#mi only knows how to write break up scenes

[kuromkiz]

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡ Sincerely, Mr. Crust | ʏ.ᴊᴡ

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

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

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

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

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

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, you commenced baking.

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

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

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

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

Wait, man?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a lovely afternoon.

—

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

Maybe ‘depleted’, too?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Crust?” he inquired.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“May I walk you home?”

—

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

Maybe ‘confused’, too?

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

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

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

That was a possibility, too.

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

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

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

One: you were quite the baker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7:30am—Open shop and start work

9:45am—Send papers to Jaeyun

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

3:20pm—Follow up on the ‘Jin’ case

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

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

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

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

He shook his head. “No ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh right. The man who walked you home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungwon.” he said.

“Sorry?” your eyes widened in surprise.

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

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

“And yours?” he tentatively asked.

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

“Pretty.” he mindlessly said.

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

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

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

You hadn’t felt this erratic in a while.

It was exciting.

—

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

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

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

Perhaps you could’ve been lighter on the blow.

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

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

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

“But-“

“No.”

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

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

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

This rivalry was far from over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

As you ate, a flow of conversation followed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighed. “If you say so.”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But, my lady-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you say that?” Jungwon questioned.

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

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

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

“Deal.” he contested.

“Deal.” Jungwon smiled fondly.

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

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

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

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

They just laughed at you. Maybe they were?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not.”

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You asked yourself once more; why were you upset?

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

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

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

Alas, here you were selling pies.

A long day it would be.

Selling pies.

Alone.

With no Jungwon.

…

A long day truly.

—

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

Maybe ‘disappointed’, too?

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

How silly.

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

Silly and naive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

���Thank you, kind sir.”

—

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

He was funny. Seriously funny.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…You could?”

“I could-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gladly! Jungwon hyung-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could you just-“

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

He huffed before trying again. “But I-“

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

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

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

“It’s simple.” he countered.

You contemplated before gesturing him to continue again.

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

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

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

His heart ached.

The man was in love.

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“Y/N-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As I’ve heard, yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naive, you thought to yourself once more.

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

Only then did you realise you had started crying.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why was Jungwon here?

Better yet, why did he also look shocked?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Once again, you felt stupid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled in relief that you weren’t getting ignored and covered your mouth as you giggled at the silliness of your newfound friend, the sly grin tugging on his lips only pushing your limit further. You almost forgot the dread you felt upon coming here, but after experiencing the welcoming environment that they produced, you couldn’t help but to soften your stiffened shoulders and shielded expression.

From the distance—it was like two feet but to Jungwon it felt like miles—he watched a genuine smile spread across your face as you joked with Riki, and he couldn’t deny the pang he felt in his chest. He wasn’t and never was a jealous man, letting peace settle before any of his own emotions got the best of him. Yet in the instance where a conflicted expression haunted your face as the both of you walked together, and the contrast with the carefree and comfortable smile you wore currently, it was an undeniable bubble of envy that began to form in the pits of his stomach.

For the first time in his life, Jungwon felt jealous.

—

Tense. Tense was all Jungwon could use to describe how his concluded work splayed before him.

“Good work today guys.” Jungwon thinned out his smile, stretching his arms above his head as sitting in his chair began to take a toll on his lower back.

Murmurs followed throughout the room, agreeing to Jungwon’s testament. In his peripheral, Jungwon could see you laughing at something Jay had said, your teeth baring as your lips spread wide in a smile. Your head tilted back with a hand pressed to your chest as you calmed your racing heart. When you leaned forward once you caught your breath, you inadvertently leaned even closer to Jay.

The man hadn’t noticed, but the words that came out of his mouth sparked off a fit of laughter in you per sentence. “Am I really that funny?” he chuckled in disbelief, a grateful smile stretching the corner of his lips.

“Yes!” you giggled. Perhaps all the time you spent wallowing in your own pity left room for genuine happiness to shine—plus Jay was quite the jokester.

“Huh.” Jay said with a bit of pride, straightening his posture as he pursed his lips. “The guys don’t find me that hilarious.

You shook your head. “Well then they just don’t understand.” You swatted your hand in the air to disregard his statement.

Jungwon sighed, averting his eyes as he felt tension and envy fill up his chest. His lungs felt constricted for air as he couldn’t grasp the jealousy that seethed within him. He didn’t hate Jay. And he certainly didn’t hate you, so what was happening to him?

As he stacked papers on top of one another, standing them up and straightening them to be aligned with one another, he was hit with another pang to his heart as your giggles you attempted to suppress rang in his ears.

His head turned in the direction of Jay’s table again, gazing at you sat in the chair you had pulled up to chat with each of his colleagues. Throughout the day, you moved around the room, situating yourself across each of the guys’ table to familiarise yourself with them. Every single one of them, except for Jungwon.

The only interaction he had with you was the brief conversation at the front of your door and the path to his work.

In other words, it seemed like Jungwon was only ever able to watch you from afar, the distance between you feeling like planets away. As he reached closer, you stepped two steps back. He couldn’t deny the feeling of hurt welling in his chest, his throat, and every area of him that was consumed by you.

You were his constant, but at the pace he was going, your building relationship would become unstable.

He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t lose you. So the words that followed his fears were calculated. “Shall we have a team dinner?” he suggested from his desk.

And with the chorus of agreement, you found yourself sat across from Jungwon as the eight of you settled in a local restaurant. You couldn’t deny the awkward air flowing around you and Jungwon, though you found your strategising from the night before to work in this situation as you actively ignored Jungwon.

The person beside you took the brunt of your chatter, as you babbled on in Jake’s ear. Luckily for you, he had sat in the seat next to you upon arrival and was happy to keep a steady conversation moving.

Once again, Jungwon felt himself disassociating from the general chatter surrounding the table, instead zeroing in on the in-depth discussion between you and Jake. Everyone else at the table looked to their boss in amaze, never seeing this nervous yet wistful character of Jungwon.

They witnessed the way his shoulders dropped, his eyes rounded, and his inner cheeks bitten by his teeth, just from watching you talk to a person that wasn’t him.

Despite the chuckles the group had at this new side of their friend, Sunoo’s words piqued each of their interest. “How do we move these two forward?” he whispered whilst leaning forward.

The other four thoughtfully concocted ideas in their head, before Heeseung spoke up with a simple yet efficient plan. “Have them walk home together?”

Sunghoon shook his head and rested his chin upon his fist. “And if they don’t talk? Then what, it’ll just drive them apart.”

A collective silence followed their sighs, trying to strategise once more. “I think the issue here is that Jungwon is trying to find an opening, but Y/N is currently closed off from any possibility of interacting with him.” Ni-ki began, his eyes looking to each of the older guys. “Any suggestions on how to get her to open up?”

Another thoughtful period passed before Jay spoke up. “…I have an idea.” he said carefully. “But it’s a really… douchey idea and I’m not a fan for thinking it. Though, it may be our only option.”

They all looked to Jay suspiciously as he pointed at the drink menu before them, his finger laid on the words ‘soju’ and they all looked up nervously. “We should order rounds for all of us then.” Heeseung stated. “It’d become an issue if she were the only one drinking… and if she denies a drink we’ll come up with a new plan, okay?”

Collectively, they nodded and moved to catch the attention of the other three people on the table. “We’ll be ordering rounds of soju, you guys in?” Sunoo spoke up. As he was sitting at the end of the table across from Jay, he leaned on his elbows to look at the other end. His eyebrows lifted as silent way to convince the three into agreeing.

Jake and you had nodded, whilst Jungwon looked uneasy. “I don’t know guys…” he contemplated.

Next to him, Sunghoon nudged him with his shoulder. “Come on…” Sunghoon dragged out the end of the word. “It’s Friday, we don’t have work tomorrow.” he perusaded, but Jungwon still looked uneasy.

Ni-ki poked his head forward to look at Jungwon too. “Well we’re ordering some even if you aren’t having any.” he mused, head tilted provokingly.

“Fine, I’m happy to stay sober.” Jungwon shrugged, and thus an agreement settled amongst the table.

Everyone, but Jungwon would be drinking tonight.

—

Appalled. Appalled was all Jungwon could use to describe how the work of alcohol splayed before him.

Riki and Jake had already tapped out by this point, their heads splat on the table in front of them as the rest of the guys laughed at the synchronised effort of the two—although they were both too drunk to understand their joint actions.

Sunoo had his chin rested upon his fist, thoughtfully overseeing the chatter amongst the group, not having the energy to provide his input.

If it were just his friends, he would have stayed longer, yet the gnawing feeling of concern for you and your own drunk state pushed Jungwon to call it a night.

Although the tipsy and near-drunk conversations flowing were amusing, it was time to go home.

And as the boss stood up, all employees eyes laid on him, a knowing look shared between them all. “We’ll be off.” he said with finality gesturing to your stirring figure.

When you recognised that he wanted you to sit up, you let out a whine in disagreement. “Noo…” you dragged out the ‘o’. You huffed as a frown met your lips and you closed your eyes tiredly. “I don’t want to go yet…”

Jungwon battled with his inner thoughts that alerted sirens in his head screaming ‘DANGER’ ‘SHE’S TOO ADORABLE FOR HER OWN GOOD’ ‘DON’T BE A BAD GUY’. He pursed his lips as he rounded the table to your side. “Come on Y/N, we have to go now.” he spoke gently, kneeling to your sat figure as he placed a hand on your shoulder that he swiftly retracted to ensure you weren’t uncomfortable.

But you hadn’t even realised he was next to you already. You pouted, crossing your arms over the table, before resting your chin on your forearms. “But… ‘m having so much fun, Won.” you reasoned. Jungwon almost broke his resolve at the mention of a nickname you hadn’t called him ever before.

Clearing his throat, he bit his lip thoughtfully before trying again. “If you stay out longer, it’ll be dangerous.” he said in a mere whisper.

With your head still rested on your forearms, you turned to look directly at him. Your drunken state didn’t notice the close proximity between the both of you, as Jungwon’s eyes sparkled with surprise for a brief second. “What ‘bout everyone else?” you said sadly, your eyebrows furrowing in concern as you gazed at Jungwon softly, his handsome features still viable even in your clouded haze.

“They can handle themselves.” he reassured.

Your eyes fluttered close before opening gently once more. “Really?”

He nodded. “Ask them if you’re unsure.” he smiled, gesturing towards the guys that had been engrossed in a quite chatter.

Turning to the guys slowly, you sat up straight and looked to them before setting your eyes on Sunghoon—focusing on them all would have been too much for your brain to handle. “Will you guys be okay?”

With a discerning smile, they all replied with a reassuring agreement.

Your lips jutted out in disbelief. “You promise?” You raised your brows skeptically.

A few of them chuckled before they collectively replied. “We promise.” They were all a mix of tipsy and near drunk, but not to the point of full intoxication. They could definitely handle themselves and the fallen troops before them.

You conclusively nodded and turned to Jungwon again. “Well… they promised I s’pose.” you pouted once more. With finality you stretched and then leaned towards Jungwon, your torso falling onto Jungwon’s own heavily. You arms dangled as you nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent before muttering quietly. “Take me home, Mr. Crusty Yang?”

Jungwon was so close to passing out from the overwhelming presence of you, but he had to keep his mind from wavering. “Mm.” he mumbled as an agreement, slowly—albeit regretfully—peeling you off of his figure and standing up, then tugging at your arms to get you up.

You giggled as you felt the motion of getting up course through your body. Your eyes fluttered ever so slightly, yet you had a calm smile settle upon your face.

Carefully, Jungwon slipped his arm around your waist, not before quietly asking if it was okay for him to do so, and guided your own around his neck.

With a swift farewell to the guys at the table, the two of you made it out of the restaurant with little disruption.

For the moment, the only sounds were you and your quiet babbles that Jungwon had no response to, only ever replying with a curt ‘really?’ every so often.

It was only after a few minutes of walking did you start to feel the pain in your feet, and the unsteadiness you harboured from the effect of the soju. You didn’t want to trouble Jungwon, but inevitably you had to speak up. “Won…”

There it was again, the nickname that sent a rush throughout his whole nervous system. “Mhm?” he sounded.

“My feet hurt…” you said carefully.

Jungwon had no hesitation before he formulated an idea. “Want a piggy-back ride?” he looked down at you, resting your head against his shoulder. Watching as you nodded your head, you soon found yourself hoisted upon Jungwon’s back, with your arms laid upon his shoulders, and your hands interlinked with one another.

At first, you simply laid your head on his back, but that soon grew uncomfortable as it strained on your neck, so you pushed yourself up straighter against his back and rested your head in the crook of his neck once more. Quietly, you whispered out. “You smell good, Jungwon.”

He couldn’t contain the blush that flourished on his cheeks. “Yeah?” He didn’t know how to respond to such a remark, he was too flustered to think straight.

When you nodded your head, the brush of your nose against his neck sent tingles throughout his whole body, inevitably he had to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling. And with your conclusive statement, the two of you continued. The only chatter was you, suddenly having the urge to talk to him despite ignoring him the whole day, but Jungwon took any interaction he could with you and cherished it.

That was until you said something that set Jungwon off in the wrong way.

“I’m sorry…” you said in a somber voice.

“Why?” Jungwon furrowed his eyebrows, readjusting your position on his back so that your body wasn’t falling off him.

Words that Jungwon didn’t quite want to hear on this fateful night escaped your lips. “I don’t like you anymore, Jungwon.” you murmured, the air from your nose fanning upon the expanse of his neck as you tightened your grip and pushed your head impossibly closer to his.

Jungwon shut down. His steps faltered. His breath became shallow. Even the way he turned to look at your resting head was slow. “Really?” he whispered, the words almost going unheard by your ears.

With the haste in which you nodded, Jungwon just accepted, turning his head forward and burying any hope he had that fuelled his desire to be with you. “Then I guess we won’t be seeing each other much huh?” His voice trembled as the words left him, his lips betraying him as they shook with his words.

As you nodded again, Jungwon turned his head to the sky in an attempt to reverse the tears that were near falling. When he sniffled, your ears perked up as you turned your head to look at his side profile. “Wonie… why are you crying? Who made you sad?” you questioned innocently.

“Don’t worry about it.” he smiled, though his eyes clearly glistened with tears.

“But… how can I help you?”

He shook his head. “You can’t, Y/N, you shouldn’t worry about me. We don���t think of each other the same way.”

You paused, gathering your thoughts before spurting out another question. “Then, how do you think of me?”

In his peripherals, Jungwon could see your earnestly shining eyes peering into his very soul, and in the moment he couldn’t help but chuckle. What a fool he was for thinking this could work in his favour. “D’ya want me to tell the complete truth?”

You nodded.

“Even though you won’t remember?”

You nodded.

Well, shit, this was not how Jungwon thought he’d confess his love to you, but there’s always surprises for everyone. “I’m in love with you.” he stated blankly, staring straight ahead in fear of your reaction.

Any of his dying hope that remained was ultimately squashed as your unreadable expression dawned on him. “You… love me?”

Jungwon snorted at the realisation that he now served his heart on a silver platter for you. “Mhm.” he nodded. “I have for quite a while.”

Listening to his response, a smile spread across your face. As you sighed, an undertone of happiness under it, you suddenly perked up. “Perfect!” you spoke optimistically.

He raised a brow at your behaviour. “Perfect how?” His heart was practically shattered to pieces and the rejection in which he faced was certainly anything, but perfect—though it seems in your books that would be the case however.

“Because we’re on the same page of what we feel towards each other!” an uncharacteristically childish side of you was exhibited through this tale of emotions as you giggled triumphantly.

Jungwon scoffed in amusement. “Y/N… sorry to burst this bubble of yours… but I think we’re actually on complete opposite sides of the page here.”

“How?” you furrowed your brows

“Well for starters… I love you… and you don’t even like me.” he said, trying to decipher the connection in his head.

“Yes.” you reinstated.

Jungwon nodded. “So, where’s the connection?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you huffed.

“No, not really, quite the opposite actually.” Jungwon retorted matter-of-factly, the fragments of his dignity hanging on by a thread by your reassurance that you did not like him in the slightest.

You sighed once more before straightening your posture and tightening your hold around his neck. “I love you too.” you hummed, your lips briefly brushing against the bridge between his neck and shoulder-blades.

“Sorry?”

“I love you Jungwon.”

A pause. Then a laugh.

Then a hiccup that followed a faint sob.

And the two of you were lowered to the ground.

Despite your confusion, you found yourself crouched behind Jungwon as he squatted with his head on his forearm.

Tentatively, you crab walked to his side and tugged at this dress shirt. “Won?”

After another hiccup, Jungwon mumbled into his arms. “Don’t scare me like that.”

Slowly, Jungwon wiped at his cheeks and looked to you, your lips were swollen from you nervously biting them and your eyes looked as if they held every star in the universe. Man, were you perfect to him.

With a fond smile, Jungwon reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear. Swiftly, he moved his hand to caress your cheek softly and you nuzzled into his palm. “Shall we discuss this over a cup of water and a more sober mind?” he joked.

You giggled at his remark before nodding adamantly.

Sure, Jungwon had waited and watched from afar, yet all that hell was worth it to see that bright smile across your face.

The smile that was caused from him, just him.

—

Nervous. Nervous was all you could use to describe how the sight the man you were utterly infatuated with splayed before you.

This nervous energy was the same you felt those few nights ago when the very man in front of you walked you home for the first time.

Your eyelids flickered every now and then, the buzz of the alcohol still lingering in your system. As you sat upon the countertop, a glass full of water that had been refilled countless times at this point in hand, you stared at Jungwon with hearts in your eyes.

Yes, the nerves were very adamantly swirling through your being, but so was the love you felt blooming in your chest. How lovely of a feeling it was to have a reciprocated feeling of want from the person you were encapsulated by.

Jungwon turned around, now meeting eye-to-eye with you, only to find you staring at him, your full attention on him. His cheeks flared red and he quickly diverted his eyes. “W-why are you looking at me like that?” he gulped nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

You shrugged, a smile finding its way on your lips. “I don’t know… you’re just so handsome, I can’t help myself.” Your conscious mind was screaming in agony—in what world would you ever say stuff like this? The confidence built from the mere motivation of alcohol somehow allowed for you to exude this poise you wouldn’t have developed otherwise.

He chuckled nervously. “Oh, come on Y/N, don’t say stuff like that.” he exhaled as he shook his head. He was busy concocting a tea to help lessen the toll the soju would have on you in the morning, as well as to sober you up slightly so he knew you were at least somewhat aware of the conversation unfolding between you.

Teasingly, tauntingly, you tilted your head, a pout to your lips as you mumbled. “Why? I’m only saying the truth?” The sincerity in your voice only pushed a grin onto Jungwon’s face, a smug one at that.

“Oh yeah?” he jeered. After stirring the tea around and blowing on it, he turned to you, and continued the provoking atmosphere. “What other truths do you have in that pretty little head of yours?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, caging your figure in effectively between his stable arms, after handing you the tea.

You pretended to ponder, sipping the tea whilst humming. “Hmm… I’m not sure…” you playfully mused. As you settled the tea down on the counter, you met face to face with Jungwon again, a calm expression entrancing you. You looked down, innocence and teasing written all over your body.

Slowly, your hand moved from his situated ones on the countertop, guiding their way from his forearm, to his elbow, brushing over his dress shirt that had been rolled up to that point, and trailing over his bicep. Alongside your travels, your eyes followed each movement of your hand, carefully following and scanning each crevice that your hand marked.

Finally, they brushed up over his shoulder, caressing his collarbone before landing on his chest. As these ministrations continued, the both of you found yourselves breathing heavily, suffocated by the tense atmosphere. You could feel his heart beating recklessly against his chest. Your other hand soon followed, skipping the path up his other arm and immediately resting on his chest next to your nimble fingers.

“Your heart’s racing.” you stated, eyes flickering up to his own.

Jungwon inched closer to you, his body slotting in between your legs. “Yeah?” he whispered cockily. His hands moved to hold your elbows as he straightened his posture, head no longer aligned with yours. “Why do you think that is?”

You hummed, head tilting upwards to look at him. “Not sure.”

He lifted his brows in mock surprise. “You.” he simply stated.

Slowly, he moved his head closer to yours, words tumbling from his lips. “It’s always been you. Your eyes, your lips, my god, your lips.” he huffed out impatiently. “You’re so pretty to me Y/N, did you know that? You must know that you’re the prettiest girl in the world, yeah?” His nose brushed against yours as his lips were mere inches from your own.

You could feel his exhales fanning on your face, each breath drawn from the two of you mingling with each other. “Y/N, I’ll have you know that I’m a selfish man.” he rasped, eyes gaping into yours with a half-lidded gaze.

“Really?” you hummed, your hand reaching to connect behind his neck, fidgeting with the tufts of hair that met at his nape. “How so?”

He looked to the side in contemplation before looking into your eyes once more, “If you’ll let me have you, I’m afraid I can’t let anyone else take what’s mine.”

A smug grin settled on your face, the edges of your lips a taunting spell to Jungwon, whose eyes betrayed him as he glanced down to your change in expression. “Then I’m all yours.” you mumbled quietly, like you only wanted him to hear it.

Jungwon moved impossibly closer to you, noses brushing and lips ghosting over yours. If he moved in the slightest, both your lips would collide. “Stop me if I’m going too far.” he declared, not wanting to push the limit.

“Just fucking kiss me Jungwon.”

With no hesitation, your lips met with his in a moment you could only describe as bliss.

Pure, utter bliss.

His lips moved in motion with yours, hands raising to cup your face in his hold, effectively deepening the affectionate lock. You hummed as you felt your lips mold against each other.

Gasps of air left you exasperated, but you weren’t separated for long. As the both of you looked to each other, glazed over eyes and puffy lips, you met once gain with feverish haste, your desire for each other adamant in this very moment.

Jungwon groaned in satisfaction. The love of his life was finally in his arms. And he couldn’t have imagined a better way for the two of you to finally combine as one—there were a million other possibilities Jungwon had mapped out, even dreamed about, but none of them compared to the reality of actually having you to himself, in his grasp,

And on his lips.

—

Dazed. Dazed was all you could use to describe how the feeling of waking up after an experience synonymous to euphoric splayed before you.

You jolted up in bed, blood rushing to your head at the sudden movement. The tea Jungwon practically shoved down your throat certainly helped ease the progression and outcome of a hangover, but you had quite a bit—a lot—to drink.

Stepping out of bed, you exited your room to be hit by the smell of a comforting stew being brewed. With a growing smile, you called out as you approached. “Unnie! You know me so well!” you gleamed. As you poked your head from the hallway and peered into the kitchen, you were met with, once again, not Yebin.

Your shock was evident on your face, and your cheeks grew hot from the sight of Jungwon stirring the pot. He smirked as he turned around. “Unnie again? Will you call me Jungwon-unnie from now on?” he teased before turning towards the stove once more.

A flaming blush spread across your cheeks, even reaching your ears, as you crossed your arms and looked to the floor bashfully. “No…” you pouted, kicking your feet absentmindedly. “It was an honest mistake…”

He chuckled at your retort. “Oh? How about Oppa?”

“Get out.” you asserted, your face contorting in a way that only showed displeasure. What a funny sentiment. You were older by a plentiful amount of years, how humorous of him. “You wish.” you shook your head, snorting at the thought.

Your slippers padded against the floor as you took a seat at the dining table, resting your head on a propped up fist. “What are you making Won?” The nickname rolled out so casually, Jungwon almost missed the ring of it.

Jungwon coughed in surprise. “Hangover soup…” he murmured, looking as if he shrunk into his own figure whilst stirring the pot.

With a roll of your eyes, you huffed. “I’m not a light drinker you know? What’s with all this taking care of me business?”

Jungwon shrugged. After the drunken confessions from you the night before, he felt more confident and playful with his demeanour towards you. “Can’t a man take care of the woman he’s interested in?” he nonchalantly heckled. As your response followed a brief moment of silence, Jungwon followed up. “Can’t he?” He turned to you.

He tried to withhold the smile that threatened to appear once he bore witness to your inflamed cheeks and flattened grin, suppressing the very new, very raw emotions that came alight with your mistake of having one too many drinks. “You can’t just say that…” you muttered, turning away from him and looking out the closest window to you.

As he shook his head, he turned back to the stove and finished off the final touches to his stew. “By the way…” he began again after a comfortable silence settled. “Do you mind if we visit my work before heading to the markets?” he asked politely.

You hummed in response, looking forward to seeing everyone again despite being around them only a few hours prior.

Eventually, the both of you had made it out of the house hastily after finishing your first meal. Yebin took the liberty in dropping her son off at the daycare since she was well aware of your situation—she found out when she saw Jungwon folding the blanket he had slept with on the couch and took a fright to the unfamiliar sight.

Safe to say, it was an interesting way to wake up, and a fun night of interrogation would be determined in the near future against you.

Somehow, the crisp chill of the air refreshed your vitals, and despite it nipping at your skin, you basked in the brisk weather happily. Whilst you walked, Jungwon looked to his side and watched as your scarf slowly and unnoticeably slipped from your shoulder.

You were too engrossed in the fall foliage to notice the descent of your clothing, but the action of Jungwon fixing it up for you most definitely caught your attention. Looking up at him curiously, the concentration woven between his brows brought warmth in the chill of the weather before you. “Another conquest for the ‘woman you’re interested in’ perhaps?” you said teasingly, though a fond smile grew on your face.

A gleaming and contagious grin mirrored on Jungwon’s own, with a final tightening to your scarf to ensure no more breakage and micro adjustments, he spoke with finality. “Perhaps so.”

To hide the overwhelming feeling of love pooling in your heart, you stuffed your face in your scarf, the one Jungwon had just readjusted, and smiled freely beneath the covers. You shoved your hands in your coat pockets and marched ahead of him to deal with the consequences of accepting his love, and most importantly, your love for him.

Without a doubt, you were happy in this moment, but in the worst times are you reminded of your status in this world. This world that only left fleeting moments as your memories, and this too, will become a moment left behind in time.

Jungwon will pass on, and you will live with the regret of ever loving a person, stripping them of their ability to find and love another.

You hoped. You really hoped that this one could be your last. The one that stays. The one that will grow old as time passes. Where you grow old.

The ice in which you sealed your heart in began to melt and gave way for the entrance of Jungwon, much like the fall day upon you.

From behind, Jungwon latched himself onto your figure, caging you in a bear like hug.

With a selfish gleam and intention, you smiled up at him, planting a gentle kiss on his cheeks as you arrogantly believed in the hope of growing old with the man in front of you.

And as he squeezed you tight, that selfish ulterior motive couldn’t have been more apparent in the genuine smile you unleashed.

—

Detached. Detached was all you could use to describe how the feeling of being with a group splayed before you.

Somewhat out-worldly it felt watching the guys interact—laughter, banter, and brutal slander against each other. Though the massive smiles that stretched on each of their faces proved a bound of care and adoration they held within for each other.

And whilst you sat idly next to Jungwon, silently watching their interactions as they half-worked and half-talked, you couldn’t help but to feel regretful for all the other friendships and desires you opposed due to your circumstances, each tie you severed to save yourself only did more harm than good.

You replayed every memory, every person, every potential partner, and a wave of longing struck upon you. The only cause of breaking out of your thoughts was Jungwon leaning over and whispering in your ear. “I have a seperate office over there if you want to go somewhere private and alone.” he offered, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

At first you contemplated. You wanted to stay in this room with the others and bask in the feeling of friendship and sincerity, but that feeling was so overwhelming that you couldn’t enjoy a sliver of it.

So with a hestitant nod, you stepped over to Jungwon’s personal office, blocked off from the large square room that held the guys’ desks, and locked yourself inside.

His room was modestly decorated, a few art pieces hung up around the office. He even had a few bookshelves cascading upon his walls, a variety of books ranging from novels to lawful studies sat on display.

Upon closer inspection, a familiar maroon-purple book spine caught your attention. “Oh my god.” you whispered exasperated under your breath. In your grasp, was your favourite book. Your finger traced the words ‘Profound Feeling Of You’ delicately, then moved to open the book.

In your surprise, there lay a ripped page from a small notebook, the one that he kept in the inner pocket of his blazer, that had the schedule of his day from when the two of you first spoke. As you picked off the small paper, under it was a short piece of writing on the title page.

Tears formed in your eyes as you read the words in his handwriting. ‘Yang Jungwon!’ the first line stated. ‘Don’t get this ending with Ms. Baker! It’s wron inherently wrong!’ he wrote.

Flicking through the pages, you noticed that he had written on some lines, a small message to himself as thoughts he couldn’t contain were unleashed.

The part read— “And Jiangyi bore her eyes into Shenqi’s back, his figure disappeared into the abyss of the field “Shenqi!” she called. Was it her imagination, or did he pause in motion? “I love you!” she declared for a final time.

He did pause. And in his momentary hesitation, he turned to look at her, a broken look to his eyes as he smiled, a final farewell to his everlasting love. “Jiangyi.” he began. “Let me go.” he repeated the words he declared previously.

And Jiangyi cried. How could she let go, when all she’d ever done was hold on?”

You switched to the handwritten words on the side, an amused giggle leaving your lips. Jungwon had written, ‘Shenqi is not a real man’.

Shaking your head, you flicked to the last page, the last hoorah of the book. You hadn’t bothered reading the last few lines, the book practically memorised in your head after various break time readings.

Though, what Jungwon had written in accordance to his closing thoughts willed you to read it just once more. It read— “On her wedding, filled with the people she loved the most, her most beloved person she wished to stand before her, was absent in his wake. Hua Shenqi, that jerk of a man, should’ve been the one in front of her. A tear fell from her eye, and her soon-to-be husband smiled at her, though his figure practically merged into the background.

How could she convey the loss of a person who wasn’t even dead?”

Jungwon responded with his own take. ‘Ms. Baker was cruel to recommend this to me.’ he began. As you read, the words he had spoken to you displayed themselves on the paper. ‘A love story definitely, but… happy ending? No. Why did he give up? Why did she let him? Oh, good, I’ll bring these points up with her.’

You smiled at the memory, but he wasn’t finished. Eventually, he wrote below his previous, final words, and wrote a secondary conclusion in different ink. ‘Okay sure, Ms. L/N Y/N, maybe it was ‘unexplainably life-altering’, I’ll give you that!’

A blush blossomed on your cheeks as you settled the book down, slotting it back into its place on the shelf. Peering into his inner thoughts written on paper felt somewhat revealing, and you turned away from the shelves bashfully.

Who knew Yang Jungwon could pertain such petty thoughts?

—

Gratified. Gratified was all you could use to describe how it felt to have Jungwon’s persistence splayed before you.

Once again, you found yourself sitting idly on your stool as Jungwon greeted customers with a grand smile hooked upon his face, his dimples only emphasising his enjoyment of the situation as he took over your stall.

It seemed as of recent that as Jungwon had become more of a constant in your life, the days began to pass slowly, slower than ever before. You imagined it was some god having an ounce of mercy on you after prohibiting your life sentence from ending—though you knew eventually they’d have to stop toying with you at some point.

After a particularly tiring shift—what’s not tiring at this rate?—Jungwon turned to you with a long, dragged out sigh. His hands gripped the board behind him as he leaned his back against the front counter, forearms tensed as he squeezed the wood. He quirked a brow at your lethargic posture, a tilt to his head adding to the perplexity. “How long have you been staring at my back?” he queried.

You looked to him with a purse of your lips, before turning away to avert your gaze. “Only just now.” you murmured, the slightest pout to your lips. Your tone hadn’t held the confident flare it normally did, so Jungwon approached you carefully.

Once he was stood directly in front of you, he cupped your face in his hands and tilted your head up. “You’re lying.” he teased, that same flirtatious stretch to his lips encapsulated you for the nth time.

When you shook your head in disapproval, he squished your cheeks together with the palm of his hands. “Hmm… you’re weird.” he speculated. “Are you okay?”

You hesitantly nodded, but that same lack of assurance lingered. Jungwon knew something was up, but didn’t want to push your limits. With a firm smile, he leant down and pressed a kiss on your nose gently. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?” he whispered, hands moving to settle on your shoulders, giving them a light rub.

After quietly agreeing, he turned around once more to do all the dirty work you thrust upon him—he enjoyed doing the tasks you found physically taxing, which is why you found yourself sat on your stool rather than serving your customers.

How utterly tragic. Immediately as he turned, your enthusiasm couldn’t have been further down in the dirt.

He was a perfect man, this Yang Jungwon, so as you thought over the plan you contemplated whilst walking with him towards the markets—yes, another detailed, thought over, and arrogant plan—you felt guilty.

Not only were you planning to break off this situation despite it not having happened to its fullest potential, you weren’t going to explain it to him. Did you feel like a complete and utter jerk? Absolutely. But, after reading over the book again, your favourite, you had to reconsider your choices.

The book was your die-hard favourite for a reason, and it was because it reminded yourself of you. Sure, they weren’t destined to live eternally, but Shenqi had broken himself off from Jiangyi with no explanation. You didn’t even know why he broke it off, and you spent a precarious amount of your time trying to solve the mystery of his absence.

All conclusions led to, as you guessed, nothing.

It was ironic in a way. Jiangyi and yourself would never find out the reason for Shenqi leaving her, and Jungwon would never discover the truth to why you were soon to leave him. Cruel, is what it is.

Once more, Jungwon looked over his shoulder towards your direction, and hastily you plastered a reassuring smile on your face. In response he projected a tug to his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes, before he turned to the front to tend to another incoming customer. Was he aware of the situation he would soon face? Was this intuition?

Soon, the working day come to an end, and the sun kissed the land gently on the horizon. Jungwon dusted his hands off after closing the stall for the night, then turned to you with a satisfied expression. “Let’s go?”

You nodded, and he draped an arm over your shoulders. You let it happen. After all, you most likely wouldn’t experience a thing like this again.

As the both of you walked, Jungwon had chatted your ear off about what catastrophes occurred after you had escaped to his office earlier in the day. Something about another bet between the guys, a brief haggle between Jake and Sunoo, though it was mostly Jake’s fault for teasing the poor man, and some other probably important, probably entertaining event that faded into the abyss of your fogged mind.

“Y/N?” Jungwon had repeated. When you blinked at him in surprise, Jungwon chuckled in amusement, crossed with disbelief. “Okay, something isn’t right here Ms.” he shook his head. “You’ve been zoning out more often than normal.”

You hummed. “Hmm? What do you mean?” you plead innocence. Maybe if you acted accordingly, he would breeze past. But Jungwon wasn’t that type of guy.

With a retrained sigh, he opened up about his worries carefully. “It’s just…” he pouted his lips in thought. “You’ve been acting off recently… I just want to know if you’re okay?” Jungwon turned his head to you, eyes sparkling radiantly as concern was etched into his features.

Why? Why did you have to fall for such a good man? A considerate one? Not an ounce of wrong was in his nerves, his blood. Perhaps the gods weren’t slowing down time in your favour, but rather as an entertaining show to watch as you slowly developed deeper feelings for Jungwon.

“I’m okay.” you nodded, attempting to have some semblance to a content expression, but your facade was practically transparent as Jungwon saw right through you.

“But, you’re not.” he replied firmly, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

Your lips twitched in an emotion alike to annoyance? Irritation? “Mr. Yang.” No longer did you use an endearing nickname, nor his first name. You wanted your intentions set straight. “I said I’m okay, can’t you accept that?” you argued.

In a twist of frustration, Jungwon’s eyebrows pinched impossibly closer together. “No, I can’t. I won’t.” he huffed. “Sure, we aren’t exclusively official, I’ll give you that, but come on Y/N, I’m inviting you to lean on me. I just want to be here for you.” he declared steadily, voice unwavering.

Hesitant. You were hesitant yet the next words that followed the bite of your lips could not be reversed. You should’ve contemplated a bit further, but then again, it had to go according to plan. “Exactly, we aren’t each other’s person.” you angrily retorted. “So stop acting like we’re closer than we are.”

If you had plunged a knife into his chest, twisted it, then pushed it in some more, the ache he would’ve experienced wouldn’t have compared to what you had just said. “I’m sorry?” he scoffed in exasperation.

At this point, Jungwon had stopped walking, urging you to follow suit.

“You heard me.” you rebutted, your stance unwavering as you further pushed this agenda.

Jungwon smirked. “Did last night mean nothing?” he tested the waters. He nimbly approached you, hand reaching to hover over your cheek, but not quite gracing it. “Were my lips that intertwined with yours so eagerly just a figment of my imagination?”

You noticeably gulped, and Jungwon didn’t miss it. Yet, you were quick to recover your resolve. “Mm.” you shrugged neutrally. “Wasn’t much to me.”

The love of your life, the one whose kisses you cherished so deeply, the one whose presence was something you looked forward to, had a flicker of realisation pass through his mind. And it showed in his eyes. His previously determined, somewhat cocky attitude, faded into one of betrayal and disbelief. “Y/N.” his voice trembled unsurely. ���You don’t mean that, right?” his creased eyebrows eased as they upturned in a naive sort’ve flair.

“I meant it.” you declared. “I regret doing all of that with you.” Your hands dropped to your sides, feeling both the weight of a pressing issue lifted from your shoulders, but a large hound of hesitance, regret, and guilt piled onto your conscience, overthrowing the feeling of liberty that you relished in momentarily.

Jungwon shook his head in disbelief whilst pursing his lips. He grabbed for your hands, taking them in his own as he squeezed you tight. Almost instinctively, he knelt down on his knees, a plead to your presence. “Y/N.” he whispered. Not once in this whole debacle did he raise his voice, and now, he was the quietest he’d ever been. “I love you.” he declared, and he hoped it wasn’t for a final time.

You paused. And in your momentary hesitation, you looked down at Jungwon with a broken look to your eyes. This was it. You smiled, hopefully a final farewell to your fleeting—though it seemed as if it’d be everlasting—love. “Jungwon.” you began. “Let me go.” your smile lingered as your words held an underlying meaning that went beyond the physical touch between the two of you.

And Jungwon’s lip trembled. How could he let go, when he had only just been able to hold on?

—

Hopeless. Hopeless was all you could use to describe the repurcussions splayed before you.

When you arrived at your door earlier, a grinning Yebin awaited your arrival as she was ready to welcome you with her interrogation and greetings. Only, you were crying and her happiness was exchanged for concern. “Huh?! Honey, are you okay?” Her eyes were blown with despair, empathy swirling through her core at the sight of your teary eyes.

You explained everything. You didn’t need to hide it from her.

Had it been Jungwon’s fault, Yebin was ready to swing her fist straight to his face, but your reasoning for breaking it off urged her to slap you on the back, lovingly—at least that’s what she wanted to convey.

“Are you out of your mind? ‘It’s best for the both of us’” Yebin mocked your words in a ridiculing tone. “Best for the both of you, or best for him? Y/N you should think for yourself sometimes!” she reprimanded. You opened your mouth to retort, refute, anything to defend your case, but she wasn’t done lecturing you. “I’m not sure if this was even best for him? He loves you, why would he accept this choice?”

Your lip trembled as you thought over her words. “Yebin.” you began, voice shaky. “I’ve lost so many before him. Those? I willingly gave it up, but this one- this one I actually thought could break whatever curse laid upon me.” You shook your head, hands reaching to grab at Yebin’s. “Lord knows the willpower it took to deny him, but if I didn’t do it now, when would the time come? When could I tell him that I wanted to end things, and everything would be better? This was the only way!” Your voice raised as the emotions pressing down on your heart began to flow out.

Yebin clicked her tongue, less in an annoyed sense and more in a defeated one. “Did you have to break his heart so recklessly though? Your heart?” She shook her head. “Y/N, you love him too.”

With a nod of your head, you agreed whole-heartedly with her statement. “I do. I love him till the ends of the earth.” you sighed emptily. “Which is why I had to. Don’t you think if I let him off delicately, he’d just barge his way back in? Yang Jungwon is not an easy man to avoid. This is the only way he won’t come back to me, he still has dignity you know?”

The woman across from you scoffed in amusement. “If it were you he lost his dignity for, he would do it in an instant and a thousand times over. You’re severely underestimating him.”

You couldn’t deny that you held onto that hope. That maybe someday he’d come knocking on your door, begging for you to stay with him. If he did, you weren’t sure what you’d do—you knew that running back to him was inevitable if ever he appeared in front of you, so you supposed you did know what you’d do.

In the whole ordeal, regretfully, you closed down your stall. The one thing occupying your day. There were a few reasons to this. For one, you wanted to limit any close or face-to-face contact with Jungwon, two, winter was soon to come and the convenience was there, three you didn’t want to see Jungwon up close, and four, Yang Jungwon. So maybe your reasoning was obvious, but excuses or not, it was the best option.

However, you contradicted yourself on many occasions. Perhaps you found yourself trailing him when you saw him, watching from afar as you studied his work ethic, his interactions, and… how he was coping.

Overall, he seemed okay. At work, initially, he wasn’t completely there mentally, though through your viewings, the guys helped him out immensely. You were grateful that he had a circle of people around him to support and advance him through the day.

After a while, you started to feel strange for watching him. And eventually your viewings of him lessened, and you found yourself seeing him every once in a while, a look of longing settling on your features, before diverting your vision and ignoring the feeling.

And then it happened. News spread that a humble, handsome lawyer was soon to be wed with a wealthy, beautiful woman from a prestigious family. You ignored it at first, not much interest in the marriage of two people you were unfamiliar with, until Yujin had tapped your arm and shoved a newspaper in your face.

“Noona! Look!” he pointed at one of the sections on the newspaper. The name Yang Jungwon alongside another woman’s name and the words ‘to be wed’ highlighted gave an inherent shock to your body as soon as you glazed over it.

Your eyes skimmed the paper and the details to his wedding were outlined at the end of the announcement block.

Safe to say, you found yourself entering a new event on your calendar.

—

Apathetic. Apathetic was all Jungwon could use to describe the wedding ceremony splayed before him.

Correction, his wedding ceremony.

The woman he were to be wed to was an arranged marriage that his parents had set up. The two of then hadn’t even gotten to know each other before the ceremony was settled.

So much for having the freedom of choosing.

He sighed heavily, clad in a brown suit, darker than the one he had first met you in. What a joke, he was still thinking about you even on the supposed ‘most important day of his life’. How could he not? He only wished for you to be on the receiving end of this marital contract, to watch you walk down the aisle, to slide the ring on your finger, to kiss you at the end when you complete your ‘I do’s’.

But that dream wasn’t a reality. It never would be.

As he awaited his soon to be wife at the end of the aisle, he bore his eyes into the shut double doors at the end of the church. Then she emerged, a stunning dress complimented her perfect figure. She was definitely beautiful, but she couldn’t live up to you. If this woman was perfect, you were out-worldly.

Jungwon had zoned out when she finally approached. Her father handed her off to him, and he gave a tight smile and a curt nod.

The ceremony was a blur. On his wedding, filled with the people he loved most—amongst other visitors who came just to witness a marriage—the most beloved person he wished to stand before him, was absent in her wake. L/N Y/N, that dream of a woman, should’ve been the one in front of him. A tear fell from his eye, and his soon-to-be wife smiled at him, though her figure practically merged into the background.

How could he convey the loss of a person who wasn’t even dead?

—

EPILOGUE

Paralysed. Paralysed was all you could use to describe how you felt upon witnessing the wedding ceremony splayed before you.

You had arrived in a modest yet secretive disguise, not wanting to be seen, or worse, recognised by Jungwon or presumably any of his friends that were a part of this ceremony.

You watched as she gracefully walked down the aisle, her wedding dress flowing behind her in a manner only reminiscent of an angelic presence.

Time seemed to slow down again as the painstakingly heart wrenching view of your first love interlinking in a binding love contract registered in your brain. And as he gave her a peck after their ‘I do’s’ you couldn’t help the flow of tears that left your eyes.

Many others around you had begun crying too, but for the reason of two people connecting as one, yet this very reasoning was what made you cry in a different sense.

People stood in applause, and you took this opportunity to briskly escape the church, a sob wracking through your body as you slipped out unnoticed.

It was only when you arrived home and looked to the dining table, your world paused briefly. There, sat on top of a few other pieces of mail, was a letter addressed to you. The handwriting looked undeniably like his, but you didn’t get your hopes up. After all, you just watched as he was married off to another woman.

Though, as you ripped open the letter, your presumptions were proven wrong.

Dear My Love, Ms. Baker, The Most Beautiful Girl in the World, Y/N,

It’s odd to think I’m writing you a letter.

I contemplated on so many occasions on whether or not I should come to see you, attempt to mend our relationship in some way. But the time never came.

I’ll give it to you Ms. L/N, you effectively stomped on my heart and walked off, but I don’t hate you. In fact I’m not even surprised that I still love you.

I’m getting married today.

It wasn’t my choice.

If it was, I’d have you in front of me with that beautiful smile of yours. Aren’t I the worst for thinking about you despite my engagement? My marriage?

Y/N. I have so many questions to ask you. But I’ll withhold from mentioning them, I wouldn’t want to burden you further with the looming questions in my mind. Though, I wonder if we can meet once more, perhaps in another life, where things will be different, and I can safely call you mine, hold you in my arms, and never ever let you go.

I read over the book once more—just to feel some connection with you—and I could only laugh at how our story seemed to align with theirs. Would you be Shenqi?

I’ll say this once more, as this’ll be my first and last letter to you. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

I don’t think I could truly love anyone as much as I loved you.

I miss you Y/N, and I hope to see you again, in our next life.

Sincerely, Mr. Crust.

ENDING NOTES: and that’s a wrap for Sincerely Mr Crust! im aware of how fast and rushed the ending was, but ill be honest i just wanted this over and done with LOL. i hope you enjoyed my story, and hopefully there’ll be more to come!! maybe some shorter stories bc obviously writing these stories are not my forte timing wise 😭😭 i hope to see you again next time <3

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

[gorgeys]

jackie taylor x fem!cheerleader!reader

a/n: i can't write anything under 1k words to save my life

you and jackie taylor who distract each other during practice.

jackie who distracts you after you jog from the track toward the sideline during a water break.  you grab your water bottle off the bench and try to chug as much as you can before your coach calls you back.

you only stop when, out of the corner of your eye, you notice the girls' soccer team scrimmaging on the field.  like clockwork, your eyes instantly find jackie taylor.

she's standing in the middle of the field with her hands perched on her hips, waiting for the ball to come back into play.  her hair is pulled back by a yellow scrunchy into a loose ponytail and her shirt is half-tucked into her high-waisted soccer shorts.

while most don't look great with messy hair and sweat dripping off of them, jackie taylor somehow looks more charming and effortless than most people at their best.  in your eyes, she's flawless, and you'd probably be jealous of her if you weren't so attracted to her.

you think of her as a ray of sunshine: bright, warm, and blinding at times, but you just can't look away.  your eyes stick like glue to that gorgeous face of hers, obsessing over every laidback smile she shares with her teammates and the way her eyes narrow in determination as she watches the ball bounce around the field.  she makes your stomach do backflips without even trying.

when she attempts to blow her tousled bangs out of her eyes, it's a small gesture, but your knees almost buckle.  you wonder, does she know how adorable she is?  and does she know what she's doing to you? she must know, you think, when she reaches for the hem of her shirt and lifts it to wipe the sweat off her face, revealing her bare stomach.

at this point, you're staring so intently at her faintly defined abs that you're sure she must feel your gaze.  your lip subconsciously catches between your teeth, as your mind starts to wander to some less innocent places. 

you would give up your right leg to feel her hot skin under your fingers.  you imagine running you hands all over her, across her abs, up her toned thighs, along the soft curves of her shoulders.  maybe she'd even let you trace her jaw and high cheekbones with your fingertips.  just being that close to her would be a dream in itself.

suddenly, she's sprinting up the field, your eyes chasing her as she does.  the ball is passed right to her feet and she fakes left, then takes a big touch inside.  one-on-one with the goalkeeper, she slots the ball into the bottom right corner of the net.  before the ball even goes in, she's raising her hands in celebration and proudly smiling, confident that she's scored.

you only snap out of your trance when your teammates who were also watching the scene begin to cheer and shout for the goal.  while laughing at your teammates' overdramatic celebrations, you join in, raising your hands above your head and clapping for the soccer captain.

after high-fiving her own teammates, jackie looks over to the sideline.  you know she's friends with a lot of the cheer squad--everyone wants to be her friend after all--so it's not unusual for her to make the most out of the moment and give a dramatic bow.

however, it is unusual for jackie, the girl you've talked to maybe two or three times in your life, to meet your eyes through the crowd.  you swear her boastful smile softens into something more bashful when she notices you.

no, it can't be.  you must be seeing things.  jackie taylor can not be staring back at you right now.

you don't realize you've been in a trance until one of your teammates shouts your name.  you stupidly look around you, noticing that everyone has already left the sideline to resume practicing.

"quit staring at your girlfriend!" your teammate shouts, a little too loud for your liking.

you roll your eyes in faux annoyance, but the flustered smile on your face betrays you.

jackie who is distracted by you in the middle of a scrimmage.  she lets her hand rest on her knees, the scorching sun doubling her exhaustion, and wipes the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand.

her eyes wander toward the track, noticing the cheerleading team practicing lifts.  she watches as girls are thrust up into the air one-by-one.  her eyes scour the scene until she finds you, held high in the air by only one foot.  you kick your other leg up, grabbing your foot in a heel stretch.

god, she's flexible, jackie thinks, a small smirk finding her face.  that could definitely be useful.

with nothing more than a sports bra and skin-tight shorts on, there's virtually nothing left up to imagination, and jackie's eyes don't even know where to start.

she had seen you around for years and remembers thinking how pretty you were clutching books to your chest in the hallway or in that little red dress at lottie's party, but her infatuation with you hadn't really started until cheer practice was moved to the same time as soccer practice.

she almost tripped over her own two feet the first time she watched you perform one of your routines.  the fluid, effortless movements of your toned body captivated her from day one and she found herself literally drooling on the soccer field.

once you're brought back down to earth, you jog toward the sideline, your tight ponytail bouncing with each step.  you stop beside your teammate and suddenly you're throwing your head back in laughter at something she said.  that perfect smile of yours makes jackie feel lightheadd, an involuntarily smile creeping onto her face.

so this is what swooning feels like.

as if you wanted to kill her, you grab your gatorade water bottle off the bench and squirt the water on your head to cool off.  her lips fall open as she obsessively watches the water droplets cascade down your forehead, nose, and chin.  her excitement only grows as they trail down the expanse of your neck and finally into the valley of your chest.

it looked right out of a porno but jackie couldn't complain.

when you put your water bottle down, your eyes look toward the field and catch hers.

you're taken aback to find jackie already looking at you, the sound of your pounding heart suddenly the only thing you can hear.  on the contrary, jackie's not one bit surprised.

it's not like she hadn't noticed the glances you'd been giving her for the past few weeks.  while you were a bit oblivious, jackie had caught you staring enough times for her to realize it wasn't an accident.

she puts on that suave smile of hers that makes you weak at the knees, then adds a wave.  you think you could spontaneously combust.

your first instinct is to look around and make sure that she's actually waving at you, but you fight it in fear of looking like a dork.  with your brain turned to mush, your body seems to work on it's own as you lift your hand to give a soft wave back, your lips curling into a smile.  jackie's smile widens when you do.

but she's quickly torn out of her daze when she hears her teammates screaming her name at the top of their lungs.  she stands up straight, her eyes wide as she frantically looks around the field like a lost puppy.  she sees nat gesture behind her, and only then does she realize the ball rolled right through her legs.

she looks up with an "oh shit" face, cueing the yellowjackets to burst into laughter.  jackie doesn't mind, and she even tries to join in, but all she can force out is an awkward chuckle.  she hopes no one caught the source of her distraction.

once everyone has recovered and is back to playing, tai walks by jackie, bumping her shoulder.

"jackie, this is getting pathetic.  for the love of god, go ask for her number!"

jackie stands there frozen, her cheeks burning bright red.

jackie who takes tai's words to heart and finally talks to you before practice.

you're walking toward the bench, your cheer bag slung over your shoulder, when you hear her voice.

"y/n!  wait up!"

you look over and find jackie taylor running toward you.  your lips part and your brain short circuits.

what. the. fuck.

"hey!" she says once she's right in front of you.  she's slightly out of breath from how quickly she bolted over when she saw you, but she makes up for it with a dreamy smile.

"hi, jackie," you say, hand clutching the strap of your bag even tighter.

she's been thinking about this moment for the whole day, meticulously planning out what she was going to say word-for-word.  but when she catches sight of that smile of yours brimming with shy excitement, every single thought leaves her brain.

"i, um," she hesitates, looking down at her fidgeting hands, her voice a little more high-pitched than usual.

your eyebrows knit in confusion.  she had run over with such determination, it was strange that she was now at a loss for words.  you'd never seen jackie truly speechless like this.

she looks back up at you, almost as if she's searching for something.  behind the composed front you've put up, you wonder if jackie can see the longing hidden in your eyes.  if she can see the way you're practically begging for her to make a move on you.

you can tell she's found what she's been looking for when she exhales, her previous monologue completely out the window.

"do you wanna hang out?" she asks so genuinely, almost wincing like she's already preparing for rejection.  "like, after practice maybe?  or-or anytime actually!  whenever you're free, it doesn't have to be today," she starts to ramble.

your eyes widen.  is this real life?

"only if you want to though.  because, i...i want to!  you seem really cool and i, um-"

she shoves her hands into the pockets of her letterman jacket, her smile now more sheepish than confident.

"yes," you blurt, cutting her off.

"yes?" she asks hopefully, her eyes lighting up.

"duh, yes," you say with a soft chuckle.  "do you wanna...get milkshakes after practice? i can drive us."

you know she always gets a ride home from shauna because you've essentially been stalking her for the past few weeks.

"yeah, yeah," she says breathlessly.  she's trying to play it cool but she's failing miserably.  "i, um-yeah, sounds good.  i'll see you...after practice," she says with that lopsided grin of hers.

"cool," you nod.  the muscles of your face are starting to hurt from how hard you're trying to suppress your own stupid smile.  it's a losing battle.  "see you," you say, giving a small, slightly awkward wave before she turns and begins to jog back to the other side of the field.  you swear you see a couple of the yellowjackets celebrating as she nears them.

you shake your head as you resume walking over to your team, finally relaxing your face and allowing yourself to grin like never before.

you and jackie taylor were hanging out today.  could this life get any better?

[lcvclywon]

In another universe

back to masterlist

synopsis ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 You swore the next time you saw Sunghoon you would cuss him out and turn a cold shoulder. But when he suddenly appears at your apartment door one night, drunk and desperate, you find yourself faltering

now playing > •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10 difficult - gracie abrams, anaheim -niki, hope ur okay - olivia rodrigo

warnings ˎˊ˗ cursing, crying, fighting, kissing, mentions of hoon being emotionally unavailable, mentions of breaking up, heavyyyy angst, mentions of alcohol, mentions of being drunk, mentions of children, open ending, use of the word masochist once, pet names

genre ⭑.ᐟ hurt to ??

pairings: non-idol ex!sunghoon x female reader

wc ᵎᵎ 1.28k

thoughts frm yuya 💭 fun fact this was actually based off a convo i had with my ex!!!!!! 😁😁😁 so! hit kinda close to home guys! anyways angst is actually so fun to write i won't even lie...

You had just finished taking a shower when you heard a few gentle and quiet knocks coming from your door, barely audible but loud enough for you to hear them. Hand still intertwined in your wet hair in an attempt to dry it, you peered out the peephole to check who was disturbing you at this hour. 

Fuck. 

Out of all the people you didn’t want to see, Park Sunghoon was at the top of that list. Yet there he stood, eyes heavy and lidded, hair a mess, and gaze averted on the floor, yet you could tell his eyes were plagued with desperation. And even though you so badly wanted to ignore him standing out there hopelessly, a small part of you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you had done that. 

Keeping the door ajar you squeezed your head between the gap, his eyes immediately darted to your own. Fuck, you shouldn’t have done this. You knew you shouldn’t have done this because the moment his eyes met yours you felt the all-so-familiar sense of longing overcoming your soul, the sense of longing you’d been trying to fight off for 6 months; all for it to come crashing down on you again. Well, there goes half a year's worth of healing. 

“Sunghoon? What are you doing here?” 

“YN, I uh- I didn’t think you’d open up…” shit. His breath reeked of alcohol, of course, the only time he’d come to see you would be when he was drunk. 

“Are you drunk Sunghoon?” your words lingered with bitterness as they left your tongue 

“Just- just a bit…can I come in?” his eyes were still pleading, and that accompanied by the shaking of his voice would’ve been enough to break you. But you refused to let him do that again. 

“Sunghoon you’re drunk you really should just go home-” your hands fumbled at the doorknob as you tried to gently shut the door, but Sunghoon was quicker than you it seemed. 

“Please,” his hand reaching towards your own, “I’ll be good.” fuck. 

You hated how easily you faltered under his words, his gaze, his touch. You hated it so badly, yet you allowed yourself to do so every. single. time.

Begrudgingly you opened the door fully to let him drunkenly stumble in, collapsing at the end of your bed. A scene all too familiar that haunted you in your sleep. You swore you would never let Sunghoon back into your life, that the next time you saw him you would spit insults in his face and stand your ground, yet with one touch of the wrist the defences you raised for yourself seemed to be built upon sand. 

Seating yourself at the edge of your bed you allowed yourself to gingerly run your fingers through his hair, you missed this. However, that was all the more reason why you shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be allowing yourself to hurt again, just at the expense of a few fleeting moments of serenity. 

“Why are you here drunk Sunghoon?” 

“I,” he propped himself up, allowing him to stare into your glossy eyes, “I don’t really know. I got kinda drunk and- fuck I couldn’t stop thinking about you love.”

Love, fuck you hated how naturally it rolled off his tongue. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Sorry…” he mumbled hazily, “Don’t you miss it though?”

You did. “No.”

“Well I do, I miss you YN. I miss all of this, your hugs, your voice, your touch, your anger. Fuck, I miss being scolded by you after drinking actually, it’s weird right, maybe I’m a masochist.” he said with a small grin

“Hoonie come on-” Hoonie, you didn’t even mean to say it yet the words seemed to come out of you like it was an instinct. 

“I missed that too,” he cut in as his hand slowly drew circles around your knuckles, “Shit YN I missed you so much” his eyes slowly started to well up with tears, a few threatening to drip down. You hated how your heart still held a soft spot for him, but you hated seeing him cry even more. 

“Hoon don’t cry.” your hands reached over to cup his face, fuck if this was all so wrong why did it feel so right. Like your hand belonged there. 

“YN- fuck,” now he really was crying “I really do love you.”

Do, present tense. “Just because you loved me doesn’t mean I felt loved by you” 

The memories you tried so hard to repress suddenly flooded all back to you, the arguments, the sleepless nights, the cold glares. The reason you broke up in the first place. You tried your hardest to forget that night, the shouts between you two that filled up your apartment, the way his words pierced through your heart like a spear, the way he walked out so easily. All to just walk back into your heart like he owned the place. Fuck he did own your heart though, he never stopped owning it. 

“I’m sorry YN. I’m so so sorry, I should’ve been better. I can be better. Please, I’ll love you the way you’re meant to be loved. I won’t shut you out anymore, fuck I never should’ve. I just- please, I can’t keep living without you. I haven’t been living without you-” he was practically sobbing now. “Please YN, I mean it.”

You wiped away the tears running down his cheeks, seeming to not notice how your eyes were stinging with tears as well. “Hoonie I miss you too but, we can’t keep hurting each other like this. We aren’t good for each other” 

“We were good YN. It was so so good, I just fucked it up. Please give me a chance, I can be better.” 

Your brain told you to block out his words; and deny everything that was coming out of his mouth, but your heart seemed to overpower those commands. “It wasn’t just you Hoonie, I could’ve been better too-” 

“No you were perfect.” he blurted out cutting you off, “I never stopped loving you. Can’t we just, start over?” desperation was an understatement to describe him, god he was a pleading mess. 

You could practically hear your own heart-shattering. “I never stopped loving you either Hoonie. But you’re drunk right now, let’s just talk about this in the morning ‘kay?” 

“Okay but, can I please sleep here?” 

No, he shouldn’t. “Sure hoon”

Sunghoon made his way to the top of your bed, arm reaching out signalling you to come over. A signal you regretfully accepted. You nested yourself between his arms, breathing in his cologne while his chin rested on the top of your head. You hated this, fuck you hated how natural this felt. You hated how easily you could melt into his touch, his words, his scent. You hated how badly you loved it. 

“I love you, my YN” his breath slightly hitched before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

You tried ignoring the lump in your throat but it was no use, the next words that came out of your mouth were swallowed with sniffles and quiet sobs “I love you too hoonie”

Maybe in another universe, you two could’ve talked everything out. Maybe you two could have reconciled and lived happily together again. Maybe the 4 years of dating didn’t disappear in one night. Maybe you two could’ve gotten married like he said. Maybe you lived in a nice 2-bedroom house in the countryside, dogs running around the yard whilst you both basked in the sunlight. Maybe you would have actually had the child you fantasised about. 

Maybe, just maybe, Sunghoon would’ve been there when you woke up the next morning.

perm taglist! (send an ask to be added) @floweryang @cupidhoons @msauthor

[evangelifloss]

write it for mi pls😔

Omg HI HELLO @kavalyera thank u for enabling me!!

In many John Wick circles and discussions, this scene is referenced either for its sincere intensity or for insane people like me, who simp over John Wick watching the light in a man's eyes fade away. However I haven't heard or seen anyone really analyse what this scene means in the context of the wider narrative, and John's 'Fall from Grace' (where he is pulled back into the world of assassins) or WHY this moment is so iconic for fans of the franchise.

To do that, let's refresh on has happened thus to our titular character, John Wick.

●He managed to escape the Assassin World against all odds to live a normal life with his Wife, Helen

●Helen Wick dies 5 years later, leaving him a puppy as a final gift. This is the starting point of the movie

●The puppy is murdered by Iosef Tarasov, his favorite car stolen, and his house smashed up

●He has managed to track Iosef down to the Red Circle Nightclub where there are many guards/assassins trying to keep Iosef safe.

In essence, John Wick hasn't worked as an assassin for 5 or so years and he's had a taste of civilian life but more importantly by staying OUT of the assassin business, no-one has come calling. Winston even warns him prior to his departure to the Red Circle about how risky it is to be hunting Iosef:

"You dip so much as a pinky back into this pond... you may well find something reaches out and drags you back into its depths"

The movie by this point has established two things;

1. John's need for revenge both as a genuine desire to kill Iosef and to cope with the grief over Helen's death

2. Exacting this revenge may very well (and later does) force him back into the assassin life he fought hard to escape from, making his efforts and sacrifices to get there for nothing.

Up until this point in the movie, you can argue that all the killings John Wick commits for his end goal were in self-defense (the kill squad sent to his house) or part of said end goal (Iosef's buddies in the washroom) but that is lost the second he is inside The Red Circle.

Here you are greeted with two quick kills of security guards that are only tied to Iosef via proxy of his father, which then leads into the scene I'm talking about. The third security guard, just like the other two, has nothing to do with John Wick. They did not break into his house, kill his dog and steal his car. Their only crime was that they went to their job that day and were obstacles placed in John Wick's warpath.

John Wick knows this.

It is in this moment, that the 'old' life he left behind looks at him through the eyes of the dying man and John can do nothing but stare back. One could argue that in this moment rather than John being unable to look away, he instead chooses not to. He HAS to watch this nameless man die for he knows that he will be one of many to come. John Wick does not shy from the gruesome truth before his eyes and faces it head on. He watches the light fade, and his past self revive in the same moment. A man's death gives life back to the Assassin 'Baba Yaga', a life that John the Man had chosen to kill in order to live as a husband to Helen. That is, until Helen dies.

This is one of if not the only scene where John is intimate with his kill. Even the framing, the lasting seconds given, allow the moment to breathe. It is a shot that does not occur again because doesn't need to. This single moment encapsulates John's full commitment to Assassin and everyone else (excluding assassins or characters he has history with) is as nameless as this man when it comes to fulfilling his goals.

At the same time, the physical sensations that come with fighting, overpowering and killing someone must be coursing through his veins. Even if he, at this point in time, still believes he can return to the quiet civilian life he built (despite the audience being aware that such a thing will not come to pass) his body does not recognise such a future belief and muscle memory is not to be underestimated. In this moment, his body HAS to be in the heightened state that comes with being an assassin. So he pauses. He takes a moment. To watch a man die. To feel his own body coursing with adrenaline and memory of all those years spent killing. He looks into the eyes of death and it asks

"Did you miss me?"

[neuroticbookworm]

Love in the Big City Part 2: Go Yeong and Umma

I was chased around, threatened, bullied and emotionally manipulated for months to write this piece, so @lurkingshan, this one's for you. *please release my family*

When I was reading the book, in Part 1, I remember being frustrated with Young as a narrator because of how standoffish he seemed with his descriptions of the people in his life (except Jaehee – Mi Ae in the show). I wanted to understand the emotional distance I felt in his words. And I got my answer in Part 2, where the relationship with his Umma was laid bare for us to see. The structure of this section was so smart, for it established the roots of his behavior in his childhood with Umma, and linked it to how it shaped the relationship he currently had with Hyung. Seeing it come to life on screen in the episodes this week was a treat to watch.

It becomes evident that Go Yeong’s relationship with his Umma is complicated as soon as we see them interact on screen. She is steadfastly religious, someone who believes that miracles can cure things that humans sometimes deem incurable, like cancer. We could easily infer from what we’ve seen of Go Yeong so far that she would not approve of his life.

Before I get into how her opinions and actions affect and influence Go Yeong, I wanna fully break down some of the objective facts we know about her:

She divorced her husband after he stepped out of their marriage and didn’t even have the courage to tell her about his infidelity

She is a single mother

She is an entrepreneur (in fact, we see her working from her bed in the hospital in multiple scenes)

She is religious and believes in the power of God

She is proud of her son

She loves her son

The last two points come with the biggest asterisks, because if she loves and feels pride for her son, how could she make him feel so alone? And now I shall try to explore this woman’s psyche to the best of my abilities, with a little bit of help from my personal experiences and therapy sessions I’ve paid money for over the years.

When we try to picture a homophobic parent, the image that our brain usually conjures up is often one-dimensional. (Note: This is NOT AN EXCUSE. I’m not trying to justify her actions. I am simply trying to understand why she did the things she did, by placing the context of the events of her life around them.) It is easier to process our emotions re: bad parents who hurt their children when we view their actions as simple. “They could’ve chosen not to do it and yet they did, so I hate them” is the conclusion that is the easiest to arrive at. That doesn’t make it untrue, but oftentimes, it is not the whole truth. Life is rarely, if ever, that simple, and our parents can truly love us while also rejecting fundamental parts of who we are, and never reconcile the two.

We see in the show the circumstances under which Yeom Eun Suk (Umma) finds out about her husband’s affair. She and little Go Yeong observe him from the sidelines, hidden, and see him smile like he had never done in all the time he had spent with them. We see Eun Suk feeling crushed by the implication that whatever love and happiness she thought she had had in her life with her husband was all potentially a farce. The fact that she chose to separate from him implies a couple of things: 1. She had strength and resourcefulness to provide for her son as a single mother in a restrictive patriarchal society like South Korea, and 2. She understood that staying in the unhappy marriage would only make her bitter and would affect her son more negatively than him growing up with a single parent.

She was brave enough to make those choices, and yet was still bound by her sense of propriety molded by society, and her faith. I’ve had a dynamic relationship with faith throughout my life, but I understood pretty quickly that questioning one’s faith is a particularly painful experience. Faith is supposed to be the solace one could turn to during trying times. When one is forced by circumstance to question their faith, it leaves them unmoored on the inside and further isolated on the outside. Eun Suk was already isolated to a certain degree by her divorce and her single motherhood. From what we learned in the book, there’s a history of cancer diagnoses in her family, so I would posit that she had been in Go Yeong’s shoes before, caring for her terminally ill parents in the past. Which is additional trauma from caregiving in her young adulthood that would’ve shaped her life. So I understand Eun Suk not questioning her faith when it was shaken.

She rebuilt her life and community by pursuing her faith—attending church, making friends who shared those values, and idolizing the Christian heteronormative lifestyle even after it failed her. She followed the rules dictated by her faith and community with utmost devotion, including building an entire business around heteronormative romance, in part because she had already transgressed by breaking up her own family and needed to prove she was not bucking that ideal or rejecting the church’s teachings with her choices. We see her take care of her appearance over and over when she is in the hospital after her first diagnosis and surgery, and it is yet another sign of her conformity and dedication to presenting a certain picture of her life. I understand why she would see her teenage son kissing a boy as a blemish on “a life deemed beautiful by God” and panic. I understand why she would think a psychiatric facility would help her son, and that it was her duty to try. (Note: once again, I am not justifying her actions, I am trying to understand them. Conversion therapy is deplorable and my heart goes out to everyone who has been subjected to it, including Go Yeong.) Eun Suk’s faith saved her by giving her purpose and community after her husband’s betrayal, but it also told her that her son, in his queerness, is fundamentally flawed. And like most people in this world, she chose not to rethink her entire life, and instead chose to believe that it is her duty to save her son from homosexuality and guide him to righteousness via the same path that saved her own life, ultimately traumatizing him. Hello, intergenerational trauma, my old friend!

@lurkingshan has already discussed the kdrama-fication of Part 2, with the increased intensity of Go Yeong’s romance with Hyung/Yeong Su. Expanding on that, I think the show’s depiction of Go Yeong’s relationship with his Umma rounded out the sharp edges of Young’s cynical tone from the book. We see her enjoy spending time with him. We see her joke around with him. We see her read her child with uncanny precision that mothers seem to have when she asked him “Why are you sulking like a child?”, when he was, in fact, sulking like a child. We see her observe and deduce that her son is probably seeing someone, and that someone is likely a man. Which then leads to her asking “Must I meet them?” when Go Yeong suggests a meeting with Yeong Su in the park. She runs from direct confrontation of her son’s sexuality, and yet diligently copies Bible verses, hoping for a miracle.

Eun Suk sees her son’s queerness as her own failure, and Go Yeong, in turn, sees his righteous anger towards his Umma, as his. She is so proud of him that she saves newspaper clippings of his achievements, but she is also ashamed that she couldn’t “save” him. She loves him within the confines of her faith. It’s not enough for Go Yeong, but it’s the best she can do; their relationship remains at an impossible impasse.

Yeong Su’s presence in this section is interesting because in addition to his primary role of serving as the broody, tortured creative who swept Go Yeong up in a whirlwind romance, he also serves as a parallel to Umma’s traits. When Yeong Su exclaims that “someone like [Go Yeong] couldn’t even imagine [his struggles]”, it rang eerily close to Umma telling her son “Don’t try too hard. Everyone must go sometimes”. The expression of disdain is the same, but in Yeong Su it reads hollow, as a pretentious assumption, while with Umma it registers as tired disappointment that Go Yeong would’ve surely felt as heavy as a boulder.

After finishing the book, I found myself going back to a particular paragraph:

...[I] was old enough to know that my mother did not exist solely to hinder my existence but was a person in her own right who had fought hard making her way through life. She just happened to be unlucky. In other words, the fact that our relationship had been so terrible was as natural as cancer or fungus or the rotation of our planet or sunspots. I knew this, but the feeling that she was the source of all my problems kept nagging at me. I kicked myself for thinking this about a dying person, someone who was only skin and bones at this point, but the thought refused to leave my mind.

It took me a long time to reach the acceptance Sang Young Park has put in words here. The fact that my trauma is an unfortunate byproduct of the life my parents had lived, and was not premeditated or fuelled by hate, was a hard and unfair pill to swallow. I want to grab Go Yeong and tell him that it is okay if he can’t ever forgive his Umma. Time will wash over his hurt and let him love her, even without the apology he deserves from his Umma. And I hope that, one day, he can learn to love the people in his life differently than the love he received from his mother.

[ahotknife]

declan clearly knows but keeps his thoughts on specifically ONLY this topic to himself for some reason (another thing i’ll have to digress about because Come On…) — would love to hear you digress about it bc I also see it. When I did my huge TRC/TD3 reread this year, that part in the dream thieves where Ronan throws his leg over Adam’s in the car and Declan has that facial reaction actually made me stop and think. When I had first read it centuries ago, I had always figured it had to do with the dreaming and that opinion was enforced by Declan’s POV in his CDTH chapters. However, the CDTH chapters also gave me new perspective about how it’s possible Declan could always Tell that it would be Adam for Ronan. In a way they are introduced as a unit (Declan and Adam being on the phone at the beginning of TRB vs when Gansey needs a battery and Ronan doesn’t want ANYWHERE near that conversation plus the goldmine of Adam’s first pov in TRB at Monmouth). Wrt dream thieves, despite their differences at this time in the series, siblings know siblings and I feel like he definitely was able to tell that Ronan had something more than platonic feelings for Adam. Maybe before Ronan even knew himself. He’s super distrusting of Adam from the beginning till CDTH (given we ignore the events of MI and GW). Even when it’s mentioned that Adam is every bit in love with Ronan as Ronan is with him and Declan can SEE it with his own eyes. This could also be talked about with Kavinsky but my hands will fall off if I type any more rn.

I don’t even know if this makes any sense bc i’ve been driving for like 5 hours straight today and I’m about to pass the fuck out but I just love hearing peoples opinions on this. Also at one point my phone tried to correct Dec to Sex so i think that’s a sign to write that Decladam no love you were teasing.

obsessed with your brain ty for asking. this is probably just going to be me pontificating about declan and adam but we’ll get there eventually

re: the scene with ronan’s leg in the car, i think declan’s reaction somewhat actually kind of IS because of the dreaming… declan mentions in CDTH that he considers adam a liability, he doesn’t like that adam knows family secrets/business, he knows adam lords so much power over his brother that he could either manipulate or destroy him (we know adam won’t, but declan’s brain is broken and he assumes everyone will leave in a spectacular, devastating manner). declan was, essentially, very badly treated by niall (argue with the wall, nothing declan experienced as a child was normal or correct) and is so genuinely terrified of anyone knowing what ronan is or what ronan can do that he would rather lock ronan up rapunzel style than encourage ronan to form bonds or build trust or share secrets with any other living person outside of the lynch family web/sphere. i think he also really dislikes adam for other more simple, real-world reasons: he thinks adam is trailer trash, he thinks ronan should/could do better, he recognizes that adam is keeping big secrets of his own and just doesn’t care to clean up his mess after he breaks ronan’s heart.

adam and declan are extremely similar, purposefully, in a way that is impossible to ignore. in the way that jordan and ronan are paralleled, adam and declan are constantly drawn in comparison to each other. self recognition through the other, and you hate what you see. adam also understands declan, even though he strongly dislikes him and this sometimes taints his judgement/perception; he wants to be declan, he wants to eat declan, he wants to wear declan’s skin and fuck declan’s girlfriend and possess whatever money/power/influence/confidence that declan has. in TD3 we see declan turning to adam for advice, because adam has become an expert in a field declan cannot master: ronan. adam also understands and enjoys something declan has never bothered to indulge himself with: magic. adam fills the dominant role in his relationship with ronan, and he does the same for declan, sometimes, too: in TRC he is shown running point between ronan and declan and enforcing ronan’s boundaries for him because declan refuses to recognize ronan’s limits; in TD3 adam is often the bearer of bad news and the voice of reason, much to declan’s chagrin. adam’s also a foil for mor, but that’s got nothing to do with the fact i think declan’s a little homophobic and a little bitchy and a little classist.

i think declan keeps his mouth shut about ronan’s sexuality for a few reasons. 1 being that it didn’t serve his character for maggie to make him outright hateful, but she did give us little glimpses into his distaste for it. 2 being that he’s got so many other things to hate ronan for or to argue with ronan about it would be fruitless to be like “and you’re gay now, too?” 3 since ronan was born (made? manifested?), declan has been trying to keep him alive. in TRC he needs ronan to listen to him, because he’s trying to keep ronan safe, and if he starts picking on ronan for things other than being an alcoholic suicidal failure then he might as well just start sizing coffins: ronan COULD show up to class, ronan COULD behave better, ronan COULD follow the law, ronan can NOT stop himself from being gay, and he can NOT stop himself from dreaming. i THINK (and i may be wrong) declan only really tags on ronan for things ronan could change, or things that would put him in danger. that said, i think it’s kind of unrealistic that he doesn’t pick on ronan for this, and he might “offscreen”: a third party observes that declan looks displeased by ronan’s physical proximity to a boy he knows he likes; but i think declan also interprets any sort of intimacy or closeness as a type of danger or threat. his brain is a bag of cats. by wanting someone, by trusting someone, ronan puts himself in danger. declan thinks of women as disposable (he does, he sucks, sorry about it) because the woman who raised him was a facsimile of a person, designed to obey, and she was unable to nurture or fulfill declan emotionally. my theory is that if ronan had a woman, declan assumes ronan would treat her the way declan treats his women: like an accessory. ronan, though, is a different animal, and i think during the series we see declan come to terms with this, even if he really dislikes it at first and thinks ronan is stupid for letting adam in when adam clearly has his own thing going on.

i also think ronan and declan do genuinely dislike each other. throughout TRC they genuinely hate each other and do not get along at all. they love each other, but that is not enough, most of the time. declan would hate anything ronan did. ronan makes fun of declan for his sexuality, because he finds it overt and distasteful. we aren’t explicitly shown in canon that this is a two way street, but listen… it’s definitely an argument they had. it just wasn’t shown because it didn’t serve the larger narrative, which is fine. there ain’t no way declan’s not a tiny reaganite, there ain’t no way he doesn’t have his thoughts and opinions. these are rich white boys from virginia in the early 2010s, for christ sake. but it’s also sort of a case of “oh i don’t hate my brother because he’s gay, i hate my brother for a dozen other reasons. he just also happens to be gay” <- guy who would definitely prefer it if his brother would just find a nice girl to settle down with and subsequently ignore just like their daddy did to their pseudomommy

i don’t even know if this answered your question. i just started thinking about declan and then i blacked out. did we learn something? did we solve the riddle? who knows. i have to stop because this is insanely long. the decladam fic is at 3k btw so we’ll see if i ever finish it

[doyou000me]

Love In The Big City series adaptation: Episodes 1 & 2

Many thanks, as always, to @lurkingshan and @bengiyo for keeping the book club and the discussions going!!!

Ok, so I love the adaptation, and if you’ve seen any of my other litbc posts this past week, this isn’t news to you. I have raved about Nam Yoon Su’s portrayal of Go Young, and plenty of you have agreed with me that he’s doing a fantastic job. Long story short: the first two episodes far exceeded my expectations and I am deeply impressed with what they’ve done in pretty much every aspect of the adaptation. 

Apart from all the gushing, the end of episode two also left me feeling a bit heavy. Several posts have already been made about how lonely Go Young is, and I can only agree. Part of the reason why it’s taken me a full week to write this is because my thoughts and feelings (and notes) have been all over the place, but an attempt shall be made at shaping this mess of impressions into a reflection on how the adaptation differs from the source material, with inspiration from Bengiyo’s discussion questions. Primarily, I’ll be focusing on how the portrayal of Go Young and Mi Ae’s relationship differs from that of Young and Jaehee in the book. 

When I first read the Part I of the book back in February, I wrote about Young and Jaehee’s QPR (queer platonic relationship). I wrote about how, in the eyes of society, a QPR is seldom acknowledged as a “valid” relationship and is, therefore, often pushed aside in favour of romantic and sexual relationships—and I wrote about how, in spite of (or perhaps because of it), Jaehee leaving Young read to me as a break up. 

Now, in the series, we have Go Young and Mi Ae, and I think the intimacy and mutual support of their relationship is beautiful on the screen. I love the scenes with the two of them in the apartment, doing skincare and chatting about boys and bickering. I love how comfortable they are with each other. I love how true and honest and open they are with each other. I love how they stand up for each other, how they are sisters in arms, loyal and fierce. 

They might be broke britches, but they are loyal bitches. 

It is precisely because their relationship is so beautifully portrayed that I love how devastating it is when Go Young glances at Mi Ae’s turned back, when he stands on the other end of the stage alone, and when he tries to hold back the tears through the lyrics of a love song. I love how clearly it shows that yes, they had a relationship and yes, Mi Ae left Go Young and yes, she chose a heteronormative relationship over the beautiful one that they already had. 

While a lot of scenes mirror the book very closely, some changes have been made (as many have already noted). To me, the effect of these changes is that the story of Go Young and Mi Ae feels far less isolated and more tied in with the rest of Go Young’s life. In Part I of the book, Young and Jaehee are the only two characters we truly get to know; K3 (Nam Gyu) and Jaehee’s Oppa (Jun Ho) are never named and mainly represented in sparse sentences, while the T-ara’s (Go Young’s friend group of club gays) don’t turn up until later in the book. While it is clear in the series that Mi Ae is the only one Go Young is truly close to, the vacuum that existed around him and Jaehee in the book has now been filled with side characters. 

Another noticeable difference is how events are presented in the book versus the series. In the series, all events are (so far) presented in a chronological order. In the book, we jump back and forth in time and the very first scene is a part of Jaehee’s wedding. We know, therefore, that Jaehee is going to get married before we know who Jaehee truly is to Young. In contrast, this is presented to the viewers of the series as a reveal when Mi Ae tells Go Young of the marriage over the phone. 

Conversely, I think the scene where Mi Ae outs Go Young to her husband-to-be loses some of its weight compared to the book. In the series, the reveal is dropped and never fully explained as a part of a short argument in the car (that ends in Mi Ae outing Young). In the source material, on the other hand, we have been introduced to the lies that Young and Jaehee tell the world around them well in advance of that argument. We’ve been told that society wouldn’t look kindly at an unmarried man and woman living together, and that the two have therefore created alter egos: Jaehee as Young’s fake male roommate “Jaeho”, and Young as Jaehee’s female roommate “Jieun”. We get shown how the two use the lie and benefit from it, so when Jaehee chooses to reveal the truth to her boyfriend in the book, it is all the more clear that she is tearing down something that she and Young have built together. 

One last difference between the book and the series that I can’t help but mention is the description of Young’s military service. While left out in the series, it is an important part in how Young and Jaehee’s relationship is forged. I understand how portraying that on the screen would likely have been cumbersome and that it was best left out for the sake of the story and pacing, but still wish we could have had a sprinkle of it. 

To finish off, I find some of the differences between Part I of the book and the first two episodes of the series to be interesting, especially in how they can change the viewer’s impression of certain events and the relationship between /youngGo Young and Jaehee/Mi Ae, but the differences are just that: different. So far, I wouldn’t say the series is either better or worse than the book; it is simply a different way to tell the same story, and I think they do so masterfully while keeping the soul of the story intact. 

[pxgeturner]

Miguel O'Hara is a world-renowned professional boxer, and Hobie's other best friend. One night he finally makes the two worlds collide and sparks immediately fly between the two of you. But will he distract you from meeting your publisher's deadline? And will you distract him from getting World Champ?

before you follow. m.list. Iron Fist gfx library. series m.list. tag list.

Prologue. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. Epilogue.

wc. 1.5k

an. hi. its me! Giselle, or gi, or gigi to few (not to be confused w gg, that is one of my moots. she makes really cool art.) n e ways here is the awaited Prologue for Iron Fist. Oh goodness I'm so nervous. I just want to make a few things clear. the reader is an author (obvs). She's recently graduated uni and is Latina! I write with a woc!r in mind always. I try to be as inclusive as possible, pero porque soy Mexicana, r might lean towards being more Mexican but I'll try to keep her Spanish standard and not be too specific to my family's culture. much love! hope you enjoy <3

please don't forget to reblog! likes do nothing to boost engagement.

Your foot taps against the floor. The damn blank document stares back at you. Mocking you is what it’s really doing. Fuck you, you think, I achieved my goal. I published a book and it is a damn bestseller! Only problem is that the readers want more. It’s been… some time since your first book. And sure, Jess said you can take a break before starting a new project. But you also know that it’s good to ride on existing publicity. At least be able to make an announcement that you’re writing something while all this excitement lasts. Maybe you should write something about vampires. You love vampires and how they fit into romance and how them drinking blood is a euphemism just a bit away from, the whole cannibalism-equals-all-consuming-love trope and how when a vampire attacks it’s often an allegory for rape and— but you have nothing to add to the conversation. You have nothing new to say, no new perspective or hot take, or twist. You have nothing. No ideas.

Not a single word on the page.

You have an idea, leaning forward to peck the keyboard. “F-u-c-k. T-h-i-s!” You highlight the text and italicize it.

Fuck this. At least it’s words on the page.

You reach for your cup and take a sip. “If all else fails I can ride on the rest of the signing bonus and royalties for a bit since the book is doing good, and once that dries up, I can apply to be circulation assistant at a library or something.” You sigh and take another sip. “But nobody has to know for now.” You get up, searching for your phone. You find it resting on the arm of the couch, you grab it, sliding onto the cushions, resting your head where your phone just was. “God, don’t make me a one hit wonder, I wanna be a star. I wanna be the one to push that bitch Colleen Hoover into obsoletion. Please God. Please.”

You open your phone and look for your mother on speed dial.

“Hola, nena!” Your mama’s voice is happy, she must be having a good day. You move into the kitchen. You need a snack.

“Hey, mama, how are you?” You hold the cell with your shoulder as you look through your pantry.

“Good, good,” you find a pack of roasted seaweed snacks and grab it.

“I went on a date anoche.” Your shoulder drops and the pack of seaweed slips out of your grasp.

Mi mami fue a una cita. Con un man! You stand there, trying to process that she is actually back on the dating scene.

“How did it—” you aren’t holding your phone anymore. You use the wall as support to lower yourself to pick up your phone and snack.

“—ay, mami, lo siento, mi cellular se cayo de mi mano.”

“Todo bien, hija! I’m glad you’re ok.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok, I’m ok. Anyways— how was the date? What’s he like? Am I going to have a stepfather soon?” you joke.

“My time for marriage is gone, muñeca, I’m just looking for companionship, pero, tu lo sabes.” You hear some subtle clinking in the background of the call, she must be stirring her coffee. You open your snack and park yourself on the couch. “Are you writing?” Ugh. Not you, too.

“I was, just finished for a bit before I called you.”

“You called me to procrastinate.” You choke on your seaweed from the accusation.

You clear your throat, “I called to check in with you. I call you practically every day.”

“But right now you called me to check up on me as an excuse to not write. Nena, I know you.”

“Okay, fine. I might be having some writer’s block,” you admit, sighing.

“And that’s okay, nena, but then you need to get out, get some inspiration. Allow the world to give you a story.” There’s mama, with her easier-said-than-done advice. But, maybe you should get out of the house.

“Alright, I’ll go out soon.”

“Tonight,”

“—I will go out to the Chinese place across the street and nothing more. I’ll talk with Hobie when he gets back to see if he has any ideas.” You hear your mama make a noise in her throat.

“You still live with that boy?” Here it comes. You’ve lived with Hobie Brown for three years and have known him for five. She’s always been apprehensive of him, since he’s radical and looks like he’s been in jail, with all the metal in his face, and why does his hair look like that? But Hobie is the one who’s kept you sane all these years. He’s held you while you cried and pushed out of your comfort zone when you were getting too stuck into your routines, most likely by dragging you to a concert or a protest. You help him thrift and flip clothes and ever since that one time his stylist had an emergency and canceled, you now help him tighten his wicks every so often. On days like that the two of you stay in, watching nostalgic movies and listening to any demos he’s recorded recently. He’s like a brother to you at this point.

“Yes, mama, I still live with Hobie. Nothing’s changed.” You move the phone down to your chest and take a deep breath.

“I didn’t like him when I first met him,” you clench your jaw as she continues— “…and although he’s one of those kids, I can tell he is a good boy. I’m glad he takes care of you.” You relax. “But it wouldn’t hurt to have someone you could kiss.” “It would be nice, but right now it’s not happening.” “Alright, muñeca. I’ll leave you alone for now, but keep your eyes open for a nice man.”

“I will, con cuidado, mami, besitos.” You make a kissing noise into the phone, and she responds with a goodbye of her own, and you wait for her to hang up the call.

You sigh, and look at the coffee table. Hobie left his song book at home, weird. It’s open to the song he was working on the other day. It’s a slower song, you can still hear the melody. You drum your fingers to the tune. He’s on an unfinished verse. You pick up a pen from the little catch-all dish and scribble down a line or two.

…

Hobie weaves through the roar of chattering, anticipating fans and into the tunnel, and walks past employees and into Miguel's prep room to see him tying his shoes. “Hey,” Miguel looks up. “Hey.”

“Are you excited?” He moves to sit by the boxer, shimmying up against his shoulder.

“Haven’t really been excited for one of these in a while.” Miguel breathes.

“Well, one step closer to retirement!” Hobie bounces out of his seat. He turns to face his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re gonna do great, you big fuckin’ bear of a man.” He ruffle’s Miguel’s hair.

Miguel gives a half-ass hum in response.

“Well then, I’ll be out there, mate, cheerin’ you on.” He puts his hands in his vest pockets and walks out the room.

As he reaches the empty doorframe, Miguel speaks up. “Thank you, Hobie.”

“Anything for you, mate.” Hobie nods and goes to join the audience. Miguel fastens his gloves and puts on his robe. He warms up waiting for his coach.

“Ready, O’Hara?”

Miguel turns around. “Always ready for a fight.” He clenches his jaw. Walking down that hallway, the festive colors lighting up his path and the music blaring, he does his little bit, the movements molded into muscle memory.

This is it. This is his last year fighting. If he gets world champ again, he’s free.

Soon, he gets to fight his last fight. And dammit, the world championship will be his last match. Then, he’s never gonna have to come back.

He weaves under the ropes, entering the ring. Sitting on the stool, he shrugs off the robe and lets Carlos put the mouthguard in.

“You are going to show this guy exactly why people call you el oso!” Miguel beats his gloves together and nods. He might not like his job right now, but he really wants to hit something and goddammit if his opponent doesn’t look so beatable right now.

Coach Carlos steps out of the way, and Miguel stands to walk to the ref as he calls for him to center.

“We went over the rules in the dressing room.” Right before Hobie got here. “I want to remind you to protect yourself at all times, and obey my commands.” Ring the damn bell already. “God bless you both,” I don’t need it but this kid might. “Touch up,” here we go. He touches gloves with his newbie opponent and each goes back to their respective corners.

Miguel takes an orthodox stance.

The bell rings.

Miguel lands the first punch. He also lands the last.

[moviestarmartini]

dumbass. — brahim diaz x reader

summary: brahim is a huge dumbass who refuses to admit how in love he is.

wc: 1.0k

warnings: basic sentences in spanish/light spanish, brief nsfw scene (18+), suggested unprotected sex (!!! DON’T PLEASE), brahim is a lil dense but we love him anyway, fede, jude and arda giving him shit because of that, happy ending and domestic bliss because i love !! people !! in !! love !!!!

A/N: lol this was supposed to be a really short blurb as i get back to writing + requests but my boy deserves a full thingy !! and the theme song for this one shot has me OBSESSED for the past week. enjoy mis amores xx

now playing . . . enamorado tuyo by el cuarteto de nos

Brahim was in deep shit.

It was obvious to everyone but him the type of relationship he withheld with you. One that didn’t know any actual labels or agreements, but still had you living at his place full-time ever since he moved back to Madrid leading to your reconnection.

He’d fallen right in again in a matter of days; you still had the bright eyes he’d known for years, the same ability to tease him about the inch he spared from your height, the way you melted as he placed his hand on the crown of your head and brushed the hair flat as if he was almost petting you.

“No jodas. She’s not your girlfriend?” Fede joined in the conversation between him and Jude. “No, no. You’re kidding.”

Brahim’s frown only deepened. Why was everyone surprised by that statement? Jude had been giving him shit for the last hour, Arda gave him the most disappointing side eye he’d ever seen from anyone ever two days ago. He even refused to let him elaborate further.

“That’s why I’m saying! If you could only see the way she looks at you—“ Jude stopped himself, hands up to the sides of his head in frustration, taking a second to gain back his composure. “She looks at you as if you’re the only person on this earth ever. Like you created the length and depth of the sea or something fabulous like… warm water.”

“Now you’re the one joking.” Brahim yawned, shaking his head.

“No. And you’re even worse! Your wallpaper is her. You call her during every break, you never shut up about whatever she’s doing. Vos estás enamorado— no, enamoradísimo.” Fede insisted, flicking his finger in the back of the shorter man’s head.

Brahim swore up and down he wasn’t, having the purpose of putting some distance in between the two of you before clarifying things. He carried a deep frown as he walked up to the BMW driven by you picking him up from training. But at the sight of you smiling from behind the semi-tinted window melted his heart and made him almost skip towards the passenger seat, leaning in to kiss your cheek obnoxiously as soon as the door was shut. His resolve didn’t even last two microseconds by the time he reached your side.

The realization took a few hours to settle and it hit him like a moving truck, buried deep inside you as his slow thrusts squeezed the sweetest moans out of you. And this time, he couldn’t escape it. He couldn’t convince himself when he was drunk in the ecstasy you both found yourselves in.

Brahim could read you and your body like an open book, “I know baby, I know.” He cooed at the moans getting stuck at the back of your throat, unsticking the sweaty strands away from your face. “Just give me one more…” Granting his request you’d pulled him down for a kiss, reaching yet another release, your chest heaving against his as he picked up the pace. Your tongue intertwined with his, and he suddenly felt he was going mad.

Everything about you was perfect; from the way your legs wrapped around his waist to the way you moaned and cried out his name. Your nails marking up his muscular back were enough to push him over the edge, his nose brushing against yours before your lips sloppily linked once he collapsed onto your bare chest. In no less than a five minutes he fell asleep, your heartbeat lulled him to sleep.

But his dreams were plagued with you; most importantly, what he’d experienced earlier that day replaying over and over. He woke up earlier than usual, deciding to bask in the warmth your basal temperature for a little longer. His mind decided to take over, an extensive debate of his feelings over you– characterized by a substantial sense of dread– before the alarm filled up the stale silence. “Buen día,” Your voice was raspy, but carried that sweet essence it always did.

“Buen día mi princesa.” Every doubt he ever had evaporated once more, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “How did you sleep? What are we having for breakfast?” A deep laugh resonated in the four walls as he threw himself over you, peppering your face with short kisses. The way your childish giggles filled the room made his heart swell, blood flow increasing. Your happiness was more than enough motivation to get him up and going for the day.

But the second he tore himself away from you, the thoughts of uncertainty flooded the gray matter once more. You brushed your teeth at the sink, and he’d already started the shower, the whole bathroom filled up with steam.

“Are you in love with me?” Brahim wondered out loud. But you responded with silence, long enough for him to peak his head from behind the protective glass. You met him with a shocked expression, mouth agape and eyes empty from any thoughts. And even with toothpaste around your lips, he found you to be stunning. He felt his stomach dip to the floor; the irrational fear of your reaction being negative suddenly invaded him, and he felt his chest grow heavier.

“Of course I am, are you not?” Then the pressure only grew heavier at how your expression dropped, bottom lip puckering slightly. You had your doubts, even when people spoke of his infatuation towards you.

Then, Brahim Diaz realized he wasn’t in deep shit nor in any kind of trouble. He was in love.

Fully, completely, irrevocably in love with you. If not, your reaction wouldn’t have pained him so much. He wouldn’t have turned off the faucet, reaching for a towel before exiting the cabin. “No, no. That’s not it.” He breathed out, a bitter taste swirling around the back of his throat. Any denial he’d ever presented to the relentless teasing, every scrunch of his nose at the idea of being in love now made him sick, disappointed in himself for ever refusing the obvious.

“I–” He opened his mouth to say, his rosy lips parted as he thought what to say next. You loved the way his teeth showed slightly, like an American Girl doll. “Everyone kept telling me I’m in love with you. And I kept denying it because I’m an idiot but I’m just an idiot in love.” He admitted, reaching to draw you in; closer, intimately. “Te amo, te adoro— tanto que me vuelvo loco— me vuelves loco.”

Your silence yet again alarmed him, but when his eyes met your face, he found you with an expression full of bliss. Brahim just left out a soft chuckle reaching back to massage your scalp once more. “Yo también te amo pero… mami is already asking where’s the ring.”

Now, it was his turn to laugh loudly. You smiled to yourself; it was the best sound in the entire world, at least to you. “It’s coming soon, I promise! Por ti, eso y más, princesa.”

[natchastxin]

trip to venice.

Summary: Ilsa brings you to Venice despite your refusal and you confess to her the feelings of hurt you’ve had since she left you in Amsterdam three months ago which leads you to join Ethan’s team. You find her in the aftermaths of the fight on the bridge.

Pairings: Ilsa Faust x f!reader

Warnings: blood, slight smut

A/N: I just finished watching Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning Part 1 so I’m writing this to make myself feel less sad. And obviously there are spoilers for MI Dead Reckoning so don’t read if you don’t want to.

You loved her, you really loved her and you thought she felt the same way too. She told you so herself just that night she spent in your room in Paris after a stressful mission. So why did you find your bed empty and apartment bare as if she was never there? Had you dreamed the whole night?

The only evidence that proved that the night had transpired was the singular note she left on your nightstand, propped up against a glass of water. On it, etched on the delicate white paper was a single letter: I. The letter was accompanied with a heart that was drawn in the same swoopy style as the letter.

You picked it up and quickly turned it over in your hands to see if she had written anything else. Much to your disappointment, that was it. You laid back in your bed with the note clutched over your heart and closed your eyes as the scenes of last night flashed behind your eyelids.

—

A frenzied knocking woke you from where you had fallen asleep on your couch while watching your movie. Worried sick about Ilsa, you thought it best to distract your mind with something else. She came to your apartment before she left for Kashmir, letting you know how the mission was going to go down as you braided her hair.

You met her while in the MI6. She was the agent and you were... well, you were also an agent but you were better known for your bomb-diffusing skills, how well you handled a knife, and your medical skills. Funny thing, that was actually how you met her, in a knife combat. You were tasked to bring her in because she had information on a known terrorist and caught her off guard. The fight ended with both of your legs wrapped around one another's necks until you called truce.

You fell for her quickly, quicker than anyone you had ever fell for before. It hit you that you were falling for her the way waves break against a barrier of rocks. You came to the realization one late night that two of you had gone to a bar for drinks.

You sat across from her in the headquarters in London, staring at her in your own subtle way— in a way that you thought she didn't notice— but she soon caught on whenever she looked up and you would quickly look back down at your paperwork. For her, she fell for you more gradually. It was a gentle love for her that she received from you, it was like the cool afternoon breeze that rustled through the trees of the forest; it enveloped you and left you wanting more when it left. This pining between the two of you lasted for years, through her disavowal which was shortly followed by your resignation from the MI6 to do privately contracted work all the way to the day she confessed to you that she loved you when she showed up at your apartment front door.

You opened the door and she was greeted by your very disheveled appearance. "Hey," she croaked out and your eyes immediately brightened, any trace of fatigue disappearing from your eyes.

"Ilsa."

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," she said, smirking.

"You're one to talk," you said, pretending to be cross and resting your hands on your hips. But you can barely keep your facade up long. Your real emotions of fear quickly break through your expression. Your lip trembles and you pull her towards you. She drops her duffle bag onto the ground and lets you melt into her embrace. "You were supposed to call," you tell her, you voice muffled by her shoulder. She laces her fingers through your hair to hold you close.

"I'm sorry, darling," she tells you and hugs you tightly, "I'm here now, I'm okay. We got to the bomb in time."

"The bomb?" You said, wiping your nose on your sleeve while pulling away, "Why didn't you call me? I could've helped."

"We didn't have time," she sighed out, "I got here as fast as I could."

"Come on," you said pulling her in, "I'll make you a drink."

—

The night progresses rapidly and both you and Ilsa down multiple drinks as she tells you how the mission unfolded.

"I have something to tell you," Ilsa said.

"Hmm?"

She pressed the lip of her beer against her chin and leaned towards you. "I love you," she said. Your heart beats rapidly against your rib cage and you breathe in that intoxicating perfume scent of hers. Her grip on the slippery glass tightened for a few seconds while silence filled the air as you came to terms with what the woman before you confessed. "I love you too," you whispered out. She takes your beer out of your hand and places it on the coffee table along with hers. She kissed you then, threading her fingers through your thick hair, trying to bring your lips closer to hers.

"I've loved you all these years," she tells you.

"Let's not waste any more apart," you said, "Do you want this?" You bring your hand to the first button of her shirt to indicate what you meant.

"I have longed for this day since the day I met you," she tells you, "I want this— I want you."

She straddles your waist and your arms encircle around her, bringing her impossibly close to your body.

You bring her to your bed and you make sweet love to her that night, you're gentle as she is with you. She lets you worry over her injuries and press kisses to the bruises on her neck. She cums on your fingers then your tongue multiple times and you bury your head into her heat for as long as she lets you, she then returns the favor until you're shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Mustering the remaining strength you had in your legs, you straddled her and brought both of your cores to each other, rubbing until she sobbed as she came and your thighs burned with exhaustion. You collapse next to her and bring her close to your chest. You kiss the top of her head and brush her hair with your fingers.

"Stay," you tell her, whispering it into the dark corners of the room, "I know you have to leave soon, but stay for the next two days— for me."

She closed her eyes tightly and let out a hesitant breath, "Only for you."

She kisses your chest, then your neck— sucking on your pulse point to mark you as hers. To be fair, you had done your fair share of marking up her body so now it was time she took her revenge. She kissed you long and slow, nibbling on your bottom lip until your lips became red like cherries. She takes your breath away every time she pulls away and you stare into her beautiful iridescent eyes. She slowly falls asleep in your arms and you spend the time counting the freckles on her eyelids before falling asleep as well. You held her close that night, not wanting to let go.

You woke up that morning blissful— if only that lasted for more than a minute. The bed was empty and so was the apartment. She had vacated and left not a single trace of her presence. That broke you. You collapsed to the floor, sobbing and clawing at your chest. Little did you know, this started a cycle for you and Ilsa. A cycle that always led her back into your arms in that tiny apartment in Paris. The next year, she waltzes in and out of your life whenever she pleases. It was as if she had forgotten that first night you had with her entirely. She would fuck you then leave the next morning and you were happy to give that to her if that meant you could have her for that little while.

You used to tell her about the dream you had for the both of you. The one that included laughter, coffee dates, the strolls you would take at the local park, the paintings the two of you would pick out to decorate your apartment, the patter of small feet that would fill the silence of the morning, and the infinite love that the two of you would share. She would lay there with her eyes closed, smiling happy. It was the only way this dream existed for her— in that small bed inside of the small Paris apartment you owned. The only place that dream lived was in yours and Ilsa's minds. You dreamt of a world where no one knew your names, a world where you could live anonymously, stroll down the streets hand-in-hand, free from the fear of someone harming you or Ilsa. She hides her tears when you describe this dream to her each time the two of you lay naked, sprawled together late at night. She let you dream for the two of you because that was the only way she could truly make you happy. You knew that she didn't want the same future you wanted but you endured.

Three months of taking the torture, you had finally confronted her. Not given the response that you deemed to be the truth, you sent her out of your apartment in fury, swearing that you never wanted to see her again.

"I thought what we had was real, Ilsa," you had told her, "You told me you loved me that first night in Paris when you got back from your mission with Ethan."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled.

The truth was that Ilsa was scared. She was scared what would happen if other people knew just how madly in love with you she was. She saw what happened to Ethan and how it affected him. She didn't want anything bad to happen to you so instead she kept you a secret and kept the relationship to a minimum because she saw it as the only way she could protect you. She would have you in the only way she could but she never knew how much she would hurt you in the process. You finally came to the realization of why she was treating you like such an ass one day the both of you had spent the night in Amsterdam.

"You're not Ethan," you told her in bed one night as you held her close, "And I'm not totally helpless. I know you love me, Ilsa. And I love you, more than you know. Despite everything you've done these past three months, I still love you even though I shouldn't."

"But I can't protect you."

"Baby, I can protect myself. You forget that I was a trained agent too. This is my life, I'm not going to let some future terrorist dictate who I should be able to love."

She left again that morning and that was the last you saw of her for the next three months.

—

Your head throbbed as you sat up. You quickly began taking in your surroundings and noticed that you were in a moving van. You clutched your head in pain.

"Hey, darling," a familiar voice said and your heart dropped to the bottom of your stomach. Familiar hands grabbed yours but you shook them off.

"Where am I? What are you doing here? What happened?"

No one gives you an answer. It seems like the two men at the front are waiting for Ilsa to answer you but she doesn't. All she does is stare.

"Fine, I'm leaving then if you won't give me an answer."

You stand up and you're about to open the door when Ilsa grabs your free arm. That does it for you. You twist in her grasp and eventually pin her down in the van.

"Don't fucking touch me," you spat.

"Hey now, c'mon," Benji in the passenger seat finally said, "Just tell her, Ilsa."

"We knocked you out when you came out of your favorite cafe. Something bad is happening, I— we need you," she said and it comes out barely a whisper. Your expression changes.

You finally let her go and sit up. She sits up and coughs, rubbing her chest.

"Why? Why now?" You asked, looking deliberately at Ilsa, waiting for her to answer.

"We're going up against this new enemy and we could use your help," Benji answered instead, "Ilsa has told us about your skills and, well, we need someone like you."

"Thanks, but I'm not interested. She knows why."

You motion to stand up again and this time Ilsa speaks in a stronger voice.

"Y/N. Please," she pleaded. You look at her, which was the first mistake. You could never deny her anything. You would always say yes to her even if it cost you. Your jaw clenched in frustration.

"Fine. But if I do this, I don't want to talk to you or see you ever again. You got it?"

"I understand," she said even though it felt like her heart was being wrenched from her body.

"You've hurt me enough times," you told her.

The two men at the front of the car exchange looks.

—

You sat in the back of the van when Benji brings Ethan in. You had only met Ethan once before, he was nice. But you didn't tend to base how good a person was from first impressions.

"Y/N," he said when he noticed you.

"Ethan," you replied.

"Nice to see you."

You nodded. He looks back and sees Ilsa's deliberately avoidant gaze, looking anywhere but at you. He lets out a very small sigh and looks at Benji who gives him a grimace, shaking his head. He knew what happened between you and Ilsa, one of three people that knew. He knew how much the two of you loved one another and how stubborn Ilsa could be. You, on the other hand, from his singular encounter with you, he knew that you had a kind soul. Why else would Ilsa love you so? Even if she refused to admit it.

You hold up a paper clip and help free Ethan from his handcuffs. "Are you okay?" He asked.

You nodded your head, busying yourself with unlocking his handcuffs.

"I'm always fine," you told him once you freed him.

"So what's the plan?" You asked.

—

"What would potentially happen if a government got their hands on this AI tech?" You asked while sharpening your knife nervously.

"We don't know," Ethan said, "We need to find the other half of the key to find out."

Luther shows him the surveillance footage from the chase in the airport, "I took out the footage from your glasses and looked through everything. See anything strange?"

He notices a man glitching and replays the footage, "It's like he's a ghost."

"We can't find actual video of him except for right here," Luther stops at a frame of Grace, "He only exists in this reflection."

"The Entity," Ethan says, his voice dropping to a whisper, "It's protecting him."

"You saw him, didn't you?" Luther said.

"I did, but I wasn't sure."

"Well who is he?" Benji asked.

"Someone I thought died a long time ago," Ethan said, "In another life, before the IMF. Before I was offered the choice."

Ethan looks up at Luther, "In a very real sense, he made me into who I am today."

Luther grimaced.

"Does he have a name?" Luther asked.

"He calls himself Gabriel," Ilsa said, turning from the window. You look over at her and she meets your gaze before switching to Ethan's.

"You know him," Ethan said.

"There is no knowing him. He has no recorded past— the Entity made sure of that. He's a dark Messiah. The Entity's chosen messenger and he sees death as a gift he wants to share with the rest of the world."

"How do you know this?"

"I still have a few friends in MI6."

She looks back at you but you look away. "Friends who are afraid," she continued, "Of the British government gaining control of the Entity. Any attempt to try to stop them would be seen as an act of treason."

"And because you're disavowed," you said, "Friends called and asked you for help."

"They knew Gabriel served the Entity," she said, "They knew he was on his way to Istanbul to acquire one half of the key but I beat him to it."

"Do your friends know what this key leads to?"

"They believe it leads to its source code."

"Source code," Luther echoed.

"When were you going to tell me this?" Ethan asked.

"I'm telling you now," she said.

"Hold on, did you talk to them in person?" You asked, "Your friends. Did this happen over a phone call?"

"I'm disavowed so they had no way of contacting me in person."

Her expression changed when she realized what you were implying.

"He wanted you to find the key," you said, your voice coming to a whisper, "He wanted you to bring the key to Ethan. This was a trap."

"No, we can't be sure that was the Entity," she said.

"We can't be sure it wasn't," you replied.

"We can't believe anything outside of this very conversation," Ethan said, "None of you should be here."

—

You sat with Benji in the other room as he revised the firewalls on his laptop. You leaned back in your chair, having switched to a different knife to sharpen.

"Why did you guys choose me? Of all the people you could've called, why me?"

"Ilsa wanted you here. She wanted to see you and make sure you were safe."

"Bullshit. She doesn't care about me," you laughed.

He looks at you and your belief in your words falters.

"Why did she leave me then?"

"It's the only way she could think to protect you. Yes, I know how that contradicts the fact that you're here now but you're the best agent she knows and she thinks that maybe she can better protect you this way."

"That's stupid," you scoffed.

"Not everything is always a clear path in Ilsa's head."

You look away to where Ilsa is standing in the other room. Benji follows your gaze.

"She still loves you, despite everything she's done to make it look otherwise and I'm guessing you still love her too."

You give an imperceptible nod of your head.

"Go tell her before it's too late. With our line of work, we never know how much time we get with one another."

"You're very wise, you know," you said, "When you want to be."

"Thank you," Benji said, his face brightening.

You walk to the room in which Ilsa is standing in. You tilt your head to the door leading to the roof and she nodded. You went first. She follows a few minutes later.

You stood on the rooftop, gripping the railing tightly. You bent down and stretched your shoulders before resting on the railing with your forearms. She walks over and leans with her back against the sunset. She lets out a loud sigh.

"You're mad at me," she noted.

"Great observation," you said sarcastically.

"Y/N..."

"What? What do you want from me, Ilsa? I've given you everything I have. Every time you turned for me I was there and now you pull me into this mission. You couldn't even talk to me first? I would've said yes, you know. All you had to do was ask. I would always be there, despite everything."

She doesn't say anything so you look at her. Hot tears are rolling down her face. Your heart broke again even though you knew that it shouldn't.

"I'm sorry," she said, "Those nights in Paris then in Amsterdam."

Silence fills the air when she pauses. "I had a mission after Amsterdam and faked my death," she said quietly, "I wanted you to come with me but then I remembered everything I did— how I hurt you."

You turn around and lean against the railing, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I didn't realize that in my efforts to protect you, just how much I was hurting you in the process. I know that I don't deserve your forgiveness but I want to give this a chance, a real chance this time."

You looked over at her, "I wanted to give this a chance too. I always have. But I don't want to get hurt again. I can't keep doing that to myself."

"I know. But what if I promised you that I would try? I want to be with you, whatever it takes," she said.

You think about it, was it really worth it to give her another chance? She was the love of your life, yes, but she had hurt you so many times, though not intentionally.

"Fine," you said, uncrossing your arms, "I'll give us a try. But I want complete honesty from here on out.

She nods, "I can do that."

So you let her back into your heart because your love for her outweighed the grudge you held against and it was the only thing you ever knew how to do.

She hugs you hesitantly and you move your arms to hold her closer. She smelled the same as the night in Amsterdam. You brushed your fingers through her desert colored highlights. She tucks her head under your chin, revelling in the comfort your embrace brought her.

"I promise that I won't hurt you," she said, "Not intentionally."

You kissed the crown of her hair and she looked up at you before meeting your lips. You let her deepen the kiss as you pull her even closer to you. She found a home in you that day. You held her closely by the waist, not wanting to let her go. A smile tugs at both your lips.

"You know, I've never been to Venice," she said.

"Really?" You said.

"Yeah, it's my first time here."

"Hmm, maybe I'll show you around after this mission's over. What do you think?"

"I think... it sounds like perfection."

She bit her bottom lip adorably before snuggling her head into your chest. You never wanted to let her slip away ever again. She feels your grip on her waist tighten as your mind drifts once more to the plan. She was going to meet Gabriel at the bridge and fake her death. The margin for error was so small, barely imperceptible to the human eye.

"What's wrong?" She asked, brushing her nose against your jaw.

"I don't like this plan," you confessed, "There's too many things that can go wrong. It's not safe."

"Darling, it's the only way we'll be free," she tried her best to make you see the brighter side of the plan.

"You could die, Ilsa. I can't have that happen."

"I'll be careful. He'll hit me here," she said, guiding your hand just clear of her heart, "I'll be sure of it. Besides, if things get out of hand, death will just have to withstand my will to stay alive."

"Ilsa, don't joke," you said, looking away. Your eyes sting with tears threatening to run away.

"I'm not joking- hey, look at me," she cups your jaw with one hand, "I'll come back to you, I promise." She rested her forehead against yours. "I'll be fine," she told you.

She follows you back down where everyone is changing into their attire for the party. Ilsa pulls you into her room and sits you down on a crate. She sits in between your legs. You give her a perplexed look.

"Could you braid my hair?" She asked quietly and your mouth breaks into a smile. "Of course."

You brush her hair gently to one side. She plays with her fingers while you comb through her hair, plaiting it expertly.

"I haven't had my hair braided since you left me," she confessed, "You've always been the person to do it for me."

You smile to yourself at the thought of this simple activity she saved just for you. You finish braiding her hair and place it over her shoulder. You kiss the side of your neck and she turns to capture your lips. She rises onto her knees and laces her fingers through your hair, pulling you to her. Her tongue slides against yours as you deepen the kiss. She moans into your mouth and you grip her waist tightly. You nibble on her bottom lip before she does the same to you.

Ethan walks in and the two of you break apart. A smile creeps onto his face. "Glad the two of you finally came to your senses," he said and a blush rises to both your cheeks, "Could I get a minute with Y/N?"

Ilsa nods and leaves the two of you alone but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your palm.

She walks back into the common area where Luther and Benji are working on their laptops.

"Nice hair," Luther commented.

"Why are your lips red?" Benji asked.

Her fingers rises to her lips instinctively and she blushes.

"Oh my god," Benji said and Luther smirks.

He stands up and points his finger while following her. She ducks and speed walks to the equipment. "You guys are back together aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Benji," trying her best to keep a poker face.

Benji smirks and crosses his arms across his chest, "I like seeing you happy. The two of you are good for each other, clearly."

Ilsa blushes again before ducking her head and rummaging through a duffle bag, "Thanks."

—

"I have a task for you," Ethan said, "While we're at the party, I want you to follow us from a distance. We have the advantage of Gabriel not knowing who you are. I need you to follow Ilsa and protect her. I won't be able to do that while I get Gabriel. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course, Ethan," you replied. He nods, "You'll be off comms so that there's no distractions. I just want you to follow Ilsa, don't worry about me. Alright?"

You nod.

"Take the weapons you need. I'll come find you when everything's done," Ethan said. He goes to stand up but you grab his arm, "Stick to the plan. Let her fake her death. I know it's going to seem real but don't worry, we've got this."

He blinks appreciatively at your reassurance. "Good luck," he said.

—

You were following Grace, Ilsa, and Ethan to the party. Watching them from a distance. Ethan had told Ilsa to run so you followed her to make sure that she would be alright. You finally caught up to her in a deserted alleyway. She swings at you with her fist before realizing who was following her. You duck and grab her arm.

"Y/N?" She said, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Ethan sent me, he told me to follow the three of you from a distance. He asked me to protect you." You moved in closer to her and inspected her face and she closed her eyes, taking in your concerned touch. "I'm alright," she told you.

"Good, you had me worried back there," you said. She opens her eyes and sees that you haven't moved from your spot. One of your hands moves from her face to her hip and pull her flush against you.

"I missed this," you whisper to her. She puts a hand against your abdomen. "What are you waiting for then?" She husked out. Her hand scrunches the front of your shirt and pulls you even closer to her body. You meet her lips, they were soft and they enveloped your own.

You pull away and rest your forehead against her. "We should probably go," Ilsa told you and you nodded, agreeing.

"I'll be right behind you," you said, "Do you have a weapon?"

She half unsheathes the sword she's holding and you smirk. "That's my girl," you said. You take one of the five knives on your body and tuck it into the back of the waistband of her pants, you hide the weapon with her shirt.

"I added a little something special," you told her.

She smiled and kissed you, "Let's go."

She takes off running and you run behind her. You hear faint sounds of combat and Ilsa comes to a quick stop, causing you to crash into her. She held a finger up to her lips. She motioned for you to stay here but you shook your head. She motioned for you to just wait and you reluctantly agreed.

She walks up to the bridge and you wait tensely behind the corner, glancing over to your girlfriend to make sure she was alright. She starts fighting Gabriel and she gets stabbed in the leg. She lets out a heart wrenching scream and you run over swiftly and quietly. You unsheathe the knife from behind your back and slash his thigh— his femoral artery. He yells in pain and clutches his leg; blood gushed past his fingers.

"Who the hell are you?" He grunted. "No one that you need to know." You flip your knife and help Ilsa stand up. "Go check on Grace. I'll handle him."

She limps over to Grace and checks her pulse. You momentarily let your guard down and Gabriel gets back up. "Y/N, look out!" She screamed. Gabriel punched you in the back of the head and knocked you out.

Ilsa's vision turned red with anger when she saw your body crumple to the ground. She picks up the sword again and advances toward Gabriel. Her swipes are sloppy and Gabriel can see it but nonetheless she gets a few slashes in. He takes advantage of her sloppiness and knocks her sword away easily. He slashes at her abdomen and it barely misses her. He cuts open her stomach and she lets out a gasp and clutched her stomach. He pins her against the side of the bridge. "This is what happens to whoever cares about Ethan Hunt," he hissed in her ear, "When I'm done with you I'll carve up your little partner. She'll look so pretty all slashed up."

"Don't ever fucking touch her," Ilsa gasped out in between breaths. Her hand inches to the knife you had tucked into her waistband.

"I kill you first and she won't have anyone to protect her," he cackled.

"She doesn't need me to protect her."

She pulls out her knife and stabs the side of his body. "If anything, she's been the one to protect me all along." He doubled over in pain.

He grunted angrily and stood back up, stabbing Ilsa in the chest, she moved slightly to the side as he did so. Her eyes opened in shock, letting out a shaky breath. She looks down at the knife then back at Gabriel.

Gabriel stumbles back and lets Ilsa slide to the floor. She closes her eyes to control her breathing. You finally open your eyes, your head is throbbing and you look around. You push yourself up with much difficulty and see Gabriel's retreating figure. "Hey, asshole," you yelled out, "You forgot to kill me."

"Your time will come," Gabriel said.

You stumbled to your feet and pulled a small dagger from your boot. As he turns his back, you throw the dagger at him. It lodged in his back and he fell over before crawling away.

You look around and see Ilsa and your heart drops to your stomach. You run over her and see the knife. Quickly taking her head into your lap, you check her pulse, letting out a temporary sigh of relief. However, that relief didn't stay for long, you had a performance to put on. You hunch over Ilsa's body and cry. Your shoulders shake as you discreetly take out her earpiece and crush it beneath your boot. You lower your lips to her ear.

"You did really good. I'm so proud of you," you whisper into her ear. From a distance, it just looks like your grieving over your lover's dead body.

You brush her hair soothingly, continuing to let the tears flow.

"I love you," you told her. Her eyes twitch so you press a kiss to each of her eyelids, over her freckles. You hold her head close to your body and she stays motionless.

You hear heavy sounds of footsteps from the distance and you know it's Ethan. Grace would be waking up any minute now.

"No!" Ethan yells when he sees Ilsa's limp body in your arms. He places his finger to her pulse and his eyes soften to sadness. "Y/N, I'm so sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen," he said.

You sniffle and brush your tears, "She died protecting others. It's what she would've wanted."

Grace finally comes to and realizes what happened. She's in shock seeing Ilsa's "dead" body. "No, that wasn't supposed to happen. She's not supposed to be dead, she wasn't supposed to sacrifice herself," Grace starts hyperventilating, "Why did she do that? I didn't ask her to do that."

You lovingly brush at Ilsa's chestnut hair. "Ilsa was doing what she loved," you tell her without looking at her. You look at Ethan and place a hand on his knee, "Go talk to her."

You continue talking to her despite the fact that you look mad doing it. "You did good, my love. You did so good. I hope you can finally have some peace." You press a kiss to her warm lips before pressing your forehead against her.

Benji quickly but surely arrives only a couple of seconds later. He takes in Grace's hysterical expression and Ethan comforting her before his gaze landed on you. Your back faced him but he could see the tip of Ilsa's head. He hops out of the boat and rushed over to you.

"No, it can't be true. Ilsa..."

He takes in her pale complexion and the lack of movement from her chest. You look up with your tear-stricken eyes and a string of silent communication travels from your eyes to his. It was done.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. This wasn't how it was to go down."

You nodded sadly, "I know."

You sniff harshly and brush your tears away roughly. "Please can we just take her home," you clear your throat, "I don't want us to be all exposed here and she deserves a proper burial."

Benji nods, understanding, "Do you need me to help?"

You shake your head and lift her easily into your arms. You take her back onto the boat to the underside, safe from the eyes of the Entity where she finally opens her eyes. You burst into tears then, for real this time. She brushes them away, shushing you.

"I love you too," she whispered to you, "I'm okay. Didn't I tell you everything would be fine?"

You nod, still trying to recover from the events of the bridge.

"If you could give me a hand though," she said pointedly, looking at the knife.

"Oh yes, of course."

"It's a cute knife but it would be better out of my body," she muttered.

You chuckle before indicating to her shirt then your knife, she nods. You slice open her shirt to get better access to the wound. "If you wanted take me to bed you could've just asked," she teased and you rolled your eyes.

You open your duffle bag to take out your medical supplies. You spray antiseptic over her wound and she hisses. "Sorry."

She shook her head, "It's fine. Do whatever you need to."

You get a firm grip on the knife and give it a big tug. It comes out quickly and leaves Ilsa groaning in pain. You toss the knife across the boat and rip open a packet of gauze and cover her wound. "Here, apply pressure. I'll stitch you up."

You take out your suturing kit and help her lay down in the cramped cabin of the boat.

"I only have numbing spray," you tell her and she nods, "Okay, it might sting a little."

She nods again. You remove the gauze and throw 3 tight but delicate sutures on her shoulder before wrapping her chest with bandages.

"Now let's look at that stomach of yours," you said before moving to her abdomen. It had a wider slash but the cut wasn't as deep as the one of her chest. You stitch it up nonetheless then wrap it. You move to her leg and she very gracefully takes off her pants to reveal the wound. It was a small slice, 2 inches wide. You stitch her up and bandage her.

Benji stomps on the floor of the boat to indicate your arrival. You look back at Ilsa. "Ready to hide again?" You asked and she nods. You drape a sheet over her body before lifting her into your arms and carrying her to the safe house. Luther gives your arm a squeeze when he sees you and you blink appreciatively before going to the room you had claimed and laying her on the bed. You remove the sheet and she looks back at you.

"Get some rest," you told her.

—

She was still bleeding heavily despite the stitches you gave her but you were on your own. The rest of the team had left to deal with the mission while you stayed behind and cared for Ilsa. You cleaned her bandages each night and replenished her with nutrients. You bought medical supplies and stole some from a local hospital and brought them back to her. She gets a fever on the second day and falls unconscious, shuddering ever so slightly in her sleep.

You took in her pale appearance in the bed. She sunk into the bed and her freckles looked dull. They never looked like that. You prayed for her to wake up so that the color would return to them. She looked so weak, her skin as pale as moonlight. She looked too frail. Too unlike the Ilsa you knew. You knew she had to get better soon, she had too. You wrung put a wet cloth and wiped her burning forehead. She starting to show early signs of infection so you fed her antibiotics and stayed by her side every night, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest.

Her fever finally broke on the fourth day. She wakes up and say your hunched over position by the side of her bed. She smiled gratefully at her guardian angel and combed through your hair. You sat up quickly at the feeling.

"You're alive," she croaked, her throat raspy from disuse.

"You're awake. God, I thought we would never make it out of that," you tell her.

"Oh baby," she said, a hand coming up to your face, brushing your cheek, "I'm okay. I'm alive. See?"

She brings your fingers to her wrist and you felt her soothing heart beat. You laid your head against her wrist. "Come, lay with me."

She slowly scoots over and you slide onto the bed with her and take her into your arms. "Don't move too much," you told her, "You'll tear your stitches."

"Thank you for being here," she said.

"I wouldn't be anywhere else. Just get some sleep, darling. I'll be here when you wake up," you told her, smoothing her hair. "Thank you for coming back to me," you whispered into her hairline and she closed her eyes with a smile on her face. You kiss her freckles repeatedly until she falls asleep.

—

When she finally heals, that's when the two of you say your goodbyes. Ethan, Benji, and Luther were the only ones there.

"But if you need me, I'll only be a call away," she told him and slipped a flip phone into his front pocket, "Only use it for emergencies. As far as the world knows, I'm dead." She gives him a tight hug. "And what about you?" Ethan asked, "What happens in your story?"

You shrug, "The love of my life dies and I decide to move to the quiet countryside of France and teach English." Ethan smiles, nodding his head, "That suits you." He gives you a hug as well.

"Treat her well," he told you and you nodded.

"If you're ever in France and need somewhere to stay..." you trailed off.

"I look forward to taking you up on your offer," he said.

"You ready?" You asked Ilsa and she nodded. She picked up her duffle bag and gave her last farewells to Luther and Benji.

"Come visit, okay?" She tells the both of them and they nod.

"Take care, Ilsa," Benji said while hugging her.

You approach Ethan one more time and take your favorite knife out from behind your back. It had an ivory white handle, a Persian tip, and a beautifully intricate wave pattern over the blade.

"This is for Grace. Tell her it's my gift to her for joining the IMF and taking Ilsa's place. We finally gets our happy ending now and it's all thanks to her."

Ethan nods, "I will."

"If any of you ever need us, I'll be there. You're Ilsa's family— mine by extension, we will show up, no matter what."

Ilsa laces her fingers with yours and nods. She gives you a kiss.

"Bye," you said. You and Ilsa exit to the boat that Ethan bought and placed under his name. The plan was to sail to France. It was a short ride and Ethan had packed everything you could possibly need into the boat.

"Go hide," you tell Ilsa and she nodded, "I'll let you know when we reach open waters."

—

You and Ilsa move into a chateau in the countryside, 30 minutes away from the beach. A place where the two of you could start fresh and build your family. There was a quiet town about a 10 minute bike ride, no surveillance cameras, just the eyes of locals who admired the love you and Ilsa had for each other. You and Ilsa went there on the weekends for grocery shopping before wandering around, trying the new patisserie shop around the corner, letting Ilsa feed you bits of croissant. The town made you and Ilsa feel young again, you would go out dancing like you were in your 20s, giggle in the back corners of the bookstore as you kissed one another and picked books for each other, let each other try their ice cream before agreeing which one was better. This quiet life, the one you and Ilsa always dreamed of was finally happening.

The two of you lounged on the couch together, reading. It was raining outside and the fire was crackling. She laid against your chest and you had an arm flung over her shoulder. She looks at your hand, the ring she gave you and smiles contentedly. She fiddles with the ring on your ring finger before smiling back up at you.

"Hey," you said, noticing her staring.

She moved your glasses from your face to the top of your head before cupping your face to kiss you.

"I'm happy we did this," she tells you.

"Me too."

She plays with your fingers while waiting, hesitantly, for the right moment to ask you a question that could change your lives.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" You asked, noticing her shift of mood.

She sits up and turns around, sitting on the backs of her heels, so she can talk to you face-to-face. "Would you ever want kids?" She swallowed harshly, waiting for your answer.

Your lips eventually break into a smile and nod, "If it's with you, then yes."

You put down your book and take her hands into your own before pulling her to rest on your chest. You stroked her back and played with the ends of her hair.

"Is that what was worrying you so much?"

She nods against your chest.

"I've been dreaming about having kids with you for forever, Ilsa. Of course I want them. I can't wait to see a mini you running around the house."

"I could settle for a mini you too," she tells you.

She smiled against your skin, her chest warming at the idea.

She lifts her head and kisses along your jaw. She nestled into the crook of your neck, breathing in your perfume. She felt a sense of fulfillment resting here in your arms. A fulfillment that she never got from joining Ethan's team. You offered her a life filled with love and safety and she wishes she had seen that earlier instead of running away. But there was no point in dwelling on the past now. You held her in your arms and she was going to cherish every single moment she could spend with you.

[fic-heaven]

The three fools

Random trope: You break up with them

Unedited/ mentions of homophobia/ cheating/ angst/ violence/ family drama

🐥I've watched too many reddit stories and needed to write sum succulent angst~😩

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Gustavo Rodríguez (Gus)

-You broke up with Gustavo because he was more in love with his ambitions than he ever was with you.

-You had loved and supported him through everything his entire life, his passion for surf, his unbreakable love for his family, his silliness, his slight awkwardness on the first few dates you two had...

-But the day an eighteen year old Gus told you about this retired US Marine he met while giving surfing classes to some tourists, your whole relationship changed.

-You loved him and he loved you. But suddenly the idea of protecting Costa Rica at it's entirety from cartel and to later protecting the whole world... Made Gustavo's love for you lessen as his heart focused mainly on his new dream of saving lives. Or at least that's how you felt it...

-Seeing him daily on the beach turned into three days a week, later one single day a week and soon it became a miracle. Oh but that was only when he was a cop... Once he got the chance to become more, a higher ranked officer with more responsibilies in another city?

-Gus went home that day (you two lived together then because of an ugly fight about him barely being in your life anymore) he was eager to tell you all about this new job and the excitement he radiated brought a weak smile on your face. You loved his passionate spirit, but you dreaded his absence...

-He said you guys had to move cities for this job and you straight up said "no." After a very heated argument about his job, about the life and family you were leaving behind because of HIS ambitions... You told him he should feel free to leave.

-"There's no one I love more than you." You said.

-"Then come. Support me like you've always done! If I'm so important to you, mi amor... Why don't you please, PLEASE, come with me!? Cómo diablos is this going to work if I don't have you by my side!?"

- "I stopped being important to you the moment that American planted the seed of a new dream inside your brain, Gus... Now answer me. Would you chose your dream over our future together?"

-That wasn't fair. He went silent, his lower lip quivering under his moustache. He tried blinking the tears away, big hands flexing on the rails of your porch.

-The way Gus looks at you with betrayal and heartbreak written all over his glossy amber eyes will haunt you forever. And yet... You spent so many nights grieving his absence that breaking up with him now felt... Inevitable..."

-"I'll pack your stuff and send it to your mom's. Good luck on this new job, osito... I knew you could make it... I always have faith in you and I know you will do better for this country and wherever you go."

-"Pero yo te amo, princesa-" He choked out in a sob, he was trembling, legs giving up under his weight until he fell on his knees not caring if any neighbors saw you and the scene unfolding on your porch.

-"I want to marry you... I want to see the world with you... Have children..." Gus cried, voice cracking constantly in pain, his long lashes wet as fat tears ran across his face. It was such a heartbreaking sight you felt like you were dying.

-"Don't make this more difficult than it already is Gus..."

-And with that, you closed the door behind you leaving a broken man on your doorstep.

-Soon his father and sister came to collect Gustavo's things without saying a word to you, his dad did look at you in sorrow clearly saddened by how things had turned. And his sister? After collecting everything and before leaving she slapped you across the face and that was the last interaction you had with his family.

Enzo Reyes (Reyes)

-You left Reyes because he betrayed your heart.

-You two met when you were transfered from KorTac to SpecGru.

-You couldn't stand each other but eventually with much help from your two mutual friends and coworkers, Reyes relented on being an asshole and you actually started to enjoy his annoying self.

-A few months passed being friends until you confessed and to your surprise he voiced his reciprocation. Though you never felt like it was sincere enough.

-One year together and the fights you used to have at the beginning returned. It came as a surprise, how irritable this man had become from one day to the other... The mood swings worried you.

-So you did what you tried to avoid doing ever since the pointless fights begun. You gave Reyes an ultimatum, and he laughed like it was the funniest joke, like he didn't believe you had the courage to leave him over how irritable he had gotten.

-You felt like someone had kicked you in the gut, it suddenly hit you that perhaps you truly were at fault here. That perhaps he was right, that you were seeing too much Into things and were being unfair, that you had to accept how your lover was.

-Enzo didn't seem as tense after seeing you less reactive to his sudden bursts of anger and weeks later, the Canadian could feel nothing but pity for you and shame on himself.

-He told you this while being drunk as a Dane. Though he never really explained why, you thought he felt ashamed for treating you wrongly and that wasn't far from the truth.

-The reality was, Enzo started feeling bad about the affair he was hiding behind your back.

-Half a year into your relationship he had met this beautiful civilian girl who worked on a mall near the base and lived closer to his apartment. At first they just shared small talk as he was a regular at the coffee shop she ran, but soon he invited her to his apartment and many outings together (while you were off on missions too far to know what was happening) they begun having intercourse. It wasn't serious, just a quick fuck and she'd be gone.

-What Reyes realized when you celebrated your one year anniversary was that he had started craving her touch so often while you guys were working or at base together it made him lash out to you for the stupidest of reasons. That's why he felt shame. Not because he was cheating on you, but because he couldn't keep his composure.

-The fool thought he actually had enough reasons to cheat on you and promised himself that if you were to find out he'd straight up admit it and excuse himself. Because you'd understand, right?

-So one day you two sat on the old couch of the base, his arm wrapped around you while you scrolled through his gallery reminiscing in old memories Reyes had captured and held on lovingly on multiple albums on his phone. But something picked your attention.

-There was an album called "her". He didn't name it after you, that's weird...

-But when you pressed to open it he was too late to make you unsee what you saw. There were tons of nudes and videos of himself and some other woman you have never seen. You were silent thinking at first that perhaps this was his ex and these were old pictures he had forgotten to delete... But looking at Reyes... He was already explaining the cheating like he was talking about his gym routine.

-You stood up then and he took his phone from your hands with a quick snatch and a carefully put neutral expression.

-Enzo rolled his eyes thinking he'd have to endure your temper tantrum but thought it was fair since you always seemed to endure his.

-Instead, you whispered with a constricting throat: "I'm sure she's worth it, Reyes." You never called him by his last name and he didn't like this broken side of you one bit. "Good luck."

-"Sure. Call me when you stop crying so we can talk this like real adults, we could even go on dates the three of us together. Wouldn't that be nice?" He smirked and you were gone chosing to spare yourself from suffering more of this...

-Reyes though you'd be okay by the end of the week but he never saw you again.

-It's like the weight of the world got on his shoulders when one of the other operators casually mentioned that you had gotten transfered once more.

-After, he had broken things off with the civilian girl and begun his incessant search for you, eager to find where exactly you had been transfered to. He wasn't going to let you go that easily.

Nila Brown (Nova)

- You left Nova because of her family.

-Your relationship with Nova was perfect, she was sincere, loving, caring and protective of you.

-But her family never took your relationship seriously, often calling you her "little friend" and her "Rebellious phase." That was when you two were teenagers. But she was a thirty year old woman now and they kept calling you that.

-You two had a little apartment near her base, you worked in a flower shop while she was dealing with cartel, terrorists of any kind and any danger imaginable around the world. It was a very contrasting match but you two were just like jelly and butter.

-Due to her work, to say you were worried about your girlfriend was an understatement.

-You often spent most Fridays on her brother's house, her little nieces and nephews always loved to see you and spend time with you when her brother and his wife went out. Of course you did it for free, they never fully treated you like family but you'd get there! You were sure of it! Still, it stung that... Almost twelve years had passed and there wasn't even a picture of you on the wall of any of her relative's houses. But you weren't going to give up.

-You couldn't fathom on how many more years you had to spend with your loving girlfriend to call her your wife and be part of the family. Often thinking that perhaps when she proposes to you then her family will start looking at you with different eyes.

-You two had briefly talked about marriage before but it seemed a topic she wasn't comfortable on approaching. You were sure it was because of the "light" homophobic mentality of Nila's parents but wasn't your love worth fighting for?

-Then an idea popped up.

-Maybe you had to show her how truly in love with her you were, how after eleven years formally together you were more than ready and willing to step up and marry her.

-You had your mother's ring your father had given you years after her passing because he was convinced (and very right) that you'd love to propose to Nova with it.

-You knew it had to be now or never. So you spent weeks preparing a wonderful surprise for your girlfriend.

-When she came back from a long mission you had planned a beautiful dinner at your father's restaurant. He had placed a table on the garden you arranged yourself while the rest of the family hid behind some bushes.

-Nova was crying overjoyed by the beautiful date you had surprised her with totally clueless that her family had picked on your intentions of proposing when your father messaged them to come and support your union. They went bananas.

-When you finished dinner you had given Nova a beautiful speech of how lucky you felt for getting to spend so many years by her side and how you wished to make it official before you took your mother's ring and got on one knee in front of her.

-Her beautiful milky cheeks went red, eyes teary with so many emotions she struggled to keep her sobs low. She was nodding eagerly, her trembling hands reaching out your way so you'd slide the ring on her finger.

-Your family cheered you two, your father and aunt going so emotional they couldn't keep their cameras still so they could film the moment perfectly. Your father actually was a little upset that Nova's family was arriving late but he didn't voice it out as he thought they'd be on time for the celebration. Your family was clueless of how cruel and disgusting your girlfriend's family behaved around you two because you didn't have the gal to tell them.

-They found out pretty quickly though. Because as soon as your family approached you two, Nova's mother rushed with this crazed look on her eyes and snatched the ring off of her daughters finger, Nova was horrified, her father soon following after along with her brother picking up a fight with your confused father who tried to calm everyone down even though he was clueless of what the issue was.

-You were stupefied as Nova's family had the balls to put up a fight with anyone on their way because they couldn't stand her daughter saying yes to you. A woman. Her childhood best friend. Her "little secret" and her "personified rebellious stage."

-You cried as your supposed to be mother in law smacked you, scratched you and cursed you out in front of your family and girlfriend while you tried to take back the ring of your mother she had firmly tried to steal from you.

-Nova did absolutely nothing seemingly torn between her family's approval and the wellbeing of her fiance. The sight of you bloodied and in tears as you were attacked by the woman who raised her had broken something inside her, her heart beating so fast she could barely hear your pleas and cries for her to intervene. Nova knew then that any field of battle was far more preferred than the beautiful garden where your proposal had taken place filled with your families fighting for and against your union.

-Your aunt had pushed the old woman off of you and had taken you inside while Nova did nothing but feel guilty as her parents scolded her instead of following behind you. She was in shock, she couldn't react and that'd be a regret she'll carry for the rest of her life.

-As it turns out, your father had kicked Nova's family from the restaurant and promised to file a report to the police if they were to come back or try to touch you in any way.

- Nova's mother had stepped on your mother's ring before your aunt could help you, breaking the beautiful gemstone to pieces... You then decided to spend some time at your father's.

-You didn't hear a word from Nova until two weeks later. She tried to call you many times during those weeks but you didn't pick up until you decided to meet with her at your workplace with your aunt because you were afraid she'd show up with any of her relatives.

-Nova was a wreck, she had bags under her eyes, she looked more tired than usual, more tired than when she came back from any long mission. She teared up when she saw you arranging the cash register. You couldn't even look at her.

-When she begun talking to you, pleading to fix things and begging for your forgiveness you sighed still looking downwards.

-"I've known you for more than a decade. I had loved you unconditionally even when your family verbally attacked and humiliated me and you did nothing to stop them only making excuses after excuses." You were perplexed you could even say this without breaking down. Your girlfriend cried biting down her lip to contain her sobs. "But that night changed everything..."

-You were a husk. A shell of the woman she loves, like what happened had robbed you of your kind, cheerful spirit, like you were dead in life.

-"And I'm afraid... You can't do nothing to repair my broken heart."

-The moment your trembling fingers placed the broken ring of your mother on the counter Nila covered her mouth with her hand horrified at the sight letting out a soft "B-baby..." Falling from her quivering lips. She felt nauseous, like she was about to throw up and you actually had to rush to lay her on the floor because she was loosing balance.

-Your aunt had rushed in when she saw what was happening and your now ex lay passed out on the ground.

-You two drove to the apartment you two used to share, placed her on your bed and called her brother. Your aunt told you to leave, willing to put up with the uncomfortable encounter but you refused.

-To your surprise her brother showed up with a somber look. Almost like his sister's. He sat on the couch when Nova had woken up and tried to drink some water. He couldn't look at you and you couldn't look at none of them.

-"I'm sorry." He said. But you stayed silent.

-"I love you..." Nova blurted as soon as she spot you. You were standing up then, you gave her a short glance, took your aunt's hand and went to your door. "Goodbye Nils. I'll grab my things tomorrow."

[kyber-crystal]

all i needed || benji dunn

summary: you’ve always cared for benji, but it takes him teetering on the edge of death for you to realize how much you truly loved him

words: ~2.7k

warnings: some angst, mentions of violence, two oblivious pining idiots

a/n: HI HELLO! finished writing this while sick bc i wanted to get it out of the way before i got my wisdom tooth out. to anon that requested this, please note that i haven’t seen rogue nation in FOREVER so forgive me if some details seem off! i had to go back and look at the script to make sure i got the general timeline right. ALSO if the time skips seem weird…ignore that LOL. i tried to modify some scenes (btw any and all movie quotes included are not MINE, creds go to MI:5). the first part of this is pretty benji pov heavy—i’ve never tried this before 😅

Benji’s not hopelessly in love with you. Definitely not.

“You know I’d spend the rest of my life with you if I could,” you had drunkenly admitted to him one night in a bar somewhere in Eastern Europe. “Just you and me, forever…sounds like a dream.”

If only it wasn’t.

He doesn’t get attached. He knows better than to get attached. But it’s entirely his own doing; he tells himself—you’ve been glued at the hip since the day you first met. Ever since you swore to him that you’d never let him go, he knew he would be in deep.

Now, he was sinking…fast. And he hated quicksand.

(He definitely hasn’t almost gotten caught in some before. The only reason why he didn’t drown in sediment was because you were there to save the day.)

Casablanca was far too hot for his liking, but he’s standing in the scorching heat anyway because you’re here. You effortlessly glide through the glittering water like a mermaid and he can’t help but stare a bit.

Somehow, you sense his presence and emerge from the pool, dripping wet. “What are you doing out here? It’s 100 degrees and you look like you’ve been deep-fried.”

“I needed some sun,” he responded quickly. (Great excuse, he internally smacks himself.) “Need a towel?”

“Oh, yeah.” You flash him a gleaming smile and take the fluffy towel from his hands, quickly drying yourself off. “Thanks a bunch.”

“The sun is treating you pretty nicely,” he tries to compliment. “You look great.”

Your face lights up at this. “Really?”

“You always do.”

Doing a little spin, you smile again, “Thank you!”

“Man,” Ethan chuckles as you push the sliding glass doors open and walk back inside the house, “it’s almost painful to watch.”

“Quit it,” Benji mutters. “I don’t want to hear any of your nonsense.”

“You are aware that what you’re doing won’t get you anywhere.

“My personal life is none of your business.”

“Except it is,” the agent grins, “since most of the time that you’re not busy working is spent talking about her.”

Benji opens and closes his mouth, but no words come out. He knows he’s right.

“But it’s funny,” Ethan continues, “because she can’t see it. You’d think that a woman that smart would be able to tell, but she can’t.”

“Then let’s keep it that way. This conversation is over,” he feels his face burning a bright red that he knows has nothing to do with being sunburnt. “Agent Dunn, out.”

“She’s going to be the death of you one day,” he hears Ethan call out as he turns around and walks inside. “Watch your step.”

Benji isn’t the jealous type. Definitely not.

But all that registers with him when he glances in the rearview mirror at you and Brandt is fifty shades of green. You’d just finished laughing at something he had said, and envy spills over him like boiling hot oil. You were supposed to be laughing with him and him only. He told the better jokes (right? Right?) and you spent far more time together. So who was winning, really?

But nothing he tells himself seems to make him feel better.

Noticing Benji’s clenched jaw and tight grip on the wheel, Luther decides to break the tension. “That was a damn good stunt you pulled back there.”

“Effortless.”

“Wait, Benji…” you pause mid conversation. His grip immediately loosens the moment you open your mouth to speak. “Please tell me you still have a copy of that disk.”

He holds up the drive. “Yup, still got it.”

“Where to now?” Brandt asks as he hands the handcuff key through the glass to Ethan.

“London.”

It’s daybreak when you board the plane to Heathrow. Nobody on the team is even trying to hide the tiredness on their faces.

Even with heavy dark circles under your eyes, you still managed to look so beautiful, Benji thought to himself. He didn’t understand how you did it—you could run on twenty minutes of sleep and still walk straight.

“Let me help you with that,” Brandt offered and you gave him a grateful look as he put your duffel bag into the overhead bins.

Benji held his tongue (miraculously enough).

You sat down in your seat and stretched your arms in the air, letting out a loud yawn. “I can’t do this today. I want to just…give up and do nothing.”

“Can’t we all,” he replied.

You made eye contact with him and motioned to the empty seat on your left.

“Do you want me to—” he began, and you nodded. “Yeah. Sure. Of course.”

Almost immediately, your head lolled against his shoulder. You looked up and offered him a sleepy smile, and he swore he’d self-destruct at that exact moment.

“Tired?”

“Very,” you yawned again. “I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours.”

“Then get some rest,” he squeezed your shoulder. “I’ll let you know when we land.”

You hummed in reply and allowed your eyes to flutter shut. “You’re my favorite, Benji Dunn. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” he murmurs after you’ve fallen asleep.

He watched you in a trance-like silence, your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You were still wearing the tan woven bracelet on your left wrist—it had become battered and stained from prolonged wear, but you refused to take it off because he made it for you. One ATV ride, two hours, and three shots later, that was what he’d come up with as your latest “souvenir”.

His heart aches in more ways than one. Here he was following you around like a hopeless romantic and yet, you were completely oblivious to all his signals. And he doesn’t have a single clue as to why you stick around at all—with your beauty that he believed could rival Venus herself, you could have anyone you wanted. Hell, you could have Brandt in an instant if you tried.

But you insisted on sticking by him—the exact reason, he probably won’t ever figure out—and he’s grateful for it. Even though he feels as if you deserve better…a lot better.

“As promised, I have a job for you,” you heard Lane’s distant voice over the phone as he spoke to Ethan. “And for the sake of your friend, you’ll do it.”

“I’m listening.”

“Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to bring me the unlocked disc by midnight tonight. Now say the words.”

Ethan paused.

“Say the words,” Lane repeated.

“...I accept.”

“I knew you would.”

The call ended and you went back to fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist, trying to fight against the growing lump in your throat.

“Y/N…”

“Ethan, if you’re going to tell me to stop moping around, then I don’t want to hear it.”

“No, that’s not it. You need to listen to what I’m about to tell you.” He sounded more serious this time. “We need to get him back. And to do that…”

“...We need to unlock the disc,” you finished. “And to do that…”

“We have to take the Prime Minister…”

“Wait, think about this for just a minute—”

“It’s the only way to get Benji back.”

“Just think. It’s exactly what Lane wants us to do.”

“Which is why it HAS TO HAPPEN!” he raised his voice. You swallowed hard, and, noticing your sullen expression, he softened his tone. “This is how we beat Lane. This is how we make everything right.”

You could still see the image of Benji’s unconscious body being dragged away—it was fresh in your mind as if it happened only a minute ago. “Yeah. I know.”

If he noticed the longing look in your eyes, he didn’t say anything about it, but he could tell you cared about Benji much more than you were letting on.

“I’m going to find him, and he’ll be alright,” Ethan added after several minutes of silence had passed. “I’m not letting anything happen to him for your sake.”

“And why am I not coming with you?” Your blood began to boil.

“Because it’s not safe, Y/N. I care about your safety, and if both you and Benji want to live, I have to go alone.”

“That’s such bullshit.”

“You need to trust me on this one.”

You grumbled something under your breath. “This is the last time I’m letting you throw your ass on the line with barely any backup.”

He grinned. “Ma’am yes ma’am.”

Meanwhile, Benji had just stirred awake to see a dark figure walking over to him, something heavy in hand.

Maybe Ethan was right, he realized. You would be the death of him someday. And that seemed particularly likely now.

“Where is the disk?” Lane questioned.

“You’re looking at it. I am the disk,” Ethan replied, voice cold, “I memorized it. All two point four billion in numbered accounts. If that vest goes off, you get nothing. And without this money you’re nothing. Without me you’re nothing.”

He stared at Lane through the screen, watching him grow more irritated. The timer continued to count down

“Right now you’re thinking it’s a bluff. I’d never let my friends die. I couldn’t possibly memorize the entire disk. There’s only one way to be sure. Let Benji go.”

Lane stood and paced around the room before finally pressing the button, stopping the timer at just :03. Benji and Ilsa let out loud. long sighs of relief.

Vinter and his goons stepped closer.

“If they come any closer, shoot me.”

Ilsa smiled and slid her seat next to him, planting the barrel of her gun against his ribs.

“Stop. STOP,” Lane demanded, and Vinter and the others stopped what they were doing,

“Remember when I said some day you were going to take things too far...and that’s me speaking—not him,” Benji reminded Ethan.

“The only way this ends is you and me, Lane. Face-to-face. Only this time I won’t be locked in a glass box or half-dead on some highway.” Ethan leaned closer to the camera lens. “You want your money…the bone doctor’s gonna have to beat it out of me... Now let Benji go!”

Finally… “One three nine…”

Benji looks down at the keypad on his chest and nervously punches in a series of numbers. The light on the timer dies and the five-point harness springs open. He sheds the vest as discreetly as he can, wrapping it in his overcoat.

“Go.”

“Ethan—“

He slid a phone across the table to him, “Y/N’s waiting with Luther and Brandt. Go.”

It was far too cold in the office building. Add on the fact that you’d been in there for what felt like hours, and you felt like you were being tortured. You knew Ethan always kept his promises, but were still unsure if Benji would be coming back alive at all.

You had bitten and picked at your nails until you drew blood. The stinging sensation had stopped bothering you a while ago. So did the crimson stains on your skin.

But then you heard a lock click and a loud ringing noise, and suddenly, he’s standing there. Panting and sweating and looking burnt out, but very much alive.

You froze in place for a second, unsure of what to do.

“You’re real, right?” you asked, hesitation in your voice as you gingerly cupped his face in your hands. “Please tell me this is real. I don’t want to wake up and not see you in front of me.”

“It’s real. I'm real,” Benji reassured you as he gripped your forearms. That was all the confirmation you needed before you threw your arms around his neck, hugging him as tight as you possibly could. You were trembling, holding on so strongly because you were so afraid that he’d slip away if you let go.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” you repeated over and over. You pressed your lips to his, hard, before pulling back to stare at him again. His cheeks turn pink as he barely has time to react and kiss you back. “I’m so glad you’re alive, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you—“

“Did you—“ he stammered, suddenly at a loss for words. “Did you just—“

“You know I loved you all along,” you explained breathlessly. “It just took me a while to realize the fact.”

“Well, I love you too.”

One of his hands steers the wheel, while the other holds yours and absentmindedly rubs circles into your palm. You’re sipping your ultra-specific go-to coffee order that nobody—unless they were Benji—would bother to remember. It feels so normal—like something that has been routine for a long time.

The team tries their hardest to pretend not to notice the newfound closeness. (“But these idiots have been like this for ages, they only just realized it. Let them be,” Luther had said. He shared the team’s singular brain cell 50% of the time, which meant that he was always the first one to catch on to things. Ilsa shared the other 50%, she was very cunning.) But it’s hard when they almost crash because Benji keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

It’s hard to get a moment alone when 90% of your job consists of you jumping as a group from place to place. So you’re grateful for the few in between that you’re lucky enough to steal.

This time, you found yourselves in a quiet townhouse somewhere in Strasbourg. Ethan wasn’t snoring tonight—maybe it was because Ilsa was next to him this time. Luther was upstairs, probably filing and cleaning out mission reports with a croissant you’d bought him. He never slept, and he never made a sound.

The place was quiet, the only thing you could hear being the chirping crickets outside and the quiet crackling of the fireplace in front of you. You hadn’t felt this kind of peace in months.

“It’s cold at this hour, isn’t it? Meanwhile I thought France would be a bit nicer this time of year.”

Benji comes out from the kitchen holding two mugs of tea, as well as a blanket around himself. The amber flames illuminate his face in a way that makes him look almost angelic, and your heart skips a beat.

He sits down on the plush rug right next to you and offers you one of the mugs, and you accept it gratefully. After taking several long sips, you set it down on the small coffee table in front of you and lean back against the couch.

“You’re staring,” you say suddenly.

“Sorry…can’t help it,” he replies with a sheepish grin, then holds part of the blanket out—an invitation. You shift closer, allowing him to pull you in and wrap the rest of the soft fleece around you. “You’re very…breathtaking.”

This elicits a small laugh from you, but you can feel your cheeks heat up. There’s something different in the air—maybe it’s because those feelings are finally out in the open, or maybe because this moment feels so domestic and it’s both unfamiliar but comforting at the same time.

“Y/N…”

“Hmm?” You’re starting to drift off at this point, getting comfortable in his presence.

“I always wondered, you know…”

“Wondered what?”

“How we’re always ending up together—why you decided to choose me,” Benji admits.

The words come out of your mouth so easily. “What do you mean? You’re my person, Benji. I looked at you and I just knew you were right. You had to be.”

“I don’t get it. I thought you and Brandt—“

You shook your head and smiled, tracing patterns on his leg. “Don’t be silly. He was actually—he was the one who made me realize I was in love with you.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh, Benji,” you laughed, “don’t tell me you were jealous.”

“O-of course not!” he spluttered, face turning bright red, “All I want is for you to be happy!”

“Well…you know how I told you you’re my favorite, right?”

“Uh huh…”

“That hasn’t changed, you know. I love the Benji that knows how I like my coffee, and the Benji that carries me to bed when I’m too drunk, sick, or injured. And the Benji that always has my back. Especially the Benji that sits in front of the fireplace with me at 3am because he knows I enjoy his company more than the 387 crickets outside.”

He presses a kiss to your temple in response, unable to stop the corners of his lips from turning up in a grin.

“You know I’ve always got your back.”

tags: @kenobismullet @ilsastrenchcoat @voguesir @fl0ating @lady-elena-adeline @the-multiverse-of-fandoms @joyfullyswimmingface 

[dragonnarrative-writes]

1, 3 and 34 for the writer ask game!

Hello my friend! 💜

Do you prefer writing one-shots or mulit-chaptered fics?

Well... I think right now I prefer writing multi-chaptered fics, but I have a few one-shots in the works.

I like a long story, and I like the way the physical break between chapters changes how I read and write stories. As much as I hate a cliffhanger, I love the way a page break adds to the tension of a story.

I also like multi-chaptered fics as a writer because it lets readers interact with me and influence the story. The Gaz and Soap interludes in Slasher Handler came from asks, and they helped me flesh out their characters in my head and decide where the story is going. @mi-i-zori had a huge hand in helping me decide how I want Simon and Bambi to interact in Transferrable Skills.

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

Whoo. This will be long!

First, I do an "Okay So...!" summary. Basically, I ramble in the discord or write in a physical notebook anywhere between a sentence and (checks notes) 1500+ words. It's a bit unorganized. Some of it is quotes, a lot of it is "script" format dialogue, most of it is rushed transitions. There's a lot of placeholder text that represents its own couple of paragraphs.

(For example: I'm working on making the idea from this post into a one shot. That bit of ramble is 222 words. That part of the story that I'm actually writing became 1931 words. It's gonna be a long-ass project.)

From there, I workshop with friends and my partner. If I'm rambling directly in discord, I'm rolling with some of what my friends are telling me. My partner asks me the really annoying necessary questions, like "why this scene?" and "does that help get you to the smut?" and "are you letting your blorbo be a blorbo or are you trying to force a story you don't want to tell?"

Then I write a first draft. Sometimes the first draft is the only draft, but that's not the case very often anymore. I try to let myself be wordy and imperfect. Get the more detailed idea out in chunks of a few paragraphs, then reread and put in more details.

If there are multiple people in a scene, then I start with dialogue and inner thoughts, then physical actions. In this chapter of Autumn Embers, I wrote the dialogue between Gaz an Wildfire without any direction, then added in the handshakes, Wildfire arching an eyebrow, stepping to the side of the walkway, etc.

Then I let my partner read it! And he points out all of my typos.

Then I shuffle paragraphs around, and fill in spots that become a bit awkward, and then I show my partner again. And then I share it in the discord. Then I unashamedly BASK in the endorphins I get from my friends interacting with the story.

Then I rinse and repeat! Eventually, I identify where the chapter breaks are going to be, if I haven't already.

I do most of my writing in Scrivener, which allows you to write documents within documents and move them around. Sometimes I have chapters already separated. Sometimes I keep a long "working document" and then break it into chapters.

Tagging the people who I riff with often: @sentientcave, @gemmahale, @mortuarywriting, @mi-i-zori, @cordeliawhohung, @cosmicpro, and I'm missing so many other people who's blogs I can't recall off the top of my head or don't know if they'd be okay being tagged.

34. Five years from now, where do you see yourself as a writer?

Five years from now I'll still be writing fanfiction, though I'll probably have moved to other fandoms by then. I think I'll probably still write CoD, since I still love all of my past blorbos.

I think that by 2029, I will also be finishing up editing an original novel that I want to publish, if I'm not already publishing the second one. I've already written most of 3 novels, and plan to do another one next month.

I do not see myself writing full time, or relying on it as a source of income. I wouldn't be opposed, but I want my writing to be for me, first and foremost. When it's a job, it becomes about what other people want, and I don't think I'd be ready for that by then. Still, it would be fun to get the original stuff out there.

Ask Game

[thatonesillyducko]

𝕱𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝕲𝖔𝖑𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝕬𝖘𝖍

Characters included: Jemíma Ámbar del Mar Hernández (OC) (Teen), Brenda María del Martinéz de Hernández (Mother of Jemíma and Javíer). Brief mention:Javíer Alvarez Hernández (Little brother of Jemíma and youngest son of Brenda)

Warnings!: Angst, canon reality scene, depressive and war related topics

Note: I died writing this, 2 mugs of coffee and in and out battery charge of laptop. This fic is related on my Jemíma lore. As I'm currently working on her long ass biography. I thought of writing a... fic about it, perhaps to improve the lore of her life before? Another thing... This is a long paragraph as per my knowledge lmao-- Enjoy reading!

.𖥔 ݁ ˖༘⋆𐦍⊹₊ ⋆｡˚⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖༘⋆𐦍⊹₊ ⋆｡˚⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖༘

It's frustrating having to deal with a difficult change in your appearance, especially when it involves your hair. Maybe you're feeling stuck with a look that doesn't align with your desired image, or perhaps your hair is going through a period of change, and the outcome isn't living up to your expectations. This situation can feel quite dreadful and uncomfortable, as your hair serves as an essential part of your identity. To feel like it's not turning out as planned can be disheartening, leading to a sense of disappointment and dissatisfaction. But in this case, it's a lot different story...

The woman gently combed through Jemíma's locks, taking a strand of her hair between her fingers before twisting the brush around. The smell of hair dye lingered heavily in the air. Brenda continued to hum along to some Latin music in the background, glancing at Jemíma's distressed and solemn expression in the mirror. Brenda's hands trembled as she applied the dark-brown hair colour

"Be still, mi hija." She murmured as she carefully continued the dyeing, her own heart breaking at the sight of her daughter's sorrow. The heavy silence in the room was filled only by Jemíma's soft sobs, the gentle sound of the hair dye being applied and low volumed Latin music playing. Brenda's fingers ached from the constant effort needed to keep her hands from trembling, and her own heart ached for her daughter. This was no way for a child to grow up - in constant fear, hiding from the evils that stalked them outside.

Brenda gently wiped away a stray tear from Jemíma's cheek, her voice soft and soothing.

"It will be alright, Jemí. I promise."

Jemíma hesitantly questioned, her voice laced with a mixture of fear and confusion. "Mum, why are you dyeing my hair anyways?" she asked, her tone wavering with a hint of trepidation. The 16-year-old girl fidgeted nervously in her seat, a whimper escaping her lips as she looked up at her mother's steady hands holding the bottle of hair dye.

Brenda paused, her eyes tearing up again as she looked at her daughter. How could she explain the horrors of the current situation to a girl still so young?

"Mija, you… You can't look like you anymore. There are bad people out there, and they…" She took a shuddering breath, trying to keep her own fear and despair from showing in her voice.

Jemíma's words were tinged with confusion, her brow furrowing as she spoke, "But you're blonde too, a white Colombian…?" There was a hint of doubt in her voice as she struggled to understand her mother's decision. Her hands fidgeted nervously in her lap, her eyes fixed on her mother's hands as they held the bottle of hair dye.

"They want to hurt us. They can't know who you are. Do you understand?" How could she explain the horrific reality of the world they lived in to a 16-year-old girl, her own daughter? She paused for a moment, struggling to find the right words. "We live in dangerous times. It's not safe for you to look like yourself anymore. The gangs, they're… they're looking for girls like you."

Tears welled up in Jemíma's eyes, her young mind barely grasping the severity of the situation. She looked up at her mother pleadingly.

"I don't understand, Mamá... Why do they want girls like me?"

Brenda's heart shattered a little more as she looked into her daughter's wide, innocent eyes. How could she explain the unspeakable horrors that lay beyond their front door?

"There are... many terrible people out there. And they do terrible things to girls like you. We cannot let them find you. That's why we must hide, mi amor." Brenda knew it was the truth as much as she hated to say it. Jemíma's blonde hair and pretty innocent appearance made her an easy target for the drug lords and gangs that terrorized their city. Dyeing her hair was the only way to keep her safe. She gently brushed her daughter's newly dyed hair, her heart breaking as she looked into the girl's wide, frightened eyes.

"I know it's not fair. But we have to do this to keep you safe. Do you understand?"

Jemíma looked up at her mother, her eyes still watery, staring at the mirror reflection her newly darkened hair, a look of confusion and sadness on her face. It felt wrong, unnatural. She didn't want to change; she didn't want any of this. Why couldn't life just be normal...Her small hands touched her newly darkened locks, her tears stopping as she studied her reflection with a mixture of confusion and resignation.

"But I liked being blonde…" She whispered; her voice barely audible over the distant, ever-present sounds of soft Latin music.

Brenda's heart ached at the pain in her daughter's voice, but she knew she had to answer honestly - there was no point in trying to sweeten the truth.

"Mi cariña," she said softly, her hand gentle as she brushed away tears from Jemíma's cheeks, "We must blend in, we must be careful. Your blonde hair makes you stand out, we can't take any risks. You understand, don't you?"

As much as she hated to say it, Brenda knew it was the truth. Jemima's blonde hair and tan skin made her an easy target for the drug lords and gangs that terrorized their city. Dyeing her hair was the only way to keep her safe. Brenda knelt down in front of her daughter, taking her small hands in hers. Her own hands trembled slightly as she stared into Jemima's eyes, tears now streaming down her own face.

"I will do everything I can to protect you, mi hija. But… these people, they don't care about the lives they destroy. I can't promise they won't try to hurt you if they find you. That's why we must be careful, mi amor. That's why we have to hide."

Brenda tried to force a smile as she dried Jemima's hair, but it faltered at the sight of her daughter's tear-streaked face. How could she protect her from this hellish world they lived in? But it also felt like a betrayal, a transformation that stripped away an innocence that could never be returned.

"We'll get through this, you and I. Together. One day, mi hija. One day, we'll be free of this madness. I promise."

Brenda nodded in acknowledgment, a small frown of worry creasing her forehead. After a moment, she broke the silence again.

"And you remember the rules, right, cariña? Don't go out alone, don't accept rides from strangers, and if someone makes you uncomfortable or scares you, you come straight home. Understood?" Jemíma responded with a nod of thanks, "Mhm, gracias. Mamá" She chimed in, the casual tone of her voice seemed to imply that the danger was not as concerning to her as it probably should. "Don't worry about me, I can take care of myself."

Brenda let out a soft sigh of relief, a small smile forming on her lips. She leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Jemíma's forehead, her voice soft and loving. "De nada, mi vida. I just want to keep you safe. Never forget that, okay? You're my everything, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

She changed the subject slightly, speaking in a more lighthearted tone. "Now that I'm done, what do you want for dinner? I can make your favourite tonight… Tacos? Or anything you want, cariño."

"I was thinking.. your homemade one-pot rice and chicken dish. The aroma of sautéed chicken combined with flavourful seasonings and fluffy rice would hit the spot right now." Jemíma loved her mother's cooking skills, wishing that she could learn from her as well, maybe one day. The fragrance of the spices, the tenderness of the chicken, all brought together in a single satisfying meal. It's a classic and yet each time it's made, it feels like a new and delightful experience. Brenda's face instantly brightened at Jemíma's request, and a warm smile spread across her lips.

"You're in luck, querida. I just bought everything I need for that dish this morning. It's one of my personal favorites as well. I'll get started on it as soon as I clean up the things. Just give me a few more minutes, alright?"

Jemima quickly glanced at the clock, realizing it was already 5 PM. Her face immediately morphed into an expression of slight alarm.

"Oh no, I completely forgot that it was Javíer's football match day!" she exclaimed. "Do you mind if I quickly go and pick him up from school?"

Brenda paused for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty passing over her face. Concern etched her features as she looked at her daughter, considering the situation carefully. After a few moments, she spoke her mind.

"Javíer's match… Are you sure that's a good idea right now? With all that's going on, I don't know if it's safe for you to be out and about…"

Brenda nodded slowly, her expression a mix of worry and resignation. She knew that Jemíma was right; Javíer was just a child.

"I understand, Jemí. Just promise me you'll be careful, okay? Keep your head down, don't talk to strangers, and come straight home after you pick him up. And no loitering, you hear me?"

Brenda gave a small chuckle in response, a smile on her face. She reached out and gently patted Jemíma's hand.

"I know I can trust you, mija. You're a smart girl. But I'm your mother. Mother's worry, it's what we do. Just be careful out there, alright? And if anything feels wrong, call me immediately, okay?"

Jemíma smiled at her mother's words, her heart eased slightly by the reassurance."I will, Mamá. I promise. I'll be careful, and if something doesn't feel right, I'll call you right away."

Brenda nodded, satisfied with her daughter's response. "That's my girl. I just want you to be safe, you know? It's a dangerous world out there."

Jemíma smiled, feeling a pang of guilt for the worry she was causing her mother. "I know, I understand. But I'll be okay. I'm a capable person. I know how to take care of myself."

Brenda sighed and gave a small smile. "I know you are, sweetie. I just can't help but worry. It's a mother's job. But I trust you. Just promise me you'll be careful, alright?"

Jemíma nodded, a sense of determination in her eyes. "I promise, Mamá. I'll be careful. I won't take unnecessary risks, and I'll pay attention to my surroundings. I'll be careful and call you if anything seems off."

Later on, Jemíma got dressed in her favorite blue-white striped shirt, black leggings, and a dark green jacket. After putting on her shoes, she headed downstairs, ready to pick up her younger brother, Javíer, from school. Brenda observed as Jemíma prepared to leave, her motherly instincts still on high alert. She walked closer to Jemíma and placed a hand on her shoulder, her voice gentle but firm.

"Remember, be careful. Stay in public areas, and don't linger. Pick up Javíer and come straight home, understood? No detours or chatting with strangers."

“You can count on me, Mamá. Love you!” She gave a cheek kiss on mother’s cheek, as she proceeds to leave the house, closing the main door behind and walked heading towards the school. Brenda watched Jemíma leave, a hint of worry in her eyes. She let out a small sigh, knowing that she couldn't keep her daughter locked away forever, but still concerned for her safety.

As Jemíma made her way to the school, the neighborhood was unusually quiet. The once vibrant and bustling streets had a different feeling to them, almost eerily quiet. As Jemíma approached the school, she noticed a few unfamiliar faces lingering near the entrance. Some of them seemed to be loitering around, with a disinterested or even hostile expression on their faces. Jemíma couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy as she approached, instinctively adjusting her jacket to cover her now brunette hair a bit more.

Jemíma gulped, a breath caught her in her throat, feeling an eerie tension in her body. She took a deep breath and walked slowly towards the main gate of the school to enter in, one of the men loitering nearby leaned against the wall, his gaze following her movements with a cold, unblinking stare. It was clear he was sizing her up, taking in her appearance. He muttered something under his breath in a low voice, causing a few of the others to exchange looks and smirk. Jemíma passed through the halls of the school, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every now and then, she'd catch glimpses of the same men from outside, standing at various points inside the school, their presence a constant reminder of the eerie atmosphere.

When she finally reached the soccer field, the game was already in progress. Javíer was one of the players darting across the field, his focus entirely on the game.She stood near the sidelines, trying to watch the game while still keeping an eye out for the strange men. The tension in the air was palpable, and even the other parents and spectators seemed a bit on edge. But despite the unsettling situation, Jemíma couldn't help but feel a sense of relief upon seeing Javíer engaged in the soccer game. One student, known as a bully, kicked Javíer on purpose to make him fall on the grass.The bully's dirty play caused Javíer to stumble and fall hard onto the grass, wincing in pain. The game momentarily stopped as the coach rushed over to check on him. Jemíma's heart skipped a beat as she saw her little brother in distress, and an immediate protective instinct welled up within her. She clenched her fists, a mix of anger and worry on her face.

The bully snickered at Javíer on the ground, clearly enjoying the scene he had caused. The other players looked on, some with a hint of annoyance, while others seemed entertained by the spectacle. The tension in the air thickened as the coach helped Javíer up, checking him for any serious injuries. Jemíma grit her teeth, her protective instincts flaring. She cast a disapproving glare towards the bully, her eyes narrowing with annoyance. It took all her restraint to keep from marching over there and giving him a piece of her mind. But she knew she had to be careful in her actions, for Javíer's sake as well as her own.

The coach, after assessing Javíer's condition, called a brief time-out. He pulled Javíer aside and spoke to him, while the other players dispersed to the sidelines for water breaks. Javíer, still a bit shaken, looked around and spotted Jemíma. He smiled weakly and made his way towards her, a slight limp in his step from the bully's kick.

Javíer's frown slowly turned into a small smile as he listened to Jemíma. He was clearly glad to see her, and her kind words helped to lift his spirits a bit. The mention of his soccer skills, although slightly off-topic, also brought a hint of pride to his expression. He winced a bit as he moved his leg, but he tried to ignore the lingering pain.The time-out period ended, and the game resumed. The bully glanced over at Jemíma and Javíer, a subtle smirk on his face. He seemed pleased with the impact he had on Javíer, relishing in the fact that he had disrupted his game.

The game continued, but Jemíma's mind was fixated on the bully. Her annoyance and protectiveness towards her little brother only grew as she observed his smug expression and the way he continued to target Javíer during the game. The bully's actions became more aggressive as the game progressed. He pushed and elbowed Javíer whenever the opportunity arose, and he laughed whenever Javíer fell or missed a pass. The coach didn’t seem to notice, or at least didn’t intervene yet.Suddenly, Javíer then kicked him back, the bully responded that don't ever do that again or tomorrow morning, he’ll be dismembered in different bags, and going to end up in the trunk of a car. Jemíma noticed her brother and the bully fighting, resulting in a gathering. The game came to an abrupt halt when the bully and Javíer started fighting, their fists flying at each other. The coach rushed over, trying to break up the altercation while the other players and spectators gathered around, some cheering them on, others watching with a mixture of shock and amusement.

Jemíma watched the scene unfold, her protective instincts flaring to new heights. The threat the bully had made about dismembering Javíer sent a shiver down her spine, and she stepped closer, ready to intervene if necessary. The coach and a few other adult spectators struggled to separate the fighting boys. The bully's friends shouted encouragement, spurring him on to continue the fight. Javíer, despite being smaller, fought back bravely, fuelled by a mix of anger and fear. The tension in the air was palpable, and the crowd around them grew larger as more people heard the commotion. Jemíma, trying her best to stay in control, pushed her way through the crowd, determined to reach her brother. The men she had noticed loitering around the school earlier had now approached the scene, and their cold, calculating gazes sent a chill down her spine. It was clear they were affiliated with the bully somehow. Jemima became enraged that this fucking conflict was even affecting not only teens but young children too atleast aged between 9 and 11. She pulled Javíer away from the chaotic scene, her heart racing with anger and concern. She pushed through the crowd and hurried out of the school gate, her pace quick and determined.

As they exited, she scanned the surroundings warily, mindful of the men who had been lurking earlier. The cold, menacing atmosphere still hung in the air, but she didn’t stop until they were a safe distance away from the school. Javíer, his adrenaline subsiding, looked up at his sister with a mix of worry and apology in his eyes. He obviously felt bad for the fight, but also scared by the bully’s threat.

Jemíma didn’t say anything at first, her mind still reeling from the events that had just unfolded. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself before speaking."Javíer…" Jemíma said in a measured tone, her eyes meeting her brother's concerned gaze. "What the hell was that all about? That bully… the things he said… What was he talking about, saying he would dismember you and put you in a car trunk?"

Javíer swallowed hard, his young face visibly paler. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, his voice shaky as he spoke. "I-I don’t know, Jemíma… He’s always been mean to me, ever since I started playing soccer… But today, he was acting crazier than usual. He’s always throwing threats and stuff, but this time, it felt different…"

Jemíma frowned, her concern growing. She knelt down so she was eye-level with her brother, her voice softening, but still carrying a hint of anger and worry.

"Javíer… I want you to promise me, from now on, you’ll tell me if that bully bothers you. I don’t care if you think I’ll get angry or anything, I need to know. Okay? Promise me you’ll tell me if he hurts you, or threatens you, or says something like that again."

Javíer nodded, a mixture of fear and hesitation in his eyes.

"Si, I promise… I won’t keep it to myself again. I’m sorry for not telling you before, Jemíma. I… I was scared…"

Jemíma took a deep breath, her anger and worry slowly being replaced by a sense of protectiveness. She gently ruffled Javíer’s hair, a strained smile on her face."It’s okay, hermano. You don’t have to apologize. I’m just glad you’re okay. But now we have to figure out what to do about this bully situation. That threat he made… it’s serious. We can’t just ignore it."

Javíer nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground. He looked tired and drained from the ordeal. The realization of the seriousness of the situation seemed to weigh heavy on him.

He looked back up at Jemíma, his voice shaky. "What are we gonna do, Jemíma? What if he really does something… what if he really hurts me?"

Jemíma’s heart sank at her brother’s words. She hated seeing the fear in his eyes, her protective instincts soaring even higher. She took a moment to think, her expression serious before responding.

"We’re going to make sure he doesn’t hurt you, hermano. I won’t let that happen, no matter what. I’ll talk to the coach and the school officials. They have to know what’s going on and deal with the bully…"

Javíer’s eyes seemed to light up at Jemíma's words, a mixture of hope and relief in them. Despite the fear he was feeling, he trusted his older sister implicitly. "You really think they’ll do something? I’m worried they might not care or something… I’m worried they might not--.."

Jemíma sighed, a mix of determination and frustration in her voice. "I’m going to make sure they do something this time. We have to be persistent. If they don’t listen, we’ll go to the principal, the school board, anyone we need to…"

She paused for a moment, her eyes hardening. "And if all else fails, we’ll tell mamá." The mention of their mother seemed to have a profound effect on Javíer. His eyes widened slightly, and he swallowed hard.

"Do we have to tell mamá? She’ll get really worried, and she might not let me play soccer anymore…"

Jemíma thought for a moment, her expression soft but firm.

"Normally, I’d say no, we shouldn’t worry her unnecessarily, but this isn't something we can just brush under the rug. This is serious, hermano, and she should know. It concerns you, and your safety is important. I understand you’re afraid she might not let you play soccer, but I don’t think that’s the biggest concern right now, honestly…"

Javíer was quiet for a few moments, seeming to accept the gravity of the situation. After a few seconds, he nodded.

"You’re right… We should tell mamá. I just hope she won’t be too mad. And I still want to play soccer…"

Jemíma placed a comforting hand on Javíer’s shoulder, her gaze unwavering.

"I’m sure mamá will understand. She’ll support you. And we won’t stop you from playing soccer if it’s what you love. We’ll just make sure there’s a solution to deal with that bully."

She paused for a moment, looking around, noticing the time.

"Come on. We need to get home before mamá starts to worry."

Javíer nodded silently, falling in step beside his sister as they began the walk home. The incident at the school field was still on his mind, the threats and the fight replaying in his thoughts. He glanced up at Jemíma, feeling grateful yet anxious.

"I’m glad I have you, Jemíma… You always look out for me."

Jemíma smiled softly at her little brother, her expression a mix of love and protection. She bumped his shoulder gently.

"You’re my little brother, hermano. It’s my job to look out for you. We’re siblings, you and me. We’ll face whatever comes our way, together. Okay?"

Javíer nodded, feeling a bit more comforted by his sister’s words. He felt safe and reassured, knowing that Jemíma had his back.

As they continued walking, the journey home was filled with the typical sights and sounds of the neighborhood. Kids playing in the streets, dogs barking, and the occasional car passing by. But there was also an underlying tension. Jemíma kept an eye out, her protective instincts on high alert. She was aware of the men loitering around the school earlier, and their presence added a layer of unease to their journey.

[citadelofswords]

Fanfic Writer Interview Meme

eh fuck it i'll do this. was tagged by @redtailedhawk90

How many works do you have on AO3?

72 that aren't anonymous. don't feel like going to count the ones that are on anon but that's another 6 or 7? so like just under 80.

What's your total AO3 word count?

297,699 words total. which does include the anon fics since they show up in stats.

Your top 5 stories by kudos:

i've been with you such a long time (you're my sunshine) - good omens missing scene fic from the final episode i published like a week after the season dropped bc that's how you fuck your stats for life

hush hush (we both can't fight it) - penumbra pod jupeter 5+1 times i wrote pre-train from nowhere. it's somehow still the #2 most kudos'd fic in the penumbra tag.

fall to your knees (bring on the rapture) - critical role campaign 1 soulmate au fic. i do still really love this one, actually.

your eyes are swallowing me - jupeter masquerade ball fic. i had no idea this was here, for real.

ecstasies where they forgot to kiss - xmfc alex/armando soulmate au. i still adore this ship, i regularly think about writing something for them.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

rarely, if ever. i love all my commenters dearly but i'm really bad at figuring out what to say to people that doesn't just feel like a rote copy-paste thank you.

Do you write crossovers?

[stares at my interstitial fic] on occasion

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i have tried multiple times and i get extremely extremely stuck on it. maybe someday i'll break past the wall in my brain about it

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i... wouldn't be surprised if i had but i don't actually know for sure

Have you ever had a fic translated?

yep! two marvel fics and one of my les mis fics. i have a blanket translation/podfic/remix statement on my profile (which i should amend, now that i think about it)

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yeah quite a few friends at the table fics i've written were cowritten with my girlfriend, actually; but only one of them is on ao3

What's your all-time favourite ship?

it's been a long time since i've had just one. i usually say that tony/ziva of ncis is my All Time Favorite but i'm just not sure anymore.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

oh i have a million of these lol you don't want to see the ashcan folders in my gdrive they're a fucking nightmare. one i wish i would finish is the cassmako post-canon road trip fic. but these days most of my WIPs that i really want to finish are original stuff.

What are your writing strengths?

dialogue. i feel like my best skill in writing is actually playwriting because it's All dialogue but

What are your writing weaknesses?

filling in the details between point A and point B lmfao

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

[silently scrolls through my own blog for ten minutes] idk doc a lot of the fandoms i've wanted to write for i've just written for. there's some interstitial stuff i want to get around to eventually but i've already written most of what i would answer this question with. exception being shokal i guess? and then eventually i'll finish the "carrie meets the wktd girls in the summer camp car" fic i have half-written. anyway.

What's your favourite fic that you've written?

ok genuinely i really like everything i've written but the one that suckerpunches me in the goddamn gut every time i think about it is every ghost in me, the interstitial infinity hinamizawa time loop au i wrote where i put shigeo mob kageyama into a torment nexus bc marn put alphonse elric into a different torment nexus and i said "i can make this worse". i have so many bonus scenes for this fic and i STILL think about it.

and if you're the kind of person who hates fun and doesn't think crossover fic is valid, then take these lines of lightning mean we're never alone the cassmako fake dating au

(note: because with all your heart has been semi-canonized i'm not sure i'm counting it as fic anymore, despite it being on ao3. so to my stasto people, it's only not here for that reason. i still adore it and am so so proud of it.)

Tagging: if you read this and it looks fun for you consider yourself tagged. and tag me in your post so i can see

[callmearcturus]

1) i am interest, what does the "brachtian lens" mean in your MI post? 2) i did google pathologic and seems interesting but i don't know if its for me, would you recommend it? (you have good taste)

Brechtian, a Brechtian lens.

Okay so everyone brace yourself for the most unhinged take you've ever heard. I'm gonna caveat this up front by pointing out that I don't know if I actually myself ascribe to this read, it's just the kind of thing that happens when you are at work listening to the Codex Entry performance of Pathologic: The Marble Nest and the adderall hits just right.

I'm an undereducated pleb so I'm not going to go into the full history of Brecht, hit up any of your local pretentious media nerds for that. But one of the things associated with Brecht is the Alienation Effect. One of his primary concerns as a playwright was the idea that audiences were becoming complacent and were watching plays and observing art without internalizing everything. He had this idea that as the artifice of theatre became more and more immersive, as the Theatre of the Real so to speak became more seamless, audiences weren't actually connecting to what they were seeing. It's hard to impart wisdom and propose hard questions when the audience is just out here vibin', basically.

So Brecht's whole thing was to make the artificiality of the theatre as conspicuous and obvious as possible. There were a few tactics for this, including fun stuff like spoiling the plot of the story at the very start, casting very incongruous actors in specific roles, making the violence over the top to the point of being ridiculous, etc.

The point of these tactics was to jolt the audience out of their Vibe, to remind them they were watching a play, a performance. And in doing so, in theory, it would get the audience to pay more attention to the content of the play. When you are not passively absorbing the story, you will in theory give more consideration to what you are observing and actually THINK about what is being presented to you. Audiences tend to feel empathetic to characters in media, and you wanna jolt them out of that comfy zone.

Okay so how the fuck can I apply this lens to Mission Impossible? Besides being the most pretentious bitch on your dashboard obvsly.

One common interpretation of MI is that the movies are documentaries of their own productions. I have heard this idea parroted many times by people I broadly respect. Now... I don't personally ascribe to that take, but lets hypothesize for a moment that it's true, that there is a purposeful artificiality to MI. One of the things people point to with this theory is the fact that the first footage of MI: Fallout ever shared wasn't a trailer or teaser or anything.

It was footage of TC breaking his ankle doing that rooftop jump. It was a behind the scenes moment of ultra-reality that affected production. Because the hype cycle around MI is linked inextricably to "oh man what bullshit is TC gonna pull in THIS one" as a conscious marketing tactic.

It's accurate to say that yes, some people just go to see MI for the stunts. And the marketing knows it and promos it. There is an effort to focus on the physical, practical feats of the movie.

What I find interesting is that McQ and TC both share an ethos, that the only reason audiences give a shit about the stunts is because they are a vehicle of characterization. There is more overt writing and acting in MI than it gets credit for. It's like the stunts are a Loss Leader of the movie, yanno? Here is the big spectacle to get people to show up, and once people are in the theatre, you can talk to them.

So, what I'm positing is that if you believe that there is a heightened artificiality to MI, if you think its just a sequence of bombastic set pieces, if you think Ethan Hunt is just TC's alter ego, blah blah blah (again, not my belief) then it should in theory become difficult to sink into passivity with these movies.

If all that is correct, then there is a forced artificiality to MI that mimicks the Brechtian-style, leading to the Alienation Effect. Therefore, the text of the movies, what they are saying about, for random instance, the encroaching threat of uncontrolled AI in a digital world, that message should become more stark and harder for audiences to glaze their eyes over and miss.

And ALL OF THAT is the kind of bullshit you too can cogitate on if you inflict Pathologic on yourself and let it rewire your fucking brain! If you want a primer of what the fuck Pathologic is, look up hbomberguy's legendary Pathologic video, then come hit me up for further links.