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chapter 14: purpose is out!! yippppeeee!!
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Hold My Hand: John Wick x Reader Chapter 164
warnings: none hmh masterlist
If there was a word to describe today it would be boring. Dull, mundane, uneventful, monotonous. Boring! The sky is full of fluffy gray clouds that keep hiding the sun, and what little sun does poke through doesn’t last long since the clouds swallow it back up almost instantly.
It’s just a boring day around the Wick household. John is downstairs working on some books for a client, Ronan was playing with some toys but now she’s zonked out on the floor next to Bleu while you’re lounging on the couch scrolling through all the stupid TikToks Tess has sent you this past week. Every now and then there’s a really boring day, which is fine since it’s nice to just relax, but today is beyond boring.
You get up from the couch and head downstairs to see if John is almost done working. It’s been about two hours since you’ve seen him, so it’s time to go bother him.
“Hey,” you lean against his back and press a kiss to his shoulder, “You almost done?”
“Not quite,” he says, setting his things down so he can turn to you, “Are you getting bored?”
You gape at him, “What do you mean ‘getting’? Wick, I’m beyond bored. Ronan is asleep, Tess is busy with Jimmy’s family. I have nothing to do!”
John chuckles as he pulls you between his legs, “What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. I thought we could go to the museum or the aquarium.” you shrug as John nods, “Ro will be up in a little bit, so it would give us time to clean up and head out. It’s going to rain later too, so anything outside is obviously not going to work.”
“Right, right,” he nods, looking over at his workbench, “Well, I’m just about done with this book, so once I’m done, I’ll head up and take a shower. Does that sound good?”
You pout as you nod your head, “Yeah.”
“You miss me?”
“I do,” you whisper quietly, “You’ve been working on this book for so long.”
John nods, “Yeah, it’s a tough one. They wanted very specific things for it, but I think it’s turning out.”
You look down at the book and carefully turn it over to look at the gorgeous binding on it. The cover is adorned with gold vinyl cutouts of the characters along with the title. The client is going to be very pleased with it, and they should be since it’s taken John a long time to work on it and get it just right. John doesn’t give out anything he isn’t proud of.
“Looks gorgeous,” you smile at him, leaning in to kiss him, “I’ll be upstairs.”
“I’ll be up soon, I promise,” he says, spanking your ass as you walk away. “I love you, sweetheart.”
You smile at him over your shoulder, “I love you, pookie.”
��Maybe you should just stick to Wick.”
“Ha!” you laugh as you make your way upstairs, “Not likely.”
__
The idea of going to the museum was good until you remembered there was a huge exhibit there today and it was packed. John drove past and looked over at you, and you both silently agreed to head to the aquarium instead. It wasn’t too far from the museum anyway, and if you’re being honest, you’d rather go there.
John dropped you and Ronan off at the door and went to park the car, and you’re just waiting for him when some raindrops start to fall down. You step back and get under the awning, then you look out and try to find John. Ronan squeals loudly when she sees him jogging through the parking lot, and he makes it under the awning just as the rain pounds down.
You gather up your sweatshirt from the bottom of Ronan’s stroller and dab at John’s face, “You’re all wet.”
“I’m okay,” he laughs, gently taking your hands, “I’m okay, baby.”
“You’ll be cold in there,” you continue drying him off as he watches you with a small smile on his face, “What?”
John leans down and kisses you, “You’re such a mom.”
“Why? Because I don’t want you to be cold? I’m just taking care of you.”
“You’re such a nurturer. I love it. You’ve become even more nurturing since having her, and I like to see that side of you.” John smiles down at you, cupping your cheek, “My gorgeous wife.”
You playfully roll your eyes at him, “Stop.”
“Nope,” he hugs you tight and nuzzles into the crook of his neck, “I promised I’d love on you forever. I’m not stopping now.”
Leaning back, you smile at John until Ronan squeals loudly for you. You look down at her and smile, then you lean down and kiss her cheek as she laughs. She always wants to be in on the love whenever you and John are hugging.
“Oh, maybe we should grab some lunch,” John says when you walk through the doors. He gestures to the cafe and smiles, “Ro always loves the aquarium in there.”
Inside the cafe, you find a booth next to an aquarium and scoot into it before reaching for Ronan. You hold her up and smile as she looks at the fish swimming around, and John is quick to get his phone out and capture a picture of the two of you.
“I guess getting the yearly membership will be worth it.”
“I think so,” you smile as you look at Ronan’s big brown eyes wide in wonder, “Even if we didn’t have Ro, I think I’d come here a lot.”
John nods as he looks at the tank to his right, “When I was a kid, I wanted a bedroom that was underwater, like an underwater aquarium. I wanted sharks, sting rays, sea turtles. I wanted to be able to lay in bed and just watch them swim over me.”
“Jonathan Wick, I didn’t take you for such a little sea-life nerd.”
“Well,” he laughs, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck, “I gotta keep you on your toes.”
You grin at him, “And you certainly do.”
__
John places his hands on the back of your arms that are around his waist, “I have to finish this stuff today.”
You pout, “Okay.”
Since you all went to the aquarium yesterday, John absolutely has to finish his books today. You’re still a little bored today since Tess won’t be home for a few more hours and to make things even worse, it’s pouring down rain.
“You can join me?”
“I can’t,” you gesture over to Ronan, “We have plans.”
John chuckles, “Without me?”
“Yeah, girl’s day.” you smile proudly, “We’re doing our hair.”
“You mean you’re doing Ronan’s hair.”
You grin, “Yup! Her hair has gotten so much longer, so I wanna try some little pig tails on her.”
John looks down at Ronan and laughs, “Baby, you’re getting your hair all pretty?”
Ronan looks up at him and cheeses so hard that her cheeks must hurt. She holds up a toy and shows it to him, and he laughs and looks back at you.
“She’s thrilled.” you laugh, then you wrap your arms around his waist again, “But we’re not thrilled that you’re busy and can’t sit up here and tell us how pretty we are.”
John laughs, “I will come up here every 15 minutes to tell my girls how pretty they are.”
“Good!” you lean up to kiss John a few times, then you watch as he walks over to give Ronan a kiss. You smile when he gets up and walks past you, touching your hip as he moves to the basement door. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he smiles, then he looks over at Ronan when she screams happily, “And I love you.”
Ronan walks over to you with a toy and reaches up, and you put her in your lap where she snuggles close to you and closes her eyes.
__
You inhale deeply and open your eyes, squinting them when the light from the lamp shines in your eyes. You feel the weight of something on your chest, and you look down to see Ronan’s little cheeks red and pressed against your chest, her hair stuck to her forehead with sweat. The two of you fell asleep and she runs so warm that she made you sweat too.
You sit up and cradle her in your arms before gently laying her back down on the couch. Since she’s a little warm, you grab the fan from the guest bedroom and plug it in to cool her off. She probably won’t be asleep for much longer but you want her to be cool. Smoothing down her brown hair, you smile and let out a small laugh when she scrunches her face up and stretches.
“I love you,” you whisper to her as you gently rub her back to coax her to sleep. You make sure that she’s okay, then you get up and head downstairs to see John.
“Ah, I was wondering when you were coming to see me. I assume…” he looks up and laughs, “Oh, yeah, you definitely fell asleep. Get over here.”
You lean against John’s chest and close your eyes, “I’m sleepy.”
“I see that.”
“We fell asleep,” you laugh, and he kisses your cheek, “She’s still asleep up there on the couch. Her protector is watching over her.”
John laughs, “Never leaves her side.”
You start to fall asleep leaning against John’s warm chest as his heart drums away, and he reaches down to lift you up into his lap. He holds you for a few short minutes until you finally sit up and look at him.
“Oh, you’re so sleepy,” he whispers, laughing softly, “Why are you so tired?”
You straighten up and cock up your brow, “Last night wasn’t exactly a lazy night after the aquarium.”
John starts to smirk, “I won’t apologize for that.”
“Never said I wanted you to,” you get off his lap and cup his face, “You did some fine work last night.”
“Thank you,” he smiles, his cheeks turning a little red, “You did some fantastic work.”
You grin proudly, “Oh, I know. You told me.”
“And you told me!” he laughs, pulling you back to him, “It just so happens that I’m free tonight too.”
“Oh my god!” you gasp playfully, “Me too!”
John kisses you as you both laugh, “What do you say? Our room? 9 PM?”
“It’s a date!” you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, “I better get back upstairs. She’s going to be hungry soon.”
“I’ll be up for some lunch soon too. Just gotta finish one last thing.” he says, looking over at the books on his workbench.
You cup his face and bring his gaze back to you before kissing him, “Don’t take too long.”
“I won’t,” he whispers, then he smiles as you head upstairs.
__
Lunch is just about done and you’re getting Ronan situated in her high-chair when you hear the doorbell ring. For a short second, you think it might be Tess, but when has she ever rung the doorbell? Literally never. She usually just lets herself in--John told her that she was more than welcome to do so since she didn’t believe you when you told her.
“Okay, here,” you give Ronan a toy and smile at her, “I know you’re hungry, but I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be up in a minute!” John yells from the basement, and you laugh to yourself.
You make sure you look presentable and your hair isn’t all messed up, then you open the door just as the doorbell is pressed again.
“Sorry,” you smile at the woman standing on the front step, “Hi.”
She looks taken aback for a moment before she smiles, “Is Mr. Wick here?”
“Yes,” you nod, still taking her in.
The woman’s dark hair is slicked back in a perfect ponytail but the ends have gotten wet from the rain. Despite having an umbrella, she has a black rain coat on with some thigh high leather boots. Her eyes haven’t moved from off of you since you opened the door.
“You said Mr. Wick is here?” she says, and you finally notice the accent and the tattoos on her hand wrapped around the umbrella handle.
She’s someone from his past. You knew that the moment you set your eyes on her. But if she’s here looking for John, she better have a damn good reason and she’s not getting in without going through you first.
“He is,” you say, closing the door a little more, “May I ask who you are?”
The woman smiles, “Just an old friend.”
“No, I want your name.”
“Sure, that seems fair,” she smiles, reaching out to shake your hand, “My name is Akira.”
You stare her down as you shake her hand. You won’t be intimidated by her, not that she’s even probably trying to intimidate you, but still.
“I’ll go get him,” you say as you start to close the door.
“What was your name?” she says, and you close your eyes before turning back to her, “I assume you’re his wife. Y/N?”
You hold her gaze, “You seem to already know my name.”
“It’s lovely to meet you,” she smiles, and you want to scream because she’s being so damn nice and on top of it, you fucking love her accent. “I’ll just wait here.”
You close the door and exhale loudly, reaching for the basement door when John opens it. You take a step back and look up at him as he smiles at you, but it quickly fades.
He cups your face and furrows his brow, “What happened?”
“Someone is here for you,” you say quietly, and he immediately looks up at the door, “Her name is Akira.”
John furrows his brow, “Akira?”
“She said she’s an old--”
“Friend, yeah.” he nods his head and leans down to kiss your cheek, “Stay here.”
John squeezes your shoulders and walks off to the door, taking one last look at you before he steps onto the porch. You inch closer to the door in hopes of hearing them talk, but you can’t over the rain and the thick glass. You reach for the handle when the door opens, so you step back and look at John.
“Go pack a bag.” he says urgently, taking your hand and pulling you into the kitchen, “Pack a bag for you and Ro. Call Tess, tell her to pack one for her and Finn. I’ll call Jimmy and tell him what’s going on.”
“John--”
He cuts you off as he gets Ronan from her high-chair, “Go to the lake house. Pack enough stuff for at least a week. I’ll meet you out there.”
“John!”
“You might want to call your parents too, I’m not sure yet. Maybe don’t since they don’t know everything. Fuck! Why didn’t I tell them everything?” he says as he walks into the living room with you trailing behind him, “Just go there and don’t talk to anyone. Just drive straight there. If Tess isn’t home yet, just tell her to meet you there.”
“Jonathan!” you yell from the bottom of the stairs, and he finally looks at you as you start to cry, “What is going on?”
He rushes back down and takes your hand, “I need you to listen to me: you need to get out of here.”
“Why? Because she’s here? Because she showed up? It’s not like it’s the first time she’s been to New York since we’ve been together.”
“But it’s the first time she’s showed up here. I know who follows her. And if she’s here, they’re not far behind. I wasn’t the only one people wanted dead.” he says, gripping your hand tight and pulling you upstairs with him. “You have to get out of here.”
John puts Ronan on the floor of your bedroom and begins moving around to pack a bag for you. He doesn’t even have to ask what you want to pack, and even in this moment of panic, he’s packing all of your favorite clothes. He sets the bag on the bed and leaves the room for a few moments before he comes back with clothes for Ronan.
“Text Tess, baby.” he says softly, and you nod your head and pull your phone out. You shoot a quick text to her and look up to see John zipping up your bag. “This is enough for you and Ro for a week, okay? I just need to grab Bleu’s things.”
“What about you?”
John wipes away the tear on your cheek, “I’ll call you tonight. I’ll let you know what’s going on.”
“Will you be okay?”
“I will,” he says, nodding his head, “I promise. I just want you two to get out of here.”
Your chin wobbles a little as you look at him, “Are they going to hurt you?”
“I…” he inhales deeply and shakes his head once, “No. But it doesn’t mean they won’t try. And I don’t want you here if that happens. So please, take this bag, get Ronan in the car, and leave.”
“Okay,” you cry quietly while John picks up Ronan, then you walk out to the garage where your car is parked.
Ronan is now crying because she’s so hungry but you’ll have to just give her a bottle or something to tide her over until you get to the lake house. John buckles her in the back and gets Bleu in, then he closes the door and turns to you, frowning when he sees the tears on your face.
“I know you’re scared.”
“I’m worried about you,” you look up at him and start to cry, “I don’t want to lose you.”
John shakes his head, “You’re not losing me. I’m going to call you tonight, okay? Keep your phone right by you.”
You sniffle as you nod, “Okay.”
John helps you into the car and smiles softly when you look at him, “Thank you for listening to me. I know this is scary. I never wanted this for you.”
“We’re still going to be together, right?”
“Yes,” John says, pain drenching his voice, “Yes, of course. I just need you to be safe.”
“You be safe,” you whisper as you lean over to hug him, “I love you.”
“I love you more.” he cups your face and tilts your head down to kiss your forehead, “Let me know when you get to the lake house and let me know when Tess gets there.”
You look down at your phone and show John the text: packing now. at home, pick me up.
“She’s at home.” you say, and he nods. “I’ll just get her now.”
John smooths your hair back and looks deep into your eyes, “Don’t stop for anything or anyone. If you have any problems, you can call me or Aurelio. Jimmy will most likely be out there shortly too. I’m going to call him. But you call me first. Always me first.”
“I will,” you kiss him hard on the lips, leaving them there for longer than necessary, then you lean back to look at him. “I’ll see you soon?”
“Yeah,” he says, but you know he’s lying. “I love you. I love you both.”
You smile softly when he reaches back to rub the top of Ronan’s head, then you hug him and kiss him again before he shuts your door and steps back. The garage door opens behind you, and you slowly back out of the driveway, watching as he walks over and stands next to Akira. She says something to him and smiles, but he doesn’t look away from your car. You give him a small wave and he nods his head a little before he turns and walks inside with Akira behind him.
__
To your surprise, the car ride was not quiet--Tess talked almost the whole way. There’s no doubt that John texted her and said to keep your mind off of things. You’ve been at the lake house for about two hours now, but you’re just laying on the couch. Tess told you to go lay down while she got the kids something to eat, and Jimmy showed up about an hour after you two arrived.
“Hey…” Jimmy sits on the coffee table and rubs your shoulder, “How are you holding up?”
You sit up and shrug, “Alright, I guess. Just confused.”
“John’s past is confusing…” he chuckles, then he takes the plate Tess is handing him, “We made you something to eat.”
“Thanks.” you take it, placing it in your lap, “Have you heard from him?”
Jimmy shakes his head, “Not since he first called me.”
“What did he say when he called you?”
“That someone was there and he wanted to make sure you and Ro-Ro were safe. He wanted me to come out here and make sure nothing happened.” he says, and you frown, “I know you want to ask, but he didn’t tell me when he’d be here.”
You nod your head and take a bite of the food Tess has made you--some rice and orange chicken. You look over at Ronan as she plays with Finn on the floor, and you sigh loudly.
“I’m nervous that he’s gonna--”
“He’s not going back, Y/N.” Jimmy shakes his head when you look at him, “He’s not, he just wants his family to be safe. He doesn’t want Ro near that stuff.”
You shrug, “I could have stayed. Tess could have taken Ronan up here.”
“Y/N, he wants you safe as well,” Jimmy says, reaching for your hand when you start to cry, “He’ll be okay. He can take care of himself. From the sounds of it, they’re just there to talk.”
“Then I could have stayed! I could be with him right now.”
Jimmy sighs, “Look, John is one of the good ones, Akira is as well. But sometimes bad ones follow the good ones. He doesn’t want you near there when something happens. Akira’s not out of that world, she’s still very much in it, which means at any moment, things could go wrong. John doesn’t want you there if that happens.”
“I don’t want him there if that happens!”
“But John can handle it. He knows what to do.” Tess says, and you look at her, “Look, this might sound mean but without you there, John can fully focus on what’s happening. If you and Ro are there, you’re the first thing he’s going to protect, even if that means he gets hurt. Without you two there, John doesn’t have anything else to protect except himself. He only has himself to worry about which means his mind wouldn’t be elsewhere.”
You nod as you look down at your plate, “Yeah.”
“He said as soon as he finds something out, he’ll call. I believe him. John always keeps his word.” Jimmy pats your leg and smiles softly, “Get some food in you. I’ll let you know if I hear anything at all. Okay?”
You smile softly when Jimmy pats your cheek, “Okay.”
“I’ll be here if you need anything. You can always come to me.”
“Thanks, Jimmy.” you smile at him again and watch as him and Tess walk onto the patio. You sigh deeply and reach for your phone, placing it in your lap and praying John calls soon.
__
Three days have passed and you’ve only gotten one text from John saying he’s fine and he’d call soon. That was the night you left. You haven’t heard from him since. Not only are you worried, you’re also pretty pissed at him for this. He said he’d call. Yeah, he could have gotten held up, but if he didn’t, then why hasn’t he bothered to call?
Ronan is starting to get very fussy since John is MIA. She knows he’s not around and she misses him. She’s not sleeping very well and she’s just crying at the drop of a hat. She misses her dad.
“Me too, kid.” you say to Ronan when she juts her bottom lip out and cries, “I miss him too.”
You lean forward and wipe the tears off her face before handing her a toy to distract her. She’s not in the mood, so she just cries harder and flops back on the floor.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what’s goin’ on in here?” Jimmy says as he walks in, and he looks down at Ronan, “Oh, Ro-Ro, you mad at your momma?”
“She misses her dad.”
Jimmy glances at you before he reaches down and picks up Ronan, “Well, why don’t we go catch some frogs?”
You give Jimmy an appreciative smile and sit back on the couch, staring down at your phone as he takes her outside. Her cries slowly stop until you hear her giggling. Uncle Jimmy always makes her laugh. You turn a little so you can look out the window as he carries her down to the shore with Finn and Tess following behind, and you tear up.
That should be you and John right now. You two should be taking a nice evening walk down there before sitting on the patio and eating burgers. You two should be watching the sunset, then laying on the sundeck looking at the stars.
You exhale loudly and look down at your phone. Still no messages. You perk up when you hear the sound of John’s car coming down the dirt path, and you quickly get up and rush to the door. John steps out and smiles at you, letting out a big breath when he sees you’re okay.
Without thinking, you step down and run over the uneven rocky ground to get to John, and he lifts you up and hugs you tight in his arms. He starts to walk to the porch with you in his arms, and you inhale the smell of his cologne.
“Your feet are gonna hurt. You don’t have any shoes on.” he says into the crook of your neck, “Jimmy and I planned on fixing that soon.”
You stand firmly on the porch and lean back to look at him. Since you’re on the step and he’s not, you’re eye level with him. Your eyes immediately search his face for any bruising or cuts, but he looks exactly like he did when you left him three days ago, maybe only just a little tired.
“I’m okay,” he whispers, and you cup his face, “I’m okay, baby. Everything is fine.”
You lean back to look at him, then you drop your hands to your side, “You never called me.”
“I know,” he inhales deeply and nods, “I meant to, and I should have, but…they were everywhere. I didn’t want to risk it. I didn’t want to put you in danger.”
“But this whole time you were fine, but I sat here thinking the worst. I cried myself to sleep every single night,” you say, raising your voice, “I didn’t know if my husband was gone. I didn’t know if my daughter’s dad was gone. I didn’t know! I thought I lost you!”
John looks down and nods his head, “I fucked up, I know.”
“I’m so fucking mad at you,” you whisper quietly, and he looks up at you with sorrowful eyes.
“I wanted to call. I wanted to run after your car the moment you left, but I couldn’t. These people don’t care if--” he stops talking when you push past him and start to walk away, “No, no, don’t walk away. We’re talking! Don’t do this.”
You continue walking away from him and see both Jimmy and Tess turn to see John chasing behind you. He gently grabs your arm and stops you. If you tugged your arm from his grip, you know he’d let you go, but you don’t want to, so you turn to him and meet his gaze.
“I fucked up,” he says firmly, “But you need to listen to me.”
You pull your arm from his grip and cross them over your chest, “Fine.”
“So damn stubborn,” he says under his breath, then he looks at you, “These people do not care about women and children. They’ll kill anyone. They wouldn’t care that there’s a baby in the house when they decide to light the place up. You think I want that for you? You think for a second that I was going to risk it? I’d rather you be mad at me for not calling than you be upset because our daughter was hurt or that you were hurt. I can live with you being upset at me for not calling, but I can’t live without you. Do you understand now?”
You look out at the sun shining on the lake, then you look at him, “Yes, it’s not that I don’t understand, John. It’s that you said you’d call and you didn’t.”
“You’re still not getting it…” he says, letting out a small laugh of disbelief, “I can’t fucking lose you! I can’t live without you! I would be lost. I would be worse than I’ve ever been. I’d never come back from it. I did before, but this, if I lost this…” he gestures to the two of you, “I’d be more than a broken. I’d be beyond repair because I wouldn’t have you to help put me back together. So, yes, I lied and didn’t call you but it was for your own good. It was to keep you safe.”
Inhaling deeply, you look up at him and hold his gaze before you shrug, “Okay, so maybe I’m not fully wrapping my head around how serious this is.”
“You absolutely aren’t,” he says with a small chuckle as he steps closer to you, “It is very serious.”
“Plus the whole ‘put me back together’ thing was pretty cute.” you admit, and he smiles softly. You exhale sharply and look up at him, “So, is this always going to be our life? You sending me and Ro away?”
John shakes his head a little and shrugs, “I can’t stop people from showing up. They think I’m going to come back, which I’m not. I’m done. Completely done. But this isn’t the life I wanted for you. I want you to have the best life, so I guess the main question is are you going to leave?”
You look over your shoulder and furrow your brow before looking at John, “Who are you talking to? Because I know you’re not talking to me.”
“Peach,” he says with a sigh, reaching for your hands, “I’m serious. If you want out, then--”
“Shut up! Stop saying that!” you push him a little, “Don’t talk like that! I don’t ‘want out’. I want you! I want the life that we’ve created for three years now. I don’t want to run off because someone thinks that you have information on something. John, I have waited my entire life for this, for you. You just told me that you can’t live without me.”
John swallows hard, “I can’t! But I also can’t make you stay if you don’t want to.”
“Have I ever given you the implication that I want to leave?” you ask, and he shakes his head. “John, I wanted to stay with you! I wanted to stay home and be by your side through whatever that woman was there for! There hasn’t been a single moment in our relationship where I wanted to leave. You need to wrap your head around that. I know that you don’t want me to be hurt, but I have you and I trust you. I know you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”
The two of you look at one another for a few silent moments as Ronan’s giggles carry in the wind, and you take a step closer to John.
“We promised to go through life together, no matter what it brought us.” you turn his hand over and rub your thumb over his wedding ring, “I have no plans on running off unless you’re coming with me.”
John smiles as he leans closer, “Wherever you go, I’m following.”
You wrap your arms around John’s neck and hug him tight, taking a look at Ronan before you close your eyes. You lean back to kiss him, then you take his hands.
“There is no me without you.”
John smiles, “That was cute.”
You start to laugh, “You said some cute shit just now, I won’t lie.”
“We okay?”
“Yeah,” you nod, holding his gaze, “We’re okay. Are you?”
He nods as he looks down at himself, “Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing more than a chat.”
“For three days?” you ask, incredulously.
“Two days. I just took the rest of today to make sure everyone was gone before I got on the road.” he says, then he starts to laugh, “Plus I had to drop off those books to that client. When I couldn’t sleep the last few nights, I finally finished them.”
Looking up at him, you start to laugh, “So you’re all mine now?”
“Always.”
John takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours, then the two of you walk back to the house. When Ronan spots him, she squeals loudly and kicks her legs to be let down from Jimmy’s arms. He sets her down and laughs when she runs over to John, who is already kneeling down with his arms open. She wraps her arms around him as best as she can, grinning so wide that it brings tears to your eyes.
“Did you miss me?” he asks, and she juts her bottom lip out and starts to cry, big tears streaking her red face.
“Such big emotions,” you laugh, rubbing her back, “She doesn’t know how to process those quite yet.”
Ronan rests her head on John’s shoulder as she cries, and he rubs her back to calm her down while he bounces on his knees. After a few minutes, she goes completely quiet--passed out on his shoulder. He smiles proudly at you.
“I’m going to go put her down.” he says, and you follow behind him.
As John gets Ronan in her bed, you lay down and wait for him to come back out of her room. You lean up a little when her bedroom door squeaks shut, and he crawls into bed with you as you struggle to keep your eyes open.
“Tired?” he asks quietly, and you nod. He smooths your hair back and begins to scratch your scalp as you finally close your eyes. “Go to sleep.”
“Barely slept these past few days.”
John’s lips brush against your forehead, “I know, baby. Just go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Will you hold me?” you ask, and John moves to get more comfortable as you lay against his chest, “Don’t leave.”
“I won’t. I’ll be right here.”
__
Rubbing your eyes, you roll to your back and stretch out, sighing contently. You look up at the ceiling and blink a few times, then you look to your left and see John holding Ronan as they look out the window together. You sit up and yawn into your hand, and John looks over his shoulder and smiles at you.
“Look who decided to wake up, Ro,” he says, and you laugh sleepily as you get up and walk over to them, “My sleepy peach.”
“I was tired.”
John laughs, “I was too. I fell asleep for a little bit too.”
Ronan kicks her legs wildly, so John sets her down and watches as she runs into her room. He looks at you and cups your face, bringing your lips to his for several sweet kisses.
“Are we going to head back home now?”
Inhaling deeply, John shrugs, “I mean, we’re here. We might as well hang out for a few days.”
“Jimmy has to work and I think Tess is busy with her studio, so they can’t stay.”
“So? We’ll have the place to ourselves for a few days.”
You let out a small laugh, “If you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do was ask.”
“I’ll remember that for next time,” he says softly as he leans down to kiss you, savoring the warmth and feeling of your lips on his, “It’ll just be us three. It’ll be nice. We won’t stay long. Maybe just a day or two.”
Holding John’s gaze, you squint a little, “Is she still in New York?”
“Most likely.”
“And you don’t want us to go home until she’s gone.”
“Correct.”
You smile as you reach up to cup his face, “You’re very sweet, Wick.”
“She wanted to meet you,” he says, and you jerk your head back a little, “Well, properly meet you.”
“And you said no?”
He shakes his head, “I said it’s not really up to me whether you two meet or not. If it were, well, if I knew she wasn’t followed, then I would have been okay with you being at the house.”
“So, it’s…a little bit up to you?” you say, and John starts to laugh.
“Yeah, I guess.” he shrugs one shoulder, “But if you want to properly meet her, then I’m okay with that.”
You nod your head, “Like a dinner or something?”
“She’s staying at the hotel, so…”
The gasp that leaves your mouth shocks John, so he starts to laugh.
“Look,” you walk over to Ronan’s room to check on her, still talking as you go, “I don’t want you to go back into that world--we’ve talked about it. Done and over with, but…god, I love that hotel. I love the vibe, the atmosphere, the dress code.”
“There’s no dress code,” John laughs from the doorway, and you turn around and give him a dirty look, “Okay, well, there kind of is.”
You start to smile as you look at him, “This is…kind of embarrassing, but I like that when I walk in, everyone knows who I am and who I’m with. Isn’t that so stupid?”
“Not at all,” he smiles from across the room, “I like that everyone know you’re there with me. I like them knowing we’re together and that you’re mine. I like knowing that they know they can’t have you.”
You smile as you lift up Ronan, “Would we go to the hotel?”
“She wants to meet Ronan.”
“And you want her to?”
John looks from you to Ronan, then he nods as he looks at you again, “Yeah, I’m proud of you and her.”
“And we’d take her to the hotel?”
Letting out a big sigh, John shrugs, “I don’t know. If we go there and Winston hears…”
“He’ll be mad that we brought her.”
“He’ll want to see her,” John laughs, “She’s like his 78th grandkid.”
You start to laugh, “Papa Winston.”
The two of you look at each other for a few minutes before John walks over to you, wrapping his arms around you and Ronan.
“We’d be safe?” you ask, and John nods. “She would be safe?”
“Rules, sweetheart,” he whispers, and you tilt your head, cocking up your brow, “No one else has broken them since…”
You start to laugh, “You little rule breaker.”
“Rules aren’t fun.”
“I’ve made rules before…”
John leans closer and kisses you, “Yeah, well, you’re my wife. I have to listen you.”
“True!” you point your finger at him as you walk past, then you turn around and look at him, “Are you sure?”
“I am positive. We can enter through the back, take the backstairs up to the restaurant. I can even call Charon and let him know that we’d be coming, and he’d make sure everything was safe.” he says, and you inhale. “If you’re not okay with that, she can come to our place, or we can leave Ronan with Tess.”
You shrug, “We’ve just never brought her to the hotel before. Is it safe for her to be there?”
“I would burn the world down for her and you. I would go to hell and back without second thought,” he says as he holds your gaze, walking closer to you, “The rules are even tighter than before--”
“Because of you.”
“Yes,” he chuckles, then he puts his hands on your shoulders, “But I promise nothing will happen to you or her there. Would I bring you two there otherwise?”
You sigh loudly “Well, no, but…you know.”
“You’re a mom,” he smiles and leans down to kiss your cheek, “And I’m a dad, and I am so goddamn protective of you two.”
You start to laugh, “I know! You sent me away because some people showed up!”
John smiles proudly, “Yeah!”
“Okay,” you bounce Ronan on your hip and look at her, “We’ll go meet her. How do you know her?”
“Her father was a friend,” he says, and you nod, “A really good friend. A brother.”
You frown, “And he’s not…here anymore?”
John looks down and shakes his head. He looks at you with sad brown eyes, and you walk over to him, wrapping your left arm around him. Ronan reaches up to be held by him, so you pass her over to him.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and he nods. “He was important to you, so I understand why you want me to meet her. Did you know her before?”
“No. I knew he had a daughter later on after we went our separate ways, but I didn’t meet her until a few years ago,” he sits on the bed with Ronan in his lap, “She’s not the biggest fan of mine.”
You sit down next to him and read between the lines. Her dad is dead, she doesn’t like John, and he only met her a few years ago. Clearly this was during John’s excommunication.
“Was the last time you saw him when he…” you gesture a little, and John nods. “I’m so sorry, John. You’ve lost so many people.”
“But I gained a lot of really great ones,” he says softly, and you smile at him. He shakes his head, “Anyway, things are better now. Akira is doing her own thing, but while she’s here, she does want to meet you. She said you were…”
You squint your eyes, “I was what?”
“Very suspicious of her, and very protective of me.” he smiles, and you shrug bashfully. “She also said that her father would have wanted to meet Ronan and you.”
“Is that true?”
A smile tugs at John’s lip, “Yeah, he would have really wanted to meet you. He wanted me to have my peace. He wanted me to find a way out. He wanted me to find a purpose.”
“Ya know, it sounds like before me, you had a lot of people rooting for you.”
“No one has ever rooted for me as loudly as you do.”
You narrow your eyes, “Was that a dig at me?”
“No,” he laughs, kissing your head, “It was a compliment. My number one fan.”
“That’s me!”
Ronan’s chewing on her hands as she sits in John’s lap but she straightens her body out and whines. She’s kind of sick of this conversation now.
“Okay, okay,” John laughs, hoisting her up when he stands up from the bed, “We’ll get you some food.”
You get up and head to the stairs but John calls out to you, so you turn around.
“He would have really liked you.”
You smile softly, “Well, let’s hope his daughter will too.”
__
taglist:
@sakurachan-9 @beingnerdyissupercool @tnu-ree @ruby-octo @scream-queen-25
#john wick x reader#john wick x you#fic: hold my hand#john wick imagine#john wick x y/n#HIIIIII#as soon as i saw jw4 i was like yup i need to add her to hmh#i love her v much#and i love them and i love y'all#i hope you enjoyyyyy
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The Concerto🎻🎶
Summary:
I promised you that first night, and I made a vow to you that I swear I can achieve for you before I cross that line, so let me keep it before I must leave. Goodbye, my friend, I hope I didn’t disappoint you….
Who’s-Who Character Guide:
Norm MacLean - Jayce Talis
Thaddeus - Viktor
Veronica - Sky Young
Bud Askins - Cecil B. Heimerdinger
Chet - Sheriff Marcus
Lucy MacLean - Caitlyn Kiramman
Hank MacLean - Cassandra Kiramman
Stephanie Harper - Mel Mededra
(Monty might, lowkey, be Maddie Nolan?)
Word Count: 5.8K • Rating: Teen • Chapters: 1/1
(Read on Ao3 Here)
“Can you hand me my wrench, Thad?”
A hum to his left, and cool steel was soon pressed into Norm’s waiting palm and the minute his fingers wrapped itself around the flat shaft, he went to work tightening up some loose bolts on their newest prototype for a HexGem-powered robot’s chassis. They hadn’t decided its purpose yet, all they had the general idea of it being to help with unloading heavy and dangerous items from boats and airships, but who cared about the nitty gritty at the moment?
“I don’t get how you could lay on the ground doing that all day,” Thaddeus mused to the air, leaning back in his chair with his ankle resting comfortably in Norm’s own empty chair, a cup of coffee in his hand. “I’d much rather be outside working with my hands on something else. Something real.”
“Well, once I’m done with these last few tweaks to this hunk of junk,” Norm gritted, tightening a bolt a bit tighter and huffing at the squeaking that erupted from the metal body. “We can work on your agrochemical theory of HexTech I promise, we’ll go to the countryside and everything.”
“That’s not what I meant, Norm. I meant going out to eat somewhere and working on anything else but this,” Norm used his feet to roll himself and the dolly he was using to keep his head and back from the cold concrete floor below out from underneath the robot, his brow raised. “The Distinguished Innovator's Competition can wait for a few more hours. It’s not for another week.”
“I know it can but this is the first time I’m sure nothing is going to blow up,” Norm huffed, sitting up with a grunt as Thaddeus looked out their lab’s giant glass windows with a small smile. “What are you smiling about now?”
“Oh nothing,” ‘oh nothing’ my butt…
Norm got up on shaky legs as he grumbled at that nothing response, tossing his wrench and stained leather gloves onto their shared desk all while Thaddeus watched, sipping his coffee still with that smile that meant nothing good was going to come out of his mouth. “You just have some oil on your cheek, better clean it before it stains your skin black.”
“What?” Norm gawked as he bolted to their lab’s mirror with an urgency he normally only left to coffee-induced panic attacks before deadlines and hungover depressive episodes, quickly cleaning it away with a handkerchief that he really did hope didn’t make it any worse.
The other man made a noise, a mix between a chuckle and an exasperated sigh, as he watched Norm readjust his tie and fluff up his hair in the tiny, cracked mirror. The main door opened with a loud creaking, light footsteps following meaning Veronica, their assistant (and Norm’s close friend), was here with more coffee and reports for them both. “How are the both of you? I hope it’s not too tiring or stressful with the robot or anything, it looks great so far.”
“It’s so far steady and should be ready in time, Miss Chey. The HexGem hasn’t rejected the casing we made for it so it doesn’t burn through the metal of the golem,” Thaddeus smiled with a glint in his turquoise eyes as he met Veronica’s own honey-brown, Norm tried not to let his jealousy pike up as he went back to his mirror to readjust his ascot some more. “Though, that ass over there is refusing to do anything but work, practically had to beg this guy to go out for a bite.”
Veronica snorted loudly, smiling brightly. “You should’ve seen him before he was younger, he’d overwork himself to the point he’d vomit from the stress it took on him.”
“It’s not my fault that my father put a lot of pressure on me at such a young age, Veronica,” Norm said with a pout, fixing his hair one last time before turning around to grab his waistcoat. “Now, I'm craving something Ionian with a kick, maybe Pallasi?”
From the furrowed brow he got from Thaddeus and the confused glint, he hadn’t got a clue what he was saying. “Noodles, Thad, do you want noodles?”
“As long as there’s some crab, I don’t care,” Thaddeus got up, slowly and carefully as he let his weight fall upon his braced leg with a soft hiss. Veronica, ever the doting person she was, was by his side in an instant with a soft smile and his walking stick (technically it’s a cane, but Thaddeus was ashamed to call it that) in her outreached palm. “Thank you.”
“Of course, Thaddeus,” Veronica purred with a smile, watching with a smile as both mechanics moved out towards the main door to leave. “I’ll do some diagnostics on your robot, Norm!”
“Thank you, Veronica!” Norm called out as Thaddeus pulled the heavy metal door shut with a grunt, leaning against his walking stick as Norm pulled on his waistcoat with a small huff. He really did like her, being his friend in all, but her infatuation with Thaddeus was always a sticking point. “I know this little pop-up near the Academy gardens that has the best Pallasi-Style Ionian noodles in all of Piltover, plus their tea-smoked yellow crab is to die for.”
𒊹︎> •~𐬾☢︎︎𐬿~• <𒊹︎
“Don’t you have anything better to do than waste away in the lab or in your rooms back at the instate outside of our work hours?” Norm asked, waving his chopsticks about as he watched Thaddeus peel and toss honey-brown egg shells into a tiny bowl the pop-up had offered him. “Like come to one of my family’s parties for once! You live in our home and you appear with me in the papers. People do ask about you and want to know the other half of HexTech for themselves.”
The auburn haired man scoffed at that statement, not believing the words for a second, and Norm pouted. “Sure, and embarrass your dad with the sight of a coughing ex-miner mingling with his son more than he has to? Sure, I’ll even wear a jester costume to make myself more of a laughing stock.”
“You wouldn’t embarrass him,” Norm tried to shoot back but he couldn’t lie even to himself. His father was a judgmental man, especially with those from the Underground, and Thaddeus even if hide his thoughts or feelings (which he did well), he’d still manage to get Councilorman MacLean gritting his teeth in frustration. “Or me. I’m sure they’d respect you, and I get awfully lonely…”
“Doesn’t that Bruce guy still attend? Why not dance with him? Or even the assistant to Professor L. Hawthorne?” Thaddeus offers up, and Norm watches as the other man soon after stuff his face with the honey colored tea egg and take a hardy bite.
“One, I hate Bruce and you do as well so why suggest him in the first place,” Norm looked away and towards where the chef, a bird-like Vastaya was slicing up root vegetables and searing them on the burning hot stone griddle. “And second, Chauncey Amada and I are exes. Despite what he says happened, I’m the one who dumped him and Lloyd really should’ve picked a better assistant than him.”
Thaddeus scoffed, wiping his hands with a napkin and smiling wolfishly. “If it makes you feel better, when I was TA-ing for Professor Askins before we met; I purposely failed him by switching his grades about.”
Norm gawked, a bright smirk adoring his square face with a bit of selfish joy at his ex’s misery dawning in his eyes as well. “That was you? He was mad about getting such an awful grade on his biochemistry final when I was dating him that he broke his hand trying to punch a lamppost outside my dorm. Why did you do it?”
“He took the last sweet roll out of the commissary before I could get it,” came the rather simple response, Thaddeus moving to pluck up a crab leg with his fingers (he had refused to use chopsticks for some reason) and suffered it eagerly into his waiting mouth.
“Really?” Norm blinked, his chopsticks rattling against the porcelain bowl as he dropped them.
“Simple as that.” Another slurp as Thaddeus sucked his fingers and palm dry off the crab’s juices and their marinade the crab had been soaked in. “Sweet Janna, this shit is delicious.”
“I broke up with him over that, and other reasons, but that was one of them…” There had been many factors, one being the fact that Chauncey was an asshole prick who would trash his lab and get drunk with his friends on their date nights, but another was that he was a tad violent. Not towards Norm at all, the worst he did was insult him when they broke up, but he’d punch walls and lamp posts that led to not having to pay for their repairs. “Thank you.”
“For indirectly helping you make the decision to dump his ass?” Thaddeus filled in the blanks easily, like he always did, while plucking up another hunk of crab meat with his long fingers.
“For that, yes,” Norm snickered, feet swinging under the table and his cheeks getting a bit blushed at Thaddeus’s charming grin. “But for also getting me out of the lab, I hadn’t realized how much I needed this until just now.”
“I would call you a godawful workaholic,” Thaddeus began, licking his thumb and thin lips with a broad tongue. “But I’m also one so that’d be calling pot calling the kettle black kinda situation. I just could tell you needed a break and that you weren’t gonna take it until you passed out, plus… I was hungry.”
“Then please eat more,” Norm offered Thaddeus a napkin before the man wet his hands in bright red saliva. “We have a kitchenette in our lab for that exact reason, and I’m willing to eat with you if that makes you more comfortable.”
The other man’s foot tapped against the cobble floor with a grit. “I take so much as it is, Norm— Living in your home, using your money to pay for medical expenses— and I don’t wanna take anymore.”
“But you aren’t taking that much,” Norm took Thaddeus’s (clean) hand, thumb grazing over each knuckle. The other man paused in stuffing another chunk of dripping meat into his mouth, sauce dripping down his chin as he looked between their joined hands and Norm’s gentle gaze. “You may live in my home and I may help you pay for your checkups and physical therapy, but it’s alright to need help with things like this. I have enough money and I care about you.”
Thaddeus thought for a moment, watching Norm’s eyes before pulling his hand away and grabbing another napkin. “… You’re too nice.”
“And you’re just so awful,” Norm teased, swinging his feet under the table, hands pulling away, with a rather kind smile covering his lips that he saw warm up Thaddeus’s flat cheeks as well. “… So? Will you come to the party before the Distinguished Innovator’s Competition? It’s hosted in the Academy Banquet Hall this year after all so we wouldn’t be going too far away from the lab.”
“Maybe,” Thaddeus tossed his used napkin into Norm’s empty rice bowl, those buck teeth falling over his thin bottom lip as he wryly chuckled. “Just some rules.”
Norm nodded, “of course.”
“I’m not wearing some fancy Piltovan shit that’s gonna show off my body,” Thaddeus began, fingers swiftly plucking up another chunk of crab and swinging it about as he talked. It flung sauce about in thin strings, sticking to the table and the taller man’s thick fingers. “And I ain’t gonna play whatever game your dad wants me to play at this party. I get to decide what I wanna do; not him.”
“My father isn't evil,” Norm assured teasingly, and tried not to get too defensive at the scoff he got in return. “I promise.”
“Good, and one last thing,” Norm arched a brow, watching as Thaddeus stuffed the chunk of warm meat into his mouth, chewing as he spoke. Norm cringed. “I’m not kissing any person’s ass.”
“Will you at least stay by my side during the night?” Norm softly muttered, his expression a bit glum.
Thaddeus went soft, shoulders relaxing as his tongue quickly lapped up the bright orange red juice that stained his lips and the corners of his mouth.
“I just… I don’t want to be alone when I’m drunk,” came the skittish response, Norm’s eyes awkward and a tad apprehensive. A few unspoken words hung heavy between. Around him.
“I uh,” Thaddeus scratched his jaw as he spoke, nodding. “Sure. I’ll stay right by your side… like I already do.”
“Thank you, you’re my hero, Thad,” Norm batted his eyelashes as he breathed out his thanks, a charming smile on his lips and his face in a kind expression of gratitude.
Thaddeus may be from the Undercity, and he may be a bit sickly looking with his sunken eyes and his ankle brace, but he was still rather strong. He had nice muscles and his subtle tattoos that peeked from under his shirt collar gave him this… look. A good look. A tough look with his scarred brow and his nice muscles.
It’d scare anyone off, I’d scare Bruce off and away from him for the night, if Thaddeus’s face wasn’t so soft. It was round, plump even with his hollowing cheeks, with kind blue eyes that sparkled and glimmered like their HexTech gemstones did when brought to life by their machinery.
Norm remembered that first night, in Professor Askins’s laboratory in the main Academy building, that night when Thaddeus had pulled him close to chest after Councilor Harper had caught them trying to break into the Dean’s office.
“Oh fuck, this isn’t my bedroom! I’m sorry, Normy, but I guess I got the wrong door,” Thaddeus had cooed, hand on Norm’s hip had been tight and his awkward smile kind in a way that had wormed itself into the young man. “Sorry Councilwoman…”
She hadn’t bought it. Obviously.
Though the thought that Thaddeus considered him worthy enough to even pretend to take back to his room was completely breathtaking, and it stole his breath at the time. And it still did now, two years later, and he found himself falling even more in love with this so-called hard to love man from the Undercity.
“I’m not, really.”
Norm shook his head. “You are to me.”
𒊹︎> •~𐬾☢︎︎𐬿~• <𒊹︎
“A dance, Dr. MacLean? I notice you look quite alone over here and looking awfully bored tonight,” came a grating yet familiar voice to Norm’s left, a large gloved hand coming over his shoulder to lightly grip it. The short man gulped, hand on his champagne flute tightening as the women around him and who once been talking at him giggled and cooed to each other.
Norm’s eyes looked up, steeling his face the best he possibly could as that filthy palm ran down his back and to rest on his hip. “I’d rather not share a dance together right now, Officer Du Bois. Maybe later.”
“Oh? Do you have another dance partner in mind?” Bruce asked with genuine surprise it seems, his hand moving to fiddle with his tailcoat’s golden chain that connected his pocket watch to his coat, playing with the chain. “I don’t see anyone else asking for a dance with you.”
“Well, he’s just taking his time. He's a rather busy man with all his work in the lab and such,” Norm gently knocked the hand off his waist with a flick of his hip, sipping on his flute as he moved away towards the other women with a fake smile to the older Enfoncer. “I’m sure you’d understand.”
“But—”
“You’re just going to have to wait for it, Officer,” Norm turned his back, tailcoat fluttering and swaying with his rather dramatic turn like a pair of powder blue wings dipped in gold.
Bruce glared at him, harsh and full of dismay at the rejection, though didn’t follow and soon scoffed, walking away as Norm let out a deep, shaky breath.
Fine, see if I care! The gesture said.
“Who’s the lucky man?” One of the women, a tall cat-like Vastayan woman with a feathery headpiece moving about with her giggling, asking with a shrill giggle. Her long tail swayed about and curled around his heeled boot. “And when is he going to make an appearance tonight?”
“Yes, who is he? Oh please tell us, Dr. MacLean!” Another woman, a slender human woman who had traveled all the way from Noxus and wore a beautiful dress adorned with gold and rubies, pleaded with a pout of her golden lips.
“He should be here any minute, like I said to Officer Du Bois,” a long sip from his flute, his eyes shutting for a moment, “he is a rather busy man.”
The women pouted. Some more footsteps and another hand landed upon his shoulder, but this time, Norm didn’t fret over this touch.
“I haven’t seen Thaddeus yet,” Chet bent forward to whisper in his ear, his tall guardsman hat under his arm and his white gloves pristine. “Are you sure he’s actually going to come tonight? I know he hates this kind of event and stuff…”
“He’ll come. He promised me,” Norm assured, trying to seem polite from the growing sense of worry fuming in his gut at possibly being stood up once more. “If he doesn’t show up in a few more minutes, could you go to our lab and see if he’s in there?”
Chet nodded once, “of course.”
The younger man pulled out his keys, swiftly handing them over to the Deputy Sheriff of the Piltovan Police Department with a tight-lipped smile. “Just be quick with it.”
Chet nodded once more, leaning out of his space and nodding to a few of his officers standing near the entrances as they made their ways out of the Banquet Hall and down the Academy halls for the missing scientist.
“So?” One of the women asked, her thin brow raised. “Is he coming soon?”
“He’s on his way…” Norm began, looking about the room and especially towards the main entrance for the Grand Banquet Hall, gulping as less and less people moved through his golden doors. “He just got a bit lost.”
“Oh, Norm,” the Vastayan lady whispered, tail tightening while looking about the other women as her clawed, slender hand laid upon his shoulder with a pitiful expression. “That’s what men say to let you down easy.”
“Well, you don’t know him like how I know him,” Norm pulled away, freeing his boot, sipping from his flute once more as he turned away with yet another flick of tailcoat. Is this why Thaddeus didn’t want to come?
The pitiful stares, the demeaning looks, the lustful stares at his body wrapped tightly in clothes he didn’t have any choice in choosing for the evening. Norm moved easily and as elegantly as a bird despite being a bit buzzed, smiling the best he could and quickly disposing of his flute and picking up another from a passing waiter with a golden tray.
Norm looked about, trying to ignore all the stares and gazes upon him as he walked about the vaulted banquet hall, as his dark boots clicked on the patterned and polished black marble flooring below until he found himself at his sister’s side.
Lucy was dressed in an elegant flowing cobalt blue dress that was lined with Ionian pearls and Noxan gold, a cut in the side showing of her long leg, her ceremonial sword and leather adored scabbard from her old fencing days and her embroidered pinet heels, along with a fluffy stole boa made from the wool of a Targon Erbrok.
Her husband, Monty, a slender fox-like Vastaya with a sharp tail and a long snout, was comfortable holding her close as they talked to some Freljordian ambassadors.
“Ah, Dr. MacLean! The creator of HexTech!” One of the ambassadors, a tall ginger man with a thick beard and a heavy gut, purred, large hand landing on his shoulder with such force the small man gulped. “You are much smaller than I would have thought.”
“Co-Creator of HexTech, actually, my business partner, Thaddeus, is on his way to the party and I’m sure he’d love to hear your praise as much as I do,” Norm replied easily with a well-practiced smile for the ambassadors. Lucy smiled at him, lips curled up in her grin to show how much she cares about Thaddeus’s mention as he spoke, though the ambassadors seemed confused.
“And why have I never heard of this Thaddeus before, Doctor?” The other ambassador, a muscular woman in a tight pale dress that showed off her muscles, inquired.
“He’s a very private man naturally. He just… prefers it this way,” Norm explained with a swoon he tried to suppress but couldn’t, swishing his flute about and looking down into the amber reflected back to him. “He’s not into the limelight unlike myself and he tends to get anxious due to his background from the Undercity.”
“The Undercity? Where is that?” The male ambassador asked, confusion clear on his stocky, square face, thick brows furrowed.
“The more industrial part of Piltover,” Lucy swiftly explained with a lilting smile, looking to her baby brother with a look of surprise in her eyes at Norm actually bringing it up at such an event. “He used to work as a miner near the Cliffs and then as an assistant to Councilman Askins for his industrial robotics skills.”
“Ah, makes sense you would turn to him for help with HexTech then!” The male ambassador hollered out, patting the short man’s shoulder so roughly the champagne in Norm’s flute almost spilled out all over his powder blue suit. “He must be very smart then. You must show us him whenever he arrives so we can see if you are correct about his genius.”
“Incredibly so,” Norm replied with an awkward laugh he hoped to Janna he sounded natural in any manner. “And I will, as soon as he arrives, Ambassadors.”
They both nodded and laughed among themselves in another language, bowing with large, boisterous smiles, and soon left to mingle with others. Which meant his sister’s lovely stare was now on him. “What the heck was that?”
“I was simply answering their questions, Lucy,” Norm replied simply, sipping from his flute as Lucy shook her head and Monty’s ears perked.
“You know you can’t say that shit about the Undercity at these kinds of events,” the fox-like man snorted, tail flicking about and his pawed feet scratching at the marble floor. “What would your daddy say?”
“Oh he’d curse me out from even uttering it’s name I’m sure,” Norm sighed to himself. “But I don’t care. Thaddeus is important to me and I won’t have him forgotten by people no matter how much he wants to stay out of the light,” Norm looked to Lucy, brow raised, “so why did you ‘correct’ me? Thaddeus is from the Undercity and doesn’t try to hide it.”
“Like Monty said,” Norm rolled his eyes as his sister tutted him, snarling to himself at such a response. “What would Dad say if he heard you saying that?”
“I don’t care,” Norm gritted out.
Lucy shook her head, clearly exasperated as she took his flute away from him and passed it to Monty to hold. “You have to care about this one thing.”
“Care about what?”
Norm was nearly spooked by the sound of his partner, appearing from behind him, and lost control of his breath when he turned around to look at Thaddeus. He was flanked by Chet, who was holding Thaddeus’s walking stick and handing it to the robotist with a tilt of his head. Chet quickly left soon after with a nod.
“Thaddeus! I’m glad you could make it,” Lucy outreached her hand, pearly teeth smiling as the auburn haired man took her gloved hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles in polite fashion. Norm bristled at the sight, while Lucy just giggled and gave him a playful shove. “Oh stop it with the politeness! Norm here was starting to worry.”
“I’m really sorry, I just lost track of time and then I missed my ride and… I hope I wasn’t too late,” Thaddeus laughed awkwardly at the playfulness as he looked down to Norm, taking his cane and adjusting his tie with a heavy sigh.
Norm didn't mind his partner’s lateness now, gulping and taking a shaky breath, because holy…
Thaddeus was dressed in a rather dark outfit— a nearly black red velvet waistcoat embroidered with a flora design with matching high waisted velvet knickerbockers. His shirt was a lighter red (yet it was still dark enough that it came out nicely against his pale skin), cotton and tight around his forearms and biceps in a manner that was taking Norm’s breath away. Tied around his waist was a dark yet silvery sash that glittered about and shimmered in the hall’s chandelier light.
His shoes were plain, similar boots that he typically wore but clearly it had been polished lovingly and the silver accents shimmered. Around his neck, laid a white ascot— similar to one he wore when he was Professor Askins’s personal assistant and that first night they met properly— that held a tie pin, unlike his typical simple gold, was now a silvery one that was made to be similar to House MacLean’s emblem that held a bright blue crystal, one of their HexGems. Two wrenches holding the crystal in the middle.
Such a bold move for a man who hated to make them in situations like these.
Norm gulped tightly, pulling at his own cornflower blue tie to let some air into his throat and stop himself from choking out. Holy shit, I think I’m in love.
“You uh… you weren’t too late. More so fashionably late enough to not seem rude,” Norm slowly responded with a stutter, trying to calm his flushed face.
“That’s good,” Thaddeus’s walking stick tapped against the marble floor as he leaned against it, lessening the strain on his ankle brace. “I just wasn’t expecting all of…”
The scientist waved his hand about to the rest of the room, frowning before scratching at his stubbly chin. “This.”
“Well, I hope it isn’t too much,” Lucy quipped, fixing her stole boa with a gentle smile. “The Council really outdid themselves this year, didn’t they? It’s beautiful!”
Thaddeus hummed, nodding. “You could say that.”
“Would you like anything to drink? Eat perphaps?” Lucy motioned for two servers to come close, a smile on just face. Thaddeus huffed, hooking his cane on his arm, but still took a champagne flute and a tiny slice of bread covered in bright yellow caviar without much push back, stuffing his mouth with the hors-d’œuvre. “I’m glad, once again, you could make it. Whatever Norm did to make you come around I greatly appreciate it.”
Thaddeus thickly swallowed and Norm took a step forward, smiling up at his partner. “Well, all it took was some crab and some well-placed pleading for company.”
Lucy awe’d and Thaddeus shook his head when Monty barked out a laugh of his own. “I wouldn't call it ‘pleading;’ you more like… gently assured me it’d be worth my while and not a shitshow.”
Monty barked another bout of laughter out, slapping his knee almost at Thaddeus’s language while the two Piltovan around him awkwardly stared and chuckled along.
This might be a long night but, Norm thought as he gently hooked his arm around Thaddeus's own, smiling as sweetly as he could while chuckling. Those eyes landed on him, soft and gleaming, and did it make it worth all this embarrassment and anger he knew this night would cause him. As long as he’s by my side; I’ll be alright.
𒊹︎> •~𐬾☢︎︎𐬿~• <𒊹︎
“A dance?”
Thaddeus was sitting on a chair, nursing another flute of champagne in his hand, as Norm stood in front of him with an outreached palm. It was a risky move, truly, but Norm didn’t care much with how many glasses he’s had so far just tonight, and it seemed Thaddeus didn’t much mind either by that wry smile on his chin.
“I thought I was just here to provide security from that creep hitting on you and trying to get you alone,” Thaddeus seemed so perplexed by the hand offered to him, glancing between the palm covered in a black glove and the man who stood before him clad in powder blue and gold. “Not to actually dance.”
“Is that what I said while at lunch that day last week? I don’t remember saying anything like that,” Norm quirked a brow, tone teasing yet soft with affection was clear. “I distinctly remember calling you ‘my hero’ for agreeing to come.”
Thaddeus thought for a second, nodding his head as he curled his bottom lip to the side to bite at it. “I guess that’s right…”
“So will you? I'd love to enjoy our time here and give a big ‘f-you’ to the room and especially my father,” the younger man gushed, swiftly taking the flute and tossing it into a plant pot and taking the other man’s larger bare hand into his own gloved palm. He tugged the other scientist to his feet, playfully smirking. “I thought you’d love that.”
“Eh, that sounds fun…” Thaddeus doubtfully said, looking about the eyes that looked over at the buzzed young men that giggled out onto the dancefloor with furrowed brows and sneering mouths.
Boots clicked on the floor, Norm’s laughter gentle and kind as he pulled and tugged at those larger hands so they rested on his hip and the small of his back, while Norm’s own hands locked behind the taller man’s neck.
The music had slowed, the lead violist’s notes high and the rhythm it brought and seemed to flow through the younger bones so deeply moving him on each step he took.
“People are watching their Golden Boy dance with a slumprat.” Came through to Norm’s ear as Thaddeus matched his step with each low and high of the orchestra, matching his movements as he took the more traditionally masculine role of such a dance.
“Who cares about that?” Norm was twirled, on the tip of his black leather boot and the gold tipped tails of his vest twirling about with him as Thaddeus spung and soon dipped him down, voice in his ear heady and tight.
“Your dad is watching his son flaunt about with a dirty trencher, that’s who cares.” The quick twirl that lead to Norm outreaching his arm to the vaulted ceiling above as Thaddeus brought him to his chest was sickeningly tender, almost loving as the concerto sounded as though his own thoughts and Thaddeus’s own were mashed together, hand on his hip right.
“I could care less what he thought of me,” Norm brought his hand up, knuckles so gently running over Thaddeus’s chin as he plucked and spun about and soon dipped once more, an undignified sound leaving his throat as the violin fluttered and flitted about, the piltovan horns matching with enthusiasm, the drums booming off the stained glass windows. “All I care about is your opinion.”
A shift in the music matched the scoff from his partner, near violent in its change as Norm’s boots landed back on the ground and the hand on his hip tightened. Thaddeus spun them about, the short man’s feet only barely leaving the marble as he spun out and quickly pulled back in. “Councilwoman Harper is watching too.”
“Like I care.” Thaddeus’s hands couldn’t leave his back, his hips, and his waist, as he once again spun them about and dipped them forward to each lilt and flutter of the violin like the most beautiful dance of will-they-won’t-they a drunken dance like this could produce. “Fuck her.”
More spinning, so much it was making everything but that flustered grin and gleaming turquoise eyes that watched his every move with bated breath bleary and unimportant, the music growing and growing and growing.
It was like that first night, that perfect night, when they had been floating up in Askins’s lab, smiling and dancing about practically with their eyes falling on each other’s glowing eyes and floating hair.
That night had been perfect, bones full of electricity, and oh this joy that had filled him at that moment now took him in such a moment as now, his forehead pressed again Thaddeus’s breast pocket as large hands gripped at his waistcoat and fluttered him about to the sound they filled their soul and room.
The space between the hot, stuffy almost and full of cotton while their ears rang and their breaths shook with the force of it all.
“I…” Norm tried to begin, stepping away with a shaky palm, reality crashing in on him as he looked around Thaddeus to where his father was watching on with a glare, to where Stephanie was watching on with Lucy and Monty and chatting among them, to where Bruce was staring at him with fire in his dark eyes from near a pillow. All the gazes of the room were on him now, the ringing getting worse. “I-I shouldn’t have…”
The hand on the small of his back and hip left, a heated breath that reeked of sweet champagne and fish eggs came over his flush-red face. “I get it. You regret this…”
But you really don’t… I don’t regret it. I loved it! Why can’t I just say that?!?
Norm tried to speak, but nothing but a trembling squeak came out that sputtered into a pathetic whimper, his eyes watering and his hands trembling.
“Hey, don’t worry,” Thaddeus, oh sweet Thaddeus, brought his palm up to wash his tears away with a broad thumb, hand coming around his back and resting between his shoulder blades as he brought him back towards his family. “Everybody makes mistakes when they’ve drunk too much.”
Norm wanted to squeak, to exclaim at the top of his lungs he didn’t regret the dance, or anything this night has brought between them, but still. Nothing came out. Pathetic really.
“Sorry about that, Councilman MacLean,” Thaddeus calmly stated, handing Norm’s trembling hand to his father as he bowed.
“I think it’s best if you leave, Thaddeus. Before you ruin this night and destroy my boy’s reputation more than you’ve already done.”
Norm gawked at those words, looking between his father, who glared with daggers at the other man, and at Thaddeus, who shut his eyes as he scoffed and walked away with a click of his walking stick and a heavy frown.
But…
The young man wanted to say something, to make sense of all of this, but still. Nothing came, nothing was heard, and all he could was watch the crowd part for Thaddeus, as if a sea was opening to let the man go, letting go walk a shameful route for embarrassing such a high family with his mere presence, his existence.
How pitiful.
#fallout#fallout on prime#fallout tv show#fallout tv series#thaddeus fallout#squire thaddeus#norm maclean#norman maclean#lucy maclean#hank maclean#Chet fallout#stephanie harper#bud askins#unenthused squire#unenthusedsquire#famfiction#fanfic#my fanfiction#my fanfic#moodboard#jayvik#kinda#Thaddeus and Norm replace them#arcane au#I hope you enjoyyyyy
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p2 of the ponyo au 🐬
1, 2, 3, 4
#snailsstuff#my art#art#loz#mipha#link#breath of the wild#miphlink#ghibli au#these are all super quick but i hope you enjoyyyyy#ponyo#miphlink ponyo au
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#wooden overcoats#georgie crusoe#Jennifer Delacroix#I really liked this drawing and it lost me when I started colouring it I just hate colouring I’m sorry#also the allegations are true I straight up traced this bg from my ref photo I just wanted to wrap it up asap 👍#it’s funny cause it’s literally my full time job being a background artist#also this was my first time drawing jen which is why she’s so boring I gotta cook some more with her#pleased with this georgie thoooo#just had to get it all off my chest lol clearly insecure bout this drawing hahaha hope yous enjoyyyyy#my art#lambiart
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JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS (2020) // JULIE E OS FANTASMAS (2011) 1.01 - Wake Up // 1.01 - Enfrentando Fantasmas -> Julie meets the Band.
#julie and the phantoms#julie e os fantasmas#jatp#mine#mine:gif#storytime: when i was in middle school i found myself to be obsessed with julie e os fantasmas (jeof)#and by watching it i have learned some words in portoguese which - later in my life - i have always wanted to learn better#besides that - in middle school i used to wear julie's iconic side ponytail !! i was THE biggest jeof fan like EVER#i used to watch it with my little sister and i would pretend i had some ghosts friends as well - popping out of my stereo (lol)#so... flash forward to 2020. i can't recall HOW i found out about jatp... it's just that i have heard of it and i was like hold on...#does this have to do anything with jeof? so i was super intrigued and watched the pilot and YES!! a brand new up-to-date remake#of my favorite tv show as a kid LIKE WOW. and idk i thought it was somehow underground as the og one ... saw NO ONE talking about it online#until up recently when i got back on tumblr (actually 2 years ago) and i saw there was this LIVELY community of people appreaciating this#show AS MUCH as i was appreciating the og as a youngster.#goes without saying that it was so surprising to me and it healed parts of me that i didn't think needed to be healed. wow. just wow.#i have never posted content for these two bad boys#mostly bcs i was salty that jatp was canceled (ugh) until now!! i hope you enjoyyyyy#ALSO i remember as a kid i was watching jeof on tv right? but i had missed some episodes so i remember LMAO going online and there was this#website (like a random person's own website) that was hosting all of the episodes. my very first experience with streaming series online
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The second Kirby adaptation of the Onion's In The Know series, this time over "Are We Giving Robots Too Much Power?", with a black & white halftone-filled color scheme!
#kirby#magolor#zan partizanne#queen kirby#taranza#susie kirby#susie haltmann#kamalemonsart#golly this took a while. hope you enjoyyyyy#also sorry to the taranza fans. this is what i meant by that!
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PRICE OF FAME (PART 4/12)
AHHH HERE WE GO, ENJOY!!!
————
18+ — MINORS DNI
pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader
summary: wayne is in town and eddie thinks he kind of hates you... maybe
contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, drug and alcohol use, scary and sticky feelings, king richie being king richie, and eddie thinks you taste sweet <3
word count: 3.8k
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| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |
Eddie’s going insane, he thinks.
There’s something wrong with him. Something seriously wrong.
It’s been two days since Eddie slept in your room. Forty-eight hours have passed since you so graciously offered him the peace and solace of your extra hotel bed, and Eddie has yet to stop thinking about you.
The morning after sleeping in your room, Eddie snuck out as quietly as possible to avoid any awkward conversation, even if nothing was particularly awkward about the situation. He didn’t want to have to thank you for letting him stay with you, and he knew that if he’d waited until you woke up, he would have to thank you. So, he escaped first thing in the morning, as any avoidant and coward-like person would do.
He spent all day with fleeting thoughts of you— remembering the sight of you smiling under the light of the TV, the sound of you laughing, the visual of you swallowed beneath fluffy sheets and pillows, pouty lips parted to let out the cutest, most annoying, and fucking nerve-grating snores that gently lulled Eddie to sleep.
He spent time wondering what you were doing, how you looked and sounded in the morning, and being annoyed with himself for depriving himself of the chance to witness that. He wondered if you looked for him when you realized he was no longer in the room— if you were annoyed that he left without saying anything, or if you didn’t care. God, why does he care? It’s not like you two fucked, he just crashed in your room.
That same morning, Eddie had the phantom of your scent all around him. Soft, inviting, and all things alluring, and Eddie wanted to sink his teeth into it and gnaw at it like some fucking teething dog. What the fuck?
There’s something wrong.
However, those weird and unwanted feelings have died down since Eddie hasn’t seen you in the past forty-eight hours. Granted, that’s probably because he’s been subconsciously avoiding you like the plague, which has been relatively easy, considering they’ve been on a short break.
Thankfully, Eddie had a solid reason as to why he fled your room so early that morning— to pick up Wayne from the airport. He took Wayne to a breakfast diner and treated him to a warm meal and coffee to ease the stress of traveling from his bones.
And Wayne has never been to New York, so Eddie took the time to show him around. Eddie’s been to the city many times, and he likes to think he’s somewhat of a pro now that he knows his way around the subway. Eddie swears learning the subway was easier than passing senior year, and that says something.
After breakfast, Eddie took Wayne to the Brooklyn Bridge, where they could see the Statue of Liberty in the distance. From there, they took a cab to Times Square so Wayne could witness the absolute chaos that is New York City. They spent some time in Times Square, watching street performances and snacking on greasy foods, and they had a good time until a few people spotted Eddie.
Wayne always tells Eddie he doesn’t mind fans coming up to them and enjoys watching Eddie interact with his supporters. Still, Eddie gets weary of crowds becoming rowdy around anybody he loves, so he tries to keep the interactions to a minimum when he’s out with company.
And Wayne isn’t much of an expressive person, but Eddie’s been around him long enough to read his microexpressions easily and understand that Wayne seemed to like New York so far.
Eddie hasn’t told Wayne about Gareth, partly because he knows he’ll get a long talk about how violence solves nothing, but more importantly, because Eddie doesn’t want to admit that Wayne was right about Chrissy.
Wayne never trusted Chrissy all that much. Chrissy was friendly, respectful, and all things socially acceptable, but she lacked in the caring department. Wayne didn’t like that Chrissy never supported Eddie’s dreams, never showed up to a single show, or didn’t even bother learning the lyrics to at least one song. She didn’t care to show up for Eddie, but Eddie was always there for her. Always.
Chrissy was greedy with love, and Wayne saw right through her innocent act.
And given that Wayne is quite the expert at seeing people for who they really are, Eddie doesn’t understand why he doesn’t see through your innocent act.
It’s Wayne’s third night in New York when you finally cross paths. You’d been passing by each other in the hotel lobby; Eddie, Wayne, and Richie leaving while you were on your way in— and Eddie was content with ignoring you, but god, you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?
“You must be the infamous Wayne,” You smile as you shake the older man’s hand. Eddie stands between Wayne and Richie as he stuffs his hands in his pockets while Wayne greets you, pursing his lips and rocking on the heels of his feet as you and Wayne share a short introduction— Richie snickers beside him.
“You three look fancy; what’s the occasion?” You wonder aloud. Wayne smiles, and Eddie doesn’t know when Wayne became so kind to strangers, especially annoying strangers. “Eddie here is treating us to dinner,” Wayne explains, reaching over to pat Eddie’s stiff shoulder. Eddie thinks that may be your indication to leave, but he’s sadly mistaken when Richie adds, “Have you eaten yet? Would you like to tag along?”
Eddie thinks the age is getting to Richie’s head because Richie must be out of his fucking mind.
His head snaps to glare at Richie, about to cut in until you speak up, “Oh! I couldn’t; I don’t want to impose.” You shake your head with a kind smile. Good, Eddie thinks. Don’t impose, stay far a-fucking-way.
But Richie— god, Eddie can’t believe Richie, “Ah, the more, the merrier,” he waves you off, “And the rockstar will pay for us. Who turns down a free meal?” Wayne jumps in, causing you to erupt in soft laughter.
Eddie has to end this, obviously.
“The reservation is for three,” Eddie chips in, and finally, the three of you acknowledge his presence, turning to him as he shifts on his feet. “And we don’t have time to wait for you to get ready.” He adds, pursing his lips and shrugging in an ‘oh well’ gesture.
If Eddie weren’t watching you so intently, he wouldn’t have noticed the tiny shift of you caving into yourself, but he does, and he kind of feels bad for a quick second. He doesn’t know why he feels bad because he wasn’t even lying. The reservation was for three, and with New York traffic, they should’ve been on their way roughly fifteen minutes ago.
You open your mouth to respond, probably throw in the flag and let the three men be on their way, but Richie opens his fucking mouth again, “Well, we can wait, and I’m sure you can pull some strings for a third chair, son.”
And Eddie could. He can definitely get a fourth seat because he’s friends with the restaurant owner, but Eddie doesn’t want to. And he sure as hell doesn’t want to pay for your goddamn meal, but, as always, despite Eddie’s wishes, Richie insists you tag along.
He, Wayne, and Richie end up sitting in the lobby waiting for you to get dressed in your room. Wayne and Richie are sitting on opposite sides of the couch, Wayne quietly flipping through a magazine and Richie mindlessly people-watching as Eddie impatiently bounces his leg and pouts in the seat across them. Wayne doesn’t bother looking at Eddie when he says, “You’re gonna leave a dent in the floor, son.”
Eddie glares at Wayne and Richie, “Why did you invite her?” He snaps.
Wayne flips the page of the flimsy book, heavily sighing and shifting in his seat, “This is the girl you mentioned at breakfast, right?”
Richie snickers and raises an eyebrow at Eddie, “You mentioned Birdie at breakfast? That’s interesting.” He jokes, to which Eddie grumbles a short and snippy, “Shut up.”
And yeah, maybe Eddie did mention you to Wayne, but it wasn’t… it wasn’t like that, okay? You just piss Eddie off, and now that he’s not on good terms with Gareth, and Jeff is too busy with his head stuck up his girlfriend's ass, Eddie has nobody to turn to for a good rant, and Wayne— well, Wayne was just there.
“Yes. But did you also hear me mention that I can’t stand her, or did you just stop listening after I said her name?” Eddie grumbles. Wayne smiles behind the magazine, and Eddie can hear it in his voice when he responds, “No, I heard it all… sounded like a load of bullshit.”
Richie laughs, but Eddie ignores it as his face twists in confusion at Wayne’s words, “Excuse me?”
Wayne closes the magazine and looks at Eddie, “Boy, did fame take away what little common sense you had? You don’t hate the girl.”
Before Eddie can respond to Wayne’s encrypted comment, you appear, pulling their attention, “Thank you for waiting; I hope I wasn’t too long,” you huff while hastily adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder.
For a moment, Eddie doesn’t remember what he was groveling about or that he kind of hates you.
And you’ve always been pretty. Eddie never thought you were ugly, and quite honestly, if you’d met under different circumstances and you weren’t a pain in the ass, Eddie might’ve fucked you. But Eddie’s hatred for you outshined your beauty… most of the time. However, that film of dusty and grey disdain has been clearing recently, and Eddie’s not sure if he should turn away or keep looking because you’re breathtaking.
He doesn’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the dress you’ve chosen and how perfectly crafted it is for you, how the colors compliment your skin in an achingly perfect way. Maybe it’s the way your eyeliner is slightly smudged and smoky from your rushed movements to avoid being late for the reservation. Or maybe Eddie’s just lost his mind right along with Wayne and Richie. For now, he’ll stick with the latter.
Eddie stands up with a loud huff, “Let's go. Before they give someone else our table.” He grumbles, brushing past you and walking off without another word.
Eddie misses the slight and amused smirk on Wayne’s lips.
Wayne, you come to learn, is funny.
You’d thought the ride to the restaurant would be awkward, given that Eddie clearly doesn’t want you here, but Wayne and Richie left no room for the tension to rise. They both told stories and jokes the entire drive, and by the time you arrived at the restaurant, your stomach was sore from laughter. Honestly, you’re not sure how Wayne raised Eddie only for Eddie to end up like… Eddie. Wayne is kind and inviting and all things opposite of Eddie. You almost believe they’re tricking you.
“Since when did you become a stand-up comedian, Wayne?” Eddie sarcastically asks as he opens the door to the restaurant. Wayne had just made a joke about how Eddie was a troublemaker in high school, which Eddie clearly didn’t think was funny, given the scowl on his face.
“I’ve always been a comedian, son.” Wayne pats Eddie on the back as he steps into the fancy establishment. You glance at Eddie and thank him for holding the door as you follow behind Wayne, Richie stepping in behind you.
Eddie was able to get a change of tables, so you were able to join, and you thanked him on your way to the table as the waiter walked you all to your new designated seats. Eddie either didn’t hear you, or he didn’t care to respond; either way, you don’t take it to heart.
Once you reach your table, Wayne and Richie take the seats on the other side of the table, leaving you no other option but to take the seat next to Eddie. Eddie scoffs upon this realization, and you subconsciously chew the inside of your cheek as you settle in the chair.
For the most part, dinner goes by smoothly. You suppose Eddie’s distasteful attitude diffused once the food satiated his hunger— and you think Eddie has the character of a toddler that’s missed their nap time, and a part of you thinks it’s cute, watching him huff and fuss until he’s happily eating. You try your best to focus on the plate of food in front of you and the conversations between the four of you, but you often find yourself glancing over at Eddie.
Because the way Eddie moves is like a movie.
Animated and smooth and all things annoyingly beautiful. The way he speaks with his hands, the way his hair brushes and sways back and forth over his shoulders when he shifts, the sound his rings make when clinking against the silverware. The way his cheeks carve lines when his lips stretch in a smile-soaked laugh, and his eyes widen when he gets excited while telling a story.
It’s captivating.
And a few days ago, you’d thought the wine was the cause for your unwanted attraction, but alas.
You blink away the haze of your short-lived trance and resume eating. Better to leave that road untouched.
Despite Eddie’s low expectations, dinner was good.
He had a nice plate full of food he couldn’t be bothered to learn how to pronounce and a glass of whiskey to wash it down. Wayne and Richie held a good conversation, though those two have always gotten along well since Richie entered Eddie’s life. Richie and Eddie tell Wayne all about life on the road, updating him on the craziest shows and sights, and Wayne informs Eddie about everybody back home.
The kids are soaking up their last weeks of freedom before college, and Max even got a nose piercing, “Somehow, that made her even more of a firecracker, that kid.” Wayne joked.
Wayne says he doesn’t know much about the older half of them, but he runs into one of them every now and then at the grocery store and such, and Eddie makes a mental note to call and check in before the holidays.
And then there’s you.
Eddie wanted to believe you were ruining the vibe of dinner, but you annoyingly made it… better.
You eased into the atmosphere as if you weren’t a complete stranger, asking questions about Hawkins and adding stories of your childhood in Michigan. Eddie had expected you to shy away for most of the dinner since they were mostly discussing things you weren’t there for, but you were as involved as the three of them, if not more.
And Wayne and Richie adore you.
Richie has always made it known that he has no problem with you, and some might even think the two of you have a relationship akin to a father and daughter. But Richie has always been that way. He’s always quick to accept people into their circle and give them a chance.
But Eddie didn’t expect Wayne to warm up to you as quickly as he did.
Wayne is usually wary of strangers, and just like Eddie, Wayne hates the media. Wayne witnessed the hell Eddie initially went through with the press— messy rumors and misconstrued words— and when Eddie almost threw in the towel for good, Wayne was there to wrap it back around Eddie’s knuckles and shove him back into the game. So, you can imagine the confusion reeling through Eddie’s mind when Wayne immediately becomes fond of you.
It’s annoying and stupid, and Eddie thinks you might be a witch because you have everybody under this weird spell that makes them like you.
After dinner, everyone decided to enjoy the nice weather on a walk back to the hotel. Even though Eddie would’ve much rather liked to call a car and make it back to the hotel in less than ten minutes, he can admit that it feels nice to just walk around in light conversation. He doesn’t get much of this anymore. Most days, Eddie is busy doing shows, writing songs, talking to the press, and rolling through each day, so he doesn’t have the time to have simple and lighthearted moments like these.
He’s walking beside Richie, blowing through a cigarette and listening to Richie ramble on about… well, Eddie’s not sure what Richie is talking about because he’s so focused on you.
A few paces ahead of Richie and Eddie, you and Wayne walk together, wrapped up in an intriguing conversation, considering how intently you seem to be listening. You’re watching where you’re stepping, but you routinely turn to Wayne and nod to let him know you’re listening, and every now and then, you even glance back at Eddie and Richie with a soft smile.
And you’re so fucking cute for that.
Eddie thinks he might admire you for that— for being so kind and attentive to Wayne. And you’re like that with everyone: kind and perceptive in a way that makes people feel like they matter, like every word they speak matters. But this… this is different, Eddie thinks.
He’s unsure what it is, but seeing how you interact with Wayne makes his chest warm— like he’s drinking tea on a cold autumn day. Like he’s spent the day shivering in a cold building only to step out into a sunny sky and thaw the cold from his ribs.
It’s endearing, watching you.
Chrissy was never close with Wayne in any way, shape, or form. And although Eddie would’ve loved to see Chrissy interact and get along with Wayne, it just never happened. Not because Wayne was adamant about hating Chrissy or because Chrissy hated Wayne but because they just… never clicked. (And yeah, maybe Wayne disliking Chrissy had something to do with that, but that’s neither here nor there.)
And Wayne is a big part of Eddie’s life. He’s the main reason why Eddie is where he is today and not following in his deadbeat father's footsteps.
Wayne is Eddie’s family.
And the fact that you can acknowledge that and treat their relationship with such respect and care— it makes Eddie feel things that he’s not very keen on feeling.
But the moment of admiration for you is quickly shattered when he catches a snippet of your and Wayne’s conversation.
“You’re a good journalist, I take it. Will I be getting interviewed for this article, too?” Wayne jokes, and you laugh, “If you’d like to, I'm sure I can make the time before you leave.” You respond.
And Eddie doesn’t like that. He hates that actually.
It’s nearly one in the morning when Eddie knocks on your door. They returned from dinner hours ago and called it a night, but Eddie is standing at your hotel room door, knocking at one in the morning. It’s a heavy and loud knock, enough to wake you out of the deep slumber you’d been in, given the way you grimace when you open the door.
You rub your eyes, blinking a few times before settling into a visible state of confusion once you realize the person in front of you is Eddie. You clear the sleep from your throat before sleepily blinking at Eddie and asking if everything is okay.
Eddie doesn’t waste time cutting to the chase, “Are you trying to get my uncle in your piece?”
And yeah, maybe the question could have waited until tomorrow, and maybe the question is dumb and not all that serious considering it was clearly a joke, but Eddie smoked a blunt and couldn’t stop thinking about you— and looking at you now, god, Eddie believes if he hadn’t smoked too much to teeter on the edge of paranoid, he’d kiss you. You’re so cute; painted toes digging into the plush carpet (he thinks he should ask if you’ve iced your ankle tonight), oversized shirt hanging over your body like a blanket, messy imprinted lines of sheets on your cheek from your slumber, and a cute little frown gracing your lips. Eddie’s chest tightens.
“…Huh?”
Eddie almost forgot you were stupid.
“Wayne. Are you interviewing him for the article?” Eddie repeats.
You blink a few times, glancing around the empty hallway and shaking your head, “Eddie, this— this couldn’t have waited?” Your voice teeters on the edge of whiney as you speak.
Eddie raises an eyebrow, and you huff, rubbing your eyes again before shrugging, “No, I— I don’t think so. I mean… he’s the one who offered to talk. I’m down to do it if he’d like—” “That’s not happening.”
Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion, “Excuse me?”
Eddie shakes his head, “Leave Wayne out of your stupid piece, okay? I don’t want you interviewing him, asking him stupid questions, and twisting his words. He doesn’t need any of that shit.”
And you blink up at him like you’re having trouble processing what he’s saying, and Eddie really wants to fucking kiss you.
Too much weed, he thinks. He should’ve never smoked that much after such a long T-break.
“Um,” you hum, taking a moment to register Eddie’s words before speaking, “Okay… I didn’t realize I had overstepped. I won’t interview Wayne.” You respond. Kind, polite, sweet, and all things that make Eddie’s brain waves spike.
You yawn into the back of your hand, “Can I— can I go back to sleep now?”
And you’re standing there, blinking up at Eddie with these soft and pretty eyes, and Eddie thinks… Eddie thinks, fuck it.
Now, Eddie hadn’t exactly planned to come here and kiss you. Or maybe he had; he’s not exactly sure at this point, but he can’t find it in himself to care because kissing you feels better than any drug Eddie could ever get his hands on.
Your lips are soft and sweet and taste like the lip balm you’d applied before bed. And here, this close to you, Eddie can smell the shampoo in your hair, the clean, scented body wash you use, and the fresh linen lingering scent of the hotel sheets, and it’s intoxicating.
You’re shocked at first; Eddie can tell from how still your lips are, but when you realize that Eddie is kissing you, god, Eddie nearly melts.
You kiss like nobody Eddie has ever kissed before. Like you’ve spent years perfecting every single move, calculated and precise and all things electrifying. And if this is how you kiss when you’re grumpy and sleepy, Eddie can’t imagine how you kiss regularly.
But he shouldn’t be imagining that, and he shouldn’t be kissing you, and he shouldn’t even be here, for fucks sake!
It takes nearly everything in Eddie's body and soul to pull away from you, and it pains him when he loses the feeling of your lips against his, but Jesus Christ, Eddie doesn’t know what came over him.
You look at him in shock, almost like you’ve seen a ghost, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do or say.
All he can do is turn around and go back to his room without another word, leaving you speechless and confused, with only the echo of his door slamming to aid both of your whirling thoughts.
————
part five
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a/n: GASSSPPP A KISS ?? LMAOO NEXT PART WILL BE A BIT MORE DRAMA FILLED SO LOCK IN BESTIES! AS ALWAYS, I LOVE ALL AND ANY FEEDBACK SO PLS LMK HOW U FEEL <3
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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2 @mvnsonslvt @s-u-t @hereforshmut @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92
#THIS ONES SHORT N SWEET#BUT EITHER WAY#I HOPE U ENJOYYYYY#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie x reader#stranger things fanfic#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson au#rockstar!eddie munson#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie x y/n#eddie munson smut#eddie x you#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson headcanon#eddie x fem!reader#stranger things au#rockstar!eddie x reader#rockstar!eddie smut#rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader#journalist!reader
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Kennedy and John with “feeling their pulse” from the prompt list? I love them already
HI ANON!!!! can i just say when i got this prompt request, i was so so excited because o m g i am so glad!!! despite the fact i don't have writing with them out yet (and their only interaction so far was a snippet from a while ago) i am BEYOND EXCITED to put this out!!! :D definitely a fun duo to write and something i'd be happy to go deeper with writing on as well! there is a LOT to unpack haha! please enjoy and thank you so much!
run along lover boy
(a/n): safe to say i could've kept writing these two in every possible way, but i held myself because alas, i have every opportunity to write more for them. so please enjoy my chaotic duo - kennedy farley and bucky egan in stalag talking about the one thing no one seems to want to talk about. enjoy!!! :D
"She's still out there." Lieutenant Bradshaw said quietly from where she stood on the opposite side of the table, her arms crossed over her chest, face both sternly held and downcast, the look in her eyes dismissive and cold, "I saw her when we dropped. She couldn't have been far from me."
Kennedy watched as Annie glanced towards Brady who stood next to her - it was unmistakable not to notice the level of protectiveness Brady had seemingly taken on when Annie showed up to the Stalag, limping and bloodied. And now, it was nearly every time they weren't forced to be apart, they were beside one another. And the look in Brady's eyes said enough these days it seemed.
"How far you thinking, Bradshaw?" Bucky said from behind Kennedy, "You jump outta those things and you're playing with fate."
"A bit more to my right. Bes was to my left, Kennedy closest. Margie was somewhere behind the three of us," Annie said softly, her voice trying to hold. Kennedy watched as Annie glanced around the group, "I tried looking for her, I really did." Kennedy watched as Annie met Kennedy's gaze before looking down again and letting her shoulders fall.
"You did what you could, Annie," Kennedy heard Brady whisper quietly, before squeezing a hand on Annie's shoulder, "that's what matters." Kennedy caught the look Annie and Brady shared, those few extra seconds they held one another's gazes.
"It's Margie Harlowe," Buck said from the other end of the table, "she's still out there. We know that."
"No body ain't a dead body," Hambone said from his own spot opposite Buck, "how far from here you think you dropped?" Annie looked to him and pulled a thinking face across her lips and then sighed.
"Had to be somewhere upwards of 50 miles. We weren't deep into Germany on the mission. Outskirts." Annie offered.
"Yeah, suicide run, if anything," Kennedy offered and sat back in her chair, "gotta hand it to Lieutenant Bradshaw though, she probably was the calmest outta all of us." The group looked to Annie who wearily smiled at the group and nodded.
"Guilty is charged." Annie said and the group seemed to share smiles amongst one another.
"Probably closer to 60," Bessie said from where she laid on one of the higher bunks, flipping through a book, "whatever it was, those Krauts are damn sins. One nearly took out my eye."
"Did he miss the goddamn Lieutenant bar on your neck?" Bucky asked her. Kennedy glanced back and sent Bucky a look who shook it off.
"Buck-" Buck started, but Bucky cut in and stepped forward.
"Any of those sick fuckos try anything with any one of you ladies, you tell anyone of us, alright?" Bucky said, meeting each of their eyes, ending on Kennedy, "You don't know how fucking brain-washed they might be. They even lay a finger on ya, I'll-"
"Hear ya loud and clear, sir," Bessie said, pulling her legs over and hanging off the bunk edge, "Kennedy popped a guy in the balls. Pretty sure we can all do what we can. In a pinch."
"Really." Buck said glancing at her.
"I'm impressed," Bucky said looking down at her from where he leaned back against the bunk, "how hard ya hit him?"
"Did he bleed?" murmured Benny from his own bunk - he wasn't tending well to the Margie news, but he was coping it seemed.
"Oh he bled," Kennedy said, leaning against the table and sending a look to Bucky, "he was on the ground. Beggin' for Ma at some point. Last time one of those Nazi-fucks tries to touch the hair on my head. You do whatever you damn please, but you don't touch the hair."
"I knew I always liked you, Farley." Bucky said with a smirk, Kennedy catching a glance of that grin in her peripheral. He held her gaze a second longer, which she quite enjoyed; the way his eyes lingered a little on her eyes and then the scar on her cheek that was finally healing.
"She's right on that, "Annie said, as Kennedy pulled her gaze from Bucky's face, "they think they can keep doing whatever they want. Don't think it's gotten through their minds yet that we don't put up with that sorta shit."
"Guess that they haven't met a member of Silver Bullets yet and they're finally learning they can't just do whatever they want," Hambone said with a chuckle as he flipped through a mangled deck of cards, "c'mon, Bradshaw, tell me what the one said again?" Annie chuckled.
"The guy said that he was overjoyed to learn that America had things like baseball and cold beer," Annie said, "what a lunatic."
"Hey, don't be knocking it now. They're the gifts that keep on giving." Bucky said, looking at Annie with a smirk, "Ain't that right, Farley." Kennedy rolled her eyes and glanced back at Bucky with a raised brow.
"For some people," Kennedy said, with a knowing look, "if you're team is actually winning, that is." Bucky smirked before looking at the group.
"That's because she's a Red Sox fan." Bucky said, lowering his voice with a chuckle, "Traded Babe Ruth and it was game over for 20 years. Still kinda is." Kennedy leaned back and took a shove at his arm with a roll of her eyes, a few of the guys chuckling around them.
"She'll show up, she has to," Annie said with a firm nod, "I'm gonna go take a walk along the perimeter. Find the Colonel," Annie shrugged her shoulders and sniffled, that damn cold doing its number, "get an eye on some of the higher ups."
"I'm coming with you." Brady said quickly from beside her and Kennedy briefly heard Bucky let out a chuckle.
"Try and figure out who the one guy was who wouldn't stop staring, alright? He got that crazy look in his eye," Kennedy told Annie and Brady watching as they pulled their scarves around their necks and their beanie's on, Annie looking much smaller than Kennedy remembered in her coat now, "taller, teetering son-of-a-bitch."
"Will do," Brady said as he followed Annie out of the room, a few of the others taking that as their note to disperse, settle onto cots or start up games of cards or chess. Kennedy let out a sigh and then turned towards Bucky behind her and raised a brow.
"Really?" she said, her voice unamused, and slightly monotone.
"What?" admonished Bucky, shoving his hands in his pockets, a big, winning grin showing on his face, "Brady's walking around like a love-sick fool, I gotta have a little fun." Kennedy raised her brow further.
"C'mon, tell me you don't hear it at night, 'It's just you and I….here….now.', and all this other lovey-dovey shit, too, Farley," he said, nodding at her, "swear if you heard it yourself, you'd lose your mind to."
"He's been crazy about her since she got here, let them live a bit." Kennedy said, standing to her feet and coming to his side before lowering her voice, "Especially here."
She looked back up at Bucky and noticed how soft his face had grown so close-up. His eyes gently resting on her own, lingering gaze, his presence something back at Thorpe Abbotts she would've scorn about, but something here she was latching onto more often these days.
Even with Bucky's roughhousing and good-natured fun, Kennedy found herself gravitating towards him more often than not these days - she remembered when she'd first come in, barely alive, hoping to get her eyes on even just one of the guys from the 100th who was familiar to her. And Bucky had been the first, pulling her from the arms of the Germans who had been dragging her, forcing her to walk as she was fighting a fever, who immediately had taken her to where the others guys had been, and gotten her soup, water, and watched over her as she rested.
Back at Thorpe Abbotts, he'd been someone she could throw a bit of flirty words and teasing nature around, just for fun.
Now, he was the one who had pulled her from those few days of being lost, sick and far from home and in the hands of the Germans.
"You have to remember the first time you were in love, John," Kennedy said as she leaned on the bunk beside Bucky and surveyed the small bunk room, "all those butterflies, that lusting feeling, c'mon, with a face like that, you oughta know." She looked to him with a grin, but instead was met with a sour-looking frown. Her smile fell.
"Seems I forgot to do that." Bucky said, reaching up to rub a finger along his upper lip and then sighed, sending her a glance, "And the butterflies, or whatever the fuck you're supposed to feel." Kennedy stared at him and waited until he met her gaze fully.
"Let me guess, you got a cushy guy back home, your Ma set up for you from the country club, and just broke a guys heart before you came out here," Bucky said, his tone falling into a somewhat jealous and distant mantra, "you don't even gotta tell me. Look at you, any guy woulda been lucky to know you." Kennedy stared at him, her heart beginning to race the longer she stared at him and his stupid pretty face.
"No actually." Kennedy said, about just as firmly and slightly cold right back, "Guys at the country club were stuck-up twits anyway. Only heartbreaking that was going on was mine." Bucky looked her way and opened his mouth, before closing it again.
"Yep," Kennedy said with a nod, "strung me on like fish to a hook with bait. Showered me in love or whatever the fuck he called it. He stole a whole lot from me that I'll never get back. Youth, whatever else." Bucky was rather intently staring at her and refusing to look away.
"What the hell was his name?" Bucky said, his jaw clenched a bit tighter, his shoulders broader as he had turned to look at her now, watching her with a look that was enough to make her insides twist.
"Stephen." Kennedy said and then shrugged, "It's stupid anyway. First love is a load of bullshit half the time." Bucky was still staring at her and she was sure anymore of looking into his eyes and she wouldn't hold back. Whatever she was feeling.
"Anyway," Kennedy said looking away and grabbing some of the canteens from the table, seemingly catching Bucky off guard with her sudden dismissal of the conversation, "I'll go refill some of the water. I'll be back." With that she turned, heart pounding.
"Wait, Farley-" Bucky said, reaching out to grab her free hand, his large fingers clasping around her wrist, his hand hot, sending goosebumps all over her form. She turned to him and watched as his wheels turned, trying to figure out whatever he was thinking of saying.
"I shouldn't have said that about you - the country club bullshit, and he sounds like a complete asshole. Steve - whatever the fuck his name was." Bucky said and then righted himself, his grip loosening, but not free, "I'll come with you. To get the water." She stared at him, mildly surprised, but almost not. He'd been giving her that quiet look for days now. Whatever it meant. Enough it made her pulse race. And she knew he could feel it. Kennedy smirked at him and then reached forward, pulling her hand from his loose grasp and grabbed a few more canteens and placed it into his arms.
"How chivalrous." she said, before giving him a smile and heading out the door. Bucky stood there silent for a moment, and was left with a snort from Bessie on the top bunk.
"What?" grumbled Bucky, glancing over towards the woman - whom he hadn't realized was still here nor paying attention. Bessie chuckled and flipped a page in her book and smiled.
"Nothing." she said with a chuckle, before glancing over at him, "Run along, lover boy."
#bessie u are SUCH an icon omfg#tell him how it is#ANYWAYYYY#kennedy farley#bucky egan#kennedy x farley#annie bradshaw#john brady#bessie carlisle#masters of the air#mota#mota writings#silver bullets#SCREAMINGGGG#this was so fun to write thank you so so much anon#these two have been brewing in my mind for MONTHSSSS#and this prompt for a few weeks#so i am so happy to put it out!!!#i hope you all enjoy!!#both a glimpse into kennedy (i stan her so hard) and bucky egan in this situation (really playing into this idea of him and love that we se#throughout the second half of the show)#THANK YOU ALL#I LOVE THESE TWO#SO SO MUCH#MY HEART IS BURSTING#and with that#ENJOYYYYY#john egan x oc#bucky egan x oc
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two hearts in one home <3
(lando norris & max fewtrell - sweet creature by harry styles)
#this is my very first edit so lmk what you think!#i had so much fun neglecting my midterms to make this so i hope you enjoyyyyy#lando norris#max fewtrell#nortrell#mando#f1 edit#f1#formula 1#two hearts in one home#my edits*
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It was almost suffocating, this feeling permeating throughout the room. He knew he had to get the two of them out, and fast.
(it's two sentences but shhhhh. Go crazy :D. I of course had law in mind cause teehehehehee 🤭🫣 I love him. But you write whomever!! Love you!! -Rye)
ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ɪʟʟᴇɢᴀʟ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟꜱᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴀɴ ʟᴀᴡ 🤭💖 ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴀᴀ ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏ ᴇxᴄɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɢᴏᴏᴅ 😈😈😈 ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴍ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇꜱᴛɪᴇ 🤭💖
ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵃˡᵐᵒˢᵗ ˢᵘᶠᶠᵒᶜᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ, ᵗʰⁱˢ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵉʳᵐᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ. ᴴᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʷᵒ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵃˢᵗ.
Law glances over at you again, noticing the panic slowly settling over your face as you take in the now closed entrance where you two had walked in. The heavy doors refused to budge, no matter how hard you kicked and how much you silently begged for them to reopen.
The lantern you'd brought and handed to him began to flicker, showing signs of low oxygen in the room. 'This isn't good...' Law thinks to himself before he places the lantern down, laying a heavy hand on your shoulder as he says,
"Stay calm, Y/N. The others weren't too far behind us, they should find us soon-"
He froze when you slowly looked up at him with watery eyes, fear and anxiousness settling over his skin. "T-they won't," you started, turning Law's blood to ice as you took a shuttered breath,
"Shachi s-said they were gonna turn back... they don't know how far into this place we ended up going..."
As Law takes in the ceiling littered in raw sea stone with a broken Kikoku in hand, he sighs heavily and goes to respond, only to get cut off as a low, gutteral sound echos off the dusty and dilapidated marble walls. You step closer to him and cling to the back of his shirt when something, what seems to be a similar echo, responds.
Weakened and now seemingly outnumbered, Law looks down at you as you grip your own weapon, ready to go out with a fight. You look up at your weakened Captain and you can only smile sadly as he whispers brokenly, "I'm so sorry."
You weren't given a chance to reply as the lantern finally flickered out, and all Law could hear was you screaming as something pulled you away.
#answered ask#obsessivemuch#mutuals ; 🍊#writing game ;#OHHHHHH THIS WAS SO GOOD#i didnt want to stop#idk if i went too ham but i hope you enjoyyyyy 🤭🤭🤭💖💖💖💖💖#this was so much fun AAA !!!#thank you sm bestie i can always count on you 🥺🥺💖💖💖#ok to rb#trafalgar law
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new witcher fic: Geralt/Vilgefortz
Ouroboros: Act 1
Explicit. ~5k. Masturbation, Fanon Continental art history, sexual fantasy, wankery. See the AO3 page for ample tags and notes. Choosing not to warn for some fic spoilery reasons and other stuff but I've still tagged a lot of things. Canon-typical everything applies to this fic. Show-book canon blending. There will be 5 parts with a lot of symbolism and western philosophy.
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Vilgefortz quietly shepherded Geralt into a wing of the Gallery of Glory that featured artwork that was critical of mages and the history of the Brotherhood. Vilgefortz knew that with these paintings he would be able to entice Geralt into further discourse about divergent paths and reflect upon the future together.
Geralt followed along wordlessly and Vilgefortz could sense that Geralt was missing Yennefer, wanting nothing more than peace and solitude away from the ball. Vilgefortz would offer him that.
He had encountered many puzzles in the world, but they held little mystery because Vilgefortz’s experience as a vagabond, druid, and mage had given him a unique skill set to see through them. In spite of their ongoing discussion about the life of an outcast, Vilgefortz remained no closer to fully understanding the puzzle that stood at his side.
Geralt frowned at the painting he was standing in front of and Vilgefortz sensed the melancholy surging around the witcher like the tide of the ocean.
read Act 1 on ao3
#it's here. i'm postinggggg finally. it's really long and ponderous and wanky and metaphorical but i hope you enjoyyyyy#will post the next few sections over the course of the coming week or so#vilgywank#geralt x vilgefortz#vilgefortz#vilgefortz of roggeveen#twn#twn season 3#my fic#my witcher fic
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soft kellila as cats i found saved in my camera roll:
the ‘rhy and alucard made us come to this event, we do not want to be here, please leave us alone’ :
the ‘kell watching lila touch stuff in fletcher’s shop after he specifically told her not to’ :
the ‘kell ‘i know i’m an idiot but idc bc i’m your idiot’ maresh’ :
the ‘i don’t need to sleep with my back to the wall and a knife on my knee anymore’ :
the ‘you’ve been steering the ship all night and i’m half asleep and don’t know much about sailing but i’m here to hold you for moral support’ :
the ‘finally arrived back in london after a long ass journey, time to collapse’ :
and finally, the ‘anoshe’ :
#these are all stupid but i’m soft for kellila and every orange and black cat picture i see makes me think of them ok#enjoyyyyy this is dumbbbb#soft kellila makes me happy bitches#i hope you get the last one#yanno#bc it looks like them leaning in each other at the end of ACOL#also i am still writing up a fucking essay on my thoughts w the new threads info i’m just v overwhelmed with lab reports atm so bear with#pls#anyways#a conjuring of light#adsom#kell maresh#a darker shade of magic#a gathering of shadows#alucard emery#delilah bard#holland vosijk#kellila#lila bard#rhy maresh#v e schwab#rhylucard#shades of magic#antari#incorrect adsom
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Some of you guys wanted a more in depth look into this post of mine so I expanded upon it and I shall deliver! but this can be read on it's own ofc.
Enjoyyyyy <3
Simon woke up with a start, even in the low lighting he could tell he was in an unfamiliar room and a small stirring next to him alerted him to the fact he was close to an unfamiliar presence as well. No, not unfamiliar, but not familiar enough for his heart not to jump slightly at noticing you. Your hand grabbed a fist-full of his shirt and you were seemingly trying to pull yourself impossibly closer to his presence. His startled heart began to melt, and in the calm your resting face brought him he began to remember how exactly he got here.
////
“M’ tellin ya mate yer going tae like ‘er,” Johnny teased, bounding a couple steps in front of Simon, turning back to him and rocking back and forth on his heels, hands shoved into his pockets to protect them from the cold. As Price often quipped, the scott couldn’t stand still for the life of him.
“Mhm,” Simon just grumbled in response.
“See mate, That’s the attitude that scares all the girls away.” Johnny commented, hands outstretched and exaggerated.
“Whatever.” Simon huffed, rolling his eyes. Johnny wasn’t wrong, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything with a girl that wasn’t a quick lay, even then it had been months, not to mention going out on a proper date. Well, a date was a stretch, you were Johnny’s roommate and close friend for a couple years. He had heard of you, but never met you and now Johnny was insisting that he go on a date with you because he was convinced it was going to work well, Simon wasn’t convinced in the slightest.
“She’s real nice though- so put away the tough guy act big man- girls don’t like that.” Simon couldn’t believe he was getting dating advice from his sergeant, so he just doubled down and kept scowling but Johnny kept pressing. “I'm telling you she's a real sweet girl, kinda lass who would try tae make a crying baby laugh on the tube or go and feed some mangy stray dog, perfect for a prickly bastard like yerself.”
“Okay okay, Jesus ’s not like ’m going to scare ‘er off on purpose.” Simon relented
“You better not, getting laid might do you some good man, calm yer ass down a wee bit” Johnny chuckled
Simon would have yelled at him for that comment but his friend cut him off, “‘Kay we’re ‘ere,” Johnny chirped, “Gaz and his girl should be inside already and she’ll be ‘ere soon,” Johnny said, pushing his Leftenant through the pub door.
Johnny had invited Kyle and his girlfriend for a kind of double date situation because he thought having another girl there would help you feel more comfortable, something Simon couldn’t argue with. Why Johnny’s single ass would be attending was a mystery.
The pub was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the damp cold of the London streets. Simon quickly located Kyle and his girlfriend -whom he had met once before a couple months back- he couldn’t say he wasn’t jealous. Having someone sweet to come home to was a lingering thought that kept him awake most nights. A fleeting hope that persisted despite his best attempts at squandering it. Taking his coat off and quietly greeting the others, it would be a lie to say he wasn’t nervous, terribly so. His hands felt shaky, his stomach twisted in knots, Simon liked situations he could be in control of and this wasn’t one of them. He had no control over whether you would like him or not, over whether you would have a good time, and it terrified him. Johnny had talked you up and made you sound perfect, a fact he didn’t doubt but what if you didn’t “click”, what if the sergeant was wrong. Simon was so nervous he could have passed out right then and there, but little did he know Johnny had been playing both sides.
////
“Ya like serious guys right?” Your roommate had asked you out of the blue, a week or so prior.
“Uh yeah sure? I mean I guess so, more than immature assholes like you.” You had joked back across the small kitchen.
“Well,” He had began, unphased by your teasing, “There’s this guy I work with-”
“Don’t even.” you cut him off
“What?!” he whined
“Don’t try and set me up with one of your military bros,” you warned, “I’m not interested.”
“Just because your last dates have been busts doesnae mean you shouldn't keep tryin’,” He pleaded, catching the sponge you threw at him, “He’s a real good guy, kinda intimidating but you’d like him, promise!”
You glared at him before going back and forth, Johnny was really trying to sell this guy, and he wasn’t wrong, your last three dates had been nothing short of disasters. Selfish bastards that only talked about themselves and wanted to fuck and nothing else. So, after lots of pleading -and a couple tasteful photos from them at the gym- you agreed.
So as you walked closer and closer to the pub, your nerves were buzzing. Just gotta get past his tough exterior is all, Johnny’s words of advice rang through your head. Thankfully your roommate had invited another one of his friends there along with his girlfriend, you would have been hyperventilating if it was just going to be you and some guys. As you reached for the door, you could only hope Johnny was right about this guy.
////
“There she is!” Johnny called out, snapping Simon from his thoughts. He looked to the direct he had sauntered off in to find you. Removing the thick scarf from around your neck, and rolling your eyes at your friend’s shenanigans.
‘Shit shit shit’ Simon began to spiral, biting down harshly on his lip. You were pretty, like really pretty, trying to warm your cold cheeks up with the back of your hand. You looked like the kind of girl a guy would dream about and have to spend a moment getting over after the morning alarm rang. Simon knew he wasn’t unattractive by any means, but it was too damn easy to get self conscious around someone like you.
Noticing his anxiety, Kyle gave him a harsh pat on the shoulder, “Just act natural mate, you’ll be fine.” Easier said than done
You approached the table and it was as if all the pub lights had suddenly focused on you, either that or you were admitting this kind of angelic light from your person.
“Right then,” Johnny began gesturing around the hightop table, “That’s Kyle and his girl,” they smiled and waved, you did the same back, “an’ tha’s the man ‘imself, Simon Riley.”
You took the seat next to him and held your hand out to him, “It’s nice to finally meet you Simon.” You beamed, looking him up and down. He took your hand and he couldn’t help but notice how much smaller it was, how it fit so softly into his. He couldn’t even begin to process the way you had said his name, almost like a little whisper in the buzz of the pub, just the sound made him dizzy.
“Likewise,” He responded, though it was little more than a whisper, “‘eard plenty about you from Johnny.” He continued, accent low and thick. He could’ve kicked himself, even the most normal sentences sounded strange when he said them in front of you. You cast a side eye to your roommate, raising an eyebrow.
“Only the good things hen!” Johnny defended himself, hands in the air. Simon was in love already.
////
Intimidating was the understatement of the century, this guy was absolutely terrifying. He had to be at least 6’4”, probably over 200 pounds of pure muscle, topped off with the most soul piercing brown eyes you’d ever looked at. But there was something more behind all of that, those eyes betrayed just the smallest amount of vulnerability, and with how softly he took your hand in his, maybe Johnny was right.
Thankfully the conversation flowed easily, having Kyle and his girlfriend there helped and Simon was surprisingly easy to talk to. He didn’t say too much, but he always made it so clear he was listening to every word you said, hanging on every syllable. Nodding along and encouraging you to continue. When he did talk, his voice was low, grumbly and deep but somehow soft at the same time, like he was trying to approach some frightened wild animal. Not to mention the way you couldn’t stop your heart from pounding when he leaned down to hear you better, your height difference on full display even when you were both seated.
As the night went on, conversation shifted from being the entire table, to you and Simon going back and forth between each other. Bodies angled towards each other, he had taken his mask completely off by the time the food arrived and you couldn’t deny he was handsome, in a rugged and charming way. When the conversation began to naturally sizzle out you pointed to his arm,
“Tell me about your tattoo?” you asked innocently. Kyle and Johnny held their breaths, their leftenant didn’t open up about stuff like that, got defensive when anybody asked about it. To their surprise and relief, a smile tugged at his lips and he began to gently explain to you the parts of his sleeve, leaving out the more traumatic parts.
“Bruv,” Kyle whispered, leaning into Johnny, “This is like- actually working out.”
“Just had to work some of that MacTavish magic mate.” Johnny grinned, elbowing his friend
“Please never say shit like that again.”
Even when Simon began to feel comfortable enough to start cracking some jokes and Johnny thought his chances were done right then and there, you buckled over and laughed, hitting at his bicep. Not noticing how his eyes shone with pride when he was the one making you laugh.
“I’m going up to get another drink, anybody need a refill?” You asked, nodding as people put in their requests. Simon watched you leave as you weaved your way through the crowd, his eyes never leaving your figure- the curve of your waist more specifically.
“Don’t just stare at her mate, go on ‘an follow ‘er ya big sap” Johnny teased, all but shoving his friend from his stool.
“Fuckin’ workin’ on it,” Simon growled, “Impatient bastard.” He downed the rest of his drink and made his way to where you were perched on the edge of the bar.
“Oh hey!” you beamed, “Did ya want something?” All of your attention immediately on him, Simon felt a surge of pride at seeing the dashed hopes of some stragglers who had obviously had an eye on you when you came up to put your order in.
“Jus’ gettin’ another whiskey is all.” He murmured. He watched as you put the orders in, including his, feeling a strange tightening in his chest when you had to lean in close to the bartender so he could hear your order. Smiling when your face screwed up after asking for a sip of his whiskey, eyes shining when you hummed along to the song blaring from the pub speakers. He realized he was going to have to lock this down immediately.
“Would you-?”
“Hey um,” You unknowingly cut him off, “Would you want to keep talking somewhere quieter?” your eyes didn’t leave you fidgeting fingers, “Like I mean, the apartment is just a couple blocks that way.” you smiled, gesturing in the general direction.
Simon would have jumped for joy if his pride had allowed him, instead he stuttered a response, “Yeah that sounds good, -I mean I’d like...that”
“O-okay, yeah okay,” you nodded, relief washing over your face, grabbing the drinks and asking him to follow. He downed the second glass of whiskey so fast he feared he might have drowned in it. You set the glasses on the table and began to grab your coat.
“Ya leavin’ already lass?” Johnny questioned, sounding a bit defeated, until he noticed Simon shoving his beanie onto his head with all the grace of a newborn giraffe. “Ohhhhh,” He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows, “You’re leaving.”
You threw him an exasperated look, “Did you remember your keys?”
“Ya know I never do” He winked
You smirked and rolled your eyes, tossing him your extra pair and adjusting your scarf.
“Now ye behave!” Johnny called after the two of you, “I run a right tight ship in tha' gaf an-” He stopped when Kyle threw and hand over his mouth and provided a sweet “Be safe on your way”
Simon gave him a curt nod and led you out of the pub with a steady hand on your lower back.
///
The brisk wind hit you the moment Simon opened the door for you into the outside world. A quick shiver passing through you as you let your arms wrap themselves around your body. Your ears began to burn and you cursed yourself for not bringing a hat. You only got one teeth chattering block before Simon noticed your bright red ears, with an amused sigh, he tugged off his beanie and ruffled his short, blonde locks. Without warning, the hat was then shoved onto your head, pulled snuggly over your ears. You whipped around to face him, big doe eyes shining up at him.
“Don’t mention it.” is all he said, before taking the lead and walking in front of you, thank god it was cold enough to blame his red cheeks on the harsh wind.
You led him though the dark streets, your and Johnny’s shared apartment was only a 10 minute walk from the pub. 10 minutes that were filled with countless questions from you, questions that had felt too awkward to ask in the loud and crowded pub. Favorite color? Favorite song? Favorite food? Favorite animal? What kind of movies did he like? Did he like warm or cold weather? Simon couldn’t remember the last time someone wanted to know this much about him, people on base always seemed to want to get to know Ghost. To try and humanize the intimidating persona he took on when at work, they didn’t want to put in the work to know, to understand the humanity he already possessed. But here you were, asking him questions like your life depended on it. Not in some feeble attempt to make him less scary, but because you were genuinely curious about the person that he was. He felt strangely at peace around you, uncomfortably comfortable, or maybe it was just the fact you made him feel human.
You stopped him at the front of your building with a tug on his sleeve. He let you lead him inside, shuffle into the tiny European elevator that made him look comically large, and hold the door open for you as you slipped into the apartment. It was very clearly a place inhabited by Johnny, the xbox controllers on the coffee table, the 4 empty protein shake bottles in the sink, the ratty sneakers Gaz had begged him to throw away still by the door, and a sleeveless workout hoodie throw haphazardly over the back of the couch. That you scurried to pick up, not expecting company,
“Sorry, he just leaves his shit everywhere.” you sighed, grabbing the shirt and shoving it into the closet hamper.
“Don’t I know it.” Simon chuckled lightly. The parts of the apartment that grabbed his attention next were your additions, a lip gloss tube in the key bowl, a cute teapot on the stove, the CD player next to the TV. You had given the home a “woman’s touch” as Price would have put it. Simon found himself foolishly imagining where your items would fit into his sparsely decorated flat as he toed off his shoes, but then again he was here, in your apartment, so maybe not so ridiculous after all.
“You can come in, ya know?” You giggled from the living room, kneeling down to slot a CD into the player.
“Right, sorry.” he muttered, shuffling his feet across the creaking wood floors and taking a seat on the couch, wincing at how it groaned under his weight. You plopped down right next to him and just began chattering on above the din of the quiet music.
////
When the clock read 11:53, around an hour and a half after you had originally arrived, he began to get antsy. He worried you were going to ask him to leave, to exit this warm bubble you had created for him, it was late but he would have stayed for hours had you asked him.
His stomach dropped when you moved to get up, he had a feeling he knew what was coming. That this would be some one time thing like he had feared, a nice conversation and nothing more. He began to clench and unclench his fists subconsciously, the thought of going back out into the cold streets now felt torturous. But then you just asked him sweetly what kind of tea he wanted.
“Anything.” he rushed out, just relieved he could stay here, with you a little longer. He followed you like some lost dog into the kitchen, watched you fill up that cute teapot with water and click on the stove before leaning against the counter across from him.
You were pressed close by the small layout of the kitchen, “I uh, I hope you don’t mind the music I put on.” You murmured, trying to fill the suddenly awkward silence.
“No, I like it.” He responded bluntly, but his eyes were no longer meeting yours. For the past hour they had been locked onto your lips. Gaze silent, but wanting.
Gingerly, you reached up a hand to his face, noting the way his breath caught in his throat when your fingertips brushed against his scarred skin. On the tips of your feet now, you tilted your head to get around that handsome roman nose before gently placing your lips on his. It was quick, fleeting, it ended as soon as it started. You pulled away, embarrassed due to his deadly still posture, not a hair on him moved.
“Sorry, I just, well- it was a good time with you tonight and-”
It was his turn to cut you off, the quick kiss apparently being all the motivation he needed to surge forward, sliding his hand onto the curve of your waist and guiding your head with a gentle hand on your cheek. Your surprised yelp was swallowed up by his lips enveloping yours. Pressing your body to his and inhaling deeply, it was as if he was trying to swallow you whole with his figure.
Finding a gentle rhythm, he moved his lips against yours, and god were they soft. Like velvet against his chapped and scarred ones. He practically growled when your lips left his, his mouth chased yours. Quirking into a crooked smile when he noticed you teasing smirk. The hand on your cheek moved so he could intertwine his fingers in your hair, cradling the back of your head and guiding your lips back to his. The sweet kiss turned hungry and feverish, the hand on your waist slid down to cradle where the fat of your ass met your thigh. All of a sudden you were being lifted to sit on the counter with just one of his hands, placed down gently by him before he resumed his desperate grip on your thigh. You attempted to move away once more, to catch the breaths he had been taking from you. But his grip tightened on the back of your head,
“Don’t.” The deep rumble of his Manc accent had you pressing your thighs together.
He noticed immediately, smiling as he trailed those kisses down towards your neck, “Ya like that sweet’art?” The grumble in voice almost made it sound like he was purring.
You nodded quickly, gasping and whining as he found that sweet spot on your neck. “Tell me whatcha’ want love, c’mon love need’a ‘ear it.” He growled, forehead resting against yours.
“You.” was pathetically all you could manage after the sudden release of the tension that had been building since the moment you asked him to leave the pub, but that was good enough for him. He let out a low whine and let his forehead rest on your shoulder, one hand slipping up underneath your sweater and the other finding the hem of your jeans. You were back to whining in his ear and placing soft kisses on his neck, both of you too wrapped up in the moment to hear the click of the front door lock and someone made their way inside.
You both heard the door close though and paused, not daring to look, bodies tensed and unmoving.
“Hey we’re back,” Kyle’s voice, “Soap said it was okay if I came to grab copy of- oh.”
Another awkward moment of silence before-
“Ye’ owe me a tenner then Gaz!" Johnny erupted into laughter.
“Aye! No, I still won!” Kyle argued back “It’s 12:11 now, so technically it's not today anymore mate.”
“Yeah but 12:11 's still tonight and I was bettin' that they’d shag t'night so I think-”
“COULD YOU GET THE FUCK OUT JOHNNY?! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” You suddenly snapped, finding your voice under the mountain of embarrassment you were under. Simon had been completely silent, hands now white-knuckling the counter top, as he looked away from the scene, staring holes into the cabinets under the sink. All while still leaning over you, jaw tight and teeth grinding, the tips of his ears noticeably red.
“ 'ave some sympathy lass! I jus' lost a tenner!” Johnny continued, unfazed, “I mean really Lt. could ye 'ave started a wee bit sooner then? What were ye waitin’ for? A full moon?”
Simon stayed silent so you took it upon yourself, “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING JUST BARGING IN HERE?!” You tried to regain some decency and push Simon away so you could stand up, but he remained stationary against your attempts to move him, still having a staring contest with the wall.
“I live 'ere too, ye know! An' I texted ya!”
You groaned, realizing your phone sat untouched on the couch.
“Just- just-” You let out a frustrated growl, “You are insufferable.” You hiss, finally slipping from Simon’s guard and yanking on one of his firmly placed hands, and he let you. Whirl him around and wordlessly drag him down the hallway to your private room, following your steps.
"What about yer tea?!" Johnny called out, laughter lacing his voice.
"Oh fuck off!"
////
You shut the door behind you after shoving him through it, embarrassed beyond belief and burning with frustration.
“Sorry he’s such a pain in the ass”
“ s’okay,” Simon finally spoke again, “was hoping to end up here anyway”
That made your eyes widen and cheeks burn almost uncomfortably hot, as he swiftly crossed the room to continue what had been rudely interrupted. He clung to your waist like his life depended on it.
“But he’s-” You began, in between feverish kisses “They’re still-”
He growled in your ear a low, “Let ‘em hear.” It was once again all the warning you got before one hand lifted you up once more “wrap ya' legs 'round my waist sweet thing,” he encouraged, "yeah jus’ like tha’.” He smashed his lips against yours, walking you over to your bed, avoiding the clothes you had strewn around from trying to get ready early on that night, which he immediately picked up on. Setting you gently on the bed, he began to murmur against your lips with a smile, “What's all this? Wanted to look nice for me huh?”
You nodded along dumbly, the feeling his hardened cock in his trousers pressed up against your clothed core became all too much. He let out a low chuckle as he felt you ankles lock around waist.
“ 'M not going anywhere love don’ worry” He slid two calloused hands back under your sweater, ready to take it off. He stopped immediately upon hearing your whines of protest
“Wha’s wrong then love?” He whispered
It took all your brain power to form a coherent sentence in this state but somehow you managed. Lazily removing a hand from his neck and pointing behind you, “The window.” you said breathlessly.
He turned to find the blinds of your street facing window open. He might have been able to deal with his mates hearing some but strangers was a different story.
“Shit.” he untangled himself from you and quickly pulled them shut, “Don’t need anybody seein' what I’m doin' to my girl.”
“Your girl?” you questioned weakly
“Yeah,” he smirked, “ ‘m keepin’ you.”
////
It had all come back, crashing down on him like a wave. He could barley believe he had spent the night with you. You had actually want him, asked him to stay, let him have you, all of you. He untangled himself from you arms, hellbent on grabbing you a hot towel and a glass of water. He slipped into his boxers and his T-shirt and quietly opened the door to slip into the hallway. He could only hope you believed he meant what he said when he told you he wanted to keep you, though now he cringed at his confidence and wording.
He was met with a smirking Johnny leaning over the island as he entered the kitchen.
"Where's Garrick?"
"Fucked off back to his place before you woke up."
"Hm." Simon grabbed a cup from the same cabinet he saw you had last night and began to fill it at the sink.
" 'Hm'? really? Thas' it?" Johnny scoffed "Come on then mate? How'd it go?"
Simon was about to disappear back into your room, without so much as another word to the sergeant before he stopped. Without turning he muttered a quick, awkward, "Thanks."
"Ya know what, I'll take it." Johnny clapped a hand over his friends back and Simon winced. The scratches on his back you had given him burned a bit.
"Oh?"
Simon grumbled and left a bemused Johnny in the kitchen. Back in your room he was reminded how lucky he really had gotten. The sun light perfectly highlighted and shadowed your featured. the curves and dips of your naked body were covered loosely by your white sheets. Your sleeping face peaceful and angelic, you really did seem like a dream.
So he could put up with Johnny more, for you.
A/n: Is this just me coming to terms with the fact I have a humiliation kink? Yeah probably.
#simon ghost x reader#simon#simon riley fluff#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley headcanons#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#soap#ghost cod#ghost#ghost x y/n#ghost x you#ghost x oc#ghost x reader#tf 141 headcanons#tf 141 x reader#tf 141 x you#task force 141#cod mw3#cod modern warfare#cod x you#cod x reader#cod x y/n#cod x oc#cod mw2#john price#kyle gaz garrick#ghost call of duty#simon ghost fluff
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📱skz texts — they find out you have a marriage pact with a friend
| including. bang chan, lee know, changbin, hyunjin
type. gn!reader, request <3
warnings. curse words here and there but thats it!
a/n. these were literally so fun to make!!! also this is my second post in like two or three days :o who am i :o hope you guys enjoyyyyy mwah xx
maknae line
#ilya texts fics#stray kids#stray kids x reader#stray kids fluff#bang chan#lee know#changbin#hyunjin#han skz#felix skz#seungmin skz#i.n skz#skz smau
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sure thing – part two.
pairing: yang jungwon x f reader
genre: coworkers au, underground boxer jungwon
part two word count: 10.8k
warnings: swearing, descriptions/depictions of physical violence, blood and minor injuries, jealousy, a bit of a love triangle I'M SORRY, a kiss or five
note: aaaand here's part two! thank you to everyone that left a comment/reblog on part one. this is the conclusion to the story. suffer with me while we daydream about blonde boxer jungwon and enjoyyyyy ♡
⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖
An employee in the marketing department of a large company, your days are filled with poorly worded emails, unrealistic deadlines, and passive aggressive friendly reminders from your superiors. On a particularly awful afternoon, a chance encounter with a coworker from the programming department down the hall is the first thing to make you smile in weeks.
But the more you uncover about Yang Jungwon and his mysterious injuries, flimsy excuses, and always occupied Friday nights, the more you begin to realize that you really don’t know him at all.
⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖
PART TWO
⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖
It’s been a while since you felt anything but dread opening your work inbox.
Monday morning, however, the first message that greets you is a reminder of a time when you did. When you used to keep your email tab open just in the hopes that a certain programmer would send you messages about a jammed printer for you to reread a dozen times.
This time, though, excitement is the last thing you feel. It’s curiosity, more than anything, combined with an urgent need to know what the hell happened between your date and your coworker, that has you clicking on the message.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Printer Issue
Good morning, ___.
I hope this message finds you well. I am currently trying to resolve an ongoing issue with the workroom printer and was hoping you would be able to provide some input at your earliest convenience.
Thank you in advance,
Jungwon
Part of you wants to archive the message without responding and let him simmer in your rejection.
But spite has never held much weight against curiosity, and despite your better judgment, you soon find yourself walking towards the shared workroom.
As expected, it’s already occupied. This time, however, Jungwon is leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. The printer, just as you suspected, is in perfect working order.
There’s a fresh bruise on his forehead, and this time, you don’t wonder where it’s from. It makes sense now. The bruises on his knuckles. The cut on his cheekbone. His seemingly intimate knowledge of head injuries that one fateful Monday afternoon he found you in this very room.
They’re all the result of his hidden hobby, you suppose.
As soon as you enter, some of the rigidity seeps out of his stance. Immediately, his arms fall to his sides, expression softening. “___,” he whispers, like he can’t quite believe you actually came.
Where he softens, however, you cage up.
“You have one minute,” you tell him.
“One minute?” He echoes, brow creasing in confusion.
“One minute to explain what happened Saturday night.”
Jungwon sighs. “I’m sorry. Really, I… I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”
You don’t say anything. An apology is appreciated, yes, but it’s not an explanation.
With your silence, Jungwon continues, “I was just… caught off guard. I didn’t expect to see you there, and especially not with him.”
He pauses for a moment, biting at his lower lip. “Look, ___. I know it probably isn’t my place, but I don’t think he’s being honest with you. Jay isn’t the person that you think he is, and–”
Your scoff cuts through his words, stopping him in his tracks. “That’s funny,” you interrupt. But humor is the last thing on your mind. “He said the exact same thing about you, you know. But it has to be bullshit. I mean, what could have possibly happened in middle school that two adults with jobs are still hung up on a decade later?”
Jungwon’s lips part in surprise. “He told you about middle school?”
“Why?” you prod. “Is there something to know?”
But now you’re at a stalemate, neither of you willing to disclose what exactly you know.
After another beat, Jungwon sighs. “Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do–”
“Could have fooled me.”
“But I just want you to be careful, okay? It’s… it’s important to me that you’re safe.”
“Safe?” You scoff. “It was a boxing gym. I don’t know why you’re acting like I was trying to push my way into the ring with you.”
“You don’t get it–”
“No.” You throw your hands in exasperation. “I don’t get it. But you’re not explaining it to me. You’re just being evasive and acting like I’m the one in the wrong. So unless you actually have something of substance to say, I’m done having this conversation.”
“____…”
Already halfway to the exit, the sound of your name is lost on you. It’s bad enough that Jay has yet to reach out to you since last night. You absolutely do not need Jungwon bringing this issue into the office as well.
As if on cue, your phone dings with an incoming message.
Half expecting to see a virtual string of apologies from your coworker, you’re mildly surprised to see a different name instead.
You were right about the apologies, though.
Jay: I’m sorry about last night. You were right about deserving an explanation and I want to give you one. I think this is a conversation we should have in person. Are you free Friday night for dinner?
Friday night. Two nights from now. It’s soon enough that you won’t have to stew in resentment, but will give you both the time and space you need to think.
It doesn’t take you long to consider, but you do wait another long minute before giving him the satisfaction of responding.
You: I’ll plan on Friday.
…..
Friday morning comes with a vengeance.
Already teeming with nervous energy at the prospect of your upcoming date with Jay and the conversation that is sure to ensue, you’re a bit of a mess by the time you arrive at work.
Hair windswept, outfit mismatched, lipstick slightly smudged, you already know you’re in for a long day at the office.
But when you arrive at your desk, you find something that softens the blow, just a bit.
Grace, ever the instigator, is already learning over your cubicle by the time you notice it.
“Whew,” she whistles appreciatively. “Someone’s pulling out all the stops.”
And she’s kind of right. The bouquet sitting front and center on your desk is massive. Overflowing with seasonal flowers that already emit a pleasant fragrance even from where you stand. The vase itself it’s gorgeous, too.
Imbued with a myriad of colors, it reminds you a bit of a stained glass window on a sunny afternoon.
Reaching for the small note tucked at the top, you open the envelope with slightly shaky fingers.
___, it reads.
I wish I had more to give you than an apology, but I’ve been told that flowers are a sure thing when it comes to brightening someone’s day. I hope these are able to do that for you.
– J
Frowning, you read it once. Twice.
Jay has already apologized for the incident from a couple of nights ago, and the timing of this second apology seems odd, given your plans for tonight.
You’re left to stand in your own confusion for a moment longer before a text message vibrates your phone in your pocket.
Reaching for it, the flowers suddenly start to make a lot more sense.
Jay: I am so sorry, but I have to reschedule our plans for tonight. It completely slipped my mind, but my sister’s baby shower is tomorrow morning, and I’ve been voluntold to help set it up. I promise to let you know as soon as I can when I’ll be available
Jay: And again, I am so, so sorry
Sighing, you put your phone back in your bag. You can’t blame him. Not really. His sister’s baby shower is undoubtedly an important event, even if the timing is rather unfortunate for you.
Grace, blissfully unaware of your inner turmoil, is still gushing about your flowers. Turning to you, she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “So, what are those for? Got a hot date this weekend?”
You sigh, recently canceled plans still dampening your mood. Deciding there’s no harm in telling Grace your woes, you say, “I wish. Jay just had to cancel on me for tonight.”
“No.” Grace gasps. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was personally affronted. “He better have had a good excuse.”
“He did,” you admit. Unlike someone you know. “Family stuff.”
“Ah,” Grace nods. “I suppose that’s acceptable. Have you rescheduled?”
Frowning at the message you have yet to answer, you shake your head. “Not yet.”
“Mm,” she hums, sensing your disappointment. “I’m sure something just came up at work, and he’ll get back to you soon.”
“Yeah,” you nod hollowly. “I’m sure he will.”
You: I understand. Is there any chance we could meet Saturday evening or afternoon? It’s important to me that we talk about it soon.
It’s not as if you expect an immediate response. Like you, Jay is probably at work for the day. Busy and drowning in deadlines and assignments. Maybe even stuck in a meeting.
But thirty minutes pass. And then an hour. Two.
And your message is still completely unanswered.
The more time that passes, the harder it becomes to shake the funny feeling that starts to build in your gut. It builds and builds and builds, all the way until closing time.
And Jay still hasn’t texted you back.
That’s annoying enough all on its own, but there’s something else that just isn’t adding up.
You can’t quite put your finger on it, the thing that’s bothering you so much. But even as you make your way towards after clocking out for the day, something still doesn’t sit right with you. Opening your message thread again, you reread Jay’s last text.
Jay: … my sister’s baby shower is tomorrow morning, and I’ve been voluntold to help set it up.
Sister’s baby shower.
That’s what’s been bothering you. Because unless Jay’s sister is just finishing the shortest known pregnancy in human history, he’s lying to you.
You remember it now. The first time Grace mentioned Jay to you. She had just seen him for the first time since he moved back home.
At his older sister’s baby shower.
Sitting in your car, you scoff out loud in disbelief. The ice he treads on has been dangerously thin since your run in with Jungwon at the boxing gym, and he had the audacity to lie?
Part of you wants to catch him in it. For your own confirmation and for the satisfaction of not letting him get away with trying to pull a fast one on you. But you need an excuse. Some reason to seek him out and find him where he isn’t supposed to be.
Racking your brain, you try to think of a plausible explanation for turning up at his house tonight.
Still sitting in the parking lot, a car turns past you, headlights shining in through your windshield in a way that makes you squint.
In a way that reflects off of the tiny piece of metal jammed in the crevice next to your cupholder. Frowning, you reach down, tugging at it until it’s freed from its confines.
You’re not sure what divine forces are working in your favor, but you make a mental note to properly thank them later. Because clutched between your fingers is Jay’s missing ring. The one that he’s been looking for since he messaged you about it last week.
It’s perfect, you think. An absolutely perfect excuse to drop by his house, even if you should be under the impression that he’s not there at the moment.
Turning the piece of jewelry between your fingers, your eyes catch on an inscription on the inner band. Squinting, you can just make it out.
2013.11.13 King Pen
You’re pretty sure the numbers are a date. November 13, 2013, to be exact. But King Pen. You have no idea what that is.
It sounds like it could be related to boxing, maybe. Pulling out your phone, you do a quick online search.
The results that flood your screen are mostly generic, nothing that gives you any real leads. You try a few different search combinations, including the date and finally, the name of your city.
That does send an old article to the top of your search results. Something published in a local newspaper in 2007.
Clicking on the link, you scan the article for anything relevant.
Samuel Kang, one line towards the beginning reads, shared his plans to open a boxing gym right here in the city. Although there are other similar gyms in nearby towns, this would be the first gymnasium dedicated solely to boxing in the area.
You skip down a few more lines.
When asked if he knows what he’d like to call his project, Kang just smiles and nods his head. “King Pen,” he tells us. “I plan to call it King Pen.”
You frown. Your earlier search is proof enough that King Pen never came to fruition. As a final attempt at getting some answers, you type Samuel Kang into the search bar instead.
This time, the first article that pops up does carry an air of familiarity. Clicking on it, you confirm your suspicion.
Samuel Kang, as it turns out, never opened a boxing gym called King Pen. But he did open one called Kang’s Gym.
Looking through the photo gallery, the weightlifting equipment appears to have been in much better shape in 2008 than it was a couple of weeks ago. But even though the paint was still bright and the training pads were fully intact, it is undoubtedly the same exact gym.
There’s no reason for you to go there now. If anything, you should just drive straight to Jay’s house. But something still doesn't sit right with you.
Why does Jay’s ring say King Pen instead of Kang’s Gym? Especially since it’s dated five whole years after the gym opened under its actual name.
Besides, the gym is on your way to Jay’s apartment. If anything, it’s just a quick pit stop. A confirmation that you’re not going crazy.
Putting your car in drive, you set the ring on your passenger seat and drive out of the parking lot.
It’s already dark by the time you’re pulling into Kang’s Gym. Switching your car off, you remove your key from the ignition.
Your automatic headlights still illuminate the strangely full parking lot in front of you. Frowning, you wonder why so many people are here. Even the night that you came with Jay, the parking lot wasn’t nearly this full, and yet, most of the boxing rings inside were occupied.
Stepping out of your car, you close the door behind you softly. You’re not sure why you’re overcome with the urge to tiptoe. It’s not like you need to sneak around. You’re not doing anything wrong, after all.
But the whole thing feels strange, has you on edge. You make it only a few steps before your eyes land on a familiar car.
“Sister’s baby shower, my ass,” you whisper out loud to no one. Unless she decided to celebrate her new child at a run down boxing gym, Jay is absolutely lying to you. Because that’s his sleek black car, right in front of you. You’d recognize it anywhere.
And a few rows down, you confirm your other suspicion. You’ve never seen him drive it, but you have seen that particular navy blue SUV in the office parking garage before. Jungwon. You’re sure it’s him.
For a moment, you hesitate. It might be easier, cleaner, to just take a picture of Jay’s car and send it to him. After all, that would get your point across clearly enough. Especially if you block him afterwards.
But he’s been evasive about everything related to this place since he first brought you here. And he’s not the only one.
Eyes falling to Jungwon’s car, you decide that catching Jay in a lie isn’t the only thing you want to do tonight.
You want answers.
So the picture you take of Jay’s car remains unsent for now. Instead, you hike your bag a little further up your shoulder and continue walking in the direction of the gym.
Nearing the door, you brace yourself to be met with the large crowd that surely waits inside. Judging from the parking lot, this place must be near full capacity. But as you push through the unlocked door, the gym is completely and entirely empty.
Eerily so.
All around you, workout equipment and boxing rings sit untouched, devoid of life. There isn’t so much as a sound to disturb the uncanny silence.
Frowning, your brow creases in deep confusion. Nothing about this makes any sense.
But you didn’t come all the way here to add to your pile of questions. Instead, you push forward, past the rows of boxing rings towards the locker room where Jay left his bag a handful of nights ago.
It feels wrong to open the men’s locker room. But if no one is here, then surely it couldn’t hurt. Warily, you start to crack open the door, inch by inch.
The locker room, to your unending puzzlement, is just as empty as the rest of the gym.
You’re about to turn back to search the rest of the gym when you notice it. Just across from you, behind the first set of empty lockers. There’s another door.
It’s probably nothing, you tell yourself, even as your feet carry you closer and closer. It probably just leads to a storage closet or a boiler room or–
Pushing the door open, the first thing you’re met with is sound.
Voices. Loud voices. Lots and lots of them. In your surprise, you drop the door, and it clicks shut again.
Immediately, the sound stops. Plunged in silence again, it’s all you can do to not gasp.
Soundproof, you realize. It’s soundproof. And not just the locker room. The entire gym was dead silent until you opened this door.
This time, when you push it open, you expect the cacophonous cheers that greet you. You’re still too far away to make out what anyone is saying. Right now, it all blends into a wall of sound.
Vision is of little help, too. The only thing you see when you open the door is a staircase. In the low light, all you can tell is that it leads down.
Hoping that you’re not currently making the stupidest decision of your life, you place one tentative foot on the first step. Follow it with your other foot. And then you let the door close behind you, plunging you into complete darkness.
Immediately, a surge of panic claws at your throat. The lack of light, combined with the sheer volume of cheers and shouts, is enough to have you crawling in your skin.
Reaching blindly for the door handle behind you, you decide that sending Jay a picture of his car will have to be satisfying enough. But no matter how hard you try to twist the doorknob, it won’t budge.
No. No.
You’re trapped. Effectively locked in.
As the reality of the situation sinks in, you feel the pit of your stomach begin to drop.
Part of you wants to just stay in place, wait for whatever’s going on to end and hope that a stroke of luck will set you free. But then another thought occurs to you.
What if this is the only entrance?
You don’t know how many people are down there, but if the sound and parking lot are anything to go by, it’s a lot.
You’re sure that Jay and Jungwon are among them, but still…
Both of their warnings start to come back to you.
“He’s not who you think he is…”
“I just want you to be careful…”
“It’s important to me that you’re safe…”
Is this what they were talking about? Is this why Jungwon was so angry with Jay for bringing you here? Not because he didn’t want you to see a boxing gym, but because that’s not what this place is at all?
The more you mull it over, the more it starts to make sense.
Still submerged in darkness, you decide that the only way you’ll confirm anything is by moving forward. Slowly, you reach for your phone, turning the flashlight on its lowest setting.
Keeping it clutched in your hands in case you need to shut it off at a moment’s notice, you begin to walk, descending down the staircase.
After two flights on uneven steps, you start to see a light in the distance, a clue that you’re getting closer. And with every step you take, the voices only get louder and louder.
On the third landing, you’re given two choices: continue down the stairs or move into a hallway that stretches to your left. Deciding that staying as far away from the crowd as you can is likely your best option, you opt for the hallway.
You’ve barely walked a few feet when you nearly stumble into a wall. It’s not the end though – just a corner. The light from your phone confirms that the hallway takes a sharp turn.
Following it, you come to another door. This time, you’re even more hesitant. There could be people on the other side.
Pressing your ear against it, the only thing you hear is the same scrambled shouting, the same boisterous crowd. It’s hard to tell for certain, but you don’t hear anything that makes you think there’s someone waiting on the other side.
Slowly, carefully, you begin to open the door.
The sudden light is nearly blinding. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, but once they do, your mouth drops open.
You were right, thankfully. The small room you enter is mercifully empty.
But it’s also lined with windows that give you a direct view into the room one level beneath you. Jaw dropping, you take in the scene below.
There must be at least five hundred people crammed into the stands that encircle the room. All of them are on their feet, shouting jeers and cheering with equal fervor.
And in the center of it all is a boxing ring. On the side that faces you, bold letters give it a name:
King Pen.
It’s empty for now, but you’re only left wondering for another handful of seconds before a middle aged man steps into the center, microphone in hand. With an open palm, he gestures towards the crowd, commanding them to listen.
Whoever he is, he holds weight here. With the flick of his hand, literally, the room all but falls silent.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says into the microphone. “Next up is the fight we’ve all been waiting for.”
He pauses for a moment as more cheers and shouts fill the room.
“I hope your bets are placed, because these two always manage to surprise us. Please welcome our first challenger to the ring. Back to the city for the first time in years, it’s Jaan!”
But it’s not Jaan. Or at least, it’s not someone you know as Jaan.
No, it’s Jay. The same Jay that took you to an art exhibition and convinced you to try sweet coffee instead of your usual bitter black. The same Jay that flirts with you over text and whispers sweet nothings in your ear after a long day of work.
The same Jay that lied to you about why he had to cancel your date tonight.
The crowd has barely died down when the man presses on, “And your second challenger, the reigning champion… Please give your warmest welcome for Jakah!”
The alias booms around you, echoing through the room. And of course it’s him. Of course Jakah, the reigning champion, is someone you used to think would have trouble hurting a fly.
Someone you thought embodied gentleness, patience, with every ounce of his being.
But no matter how badly you want to deny it, no matter how much the cognitive dissonance wars inside your brain, it’s him.
It’s Jungwon who enters from the other side of the ring.
“Now, remember,” the man addresses the audience again. “Cheer for your favorite. Scream at his opponent. And don’t forget our golden rule: in the King’s Pen,” he begins.
“Anything goes,” the audience shouts back in unison.
Anything? Your heart falls from your throat to the pit of your stomach. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Jay is here, that he lied to you, that he’s fighting Jungwon.
Taking a closer look at the ring beneath you, you notice the odd, rust colored stains that nearly cover it.
Blood, you realize after a sickening moment. The ring is covered in blood stains.
It makes sense, suddenly, why King Pen didn’t appear in any search results. Why this entire place is completely soundproofed. Why Jungwon wanted you to stay far, far away.
This isn’t a sparring match. It’s a duel.
One where, like the audience just affirmed, anything goes.
As the man steps out from the center of the ring, Jay and Jungwon start to circle each other, fists raised in anticipation.
Even from a distance, you can see the tight coil of muscle in their shoulders, the way their bodies prepare for the inevitable fight.
“Say it with me now, folks,” the man booms, now standing on the side of the ring.
“Three.” Jay’s eyes narrow, fists rising an inch higher.
“Two.” Jungwon flicks a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.
“One.” You feel your last bit of breath whoosh out from your lungs.
“Fight.”
It’s like a dance, you think. A sickening, deadly dance that you can’t look away from no matter how much you want to.
Despite your lack of knowledge, it quickly becomes apparent to you why this is the main event of the evening.
Where Jay is sheer, brutal strength, Jungwon is all evasion. He moves with the agility of an athlete, the lightness of a dancer.
He makes it look easy, the way he ducks beneath carefully timed swings and always seems to predict what Jay will do next.
But even dancers stumble sometimes.
You can’t help it, the gasp that slips out when one of Jay’s punches lands true. You watch, horrified, as Jungwon staggers backwards, adding to the crimson stains on the floor of the ring.
Slightly dazed, he brings the back of his palm to the broken skin along his cheekbone, assessing the damage. When he brings it in front of his face, it comes back red.
Jay takes no pity on his opponent. Following his retreat, he aims for another bruising blow. This one hits Jungwon just beneath the ribs. Echoes around the makeshift stadium with a dull thud you hear even from your hiding place.
Again, Jungwon’s sure steps falter.
The rise and fall of his chest is rapid as he struggles to catch his breath. But when he looks up again, there’s a fire in his eyes. Pure, unadulterated hatred that permeates the scant distance between him and his rival and sends a shiver down the length of your spine.
Not one to take things lying down, Jungwon takes advantage of Jay’s momentary lapse in focus.
His fist connects with the bridge of Jay’s nose with a sickening crunch. Head falling backward, the immediate flow of blood is gruesome. It drip down his chin, landing on the floor beneath him in an arrhythmic pattern.
There’s little grace to it now. Gone are the remaining fragments of inhibition as both boys put away their judgment and leave the rest to instinct.
It’s messy, sloppy, angry.
They’re so close; it’s hard to tell which blows come from who. Hard to tell whose wounds are multiplying faster, whose blood is falling more freely.
And then, just when you think you can’t stomach watching any longer, it’s done.
It’s so fast. You can’t quite be sure how it happens. But one second, both boys are standing, and the next, Jay is flat on his back, Jungwon hovering above him.
Still, the crowd is silent. Everyone’s eyes are on the ring.
Jay is down. Trapped beneath his opponent, it’s clear to you who the victory is. But then you remember the words the crowd chanted at the beginning of the fight.
Anything goes.
Your stomach twists with nausea.
Even from here, you can see the tension that still strains the muscles along Jungwon’s back. The rigidity of his shoulders.
For a moment, you think he’s going to do it. To strike again, even though victory is already in his hands.
You see his lips move with words you can’t hear. Beneath him, Jay remains stoic. There’s still fight in his eyes, even if it’s been drained from his body.
Jungwon’s mouth moves again.
This time, Jay nods. It’s a tiny movement, barely perceptible. But it’s enough.
With an agitated flair, Jungwon stands again.
Blood is still dripping from his face, his knuckles. Sweat covers his body, drenches his hair.
He’s won, yes, but the expression on his features is not one of satisfaction.
ARound him, the audience begins to boo, throwing jeers and insults like extra change. They were hoping for more than a fight. They were hoping for cruelty Jungwon isn’t willing to give.
Without a second glance back, he turns and leaves the ring.
Still reeling, you nearly jump out of your skin when the handle on the door to your room begins to turn.
If you had a stronger grip on your sense of logic, you would do something. Try to hide. Scramble to think of an excuse for your presence.
The door opens before you do any of it.
“Oh,” Heeseung says, eyes widening as he finds the room already occupied. And then it registers with him who exactly is already occupying said room. “Oh,” he repeats. “He is not going to be happy about this.”
…..
Heeseung’s fist rings out against the door in three sharp raps. For a moment, silence is the only response. And then–
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Uh,” Heeseung glances at you sideways. “I think you should open the door anyway.”
“I’m serious.” Jungwon’s voice is pure ire. “I’m not doing this with you right now, Heeseung.”
“Okay,” Heeseung concedes. “But I really still think you should open the–”
“What?”
Jungwon’s glare lands on his friend before his gaze slides to you. Immediately, his features slacken in surprise. “Oh.”
And it’s stupid, foolish, naive. But the first thing you feel when you see him standing on his own two feet is pure, unadulterated relief.
He’s injured. It’s obvious from the wounds that line his face and the way his breath is still shallow in his chest. But he’s okay.
He’s here and he’s in front of you and he’s okay.
“Yeah,” Heeseung repeats. “Like I said, I think you should–”
“Go away.”
“What?” Heeseung balks. “Where am I supposed to–”
“Away,” Jungwon reiterates, eyes still locked on you.
Heeseung is sulking, but he follows Jungwon’s command regardless. And then it’s just the two of you.
You both speak at the same time, near identical questions overlapping with one another.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Why are you here?”
A beat of silence passes. Another.
As if he is suddenly remembering your surroundings, Jungwon looks around you, a new urgency in his gaze. You don’t know what kind of consequences places like this carry, but common sense tells you it’s best that you’re not seen. “Come in,” he opens the door a bit wider, giving you space to enter.
You shouldn’t. He hasn’t lied to you, not exactly, but it’s not like he’s been particularly honest either.
And coworkers don’t owe you the truth or the nitty gritty details of their lives, but it’s been a long time since Jungwon and you treated one another like coworkers. No matter what you want to call it, the relationship that you’ve built between conversations in the workroom and email threads and kind gestures in the office feels a lot more like friendship. Or at the very least some iteration of it.
So you’re not mad at him for keeping this from you, not really.
But other emotions are swirling in your gut, and you don’t know what to do with them. Most of all, you’re worried. For his safety. For his wellbeing. For him.
Obeying his command, you step inside the small room. You hear the door click shut behind you.
Looking around, there isn’t much to see. It’s a locker room, essentially, designed for one person. There’s a counter to your left with a small first aid kit and a chair in the far corner of the room.
A gym bag, Jungwon’s you assume, rests next to it.
And, of course, there’s the two of you.
Glancing up, you take a look at him. A long, real look.
He’s wearing the same clothes he entered the ring with. A white athletic shirt that moves with him, gives his long, lean muscles space to move. To flex and contract with every shallow breath.
He’s still just as gorgeous as always, even with a split lip and a nasty cut that spans the length of his temple. Even with the bruising that’s already begun to discolor his near flawless skin.
Sighing, you nod towards the chair behind him. “Sit down.”
“What?” Confusion draws his brow downward, and he hisses in pain at the movement.
“Don’t tell me your illegal fights have ruined your hearing too.”
“What? No.” Jungwon shakes his head. “My hearing is perfectly fine, I mean.”
“Then sit.” You glance pointedly at the chair again. “Down.”
This time, he doesn’t try to argue. You watch from your periphery, frowning at the slight limp in his left leg as he walks toward the chair, easing himself down.
Reaching for the first aid kit on the counter, you bring it with you as you move across the room.
Your steps are slow and even. They carry you all the way to the far corner, until you’re forced to stop.
Standing above Jungwon, your lips pull into a tight line as you begin to assess his injuries. Hesitation might be wise, but you can’t find any of it left in you.
Your movements are sure, gentle but firm. Hands sliding to his jaw, you adjust his face slightly, turning the gash on his temple towards the light. It’s an echo of the way he examined you in the workroom, long weeks ago.
This time, it’s him that’s easily manipulable underneath your touch.
“What are you doing?” He whispers.
Your hesitation is gone, but so is your patience. “Don’t talk.” Jungwon’s lips fall shut. He’s pliant in your hands as you adjust him.
Reaching for the kit, the first thing you pull out is antiseptic cream.
“This might sting,” you whisper.
“It’s okay,” he assures you. But he hisses at the contact all the same. “Doesn’t even hurt,” he lies through gritted teeth, forcing a smile.
If he’s trying to be funny, his attempt at humor is lost on you.
Gaze still narrowed in concentration, you busy yourself by cleaning the worst of his wounds first.
As you move from his forehead to his lip, you don’t think you imagine the sharp inhale he draws between parted lips.
“It stings?” You ask him.
“Just a bit.” You feel the ghost of his whisper against your fingertips.
You look up for a moment, and you find his gaze already locked on yours. It takes a significant portion of your willpower to stop yourself from reaching up to brush his hair from his eyes.
It feels wrong, even if you call it friendship. Even if you and Jay never discussed exclusivity.
Your heart is fluttering, and that’s what makes it all seem so illicit.
With no small amount of effort, you force your eyes down again. Standing above him, your fingers move from his face to his hands. His wrist clasped in your fingers, you sink to your knees in front of him.
Jungwon swallows audibly.
Pulling his hand closer, you examine the series of shallow cuts, of angry, violet bruises that line his knuckles. With another long sigh, you reach for the cream again, applying it generously before carefully wrapping it in a bandage.
After giving the same attention to the other hand, you lean back, assessing your handiwork.
For a moment, neither of you moves. You’re still kneeling in front of him. He still sits above you.
And then, after a breath of hesitation, one carefully wrapped hand finds its way to your face.
Gently, with a touch so light you hardly feel it, he lays his open palm against the expanse of your cheek. Cradles it.
He whispers your name, and you can’t find it in you to look up.
“I don’t…” you trail off, not sure how to communicate the swirling mix of emotions simmering just beneath the surface. “I don’t want to be mad at you.”
“But you are,” Jungwon assumes. He accepts it, and he doesn’t let it change anything. His hand is steady against your cheek. His thumb starts to draw small circles, just under your earlobe.
“I’m not,” you correct. “But this isn’t…” again your words die. It’s frustrating, the way you feel like you can never be straightforward with him. The way you always feel like you have to navigate through subtext and half truths and partial reveals just to get a point across.
“But you don’t owe me anything right now.”
His thumb stills against your skin.
“We’re coworkers,” you continue. “We’re just coworkers, so it doesn’t matter if you fight in illegal boxing matches. You don’t have to worry about what I think of it, and I don’t have to be mad at you for it.”
You do look up at him, begging for a bit of his understanding. “You can be evasive with your excuses and reject all of my invitations. We can meet by chance in the workroom on Monday afternoons, and none of it ever has to mean anything. Neither of us ever has to feel anything about it.”
“But,” Jungwon whispers.
“Yeah,” you nod. Your cheek slides easily against the soft skin of his bruised hand. “But.”
Jungwon is silent for a moment, eyes darting between both of yours. Then, tentatively, he asks, “Are you mad at him?”
He doesn’t say Jay’s name, but the venom he wraps around the word is all you need to know who he’s talking about.
You shake your head, eyelids fluttering. “We’re coworkers.” You reiterate the boundaries he’s always maintained with you. “You don’t get to ask me that.”
Jungwon’s hand slides to your neck, thumb tracing the length of your jaw now. “And if I want to?”
You shake your head again. You can only give him so much on a silver platter. If he wants anything to change, he’ll have to find a bit of his own bravery. “That’s not the question you need to ask me.” Looking up at him, you draw another line. “And not tonight.”
You’ve both been through enough. Heightened emotions rarely lead to good decisions, and the last thing you want is his indecisiveness. His impulsivity.
Quietly, you stand, his hand falling from your face as you rise to full height in front of him.
His eyes look wider from this angle, from above. Even shinier than usual. No matter how many boundaries you draw or how many ways you deny him, he’s someone that’s hard to say no to. Hard to walk away from.
Steeling the last remnants of your resolve, you manage to look him in those dark, sparkling eyes when you tell him, “Good night, Jungwon.”
“Good night, ___,” he whispers to your retreating silhouette.
Closing the door behind you, you barely have a moment to catch your breath before a voice interrupts your wandering thoughts.
“You like him, don’t you?”
The gasp you give is out of shock more than anything. And the “What?” you ask is a knee jerk reaction.
“Yang.” Jay materializes from his position in the darkness, jerking his chin towards the door behind you. “You like him.”
Immediately, you find yourself on the defense. Even if you’re just delaying the inevitable, it’s cagey when you tell him. “We work together.”
Jay just looks at you. “My favorite color is green.”
“What?”
“Sorry,” Jay’s tone is flat. He’s not annoyed, but he’s coming close to it. “I thought we were stating irrelevant facts.”
With a sigh, he drags an open palm down his face. “I know you work together. But you like him, too," he sighs again, reading the horror in your expression. Mostly due to the fact that he read you like an open book when you thought you were keeping your feelings close to the chest. “I’m not… mad. It sucks, but it’s not like I was honest with you either. I’m sorry, by the way, for lying about tonight.”
It’s too much to process, all at once. Your head is swimming and your heart is pounding.
It was a shitty thing to do, yes, but–
“You don’t have to say sorry–”
Again, Jay doesn’t let you finish. “I’m not saying sorry because I have to. I’m saying it because I am. I like you.” He’s so honest. So blunt with his feelings. He makes things so easy. “I like spending time with you. I think we both know that’s not enough anymore,” he casts another meaningful glance at the door behind him. The one that leads to Jungwon’s locker room, “but it’s still true.”
“I…” you trail off, unsure what to say. He’s not wrong. In fact, he’s all but hit the nail right on the head. With deadly accuracy.
Heeseung was the one that found you, that brought you to Jungwon, but still.
It’s not Jay that you checked in on fist. It’s not Jay whose wounds you just cleaned. It’s not Jay who you’re thinking about now.
Like he said, it sucks, but it’s still true.
Jay has bruises, too. Has cuts that line his knuckles and his jaw. He’s here because he’s part of an illegal underground boxing ring. He lied to you about it.
But you just… you’re not mad at him about it. And that’s the final nail in the coffin.
Jay just looks at you for a moment longer. For the third time, he sighs. “You’re really gonna make me do this part too?” He inhales, steeling his resolve. “Okay, then. ___, I think we should–”
“I think we should stop seeing each other,” you finish for him. You can give him at least that much. “I had a great time getting to know you, but I think we want different things right now. I wish you all the best. Really, you’re a great guy, Jay.”
He is.
“I mean it.”
You do.
“Thank you, ___.”
He means it too.
When Jay walks away from you, his shoulders are straight and his head is high.
You feel a lot of things, as you watch his retreating figure.
But no matter how deep you search, regret isn’t one of them.
…..
Monday morning brings with it a distinct sort of dread.
Partly because it marks the beginning of another long week. Mostly because going back to the office means potentially seeing him.
If you’re honest with yourself, you’re not sure if you’re ready for that. If you’re ready to face the feelings you’ve been forcing down for months and the potential fallout they may bring with them.
So, when you open your inbox first thing in the morning, an unreasonable request from your supervisor isn’t the thing you’re most afraid of finding.
Jungwon, however, isn’t planning to stick to old routines. When he seeks you out, he does it in person.
Grace’s eyes are anywhere but on her own work when he walks through the door of the marketing department half past ten.
“___,” he breathes.
The wounds on his face are already fading, hardly even noticeable. You wish you could say the same for the turmoil raging inside of you. You can’t decide if you want to throw your arms around his neck or tell him to fuck off.
In the end, you just look at him blankly.
“Can we…” he trails off, visibly frustrated. He isn’t sure how to do this either. “Can you help me with something? In the workroom. I think the printer is acting up again.”
The printer is fine. You used it five minutes ago.
But he’s not asking you to help him with work or the printer or anything else. He’s asking for a bit of your time, a fraction of your understanding.
It’s messy. It has so much potential for heartbreak, for complication.
But he’s here and he’s looking at you like your answer means the world to him. Like he might forget how to breathe if you don’t say yes.
So, with a rising bout of uncertainty, you tell him, “Let’s go take a look at it.”
The printer, just as you suspected, is in perfect working order. Jungwon doesn’t even spare it a second look.
Instead, he closes the door to the workroom behind you. And then he says, “I started boxing when I was a kid. I think I was eight, nine maybe.”
“What are you–”
“Just listen,” Jungwon begs. “Please.”
You want to protest. You’re not sure why, but the urge is strong. But after a moment of warring with yourself, you finally nod, giving him permission to continue.
“It was just a hobby. Something to keep me busy on long afternoons when both of my parents were working in the restaurant my family owned. But I kept at it, and they could see how much I enjoyed it. By the time I was ten, my mom enrolled me in actual classes.”
Jungwon smiles, reminiscing on the tidbits of a happy childhood. But then his smile starts to falter. “A few months later, my grandpa died. It wasn’t a surprise exactly, but it did have some unexpected consequences on the business. My family started to struggle. With money, more than anything.”
He sighs, and your heart hurts for a past version of him, too young to make sense of all of the sudden changes in his life. “I had to quit taking lessons. I kept practicing on my own, though. And when I started middle school, there was a free boxing club I joined. I met a lot of my friends there. Heeseung, who you met the other night, along with a few others. I also met Jay.”
Jungwon’s lips pull into a line. “I didn’t hate him. Not exactly. He was nice enough, and we had a lot in common. But he had everything that I wanted. Money, mostly. His family never had to worry about it. He could take private lessons and always had all the nicest gear. He didn’t flaunt it, but I noticed. And I envied him for it.”
Looking back at you, he continues, “Heeseung was the one that found the King Pen. He was like me, in a way. His family didn’t come from money. We were young, too young, but we were good. We made them money, so they let us fight. Jay found out and wanted in too. It didn’t matter that he didn’t need the prize money. He just wanted to prove that he was better than us. That he was the best. It was me and him in my very first championship fight. He won, and I hated him for it.”
The ring, you realize. Jay’s ring that he dropped in your car. It was a championship ring.
Jungwon looks down at his hands. The bandages that you put there. “He moved away once high school started. We didn’t keep in direct contact or anything, but I always heard about him. Jay and his international boxing titles. Jay and his new sponsorship deal with a major boxing gym. It just added fuel to the fire that was already there. Made me resent him more, even if it wasn’t his fault.”
No matter how you spin it, you can’t imagine any of that was easy to deal with. Especially as a teenager.
“With him gone, though, I started to make real money fighting. Good money. I lied to my parents and told them I got a part time job. Moving cargo so that they wouldn’t be too suspicious when I came home with bruises.”
Jungwon flexes his fingers. “Boxing became my saving grace. I could give a good chunk of my earnings to my family, and the rest of it, I saved. It put me through university. Let me earn my programming degree.”
You understand him a bit more, then. Why he never seemed annoyed by his job. Why even things like jammed printers never seemed to get to him. He’s thankful for where he is. Has nothing but gratitude for his job when he earned it with years of his own blood, sweat, and tears.
“I have a steady income now, but it’s just… hard, I guess. To let that part of me go. And if I’m honest, part of me has always been afraid too. I mean, my parents had a steady income until they didn’t, you know? I like knowing that even if something happens here, I’ll still be able to support myself. And them.”
It makes sense. It does.
“And then Jay came back.” Jungwon scoffs. “He’d barely been in town for a full twenty-four hours when he showed up at Kang’s with all of his fancy gear and asked to be added to the roster for the next round of fights. And then he showed up there with you and I… I thought I was actually going to lose it.”
Even now, Jungwon’s shoulders are visibly tense. “The actual gym is usually fine, safe for outsiders, but still. He shouldn’t have risked your safety like that. He should have known better. And I…” Jungwon trails off again.
You don’t think you’re imagining the slight tinge of pink that starts to color his cheekbones.
“I was already having a bad enough time with the fact that you were seeing someone. When it turned out to be him, I just… Well, you know.”
Jungwon takes a deep breath in, releases a long exhale.
“I don’t like making bets, and I don’t like situations I can’t predict. Things I don’t have control over. I guess that’s part of the reason why I always liked boxing so much. In the ring, I feel like I have a say in what happens. That even if I lose, it’s because I didn’t move fast enough. I didn’t think quick enough. Things I have control over. Things I can get better at.”
Jungwon looks at you. “I hate guessing. I hate having to wonder. I like sure things.”
His chest is rising and falling a little faster now. Your breath is just as shallow.
“What are you saying?” you ask him.
“I’m saying that I don’t just want to be coworkers with you. I want you to be mad at me for fighting in illegal underground boxing matches.” Jungwon’s gaze is imploring, pleading for your understanding as his eyes search yours. “I want you to call me when the printer jams and when you have a hard day and when you want someone to go to a stupid work event with you on a Friday night.”
He takes a step closer to you, and you feel your spine press against the door of the workroom.
“I want you to be a sure thing,” he breathes, “even if everything about you – the way I feel about you, the thoughts I have about you, the things I want to do to you – have always felt out of my control.”
“Oh.” Your voice is small. Your mouth is dry. Caged in against the door, words are suddenly a hard thing to come by.
“Oh,” Jungwon echoes. “Is that a yes?”
He’s even closer now. Nose brushing against yours, he interlaces the fingers of his less injured hand with yours, reaching up until your hands are intertwined above your head.
“No,” you shake your head.
“Mm,” Jungwon hums, and you feel the vibration travel the length of your spine, settling somewhere deep, just beneath your navel. His lips brush against the corner of your mouth when he asks, “It’s a no, then?”
Again, you shake your head. Trapped in his embrace, the movement is tiny, restricted. Sends goosebumps scattering across your skin everywhere the two of you are touching.
“An oh is just an oh,” you tell him. “This is a yes.”
There isn’t any distance to close. Just pressure to add. He accepts it willingly, even if the sudden contact against the still broken skin of his bottom lip has him releasing a hiss through his teeth.
It’s a discomfort he gets over quickly. His other hand, the one not currently tangled with yours, relocates to the curve of your jaw before he’s doubling down, pain all but forgotten as his lips part against yours.
A repeated motion. A rhythm that’s stilted at first but starts to feel natural the longer you continue.
Over and over. Again and again until the action starts to feel useless. Until you’re not quite sure where his breath ends and yours begin.
You’re in the office workroom, pressed against the door, and the printer is starting to beep in protest.
You’re sure you’ll be thoroughly embarrassed when you inevitably leave long minutes later with mussed hair and swollen lips and a certain programmer trailing behind you that can’t contain his self-satisfied smile.
But for now, you get what he means. It feels good. It feels like relief, to finally know where you stand with him.
So instead of worrying about what your supervisor will think of your mussed collar and smudged lipstick, you pull him down a little firmer by the back of the neck, fingers tangling in the hair along his nape.
You sigh into his mouth, and the fervor he returns with leaves you well and truly breathless.
And for once, it feels like a sure thing.
…..
epilogue
Jungwon: SOS
Jungwon: Babyyyyyyyy
Jungwon: I know you’re reading my messages
Jungwon: PLEASE ___ I really need your help
You: I’m BUSY what do you need
Jungwon: The printer is jammed again
You: And what do you want me to do about that? Call maintenance
Jungwon: Oh please
Jungwon: Last time I called maintenance they sent a guy that couldn’t tell A4 from A3 this is not the job for them
Jungwon: Plus they don’t have the magic touch like you
You: Literally what are you talking about
You: The last time I tried to fix the printer, I broke it so bad it was out of commission for two whole weeks
You: The entire floor was mad at me
You: I had to buy Grace coffee every day for TWO WEEKS
Jungwon: PLEASEEEEEE
Jungwon: Just try once and if it doesn’t work I’ll call maintenance
Jungwon: I promise
You: …
You: FINE
You: On my way
Tucking your phone back into your pocket, you sigh. The workroom door opens with little resistance, but as soon as you step inside, you frown.
Jungwon, for starters, is nowhere to be seen.
And the printer, at least from first impressions, appears to be working just fine. Completely jam-free.
You’re not left in the dark for long. A moment later, the door opens behind you.
Tumbling in like an overexcited kitten, your boyfriend looks all too enthused to be dealing with a supposed jammed printer.
Gesturing towards the machine in question, you frown at him. “What were you talking about? The printer is perfectly f–”
He cuts you off with the press of his lips against your own, pushing you backwards until you run into the printer, spine arching against the copier tray.
“Jungwon,” you protest once he finally lets you up for air. “It’s like you want HR to start a case against us. You have got to stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” He feigns innocence, even as he leans in again for another long kiss.
“Mm,” you mumble, breaking free again. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Faking printer emergencies as an excuse to make out. We’re at work.”
Jungwon leans back, but the only thing he uses the space for is to let himself scan you from head to toe. Biting his bottom lip, he runs a set of fingers through the hair that falls across his forehead. “You know, you’re a really terrible liar.”
“I’m not ly–”
“If you actually wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t fall for it every.” He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Single.” The top of your cheekbone. “Time.” The corner of your mouth.
And you hate to admit it, but he kind of has you there.
“Whatever.” You pout, but he just uses it as an excuse to plant another long kiss on your pursed lips. “I’m serious, Jungwon,” you tell him, even if you’re just as breathless as he is, despite the fact that you’re actively pulling him in by the back of his neck. “This has to be the last time.”
“Mm,” he smiles against your lips. “Sure thing, ___.”
…..
outtake — seven months ago.
The tinted window of Jungwon’s secondhand car is hardly an ideal mirror, but he’ll have to make it work.
Giving himself a final once over, he straightens his already immaculate tie. Tugs at the collar of his button down shirt so that it lays just a little bit nicer, the edges of the folds just a fraction of a millimeter sharper.
Bending slightly, he smooths down his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. Catching his reflection again, he suddenly has second thoughts about the version of himself that he sees.
Bleaching his hair had seemed like a good – no, great – idea a few weeks ago. But now, dressed in business casual and about to begin his first day at a new job, doubts start to swirl through Jungwon’s mind.
What if they don’t think the blonde is professional enough? What if it breaks some kind of unspoken dress code?
He knows it doesn’t break the actual, company mandated dress code. Mostly because he’s already read through the handbook.
Twice.
With annotations.
Frowning slightly, Jungwon tilts his head to the side. He’s gotten pretty good with concealer, but there’s still a faint purplish tint that sits just along the edge of his jaw.
It takes a decent amount of effort not to wince at the memory. Sunghoon had gotten him good that day.
Jungwon forces his shoulders to relax. Forces himself to take one big breath in. Release it out slowly.
He has no reason to panic. He went through the same, brutal rounds of interviews as everyone else and was deemed to be the most qualified candidate. He graduated summa cum laude in the same field he’ll be employed in now.
And it’s not like anyone’s going to be looking at his face close enough to notice any slight discoloration. Or, at least, he doesn’t think they will.
To be honest, he’s not really sure how this whole thing works. Office jobs, no matter how many online forums he’s scoured and articles he’s read, are still a bit of a mystery to him.
He hates it. Hates feeling out of his depth and ill prepared. Hates knowing that he’ll have to ask too many questions and stumble through tasks until he gets the basics down.
But part of him is excited too.
He did it. Standing in the parking lot of an otherwise rather unremarkable company, it hits him all at once.
He actually fucking did it.
All those nights in the ring. Every bruise, every scar, every drop of blood. Every saved penny, every skipped opportunity.
They landed him here. An 8 to 5 office job that isn’t flashy or anything special from the outside, but to him, means the world.
He’ll have it all: a steady salary, a place to be in the mornings, coworkers to notice when he’s not around. It’s not much, but it’s his.
So, with one last deep inhale, Jungwon turns away from his car window and tracks a steady path on even footsteps towards the front door.
And a handful of hours later, when Terry from accounting is still talking his ear off about his son’s latest hockey match in the doorway of the staff kitchen, Jungwon’s heart gives an unsteady lurch.
“Hey, Terry,” you nod in acknowledgement, entering the kitchen in search of an early afternoon refill for your empty coffee mug. “Hey, oh.” Your eyes meet his, lips parting. Your words die when you realize you don’t know what to call him. When you realize you’ve never actually seen him before.
And it’s not like Jungwon has never seen a pretty girl before, but – oh.
Oh.
Dressed in a rather simple, work approved ensemble, hair loose around your face, there’s nothing specific that he can pinpoint. All Jungwon knows is that there’s something about you that makes him want to keep looking.
“Jungwon,” he supplies, a bit breathlessly.
Behind him, Terry is still regaling the details of his kid’s game-winning goal.
Eyes locked on him, a beat of heavy silence passes. And then –
“Hi, Jungwon.”
Your eyes. He thinks it must be your eyes. Or maybe your lips. The delicate curve of your cheekbone. His gaze can’t decide where to land.
“Hi,” he manages.
Eyes sliding over his shoulder to Terry, you release a small, amused breath. “Hey, Terry?”
Stopping mid sentence, the middle aged man turns to you. “Oh, hi, ____. How are you?”
___. Jungwon thinks it suits you. A pretty name for a pretty girl.
“Just fine, thanks.” You flash him a quick smile. Just a bare hint, and Jungwon feels his knees getting a little wobbly beneath him. “But I was wondering if you could help me with something.”
“Of course,” Terry nods a little too enthusiastically. Fifteen years at the same company, and he’s the kind of person that still jumps at the opportunity to be needed. Helpful. Jungwon thinks it’s kind of sweet, even if he wishes the man’s gift for brevity in storytelling could be a bit more apparent.
“You know the printer in the workroom?”
Terry nods.
“It’s jammed again,” you frown, the slightest hint of a pout pulling at your lips. Jungwon can’t quite find it in himself to look away from the movement. “Do you think you could take a look at it for me?”
Terry beams. “Of course! I’d be happy to.”
And then it’s just the two of you.
“He means well.” You smile again, softer this time. Like you’re discussing an inside joke only the two of you know about.
Jungwon is suddenly finding his breath a difficult thing to maintain.
“Does the printer do that a lot?” He finally manages to ask. “Jam, I mean.”
“All the time.” You roll your eyes. “You’d think a company raking in this much profit would have the cash to spare on a new machine, but no. This entire floor is just ill fated to suffer” There’s an air of humor to your words, a slight hint of teasing, even if Jungwon thinks there’s an undercurrent of truth to your words.
You smile again. Teeth tugging at your bottom lip, Jungwon can only describe your expression as slightly devious. “It’s not jammed now, though.”
His brow furrows. “It’s not?”
You shake your head. “I was given the gory details of Terry’s son’s soccer game yesterday. Trust me, I saved you a headache and an extra thirty minutes.” You wink at him, and Jungwon really, really hopes the sudden heat in his cheeks doesn’t look as obvious as it feels.
“I think it was a hockey match, actually.”
“Oh.” You pause for a moment, considering. “Right.”
A moment of silence passes. Another. Jungwon has never minded the quiet, but he’s not quite ready for this interaction to end. Suddenly, he feels like he’s scrambling for something to prolong it.
“Thank you.”
Your brow furrows. “For what.”
“The extra thirty minutes and the absence of a headache.” Jungwon taps two fingers against his temple. “I appreciate it.”
“Ah,” you smile, and this time it’s a bit brighter, wider. Jungwon, not for the first time today, thanks his lucky stars that he was accepted for this position. That it landed him here, sharing a staff kitchen with someone like you. “Anytime.”
He hopes you mean it.
And when you turn away from him a few moments later, original mission to refill your coffee remembered, Jungwon looks up at the ceiling with his eyes screwed shut and takes a long, much needed breath.
“Jungwon,” you turn back. Luckily, he’s just returned to a more natural standing position.
“Yeah?”
“It’s nice to meet you. Don’t let this place get you down too quickly.” You wink again. Jungwon does his best to keep his features neutral. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he agrees, even though you’ve already turned back to the coffee machine. “Sure thing, ___.”
⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖
note: and we're done! thank you for reading! and thank you for bearing with me and the fact that this unfortunately had to be split into two parts. I hope you enjoyed this story, and as always, I would love to hear any thoughts you have. all the best ♡
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