#I know that’s not actually what’s happening here but I did feel dread enter my heart at that moment

[stllmnstr]

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 ♡

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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.

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PART TWO

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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: yangj@vesselsoft.co 

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 ♡

[wackachewbacca]

Me starting episode one: awww I missed Molly so much what a beautiful person you were

Mollymauk: I’m simply a vessel for a higher power

Me: motherfucker you are jinxing this entire campaign

[talaok]

Win Again

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x sex worker f!reader

Summary: Marcus has won yet another match, so to reward him, his master has granted him another hour with you.

warning: smut| unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), a whole lot of manhandling, he like uses your body idk how to explain it, multiple orgasms, and once again unnecessary feelings cause im not able to write something where they just fuck for some reason

a/n: i know im two days late but PLEASE read this still. (also) basic things for this guy that i've decided are canon: 1)he has a monster cock, like actually scarily big, 2) he's real fucking strong (hulk typa shit), 3) he's not a big talker (but he is a grunter). I need this man to fuck me more than i need my next breath (real), also i did so much research for this fic and you cant even fucking tell

It wasn't often that you didn't dread going to the barracks.

These were strong, ferocious, and dangerous men, and you were but a meek lamb in comparison.

But today was different, today you were seeing him, him who fit the previous description to a tee, and yet was so different from any man you had ever offered your services to.

And perhaps it was because it never felt like you were ever offering anything, ever since that first night, you had never given anything you hadn't wanted to.

The guards stopped as you arrived at his room and you felt a wave of excitement crawl up your spine the moment they opened the door, waiting for you to enter.

The armored men stepped aside to let you pass, the cobblestones on the ground sounding against your sandals as you made your way inside, looking back at the door just in time to see it being shut close.

It was his breathing you heard first, his heavy breathing coming from where you knew his bed sat on the room's left, and seconds after, the creaks of the wood as he stood up, his feet stalking your way.

You turned to him then, a smile almost making it to your lips as you saw him alive before you once again, granting yourself a second to relish in the fact he still breathed, he was still here.

"You've won again" you spoke softly, your hands slowly finding the string holding your dress together.

He didn't respond. The window behind him caused the moon's soft glow to fall on the stone floor, but not on his beautiful face, that, you had to watch closely to inspect.

A newer cut right above his left eyebrow had appeared, and his right arm was bandaged almost completely, but otherwise, he looked fine.

His eyes remained on yours until you'd undone the dress, until it fell at your feet- then, a low groan rumbled from his chest as he took you in, and took his turn inspecting every inch of your bare figure.

"How do you want m-"

You didn't have time to finish your sentence that he'd picked you up, effortlessly pulling your body up until your legs slung over his shoulders and his face was buried in your cunt.

He hadn't even given you a second to realize what was happening that his tongue was already lapping between your folds, desperately drinking everything your body gave him.

"Oh my g-" you threw your head back, your skull finding the wall behind you being the only reason you realized he'd moved, and you were now caged between him and stone as you forgot how to speak.

The moans you had faked so many times for so many clients were nothing like the ones your mouth was spilling now, these were higher, coarser, feral, and the way you were gripping his hair... there was no way that didn't hurt.

"Y-You only" a whine interrupted your words when you felt his tongue plunge into your hole, when he started fucking you with it just like he would with his cock "You only h-have me for an hour" you breathed, your thighs squeezing tighter around him contradicting the words you were about to speak "d-don't you want me to p-please you?"

His grip on your ass only tightened and his mouth halfheartedly parted from your core to answer you.

"You are"

And just like that, he'd gone back to work. The moment his mouth closed around your clit you knew you were done for, you knew there was no point in fighting what was inevitably going to come, and so you shut your eyes, as he brought you to heaven.

Your moans were getting higher and higher as your back arched to feed more of yourself to him, desperately craving the feel of his touch, of his nouse, of his beard against your thighs, of the lips he so devoutly was using to suck on your most sensitive spot.

"F-fuck- general I-" The fist you had wrapped around his hair tightened as every muscle in your belly did the same "Oh!"

Somehow, through all the chaos, while you were coming all over his face, while your moans reached levels never reached before, the only thing you could feel or hear, besides pure ecstasy of course, were his groans, his groans as he drank up every drop of your juices, as if your orgasm was bringing his as much pleasure as it was to you.

You barely had time to open your eyes that his strong, big hands and even stronger, bigger arms had pulled you down until your legs hugged his waist instead.

You really did weigh nothing for him, and if that wasn't enough to prove it, the next minutes definitely would.

Your heavy breathing was fanning over his mouth as he freed his cock from his pants, but while you were expecting him to kiss you, having been blatantly staring at your mouth since he had any way of seeing it, every thought in your brain turned to dust when with one hard fucking thrust, he drove his cock into you- or the first few inches at least.

You couldn't talk, you could do nothing but throw your head back as your eyes rolled to the back of it, and let him take whatever he wanted to take.

"I'm not a general anymore," he said with another thrust, stretching you out even further, even deeper.

You wanted to laugh at his words. Now? Now he was feeling the need to correct you? When you could barely breathe, let alone think?

But he didn't look interested in hearing a response from you, not when he grabbed your waist, and definitely not when he started moving you up and down on his shaft with just the sheer force of his muscles.

The moans, the lewd moans that crawled up your throat were filthy, even filthier than the sound of how wet, how unbelievably drenched you were as he plunged into you over and over, as he literally used you as a fucktoy, filling you up more and more, until he was finally sat inside you to the very hilt, until his pubic hairs were grazing your skin and the tip of his cock was touching your cervix.

"Oh my god" you whimpered, feeling tears prick your eyes as your toes curled at the feeling.

You could feel him everywhere, everywhere.

But he didn't pause, he wasn't one to take his time, and perhaps that was because he didn't have much; he resumed his movements again, retracting his hips while he pulled you up his cock, and slamming into you while pushing you down on it, leaving you breathless, a simple doll at his mercy.

His groans and growls were deep and filled with lust, just like the way he bent down to take your left tit into his mouth, just like the way he was fucking you, deep and hard, and God- God it was happening again.

"s-shit" you squeaked, your walls squeezing around him as you bit your lip, so fucked out you could barely remember your name or anything at all that wasn't how good he was making you feel.

"O-Oh my fuck-"

The arms you had intertwined behind his neck tightened with every spasm of your hole, with every flutter of your belly, until you'd come once more.

You opened your eyes, letting them trail downwards, to where his lips parted to suck in ragged breaths, begging him for a kiss.

"again" he said instead, and your eyes widened as you felt him starting to move anew

"I-I can't"

He looked at you now, really looked at you, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily, and then- then he kissed you. Marcus Acacius kissed you the same way he'd been fucking you for the last hour: like an animal.

It was a mess of teeth and tongues and yet it felt like the best thing on earth, better than wine, better than life, even better than the sex- it was perfect.

"again" he ordered once more, and what could you do, if not comply?

So he started again, he started fucking you again, even more ferociously than the previous time, even if you didn't think it possible.

The way his skin slapped with yours was drowned by both your desperate sounds, your legs started to tremble, beginning to fall from his hips as he moved you up and down his cock like it were nothing, and you- you didn't even know where you were anymore.

"please" you begged, a single tear of pleasure, of overstimulation falling to your cheek as he kissed you again, muting all your cries as he drove himself into you like a madman, like he was possessed.

"Time's up"

Two knocks sounded from the other side of the wall together with the warning, and you thanked Marcus for having rendered you such a mess because otherwise, that would have reminded you of how little time you two ever had, and how miserable everything really was.

His movements sped up at the notice, his dick plunging into you over and over and over until finally, it was happening again.

"give it to me" he said, and you did exactly as he asked- you gave it all to him, screaming and crying you let him have all you had to offer, feeling his eyes on you the whole time.

He came loudly just after you, groaning deeply as he filled you up to the very brim.

Out of all the words you could have said to him then, all the things you wanted to tell him at that moment, you chose none, because none would have said anything he didn't already know from the look in your eyes, from the same exact spark in your irises that ignited his own.

So he helped you to the ground until you stood on shaky legs, walked to where your dress lay on the floor, and dressed yourself again, his eyes never leaving you.

The door opened just as you were done, and you turned to him one last time again, a smile pulling at your lips.

"Win again for me, general"

He looked at you too for one last time again, as he thought about how you didn't know, you didn't know how big of a role you played in his victories, how many times he could only think of the taste of you, smell of you, feel and voice of you as he took his opponent's life, as he fought for another hour with you, another second.

"I will" he promised

[barbieaemond]

And I dream of a grave

Header by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs 💕💕

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: angst (!), smut, too many references to graves/burying, mentions of Blood & Cheese, miscommunication, Aemond's coping mechanism is violence and sex, in this order (good for him)

Word count: 3.8k

Author's note: the gif is self explanatory. This is a prequel to A Curse for a Curse, but can be read as a standalone. Big thank you to @irenadel for giving me the idea and being one of the most supportive souls <3

Taglist: @ladystarksneedle @arcielee @multyfangirl

MASTERLIST | English is not my first language

This is more than tempting the Gods. This is forsaking and impudently turning their backs on them.

As she sits down at the banquet, her mother’s words echo through her mind like the vexing sound of the wind on a storm’s night. It sets an unpleasant weight on her lungs, the close and yet shapeless feel of something dreadful. She’s almost grateful, looking around, to ascertain she’s not the only fool dreading this whole act.

The Dowager Queen sits at the table, barely able to contain a grimace. Queen Helaena, she is certain, has never looked so pale, her eyes so vacuous and yet so full of something unknown, elusive, smoke clouding and clearing her unnatural stare. The Hand has conveniently made himself absent. She can’t blame him. Actually, she envies him. If only she too could have been spared such a farce. But as the wife of the King’s brother, the very one they’re all supposed to celebrate tonight, she cannot do that, can she?

To cheers and the blaring of trumpets, the King enters shoulder to shoulder with his brother, tall and proud in his stride, wearing dark green velvet for such a special occasion, and such a special title.

“Do you know how they’re going to call you from now on?” the Queen Mother had asked when he came back from Storm’s end, dripping rain and mud and war.

“I do, Mother.” Aegon had answered, twisting a knife from his seat at the head of the table; she had never caught that glint of satisfaction in his eyes, not like that; it wasn’t dimmed by wine or flesh, but sharp as the blade in his hand. “A title he should be proud of.”

Pride was ever the easiest thing to wear for Aemond, the softest glove gliding on his skin, born out of a pit so deep and full of insecurities and negligence that that same endless depth had grown out of proportion in order to fill itself. To even try scratching his pride was like trying to climb the highest mountain with bare hands. She had cut her palms open to do so.

“What happened, Aemond?” she had asked once alone in their chambers.

“You know what happened.”

“What really happened?”

His good eye had pierced her as if she were made of crystal, but his jaw was too set, on the verge of breaking his own teeth if he carried on keeping the guilt, and truth, trapped inside.

“I didn’t want to.” He whispered, coming down from the peak, “I didn’t want to kill him. I only wanted—”

“Revenge? Well, you had it. Did it make you feel good? Did you bring that boy peace at last?”

It took him a lifetime to say no; a whispered sound, choked even, as if he had bitten off his tongue to get it out of that pit where he had never looked again.

He was biting his tongue in the council, the faintest clench in his jaw but here, here in the council, here in the world, he had to keep that pit buried and stand straight on the highest peak, looking up and up, never down, never back. How could he, how could he admit he had lost control. It was easier, safer, to let them think of him a monster, rather than just human.

“I salute you, brother.” The King had said, raising his cup “True blood of the dragon! We shall have a feast in your honor!" Otto had merely lowered his head in defiance, going unnoticed in the eyes of his King and grandson, drunk with power and finally free of his mother's leash, unaware that a golden noose now held him in check.

He had summoned jesters, musicians, even some dancers to coddle his brother, and raise him higher and higher. She imagined she just had to wait for the fall. Or perhaps pray to the Seven to overlook the insult, to keep a mortal up there with them for a little more. But then again, they shouldn’t ask the Gods for mercy. Someone more unforgiving, more bloodthirsty. Someone who, just as her husband and his brother and each one of their cursed dynasty, did not listen to either Gods or men.

“A toast!” the King says at one point, turning to his left. “To my brother Aemond and a long overdue justice, is it not?”

Out of courtesy and duty, she grabs her cup and raises it, but as everyone at the table sips their wine, all she tastes is contempt, and the cup hits the surface untouched. But not unseen.

“Brother, wine may cloud my judgment, but it seems to me that your beloved wife does not share the sentiment of this fine evening. I wonder why.”

She holds the King’s demanding stare with a firm one, aware of Aemond looking at her even if his eye is fixed on the table. He has ignored her for the whole night, not sparing her a single glance. Because she owns the truth, doesn’t she, and it’s a knife pointed at his back.  

“May I speak my mind, your Grace?”

There’s the slightest shift in Alicent’s posture, as if she were desperately waiting for her, or anyone, to cease all of this, to say this isn’t right.

Aegon pulls a thin, lazy smile and tilts his silver head, swirling his cup. “Why, of course, Princess. My brother tells me you have a habit of doing so.”

“Did he, now?” she resists the urge to scoff; such a despicable habit for a woman in this world.

“Fret not, good sister, I’m certain he holds no grudges against you for your silver tongue.”

“Oh, I’m quite certain too, your Grace. I know for a fact that he likes it.”

A few lords can do very little to hold their snickering, Aegon himself does not hide his malicious smirk, petty at the edges. It must run in the blood.

“Careful though, you don’t want to spend too much time talking, lest you leave my poor brother without any heir! It’s been a while since you two lovebirds tied the knot, isn’t that right?”

She glances beside her, surely Aemond won’t let that slight insult pass, but he stays still and silent like a statue. She can’t quite believe what she’s witnessing. This is the same man who would call the crowned head at the table wastrel, depraved, disgrace.

So much for a disgrace, now that he fosters your pride and lies.

“I can assure you, good brother, that the talking is well outweighed by other activities that involve very few words.”

Aegon plasters a big grin on his face, yet she’s not finished. “But perhaps the Gods are sparing me the burden of bringing a child in such troubled times. A realm at war is not the best place to live in, is it not?”

“It depends on which side you’re on, Princess.”

There’s suspicion in his tone, but she just blinks at him. “My apologies, I was not aware that my loyalty to your House, and my husband’s, was to be questioned.”

“Come now. We are bound by what if not words?”

“I was under the impression that the Crown should fear his own kin more than a simple foreign girl from the West.”

At that, Helaena lets out a strange noise, something close to a wince, and silence falls all over. It is only now that Aemond undoes the stone he walled himself in and acts as he always does when he feels belittled, or worse, threatened. He shuts her out.

“I’m afraid my wife is growing tired, brother. ’Tis best for her to retire.”

She bites her tongue and turns her head. There’s no mistake in his tone, that is an order. She stares at him and he stares back, blankly, and then, just as it is expected of her, she obeys.

She goes without saying a word, aware of Aemond’s eye on her, of Aegon’s little victorious giggle. He snaps his fingers and two dancing girls flock to his brother. She knows this because she can’t resist but turning before disappearing. The girls are said to come from Lys, no less. But he’s not sparing them a single glance. His eye follows her out of the hall, and even after.

Candles almost extinguished, casting a soft glow in the bedchamber, dim but enough to make the shape of her body visible under the covers.

“I know you’re pretending to be asleep.” He says, placing his dagger and eyepatch on the nightstand.

She doesn’t bother to wait a single moment to fly her eyes open. “Was I not supposed to pretend I was tired?”

When she gets no answer, she turns to face him, finding him on his feet near the bed, undoing the buttons of his doublet. His eye is on her, though, wide, as someone ready to hunt but seeing traps everywhere.

“Did you enjoy your feast?” she asks with piqued interest. “Such a shame that I missed most of it. I was eager to watch the girls from Lys dance. How were they?”

“Enough. You should thank me for dismissing you. You were bordering on high treason.”

“Since when telling the truth is considered high treason?”

“Is that what you were going to say? The truth? To make me look like a fool in front of the whole court?”

“I was only going to say that the feast was an insult and a challenge to the Gods or any common sense. And I know that beneath all the pats on the shoulder and the endorsement on your brother’s part, you are of the same mind.” she hopes to see the barest glimpse of validation on his face, at least here, where he can leave behind his pride and admit he made a mistake. Is that what you call starting a war?

But his expression is as closed as ever, wary.

She wishes it would hurt less than it does. “Of all the people ready to betray you, how quick you are to assume I’d be the first.”

“We’re bound by words, are we not?”

“Take your brother off your mouth.” She says absentmindedly; she tries to not let it sting, but it does anyway. It is a low blow, and she knows he does not believe it. He has raised the walls, coiling like a snake, and there’s no point trying to climb and risk cracking her skull open on the ground. She will have to wait for him to come down. “Then perhaps I should consider my father’s proposal.”

She leaves the bed and grabs a letter lying open on the desk. “He wrote me this letter. That is why my mother came all the way here, apparently to see how her daughter was faring.”

Aemond eyes it with the barest twitch in his lips, then looks up into her eyes and, with a sigh, she clears her throat.

“My dearest daughter,

It is with great concern and sadness that I write you this letter.

Words have reached me about the recent events involving Storm’s End and young Prince Lucerys’ demise. My spirits are low when thinking of the fate you’re enduring. But I want you to think carefully of this: annulments are rare but possible. Even more so since you bore no heirs yet. You cannot remain married to a Kinslayer, it is the highest of sins. I only need a word from you, daughter, and I shall hastily consult with a High Septon.”

She can barely register his arm moving, only sees his hand snatching the letter out of her grip, crumpling the paper between his fingers. Nostrils flaring, eye widening, she reads insult all over his face. About time.

“Is that it, Aemond? Is that the reason you’d think I would betray you? Because I didn’t bleed on a birthing bed yet? Is that how you measure my loyalty? What of all the times I drew your bath, washed your hair, pulled the boots off your feet? What about that curtain—“ she adds, pointing to the windows “and the fact that I told the maid to keep that side always closed so the sun will not bother your eye? Do you think I did all of this because of some empty words?”

He looks as if she has just slapped him. Mistrust and bewilderment run together all over his sharp features, trying to win one another, and she waits and waits, and she begs as all the purest things must be pleaded, wordlessly.

Come down. Come down. Lay down with me. In our bed, a grave, it matters not. I'll take the shovel and do the burying.

But he stands still on his high and cursed perch, the grip on the letter loosens, his shoulders slump a little, because this, this comes so easily. Violence. It’s the other glove he wears like second skin.

“You will write to your father and tell him if I hear another word about annulments, I will have his head for treason. And as for you… you tell a living soul what you know, and you shall join the Silent Sisters. You won’t even have to vow your silence, for I shall take your sharp tongue first.”

She watches him go, standing in the middle of the room like a fool; her hands bleeding still and a plea, unheard, choking to death in her chest.

Her hands heal, stay whole for so long. She feels she cannot reach him this time, no matter how hard she tries to climb. She finds no footholds, no inlets, until she stops looking for any.

She finds she has no strength to do it anymore. They’re all dead anyway, each of them in their own way, their own burial.

The king drinks and rages and drinks and rages. Helaena rocks on herself all day long, chasing the highs and lows of her laments. Jaehaera stares at her mother with her small lips sewn, her eyes wide and the Queen Mother weeps and weeps, wondering if the little girl is watching her mother go mad with grief or yet again her twin brother’s head rolling on the ground like one of her toys.

And Aemond…she does not know where Aemond chose to bury himself. He spends the day out, trying to escape the smothering grip of the Stranger’s claws, his curse…or is it only retribution?

Sometimes he’s in the training yard, sometimes that same yard becomes theater for revenge. He kills whoever helped Blood and Cheese enter the Keep, man or woman, he doesn’t care. He tortures them, and she wants to beg him to stop, to tell him that torturing one, two, or one hundred men won’t stop guilt from torturing him.

So, he wanders restlessly, basks in small and big cruelties, until the sun sets and she’s aware, as the bed dips under his weight, that she is his own burial. He takes her at any time, in any place, be it the bed, the desk, or bent over the vanity, she cannot do anything to stop him. She doesn’t want to and yet she aches to do it. Because it’s always sudden, and harsh and hurtful when he pulls her hair, when he spares no time to stoke her desire, when he keeps her bent with her back turned and a firm hand on her neck like some kind of punishment.

It never used to be like this. It had been playful, teasing, painfully slow as if he were separating salt from water, and then fast, urgent, unraveling for two inexperienced newlyweds.

But it had never been like that. There was no joy in it. Only a duty to be fulfilled. Some twisted way to gain control, while anyone else kept slipping from his hands. Just as Vhagar slipped out of his control on that fateful night of storm.

He remembered that dark thrill pounding in his veins, the laughter gushing out of his throat like poison. He couldn’t bring himself to stop. He didn’t know whether Vhagar was fueling his fire or the other way around, perhaps both. Just a little more, he’d thought, as Arrax batted his wings frantically, desperate, mirroring his young rider, to escape the gaping jaws of the Queen of All Dragons.

That’s what he wanted. He wanted to relish in his nephew’s dread, he wanted to drink it. He wanted him alone, desperate, hopeless, just as he had been.

And then he felt it, the shift in the ancient fire pit he was riding, like a boat tipping over and there was no helm to grab onto and bring it back to land. He had sunk his own family into the bleak abyss of Daemon Targaryen’s soul.

He had come to collect, thoroughly. A son for a son, yes, but he had taken much more than Jaehaerys. He’d taken Helaena as well. Even Jaehaera.

Will she ever be able to speak again?

Will my Mother ever forgive me?

Words never spoken, stuck on his tongue and then gagged and swallowed. He cannot look down, cannot look back. He must look up and forward, like soldiers do. To the next battle, to war.

But there’s this woman. And the sight of her in his bed that makes his breath hitch and for two reasons entirely opposite to one another. The first is the most ancient one. But she’s also a thorn in his side, for she knows. She knows everything. She knows all his peaks and depths, every brick in his walls and how to dismantle them; she knows he’s strong and weak, that he’s scared and guilty and worthy of his mother’s contempt, but he cannot bear any of this in front of her.

He flees her presence during the day, only to impose himself on her for the whole night. She cannot refuse him. And he cannot have her prying and dismantling his well-crafted walls and lies, so he takes her and takes her and takes her until he works themselves up to exhaustion and she’s a rag doll in his hands. It serves the purpose, though. As long as she has his cock in her mouth, as long as he harshly pounds into her, cutting her breath from the inside, she cannot ask questions. As long as he keeps chasing his pleasure, and his rugged breaths muffle his own ears, he cannot think straight.  

He's close now and it’s the second time already. The sheets are damp beneath their bodies, his back glints with sweat, damps his forehead as he thrusts inside her one more time. They’re lying on their side, but he keeps her caged against him, his arm has slipped on the mattress and under her neck to keep her still, with her back to him. With his cheek glued to hers, he croons praises in her ear, falling mindlessly from his lips but like drops in the ocean. Once, she would redden, smile blissfully, or challenge him, to go deeper, or harder, or both, but she’s a limp thing now. A mere body panting upon being fucked by another, that’s all.

This is possession. Or a desperate attempt to. Each night, he holds her as if it’s the last time and she could slip away from him at any moment, turning her back on him. She can feel it now, in the way he’s gripping her shoulder, the way his nails dig in her skin, carving into her bones: stay with me. Please. Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave.

But it’s him keeping her away, turning her own back on him.

Don’t you know, she wishes to tell him, that I won’t, ever. I won’t. No matter how cursed you are. I won’t. I won’t.

He grabs her thigh, resting it on his hip, spreading his long fingers on her skin, spreading her legs so he can find the perfect angle and picks up the pace. She shudders with every thrust, gasping with her throat dry, feeling the long bridge of his nose sinking in her cheek, his grunts growing rougher and deeper; some strange choked sound at the back of his throat.

He comes quietly, panting shallowly against the damp fabric of her nightgown. And he stays there, claw gripping her shoulder, head sunk between her neck and collarbone, and deep to the hilt buried in her.

A tear rolls down her cheek. She doesn’t know where it comes from, who she is mourning, she can’t tell these days. Perhaps she’s mourning him, who he was, who he is now and who he is forcing himself to be. She doesn’t know where the deception lies anymore. She wishes she could push it back in, prays that it goes unnoticed, swallowed along with all the others, but she should know by now, the Gods are not in her favor anymore, if they ever had been.

“Why are you crying?”

She turns her head, and her breath hitches. The gemstone glints, yes, but she’s too struck by his eye to even notice the sapphire. There’s something raw there, bare, more than his very skin now. It’s the first time she sees that look on him, torn, heavy lidded and not by pleasure.

This is the burden of grief.

She wonders if that’s the reason he’s so keen on fucking her with her back turned, so she can’t see him. Perhaps she didn’t look hard enough. She thought he had risen too high, out of her reach, of anyone’s. She thought he would never fall, not in every sense of the word.

Hence, she’s at a loss for words, slightly pulling herself up, when he slowly comes down; he curls into himself, into her lap, resting his head there like a child. No Kinslayer, no Dragon Prince, no son, no brother. No husband. Just a human, bare in the skin and soul.

Aemond wraps his hand around her knee, gently, and then tighter and tighter, shutting his eye. He’s on land now, but the room is spinning, the whole world is spinning and he doesn’t know how to stop it. He feels he started it all, he threw a spinning top and got sucked into it. And she’s the only firm thing he can hold onto.

“Do you think I’m cursed?” he whispers, the barest flutter of his long eyelashes against his cheekbone.

But she has no answer. All she has are her hands, sliding on his naked skin, through his loose hair, gently, as if touching the thinnest glass, sealing the cracks. Her palms slice open again.  

“Aren’t we all?”

And I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more."

- The Castle, Franz Kafka.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 11

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

You feel like a child again. Crammed in the back seat between your sisters. The motion of the car makes you queasy but you’re not so certain it isn’t something else stirring your guts. You’re all silent, as if on your way to another funeral. 

Any other woman might be ecstatic. You can’t feel anything by acidic dread. The weigh on your finger keeps you from forgetting the inevitable. 

Kitty reaches to still you as you twist the oversized band against your chafed finger. You dip your head embarrassed and she holds your hand gently in yours. 

“We will get through it.” Kitty says. 

“We have to,” you say. 

Adrienne hums and jostles you from her side. You must all be thinking of the same thing. This is a day when your mother should be there. One where you miss her deep in your soul. 

The car stops. Barnes’ man opens the door and you get out. You feel like an inmate on some sort of excursion. You have a guard close though you have nowhere to go. You can’t see them but you have shackles around you. 

The dress shop stands in stark contrast to the mood. You enter the ivory lobby and approach the tall counter where a woman stands. She greets you with a smile. There’s a group of women in the cushy chairs nestled between garishly-adorned mannequins. 

You give your name, anxiously swaying. He told you to be here at this time. He ensured you would be by sending the car. 

“Ah, there she is,” a voice rises from the cluster of ladies in the sitting area. “We’ve been waiting.” 

A steely-haired woman rises before the associate behind the counter can confirm your appointment. She approaches with the flock at her back. You face her in surprise, your sisters closing the ranks at your sides. 

“Winnifred Barnes,” the woman introduces herself, “you are the one my son has chosen.” She grabs your hand and shakes it. Her grip is tight. “My daughter, Rebecca,” she lets go of you and gestures to the pretty brunette at her left, “Wanda,” she waves at a blond, “and dear Natasha.” A redhead nods with a stony expression. 

“Oh, hello, ma’am,” you know who she is. Barnes’ own mother; your future in-law. “My sisters--” 

“Adrienne and Kitty,” she addresses them each with a smile and a handshake. “Yes, the three sisters.” She turns her attention back to you, “my regrets your own mother could not be here but when my son told me, I insisted. It isn’t fair of a woman to pick a dress without a maternal shoulder to lean on.” 

“Right,” you agree thinly. “I...appreciate it very much. Thank you for being here.” 

“Did he not tell you?” Rebecca intones from her mother’s shoulder, “typical.” 

“It’s a happy surprise,” Kitty insists. 

Winnifred smiles at her, “entirely correct. We’ve had a bit of a peek around, not going to lie.” 

“Oh, my,” your eyes scan the walls full of ivory, cream, and pearl. “I have to admit, I don’t really know what I’m looking for.” 

“Never worry. You’ve got a dozen other eyes to help you,” Winnifred takes your hand, “they have a room ready for us but we should have a look around first.” She tugs you along as the associate beckons her past the front counter. You let her lead the way. This is all easier if you just let it happen around you. “And your sisters, they will be bridesmaids?” 

“I... yes,” you answer in a hollow tone. You hadn’t even thought of that. It only sinks in at that moment. 

You’re getting married. You’re going to have a full-fledged wedding and you’re going to leave your sisters forever. Your daddy is gone and so is your old life. 

“Why don’t you see what catches your eye?” Winnifred gestures to the wall of fluffy gowns. “We all know the men don’t care what we wear, they’re less concerned with the day and more eager for the night.” 

She cackles and you turn to the hangers of fabric. That’s better than thinking about the implications of the choice. Pick a dress. Whatever one you choose won’t change what comes next. 

“Ladies, you know your mission,” Winnifred claps. She nears you and pulls on puffy piece, “would you look at that? Like a princess.” 

You peek over. It’s too much. The layers and layers, the sequins and lace. Why not one or the other? It’s all too much. You never had to worry about silk or mesh, tulle or chiffon. You wore whatever you had. 

“No, you don’t like it,” she clucks. “A mother always knows.” 

“Sorry,” you murmur and push apart the dresses in front of you. 

You shuffle through, one by one. Too much frill, too sheer, too heavy, too Victorian. You don’t even think you should wear white. It feels like an occasion better suited to black. 

“Pull as many as you like. We have all day. You want options. You never really know what you like until it’s on,” Winnifred advises. 

“Hey,” Kitty calls to you and shows you a dress, “you like this?” 

You look over at your sister as she presents a dress with short sleeves and lacy tiers on the skirt. It’s nice but you’re not sure. 

“I can try it,” you say and turn back. 

You go down the full wall before you find something that gives you pause. There’s nothing special about it. It's plain. Straps, a skirt. No ruffles, no lace, no ribbons or beads. Just a dress. And this is just a wedding. 

You take the hanger and hand it to the associate. She goes to add it to the selection. That’s your choice. You’ll see what the others found. 

You wander but don’t look at anything else. Winnifred has an armful as she nears, “well, think we’ve got a good lot. Let’s go see how it looks.” 

She’s happy. It’s strange. To her, it is a joyful time. Her son is getting married and she’s there to help her soon-to-be daughter-in-law pick a gown. You smile, or try to. 

You are led into a room with velvet chairs and a matching chaise. The women settle in. Your sisters in the chairs, and Winnifred between the three other women on the cushioned bench. The associate takes you to the curtained changing room. 

There’s at least a dozen hangers waiting for you. 

“Do you have a preference of which one to try first?” She asks. 

“This one last,” you point to the one you picked. 

“Okay,” she agrees easily. “Better get started.” 

“Sure,” you say, “it’s going to be a long day.” 

She helps into the first one. A ballgown with flowery lace all over and off-the-shoulder straps. This isn’t for you but you’ll let them see it. You lift the skirts above your feet and go out. 

There’s a few gasps as you get in front of the mirror and face your reflection. You hide your displeasure. It’s just not you. 

“Gorgeous,” Wanda and Rebecca praise. 

“I like the skirt,” Adrienne offers. 

“No, it’s not right,” Kitty hums. 

“It isn’t,” Winnifred agrees. 

You nod and turn to the associate, “next, please.” 

You step away from the mirror and hurry back to the shelter of the curtain. This is torture. If Barnes is so set on owning you, can’t you just sign the papers and be done with it? 

[yandere-daze]

I´ve had this idea plague my mind for the last few days and now it´s finally time for me to unleash it onto the world. Feel free to comment on or ask questions about this idea/ AU if you find it interesting!

This work was inspired by the normalized yandere genshin AU I stumbled upon while scrolling through Tumblr, created by @fancyfeathers

Hope you enjoy!

gn reader

2,2k words

tw yandere, normalized yandere behaviour, mentions of obsession, possessiveness, kidnapping, stalking, murder, emotional manipulation and isolation

Yandere! Genshin Academy/Normalized Yandere AU

In this AU, yanderes are a normal and accepted part of society. Not only are their toxic attitudes and behaviours permitted but even encouraged. Somehow, over the years, people have even started to wish for a yandere as their partners. By Teyvat society at large, yanderes are seen as somewhat of an ideal partner. They´re fiercely loyal and would do absolutely anything for their darlings, right?

And yet, many darlings sing a different tune when reality suddenly comes crashing down onto them when a yandere actually starts pursuing them. Fantasizing about things such as being kidnapped is simply something entirely different compared to experiencing the real thing. And yet, when they call out for help from their loved ones, they´re simply patted on their back and congratulated. Some might even express their condolences to the poor yandere, saying that it always takes a bit of time for a darling to realize that this is for the best.

You are one of the few people who are completely horrified by the concept of a yandere and even more so to see everyone around you treat kidnappings or murder sprees as something completely normal or even romantic. You shudder at the thought of ever attracting the attention of a yandere, knowing that you would have no one to help you avoid that dreadful fate.

Which is why your complete world is turned upside down when you´ve been registered at the wrong academy by mistake. An administrative error, you were told. One, that might take a few weeks or even months to correct.

Now normally, you would have been annoyed but fine with this. You would just have to bear with it for a bit and attend a different school until the error is fixed and you can finally go to your desired one.

But you felt a pool of dread form deep within you when you did some research on the academy you had been wrongly assigned to. It actually wasn´t all that easy to find information on the academy, which you found strange, seeing as this has never been an issue with any other well-regarded academy. But no matter how much you search, nothing concrete is to be found. Only a few abandoned forum posts where people asked around about their missing friend who had last been seen close to the academy in question.

It made you feel a bit uneasy but you figured that it probably didn´t have anything to do with the academy itself. As sad as it was, disappearances were happening all over Teyvat, so this one case wasn´t really of note.

But seeing as you couldn´t find anything else, you figured that you would just need to figure things out on your first day attending the academy.

And oh, were you in for a nasty surprise.

As soon as you sat down for your first lesson, you noticed how strange the atmosphere was. Everyone had been staring at you so strangely when you entered the room, it kind of unnerved you.

After that, a few introductions were exchanged and you slowly calmed down again. Your classmates seemed nice enough and you thought that maybe, your time here wouldn´t be so bad after all.

All that quickly changed when your professor finally entered the room and introduced himself as the instructor who would teach you the subject of "stalking".

Turning your head left and right, you tried to see if anyone else was as shocked about this as you were but to your surprise, no one even raised an eyebrow at this very concerning introduction.

A class on stalking? Maybe this wasn´t what you actually feared and more so a clumsy way of saying that this would be a psychology class focusing on the mental effects stalking has on the victims? With all these yanderes running around unchecked, there were bound to be many victims and so a class like this might actually be beneficiary. I mean surely they wouldn´t actually try to teach young adults how to kidnap someone, right?

Right?

Well, it turns out you were wrong when the professor started outlining different forms of stalking. Following "your darling" around, stalking them online, placing cameras or microphones in their rooms to observe them anytime you wanted.

Your mind was spiraling as you listened to the lecture and you briefly wondered at just what kind of an academy you had been enlisted in. Surely this must be some kind of joke, right? A prank played on newcomers at the academy to get them spooked? Surely someone is going to come in any moment, clear all of this up and then laugh at you actually falling for this?

But no matter how much you hoped for this to be the case, no one was coming. No one was making fun of you for falling for such an obvious prank. In fact, none of your classmates seemed perturbed at all by what was being taught here. How could they be okay with a lesson that basically amounted to "how to stalk someone 101"? You felt like you were losing your mind.

Glancing to your right, you see your blond deskmate eagerly nodding along to whatever the professor was saying and swiftly taking notes whenever a sentence seemed to particularly strike a chord with him. His red eyes practically sparkled as he outlined "helpful tips and tricks for not alerting your darling of your presence" on his paper, using a text marker to highlight a particular passage as if to say that it would come in handy in the future.

On your left, you saw another tall male student and for a moment you hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was someone else here who was bothered by the lecture given. He had a bored look on his face and he was wearing some type of headphones over his grey hair. Was he even paying attention? Maybe he was trying to cancel out the horrific lecture taking place at the moment.

You discreetly leaned over a bit, only to see that he was actually holding a book hidden under the desk, his eyes carefully following the paragraphs of tiny letters. Well, it seems like he certainly wasn´t paying much attention to the lecture because what he was secretly reading seemed to be some advanced material on the success rate of different methods of stalking, from the looks of it.

You quickly turned your head back when you saw him glancing over at you with an unreadable stare. Well, it looks like your hopes were dashed again after all. This guy was nuts too.

Knowing this, you really couldn´t do much aside from waiting for class to be over.

Your small hope that this was just a really strange outlier was quickly destroyed again in your following classes.

Next was a class on emotional manipulation and how to get your darling to depend on you.

Then, a class on how to force yourself into your darling´s life and how to approach growing closer to them.

Finally, the day ended with a lecture on how to kidnap your darling and make them disappear without a trace.

As the bell finally rung, the professor informed your class that there was also an optional class about how to effectively "get rid" of a rival that you can sign up for. You pretended to not be bothered when several students raised their hands to show their interest in attending this course.

You scrambled to get out of your seat as fast as possible, not wanting to stay in this hellish classroom for even a second later. You fled into the hallway and walk by groups of students excitedly chattering about things you didn´t want to listen to.

"Oh, I hope I can find my darling soon! I just know I´ll feel a special connection when we first make eye contact! I´ve been waiting for so long", the first girl swooned as she twirled strands of her long brown hair around her finger, seemingly lost in her own fantasies.

"Agreed. I know that once I meet my darling, I won´t let anything get between us. I will never let them go. It´s only a matter of time", the taller, blue-haired woman chimed in, her voice calmer than that of her excitable friend.

You didn´t like the way her eyes linger on you as you pass by them.

Once home, you tried to make contact with the administrative office again to ask them if the process of your transfer can be sped up in any way. You didn´t want to spend another second in that academy.

With what you have seen today, you were easily able to deduce the true nature of this academy and it left you absolutely terrified.

The fact that you weren´t able to find any information about the academy beforehand, your strange classmates fixated on their potential "darlings" and of course the horrid classes being taught there.

Somehow, you have ended up in an academy for yanderes. Every single person you saw there today was a lovesick lunatic in some shape or form. And the more you thought about it, the more you realized you were in huge danger there. What would your crazed classmates do if they ever found out that you actually weren´t a fellow yandere but someone they could claim as a "darling"? The very thought of it makes you sick. You have to get out of there immediately!

Which is why your heart dropped when after some long hesitation, the person on the phone finally answered you.

"You must excuse me but I´m afraid to tell you that there have been some... unforeseen circumstances that do not permit me to work on your case at the moment. I have been asked to postpone this matter until further notice".

"What? Why?", is all you could manage to say in your befuddlement. You knew bureaucracy can take a long time but for this woman to specifically be asked to postpone this? Just what was going on here?

Again, the woman on the phone hesitated to answer and you could hear a tinge of nervousness in her voice when she finally spoke up. As if she wasn´t sure if she was allowed to say what she was about to.

"I´m afraid that I´m not at liberty to provide this information. The person asking me to...focus on different cases for the meantime wished to stay anonymous. Even so, it is not within my power to refuse their wishes as they have provided our establishment with a generous donation. I sadly cannot help you with this issue", at least the woman did sound generally apologetic but that didn´t really help you in this situation.

Your mind was still reeling as you processed this information. Someone specifically asked for your transferal to not be worked on? Why would anyone do this? And they seemed to have a large fortune too? Why all this to make you stay around?

It can´t be that you already attracted someone´s attention while at the academy, right? Surely that couldn´t be true! You made sure to not interact with anyone directly after you realized just what kind of people attended this school. How could one of these yanderes have "fallen for you" already?

It seemed so utterly unbelievable and if you were being honest, you didn´t want to believe that it was true either. But nothing else made sense. Why would anyone do this otherwise?

Noticing your prolonged silence, the woman spoke up once more.

"I´m sure that all of this will be resolved soon. It will only be a few months. I am sure you will find many friends at your current school soon."

You sure hoped not. The thought of being noticed by any of the yanderes already made the hairs on your neck rise. You vowed to stay away from anyone who even showed a fleeting interest in you. You had to keep yourself safe until you can finally switch schools. You could do this, you had to!

You barely registered when the woman bid you farewell and hung up the phone after you once again didn´t answer her.

Now completely alone, you forged a plan. If you didn´t want to get involved in anything dangerous, no one could find out that you were actually here by mistake and not a yandere. Nothing could be worse than these lunatics finding out that you´re a darling, so you´ll have to be very careful. But how do you do this?

Well, it seemed like you must act like a yandere yourself. You would have to pretend that you´re a lovesick fool who totally isn´t bothered by all this talk about kidnapping, stalking, and murder. Thinking about it again already made you sick but you didn´t really have any other options. No one could find out or it was over for you.

You only hoped that you could convincingly play the part and that no one was perceptive enough to see right through you. Well, it couldn´t be that hard, right?

Surely no one already had their eye on you. Right?

[bluberryfields]

"I want a proper apology."

The dramatic “apology dance”

In the entirety of Season 2, I think the “apology dance” scene is pretty close to my favorite.

The way Crowley walks in like he’s entering a stage in a packed theater.

The way Azi clearly sees him coming and fusses himself up to look extra focused on his work and not at all excited about Crowley’s return.

Crowley, noticing that Azi has yet to look at him, ramps up the drama by:

Whipping off his glasses (taking off his armor)

Response from Azi? Clears his throat and focuses harder on his work.

Time for Level 2 Drama, it seems.

Stalking over to the table (no sauntering here)

Tossing the glasses down (looks casual but absolutely isn’t)

Ringing that little bell (like a ceremonial gong signaling “this is fucking happening”)

Walking back into the rotunda where he has maximum visibility (also maximum vulnerability)

Azi now has no choice but to react, which he does by slowly looking up and over at Crowley, who looks like the human-shaped embodiment of dread.

Finally announcing “I’m back” like the bitchy customer who just yesterday had declared they were never shopping here again

I mean, wow. Amazing. Glorious.

Not to be outcunted, Azi just casually turns back to his work and practically hums, “Yes. I can see that.”

Damn, Aziraphale, did you take lessons in passive aggression from my mother?

Now Crowley groans in a way that I felt to my core and asks, “Do you want a big, ‘I think I said the wrong thing,’ sort of an apology, or can we take that as said?”

He averts his eyes until the last second because this probably feels more demeaning than begging Azi not to do his magic act at Warlock’s birthday part.

Still turned away, Azi replies in a tone that is a mix of hurt and guilt that makes me think this has been coming for awhile. "I'd like the apology actually." I bet you would, Angel.

Back to Crowley, he pauses to assess his options, takes a deep breath, and says the magic words: “You were right.” Also looks like he almost says something else but either doesn’t know what to say or doesn’t want to say it.

Oh wow, so convincing. Bravo.

Finally, Azi puts down his glasses and his work and turns to address Crowley. He is not happy.

“Not good enough. I want a proper apology.” Also, side note, but Michael Sheen’s voice here is just…yum.

Before Azi can finish, Crowley is so quick to reject this idea. “No.” with a shake of the head.

You're not winning this battle, Crowley, and you know it.

“With the little dance.” Azi’s voice perks up and his eyes brighten at the hope this will happen. Seize that opportunity!

Again, Crowley barely let’s the word “dance” come out before he tries to shut it down. “I don’t do the dance.” Nope, no sir, not this demon.

Oh no, now Azi’s anger joins the hurt and guilt for a vicious trifecta. “I did the ‘I was wrong’ dance in 1650, 1793, 1941…” each date being spat out with increasing amounts of venom.

Oh Crowley, you brought this on yourself, girl.

This non-apology combined with his “I'm sorry. I apologize. Whatever I said, I didn’t mean it. Work with me, I’m apologizing here. Yes? Good. Get in the car.” and I can see why Azi reacts to this the way he does.

Crowley knows he’s beaten and concedes with a “Fine!” that feels the very opposite of the word.

Okay so before the “proper apology” can begin, Azi gets up from his chair, straightens his waistcoat, and stands with his hands grasped in front of him like a proper gentleman. A properly petty gentleman.

Then the main attraction! Crowley, looking completely stone-faced, does “the little dance.”

It’s wonderful. He looks so silly and childish and graceful and mature. And god, that deep knee bend at the end? Amazing.

Also amazing is Crowley’s face when he says "Kay?” while bobbing his head and eyebrows back like a sassy rooster? *chef’s kiss*

For Azi’s part, god it is just a delicious mix of polite poker face and barely concealed thirst. I see your eyes scanning Crowley, drinking in that thin, dark Duke. That little dance will live in his head forever.

And that’s the signal to go back to normal! Crowley regains control and Azi falls back into the supporting role.

Long-term relationships are hard, yo.

[chrisredfield73]

Hello! Im super glad i found someone with tf2 requests open, yippee!! Could i please request a Spy x reader where the reader has insecurities about dating cause they feel like they’ll be too attached and scare away their crush (this one being Spy)? I think having Spy, a man usually seen as reluctant to get too close to someone can pair well with someone who gets attached too easily and is scared of scaring their crush away.

Have a nice day!!

A/N: Cocky French man finds absolutely adorable and shy reader. I love this so much, thank you for requesting! I'm also sorry for the long wait, I had to take my mid-term exams!

This was also wrote with 2Fort in mind soooo.

Insert Spy singing Cupid here.

Rough French translations here. (I don't know French, feel free to correct me.)

mon ami/amie- My friend

belle/beau- beautiful/handsome

Je sais que tu m'aimes bien, petit lapin/lapine- I know you like me, little bunny.

mon amour- my love

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

You sit in the lounge in the Red/Blu base, chewing at your fingernails. You've been thinking about a certain man, someone so unmistakable.. That certain man is Spy. He’s so mysterious and cocky, something you find so enticing. You can’t help but fear what would happen though. What would happen if he found out you like him? What would happen if you confessed and he didn’t feel the same way? That would, undoubtedly, ruin your friendship. You didn’t want to scare the man off or weird him out, it would be so awkward and heartbreaking.

Your overthinking eats at your mind, plaguing it with thoughts of self-doubt and many, many insecurities. You snap out of your thoughts when Spy enters the room. A pit of dread enters your stomach. You want to confess, you want to tell him how you feel about him but you’re scared of the worst things that could happen. 

Spy, on the other hand, knows that you like him. It’s a bit obvious by the way you follow him around like a puppy on a leash. He thinks it’s utterly adorable, so he acts oblivious. He doesn’t want to scare you off by telling you that he knows you like him. He can’t help but smirk to himself when he sees you, speaking in that husky tone, “Hello, mon ami/amie.” He notices the blush spread across your face, the way you nervously shift in your seat.. He loves it. 

It took him a long while to get to the point of getting close to you. He’s still not very open about himself, but he at least sits next to you and communicates with you fairly often. He’s a very untrusting man, mostly due to the line of mercenary work. He doesn’t let himself get attached to others but you’re special. You’re completely unaware that he actually enjoys your company since he plays it off as being bored of the others.

“Hey, Spy.” You say meekly, staring up at the Frenchman in front of you. He lets out a low hum as he takes a drag off his cigarette. He sits down not too far from you but doesn’t say anything. You’re too meek to look up at him, but he’s staring right at you. Little do you know, he’s waiting for your confession. “Do you have something to say, belle/beau?” You look up at him and quickly shake your head, but he knows.. He gets up, walking closer to you. He leans down and whispers, “Je sais que tu m'aimes bien, petit lapin/lapine.” 

He knows. Oh god, he knows. You panic, not knowing what to say. Is this going to ruin the friendship you guys have? Does he like you too? In reality, you couldn’t help but be attached nearly by the hip to this charming man. You slowly nod, deciding to be truthful. He smirks and whispers into your ear, “Don’t be afraid, mon amour.. I feel the same way.” With that, he presses a kiss to your temple before pulling away and walking out of the room.

You’re completely flustered. None of the other mercs saw it, thankfully. Did that just happen…? Maybe the Spy isn’t so keen on distancing himself from you as you thought..

[viaoverthemoon]

Unavoidable

Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader

Okay, this one is pretty self-indulgent bc I'm REALLY dreading that I have to do this soon. I've been told it isn't that bad and I've been told it hurts like hell. Guess I'll just have to find out.

DISCLAIMER: I have never physically experienced a pap smear before! Please do not think that what happens in this is ACTUALLY how it feels. This is just how I THINK it would feel.

Summary: You ask Leon to come with you for your very first pap smear that you have been dreading so long about.

Tw: Mentions of medical equipment, Uncomfortable medical procedures, pain, reader has a fear of doctors, minor description of anxiety (if u squint), lotsss of praise, comfort, fluff

DETAILED MEDICAL PROCEDURE AHEAD!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

Enjoy!

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"Oh my gosh, I'm so nervous,"

Leon tightly holds your hand as you sit on the stiff hospital bed, watching as your other hand anxiously fiddles with the hospital gown you wear.

You'd been dreading this day for the past week. After giving your virginity away to Leon, you'd told your mother. She'd immediately suggested getting the pap smear you'd once told her you wouldn't get until you lost your virginity.

You spent the week doing intense research, seeing multiple reactions that different people have had. None of them were the same, and that scared you beyond belief.

Leon watched your silent meltdown, wishing there was something he could do. He did his own research as well, diving into the internet and becoming slightly uncomfortable, but still trying to find out if there was some way he could comfort you. His search ended in uselessness, him not being able to find anything that would help him aid you.

But he saw a chance for redemption when you suddenly asked him to come with you.

And so the day had come.

Leon rubs his thumbs over your knuckles, noticing the trembling of your hands. "Don't be nervous sweetheart. I'm right here. Just hold on to me."

You smile at Leon, about to tell him how appreciative you are, but jump when the door opens.

The doctor enters the room, eyes looking at the two of you before she smiles softly. "First time?"

You offer a shaky smile and nod as you hold Leon's hand a little tighter.

The doctor laughs softly as she takes a seat in the rolling chair and flips through the papers on her clipboard. "I'm so sorry, love. But I'll try and makes this as quick as possible, promise. Let me ask you a few questions first."

She asks you the basic questions; 'Are you sexually active?' 'Is there a possibility that you may be pregnant?' 'When was your last menstrual cycle?' The classics.

Once she finishes the questions, she stands from her chair and begins to put the equipment she needs onto a small tray.

A sharp exhale leaves your lips and you opt to staring at the ceiling rather than what she's gathering, taking deep breaths to distract yourself.

Leon rubs your shoulder in a comforting manner, whispering small praises into your ear as he moves your hair to the side to kiss your temple. The doctor explains the process to you as calmly as possible.

"I put some gel on the speculum to ensure that it goes in easy and comes out easy. You may feel a slight pinch, but this shouldn't last longer than 2 minutes max. After that, I'll insert a swab and wipe around the cervix, and then I'll insert a soft brush into the cervix. After that, we're done!"

God, why are you sweating so much?!

You nod to the doctor as she pulls on her gloves, the anxious feeling never leaving as you try to take deep breaths. Leon kisses your shaking hand. "You're doing so good, angel. It'll be over before you know it."

You squeeze his hand to let him know you heard him before the doctor speaks again. "Okay, starting with the speculum,"

You wince a little at the intrusion as your heart leaps. And just when you think 'this isn't so bad', you feel the stretch.

You squeeze Leon's hand again and little ow, ow, ow's leave your lips as you whip your gaze away from the doctor. She and Leon begin to tell you how good you're doing and how it's almost over.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart. You're doing so good! Don't even look at her, just look at me. I'm right here. I've got you."

The praise momentarily takes your mind off of the tickling feeling of the swab, until the brush comes and enters your cervix.

You suck in a breath between your teeth at the less painful pinch, bringing yours and Leon's wrapped hands to your mouth to keep from swearing at the poor doctor.

Then she pulled out the brush, closing the speculum and taking it out of you. "Okay! All done! You did such a good job!"

You heard her but you hardly understood her, eyes brimming with tears as you slowly turn towards Leon. He takes one look at your wobbly lip and turns to the doctor. "Would you mind giving us a minute?"

The doctor gets the message immediately, collecting her things and the equipment before heading for the door. "Of course! Leave whenever you're ready! I'll get these to the lab and your results should be ready in 2-3 business days!"

The second the door closes behind her, the dam in your eyes finally bursts. You felt stupid for crying. You had no reason to. But the tears and sobs were unrelenting. You clung to Leon and he held you, smoothing your hair.

"It's okay sweetheart. You did so good. and I'm proud of you. That wasn't easy, I know."

.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

Can y'all tell I hate going to the doctor? :))))

I listened to 'Yes to Heaven' by Lana Del Ray while writing this <3

Hope you enjoyed!!

Requests are open!! <3

[mercwiththem0uth]

Piss off, Ross - Ross Gaines x Reader

summary; [ross x female reader] unemployed and forced to do a restart course. a certain someone catches your eye.

warnings; 18+ content, detailed smut, unprotected sex, strong language, mild mentions of anxiety

--- --- ---

being unemployed in my late 20s was not something i ever would've imagined happening. the company i was working for had went under and i was made redundant, and eventually left with no choice but to join a course at the local job centre. i hated it. i felt judged and patronised by everyone who saw me walk into that building on that first day - little did i know just what i was about to encounter.

"okey cokey, pig in a pokey!" a female voice called as she entered the room, carrying her handbags and clipboard.

here we go, i mentally thought to myself, slightly rolling my eyes. i still couldn't believe i'd ended up here. "good morning job seekers. my name is pauline campbell-jones."

i lost concentration and looked around the room as she babbled on about what was going to happen in this course. my eyes scanned the different people who were joining me here, a mixture of elderly scruff men, trouble-making youngsters, until finally i spotted someone who doesn't look like he belonged here. well, i secretly hoped that i also didn't look like i "belonged" in a job centre, but i was immediately intrigued by him. he was dressed fairly smartly, a blazer over his shirt, small glasses that sat perfectly on his face just under his flopped fringe, complimenting his strong jawline. he seemed to be watching pauline intensely, tapping his pen slightly against his paper. he's quite attractive, i thought.

someone cleared their throat abruptly, and my head snapped back round to see pauline stood right before me, staring in my eyes. "and what's your name, love?" she asked.

"oh- uh" i stuttered due to the sudden and unexpected pressure, "i'm y/n".

"well, y/n" pauline began to say, "maybe you wouldn't be unemployed if you spent as much time looking for jobs as you do looking at mr. ross over there." my mouth dropped open slightly at her rude comment, before reality set in over what she had actually said. out loud.

a deep red immediately flushed my cheeks, and i took a quick glance at the man she called ross, only to find he was already looking back in my direction with a small smirk on his face. was he checking me out? no, he's obviously just mocking me considering i just got humiliated on my first day in front of the whole class.  my eyes snapped back down to my papers. i wanted the floor to swallow me whole... what a mess this had already turned out to be.

i kept quiet for the rest of the session, head down the whole time. however I couldn't shake the feeling of someone's eyes burning into me. deep down, i knew it was him, but i was going to save myself from further humiliation and just ignore it. as soon as pauline announced the end of the session, i wasted no time packing up and practically running out of the building. the dreaded thought eating me alive that i would only have to return again tomorrow morning.

--- --- ---

it was the next day, and i got there extra early to ensure i was the first to arrive. i couldn't bare the thought of walking into a full room, being stared at by everyone who witnessed that monstrosity yesterday. maybe it wasn't as bad as i was making it out to be, but i was still ashamed. people eventually began to arrive and the seats were slowly getting filled. i had chosen the table right at the back in the corner of the room, in order to avoid as much contact with anyone as possible. my throat suddenly became dry as i saw that all-too-familiar man enter the room. i watched as his eyes did a quick scan before settling on me, and i swore i saw a small smile tug at his lips. my eyes shot down as i pretended to pick at my fingernails, but i could still see him out of my peripheral vision. he began walking towards me, and i prayed that he would fill one of the empty seats along the way. but no, of course he didn't. i felt his presence, and i watched from the corner of my eye as he pulled out the chair right next to me, and started sitting down. my heart beat elevated as i continued to steal small glances at him, wondering and worried about what he had planned.

"hi, i'm ross" he spoke in a fairly quiet tone, flashing a smile and extending his hand out towards me. yeah, i know, i thought. there was something far too professional about him. i stared at his hand and quickly cleared my throat as it was somehow drier than it was before.

"i'm y/n" i said, reaching out to shake his hand. his skin was smooth and his grip was firm but gentle.

"yeah, i know" he said, repeating my thoughts.

"ha... right.." i said quietly, forcing out an awkward chuckle. i decided to bite the bullet and just clear the awkward air as soon as possible. "listen, i'm sorry about yesterday" i coughed slightly again as i looked down at the desk. god, i'm so lame.

"nothing to be sorry about," ross said and i nodded slightly, kind of relieved that he seemed to be understanding. "i tried to speak to you after class yesterday, but you left so quickly. i couldn't catch up in time" he chuckled a bit.

"yes, well..." i trailed off, not really sure what to say. wasn't it obvious i was rushing off to avoid him?

i raised my eyes from the desk as the room echoed with the same "okey cokie, pig in a pokie" as yesterday. i huffed under my breath, anxious that she might do something else to call me out again. ross must have heard me, as he leaned in closer to whisper in my ear "don't worry, the only one who she's embarrassing is herself." the simple act caused chills to pass over my skin, almost making me shudder.

i let out a small laugh through my nose, grateful at his attempt to comfort me. pauline continued rambling on about today's workshop on job options, as ross leaned back towards me again. in a hushed tone, he whispered "so, how come you're here then?"

i was a bit taken back by his question, "is that really something you should ask?"

"i didn't mean it in a rude way. but come on, a pretty girl like you, i can't imagine you've just been scrounging off of benefits all your life. you look like you've got it all together, which is more than what I can say for some of the messes in here" he grimaced as he glanced around the room.

i was quiet for a moment, mainly only thinking about the fact that he just called me pretty. "i was forced to come here. i was recently made redundant. i had no choice" i sighed at the reminder, i had liked my job.

he nodded. "well that's a shame... still, this will be over before you know it." i turned my head to shoot him a slight smile. i was about to ask him the same question, considering my first impression of him was that he didn't look like someone who'd been struggling to get work, but i was quickly interrupted. pauline cleared her throat sharply, just as she had done yesterday, and we both looked up to see her scowling at us from the front of the room.

"well, well. If it isn't little miss y/n and mr ross," she began sarcastically, "sitting together are we? as if it wasn't bad enough being ignored by the both of you yesterday, now you're both just speaking over me!"

I went to reply to her, but ross beat me to it. "sorry, pauline. I was just asking y/n if she had a pen I could borrow."

"you want a pen, ross?" pauline said, "well there are plenty of pauline's pens up here at the front near mickey love. now I want you to move here so I can keep a close eye on you." I could tell that ross wanted to protest against her, but she looked at him like such filth that he quickly closed his mouth and stood up. he glanced at me as he walked away with a subtle roll of his eyes, making me giggle.

the rest of the session dragged by, i found myself staring at the back of ross' head for the majority of it, and he'd occasionally turn around in his seat to pull faces at me whenever pauline said something completely inappropriate.

"come on ross, on your feet" she suddenly said, making us look at eachother in confusion. she wanted ross to partake in the last exercise of the day for sales jobs, where he had to try and sell a copy of the big issue. i watched as he stood at the front of the class next to pauline, holding his hands awkwardly. i leaned back in my seat and craned my neck upwards, barely controlling the smirk on my face. i had a feeling this was going to be quite entertaining.

"right then, job-seekers. i want you all to imagine that we're standing on a very busy highstreet," pauline began, "and i'm an attractive young housewife." the laugh that erupted out of me was completely accidental. my hands slapping over my own mouth to stifle the noise was not enough, as pauline slowly turned to stare at me with eyes of daggers. ross however, was smiling at me widely with his bright teeth as he laughed along. i felt giddy knowing i had made him laugh. god, what is wrong with me? i barely know him.

i watched the scene unfold, with pauline mocking ross for his "poor attempt" at selling, before she strangely started asking him to beg her, making everyone in the room uncomfortable.

"no! no, I won't!" he finally snapped, raising his voice. "i won't beg you pauline."

there was a long pause. "very well..." she mumbled, "sit down please, ross." he angrily gave her the magazine back before returning to his seat. she followed closely behind, before raising the magazine and aggressively slapping it across his head. my jaw dropped involuntarily as ross cried out in pain, holding the side of his head where she had hit him. i stood up from my seat, my mouth still wide open in disbelief, and i went to approach him to see if he was okay.

pauline held out her palm towards and stopped me in my tracks, "ah, ah" she said, as if she was telling off a small child or a dog. i stood feeling helpless, watching ross continue to gawk in pain as pauline went around the room and started shouting at everyone. but i wasn't listening to her, not until she shortly announced that it was time to leave. i grabbed my bag and walked over to ross, who was also stood up gathering his belongings. "hey, are you okay?" i said, genuinely concerned.

he looked up at me, his angry face immediately softening. "uh, yeah, i'm alright."

"are you sure-"

he cut me off, "yeah honestly, i'm fine. can we just go?" he said, nodding towards the door. "i'm desperate to get out of here." he seemed flustered and agitated, but i didn't blame him. i would be too.

i nodded and followed him out of the building. we stood on the street outside of the job centre, and i turned to look at him. "we should do something, she can't get away with that." i said, but he didn't seem that bothered.

"what would we do? there's no one to even tell."

"we can report it to the authorities or something. it's just unacceptable."

ross shook his head, which confused me. this was a bigger deal than he seemed to realise. "no one will care, y/n."

"well i care" i said, looking at him as he stared me in the eyes. he glanced down at the floor quickly and nodded his head, before looking back at me. "thanks" he said quietly, poking his tongue out across his lips to wetten them.

there was a small silence. "does it still hurt?" i said, reaching out to touch the side of his head.

"not really" he swallowed, continuing to stare at me. i lowered my hand, mumbling a "good."

there was another small silence, but he broke it this time. "would you maybe want to... go grab a coffee or something? unless you have plans" he seemed nervous, but i smiled in response which made him seemingly relax.

"i'd love to" i said, and we began walking down the road towards the nearest coffee shop.

---

we sat for a few hours, talking about anything and everything. how unbelievable we think pauline is, where we grew up, where abouts we live now, what our interests are. we discovered that we had quite a lot in common. the more we spoke, the more attracted i became to him. he was so well-mannered and polite.

we both lost track of time and would have stayed even longer had we not been ushered out by the closing staff. he insisted on being the one to pay, and i couldn't resist the joke as we walked out the door. "what? just because i'm on the dole you think i can't afford a couple cups of coffee?" he snickered and used his elbow to gently nudge me in the side. i smiled widely to myself as we walked along, taking in the evening sun as it began to set in the sky.

"can i walk you home?" he turned to me, looking hopeful.

"what a gentleman" i joked, causing him to roll his eyes with a smile. "i'd love to say yes, but you live on the other side of town from me, and that's quite a long walk back by yourself."

"oh it's not a bother. i could just ring barbara to come pick me up" he said, alluding to the local taxi driver.

i refused, wanting to make it easier for the both of us, but he went to protest again. with a sudden boost of confidence, i walked forward and reached up to place a kiss on his lips, silencing him. i felt him kiss back almost immediately, after the initial shock, of course. i pulled back after a few seconds and exhaled through my nose. "goodnight, ross. i'll see you tomorrow." i smiled cheekily, turning away from him and beginning my walk back home. i felt tipsy, eventhough i hadn't had a single sip of alcohol. my mother would have called it drunk in loveee, but i shook the thought from my head, unable to control the grin on my face the whole way home.

---

the next day quickly arrived, and i awoke in the morning feeling excited for the first time in months. i got up and picked an outfit, cuter and more formal than what i'd normally wear, especially to a job centre. however i stuck to my usual, light makeup. i didn't want it to seem like i was dressing up too much.

i made it to pauline's class, but i was somehow a few minutes late. brilliant, i mentally scowled myself, and stood outside for a moment to work up the courage to knock on the door and walk in.

"ah, y/n. how nice of you to actually join us" pauline said in her usual sarcastic tone.

"i'm really sorry pauline. something came up."

"don't let it happen again" she looked at me sternly and i nodded before she gestured at the tables for me to go and sit down.

i immediately spotted ross at the back of the classroom, in the same space as where i was sat yesterday. the empty seat next to him almost grabbing me by an invisible magnetic force. i gave him a smile as i made my way over, and sat down as quietly as possible in order to prevent disturbing pauline even further.

"glad you showed up" he whispered. "i was worried you had called in sick or something to avoid me."

"no, not at all!" trying to voice my urgency in a hushed tone was difficult, but i hope he believed me. he was the only reason i forced myself to come here this morning, i certainly didn't want to avoid him.

"that's good, then" he nodded, and i watched as his eyes flicked up and down my body, observing my outfit. "you look nice, by the way"

i couldn't hide the blush on my cheeks as i grabbed my pen and started making notes to catch up with what i'd missed. "thank you" i smiled, moving my foot under the desk to lightly nudge his shoe.

---

the session was almost coming to an end, with pauline wanting to do one more exercise on practicing conducting interviews. she had already had poor mickey up the front, making a fool of himself, but now she wanted someone to volunteer roleplaying as the interviewer, so she could play the "perfect" candidate.

she had singled me out in the room, completely unprovoked. "now, i won't be asking you, y/n love. most interviewers don't show up late, it's usually a very bad impression" i swallowed and focused my gaze on the desk, avoiding eye contact with her. i could feel ross looking at me. i had told him yesterday about how i'd always struggled with anxiety, especially social anxiety, and how my memories of school had been tainted due to my teachers constantly picking on me.

"any takers?" she said, looking around the room. "come on, don't be shy."

there was a moment's silence before a stern "i'll do it." arose from right beside me. i raised my eyes from the desk to look at him, and he was staring intensely at pauline. she beckoned him to stand up, and he gladly obliged, making his way over to the front. as he tucked in his chair, he sent me a subtle wink, and i sat up in my seat wondering what he had planned.

i watched as he immediately began to tease pauline, asking for the clipboard and the pen, before making a snide comment about how he was glad that she wasn't naked. i suppressed my smile, pressing my knuckle against my lips. i continued to watch the scene, pauline pretending to enter the interview and immediately sitting down.

"would you like to take a seat?" ross said sarcastically, mimicking the tone she always used when belittling us.

"ross is quite right," she said as she jumped up. "you're in the driver's seat now."

"... i know." the look on his face as he clicked the pen and slowly smirked up at pauline made the core between my legs ache, and i pressed my thighs tightly together in an attempt to stop the inappropriate feeling.

---

this new side to ross made me feel things i hadn't felt before. the 'interview' was proceeding, with ross continuously taunting and spiting pauline. making her admit how old she was, asking her if she was an egregious person, to which she agreed, and mocking her for her lack of academic qualifications.

he was being stern and stubborn, and a small piece of me couldn't help but think he was perhaps partly doing this to stick up for me, making me want him even more.

the roleplay drew to a close with pauline cockily standing up extending her hand for a hand shake. "thank you very much, when do i start?"

the smug look on her face quickly vanished when ross scoffed. "i'm sorry, but i can't offer you this position." he went on to say that she strikes him as a bully, is foul-mouthed, under qualified, and above all else, "too old."

i mentally praised him as i listened, grateful that pauline was finally getting a taste of her own medicine. she got quiet and took the clipboard back from ross, before suddenly ripping off the papers that he was making notes on, and began shouting. "you'll eat these words!" she exclaimed, turning to him and physically shoving the screwed up papers into his mouth. "egregious, am i? foul-fucking-mouthed?!"

it all happened too fast, and i watched in horror as he began physically choking, pauline's grip on him was so tight that he could barely fight back. i stood up and ran to them, shouting at pauline to stop and trying to push her off of him. but she didn't budge and continued trying to choke ross, before mickey raised from his seat and shouted at her to "stop being a nutter."

pauline seemed to come to her senses (if that was even possible), and let go of him, before slowly turning around and realising what she'd done. i rushed to crouch down at ross' side and placed my hand on his shoulder as he leant forward in his seat, coughing and spluttering uncontrollably. i watched as he struggled to regain his breathing, and i moved my hand to rub circles on his back in an attempt to comfort him.

eventually, the entire class was slowly filing out, including pauline who didn't say a word as i glared at her. it was just me and ross left, the only noise being his small coughs that he made as he began to calm down. i moved my hand from his back and placed it on his knee, "are you okay?" i said gently, enticing him to look at me.

he took a deep breath and nodded slowly, still staring at the floor. he finally raised his head and stared at me. looking into his eyes, they seemed sad and helpless, before they suddenly changed. they became clouded with darkness and he gave me a look that i couldn't quite read. it was a look i'd never seen before. only then did i realise just how close we were to eachother, faces inches apart. i gulped, not knowing what to do.

all of a sudden, ross stood up, pulling me up with him. his hands met the side of my face as he aggressively pushed his lips against mine, taking me completely by surprise. i squealed against him before i registered what was happening, and began kissing him back. the kiss was sloppy and rough, his lips seeming desperate.

he backed me up against the wall, his hands moving from my face to my waist as he began kissing down my neck. i gripped at his hair, my breathing becoming heavy. he began to bite and suck at my neck and shoulders, careless that there would be definitely be marks there tomorrow. as weird as it sounds, i kind of wanted them to be there, a reminder of whatever this would turn out to be.

i could feel myself growing increasingly wet as he trailed his kisses down my clothed body, slowly getting on his knees. he moved his hands down from my waist to hold onto the sides my thighs, before he suddenly stopped, looking up at me. i nodded, not even sure of what he was doing. but i knew i wanted it anyway. he wasted no time tracing his fingers up my thighs and i watched as they disappeared under my skirt. i felt him playing with the hems of my thong and i groaned, desperate for some friction. he slowly began to pull my panties down, enjoying how much i was growing increasingly frustrated. he pulled them all the way to my ankles and over my shoes, encouraging me to step out of them. he held them in front of his face, observing them.

"so wet for me" he whispered, looking up at my face. i whined and pressed my legs together, much like i had done earlier that afternoon. "no, no" he smirked, forcing my legs apart.

"please" i spoke in a broken whisper, causing him to look back up at me.

"please, what?" he said tauntingly. "i want you to tell me what you want."

"please touch me" i whimpered, feeling tears prick at my eyes.

"well, because you asked so nicely..." i watched as he threw my thong somewhere behind him, and began trailing kissing up the inside of my thigh, lifting my skirt and holding it against my stomach. my breathing became extremely heavy as i waited to feel him where i most desperately needed to.

i gasped as his tongue suddenly flicked against my clit, throwing my head back against the wall at the much-needed sensation. i moaned loudly as his mouth wrapped around my pussy, his saliva and my juices mixing perfectly together.

he ate me so hungrily, liked a starved dog at a buffet. his tongue worked me perfectly, focusing near my entrance, as the rest of his mouth caressed my trembling nub of nerves. my body reflexed and bucked against him, grinding my pussy down onto his face. i moaned loudly as my clit rubbed against his nose, causing him to grip me tighter and force my hips against the wall to stop me. i could tell that he wanted to be in control. i grew excessively louder, my hands forcefully holding onto his head for something to grip on to, as i felt myself already getting close.

i allowed myself to bounce up and down on his mouth, trying to get a bit more friction on my clit. he groaned against me, the vibrations almost sending me over the edge. i felt my climax approaching and i tilted my head upwards, my mouth hung open as i readied to reach the summit. until suddenly, it stopped.

ross pulled away from me and stood up, leaving me panting heavily, and oh so unsatisfied. "what the fuck?!" i complained, only to be ignored. "i was so close."

i watched as he undid his belt, flinging it off along with his blazer, and began unzipping his jeans, through which i could see the huge outline of his bulging boner. he pulled them down to his ankles to expose his boxer briefs that were leaking with precum, and i almost instantly dropped to my own knees to return the favour. i looked up at him, trying to look as sexy as possible as i raised my hand to palm him through the thin material. he screwed his eyes shut and hissed as my fingers played with the head of his penis, and i felt it twitch, begging for more.

i smirked and pulled down his boxers to his jeans, letting his aching member spring free and slap against his stomach. he groaned at the feeling, before i collected the precum from his tip and rubbed it and down his shaft, pumping him a few times. i placed the head in my mouth and began sucking him slowly, using my tongue to expertly swirl around the bottom of his tip. i certainly wasn't an expert, far from it, but from the way i had ross moaning, i don't think he paid any mind.

i began going lower, slowly taking more of him in as i bobbed my head gently. but i must've teased him too long, as he leaned down and pushed the hair out of my face, grabbed the sides of my head and pushed his cock all the way to the back of my throat. my hands flailed to grip on to the sides of his thighs as i tried so hard not to gag. but i didn't have much time to think about it as he began rocking into my mouth, thrusting his hips. he moaned quietly, concentration furrowing in his brow. he began fucking my throat, causing me to choke below him, but i didn't mind. i enjoyed it, actually, knowing he was using me to get his pleasure.

i didn't know my eyes were watering until i felt the tears stream down my cheeks, my mascara probably getting ruined. he carried on for a few more minutes, staring down at me as he continuously told me that i was "taking him so well." he suddenly pulled away again, leaving me slightly annoyed as he had ruined my revenge plan to edge him, just as he'd done to me.

but before i knew it, he grabbed my wrists and pulled me to my feet, bending me over the nearest desk. he held my wrists behind my back as he forcefully pulled my skirt up, rubbing his hardened cock against my dripping folds. we both let out a low moan as he finally entered me, his large appendage filling me up so deeply. i groaned as he slowly began thrusting into me, lowering my head to rest it against the desk below me.

"god, you're so tight" he grunted from behind me, beginning to pound me harder. it burned and it hurt, but in the best way possible. his grip on my wrists was so tight that it was sure to leave bruises by the next morning. the desk wobbled and creaked beneath us as he sped up, the sound of our heavy breathing and skin slapping filled the room. he suddenly pulled me upwards so i was stood, my back against his clothed chest. one of his hands stayed gripping my wrist, and the other ran against my hair, collecting some of it into a loose pony tail, before he pulled it roughly, forcing my head backwards. i felt his head rest on my shoulder, grunting in my ear as he continued to fuck me. it was messy. rough and angry. and i think he just needed to use me to release his frustrations. but it was very good nonetheless. he reached down to give my arse a light, unexpected spank, making me choke on a moan.

"i think. i think I'm gonna... cum" i barely managed to get my words out, ross continuing to ram in to me. he let go of my hair and reached round the front of me, rubbing the pad of his fingers over my clit. i screwed my eyes shut dousing in the extreme pleasure, my mouth hung open silently, unable to vocalise my moans.

"come on," he whispered in my ear, "cum for me." his encouraging words and his fingers still working magic was enough to finish me. "fuck, fuck, fuck!" i moaned loudly and flung my head back against his chest, orgasm finally flushing over me. ross removed his hand and raised it to clamp it over my mouth, trying to stifle my loud profanities. his cock still grinding inside of me, helping me ride out my orgasm.

"fucking hell" he groaned through a laugh. "you're such a good girl." he pulled out breathlessly and gently turned me around, pushing me backwards so that my arse hit the desk and my knees buckled to perch on it. he stood between my legs and held my waist to push me further onto it, allowing me to be more comfortable.

he slowly entered me again, before immediately picking up the pace and ploughing me hard. i cried out, wrapping my legs around his lower torso, my arms holding onto his shoulders tightly. i think i may have trouble walking in the morning. he moaned into my hair, his hands under my skirt cupping my arse cheeks.

i moved my hips forward to meet his, copying his rhythm and grinding against him. "fuck!" he groaned against me, trying to keep as quiet as possible. he played around with the hem of my shirt for a while, looking like he was deep in thought, before he suddenly pulled it up and off my shoulders, discarding it somewhere across the room. he stared at my lace bra, my nipples large and pointed. his mouth gaped open as his hips thrusted erratically and became more sloppy. i knew he was close, and considering i was still extremely sensitive from my first orgasm, i knew i wasn't far behind him.

he began moaning uncontrollably, and the noise was like an angel choir to me. i shoved my face into his shoulder, using his collarbone to try to quiet my own noise. i don't know why, but i had only just realised where we actually were. in a public place, where anyone could walk in or hear us at any time. my hands crawled up under the back of his shirt, allowing my finger nails to dig into his skin, and i let myself go, cumming around him for the second time.

he gasped at the sensation of my pussy clenching around him, and i felt his cock twitch and pulse inside of me. he suddenly pulled out and grabbed my hips, pulling me forward to the edge of the desk and encouraging me to lay down. he held his penis and pumped his fist a few times before cumming all over my naked stomach, "oh, fuck" and "yes" being the only words he could manage. he almost collapsed onto me, my chest heaved as i watched him. I'd never seen something quite so hot before.

after a few minutes of us desperately trying to catch our breath, he stood up and walked over to pauline's desk where there were a box of tissues. he grabbed a few and wiped himself, before pulling up his pants and jeans and bringing the box over to me. i cleaned his mess from my skin and stood up, throwing the dirty tissues in the bin. i wandered around the room to pick up my shirt and my panties before dressing myself. i sighed and ran my fingers through my hair, watching ross as he fastened his belt.

"so... what now?" i questioned with an awkward chuckle, not knowing how to proceed with our relationship after the hottest and most random sex of my life.

"uhh, i don't know. late lunch?" he replied, genuinely suggesting us things to do.

"i could do with a shower, to be honest." i laughed, not really wanting to spend any time in public looking and feeling like a hot mess.

"okay, come back to mine then?" i looked at him, not sure if he was actually being serious, but the look he was giving me told me he was. i didn't really want to, but at the same time, i really did. "we can shower and I'll order us food or something. i need to talk to you, anyway."

he didn't give me much time to respond, as he began dialling his phone and ordering us a taxi. we were stood outside waiting for barbara, ross wasn't saying much and i was worried that i'd made a mistake and had set myself up for a very awkward evening. i mean, what do you actually say to the man who just fucked your brains out, completely unplanned in the middle of the day?

we were soon sat in the cab, ross and barbara speaking about what-not. she tried to include me in light conversation but i couldn't really concentrate. i ended up staring out the window as i began thinking about things. about ross...

yesterday, he kept avoiding my questions about work and why he was at a job centre, eventhough he knew my reasonings as to why i was there. he had invited me out for coffee and paid, just a moment ago he had invited me out for lunch, and when i denied he said he'd order us takeaway, and he has just paid for a cab to his flat. he didn't live very far away from the job centre, only about a 20 minute walk, which confused me beyond belief. don't get me wrong, it's not like i couldn't afford those things. I'm not completely broke. but you'd assume that someone out of work would be trying their hardest to save money if there were other alternatives, such as walking a small distance or cooking a home meal.

i didn't want to think too much about it, or judge his situation, but i was anxious about what he wanted to talk to me about. i thanked barbara and climbed out onto the street. deep down i was secretly grateful that we didn't have to walk, anyway. i'd have been hobbling side-to-side due to the pain down there. thanks ross.

i followed him into his apartment and took in my surroundings. it was pretty nice. i immediately see a kitchen island with bar stools, joining into the living space with a large couch and tv, a bookshelf tucked into the corner. "can i get you anything to drink?" he asked, putting his bag and blazer down onto the kitchen counter.

"uh, just water is fine, thank you." i felt awkward and vulnerable. i just didn't know what to say to him. i tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear as he passed a glass of water to me, and i sipped it gratefully, thankful for the refreshing hydration after the exerting events of our afternoon.

"so... what did you want to talk to me about?" i wasted no time, eventhough i was nervous about his answer. he gestured for me to sit next to him on one of the kitchen stools, and i sat cautiously, my mind racing with what he could possibly say. was it good or bad news? was he going to say that he wanted to see me more often? say he never wanted to see me again? or was he going to announce that he's riddled with STD's and has just passed them all onto me?

i watched as he grabbed multiple papers and what looked like video tapes from his bag. "so i guess i just have to jump straight in..." he began by clearing his throat and knocking the papers against the counter to straighten them.

i grew impatient as i looked at him, searching his face for answers. "now, don't be mad" oh brilliant. whenever a man says that, 9 times out of 10, he's about to say something that would make anyone go ballistic. "but i haven't been completely honest about what i've been up to for the past week."

"what do you mean?" i stuttered.

he let out a sigh, and i assumed he was nervous. which only made me want to shit bricks. "i'm actually employed, and i've been working under cover at the job centre."

of all of the things i thought he might have said, that was certainly not one of them. i sat in shock, my brows furrowed, once again not even knowing what to say. my mind raced again and it began to piece things together. the professionalism. the money.

he noticed that i hadn't said anything and carried on. "i'm an internal investigator. i've been investigating pauline and examining her classes-"

"what?" i cut him off, finally regaining my words. "you... what?" that was all i could seem to manage to say. i stood up from my seat and walked to the other side of the counter, feeling my heart beginning to beat under my chest.

"this is a good thing, y/n." he said, also standing up and beginning to approach me. i scoffed and screwed my face up.

"how? i didn't know that lying and being a faker was a good thing." i felt a range of emotions. confusion. shock. betrayal? maybe that was a bit excessive, but i felt like i suddenly didn't even know him. this man whom i'd been hanging out with and seeing every day, he was a complete stranger. was any of the stuff about his childhood and hobbies that he told me in the coffee shop even true? i had been completely honest with him from the start, finding a friend in him, opening myself up (emotionally and physically...), and this is how he repays me?

"i didn't lie to you, y/n." i resisted the urge to scoff again, but i just looked at him confused. "...withholding of information is not technically a lie." i rolled my eyes and turned away from him, wanting to run out the door and not look back.

a hand rested on my shoulder and i shook it off, walking to the door to try and slip my shoes back on. "y/n, just stop. i meant that it's a good thing because i'm going to have all this evidence against pauline. when i hand this over, she'll be locked up for good." i glanced at him as he was holding everything that he laid out on the counter earlier. "these are recordings. all of the times she was ever rude or picked on you. every time she belittled mickey. every time she... you know. physically hurt me. it's all on here."

ross' pov

i shook the papers and the tapes desperately in my arms, trying to get her to understand. i wasn't even supposed to be telling her this information, it was completely against the rules of the social services. but i trusted her. i wanted her help in being a witness against pauline. and above all else, i just wanted her to know the real me.

she was silent for a long moment, but i could tell her thoughts were racing.

"why didn't you tell me this sooner?" her voice was quiet.

i sighed, wishing i had been truthful with her from the start. "it's company policy. i'm not even supposed to be telling you now. but i trust you, y/n. i really do." i watched as she slowly turned to face me and put her shoes back down on the floor. "i didn't want to hide from you anymore."

"okay, so... what was earlier about, then?" she cradled her arms against her chest, looking nervous. or embarrassed. or both?

"what do you mean?" i wasn't quite sure what she was getting at, but she soon made me feel like an idiot for not understanding.

"oh, you know, when you randomly fucked me?!" her voice was raised. i couldn't tell if she was mad about it, or just mad at me. but surely she wouldn't have come back here with me if she was disgusted and never wanted to see me again.

"i- i just. i don't know, i was angry. i needed something. someone. and you were there being all nice-"

"so you would've just done that to anyone?" she spat, cutting me off.

"no! god, no!" my grip loosened on the evidence against pauline, letting it crash to the floor in a discarded mess. but i didn't care, the only important thing at the moment was getting y/n to understand. "i... i really like you" she looked at me but didn't say anything, so i continued. "i think you're so beautiful. i didn't mean to upset you or anything, and i'm really sorry if i did. i just thought that, i don't know, maybe you liked me too..." i sighed again and looked at the floor, feeling vulnerable and worried that i had ruined the relationship between us.

"i do like you, ross" she spoke so gently, her voice barely above a whisper. "i liked you from the moment i saw you."

i couldn't find any words, i didn't need them, anyway. i walked towards her cautiously, extending my hands towards her face. she didn't move as i used my palms to cup her cheeks, smoothing a piece of hair from in front of her eyes. i leaned forward a little, her eyes glancing from my eyes to my lips.

reader's pov

i fluttered my eyes closed in anticipation, as i leaned towards him, waiting for the gap to be sealed. his lips pressed against mine, they felt small and incredibly gentle, a huge difference to how he was kissing me earlier. i raised my hands to allow my fingers to run through his hair, enjoying the feeling. i smiled against him, wanting to deepen the kiss, but he pulled away.

he rested his head against mine, our noses almost brushing together. "will you help me get pauline fired?" he whispered. all i did was nod.

his lips curled into a small smile. "just five more weeks of torture left, before she gets what she deserves."

"torture?" i questioned, sarcasm lacing my voice. "i think five weeks of seeing me every day will be pure bliss for you" i smirked, allowing my hands to rest on his lower back.

"i think you're right" he whispered, moving to kiss me again. it immediately heated up, my tongue slipping into his mouth. he walked me through the apartment, tongues still intertwined, before softly laying me against the couch. somehow, we both ended up undressed, panting heavily as we explored eachother. my hands raked through his hair as i moaned, his lips kissing down my neck in the same spots he had done not long before. "hold on" he whispered, pulling away from me and quickly running into the next room. he immediately returned, pulling a condom onto himself, making me chuckle. "probably a bit late for that." he laughed lightly and hovered over me, parting my legs with his knee.

"are you ready?" he said, leaning down to peck my lips. i nodded and rested my head back on the cushions, hissing as he stretched me out. "i'm sorry" he cooed, "are you okay?"

i nodded again, tears pricking at my eyes. "you really did a number on me earlier" we laughed against eachother, sharing small kisses as he stayed still inside of me, allowing me to adjust to the feeling. "we don't have to-"

"no, i want to. it should be okay now." he cautiously started rocking into me, moving as slowly as he could. after a while, the stinging stopped, and the pleasure soon returned. he was gentle and loving, only making the experience even more gratifying. our whines filled the apartment, lips moving perfectly together, my fingers rubbing his back and through his hair. no one had ever made love to me the way ross was right now.

we soon reached our highs and we laid exhausted, cuddled against eachother.

"should we go have that shower now?"

[tmwcs]

Heethans reaction to readens miscarriage??? I know it's not the best topic and I'll completely understand if you don't want to write about it<3

"Baby's Breath..."

Warnings: Miscarriage, torment, trauma, depression, fluff, overcoming trauma, learning to move forward.

.............

Pacing back and forth in the room, you wait for him to come back from the store. It normally took him only ten minutes to make a trip, which was perfect considering you've been aching to confirm a gut feeling you've been having, all triggered by certain events that took place.

The last three weeks have been torture, painful in fact. You didn't tell him, since you knew he would have become worried and overwhelming with his sincere affection for you. You weren't sick....at least, not from the viral plagues known to man, instead, you were sick from everything else. Food, your favorites in fact, all made you sick. Scents from candles and plug ins, which had never bothered you, were now something that you couldn't stand and caused you raging headaches. Being in a car, riding along with him by your side, was becoming a triggering event that caused you to become nauseas. Suddenly it hit you one day, while you were in class, when out of nowhere you hurriedly excused yourself from class and rushed into the bathroom, and was ridden over the sink for who knows how long....despite you not eat at all for days following it, you managed to throw up whatever was left in your gut and that's when it began to hit you.

"Am......am I.....pregnant?"

You couldn't be. At least, there was no way. You were always careful to take your birth control pills, yet due to a shortage, you weren't able to actively take it for weeks, but you still couldn't be....not after taking those Plan B pills that you had obtained with the help of H/N. But what if......just what if.....?

So you obtained a pregnancy test, and have been waiting to use it.

............

"Pretty baby, you wanna come to the store?"

"Um...i'm good, i'll wait here for you. I'm going to take a quick shower."'

"Okay, stay here, i'll have the doors locked and my housemates are all downstairs. I'll be back in ten minutes. Don't leave the room."

"Okay."

.............

The moment he left, you made haste and used the test strip. Waiting after wiping the handle clean, your timer finally sets off and you hurried back into the bathroom to view the result.

......."two bars.....that.....the box says that that......oh my God...."

You slowly fall to your knees as your hands rest on the ledge of the counter. It was positive, you were indeed pregnant.

"What am I going to do?....I haven't finished college...I just started....what are my parents going to say?"

Worrying about everything around you, the one and only person you didn't have to be concerned for, was Heeseung. Though he hardly ever expressed his emotions in being a father, aside from looking at impregnating and creating children with you as a symbol of his love for you, a product of your union with him, which would escalate his happiness more than anything, he never really did outline any detailed traits on fatherhood. It was all just merely for the sake of reflecting that you indeed belonged to him.

Walking back over to the bed, you laid down and cradled into a slight fetal position, feeling confused and scared.

"What's going to happen? Is everything going to be okay?"

Hearing his car pull up, you felt the dreadful sense of hearing Heeseung walking in the house, saying hello to his frat mates downstairs before walking up and reaching for the knob. Entering the room, he quietly makes his way over as he sets the bag down on the floor next to the bed, and leans in to caress your face.

"Whats wrong pretty baby? Tired?" He asks sincerely as he notes you laying, yet you were widely awake.

"mm....no...not really.....well..i am actually i just...." You found yourself stuttering and stumbling on your words, not making any sense as he chuckles. "What's wrong baby? Do you want some juice? You need some sugar in your system or do you want to go to sleep early tonight?" his voice was deep yet so tender as he considered all options to bring you to comfort.

".....He-Heeseung......"

"What is it beautiful?"

Reaching up and over his lap, you pull out the drawer to his nightstand and retrieve the test. Handing it to him, you let him observe it for a second before elaborating the meaning behind the results.

"Two bars means........it means......."

"......You're pregnant...." he finishes, as he raises his head and views you with those deep and dark lustful eyes, peering from under he bill of his cap. He neither smiled nor frowned, just looked completely neutral and dazed in his gaze for you.

The moment he said his piece, you broke down and started to sob hard, and uncontrollably.

"Hey, heeeeeeey. Whats wrong? Come here pretty." holding you, he presses his lips atop your head. The oversized tee shirt you wore, which had belonged to him, shrinks up and fits you like a small mini dress as he tugs on your frame and pulls you in against his chest.

"I....I....what am I going to do? I'm not finished with school.....I'm......what about my parents? What am I going to do?"

"Shhhhh...." stroking and petting your head, he deeply whispers....

"First off, not 'I'.....its 'we'.....and I'm going to tell you what WE are going to do.....we're going to be happy." kissing your forehead as he leans your face against his shoulder, he keeps his face turned over towards you as he mumbles against the thatch of your hair covering your ear. "We're going to be just fine. Your parents are going to be happy for us, and I'm going to take care of you. We're going to live life and enjoy the fruits of our labor, even if it is in the form of a baby boy....or girl. Haven't I already made it obvious that I'm always here to make your life easier? Hmm?" moving the pieces of subtle strands away from your cheek, he lays a tender, soft kiss as he mumbles against your skin. "Everything is going to be fine no matter what...I'm excited.....but I would like for you to be as well.....so if you need to take a moment...maybe a day or two to settle, then that's fine. But I promise things are going to work out."

Suddenly hearing his words...his deep tone and the softness in his meaning, you started to feel better......in fact you began to feel excited, and happy. In the end, he was right, your parents were happy, things were fine as he helped plan out your enrollment periods so you could continue to do school online for when the time came you could no longer attend classes on campus. He did make things easier. As always, he made you feel warm, loved, and he did everything right.......if only you had done so right from the start.

................................

Weeks right before you were scheduled to find out the gender of your baby, you felt the happiest. It was so amazing, the feeling and knowing that there was something growing inside, something that was a part of you, and Heeseung. It was forming, growing, and taking after the both of you. Heeseung's seed, his child, his baby, developing and taking nutrients from your body, as you continued to replenish your vitamin intake and focused on making it as healthy as possible. The baby you had formed a close bond, a loving and nurturing relation with, had continued to grow. But when you began feeling sharp pains in your stomach, initially you felt that it was just the weight of your healthy baby growing strong, yet the constant aches grew more and more. Fortunately tomorrow you were to go to your follow up to not only find out the gender, but you could also address your issues with your doctor.

But fate had other plans.....that caused devastation and turmoil in your heart and soul.

..................

"..mmm...mm......AAAH!!!!"

Shooting up and immediately grabbing onto you, Heeseung wakes up to a blood curling scream as you lay next to him.

"Y/n, whats wrong?" Grabbing his phone, he shines the flashlight over you and scans the entire room. "Whats wrong?" leaning over, he whispers into your cheek, thats when he noticed the beads of sweat on your face, your hair damp and your breathing escalating. Lord only knew just how scared he was at that moment. Without even delaying and asking any more questions, he knew he had to get you to the hospital. Jumping out of bed, he throws on a tee shirt, not even bothering changing out of his sweat pants and places on his cap as he migrates back over to the bed to help you out. Flipping the blankets off, he froze for a moment as he takes in the view of what was hiding under the covers. Blood.....so much blood......blotches of thick clots that raged deep red, staining the sheets and bedding.

One particular spot, where at first glance, looked to be a collection of sticky and bloody residue, yet upon closer look as he grabbed his phone and flashed the light over, he saw the one and only thing you had been bonding with for the last 15 weeks.....

Sighing in defeat, brushing his hand over his mouth as he stroked the lining of his lips briefly, he acted fast, all so you wouldn't notice. Taking his shirt off, he gently, yet quickly, collects the product of his love for you and wraps it delicately. Taking a quick glance at you, he brushes the hair away from your face and sets the child aside. Despite it not fully formed, still having a long way to go, yet will sadly never see the day where it would see light and the face of its beautiful mother, it was still.....a child....his child...your child......your baby.

He puts on a new shirt, and collects you, handling you softly as he helps you into his car, and drives you to the Emergency Room. You dipped in and out of conciousness as you vaguely remember the car ride, checking into the hospital, and the nurses dressing you into the patient gown. As soon as you were settled in and laid sleeping, hooked up to numerous IV's as the hospital staff pumps fluids and vitamins to your body, Heeseung remained by your side.

A nurse comes in to conduct the initial examination, prior to the doctors arrival.

"Okay, i'm just going to check on some vitals real quick......can you tell me what the symptoms were again?"

Looking at the woman's face, dead straight on, he doesn't say a word, at least, not with his voice, or his lips.....he spoke with his eyes as he firmly, and sternly locks on a gaze with the nurse, as he quietly and calmly, hands her the fruit of his love for you, all still delicately wrapped up in his t-shirt. Bloodied and stained, his hands appear rusty as the blood starts to dry out and become brown in color. Receiving his stare, the nurse grew intimidated and fearful as she watched the man raise a brow, displaying an eerie and harsh stare as he gestures for her to take the small bundle.

Taking it, the nurse gently holds it close as she takes her pen and notepad, and steps out, not even bothering to force the issue of gaining information. The man's eyes told her all she needed to know, in order to relay to the doctor.

...................

Waking up to the over cast of bright, florescent lighting that beamed into your face, you whimper as you shot up, immediately placing your hands over your stomach. Noting that the small, round bump that had molded in the last few months, was suddenly no longer there, you shook as you began to sob. God, never have you cried so hard....never have you felt that you lost something until now. All those moments when you thought back to the times when you lost your favorite pen, your key chains, your necklace, your shoes, or your favorite photos from your childhood........all those times when you were upset over the loss of things that you held dear...those material things.....you now realized that what you had felt those times....were not loss....this....this right now......this was loss. This was losing. This was losing grip, watching something so dear to you....disappear.....never having the chance to grant it it's first breath, the very thing you had dreamed of whenever you were rubbing your tummy as you read your books and did your homework assignments.

The sound of the door behind the privacy curtains could be heard gently opening and closing. Walking through, you saw Heeseung as he stood tall and sets his gaze on you, his face, was calm, neutral, and staring at you with heavy lids.

"........I.....I lost it.......didn't I?.......I lost.....I lost my baby.....!" at the last bit of your sentence, you feigned a smile as you began to sob uncontrollably, your cheeks drenched with tears.

He remained calm and composed as he walked over to your side, sat next to you and leaned in over you, pressing his lips against your forehead, where they remained, despite you shaking from the hard cries as you dispel your whimpering and depressing sighs of defeat.

"You didn't lose anything......you didn't lose your baby." he softly speaks against your skin. Looking up at him, you furrowed your brows in despair as your tears continued to stream down. "You didn't lose our baby.......please understand...."

Looking off to the side for just a moment, he sighs out as he turns his glance back at you, and softly smirks with a look of sympathy to accompany it. His words that followed suit, was something you didn't know you needed to hear....ever.....but just as usual, despite his overbearing flaws, all due to his love for you, Heeseung came through when you needed him to.....

"Baby.....you did great.....you did wonderful. You were a good mommy.....you were a wonderful mommy......and you would have continued to be the best mommy in the world. Its just....our baby wasn't ready to come into this world......he wasn't ready to be born. Not because of anything you did......because of you, our baby boy thrived and was happy....he was peaceful......he got to know his mommy and saw how much she loved him. He was content with that.....it just wasn't his time......but that doesnt mean he wont be back.....his body might have given up on him, but his soul is still searching for the right time....when he can come and see us."

Stroking your cheek, he caresses your skin as he softly widens his eyes and looks at you with such love and adoration you desperately needed. It took a while.....it took much longer than you would have liked to overcome the series of depression when you recalled the feeling of the pain you felt in your gut that night.

It took a while.....but in the end, Heeseung......the love of your life, was right yet again.......so right. Your baby boy did come back, years later.

He came back with a stronger, much healthier body, and the first moment you kissed his face upon hearing his strong, loud cries in the delivery room, you knew it was your baby....your precious baby. Watching as your son flashes a gummy gape as he cries out under the bright lighting, you rub the tip of your nose and smell his breath. This...this was the moment you waited for.....for so long......the moment where your baby returned to you.....

"Sweet son of mine....I've waited to see you for so long......its so good to see you again......so healthy...so strong......I've missed you so much....I'm sorry we had to say goodbye so early the last time....but now that you're here, i promise we'll make up for all the time that was delayed. I promise to play and laugh with you, and to be the cause of your happiness and strength. I promise that you're going to be alright this time, now that you're here....my sweet, sweet boy......."

Standing off to the side, with his arms crossed and admiring the view, Heeseung smirks. He was thrilled, but contained himself to allow you to have your cherishing moment, knowing that it was long overdue.

"Name our boy, and be happy y/n. You always did so well.....and you continue to do well.....so rest easy and be loved by me and our son. Nothing was lost......just misplaced.....yet found again."

Authors note: Did anyone else cry? I got a bit glossy eyed on this one, ngl, it was so heartbreaking but also heartwarming. I feel like Heethan (despite being an asshole sometimes) really helps teach us valuable lessons and how to cope.

Enjoyed this piece? Show love and treat your girl to a cup of coffee. ♥️ 

☕ Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/reinbow

[nekole-doodles]

I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO POST THE THING I WAS WORKING ON FOR NOVEMBER 16TH!!! I was doing homework until 2am :') Speaking of which, this oneshot is only like- halfway done because I've been bombarded with stuff I need to do for school and I haven't had time to work on it, so sorry about that TvT Here's some context for the AU(this is my first time posting on Tumblr using my computer so sorry if formatting is weird): This takes place in my We'll Meet Again AU where C! Tommy was cursed with immortality by Dream XD and was forced to watch as everyone around him either died or left. By the way, the events of DSMP were set in the late 1700s and the oneshot takes place in the 2020s. In this AU, the Dream SMP took place on a cluster of islands created by XD so that he could have some entertainment and created Dream to basically do the manual work of running the "game," like inviting and interacting with the members. XD hid the islands by surrounding them with a thick fog and altered the currents to push away from the islands to avoid any accidental drifters. To keep people out, they put a large border, similar to Miecraft's world border around the DSMP. The islands within the border functioned differently from the rest of the world. The members were given communicators which work as the chat function and inform people whenever there has been a death. When someone enters the borders of the island or is revived, the message "[Player] joined the game" and only registered "players" can enter the border. There are some other things, but those aren't important for the events of the oneshot. Anyway, after everyone in the DSMP died or left, Tommy decided to venture outside of the borders, so he wouldn't be living in lonely ruins. Cut to more than two decades later, and Tommy is now living on his own in an apartment in the city in the modern day, making the trip back to the Dream SMP every year on November 16th. This is the year before Tommy meets the reincarnations of the DSMP members, for those who, by some slim chance, have read what I have written for the actual multichapter story. And finally, here's what I had so far for the oneshot(I'll probably finish this later at some point for you guys because I haven't even gotten to the important bits yet) This has not been edited so it's basically a word vomit I did in my free time at school and I wasn't able to do much research so sorry for any inaccuracies in lore or names:

Tommy woke up with a feeling of wrongness in the air. A kind of feeling that gets you twitching and fidgeting anxiously, waiting for something. Even though you didn't know what you were waiting for or when it would happen, you just knew something was about to happen.

It was strange because he hasn't had a feeling like this in a while. The last time he did was-… 

Wait.

Tommy practically ripped the sheets off of himself, sat up so fast that he was left disoriented for a moment, and frantically searched for his phone on his crowded bedside table, shoving random trinkets off of its surface carelessly until he finally found his phone buried under the mess. He brought it up and clicked it on, the sudden brightness coming from the screen blinding him for a brief moment. After his eyes adjusted, he looked down at the lock screen and his eyes caught onto the date displayed.

There, glaring up at him as if in a taunt, read “November 16”. Just as his registered the date, a notification popped up, an event reminder:

“November 16th Anniversary: Visit the ruins”

Tommy's gut dropped. It was that time of the year again. 

He turned off his phone once more and let it drop onto the bed. He flopped back down into the mattress with his hands covering his eyes, heels of his palms digging into the socket. Suddenly, he let out a loud groan.

He hated this day, hated how it still gave him this sinking feeling of dread and misery. The actual event was more than two and a half decades ago, he should be long over this by now! He dragged his hands down his face and glared at the blank white ceiling as if it had personally wronged him.

He couldn't believe he forgot about the 16th, just what had he even been doing?! He let out a harsh exhale, got up, and grabbed his phone from where he unceremoniously dropped onto the bed.

He called his boss at the cafe to let her know he had a personal emergency he had to attend to and they thankfully understood before getting dressed for the day.

Hopefully, he still has extra supplies for the boat ride back to the Dream SMP islands. Did he even remember where he kept the boat he bought nearly a decade ago for this specific occasion?

After he got dressed, he began flitting around the house, opening cupboards and grabbing supplies before hastily stuffing them into a duffel bag, not caring about the organization. He grabbed a colorful assortment of flowers from a vase sitting in the living room and wrapped the flowers in paper with care. 

By the time he was all packed, he thankfully remembered where he left his boat, and he began making his way there.

He arrived at a strip of the coast that was surrounded by a thick forest, so people rarely traversed the area. Luckily, his hiding place for the boat had worked as it was still in the same place as where he left it last year, bobbing peacefully in the shallow water and untouched for a whole 365 days.

He cleared off some of the overgrowth on the vehicle and did some basic maintenance, ensuring the boat was still functional enough to carry him all the way to the SMP islands. After everything was in order, he got ready to depart from the shore.

The trip on the sea was a few hours and he knew he was getting close when a thick fog began to surround the boat and the currents were coercing the boat into a different direction. 

When DreamXD created the islands the Dream SMP took place on, they wanted to keep it hidden to those who weren't members, so they surrounded it with fog and made the currents push ships away from the cluster of islands to avoid any accidental drifters. Soon, the blue translucent border of the islands was within sight, stretching up into the clouds as far as the eye could see.

The border felt impending and Tommy's anxiety spiked a bit at the sight of it. He had made this trip many, many times as he'd made a point to visit every year after the first time he was able to stomach visiting the ruins of his once-home in memory of all that he lost.

However, no matter how many times he came back to this place, he couldn't help feeling nervous. He didn't know why he was nervous, there was nothing to be nervous about necessarily, as there was no real danger on the islands anymore.

It was simply a visit to honor his deceased friends and family. Maybe it was just instinct at this point due to the years of living in this place constantly on edge, just waiting for when someone would attempt to kill him.

As the boat washed up on the shore, Tommy got off the boat and retrieved the flowers wrapped in paper. He took a moment to prepare himself for the memories and nostalgia that would likely resurface after all this time away.

He wasn’t ready to revisit the ruins of his life, he thinks he never will be, but Tommy had to keep moving or else he will forever be stuck to this one spot on the shore. 

He took one hesitant step towards the border, then a another to cross it. A familiar box appeared above Tommy’s head as he entered, saying, “TommyInnit joined the game.” At the sight of it, he grimanced, being bitterly reminded of the fact that all of the traumatic events that happened in the Dream SMP were merely part of a game for DreamXD, a source of entertainment, like their suffering was simply an amusing show where their literal lives weren’t at stake.

He ignored the text and continued to step forward, shaky at first, before he gained a steady momentum to keep going and going, letting his instincts carry him to his destination.

It didn’t take long for the Prime Path to come into view, and once he followed that, he was led straight to what was left on his old home, L’manberg. Though- it’s more like L’manhole now.

Tommy just stood at the edge of the crater that L’manberg now was, a great and bright nation reduced to a dent in the earth’s surface. It was a sad sight, as it always will be, but still, to Tommy, it was beautiful. Maybe it was the way nature has begun to reclaim it, maybe it was how the sunlight hit the site just right, the crumbling skygrid allowing most of the light in but its shadows caused inconsistencies in the light, creating sunbeams; scattered spotlights. Maybe it was just Tommy being sentimental. Maybe it was all three.

Tommy found peace in the fact that the L’manberg ruins looked so peaceful despite being blown to smithereens. That the nation was allowed to properly rest, much like the souls of all of the citizens who were once a part of it who literally shed their blood, sweat, and tears to build the nation and fight to protect it.

All souls except one. Tommy. The last remaining soldier.

He wonders if the spirits of his deceased friends found their way back to the country and decided to stick around, feeling the same tie he had that pulled him back to the nation. Or maybe they found another place in the afterlife or out there in the wide world. Though, Tommy was always more connected to the country than the others, as everyone seemed to move on with their lives while Tommy was stuck in the past, so they probably moved on and found another resting place.

Tommy wonders where he’d be if he was dead like the others. Would he come back to what was left of L’manberg, a ghost in the ghost of a nation? Or would he go somewhere else, wander around a forest, surrounded by nature, and make friends with the local critters if they had the ability to see his spirit? That sounded nice. 

However, realistically, he knew he’d probably be back in Limbo, in that desolate void, since he was never that lucky.

Wherever they may be right now, Tommy just hoped they had found their peace, like how L’manhole found its peace, with nature embracing it. He hoped they hadn’t been subjected to an eternity in Limbo.

He wished he could meet with them again in the afterlife, but Tommy knew that was impossible now. He wasn’t even sure that even if he could die, he would be able to reunite with them again, given his personal Limbo and all. 

Before, dying was such a constant threat, especially in the Dream SMP, always looming over him, threatening to take him. But now that he can never die, he didn’t feel that constant threat.

He just felt grief. Grief for those who died much too soon, sooner than they ever should have. He felt grief for even those who turned against him and tried to kill him. He felt grief for the family who left him, not for the first time.

He grieved all of the pieces and memories of his old life that were only held by the ruins and by Tommy. The burden of all these memories of the people he once loved- no, still loves- was a great burden but a welcome one. He will willingly carry the memory of those who had died and all that was lost because it was the least he could do.

Finally, he spurred back into movement, walking to the blue and gold memorial of sorts that was built in the ruins of the original button room. A torn and scuffed L’manberg flag hung from the middle and Tommy had the sudden thought that maybe he should have brought one of the flags he made to replace it… A thought for next time. 

He walked up to the memorial, stopping right before the lapis laid in the ground. When he first started revisiting this place, he sort of treated this as the official grave or memorial of L’manberg.

He noticed the very faint remnants of withered flowers around the memorial from the previous years when Tommy came here. He also saw the items he brought here since they lasted much longer than the flowers. Most of them were his own recreations of symbolic items from L’manberg as he’s made many of those over the years.

This place was also sort of the grave for Wilbur too. Well- one of them since Tommy made a few for him in his first years of visiting the island on November 16th. They all honored the deaths of certain parts of Wilbur, not just the death of his physical body. This one honored the physical death of Wilbur, when his 3rd life was taken.

[theweepingegg]

OP OP! May we know what you do during your 6/7 years after graduation to finally got your job? Any advice? I feel very insecure that my age is gonna be 30’s and i’ll be a new employee and some of the workers here are younger than me and in their early 20’s .. just because I enter college 3 years late and it was covid and so many delay that time so that’s another reason why it took so long to graduate. Love reading your advice and tips! thanks <:)

Nyellow!

First of all, it's okay to have a slow head start actually! Doesn't matter if you're going to be in your thirties, never be ashamed that you started late then others. It's okay, as you do it at your own pace.

During those 6/7 years after graduation, I jump jobs. A lot. And none of them are in my field(Animation).

I can't remember which job was my first after graduation but I was a Sales Assistant, and then a Customer Service. And then when COVID happened, I managed to get a paid Volunteer job at one of the few Covid Vaccines Sites. Then with my Ma's push, I finally got my current job.

Yes, sometimes I feel upset that I'm not working in my current field as soon as possible(Some of my housemates managed to land those jobs after interning) It WAS a struggle. And then you have people criticising you on your academic choices.

Literally, at that point.....I just gave up hope. Give up wanting to do animation. Giving up my dream job. Something I wanted to do when I was 14.

Until one day, my Ma had enough and she dragged me from my previous job that I had started 3 days prior and said I should go and finally do something with my field. She dragged me to this Job Convention.

I was tired, lost all hope but I did what she told me. I dreaded having to do another customer service-y job.

Until I saw one animation studio. Just ONE. Among all the list of companies that were there for the Job Day Convention or whatever you called it.

The same animation studio I had visited when I was still in Uni.

So I went there, got an on site interview.

And before I know it I got another interview on Monday and then there I was finally in the studio.

And here I am still in the same place. I'm almost here for 3 years now.

To be honest, I can't say the moral of the story is to never give up cause I DID give up. But I had support. I had my mother shouting believes I will get the dream job I wanted.

Her comment after I got in? She said "See, I told we'll get something here! If not now, when?"

So I guess having support helps too. Don't be discouraged if your co workers are younger than you. People start at their own pace and take it how they wanted it.

I wish you luck on your future job Anony!

[baek-at-it-again95]

Walk The Plank (KHJ x fem reader)

Chapter 17: Desire

You had grown up hearing tales about the infamous pirate crew ATEEZ—the fearless, power-hungry men that roamed the seas in search of the most valuable treasure they could lay their hands on. You almost didn’t believe the stories your mother had told you as a child...not until you wound up on their ship  

Warnings for this chapter: None? A lot of vulnerability? Some kissing and some crying...I couldn’t hold myself back lol

A/N: We are approaching the end! 🥹😭 I'm so attached...I wish I could just continue this story forever. I've been writing this one for a long time now! I have a Seonghwa fic in the works so hopefully that will be out soon <3 🤧 I love you all so much and I am truly so grateful! Also, happy San day!!!

Previous: Chapter 16, Masterlist

Chapter 17: Desire

How are you going to tell them that you need to destroy it...

You hadn't noticed until now how well you handled the jump back to your universe. You had not experienced difficulty breathing or feelings of overwhelming panic. Perhaps you've finally adapted to using your ability. You have used the Cromer frequently enough to begin understanding it. Unfortunately, now that you've accomplished that, you have to get rid of it.

You sigh as Jongho places his hand on your shoulder, tearing your gaze away from the Cromer. You'll tell them soon...you just want to enjoy your moment with your crewmates.   

"Y/N, I am so happy to see you," Jongho says.

"I am happy to see you too, Jong." You smile, nudging him. "I was only away for two days, but it felt like an eternity without you all." Jongho's eyebrows scrunch together.

"Two days?"

"What, was it three?" you question.

"Y/N, you were gone for eight dreadful days and nights," Yunho says.

"What?" you exclaim.

"Time must move a bit differently in the world you were in. Fascinating," Seonghwa says.

"Not fascinating. Dreadful," Yunho repeats.

"That did not happen the first time, did it?" 

"No, you were gone for mere minutes the first time," Seonghwa states.

"Y/N, may I have a word with you?" Hongjoong interrupts.

"Yes, actually there was something I needed to discuss with you as well." He nods, placing his right hand at the small of your back to guide you. You enter his cabin and carefully shut the door behind you. It has become your safe place, really.

"Joong I—"

"Y/N." He takes your face in his hands again, the side of his cool metal hook pressing into your soft cheek. "I just needed a moment with you. I cannot even begin to imagine what you have been through. It must be overwhelming."

"You know I can handle myself, Joong." You give him an assuring smile. He pulls you into a hug, this time much calmer than before. You melt into his arms, your hands grabbing the fur of his coat tightly. As turn your head to the side in your embrace, you catch a glimpse of the absolute chaos on his desk.

It was bad before, but this? More papers and maps than you have seen in your lifetime are sprawled across the table, journals and pens and navigation tools littered everywhere. "Oh my," you say quietly, leaving his hold to get closer to the desk.

"It was difficult trying to research a way to get to you," he explains. "We are so relieved you were able to get back here yourself." You pick up a familiar journal opened on the desk. As you scan over it, you notice it's the story you had written detailing how you ended up on their ship. A small piece of paper falls from the journal and back onto the desk. In black ink, there are sketches of you. One is a picture of you reading a book, and another smaller one is of you with your hair ribbon. 

"Did you draw these?" you ask him, taking the paper to examine it closer.

"Yes," he mumbles. "You were all I could think about, Y/N." You blink back some sudden tears and quickly set down the paper before you can ruin it. "I will not let you out of my sight again." This time, you take his face in your hands. 

"I know, Joong," you whisper. "I know." You pull him into a quick, gentle kiss. 

As you pull away, you see his eyebrows are scrunched with worry, and you trace your fingers over his features. Your fingertips caress his chin, his cheek bone, and eventually, his eye patch. The tips of your fingers trace the band above his ear, where you slide your finger beneath it. Hongjoong's jaw seems to clench at this, but he does not stop you. Still, you don't wish to pressure him. You love him, whether you see all of him or not. You begin to lower your hand, but he takes it, placing it right back where it was. He nods as you look at him with surprise. With a small smile, you pull at the strap and lift it ever so carefully. 

Once you remove the leather and set it aside, you take in his face. You had been expecting some kind of scar...perhaps even no eye at all. But what you find is that his iris and pupil are clouded. Hongjoong avoids looking at you for the first time ever. 

"You are beautiful, Hongjoong." He meets your eyes, surprise etched across his features. You give him an assuring smile.

"I have never thought so. I was cursed a long time ago, after making a foolish deal with someone I thought I could trust. They took my sight." He sighs, pausing. "It is rare to encounter those that use magic for good anymore." 

"You are still you, Hongjoong. Nothing less. You are beautiful, regardless." The man in front of you suddenly closes the small distance between you, desperately kissing you as if you would be swept away any moment. You place your arms behind his neck and his strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you protectively. You feel safe and warm in his embrace. The moment is blissful, and you wish he would never let go. But when you break for air, you remember why you agreed to have a word with him in the first place. 

"Hongjoong, perhaps it is not the right time," you say breathlessly. "Not that I wish to stop this...just remember that I have something to tell you."

"Yes, darling. What is it?" You bite the inside of your cheek, nervous about how he might react.

"It is about the Cromer," you start. He tilts his head.

"What about it, Y/N? You can tell me." 

"I was told that we should destroy it."

"Destroy it?" Hongjoong repeats, looking at you as if you are not quite serious. "Who told you that?"

"You—the other Hongjoong. He explained that once we rid ourselves of it, the Guardians will not be able to locate us as easily, if at all. It was upsetting to hear, but it does seem like the best thing to do to keep each of us safe. We have all experienced some kind of danger with it, Joong." Hongjoong looks at you with an unreadable expression, and you shift nervously. "Please say something," you whisper. 

"Y/N, think about what you are saying. We have put infinite time, energy, and resources towards getting this artifact. To give it up is mad!"

"But if we do not have it, the Guardians cannot find us. They cannot take anyone. They cannot take me!" Your voice cracks, and your vision becomes blurry as tears well in your eyes for what feels like the hundredth time that night. "I just want to be with you, Joong. It is difficult to give up something that we searched so hard for but you are more important to me." You're crying harder now, your hands trembling at your sides as you grip the fabric of your skirt tightly. "I do not care about magic. I do not care about treasure. I found what I want and it is you!" you exclaim. You lower your gaze, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand and watching as your tear drops hit the floor pitifully. 

Hongjoong is then right in front of you, lifting your chin gently. "I love you, Y/N." You look at him in awe, a bit taken back. "I ask that you forgive me for not understanding at first. I see why this decision must be made." He wipes your tears with his thumb, looking at you with all the care in the world. "Do not cry, darling. It will be alright." You can't bring yourself to speak, only nod at him. 

Hongjoong places a kiss to your forehead before turning to his desk. You watch as he picks up his eyepatch and you hurry over, taking it from him to help him put it back on. 

"I love you too, Hongjoong."

*** 

You stay in the cabin until the captain is done explaining the situation to the crew. Not wanting to witness their reactions to the news, you pace around in circles until they are done. You are feeling a bit tired, but you'll manage. "Y/N!" Mingi's deep voice calls you from outside.

You take a deep breath and step out into the moonlight, your favorite people gathered closely.

"Yes?"

Yeosang hands you the Cromer. "Will you do the honors, my lady?" 

"Are you sure we should not just toss it overboard?" Yunho asks. 

"We could, but think about the suffering of those who might find it in the future," Jongho says. 

"I could live with that," Wooyoung chimes in. 

"Silence," Hongjoong demands. "Go ahead, Y/N." You stare at the hourglass, the gold gleaming under the bright full moon. This is it. This is a decision for the better. With a heavy heart, you raise the fragile object above your head and drop it to the ground. Fragments of glass shoot outward like stars across the deck. Your father's entire life of research, shattered at your feet. Your captain's research. The guilt hurts, but the thought of being separated again from everyone that you have come to love in this world...that hurts more.

You watch in silence as Hongjoong pulls his hook through the dented gold frame and swings it overboard. Seeing it feels unreal. It makes you think of the other Hongjoong, and what he must be doing. Is he safe too? You hope everything works out for him. 

Exhaustion hits you hard out of nowhere, and you reach out to San beside you. It seems like your travel did have an effect on you, just not immediately. 

"Woah there." San picks you up, his arm tucked behind your knees.

"Tired already, princess?" Wooyoung asks, heading for the crew's quarters and motioning for San to follow. "You're out before we even got to start drinking." He giggles. Your eyelids feel heavy, closing before you can manage a response.

"Be careful with her," you hear Hongjoong warn.

"Got it, Captain!" San says, his footsteps heavy on the steps leading below deck. 

Taglist: @foxinnie8 <3

[obsoleteozymandias]

Pretty sure I saw somewhere you were familiar with Off by Mortis Ghost. May I humbly ask you for some headcanons of the dorm leaders with a reader that's Basically a Zone 1 elsen?

It's ok if you don't want to also

Anon ANON *grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you* I need you to know that this ask specifically is what made me return to my inbox today. 

Here’s what I’m thinking in terms of this: A reader would be a student with magic who is extremely shy, hardworking, and emotionally distant/blank. They don’t have much of a presence at school, and tend to blend in. 

But one day - everything happening to them (whatever it is, I’ll leave up to your imagination) leads to them overblotting, much like an elsen - their mouth spewing blot like smoke until it consumes their head and turns them into a specter/overblot form.

So for the sake of this ask, I’ll divide it into two parts per person: pre-blot and post-blot. I’ll also assume you’d be a member of their dorm. Also warning: this is long. 

== Twisted Wonderland Headcanons ==>

+Elsen!Reader

Riddle Rosehearts: 

Pre-Blot: Riddle notes your very shy personality quickly, picking up that you seem to actually be fond of rules and work. He admires your persistence, and finds a kindred spirit in your dedication to organization. But underneath that all…he gets the feeling there is an immense weight you carry on your shoulders, much as he did. He pays extra attention to you after that. 

Post-Blot: Riddle is the first to your aid after the blot. He’s the one in the infirmary, watching over you like a hawk. Some part of him thinks this is his fault. He’d gone through something similar, so why couldn’t he see the signs? 

As much as he despairs, when you wake and assure him you’d tell him anything and everything in the future, he seems to calm down. 

He’s at your side constantly after that, checking in on you and making not-so-subtle gestures to show he cares with a slight blush dusting his cheeks. 

Leona Kingscholar: 

Pre-Blot: Before you overblot, Leona honestly doesn’t even notice you exist, aside from noting the way you scurry about and wince at his shouts. He’s too busy being in charge, and dreading never being in charge of his own life. 

Post-Blot: Leona seems to take an almost analytical interest in you after you overblot. He was there in the infirmary briefly when you first woke, but after that he was scarce. Despite that, you’d catch him watching you from across the cafeteria tail swishing. 

Eventually, he corners you, and though you don’t grasp the whole talk due to being absolutely terrified of him, you come out of the conversation with a strange sort of mutual understanding. 

He’ll be on the lookout for you after that, and you can feel his eyes follow you wherever you enter a room. 

Azul Ashengrotto: 

Pre-Blot: Of course Azul knows your name, he knows everyone in his dorm (and everything about them he can leverage). You’re also one of the most diligent workers the lounge has seen in a long time, although you tend to fumble when talking to customers. Regardless, he acknowledges your hard work, although you rarely catch his eye. 

Post-Blot: Azul intentionally distances himself from you after your overblot. He suddenly seems to be busy whenever you’d normally speak to him, which, admittedly, wasn’t often. And yet you catch him staring at you more often, and your work shifts have lightened up, and suddenly you have a lot more free time. 

One of those times he invites you into his office, wherein he seems to…check in on you? But in a terribly roundabout and awkward way, like an estranged father. It’s awful, but by the end of it, he seems to be relieved to hear that you’ve recovered. 

Thus, weekly meetings in his office to just chat become a reguar thing. And soon, you even manage to talk about something other than work. 

Kalim Al-Asim: 

Pre-Blot: Kalim picks up on your antisocial and avoidant personality quickly. He won’t push you too much, but whenever he sees you he’s eager to invite you to this part or that party, whichever one! He just wants to see you smile, rather than the near constant grimace you seem to have on your face. Given his empathetic nature, though, and his past with Jamil’s overblot, he does begin to pick up on your exhausted wheezes and the empty look in your eyes just a little too late. 

Post-Blot: Kalim is at your side the instant you wake, and is showering you with attention and care all throughout your recovery. He makes sure you’re always comfortable, fed, and taken care of. He makes sure you want for nothing, and yet the guilt of having yet another person he was supposed to care for overblot weighs on him heavily. 

One night, as he talks to you about his day, he begins crying, unable to stop the guilt he’s been keeping inside. And when you reassure him and smile at him in that strange way you’ve always done, something in his brain clicks. 

You two are near inseparable after that, and even Jamil seems to get a bit of time off from watching Kalim as he hangs out with you. 

Vil Schonheit: 

Pre-Blot: Let’s be honest, no matter how beautiful you are, Vil will see you as an ill fit for Pomefiore at the beginning. Your constant dour mood, the way your shoulders slouch, and the strange way you don’t seem to talk in anything but a rasp not only unnerves him, but agitates him. He focuses on you like he does Epel, and though you follow his every word and command to a T, he can tell that there is something deeper beneath the surface. And one day, he pushes you just a bit too hard - if only to get a glimpse of whatever it is you have hiding under your strange demeanor. Chaos ensues. 

Post-Blot: Vil is in the infirmary when you wake up, but seems to be almost unaffected by what happened. For a few days, it's almost as if it never happened to him. And then one evening, he comes and sits next to you in your bed, and though its clear he had words prepared for this moment, he seems to lose them as he looks at you. And so he speaks from his heart. 

After your conversation, Vil keeps a watchful eye on you, and, much to his chagrin, he finds himself jumping to your defense at even the smallest slights or comments (in a very elegant and almost subtle manner). 

There’s an unspeakable bond between you two, in his mind. You followed in his destructive footsteps, and he’s determined to stop you from being hurt just as he had. He wants you to be better than him: to shine as he knows you were meant to do. 

Idia Shroud: 

Pre-Blot: Idia doesn’t seem to notice you at first, but between him being housewarden and your shared gloomy nature, you almost form a friendship with him, although it’s stunted and awkward. You’re one of the few people who he trusts to enter his room, and you soon have something of a routine of doing work together. You still jump when he laughs too loud, and sometimes his eccentricities freak you out, but he’s pleasant enough company for you. He assumes he’s done something wrong when you don’t show up for your hnag out time one day. Then he hears what’s happening, and his heart drops. 

Post-Blot: Idia is by your side before and after you wake up (well, at least his tablet is). He chatters to you in a way that concerns the other dorm heads, almost as if he’s afraid of what would happen in the silence between you two. He visits you in person when you assure him no one else is around, and you notice the dour look on his face, even more so than usual. 

Idia admits that he feels bad for not noticing the signs despite having overblotted himself, and seems to almost cave into his self-loathing in an instant. And yet you reassure him, and tell him it’s not his fault, and that you care about him, and that you’re glad he cares about you enough to visit. He insists, of course he’d visit you! You’re one of his best friends!

From there, you and him grow infinitely closer. Whether it’s eating breakfast together or playing games together, you two can be seen with each other at almost every hour of the day. 

Side note, but Ortho is delighted to see his brother attend class in person if only to sit next to you and chat face to face. 

Malleus Draconia (assuming pre-overblot for Malleus for the sake of simplicity here):

Pre-Blot: Malleus isn’t the kind to know every member of Diasomnia’s name. He’s busy, and more importantly, he’s important. Even if you wanted to speak to him, he’s got an entourage that would keep you away unless it was absolutely necessary (COUGH COUGH SEBEK COUGH). Lilia mentions your strange demeanour to him one day, and though he brushes it off, he does notice the slouch of your shoulders amongst the crowds of students, and the way you wheeze as you speak, as if life itself tired you out.

Post-Blot: Malleus isn’t much present after you overblot, being very occupied with his duties and studies, but strangely enough, Lilia is there at times. He seems to be watching over you for one reason or another, and though he does to cheer you up and help you recover, you suspect that he may have an ulterior motive. 

Malleus will check in with you shortly after you overblot, asking how you’re doing, genuinely interested in your wellbeing. He may be distant, but Malleus makes sure to listen intently, and even sends you an assortment of items to make you feel better. 

Just let it be known that when Malleus overblots, the Diasomnia dorm would be all the better off to have you in it.

[jujumin-translates]

★ Main Story | Act 13 - Budding Spring | Chapter 28 - Welcome Home

Itaru: (This is bad. I can’t get a taxi at all. And the line’s not letting up either… Got one shot at this left. Hopefully there’s a car rental place somewhere near he--.)

Sakuya: Itaru-san! Welcome home!

Itaru: --.

Masumi: You’re late.

Citron: We have come to pick you up~!

Chikage: Good work.

Tsuzuru: Your flight being delayed was some astronomically bad luck.

Itaru: Huh? What? What are you doing here? What about the play? No, you guys can’t all be here!

Sakuya: We were so worried that we couldn’t help it, so we might be trying for a bit of an impossible wish here.

Chikage: We decided to run through our lines in the car so as to not waste time.

Masumi: Director was supposed to be the first one I drove around…

Tsuzuru: You were a really safe driver, Masumi, just like we thought you’d be, so don’t worry about it.

Itaru: No way, you guys came to pick me up… Isn’t this like an insanely risky move?

Chikage: All’s well that ends well.

Tsuzuru: You weren’t able to catch a cab, right?

Itaru: Well, you guys doing this is definitely a huge help.

Itaru: Wait, why do your faces look darker than normal…? What did you guys eat?

Tsuzuru: Your face won’t get darker just from eating something! It’s just makeup!

Masumi: We were trying to save time.

Itaru: Gotcha.

Citron: Itaru, this is not the time to be the funny man!

Itaru: Says you…

Chikage: Well, if you’re up to doing that, then there’s no need for us to be worried.

Sakuya: Alright, let’s hurry! Everyone’s waiting for us!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Manager: Thank you very much for coming to see MANKAI Company’s Spring Troupe’s performance “Romeo and Julius ~Rosso e Blu~” today.

Manager: Please remain patient until the start of the show.

Towa: …

Audience Member A: I wonder what’s going to happen in the sequel.

Audience Member B: Do you think everyone’s got the same roles they had in the first one?

Audience Member A: MANKAI Company’s first sequel, I’m both really excited for it and dreading it…

Audience Member B: I know, right!? I saw RomiJuli back when it first ran, too, and I’m like the biggest Romeo oshi ever…

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

momo has entered the chat.

shiki: Oh? I thought you were going to go see the performance on opening day today.

Iv: smth with all the fuss you were making abt the ticket gods?

momo: Had to come take refuge here because I was literally about to explode from how badly I wanted to join the conversation of the person sitting next to me

Kar: That sure is a reason lmao

Iv: ur being real sus

momo: I was really surprised when they announced they were doing a sequel for RomiJuli, but I totally get what they’re saying about having mixed feelings of both anticipation and anxiety, and to be honest I’m really looking at it with that much excitement too

momo: I can’t stop thinking about what the sequel to my favorite play ever is gonna be like, like I think I’d literally die of shock if they change my oshi’s role

Iv: i ain’t reading all that, happy for u tho, or sorry that happened

momo: Also since I got to see what goes on behind the scenes at the workshop, actually coming to the theater now makes it seem even brighter when it’s got all performance stuff up and running

momo: I can like actually sense just how many people are working behind the scenes and now I’m already filled with a lot of feelings before the show’s even started, I wonder if my heart is gonna m

Kar: momo’s been stabilized

shiki: I’m guessing it just started? Have fun!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Towa: Phew…

Towa: (I feel a little calmer.)

Audience Member A: It’s almost time for the show to start, but it still hasn’t started yet?

Audience Member B: It feels like they must be rushing to get ready. I wonder if something happened.

Towa: (Huh, trouble? I wonder if everything’s okay??)

Audience Member A: That reminds me of the time when Autumn Troupe was rushing to get ready in time so Summer Troupe gave a super long pre-show introduction to stall for time.

Audience Member B: Oh yeah, I watched the stream of that performance!

Audience Member A: I wonder if they’re all working super hard behind the scenes right now.

Audience Member B: I’m wishing them the best of luck.

Towa: (Good luck to all of Spring Troupe and the staff members too…!)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

*Door slams open*

Sakuya: Sorry for making you wait! We’re here!

Izumi: Thank goodness! Welcome home!

Yuki: You’re late!

Azami: You’re late.

Itaru: There’s the third strike…

Azami: Just hurry up and sit down so I can do your makeup.

Tsumugi: I’m glad you made it just in the nick of time.

Itaru: No, this time it was really thanks to everyone else’s help. This never would’ve happened without them…

Izumi: But you still made it, right?

Itaru: True. But I’ve still got that high I got from meeting an overseas fan running through me.

Itaru: I feel like we could still set out on a journey across the world. Now all I’ve gotta do is just not worry and put that energy into Spring Troupe’s performance.

Izumi: I can’t wait.

Itaru: Ah, well, don’t expect too much from me, I’ve still got jet lag and fatigue nerfing my stamina. I’m relying on you guys for support.

Tsuzuru: But there wasn’t even that much of a time difference?

Citron: It is better than him trying to hide it and then freezing up on stage, at least~!

Masumi: I feel like something like that happened during our debut performance.

Itaru: Perhaps.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Manager: The show will be beginning shortly!

Itaru: Okay, okay.

Chikage: We managed to make it just in time.

Tsuzuru: Yet another time we were all rushing to be ready.

Sakuya: I feel like we’re all back on this stage with new feelings after we all took on different challenges in preparation for the new Fleur Award.

Sakuya: The first time I stood on stage was one of them, but I’m sure there will be a lot more “firsts” in the future.

Sakuya: I can remember the feelings from back then over and over again. The trembling courage to dive into a new world--.

Sakuya: Let’s always take on our “firsts” with positivity and all have fun together as Spring Troupe!

Citron: Yes!

Tsuzuru: Let’s do it.

Chikage: Right.

Itaru: I’m ready whenever you are.

Masumi: Let’s go, Romeo.

Sakuya: Yeah! Onwards, to our journey!

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