusty smears from your left hand on the gritty sand below and stand up with a quiet groan. The whole crowd around you seems mostly in shell-shock, though minute by minute some break into more casual conversation again, some even celebrating or complimenting each other on their tactics. 

A shaky breath followed by a throat clearing behind you pulls your attention. The man from before has his eyes on you, though he looks away conspicuously the second you meet his gaze. Your lips quirk as he awkwardly shifts his weight in an attempt to appear casual. “You saved my life,” you offer up with a genuine smile, “I think I owe you a drink once we get out of here.”

Player 388 dips his head and reaches up to rub the back of his neck. “It was nothing,” he downplays. As he looks up, his rueful face falters while locked on somewhere around your waist. He lets out a small sound of disgust. “You have, uh…” As you go to look down, he steps closer and interjects quickly. “Don’t look! You- It’s kinda gross, I can…” He takes another step forward, this time hesitant like you might spook, and he searches your gaze with an uncertain expression. “I can get it off for you. If you like.”

Your mouth opens to politely decline - you have, after all, seen a dead body before - but it’s been a long time since somebody has shown you kindness like this. “That’s really sweet, as long as you don’t mind.”

He nods in quick succession. “Of course, let me just…” He moves in one last time, so close that you have to pull your head back and look off to the side to avoid your nose brushing up against him. Your gaze wanders unseeingly around the tall painted walls as you feel the pressure of hands holding the hem of your shirt steady as he scratches something off it. 

As your eyes roam around, they lock onto the dark gaze of player 124, your ‘number neighbour.’ He’s watching you with all the focused intent of a crow even from at least twenty metres away, expression unreadable. His eyes dip to your waist and then away, jaw flexing.

In front of you, player 388’s knuckles brush the sensitive skin of your hip and you suck in a quiet breath, turning back to face him. He murmurs an apology, but stays focused until he gets whatever it was off and goes to flick it away.

The fleshy-looking shred clings to the back of his fingers and he lets out a reflexive gagging sound, flinging his hand frantically until the force has it flying off into the sand somewhere. Despite yourself, you let out a small chuckle that catches into a full laugh. At first, he hunches in on himself in embarrassment, before joining you in your hushed giggles. 

A glare from a cluster of players behind you cuts you both short, smiles falling. In the lull, you offer up your name. “Daeho,” he returns with soft eyes. “I’m glad we-”

A clang makes the two of you whirl around in unison. A smaller door has opened in the corner beside the ones you entered from. Several individuals dart forward and bottle-neck it immediately, desperate to get out. Ever impassive, two armed pink guards stand in silence as they file out one by one. 

It’s a sobering sight. You glance at the corpses that litter the field one last time, before putting them out of sight. “At least it’s over,” you say with a sigh, and the sand crunches under your canvas shoes as the two of you head towards the door. “I guess I shouldn’t ask you why you came here.”

Daeho’s brow furrows for a moment. “Why not?”

You send him a wry grin. “It’s like asking someone in prison what they’re in for, right? When we get out of here, we can see who has the most debt. Winner has to buy the second round.”

“We better invite that player 100 then, he’d have to pay for the whole lot of us.” Daeho straightens slightly when you laugh, a pleased expression on his face.

Somebody bumps past you in their haste to leave, and it knocks you into him. His hands steady you, but as you turn to glare after her, your gaze is instead drawn to a familiar woman. Tall, with a blunt fringe and hair tucked sweetly behind her ears. The woman who had tried to save the shot player along with 456. 

Just like with the older lady and Daeho, your heart swells at the generosity of others. It makes you feel selfish in comparison and, seeing her walk alone, you feel an obligation to share your gratitude. “I’ll be right back,” you murmur to Daeho. 

Player 120 doesn’t rush, but her gait is steadfast enough that you have to break into a light jog to catch up. Her eyes dart down at the movement before she does a double take when it’s her you’re approaching. She slows a bit to match your pace, though she watches you with a hint of trepidation.

“I think what you did back there was incredibly brave,” you proclaim. “Saving that man.”

Her brows lift slightly. “Thank you,” she says stiffly after a pause. “But in the end, we didn’t really save him.”

“You didn’t know that when you put your life on the line. That’s what matters.”

A humble smile reveals dimples on the tops of her cheeks as she ducks her head. “It’s what anyone would’ve done.” As the two of you approach the doorway, which leads to a narrow, winding path identical to the colourful one that led you here, she smoothly ushers you to walk in front of her. 

Ahead and to the left, the snake of players winds around a corner and up some stairs to the level above you. You catch the sharp features of player 124 as he follows the purple-haired man up, one hand fisted childlike in the back of his jacket. “Look around,” you rebut flatly. “Most people wouldn’t have done what you did.”

For a few steps, she’s silent. As you yourself turn the 90-degree corner to start rising up the stairs, you fight the urge to twist around and look at her, worried of losing your footing. Eventually, she speaks up, repeating herself from earlier. “Thank you.” 

You don’t need to hide the smile on your face.

The rest of the convoluted way back to the dormitory is spent sharing the occasional back-and-forth of surface-level conversation, though you at least learn her name is Hyunju. It suits her, and yet again the praise softens her poised demeanour. 

Inside the dormitory, you pick Daeho out in the crowd as he sends you a cheery wave. 

“You know him?” Hyunju asks in a low voice.

“I do now,” you return. She seems taken aback by that, head tilting. “You know; I’ll need a whole lot of new friends to trauma-bond with once we get out of this place. He’s my Hyunju.”

Her face twists in confusion. “What?”

“Well, okay, that was poorly phrased. I mean, he saved my life. In the game.” You both come to a natural halt towards the beds at the right side of the room. Hyunju is watching the man with an intent gaze, one he falters under. “Hey,” you perk up, “maybe next round I can be your Hyunju.”

“Next round?”

“They didn’t build all of this for one game. Plus, did you notice?” You reach up to point out the various red blinking lights scattered around the large hall. “They’re recording it all.”

Hyunju doesn’t follow your finger. “I did.” She seems deep in thought for a moment, but as she opens her mouth to continue, the swoosh of the front doors opening breaks her off. 

The same posse of pink guards from earlier come striding out, and instinctively you flinch behind the black-painted bars of the closest bunk to you. To your relief, Hyunju does as well, though more composed than you. 

As the leader speaks through a modulator, you shiver at the cold formality of his voice. “You have successfully made it through the first game. Congratulations to you all.” You and Hyunju share a brief look at the word first. “Now, if I may have your attention, I will announce the results so far.”

You peek out when you hear an electronic trill. Overhead, the screen blinks down from 456 all the way to 365. 

“Out of 456 players, 91 have been eliminated.” Killed, you mentally correct. “Which means 365 players have completed the first game. Once again, congratulations to all of you for making it through the first game.”

Your heart skips a beat when you see the mother from earlier collapse to her knees, begging the unflinching guard. “Sir, listen to me,” she cries in a desperate tone that stings your eyes, “let us go, please. Please! Don’t kill us, I know… I know my son owes money. I swear, I’ll pay it back.” 

She continues to cry out, tugging at her son until he falls to his knees as well, but you can’t even process their words. Her son owes money. Player 149, who had selflessly stayed back with you to ensure somebody would help, wasn’t even in debt herself. Your heart goes out to her, although a deep, ugly part of you feels jealous that such a son gets a mother like her. 

You sink down onto the bed, emotional exhaustion wearing you thin, but then a strong shout rings out through the hall and draws your attention again.

“Consent form, clause three!” It’s player 456, the one you didn’t believe before. Now, not a doubt in your mind lingers that his claims are true. He’s stood up on the steps at the back of the room not far from you and Hyunju, and as his fierce gaze locks onto the main guard, he walks forward. “‘If the majority of players agree to stop playing, the games will be terminated.’ Isn’t that correct?” The pink guard affirms. “Then we’ll do that. We’ll put it to a vote.”

“If that’s what you like. During these games, we will always respect your right to freedom of choice.” Around you, a collective sigh of relief fills the room. A hollow pit begins to form in your stomach. “But before we vote, we will reveal how much prize money has accumulated after the first game.” 

The guard reaches up at the ceiling, clicking a small black remote. An arcade-style tune echoes tinnily, speeding up as bound stacks of cash fall from a chute into the golden pig dangling from the ceiling. It seems to almost emanate a hopeful golden light that warms up the other players’ faces. When the pile settles, it just covers the belly of the pig.

“A total of 91 players were eliminated during the first game. Therefore,” the guard explains, “9.1 billion won has accumulated so far. If you decide to stop playing and quit the games now, the remaining 365 players will split the 9.1 billion amongst themselves. Meaning, you each leave with an equal share.”

“Okay, how much per share?” someone yells out. The collective all murmur in support.

“Each player would get 24,931,500 won.” The room dissolves into protests and complaints.

Above you, Hyunju lets out a slow exhale. Her hair has fallen out from behind her ears and obscures her face from your view, but you imagine she’s thinking the same thing you are. 25 million won isn’t going to change your life at all. 

One by one, the leader fields questions from the other players. The 45.6 billion is only achieved at the end of six games. Each person eliminated - killed, you have to keep correcting yourself - adds to the prize pool, which is divided amongst the remaining players when they decide to stop playing. 

From your vantage point, you see countless people still terrified out of their minds, but a lot of them are talking amongst themselves, strategising on whether it’s better to continue.

At the back of the room, 456’s shoulders are slumped, face grave.

Finally, the pink guard concludes the discussion. “Ensuring the players are participating in the games of their own volition is always our highest priority.”

Even as you yourself are torn on what to do, you know that statement is a complete lie. If they truly wanted to give each of you autonomy, it wouldn’t be a vote at all, it would be individual decisions. Your eyes lift again to the cameras on the ceiling, silent witnesses. Either some people will be forced into lethal games, or other people will lose what may be their only chance to dig themselves out of the graves they’re in. 

“With that, the voting may now begin.” Two staff wheel out a small podium, with two simple buttons on it. The leader gestures down. “If you wish to continue playing, press the blue button with the O. If you wish to stop playing, press the red button with the X. You will vote in order of player number, from highest to lowest.” A pause. “Player 456.”

The player in question walks forward decisively. It comes as no surprise when a dull beep rings out, red light flooding his face. 

“Once you’ve voted,” the leader announces as the guard manning the podium hands something small to 456, “attach the patch you’re given to the right side of your chest, and stand in the area marked with the corresponding signal.” In the middle of the room, people back away towards the rear of the room to reveal two large symbols in the middle of the floor, with an aisle marked out in between. As the next player is called, 456 stands in the red zone, watching the leader and the approaching player intently.

One by one, people are called up to vote. For a while, you sit on the edge of your seat as the numbers rack up relatively evenly on both sides, but impatience quickly settles in. With how long some people stand in front of the podium, it’s like they haven’t even begun considering it until everybody is waiting on them. Of course, some people are certain. It surprises you that Daeho doesn’t pause when he votes to stay. He’s not as smug about it as some of the blue side are, but his face is resolute as he waits beside them. 

The number 230 is called, and you watch the rapper sprints forward, smacking the button with a childlike glee on his face. Quickly, 456 steps to the centre of the room, hands splayed as he calls you all to attention. “Don’t do this to yourselves,” he begs. “Just think for a second. Can’t you see what’s going on? These aren’t regular games we’re playing. If we don’t stop this, they’ll kill us all!”

It’s like every moment that has passed so far swings your impending decision like a pendulum back and forth, and the distasteful way 230 had made his decision, followed by how imploring 456 looks as he pleads to you all, is pushing your heart strongly towards leaving. You look up. Hyunju is listening carefully, but her face remains stoic.

“Just focus on getting out of here,” 456 states intently. “And to do that, we need to win the vote. We can stop this here and now.”

Stop this. Oddly, the words don’t feel all that reassuring. Indecision starts to pull the pendulum in your chest back to the centre. Trying to evade the detective on the outside has occupied your every waking moment. It feels like he’s always just half a step behind you, waiting for you to stumble. When he catches you, you’re fucked. It’s over. 

Part of you suspects there’s a good chance that while you’ve been here, he’s caught up. You can’t guarantee the place you were sleeping rough in the other night hasn’t been found out, you can’t guarantee you weren’t caught on CCTV on your way here. In a way, it feels like he could be right outside the front doors to this place, cuffs in hand. 

A few players stand forward to begin bickering with player 456, going so far as to blame him for scaring them and even accuse him of working for whoever ran the games. Another man steps up beside 456 to defend him, but it’s when player 149 runs up that you quickly stand to attention.

She gets in between two of them, holding her hands out to calm them. “Come on now, please don’t do this. Listen, none of us would be alive if it weren’t for this gentleman,” she asserts, turning to address the gathering crowd as well, “so enough with the greed. Let’s put our lives first and get out of this place. Okay?”

The tense atmosphere has alarm bells ringing in your head. You know just how explosive desperate men can be, and you don’t doubt after what you’ve witness both before and during these games that some of them wouldn’t be concerned about an elderly person suffering the collateral. 

You swiftly slip through the crowd until you reach the frontlines, leaving Hyunju behind. As the volume of fierce disagreement crescendoes, your internal alarm finally sounds, and you reach out to pull 149 out of the middle. 

She stiffens and whips her head around, sagging in relief when it’s just you. Still, her eyes keep sending venomous glares to those that are loudly voicing their desire to continue.

“You have to be careful,” you fret, stepping in front to block her view, “it’s never a good thing to be within arms’ reach of angry people.”

She scoffs, though her eyes hold no disdain when they meet yours. “What? You think an old lady like me can’t defend herself?”

“No,” you refute, although that was exactly what you were thinking, “us girls just have to stick together.” She clicks her tongue, but your conversation is interrupted by an almighty yell, that makes everyone freeze in their tracks. 

It’s player 456. Of course it is. With your focus elsewhere, you missed the words, but he takes advantage of the silence to continue addressing the crowd. “I have done this before!” His eyes are blankly staring ahead, face crumpled in desperation and hands shaking with every gesture. He’s yelling out so loud his voice cracks. “I knew about the first game because I had played it before! I played the games here three years ago. And everyone who was with me died here!” 

The pendulum swings again. 

Doubt is clearly being sown among the rest of the crowd as well, express their disbelief. 456 doubles down, but player 100 yet again has nothing but disgust for him. “Bullshit. If you were the sole winner, it means you won 45.6 billion won. If you really did,” he snarls, “why would you come back here?”

Beside you, the old woman is letting out anxious little sighs. Her son has finally tracked you down in the crowd and ushers her away, much to her reluctance. He sends you a glance, but leaves quickly when you don’t move to join them. Instead, you’re rooted to the ground in a strange mix of unease and curiosity as the purple-haired rapper moves down the aisle from the podium with a cocky swagger. 

He gets unnecessarily close, a hard look in his eyes. “If you really won, it actually works out better for us. You can give us some tips on how to beat these games.”

“That’s right,” player 100 resounds, “we have a previous winner with us, so what do we have to worry about?”

This strikes up the confidence of several people around you again, and the cheers continue in time to 100 pumping his fist intensely.

456 leaves them be, instead moving towards the back where those like you who haven’t voted yet are gathered. “Please, I’m begging you. We have to get out now! If we keep playing, more people will die.” He catches your gaze briefly, and you’re taken by the genuine strife in his eyes as he turns to another in the front and latches onto him to hold his focus. “That could be you. We have to stop this now and get out of here.”

You tense up as one of the pink guards is making his way through the crowd, gun raised. He reaches 456 just as he finishes his sentence and jabs the barrel of the gun into his back. “Everyone,” the leader at the front of the room announces on behalf of the guard, “from here on, we will not tolerate actions that disrupt the voting process.” It’s like the whole room takes a slow breath, the tension subsiding under the new threat. “Now, let’s resume the vote. Player 228.”

As everyone turns to give way, player 124 comes into your line of sight. He’s locked onto you, winding his way through the crowd without sparing a glance to any of them. Your heart thuds when you make eye contact; his expression is blank but his gaze is burning, tense. It feels like you’re being stalked by a predator, like if you made any sudden movements he might just attack. 

You steady your breathing and keep your chin up. It should be alarming, especially after the odd way he glared at you back in the corridor, but the flip in your stomach isn’t from panic. 

When he descends on you, it’s like he’s been replaced by a double. Gone is the brutality in his gaze; he latches onto you and stares right at you with a pleased smile and glittering eyes. “Here’s my little 123,” he chirps like he’s pleasantly surprised. You glance down in bewilderment at the way he’s wrapped his fingers around your upper arms, rhythmically flexing them like he doesn’t know how tightly to hold you. “I had such a good time, did you?”

Numbers are called from the front of the room. You barely notice the crowd around you dwindling. “Watching a hundred people get shot to death? Or running for my life?”

He lets out a pealing laugh, eyes lilting to the ceiling. “You can admit it to me,” he says with an indulgent sigh, “it makes you feel alive. You know, I had a lot of fun playing today.”

“I can tell,” you interject, but it comes out in little more than a whisper, and the only indication he even heard it is the way his eyes drop to you as his smirk widens. Languidly, he drops your arms and instead lifts his hands to rest on your collarbones, the cold metal rings sending shivers down your spine as he lazily runs the pads of his fingers over your throat. You wonder if he can feel your thudding pulse.

“Mm, I had a lot of fun playing,” he repeats as if you’d never spoken, “but I didn’t get to play with you yet.” The double meaning isn’t lost on you, and it sends a bolt of electricity between your legs even as you try to keep composed. “Let’s vote O and play together next time.”

As a jolt of excitement runs down your spine, you realise how much you missed this. Your recent lifestyle has left no room for romance, of course, but it’s been such a long time since you’ve even had anyone to flirt with. Sure, the player tracing figure eights over your trachea right now seems like a truly degenerate man, but his attention on you is electric.

Still, you’re never one to fawn over a boy. “I haven’t decided yet,” you challenge. 

His eyes glint, mouth twisted up in a nasty grin. “Yes, you have.”

“Player 124.”

He pulls back from you so fast it actually pushes you off-centre, with his hands in the air in mock surrender like 456 had done earlier. He visibly enjoys having all eyes on him as he swivels on the spot and takes his time approaching the podium. At the front, you watch him swirl his finger around the blue O button in tightening spirals until he finally presses down right in the centre. You swallow hard, the sensitive skin of your neck tingling.

The second his vote clicks over on the screen, he does another 180-degree turn to stare you down as he moves across to the blue, settling in beside his rapper friend. You almost want to press X just to challenge him. A wave of shame crashes down on you for that being your potential rationale to vote for leaving.

“Player 123.”

Unlike 124, the attention unsettles you. You’ve prioritised going unseen and unnoticed for so long now that you half-expect Detective Hwang to break out from the crowd and tackle you to the ground. The anxiety you feel hastens your step, and you reach the podium at last.

The silence suffocates you. You should want to vote to leave, to spare how many countless individuals around you that may die in the next game. You should side with 149, who proudly stands among the fellow X-marked players. She saved you, along with Daeho.

But Daeho voted to stay. And so many other reasons pile up, too. The opportunity dangling above your heads, the fear of what might wait for outside. Fuck, the desire to play out whatever sick budding attraction you felt for 124. 

You raise your hand. It trembles. Your heart sinks with the feeling that you’re making the wrong decision, but when you finally press down and the red light washes over you, you feel like it’s christening you with a relief you haven’t felt in years.

Secretly, you hope the games continue. You can at least admit that to yourself. But you - as an individual - have done the morally right thing, and you smooth down your X patch on your jacket in satisfaction, joining 149. 

She welcomes you with open arms and presses both hands around one of yours, still waiting for her son’s number to be called. Across the aisle, Daeho manages to find your gaze. He mouths a rueful ‘sorry’ to you but you shrug it off with a friendly smile. 

Your attention is quickly hooked back to the voting, however, as Hyunju is called up. Like you, she deliberates for a moment with a pinched brow, but ends up pressing the blue button. Idly, your fingers fiddle with the sewn edge of your patch as you watch another vote to stay stack up. 

By the time it gets down to 149’s son, her nails are digging into the palm of your hand so tightly you can almost feel the skin break. O is a single vote ahead, with only three more people after him. Down to the wire. 

The old woman jumps out into the aisle, half-dragging you with her. “Yongsik! Don’t get any stupid ideas.” She breathes unsteadily as he turns back, pauses, and finally votes for X. “That’s right!” She drops your hand to frantically beckon him over, and you rub gingerly at the crescent marks she left behind. 

Two more players vote, and at last, only one remains. You’re breathing shallow; the vote rests on a tie. 

“001.”

In perfect synchrony, the entire room turns to face him. Like many people here, he has a hardened look to him, but he oddly looks neither stressed nor enthusiastic. Instead, as he strolls forward amidst cheers from either side, he’s the epitome of placidity. 

You suppose it’s a very unique position to be in. Whatever decision he makes, he will receive. And it seems like he’s decided already. 

Beside you, Yongsik and his mother are chanting with the others, but you feel a swirl of uncertainty in your stomach. From now, everything changes.

You can’t see the man himself anymore, but, as he selects his choice, the 182 on the large screen under O flicks up to 183. 

The games will continue.

[tinycoffeeroom]

just friends pt. 2 | lando norris

face claim: none ♡

request: here !

part 1!

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👤 flavy.barla liked by estebanocon, lilymhe and 64,285 others

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lilymhe me next!!!! ↳ y/nstagram come join us babygirl i have 2 hands xx ↳ alexandrasaintmleux what about me? :( ↳ y/nstagram we can link toes 💗

bffstagram seeing you happy makes my heart so 💝💖💕💞💓💗💘💖💕💞💓💘 ↳ y/nstagram i love you so intensely

fan still no lando like bro i'm in the trenches

liked by fan, fan and 38,948 others

f1gossipgirl ANNOUNCEMENT! We sat down with the mystery girl on all of your feeds to discuss those pictures with Lando Norris, Y/N L/N and the fallout from her recent introduction to the F1 world. Available at f1gossipgirl.com tomorrow 7PM GMT. You won't wanna miss this one!

fan not her using lando for fame

fan flop!

fan we will Not be tuning in xx

fan they better be just friends or i'm gonna be in lando's walls

fan if they're dating it's game over y/nlando'ers !!! ↳ fan bro i'll scream ↳ fan i'll cry ↳ fan i'll throw up ↳ fan i'll do all three simultaneously

fan hopefully people will leave them the fuck alone after this damn

fan not them asking her about y/n that's so shady ↳ fan if she mentions one bad word about y/n we ride at dawn

charlottehinchcliffe thank you for having me! :) ↳ fan 👀👀👀 ↳ fan homewrecker ↳ fan not too much on charlotte now we don't even know what happened

True to his word, 10 minutes later, Lando was at your door. Steeling yourself for the conversation ahead, you turn the lock and open the door to reveal a slightly out of breath Lando.

Eyeing him as he pants slightly, you lean against the doorframe. "You good?"

"Yeah!" He takes a moment to catch his breath, wiping his hands against his shorts. "I was at padel, so I had to run over."

You look at him incredulously. "The padel courts are a good 25 minutes from here, Lan, did you run here or something?"

In lieu of a verbal answer, he shrugs his shoulders, nudging his way into your apartment.

The two of you sit in silence on the sofa, both waiting for the other to begin speaking.

"I-" "So-"

You can't help but giggle at the ridiculousness of the situation. Never once in your friendship with Lando had you ever felt so awkward to start a conversation. You gesture towards him, "you start."

He nods, turning to face you on the sofa. "Did I do something? Like we were good until Sass Cafe, and then it's like you just dropped off the face of the earth. I missed my best friend."

Your heart breaks at the way his face drops, blaming himself for something that was completely out of his control.

"Lan, no, it wasn't you, I promise. I'm sorry for ghosting you, I just needed some time to think some things through."

You reach forward and pat his hand, a purely friendly gesture.

"You can talk to me about anything, Y/N. What's going on?" His eyes are pleading, hand twisting around to grasp your own.

Sighing, you pull your hand away from his, missing the warmth immediately. "We need to stop hooking up."

You can tell that wasn't what he thought you were going to say from the way he stiffens, eyes wide and searching your own.

"Why? Did..." He trails off for a moment, eyes drifting down to the hand you pulled from his, "are you dating someone?"

You want to scoff. The only person you wanted to date was the one you were currently pushing away. "No, Lan. I'm not dating anyone. I think everything's just become too complicated, we need to just be best friends, nothing more, nothing less."

He looks hurt, mouth trying to form words as he takes a second to process your words. "Um, ok? I'm sorry? I didn't realise things were complicated..." There's a beat of silence between you before he speaks again. "Is this about the girl I was pictured with because I promise nothing happened between us."

He's almost begging, hands half reaching forward like he wants to grab yours before he catches himself, stilling in the air.

You shake your head, smiling softly at him. "No, I spoke to Charlotte, I know nothing happened. This is simply a me and you thing. Well, a me thing, I guess. You're my best friend and I love you but I need to do this for myself."

He's about to speak when your best friend comes waltzing through the front door. "Y/N! I got pastries from the cafe down the road, come get them while they're still warm!"

Walking into the living room, she stills at the sight of you and Lando on the sofa, hand carrying a bag of pastries stuck in the air. "I'll just..." She hurries off into the kitchen before either of you can say anything.

The two of you look at each other, tension in the air broken as you both laugh softly at your best friend.

"So, still best friends?" Lando's eyes are soft as they look at you.

"Always."

He leaves soon after, a shared hug in lieu of a goodbye. At the sound of the door closing, your best friend comes running through the kitchen door. "So?"

You fall back onto the sofa, tears lining your eyes. "Hand me the damn pastries."

f1gossipgirl uploaded a new article

📍 Bahrain

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 1,928,784 others

landonorris bahrain brought the bahpain... p9 with some car difficulties, but we try again for monaco! congrats to oscarpiastri on the podium, lets go!

see 98,928 other comments

fan bro's majestic

fan not him flopping when y/ns in the paddock ↳ fan when the camera panned to her and she looked... different... i need to know what happened ↳ fan f1gossipgirl posted an interview with the girl, nothing happened between them but we still don't know what happened between lando and y/n!! ↳ fan did you see her cheering when oscar finished p3? giggling

oscarpiastri cheers 👍🏼 ↳ fan go girl give us nothing! ↳ fan no but the photos of him and lily laughing with y/n after the race while lando was just standing in the garage watching them ↳ fan oscar is a girl's girl fr

📍 Bahrain

👤 lilynzeimer, y/nstagram liked by lilynzeimer, y/nstagram and 1,983,275 others

oscarpiastri me, my girlfriend and my girlfriend's girlfriend.

for real though, podium in bahrain is a big win for the team! shame we couldn't get more points but we regroup and prepare for monaco!

see 99,028 other comments

fan that caption is so shady im HOWLING

fan "we" aka lando norris

fan no bc something must have happened with y/n and lando for oscar to shade his own teammate

fan i love the gf's

fan the caption 😭😭 can't believe oscar admitted he's the third wheel in his own relationship ↳ oscarpiastri i've long since accepted that i am the side piece... ↳ lilynzeimer at least you're self aware ❤️

fan y/n the paddocks princess we love you

y/nstagram uploaded 2 stories

[caption 1: pasta is the way to my heart fr] [caption 2: 📍Bahrain] seen by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux and 79,482 others

fan MAN???? THERE IS A MAN !!!! PLEASE SAY ITS LANDO !!!! ↳ y/nstagram no it's charles! me, alex and him went out for a meal! :) ↳ fan ok best friends! love you y/n

alexandrasaintmleux the first story def looks like you're on a date ↳ y/nstagram i was... with you xxx ↳ y/nstagram people will probs think its lando 🤷‍♀️ ↳ y/nstagram unless you want me to take it down? i don't want anyone to get the wrong idea about me and charles ↳ alexandrasaintmleux you can have him tbh he keeps whining about how he's the side chick in the relationship

landonorris chill night alone huh? ↳ y/nstagram i got invited out last minute! 😁 ↳ landonorris who are you with? ↳ landonorris y/n??? ↳ landonorris fuck it i know that restaurant, i'm on my way

liked by fan, fan and 79,038 others

f1gossip Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were caught having a heated argument outside of a restaurant in Bahrain. Sources near the pair mentioned that Y/N met him outside then they were arguing about Y/N's recent instagram stories, with Lando insinuating she was on a date with one of his driver friends. He was then seen getting into a Lambourghini and leaving Y/N at the restaurant. Y/N was then flanked by Charles Leclerc and his girlfriend, Alexandra, who it appears Y/N was having dinner with.

See 10,275 other comments

fan i'm actually gonna fight him what the fuck

fan how can he just leave y/n there crying

fan y/n deserves so much better holy shit

fan landonorris not you flirting with another girl in sass then getting mad at y/n for *checks notes* having a meal with friends ↳ fan he wasn't flirting with charlotte, they're friends ↳ fan either way, he can't just get mad at y/n for having a potential date if they're not even together

fan did lando think y/n would openly cheat on him like that? ↳ fan not cheating if they were never together ↳ fan we don't know that ↳ fan they've said multiple times that they're just best friends, the shippers are the ones who have it in their heads that they're dating

alex's pov

👤 charles_leclerc, y/nstagram liked by y/nstagram, charles_leclerc and 92,395 others

alexandrasaintmleux my girl, the chauffeur and 3 wine glasses.

fan alex unprivating her account to say a big fuck you to lando 🤭🤭🤭

fan alex doesn't play when it comes to y/n ♥️ alexandrasaintmleux

fan landonorris ↳ fan landonorris ↳ fan landonorris ur loss big man ↳ fan landonorris ↳ fan landonorris ↳ fan landonorris ↳ fan landonorris flop ↳ fan landonorris

y/nstagram love of my life and my entire heart and soul ↳ alexandrasaintmleux my future wife 💖

charles_leclerc can't believe i've been downgraded to chauffeur ↳ y/nstagram you literally drive for a living you're basically a chauffeur,,, just faster

fan alex and y/n one chance PLEASE

fan y/ns so gorgeous ik He fumbled but i could treat you so right please please pleeeeeeasssseeeeee ♥️ y/nstagram

fan alex using the same photo as y/ns story... i'm surprised she didn't circle all three glasses and send it to Him ↳ alexandrasaintmleux what makes you think i didn't 🤔 ↳ fan queen behaviour

📍 Italy

👤 alexandrasaintmleux liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc and 78,298 others

y/nstagram ethereal 🤍

alexandrasaintmleux i am so in love with you coucou please run away with me i have the ring ready and waiting ↳ y/nstagram anytime, anywhere my love 💖

charles_leclerc dude please stop being more in love with my girlfriend than me, the fans are rabid i cant fight !! ↳ y/nstagram 🤷🏻‍♀️ up your game before someone (me) snatches up the baddest bitch in monaco ↳ charles_leclerc i literally paid for you to go on a couples trip with her, i am stupid ↳ y/nstagram thanks sugar daddy xx ↳ charles_leclerc using me for my money, i see how it is y/n ↳ y/nstagram for your money and your girl* why else would i keep you around? ↳ fan y/n let him get up let him get up FIGHT BACK ↳ charles_leclerc i am terrified of her ♥️ y/nstagram

fan alex is so gorgeous holy shit

fan when i'm in a loving alex competition and my opponent is y/n l/n: 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

y/nstagram uploaded a story

You text Lando the day after you got back from Italy, wrapped in the safety of your best friends arms as you fire off a quick "you can come round". Again, within ten minutes Lando was outside your door. Your best friend answered, eyes laser focused on the sheepish man in front of her.

"Fix this or I'll spread a rumour that you cry when you cum."

Lando nods frantically at her, wide eyed and fully believing she would. If there's one thing he'd learnt since befriending you, it was that your best friend would lay her life on the line for you.

She frog marches Lando through the hallway and into the living room, nodding once at you before departing to her bedroom, not even bothering to check if Lando followed her.

You let your eyes linger on her until the bedroom door shuts, slowly moving your eyes to the man stood awkwardly in the doorway of the living room.

He looked terrible, dark rings circling now dull eyes, red rimmed and rubbed raw. His face looked gaunt, sunken in cheeks and downturned lips. You watch his brows furrow as he tries to think of what to say first.

Beating him to it, you gesture to the sofa. "Sit."

He moves as if on autopilot, choosing to sit the furthest away from you, half hanging off the sofa cushion as if he was ready to bolt at any moment. You have flashbacks to the last time you two met like this and you can't help but fear that this will be the last time he ever steps foot in your apartment.

"Y/N-"

Silencing him with a wave of your hand, you allow your eyes to rake over his face one more time, just in case it was the last. "No, Lando. You've said more than enough, it's time I get to speak."

He nods in response, hands wringing nervously in his lap.

The original plan had been to let him explain and see if he would apologise for the things he said, but during your girls trip with Alex, something had changed.

The two of you were swinging softly in the hammock on the patio of the villa Charles had rented out for the two of you, Alex stroking your hair as you recalled everything that had happened from the moment you met Lando.

The shy beginnings, the budding friendship and the drunken nights spent wrapped in his bedsheets.

She'd wrapped her free arm around your sun soaked skin when you began to cry, trying to make sense of where everything had gone so wrong.

Whispering soft words of encouragement into your hair, she reminded you that no matter how much you loved him, he had no right to speak to you the way that he did, whether it be as a boyfriend, best friend or acquaintance.

Pulling yourself back into the present, you sigh quietly before speaking. "I'm not sure where we went so wrong. I love being your best friend, I really do and I would do anything for us to go back to being just that, but I think both you and I know that can't happen."

Another nod from him, shoulders tense and still as if he was holding his breath.

"The first time we hooked up after your podium in Silverstone, I assumed it would be a one off. Too many drinks, too many high spirits and despite the girls vying for your attention, you knew I was the easiest option who would never tell anyone what happened."

Lando goes to interrupt you, eyes pleading. "It wasn't like that-"

You throw him a look, a reminder that this was your time to let out everything you had been holding in since that first night.

"When I woke up and you immediately said it was a mistake, I agreed. Wrote it off as something silly. Then it happened again and again and again. Each time, before I'd even wiped the sleep out of my eyes, you'd be staring at the ceiling, reminding me that it was just a mistake. At first it didn't hurt because I'd agreed, or at least I thought I'd agreed, but then we grew closer as friends. You'd pull me on your lap for a movie night, or twirl me around before one of your parties and tell me how pretty I looked, and somewhere along the line, I fell in love."

You refused to look at him at the last sentence, too scared to see what would be reflected in his eyes.

"It was stupid to keep hooking up with you after that, but I couldn't stop myself. It felt so good to be wanted by you. Every time we'd hook up, I'd smile and agree it was a mistake then go home and cry in one of the girls' arms. The last time, after Sass, I sat down with best friend and told her everything. She reminded me that I'm worth so much more than a drunken hook up, and for once, I finally agreed."

You allowed yourself to look at Lando then, heart twisting at the sight. Tears lined guilt filled eyes, those god damn eyes. He looked like someone had just punched him in the gut, mouth open in a slight downturned pout as he stared back at you.

"That's why I became so distant, I was trying to save our friendship. And then, those photos of you and Charlotte came out and I was jealous, so fucking jealous. Here I was, tearing myself apart at home while you were busy hitting on other girls." Ignoring the affronted noise from Lando, you continue. "I know now that wasn't the case, but it hurt so much. I genuinely felt like my heart was breaking in two."

Wiping the few tears that fell down your cheeks with the back of your hand, you smiled softly at him. "Then we met up and everything became a bit easier. I thought maybe we could, well I could, work through this. I could unlearn to love you and we could be best friends again."

Lando lets out a noise akin to a whine, tears finally escaping his eyes, dripping down to his chin. You resist the urge to reach out and brush them away, your own tears marring your vision.

"That night in Bahrain, I really had just wanted to stay at home and get an early night. Then Alex had texted me, and you know her, the girl doesn't take no for an answer." You try and laugh, the sound coming out flat and warbled at the same time. "I was trying to not be on my phone too much and that's why I didn't reply to your other messages. Charles offered to go out and speak to you but that wasn't fair on him, this wasn't his mess to fix."

Seeing Lando stare at you so gloomily from your sofa was becoming a little too much for you to handle, soft sobs echoing between the two of you. You stand from the sofa, moving to the window in your living room, eyes trained on the setting sun.

"The things you said that night really hurt, Lando. We've never argued in the entire time we've been friends, not even a little friendly one. You were so angry at the idea of me seeing one of your driver friends and I couldn't figure out why. We'd joked about me dating one of them before, hell, you even asked if I wanted Daniel's number after we snuck off at that house party to tie all your shoelaces together before he starting seeing Heidi..."

This time, Lando successfully cuts you off. "Do you really not know why?" His voice is gravelly, molasses thick around the edges.

Shaking your head, you hear him stand up from the sofa too, sock clad feet shuffling against the hardwood floor. When he speaks next, you can tell he's right behind you.

"I was jealous." The sound of him ruffling his hair floats through the silence between you. "When we met up and you said you wanted to stop hooking up, even if you were adamant that you weren't seeing someone new, I couldn't get that thought out of my head. Sure, our friendship is, was, a bit unconventional, but I thought it worked. I thought we worked. I had no idea it was hurting you and so when it ended, that was the only reason I could think of."

Looking through the glass of the window, your eyes lock with Lando's, his stare equal parts intense and regretful.

"And then I thought you were blowing me off in Bahrain and it was like a switch flipped. The thought of you ignoring me and being with someone who wasn't me made me feel sick to my stomach. It's the same feeling I get when you show me a silly meme Logan sent you or when I saw you and Dan giggling quietly and having to hold each other up in my hallway."

Gaze unwavering, he studies your face through the window pane. "Can you turn around and look at me properly, please?"

Unable to ignore the pleading in his voice, you turn slowly on the spot. The two of you are less than a foot apart, a few inches closer and you'd be able to see the flecks of gold in his eyes.

"There you are." A small smile crosses his lips. "I thought it was anger at you blatantly avoiding me, but then I remembered how my first thought when the photos of me and Charlotte came out wasn't 'my PR team's gonna fucking kill me', it was 'I need to tell Y/N it isn't true'."

He shuffles closer, hand reaching out to rest against your jaw. Using his thumb to swipe the stream of tears flowing down your face, he lowers his voice to a whisper.

"Every time I told you that us hooking up was a mistake, I was wrong. The mistake was me not realising how ridiculously in love I am with you."

You try to speak, a small whine escaping your lips, only audible because of the quietness of the apartment.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I should have never spoken to you like that in Bahrain. I only ever want to see you happy, to see your nose scrunch at how wide you're smiling, to hear you laugh loud and unabashedly. Knowing I hurt you, and have been hurting you for months, breaks my heart and I'm so angry at myself for not letting you explain. I love you and I want to be with you, but I understand I've hurt you and it's ok if you don't want that too."

Tears glimmer in his eyes again, smile soft and warm but tinged with remorse. He scans your face, looking for your answer in lieu of a verbal one.

Reaching a shaking hand up to cover his on your jaw, you close your eyes, allowing yourself to savour the warmth of his palm. "I want that. I want to love and be loved by you."

You open your eyes, meeting his brightened gaze.

"Really?" He sounds and looks awestruck, the weight of possibly losing you physically dropping off his shoulders, his body relaxing as he melts at the sight of you smiling gently. "You're sure?"

You nod, matching his fond smile. "I'm sure."

His thumb traces your bottom lip, eyes drawn to the movement. Before he can ask, you use your free hand to grab the front of his t-shirt, dragging him until the two of you are pressed chest to chest.

"Kiss me, Lando."

His name gets muffled as he presses his lips to yours fervently. Warm, syrup soaked and something that could only be described as Lando. Not a trace of alcohol, a distant memory of how this normally went. You decide then and there that this was your favourite taste.

His hand slips to the back of your neck, fingers tangled in your hair as he pulls you closer, eliminating any possible space that could come between the two of you. Each time your lips part, he whispers a soft "I love you", the sound being inhaled by you.

Slipping an arm around your waist and digging his fingers into the flesh, he revels in your gasp, tongue slipping between your lips to find your own.

Your body flares up at the feeling, each nerve ending scorching hot and tinging with electricity. You whisper "I love you's" back with each parting, one hand still wrapped in the fabric of his t-shirt as the other slides up the back of his shirt, tracing the map of his muscles.

You giggle as he shivers at the touch, finally allowing the two of you to breathe as he joins you, the kiss becoming more teeth than lips. He drags you into his arms, the hand in your hair moving down to interlink with the one wrapped around your waist.

Nudging his nose against your temple, he moves his head until his lips are level with your ear.

"Be mine?"

You hum into his neck, pressing soft kisses to the skin. "I already was."

liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintleux and 11 others

y/npriv not one mean comment, that's boyfie!

lilymhe 🤐 ↳ flavy.barla 🤐 ↳ alexandrasaintmleux 🤐 ↳ francisca.c.gomes 🤐 ↳ lilynzeimer 🤐 ↳ heidiberger_ 🤐 ↳ carmenmmundt 🤐 ↳ kellypiquet 🤐 ↳ iamrebeccad 🤐 ↳ landonorris were you silent or were you silenced ↳ alexandrasaintmleux don't even try it norris

francisca.c.gomes on a real note, i'm happy for you, truly 💗 (please tell me he grovelled) ↳ landonorris i was 2 seconds away from getting down on my knees and begging ↳ francisca.c.gomes good. ♥️ alexandrasaintmleux, lilynzeimer, lilymhe, heidiberger_, carmenmmundt, kellypiquet, iamrebeccad, flavy.barla

lilymhe how did you even get in here landonorris ↳ landonorris begged her to let me in ↳ lilynzeimer you seem to be doing a lot of begging recently ↳ landonorris ??? you're meant to be the nice one ↳ lilynzeimer blame my boyfriends influence :)))))

📍Miami

liked by y/nstagram, carlossainz and 1,028,982 others

landonorris P1. Grand Prix Winner. It wasn't too much for little lando norris... feels absolutely surreal, I'll post something more eloquent when I've stopped shaking 🧡

See 989,283 other comments

fan GRAND PRIX WINNER LANDO NORRIS !!!!! THAT FEELS SO GOOD TO TYPE!!!!

carlossainz congratulations muppet, lets get drunk!!!!! ♥️ landonorris ↳ scuderiaferrari not too drunk mr sainz

maxverstappen1 proud to come second to you, mr norris! congratulations 💙 ♥️ landonorris

oscarpiastri proud of you bud! ♥️ landonorris

danielricciardo HE RACES LIKE A LION, SHOULDN'T HE BE DUTCH ♥️ landonorris

pitstopboys time to get back in the studio!

mclaren never doubted you, papaya forever! 🧡 ↳ landonorris papaya forever!!

y/nstagram so beyond proud,,, soak it all in lan ❤️ ↳ landonorris i'm so happy i flew you out for this one ↳ fan Y/NLANDO ARE BACK????? MY KING AND QUEEN????? ↳ fan i hope he was crying, screaming and begging on his knees to get y/n back ↳ landonorris i was prepared to ↳ fan LANDO????

fan y/n running at him full pelt and knocking them over in parc ferme... my parents fr ↳ fan the way he didn't cry until he saw y/n's smile... im lying down on the highway

fan y/nlando make up, lando wins a grand prix... she's his good luck charm ♥️ landonorris

liked by landonorris, bffstagram and 89,728 others

y/nstagram my love, my light, my grand prix winner. words can't even begin to describe how proud i am of you. forever in awe of all that you do ❤️

landonorris i love you so much, i couldn't have done this without you my love ❤️ ↳ y/nstagram i love you, come give me another kiss RIGHT NOW ↳ landonorris 🏃🏻‍♂️🏃🏻‍♂️🏃🏻‍♂️

bffstagram everyone cheer i didn't have to go to jail!! ♥️ y/nstagram

fan HARD LAUNCH??? ↳ y/nstagram lbr we've been unknowingly hard launching for a while now hahahaha

fan ok cute and all but i still haven't forgiven him for bahrain ↳ y/nstagram well i have, and honestly that's all that matters ↳ fan just don't want to see you hurt y/n ❤️ ↳ y/nstagram and i love you for that 💖 but we're all good, i promise

fan ik the grovelling was Excellent for her to dedicate a whole post to him ↳ y/nstagram just wanna celebrate my boyfie 🫶🫶 (it was) ↳ landonorris say that again ↳ y/nstagram my boyfriend ❤️ ↳ fan yeah y'all are cute and all but i'm perpetually single and a hater so out of my replies (love you guys)

estebanocon loving mitski lyrics!!!!! he did it guys!!!! ↳ y/nstagram loving mitski lyrics!! also thank you este, i owe you and flavy lunch! ↳ flavy.barla do we have to invite him? ↳ estebanocon sometimes it do be your own girlfriend ♥️ y/nstagram

alexandrasaintmleux i'm still your favourite though? :( ↳ francisca.c.gomes actually, that's me ↳ lilymhe no me ↳ y/nstagram before y'all start this again, my gaggle of girlfriends will always be my favourite 💝 ♥️ alexandrasaintmleux, lilynzeimer, lilymhe, heidiberger_, carmenmmundt, kellypiquet, iamrebeccad, flavy.barla ↳ landonorris i love me, my girlfriend and my girlfriends 10 girlfriends ↳ lilymhe hey, we had her first! ♥️ y/nstagram

charlottehinchliffe so happy for you two!!! 🩵 ↳ y/nstagram thank you!! i hope you're well! 💜

kellypiquet what was that about max being behind lando? ↳ y/nstagram KELLY ↳ y/nstagram i reverse manifested it, lando ur welcome for your win xx ↳ landonorris ??? ↳ y/nstagram i forgot you weren't on my priv until recently, ignore that ❤️

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

well, part 2 is a little bit of a long one! i had so much fun working on this and i hope it lives up to your expectations! ♡ (to the anon who wanted lando to cry, this is for you)

tag list: @formulaal @tinyhrry @tiniiii44 @appl3-0rchard @luvrrish @405rry @whentheautumnleavesfall @callsignwidow @dinodumbass @northernlights19 @spctrfilms @some-girl-lost-in-this-world @ushygushybaby @motherofslay123 @ssararuffoni @littlementalpolaroids @headinthecloudssblog @eclipsedcherry @charlesgirl16 @someonewhosfallenapart @random-human02 @lightdragonrayne @fearfam69691 @meltingcherryz @noneofyourfbusinessworld @bernelflo @myescapefromthislife @eiaaasamantha @s0meth1ngs @littlehoneyfreak @customsbyjcg-blog @lifeless-firefly @esserenorris @ironmaiden1313 @harrysdimple05 @keisouy @dannyriccsupremacy @formula1simp @mehrmonga @sunny44 @saythename-sm @mayplesyrupsainz @love-simon @iliyad @daemyratwst @lunamelona @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir @littlegrapejuice @rafegirly @youreverydayfangirl @honethatty12 @latenightescapes-95

[ckret2]

Chapter 94 of human Bill Cipher having been the Mystery Shack's prisoner UNTIL NOW:

At long last—Bill's finally been paroled.

Bill sauntered into the living room. "You summoned me?" He looked at Ford and Stan, sitting together on the sofa, and asked, "Are you my parole board?"

Stan said, "Keep mouthing off like that and see if we reduce your sentence."

Bill cracked a grin. He sat in one of the armchairs, laced his hands behind his head and crossed an ankle over his knee, and said, "Finally lightening up a little?"

Ford grimaced. "Well. We had to trust you with the agent, and you didn't blow it, so I suppose we don't have a choice."

"Awww. Don't sound so grateful."

"Can we get this over with before you two start bantering?" Stan asked. "Okay. As of now, you're allowed to go out and do social things with people in town. Or invite 'em over, just—get permission first before you haul someone home."

That immediately threw Bill off his game. His smile dropped, he sat up straight, and he put his hands on the armrest, as if he was already on the verge of jumping out of his seat and bolting for freedom. "Wait. Really?"

"But only if one person from the household is with you at all times," Stan said. "Except for Dipper. Because we both think you'd be willing to kill Dipper to escape."

Bill laughed. "That's fair! That can't be everything, though. There's a catch, what's the catch?"

"Restrictions," Ford said. "No trying to manipulate the townspeople, no trying to turn them against the rest of us, no tricking them into restarting Weirdmageddon—and in case I missed any loopholes, no doing anything you know full well we wouldn't want you to do. If we even get a hint that you're trying any of the above, the game's over and we tell the town who you really are."

"Oh, really." Bill slowly sat back, eyeing the twins calculatingly. "People in this town love me! If you try to lock me up again, I have friends in town hall who will get worried and come looking. Try to tell them I'm Bill Cipher, and I'll tell them you're crazy and they'll believe me." He propped his cheek in a hand. "In fact, this whole week I've been behaving myself for your benefit. As far as I'm concerned, I can do just about anything I want now—so the real point of this little meeting is deciding whether you'll give me what I want the east way, or the hard way. So maybe cool it with the threats you can't back up! You can't prove I'm anything but what I look like."

He said, "Why are you two grinning like that. Stop grinning."

Ford stood to push a video tape into the VCR. Stan turned on the TV and hit play.

The screen opened on a shot of the living room sofa, where Bill sat cross-legged and grinning next to a large easel pad. The first page of the pad was covered in drawings of cute animal faces, birds, fish, and (closer to Bill’s side) skulls, lightning, and triangles.

From behind the camera, Mabel said, "Welcome to Mabel’s Guide to Local Animals—"

"I’m helping."

"—featuring Bill Cipher as my cohost!"

Stan paused the video. He and Ford grinned at Bill.

Bill gaped at the screen. "Well—I—that doesn't prove anything. It's just a wild accusation by a child! It's not like I confirmed—"

Stan hit play.

On screen, Bill said, "That’s me!”

“Yes it is. Lots o—"

Stan paused the video.

Bill buried his face in his hands. Why. "Mabel's not even on screen! I could have been responding to something else and you dubbed her lines in later! You don't have any footage that directly connects that human on screen to Bill Cipher!"

Stan fast-forwarded the tape.

"Oh boy."

Stan hit play. Mabel smiled at the screen. "Welcome back! My co-host has been banned from the rest of this episode so he can reflect on his behavior."

Behind her, Bill, one hand bandaged and face covered by a paper bag that read "PLAYED WITH FIRE," said, "It was worth it!" He’d persuaded Mabel to draw his triangle face over the text.

"WHAT!" Bill jumped to his feet, didn't know what to do next, and turned around to kick the cushion off his seat. His cheeks burned at the Stans' laughter. "Unbelievable! This is ridiculous! This is all—" He couldn't admit it was his fault. He wasn't about to blame it on Mabel. He whirled around to point at Ford. "Your fault."

"Wh—" Ford flung his hands into the air, "What did I have to do with it?!"

"I don't know yet! I'm still figuring that part out!" Bill dropped back into his seat, then had to half stand again to straighten out the cushion.

"Think the cops'll buy that?" Stan asked.

Bill slouched back in his seat, elbow on the armrests, hands laced in front of his mouth. He mumbled, "I'll behave."

"Good."

"And... we'll make a deal with you," Ford said.

Bill shot him a burning glare. "I'm listening."

"Kitchen access. We're still figuring out if there's anything we can do about the fridge and the microwave—for now, at least you have the freezer chest Soos provided—but we'll give you access to the cabinets and everything in them, the cans, the can openers, the glass jars, and the stove, if you can identify five parts of the house we can't remove that you could kill somebody with."

Bill narrowed his exposed eye. "Why."

Stan said, "Because we're only making this offer cuz we figure you've already thought of plenty of ways to kill us, so it doesn't make a difference if you can slit our throats with an aluminum can lid. You want the goods, we want a warning about what else you could be planning."

Bill's eye narrowed further. "Throw in the knives."

"We'll get you plastic knives," Ford said.

"Deal. Garroting you with my clothing. Breaking the banister and stabbing you with the splintered wood. Snapping off a metal chair leg and stabbing you with that. Punching through a windowpane and using the broken glass as a knife. Unplugging an appliance, chewing halfway through the wire, plugging it back in, pouring water on the floor around the exposed wiring, and waiting for someone to use it. Pulling threads out of the upholstery to make tripwires across the stairs. Doing something to encourage Dolores to try to poison me again, then switching my plate with someone else's when she's not looking. Not to mention all the objects I can use for blunt force trauma: chairs, Questiony's piano, the lid on the toilet tanks, the coat rack, the metal trash can in the kitchen, the..."

Unnerved, Stan said, "That's a lot more than five." Ford elbowed him.

"And you owe me for the rest. We'll work out the details later."

"Did you say punching through a windowpane?" Ford asked.

"Sure, it's glass, it's not that hard. I just need to wrap a shirt around my fist so I don't bleed out before you idiots do."

"Has it occurred to you that punching out the glass could... yield any other results...?"

Bill looked at him blankly. "Like what. Creating a walking hazard?"

"Never mind."

"Okay," Stan said, "I'm convinced that the only thing stopping you from murdering us is the fact that you can't murder allof us. You can have kitchen access. Anything else?"

"Daily sunlight," Bill said. "Not sunlight filtered through a window—actual sunlight. Open a window for me, let me sit in the yard, whatever, I don't care! I just want sunshine. I feel like a starving sunflower."

Stan snorted. "What's a starving sunflower feel like?"

"Like it's only photosynthesized for a combined ten hours over the last month and a half, is that a trick question?"

Ford asked, "You photosynthesize?" He slowly reached for his coat pocket pen. Stan pushed Ford's hand back down.

"Course I do, how did you think I eat?"

"I didn't think you eat. You've claimed to be a being of pure energy enough times."

"I am a being of pure energy. Did you think that means I violate the laws of thermodynamics? I've got to get more energy from somewhere, don't I?"

"I suppose that makes sense..." Ford slowly reached for his coat pocket pen. Stan decided to just hold his hand.

"I'd be happy to explain how it works sometime! Maaaybe over a game of chess?"

Ford scowled at him.

"That's what I thought." Bill rolled his eye. "Fine. Then you can ask Mabel. She knows all about it."

Sensing a brewing argument, Stan cut in, "Okay, daily sunlight, we'll figure that out. Is that everything?"

"Phone rights. The Rainbow Club gang wants to know how to reach me, I can't keep telling 'em I broke my phone and haven't replaced it."

"Is the phone you stole not enough?" Ford asked wryly.

Bill grinned. "Oh, Mabel mentioned that, huh?"

"Where is that phone, anyway?"

"Threw it away." At Ford's glare, he said, "What, don't believe me?! Fine! Search my cell, officer! You won't find squat!"

####

A squirrel, returning to its hole in a tree with an armful of nuts, stared in dismay at the brick of plastic and metal that had been hidden in its home.

####

"Fine, phone access," Stan said. "But under supervision only."

"Fine. And I want TV voting rights."

"What?"

"You—" Bill turned his gaze back to Ford "—told me that everyone else in the house gets priority over me when we choosing what we watch. I want an equal TV vote. You know—like a person who has opinions that matter!"

Stan and Ford exchanged a look. They wanted to say no, because Bill was Bill, and it didn't feel like he deserved that.

But. By this point—after multiple rescues thanks to Bill—that was almost starting to feel petty.

Sweetly, Bill said, "Come on, Stanford, don't you want someone else in the shack who's willing to vote for the parascience documentaries? You need every vote you can get! You and your little clone are already outnumbered!"

"Stop," Ford said. "Fine. Equal TV rights. Not because you tried to bribe me."

"You're making the right decision," said Bill, who was fully planning to throw his vote behind whatever Mabel wanted to watch at every opportunity possible.

"Is that it?" Stan asked tiredly. "We're debating TV rights now, you can't want anything else."

"Just one last tiny minor little detail," Bill said. "When are you setting me free?"

Stan opened his mouth, held up a finger, lowered his finger, and looked at Ford. "Uhh..."

"Because you are going to set me free," Bill said, "right? You're not planning on keeping me here forever. If you've agreed you aren't executing me, then there's no way you could think you have the right to keep me locked up!" He favored them with a threatening fake smile. "I could call my lawyer. Do you want me to call my lawyer?"

"What are you talking about," Stan said, "who the heck is your lawyer."

"Do you want to find out."

Stan paused. "No."

Carefully, Ford said, "We haven't... discussed... our long-term plans for you."

Bill's smile faded. "Well. Discuss them. And let me know." He stood up. "Are we done here?"

"I suppose so," Ford said tiredly.

"And uh," Stan said, almost inaudibly, "thanks. I guess. For getting those agents off our tail."

"Suuure, any time." Bill gave them a wry grin. "It figures I'd have to sleep with a federal agent to get my sentence reduced."

Stan cracked up. "Hey, you know what? You're almost all right, Cipher." Ford didn't want to think it was funny, but a snort and a crooked grin escaped him anyway.

And Bill's gaze immediately latched onto Ford's face. Look at that. Bill almost got a smile. He was getting better at that lately. Heck, they'd nearly had fun at the museum, hadn't they? They'd had some banter. And Ford had actually acknowledged Bill as a teacher! In a way. Bill might be making some progress with him. Maybe...

May his name be erased.

No. He reminded himself not to get his hopes up. Ford had made very clear that he didn't respect Bill, he never respected Bill, and the only reason he suffered Bill to live was because Mabel liked him.

And, because Bill had potential. Because part of him was already what Ford wanted him to be.

Bill mentally kicked over the seesawing scale in his mind on which he was weighing Ford's worth. Don't pour your water in a leaky bucket, Cipher; if Ford's gonna come to you, he'll come to you. Don't chase him.

"You know, Stanley, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said about me!" Bill swept out of the room. "Now, if you mortals will excuse me, I have some supervised calls to make. I'm going out."

"Oh yeah? Already?" Stan asked. "And doing what?"

"Don't worry about it, you're not coming. Neither of you would be able to keep up with the wild time I've got planned." He took a deep breath and shouted up the stairs, "Hey, star girl! Call up Candy and Grendo! We're hitting the town!"

####

"It's just as beautiful as I remember," Bill said, surveying the mall with a beaming smile. "And this time I'm allowed to talk to people." He poked Mabel, "Promise not to kung fu flip me this time?"

"Pshh. Only if you promise not to shoplift anything."

Bill considered that, considered what kind of budget three 12-to-13-year-olds had at their disposal, and said, "If you break my neck when you flip me, call Ford instead of 911. I'll take his interdimensional MacGyvered first aid over a trip to the doc any day." Mabel socked his arm.

Candy said, "No shopping or shoplifting! We have more important business!" She hefted her backpack up in one hand and jogged past the rest of the group. "To the food court! I brought a special present for your first day of freedom. Mabel said you might like it."

Bill glanced at Mabel. She just gave him a secretive smile.

####

With all four crowded around a table in the food court, Candy pulled a Magic Vision book out of her backpack.

"Here." She lay the book of autostereogram pictures open in front of Bill. "This is my favorite page ever. The best to start on."

Bill stared at the page, eyepatch flipped up, both eyes wide open and slightly crossed.

"Well?" Mabel asked. "What do you think?"

He didn't answer. He was staring at the book as though he was looking at a brand new color.

A single tear slid down his cheek.

Candy patted his back. "It's like that the first time."

####

"Hey there!" The makeup saleswoman smiled as Grenda approached, flanked by Candy and Mabel. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Hi! Are you the one who gives out the makeup samples?"

"Um..." She gestured at the mirror next to her station. "Yes, you can try out our products here, but if you're under sixteen, you can only try on the makeup samples with an adult's authorization."

All three girls turned to Bill.

He was ignoring them, focused intently on a display of eyeliners.

"A-HEM!" Grenda said.

"What? Oh! Yeah, yeah, sure." Bill made a gesture like a benediction toward the group. "I grant my authorization."

"Great," the saleswoman said. "Then if there's anything you want to try out, I can help you apply it."

"Awesome!" Grenda dropped a couple dozen different lipsticks (half of them loaded with glitter) onto the counter under the mirror. "I want to try all of these!"

The saleswoman's smile faltered. "Oh—sorry, but there's a three product limit for free samples. To try on any more, you'd have to schedule an hour-long makeover session."

"Aw, man! I can't pay for that."

Bill looked at Grenda and the saleswoman, looked at the display of eyeliners, and leaned toward the saleswoman. "Hey, everyone gets three freebies, right?"

"Um—yes! That's right." She nodded.

"Great! Then I'm donating my three to the kid."

Grenda's face lit up.

The saleswoman grimaced. "I'm... not sure I'm allowed to—"

"I'm donating mine too!" Mabel said.

"Me three!" Candy said.

The saleswoman looked at them helplessly.

"Hey." Bill grabbed a passing customer's arm. "Wanna make a donation to a good cause?"

While the saleswoman tried to carefully draw two dozen separate strips of color on Grenda's lips and Mabel and Candy shouted their opinions, Bill surreptitiously slipped several eye products in his hood.

####

"Hey!" Bill shouted, leaning over the balcony around the mall's mezzanine level. "Everybody! Spontaneous dance party! Right here, right now, let's go!" And then he started dancing to the mall's faint background music.

A security guard shouted up from the ground level, "Ma'am? Ma'am! This isn't the appropriate place to— I have to insist you don't—"

It was too late. Whooping and cheering, Mabel, Grenda, and Candy had joined him to start dancing.

When they saw the security guard coming up one escalator, they hustled down the other and escaped.

####

"Not many people take Psynosaur's backstory seriously," Candy said, flipping through a 200-page notebook with densely-packed handwriting. "But when you think about the implications, it's really tragic. His species went extinct 70 million years ago and Professor Kagakusha cloned him from a fossil—he was not meant to live with modern Monster-Mon! Everyone thinks he destroyed the lab because he's inherently bad, but if you think about it, the last thing he knew was the primitive jungle and then he wakes up without his family in a cold, metal room. It's like he was abducted by aliens! He was not mad, he was scared."

"Okay," Bill said uncertainly, watching over her shoulder. He looked around for Mabel and Grenda, but they were off in the another section of the book store, vandalizing books on unicorns with the real facts.

Candy flipped another chunk of pages to an illustration she'd sticky note bookmarked with two dragon-like and dinosaur-like monsters attacking each other, one roaring a stream of 0's and 1's and the other with wavy circles radiating from its forehead. They were both crying. The pencil lines had smeared from opening and closing the pages so many times. "And when you think about it that way, it completely reframes his rivalry with DigiZard! They are not just enemies because Psychic elementals and Digital elementals are mutually mega-effective against each other and they are both Hyper Ultra Rare Monster-Mon. They also represent different eras. DigiZard represents the future, and fears the world that came before his creation, which is why he tries to upload everyone's brains onto the MonsterNet. Psynosaur represents the past and wants to destroy the scary new world he has been forced into."

"Sure," Bill said, perfectly lost.

"And yet, he and DigiZard share a common enemy: they are both the product of human science. DigiZard is coded from the DNA of a dozen Monster-Mon and Psynosaur was mutated when he was cloned. They were never meant to exist. And I think, deep down inside, feeling like they should not be alive is what drives their cruelty. Like they need to do something big to earn the right to exist, because they are such—"

"Freaks," Bill said.

"Yes! Exactly! But even though they have so much in common, they cannot see it. They just fight instead. They need to be put in a situation that forces them to see their shared trauma. Only then can they heal." Candy flipped to the front of the notebook, where she had an illustration of the two monsters wearing aprons. "Which is why I'm writing an AU about them running a coffee shop/cupcake bakery."

"Right," Bill said, lost again.

####

Glaring at the children climbing all over the Kidz Zone rides, Bill said, "I'm never gonna get a turn on that coin-operated helicopter. It's been taken every time we've gone by!" He shot a dirty look at the giggling child currently occupying the helicopter.

"Fight him," Candy said solemnly. "He is the enemy. You must destroy him completely and take what you want."

"You're right, but I'm a foot taller than him and twice his weight. Everyone's gonna assume I'm the bad guy."

"What use is there in being the good guy when goodness doesn't bring you glory."

Bill gave Candy a surprised, impressed look.

"It doesn't get us kicked out," Grenda pointed out.

"Hmm..." Candy's eyes narrowed. "Then perhapssss... there's another way."

####

As they hid in an out-of-order restroom waiting for the mall to close, Grenda experimented in the mirror with her new lipsticks, Mabel edited the drawings in a coloring book she'd picked up at the book store, and Bill sighed in boredom.

He looked at Candy, engrossed in a new notebook and flipping through her deck of Monster-Mon cards looking for reference art. 

"Hey. Sooo," he said. "This joint business venture DigiZard and Psynosaur start—how's that shake out? Do they telekinetically burn it down for the insurance money? Do their friends stage an intervention and insist they need real therapy? Tell me they don't, I hate stories that end like that."

"Oh! They win a prize from the local newspaper for best new small business in the neighborhood," Candy said. "And then, they kiss."

Bill's brows went up in surprise. "Oh. Huh," he said. "Good for them."

Candy slowly pulled the notebook out of her backpack again. "Do you... want to read it?"

He squinted at her like he knew he'd just walked into a trap; then accepted the notebook. "Okay, fine—but only because I want to know how they get around DigiZard being a hologram."

####

Half an hour after the mall closed, Mabel stuck her head out of the bathroom and looked around in the dim nighttime lights for any sign of other people. "Okay, coast is clear." Candy, Grenda, and Bill crept out after her, giggling quietly.

Mabel consulted a mall map. "Okay, to get back to the Kidz Zone we just need to make a left, and..."

Bill glanced down the main hall, and sucked in a gasp that made the girls look over.

Just in time to see a slender humanoid being—super smooth and so pure white it stood out even in the dim light—walk in stiff, jerky steps out of one of the dark stores.

The girls let out quiet gasps, grabbing onto Bill's hoodie for protection; and then Grenda loudly said, "Phew! It's not a security guard!"

With a sickening crack, the bare clothing mannequin snapped its featureless face toward them and went perfectly still, like a predator trying to fool its prey into thinking it was part of the scenery. A couple other mannequin heads curiously peeked out of another store.

Mabel hissed, "What are those—"

"Shhh! Let me do the talking." Bill pushed the girls behind himself, smiled disarmingly at the mannequins, and said, "Heeey! Sorry for the intrusion—Saturday, right? Arcade game night? Our bad, totally forgot!"

The first mannequin tilted its head quizzically. It signed a question at Bill.

"Yeah, no, not us, we're going the other direction from Hoo-Ha's," Bill said, gesturing behind them. Another few mannequins had emerged farther ahead; the tap of plastic feet on tile came from the stores behind them. He swallowed nervously. "We won't get in your way!"

Grenda whispered, "But the coin rides aren't—"

"Shhh." He signed another apology to the mannequin and said, "We'll just see ourselves out! Have fun, tell Slim I'm sorry I missed him, byyye!"

He turned around, scooping his arms around the girls to take them with him. "Walk toward the fire exit," he hissed, "don't run, and do not make eye contact." 

Candy glanced back over her shoulder. "How can we? They don't have eyes."

Bill wrapped an arm around her shoulders to block her view, power-walked a little faster, and said through a gritted-teeth smile, "By the time you find out, it's too late."

Once they were past the mannequins, Mabel asked, "But where'll we go now? The mall's closed, what else is open this late?"

Grenda's eyes lit up. "Hey! I know where!"

####

"It's okay, Mabel," Candy said, "Just concentrate. You nearly got your second dart in the double point ring. Third time's the charm!"

"You got this, girl!" Grenda said.

Bill squinted at the dart board to check how Mabel would do in the future, and lied, "You'll do great."

"Thanks, gang. Here we go." Mabel squinted an eye shut, carefully aimed her third dart, and flung it at the board.

Just as she did, one of the bikers sitting at Skull Fracture's front bar smashed a glass bottle over another's head and the second biker tumbled off his stool. 

The dart went wild. It hit dead in the middle of a section in the double point ring. Unfortunately, it was in the 2 point area of the ring. "Aw, nuts!"

From the table where the Discount Auto Mart Warriors were waiting for their turn, Ghost-Eyes said, "It's all right! You're already playing better than you were just a few darts ago!"

"Thanks, Ghost-Eyes." Mabel pulled her pins off the electronic dart board, plopped down at her table, and drowned her sorrows in cherry limeade.

Ghost-Eyes got up, took his darts, threw them at the board in rapid succession—bullseye, bullseye, double bullseye—and sat down. His teammates hooted and hollered in congratulations as they clapped him on the back: "Three in a row, again!" "Way to go, man!"

(Sitting at the bar, splitting his attention between the brawl breaking out nearby and the dart game, Mayor Tyler Cutebiker cheered, "Get it! Get it!" He turned beet red when Ghost-Eyes subtly flexed in his direction.)

"All right," Bill said, "everyone move aside for a bar game pro." He finished off his drink—the only one at their table that wasn't a soda—cracked his knuckles, grabbed three darts, and stepped in front of the board. He saw several very strong, very clear futures where his darts hit the lower point zones around the edge of the board or didn't hit it at all, and an extremely faint implausible future where his first dart gracefully sailed straight into the double bullseye. He focused his complete attention on that future, ignored all the possibilities around it, and...

Threw a dart into the 1 point area.

"No!" He chucked his second dart at the board, stepping over the faded duct tape throw line on the floor in the process. Nobody called him out for it because his second dart missed the board completely. "No!"

He chucked his third dart at the ground. "I want a do over! It wasn't supposed to go that direction! The air conditioning must be blowing them off course or something, this isn't fair—!" He flopped into his seat, hands covering his face. "Ugggh!" And then slid off his seat to lay on the floor. "Uuuuugh!"

Mabel turned to Candy and Grenda and whispered, "Maybe we should strike darts off the list of stuff to do with Goldie." They nodded.

"So what else can we do?" Candy asked. "The creepy pool guy is still staring at the pool table. I'm not sure he understands it's a different kind of pool."

Mabel gasped. "I've got an idea."

####

In the dark backroom of a closed store, a door clicked open. "Okay, I got the lock," Mabel whispered, pocketing Dipper's president's key. "Everybody inside." Candy and Grenda tiptoed in after her, eyes wide and nervous; Bill came in last, walking backwards so he could keep an eye outside as long as possible, checking for any future signs of pursuit.

"Are you sure about this?" Candy whispered.

"Yeah!" Grenda said. "We do illegal things sometimes, but I think this is more illegal than usual."

"It's fiiine, don't worry about it," Bill said. "Nobody's coming."

"Even staying at the mall after closing was a victimless crime," Candy added. "I'm not sure this is."

Mabel said, "Trust me, this'll be great." She tiptoed into the front store and flipped on a light, revealing row after row of snoozing pets in cages. A couple of animals blinked sleepily at her. Mabel set her backpack down in the middle of the pet shop and started rummaging through it. "Okay, round up all the puppies with light fur. And anything else you can find. Kittens, hamsters, bunnies..."

Within a few minutes, they were seated on the floor in a circle with a small collection of wiggly, mostly white-furred animals. A kitten tried to climb onto Candy's shoulder. Bill had two bunnies in his arms and was rubbing one's head in utter fascination.

Mabel was in the back room filling several spray bottles in a sink. "This is gonna look so cool." She carried the bottles into the store, set them down in the middle of the group, and pulled out a pack of food coloring bottles. She dripped several drops of purple dye into one bottle, fastened on the sprayer, and held out a hand. "Okay! Now hand me a puppy!"

####

"I'm just worried Bill will talk them into doing something criminal," Ford said as he paced. "His only supervision is a handful of kids. What if he's up to something?" He reversed direction and paced the other way. "But no, he's been remarkably well-behaved and helpful recently." He turned around again. "But what if that was all just a ruse to lower our guards?" Turn. "No, no—he's already had opportunities to stir up trouble when we weren't watching, and he hasn't taken them. " Turn. "But what if he's just been waiting for this specific opportunity—"

"Dude," Soos said. "I'm getting kinda dizzy watching you."

"Sorry." Ford stopped pacing and compensated by bouncing a foot. "I just wish they'd get back before anime night." They'd had to reschedule their last anime night due to dealing with a government investigation. Fiddleford had asked if Soos and Ford could come over a bit early, he wanted to talk to Ford before the show; and they'd put off leaving just about as long as they could.

"I'm not worried about them," Dipper said. He was watching TV sprawl out on the living room sofa—which was cushioned for the first time all summer, now that Bill was no longer sleeping on the floor. "I thought letting Bill outside would be stressful. But actually? It's a huge relief, knowing he's out of the house for a bit—"

The door banged open. "We're back!" Candy and Grenda were wielding sleeping bags and backpacks.

"Nevermind," Dipper sighed.

####

(I don't think any of this chapter was influenced by TBOB. Bill seeing an autostereogram picture the first time was written before TBOB came out; in TBOB Bill says he thinks people who claim to see magic eye pictures are lying, and I think that's sour grapes. I wanted to make a comic of Bill seeing a magic eye picture for the first time and weeping at the beauty, but it turns out that autostereogram images that don't look crappy are hard to make. Crappy ones are easy though.

Anyway!! hope y'all enjoyed Bill's 😎✨first taste of freedom✨🌻, I've basically spent the ENTIRE fic waiting to get to the point where Bill can go outside and do stuff.

As well as waiting to make chapter 18 come back to bite him in the butt lmao.)