#but I still needed to express my FEELINGS

[muniimyg]

♡ 04: how you're lookin' at me, yeah, i know what that means and i'm obsessed

series m.list // taglist

note: a wild ride…. good luck y’all ,, THANKS FOR 1K 😻 my kitty is happy !!! hauwhahahahaa this part is lengthy so pls take a mfking SEAT. pls lmk what y’all think ,, send in asks 🫵 we’re headed towards the finale 💛 much wuv !!

warnings: tension/tampo vibes (whats that in english? lol) ,, male masturbation (jk gets himself off as he recalls oc slapping him) ,, jealousy (lots of it. like 90% of this part is filled with it) ,, oc has a hickey ,, angst ,, and a little mwaamwaaaa moment :')

//

life sucks. 

for jungkook, at least. 

it’s been almost a month since the incident, and you’ve done everything in your power to avoid him.

the memory of the fight—the words exchanged, the way he said your name—still lingers in the air between you like smoke, suffocating and inescapable.

at first, jungkook tried.

he texted you the next day and every day after that. his messages were hesitant and apologetic... and each one was left unanswered.

nerd [11:11PM]: ___, can we talk? sent nerd [11:28PM]: please? sent nerd [12:01AM]: i’m sorry. i mean it. sent nerd [12:03AM]: it wasn’t even like that. not with her.  sent nerd [1:09AM]: ik i’m gonna sound like a total douche no matter what so let me do it please sent nerd [1:15AM]: let me say sorry, let me fuck up, let me make it up to u sent nerd [2:01AM]: i really hate begging  sent nerd [2:01AM]: but i really hate u not wanting me even more seen

he did try to call though.

just once.

the ringtone barely lasted before he hung up, realizing how futile it was.

at one point, he showed up at your favorite coffee shop one afternoon. he sat alone by the window with an untouched drink, waiting. 

his eyes flicked to the door every time it opened, a glimmer of hope lighting his expression for a split second before fading when it wasn’t you.

after two hours, he left.

but now, almost four weeks later, jungkook has stopped trying (so hard).

it wasn’t a sudden decision, more of a gradual acceptance that whatever connection you’d shared—whatever you’d been to each other—was slipping through his fingers.

he told himself you needed time, that maybe this space was what you wanted, what you deserved. and so, he gave it to you.

he told himself it wasn’t the end. 

it couldn’t be.

he refuses for it to be. 

this is just… complicated. 

he gets that.

he's a smart guy after all!

but late at night, when the world was quiet and he was left alone with his thoughts, the weight of your absence pressed against his chest like an ache he couldn’t soothe. it... burns? it throbs in this aching rhythm that he can't quite figure the melody to.

jungkook thinks about the way you banter with him and how much it makes his day. how closely you sit next to him. how effortlessly you mesmerize him… 

how you flirted with him for a few days and now he's malfunctioning. how he spent the last month memorizing every detail of those days and can't get over it. he has convinced himself you're into him...  

like, remember how your fingers would brush his when you handed him something? that meant something, right? or how about the way you looked at him and tilted your head? shit, yeah.

that meant something.

fuck, the way you laugh and throw your head back and he gets a glance at your perfect neck—how he wants to leave kisses on it. how he… 

how he had you. 

for a moment, he really had you. 

under him, tangled, and messy. 

how he was so close to your lips. 

he should’ve kissed you. 

he should’ve locked the fucking door. 

he should’ve ran after you even more. 

but he didn’t…

and now? 

now you aren’t even around. 

he recalls what taehyung said to him night at the arcade. taehyung's words rub into his wound like salt. it stings. it makes him feel sick to his stomach and he just... get can't stomach it.

“she isn't gonna stick around forever... especially with all the shit you pull…”

there are no words to describe how incredibly helpless he feels.

if anything, he goes through circles in his mind; completely in disbelief he could fuck up this bad with you.

he hates that he can't think straight. he hates that he can't study properly. he hates that he stopped tutoring and even got in trouble with his profs for letting them down (they really counted on jungkook to help other students out).

he hates that he can't fucking breathe lately.

he can't sleep.

he can't eat.

jungkook hates the growing distance, but more than that, he hates how much it hurts.

he hates how much he wants to fix things even when he doesn’t know how. he just knows he wants to. god, fuck it—

fine. 

he hates how much he misses you.

but most of all, he hates that he was wrong. 

it was entirely his fault. 

jungkook hates it all.

by chance, you and jungkook run into each other. 

the scene is perfect.

it's the perfect set up to cry over when you get home—that is.

the rain starts just as you’re leaving the library, soft at first but quickly turning heavier. you don’t expect to see him—not here, not now—but there he is, standing under the awning of the café across the street, shaking out his umbrella. the door chimes as you step outside, and he looks up.

for a moment, neither of you move, caught in the heavy stillness of the moment.

jungkook freezes when he sees you. 

his eyes widen briefly, then soften into something cautious, hesitant. he tucks his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, fingers flexing nervously against the fabric as he steps forward.

“hey,” he says, his voice careful, like he’s offering a truce.

the sound of him makes your heart clench, the warmth in his tone threatening to undo you. but you don’t let it show. you nod once, lips pressed into a thin line, and move to step around him.

“wait—” his hand shoots out, not to grab you, just to stop you. his fingers hover midair, unsure if he even has the right to reach for you anymore. “___, please?”

the rain is falling harder now, pooling on the sidewalk and soaking into the edges of your shoes. you glance at him, taking in the way his hair clings to his forehead, the way his hoodie looks just a little too big on him, like he hasn’t been sleeping well or eating much.

“can you not pretend like this is a coincidence?” you ask quietly, refusing to meet his gaze. 

he stays silent. 

it wasn’t. 

truth be told, he’s been waiting outside for almost 45 minutes. he didn’t even know if you were at the library today… he just had to wait and find out for himself. 

"do you have an umbrella?" he asks, breaking the silence. 

"what—"

"here." 

he cuts you off, pushing the umbrella toward you.

you blink, startled, as he places the handle firmly in your hand. your fingers wrap around it instinctively, the metal cool against your palm.

"jungkook—" you start, your voice faltering.

he shakes his head, stepping back into the rain without a word. the downpour hits him almost instantly, soaking through his hoodie as he shoves his hands into his pockets and starts walking away.

you stand there, the umbrella trembling in your grip, watching him go. the rain comes down harder, cascading off the awning above you, but you barely notice. your gaze stays locked on him—on the way his shoulders hunch against the storm, on the slow but steady steps that carry him farther and farther away.

something tightens in your chest. 

maybe it’s regret or maybe longing… but as his figure grows smaller and the storm swallows him—you feel it.

the warmth of his lingering presence and the chill of it all—

—of your favourite almost.

a few days later, jungkook finds his umbrella in his bedroom. 

he takes out his phone to send you a text, prepared to humiliate himself and to beg for a second of your attention. he’d trade all tonight’s focus for a moment of you.

just as he picks the umbrella up, he finds a note. 

___ told me to give it back to you. she says thanks (whore). ps: she said don’t text her. — taehyung

jungkook sighs. 

does he listen? 

obviously not. 

nerd [6:19PM]: don’t tell me what to do  nerd [6:20PM]: i hate this nerd [6:21PM]: u should’ve jus kept the umbrella. giving it back to taehyung and telling him to tell me not to text u is sick.  seen. nerd [6:22PM]: reply pls seen.  nerd [6:26PM]: fine. i’ll jus talk to myself  nerd [6:31PM]: i miss u sm i jerked off the other night thinking abt the way u slapped me  seen nerd [6:33PM]: come on, kitty  nerd [6:34PM]: promise to think abt me tn :(  nerd [6:35PM]: cos i’m gonna think abt u tn nerd [6:36PM]: ignore me if u want proof  typing…  nerd [6:37PM]: kitty? seen nerd [6:40PM]: fuck. nerd [6:41PM]: how do u get me so fucking hard thru text? maybe i jus miss u too much  nerd [6:42PM]: excited for my proof?  seen nerd [6:45PM]: ft?  seen nerd [6:46PM]: keep seenzoning me and i’ll cum typing... seen ___ has notifications silenced

but it's too late.

jungkook meant it.

he's sat on his gaming chair, cock heavy.

his phone is out with that group picture from the arcade (zoomed into you) as lewd thoughts of you fill his mind. jungkook runs his thumb across his tip, hissing at the way it feels over his slit. 

he flicks his wrists, gripping his dick with just enough pressure to grow the hardness. it’s already stiff and he can feel the need to cum—but he just can’t.

he can’t without thinking of you. 

so, his eyes flutter shut as his memories of you replay in his mind. 

from the way your lips winced when he ate you out—to the way that mini skirt looked on you that day. he thinks about the way you say his name; in any and every way. angry, teasingly, and desperately… he thinks about how pretty it sounds rolling off your tongue. 

how pretty you looked under him.

how good you smelt when he kissed your neck. 

how close you sat next to him—fingertips lingering... god, what he would do to be close to you again. 

jungkook thinks about the slap. 

how hard your palms hit his cheek and how angry you looked at him. despite the negativity surrounding the situation—he can’t help it. 

you looked so hot. 

it just… gets to him. 

before he knows it, his hand is covered in his sticky cum. 

he’s a loser—a nerd in your words. 

he always has been… and here he is; jerking himself off to the pretty girl he lost his chance with.

the night is supposed to be nothing special. 

for jungkook, it’s just another event for his precious marine conservation club—a fundraiser, a schmooze-fest for potential investors, and a chance to hand out awards to appease the donors. sure, he’s getting an award, but it doesn’t feel like much.

the room buzzes with polite conversation and clinking glasses. jungkook adjusts his tie for the hundredth time, barely paying attention to the speeches and presentations. he stands off to the side with the other club members, blending into the background until his name is called.

“jeon jungkook, for outstanding contributions to marine conservation and innovation. mr. jeon has been working towards innovative chemical solutions for marine conservation, focusing on sustainable practices to protect endangered species like dolphins, and developing eco-friendly alternatives to reduce their environmental impact.”

the applause is polite but hearty.

jungkook steps onto the stage, the spotlight hitting him square in the face. as he accepts the plaque, his gaze instinctively sweeps over the audience—and then it stops.

you’re here.

sitting with the guys, casually chatting like you belong there, like you haven’t been avoiding him for a month and a half (at this point).

his heart trips over itself. 

he’s not even sure if it’s relief or panic or something else entirely, but it rattles him. he forces his attention back to the microphone, holding the plaque in his slightly sweaty hands.

“uh, thank you,” he begins, his voice steady enough, though his pulse is anything but. “our club’s mission has always been to protect and preserve marine life through education, community projects, and outreach. with this award…”

his eyes flick back to you. 

you’re laughing at something taehyung just said, your smile bright, your whole demeanor light and carefree.

“…we want to focus on…”

he falters, the words slipping from his mind as his gaze lingers on you.

“…we want to focus on… f-focus…”

a ripple of laughter spreads through the audience. someone whistles playfully. he blinks, startled back into the moment.

“…focus on sustainable practices and expanding our projects,” he finishes, clearing his throat as heat rises to his cheeks.

you’re laughing too, your head tilted slightly as you join the others. it should make him feel worse, but somehow, seeing you like that—smiling, present—grounds him.

he powers through the rest of the speech, keeping his gaze firmly away from where you’re sitting. when it’s over, he accepts the handshake from the host and makes his way offstage, barely registering the applause.

as soon as the ceremony ends, jungkook doesn’t even think. 

he weaves through the crowd, ignoring congratulatory pats on the back and comments from investors, his eyes scanning for you.

how did you know about tonight?

wait. 

shit.

he’s been texting you every day with random ass updates. of course you know. he’s yapped about it… but why? why did you come? don’t you hate his guts?

you're here so... maybe you don't hate him as much as he has convinced himself you do.

jungkook finds you near the back with the friend group, holding a glass of champagne and listening to hoseok animatedly retell a story.

“congratulations,” you say lightly, lifting your glass in a mock toast. your words are casual, but there's an edge to them, a distance you've kept between the two of you for far too long.

his chest tightens at the awkwardness of your tone, but he nods, his hands slipping into his pockets. the space between you feels impossibly wide now, though only a few feet separate you.

“thanks,” he says, his voice quieter than he intended. “... thanks for coming.”

his gaze flickers to yours for a second before dropping to the floor, and he shifts, a little uncertain, taking a half-step closer.

hesitantly, you inch back. 

his presence is suddenly overwhelming, more than you’re ready for.

“yeah… of course,” you murmur, unsure how to navigate the new dynamic between you two. the tension is thick, but there's something else there too. an unspoken history. “what are friends for, you know?”

he hates that. 

friends. 

yeah fucking right.

jungkook tries to break the tension.

he takes a risk.

he takes a small step forward, hoping you don’t move. this is the closest he’s gotten to you in over a month—he needs this. it’s like euphoria in his veins—being with you again.

he needs this.

“how have you been?” he asks, the question coming out softer than he anticipated. jungkook scratches the back of his neck and continues. “a-are you coming to the afterparty?”

your lips part, a pause hanging between you.

you don’t want to admit how much you’ve missed this. how much you’ve missed him.

but the words slip out, more natural than you expect.

“yeah,” you say, giving him a brief but warm look. “i’ll be there.”

for a moment, your eyes lock, and something shifts. 

it’s like you’ve both forgotten all the walls, the space between you collapsing. he can feel his heart rate quicken, like his knees might give out, but he forces himself to stay grounded, to act nonchalant.

“cool,” he says, trying to brush off the sudden rush of emotions. “i’ll.. i’ll be there too.” he smiles, but it’s the kind of smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes—not yet, anyway.

“i sure hope so,” you laugh. “it’s your party, nerd.”

nerd. 

holy shit. 

never has he ever felt so relieved to hear you call him that. 

as he’s about to say more, taehyung appears out of nowhere, slapping his arm and giving him a congratulatory squeeze. 

“hey, man, nice speech. well deserved,” taehyung says, grinning like an idiot. “what did you want to focus on, again?”

you laugh while jungkook rolls his eyes. he shoves taehyung playfully. 

suddenly, you can’t help but feel the awkwardness settle back in, like something’s shifted again. you feel a pang in your chest as you turn toward the other people nearby, the ones you've been socializing with before jungkook showed up. the buzz of the conversation pulls you away, and you focus on the group, hoping to escape the overwhelming emotions that jungkook’s presence stirs.

jungkook watches you go, his eyes lingering as you slip away from the conversation. 

he can’t help it. 

you’re in his head again.

he looks over at taehyung, catching his eye. 

“hyung, is she coming to the dinner before the afterparty?” he asks, trying to sound casual. his voice betrays him, cracking with just the faintest hint of hope.

taehyung raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of his drink. 

“yeah. excited?”

“no.”

taehyung scoffs. “say that again but take away the lying.”

“fuck off.”

“___’s a good friend, man,” taehyung chuckles, redirecting the conversation. “you’re lucky. you just might be back in her good graces.”

jungkook’s heart skips a beat. 

“really?” he asks, trying not to sound too eager.

taehyung grins, leaning in a little. 

“yeah, but... she’s bringing her little boyfriend with her.”

you’re doing what?

jungkook feels the need to rub his eyes or something.

was taehyung shitting on him? boyfriend? when did this happen? no fucking way. 

jungkook refuses to believe it. 

… yet, the words hit jungkook like a punch to the gut. his breath catches, and his stomach tightens. 

"what?" his voice is barely a whisper, the weight of it settling in. 

"she didn't tell you?"

"we haven't been talking."

"rightfully so."

fuck. 

no. 

he doesn’t want to believe it, but the hurt is already seeping through.

taehyung shrugs, oblivious to the internal storm brewing in jungkook. 

“shit, well... yeah, she’s been seeing him for a while. dunno if they’re officially together, but… guess she’s really moving on. good for her, right? i mean, now you can really focus on just being her friend.”

the air stills. 

the reality of it all comes crashing down. jungkook’s heart sinks, his chest tightening in that all-too-familiar ache. 

that's why you’ve been busy... 

you’ve been moving on.

his fingers curl into fists, the anger bubbling up before he can suppress it. but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let his emotions spill out in front of taehyung, even though every part of him is screaming. 

“yeah,” he forces a smile. “i guess.”

as the night goes on, jungkook can’t shake the feeling that he’s lost something he can’t get back. something that’s slipping further away with every step you take, every laugh you share with someone else. and no matter how much he wants to fight for it, he’s afraid it’s already too late.

jungkook doesn’t want to go to dinner anymore.

he has no appetite.

jungkook is already at the dinner when you arrive. 

his mood is off, grumpy but with an undercurrent of sadness that he can’t quite shake. he’s forcing a smile when people congratulate him for the award, but it’s clear it’s not reaching his eyes. the night’s just been a blur of congratulations and polite smiles, but all he can think about who will walk in with you. 

does he know him?

is he gonna be some super cool prince charming?

does he know that jungkook was eating you out just a month ago? 

all valid questions…

however, you arrive a little late, and immediately his gaze searches for you in the crowd. when he sees you, his heart lurches. he spots you talking to someone, and the knot in his stomach tightens.

you make your way to the table, your eyes scanning it before you stop. for a moment, you aren’t sure where to sit. usually, you sit next to jungkook… but the spot is occupied by jimin. 

not by choice.

jungkook had saved the spot for you… you just came too late and he didn’t have it in him to tell jimin to move. but, jimin catches the milli-second exchanged look you have with jungkook and immediately shifts. 

“oh,” jimin begins. “shit, i forgot… didn’t know you were gonna show up so late—”

you chuckle, shaking your head. “it’s fine we’re gonna sit on the other side! by the way,” you pause and push the guy you came with forward. “this is do-hwan. he’s a biochem major and we have a few electives together… um, what else?” 

biochem?

serisouly?

do you have a thing for nerds or something? bro doesn't even look the part. he should be majoring in physics or something even more lame.

jungkook's thoughts cut short when he hears you giggling.

“hi,” do-hwan says with a grins at everyone. then, he turns and extends his hand to jungkook. “jungkook? shit, man. congrats on the award.”

he chuckles, giving jungkook a playful look. “organic chem, huh? i guess someone has to study the pretty side of chemistry.” 

what the fuck does that mean?

jungkook’s ears turn red. 

“yeah,” he grumbles under his breath. “nice to meet you too.”

with that, you and do-hwan make your way to the other side of the table. jungkook watches, his gaze hardening as you take a seat beside him.

he’s trying his best to stay calm and to not show it—not show how absolutely fucking mad this entire thing is.

this is ridiculous! 

his chest tightens painfully at the sight of you sitting with him. his fingers curl into his glass as he watches you laugh and chat with others, inserting do-hwan like you’re some proud girlfriend. 

you've probably known do-hwan like 10 seconds.

and jungkook can’t help it! every word you exchange with do-hwan makes him feel like he’s being crushed from the inside out. 

he’s trying to focus on the conversation happening around him, but his mind keeps wandering, drifting to you.

he watches as you lean in to talk to do-hwan, the way your eyes light up when you laugh at something he says. it’s the same laugh, the same warmth in your smile, but somehow it feels so much farther away from him now—like a memory that he’s trying to hold onto but can’t quite grasp.

he forces himself to look at the group again, but his gaze keeps slipping back to you. every word you exchange with do-hwan makes his chest tighten.

it's like he’s suffocating, and he can’t tear his eyes away. the way he moves so casually, his hand brushing against yours as he reaches for his drink. 

it’s too much.

it’s too familiar.

and then, as you turn your head to respond to someone else, he sees it.

just a flash of it—right there on your neck. 

a small hickey, barely visible, but it might as well be a brand. his heart stops for a beat. the sight burns in his chest, and before he can stop himself, his breath catches in his throat.

his stomach churns violently, a rush of heat flooding his veins. everything feels like it’s collapsing inward. the noise around him fades, and all he can hear is the pounding of his own heartbeat. the world shrinks, and the weight of the jealousy hits him like a truck.

he can’t stay here. 

not like this. 

not with this tightness in his chest, not with the ache in his stomach. the room feels like it’s closing in on him, and he knows—he knows he has to get out.

without a word, he stands abruptly, pushing his chair back. his heart races as he excuses himself from the table, slipping away into the hallway outside the main dining area.

the rest of the table doesn’t seem to notice his sudden departure, but your friends quickly start murmuring, and one of them nudges you. 

"you should probably go check on him," taehyung says, giving you an almost knowing look. “i told you not to bring him.”

you hesitate for a second, then stand, glancing at do-hwan.

“it’s not do-hwan's fault.”

taehyung rolls his eyes at you. 

“you’re playing it kinda mean tonight though,” he tells you. “jungkook’s been miserable. sure he deserves to be dragged through mud for whatever happened and for whatever he said, but this? on his night? i don’t know ___…”

you gulp.

maybe taehyung is right.

but you didn’t intend for it to be like this. you genuinely brought a friend you’ve been spending time with! and, sure… yeah. you’ve been kissing him for a few weeks now, but so what? jungkook has probably been fucking every student he’s been tutoring so why the fuck does this matter?

“___…” taehyung urges you. 

“yeah, yeah… i’m going.” 

you wave taehyung off as you get up from your seat. you excuse yourself and let do-hwan know you’ll be right back.

you find jungkook outside. 

he stands with his back pressed against the cool metal of his car, arms crossed loosely over his chest. you notice that his posture is stiff... like he’s trying to keep himself grounded, but his shoulders still carry the weight of what he’s just seen.

his jaw clenches every so often, like he’s holding something back, but when his muscles tense, it’s almost as if the anger or hurt inside him is too much to contain.

as you walk towards him and he notices you. he runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends, clearly agitated. he lets out a slow, shaky breath, his eyes cast down toward the ground as if trying to collect his thoughts. he shakes his head slightly, as if to shake off the frustration that has settled in his chest, but it doesn’t seem to help. 

then, he looks up at the sky, his gaze distant, unfocused, lost in the swirl of thoughts that seem to chase him in circles. his arms drop to his sides for a moment, his fingers flexing and unflexing like he’s trying to release the tension that has built up in his body.

after a long pause, he lets out a frustrated sigh, raking his hand through his hair again, this time pushing it back as he exhales sharply.

his whole stance is restless.

it’s like he can’t quite settle his thoughts or his body, caught between what he feels and the reality of what’s happening. 

he’s trapped in his own head, unable to escape the weight of the situation.

by now, you’re next to him.

are you here to set him free?

“so… have the dolphins ever thanked you for your hard work?” you ask, trying to break both the silence and tension with your light tone. “you do so much for them… ungrateful little brats—you know they’re psychos right? they bully—”

he doesn’t turn around. 

“what’s on your neck?” he asks. “did your boyfriend do that?”

your chest hurts at his words. “he’s not... he’s not my boyfriend.” you swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. “he’s just a friend.”

there’s a long pause, and when he finally turns to face you, his eyes are a mixture of frustration and hurt. 

“the same kind of friend i am to you?”

he’s trying to sound nonchalant, but there’s a tremor in his voice.

you shake your head, not knowing how to explain, not knowing how to make him understand.

“you know what? i didn’t come here to make you feel like this…” your voice cracks slightly. “i didn’t... i don’t want to hurt you. i didn’t want to come.”

he scoffs bitterly.

“maybe you shouldn’t have.”

his words sting, but you can’t back down. 

“what do you want me to do?” you ask, frustrated. “if i didn’t show up, you’d be upset and blow up my phone. now that i’m here, you’re still upset—”

“and this is how you chose to show up?” jungkook raises his voice, turning to you. he steps forward, towering over you. he brings his hands to your hair, pushing it back and leaning in to look at your hickey properly. 

he squints. 

“are you proud of this?” he hisses. “fucking bug bite bullshit.”

“stop—” you snap, cutting him off now. “don’t—”

“okay. sorry, fuck..."

a beat.

"___, i miss you,” he breathes. “i just… shit. can you stay still for a second?”

there’s a long silence between you two, the air thick with things unsaid. jungkook looks like he’s about to say something, but his mouth closes, his frustration evident in the way he grits his teeth. 

instead, he just breathes you in. 

for the first time in a month and a half; jungkook can breathe.

then, he steps away and sighs. 

“think i’m gonna head home first. i… i need some space or something,” jungkook tells you. “let them know for me?”

“y-yeah. sure.”

“okay,” jungkook nods. “i’ll see you later.”

“see you.”

for the first time in a while, jungkook offers you a smile and you return it. 

short and sweet—he takes it. 

he leaves and thinks about it the entire drive home.

when you arrive at the party, you’re still reeling from the brief exchange with jungkook. 

your thoughts are completely a tangled mess. 

from the words he didn’t say to the way his eyes held that edge of something unspoken—it all lingers in your mind like an unsolved puzzle. you thought you had it all figured out…

that you could be fine.

that you could move on—but now, after that moment, you’re not so sure anymore. 

your heart races in a way that you can’t explain. why does it feel like you’re standing on the edge of something—something big, something scary—and yet, you're not sure if you want to fall or pull back?

your mind keeps returning to the way he looked at you, like he was caught between wanting to say everything and nothing at all. it’s not a feeling you can shake off easily.

it’s heavier than you thought it would be.

at the party, you try your best to focus on the people around you. do-hwan is by your side, chatting casually with a few people, most of them strangers to you. some faces are familiar—people from jungkook’s marine conservation club, and others... just people. 

you make your rounds, greeting them politely, exchanging pleasantries, but your thoughts are still drifting back to him. to jungkook. the air is thick with anticipation, and no matter how much you try to focus on the conversations happening around you, your mind keeps wandering.

and then, there he is.

jungkook is standing by the drink table, his posture relaxed but not at ease. 

his gaze flicks to you for a moment, a brief flicker of something—maybe surprise, maybe something more��before he meets your eyes. there’s a tense, palpable moment of silence.

he’s holding a red cup in one hand, his fingers wrapped loosely around it. his other hand rests in his pocket, but his stance is still too rigid... too guarded.

it’s like he’s waiting for something to happen, for you to do something.

he doesn’t smile. 

he just nods at you. 

a small, deliberate movement that somehow feels too formal, too distant.

no words.

just acknowledgment.

you feel the knot tighten in your stomach, the nervous energy in your chest quickening. it’s the simplest thing, but it feels loaded with so much more.

you can’t look away. 

something inside you is aching to go over, to close the space between you, to ask if everything’s okay, to say something—but you're frozen. the tension in the air between you is thick enough to suffocate.

you swallow hard, trying to calm the unease building in your chest, but it's no use.

the silence stretches out, heavy and thick, as you stand there, caught between the desire to run or to take a step closer, not sure if you're brave enough for either.

you take a step back, trying to break eye contact, when suddenly, someone bumps into you from behind. you stumble forward, your feet catching on the edge of a rug, and you let out a startled breath as you lose your balance.

before you can fully fall, a strong hand grips your wrist, pulling you back against something solid. your breath catches as you feel the warmth of someone’s body close to you.

it’s jungkook.

without a word, his other hand slides around your waist, steadying you, his fingers briefly pressing against the fabric of your shirt. the contact is brief but grounding, like the world, slows for a moment, just the two of you, suspended in time.

he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t offer the usual reassuring words. 

his grip is firm, and steady, but he doesn’t linger. as quickly as it happens, he pulls away, his hand leaving your waist just as the tension between you starts to build.

you open your mouth to say something, maybe a thank you, but before the words leave your lips, he’s already moving away, stepping back with that familiar, unreadable expression.

you stand there. 

you’re frozen for a beat longer than necessary. your chest tight as you try to catch your breath… his sudden departure stings more than you care to admit. there’s no time for you to process what just happened, what that touch meant—or didn't mean—before he vanishes back into the crowd.

fuck.

the night only gets louder as more people flood into the house. 

the music thrums through the walls, bass-heavy and relentless, blending with the clatter of cups and the hum of overlapping conversations.

you weave through the crowd, the heat of so many bodies pressed together almost suffocating. your heart races—not from the chaos around you but from the weight of the unspoken tension that’s followed you since you walked in.

you couldn’t bring yourself to drink, though do-hwan had handed you a cup earlier. 

it’s long forgotten somewhere, left behind on a table. you’re too afraid of what a single drink might loosen in you—afraid of saying or doing something you’re not ready for.

you don’t want to make worse what already feels so broken.

“hey.” do-hwan’s voice cuts through the noise, his hand resting lightly on your arm. he pulls you aside to a quieter corner of the room, away from the crush of people. “you okay?”

you nod, a small, uncertain smile tugging at your lips. “yeah. just... a little overwhelmed, i guess.”

he watches you closely, his expression softening as if he’s trying to read between the lines. “you sure? you’ve been kind of quiet tonight.”

“i’m fine, really.”

“you don’t have to be,” he says, and it’s the way he says it—gentle, almost understanding—that makes you crack a real smile. “pretty sure jungkook hates me. pretty sure he’s killed me 10 times in his head in the past hour or so… and he knows all the organic chem shit to make it a really clean murder, you know? “

you let out a weak laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

he grins at the sight, his confidence blooming as he leans in closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. 

“there it is,” he says playfully. “i was starting to think you didn’t know how to smile anymore.”

you laugh softly despite yourself, and his grin widens. 

do-hwan then dips his head lower as he talks, his voice dropping slightly, as if the two of you are sharing a secret. it’s intimate in a way that makes your cheeks flush, his proximity unnerving. his eyes flick to yours, and he leans in just a little more.

across the room, jungkook sees everything. 

is it hot in here?

because fuck, he’s burning up.

actually, the entire house is on fire in his mind. 

he’s been watching you for most of the night, though he pretends not to be.

the way do-hwan hovers near you, the way you laugh at something he says—it feels like a punch to the chest. every small interaction between you two is a reminder of what he’s lost, of what he could’ve had if he’d been braver, better.

his grip on his cup tightens, his knuckles white against the red plastic. he can’t hear what you’re saying, but he doesn’t need to. the way do-hwan leans closer, the way his hand brushes your arm—it’s enough to make jealousy coil hot and bitter in jungkook’s stomach. it burns through him, unbearable, as he watches do-hwan dip his head lower, his lips so close to yours.

and then something inside him snaps.

fuck it. 

before he knows it, he’s moving through the crowd, his feet carrying him faster than his mind can keep up. his hand reaches out, fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist just as do-hwan’s face nears yours. you barely have time to process the sudden motion before you’re being yanked back, stumbling slightly into jungkook’s chest.

“what the hell?” do-hwan says, his tone sharp, but jungkook doesn’t even look at him. his focus is entirely on you, his jaw tight and eyes dark with something unreadable.

your breath catches, your heart hammering in your chest as you look up at him, startled. 

“jungkook—”

he doesn’t let you finish. 

his hand wraps firmly around your wrist, and before you can process what’s happening, he’s pulling you away. his grip is steady but not rough, a silent insistence that leaves no room for argument.

“jungkook, wait—” you try again, glancing back at do-hwan, whose confused expression barely registers in the rush of your heartbeat.

jungkook doesn’t look back, his jaw tight and his steps purposeful as he weaves through the crowd, his hand never leaving yours. the air around you feels heavy, the muffled music and chatter blurring into white noise as he leads you up the stairs.

your pulse thrums in your ears as he pushes open a door and pulls you inside, closing it behind you with a quiet but final click. the sudden silence of the room contrasts sharply with the chaos outside, and for a moment, you can only stare at him, your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath.

he finally lets go of your wrist, his hand lingering for a split second longer than necessary before he steps back. his gaze is dark, unreadable, but the tension radiating off him is palpable. the weight of the moment presses down on you, thick and suffocating, as you wait for him to speak.

a moment passes.

then, another.

and another.

and another.

and then—

“dump him.” 

you clearly your throat.

“can’t dump him. he’s not my boyfriend—“

“you and your fucking situationships.”

you gulp.

you hate the way he says it.

situationship… fuck him.

the room feels smaller than it is, the air thick with the weight of the moment. jungkook’s jaw ticks as he stares at you, the sharpness in his voice cutting through the silence.

“you’re… fucking with me, right?” he spits out, his tone teetering between disbelief and frustration. “you can’t be fucking real right now. you were just—”

“i was just what?” you snap, your glare matching his. “no fair, jungkook. i got to hear you fuck some girl, but you don’t want to watch me kiss—”

“did i ask you to?” he cuts in, his voice rising.

“no,” you huff, crossing your arms. “but what are you asking from me right now? huh? jungkook… i don’t understand you—”

“what do you think i’m asking?” his voice lowers, but the intensity behind it doesn’t waver. he steps closer, his presence almost suffocating. “you’re always trying to act like this doesn’t matter. like i don’t matter.”

“maybe it doesn’t,” you challenge, even though the words taste bitter on your tongue.

jungkook laughs, but it’s humorless, sharp. 

“yeah, sure. that’s why you still give a fuck about me fucking—”

you snap. “don’t tell me her name.”

“what?” jungkook grumbles. “is that it? you get to parade around, yelling his fucking name and announcing it to the entire fucking world but i don’t get to tell you about the girl that came onto me for months? do-hwan biochem this, do-hwan that—do-hwan kiss me! is that it?"

"jungkook—"

"fuck, ___... listen to me, okay? let me tell you what i've been rehearsing for the past month and a half.... the girl i declined over and over again and fucked a total of 3 times because i was thinking with my dick is done. okay? if you’re trying to tell me that i fucked up—fine. yeah. i fucked up. but i meant it when i said it’s not what it looked like. ___, it wasn't like that. she spread shit about me being a good tutor and twisted it. how the fuck do you think i feel about myself? how the fuck do you think i feel about you seeing it differently—seeing me differently?”

your throat tightens, and you look away, desperate for a moment to compose yourself. 

“jungkook—”

“tell me how to fix it,” he cries, his frustration spilling over. “tell me what you want, because i’ll do it. i’ll stop tutoring if that’s what you want. fuck, i already did to be honest with you.”

you glance up at him, startled.

“why? that’s not going to change anything.”

“but i have to try…” his voice cracks, and he runs a hand through his hair, his exasperation evident. “i’ll give up anything—whatever it takes. just tell me what you need, and i’ll do it. want me to stop wearing ugly ass shirts? fine. want me to stop saving the dolphins you hate so much—”

“i don’t hate dolphins—”

“you’re scared of them.”

your eyes soften. 

“how’d you know—”

“it’s obvious,” jungkook breathes. “the same way it’s obvious you’re scared of this.”

this...

what even is this?

the silence that follows is deafening. you don’t say anything, and the tension between you stretches taut, threatening to snap. his chest rises and falls heavily, his eyes searching yours, desperate for something you’re not sure you can give him.

he takes another step closer, his proximity making it impossible to think straight.

“say something,” he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper now.

but you can’t.

you don’t trust your voice, don’t trust yourself not to break under the weight of it all. so you stay quiet, the space between you charged with everything unsaid.

the weight of unsaid words and unresolved feelings pressing down on both of you. you take a step back, trying to create some space to breathe, but jungkook mirrors you, closing the distance effortlessly.

then, you look around his room for some kind of break… but it backfires as your eyes meet a plushie, laying on his bed.

hello kitty.

“what’s that?” you ask a little shyly.

jungkook turns his head, feeling a little embarrassed at what you’ve seen.

“what do you think it is?” jungkook asks gently. "___... i... i can't do it. i'm sorry, i can't..."

"can't what?"

"i can't want you," he confesses. "i can't want you when i need you that bad."

he points at the plushie and sighs. "fuck, do you know how stupid that fucking claw machine made me feel? i spent like 1 or 2—"

"hours?" your eyes widen.

he shakes his head. "hundred."

hundred.

you stay silent.

"i'm sorry, ___... for everything. i'm a shithead. i'm mean and inconsiderate. i'm a waste of time—i know... but i want you to know that... everything about my life feels so weird without you in it. the past month and half has been absolute hell. it's like... if you're not around, all i do is think about you and it fucks with me. i wonder what you're eating, who you're with, and what you're going to do next... i get excited when you seenzone me. i feel like i can finally breathe when you're near. i don't know what you did and what fucking pavlov doggy shit experiment you did on me—but fuck. woof woof. whatever you want, ___. seriously."

then, you do what you fear.

you give in.

“how am i supposed to trust you,” you start, your voice shaky but firm, “when you’re not even a good friend? you’re always so mean to me, jungkook. think about it… when have we ever been good friends?”

he scoffs, the corner of his mouth twisting into a bitter smile. 

“maybe it’s because i don’t want to be your friend.”

the words hit you like a slap, your breath catching in your throat. 

“what if i want you to be?” 

his eyes search yours, as if trying to figure out if you’re serious. 

“really?” he asks, his voice dropping lower, softer.

“really.”

his gaze flickers down to your lips, then back to your eyes, and his voice drops even lower, a dangerous edge creeping into it. 

you can feel it… you can feel it about to happen. 

“even when i’m about to do this?”

before you can process his words, his hand moves to your waist, fingers curling around you in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. he pulls you closer, the heat of his touch searing through the fabric of your clothes.

his lips find yours in a kiss that’s as sudden as it is inevitable. 

it’s not gentle—it’s firm, deliberate, and entirely consuming. his other hand comes up to cradle your jaw, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss. your hands instinctively reach for his shoulders, gripping him as if to steady yourself against the storm he’s unleashing.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing hard. the air between you feels different now—heavier, laden with something you can’t quite name but can’t deny.

when jungkook finally pulls away, the world feels quieter, as though it’s holding its breath. his hand slides up, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, and he looks at you softly, his dark eyes searching yours. the tender gesture sends a fresh wave of confusion—and longing—coursing through you.

“bad friend,” you scold him in a whisper.

his lips twitch, a soft laugh escaping him as his thumb grazes your cheek.

“don’t do that,” he says, his voice low, almost pleading. 

you raise a brow at him. "do what?"

"don’t friendzone me.”

“why not?” 

“i just kissed you.”

“so?”

“so?” he mimics, his tone teasing, but there’s a sharpness in his voice that makes you squirm. his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. 

“kitty,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a rough whisper, “i’m gonna be impossible to get rid of now."

[reysdriver]

Apple Of My Eye | E.M.

You and your coworker Eddie finally do something about your longtime mutual crush when he asks you out after a wild day at work — line cook!eddie x waitress!reader fluff

warnings: customer service nightmares, reader cries over it, I think that's it actually

words: 4.8k

The last thing you heard before shutting the walk-in freezer door behind you was a pan dropping to the floor and Eddie cursing loudly at no one in particular. You sat down with your back against a sack of potatoes beside the vegetable shelf. 

The tears that pricked at your eyes were free to run down your face now that you were in the privacy of the walk-in. It’s always been a good place to cry or scream if you were frustrated at work. 

You were slightly startled by the heavy door opening, but you knew you shouldn’t be; other people worked here too, of course. 

It was Eddie walking in, looking frustrated, though his expression softened when he locked eyes with you. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” He asked, letting the door close as he sat down next to you.

You scooted a bit to make more room for Eddie, but still brushed him off.

“I’m okay.” You sniffled, looking down at your feet. “Don’t you have a whole bunch of orders to fill?”

“You know I’m never too busy for you.” He replied, which earned a smile from you. 

It was a true thing, Eddie would always take the time, even in the busiest of rush hours, to compliment you, or make you a special plate of fries, or just let you know that your makeup had smudged in all the haste. 

He never did it with anyone else, not to the same level, at least. All your coworkers used that as proof that he had a thing for you in the same way that you did for him, but you never believed them. 

“So, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

There he goes, using that nickname that makes your heart soar. Now how could you not answer him after he asked as nicely as that?

“Some asshole got mad at me ‘cause I forgot he asked for no vegetables on his burger. He was calling me dumb and saying I’m a bad waitress and—”

“You’re not.” Eddie told you. “Don’t listen to him.”

 One look at Eddie’s pretty brown eyes told you he was being completely sincere, but you were still upset. 

“He was so mean, and he was kind of right.” You protested. 

Eddie shook his head. “Trust me, he’s not. You’re the only coworker I can stand, so you must be doing something right. Plus you just got your degree, so you’re not dumb.”

“It was community college, Eddie.”

“More than I have. Are you calling me dumb?” He nudged you slightly as he teased, and he was finally cheering you up. 

“No.” You shook your head, a bashful smile starting on your face. 

“Good.” He smiled too, happy that his mission of cheering you up was complete. “Now, I would wipe your tears, but my hands are probably covered in oil so I’m gonna need you to do it for me, okay?”

You nodded and used your index finger to wipe the tears under your eyes and on your cheeks. 

The line cook had his eyes trained on you when you looked up back at him, your eyes still glossy but your spirits higher. 

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better.” You admitted with a soft smile. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“Anytime, princess.” He attempted to stifle a groan as he stood up, then stopped before opening the metal door. “I’ll tell Robin to cover your tables for a bit, so don’t worry about getting back to work. You can stay here as long as you want.”

After thanking him again, he flashed you a smile before exiting the freezer room. 

You stayed sitting there, replaying the conversation you just had once over in your head. Once you felt you were composed, you dusted off your clothes and reentered the kitchen. 

Though, as soon as you left the freezer, you could hear shouting coming from the front of house and you knew exactly who it was. 

See, after Eddie left the freezer, when you were busy wiping your tears, Eddie rifled through the receipts to find exactly the guy who made you cry. Not that he needed it anyways, it was obvious who the asshole was when he walked out to the tables and saw some angry looking loser picking at his french fries. 

Now Eddie was in the middle of shaming the man in front of the whole diner. 

Customers had their heads turned to watch the public scolding, and all the staff had paused their duties to stare from the sides of the room as well. 

“What the hell’s the matter with you? You’re a grown man and you can’t even bear to pick some tomatoes off your burger? You need to whine about the lingering taste of fuckin��� lettuce and make your poor waitress feel like shit?!” Eddie shouted at the guy you were serving. “You better give her one hell of an apology, you hear me?!”

The man nodded pathetically, clearly shaken by the cook’s rant. He probably couldn’t muster up an agreement even if he tried. 

Robin, who you had stood next to while watching Eddie chew that customer out, turned to you. She hardly looked flustered at all, since she was used to the diner’s usual activities. 

“And you still doubt that he likes you back.” She whispered with a smugly raised eyebrow. 

Eddie looked around the room for a moment and noticed you were there. With an outstretched hand and a soft voice, he beckoned you towards him and the man at the booth. 

“Sweetheart, can you come over here for a second?” He asked, ever so politely. 

You obliged and walked over to him, holding your breath as the threat of crying again was still there. 

Standing at the end of the table, Eddie’s gaze panned from you to the slightly terrified man sitting down. 

“Now’s the time for that apology, dickwad.” Your coworker gritted. 

The man struggled to look you in the eyes as he stuttered out some words of regret. “I’m sorry— Er, I’m sorry for complaining about the burger and saying all that rude stuff, too. I shouldn’t have taken out my anger on you.”

The line cook looked over at you, gauging your reaction. “How was that?”

You nodded and flashed him a tiny smile, then told the customer that you accepted his apology. 

“Good.” Eddie declared. “Now I’ll go make you a plain, boring burger. And if you’re really sorry then this pretty girl better see a damn good tip when you finish your meal, got it?”

The man nodded meekly once again, and Eddie seemed satisfied with that. He walked back on over to the kitchen while you made your way to your other tables, and the rest of the diner resumed eating and conversing—definitely discussing what just happened.

For the rest of his meal, the man was nice to you. Avoidant for sure, but nice nevertheless. And when he paid, he left a whopping twenty dollar tip and left in a hurry. 

Now that the lunch rush was over, you checked the kitchen for Eddie, then Jonathan informed you that he was out back taking a smoke break. 

You thanked him, and headed to the back exit of the building where you knew the cook spent a part of every shift. Sure enough, he was standing right next to the door with a cigarette in hand. 

“Hey, princess,” Eddie said, exhaling a cloud of smoke away from you. “what are you doing back here?”

You smiled at him and fished the twenty dollar bill out of your pocket to display it. “That guy you yelled at left me a pretty nice tip. Here, it’s yours.”

He shook his head and held out a hand to gesture that he couldn’t take it. “No way, you deserve it. Fuckin’ least you should get after having to deal with that asshole.”

You laughed at his dismissal and tried offering again. 

“Come on, you practically mugged that guy to get this money, you have to take it.”

He looked at you with a slight grin, but you couldn’t decide if his expression was that of smugness or entertainment. 

“You can hold out that cash until your wrist falls off, I won’t take your money.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, sincere but still purposefully overdramatic. You put the bill back in your apron and quickly counted out ten ones that you had earned from other tables, then held those out instead. 

“You should at least have half. I can’t let you leave with nothing. If you don’t take it now, I’ll follow you around all day, begging you to take it.” 

Eddie cocked his head to the side and smiled. “As tempting as that is, sweetheart, I can’t steal you away from your job like that. I’ll take that money, but I’ll be spending it on you.” 

Your heart fluttered at Eddie’s flirting, which was far less subtle than usual. You had to bite the tip of your tongue to prevent yourself from grinning ear-to-ear. 

He reached out to take the cash, but he was still grinning mischievously. 

“With my half of the cash, I wanna take you on a date, if you’ll let me.”

Holy shit. You never thought he’d ask. And you had expected even less that he would ask in such a gentlemanly manner. Eddie was the type of guy to accidentally tell his boss to fuck off after coming into work hungover, not use the phrase ‘if you’ll let me’. 

“I’d like that.” You responded, way more chill than you had expected your reaction to be. “Anything you have in mind?”

“You trying to expose the fact that I’ve thought about this before?” Eddie smirked, which in turn caused you to blush even more than before. “What time do you get off work tonight?”

“Seven, and you?”

“Same. We can rent a movie and I can make you dinner at my place?” 

Shit, Eddie thought, I don’t remember the state I left my trailer in. 

He tried recalling how messy he left his home, quickly so he could take back the offer if needed. 

“Yeah, sounds great.” 

Too late now. But as nervous as he was for you to walk into his trailer and see a bunch of dirty dishes and laundry piles, the feeling of glee he felt because you said yes was trumping that a hundred times over. 

“Perfect.” Eddie said, stamping out his burnt cigarette. He opened the door back to the restaurant and held it open so you could go first. “After you.”

“Thanks.” You said, barely able to hide your giddy grin. “I gotta get back to my tables, but I’ll see you at seven.”

You both parted ways with matching smiles, hoping the rest of your shifts fly by faster than usual. For the rest of the day, you seemed to have an extra pep in your step while you waited tables. 

As seven o’clock approached, you passed off all your tables to other coworkers, told Steve and Robin you wouldn’t need a ride home, and headed to the washroom to fix your hair and touch up your makeup. 

Once you were satisfied, you headed to the locker room, where Eddie was standing casually against his own locker. His bored expression morphed into a bright look when he saw you walk in. 

“Hey.” Eddie said as you opened your locker and put away your apron. “Ready to go?” 

You nodded, and he opened the door for you once again. Such a gentleman when he wants to be. 

“So, any movie ideas?” He asked as you both got into his van. 

“Something fun.” You told him. “Maybe something like Ferris Bueller's Day Off or Splash?” 

“Anything you want.”

For the ride over to the video store, you listened to the radio—a station with both pop and rock—and chatted about everything under the sun. 

Once you got to Family Video, you headed towards the comedy section whereas Eddie got distracted by a display of staff picks near the front. He called your name, and you turned around to see him holding up The Texas Chain Saw Massacre with a simper. 

“This can be fun, don’t you think?”

You shook your head. “Not if we’re eating tonight. I’ll throw up everywhere. And that’s not the kind of thing that earns a second date.”

He put it down and walked towards the aisle you were standing in. “So you’re already thinking about a second date, huh?” 

You rolled your eyes and went back to browsing the shelves. Your eyes landed on a familiar favourite, so you grabbed it and held it up to show Eddie. 

“Clue, huh?” He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you couldn’t do murder movies?”

“No, I just said I couldn’t do that one. This one is hilarious and agreeable.”

“Alright. Hand it over, I already promised to pay for whatever you want.”

You give the tape to him like he asked and you both walk over to the cashier, a teenager who looked extremely disdainful about his job. Eddie pulled out some of the cash you had made him take earlier and placed it on the counter. 

Once the transaction was over, you thanked both Eddie and the bored worker, then you headed back out to Eddie’s car. 

“So, what meal are you going to spend the remaining five dollars and something cents on?” You asked him, buckling yourself as he rolled out of the parking lot. 

Eddie always hated his seatbelt, but he put it on after you—’cause of that damn new law they put in last year.

“I’ll put that in my pocket and save it for the next date. I already have all I need for dinner at home.”

You hummed, slightly surprised. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” You shrugged. “I just wouldn’t have pegged you as a chef outside of the diner. You always seem like you’re done with cooking forever when you clock out.”

“You’ve got me there.” Eddie responds. “I only cook at home when it’s for someone else. When I’m alone, my meals are mostly toast and canned pasta.”

“So who else were you planning on cooking for? You said you have all those ingredients.” That was half teasing, half genuinely curious about Eddie’s personal life. 

“My uncle, actually. I cook him dinner once a week, mostly ‘cause it proves to him that I can eat healthy.”

“That’s really sweet.”

“What can I say?” Eddie shrugged dramatically. “I’m just a sweet guy.”

Once you arrived at Eddie’s trailer, he was relieved to open the door and see that his place hadn’t been left in shambles. The place wasn’t as neat as he would like for a first date—especially one with you—but it was good enough. 

“So, this is it.” Eddie said, arms outstretched like a real estate agent. “You want a tour or is that just for stuffy old people?”

“I’ll take a tour.”

Eddie was kind of hoping you didn’t say that. The trailer was small and he was a little embarrassed. But he supposed it was his own fault for asking in the first place. 

“Alright. Here’s the living room, it’s where I smoke and watch TV.” 

You let out a giggle at the bluntness of his tour. He was glad his joke (half-joke) didn’t fall flat. 

“And you can follow me three feet to the kitchen, which is where I make good meals for others and crap for myself.”

He opened a cupboard full of canned food and snacks for the realtor effect, then did the same with the fridge. He waved a hand near it like a magician showing off a box that no longer contains a woman in a sparkly leotard. 

“We can then move on to the bathroom. It’s got a shower with mediocre water pressure, a pretty average toilet, and a sink that’s covered in toothpaste—don’t look at that, actually.”

You kept walking to the only other real room in the trailer, his bedroom. It was about the size of the kitchen area, and it was very distinctly Eddie. All the walls were covered floor-to-ceiling in posters for metal bands and movies he likes, every surface was covered in snack boxes and ashtrays, and he had one incredibly cool guitar hanging in the middle of his wall. 

After staring at the room for so long that you probably had at least one wall memorised, you and Eddie both realised you hadn’t spoken in a while. 

“This is where the magic happens.” Eddie said, not quite as smoothly as he was going for. 

“The magic?” You teased. 

He thought for a second, then clarified. “Not that kind of magic. I just make music and write Dungeons & Dragons campaigns.”

“That can be pretty magical.” You shrugged. 

“Yeah, but not as magical as the dinner I’m about to make for you. If you’re not excited already, you should start.”

You both left his bedroom and Eddie instructed you to relax in the living room and turn on the TV to something you could use as a backdrop while Eddie cooked. 

While he made dinner, you sat comfortably on his couch and chatted with him from the other room. You got to know each other, more than you do at work. Eddie told you about his band and how they play at The Hideout, you told him about your time at community college and your friends outside of the diner. 

“Alright, soup’s on.” Eddie announced, setting two plates on his kitchen table and inviting you over. “Actually, it’s not soup, it’s chicken parm.”

“I appreciate the clarification.” You sat down in the seat closest to you. “It looks good. Smells amazing too.”

And it really was as amazing as it seemed. Although you were no stranger to Eddie’s cooking, all you’ve ever had made by him was diner food. Of course, the diner food was great, but this was another level. You weren’t sure what set it apart; maybe it was just the quality ingredients and lack of yelling while cooking. 

Once your plate was almost empty, Eddie asked if you wanted dessert too. You were slightly confused as you hadn’t seen him make any dessert to go along with the meal, but you agreed anyway. 

“Did you make dessert?” You asked after he stood up. 

“Nope, but I’ve got all the ingredients, so I can make it now.”

“Oh.” You suddenly felt bad, even though he already offered and went through with making you food. “Well, I don’t want to put you out. We can just watch—”

“It’s okay. I don’t have the ingredients for anything fancy. Just the simple stuff.”

That made you feel a little better. You were still curious, but for a different reason now. What could Eddie make quickly to pair with that fantastic dinner. 

You watched as he pulled out Oreos and gummy worms. Was he making a child’s favourite snack as your dessert?

“What are you planning there?” You asked him. 

Then you saw him open the fridge and pull out chocolate pudding cups, then it all clicked in your head. 

Holy shit. Worms and Dirt. 

That was absolutely not what you were expecting, but it was definitely a welcome surprise. 

“I was thinking about just serving up sliced apples and peanut butter along with some cheesy pick-up line like ‘you’re the apple of my eye’, but I figured that would scare you away.” 

“I don’t think that would scare me away.” You told him. “In fact, I would have found it cute. But I’m happy with the pudding.”

Eddie was quite flattered by that, though he tried hard to not let it show. You could definitely see a blush on his cheeks and the corners of his lips turning upwards, as much as he covered it up.

“You ever had Worms and Dirt?” He asked, opening up the Oreo pack. 

“Yeah.” You answered from your seat at the table while he scraped off the cookie filling. “My mom used to make it for me when I was a kid.”

Eddie stopped preparing the food for a second as he turned and gave you a genuine smile. 

“Me too.” 

After that, Eddie went back to making the dessert, the happy expression still lingering on his lips. 

“I’m almost done, do you want to pop the movie in while I’m finishing up?”

You nodded, then waltzed over to the living room to start up Clue. While the opening credits rolled, Eddie took a seat next to you on the couch and spread out a couple bowls and several pudding cups on his coffee table. 

He handed you a spoon and gestured to the setup in front of you two. 

“I figured we could do like a make-your-own thing, just ‘cause I always find one is never enough, and then you can choose your portions, you know?”

You hummed in agreement. “It’s a pretty good idea.”

Eddie then pointed to the bowl in between the cookie crumble and gummy worms. Inside that one was the creme filling he had just scraped out of the Oreos. 

“Oh, and that’s for you.” 

Just like Eddie earlier, you were super flattered but didn’t want to show your cards. You thanked him for saving you the best part, and then the two of you made your desserts and brought your attention to the movie. 

Somewhere along the way while watching it, you and Eddie had moved from your spots on opposite ends of the couch to meeting somewhere in the middle, wrapped up with each other. 

You were pressed against his side with a hand on his back and an arm around his abdomen. He had his arm slung around your shoulder, and you liked it. He liked it too. And truth be told, you had both pictured yourself before in this exact position—among others. 

As Wadsworth dramatically ran through each murder and event of the night, Eddie subtly looked down to see your entertained expression trained on the TV screen. 

Even though Eddie quite liked the movie you were watching, he liked you more. He was trying to think of a way to make a bigger move on you instead of actually paying attention. 

He was about to do it too. Just as his hands started to wander, there was a knock at his front door that caused you both to back off of each other and turn your heads that way. 

“It’s probably just some kid looking for weed. I’ll be back in a second, you don’t need to pause it.” Eddie told you as he stood up.

“Okay. Hurry up or you’ll miss the ending!” You told him. 

He opened the door and sure enough, it was a kid looking for weed. Some high schooler, maybe seventeen years old. In one hand, he had a couple crumpled bills, and the other one was in his pocket. 

“Someone told me to come here for… stuff.” The kid said to Eddie. 

“Okay, how much do you want?” Eddie replied. 

The boy looked confused, thinking it through. 

“I don’t know.” He finally answered. “I was just told to bring money.” 

“Okay, well I’ve got someone over and you’re wasting my time a little bit. How about you just hand me that money, and I’ll bring you whatever that’s worth?”

“Okay.” 

The kid handed over the cash and Eddie told him to stay at the door while he counted the money and walked over to his bedroom. 

He came out with a small baggie in his hand and flashed you a quick apologetic grin before facing the kid again. 

“There you go. Enjoy.” 

Eddie shut the door behind him and walked back to the couch to sit with you again, just as the movie was wrapping up. 

“I’m sorry about that. I was hoping tonight could go interrupted, but that’s never the case, right?” 

“Yeah, it’s alright. I didn’t know you still dealt.”

The staff at the diner was pretty close-knit, and you had heard lots about Eddie selling drugs in high school, but you had figured that was in the past. You weren’t judging, though. People do what they can to pay the bills—you were both working in a diner at the edge of your crappy town, you know all about that. 

“I don’t really. Just from time to time, I guess.” Eddie shrugged. “Does that bother you?”

“No. Everyone’s gotta do what they can in life. I don’t have a problem, as long as you’re okay with it.” 

“Cool.”

You both just looked at each other for a second, not sure what to say now. Eddie missed the perfect opportunity to make the move he wanted to make on you earlier, and now the movie was over. 

You both silently cursed yourself for not doing what you really wanted to do earlier, but the mood was interrupted by a kid at the door wanting to get high. 

Although you wanted to stay at Eddie’s place for longer, you knew the night was coming to a natural end. 

“I should probably get home soon. I have work in the morning.” 

Eddie was mentally kicking himself for not doing anything earlier, but he definitely wasn’t going to try and convince you to stay since he was aware how that could make him seem. 

“Yeah, okay. I can drive you home.” He stood up and grabbed his car keys from the counter. “You know, Steve’s probably already getting his beauty sleep or something.”

You thanked Eddie and strolled over to him, who was holding the door open for you. 

The two of you walked out to his van, and you slid into the same seat where you had begun the evening. Eddie sat down next to you and flashed you a quick smile before starting the car. 

The ride back to your place was, for the most part, quiet and awkward; it was a sad change from the chemistry you were feeling just an hour ago. 

When you arrived back home, Eddie stopped the car, but you spoke before you got out and the night would be officially over. 

“Thanks for tonight, Eddie. I think we should do this again.”

He looked flustered for a moment. It was no more than a second, but you caught it anyway.

“Well, thanks for saying yes, sweetheart. Are you doing anything Sunday?”

“I have a shift in the morning, but I’m done by the early afternoon.”

“Perfect.” Eddie smiled. “I’ll think of something for us to do then.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt as you badly masked a grin. 

“Okay. It’s a date.”

Eddie opened the door on his side, and so you followed suit. 

“You want me to walk you back?” Eddie offered. 

You stood a foot and a half away from Eddie beside his van and looked back to your apartment building. 

“Steve and Robin are probably pressed against the peephole right now, so I don’t know.”

Eddie ran his hand through his hair and shook his head amusedly. “Ah, I see. You’ve already got people looking out for you?”

You hummed, biting your lip softly. 

“So…” You trailed off. 

“So?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. 

That’s when you finally took your chance. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s cheek, just by the corner of his mouth. 

You backed away, and Eddie seemed flustered but happy, so you knew it went well. 

“Thanks again. I’ll see you at work, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie said quietly. “See you.”

It wasn’t often that Eddie flustered like that. Usually he was calm and collected, or at least yelling, if we’re talking about being in the kitchen at the diner. But very rarely did Eddie blush, and that’s exactly what he did after you kissed him. 

He guessed that it made a lot of sense that you could be the one to make him feel things that no one else can. 

Eddie watched as you walked over to the front of your building and gave him a wave before going inside. His thoughts were moving so fast, he can’t even remember if he waved back. Damn, he hopes he waved back. 

Then, as soon as you were inside and you were both out of each other’s sight, Eddie had to let out his excitement. He took a step out and threw his head forward, shouting at the top of his lungs. 

He stopped the moment he realised you might be able to hear him, and quickly went back into his van. Then he started shouting inside the privacy of those metal walls. 

Eddie was really excited about seeing you tomorrow. 

Little to Eddie’s knowledge, you were just as excited as him, if not even more.

[boobav]

!season 1

Viktor is, you've clearly observed, insecure of himself.

Quite valiantly, due to some looming social norm or personal feeling, he tries to hide it. But in moments like these, such an act becomes impossible. Try as he might, desperately at times, when he's pressed against you in the warm water, your fingers over his skin, your fingers in his hair, his failure is palpable.

"Are you okay?" You murmur into the nape of his neck, his back against your chest. The water threatens with gentle churns to spill over the bathtub.

He turns his head to press a kiss against your wrist.

"More than," he says, voice quiet but firm, "I just feel, sometimes," and he hums, as though forming an adequate description of his emotions were the hardest task on the planet. Viktor, your genius scientist, hesitant not to innovate, to change the world with his research, no. He's hesitant only to make sure he says the right thing to you.

"Like I'm too good for you?" You ask, catching his eye. By the gentle look you know that's what he means. He faces away again, nods in a vaguely ashamed way.

How, you've always wondered, can you truly change someone's perspective? When words don't seem to persuade, when actions bring only fleeting relief, what can you do?

"It's irrational, I know, some... flaw of the mind. You don't need to keep reassuring my senselessness." He leans into your touch, takes your free hand into his, soap suds bubbling between your fingers.

"Sometimes you talk about yourself like you're a machine, you know." You muse. He gives a half-hearted laugh.

"Not a well functioning one."

Are words or actions worth more in this game of convincing? Does he feel it deeper when you press your lips into his hair, or when you mumble compliments and honeysuckle words into his ear? He shivers either way.

It's a long game, you know. It's taken months to even reach this stage, where the self-deprication is a rarity, not the norm. Maybe it'll take his whole life before he can accept every part of himself like you can, before he can truly see himself through your eyes, gleaming and gem-speckled as they are.

You free your hand from his, reach up instead to knead shampoo into his thick hair. He responds with a sigh and sinks somehow further against you, the water falling slowly to a more lukewarm temperature. You're not sure how long the two of you have been in here, talking quietly about very little, exchanging words that'll disappear forever with the water. But you really can't find it in you to care.

There's work to be done, errands to run. Errands that should've been run a week ago. This ceremony, this meditation makes all of it null. For where else would you want to be? Where else exists besides here, this room, this moment, static in the cooling water with the embodiment of perfection.

When you tell it to him, as you so often do, when you tell him that he's perfect, he can't believe you. The first time you ever said it, peering into his eyes as if they held some secret treasure within, he thought you were joking. He'd laughed, more out of obligation than actual humour, but your expression remained still. Sincere. To say he was moved would be a wildly inadequate explanation. What he felt in his chest that night was something otherworldly, something without a name. He's come now to associate it simply with yours.

You run water through his hair, rinse out the shampoo as he lies pliant in your hands. He insists you use your soaps in his hair, some floral-scented collection you've used for who knows how long, because the smell reminds him of you.

There's no point in overthinking it, you suppose. No point in trying to map out and organise moods, emotions. No point in trying to turn a gentle human experience into something clinical, something without humanity.

That swirling, omnipresent yet transient concept of humanity. You simply must cradle it within your own. You press your lips into his wet hair, whisper words made of ginger and lavender into his ear. Because at the end of the day, you're human. You're in love. And sometimes, that's all that matters.

[lostfracturess]

words you couldn't hear — satoru gojo

satoru's been hopelessly in love with you for years, but can only confess when you can't hear him. but someday—maybe someday soon—he'll tell you for real.

"How do these look?" you ask, slipping on a pair of noise-canceling headphones and striking a pose. "Be honest."

Satoru, who's been trailing behind you in the electronics store for the past hour without complaining like the best friend he's always been, looks up from the speaker he's been fiddling with. "You look good in anything."

"No, for real." You turn to check your reflection in a nearby screen. "Do they make my head look bigger? I feel like they make my head look bigger."

He snorts, reaching over to adjust the headband. His fingers brush against your temple, and you try not to think about how many times those same hands have absentmindedly played with your hair during movie nights, or how he still unconsciously reaches for you whenever he laughs too hard, just like he did when you were kids.

"That's what you're concerned about? The size of your head?"

"It's a valid concern."

"Your head is perfectly normal-sized," he assures you, his fingers lingering perhaps a moment too long as he fixes the fit. "Though I suppose all that overthinking has to go somewhere—"

You shoot him a look, but there's no heat behind it. Fifteen years of friendship has made you immune to his teasing — well, mostly immune.

You're not quite immune to the way your pulse quickens when he's standing this close, or how he still smells like that same cologne he's worn since high school, the one you helped him pick out for his first date with someone else while ignoring the weird ache in your chest.

"I really need good ones for studying," you say, checking the price tag. "My roommate talks way too much."

Satoru winces at the price. "Expensive. But they're supposedly the best."

"Worth every penny if they can block out her ramblings." You adjust the fit, immediately noticing how they muffle the noise of the shop. "Oh wow, these are actually incredible. Say something so I can test them properly."

"What should I say?"

You arch an eyebrow at him. "Anything. Just need to check if they work."

His expression shifts then, melting into something tender as his lips move. Even though you can't hear the words, something about the gentle way he's looking at you makes your heart flutter strangely in your chest.

"These are perfect!" you say, pulling them off, trying to ignore the way your pulse has picked up. "I couldn't hear you at all. What did you say?"

Satoru leans against the display counter, chin propped in his hand as he watches you fiddle with the headphone cord, a fond smile playing at his lips. "Nothing really," he murmurs, but there's something soft in his expression, something unguarded that makes your heart skip.

You pause, catching the way he's looking at you — like you're something precious, something more than just his best friend of fifteen years. "Satoru?" you say softly.

He seems to catch himself then, straightening abruptly as a flush creeps up his neck. "Ah, yes. Should we, uh." His voice comes out slightly strangled. "Should we get these paid for? Before they close?"

"The store closes in two hours."

"Better safe than sorry." He's already heading for the checkout, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

What you don't know — what you couldn't hear through those noise-canceling headphones — were three words he's been trying to say for years. Three words that slipped out so easily when he knew you couldn't hear them, when the safety of silence gave him the courage he's never had before.

"I love you."

Simple. Honest. Everything he's wanted to tell you since he was seventeen and realized his best friend was the love of his life. Everything he's been too afraid to say, too afraid to risk losing you.

But for now, those words remain caught in the space between silence and sound, in the safety of a moment you couldn't hear. Maybe one day he'll find the courage to say them again, when you can actually hear him.

Maybe one day soon.

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 2 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 3.8k

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), some cussing, adult themes (not smut lol) (yet) (jk) (unless...), the mission finally starts, so much plot from here on out y'all so buckle up

a/n. i didn't get to include the most important bits that were supposed to be presented in this chapter because i got carried away with the buildup lol. exciting times ahead y'all. i have so much in store for you with this series. don't be a stranger and let's talk!

links. masterlist, ao3 (coming soon)

You can only stare back at the woman peering at you, her face painted with a thick layer of makeup, her hair styled to staged ‘effortless’ perfection, and her body wrapped in an outfit that’s equal parts provocative and refined.

Her image is so flawlessly curated—so much so that you barely notice the apprehension that’s hidden amidst her features, if it weren’t for the fact that that woman is you.

You can barely recognize yourself—and perhaps that’s the point of all this.

Asahi and Moriyama didn’t have to explicitly state it yesterday—they need you to put in every ounce of effort to make sure that you succeed, and that includes doing everything you can to supplement your quirk all the while keeping your real identity lowkey.

Even if it means looking like this.

You’re about to give in to your second thoughts and change out of the black, low-cut tank and beige cardigan you have on when an array of knocks echo from what you think is your front door, and you freeze.

With a cautious glance at your bedroom’s wall clock, you think you’re supposed to feel a wave of relief wash over you when you see that it’s 9:00 PM on the dot, the exact time Bakugou said he’d pick you up, which means no villain or mal intentioned person is at your front porch, but that doesn’t come.

Instead, the sense of dread that’s been stirring in your gut ever since you got swept by Asahi’s men yesterday only magnifies, leaving you a bit cold and…are you shaking?

You don’t get to dwell on that, though, because another round of rapping resonates from your foyer again, which somehow pulls you out of your nervous stupor. You hurriedly run to the door, not even bothering to check through the peephole, opening it with a turn of the knob to see Bakugou.

Wearing a white face mask and decked in a fitting black hoodie, with his ash-blonde hair peeking through the sides of a dark baseball cap.

His fist is frozen mid-air as he stares at you, eyes slightly widened in shock, as if he didn’t believe you’re capable of this thing called punctuality. He promptly brings it down, though, schooling his expression into a neutral one, but not before giving you a quick once-over.

“Hey,” he offers, voice gruff and way lower than you remembered it back in high school.

“Hello,” you counter, looking back at your messy apartment out of habit. “I’m almost done. I just need to grab my purse.”

And, because you genuinely need to know for the sake of what you’re about to do, you ask: “Do I look okay?”

He must’ve not been anticipating that question, because his eyebrows furrow ever so minutely like you just caught him off guard. “Yeah,” he eventually replies after studying the entire length of your body once again.

And, you may have just imagined it, but you swear to god his eyes linger on your chest for a beat longer than necessary before he meets your gaze.

“You clean up…” he pauses, like he’s grasping for the right adjective, before settling with: “…decent.”

At that, you feel yourself deflate a bit. Maybe you wanted a more affirming answer, definitely not because you want that from him, but because you need to look good. However, if there’s anything the rumor mill told you back when you were still teenage students, it’s that Bakugou Katsuki was a man of few words when he was serious, let alone appreciative, so you take his comment in stride.

Besides, in comparison to how you looked yesterday, anything is an improvement, really.

“Thanks,” you respond, and you debate for a second whether or not to say the next thing but ultimately decide on it. “…And you look mildly disguised.”

That seems to ruffle Bakugou’s feathers. “Mildly?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling unsure about your honesty. “I get the hoodie and the cap and the face mask, but there’s no hiding your hulking frame, man.”

And really, there isn’t. How are you supposed to conceal a torso as large as that?

You gesture to his chest and shoulder area for further emphasis. “I don’t think you can pass up as a regular citizen but like as a non-descript athlete, maybe?”

To your dismay, Bakugou merely grunts before shaking his head. “This’ll work.”

Apparently already over your suggestion, he glances past your shoulder as he shifts his weight on his other foot. “Can you grab your purse now? We’ve to get going.”

Now, you’ve got half a mind to argue and try to convince him that maybe going for a better disguise is better in the long run but you’re silenced by his domineering gaze. So instead, you nod before rushing back to your bedroom and grabbing the bag you already prepared beforehand, as well as your phone that’s charging on top of your bedside table.

Although it won’t be of much use later, or in the coming few weeks, if everything goes according to plan.

“Ready?” he asks when you return to the doorway with your things in tow.

“Yup,” you retort as you lock the door behind you, and just like that, you’re well on your way to a potential death sentence.

You’re in the elevator going down to the ground floor by the time he speaks up again. “We’re commuting,” he starts, not looking at you but instead scrutinizing the barely hanging on floor buttons. “Can’t risk raising suspicion by driving there.”

“Where are we going, exactly?” you ask just as the elevator dings, signifying your arrival.

The doors burst open, and he steps out. “You’ll see.”

The commute to wherever the hell it is you two are going is quiet.

Bakugou didn’t divulge any further details as you stepped out of your building, wordlessly ordering you with a stern look to just follow. Frankly, you don’t like how you’re being kept in the dark, but you don’t contend. You’re acutely aware that you have a limited number of cards to play with Bakugou, and you have to play them right, if you want to even survive this mission without your partnership falling apart and jeopardizing the entire thing. Wasting a card on stupid information would be downright foolish on your end.

Even the walk to the bus stop is silent, and so is the entire ride. Despite it being quite late into the evening, the vehicle is still somewhat crowded, which you chalk up to it being a Friday night. You find yourself relaxing in your seat as the realization dawns on you—perhaps there was no point in getting too riled up about getting noticed.

And besides, you’re taking extra precautions, too. You’re not sitting next to each other, because he’s trying to stave off attention while you’re straining to catch it. Maybe not of these strangers, but of the people you’re going to meet later on.

Roughly 10 minutes and a short subway ride later, you climb up the underground stairs to a stop you vaguely remember hearing from your coworkers about. You recall how she described an old party district right in the middle of Musutafu, and sure enough, the text on the street signs match the name she recounted during one of your lunch breaks.

“Over here,” Bakugou calls out from a few feet ahead of you. You quickly quit your observing and follow suit, mindful of keeping an appropriate, not at all questionable distance between the two of you.

After what felt like walking five blocks from the subway, you see Bakugou halt and make a left into a poorly lit alleyway. You hesitate for a second, having been on autopilot and going straight for the last how many minutes. You’re able to swiftly gather yourself, though, steering in the same direction.

The moment that you do, it instantly registers to you that you’re not just in the party district anymore. If the dingy signages and the palpable seediness of the alley are any indication, you’re most likely in the red-light district now.

Suddenly, everything feels a bit too real, and you barely catch yourself stumbling back on your feet. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou, who instinctively moves to reach out for you from where he’s standing. He pauses, though, when you’re able to regain your bearings with a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Sorry,” you offer meekly.

He eyes you with the very same inexplicable expression from before. “You good?”

You’re not about to tell him you’re scared shitless, so you give him a half-hearted nod. Turning to study the exterior of the small building, you take in the lightly peeling paint and the booming music emanating from it. “This the place?”

“Yes,” he answers without missing a beat. “Are you sure you’re good?”

You whip to look back at Bakugou, who, if you didn’t know any better, is now looking apprehensive.

You decide then and there that you have to get your shit together.

Bravery is contagious, but so is fear.

For a second, you contemplate using your quirk on yourself to calm your nerves down, but eventually decide against it. There are much bigger fish to fry tonight, and what’s the point of learning all those damned breathing and grounding techniques if you’re not going to use them?

“I’m ready,” you finally tell him after a moment of both of you standing there. “Let’s go in before we start looking unusual out here.”

If Bakugou notices the unease you’re sure you’re radiating, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he gives you a curt nod, before turning to open the door.

And when he does, you’re almost instantaneously flooded by the music that was just escaping through the cracks and crevices of the run-down building. You fight the instinct to cover your ears as you step into the large room behind Bakugou, eyes quickly darting all over the place to drink in the scene before you.

Right in the back of the space is a stage that extends in the center as a runway to the middle of the room. The orange and pink mood lights illuminating the area are relatively dim minus the bulbs lining the set and walkway. And, beneath the elevated platform are what have to be pleather seats littered all over the floor—all of which are occupied by decidedly rambunctious men.

You resist the urge to wrinkle your nose as their boisterous laughter fills your ears, opting to face Bakugou instead.

“Hey,” you call out to him, who stops in his tracks to look at you. You sneak a glance at the people at the bar nearest the two of you, just to make sure they’re not listening in, before you continue. “Are you sure this is the place?”

You don’t have to peek beneath his mask to know he’s now scowling at you.

“What am I, a dumbass? I told you, this is it.” He then shifts away from you, far enough that you barely hear his next words. “…It has to be.”

Well.

That’s not exactly comforting.

Your discomfort only heightens when the already faint lights dim further, and the music switches from a pop song to which you know a bit of the lyrics to a rap that, if you were to base it on the first phrase, is all about having explicit, unprotected sex. The crowd of men cheers in anticipation, and as if on cue, a woman dressed in nothing but a two-piece lingerie emerges from the back of the stage, confirming your speculation of what the place is.

A strip club.

You watch as the woman confidently struts towards the center, and apparently, you’re no better than any of the men here because your gaze slowly roves over her slim and toned body, eyes catching at her cleavage that’s leaving nothing to the imagination. You can’t help it—you look down at your own chest, sinking in disappointment at the contrast before promptly looking up in embarrassment, only to find Bakugou studying you closely.

“It’s a strip club,” you blurt out, flustered at getting caught in the act. His eyes only narrow in a way that tells you what you’re already telling yourself: Thank you, Captain Obvious.

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, much to your relief, only moving to the far corner of the room where there are miraculously two seats unoccupied. You follow him with no further questions asked, plopping in the chair to his right, thankful you’re wearing black trousers so that your skin doesn’t have to go into contact with the sticky furniture.

You take the opportunity to clock the rest of the room, cataloguing the bar at the other end of the area near the entrance where a barista is swiftly taking and making orders all at the same time, while the men seated on the stools struggle to decide whether to look at the man or at the stripper now performing an elaborate dance around the pole. Amidst the decorated wall adjacent to the bar is a door with a restroom sign on it, and you squint just enough to see it’s only one stall for everyone. You make a mental note to hold in your pee, at least until you get out of here.

And, because you’re feeling nice, you shift to regard Bakugou with a good-natured smile on your face. “I hope you peed right before leaving your house.”

“What?” he says loud enough for you to hear him over the noise they’re calling music. “I can’t hear you.”

“Shit, right.” You lean in ever so minutely, and Bakugou mirrors you. You try to ignore the new-found proximity. “I said,” you repeat, with a little more volume this time, “I hope you peed right before fetching me. I bet the toilet’s filthy as shit.”

To your delight, not that you’d admit that to him in this lifetime, Bakugou smirks at your little quip after confirming the lone comfort room with his own eyes.

“Don’t worry about me, princess,” he starts, and you stiffen at the nickname, “I’m not the one who has to sit on one.”

You’re about to retort with something along the lines of what if he has to poop out of the blue, or at least try to, because the pet name has you gagged against your better judgment, when a ridiculously tall man clad in all black appears out of nowhere, startling you.

“The f—”

“Dynamight,” the behemoth of a guy cuts you off, eyes trained on the pro-hero beside you and completely ignoring your presence. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Took you long enough to approach me,” Bakugou sneers, oozing with the confidence you can’t find within yourself right now. “I hate sleazy places like this.”

To that, the man only bows his head slightly, face solemn but devoid of remorse. You watch him as his eyes finally drift to you, albeit for only a split second, before looking back at Bakugou. “Follow me, sir.”

The ash blonde does so, perhaps a tiny bit begrudgingly, and you speedily get up along with him. The two men turn to move, and you’re about to take a step closer towards their direction when a long arm shoots up in front of you, keeping you in place.

Any protests die in your throat when you look up and see the guy’s menacing glare.

“If you don’t mind,” he grits through his teeth, “Only Dynamight is needed.”

“She’s with me,” comes Bakugou’s commanding tone. You chance a glance at the pro-hero, whose countenance is so serious you’d be afraid if you were the one he’s talking to.

“But, sir—”

“It’s the two of us or we’re leaving,” Bakugou demands.

The two engage in a stare down which you witness for what feels like a few minutes before the man finally looks away, frustration etched across his intimidating features. He glares at you once more, as if you’re the one who’s insisting on being Bakugou’s plus one, and you’re about to be convinced that he’s mentally chanting a spell to make you disappear when he gestures for you to follow him with a flick of a head.

You gradually release the breath you didn’t know you were holding as you shadow them as they enter one of the doors on the wall perpendicular to where you were just stationed. It leads to a staircase that swerves in the middle, and you lock eyes with Bakugou as he makes the turn ahead of you. Neither of you says a word, opting to keep on trailing the man, even as you land on the second floor, which looks more and more like a prostitution den.

Once again, your conjecture is confirmed as you walk down the hallway and past several sets of doors on both sides, from which emanate a cacophony of sensual moans and groans. You wonder what Bakugou’s thinking right now, although you can’t get a read on him as you can only observe his backside.

Finally, after what seems like a tortuous eternity, the man stops right in front of the door at the end of the hallway, and you pause right behind him.

He looks back at Bakugou and you with what you’re pretty sure is caution, before knocking on the door twice, and then another two times but in rapid succession.

“Come in,” is what the muffled voice on the other side says.

And so you do.

You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting, because you’ve never actually been in a service room before, but you at least anticipated a bed on which certain…activities can be done.

But what you’re met with instead seems to be a refurbished lounge room with floor-to-ceiling brick walls, black and red quilted couches, and a bar at the far side all lit up with moody orange lighting.

And smack dab in the middle of it—sprawled so languidly all over the furniture—are three individuals.

Three individuals who immediately look at Bakugou.

It’s them, alright. You don’t need your extensive training in reading people to know that these are the ones you came all the way here for.

You quickly take note of their appearances. The seemingly old man who has to be in his late 50s is seated—quite relaxed—in one of the scarlet solo chairs. He’s slim, bordering on frail, but the glint in his eye as he peers at Bakugou tells you that it’d be unwise to rule him out as one of your main threats.

Juxtaposing his age which is further revealed by his shoulder-length salt and pepper hair is the young woman plastered on the couch adjacent to his.

Or maybe ‘woman’ is a bit too generous…

It’s not obvious at first glance, but you immediately notice how some of her body parts appear to be outright robotic in the literal sense. Perhaps it’s her long, pin-straight, jet-black hair that softens her entire look, but there’s no mistaking what seems to be an artificial left eye, a metallic right arm, and angled, silver lips. She’s wearing long pants so there’s no telling which other parts of her are made up of what you think is steel, but the ones visible to you already tell you enough.

And then there’s the third and last man, who, in comparison to the other two, is remarkably…plain.

There isn’t an air of age-induced wisdom around him, nor is there anything peculiar about his body. He looks like just about any other 40-year-old-ish Japanese man you know, with short black hair, an unassuming face, and semi-formal clothes that are quite loose on his not-buff but not exactly thin body either.

But to your surprise, it’s him that the hilariously huge guy from earlier directly reports to.

“Pro-hero Dynamight, sir, as you requested. And…” the ‘escort’ trails off, and for a split second, you feel kind of sorry you’re here and making things complicated for him. “…he brought company.”

“Finally,” the plain-looking man pipes up from his seat, and even his voice is generic. “And here we thought you were never going to come meet us.”

Placing what suspiciously looks like a glass of whiskey on the table in front of him, the man shifts to fully regard Bakugou. “I see that you’ve deciphered the messages we’ve been sending you?”

“No shit,” comes Bakugou’s blunt response, and for a beat, you seriously consider using your quirk on him to make him calm the fuck down.

You decide against it.

To your chagrin, he drones on. “Y’all gotta do better. That was barely even a code.”

At that, the old male barks out a laugh while the plain-looking man only chuckles. “Of course, we expect nothing less from the #2 pro-hero. But…” the latter trails off, eyes finally landing on you. You quickly put on the most endearing smile you can muster, suddenly regretting not touching up your makeup upon sitting earlier. Thankfully, though, he smiles back, before redirecting his focus back on Bakugou.

“I see you brought precious cargo. Is there any reason why she’s here with us?”

“We want in your organization,” Bakugou replies without hesitation. “The both of us.”

And when none of them say anything in response, Bakugou presses.

“You need me, right? I heard you’re planning an attack. I want to join.”

“Yes,” the old man finally speaks up, not even denying it yet his voice is riddled with misplaced humor. “We do, in fact, need you. But what use do we have of this girl?”

“She’s got a useful quirk,” Bakugou supplies, before turning to look at you and then back at them. “Luck. She boosts the success rate of anyone she works with.”

“Luck?” the old geezer says back so incredulously, you feel your eye twitch in annoyance. If he only knew what you were fully capable of. He can’t, though, if you want to get out of this entire situation alive. “I don’t think we’ll need that as long as we have you, boy.”

“Well, tough luck,” spews Bakugou, a little bit too sarcastically for your comfort. “Because, as I’ve told your little lackey here,” he gestures to the definitely not little guy from earlier, “It’s both of us or I’m out.”

“The both of you, huh?” muses the plain-looking man who’s seeming to be more and more like the leader of the group by the second.

Once again, silence envelopes the room when none of them utter a single word, with you and Bakugou watching in anxious (you) and impatient (him) anticipation. You observe their facial expressions as they have a wordless exchange, and judging by how the ancient and the robotic girl are looking at the ordinary man, you guess your hunch about him is right.

Eventually, they appear to reach an agreement, and the leader adjusts just enough to look at the both of you directly.

You brace yourself with bated breath.

He flashes you a modest smile.

“It’s a deal, then.”

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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[kenromis]

⌦ .｡.:*♡ last night on earth

⌦ .｡.:*♡ MDNI 18+

⌦ .｡.:*♡ WARNINGS: jayce talis, smut, some plot if you squint, post act 2 arcane, SPOILERS

⌦ .｡.:*♡ NOTES: i used to HATE jayce in 2021 but.... now i need him bad. dilf jayce stand behind me NOW!!! my official tumblr return for jayce talis, 2021 me would've lost it.

Soft clamors in the night, bandaged hands trailing against the wall to find their way through the corridors of his apartment in the darkness. The only thing audible is the sounds of his labored huffs and grunts as he limps towards any door he could find himself to first.

Jayce’s hip finds itself colliding with an item that God only knows of, hearing the sharp crack as it hits his marble floors. He lets out a groan, his free hand moving to rub his temple in reaction to the harsh shriek that echoed through the hall. Why did he even think about coming here first and not to a place he had mapped out better in his mind– such as his laboratory. He couldn’t go back there though… not after Viktor’s betrayal.

He hears the sound of a switch, the halls being coated with a blinding, artificial lighting that he hadn’t seen in however long he had been stuck in that goddamned dimension. Jayce’s eyes squeeze shut as he pushes his back to the wall, sliding down with a hand over his eyes. Always the one to have a flair for such dramatic reactions.

“Jayce!” A worried voice exclaims, footsteps running to approach him and shield his sensitive gaze from the light. “Jayce, goodness, where have you been?”

He knows the voice all too well, his lovely partner who had thankfully heard his desperate attempts to find his way through his home.

Jayce couldn't mutter a response, arms immediately wrapping around the woman that stood above him and pulling her form to envelope his. He hadn’t even bothered to open his eyes, burying himself in the crook of her neck with a satisfied sigh.

“Jayce?”

“Yes, honey?”

Her hands moved to rake through his hair— something that had severely changed in his absence. Not that she minded, however, it was clear Jayce had seen hell and back with the way his touch searched for solace on her body.

She bit her bottom lip anxiously, fingers dancing in his locks in an attempt to soothe him. “Are you okay?” Her question came out a lot more worrisome than she had intended, feeling the shift of his head move to look into her eyes through the strands that covered his face.

What could he say? She was no scientist, and while she was intelligent, there was no possible explanation he could give without sounding absolutely mental. But, she knew his line of work, so maybe there was a chance she could believe the sputtering and string of stories he had to tell about his absence.

However, right now, he couldn’t bother. His head dipped to rest atop her breast that had only been covered by a silk robe— his robe.

She took that as a response, realizing his reluctance. “The beard is new,” she mumbled affectionately, her free nimble hand moving to stroke the hairs that sat on his chin. It was rough and clearly untamed, but she hadn’t minded one bit.

Jayce let out a chuckle, moving his head back to lean against the wall. He couldn’t keep still one bit.

“I think I like this look,” she cooed, moving her hands to both sides of his face to caress his sunken cheeks. As worried as she had been, she couldn’t express it— considering how quick it was to get Jayce worried himself.

“I thought you weren’t a fan of facial hair?” He joked, resting his own hand against hers, his thumb rubbing circles around the skin. His gaze moved to hers, staring behind his long eyelashes and biting back a small smile at the way her hands rubbed the newly formed hair. It was quite different from how clean and kept he had been before, and his eyes searched for a reaction.

“I may be able to get used to it,” her soft voice whispered out, “but, I would prefer if we continue this conversation in the lounge.”

With that statement, she removed herself from her glass and onto her feet, hand extended to help as much as she could to get the weakened man to stand tall. Her hand gripping his allowing him to use her as leverage before wrapping his arm around her shoulder to limp his way to the destination she had led him to.

Jayce’s body fell to the sofa, a heavy groan as his arm moved to his shoulder with a wince while a ‘careful’ was yelled toward him. His other hand moved to the top of his head, soft pants spilling from his lips as if he had just run a marathon.

“Gracious, what were you put through?”

A seat is plopped beside him and immediately his head falls to her lap— a position he finds himself in quite often with his partner.

“If only you knew, [Name],” he whimpered out, moving her hand to caress his face once more. The only comfort he sought was from the softness of her skin against his.

“Then tell me,” she whispered in a plea, moving his head to look up at her. Her hand cupped the end of his chin to force his gaze, her softer expression from earlier now turned into one of slight irritation.

And how couldn’t she be irritated? Piltover’s golden boy disappearing without a trace, days after an attack at a memorial? Her only assumption is Jayce’s greed for revenge, which would perhaps explain his current state and absence.

“I know I worry you,” Jayce mumbled, moving her hand to place it against his lips. “I don’t know how I can tell you what is happening without worrying you more.”

“You’re an intelligent man, I’m sure you can find a way.”

He mind replayed the events from only a couple of days prior. How at one point he had been with Ekko and Heimerdinger drinking tea in an attempt to murder his best friend and partner. How would she understand? How could she? The pain he was truly feeling deep down behind whatever joking remark he had made mere seconds before. How could he explain the war coming to Piltover?

“There is something big coming, and all I want to do is make sure I can protect you,” he whispered, closing his eyes to avoid the live reactions from his lover. “I can’t live without you, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you too.”

‘Too?’ What had that meant? [Name] was aware of Viktor’s condition so had that meant he had passed? But Jayce had told you about Viktor leaving before he had gone?

“Jayce, I don’t un-“ “I told you. I don’t know how to explain this to you.”

He hadn’t meant to sound cocky, or for his words to sound belittling towards her intelligence. Jayce had barely understood it himself, so why would he assume she could?

“I just need you to know that I am going to make sure I can protect you with all my might.” With that, his eyes fluttered open to look up at her.

Tears formed around her [eye color] eyes, biting his lip to hold in any sobs that threatened to spill.

“Hey, hey,” he sat up quickly, pulling her body close to his. Now it was his turn to comfort her.

His large hand found position atop her head, mimicking her comforting motions from earlier. His free grip had wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest as he felt the wetness of her tears on his blazer. Jayce’s shushes blended with her soft sobs, resting his temple against hers and mumbling apologies and words of comfort.

“We’ll be okay, [Name], I promise you.”

His head nudged hers backward, pushing her to look back up at him before placing a chaste kiss on her lips. Jayce’s lips were dry against her soft plump lips, his position halting as he soothed into the touch of hers. He had missed this. Her lips being one of the only things circling his mind as a reminder of what he was fighting to escape.

Jayce fought to pull away, cursing himself for using your innocence and fragility as an excuse to kiss you. What a scumbag he had become in just a few minutes he had spent with you again after what he imagined to be an eternity.

“I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

With that, her arms wrapped against his neck, placing her lips back against his. Their kiss moved in sync as Jayce’s hand found its way to the crook of her back, slowly pushing forward until he rested above her and her body placed against the material of his lounge chair.

A soft murmur escaped through their kiss, Jayce’s hand moving to the skin of her thigh that peaked through his robe. Oh God did he love seeing her in his robe, basking in his scent during his absence— waiting for him like a wife waiting for her husband in war.

“I’ve missed you so much,” [Name] whimpered, eyes trailing Jayce as his lips moved to her neck impatiently. She wondered if his debauchery was simply a distraction of the pain he was in, or if he had missed her just as much.

“I only thought about you,” he responded, teeth taking light nibbles against her skin. The roughness of his newfound beard brushed against her skin while her hands found comfort in his hair once more.

Oh how his hair was her newfound pleasure, oh how Jayce had felt a sort of fucked up appreciation for the arcane if it meant this was how his lover squirmed beneath him over something as simple as grown-out hairs.

His lips moved to the top of the robe where her chest slightly peaked from underneath, his teeth slightly pulling until he could get to the hidden jewels which he desperately longed for.

“Jayce…”

His golden eyes darted up to where her mouth pursed and her brows tightened. He lifted his own brow, giving a questioning look in response to her plea.

“Are you sure you’re in the position to do this?” She breathily asked, moving his unattended strands from the front of his face, combing them towards the back of his head. “You’re bandaged, you didn’t look good earlier. I don’t want you to strain yourself some m-“

Her words were cut off by his lips attaching to her breast, emitting a sigh from her lips. She hated how unfair he played, especially when it came to sexual pleasure.

God forbid she be concerned for her lover.

“J-Jayce, please.”

His head moved back, pushing himself to be at eye level with her.

“I feel better than I have in a long time,” he lied, “I want to spend this moment with you and only you.” His hand found its way up her thigh until it rested between its crevice. The tip of his finger danced against her underwear, hoping his attempt at seducing her would work.

“Can you just answer me something, please?” Her question came out sultry, unintentionally so.

Jayce’s brow had lifted once more.

“Are you truly okay?”

He smiled softly above her. It wasn’t every day someone would push away their own sexual pleasure to ask about the health of others. Maybe that was why he loved her so much, why he longed for her day and night and why the time spent away drove him to the brink of insanity.

The arms wrapped around him were what he craved.

A kiss was pressed against her nose, a small and melancholic smile tugging against his lips.

“I will be.”

[Name] gave a soft nod. A nod of understanding, of approval, of allowance for him to continue. Whatever made Jayce feel at peace was enough to satisfy her.

His fingers found their way wrapped around the band of her underwear, pulling it down enough until the pads of his fingers found their way against her core. They slide slowly, rhythmically, teasingly. It was almost as if he had been making up for lost time, even if it had only been a few days.

Jayce watched above, the way her teeth bit down on her lips and her eyes squeezed shut. He took that as a sign to continue, tracing her folds with his fingers along with a kiss to her jaw that slowly made its way downward back to his previous spot at her uncovered breast. His lip attached, teeth taking the bud between and grazing it together to earn a mewl.

How he basked in the noises he emitted from her behind closed doors. If only he could listen to the noise at every second of every day, like music to his ears. So melodic to his sinful ears, like a choir.

The way his name spilled from her lips was the only way he could stand hearing it, the only way he would dare to listen to someone speak to him with his full attention.

A finger dipped into her core, then another, slowly pushing in and out with the rhythm of her moans. His lips sucked and created pretty colored marks on the skin of her chest while his unoccupied hand moved to caress her untouched breast.

“Oh God…” She whined, pushing her head deep into the cushions, moving her arm to slither between the two. Her hand searched for the tent of his jeans, before gripping it harshly as a request.

Jayce was no idiot, he was a scientist after all.

He chuckled softly, lifting his head back up with a cocky smile. “If I knew growing a beard would have this effect on you, I would’ve done it long ago,” he joked, moving to sit on his knees and unbuckle his dress pants.

His comment earned an eye roll, [Name] propped herself up on her elbows to get a full view of the display.

Jayce’s new look screamed maturity, his freshly shaven look long gone from her mind now. He looked like a mess, yet for some reason, she had never been so much more attracted to him— despite being so in love. She wondered how he had managed to grow a full set in just a couple of days, but she was sure he would have an explanation for her when he was ready.

She watched as his fingers fumbled with his buttons with a nervous demeanor, lifting a brow of curiosity.

“Sorry, I just don’t know which parts of me grew hair…” he whispered, earning a laugh from his significant other.

“Do you really think I care that badly?” [Name] retorted with an eye roll, “I said before that I wasn’t a fan of facial hair, not pubic or chest hair,” she joked. “Plus, I already told you… I like this look.”

With that, his pants had been removed, falling off the couch as he moved to remove his shirt. His eyes stared into hers, taking occasional glances down to the robe as a hint to undress— which she happily understood.

His shirt had been removed, and a pool of chest hair that filled the blank canvas from before trailed down to where his pubic area sat. What a sight it was, to see a muscled man before her with a raggedy look.

Jayce’s hand found a way to his erection, inching closer with his knees to line himself up. His tip tapped against her core, a soft hiss coming from his lips. He knew he had to be careful, not just for his own physical wellbeing but hers as well.

His hand gripped the top of the sofa as he pushed in, panting heavily. His golden eyes stayed fixed on her face, watching it move around in pleasure. Watching as her lips formed an ‘O’ and soft mewls spilled from her lips— the same lips that had sobbed over his well-being a mere moment ago. Fuck, he wished he could keep her in that position forever, not because he wanted to be inside of her but because he wanted to protect her. He knew the only way he could truly protect her was as long as they were skin to skin, as one.

Jayce’s hips stuttered, pushing forward as slow as he could handle before moving his hips back to keep a consistent pace. His grip tightened on the coach, knuckles purple with how badly he wished he could destroy the furniture the two laid on— destroy her.

“Shit.”

His head found its way in her neck once more, hips rocking slowly and carefully with every noise she made.

“Jayce, please,” she whimpered, her fingers unintentionally gripping the dirty bandages on his back. “I need more.”

That was his cue to move faster. He hadn’t no longer cared about the injuries he faced, he just wanted to fulfill her needs and his own as quickly and efficiently as possible.

His free hand dug into her hips as he pistoned in and out of her, taking the skin of her neck between his teeth and sucking as hard as he can. He needed her to be reminded of him, of the effect he had, especially if it meant he wouldn’t be able to have her like this again.

“You’re too good for me,” he whined, lifting her thigh up to his waist. His pace quickened by the second. He had to show her what she meant to him, he had to show her heaven.

“I love you more than anything,” he spoke, gasps stopping his words mid-way as he thrust. “I only want you, only you.”

Her cries got louder, filling his once-silent apartment with her pleasured noises and expressions. [Name]’s grip on his shoulders signaled how close she was getting, and Jayce was unsure if he was ready to end it so soon.

He quickened, pushing himself towards his release before slowly drawing himself in and out. A smile on his lips as her pleas rang his ears, begging for him to pick up the pace and finish them both off— and so he did. His hips taking its final harsh thrusts before their orgasms spilled into each other, heavy pants from the both of them as their sweat mixed together.

Jayce let out a satisfied sigh, resting his head on her breast and pulling the robe off the floor to cover the lower parts of their bodies.

“Jayce?” “Yes, love.” “I don't know what you meant earlier but promise me, you’ll be safe out there.”

His eyes closed, his smile fading as his thoughts flooded and anxieties bounced around. “I promise,” he lied.

[p0orbaby]

Leah and reader argue then make up 😘

-

The door slams harder than you intend, the sound reverberating through the flat like a gunshot. Leah’s standing in the kitchen, her hands braced against the counter, staring down at the cutting board like it’s the source of all her problems.

You don’t even bother taking off your coat. “So, what, you’re just not going to talk to me now?”

Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t look at you. “What’s the point? You’ve clearly already decided I’m in the wrong”

“Oh, don’t do that,” you snap, stepping closer. “Don’t make this about me when you’re the one acting like an arse”

That gets her. She straightens up, turning to face you, her eyes blazing. “An arse? Because I told you what I thought?”

“No, because you told me what you thought in front of everyone, Leah. You undermined me”

Her laugh is sharp, bitter. “Undermined you? I disagreed with you. Sorry if I didn’t bow down and kiss your feet in front of the whole squad”

“You didn’t just disagree,” you counter, your voice rising. “You made me look stupid. Do you have any idea how that felt?”

For a moment, she just stares at you, her chest rising and falling as she takes in your words. Then she shakes her head, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t mean to make you feel stupid,” she says, her tone quieter now. “But you were being reckless, and I wasn’t just going to stand there and let you—”

“Reckless?” you interrupt, your anger flaring again. “I made a judgement call. If you didn’t agree, you could’ve pulled me aside. But no, you had to make a scene”

“I was trying to protect you,” she snaps, stepping closer. “You were too close to that tackle. One wrong move and—”

“And what?” you cut in, your voice trembling. “I’d get hurt? That’s football, Leah. It’s my decision to make, not yours”

The silence that follows is thick and heavy, the kind that makes your skin prickle. Leah’s staring at you, her eyes hard but glossy, like she’s fighting some internal battle. You can see her hands clenching at her sides, her forearms tense, and for a moment, you think she’s going to say something else.

Instead, she just mutters, “I can’t do this,” and turns away.

That’s when something in you snaps. “Fine,” you say coldly. “Walk away. That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?”

She freezes mid-step, her back to you, and for a second, you think she might actually leave. But then she turns around, her expression unreadable, and takes two long strides toward you.

“You think I’m walking away?” she says, her voice low and dangerous. “You think I don’t care?”

“Seems like it,” you fire back, even as your heart pounds against your ribs.

Before you can say anything else, she closes the distance between you, her hands gripping your waist and pulling you flush against her. The kiss is hard, desperate, like she’s trying to prove a point.

You try to hold onto your anger, but it dissolves the moment her lips move against yours, her fingers digging into your sides as if she’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“Still think I don’t care?” she murmurs against your mouth, her voice rough and breathless.

You don’t answer. Instead, you tug her closer, your fingers tangling in her hair as you kiss her back just as fiercely.

The fight isn’t resolved—not really—but as she lifts you onto the counter, her hands sliding under your shirt, you think maybe it doesn’t need to be. At least not right now.

Some arguments, it seems, are better settled in silence. Or, in your case, in the half-lit kitchen with the sound of her breathless apologies against your skin.

[peppermintquartz]

stuck in an elevator

Someone with a sick sense of humor must be writing my life, because a benevolent God sure as hell would never plan this, Tommy thinks in his bitchiest mental tone. Then he snorts. As if anyone would be interested enough to write a single paragraph about him.

The other occupant of the elevator pointedly does not look at him. Evan Buck keeps his tone so neutral, it's almost robotic. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I mean, of all the places in Los Angeles to visit on a day off, we end up at LACMA together. And now we're stuck in the same elevator. What are the odds?" The ludicrously serendipitous nature of this encounter is keeping Tommy from other, less-pleasant thoughts, namely being trapped in a space without a view of the outside world. His pulse is starting to race.

They tried calling 911, but the signal in the elevator was poor. Thankfully the emergency intercom did connect to the museum's operations office, who has contacted emergency services.

"I should've taken the stairs," Tommy grumbles. His skin itches with the need to feel fresh air.

"With that boot on your ankle? Then you're dumber than I thought you were." Evan Buck finally glances over, his blue eyes scanning him from head to toe. "How did you injure yourself anyway?"

"Tripped when I was getting out of the bird," Tommy replies honestly.

Evan Buck scoffs and shakes his head, but his expression softens. "You doing okay otherwise?"

There are so many ways Tommy can answer. He can pretend he is perfectly okay. Somewhat okay. He can claim that he misses Evan Buck, but he wants to be friends, just friends. He can be flippant. Make it funny, keep things superficial.

But this is Evan asking him.

"I miss you like a heartbeat" is what comes out instead. And it's true - Tommy feels like an automaton, moving through time, his routines carrying him along from dawn till dusk.

Entire days going by without a single text from Evan Buck feel empty and pointless. The bedsheets need to be laundered but Tommy doesn't want to lose the final traces of the last time they slept in the same bed. There are books Evan Buck brought over to read when Tommy wants to watch a movie.

And now they are stuck together, in an enclosed metal box, and Tommy is trying not to think about that while also trying not to think about how much he wants to kiss Evan. So he vacillates between a bone-deep phobia and a bone-deep yearning.

"I'm sorry. That was too heavy to lay on you like that." His fingers are clammy where his palms are on the mirrored wall. Licking his lips, he says, "But I don't want to lie to you. Not about anything. But I'm good otherwise, Evan."

"I'm not." Evan inhales deeply and blows out his breath. "I'm... I'm baking every time I think about texting you or calling you. The loft smells like a goddamn bakery. And still, still I can't forget the way you smell, the way you sound, the way you fucking taste. I want - I want so badly - to turn back time, figure out what I said wrong that made you run from me. Maybe I wanna be mad at you. I don't know. But I'm not good, Tommy. I'm not gonna be good for a long time."

"I'm sorry," Tommy begins, but Evan cuts him off.

"I don't want you to be sorry," he snaps, and to Tommy's shame, his eyes well up with tears. "I want you to be mine. I want to be yours. I want... I want us, together. That's what I want. I don't wanna be good, I don't want you to be sorry, I want us to be happy together, that's all I fucking want!"

The silence that falls between them is thick as concrete.

His hands and feet are cold now, and he thinks he is a little dizzy. Gulping down a breath, Tommy says, "I shouldn't have run. It was... I was afraid. That... that you'd see me and everything I'm not."

This is when Evan sighs and turns to face him. "I should've chased after you. I was afraid too. I moved too fast, I know now. But you running away and ghosting me after was a dick move."

"I guess we both have a lot to work through." Tommy manages a tight smile. He is starting to feel lightheaded, and his breathing is picking up pace despite his best efforts to stay calm and distract himself with Evan's presence. His hands are clammy and he tries to wipe them dry on his jeans. "Evan?"

"Tommy?"

"How long before 911 arrives?" Tommy's mouth is dry. His vision sparks and he is valiantly trying to hold on to his composure, but he feels like he's boiling in his dark blue henley; he needs air, he needs the sky, he needs space to flee-

"Tommy!" Evan is right next to him, keeping him from collapsing and hurting himself. His touch grounds Tommy in the present moment, and his face this close blocks out the sight of the metal coffin they are stuck in. "They'll be here soon, okay? It's all good, they'll be here soon. Breathe for me, come on, inhale , two, three, four; hold, two. three, four..."

Evan talks him through the breathing exercises, holding him up and against himself, all the way even after the elevator lurches back to life and delivers them to the next floor safely.

After he's helped out of the elevator, Tommy wretches and vomits all over the floor, some of the sick getting on Evan's nice shoes.

"Sorry," says Tommy, eyes tearing from the force of the nausea, his big frame trembling.

"They're just shoes," says Evan, soothing a hand along his spine. To the attending paramedic, he says, "He has mild claustrophobia. Not usually a problem, but we were in there a while."

Tommy follows the paramedic - Jefferson - to a bench, accepting a quick look-over. To his surprise, Evan stays with him. Jefferson doesn't see anything wrong other than shock and leaves them with a blanket when another call comes in, about some old man and a broken hip.

Tommy finally recovers after about twenty minutes. He smiles wryly at Evan. "Sorry. You don't have to stick around, there's a lot to see in LACMA."

"Tough luck chasing me off," says Evan. There's a determined set to his jaw.

"Evan, I mean, Buck, surely you have other places to go."

"First of all, I hate hearing you call me Buck. Second of all, I'm not going anywhere. I know exactly what I want, and I'm pretty sure I know what you want."

"Yeah? What do I want?"

"To be my forever," says Evan. He looks Tommy in the eye. "And I know enough about myself and relationships, a-and love, to say that I want you to be my forever too. So. Hah. I'm sticking around. Sucks to be you."

Tommy huffs out an amused and exasperated breath. "Still a brat."

"Yeah? Well, you can either put up with me, or you can do something about it." But there's no hiding the curl of his lips.

[tmnt-ocxcanon-comp]

TMNT OCxCanon Comp Round 5

Learn more under the cut!

Hassan Singh

@morning-sun-brah

In a relationship with Michelangelo (romantic). Rise!Mikey. 

Description; Hassan is a criminal defense attorney who met Mikey in the back alley of his law firm. Thinking that Michelangelo was illegally tagging (graffiti), a small argument ensued- in where Michelangelo explained that he’d been hired to add a mural to the side of the building. After that they bumped into one another at a City Event (Mikey and his brothers were being awarded for stopping a villain), and Hassan began to send Mikey gifts (hair care products and other expensive things), and eventually they began texting. They fall into the enemies to lovers troupe. Eventually they both fall and love and express their feeling to one another.

art created by Sha-Biest

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Ana

@mrabubu

Rise Leo. Dating.

A young girl, Ana, once a friend to the turtles, had feelings towards Leo. She showed him the care and acceptance he long needed, which, in the end, melted his heart. During the Kraang invasion, she was taken away and turned into Kraang zombie, after which was presumed dead. But 10 years later, she still had feelings for the blue turtle, and those feelings were strong enough to retain her consciousness and humanity, helping her to find Leo after all these years. Now reunited, Ana’s living in the resistance’s base, struggling with being half Kraang, and now being the one in need of care. But Leo is determined to do anything in his power not to lose his loved one ever again.

https://www.tumblr.com/mrabubu/755268260842373120/so-i-did-kinda-sketch-ref-for-my-kraang-character?source=share6.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

[froppy-butterflyfan2000]

Hiraya produced one energy sphere then another at ease. There is a smug written in her face. Janaya rolled his eyes towards Hiraya’s boasting attitude. Hiraya and Janaya are taught how to use energy magic by their father in the magic training room of their family home. Janaya is having trouble in making an energy ball.

“You’ll get it. You just need to try harder.” Said Kyle.

Janaya scowled and side eyes at Hiraya. “I am trying. I’m trying harder than anyone else. Do you know how humiliating it is to struggle with something everyone else can just do?”

“You are not, concentrate son.” Said Kyle, ignoring Janaya’s feelings. Janaya frowned. He saw how Nebula demonstrate herself in creating an energy ball (only because she has the power of the Royal Wand) and she did give tips to him. It is always concentration!

Janaya gritting his teeth out of anger. A burning rage inside in belly. He gather all the energy from his surrounding and the mana in his body as much he could. Especially his own anger, converting it into Noir Fuel Spirt. He finally made a energy ball. It is a blue colour that look exactly like a kill ball. Janaya lashes out, throwing it to the wall, sending it flying and disintegrating and splitting the target. Hiraya flinch, seeing another one of her brother’s angry outbursts. Next thing Hiraya and Kyle knew, they watch Janaya fall down to the floor. All Janaya know after he fell, are the the black dots form in his vision and soon he passed out.

“Janaya!” Said Kyle, letting out a gasp. He picks up his son and makes attempts to wake him up. He checks for concussion as well. Kyle realize that his son is not waking up as he check his pulse, still alive but slow due to exhaustion.

~~

Janaya lifts himself up from bed, he rubs his eyes in circle motions. He realizes he is in his room. Janaya see his mother, sitting on a chair, next to her son lying in bed.

“Mom?” Janaya asked. “What happened?” He said confused.

“Your dad says you have a hissy fit during magic practice again.” Janna explained. Janaya nodded.

“Did I unintentionally started a fire again?” He asked another question.

“No.” Janna replied with an answer, relieving Janaya of his anguished thoughts. He did not start fire, that means he is making good progress with his magic.

“After what happened, we can deny it no longer. Me and your father decided that he won’t be your instructor in energy magic. Since you are magically disable in this attribute.” Said Janna.

“But… I wants to be a master wizard likes dad…” he said, looking at his mom in pleading eyes and fear that he disappoints his dad.

Janna felt sympathetic towards her son. “You will be just like him Janaya, just not wielding energy magic.”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

That was a back then when he was a child, Janaya watch from afar to see Second Summer Campers casting spells in The Arena of Camp Synonymous Island. In his time in Townsville, as a part of his magic journey, he had met many magic users. Some are super heroes. Some as civilians. Some as superheroes. He has seen some who have potential to be master wizards. A few who would become Sorcerer Supreme in Eugenia’s eyes.

“You okay Jan?”, Ethan asked.

“I confirm that I am fine with my emotions,” Janaya replied, maintaining his pace and volume and express openness and gratitude to not get caught up on something that bother him. “I appreciate you asking; thank you.”

Janaya out on a half smile, Ethan respond in silence, looking at Janaya’s half smile.

“Trying to get the cat to catch my tongue?” Said Ethan. “Nice try. I know that you are staring at the campers from afar. They won’t be catching up to us anytime soon. Our time right now is young. Don’t be so negative and hard on yourself.”

“……I don’t know what you are talking about.” Janaya lied.

Ethan Corduroy and Nebula Butterfly-Lucitor (mentioned) belong to @ej-cappy-universe

Eugenia Maximoff (mentioned), Hiraya B.C. Bloodworth-Thomason and Janaya A. Bloodworth-Thomason belong to @froppy-butterflyfan2000 (me)

"You'll get it. You just need to try harder."

"I am trying. I'm trying harder than anyone. Do you know how humiliating it is to struggle with something everyone else can just do?"

[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 ♡

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

An employee in the marketing department of a large company, your days are filled with poorly worded emails, unrealistic deadlines, and passive aggressive friendly reminders from your superiors. On a particularly awful afternoon, a chance encounter with a coworker from the programming department down the hall is the first thing to make you smile in weeks.

But the more you uncover about Yang Jungwon and his mysterious injuries, flimsy excuses, and always occupied Friday nights, the more you begin to realize that you really don’t know him at all.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

PART TWO

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

It’s been a while since you felt anything but dread opening your work inbox. 

Monday morning, however, the first message that greets you is a reminder of a time when you did. When you used to keep your email tab open just in the hopes that a certain programmer would send you messages about a jammed printer for you to reread a dozen times. 

This time, though, excitement is the last thing you feel. It’s curiosity, more than anything, combined with an urgent need to know what the hell happened between your date and your coworker, that has you clicking on the message. 

From: 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 ♡

[cyarikaplease]

and i’ll never see you again if i can help it

ex!joel miller x f!reader

summary: after breaking up with Joel, you take an opposite patrol shift to avoid him at all costs.

warnings: smut and angst

“The first time I tasted somebody else's spit, I had a coughing fit

I mistakenly called them by your name

I was let down it wasn't the same”

The cold nighttime air startled your lungs as you stumbled outside. Before you had time to acclimate, his lips were pressed against yours. You drunkenly kissed him back, him being some guy you met at the Tipsy Bison whose name you couldn’t even be bothered to recall. You got a taste of his spit, bitter from the alcohol he just drank. You forced yourself not to gag which caused you to pull away and cough violently, the crisp November air certainly not helping. 

He looked at you under the dim street lamp and chuckled, “You okay?”

Tears sprung at the corners of your eyes as you continued your coughs and struggled to catch your breath. He rubbed your back as your coughing fit came to an end. 

That was nice of him.

When the coughing finally dissipated you resigned to kissing him again. He pressed you against the side of the building and worked on your neck, leaving sloppy, wet kisses on your soft skin.

You started to moan a little and as he kissed and sucked on your neck, you subconsciously moaned “Joel”. 

He stopped. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and your face grew hot. He slowly pulled away from your neck and looked you in the eye. 

“…What did you just say?”

You didn’t know what to say. It’s not like you could tell him the truth, “Oh I was just moaning my ex’s name.” That would crush him. You stared at each other under the streetlamp and through puffs of your visible breath. The expression on his face was a mixture of disappointment and betrayal.

“I- I…” you stuttered out.

He shook his head and muttered “Forget it” before turning and walking home, leaving you alone in the dark street with nothing but the shame you felt. 

“I’m doing fine, trying to derail my one-track mind

Regaining my self-worth in record time

But I can’t help but think of your other in the bed that was mine”

You sighed and went to walk home yourself, the shame already melting away. It’s not like it was going to be anything serious anyway. Who cares if you called him by the wrong name? You’re still healing from your breakup with Joel anyway. You were bound to be a little messy here and there. The shame had started shapeshifting into pride of some kind. But all that changed when you saw him leaving the Tipsy Bison. And no, not the random guy from before. This time him being Joel. And he was with a woman. They were clearly drunk and practically hanging off of each other. How had you not noticed him inside earlier? And as they walked towards the direction of Joel’s home, the home that you used to share with him, you heard something rare; Joel was laughing. Jealousy stirred a pit in your stomach. Your hands clenched at your sides. Tears sprung in your eyes again. The shame returned but this time for a different reason. You were ashamed you no longer had a rebound. You wanted to prove to Joel that you didn’t need him; that you were moving on. But instead, you were standing in the street feeling jealous, watching him walk home to fuck someone where he used to fuck you. 

“Am I a masochist, resisting urges to punch you in the teeth

Call you a bitch and leave?”

You wanted to yell after him; tell him to stop; ask what he thought he was doing. Maybe even call him a name or two. Maybe throw him a punch. Maybe not the punch though. That was just drunk you talking. You didn’t really have a right to do any of those things anyway. You were broken up. He was free to move on to whoever he wanted. You turned on your heel and walked home, head hanging low in humiliation. You returned to your empty home, collapsing into bed and finally letting the tears flow now that you were alone. You thought about what Joel was doing with her. Was he kissing her? Were they holding each other? Were they in what used to be your bed with Joel? Did he have the same attention to detail with her pleasure that he used to have with yours? It made your stomach twist into knots. The alcohol mixed with the feelings of regret, longing, and nostalgia; all of it fusing together, leaving you nauseous. You ran to your bathroom and emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet. You sat on the floor, rested your head against the toilet seat, and sobbed, the tears making your face sticky and puffy. You knew you were gonna look like shit tomorrow, eyes puffy and bloodshot, all the color in your face faded. And to make matters worse, you had a daytime patrol shift with Joel tomorrow. The thought of him seeing you like this was mortifying. You wanted him to think that you were moving on; that you didn’t need him anymore. But that was far from the truth. 

“Why did I come here? To sit and watch you stare at your feet? 

What was the plan? Absolve all your guilt and shake hands?”

You woke up that morning with a splitting headache. The morning sun creeping in through the windows didn’t help either. You rose from your bed slowly, the aches in your body starting to set in. You went to the bathroom and took a look at yourself in the mirror. The bags under your eyes were a deep purple and the life was sucked from your face. You thought about Joel seeing you like this… which led you to think about him waking up with her this morning. The pain that that thought gave you was indescribable. It tore at your stomach and your heart, leaving them with heavy pits. You leaned over the bathroom counter and took slow, deep breaths, heading facing down at the sink. After talking yourself down from the impending mental breakdown you got ready for your patrol shift, slipping on your clothes and grabbing your gun on the dresser before exiting into the brisk morning. You put your pants in the pockets of your jacket and stared at the ground as you walked, not trying to make eye contact with anyone as Jackson was waking up for the day. 

You reached the main gate to find Joel waiting there, too, also looking at the ground. Tommy and a few others were waiting as well. You wordlessly headed to the stables, mounting on your houses for the patrol. The tension between the group hung heavy in the air, thanks to you and Joel. Everyone in town knew about your breakup and how messy it was. Nobody dared to say a thing as you and the group exited through the gate and spread out along the walls of Jackson. Somehow you and Joel ended up next to each other, neither of you looking in the other’s general direction. The strain and hostility between you two was so strong it was pliable. It felt like a weight being pushed down on your shoulders. And that’s how most of the shift went– you and Joel next to each other or walking by each other on your horses, never making eye contact. It was awkward for you, him, and everyone else unfortunate enough to be on the same patrol shift with you guys. If only you could switch patrol shifts…

But your thoughts are interrupted when Joel speaks, startling you. 

“Can we talk?”

Really? Now?

“I don’t really think here is the best time or place…” you said, glancing at the others around you.

“Meet me at the diner after our shift?” he asked in a hushed tone. 

The diner in Jackson had a service for patrol shift workers to stop in for coffee whenever they needed it. Going to the diner after your patrol shifts was something you used to do together. Now, you avoided that place like the plague, finding it to be painful to go to. 

Your brow furrowed, “Sure, I guess…”

He nodded silently and led his horse in the opposite direction around the fence. You didn’t see him much for the rest of your shift. And when you did you didn’t really look him in the eye. The day seemed to drag on, the sun getting lower and lower in the sky. At the end of your shift, you headed back to the stables and dismounted from your horse, starting the walk to the diner. Jackson was bathed in a warm red glow, a beautiful sight on a normal day but you were too nervous to appreciate it. As you approached the diner you saw Joel through the window, sitting at a booth, looking down at his hands.

“I feel no need to forgive but I might as well

But let me kiss your lips so I know how it felt

Pay for my coffee and leave before the sun goes down

Walk for hours in the dark feeling all hell”

You entered the diner with a ding from the bell attached to the door. Joel looked up from his hands and met your eyes. You wordlessly walked to his booth and sat across from him, not knowing what to say. But again, Joel spoke first.

“I’m sorry you had to see that outside the Tipsy Bison last night…”

So he did see you. That made this so much worse.

You sighed, “You don’t have anything to apologize for. We’ve been broken up for like a month now.”

“I know but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you or your feelings anymore…”

He looked at you with a solemn expression on his face. Before either of you could say anything the waitress came over to take your order. 

“Can I get you two anything else besides coffee? Something to eat?”

Not in the mood to eat. Not during a talk like this. 

“Just the coffee for now,” you replied. 

“Same for me.”

“I’ll be right back with those,” she said before, turning and heading behind the counter. 

“I mean… I forgive you I guess?”

He nodded and reached your hand across the table.

But why? Why is he doing this if he supposedly moved on? You missed him, though. And you’d be lying to yourself right now if this didn’t make you at least a little bit happy. 

You took his hand and sighed, rubbing your thumb across his. 

“Why are we doing this? I thought we were supposed to be moving on. I’ve been trying to, at least.” It physically pained you to say those words but it was what needed to be said. He can’t just go home with another woman and then come back to you apologizing. He either wanted you or he didn’t.

He didn’t answer. The waitress returned with your coffees and you sipped on them silently; the warm liquid soothing you after a long day out in the cold.

You continued, “I just don’t get what’s going on here. It all feels like a mixed signal.”

“I want to move on. I really do. But when I try to move on I find myself feelin’ guilty. And it doesn’t help that we work the same patrol shift. I see you all the time and anytime I look at you, I just feel guilty.”

“I’ll make this easier for both of us, Joel,” you said, giving him a sad smile. “Don’t worry about me. Just live your life.”

Something compelled you to give him one final kiss before it was over forever. You leaned over the booth and gave him a quick, chaste kiss, even though you would regret it later. Before he could say anything in return, you slid out of the booth and stood up, getting ready to leave. 

“Goodbye, Joel,” you said before leaving him behind, in the past where he belongs. 

“Don’t hold your breath, forget you’ve ever saw me at my best

You don’t deserve what you don’t respect

Don’t deserve what you say you love and then neglect

Now bite your tongue, it’s too dangerous to fall so young

Take back what you said

Can’t lose what you never had”

The sun was setting. The people of Jackson were heading towards their homes, but not you. You walked through the dark streets, in a melancholy haze. You missed him so much but there was a reason your relationship ended. But still, you found yourself reminiscing on the good times; the patrol shifts together, him teaching you how to play guitar, laughing together with Ellie. But he didn’t love you the way you needed to be loved. It was understandable given all he went through. But he didn’t need to tell you he loved you and treat you otherwise. 

You met each other in Kansas City after FEDRA’s control there collapsed. 

And when you first got together he would always tell you to be careful falling for him. You were a lot younger than him. Looking back, he was probably right. But he stopped trying to fight your feelings towards him and just accepted it. And that’s all it most likely was at the end of the day; him just accepting you, not loving you back. At least that’s what you thought. Maybe there was a part of grumpy, stoic Joel Miller that loved you deep down. And if that part of him existed, he was terrible at letting it out. 

It wasn’t a breakup where one person broke up with the other. You both felt it coming for a while. The greatest love you’d ever known (or thought you’d ever known) slipped through your fingers. And you both felt it was time to cut it off. That was a little over a month ago and it hasn’t been any easier since.

After a while the frigid night turned into dawn. You stayed out the whole night, loafing around. Soon it would be time for your patrol shift but you thought about what Joel said.

“And it doesn’t help that we work the same patrol shift. I see you all the time and anytime I look at you, I just feel guilty.”

“You got a 9 to 5, so I’ll take the night shift

And I’ll never see you again if I can help it

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers

Dedicated to new lovers”

You spotted Tommy walking to his patrol shift and that’s when you got the idea: ask for the night shift.

“Tommy!” you shouted, “Wait up!”

He stopped walking and turned to face you. You jogged a little bit to catch up with him.

“Hey,” he said wearily, taking in your current state. “Did you go to bed last night?”

“No… But I actually had something I wanted to ask you.”

“Shoot.”

“Would it be alright if I took the night shift instead?”

He let out a small sigh. He knew what this was about. 

“…I don’t see why not.”

“Thanks. Can I start tonight?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Go home and get some sleep,” he said, looking at your tired face.

“Thanks, Tommy,” you replied before walking home.

You didn’t see Joel walk to his shift. Maybe he was already there. Maybe he would notice your absence. Maybe he wouldn’t care. Maybe he would be relieved. 

You walked inside and went straight to your bedroom, peeling off the clothes you had been wearing for the past twenty four hours. You slipped on something to wear to sleep and crumpled into bed, exhaustion taking you over. You still found yourself dreaming of Joel. You dreamt of when he taught you to play guitar. He knew some songs from before the outbreak but not a ton. So a lot of the songs you made up on the spot, not necessarily accompanied by singing either, something neither of you were skilled at. But it was something you two did together. It was something that made the detached Joel Miller enjoy himself for once. Maybe one day he would play those songs for someone else or forget yours and make up new ones entirely. Maybe he would teach her how to play guitar. Maybe he would give up that hobby altogether after you, finding it too painful. 

You slept throughout the whole day, waking up a couple of hours before your night shift. You opened your eyes groggily, not adjusted to the light coming in through the windows yet. You rubbed your eyes and opened them to see a tall, looming figure standing over your bed.

“What the fuck?!” you shouted, sitting upright. 

You blinked a few times and your vision focused. It was just Joel and he had a scowl on his face.

“Jesus Christ, Joel. You scared the shit out of me,” you said in an annoyed tone, trying to quell your racing heartbeat.

“The fuckin’ night shift?!” he said gruffly, still towering over you. 

“And what about it?” you challenged, folding your arms. 

“What was the fuckin’ reason for it,” he replied, sitting across from you on the bed.

“Thought about what you said yesterday… Seemed like the right thing to do if we’re gonna move on from each other…”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, but you don’t go and do something rash like that.”

“Something rash? You mean just swapping my work schedule? Last time I checked I didn’t have to consult with you about that.”

He fell silent so you continued, “You can’t just say you’re done with me; that you’re trying to move on, and then come here and get upset because I changed my work schedule. I’m sick of the fucking mixed signals, Joel. You either want me or you don’t.”

You finished your little speech with a loud sigh, sounding annoyed as fuck. The audacity of this man was unbelievable. He can take home some other woman the night before but come to your house, when you’re sleeping, and get all possessive? Enough was enough.

You scooched closer to him on the bed. 

“So what’s it gonna be, huh? Make up your fucking mind.”

Without warning his lips crashed against yours. His kisses were messy and sloppy. And almost angry. His hands found themselves in your hair. This was the exact opposite of what you should be doing but you didn’t care. You missed him so much. 

He pushed against you, coaxing you to lie down on the bed. And when you did, he hovered over you with a hungry, insatiable look in his eyes. He returned to kiss you messily while his hands roamed the rest of your body, trailing down to the pants you were wearing, thumbing at the waistband. You moaned softly underneath him and he pulled off your pants, tossing them on the floor. His hand grazed up your thigh, resting on your cunt that was growing wet in anticipation. 

“Bet you missed this,” he whispered against your ear. 

You let out a small whimper in response as his fingers teased your entrance, brushing against the wet, tender flesh. 

“You’re already so wet for me, darlin’.”

Darlin. That was an older pet name Joel had given you. And it’s been a while since you’ve heard it. That fucker knew exactly what he was doing. He knew all the ways to make you melt under his touch. 

You spread your legs open for him, gaining him access to slip a finger inside you. His mouth found your neck, peppering it with sloppy kisses. You rocked your hips against his hand, desperate for more. And when he finally gave you another finger, you felt the pleasure in your core building more and more. 

His mouth left your neck and trailed down to your entrance, licking small, soft circles around your sensitive clit. You knew you weren’t gonna last long like this, his fingers hitting your g-spot perfectly and his tongue caressing your clit in a way that sent you into intense euphoria. He always knew how to get you cum quickly and hard. 

“I’m gonna cum, Joel,” you whined. 

He moaned against your clit in response, letting you know he wanted to feel it. And when you did cum, it was intense. Your cunt fluttered around his fingers as he pumped them in and out of you relentlessly. You soaked his face in your cum as you rode out your high, rocking your hips against him. Once you were done coming, you collapsed your hips back down on the bed, legs still shaking. 

You were catching your breath when he looked up from your cunt and said “Not done with you yet, darlin’.”

He stood up from the bed for a moment to remove his clothes. You took the moment to sit up and pull off your shirt over your head, tossing it on the floor with your pants. He returned to the bed and hovered over you by your face. 

“Ready for me?”

You nodded and he aligned himself with your entrance, thrusting his hard cock into you extra slow to drive you insane. He took your legs and put them over his shoulders before you even had time to adjust to his size. It’d been a month since you’d taken his cock and you weren’t used to his size anymore. 

He leaned down so you were face to face, legs pushed back towards your head hitting the perfect angle inside you. It was intense and all you could do was moan and whimper as he fucked your wet, little cunt incessantly.

“Can’t tell you how much I missed this perfect cunt, darlin’. It’s like it was made for me.”

Between his dirty talk and the angle he was hitting inside you, you weren't gonna last long. You felt your walls tense up in anticipation of release. He sensed it too and thrusted in and out of you harder and harder, anxious to feel you cum around his cock.

“Give it to me, sugar. Cum on my cock.”

And when you did, it nearly sent him over the edge. He willed himself to wait until your release was over before pulling out. Stars prickled your vision and tears welled up in the corner of your eyes. Your release was intense, convulsing his cock like a vice. As he felt your orgasm come to an end, he pulled out. You reached in between your legs and stroked him to completion, coating your stomach in thick, white ropes of cum.

He slumped down on the bed next to you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Neither of you dared to say a word as the feeling of regret started to sink in. You let your thoughts run wild as if to avoid talking about what just happened.

“You got a 9 to 5 so I’ll take the night shift

And I’ll never see you again if I can help it”

Maybe you couldn’t help it after all.

[xjcjuis]

LAZY DAYS

pairing: billie eilish x reader

synopsis: just me craving soft billie fics "with biting as a love language"

warnings: no pronouns used but female implied ; 'sweet girl'

wordcount: 0.8k

a/n: there isn't enough billie fluff (i need a hug from billie)

"don't go yet, please," you whine, eyes tightly clamped shut as you reach over to grab onto billie. unfortunately, your arm falls short and drops back down onto the covers empty.

forcing your eyelids open and momentarily getting blinded by the light of reality, you discover that she was, in fact, not lying beside you but rather sitting at the foot of your bed. she seems to be on a call, with her phone in hand and over her ear. billie's voice was soft, apparently not sensing that you were up and still careful not to wake you.

"babe?" you call out, sort of whispering. your girlfriend turns to you, smiling slightly and then gesturing to the device in her hand. you nod in understanding, waiting for her to hang up.

however, the way-too-familiar bedroom was running out of interesting stuff to look at, so naturally your gaze returns to billie. it's only been a few minutes, but to you it feels like hours, and her phone call still hasn't finished.

with a huff, you gently shove off the covers slipping down your shoulders as you scoot over to your girlfriend. your arms move on their own, hooking underneath her arms and around her waist as you rest your cheek on her back, smiling.

billie's hand instantly rests upon your own around her. you breathe in, inhaling her scent and feeling her warmth flood into you. the soft material of her t-shirt, the strands of her hair lightly tickling your cheek, the comfort her body brings from the hug.

you remain in that position for a moment before you turn your head to rest your chin upon her shoulder instead, staring at the side of her face as she continues to speak softly.

beautiful, was all you could think as your eyes traced her jaw, her skin, her nose, her lashes. perfect, was all your mind screams as you watch her lips move in conversation, pink and soft and so damn kissable if it weren't for the fact that she had an important call.

you puff out air once more, moving back to stare at her shoulder before biting it gently, with her still in your embrace. she jerks a little but relaxes immediately, your actions already familiar.

the corner of your mouth quirks up, now chomping on her shoulder with your lips over your teeth. proud of your little handiwork (aka the small bite marks on her shirt), you end it with a kiss to the cloth of her shirt before settling with nuzzling your face into her neck.

finally her call ends.

"good morning, my love," billie grins, turning around and basically tackling you back onto the bed. she holds you in her arms below her, her expression as soft as the morning sun peeking through the windows. you let out a small shriek of surprise at her actions, placing a hand delicately on her cheek and reaching up to kiss her right on the corner of her lip.

the smile turns into a pout. "you missed, sweet girl."

"hmm, what?" you tease, admiring the way she seemed to glow.

billie rolls her eyes playfully, leaning in to peck your lips. "tease." she taps your nose lovingly, shifting so that the sun shone straight through and onto your face. your eyes shut in instinct, a soft giggle escaping from you when she brushes her lips over your eyelids, just enough to be considered featherlight kisses.

she sits up abruptly, pulling you up with her so that you sat between her legs and quite stuck in her hold. not that you were complaining.

she peppers kisses along your head as you, once again, take her forearm into your mouth and bite. "i just got off call. i have a day-off today."

you stop your attack before she even finishes her sentence, turning to look up at her with starry eyes. "really?"

"mhm." she hums in confirmation and kisses your nose.

you hastily extract yourself from her and kneel on the mattress before her. "can we go out for breakfast?" your eyes are wide with hope, already placing an order in your mind for pancakes and syrup and hot chocolate and perhaps dessert. billie laughs softly at your excitement.

"of course, my love. on me."

with a squeal, you basically fly off the bed to search for something to wear. billie's laugh intensifies, watching you rummage through the closet before speaking up. "hey, aren't you forgetting something?"

you pause mid-swipe, waddling back over to her still sitting on her bed, and kissing her quickly on the lips. as you move away to resume your search, she stops you by the wrist. "uh-uh. not enough."

this time billie kisses you fully, and... you end up being a little late for breakfast.

[withwritersblock]

Am I Okay?

~Am I Okay? Megan Moroney~

Author's Note: Requested! I rewrote this like six times and I don't really vibe with it but I hope yall enjoy it! Am I posting this at midnight yes do I care a little bit but oh well Summary: Y/N and Luke fall in love Warnings: smut! smut! smut! MDNI!! swearing Word Count: 9,059 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

It was still dark outside but it usually was when she first got to work. The early morning shift was her favorite to work. Opening the coffee shop at six in the morning alone was her favorite part of the day. The sunrise always managed to shine through the windows. The pink and blue hues were breathtaking. 

It was usually quiet in the mornings, for the first hour and a half she would see maybe eight customers total. After eight in the morning, she would see thirty customers in an hour. But the first two hours she would be alone and she preferred it that way. 

The eight customers that would come in at that time were all the same, always on the walk towards their jobs. Specifically one guy who would always walk in few minutes after they opened. He showed up nearly every day that he was in town, always got a basic coffee he could probably make in his apartment but the fifteen dollar tip was enough to not question it. 

The playlist she put on was catered to her own music taste, her co-worker that usually shows up at eight changes it to the usuall coffee shop eroma. 

She poured the espresso shots into the iced plastic cup in front of her. She finished her latte with whole milk and carmel syrup. The small set of chims near the door rang and she spun around to see her regular Jack walking inside. His head covered in a black beanie and his usual long black coat. 

“Good morning Jack,” she said with a soft smile on her lips. He grinned widely as he glanced behind him before he walked up to the register. 

“Morning, Y/N,” he said as he looked up towards the menu pretending to search for something else to order. He always got the same drink. 

“The usual?” she asked as she started tapping on the Ipad. The chims went off as another man walked into the shop. She lifted her gaze and her heart jumped into her throat.

“Yeah and whatever my little brother is gonna get,” Jack expressed, looking behind him to see his little brother entering the shop. 

She met his eyes, they were tired as it was not for the weak to be out on the town this early. His lips curled upward as he met her gaze. His curly hair was hidden by a backwards hat. He walked up towards the counter and it was getting harder and harder to breathe for her. 

“Lukey, this is Y/N,” Jack said, pulling her attention back towards him. Swallowing hard, she realized that she needed to breathe because she was not sure if she was actually doing it or not. Luke nodded as he pressed his lips together as he looked up towards the menu.

Y/N scanned his features, he was tall and the soft smile on his lips was intoxicating. It was too early in the morning for her to feel dizzy. Her gaze looked down towards the Ipad, trying not to stare at him too long.

“Do you have anything that’s not coffee?” Luke asked shyly. Jack chuckled while rolling his eyes, he crossed his arms over his chest. 

She fought off a smirk forming to her lips, she glanced behind her towards the menu. “We have hot chocolate,” she mumbled. Luke’s smile widened. He squinted his eyes for a moment.

“I guess I’ll take a hot chocolate,” he said as he dragged his hand across his chin. Jack rolled his eyes as he handed Y/N his card. She finished putting in their orders and she completed the order. She spun the Ipad for the tip screen as she walked away from it to start making their drinks.

“Fucking, really?” Jack teased as he shoved Luke away. Luke chuckled as he shook his head. 

“I don’t drink coffee, asshole,” Luke muttered as they both stood awkwardly in the center of the shop. Y/N smiled to herself as she began to pour the coffee into the to go cup. After another minute Jack’s coffee was done and so was Luke’s hot chocolate. 

She placed the cups onto the counter, “How long are you visiting Jack?” she asked softly as she looked up and met Luke’s gaze. Luke’s cheeks flushed red as he glanced towards Jack.

“He’s playing his first game with the Devils in a few days,” Jack said proudly. Her eyes widened as she met Jack’s gaze for a moment before she looked back towards Luke.

“That’s awesome, I forget this hockey thing is a family thing,” she let out shortly as she tried to find the words. The boys chuckled, Luke brought his hot chocolate towards his lips and took a small sip.

“You should watch it,” Jack teased as he patted his hand against Luke’s shoulder. Luke turned his head and met her gaze, he smiled softly as he dropped his gaze towards the floor.

“I’ll think about it,” she mumbled as she watched the pair leave the coffee shop. Spinning around, she leaned against the counter, widening her eyes. “Oh my god,” she muttered barely above a whisper.

~~~

She returned to her on-campus apartment after shift. Her twin brother and roommate Ashton was sitting on the couch with his computer in his lap. Glancing towards her, he didn’t say anything beside waving towards her. He leaned forward mouthing something he was reading.

She pulled her coat from her frame and hung it near the front door. Stepping further into the apartment, Ashton glanced towards her. He took note of the smile on her face. It was always hit or miss on her mood after coming home from work. But she never had a smile on her face paired with silence. Usually she steps into the apartment and starts talking instantly.

There was a soft hum falling from her lips as she headed towards her bedroom. Ashton placed his computer beside him as he followed towards her suspiciously. She stood in her room humming a song as she was collecting a new outfit to change into after her shower. Ashton stood in the doorway watching her. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked. Turning around, she jumped.

“Damn, Ash, you can’t just sneak up to someone like that,” she said while shaking her head. Raising her hands up she took a hold of her hair and pulled it from the updo she had.

“Why are you smiling like that?” he pressed as he continued to scan her features. She shook her head as she fought off a grin. “You’re face is doing something weird,” he pointed his finger towards her face. She smacked his hand away from her face as she let out a chuckle. She took in a deep breath as she rolled her eyes. His eyes widened as his mouth fell open, “Oh,” he let out knowingly.

“Oh, what?” she asked while crossing her arms over her chest, the grin still toying to her lips.

He nodded as he started walking backwards slowly, “No, I get it,” he said omniously.

“What?” she let out, a chuckle leaving her throat.

“Did you meet someone interesting today?” Ashton teased as he was still stepping backwards.

“Please leave,” she said as she giggled. Ashton threw his head back leaving as he headed down the hall towards the living room. Y/N shut the door as she turned around taking in a shaky breath. 

She pulled her phone from her pocket to look up his Instagram, if it was public what was the harm in that? Jack followed her on Instagram, which was not entirely strange as she has her own social media presence. She was a popular Tiktoker that had a decent following on Instagram too. So his fans did not find it weird that he was following her. 

She opened Luke’s Instagram and smiled towards the most recent photo set. It was his goodbye to UMich, she smiled to herself as she continued to look through the photo set.

~~~

A few days later, she was sitting in the living room with her brother and his friends watching the Devils game. Usually, she would only sit in if the game was a playoff game. Her brother was more into football until he met his college friends. They all would come over to watch the games. Which was nearly every night.

She sat on the floor, a blanket practically submerging her frame. Her brother and his four friends were tipsy and the game hadn’t even started yet. Despite it being a Tuesday, they felt that it was important for them to drink. 

Ashton knew that Jack was a regular at Y/N’s job and he always teased her about him. But she always brushed it off because she didn’t see him like that. But Luke on the other hand, she has not stopped thinking about him since she met him the other morning.

“Y/N, any reason you’re joining us tonight?” Ashton teased as he pulled the blanket from her head. She huffed as she took a hold of it and covered her head again.

“Got nothing better to do,” she mumbled.

“You sure it’s got nothing to do with-”

“Ashton,” she scolded as she smacked his shoulder. The boys erupted in ooooohs and she sunk deeper into the blanket. 

“What about that regular of yours?” Ashton further teased as he stood up from the floor to avoid getting hit again. The boys started yelling again as the first period was starting for the Devils.

“Ash, let it go!” she let out while laughing. 

“Jack Hughes is a regular at her coffee shop,” he let out as he ran away towards the kitchen, for protection. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Ashton’s best friend Logan said loudly.  The boys all cheered as if a goal was just scored.

Y/N planted her face into her hands, her face flushing. She lifted her head towards the screen to see the broadcast showing Luke on the bench. She dropped her gaze back into her hands. 

“If I tell you, will you leave it alone?” she said as her face was still in her hands. They all cheer loudly together. Ashton jogged back towards the couch and sat on the floor beside his sister. She took in a deep breath as she tilted her head back. “I met Luke Hughes, that’s all,” she let out barely above a whisper. They erupted in oooohs again and she sunk her head into her hands. “That’s all, I swear!” she mumbled against her hands.

“I fucking knew it,” Ashton said as tapped his hand against her shoulder.

“Can we just watch the game?” she questioned pointing towards the screen, just at the point when Luke appeared on the screen. They all started laughing.

“This is going to be fun,” Ashton teased.

~~~

She did not see Luke or Jack for several months after that. It was playoffs and Luke most likely went back to Michigan since he was not eligible to play. The last playoff run, Jack didn’t come into the coffee shop once. It was probably because he was sleeping in to get as much rest as possible.

But she was in a new school year, with the same hours. She would work from six in the morning to noon and have afternoon classes after that. She was always busy but it was better than over thinking. 

For the first time in months, the chims went off and she spun around to see Jack and Luke trailing behind him. She clenched her jaw to avoid showing a wide toothy grin. A little crush was not going to get in the way of her favorite regular. Jack was always super kind and an amazing way to start the day. She refused to let her little crush on his little brother change that.

Until he smiled a sleepy grin towards her. Suddenly her plan backfired and she grinned towards them.

“Welcome back boys,” she muttered while walking towards the register. Forcing her gaze towards Jack, she saw a smirk on his lips. Ignoring it, she started typing in Jack’s usual. 

“How have you you been?” Jack asked crossing his arms over his chest. She lifted her gaze, not really used to being asked that question.

“I’ve been good, I worked doubles all summer so I’m happy to be back on my normal schedule,” she explained glancing towards Luke. He hasn’t wavered his gaze from the moment he stepped into the shop. Jack nodded while glancing towards Luke, he rolled his eyes playfully.

“You gonna order or just stare at her?” Jack teased as he punched Luke’s arm. Luke chuckled as he rubbed the spot Jack hit. She pursed her lips forward as she met Luke’s gaze for the third time in a matter of two minutes.

“Right, yeah, I’ll take a-” he trailed off as his eyes scanned the menu, “Lemonade,” he mumbled. Jack rolled his eyes while pulling out his wallet. 

She grinned as she typed it into the Ipad before she spun it towards Jack, a new pay system was put into place over the summer.

“So, is this a new thing? You’re here for good?” she asked as she started pouring Jack’s coffee. 

“Hopefully, got to make it through training camp and pre-season,” Luke explained while crossing his arms over his chest. 

“He will,” Jack offered as he continued to nudge and lightly shove Luke. She thought it was for the best to ignore them and stay in her bubble. She set aside Jack’s drink before she started to pour out Luke’s lemonade.

“That’s good, I’ll keep an eye on the games,” she expressed as she added a lid to the lemonade. 

She took a hold of the drinks and spun around to hand the drinks towards the boys. She handed Jack his drink first, since it was burning her hand. Jack smiled gratefully towards her as he immediately brought it towards his mouth. Meeting Luke’s gaze she handed him the drink, their fingertips brushed against each other’s skin for a moment. Pressing her lips together, she quickly brought her hands towards herself.

“Maybe you should come to one of them,” Luke offered, it was obvious the words fell out of his mouth faster than he intended. Maybe the words left his mouth when he didn’t want them to. Jack brought the drink towards his lips, glancing towards Luke for a moment before looking back towards Y/N. 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she mumbled as she met his gaze. Their eyes remained connected for a few seconds before Jack let out a long drawn out breath.

“This is the part where you give her your number,” Jack mumbled before stepping away from them, chuckling. Luke clenched his jaw as he fought the grin forming to his lips. His cheeks pinked up as he shook his head slightly. 

“I was getting there,” he let out while laughing. He glanced behind him to see Jack wandering towards the door. She let out a giggle as she pulled her phone from her pocket. 

“Seriously, Y/N, he hasn’t stopped asking about you,”

‘Jack,” he let out while he took a hold of her phone to type his number into her phone. She smiled towards Luke as he handed her phone back towards her. She quickly typed a simply hi before she slipped it back into her pocket. “I’ll see you,” he muttered before he stumbled away towards Jack. He shoved him out of the door.

“You’re a real dick, you know that?” she heard Luke say as they both left the shop at the same time.

She spun around, leaning against the counter and shut her eyes. Raising her hand up, she delicately tapped her skin against her cheek to feel heat practically radiating from her skin. “Oh my god,” she mumbled.

It didn’t take long for the shop to get busy after the boys left. In the middle of a rush, her work best friend, Tommy, jogged inside. Usually, it was busy when Tommy got there but not nearly a line out the door busy. He always blamed it on the back to school students in dire need of a coffee.

“Girl, how are you alive?” Tommy said as he took a plastic cup and read the ingredients before he started making the drink.

“I’m running on pure adrenaline,” she expressed as she began to steam some milk. 

“Oh it’s Semptember, let me guess-” he mumbled. She swated his hand as she began to finish the drink, “Oh definitely the pretty boys,” he let out teasingly. 

“Later,” she mumbled with a giggle leaving her lips.

After thirty minutes the line finally died down and there was no one waiting on a drink. The shop was full to the brim of people with laptops and enjoying a drink. She was cleaning the counters while Tommy was also cleaning a few of the machines. It was a disaster.

Tommy brought his iced coffee towards his lips as he leaned against the counter, slowly wiping it. She fought the grin forming to her lips as she stared towards the coffee grounds spilled in front of her.

“Okay fine,” she muttered as she lifted her gaze to meet Tommy’s. She pulled her phone from her back pocket and held it up to show the unread message from Luke. He leaned towards it and read it. Widening his eyes, his mouth fell open.

“No way,” he let out. She spun the phone back towards herself to read the hey he replied with. She grinned as she shut the screen off. 

She went into detail about what happened, excruciating details about how he looked at her, how his cheeks flushed red. Tommy was obsessed with it because every shift he would walk in and expect her to have some information about it but she had none. She was a little miserable about not seeing him.

It was a little embarrassing how often they were chatting and a customer was waiting, but the little five minute encounter was on replay until she left. She texted with him a few times throughout the morning but she could only do so much while she was working.

~~~

Tonight she was going to the game with Ashton and Tommy. It was the first preseason game in October. Since Luke did not play a home game during September, and she only wanted to go to see him. 

Every morning that Jack and Luke were in town they would stop inside the coffee shop. Luke would stick around for a while waiting for the next set of customers to come in. Jack would get his coffee and leave. She would spent an hour trying to convince him to try a sip of her coffee but he would still refuse. Her mornings felt lonely without him but he always kept her entertained when he was there. 

Her brother was driving the three of them towards the arena, dealing with awful traffic the whole way there. She was annoyed that he wanted to leave two hours before puck drop but apparently he was right. It was awful when Ashton was right because he never let her live it down. 

“I cannot believe we are going to this game because of you,” Ashton said while he watched the light turn green, except they didn’t move. “You better let me meet the guy at least,” he begged quietly. 

She rolled her eyes as she glanced towards Tommy for a moment before she looked out of the window watching the rain hit the window. “Maybe,” she mumbled. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Pulling it out she saw a text from Luke saying, Stick around after the game, I wanna see you. Nico will stick around too so your brother can meet him. She lifted her gaze glancing towards her brother before she quickly typed an excited reply.

It took nearly another hour before they were parked in the arena. Luke was able to get them lower bowl seats on center ice. He didn’t want them close to the glass, felt like too much pressure; even if it was just preseason.

The seats were starting to get full by the time they arrived, the game was starting soon. They found their seats and Ashton was starting to fan girl. “Do you think we can sit here during the regular season? This is awesome,” Ashton let out as he was adjusting the Hischer jersey on his frame. Tommy sat down, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth. 

She sat in the middle of them, awkwardly glancing around the arena. She’s been to a few games when she was a kid but now it felt completely different. Especially since she was told to stay after the game and he’ll meet up with her after. He even offered that her brother and Tommy could stick around too. She didn’t tell them that. She wanted it to be a surprise for Ashton, Tommy could care less. He was just along for the ride.

The team emerged onto the ice and puck drop started. Even for a preseason game the fans were ecstatic for the whole night. Suddenly it became obvious that she was obsessed with the game. It helped that she had someone to search for the whole night.

Her brother would explain the game to her and Tommy but they were still confused. Tommy was just enjoying the snacks the whole time. Ashton was screaming for every goal, high fiving every person around them. The entire game she was following Luke’s movements because he was the reason she was there afterall. 

After the game, both Ashton and Tommy stood up to get ready to leave but she remained seated. Ashton looked down and furrowed his eyebrows. “Get your ass up, let’s go,” Ashton said while waving his hands. She shook her head while staring ahead, a grin toying to her lips. “Come on, dude, I’m tired,” he whined.

“Too tired to meet the captain?” she teased. His mouth fell open as he immediately sat back down. Tommy chuckled as he sat back down, bringing his seltzer towards his lips.

“Do I get to meet Luke?” Tommy asked as he leaned towards her, raising his eyebrows. She nodded. 

Luke texted her letting her know that he was having someone come and grab them. It took another ten minutes before a security guard walked towards them asking to see her ID. She showed it to him and he guided them towards the lower level to meet up with the boys. 

The entire walk down towards the parking garage where the players exited the locker room to, Ashton was talking about how he was going to introduce himself to Nico. Y/N had to calm him down multiple times on their journey down there.

Luke, Jack, and Nico were waiting outside the door. They were all wearing matching t-shirts and shorts while laughing. Luke was the first one to look towards the three of them walking towards them. He smiled widely and led the charge towards them. He walked up to her and hugged her instantly. Her entire body erupted in flames as he engulfed her in a hug. Jack punched his hand against Nico’s arm as he was teasing Luke behind his back. 

“Um- Luke, this is my brother Ashton and my friend Tommy,” she said as Luke reluctantly pulled away from her. Luke reached his hand out towards Ashton first. Ashton shyly took a hold of it, all of his talk about what he was going to say to them disappeared. Luke shook his hand before he shifted his gaze towards Tommy, holding out his hand for him.

Tommy furrowed his eyebrows as he scanned Luke’s features before he shook his hand. Jack jumped in front of Luke to introduce himself to Ashton and Tommy with Nico.

“Ashton, nice to meet you man,” Y/N over heard Nico say as Luke took a hold of her hand and guided her way from the group for a moment. Lifting her gaze she met his eye and smiled softly.

“Did you enjoy the game?” he asked softly as he scanned her features. His cheeks were flushed red as he was pressing his lips together. She nodded while looking into his eyes.

“It was fun, thank you for letting me bring them,” she mumbled as she glanced towards Ashton and Tommy. Tommy was talking with Jack, laughing as they spoke. Ashton was still fangirling with Nico, taking a selfie as they looked over to them.

“Of course,” he mumbled.

~~~

It had been a month since they started dating back at the end of October. Luke was returning home from a roadtrip and she was over the moon. She was tired of waiting for him to call on FaceTime and fall asleep minutes later, she needed to see him. 

She was starting to fall for him deeply, something she didn’t want to do. She’s been afraid of falling in love for years but something about Luke made it easy. He was on his way over to her apartment and she was awaiting him.

Ashton walked out of his bedroom and smiled towards her as he walked towards the kitchen, “I’m ordering a pizza, will your boyfriend want any?” he asked.

“Yes please,” she sing-songed. 

“Okay, so I’ll order three pizzas,” he said teasingly. She rolled her eyes. He chuckled as he pulled his phone towards his ear and started to make the order. He opened the fridge and stared inside as he waited for it to ring. 

It took another fifteen minutes before there was a loud knock on the door. Ashton stood up from the stool he was sitting in near the kitchen. He wandered towards the door, with some specific intentions. She could tell by the dramatics he did while pulling the door open. 

Luke’s eyes widened when he saw Ashton instead of Y/N but he forced a smile on his face while he stepped inside. 

“Hey man,”

“Ordered a pizza,” Ashton said as he looked Luke up and down as Luke stepped inside.

She jumped up from the couch and walked towards him, watching his grin go from fearful to genuine in a matter of a second. Luke reached his hand around her waist, pulling her towards him.

“Come on,” she whispered as she guided him towards her bedroom. Ashton stood in the room, staring suspiciously. They walked down the hallway, “Sorry,” she mumbled towards him. He chuckled softly as they stepped into her room together. She shut the door behind him as she met his gaze. 

“Missed you,” he mumbled as he took a hold of her waist. A wide toothy grin formed to her lips as she took small steps behind her towards her bed. Her legs hit the mattress before she turned around and laid down. Luke looked down towards her, grinning before he climbed over her to lay beside her. “I heard there was pizza on the way?” he asked as he laid facing her. 

Turning her gaze, she met his eye before she leaned towards him, delicately kissing him.

“I’ve missed you too,” she muttered against his lips. A hum fell from his lips while he took a hold of her cheek. Rubbing his thumb across her skin, he watched her eyes shut slowly. Luke leaned towards her, pressing his lips against hers. Waiting for her to part her lips to give him access.

Parting her lips, he slipped his tongue into hers as she glided her fingers through his hair. Climbing on top of her, he rested his hands on either side of her head. 

After a few seconds, there was a loud knock against her door. Luke pulled away, interlocking his fingers as he leaned on his elbow to prop himself up.

“What,” she let out, Ashton pushed the door open, leaning against the door frame. 

He stared towards them for a few long awkward seconds before he let out slowly, “Luke Hughes,”

Chuckling softly, “Ashton Y/L/N,” he said as he fought a grin forming to his lips.

“You travel a lot for work, don’t yeah?” Ashton started as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Dropping his head, he let out another laugh, “Yes I do.”

“You behaving?” Ashton said while raising his eyebrows.

“Ashton,” she scolded. 

“Serious question, Y/N. You must have a lot of groupies being a Hughes boy,” he let out taking a step into the room.

“Ashton, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” he let out as he shifted his gaze towards her. She met his gaze, suddenly self conscious of what Ashton was talking about.

“Don’t you have a pizza to go pick up?” she mumbled while looking towards Ashton wide eyed. Ashton met her gaze and scanned her features for a moment before he squinted his eyes suspiciously. 

“Don’t fuck this up and make me hate the Devils, alright?” he let out before he left the room, shutting hte door in the process. 

Luke looked towards her as she let out a nervous laugh, she shoved her face into her pillow. He chuckled as he took a hold of her waist, trying to make her lift her gaze to meet his eye. “You know, I mean that right? Nothing to worry about, I literally live in that hotel bed sleeping most of the time I’m gone,” 

She lifted her gaze and looked into his eye and nodded. “Yeah,” she mumbled as he took a hold of her cheek, running his thumb across her skin. 

“Yeah?” he let out, somewhat teasingly. 

“Yeah,” she whispered. He smirked before he leaned towards her kissing her delicately. He leaned his forehead against hers for a second, “I mean you do have a lot of groupies,” she teased. 

“Yeah, but you’re my favorite,” he muttered, fighting a smirk forming to his lips. Her mouth fell open as her eyes widened. Pulling away, a chuckle fell from her lips. Luke took a hold of the small of her back, pulling her back towards him. He shook his head slightly before leaning towards her devouring her lips.

“I am not a groupie,” she muttered as she climbed onto his lap. His hands started gliding up and down the backs of her thighs. She continued to kiss him urgently. He hummed against her lips as she tilted her head back, scanning his features.

“Still my favorite,” he muttered as he slowly opened his eyes. She squinted her eyes as she fought the smirk toying on her lips. His hands climbed higher and higher up her frame.

She slowly climbed off of his frame, a pout falling on his lips as she wandered towards the door. She twisted the lock before she walked towards him. He bit his bottom lip as he scanned her features.

“What are you thinking?” he asked her as propped himself up on his elbows. She shook her head slightly as she slowly climbed onto his lap again. He rested his hands onto her hips. He rubbed his hands delicately against the fabric of her shirt.

“I’m thinking-” she trailed off before she leaned down and kissed him. 

Loud bangs hit against her door again, “Pizza’s here!” Ashton shouted through the door. She sat up staring down towards Luke, a huff leaving his lips. 

“I thought he ordered it for pickup,” she muttered as she climbed off of his lap, he chuckled. Falling onto her back, a pout fell to her lips.

“It’s alright, my love,” he let out as he slowly stood up from the bed. Waiting for her to follow him, she still laid in protest. Holding out his hand towards her, she reluctantly took a hold of it.

~~~

The following morning, Tommy showed up at the same time as the new trainee Brianna. Today was her second shift with Tommy and Y/N. Tommy adored Brianna while Y/N was still warming up to her. It was always overstimulating for her to train someone and Tommy knew that first hand. Which is why he was taking point on the process. 

“You are so tense today, I thought Luke came over last night,” Tommy teased as he nudged his elbow against her arm. She rolled her eyes playfully while she vigorously cleaned the machine in front of her. “Oh damn, what happened?” 

“We didn’t-” she trialed off as she let out a huff of air. 

“Still?” he let out loudly. She turned around, glaring towards him. He chuckled as he glanced towards Brianna. It was obvious she was listening in. “Brianna, if you’re going to be working with us, you’ll need to get in on this,” he said, pulling her towards the conversation.

“Tom,” Y/N scolded while laughing. “She doesn’t need to know about my sex life,”

“What else do we talk about when we’re here?!” he let out while laughing. “Her and her boyfriend haven’t had sex yet,” he let out.

“Oh my god,” she mumbled while she covered her face with her hands. Brianna’s eyes lit up as she glanced towards Y/N.

“They’ve been together for a month and nothing,” he said while leaning towards Brianna.

“Okay, Tommy when was the last time you had sex?” she deflected while chuckling.

“Last night, thank you,” he let out confidently. Both Brianna and Y/N eyes widened as their mouths fell open. “But we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about Y/N. What is taking you so long?” he teased. 

“Brianna, my boyfriend and I live with our brothers. And they love interrupting us before we get a chance to get anywhere,” she explained.

“Well, is there a Devils game this weekend?” Tommy asked. 

“Friday,” 

“Okay so see if Luke can get them tickets and then you’ll have an empty apartment,” Tommy said confidently. Y/N squinted her eyes as she stared toward him.

“Really think about that Tom,” she said while fighting a laugh rising in her throat. The chimes rang and they shifted their gaze towards the door. Jack led the charge like he always does with Luke trailing behind him. Brianna stared towards them, her mouth agape.

Y/N smiled widely as she met Luke’s gaze. “Hi, she muttered as she continued to look into his eyes. Brianna shifted her gaze towards Tommy, looking for assistance. 

“Oh!” Tommy let out while laughing, he shook his head as he started making Jack’s coffee. “Y/N, take your fifteen,” Tommy expressed. She nodded.

“What are you guys doing here?” she asked as she pointed towards the empty table at the corner of the shop. He nodded as he followed towards her it. They sat down together, he pulled the chair towards him. Resting his hand onto the inside of her thigh as he pulled her closer to him.

“We’ve got a game at three,” he let out. Her eyes widened as she took a hold of his arm.

“Oh my god, that’s right, I forgot I’m sorry,” she mumbled. He shook his head as he pursed his lips forward.

“It’s okay, Jack needed caffeine, he couldn’t nap,” he explained. She nodded as she scanned his features. “His girlfriend is back in town, so he’ll be staying there tonight,” he mumbled, meeting her gaze. She hummed as she met his gaze suspiciously.

“Empty apartment?” she asked teasingly. He nodded.

“Thank god,” she muttered before she leaned towards him, pecking his lips. He chuckled as he glanced towards Jack who was walking towards them.

“Hate to interrupt but we gotta head out Lukey,” Jack muttered as he pursed his lips forward.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a second,” he said. Jack nodded as he walked out towards the exit. “Will you be at the game?” he questioned. She nodded. 

“Ash will drop me off and I’m meeting up with Reanne,” she explained. He smiled before he pecked her lips.

“I’ll see you after then,” he let out while raising his eyebrows as he walked away towards the door. She leaned back into her chair staring towards the door watching them leave.

Brianna still stood dumbfounded at the center of the register. Her gaze shifted towards Y/N, who was walking back towards the counter. “I know way too much about-” she started before she shook her head. 

Tommy barked out a laugh before he patted his hand against her back, “The timing of that was insane,” he choked out.

~~~

The game ended with a win for the Devils, the first win in three games. Throughout the game, her mind was racing with the idea of what their plan was for later that night. She’s not used to having pressure on having sex with a partner. Usually, it came up naturally or it happened before they even got together. Something about Luke and how he made her feel, she wanted their first time to be perfect.

But now she was just nervous, almost like it was her first time ever. She sat in Luke’s car as he was pulling out of the parking garage, not once bringing up their previously discussed plans. She didn’t know if he wasn’t up for it or didn’t want to put any pressure on her. 

“Everyone going good with the other girls?” he asked as they stopped at a red light directly out of the arena. Tilting his head to the side, he met her gaze. She nodded.

“They’ve been super welcoming,” she expressed.

He smiled widely as he reached his hand over, taking a hold of her hand, “Good, I’m glad,” he muttered as he rubbed his thumb across her skin. “Are you hungry?” he asked. She nodded, shifting her gaze towards the traffic in front of her. Furrowing his eyebrows, he took in a sharp breath before pulled his phone from hsi cup holder. He pulled up his Doordash app and handed towards her. Traffic was still taking forever.

“You’re the best,” she mumbled as she happily took a hold of it and started scrolling through the options. He chuckled as he started driving ahead. 

The drive took another twenty minutes before they stepped into Luke’s apartment complex and the food she ordered for them was waiting for them to arrive. He happily took a hold of the food and guided her towards the elevator to lead them up to his apartment. He stood with the take out container in his hands, side eyeing her every soft often.

Squinting her eyes, she turned and looked over towards him suspiciously. “Why is your face doing that?” she asked while laughing. He pursed his lips forward as his cheeks turned bright red. 

“Nothing,” he muttered as the elevator doors opened to his floor. He stepped out first, holding out his hand towards her. She giggled as she took a hold of it and let him guide her towards his apartment. He stepped up towards the door and unlocked it, pushing inside. 

They stepped inside, surprised to see the light on. To their surprise, Jack and his girlfriend were sitting on the couch watching a movie. “Lukey, hey!” Jack said happily as he perked up. Luke clenched his jaw as he rested their take out food on the counter. He protectively wrapped his arm around her waist. 

“Hey, thought you guys were going to her place tonight,” Luke asked flatly. Y/N pressed her lips together as she started to take their chinese food out of the bag. 

“We changed our minds, traffic would’ve been too bad heading to her place,” he explained as he sat up slightly. Luke nodded silently as he took a hold of the containers and the plastic silverware before he tiled his head to the side. Y/N nodded as she followed him towards his bedroom. He opened the door allowing her to step inside. 

She climbed onto the bed, crossing her legs, she rested the container in front of her. Luke twisted the lock before he followed her in pursuit. Luke let out a groan as he flipped open his container. 

“I swear,” he muttered before he ripped open his silverware. Y/N chuckled while rolling her eyes. 

“At least he’ll be occupied,” she teased. He chuckled as he tilted his head back.

“Yeah hopefully,” he said while laughing. 

He pulled up Grey’s Anatomy, the tv show that they watch together. He’s never seen and it and it’s her favorite to watch his reactions to the episodes. They were still only on season two.

They sat silently while they ate and watched the show together, glancing towards one another every so often. His cheeks were flushed red. She could tell their minds were busy but she didn’t mind. She loved just being with him. 

“Question,” he asked while tapping his hand against her thigh. She shifted her gaze towards him, her heart pounding out of her chest. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Because you’ve got this-” he trailed off as he pointed towards the pout on her lips. Her lips curled upward into a smile. “There’s my girl,” he mumbled, a smirk on his lips. 

“I’m sorry,” she whined through her smile, “I am just nervous,” she muttered before she brought a bite of food to her mouth.

“Nervous?” he asked as he scanned her frame. His eyes widened as realization sunk in. “Why?” he asked as he jammed his fork into his food. A smirk toyed to his lips. 

She swallowed her food before pursing her lips forward, “I just feel pressured to make this happen,” she explained motioning between them. He furrowed his eyebrows as he placed his food beside him. He scooted towards her.

“From me?” his voice got quiet.

“No,” she let out instantly, a chuckle falling from her lips. “From me mostly an-and Tommy but mostly me. I never really cared this much before, feels weird,” she let out, avoiding his gaze. 

He smirked as he tilted his head to the side, trying to meet her gaze. “W-Why do you care so much?” he asked barely above a whisper. She pouted as she tilted her head back. His eyes widened as he fought a grin forming to his lips. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” she whined.

“It’ll happen when it happens,” he said softly. She rolled her eyes playfully.

“You’re such a dork,” she whispered. He grinned widely.

~~~

His hand was wrapped around her waist tightly, gripping her to his side as they waited for the elevator doors open. His hand started bunching the fabric of her dress in his hands. A giggle fell from her lips as the doors opened, he rested his hands on both of her hips as he guided her out of the elevator. “Luke,” she let out barely above a whisper. 

He brushed her hair away from her neck, pressing his lips against her skin for a moment as she began to unlock the door to her apartment. He continued to kiss the skin against her shoulder as she giggled. “Luke.” He pulled away, still resting his hands onto her waist. 

She pushed the apartment open and he excitedly pushed them inside. The door shut behind them as he excitedly pushed her against the door. Her eyes widened as she took in a deep breath. Her lips curled upward into a wide grin.

At some point, her heels were kicked off of her feet. She doesn’t remember when or how but she didn’t care.

“I’m so glad Ash is out of town,” she mumbled, looking into his eyes. He took a hold of her waist as he scanned her features. 

“Oh me too,” he mumbled before he took a hold of her neck as pulled her towards him, kissing her urgently. She hummed against his lips as she took a hold of the suit jacket covering his frame and pulled him closer. He glided his hands down her frame, he took a hold of her thighs as she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. 

Her body erupted into flames as his hands gripped her thighs tightly as he guided her towards her room. Still holding her up, he took a hold of the door and pushed it open. He delicately lowered her body onto her bed, she smiled up towards him as she scooted higher up on the bed. 

He bit his bottom lip as he pulled the suit jacket away from his frame, tossing it to the floor. He brought his hands up and unbuttoned the first button before he climbed on top of her. He instantly connected their lips again as she took a hold of the buttons on his shirt, trying to unbutton them. 

“My dress,” she mumbled against his lips. 

“Is very hot,” he muttered as he started trailing his lips along her jawline, down towards her neck.

“No,” she said while giggling, she took a hold of his cheeks, forcing his gaze on hers. His eyes widened as he grinned slightly. “I mean, can you help me take it off?” she asked softly. He nodded instantly. 

Slowly leaning back, she followed in pursuit. Their eyes remained connected the whole time. She slowly climbed off of the bed, standing in front of him. Taking a small step, she faced away from him. Her hair was laid across her back, slowly she took a hold of it and pulled it across her shoulder. 

Luke raised his hand up and delicately took a hold of the zipper. Slowly, he glided it down to expose her skin. His fingers were hesitantly gliding along her skin. He took a hold of the straps to push the dress from her body. Her body were covered in goosebumps as took a hold of her waist, slowly turning her around to face him. Her body was still covered by her black lace underwear.

His fingertips glided along the fabric over her underwear. Biting her bottom lip, she took a hold of his shoulders. Her hands glided along the fabric as she met his eye, “Your turn,” she whispered. His eyes lit up as he scanned her frame.

“My turn?” he questioned softly. She hummed as she reached towards the buttons for him. He leaned back on his hands as she leaned towards him, slowly unbuttoning the shirt from his frame. The blush on the apples of his cheeks reddened as his gaze lowered on her frame. The last button popped open, revealing his body. She watched as his ab muscles tensed as the cold air hit his skin. 

He sat up slightly, pulling the shirt from his frame; he threw it to the floor. Standing up, he looked down towards her. Pressing his lips together, he began to undo his pants. She fought the smirk toying to her lips. Gliding the pants off of his frame, he kicked them away. 

He smirked as he leaned down and wrapped his arms around her waist. Lifting her up and tossing her down on the bed, she giggled as her back hit the mattress. He climbed on top of her, chuckling before he began to kiss her lips urgently only for a moment. His lips began to trail from her jaw towards her neck.

He slowly began to suck against her skin, biting before soothing the skin with his tongue. Her fingertips started tugging his curls as he continued to trail his lips and his hands down her frame. Tilting her head back, she took in a sudden breath. After a few seconds, “Oh my god,” she let out breathlessly. 

Smirking against her collarbone, he lifted his gaze to meet her eye. Nodding she arched her back and with one hand he took the clasp of her bra and slipped it from her frame. Swallowing hard his eyes lit up as he took in the way she looked. Leaning towards her, he pressed his lips against hers sensually. 

Softly, he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth sucking in slowly before he pulled away. 

“You’re so beautiful,”  he mumbled as he scanned her features. A soft smile formed to her swollen lips before she leaned towards him kissing him. His hands began to roam her frame, massaging her skin. 

She was starting to get more light headed the longer his hands roamed her frame. He looped her lacy underwear with his finger as he slowly started to slide it from her legs. He slipped it to the floor before he took a hold of her thighs. Pulling her towards the edge of the bed. “Lu-” she let out as she giggled.

“Yeah?” he let out with a teasing smirk as he delicately took a hold of her legs to part them. Looking towards her she nodded as she gripped the sheet beside her as her body tingled with excitement. His gaze lingered on her center as he softly grazed his fingertips across her skin. 

“You’re such a tease,” She breathed out.

“Oh am I?” he muttered as he climbed up towards her, hovering over her. Looking deeply into her eyes, she nodded as she took a hold of his cheek. Glidng her thumb across his cheek, “I think you just gotta be patient,” he let out slowly. Her eyebrows raised as she pursed her lips forward. 

“Patient? I’ve been patient for months,” she teased back. He chuckled before he leaned towards her kissing her urgently for a moment. 

“Then you’re good for a little longer,” he mumbled against her lips. 

Tilting her head back, she groaned quietly. He leaned towards her devouring her lips, pulling her bottom lip into his mouth again. 

Several minutes went by before Luke pulled his lips away from hers. He slowly lowered on her frame trailing wet kisses down her frame. 

Dragging his tongue as his lips got lower and lower on her frame. He took a soft hold of thighs as he slowly parted them, a smirk toyed to his lips. 

He took his thumb and softly began to rub his thumb against her clit. She took a sudden breath as her grip tightened against the bed sheets. He loved watching her squirm under his touch. A hushed moan left her lips.

 He smiled towards her as he took a hold of her thighs as leaned towards her center urgently. 

“Oh, fuck,” she muttered as her body was overwhelmed with heat as his tongue flicked against her clit. 

He gripped her thighs as he continued, holding her in place. His tongue continued to suck on her clit as his fingers delved into her center. 

“Oh my god-oh fuck-” her voice started to get louder.

He could feel her thighs start to clench under his touch. He pulled away from her, climbing up her frame, trailing wet kisses up her body. “Such a tease,” she mumbled as he hummed against her skin. 

“So impatient,” he let out before he pressed his lips against hers for a moment. 

“Please, I need you,” she muttered as she looked into his eyes. 

He pressed his lips against hers sloppily for another second before he stood up from her to slip his boxers from his frame. Her eyes widened as smirked towards him. 

He took a hold of his cock and slowly ran his hand up and down it a few times before he took a hold of her thigh. He further parted her legs, aligning himself with her center. He glanced towards her. 

Hw pushed inside of her, a low grunt leaving his lips. 

Slowly, thrusted inside of her a few times before he climbed on top of her. A breathy moan left her lips as he hiked her thigh up slowly as he continued to thrust into her. “Fuck,” he mumbled against her lips.

Her breathing was heavy as her hands glided through his curls, tugging them. 

“So good baby,” he mumbled against her lips before he started to leave wet kisses against her neck as moans left both of their lips as they were both chasing their climax. “Fuck, baby,” 

Her entire body tightened as she tilted her head back, a moan left her body as she fingertips dug into his back. He soon followed in pursuit, meeting his own climax. He grunted as he gripped her thigh tightly as they both started breathing heavily. It was as if everything was right in the world at that moment.

Just them, this close and completely falling in love.

He peppered kisses against her skin as he slowly pulled away from her. He laid onto his back as she rolled onto her side to face him. 

Glancing towards her, he bit his bottom lip as he fought a grin forming to his lips. He reached over towards her, pulling her towards him to lay onto his chest. Resting her head onto his chest, “Wow,” she mumbled. He chuckled as he leaned down and pressed his lips against her head.

“So beautiful,” he mumbled as he glided his hand through her hair.

~~~

The following day, she couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face. The entire morning while she was at work, her entire body was oozing with joy. There was no one in the shop when Tommy showed up. Spinning around, she smiled towards him as he walked inside. He furrowed his eyebrows harshly as he walked towards the counter. 

Y/N slid over the iced coffee she made for him. He pursed his lips forward as he took a hold of the drink. He sipped it for a second before he walked behind the counter. 

“What is wrong with your face?” he asked as he scanned her features. Her eyes widened as she shook her head slightly. “Oh my god!” he expressed. She shook her head as she fought a grin forming to her lips. 

“Stop-”

“You have that glow,” he said teasingly. “You had se-”

“Remember when I begged you to stop asking about my sex life while at work?” she let out with a grin on her lips.

“Oh but you’re the one with-”

“Okay, fine-we did and it was amazing,” she whispered. Tommy threw his hands in the air.

“Hallelujah!” Tommy shouted as he wrapped his arms around her. 

“Don’t be weird,” she let out while laughing.

[gravegoer]

Hiii! English is not my first language so please forgive any mistakes. Could you do an imagine of Sevika where the reader and her have been together for a long time, and the reader almost dies in battle? (Like, she got shot in a place that bleeds a lot, which makes Sevika super worried) And she makes a little confession to the reader? Saying that she can't lose her and stuff like that. Sorry for the long request, it's my first time ordering 😭😭 Thanks anyway 🩷🤍🩷

Wont lose you ʚɞ

thank you for the request,! it was a bit rushed but I like it anyways let me know if you do :)

masterlist!!

Silco sent you on an important mission, taking down this factory all relied on you. Sevika had insisted on being by your side the entire time, but her request was denied.

Her and two other goons sat on the sidelines to make sure you could get in and out without being seen. No fight. No problem.

Why did she have to get stuck with these guys? She would have been better off down there helping you.

She sat outside the doube doors, one of the men lit a cigarillo for her. All was going according to plan so far.

You had gotten in and deactivated some machines. Now you needed to get out.

Sevika, your long time girlfriend was worried. Despite not wanting to admit it you could tell by the look on her face before you crossed the threshold to the factory.

You chuckled to yourself, thinking of how she patted your back on the way in as encouragement.

But you were confident you could carry this out without a hitch.

What you didn't know is there weren't just guards on the outside.

Your footsteps echoed throughout the seemingly empty factory. All you had to do was pour gasoline around the inside perimeter and on the machines and strike a match. It's not that hard.

You were bent over a machine, checking out the parts and gears before you feel a sharp pain of a blunt object on your back. Turning around you instinctively grab it.

A tall, lanky woman stood towering over you. Before she could pull it from your grasp, you kicked her in the stomach. She stumbled backward with a grut. When you dropped the bat, you were met with another thwack to your head.

You let out a muffled cry, biting your lip. You heard the woosh of an object and half-ducked-half-fell. An ambush. How mature. Another metal bat slammed into the ground beside your head. A broad figure stood over you, moving to hit you again. You rolled to the left but not without getting a swift kick to the stomach.

"Urgh." The wind was knocked out of your lungs. But you had no time to hesitate, jumping to your feet and blocking the next strike of the bat with your forearm.

You grabbed it and pulled it forward, bringing the weilder with it. Letting go with one hand, you slam your fist into their throat. The woman from before came back around, picking up her bat again. You met her metal bat with the one in your hands.

It's okay. You could win. The mission was still going according to plan. Two people with bats you could easily take on. You heard a familiar cocking behind your head.

"Drop it"

Fuck.

You didn't.

Instead, you turned to deliver a high kick to their head. But they managed to pull the trigger faster than you could land it.

Bang

You let out a shrill cry and clutched your side. Blood seeped through your fingers and stained your shirt.

"I told you to drop it," Their deep voice hissed.

You could hear three people rushing into the factory, footsteps echoing throughout the establishment. The person that shot you turned their attention to your team. The trigger happy idiot immediately started firing.

Bullets ricochet against the metal. Sometime amidst the chaos, you started to lose consciousness. Black spots littered your vision, and you finally dropped to your knees. A figure bent over you, yelling incoherent things. She jad a hand on your back, gripping your shirt between clammy fingers.

Looking up, you saw Sevikas distressed expression. Sweat dripped down her forehead, and there was a worried crease between her brows. She was shouting things you couldn't quite make out. Maybe something like "We need to leave" or "We are lighting it up." Maybe both.

She grabbed your legs, hand still on your back and hoisted you into her arms. You could feel her warm arm on your upper back and the hardness of her prosthetic against the back of your legs.

In your groggy state you looked up to Sevika, her teeth gritted as she ran throughout the factory with heavy steps. You could hear an explosion come from far behind you.

A ringing in your ears.

She looked down at you.

Then you passed out.

What seemed to be a few hours later, you groggly awoke. Light seeped into your vision and you attempted to get up. "Fuck," A sharp pain shot through your side.

Oh, right. You got shot.

You looked down to where you now held your side, but instead of blood like how you expected, there are sterile bandages. They wrapped around your now mostly bare torso.

Looking around the room, it seemed familiar to you. Right before you could put your finger on it your girlfriend came walking into the room, holding a glass of water.

Her eyes shot wide open, and she started walking a little faster towards your bedside. "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

You laughed at her suprise, "Yeah. Now that you're here"

Your voice was raspy and dry. You reached out for the water in her hand. She instead pushed your hand down and brought the cup up to your lips herself.

"I thought I'd lost you," She sighs in releif.

You took big gulps of water. She had just finished smoking. You could smell it on her hands. You pulled your lips away from the cup and she brought a thumb to your mouth to wipe away stray water droplets.

It was your turn to ask, "Are you okay?"

She let out a dry laugh, "You're the one sitting in bandages in my bed, and you're asking if Im okay?"

She brings her larger hand to your arm, rubbing circles into your skin. Her rough calloused hands brought some comfort to you.

"Im sorry I let that happen. I shouldn't have let you go in there alone. Silco was wrong," She grumbled, clutching her temples.

"Hey, I can do things by myself. It was an unfair attack." You chimed in.

"I don't care. I dont know what i would do if i lost you in there," She spoke firmly.

Her lips were pursed into a straight line. Trying to calm that tension you reached up to grab her face, bringing her lips to yours.

Her lips chased yours when you pulled away. Hissing as you grabbed your side again. "Shit, do i need to change your bandages?" She got up, already heading for the cabinets.

You were usually the one to dress her wounds, not the other way around. "Aww, you bandaged me up?" You cooed.

"Shut up"

[regressionschool]

Sitting on the soft, fluffy rug, Emma absentmindedly colored with a bright green crayon, humming around the pacifier in her mouth. She was lost in her little world of scribbles and doodles, her face adorably scrunched in concentration. But as she shifted her weight, something felt... off. Her nose wrinkled, and a faint look of confusion crossed her face as she wiggled her bottom a bit, feeling the unexpected heaviness beneath her.

Emma’s eyes widened, a look of realization dawning. “Daddy!” she whined around her paci, looking over her shoulder at him with an accusatory glare. As if somehow, he was responsible for the sudden mushy feeling in her diaper.

Daddy, who was sitting nearby with a soft smile, raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, stifling a chuckle at her pouty expression. “Well, well, princess,” he said, slowly standing up and walking over. “What’s that face for, hmm?”

Emma just huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, her bottom lip jutting out. “This is your fault!” she declared, kicking one foot out petulantly.

He crouched down to her level, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “Oh, it’s my fault, is it?” he asked gently, as though entertaining a very serious accusation. “You’re saying Daddy made you go potty in your diaper?”

She wriggled again, clearly uncomfortable yet too stubborn to admit it. “Mhm! You… you did something, Daddy!” Her cheeks turned a bit pink, but she held her ground, shooting him an indignant look.

Daddy chuckled softly, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Oh, sweetheart. Do you remember when Daddy signed you up for that ‘special’ potty training class?” he asked, his voice soothing yet a little playful.

Emma’s pout softened slightly as she thought back, her brow furrowing in confusion. “The… the one where they told me I didn’t have to worry about the potty anymore?” she asked, tilting her head.

He nodded, brushing his fingers through her hair. “That’s the one. They helped you feel comfortable letting go whenever you needed to. No more big girl worries about potty breaks.” He smiled, watching as the realization started to sink in.

Emma’s eyes grew wide again, but this time with a bit of embarrassment. “S-So… that’s why I can’t… hold it?” Her tone shifted, a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

“That’s right, princess. Daddy wanted you to be free to play and have fun without having to worry about grown-up things,” he explained softly. “Now, you don’t have to think about it at all. Just like a real little girl.”

Her cheeks turned even redder, though a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “So… I’m really little, huh?” she murmured, glancing down shyly.

“Very little,” he agreed with a warm smile, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “And that’s why Daddy’s here to make sure you’re always comfy. Even if that means cleaning up some messy surprises.”

Emma finally cracked a smile, her bratty demeanor melting away as she reached out for a hug. “Thank you, Daddy… even if it’s still kinda your fault,” she added with a mischievous glint in her eye, giggling as he wrapped her up in his arms.

Daddy just chuckled, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Always, princess. Now, let’s get you fresh and clean, alright?”