#i need to stop having a job where i'm physically in the same place with others

[stllmnstr]

sure thing – part two.

pairing: yang jungwon x f reader

genre: coworkers au, underground boxer jungwon

part two word count: 10.8k

warnings: swearing, descriptions/depictions of physical violence, blood and minor injuries, jealousy, a bit of a love triangle I'M SORRY, a kiss or five

note: aaaand here's part two! thank you to everyone that left a comment/reblog on part one. this is the conclusion to the story. suffer with me while we daydream about blonde boxer jungwon and enjoyyyyy ♡

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

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

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PART TWO

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

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

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

From: yangj@vesselsoft.co 

Subject: Printer Issue

Good morning, ___. 

I hope this message finds you well. I am currently trying to resolve an ongoing issue with the workroom printer and was hoping you would be able to provide some input at your earliest convenience. 

Thank you in advance, 

Jungwon

Part of you wants to archive the message without responding and let him simmer in your rejection. 

But spite has never held much weight against curiosity, and despite your better judgment, you soon find yourself walking towards the shared workroom. 

As expected, it’s already occupied. This time, however, Jungwon is leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. The printer, just as you suspected, is in perfect working order. 

There’s a fresh bruise on his forehead, and this time, you don’t wonder where it’s from. It makes sense now. The bruises on his knuckles. The cut on his cheekbone. His seemingly intimate knowledge of head injuries that one fateful Monday afternoon he found you in this very room. 

They’re all the result of his hidden hobby, you suppose. 

As soon as you enter, some of the rigidity seeps out of his stance. Immediately, his arms fall to his sides, expression softening. “___,” he whispers, like he can’t quite believe you actually came. 

Where he softens, however, you cage up. 

“You have one minute,” you tell him. 

“One minute?” He echoes, brow creasing in confusion. 

“One minute to explain what happened Saturday night.”

Jungwon sighs. “I’m sorry. Really, I… I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

You don’t say anything. An apology is appreciated, yes, but it’s not an explanation. 

With your silence, Jungwon continues, “I was just… caught off guard. I didn’t expect to see you there, and especially not with him.”

He pauses for a moment, biting at his lower lip. “Look, ___. I know it probably isn’t my place, but I don’t think he’s being honest with you. Jay isn’t the person that you think he is, and–”

Your scoff cuts through his words, stopping him in his tracks. “That’s funny,” you interrupt. But humor is the last thing on your mind. “He said the exact same thing about you, you know. But it has to be bullshit. I mean, what could have possibly happened in middle school that two adults with jobs are still hung up on a decade later?”

Jungwon’s lips part in surprise. “He told you about middle school?”

“Why?” you prod. “Is there something to know?”

But now you’re at a stalemate, neither of you willing to disclose what exactly you know. 

After another beat, Jungwon sighs. “Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do–”

“Could have fooled me.”

“But I just want you to be careful, okay? It’s… it’s important to me that you’re safe.”

“Safe?” You scoff. “It was a boxing gym. I don’t know why you’re acting like I was trying to push my way into the ring with you.”

“You don’t get it–”

“No.” You throw your hands in exasperation. “I don’t get it. But you’re not explaining it to me. You’re just being evasive and acting like I’m the one in the wrong. So unless you actually have something of substance to say, I’m done having this conversation.”

“____…” 

Already halfway to the exit, the sound of your name is lost on you. It’s bad enough that Jay has yet to reach out to you since last night. You absolutely do not need Jungwon bringing this issue into the office as well. 

As if on cue, your phone dings with an incoming message. 

Half expecting to see a virtual string of apologies from your coworker, you’re mildly surprised to see a different name instead. 

You were right about the apologies, though. 

Jay: I’m sorry about last night. You were right about deserving an explanation and I want to give you one. I think this is a conversation we should have in person. Are you free Friday night for dinner?

Friday night. Two nights from now. It’s soon enough that you won’t have to stew in resentment, but will give you both the time and space you need to think. 

It doesn’t take you long to consider, but you do wait another long minute before giving him the satisfaction of responding. 

You: I’ll plan on Friday.

…..

Friday morning comes with a vengeance. 

Already teeming with nervous energy at the prospect of your upcoming date with Jay and the conversation that is sure to ensue, you’re a bit of a mess by the time you arrive at work. 

Hair windswept, outfit mismatched, lipstick slightly smudged, you already know you’re in for a long day at the office. 

But when you arrive at your desk, you find something that softens the blow, just a bit. 

Grace, ever the instigator, is already learning over your cubicle by the time you notice it. 

“Whew,” she whistles appreciatively. “Someone’s pulling out all the stops.”

And she’s kind of right. The bouquet sitting front and center on your desk is massive. Overflowing with seasonal flowers that already emit a pleasant fragrance even from where you stand. The vase itself it’s gorgeous, too. 

Imbued with a myriad of colors, it reminds you a bit of a stained glass window on a sunny afternoon. 

Reaching for the small note tucked at the top, you open the envelope with slightly shaky fingers. 

 ___, it reads. 

I wish I had more to give you than an apology, but I’ve been told that flowers are a sure thing when it comes to brightening someone’s day. I hope these are able to do that for you. 

– J

Frowning, you read it once. Twice. 

Jay has already apologized for the incident from a couple of nights ago, and the timing of this second apology seems odd, given your plans for tonight. 

You’re left to stand in your own confusion for a moment longer before a text message vibrates your phone in your pocket. 

Reaching for it, the flowers suddenly start to make a lot more sense. 

Jay: I am so sorry, but I have to reschedule our plans for tonight. It completely slipped my mind, but my sister’s baby shower is tomorrow morning, and I’ve been voluntold to help set it up. I promise to let you know as soon as I can when I’ll be available

Jay: And again, I am so, so sorry

Sighing, you put your phone back in your bag. You can’t blame him. Not really. His sister’s baby shower is undoubtedly an important event, even if the timing is rather unfortunate for you. 

Grace, blissfully unaware of your inner turmoil, is still gushing about your flowers. Turning to you, she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “So, what are those for? Got a hot date this weekend?”

You sigh, recently canceled plans still dampening your mood. Deciding there’s no harm in telling Grace your woes, you say, “I wish. Jay just had to cancel on me for tonight.”

“No.” Grace gasps. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was personally affronted. “He better have had a good excuse.”

“He did,” you admit. Unlike someone you know. “Family stuff.”

“Ah,” Grace nods. “I suppose that’s acceptable. Have you rescheduled?”

Frowning at the message you have yet to answer, you shake your head. “Not yet.”

“Mm,” she hums, sensing your disappointment. “I’m sure something just came up at work, and he’ll get back to you soon.” 

“Yeah,” you nod hollowly. “I’m sure he will.”

You: I understand. Is there any chance we could meet Saturday evening or afternoon? It’s important to me that we talk about it soon.

It’s not as if you expect an immediate response. Like you, Jay is probably at work for the day. Busy and drowning in deadlines and assignments. Maybe even stuck in a meeting. 

But thirty minutes pass. And then an hour. Two. 

And your message is still completely unanswered. 

The more time that passes, the harder it becomes to shake the funny feeling that starts to build in your gut. It builds and builds and builds, all the way until closing time. 

And Jay still hasn’t texted you back. 

That’s annoying enough all on its own, but there’s something else that just isn’t adding up. 

You can’t quite put your finger on it, the thing that’s bothering you so much. But even as you make your way towards after clocking out for the day, something still doesn’t sit right with you. Opening your message thread again, you reread Jay’s last text. 

Jay: … my sister’s baby shower is tomorrow morning, and I’ve been voluntold to help set it up. 

Sister’s baby shower. 

That’s what’s been bothering you. Because unless Jay’s sister is just finishing the shortest known pregnancy in human history, he’s lying to you. 

You remember it now. The first time Grace mentioned Jay to you. She had just seen him for the first time since he moved back home. 

At his older sister’s baby shower. 

Sitting in your car, you scoff out loud in disbelief. The ice he treads on has been dangerously thin since your run in with Jungwon at the boxing gym, and he had the audacity to lie? 

Part of you wants to catch him in it. For your own confirmation and for the satisfaction of not letting him get away with trying to pull a fast one on you. But you need an excuse. Some reason to seek him out and find him where he isn’t supposed to be. 

Racking your brain, you try to think of a plausible explanation for turning up at his house tonight. 

Still sitting in the parking lot, a car turns past you, headlights shining in through your windshield in a way that makes you squint. 

In a way that reflects off of the tiny piece of metal jammed in the crevice next to your cupholder. Frowning, you reach down, tugging at it until it’s freed from its confines. 

You’re not sure what divine forces are working in your favor, but you make a mental note to properly thank them later. Because clutched between your fingers is Jay’s missing ring. The one that he’s been looking for since he messaged you about it last week. 

It’s perfect, you think. An absolutely perfect excuse to drop by his house, even if you should be under the impression that he’s not there at the moment. 

Turning the piece of jewelry between your fingers, your eyes catch on an inscription on the inner band. Squinting, you can just make it out. 

2013.11.13 King Pen

You’re pretty sure the numbers are a date. November 13, 2013, to be exact. But King Pen. You have no idea what that is. 

It sounds like it could be related to boxing, maybe. Pulling out your phone, you do a quick online search. 

The results that flood your screen are mostly generic, nothing that gives you any real leads. You try a few different search combinations, including the date and finally, the name of your city. 

That does send an old article to the top of your search results. Something published in a local newspaper in 2007. 

Clicking on the link, you scan the article for anything relevant. 

Samuel Kang, one line towards the beginning reads, shared his plans to open a boxing gym right here in the city. Although there are other similar gyms in nearby towns, this would be the first gymnasium dedicated solely to boxing in the area. 

You skip down a few more lines. 

When asked if he knows what he’d like to call his project, Kang just smiles and nods his head. “King Pen,” he tells us. “I plan to call it King Pen.”

You frown. Your earlier search is proof enough that King Pen never came to fruition. As a final attempt at getting some answers, you type Samuel Kang into the search bar instead. 

This time, the first article that pops up does carry an air of familiarity. Clicking on it, you confirm your suspicion. 

Samuel Kang, as it turns out, never opened a boxing gym called King Pen. But he did open one called Kang’s Gym. 

Looking through the photo gallery, the weightlifting equipment appears to have been in much better shape in 2008 than it was a couple of weeks ago. But even though the paint was still bright and the training pads were fully intact, it is undoubtedly the same exact gym. 

There’s no reason for you to go there now. If anything, you should just drive straight to Jay’s house. But something still doesn't sit right with you. 

Why does Jay’s ring say King Pen instead of Kang’s Gym? Especially since it’s dated five whole years after the gym opened under its actual name. 

Besides, the gym is on your way to Jay’s apartment. If anything, it’s just a quick pit stop. A confirmation that you’re not going crazy. 

Putting your car in drive, you set the ring on your passenger seat and drive out of the parking lot. 

It’s already dark by the time you’re pulling into Kang’s Gym. Switching your car off, you remove your key from the ignition. 

Your automatic headlights still illuminate the strangely full parking lot in front of you. Frowning, you wonder why so many people are here. Even the night that you came with Jay, the parking lot wasn’t nearly this full, and yet, most of the boxing rings inside were occupied. 

Stepping out of your car, you close the door behind you softly. You’re not sure why you’re overcome with the urge to tiptoe. It’s not like you need to sneak around. You’re not doing anything wrong, after all. 

But the whole thing feels strange, has you on edge. You make it only a few steps before your eyes land on a familiar car. 

“Sister’s baby shower, my ass,” you whisper out loud to no one. Unless she decided to celebrate her new child at a run down boxing gym, Jay is absolutely lying to you. Because that’s his sleek black car, right in front of you. You’d recognize it anywhere. 

And a few rows down, you confirm your other suspicion. You’ve never seen him drive it, but you have seen that particular navy blue SUV in the office parking garage before. Jungwon. You’re sure it’s him. 

For a moment, you hesitate. It might be easier, cleaner, to just take a picture of Jay’s car and send it to him. After all, that would get your point across clearly enough. Especially if you block him afterwards. 

But he’s been evasive about everything related to this place since he first brought you here. And he’s not the only one. 

Eyes falling to Jungwon’s car, you decide that catching Jay in a lie isn’t the only thing you want to do tonight. 

You want answers. 

So the picture you take of Jay’s car remains unsent for now. Instead, you hike your bag a little further up your shoulder and continue walking in the direction of the gym. 

Nearing the door, you brace yourself to be met with the large crowd that surely waits inside. Judging from the parking lot, this place must be near full capacity. But as you push through the unlocked door, the gym is completely and entirely empty. 

Eerily so. 

All around you, workout equipment and boxing rings sit untouched, devoid of life. There isn’t so much as a sound to disturb the uncanny silence. 

Frowning, your brow creases in deep confusion. Nothing about this makes any sense. 

But you didn’t come all the way here to add to your pile of questions. Instead, you push forward, past the rows of boxing rings towards the locker room where Jay left his bag a handful of nights ago. 

It feels wrong to open the men’s locker room. But if no one is here, then surely it couldn’t hurt. Warily, you start to crack open the door, inch by inch. 

The locker room, to your unending puzzlement, is just as empty as the rest of the gym. 

You’re about to turn back to search the rest of the gym when you notice it. Just across from you, behind the first set of empty lockers. There’s another door. 

It’s probably nothing, you tell yourself, even as your feet carry you closer and closer. It probably just leads to a storage closet or a boiler room or–

Pushing the door open, the first thing you’re met with is sound. 

Voices. Loud voices. Lots and lots of them. In your surprise, you drop the door, and it clicks shut again. 

Immediately, the sound stops. Plunged in silence again, it’s all you can do to not gasp. 

Soundproof, you realize. It’s soundproof. And not just the locker room. The entire gym was dead silent until you opened this door.

This time, when you push it open, you expect the cacophonous cheers that greet you. You’re still too far away to make out what anyone is saying. Right now, it all blends into a wall of sound. 

Vision is of little help, too. The only thing you see when you open the door is a staircase. In the low light, all you can tell is that it leads down. 

Hoping that you’re not currently making the stupidest decision of your life, you place one tentative foot on the first step. Follow it with your other foot. And then you let the door close behind you, plunging you into complete darkness. 

Immediately, a surge of panic claws at your throat. The lack of light, combined with the sheer volume of cheers and shouts, is enough to have you crawling in your skin. 

Reaching blindly for the door handle behind you, you decide that sending Jay a picture of his car will have to be satisfying enough. But no matter how hard you try to twist the doorknob, it won’t budge. 

No. No. 

You’re trapped. Effectively locked in. 

As the reality of the situation sinks in, you feel the pit of your stomach begin to drop. 

Part of you wants to just stay in place, wait for whatever’s going on to end and hope that a stroke of luck will set you free. But then another thought occurs to you. 

What if this is the only entrance?

You don’t know how many people are down there, but if the sound and parking lot are anything to go by, it’s a lot. 

You’re sure that Jay and Jungwon are among them, but still…

Both of their warnings start to come back to you.

“He’s not who you think he is…”

“I just want you to be careful…”

“It’s important to me that you’re safe…”

Is this what they were talking about? Is this why Jungwon was so angry with Jay for bringing you here? Not because he didn’t want you to see a boxing gym, but because that’s not what this place is at all?

The more you mull it over, the more it starts to make sense. 

Still submerged in darkness, you decide that the only way you’ll confirm anything is by moving forward. Slowly, you reach for your phone, turning the flashlight on its lowest setting. 

Keeping it clutched in your hands in case you need to shut it off at a moment’s notice, you begin to walk, descending down the staircase. 

After two flights on uneven steps, you start to see a light in the distance, a clue that you’re getting closer. And with every step you take, the voices only get louder and louder. 

On the third landing, you’re given two choices: continue down the stairs or move into a hallway that stretches to your left. Deciding that staying as far away from the crowd as you can is likely your best option, you opt for the hallway. 

You’ve barely walked a few feet when you nearly stumble into a wall. It’s not the end though – just a corner. The light from your phone confirms that the hallway takes a sharp turn. 

Following it, you come to another door. This time, you’re even more hesitant. There could be people on the other side. 

Pressing your ear against it, the only thing you hear is the same scrambled shouting, the same boisterous crowd. It’s hard to tell for certain, but you don’t hear anything that makes you think there’s someone waiting on the other side. 

Slowly, carefully, you begin to open the door. 

The sudden light is nearly blinding. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, but once they do, your mouth drops open. 

You were right, thankfully. The small room you enter is mercifully empty. 

But it’s also lined with windows that give you a direct view into the room one level beneath you. Jaw dropping, you take in the scene below. 

There must be at least five hundred people crammed into the stands that encircle the room. All of them are on their feet, shouting jeers and cheering with equal fervor. 

And in the center of it all is a boxing ring. On the side that faces you, bold letters give it a name:

King Pen.

It’s empty for now, but you’re only left wondering for another handful of seconds before a middle aged man steps into the center, microphone in hand. With an open palm, he gestures towards the crowd, commanding them to listen. 

Whoever he is, he holds weight here. With the flick of his hand, literally, the room all but falls silent. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says into the microphone. “Next up is the fight we’ve all been waiting for.”

He pauses for a moment as more cheers and shouts fill the room. 

“I hope your bets are placed, because these two always manage to surprise us. Please welcome our first challenger to the ring. Back to the city for the first time in years, it’s Jaan!”

But it’s not Jaan. Or at least, it’s not someone you know as Jaan. 

No, it’s Jay. The same Jay that took you to an art exhibition and convinced you to try sweet coffee instead of your usual bitter black. The same Jay that flirts with you over text and whispers sweet nothings in your ear after a long day of work. 

The same Jay that lied to you about why he had to cancel your date tonight. 

The crowd has barely died down when the man presses on, “And your second challenger, the reigning champion… Please give your warmest welcome for Jakah!” 

The alias booms around you, echoing through the room. And of course it’s him. Of course Jakah, the reigning champion, is someone you used to think would have trouble hurting a fly. 

Someone you thought embodied gentleness, patience, with every ounce of his being. 

But no matter how badly you want to deny it, no matter how much the cognitive dissonance wars inside your brain, it’s him. 

It’s Jungwon who enters from the other side of the ring. 

“Now, remember,” the man addresses the audience again. “Cheer for your favorite. Scream at his opponent. And don’t forget our golden rule: in the King’s Pen,” he begins. 

“Anything goes,” the audience shouts back in unison. 

Anything? Your heart falls from your throat to the pit of your stomach. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Jay is here, that he lied to you, that he’s fighting Jungwon. 

Taking a closer look at the ring beneath you, you notice the odd, rust colored stains that nearly cover it. 

Blood, you realize after a sickening moment. The ring is covered in blood stains. 

It makes sense, suddenly, why King Pen didn’t appear in any search results. Why this entire place is completely soundproofed. Why Jungwon wanted you to stay far, far away. 

This isn’t a sparring match. It’s a duel. 

One where, like the audience just affirmed, anything goes. 

As the man steps out from the center of the ring, Jay and Jungwon start to circle each other, fists raised in anticipation. 

Even from a distance, you can see the tight coil of muscle in their shoulders, the way their bodies prepare for the inevitable fight. 

“Say it with me now, folks,” the man booms, now standing on the side of the ring. 

“Three.” Jay’s eyes narrow, fists rising an inch higher.

“Two.” Jungwon flicks a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. 

“One.” You feel your last bit of breath whoosh out from your lungs. 

“Fight.”

It’s like a dance, you think. A sickening, deadly dance that you can’t look away from no matter how much you want to. 

Despite your lack of knowledge, it quickly becomes apparent to you why this is the main event of the evening. 

Where Jay is sheer, brutal strength, Jungwon is all evasion. He moves with the agility of an athlete, the lightness of a dancer. 

He makes it look easy, the way he ducks beneath carefully timed swings and always seems to predict what Jay will do next. 

But even dancers stumble sometimes. 

You can’t help it, the gasp that slips out when one of Jay’s punches lands true. You watch, horrified, as Jungwon staggers backwards, adding to the crimson stains on the floor of the ring. 

Slightly dazed, he brings the back of his palm to the broken skin along his cheekbone, assessing the damage. When he brings it in front of his face, it comes back red. 

Jay takes no pity on his opponent. Following his retreat, he aims for another bruising blow. This one hits Jungwon just beneath the ribs. Echoes around the makeshift stadium with a dull thud you hear even from your hiding place. 

Again, Jungwon’s sure steps falter. 

The rise and fall of his chest is rapid as he struggles to catch his breath. But when he looks up again, there’s a fire in his eyes. Pure, unadulterated hatred that permeates the scant distance between him and his rival and sends a shiver down the length of your spine. 

Not one to take things lying down, Jungwon takes advantage of Jay’s momentary lapse in focus. 

His fist connects with the bridge of Jay’s nose with a sickening crunch. Head falling backward, the immediate flow of blood is gruesome. It drip down his chin, landing on the floor beneath him in an arrhythmic pattern. 

There’s little grace to it now. Gone are the remaining fragments of inhibition as both boys put away their judgment and leave the rest to instinct. 

It’s messy, sloppy, angry. 

They’re so close; it’s hard to tell which blows come from who. Hard to tell whose wounds are multiplying faster, whose blood is falling more freely. 

And then, just when you think you can’t stomach watching any longer, it’s done. 

It’s so fast. You can’t quite be sure how it happens. But one second, both boys are standing, and the next, Jay is flat on his back, Jungwon hovering above him. 

Still, the crowd is silent. Everyone’s eyes are on the ring. 

Jay is down. Trapped beneath his opponent, it’s clear to you who the victory is. But then you remember the words the crowd chanted at the beginning of the fight. 

Anything goes. 

Your stomach twists with nausea. 

Even from here, you can see the tension that still strains the muscles along Jungwon’s back. The rigidity of his shoulders. 

For a moment, you think he’s going to do it. To strike again, even though victory is already in his hands. 

You see his lips move with words you can’t hear. Beneath him, Jay remains stoic. There’s still fight in his eyes, even if it’s been drained from his body. 

Jungwon’s mouth moves again. 

This time, Jay nods. It’s a tiny movement, barely perceptible. But it’s enough. 

With an agitated flair, Jungwon stands again. 

Blood is still dripping from his face, his knuckles. Sweat covers his body, drenches his hair. 

He’s won, yes, but the expression on his features is not one of satisfaction. 

ARound him, the audience begins to boo, throwing jeers and insults like extra change. They were hoping for more than a fight. They were hoping for cruelty Jungwon isn’t willing to give. 

Without a second glance back, he turns and leaves the ring. 

Still reeling, you nearly jump out of your skin when the handle on the door to your room begins to turn. 

If you had a stronger grip on your sense of logic, you would do something. Try to hide. Scramble to think of an excuse for your presence. 

The door opens before you do any of it. 

“Oh,” Heeseung says, eyes widening as he finds the room already occupied. And then it registers with him who exactly is already occupying said room. “Oh,” he repeats. “He is not going to be happy about this.”

…..

Heeseung’s fist rings out against the door in three sharp raps. For a moment, silence is the only response. And then–

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Uh,” Heeseung glances at you sideways. “I think you should open the door anyway.” 

“I’m serious.” Jungwon’s voice is pure ire. “I’m not doing this with you right now, Heeseung.”

“Okay,” Heeseung concedes. “But I really still think you should open the–”

“What?”

Jungwon’s glare lands on his friend before his gaze slides to you. Immediately, his features slacken in surprise. “Oh.”

And it’s stupid, foolish, naive. But the first thing you feel when you see him standing on his own two feet is pure, unadulterated relief. 

He’s injured. It’s obvious from the wounds that line his face and the way his breath is still shallow in his chest. But he’s okay. 

He’s here and he’s in front of you and he’s okay. 

“Yeah,” Heeseung repeats. “Like I said, I think you should–”

“Go away.”

“What?” Heeseung balks. “Where am I supposed to–”

“Away,” Jungwon reiterates, eyes still locked on you. 

Heeseung is sulking, but he follows Jungwon’s command regardless. And then it’s just the two of you. 

You both speak at the same time, near identical questions overlapping with one another. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Why are you here?”

A beat of silence passes. Another. 

As if he is suddenly remembering your surroundings, Jungwon looks around you, a new urgency in his gaze. You don’t know what kind of consequences places like this carry, but common sense tells you it’s best that you’re not seen. “Come in,” he opens the door a bit wider, giving you space to enter. 

You shouldn’t. He hasn’t lied to you, not exactly, but it’s not like he’s been particularly honest either. 

And coworkers don’t owe you the truth or the nitty gritty details of their lives, but it’s been a long time since Jungwon and you treated one another like coworkers. No matter what you want to call it, the relationship that you’ve built between conversations in the workroom and email threads and kind gestures in the office feels a lot more like friendship. Or at the very least some iteration of it. 

So you’re not mad at him for keeping this from you, not really. 

But other emotions are swirling in your gut, and you don’t know what to do with them. Most of all, you’re worried. For his safety. For his wellbeing. For him. 

Obeying his command, you step inside the small room. You hear the door click shut behind you. 

Looking around, there isn’t much to see. It’s a locker room, essentially, designed for one person. There’s a counter to your left with a small first aid kit and a chair in the far corner of the room. 

A gym bag, Jungwon’s you assume, rests next to it. 

And, of course, there’s the two of you. 

Glancing up, you take a look at him. A long, real look. 

He’s wearing the same clothes he entered the ring with. A white athletic shirt that moves with him, gives his long, lean muscles space to move. To flex and contract with every shallow breath. 

He’s still just as gorgeous as always, even with a split lip and a nasty cut that spans the length of his temple. Even with the bruising that’s already begun to discolor his near flawless skin. 

Sighing, you nod towards the chair behind him. “Sit down.”

“What?” Confusion draws his brow downward, and he hisses in pain at the movement. 

“Don’t tell me your illegal fights have ruined your hearing too.”

“What? No.” Jungwon shakes his head. “My hearing is perfectly fine, I mean.”

“Then sit.” You glance pointedly at the chair again. “Down.”

This time, he doesn’t try to argue. You watch from your periphery, frowning at the slight limp in his left leg as he walks toward the chair, easing himself down. 

Reaching for the first aid kit on the counter, you bring it with you as you move across the room. 

Your steps are slow and even. They carry you all the way to the far corner, until you’re forced to stop. 

Standing above Jungwon, your lips pull into a tight line as you begin to assess his injuries. Hesitation might be wise, but you can’t find any of it left in you. 

Your movements are sure, gentle but firm. Hands sliding to his jaw, you adjust his face slightly, turning the gash on his temple towards the light. It’s an echo of the way he examined you in the workroom, long weeks ago. 

This time, it’s him that’s easily manipulable underneath your touch. 

“What are you doing?” He whispers. 

Your hesitation is gone, but so is your patience. “Don’t talk.” Jungwon’s lips fall shut. He’s pliant in your hands as you adjust him. 

Reaching for the kit, the first thing you pull out is antiseptic cream. 

“This might sting,” you whisper. 

“It’s okay,” he assures you. But he hisses at the contact all the same. “Doesn’t even hurt,” he lies through gritted teeth, forcing a smile. 

If he’s trying to be funny, his attempt at humor is lost on you. 

Gaze still narrowed in concentration, you busy yourself by cleaning the worst of his wounds first. 

As you move from his forehead to his lip, you don’t think you imagine the sharp inhale he draws between parted lips. 

“It stings?” You ask him. 

“Just a bit.” You feel the ghost of his whisper against your fingertips. 

You look up for a moment, and you find his gaze already locked on yours. It takes a significant portion of your willpower to stop yourself from reaching up to brush his hair from his eyes. 

It feels wrong, even if you call it friendship. Even if you and Jay never discussed exclusivity. 

Your heart is fluttering, and that’s what makes it all seem so illicit. 

With no small amount of effort, you force your eyes down again. Standing above him, your fingers move from his face to his hands. His wrist clasped in your fingers, you sink to your knees in front of him. 

Jungwon swallows audibly. 

Pulling his hand closer, you examine the series of shallow cuts, of angry, violet bruises that line his knuckles. With another long sigh, you reach for the cream again, applying it generously before carefully wrapping it in a bandage. 

After giving the same attention to the other hand, you lean back, assessing your handiwork.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You’re still kneeling in front of him. He still sits above you. 

And then, after a breath of hesitation, one carefully wrapped hand finds its way to your face. 

Gently, with a touch so light you hardly feel it, he lays his open palm against the expanse of your cheek. Cradles it.  

He whispers your name, and you can’t find it in you to look up. 

“I don’t…” you trail off, not sure how to communicate the swirling mix of emotions simmering just beneath the surface. “I don’t want to be mad at you.”

“But you are,” Jungwon assumes. He accepts it, and he doesn’t let it change anything. His hand is steady against your cheek. His thumb starts to draw small circles, just under your earlobe. 

“I’m not,” you correct. “But this isn’t…” again your words die. It’s frustrating, the way you feel like you can never be straightforward with him. The way you always feel like you have to navigate through subtext and half truths and partial reveals just to get a point across. 

“But you don’t owe me anything right now.”

His thumb stills against your skin. 

“We’re coworkers,” you continue. “We’re just coworkers, so it doesn’t matter if you fight in illegal boxing matches. You don’t have to worry about what I think of it, and I don’t have to be mad at you for it.”

You do look up at him, begging for a bit of his understanding. “You can be evasive with your excuses and reject all of my invitations. We can meet by chance in the workroom on Monday afternoons, and none of it ever has to mean anything. Neither of us ever has to feel anything about it.”

“But,” Jungwon whispers. 

“Yeah,” you nod. Your cheek slides easily against the soft skin of his bruised hand. “But.”

Jungwon is silent for a moment, eyes darting between both of yours. Then, tentatively, he asks, “Are you mad at him?”

He doesn’t say Jay’s name, but the venom he wraps around the word is all you need to know who he’s talking about.

You shake your head, eyelids fluttering. “We’re coworkers.” You reiterate the boundaries he’s always maintained with you. “You don’t get to ask me that.”

Jungwon’s hand slides to your neck, thumb tracing the length of your jaw now. “And if I want to?”

You shake your head again. You can only give him so much on a silver platter. If he wants anything to change, he’ll have to find a bit of his own bravery. “That’s not the question you need to ask me.” Looking up at him, you draw another line. “And not tonight.”

You’ve both been through enough. Heightened emotions rarely lead to good decisions, and the last thing you want is his indecisiveness. His impulsivity.

Quietly, you stand, his hand falling from your face as you rise to full height in front of him. 

His eyes look wider from this angle, from above. Even shinier than usual. No matter how many boundaries you draw or how many ways you deny him, he’s someone that’s hard to say no to. Hard to walk away from. 

Steeling the last remnants of your resolve, you manage to look him in those dark, sparkling eyes when you tell him, “Good night, Jungwon.”

“Good night, ___,” he whispers to your retreating silhouette. 

Closing the door behind you, you barely have a moment to catch your breath before a voice interrupts your wandering thoughts. 

“You like him, don’t you?”

The gasp you give is out of shock more than anything. And the “What?” you ask is a knee jerk reaction.

 “Yang.” Jay materializes from his position in the darkness, jerking his chin towards the door behind you. “You like him.”

Immediately, you find yourself on the defense. Even if you’re just delaying the inevitable, it’s cagey when you tell him. “We work together.”

Jay just looks at you. “My favorite color is green.”

“What?”

“Sorry,” Jay’s tone is flat. He’s not annoyed, but he’s coming close to it. “I thought we were stating irrelevant facts.” 

With a sigh, he drags an open palm down his face. “I know you work together. But you like him, too," he sighs again, reading the horror in your expression. Mostly due to the fact that he read you like an open book when you thought you were keeping your feelings close to the chest. “I’m not… mad. It sucks, but it’s not like I was honest with you either. I’m sorry, by the way, for lying about tonight.”

It’s too much to process, all at once. Your head is swimming and your heart is pounding. 

It was a shitty thing to do, yes, but– 

“You don’t have to say sorry–”

Again, Jay doesn’t let you finish. “I’m not saying sorry because I have to. I’m saying it because I am. I like you.” He’s so honest. So blunt with his feelings. He makes things so easy. “I like spending time with you. I think we both know that’s not enough anymore,” he casts another meaningful glance at the door behind him. The one that leads to Jungwon’s locker room, “but it’s still true.”

“I…” you trail off, unsure what to say. He’s not wrong. In fact, he’s all but hit the nail right on the head. With deadly accuracy. 

Heeseung was the one that found you, that brought you to Jungwon, but still. 

It’s not Jay that you checked in on fist. It’s not Jay whose wounds you just cleaned. It’s not Jay who you’re thinking about now. 

Like he said, it sucks, but it’s still true. 

Jay has bruises, too. Has cuts that line his knuckles and his jaw. He’s here because he’s part of an illegal underground boxing ring. He lied to you about it. 

But you just… you’re not mad at him about it. And that’s the final nail in the coffin. 

Jay just looks at you for a moment longer. For the third time, he sighs. “You’re really gonna make me do this part too?” He inhales, steeling his resolve. “Okay, then. ___, I think we should–”

“I think we should stop seeing each other,” you finish for him. You can give him at least that much. “I had a great time getting to know you, but I think we want different things right now. I wish you all the best. Really, you’re a great guy, Jay.”

He is. 

“I mean it.”

You do. 

“Thank you, ___.”

He means it too. 

When Jay walks away from you, his shoulders are straight and his head is high. 

You feel a lot of things, as you watch his retreating figure. 

But no matter how deep you search, regret isn’t one of them. 

…..

Monday morning brings with it a distinct sort of dread. 

Partly because it marks the beginning of another long week. Mostly because going back to the office means potentially seeing him. 

If you’re honest with yourself, you’re not sure if you’re ready for that. If you’re ready to face the feelings you’ve been forcing down for months and the potential fallout they may bring with them. 

So, when you open your inbox first thing in the morning, an unreasonable request from your supervisor isn’t the thing you’re most afraid of finding. 

Jungwon, however, isn’t planning to stick to old routines. When he seeks you out, he does it in person. 

Grace’s eyes are anywhere but on her own work when he walks through the door of the marketing department half past ten. 

“___,” he breathes. 

The wounds on his face are already fading, hardly even noticeable. You wish you could say the same for the turmoil raging inside of you. You can’t decide if you want to throw your arms around his neck or tell him to fuck off. 

In the end, you just look at him blankly. 

“Can we…” he trails off, visibly frustrated. He isn’t sure how to do this either. “Can you help me with something? In the workroom. I think the printer is acting up again.”

The printer is fine. You used it five minutes ago. 

But he’s not asking you to help him with work or the printer or anything else. He’s asking for a bit of your time, a fraction of your understanding. 

It’s messy. It has so much potential for heartbreak, for complication. 

But he’s here and he’s looking at you like your answer means the world to him. Like he might forget how to breathe if you don’t say yes. 

So, with a rising bout of uncertainty, you tell him, “Let’s go take a look at it.”

The printer, just as you suspected, is in perfect working order. Jungwon doesn’t even spare it a second look. 

Instead, he closes the door to the workroom behind you. And then he says, “I started boxing when I was a kid. I think I was eight, nine maybe.”

“What are you–”

“Just listen,” Jungwon begs. “Please.”

You want to protest. You’re not sure why, but the urge is strong. But after a moment of warring with yourself, you finally nod, giving him permission to continue. 

“It was just a hobby. Something to keep me busy on long afternoons when both of my parents were working in the restaurant my family owned. But I kept at it, and they could see how much I enjoyed it. By the time I was ten, my mom enrolled me in actual classes.”

Jungwon smiles, reminiscing on the tidbits of a happy childhood. But then his smile starts to falter. “A few months later, my grandpa died. It wasn’t a surprise exactly, but it did have some unexpected consequences on the business. My family started to struggle. With money, more than anything.”

He sighs, and your heart hurts for a past version of him, too young to make sense of all of the sudden changes in his life. “I had to quit taking lessons. I kept practicing on my own, though. And when I started middle school, there was a free boxing club I joined. I met a lot of my friends there. Heeseung, who you met the other night, along with a few others. I also met Jay.”

Jungwon’s lips pull into a line. “I didn’t hate him. Not exactly. He was nice enough, and we had a lot in common. But he had everything that I wanted. Money, mostly. His family never had to worry about it. He could take private lessons and always had all the nicest gear. He didn’t flaunt it, but I noticed. And I envied him for it.”

Looking back at you, he continues, “Heeseung was the one that found the King Pen. He was like me, in a way. His family didn’t come from money. We were young, too young, but we were good. We made them money, so they let us fight. Jay found out and wanted in too. It didn’t matter that he didn’t need the prize money. He just wanted to prove that he was better than us. That he was the best. It was me and him in my very first championship fight. He won, and I hated him for it.”

The ring, you realize. Jay’s ring that he dropped in your car. It was a championship ring. 

Jungwon looks down at his hands. The bandages that you put there. “He moved away once high school started. We didn’t keep in direct contact or anything, but I always heard about him. Jay and his international boxing titles. Jay and his new sponsorship deal with a major boxing gym. It just added fuel to the fire that was already there. Made me resent him more, even if it wasn’t his fault.”

No matter how you spin it, you can’t imagine any of that was easy to deal with. Especially as a teenager. 

“With him gone, though, I started to make real money fighting. Good money. I lied to my parents and told them I got a part time job. Moving cargo so that they wouldn’t be too suspicious when I came home with bruises.”

Jungwon flexes his fingers. “Boxing became my saving grace. I could give a good chunk of my earnings to my family, and the rest of it, I saved. It put me through university. Let me earn my programming degree.”

You understand him a bit more, then. Why he never seemed annoyed by his job. Why even things like jammed printers never seemed to get to him. He’s thankful for where he is. Has nothing but gratitude for his job when he earned it with years of his own blood, sweat, and tears. 

“I have a steady income now, but it’s just… hard, I guess. To let that part of me go. And if I’m honest, part of me has always been afraid too. I mean, my parents had a steady income until they didn’t, you know? I like knowing that even if something happens here, I’ll still be able to support myself. And them.”

It makes sense. It does. 

“And then Jay came back.” Jungwon scoffs. “He’d barely been in town for a full twenty-four hours when he showed up at Kang’s with all of his fancy gear and asked to be added to the roster for the next round of fights. And then he showed up there with you and I… I thought I was actually going to lose it.”

Even now, Jungwon’s shoulders are visibly tense. “The actual gym is usually fine, safe for outsiders, but still. He shouldn’t have risked your safety like that. He should have known better. And I…” Jungwon trails off again. 

You don’t think you’re imagining the slight tinge of pink that starts to color his cheekbones.

“I was already having a bad enough time with the fact that you were seeing someone. When it turned out to be him, I just… Well, you know.”

Jungwon takes a deep breath in, releases a long exhale. 

“I don’t like making bets, and I don’t like situations I can’t predict. Things I don’t have control over. I guess that’s part of the reason why I always liked boxing so much. In the ring, I feel like I have a say in what happens. That even if I lose, it’s because I didn’t move fast enough. I didn’t think quick enough. Things I have control over. Things I can get better at.”

Jungwon looks at you. “I hate guessing. I hate having to wonder. I like sure things.” 

His chest is rising and falling a little faster now. Your breath is just as shallow. 

“What are you saying?” you ask him. 

“I’m saying that I don’t just want to be coworkers with you. I want you to be mad at me for fighting in illegal underground boxing matches.” Jungwon’s gaze is imploring, pleading for your understanding as his eyes search yours. “I want you to call me when the printer jams and when you have a hard day and when you want someone to go to a stupid work event with you on a Friday night.” 

He takes a step closer to you, and you feel your spine press against the door of the workroom. 

“I want you to be a sure thing,” he breathes, “even if everything about you – the way I feel about you, the thoughts I have about you, the things I want to do to you – have always felt out of my control.”

“Oh.” Your voice is small. Your mouth is dry. Caged in against the door, words are suddenly a hard thing to come by. 

“Oh,” Jungwon echoes. “Is that a yes?”

He’s even closer now. Nose brushing against yours, he interlaces the fingers of his less injured hand with yours, reaching up until your hands are intertwined above your head. 

“No,” you shake your head. 

“Mm,” Jungwon hums, and you feel the vibration travel the length of your spine, settling somewhere deep, just beneath your navel. His lips brush against the corner of your mouth when he asks, “It’s a no, then?”

Again, you shake your head. Trapped in his embrace, the movement is tiny, restricted. Sends goosebumps scattering across your skin everywhere the two of you are touching. 

“An oh is just an oh,” you tell him. “This is a yes.” 

There isn’t any distance to close. Just pressure to add. He accepts it willingly, even if the sudden contact against the still broken skin of his bottom lip has him releasing a hiss through his teeth. 

It’s a discomfort he gets over quickly. His other hand, the one not currently tangled with yours, relocates to the curve of your jaw before he’s doubling down, pain all but forgotten as his lips part against yours. 

A repeated motion. A rhythm that’s stilted at first but starts to feel natural the longer you continue. 

Over and over. Again and again until the action starts to feel useless. Until you’re not quite sure where his breath ends and yours begin. 

You’re in the office workroom, pressed against the door, and the printer is starting to beep in protest. 

You’re sure you’ll be thoroughly embarrassed when you inevitably leave long minutes later with mussed hair and swollen lips and a certain programmer trailing behind you that can’t contain his self-satisfied smile. 

But for now, you get what he means. It feels good. It feels like relief, to finally know where you stand with him. 

So instead of worrying about what your supervisor will think of your mussed collar and smudged lipstick, you pull him down a little firmer by the back of the neck, fingers tangling in the hair along his nape. 

You sigh into his mouth, and the fervor he returns with leaves you well and truly breathless. 

And for once, it feels like a sure thing. 

…..

epilogue 

Jungwon: SOS

Jungwon: Babyyyyyyyy

Jungwon: I know you’re reading my messages 

Jungwon: PLEASE ___ I really need your help

You: I’m BUSY what do you need

Jungwon: The printer is jammed again

You: And what do you want me to do about that? Call maintenance

Jungwon: Oh please 

Jungwon: Last time I called maintenance they sent a guy that couldn’t tell A4 from A3 this is not the job for them

Jungwon: Plus they don’t have the magic touch like you

You: Literally what are you talking about

You: The last time I tried to fix the printer, I broke it so bad it was out of commission for two whole weeks

You: The entire floor was mad at me

You: I had to buy Grace coffee every day for TWO WEEKS

Jungwon: PLEASEEEEEE

Jungwon: Just try once and if it doesn’t work I’ll call maintenance

Jungwon: I promise

You: …

You: FINE

You: On my way

Tucking your phone back into your pocket, you sigh. The workroom door opens with little resistance, but as soon as you step inside, you frown. 

Jungwon, for starters, is nowhere to be seen. 

And the printer, at least from first impressions, appears to be working just fine. Completely jam-free.

You’re not left in the dark for long. A moment later, the door opens behind you. 

Tumbling in like an overexcited kitten, your boyfriend looks all too enthused to be dealing with a supposed jammed printer. 

Gesturing towards the machine in question, you frown at him. “What were you talking about? The printer is perfectly f–”

He cuts you off with the press of his lips against your own, pushing you backwards until you run into the printer, spine arching against the copier tray. 

“Jungwon,” you protest once he finally lets you up for air. “It’s like you want HR to start a case against us. You have got to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He feigns innocence, even as he leans in again for another long kiss. 

“Mm,” you mumble, breaking free again. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Faking printer emergencies as an excuse to make out. We’re at work.”

Jungwon leans back, but the only thing he uses the space for is to let himself scan you from head to toe. Biting his bottom lip, he runs a set of fingers through the hair that falls across his forehead. “You know, you’re a really terrible liar.”

“I’m not ly–”

“If you actually wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t fall for it every.” He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Single.” The top of your cheekbone. “Time.” The corner of your mouth.  

And you hate to admit it, but he kind of has you there. 

“Whatever.” You pout, but he just uses it as an excuse to plant another long kiss on your pursed lips. “I’m serious, Jungwon,” you tell him, even if you’re just as breathless as he is, despite the fact that you’re actively pulling him in by the back of his neck. “This has to be the last time.”

“Mm,” he smiles against your lips. “Sure thing, ___.”

…..

outtake — seven months ago.

The tinted window of Jungwon’s secondhand car is hardly an ideal mirror, but he’ll have to make it work. 

Giving himself a final once over, he straightens his already immaculate tie. Tugs at the collar of his button down shirt so that it lays just a little bit nicer, the edges of the folds just a fraction of a millimeter sharper. 

Bending slightly, he smooths down his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. Catching his reflection again, he suddenly has second thoughts about the version of himself that he sees. 

Bleaching his hair had seemed like a good – no, great – idea a few weeks ago. But now, dressed in business casual and about to begin his first day at a new job, doubts start to swirl through Jungwon’s mind. 

What if they don’t think the blonde is professional enough? What if it breaks some kind of unspoken dress code?

He knows it doesn’t break the actual, company mandated dress code. Mostly because he’s already read through the handbook. 

Twice. 

With annotations. 

Frowning slightly, Jungwon tilts his head to the side. He’s gotten pretty good with concealer, but there’s still a faint purplish tint that sits just along the edge of his jaw. 

It takes a decent amount of effort not to wince at the memory. Sunghoon had gotten him good that day. 

Jungwon forces his shoulders to relax. Forces himself to take one big breath in. Release it out slowly. 

He has no reason to panic. He went through the same, brutal rounds of interviews as everyone else and was deemed to be the most qualified candidate. He graduated summa cum laude in the same field he’ll be employed in now. 

And it’s not like anyone’s going to be looking at his face close enough to notice any slight discoloration. Or, at least, he doesn’t think they will. 

To be honest, he’s not really sure how this whole thing works. Office jobs, no matter how many online forums he’s scoured and articles he’s read, are still a bit of a mystery to him. 

He hates it. Hates feeling out of his depth and ill prepared. Hates knowing that he’ll have to ask too many questions and stumble through tasks until he gets the basics down. 

But part of him is excited too. 

He did it. Standing in the parking lot of an otherwise rather unremarkable company, it hits him all at once. 

He actually fucking did it. 

All those nights in the ring. Every bruise, every scar, every drop of blood. Every saved penny, every skipped opportunity. 

They landed him here. An 8 to 5 office job that isn’t flashy or anything special from the outside, but to him, means the world. 

He’ll have it all: a steady salary, a place to be in the mornings, coworkers to notice when he’s not around. It’s not much, but it’s his. 

So, with one last deep inhale, Jungwon turns away from his car window and tracks a steady path on even footsteps towards the front door. 

And a handful of hours later, when Terry from accounting is still talking his ear off about his son’s latest hockey match in the doorway of the staff kitchen, Jungwon’s heart gives an unsteady lurch. 

“Hey, Terry,” you nod in acknowledgement, entering the kitchen in search of an early afternoon refill for your empty coffee mug. “Hey, oh.” Your eyes meet his, lips parting. Your words die when you realize you don’t know what to call him. When you realize you’ve never actually seen him before. 

And it’s not like Jungwon has never seen a pretty girl before, but – oh. 

Oh. 

Dressed in a rather simple, work approved ensemble, hair loose around your face, there’s nothing specific that he can pinpoint. All Jungwon knows is that there’s something about you that makes him want to keep looking. 

“Jungwon,” he supplies, a bit breathlessly. 

Behind him, Terry is still regaling the details of his kid’s game-winning goal. 

Eyes locked on him, a beat of heavy silence passes. And then –

“Hi, Jungwon.” 

Your eyes. He thinks it must be your eyes. Or maybe your lips. The delicate curve of your cheekbone. His gaze can’t decide where to land. 

“Hi,” he manages. 

Eyes sliding over his shoulder to Terry, you release a small, amused breath. “Hey, Terry?”

Stopping mid sentence, the middle aged man turns to you. “Oh, hi, ____. How are you?”

___. Jungwon thinks it suits you. A pretty name for a pretty girl. 

“Just fine, thanks.” You flash him a quick smile. Just a bare hint, and Jungwon feels his knees getting a little wobbly beneath him. “But I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

“Of course,” Terry nods a little too enthusiastically. Fifteen years at the same company, and he’s the kind of person that still jumps at the opportunity to be needed. Helpful. Jungwon thinks it’s kind of sweet, even if he wishes the man’s gift for brevity in storytelling could be a bit more apparent. 

“You know the printer in the workroom?”

Terry nods. 

“It’s jammed again,” you frown, the slightest hint of a pout pulling at your lips. Jungwon can’t quite find it in himself to look away from the movement. “Do you think you could take a look at it for me?”

Terry beams. “Of course! I’d be happy to.” 

And then it’s just the two of you. 

“He means well.” You smile again, softer this time. Like you’re discussing an inside joke only the two of you know about. 

Jungwon is suddenly finding his breath a difficult thing to maintain. 

“Does the printer do that a lot?” He finally manages to ask. “Jam, I mean.”

“All the time.” You roll your eyes. “You’d think a company raking in this much profit would have the cash to spare on a new machine, but no. This entire floor is just ill fated to suffer” There’s an air of humor to your words, a slight hint of teasing, even if Jungwon thinks there’s an undercurrent of truth to your words. 

You smile again. Teeth tugging at your bottom lip, Jungwon can only describe your expression as slightly devious. “It’s not jammed now, though.”

His brow furrows. “It’s not?”

You shake your head. “I was given the gory details of Terry’s son’s soccer game yesterday. Trust me, I saved you a headache and an extra thirty minutes.” You wink at him, and Jungwon really, really hopes the sudden heat in his cheeks doesn’t look as obvious as it feels. 

“I think it was a hockey match, actually.”

“Oh.” You pause for a moment, considering. “Right.”

A moment of silence passes. Another. Jungwon has never minded the quiet, but he’s not quite ready for this interaction to end. Suddenly, he feels like he’s scrambling for something to prolong it. 

“Thank you.”

Your brow furrows. “For what.”

“The extra thirty minutes and the absence of a headache.” Jungwon taps two fingers against his temple. “I appreciate it.”

“Ah,” you smile, and this time it’s a bit brighter, wider. Jungwon, not for the first time today, thanks his lucky stars that he was accepted for this position. That it landed him here, sharing a staff kitchen with someone like you. “Anytime.”

He hopes you mean it. 

And when you turn away from him a few moments later, original mission to refill your coffee remembered, Jungwon looks up at the ceiling with his eyes screwed shut and takes a long, much needed breath. 

“Jungwon,” you turn back. Luckily, he’s just returned to a more natural standing position. 

“Yeah?”

“It’s nice to meet you. Don’t let this place get you down too quickly.” You wink again. Jungwon does his best to keep his features neutral. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, even though you’ve already turned back to the coffee machine. “Sure thing, ___.”

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: and we're done! thank you for reading! and thank you for bearing with me and the fact that this unfortunately had to be split into two parts. I hope you enjoyed this story, and as always, I would love to hear any thoughts you have. all the best ♡

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

i finally gave up and stopped masking at work because i found it too physically difficult to talk for a long time with a mask on (kept masking everywhere else because that is my personal preference in life always) and today i officially have COVID!!!!

[homunculus-argument]

And speaking of scurvy, I am eternally amused by the thing where some ancient form of healing that was born in a time where people didn't know exactly how the human body works, or what causes it to stop working sometimes, that still somehow worked. Like how so many old folk medicinal plants were listed as a cure for various ailments that - from a modern view - are clearly just symptoms of scurvy, and the plant itself is rich in vitamin C.

I recall reading some story, no recollection of the exact time or place, where the king of a large empire suffered from constant horrible headaches and was incapable of falling asleep unless drugged or blackout drunk. Sick of taking temporary fixes to dull the pain and having to be sedated every night, he called up some old sage healer who was said to know how to fix things nobody else could explain, and the healer heard his symptoms and went

"Hmm. You spend too much time being a king. Your skull is packed so full of kingly thoughts that they don't all fit in there and that's why your head is in pain. You need to spend time not being a king." And prescribed him to schedule three days every month where he must go to a peasant village where nobody knows he's the king, live with a family there under a fake name and identity, work in the rice fields with them, eating the same food and sleeping on the same mats. Absolutely nobody is allowed to address him as the king, speak to him of any royal or political matters, and he himself is not allowed to think any kingly thoughts or think of himself as the king.

And naturally, this worked. Taking a regular scheduled break from a highly stressful office desk job to completely decompress, paired with physical exercise in the form of hard but simple physical labour, plain and simple food and Just Not Thinking About Your Fucking Job All The Time does help chronic stress, which here was worded as "spending too much time being a king clogs your brain."

Sometimes you do have ghosts in your blood, though I'm not entirely sure whether you should do cocaine about it.

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

There's a viral video circulating from the Fort Worth Zoo, of two keepers who ended up in a habitat at the same time as a silverback gorilla. Spoiler for good news: neither the humans nor the gorilla got hurt. It's a bad situation that ended extremely well, and that's why I want to talk about it.

The audio for this video is mostly someone praying loudly, so if you need to turn the audio off to watch it, you won't miss anything relevant. If you don't want to watch it, here's the summary: it starts with a keeper running around the corner into the main exhibit, pursued by a large male gorilla. She is quickly able to get into a doorway at the back of the exhibit, but does not completely close the door because the gorilla is standing across from her, watching. He eventually moves off to the right hand side of the exhibit, where we can see a keeper is trapped in the corner at the front. She was trying to move towards the exit as he moved to the right, and she stops, standing very still behind a tree, while he stays along the far right wall. They stay like that for a minute, and then the gorilla runs to the front right corner, and the keeper is able to run to the door in the back of the exhibit and get to safety.

Let's start with basic information. Even though it's just going viral now, this video is from October of 2023. It was taken not by a guest, but by the zoo security officer responding to the situation. Hmmm, seems like he maybe should have been doing something else during that situation, instead of than taking a phone video. It's going viral now because the guy (who is no longer employed at the zoo) decided to post it on TikTok for his five minutes of fame. This guy immediately started giving all sorts of media interviews, answering questions like "why no tranquilizers" inappropriately, making memes out of his own video, generally distasteful shit.

Zoo spokesperson Avery Elander gave a public statement that "thankfully, there was no physical contact between keepers and gorilla, and all staff and animals are safe." A comment from the zoo has also indicated that the incident was due to keeper error. (As opposed to, for instance, something in the fencing breaking.) According to the guy who posted the video, a lock was left unsecured and the gorilla was able to open the door to the habitat. I don't know if I buy it, and again, this just... is probably why he doesn't have a job anymore. By sharing that detail - real or not - he places a ton of public scrutiny and blame on that keeper team. (If that's what happened, I can promise you it will have been dealt with internally.) He also was nice enough to say he wouldn't name the women in the video... but verified they're still staffers at the zoo... which means they're eminently identifiable! Excuse me while I ragequit for a second.

So there's two reasons I wanted to talk about this. The first is to make sure it is well known that this guy is purposefully and intentionally exploiting the worst day of someone's life for media attention. Their lives were in danger, and he's using it for fame. His name is in the media articles - I'm not going to share it because he doesn't deserve that attention. The second reason, though, is because this video is a masterclass on how to survive if you end up sharing space with a gorilla. Every zoo person I've spoken to or seen comment on the video is so, so impressed with how the keepers handled themselves.

The gorilla in this video is 34-year-old Elmo. All apes in AZA zoos are managed in protected contact, so keepers are supposed to be separated from them by a barrier at all times. The zookeepers were in the habitat putting out a mid-day meal when he got out. Watching the video, you can see he's not actively being aggressive towards them - he's not making threat displays or trying to approach them. Mostly, Elmo seems like he doesn't know what is going on and he's kinda freaked out about it. (This is confirmed in the zoo's press statement, too). The staff stayed calm, and importantly, watched and waited to see how he'd move and act.

The zoo did say one thing, though, that's a bit misleading. In one article, their press person I quote as saying “In general, gorillas are considered the “gentle giants” of the great ape species.” Just because this may be true in comparison to other great ape species doesn't meant gorilla aren't still incredibly dangerous. This type of messaging always worries me, because I think it leads people to misunderstand the risks of being close to megafauna. Gorilla are extremely strong animals, and their social norms/behaviors are very different from that of humans. That's why it's such a big deal any time people end up in gorilla habitats, and why sometimes in those circumstances lethal measures have to be taken to protect human life.

These keepers are incredibly lucky to be unharmed. These women stayed safe specifically because they're trained professionals who knew how to act around gorilla, they knew this particular animal well, and they'd learned the escapes from the exhibit just in case this ever happened. We should applaud them for their cool heads and quick thinking.

As for the guy who posted the video? As a colleague put it, may he always step on a Lego.

[headspace-hotel]

Many people, especially USAmericans, are very resistant to knowing the plants and living according to the ways of the plants. They lash out with a mix of arrogance and fear: "Don't you know what bad things would happen if we lived a different way? There is a REASON for living this way. Would you have us go Back—backward to the time without vaccines or antibiotics????"

Ah, yes, the two immutable categories that all proposals for change fit into: Backward Change and Forward Change! Either we must invent a a futuristic, entirely new solution with SCIENCE and TECHNOLOGY that further industrializes and increases the productivity of our world, or we must give up vaccines and antibiotics and become starving illiterate medieval peasants.

Every human practice anywhere on Earth that has declined, stopped, or become displaced by another practice, was clearly objectively worse than whatever replaced it. You see, the only possible reason a way of life could decline or disappear is that it sucked and had it coming anyway!!! Pre-industrial human history is worthless except as a cautionary tale about how miserable we would all be without *checks notes* factories, fossil fuels and colonialism. Obviously!

Anyway, who do you think benefits from the idea that pesticide-dependent, corporate-controlled industrialized monoculture farming liberates us all from spending our short, painful lives as filthy, miserable peasants toiling in the fields?

First of all, I think it's silly to act like farming is a uniquely awful way to live. I can't believe I have to say this, but the awful part of being a medieval peasant was the oppression and poverty, not the fact that harvesting wheat is a lot of work and cows are stinky. Same goes for farm labor in the modern USA: the bad part is that most people working farms are undocumented migrant workers that are getting treated like garbage and who can't complain about it because their boss will rat them out to ICE.

Work is just work. Any work has dignity when the people doing it are paid properly and not being abused. Abuse and human trafficking is rampant in agriculture, but industrialization and consolidation of small farms into gigantic corporate owned farms sure as hell isn't making it better.

Is working on a farm somehow more miserable than working in a factory, a fast food restaurant, or a retail store? Give me a break. "At least I'm not doing physical labor in the sun," you say, at your job where you're forced to stand on concrete for 8 hours and develop chronic pain by age 24.

When you read about small farmers going out of business because of huge corporations, none of them are going "Yay! Now that Giant Corporation has swallowed up all the farms in the area, we can all enjoy the luxurious privileges of the industrial era, like working RETAIL!" What you do see a lot of is farmers bitterly grieving the loss of their way of life.

And also, the fact is, sustainable forms of polyculture farming that create a functional ecosystem made up of many different useful and edible plants are actually way MORE efficient at producing food than a monoculture. The reason we don't do it as much, is that it can't be industrialized where everything is harvested with machines.

Some places folks are starting to get the idea and planting two crops together in alternating rows, letting the mutualistic relationship between plants boost the yields of both, but indigenous people in many parts of the world have been doing this stuff basically forever. I read about a style of agroforestry from Central America that has TWENTY crops all together on the same field.

Our modern system of farming is necessary for feeding the world? Bullshit! Our technology is very powerful and useful, but our harmful monocultures, dangerous pesticides, and wasteful usage of land and resources are making the system very inefficient and severely degrading nature's ability to provide for us.

What is needed, is a SYNTHESIS of the power and insights of technology and science, with the ancient wisdom and knowledge gained by closely and carefully observing Nature. We do not need to reject one, to embrace the other! They should be friends!

Our system thinks land is only used for one thing at a time. Even our science often thinks this way. A corn field has the purpose of producing corn, and no other purpose, so all other plants in the corn must be killed, and it must be a monoculture of only corn.

But this means that the symbiosis between different plants that help each other is destroyed, so we must pollute the earth with fertilizers that wash into bodies of water and cause eutrophication, where algae explode in number and turn the water to green goo. Nature always has variety and diversity with many plants sharing the same space. It supports much more animal life (we are animals!) this way. The Three Sisters" are the perfect example of mutualism between plants being used in an agricultural environment. The planting of corn, beans, and squash together has been traditionally used clear across the North American continent.

And in North America, the weeds we have here are mostly edible plants too. Some of them were even domesticated themselves! Imagine a garden where every weed that pops up is also an edible or otherwise useful crop, and therefore a welcomed friend! So when weeds like Amaranth and Sunflower pop up in your field, that should not be a cause for alarm, but rather the system of symbiosis working as it should.

A field of one single crop is limited in how much it can produce, because one crop fits into a single niche in what should be a whole ecosystem, and worse, it requires artificial inputs to make up for what the rest of the plant community would normally provide. The field with twenty crops does not produce the same amount as the monoculture field divided in twenty ways, but instead produces much more while being a habitat for wild animals, because each plant has its own niche.

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part five

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, angst (i'm sorry)

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 3.2k

Today’s the day you were going to talk to Alexia about it. 

You had about two weeks left of your additional three weeks and with each passing day, your stay in Barcelona was drawing to a close and Alexia knew it, too. During the period of time you’d gotten to know her to now, Alexia’d put in the same effort in trying to get to know what you did outside of sports photojournalism. You’d told her, of course, and even showed her photos of your previous photojournalistic coverage, although you’d kept the more graphic ones away from her.

Despite the fact that she had jokingly tried to convince you to stay in sports photojournalism, Alexia had been nothing but supportive of your job. The thing was, she just didn’t know yet what it was you’d be returning to: you just got word that you–among other colleagues–were bound to head over to a conflict zone in a region going through civil unrest and military aggression. But it wasn’t like the thought never crossed your mind. 

Sports photography had been a welcome reprieve from the violence and depravity that came with human conflict, a typical scene to witness while on the field. And although unplanned, Alexia had played a part in your enjoyment with this side-project–so much so that it was on top of your list for alternative careers down the line. Be that as it may, you knew deep down that you wouldn’t trade your current career for anything else. 

This was what you wanted to talk to Alexia about. Well… among other things but you wanted to ease her into the conversation with a home-cooked meal and a gift. Even though it was difficult to do with Alexia around, you were able to finish making the latter a few days ago. The gift was something similar to the one she gave you: a bracelet with the colors of the flag of your country and instead of a diamond, you used a small, silver, hollow rectangular charm to represent you and your camera. And with that dealt with, you only needed to grab the ingredients for the former which brought you out to Mercat del Centre on this fine Barcelona highnoon. 

With paper bags of groceries in hand, you were thinking of grabbing something from that sushi place you’d passed on the way to the market but just as you turned the corner, you saw three women walking ahead a few paces away with their backs turned to you. 

They were all wearing matching tank shirts, shorts, and ankle socks but the one with the cap stood out to you and instantly, you recognised it to be Alexia. Knowing that and from the Barcelona matches that you’d been to, you recognised that it was Mapi and Patri flanking her. 

Excitement filled you immediately although you wondered for a second what they were doing there until you realised that Estadi Johan Cruyff was only a few blocks away. The instinct to call out Alexia’s name and reach out for her didn’t go unnoticed by you but you managed to stop yourself in time before you accidentally did.

The both of you never really talked about where the both of you stood and there was no clear label for the nature of your relationship. If someone had asked you this when you just met her over two months ago, the answer would’ve been clear; it was merely physical with a dose of infatuation. Now, it was more than just sex to you: you wanted her in every possible way, you wanted to know and to be known by her, you wanted to be the person she’d tell about the most mundane of things to–to be the person she’d allow to fall for her because you already know you were on the brink of falling. So apart from your job situation, this question was the other half of the conversation you wanted to have with her.

Though you meant to go to the same direction, you didn’t want to risk Alexia noticing you not because you didn’t want her to or that you were afraid she’d ignore you–no, you just didn’t want to accidentally interrupt her time with her teammates. She’d come to you later anyway so you’d just tell her about this then. You were just about to turn around when something in their conversation got your attention. 

“So, Ale, are you dating that photographer?” Patri asked, her question oozed of mischief. 

“What photographer?” Alexia replied with a flat tone.

Mapi snickered. “You’re too smart to play dumb and when you do it on purpose you just sound stupid.”

For that, she got a punch to the shoulder from Alexia but Mapi only giggled. 

“Fine, fine. And, no, I’m not.”

“Oh, come on, Ale! If she’s not, then why does she always take the best photos of you? Right, Patri?” Mapi whined.

“Exactly! Oh, remember those matches when you weren’t even on the pitch? And the way she always looks at you after a match? I’d say that’s something!” Then as if she just had an epiphany, Patri’s eyes widened, hand clapping over her opened mouth. “Wait! Unless…”

Patri didn’t even need to finish her sentence, her suggestive tone was enough to communicate what she meant by it and your ears burnt at the implication. 

“Oh, shit. Are you, you know?” Mapi exclaimed, finally catching on, eyes just as wide as Patri’s. 

“Keep your voices down, assholes,” Alexia growled in annoyance then she grumbled something you couldn’t quite hear. In response, the other two women just laughed.

“Love you, too, Cap,” Mapi said in a saccharine tone.

Alexia sighed. “Okay. Yes. Are you happy now?”

The other two women hooted and patted Alexia on the back.

“Ha! I knew it!” Patri exclaimed.

“Do you like her though?” Mapi’s question stilled your breath as you anticipated Alexia’s answer.

“No,” Alexia shook her head and she shrugged. “She means nothing to me.”

“Ouch! Not even considering dating?” 

“I can’t deal with that right now.”

“Damn… So does that mean she’s one of your girls, then? And here I thought you finally stopped.”

“I’m not even going to answer that.”

You didn’t hear anything after that. Alexia’s words rooted you to the spot and you watched as the three of them walked on. 

She means nothing to me. She’s one of your girls. She means nothing to me. She’s…

Those same words echoed in your mind in a ruthless cycle but what stuck to you the most was the way Alexia said them. You’d never heard her that cold… that detached. Your hands shook, a chill ran up your spine and you shivered while the world blurred in front of you.

You brought a hand to your eyes and felt warm tears on your fingers.

Oh.

And without even asking you got the answer to your question. 

––––––

The moment Alexia stepped foot into the house that night, you grabbed her by the lapels of her jacket and pulled her down for a searing kiss. She gasped in surprise as you pushed her against the door and you took that opportunity to deepen the kiss, your fingers now tangled in her hair while your front was pressed firmly against her.

It wasn’t enough.

You bit and tugged her lower lip before you nipped a path along her jaw down to the base of her throat where you sucked at her pulse point. Her muscles responded and rippled beneath your palms when you traced their lines along her sides and stomach under her shirt while Alexia gasped and moaned from your touch. 

It wasn’t enough.

By the time the both of you reached the bed, you’d stripped Alexia off her clothes. She landed on her back on the bed when you pushed her, gasping as she did so, and you immediately crawled on top of her. Wasting no time, you sucked and marked the expanse of skin in front of you: her neck, her chest, her breasts, her stomach. You nipped and bit as Alexia writhed and keened beneath you.

It wasn’t enough. 

When you felt her large hands along your sides trying to tug the hem of your shirt to strip it off you, you grabbed her wrists and pinned them on either side of her head–a rejection to her offer, one that you never thought you’d do around Alexia. But just the thought of being completely naked made you shudder, and not in a good way. So you pressed a bare leg against her core to distract her to which Alexia keenly responded to by arching against you while her wetness burnt like a brand against your skin there. 

It wasn’t enough. 

When Alexia cried out your name while your fingers worked deep in her core, neck straining and muscles tensing, the pit in your chest only seemed to yawn wider and dug deeper. 

It wasn’t enough. 

When Alexia clung to you as she dozed off with her soft breath caressing your clothed stomach, tears burnt in the corners of your eyes as you watched her glow in her slumber, so peaceful and beautiful. Emotions bubbled in the base of your throat, a string of words coiled themselves tighter around your tongue, but something else burnt in your throat that you found difficult to swallow. 

In your desperation to get closer–to make Alexia forget about whoever else that she was sleeping with–you’d used sex as a tool for possession not for intimacy, and the streak of shame that that knowledge left behind pained you more than you could ever thought it could. You weren’t like this. This wasn’t a person you wanted to become, especially when it came with Alexia.

But… you wanted more.

You wanted so much more. 

But wasn’t this what you already convinced yourself of? Deep down, you knew all too well that this was too good to be true–too good of a love to be yours. 

You brushed away a lock of blonde hair from Alexia’s temple, admiring the strong slope of her nose, the fierce slant of her eyebrows, the gentle curves of her eyelids, the elegant bow of her lips. You soaked as much of her as you could because this would be the last time you’d be able to see her like this.

It was a blur, the journey back from the marketplace to the house earlier today, and your mind was a cacophony of words but a single thought was in clarity: you needed to leave. So the moment you got back, you did two things: you emailed Derek and booked your flight home.

There were no details included in the email you sent to your brother as to why you were coming back early–it was extremely unprofessional but an apology was the only thing you could come up with. You’d never not seen a project through to the end no matter the circumstance but this was different; you felt as though you were more equipped to navigate mortal peril than this dance with Alexia so leaving was the only option. 

Tomorrow at midnight, you’d be gone, two weeks ahead of schedule. You didn’t know if Alexia would get here tomorrow before you depart but that was a question for then. For now, you would allow yourself to savour this moment when Alexia was still right here beside you for the final time.

You brought one of her hand to your lips and pressed a light kiss against her knuckles.

A line from a poem fleeted through your mind.

these, our bodies, possessed by light

––––––

Everything was already packed by the time early evening came and even though the caretaker was scheduled to come early tomorrow, you  made a point to check around for anything important you might have forgotten and to ensure you’d sufficiently tidied up after yourself. Finally satisfied, you went downstairs and just after you ordered an Uber to take you to the airport, a knock came to the door and the door handle turned.

Shit.

“Hey, the door’s unlocked! Look, I didn’t know what you wanted to eat since you didn’t text me back so I just grabbed us some–”

Alexia’s voice floated into the room and as she passed through the doorway with her bag of takeaways in one hand, she stopped in her tracks as she saw you and your luggage. Then her face turned cloudy, concern and a question in her eyes.

Her hair was still damp, cheeks still flushed from training, and you longed to reach out to tuck that loose hair behind her ear but instead, you clenched your fists at your sides as you watched her mouth open a few times before she seemed to finally settle on what to say.

“Is… everything alright?” She regarded your luggage for a moment longer before she met your eyes again.

“Yes.” 

It was only one word but your voice trembled nonetheless, and you hated that it did. Alexia’d must have heard something in your tone because her brows furrowed even further as understanding began to seep in. 

“You’re–” Alexia’s throat bobbed, “you’re leaving now?”

“Yes.”

As each second passed, you could see the way Alexia’s walls began to climb.

“You said it’s not until after two weeks–” 

“I lied.” 

At that, the remaining warmth in her eyes flitted away and left her hazel eyes flat and cold. Then she scoffed, hurt clear in her voice when she asked, “were you even planning to say goodbye?”

A heavy silence settled in the air; an answer in and of itself. You could feel the distance between the both of you widen as the moment stretched on, the air so thick from tension it hurt to even breathe. Then a notification from your phone disrupted the quiet and it gave you an excuse to divert your eyes from Alexia’s.

Your Uber just arrived. You sent the driver a quick message to wait, that you’d pay them for the time, before you faced the music again. Clearing your throat, you moved to get the paper bag addressed to ‘Ale’ from the counter–the one you originally planned to leave by the door once you’d left–then you stood just out of arm’s reach from Alexia and offered her the bag. 

“Before I forget, here.”

Alexia’s eyes bore into yours before she eventually dragged them down to the bag in your hand. She placed the takeaways beside her feet before she grabbed the bag in your hand, her fingertips brushed against the skin of your knuckles and you fought the urge to flinch away.

You watched as she peered inside and you bit your lip as you hoped she wouldn’t see the pictures and the letters you wrote; it was bad enough she got here before you left to begin with, how much worse could this get if she saw them in front of you. Oh, how you wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Once she stuck her hand inside to grab something, you held your breath. Then you saw the way her jaws worked at what she found inside. She lifted it enough for you to catch a glimpse of it over the edge of the bag: blue and scarlet, her Barcelona jersey. 

Alexia sucked in a breath, ragged, before she breathed out with a trembling voice. “Oh.”

“I did promise I was going to return it.”

She looked up at you, her eyes now glazed over and you were sure with the way your eyes burnt that yours were just as red. 

“Why?”

There were so many ways you could answer her question, the words because I could fall in love with you were poised at the tip of your tongue but you bit it off before they could slip out and leave you more vulnerable than you already were.

“Because… it was fun while it lasted. No strings attached, right?” The words sounded so cruel to you and immediately, you wanted to take them back. To reduce those moments with her and the memories that were now permanently a part of you to a passing fling felt abysmally wrong. You wanted nothing more than to step into her embrace, to tell her how much she’d come to mean to you, to tell her that you could fall for her if she’d just let you… but you never really had a chance did you? You knew that now and you couldn’t keep pretending you didn’t want more. 

Alexia’s jaw worked again as her chin quivered, her tongue skimmed over the corner of her lips, a habit you noticed she did when she was upset–whenever she wanted to stop herself from crying. 

“Is this it, then?” She whispered the question and at that, a tear fell down your cheek.

“I guess it is.” 

And in the silence that followed, as if guided by an invisible force, your hand began to reach out for Alexia but your presence of mind came back to you and you quickly retracted it. Instead, you grabbed your two bags and began to head out the door. You passed by her and you were already a few steps away when you heard Alexia speak.

“Will I ever see you again?”

You knew she knew the answer to it; you knew she wanted you to say otherwise.

You didn’t turn back when you said, “goodbye, Alexia. Take care of yourself.”

––––––

The flight back home was nothing short of a fever dream: one minute you were at Barcelona-El Prat Airport nursing your head in one of the bathroom stalls as you cried, the next your plane was touching down at your home country’s landing strip. 

Derek was there to pick you up and he looked like he was about to bombard you with questions but upon seeing the state of you, his gaze softened, brows furrowing in concern and there–in place of your business partner from a moment ago–was your brother. 

He pulled you into a tight hug and you closed your eyes revelling in his comforting scent while you willed yourself not to cry. Although his arms brought solace to your aching heart, the ones you longed to hold you belonged to someone who was a thousand miles away. 

Over the next few days following your arrival, you ignored everything and went off the grid, deleting the social media apps on your phone lest the temptations would convince you to check how Alexia was doing. So instead, you busied yourself with catching up with your mother and your friends, and buried yourself with work while Derek hovered in the background, protective and concerned but respectfully giving you time to come around and tell him what happened. 

You told yourself you would–that it could wait a little longer. But you never got around to it because the next thing you knew, you, Gilda, and Jones were on air to the conflict zone for journalistic coverage. Once your plane landed, the current malaise from your personal life seemed infinitesimal for it was nothing compared to the afflictive catastrophe of war. 

[ironstrange1991]

You're My Comfort

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: The reader has a bad day at work and Stephen comes to take care of her.

Word Cont: 2,1k

Warnings: None, just fluff.

A/N: I am still struggling with authors block, but I'm happy for finishing this little something. It's not much, but I was in need of a comfort fic. Hope your guys like it and have a good read.

You arrived from work without even realizing how you managed to drive home. Stephen was busy talking to some Avengers in the living room and you just walked past them up the stairs and straight to your shared room.

You were too tired to even get undressed even though you knew you would feel better after a shower, but still all you could do was kick off your shoes and fall face down on the bed letting a wave of silent crying take over you.

You were tired of your job, tired of the way your boss seemed to suck out your soul along with all your energy, but at the same time you felt bad for feeling that way. After all, you should be grateful to have a job in the first place, or at least you should be grateful that your job doesn't put you in danger or be as physically draining as Stephen's. You lost count of how many times he came home injured and yet he never complained. You on the other hand, seemed like a crying little girl and thinking that way only made you feel even worse and it was a vicious cycle that you couldn't get out of. Feeling bad about feeling bad and so on.

You were still face down, tears silently streaming down your face, when you heard the soft creak of the door opening and closing and the muffled sound of boots on the floor announcing the approaching footsteps. You immediately turned your face away because you didn't want Stephen to notice you were crying and then you felt the mattress dipping.

He touched your arm gently.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" His baritone voice held a note of concern.

You didn't answer, you just shrugged your shoulders like you did when you were a child and your mother asked why you were crying. Many times you didn't even know why you were crying, but you cried anyway and that was exactly how you felt today.

You felt his hand on your head stroking your hair gently and before he could say anything, you crawled closer to him and laid your head on his lap wrapping your arms around his waist. He seemed to like it because his body shook with what you thought was a small laugh. Contrary to what your irrational side told you, Stephen didn't care about your anxiety crisis or those moments where you couldn't say exactly what was happening. He was already used to dealing with your fluctuating moods.

"Can you at least tell me you're okay, so I don't worry?" He asked and you nodded.

"You're okay then. Nothing bad happened?" He insisted and you nodded again.

"Good." He continued stroking your hair in silence.

"I know I've been working a lot these last few days, but if that's what's making you upset..."

"It's not that." You replied with a choked voice. Of course he would find a way to blame himself. When Stephen learned to be less selfish and egocentric, he simply turned completely the other way and became extremely altruistic, which you didn't like, much less approve of.

"Then talk to me, sweetheart. I don't like seeing you like this." His hand had now gone down to the middle of your back, playing with the strands of your hair.

"I'm just tired, I guess."

He sighed "You think so? Y/n you've been working non-stop for the last few weeks."

"There was nothing else to do. You weren't here most of the time and the company needed me."

You can almost see Stephen's eyes rolling back in his head. "They like to take advantage of you, that's what. You're too good for them."

You did not answer. You knew he was right, but you didn't want to give in. He returned his hands to your head and began to caress your scalp with his fingertips lightly and you let out an involuntary groan.

"Feels good, uh?" You could hear the smirk in his voice. Always so proud that he managed to turn you into a puddle of goo whenever he touched you.

"I'm exhausted. I need to sleep. I barely slept at all last night." You confessed to what he vehemently rebuked.

"You know I don't like seeing you in this state. You need to take better care of yourself."

You shook your head. "Right now I don't think I can take care of myself at all. I'm too tired."

He chuckled, surrendering to your charm and drama.

"Do you want me to run a bath for you or would you prefer the shower?"

He asked, already running his fingers through your hair to get it out of your face. He did his best to tie them into a bun.

"You will stay with me?"

"If you want. But you know where this is going to take us, don't you?"

You denied "No funny business tonight. I'm too tired."

He hummed "As you wish, love. Come."

He patted your shoulder for you to allow him to stand up and extended his arms to help you up.

"Too tired to walk." You grumbled and he let out a small laugh.

"Come on. I'll carry you, little girl."

You found somewhere within you the strength to smile and tease him, "Yes, daddy."

He scoffed, but picked you up bride style and took you to the bathroom. He sat you on the toilet and ordered "Raise your arms. Let's take these clothes off."

You obeyed and let yourself be undressed by him slowly. It was different. Although he was used to ripping off your clothes and fucking you senseless, in that moment he was actually being gentle and there was nothing in his eyes but affection.

"Get up so we can take off that skirt." He asked and you did as he ordered. He took off your panties too, leaving you completely naked for him. A light shade of red tinting your cheeks.

"Bathtub or shower?" He asked to be sure and added it right after. "There's no way I'm leaving your side."

You nodded "Bathtub. With lavender and bubbles. Lots of bubbles."

He nodded, but instead of doing the whole process like a normal person, he moved his fingers and the bathtub filled with hot water. With a smirk he snapped his fingers and the water turned lilac and your nostrils were invaded by the delicious smell of lavender as you watched the water fill with foam. "As you wish, madam. Come."

He gave you his hand and helped you get into the tub, and you moaned contentedly with the feeling of the hot water surrounding your body.

He quickly undressed in front of you and that was a sight you would never get used to. Your eyes devoured every inch of his body before he entered the bathtub and sat right behind you.

He moaned softly as well letting the hot water relax him completely.

"Christ, I needed this." He confessed and you leaned your back against his chest feeling yourself being hugged by his strong arms and you leaned your head back letting your eyes close for a minute.

"What a shitty day I had" You blurted out, earning a small laugh from Stephen.

"It is not funny"

He buried his face in your hair, "I know. Want to tell me about it?"

You sighed, "Nothing out of the ordinary happened. I think I'm just tired of that environment, those people. Of doing the work of two or three and not getting any recognition for it. I'm tired of leaving that place feeling empty as if I had left my soul there."

Stephen listened in silence. He was good at that, at listening silently and letting you vent. It was one of his many qualities.

"And I feel bad for feeling this way. It feels like I'm being ungrateful. I know I should be grateful for being in a job in the first place, but I can't feel grateful right now and on top of that I feel silly complaining about my silly problems when you have to deal with so much..."

"Hey, don't do that!" Stephen scolded you. "Don't belittle your problems by comparing them to the things I do. It's not fair. Your feelings are valid, sweetheart and there's nothing wrong with feeling the way you're feeling right now. We just need to think of a way to make it better because I've noticed that this days when your come home like this have become more constant. You're always too tired and sad and I don't like seeing you like that."

You sighed feeling his lips on your neck and your skin prickling.

"I think I just need to stop thinking for a few minutes. My mind is my worst enemy, you know. The more I think the worse I feel."

Stephen hummed and continued placing kisses on your neck "I can help with that." His hands went down to your breasts, caressing them lightly.

"I said no funny business." You scolded him and he giggled softly and you felt him conjure up a soft sponge still under the water and started rubbing your back and neck with it. You can't stop a little moan from escaping your lips.

"I don't deserve you, Steph." You confessed to what he hummed, using the sponge to rub your arms, your belly, your thighs, every place he could reach.

"I usually think the same thing when you take care of me."

"Guess we don't deserve each other then." You teased.

"Or we were made for each other. I like this option better."

"Because you're a romantic. You want to be tough, but deep down you're soft, Stephen."

He let out an incredulous laugh "I've been called many things, but romantic is the first time."

You smiled, keeping your eyes closed and reveling in the touch of his hands when he puts down the sponge and started massaging your shoulders gently. His hand was shaking, but you even liked that feeling.

"You're different with me." You insisted. "I watch you with everyone else and you're different when you're with me, sweeter and more affectionate."

He hummed petulantly. "You didn't expect me to treat Stark and Wong the way I treat my girlfriend, right?"

"It's not that. I just think you allow yourself to be your most natural self when you're with me and I like that."

"I like it too." He agreed kissing the back of your neck.

The two of you were silent for a few minutes, his hands continued massaging your shoulders lightly and although he couldn't put too much pressure on the act, it was enough to relax you. The sound of cars passing on the street occasionally broke the silence of the Sanctum, as well as the sound of the water that was slowly cooling and his calm and steady breathing.

Eventually your eyes started to get heavy and Stephen must have felt the way you let the weight of your body rest on his because he wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed the top of your head.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked genuinely worried.

You hummed positively and he sighed looking relieved.

"Good. Now I think we can finish here and go straight to bed, what do you think?"

You didn't have time to respond because your stomach growled embarrassingly loud to which Stephen let out a small laugh.

"Food first, then. Come." He asked and the two of you got out of the tub.

When you finished getting dressed, Stephen in just pajama pants and you in a nightgown, you ran to get under the covers and get comfortable.

"I'll get you something to eat. How about a sandwich?"

You nodded and then asked "What did you have for dinner?"

He shook his head "To be honest, I didn’t even remember to eat. It was a pretty busy afternoon."

You scolded him with a look, "Then I guess you can bring sandwiches for both of us."

Stephen nodded.

He came back a few minutes later with a plate with some sandwiches cut in halves, which you quickly devoured. When you both finished, neither of you was willing to get up, so Stephen just placed the plate on the bedside table and adjusted himself on the pillows, letting you lay on his chest.

"I know I've said this before, but you're so good to me, Steph."

He sighed, stroking your arm gently.

"I love you." You said, closing your eyes and feeling the tiredness of the day overwhelm you.

Stephen placed a kiss on the top of her head. "Taking care of you is what I love doing most, sweetheart. I love you. You have no idea how much."

You hummed softly "Yes I do because I love you just the same."

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing ;)

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[tinyarsonist]

Love, Love

"For you? In a heartbeat."

Summary: You live your past and future when a one-night stand with Changbin turns into an unplanned pregnancy.

TW: NonIdol!Changbin, Fem!Reader, strangers x lovers, pregnancy, mentions of alcohol, implied pregnancy sex, blow job, cunnilingus, pet names (bunny, bin, mommy, daddy)(but not in the way you think I swear), let me know if I missed anything!

MDNI 18+ ONLY

Past in italics. Future in bold. Rest in present.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

You scream as you feel another rip of pain flash through you. The doctors and nurses crowded around you, encouraging you to keep going. That it’ll all be worth it. Everything you ever dreamed of, waiting to be wrapped up in a blanket and handed off to be cradled in your arms. But that’s the thing--this isn’t what you dreamed of.

Changbin was supposed to be the one by your side. Holding your hand, and trying to keep up a strong appearance for your sake while freaking out all the same on the inside. He was supposed to be your rock.

But he wasn’t here.

You grip the hospital bed bar and yell out again in pain. You somehow knew that you were still nowhere near where you were supposed to be.

Physically. Mentally. Spiritually. Whatever you wanted to call it. 

You weren’t ready.

“I don’t know how I’m going to do this,” You whispered. Changbin sat close to you on the bed. Both of you were looking at that little blue stick that would forever change your lives. It was supposed to be just for one night. One night where the two of you forgot about the rest of the world. Heavy drinking, flirting with strangers at a club. No stress about work, family, or friends. The only thing that mattered was what happened on the same sheets you were sitting on. That was the plan, and the two of you conveniently found one another to forget about life with.

The night was one of the best nights you’ve ever had. Since the two of you had the notion of never seeing each other ever again; there was no reservation when you led him out of the bar and into your apartment. As soon as the door closed, Changbin pushed you against the wall and stripped you of your clothes all in one go. As he was preoccupied with you, you unbuckled his belt and freed his erection from its restraint. Essentially, being pushed on your knees, your lips instantly wrapped around him as he held your head in place and thrusted.

As he laid your head against the wall, he wasted no time in using you to chase his own pleasure. You relaxed your throat as much as you could, tears welling in your eyes from the slight sting but relishing in every movement. Changbin loved the way your makeup ran down your face. Nothing but moans and the sloppy sounds of your mouth echoing around the room. “That’s it. All the way, bunny.”

The rest of the night was history.

When you started feeling off a couple of weeks after, you decided to take a test, just to be on the safe side. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the result on the tiny pregnancy test window.

“How are ‘you going to do this’?” Changbin took his eyes off the test to stare at your profile. It wasn’t exactly the way he imagined his life to take. To be honest it scared him when he got your call, saying you needed to speak with him about something urgently, after not contacting him again after that night. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I’m keeping it…” You look up and turn to meet his gaze. “You don’t have to be around for it--I know that’s asking a lot. A-and I don't expect money or anything, but I did want you to know. It felt like you needed to know and--”

You stopped your rambling as his hand lightly covered yours as you held onto the test. “You're not doing this alone,” he grumbled despite his gentle caress. “I want to make this clear--it's our baby. I'm with you every step of the way.”

Your shoulder relaxed in relief as the two of you shared this moment together. The grip of the test in your hand slightly tightening. 

You howled as another contraction rips through you, your hands finding the sidebars of the hospital bed and clutching on so tightly your knuckles turned white. A nurse dabbed a wet cloth on your face as your body fell back into bed, trying to regain some form of strength for the next round.

“I can't do this. I can't do this,” you sobbed to yourself as the nurse kept trying to calm you down.

“You're almost there,” she cooed. “Your husband will--”

“He's not---agghhh!” You lurch forward as another wave rips through you. Your hair was plastered across your face from the sweat of being in labor for half the day. “He's not my husband!”

By your second trimester, you and Changbin were essentially conjoined at the hip. He meant about being there every step of the way. 

Changbin gave you no room to argue when he mentioned he was moving into your apartment and out of his shared apartment with Chan and Jisung. “How else am I supposed to help you?”

Every middle of the night craving for olives with strawberry ice cream, Changbin got up from your shared bed with no complaints to run to the nearest convenience store. Which was so often enough, that the store owner always hid the items for you whenever they were running low.

“Remind me to send Mr. Kim a fruit basket,” you said with a mouthful of olives as your spoon held a glob of strawberry ice cream. Changbin sat next to you on the couch as the late-night show glow filled the dark living room. He laid his head on your shoulder and snuggled against you. His eyes rested from the lack of sleep, but still forced himself to stay up in case you needed anything else.

“Don't. That kid of his, Seungmin, will probably eat it all before he could even find it.” Changbin grumbled. Chuckling, you placed your cheek on the top of his head as you took a bite of your snack.

Changbin smiled warmly as he felt you move closer to him. He pried open his eyes and placed a hand on your growing belly, remembering when you would fight him at first whenever he would do so. But now? Now, it felt weird to not have him holding you in some form.

“Do you think it'll be a boy or a girl?” 

“If you want to know the sex, we can always ask the doctor.” You chuckle as Changbin shook his head and sits up a bit so he could look at you. His hand never moving from its rightful place on your belly. 

“Absolutely not! Then it won't be a surprise!”

“I think having this baby is enough of a surprise as is.”

The two of you laugh at your comment and Changbin can't help but bring you closer. You rested your cheek against his chest as his other arm wrapped around your shoulders. Changbin giggled as you still somehow managed to take another bite of your ice cream while still in his snug hold. The TV continued playing on. Soon a skit of an unplanned pregnancy played, all characters frantically running around trying to organize a shot-gun wedding.

“Do…do you think we should get married?”

Changbin stiffened at your question. But not for the reason you thought. He toyed around with the idea for some time. Tension between his family was a bit rough ever since he told them the news, especially between his father and him. Not only that--he couldn’t help but feel this tug to you now that the two of you agreed to be in this partnership together. Everything felt right. Like he belonged. It would’ve been easier to propose; to him, his family, and the child you two were bringing into this world.

But would it be for you?

“I don’t want you marrying me, because you have to.”

Your head shot up. Did that mean he’s thought about it? Did that mean this relationship was more than platonic just for the baby’s sake? Your heart pounded at the closeness of you two. “But you would…you would marry me if I wanted to?”

Changbin lowered his head a bit so his lips could hover just above yours. 

“Only if you wanted to.”

Fear set in Changbin’s heart as he ran through the airport. He got your multiple voicemails. Each becoming more and more panicked than the last, as soon as his plane touched down. The baby wasn’t due for another week. He thought he had more time.

Changbin was cursing himself under his breath as he pushed past the crowd. Scolding himself for taking on that account when he should’ve been with you. “It’ll be fine she said,” Changbin flagged down a cab. “You’ll have time, she said.”

He knew it was unfair to blame you. You couldn’t control the weather, let alone when you went into labor.

When the cab came to a standstill due to bump-to-bumper traffic, Changbin wasted no time rushing out of the vehicle and booking it towards the hospital. Dodging any incoming cars that were trying to beat the traffic. He was sweating by the time he reached the front desk, desperately asking what room you were in. “Room 325,” the station nurse said. Watching as he frantically ran towards the direction she pointed in.

Finally reaching your door, Changbin’s hand hesitated before pulling down on the handle.

This was it. The past 8 months were drawing to a close. Where did that leave the two of you? Would you want him out of the apartment by the time the baby’s sleeping schedule was set? Did all the late-night talks and surprise breakfast-in-bed mornings come to an end?

Changbin didn’t have time to let his thoughts spiral out of control as the nurse inside the room opened the door for him. “Oh,” she jumped a bit at his presence. “Are you the husband?”

“I’m not…” Changbin stopped himself and just nodded. The nurse gave him a smile before opening the door to let him through. Offering her congratulations before leaving the three of you alone.

You sat on the hospital bed, swaddling this new love you brought into the world close to your chest. Your back slightly turned away from Changbin as he took small steps toward you, his face dropping a bit.

“I missed it?”

You turn your head slightly and smile at him. “You’re here.”

“Of course,” Changbin sat next to you on the bed. His arm wrapped around you and pulled you to lean back into his chest. His head pressed against yours as he closed his eyes. Just having you in his arms was enough to chase the fears away. “Pretty sure I caused a car crash on the way over, but I didn’t want to miss it.”

“You’re here now, that’s all that matters.” You shifted a bit to reveal the tiny figure in your arms. Changbin’s eyes widen as he stares down at your shared creation. They instantly softened as love filled his entire body. “Would you like to meet your daughter?”

Having the little one in his arms for the first time was nerve-racking. Once his gaze locked on the sleeping babe, his confidence filled a bit. He felt your head rest on his shoulder as the two of you stared in awe. “We made this,” his voice was but a whisper. At this moment Changbin knew what he wanted. He didn’t want this to end. The three of you were meant to live out your lives together, and he didn’t want to let go of that. “I--”

You already knew where this was going. You felt it too. Everything was set perfectly, despite the both of your run-down expressions. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. You cut him off with a gentle kiss. When the two of you parted the words flowed out of your mouth without any thought. 

“Marry me?”

Changbin’s forehead pressed against yours; “In a heartbeat.” 

“I’m serious, Bin!” You laugh as the two of you attempted to put together a nursery room in your spare bedroom. Changbin was getting frustrated trying to put the cradle together. How in the hell was this long stick supposed to fit in this pocket?! “You’re reading the direction wrong! Here let me help.”

“Ah, ah!” Changbin playfully slapped your hand away. “Let Daddy take care of it.”

You knew he didn’t mean it in that way, but you couldn’t help but feel the heat spread throughout your body. “You can’t say things like that…”

Nothing could happen. You were about ready to pop. Feet swelling up so much, Changbin had to give them a massage every day after work just so you were able to walk. Despite all of that, Changbin put down the piece he was holding and gave you a knowing look. “Oh?” He grinned. “Why is that, bunny?”

He leaned in close enough to guide you to lie down gently on the floor. Soft kisses were placed on your neck and collarbone. Careful to not put any pressure on your belly. You sighed happily at the attention. Guess it’s true what they say about the raging hormones. “You’d really have sex with a pregnant lady?”

“With you? In a heartbeat.”

“Told you we’d have a girl,” Changbin smiled as he held your daughter in his arms. Taking in everything he could to forever grave this memory in his head. As if it would be that easy to forget this day; the birth of his daughter and engagement to you.

“Guess I lost that bet,” you laugh. Your fingers gently caress her cheek. “Look, she has your dimple!”

Your daughter cooed in her sleep, showing off that famous indent on her cheek. Already showing off the Seo smile. Changbin grinned; “What should we name her?”

“We gotta hurry,” Changbin said breathlessly as he stripped off his shirt and crawled on the bed towards you. You laid on your satin sheets, already naked and ready for the taking. “My girl is already questioning where I ran off to. She’ll get suspicious soon.”

“You know,” you moan as his lips latch onto your nipple. “We wouldn’t have to keep up this charade if you just--”

You couldn’t finish your thought as his hand slotted itself between your legs. Wasting no time in playing with your folds, as he usually does, and inserts two fingers to stretch you out. His pace was almost relentless, his hand covering your mouth as your moans started to get louder and louder. “Hush, bunny.”

The four years since the birth of your daughter have only spurred on your sex life with Changbin. Even though you knew he had another woman close to his heart. But you had to admit, there was something exciting about sneaking away for a quickie.

Changbin released his hold on your mouth and lowered himself down to your pussy. “Always so pretty,” he breathed against you. His lips instantly found your clit and kissed you in every way that you liked. That was the bright side to your getaways; he never wasted time on getting the job done.

“Bin, I’m--” 

Before you could finish, your sentence and your orgasm. A loud knock banged on your bedroom door. Hearing the voice muffled behind the door made you both groan. “Your other woman is requesting your presence,” you teased.

“Yea, yea.” Changbin pulled his fingers out of you and kissed you deeply before getting up to wash his hands quickly. You pulled the sheets over your naked body as he opened the door, revealing your adorable daughter holding a stuffed pink bunny. A pink bow dawned on her head as she looked up at Changbin. “Daddy, I wanna play dress up!”

“You wanna play dress up?” Changbin grinned as he picked her up and gave a peck on her cheek. “Okay, okay. Let’s go play. Say night to Mommy.”

You blow a kiss at your daughter as Changbin looks at you. The softness when looking at your daughter was replaced with a much darker expression as his eyes laid back on you. “You don’t do anything without me. Daddy will be back to play with you later.”

The question of naming your daughter hung in the room. Despite the many months of having time to plan, that seemed to be the only thing the two of you didn’t think about. The pink decorations hanging in the hospital hallway caught your attention before bringing it back to your new bundle of joy.

“Aera,” you smile. Changbin kissed Aera on her tiny head before placing one on your cheek. It was sweet seeing you get into the holiday spirit.

“Aera it is. Happy Valentine, bunny.”

“Happy Valentine, Bin.”

Note: This was made on the spot, so sorry if it isn't great 😭 I really wanted to post something for Valentine Day though and Changbin was the first one to come to mind. Guess I got bit by the love bug today 🩷

Aera is a Korean name that can roughly be translated/meaning to "Love"

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[fleet-of-fiction]

Jake Kiszka // Female Reader

Summary: It's your job to translate. But when Jake asks for private Spanish lessons, it complicates things. You try to fight it, but one night the fight gets all too real. And you realise you need him more than you ever thought you could.

Trigger Warnings: Mild S/H. Physical Violence. Full penetrative sex. Foreplay including oral. All the usual smut warnings.

"En español, Jake!" You admonished, tapping your finger down onto the page with vitriol.

He looked up at you with a frustrated sigh. As if the words were swimming around in his head but simply refused to spill out of his poised mouth.

"I'm so sorry." He apologised, slamming the book closed. "I just can't imagine why you haven't punched me in the face yet."

You had a little sympathy for him. Learning a new language in adulthood was fastidiously hard. You'd watched him for hours trying to curl his tongue around the way things were spoken in conjunction to how they were written down.

"The thought may have crossed my mind." You replied playfully, stashing the book back in your bag.

He watched you gathering your things together. Leaning back in his chair, arm draped casually down the back as you tried to pretend that you weren't aware.

"Why won't you let me take you out for a drink?" He asked, again, leaning forward onto the table. "It's just one drink, where's the harm?"

You slipped your bag over your shoulder and gave him the same balanced look you had given him all the other times he had tried to convince you to go out with him for a harmless drink.

"Jake, I can't keep doing this with you."

His arms were crossed as he leaned on the table. Long, lithe fingers locked together as he tried to downplay the disappointment. There was a sadness there in his eyes as he tried to smile.

"I know. I'm sorry, I just lose my head around you sometimes." He uttered, cracking his knuckles as he got up to walk you to the door.

You stopped in the hall to slip your shoes back on. Conscious of his eyes burning into the back of you. It would have made you uncomfortable were it not for the fact that every single time you had told him no a small part of you had died inside. These stolen moments where you knew he was studying your body were all you could enjoy.

When you turned around he was holding the door open for you. A thousand things on his mind that he ached to say, but couldn't.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this anymore." You suggested, "I mean, it was a crazy idea to begin with. I'm not a Spanish tutor, I'm your fucking translator. I'm already on the payroll. It'd be like dating my boss. You know that's why I have to say no, right?"

It was a downright lie.

He raised a hopeful eyebrow. "And not because you don't think I'm sexy?"

He was insufferable in the way you couldn't stand the fact he made you laugh. That had been the reason you had agreed to give him Spanish lessons in the first place. Because he had made you laugh with his goofy silliness. His self deprecating manner was endearing. And you hated him for that.

"Comportate, por favor." You told him, slipping out of the door before you changed your mind.

You weren't averse to dating rock stars. There had been times, in the past, where you had been hired to go on tour with artists who didn't speak the language of the countries they were moving through. It had been your job to liaise with concert venues, hotels and media outlets. Sometimes allowing yourself to be courted by these melodic creatures. There was something about musicians that drew you in.

Perhaps it was because they were poets. They valued art over everything else. To you, language was the most powerful art of all. To have the knowledge of words that could be understood the world over was truly a gift. And you could speak eight of them.

When Jake had asked you to teach him one of your gifts, initially you had balked at the idea. There was something about Jake that made you nervous. He made you feel like a song with just a fleeting glance. You weren't sure of yourself around him. It felt as if at any given moment something beautiful might happen. He wasn't a temporary fuck on a job you knew would only last a few weeks before moving on to the next. You knew, intrinsically, that if you allowed him to touch you there was no moving on from it.

He was peering at you from his porch steps as you got into your car. Patiently waiting until your seatbelt was on before waving sweetly. Like a Grandma would. Only stopping when you were out of sight.

"Damn you, Jake..." You whispered to yourself as you turned the corner, wishing you could rescind the past seven days.

~

You slammed the overhead locker shut and slumped into your seat below. Eye mask lingering on your forehead, ready to be pulled down so that the fluorescent lights on the plane didn't give you a migraine. Your skin was moisturised, your hair coiled in loose braids down each shoulder. Ready to sleep for the next eleven hours.

You watched the rest of the crew and management team take their seats. The unspoken rule of long haul flights being that nobody conversed. Nobody disturbed the other. It was a time to rest and reflect before chaos ensued.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" He asked, swinging himself into the seat beside you before you could protest.

Your mouth agape, you watched him get comfortable in the space where you had planned to put your feet.

"Jake?" You sighed. "I thought you were sitting with your brothers up front?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I wanted to sit here, with you."

You were still waiting for him to embellish as he pushed his shoes off and stretched his feet out. He was wearing those blue jeans with the cut in the knee he had worn every day the previous week, with a ripped hem shirt that was only buttoned half way. His chains hanging against his flesh between the opening.

You wondered how a person could endure eleven hours in clothes like that, but Jake always seemed to put style over comfort. It was one of the first things you'd taken in about him. Every single facet of his being was a token of his personality. He was his own canvas.

You couldn't help but smile.

"Ok, fine." You allowed, "But we're not having an impromptu lesson or anything, I plan to sleep."

You slipped down your eye mask and tried to hide the fact you were terrified of flying as the plane took off. The rumble and strange loss of gravity churning your stomach as you gripped the arm rest. Only settling once you were in the air and the subtle sounds of people sleeping and turning the pages of books was all you could hear.

He kept silent while you slept. And when you awoke to find your legs splayed across his lap, you flinched involuntarily. His head snapped up from the back of his seat. Eyes wide and for a moment neither of you could remember where you were.

You weren't sure how you'd ended up in the position you found yourself in. If he had placed your legs there himself, in some act of kindness you'd not asked for. Or if you had done it yourself in your sleep, and he had simply allowed it.

"Sorry." You grumbled, taking back your feet and slipping the eye mask around your frazzled braids.

"You don't like flying, huh?" He asked, running a hand through his knotted locks.

You were quick to defend yourself. "What makes you say that?"

The most heart breaking memory seemed to come to him. Smiling as if he may never have that time back. You felt the blood rush to your head as he looked at you. His deep brown eyes catching yours for the briefest of moments.

"You reached out for me in your sleep." He replied, almost in sadness.

You blushed. Turning away from him hastily, busying yourself with the book on the small table in front of you. Feeling foolish. As if you had spoiled something already.

"I didn't mean to." You said quietly, fixating on the page without being able to focus on any of the words.

"You worry too much." He commented, straightening up in his seat to reveal that all of his buttons were now undone.

As he stretched, he revealed a smooth chest and small ripples of flesh around his stomach. The muscles above taut and lean from years of grinding into his guitar.

You excused yourself to the bathroom. Brushing past him as you climbed out of your seat. Feeling dizzy as you walked down the aisle towards the illuminated rest room sign.

Splashing your face with cold water did little to dispel your nerves. Staring at yourself in the mirror, telling yourself to hold your reserve. He didn't deserve to hold your attention like this. How had he crawled beneath your skin so easily?

It wasn't exactly love at first sight. But it was something akin. The first time you had spoken. You felt it. The ache. Like a little electric burn. Because of him.

You sucked in your breath and uncoiled your braids. Ran careful fingers through your hair until the waves were smooth. Reminded yourself that it was just another job. And walked back to your seat with irrational confidence that you could endure the rest of the flight by his side.

Confidence which ebbed as you noted the glasses of rum and coke sitting on the tray tables. The froth still fizzing on the surface of the ice. He was chewing on his bottom lip absently until he noticed you. Immediately stiffening as you breezed back into your seat. Looking slightly different than when you had left.

"You've hijacked me, you do realise that, don't you?"

He picked up his glass and raised it as if to make a toast.

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about." He feigned. "I just thought you might be thirsty."

There was a devious glint in his eye. One which made you bend to his will. You picked up your glass and didn't really feel in the mood for rum so soon after waking up, but up in the air it didn't really feel like morning or evening. You were in limbo. The only place where you would ever agree to have a drink with him.

"This isn't a date." You confirmed. "This is not me agreeing to go for a drink with you. This is two colleagues having a drink on the same flight together."

It was precisely what he had wanted, packaged in another name. He knew it and so did you.

"Cheers." He said brazenly, tapping the rim of his glass against yours. "Here's to colleagues having a drink together."

You rolled your eyes. "We'll only ever be friends, Jake."

~

There was something oddly beautiful about silence. Music was the beating heart of the world. There was a song for every emotion ever felt by anyone anywhere. But when the music stopped, it was like the echo was felt universally. Bones and blood coming down from the euphoria. There was something about Jake that made it so hard to come down from.

You were standing behind the stage. The tones of the final note still playing out. Your eyes closed and your hands clutching a crisp white envelope tightly. The silence was deafening.

And then he was there. Peeling off his jacket. The sweat glistening in the stage lights. He handed his guitar to one of the stage technicians and noticed you waiting by the door. Not where you usually could be found.

"Buenas noches." You said, tilting your head as he approached.

"Evening." He replied, in English. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

You hadn't seen him all day. You'd been endlessly scrolling through potential activities for a day away from the stage. So rarely did these days come about, it had felt as if you had to find the most perfect venue. The tour manager had given you only three proviso's. Somewhere beautiful to film social media content. Somewhere all four of the band members could enjoy. Somewhere quintessentially Spanish.

"I think I've found the ideal place for your day off." You said, handing him the Vineyard confirmation.

He unfolded the paper and scanned the document. Looking up at you as if you were the most perfect creature to ever walk the earth. It dawned on you that you didn't have to be stood there in that moment, but you'd been so excited to tell him. Aching for a glimpse of him. Afraid that you wouldn't get one.

"A real Spanish Vineyard?"

You nodded. "And a tour of the distillery where they make brandy, too."

"This is perfect." He replied, eager to hug you but consciously aware that he was dripping in stage sweat. "And you'll be there, won't you?"

"Hardly be doing my job if I wasn't."

He lingered there with you. In the silence. The subtle reminder that you worked for him completely disregarded as he took the liberty of waiting until his brothers had walked past before shakily trailing his fingertips down the side of your cheek.

"Bello..." You heard him say, before he dropped his hand and you felt the absence of it so deeply you weren't certain how you could walk away from him and feel whole ever again.

You barely slept. Questioning yourself as you tossed and turned in the darkness. Irritated by the inner monologue that told you to re-think your outfit choice. It had to be light and airy for the warm sunshine. But not too revealing for the classy Vineyard aesthetic. You wanted Jake to look at you and think you pretty. But it couldn't be too obvious that you'd chosen the outfit just for him. Because you didn't want to choose the outfit just for him. You were consumed by the need for his attention. And hating yourself for it wasn't getting any easier.

The sleep deprivation hit you as you stepped out into the heat. Not yet noon and it was scorching down on your shoulders. The yellow sun dress which had been your fourth and final choice had tiny spaghetti straps that did little to protect your skin. Your white wide rimmed hat provided a little shade, but in the end you knew you'd walk away from the day with pink and red stripes.

You were already at the Vineyard when he arrived. Awaiting his arrival with the tour manager and social media assistant. Spilling out of the mini van, it appeared the sleepless night had been a friend to them all. Four sets of shades hid the dark circles. You couldn't help but smile ironically.

But they were like curious children as soon as the first taste hit. Jake, listening to the tour guide speaking a mixture of English and Spanish, turning to you for confirmation on anything he didn't understand. Swilling the wine in his taster glass, as he'd been instructed, endearingly involving himself even though you could sense that he was so tired.

You found some shade as the tour came to an end. Beneath a eucalyptus tree. Fanning your dress out as you sat on the little wooden bench under the arching branches. Watching Jake filming content with his brothers, happy to just be there. Relieved that your skin was not too sun kissed. The joviality of Jake and his brothers was a joy to behold. Their subtle differences in the way they reacted to each wine was comical and you found yourself drifting into a state of bliss you'd never found whilst on a tour job before.

He was wearing his shirt open at the chest again. Chains glistening in the afternoon sun as he came to sit with you. The entire group dispersing into their own little activities. He handed you a glass of red, noticing that it was the one you'd liked the most whilst on the tour.

"I feel as if I haven't seen you all day." He said, shuffling up the bench so that he was closer to you.

"I've been by your side the whole time." You replied bashfully.

He didn't seem to care, though. "I felt it yesterday too, when I actually didn't see you all day."

You took a languid sip, feeling the wine go down past the lump in your throat. His knee conspicuously close to yours. The fabric of your dress billowing in the breeze, threatening to lift and reveal your flesh. He noticed and pressed his leg against yours, the motion driving you irrevocably insane.

"What are you doing, Jake?" You asked, keeping your voice low.

You could smell the wine on his breath as he leaned in.

"How do you say... I want to rip your clothes off and fuck you until you can't stand up straight...in Spanish?"

The glass felt loose in your hand. As if his words had shaken your core and you couldn't ground yourself.

"Do you enjoy this?" You asked, more curtly than you'd anticipated. "Like it's not hard enough already?"

You'd hurt his feelings. All the happiness of the day seemed to drain from him as he moved his leg away. Another absence of his touch you felt so completely, it was as if you'd fade away entirely if he ever touched you again.

"Why do you constantly deny me?!"

He was livid. You could feel the bench move as he trembled.

"I could understand it if the feelings weren't reciprocated. I'd have asked you out, you'd have said no. Told me that you're not interested and yeah, it would have sucked and I'd have taken it on the chin. But I'm not stupid, I know you want me. And no amount of telling me that we're just friends is going to change that."

He downed his wine. You waited for him to get up and leave, but he remained at your side. A trembling mess as he waited for you to say something that might give him hope.

"You have no right to say that to me...no right!" You almost bellowed, feeling the rage prick at your fingertips. "When all I have done has been to preserve myself. And you. From hurt. And confusion."

"I'm not confused." He was quick to say, gripping the neck of his wine glass so tightly his knuckles turned white. "I know what I want."

"You think this is easy for me?"

You glanced across the courtyard towards the distillery where Jake's brother, Josh, was chatting with some of the staff. His eyes wandering back to you and Jake. His interest piqued as your voices began to rise above the din.

Jake's shoulders slumped. "It doesn't have to be this hard!"

You tried to smile reassuringly as you caught Josh's eye. He smiled back, returning reluctantly to his conversation. Suddenly everything began to turn into a surreal dream. Everything was perfect save for this one moment. You wanted nothing more than to turn back time, just by five minutes, and say or do something differently.

"I'm not about to complicate things for a quick fuck, Jake. I still have a job to do." You whispered, "I don't want to spend the next two weeks feeling like this..."

"Oh, what?" He replied, all the hurt you had caused him spilling out in his tone. "Like you've never fucked somebody on tour before?!"

There it was. All his hurt laid bare and all the hurt you had feared manifesting itself in the instant regret he felt as you turned to face him. All the times you'd rejected him kept in a little bottle in his heart, smashing there on the ground at your feet.

His head began to shake, his mouth open against apologies that wouldn't come out. His arms up in defence as if you were about to strike him. And all you could do was stare at him in disbelief.

"That's real nice, Jake." You managed, "Yeah. Ok, you want to play it that way? You're not wrong. I fucked a few guys on jobs in the past. Sure. They didn't care and neither did I. Why would it be awkward if you know you're never going to see them again? It meant nothing. What do you want me to say? That I'm terrified that this time it's different? That fucking you will never just be casual? That I know I'll fall in love with you the minute you kiss me? Huh? Is that what you want to hear? Stay the fuck away from me!"

~

You were still reeling as you stepped into the cool night air. Cardigan wrapped around you as the wind picked up. It was late but the hotel was situated in a sleepy little town ten minutes outside Barcelona. Lights were still twinkling in the distance. The faint sounds of people sitting outside bars and cafes sounding on the breeze. The gentle waves lapping at the shore in the pitch black.

You couldn't sleep again. Not plagued by irrelevant outfit choices this time, but instead you were horrified by yourself. By the way you had left things at the Vineyard. By how you had made your way back to the hotel without him. Not even looking at him when you'd seen him at dinner. You had felt his eyes burning into you, though. Losing your appetite entirely.

It felt as if a walk would clear your head. Bring you to some conclusion that would give you a reason to carry on. You'd been on the cusp of quitting and taking the next flight back to Nash before slipping on your sandals and cardigan and heading for the empty beach.

The sand was cool to the touch as you slinked down into it. The moon illuminating the curl of each small wave as it encroached onto the flat shoreline. The ever twinkling lights of the buildings which stretched across the coast were like stars upon the land. And you were lost in thought about Jake. About how you were going to make everything right.

So lost were you that you hadn't noticed that you were no longer alone. Catching them in the corner of your eye as they approached, as if they'd walked directly out of the black sea. A man, wearing nothing but a tattered white t-shirt and blue board shorts, waved to you inconsequentially.

You made the mistake of waving back. An impulse. Not an invitation to be disturbed. Your heart sank as they changed their direction, instead of carrying on across the shoreline, they diverted up the beach towards you. An errant smile on a bearded face greeted you as you tried to stand up.

"Oh, no. Please...stay where you are." He insisted, and you smiled because you thought he merely meant to pass you by.

When he didn't you felt yourself rooted to the spot. The darkness somehow darker than it had felt a moment ago.

"I was just leaving." You said as politely as you could.

He smelled like tobacco and body odour. The state of his feet alarmed you, as if he hadn't worn shoes for a very long time. He was sitting opposite you, as if you were friends enjoying an evening under the stars. But the hair on the back of your neck was poised. Your blood began to run cold.

"Oh, come on now." He replied, playfully with a hint of malice. "You're American, yes? I love America."

You had no desire to stay in his company. But something told you not to move. A primal instinct maybe?

"Uh, yeah." You replied, trying to keep your responses civil but brief.

He moved closer. His scent drifting in on the sea breeze. You recoiled. Feeling entirely foolish for stepping out of the hotel thinking you'd be safe.

"What's the matter?" He asked then, his voice low and gruff from years of smoking. "I just want to sit with you, alright?"

You uncrossed your legs. "I really...I was honestly just about to leave..."

He placed a dirty hand on your knee to prevent you from standing. You felt the fear grip you and choke you. Tears forming in your eyes as your lip began to tremble.

"Be a friendly girl and sit with me a while." He insisted. "I just want to talk to you."

He could see that you were afraid. Almost aroused by it. He moved to sit by you. Rubbing a calloused hand up your shin towards your knee. A broken scream was stuck in your throat. Warm tears streaming down your face.

"I have a boyfriend." You choked out, frozen into the sand as you willed it to swallow you.

"No boyfriend that I can see right now."

Something inside you snapped. The thought of Jake. Calling him your boyfriend. You didn't care about anything beyond him. Not your job nor the fears which you'd been running from. None of it made sense anymore. You could feel yourself begin to panic. Your chest moving against deep breaths. Your heart beating erratically.

You dared to push his hand away from you.

"I thought I told you to be friendly..." He hissed.

There wasn't a part of you that had any thoughts running through your mind as you heard the switch in his voice from playful malice to direct evil. You gathered the sand in your fist and threw it into his face, hearing him reel back and grunt in anger as you tried to run away.

Your sandals filled with sand though, preventing you from gaining any real speed. The scream which left you came from somewhere deep within, so blood curdling you weren't even sure it was you making the sound. It felt as if you dared not look back in case he was right behind you.

Three things seemed to happen all at once. The first was your body crushed to the ground. Sand in your mouth. The sensation that you were about to be buried alive. The second was the almost immediate release. Air rushing to your lungs as you swallowed the grit. And the third was Jake.

You stumbled onto your feet. Tears streaming down your face, spitting sand out as you felt yourself on the verge of vomiting. You blinked a few times, using your sleeve to wipe away the blurring tears.

All you could see was Jake. A pair of blue board shorts beneath him. His arm reeling back again and again and again as he rained down blow after blow.

"What the fuck did you do to her?!" He cried, cracking his fist against the bloodied face below him. "I will fucking kill you... I swear to god..."

You hadn't known Jake that long. But long enough to know he was loving and kind. That he chose to sit in corners and watch over being the centre of attention. He was funny and unserious in private with those he trusted best and stoic around people he didn't know. You'd never imagined he could be capable of such violence. When pushed, he was an animal.

"Jake!" You screamed. "Please, stop it!!!"

He didn't hear you at first. Picking up the guy by the scruff of his shirt, rattling his head before shoving it back into the sand. Landing a final, brutal kick to the stomach.

When Jake looked over at you, it was like he was seeing you for the first time. His chest heaving against catching his breath. His knuckles red and covered in blood. Not certain if it was Jake's blood, or the guy who was writhing around on the sand's. You reached for him.

But Jake didn't move. "Did he hurt you?"

You shook your head, feeling vulnerable in a way you'd never felt before.

"He started to but I ran. I'm so sorry, I was so stupid. I should have stayed in my room. I just needed to get some air...I can't believe this is happening...oh god, look at you..."

Jake noticed his hand. He shook off the blood and looked down at what he had done. The nose was broken and the eye sockets already swelling. Blood streaming from the guy's mouth. He spat a few teeth out and groaned in pain, clutching at his stomach as his white t-shirt turned red.

"No. You shouldn't have to stay in your room. You should be able to walk outside if you want to walk outside. It's fuckers like this who need to stay the fuck inside." He shoved his foot into the place where he had kicked, making sure to cause more pain. "Call the police."

"I can't." You sobbed. "They'll take you away, too."

He knew it as well as you did. They'd take him in. Question him. Stick an assault charge on him. You'd need a lawyer. You'd have to tell them what that disgusting guy had tried to do to you. You didn't want any of it. You just wanted to translate Vineyard tours, not police interrogations.

Jake leaned down and pressed his foot into the bloodied cheek.

"You better get the fuck out of here. I've got an entire security team in that hotel and they aren't little guys like me. They'll take you to fucking hell."

The adrenaline was still pumping as Jake stood back. Raking his bloody fist through his hair. Letting the guy stumble away, clutching his stomach as he spat blood onto the white sand. It wasn't until he was half way down the beach that Jake finally breathed. Letting out the most painful groan you'd ever heard. Your instincts telling you to protect him at all costs.

~

"What the fuck were doing out there?" You asked, cracking open the first aid kit in your hotel room. "Were you following me?"

He was sitting on the edge of the bed. Wincing as you knelt at his feet to wipe his hand with antiseptic. You held it within yours gently. Blowing cool air onto his grazed knuckles as you tried not to hurt him. You were still fighting back tears as you looked him in the eye.

"I didn't know you were out there." He said solemnly, tears of his own forming on the rim of his eye lashes. "I guess I had the same idea as you did. And then I heard you scream."

"What if you hadn't been there..."

You fell into his arms. Your entire body shaking as you sobbed. If you'd been afraid of loving him it felt so foolish now. You were consumed by love.

"I knew..." You tried to say, breathing hard against his bare chest.

You felt him cup your chin in his unspoiled hand. Forcing you to look at him.

"I knew from the start." You swallowed. "From the moment I saw you that I'd be fucked up forever. One look and I was gone. Washed away...in a landslide...because of your perfect face."

He fought against a smile.

"I knew you'd ruin me for anyone else." You said, "That's why I said no. All those times...no. How could I say yes to you? When saying yes meant I had to love you without fear."

He returned his fingertips to your cheek and you knew his touch was meant to heal you.

"Are you afraid now?" He asked quietly.

He was the kind of person that you knew you would end up falling in love with. You had perhaps always known it from the moment he was introduced to you. . There was a feeling which sat exactly right in your chest. You didn't want to ever say that you loved him for fear that he would leave. But you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you didn't want to spend your time with anyone else.

"I was afraid that you'd break my heart." You sighed, the shadow of that fear dissipating. "But not anymore."

"I shouldn't have said what I said earlier at the Vineyard. I was wrong to call you out like that. It's none of my business who you've fucked in the past."

You appreciated his apology, but it had little place in the moment. You would never truly understand what he had sacrificed that night. He'd never lost his cool like that, ever. He was sorry for the things which he had said, but there was no apology needed. Not after what he had done for you.

"It doesn't matter." You shrugged, pressed an ice pack against his hand as you flipped the first aid kit shut. "All that matters now, is us."

He took that as his permission to kiss you. Leaning in to it slowly. Keeping your eyes focused on his. Feeling the heat of his breath before his lips reached you. And when they did, your eyes were closed and his lips were soft against yours. They parted slightly, allowing for his tongue to slip into your mouth.

You knelt up to lock your arms around his neck. Bodies pressed together heatedly against each other. You could taste the shared breath. Feel the thud of your combined hearts. Fumbling to be free of your cardigan.

Heat blossomed in your chest. Sparks igniting as Jake pulled you closer against his open shirt. Tentatively, for the first time, he uttered your name as his mouth momentarily parted from yours before returning to you as if he hadn't whispered it at all.

"Jake..." You responded, breathy and almost too shrouded in whisper to hear.

But he did hear you. Gripping your hips tighter as he deepened the kiss. Pulling you up onto his body as he leaned back onto the bed, your legs parted on either side of his waist. Weeks of tension flowing out of both of you.

But nothing happened that night. The evening had caused an exhaustion which both of you shared as you slipped into the curve of his arm. Kissing him in small increments, stopping only to appreciate his face in the moon light which flooded in from the window. Caressing his bare chest, playing with his chains as he pressed his lips against your forehead. Your leg draped casually over his, tangled in each other for the first time.

There was no need for anything else. Loving him with abandon for all the accompanying things you'd told yourself. All the reasons you'd given yourself not to enter into this with him. Wishing that he had been your first love. So that you could have loved him sooner, instead of looking for malice in his pure intentions. Looking for ways to never have to give yourself to him. With Jake as your first love, you would have only known love to be like velvet.

But he wasn't. He was going to be your last love, you knew you would die to make that happen.

~

Jake kept his busted hand bandaged up the next day. Telling anyone who cared to ask that he had dropped his guitar case and fucked up his knuckles trying to save it. It was an unlikely story, but nobody dared to question it. Least of all the security team that would have been heavily judged for not being there to break up a fight.

You were relieved to move on. Telling yourself that it wasn't your fault, that you'd done nothing wrong. And yet, a voice echoed in the back of your mind screaming blame for what Jake had been forced to do.

Even as you boarded the plane to leave the country, it was still playing on a loop in the back of your mind. That rough, dirty hand moving up your leg. The blood. The sand in your mouth. The way he had kissed you that night afterwards...

"Do you mind if I sit here?" He asked, looking down at you with a wicked grin.

The flight from Spain to England was only a few short hours. Nothing which required sleep or tentative dream induced embraces. You felt yourself blush as he slipped into the seat beside you. Feeling entirely different. Grateful for the distraction from your thoughts.

"Maybe we should have an impromptu lesson this time." You suggested, "I haven't heard you use your words at all this week."

Jake pulled off his shades, slipping them into his breast pocket as he kicked off his shoes and offered you his hand to hold as the plane took off.

"If I tell you that asking for lessons was a ploy to get closer to you and nothing else, would you be mad?" He asked, deadly serious, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

Everything he had done before the previous night meant little. You didn't care.

"Crees que eres tan listo." You replied, "But truthfully, I knew you had no intention of ever learning any of it."

He would have pulled you into one of those kisses. The urge was there on his lips as he licked them, eyes focusing in on yours.

"Besides, we're in England for the next three days. You're going to have a lot of free time." He joked, knowing that you'd have to be preparing to liaise with the concert venue and hotel in Germany for the week ahead. "What's the plan to fill it all?"

It felt like the entire time you'd known him had been foreplay. Leading up to this. A game of cat and mouse that you'd secretly wanted to end with all the sex you'd imagined having with him. Because you had imagined having sex with him.

"Maybe you could help me with that." You giggled, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He stared at you for a moment. Trying to comprehend the words he thought he'd heard you say. He wasn't used to it. He expected you to rebuff him again. Even after spending the night wrapped in his arms, listening to his chest rise and fall against your cheek.

"Are you fucking serious?" He asked, gripping your hand more tightly.

You leaned in and placed your lips flush to his ear.

"Quiero arrancarte la ropa y follarte hasta que no puedas pararte derecho..." You whispered.

You felt his body close, his hand travel up your arm. Pulling you in. You let him. His brothers, Josh and Sam were sitting in the seats in front. And behind there was Danny, surrounded by people who would never know the secret you shared. Their eyes busy with anything but what the two of you were doing.

"I beg you, tell me what you just said."

You kissed him. Without shame. Without care if anyone noticed.

"I want to rip your clothes off and fuck you until you can't stand up straight..."

~

Throwing your luggage down, you tumbled into the bathroom. The anticipation was overwhelming. He'd been whispering in your ear the entire flight. All the things he was going to do to you. All the things he had imagined every single time you'd rejected him. The last thing he had said to you as you pulled up outside the hotel, weary and travel worn was a twenty minute warning that once you'd checked in and got to your room he was coming after you.

You grabbed your toiletries and began pulling your brush through your hair. Running the faucet until the water ran warm, rinsing the airport smell off your face. Shedding your clothes until you were down to your underwear, furiously brushing your teeth as you ran an electric razor up your leg.

Pulling open the elastic waist band of your panties, you peered down into the pubic hair you hadn't bothered to tidy up. Sighing at your own lack of foresight. Pushing your panties down to your ankles as you ran the shaver across your mound, wondering if he would care or even notice.

You slipped on your little white night robe over your underwear. Certain he would want you in a state of undress as he arrived. Perhaps expecting it. You regarded yourself in the mirror as you recalled his words.

"I'm going to taste that sweet pussy...You don't know how many times I've imagined what you taste like..."

You tightened the belt of your robe, feeling the length of silk material between your fingers as you pulled on it.

"You've pissed me off so much lately, I'm going to fuck that right out of you..."

Catching yourself breathing heavily, you placed the flat of your hand to the centre of your cleavage. Pressing down to feel your own heart beat.

"You know I would beat any man who tried to hurt you...you know that, don't you? Nobody's ever going to touch you again. Only me..."

Something stirred in that space between your chest and stomach. Something you had no name for. You weren't afraid when you remembered how he had lost his mind over the thought of you getting hurt. You were turned on.

"I'm getting hard right now thinking about getting to the hotel... You've got twenty minutes until I knock on your door..."

When you'd thought of the kind of lover he might be, you'd been inclined to imagine him soft and thoughtful. But there was something in those words that had been savage and downright filthy. He'd taken delight in watching you squirm in your seat, looking around to make sure nobody was listening.

Kissing you until you giggled. His lips making moist trails down your neck. Not leaving you alone for a moment, not even when people walked past your seats and witnessed exactly what he was doing to you. You'd be the talk of the tour, now.

The soft knock broke your reverie. You flinched, realising you'd been standing in front of the mirror lost in thought. Feeling as if your life was going to change the moment you opened the door. You sprayed some perfume into the air and walked through it as you headed out of the bathroom.

You only opened the door a notch before he slipped through the gap. Hands creeping down your back, gripping your ass cheeks tightly as he pulled them apart and pressed you against the hotel room wall. His mouth was on yours before speaking. Lapping his tongue into your mouth, feeling it brush against yours in a kiss that was the most desperate you'd ever felt him be.

"Fuck!" He groaned, "I can't believe I finally get to do this with you."

He put you down on the bed. Releasing you so that you fell onto the sheets and pillows, the sweetest laughter sounding out from the pit of your stomach.

Ripping open his shirt, he slipped it off his shoulders and began fighting to ease his belt. You watched curiously. Opening your robe to reveal the white bra and panties beneath.

All the laughter gone as you eyed his hard cock. Sitting there beneath his boxers, large and imposing. He gripped it in his hand. moving the erection up a little so that the tip peeked out from his waist band.

"How bad do you want it?" He asked, taking one of your ankles in his free hand and pulling you effortlessly down the bed.

You were under some sort of spell. There was no other explanation for how you found the confidence to respond. You would have fallen into embarrassment otherwise. Afraid to be vocal about what you wanted. Jake liked to talk, and talking was your gift. It made sense to you, more than ever, to use your words.

"I want you so bad, Jake. I can't stand it..."

He nodded, casting his gaze down the length of your body.

"Fuck, you're sweet. You're so god damn sweet, I just want to sink my teeth into every inch of you."

You pointed your toes, lifting your leg up to run the length of his torso. When you ran it back down, you lingered at his waist band. Hooking your toe beneath it, pulling it down just a little further so that his cock sprang free.

"Pain..." You gasped under your breath.

His hand curled around the hard base. "I won't fuck you sore, I'll make sure you're wet enough first."

You could feel the pressure building in your centre. You slipped your hand down beneath your panties and felt the wetness increase. You were already enough for him to slip inside of.

You were about to pull your hand out when he shook his head.

"No. Keep it there." He instructed, making shallow breaths as he began to move his hand up and down his own cock. "Slip your panties to the side, just a little bit. I want to see your lips down there..."

Yours were like little pink ribbons. Your clit was swollen and ready at the peak, the tiny head budding out from beneath the hood as you pulled it back with the flat of your fingers. Keeping your eyes on him the entire time. Allowing the sight of him at the foot of the bed to spur you on.

His head was flushed pink. White beads of pre-cum leaking out onto his fingers as he squeezed at the end. A throbbing vein pulsated down the centre of the shaft, his eyes half closed as he watched you plane your fingers down the slit, opening up your entrance for him to see.

"Take everything off." He ordered, the faded tan lines on his chest from the Vineyard making you smile as he kicked off his boxers.

Jake knelt onto the edge of the bed as you unhooked your bra. Your breasts spilling out of the white lace, round and firm with two hard buds in the centre of rippled goose flesh as you felt a cold shiver down your spine. Everything felt as if it were happening in a dream.

"These eyes stay on me while I'm inside you." He said, a hand suddenly reaching up for your jaw, tilting your face upward as he drank you in. "You understand me?"

You nod pitifully. Knowing his strength. Knowing there was aggression simmering beneath his cool exterior. Knowing you would do anything to placate him. Even though it made your pussy throb to think of how masterful he could be when cornered.

He inched two fingers into his mouth. A trail of saliva hanging down from his lip as he brought them to your needy cunt. You were a trembling mess as he hooked them inside you, watching your face for that blissful relief.

"Tell me how that feels."

You couldn't speak for a moment. Taking in the sensation of him driving into you past his knuckles. His grazed hand came to rest on the bed beside your head, his hair and the chains around his neck reaching down into the space where he hovered above.

"So fucking good." You tried to say, your entire body shaking as he began to pound into you harder.

He grinned that confidence, the one he liked to smirk when he knew that he was doing something right. You'd seen it on his lips before. His pressure was delicious. Using hot force and a curl of his fingers to press down on that sweet spot inside.

You almost felt bereft when he pulled his fingers out completely, returning them to his mouth where he padded them across his tongue. Tasting you. Just the way he had said he would.

"Put your mouth on it." You told him, wondering if you were a part of this dominance play or if you'd stepped out of line.

"You really are a filthy little thing, aren't you?" His head bowed, he slid down your torso and down through the valley of your navel. "Fuck...if this isn't so worth the wait..."

You looked down past the curve of your breasts. To where his wild hair was splayed across your open thighs. His back arched as he opened his mouth. Taking in a full slick lick of your pussy lips that made you moan so loud you couldn't hold back. His lips pursed around your clit, sucking on it and lapping his tongue against the swollen bud.

"Se siente tan jodidamente bien..." You hissed through gritted teeth, trying to keep a grip on the bed sheets.

You felt the vibration of his moan against your clit. Listening to you speak like that, it made him drive his tongue further into your entrance. You felt the softness of it at the opening of your walls. Hearing him swallow your wetness, you tangled your hands into his hair and swept it into your fist.

You took a deep breath and pushed him deeper into your cunt. Hips bucking, pressure mounting in your core. You almost fucked his mouth yourself until he gripped your hips steady and reminded you who was in control.

"Hold still!" He called up, raising his head with your juice dripping from his bottom lip.

You were brought to stillness by his firm grip. His eyes locked on yours as he returned his mouth to you. His nose pressed flush against your clit as he buried his head. You ached to move. Arch your back. Grind your hips. Anything to release the mounting tension.

"I mean it Jake, I'm so fucking close..." You warned him.

You trembled and twitched against his tongue as he slowly brought it to rest at your mound. The sound of his name falling like gentle rain was like music to his ears. Your orgasm belonged to him. He looked up at you and viciously slammed his fingers back inside.

"Well, come on then." He urged. "Give it to me if you want to so badly."

You tossed your head back. He ravaged and ruined you. Pounding his fingers into your cunt violently as he returned to sucking on your clit, harder. The sound was like a wet popping as his fist pressed against your slipper lips. The moans you couldn't hold back shrieking out of you as he deviously refused to stop.

"That's it, baby." You heard him say below the wet pounding and your own vocals, "Show me what that pussy can do."

He watched you. Every breath. Ever shudder. He absorbed it all. Appreciating each and revelling in it all. You were his muse, his morning song. And as you came undone at the tip of his fingers and tongue, he felt your orgasm bloom into his mouth.

"Oh god..." He swallowed hard. "I fucking need it...."

You were still on the fringes of your climax as he pulled you up. Every point in your body a mess of tingles. You met his mouth again and tasted yourself there on his lips.

"Fuck me, Jake."

Positioning you on the pillows, he made you lean back against the head board. Crawling up to meet you, ensuring your eyes never left his.

"Ask me again."

You feel his hard erection pressed against your pussy lips and inner thigh.

"I want you to fuck me so good, Jake."

He lowered his head, coming to rest at your breasts. Scanning them with his tongue, sucking on your nipple as you try to keep yourself from melting into the bed sheets.

"Beg me." He said finally, sinking his teeth into your flesh.

All the words you could think of in any language you had ever known seemed to flee from you. There was only one that remained.

"Please..."

It wasn't enough. "Beg harder."

You sank your fingernails into his back. "Fuck me! Please, I want you to... punish me...for all the times I told you no... make me repent for it... I beg you."

He moved to bring himself into you. Slapping his thick, girthy cock against your still sensitive slit. Before you could scream, he had you pressed against the head board and his cock was buried so deeply inside you it took your breath away.

God, he felt so good. Like your walls had never welcomed such a perfect feeling. He filled you so good, just on the cusp of pain but you were wet enough to handle it. He'd promised you wouldn't be sore afterwards, and you believed him.

"Shit, you feel so..." He faltered, "Fuck, I can't explain it."

His mouth was at your throat. Sticky fingers rested against your wind pipe, not squeezing but simply holding you in place as he rocked into you.

It had all been too much. Too much waiting, too much anticipation.

"Use your words, Jakey, come on..." You closed your legs around his waist and felt him shudder as he thrusted.

He wants as much contact with you as possible. To keep your eyes locked with his. But to also feel your breasts bouncing against his bare chest. He wants to rub your clit as he shoves his cock into you so deep he wants to watch your pussy eat it up until it disappears inside you. He wants all of it whilst listening to you speak.

"Shut up." He managed, sweat dripping off his brow. "Just let me come inside you..."

You might have been offended, but you could tell the hold you had on him had him all speechless. You making him talk was taking him away from all his other senses. Which made you smile because Jake loved nothing more than being vocal.

"Why don't you make me?" You teased. "Fucking me with your big cock like that? You want me to shut up? Fucking come in me..."

As if he could read your mind, he abruptly picked up speed and grunted vividly into the curve of your neck. Slamming into you with his entire body. The sound of his skin slapping against yours is all that echoes in your ears. Muffling out the sound of Jake's tension, his panting as he let's go into your waiting pussy. Convulsing on top of you as you grip him tightly.

His hands come underneath you, kneading your ass cheeks as he slows down. Breathing hard against your chest.

"I had no idea you could fuck like that." You breathed, "You're a dark horse, Jake Kiszka."

He laughed and returned to you for gentle kisses that reminded you he was still the sweet one who had sat with you as you reached out for him in your sleep.

"I protect my woman and I fuck her good." He replied, with a hint of playfulness as he moved apart from you to slump at your side.

You watched his cock soften as he laid there. His seed still sitting at your entrance.

"Oh I'm your woman, am I?" You jested back.

He nodded, but didn't say anything. Before too long he was snoring quietly. Beautifully naked as he was sprawled out on your hotel room bed.

You slowly inched away, heading to the bathroom to clean yourself up while he slept. Feeling a little sore, after all.

.

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon y @char289 @dancingcarbon @gvfpal @violetstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @jazzyfigz @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Home For Christmas - Jake Seresin x OC

A/N: This is my entry for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Writing Challenge, with the trope childhood friends. I was watching a lot of romcoms last night and felt inspired, it's definitely heavily influenced by 13 Going on 30, Just Friends + Sweet Home Alabama. (I realize only one of those is set in the winter, but I digress). I'm debating a part two/epilogue as well, if anyone is interested! Also super proud of this one, because it's the longest fic I've ever written.

pairing: Jake Seresin x OC

warnings/content: none, lots of fluff and pining. Jake's been promoted to Captain. Probably a lot of inaccuracies.

word count: 7.7k (literally my longest one yet, I'm sorry)

tagging anyone who might be interested: @littleenglishfangirl, @floydsmuse, @sailor-aviator, @mamachasesmayhem 🤍

December, 1999

“Jake! Jake, wait up!” 

“Run faster then, I gotta get home before the street lights come on or my mama’s gonna be so mad she won’t let you come over tomorrow!” 

“Jake, your mama’s not gonna say no to me comin’ over and you know it.”

“Jenna, how you ever gonna keep up with me when I join the navy and start having to run a few miles every day?”

Jake turned around to face you for a moment, running backwards with a grin plastered on his face, his baby-faced cheeks red from the cold, his green eyes full of mischief as he watched you try and keep up with him. His sandy blonde hair stuck out slightly from underneath his Dallas Cowboys baseball cap, a handmedown from his older brother that he rarely left home without since Matt had given it to him. He stopped running, placing his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, the cold air stinging his throat as he panted. You finally managed to close the distance between the two of you, raising an eyebrow as you panted, your own cheeks ruddy from the combination of cold winter air and physical activity. 

You and Jake had been best friends as long as you could remember. In eleven years, you couldn’t name a single time where the two of you had as much as had a disagreement, or went more than a few hours without talking to one another. Your mothers had been best friends in high school, and you two were destined to be best friends since birth - born four days apart in the same hospital, living on the same street and having your first play date at 10 and 7 days old. Jake was four days older than you, and he never let you forget it when it came to matters where age or maturity played a role. However, where Jake had four days more experience in the world, you had multitudes more experience in dealing with hardship than any eleven-year-old child should have. 

Where Jake had the picture-perfect family - a mom, a dad, an older sister, an older brother and him, all living in perfect harmonious happiness, never as much as a doubt as to whether or not there was love in his household, you had the opposite. An absent father, an only child, and a mother who worked two jobs to try and make life better for the two of you, you spent almost every waking minute with Jake and his family, not only as an escape to experience the happy, blissfully carefree life he lived, but also, as a favour to your mother, with Mrs. Seresin often volunteering to care for you when your mother had to work late or work on weekends. 

You were at the Seresin home almost every night, with Jake’s mother fussing over her best friend’s daughter, helping her lifelong friend however she could in guiding her little girl, you acting as the surrogate daughter that part of her had always wanted. Jake’s father trying to fill in the blanks where your father had lacked - offering to coach sports teams and including you in games of catch with Jake and his brother, taking you and the boys to get new baseball gloves or soccer cleats when needed, taking the three of you for ice cream after a big achievement in life. Jake’s 16 year old sister, Bethany, would take time to do your hair in the mornings before school whenever she had a chance, offering to do it in all the fun styles she and her friends wore, the kind you were often envious of, passing you old tubes of lip gloss she had lingering around in her backpack on your way to school, encouraging you to use them to your hearts content.  Even Matt, who at 14, thought his brother and his brother’s friends were the most irritating beings in existence, had offered you old sports jerseys of his that no longer fit, teasing you the same way he’d tease Jake, treating you like the little sister he never had. 

Until this past summer, you found yourself wishing most days that Jake’s family would just adopt you, let your mother move in with them and the two of you could just officially be a part of their fun, bustling family that served as your cheerful escape from life. However, when elementary school ended in June with middle school looming around the corner, Bethany had pulled you aside to talk to you about the transition between schools. 

“You know, middle school is…different. It’s not bad. It’s just…things change sometimes. You and Jake might start going on dates with people from school, and it might change your relationship. It happens,” She’d said matter of factly, not mincing words as she shrugged her shoulders, fixing her frosted eyeshadow in the mirror before turning to face you again.

“You might even develop feelings for each other.”

At the time, her words didn’t hold meaning for you. You and Jake had been best friends since Jake was four days old. Your moms were best friends. You practically lived in their home. There was no way things could change between you. You could never have a crush on Jake. He was Jake, the boy who would hide under his mama’s kitchen table with you and a flashlight, swapping baseball cards with one another, the boy who, when you were six-years-old, you’d witnessed eat an entire package of Oreos, then laughed at as he proceeded to throw up an hour later from the sheer volume of chocolate-vanilla sandwich cookies he’d consumed that day. Jake could never be someone you’d have a crush on. He was your best friend. That would never change.

It was two weeks later when Jake had been on the baseball diamond, pitching an inning of Little League with you in the stands watching on. His baseball cap had been flipped backwards to mimic one of his favourite major league players, his green eyes narrowing in concentration with every pitch he threw out. His golden blonde hair poked out the front of his baseball cap, much like it was doing today, on this cold January evening. His focus was on nothing but baseball, while yours was on everything but when it came to him. When he happened to look your way during the game, you felt a weird feeling in your stomach - a bubbling sensation, like nerves that couldn’t be settled. Your cheeks flushed, turning a pale pink as they became warm to the touch, reddening slightly as you felt Bethany’s gaze fall on you, a grin forming on her face as you proved her right about how your feelings were evolving for Jake. 

Since that day, you’d found yourself continuing to crush on him, each day your feelings grew deeper and more intense than the day before. At this point, you almost swore you could see yourself marrying him one day. You had to admit, you knew everything there was to know about him, you always had fun with him, and he was always happy to see you - you were convinced you two could be as happy and as in love as his parents were someday when you and Jake got older. You’d never tell Jake, you just hoped and prayed that he’d realize one day that he felt the same way about you as you felt about him. You knew there was always the chance that it might not happen, but you didn’t want to think about that.  In fact, as far as you were concerned, you hoped that there was never a day where Jake didn’t love you as wholeheartedly as your little eleven year old self loved him.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ 

Present Day

“Jake, please, come back. I miss you,”

“I miss you too, Jenna, I’m coming home to you. It’s always been you.”

The ear-piercing screech of your phone’s alarm blared from your nightstand, interrupting your dream as it screamed at you. You rolled over in bed, groaning as you clumsily stuck your hand out, feeling around on the wooden side table for your phone to silence it and allow yourself a few more moments of peace and quiet before you had to start your day. The last think you wanted right now was to let this dream slip away on you - it was the closest you’d ever find yourself to Jake professing his love for you after all these years, and you clung to it whenever it cropped up in your mind as you slept. 

Jake had always been the one-who-got-away for you. You spent your entire middle school years trying to hide your feelings for him, refusing to break until he said how he felt first. You were 13 when he got his first girlfriend, Tiffany Donaldson, a girl in your class. Tiffany was pretty and popular, something that you couldn’t claim for yourself in either case - growing up with Jake, you were seen as more of a teammate or a sister-figure than anything else, despite his sister’s best efforts to help you shake that connection somewhat. After Tiffany, you two had begun high school, and Jake made the football team, and the baseball team. As the school’s star runningback and starting pitcher for the varsity team, Jake was popular beyond words. No one could hold a candle to him, and as his popularity soared because of his athletic prowess in school, you faded further and further back into obscurity, the limelight falling from you and onto someone new each time Jake began dating another girl. Eventually, by the time graduation rolled around, you and Jake had all but fallen out of touch with each other outside of family get-togethers shared between your mothers. 

You had just worked up the courage to tell him your feelings at the graduation party Jake’s parents had thrown for you both, convincing yourself that it was perfect timing - Jake had accepted an offer at the University of Texas at Austin, keeping close to home as he planned to study finance, his secret talent having always been math. You’d accepted an offer to study communications at the same school, and with both of you remaining local, it would be the perfect time to tell him how you felt and attempt a relationship with him, or so you thought.

Before the words could even leave your mouth, Jake was excitedly pulling you aside at the party, stopping outside of his childhood bedroom, the place where the two of you had often played as kids. His green eyes were full of excitement as he looked at you, causing your heart to race as butterflies fluttered in your stomach, making it hard to concentrate on his words. You almost didn’t hear him when he spoke, you were so transfixed on him. If the news had been anything else, you probably wouldn’t have even registered what he’d said the first time. You could still hear the excitement in his voice as he told you his news, and still feel the ache in the pit of your stomach as his words fell on your ears.

“I got accepted! I’m going to the Naval Academy, Jenna, can you believe it? I’m going to serve in the Navy, just like I always wanted. I’m going to be the best aviator they’ve ever seen. Just you watch.” 

Jake’s voice was practically buzzing with excitement as he’d told you his news, and it took everything you had in you to not fall apart as he spoke. While you knew he’d always dreamed of being a naval aviator, as long as you could remember, the news hit you like a ton of bricks, unexpected and hard as it rendered you speechless, leaving you nodding your head and smiling like an idiot while inside you wanted nothing more than to scream out how you felt. You knew this could never work out between you now. Your chance was gone, moving away to Maryland and joining the Navy before you’d even had a second to realize what was happening when he spoke. 

That was 17 years ago, and the moment still haunted you from time to time, more than you’d like to admit to anyone. At first, you’d kept in touch with Jake and his family, seeing Jake when he came home for holidays and such at first, but then, as you and Jake began entering your first romantic relationships as adults, you found yourselves including each other less and less in your lives. With each boyfriend you had, you realized more and more that you could never love them the way you loved Jake -he’d always be your first love, regardless of how he felt in return. When Jake graduated, he’d been stationed at NAS Lemoore, swapping Maryland for California. You’d still hear the odd update from your mother, who remained in touch with Jake’s parents, but otherwise, you didn’t ask much about Jake’s adult life. You knew he’d never married, that he’d become a Top Gun graduate, and held true to his word about becoming one of the greatest fighter pilots in the United States Navy, but other than that, you knew little about his life now. Last you had heard, last Christmas, he’d been stationed in San Diego. 

You sat up in bed, yawning and stretching your body out before heaving a heavy sigh and shaking your head to rid yourself of thoughts of Jake. You were preparing for a trip back home to Texas for the holidays, spending three weeks back with your mother, part of you wishing and longing for Jake to be visiting his family at the same time, while the other part of you prayed he was staying in California or serving a tour so he wouldn’t be able to be there while you were. It had been close to 15 years since you’d seen him, and the last thing you needed was to be reminded of how you strongly you felt. You didn’t need the help from seeing him. The memories of him were more than enough to keep you clinging on. 

Your phone rang and with bleary eyes, you picked it up, pressing the green button to answer the call.

“Good morning, sweetheart!” Your mother practically sang out in a voice that was far too cheerful for anyone to have at this hour. 

“Hi mama, what’s up? My flight doesn’t land until this evening.” 

“Well, I was talking to Mrs. Seresin about Jake, Matt and Bethany…” Your mother’s voice trailed off as she spoke, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat at the mention of Jake.

“Mhmm?” You responded as you stood up, balancing the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you folded a sweatshirt and set it down neatly on the bed, waiting to be packed.

“It turns out both of us are having our kids home for Christmas! Bethany’s coming down from Dallas with her husband and their little ones, and Matt’s coming from Oklahoma City with his fiancee, and Jake’s flying in on leave from California. He’s made his way up to Captain now, you know, Jenna. He’s made quite the career for himself.”

“Mama, I don’t need a sales pitch on why Jake Seresin is the perfect man for me, ok? He hasn’t seen me in years. He probably wouldn’t even recognize me if he saw me.”

“You never know. But I expect you to dress nicely for their Christmas party. You and I have been invited to join them, and I already said you would gladly be attending.”

“Of course you did. So Jake will be there, then?”

“I think his flight lands just before yours does today, actually. His mama and I were actually discussing if we should just carpool together to pick you both up like back when you two were in school together. Remember that? We used to take turns carting you kids back and forth from home to school.”

“I remember, mama. Don’t worry.”

“Anyway…we were talking and it turns out, Jake happens to be single.”

“Mama, why would I care that Jake’s single?” You replied, trying to sound as level-headed as possible. 

“Please, Jenna. You really think I don’t know about this crush of yours you’ve been harbourin’ for years?” You could hear the laughter in your mother’s tone as she spoke, and it stung, almost as though your feelings had betrayed you.

“Mama! I haven’t had a crush on Jake in years. Not since he left for the Navy.”

“Of course not…just, do me a favour? Wear something nice for that Christmas party, ok?”

“Sure, Mama, whatever you say.”

You finished the conversation with your mother and let out an exasperated sigh as you tossed your phone onto your bed beside you. You had to be at the airport in three hours, leaving you little time to completely reconfigure your wardrobe for the next few weeks at home in Austin. Peering into your closet, scanning the items as they sat on wire hangers in the tiny space, you frowned, realizing that nothing was worthy of a reunion with Jake after all these years. At the back of the closet, you found a black, form-fitting sweater dress that you hadn’t worn in years, but, as you held it up to yourself in the mirror, you figured it could work. Part of you hoped this reunion could be the thing that’d remind Jake of what he was missing out on for the last 17 years. 

As you finished packing your suitcase, you zipped it closed with a sigh, shaking your head as you tried to calm your nerves before getting yourself ready for your flight. There was a chance you could see Jake at the airport, and you knew you had to look your best, just in case. 

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ 

The flight from Chicago to Austin was the most painful three hours of your life. You tried to focus your attention on anything but Jake, but every movie saved on your phone, every book on your tablet, and every thought that crossed your mind was filled with him. You tried reminding yourself that he could be a totally different person from who he was when you were 18. That he could look completely different, act completely different - that he may not even know who you are anymore. The thought of Jake forgetting you was suffocating, closing in on you a little bit more every time it creeped into your mind. You took a deep breath as you departed the plane, your eyes scanning the crowd for your mother as you gripped your carry-on. Your face went white as a sheet as you saw her standing with Mrs. Serensin, both of whom waved frantically with excitement as they saw you.

“Jenna! It’s been so long, darlin’, how have you been? Your mama’s told me lots, but I feel like it’s no substitute for getting to see you in person!” 

“Hi, Mrs. Serensin! I’ve been ok, how have you guys been? Haven’t seen you in about, 15 years? I think I saw y’all the one visit after Jake shipped out, but I haven’t been home much for the holidays, Mama’s usually up in Chicago visiting me.”

“We’ve been good, Bethany has two boys now, Easton and Dylan, and Matt’s met this girl, Alexis, she’s wonderful, a real sweetheart. He’s gettin’ married next summer. “

“Oh, that’s great news!” You replied cheerfully, fighting the instinct to bite your lip as she failed to mention where Jake was at in life. 

“We better get going, Julie, Jake’s plane’s about to land,” Your mother said as she grabbed Mrs. Seresin’s arm excitedly, nodding her head.

“Oh, I thought Jake landed earlier?” 

“He was meant to, but his flight got delayed, he’s landing in a few minutes now, I think.”

You nodded your head slowly, reluctantly following behind as your mom and Mrs. Serensin led the way to Jake’s terminal, biting the inside of your cheek as your eyes followed the signage as you walked past. You tried your best to focus on something, anything, but your nerves but so far, your nerves were winning. You were terrified. What if Jake hated you for not staying in touch? What if he forgot all about you? What if you were the last person he wanted to see? What he if came through those doors with a surprise girlfriend on his arm?

“Ma!” You heard a voice call out. You looked up to see a tall, handsome man with neatly combed blonde hair, piercing green eyes and sunkissed skin. His naval uniform was still perfectly pressed without a crease on it somehow after his flight, and he looked perfect. You knew in an instant that it was him.

“Ms. T?” He chuckled as he shook his head, pulling back from his mother’s embrace as he gave your mother a heartfelt hug, before pausing as he looked at you, a warm smile on his lips as he nodded his head, his blonde eyebrow cocked upwards in surprise. 

“Jenna?”

“The one and only,” You shrugged with a smile as you tried your best to play it cool, forgetting for a moment that at 35 years old, you shouldn’t be getting tongue-tied and start giggling like a schoolgirl over a crush. The mere fact that you still had a crush on Jake was enough to make you feel like a fool.

“It’s nice to see ya, Jenna,” Jake nodded as he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you into his embrace. You breathed in the scent of his cologne, notes of whiskey and cedarwood encircling you as his grip remained tight, yet comfortable around you, as if he was hugging his long lost friend, which, he was in a sense. 

“Nice to see you too, Jake,” You nodded once as he pulled away, a soft smile on your lips as you looked at him, trying to commit this moment to memory before it drifted away on you. 

You swore out of the corner of your eye, you saw your mothers exchange a look with one another, a secret signal to one another, as if a master plan of theirs was underway, and everything was beginning to come together before their eyes.  

As the four of you headed out to the car together, you caught yourself repeatedly stealing glances at Jake. He hadn’t changed hardly at all since you saw him last, apart from gaining some muscle, and his cheekbones and jawline becoming a bit more defined as he’d aged. He looked incredible for 35, if you didn’t know him, you likely would have guessed he was barely 30, and you couldn’t help but feel yourself fall deeper with each stolen look at him. 

“So, you’re Captain Seresin now then?” You raised an eyebrow as you looked at him, hoping to break the silence brewing between the two of you.

“Yeah, this past April! I didn’t expect to get it, to be honest.”

Jake’s cheeks reddened as he smiled at you, trying to appear modest as he spoke of his accomplishments in the Navy since you’d last seen him. He had always used to have an ego so big that it’d rival some of the aircraft around in size, especially as a teenager - he was good and he knew he was good when it came to sports. It was part of what drove the two of you apart, but around you? He was modest like he always had been before, acting embarrassed by the achievements he’d otherwise never shut up about. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think Jake was nervous around you. Jake Seresin, the only service member on active duty with multiple confirmed kills, the US Naval Air Force Captain who’s served for the last 17 years without as much as a scratch on him, the man who graduated top of his class from the Top Gun program, where only the best of the best are selected to participate. Jake Seresin had no need to be nervous about impressing you. He could have impressed you by simply looking your way - but for some reason, he was nervous around you, reduced to a blushing, modest mess.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ 

“Jake’s such a lovely boy,” Your mother said as she sipped her morning coffee, eyes fixated on the news program on her television set. 

“He’s 35, mama, he’s hardly a boy now.”

“Fine, Jake’s a lovely man, he’s still just as sweet as I remember him being when he was young. He comes back to visit whenever he gets a leave and stays for a few days, and he always stops by to say hello - he even asks about you sometimes.”

“He asks about me?”

“He sure does, he asked Julie about you the other day, in fact. He was asking if you’d be home this time at Christmas. Seems you two always come back to visit on opposite schedules and never run into each other. He was saying he’d like to see you again, Jenna.”

Your mother’s words hung in the air for a moment. You took a sip from your coffee mug and furrowed your brow as you thought it over. You dismissed your mother’s words as nothing more than an attempt to set you and Jake up on a date, one that you figured Jake wasn’t going to be a willing participant of. 

“Oh Mama, hush, he probably just said that to be polite because he figured I’d be coming home for the holidays anyway.”

“Jenna, why are you always so stubborn?” Your mother frowned, shaking her head as she let out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not stubborn, I’m just…practical. I’m the only one who seems to realize the fact that Jake and I haven’t seen each other in 17 years, Mama. We’re not the same people we were when we were 18. He could be a serial womanizer with a series of broken hearts left behind waiting for him in California for all I know. He could have 17 kids by different women, or be a serial killer, Mama. I literally know nothing about him anymore.”

“Jenna Elizabeth Taylor, you’re just being ridiculous now,” Your mother frowned as she shook her head, sighing, “I think Julie would have mentioned it if Jake was a father, and do you really think he’s the type to go around breaking hearts for fun? Besides, how could he be a serial killer if he’s busy flying around on missions all the time?”

“You’re missing my point, Ma.”

“No, Jenna, I think you’re missing mine,” She sighed, setting her mug down on the table as she pursed her lips, “My point is, I know you’ve been holding out for him for years. He’s asked his mama about you, he’s been asking if you were coming home, he stops in to see me whenever he comes home - do you really think he’d do all that if he didn’t still feel something for you?”

“Mama, I’m not going to make a fool of myself and throw myself at him, contrary to what you think would work.”

You heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, and when you turned on your heel, you stood face to face with Jake, now sporting a fitted pair of acid-washed light denim jeans and a burnt orange Texas Longhorns football jersey and a brown corduroy bomber jacket shrugged on over top. His blonde hair peaked out from behind his beloved baseball cap, you’d swear it was the same one he’d been wearing since he was 15 if you didn’t know any better, this hat looked like it had been through hell and back.

He’d let himself in through the unlocked front door, almost certainly at your mother’s previous insistence or invitation. His cheeks were blushing again, his green eyes darting between the two of you, a blonde eyebrow cocked upwards as his gaze landed on you.

“Throw yourself at who?” He chuckled, flashing a set of perfect white teeth your way as gave you that same grin that he always did when you were kids. It was the kind of smile that always got him out of trouble, and sometimes, into trouble, depending on the situation. 

“No one,” You said quickly, shooting your mother a warning glance as you shook your head, a few strands of light brown hair falling free from your half-assed ponytail that you’d thrown it up into the night before for bed. You realized that Jake was now standing in your mother’s living room while you were sporting an oversized old Texas Longhorns tee and a pair of sweatpants - not ideal attire for seeing a man you were attracted to in, regardless of your protests about your feelings to your mother. 

“Right,” Jake nodded his head, but the tone in his voice told you he didn’t quite believe a word you were saying, “I know this isn’t a great time, but Ma wanted me to check and see if you and Ms. T were still able to make it tonight, she wanted me to ask in person, and she wanted me to see if you needed my help bringing anything over, she said you were bringing your famous taco dip, Ms. T? I can bring the dish over now for you if you’d like, Ma’s cleared out the fridge of anything that isn’t a necessity for the party so there’s tons of room.”

“Sure, Jake, honey, it’s in the fridge, Jenna can show you where, I just have to run upstairs and grab something to send to your mama’s with you,” Your mother said as she stood up, heading off up the stairs quicker than you could say a word, leaving you and Jake alone in an awkward stance, nothing but the sound of the morning news to fill the silent void between you, until Jake cleared his throat again before pointing his index finger towards the kitchen.

“In here? I’m sure I can find it if you need to go upstairs and get changed.” 

“I’m fine, not like you haven’t seen me in pajamas before, Jake.”

“Well, in my defense, last time we were like, 12.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen a woman in an oversized tee and sweatpants before,” You shrugged nonchalantly, pretending to be completely unbothered by the fact you felt like you were dressed like an absolute slob right now. 

“Alright, lead the way then,” Jake nodded as he followed behind you. 

You felt his eyes make their way down your body, and you swore you could hear him muttering something under his breath as he sauntered into the kitchen after you. You couldn’t make out what he had said, but it sounded almost like a “Jesus Christ” before he coughed and averted his gaze as you turned to face him. You opened the fridge and grabbed the dish containing your mom’s taco dip before setting it on the counter for Jake to take home. You raised an eyebrow at Jake as you caught him staring in your direction, a look of bewilderment on his face. 

“You good, Hangman?”

“Hmm?” Jake said as he shook his head, an awkward laugh escaping his lips as he raised an eyebrow at you, “How did you know my callsign?”

“Because it’s on the back of your jersey, genius.”

Jake raised an eyebrow as he looked down, as if he’d forgotten what shirt he was wearing today. He nodded his head and laughed as he ran a hand through the back of his hair, scratching the back of his neck as he looked back up at you. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Just, uh, jet-lagged, I think.”

“Jet-lagged? Isn’t only two hours behind us in San Diego?”

“You can still feel jet-lag with a two hour difference, Jenna.”

“I’m not stupid, Jake, I know that, but you seem…distracted? Not tired.”

“I’m fine, honest,” He nodded as he shoved his hands into his front pockets, looking around the kitchen as you checked the fridge for the extra shredded cheese and green onions your mother had prepared the night before to top the dip she’d made. 

“Suit yourself, Jake,” You laughed as you set everything out on the counter for him and nodded, “If you give me five minutes to get dressed, I’ll help you bring it over.”

“Five minutes? God, I remember you taking 30 minutes to get ready when we were kids.”

“I was 12, it was 2000, I needed more time to perfect my lip gloss routine. Now I just have to put something warmer and nicer on than a t-shirt and sweatpants.”

“Fair enough, I can wait here. Your mama said she’d back down in a minute with something for Ma anyways.”

“Right, I’ll be back down in five.” 

You turned around and headed back up the stairs, sighing softly to yourself as you entered your childhood bedroom, opening your suitcase as you grabbed out a pair of jeans and a vintage crewneck sweatshirt. You tidied your hair up into a neat ponytail before heading back down the stairs to meet Jake, who was currently talking to your mother in the kitchen, his body leaning against the counter as he spoke. Jake looked up at you, straightening his posture as he saw you. He picked the taco dip up from the counter, along with the reusable shopping bag your mother had packed up of the extra ingredients. Sitting on the counter next to the food was a gift, perfectly wrapped with a gold bow and a tag written out in your mother’s sleek handwriting. Jake’s mother and yours had always exchanged gifts with one another, and it warmed your heart in a sense to see the tradition still carrying on for them. 

“So, you enjoy living in Chicago?” Jake asked, watching you as the two of you headed back from your childhood home, Jake having insisted on walking you back so you could spend some time catching up, even if just for a few minutes. .

“Yeah, it’s a change of scenery. It’s different from Austin for sure. How’s San Diego treating you?”

“It’s pretty good, I like being on the beach. I do miss home sometimes though,” He laughed softly, giving his shoulders a gentle shrug as he looked around at the street you grew up on, just a couple of blocks away from his own childhood home.

“I mean, yeah, I miss my mom sometimes when I’m in Chicago, but, I know it’s easier for me to come home and see her than for you to come home and see your family.”

“Jenna? Can I ask you something?”

“Mhmm?”

“Do you…do you regret leaving for Chicago?”

“No, I wouldn’t be where I’m at now if I hadn’t left. I have a really good career in public relations, and I’m happy with where I’m at professionally. I wouldn’t have gotten that if I stayed in Austin, just like you wouldn’t have gotten as far in the Navy if you hadn’t gone to Annapolis.”

Jake stayed silent for a minute, his eyes looking everywhere but at you, avoiding your gaze. You could sense tension between the two of you. The Jake you knew growing up was never awkward, and never stopped talking - had he really changed that much since he’d left? You couldn’t see the Navy taming him to the point where he became reserved, Jake had always been so outgoing, so full of self-pride that it often came off as cocksure arrogance, but most of the time, it was out of sheer disbelief that he’d made it that far. You looked to him, his hands firmly in his pockets as he let out a huff, his breath turning to vapor in the cool December air. 

“I should really get going,” Jake nodded slowly, checking his watch as he looked back towards the street, “I promised Ma I’d help her set up.”

“Right, right, I’ll see you in a couple hours? Mama and I’ll be there.”

“Perfect, I’ll see you then,” Jake nodded, a warm smile on his features as he turned to start heading back.

You let out a heavy sigh, mentally kicking yourself as you realized you’d just let another opportunity to tell Jake how you felt slip away from you. As you headed up to your bedroom to get ready, moving quickly to dodge any questions from your mother, who was probably desperate to hear how your alone time with Jake had gone. 

You shut the door behind you, sighing again as you sat at your old vanity table, brushing through your hair and sectioning it with a claw clip as you began straightening it, trying your best to calm your nerves and make a decision on how you were going to approach Jake. You wanted to tell him, desperately, how you felt, but, part of you couldn’t help but cling to the fact you might regret it. That you might be disappointed and find out that Jake never felt the same about you, and that he never would. Or that he’d be in a relationship with someone else back in San Diego, someone prettier, younger, smarter, better. 

On the other hand, did you really want to commit yourself to never telling him how you felt? Letting the door shut on the one man you’d loved the longest, the most, and the hardest in your lifetime? Could you really be happy with anyone else? What if something happened to Jake while he was serving and you never got the chance to share how you felt? What if, somehow, there was the off chance he felt the same way about you?

As you finished your makeup, taking a deep breath as you looked yourself over in the mirror, you nodded your head. You had to tell him. There was no way you could let him go back to San Diego without knowing. You couldn’t let this go unsaid any longer, if for no other reason than to give yourself closure. If he rejected you, you could move on - or at least, try to. You could finally let go of your feelings and meet someone, and try your hardest to love them with the same enthusiastic, all-consuming love you felt for Jake. If he felt the same way, you’d apply for a job transfer to Los Angeles as soon as possible, because a three-hour drive was much more manageable of a commute to see him than a flight from Chicago to San Diego. 

This was it, you were going to finally do it. You just needed to get Jake alone.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ 

“Oh, Jenna! It’s been so long, how are you?” 

Bethany’s voice was sweet as honey as she spoke, wrapping her arms around you in a warm embrace, as if she’d been missing you for years and the sight of you reminded her of just how much.

“I’m great thanks, Beth, how are you? Your mama said you have two boys now? Easton and Dylan?” 

“Yeah, they’re 6 and 4, they’re little handfuls like their uncles, but I guess that’s to be expected when you’ve got Jake and Matt as influences for you. My husband’s not much better.” 

Bethany laughed as she gestured towards Jake playing with Easton? Or was it Dylan? Jake’s unmistakeable toothy grin plastered on his face, his green eyes alight with joy as he lifted his young nephew up, tickling him, the young boy’s laughter filling the air as Jake continued to make him laugh. Jake looked up to see you with his sister, smiling as he set the boy down on the floor, ruffling his hair with his fingers before making his way over to you. 

“Jenna! Hey, I’m glad you came.”

“Told you I would, didn’t I?” You laughed, shrugging your shoulders as effortlessly as possible as you tried to play it cool, praying no one saw through the front you were putting up.

“Hey, Jenna, can I…can I talk to you for a sec?” Jake asked sheepishly.

You couldn’t mistake the look on Bethany’s face, biting her lip to hold back a grin. You caught Jake giving her a stare that could make any person stop dead in their tracks, his green eyes practically piercing through his older sister as she tried not to laugh. As you nodded your head, raising your eyebrow at the scene unfolding before you. You followed behind Jake as he led you upstairs to his old childhood bedroom. When he opened the door, you were confronted with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. Old pictures adorned the wall, some including you and Jake as children, with ice cream covered smiles and skinned knees, baseball uniforms and halloween costumes, missing teeth and messy curls. 

“Ma hasn’t changed anything since I left home, I don’t even think she’s bought new bedding for this room.” He chuckled as he looked around the room, his large hands placed firmly on his hips as he stood in the doorway. 

“Still sleeping with those baseball player sheets you had as a kid?” You teased, eyeing the comforter on the bed, neatly made and pulled together, a sign of Jake’s time in the navy.

“You know it, I’m still a big kid, really,” He laughed, nodding his head as he pointed to a picture on the wall before looking over at you, “Remember this one? Your 7th birthday party, I think I snuck an extra little bit of frosting off your birthday cake and my mama almost killed me. She told me I had the table manners of a barn animal.” 

“You did, you used to chew with your mouth full too.”

“I grew out of it at least. I’m a little more civilized now.” Jake replied with a smirk, shrugging his shoulders as he turned to face you, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath before exhaling sharply. You could see Jake chewing at the inside of his cheek, nodding his head as his eyes met yours.

“I have to tell you something, ok?” He finally said, sighing heavily.

“I’m listening, Jake.”

“I should have told you this a long time ago, but…I love you.”

You sputtered for a moment, eyes wide in shock as he spoke. He frowned, clearly expecting a better reaction than what you’d given him. Jake shook his head and took your hand in his, stroking the back of your hand gently with his fingers, which were almost surprisingly soft and smooth to the touch.

“I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t care if you just wanna be friends after hearing this, because even though the truth is, I'm scared to be your friend, I would rather have you in my life as a friend than not have you in my life at all. The last 17 years have been spent missing you and wishing I’d said something before I left. That I’d kissed you or held you, or said something, anything to you.” He frowned, nodding his head as he looked to the ground before continuing to speak, his voice beginning to tremble with emotion.

“I was stupid to just go and leave things there, but I’ve been paying for it ever since. No other woman has ever compared to you.”

Without another word, you gripped the front of Jake’s football jersey, using it to give you leverage to pull him in closer, your lips crashing into his just as he looked up at you to see what you were doing. Any initial hesitation either of you felt melted away into the kiss, your lips moving together passionately, Jake’s hands trailing their way down your sides to rest on your hips, pulling your body in closer to his. When he finally pulled away to catch his breath, he maintained a small distance between the two of you, speaking in a low whisper as he watched you bite your now puffy, kiss-bitten bottom lip.

“Is that your way of telling me you feel the same way? Because if you do, I want to take you on a date. And I don't care if it's in the day, or at night, or whenever, as long as it's a real date. And I wanna sit there and tell you how beautiful I think you are, Inside and out. How you’ve always been the most beautiful girl in the world to me, without a doubt. And I wanna have babies with you, and I wanna marry you, and I wanna tell you every day that I love you and I always have." Jake nodded, his cheeks blushing as he scratched the back of his neck again, waiting for your response to his rambling feelings.

“Jake, I’ve spent the last 17 years of my life waiting to hear you say that.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Jenna. I’m so sorry I made you wait.”

“Promise me something, Jake?”

“Anything you want, pretty girl.”

“Promise me you won’t make me wait that long again? I’m not sure I can wait another 17 years for you to ask me to marry you.” 

“Jenna, I swear to you, I’m not making you wait for anything ever again. I’d marry you tomorrow if I didn’t think my mama would have me committed for running off to get married three days after our reunion.”

“You’d marry me tomorrow?”

“With bells on, babe. With bells on. I’d marry you right here, right now, in my beat up Longhorns jersey, and drive off into the sunset with you in my truck if you wanted.”

“I don’t know about that, Captain Seresin,” You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him as you felt his hands caress your sides, “As tempting as that sounds, we do have 17 years of lost time to make up for.”

“And I intend to make up for every single second of that with you, Jenna. Here, Chicago, San Diego, I don’t care. I just want you. All of you, completely and totally.”

[luvtak]

here, there, and everywhere ✦ lee felix

✦ pairing felix x gn!reader

✦ genre/tw angst, fluff, hurt-comfort, jealousy, a little bit of tears lol, two people so in love it's disgusting and perfect, pet names galore, kissing, obnoxious attempts at being poetic, being in love is complicated and sad and also simple and wonderful!

✦ w/c 1234

✦ a/n ginger write something other than hurt-comfort challenge failed. i wrote half of this with no motivation three weeks ago and the rest in an hour, i hope you like it LMAO! reader and felix were written as the same couple from baby i'm yours, but you don't need to have read it to understand this at all!! as always named after one of my favorite songs, its so easy to write for felix, he really is a love song come to life<33

masterlist

Sometimes you wonder if Felix know’s how precious he is; sweet and soft-hearted; void of any ill intent or toxicity, a boy oozing love. 

He’s a wonderful son, a charming brother, and an even better friend–syrupy sweet and unbelievably likable to anyone who comes into contact with him, and most of the time that's a blessing, but it can also be a curse. 

Of course he’s stunning and lovely, and rationally you know you shouldn’t be upset. That girl at the restaurant meant nothing by looking at him, meant nothing by smiling and definitely was not hitting on him when she asked if you were his partner. At least that’s what he says, vehemently denying and believing that this stranger had no ill-intent, but you know better. From the minute she blinked her pretty eyes at him, you knew she was flirting, and nothing could convince you otherwise. Not your boyfriend's warmth pressing into yours or the moonlit smiles he sent your way, nothing. 

You can tell it’s making him sad, this quiet, jealous version of you. You wish you could stop it just to ease his concern, but the green poison is sitting deep in your belly, and you’re positive if you open your mouth nothing good will come from it. 

He’s so lovely and you hate that other people can tell. Your love has always been so private, so deep and true it could only be described as intimate. Sometimes, you forget that he exists outside of his place next to you, forget that other people can see him and fawn over his heaven made features. 

“I love you, you know.” His voice is shaky, nerves surrounding his every move. You hate to hurt him; hate second guessing every word he says and every glance he’s given to pretty waitresses, but sometimes quiet love is harsh. Sometimes the intimacy of love behind closed doors creates gaps for someone to pass through, and on nights where your trust ebbs, you really wish your love was loud. 

You wish you could show it to others, tell anyone who could be listening how much you loved him, but you can’t. Maybe at first it was his job, but slowly, over time you had to learn that loving Felix had to be tender–his heart had to be held like a flower, too tight and you’ll crush the petals. It’s why it feels so wrong to be jealous, he would never do anything to hurt you; physically and emotionally, he would keep you safe. 

When you arrived home, sulky and pouting and praying to any god who would listen to you, please, please take these thoughts away, Felix looked at you and knew it was time to intervene. Pressing you close to his heart and rubbing slow circles on your back. 

“I know, I love you too.” 

“No, I mean it, baby. I love you.” He enunciates the words, emphasizing his point with three kisses on your brow. You relish in his affection, it comes so easy to him… for Felix love is simple, it’s blowing out candles and mornings spent sharing heat, buying warm gloves and letting you hog the covers. Felix was made to love, grew up cherished and treasured and now he treats his people the same. 

Mostly, he was made to love you as quietly or as loudly as you wanted him too–he could be your sun, scorching and bright and all encompassing, or he could be your moon: big and beautiful and comforting.

You know he loves you, and hearing him say it doesn’t release the green monster from your belly, but it does remind you how lucky you are that this star boy chose you. 

Your shaky arms tighten around his torso and the fast beat of his heart releases the tears waiting at your waterline. Something about his honest truth breaking and mending your heart all at once. 

“I’m sorry, Lixie, I wish I could love you as good as you love me… you’re everything, maybe if you were less I could talk about it more, but it’s true I love you so much.” The tears are fast now, racing down your cheeks like raindrops on a window, and you think he’s crying too. All ten of his fingers are clutching at you, holding onto you for dear life and you don’t think he’ll ever let go… god please don’t let him ever let go. 

“I’m not going anywhere, my love, I promised a forever didn’t I?” you could never forget the memory, his pinky wrapped around yours and crossing his heart that he’d stay. He’s an earnest boy, as honest as they make them, and he’s never broken a pinky swear.

In many ways it makes you sad that one pretty girl made you feel like this, you can be insecure and unsure of many things, but never of him. It wasn’t the flirting or her twinkly eyes, it was her confidence in appreciating him: outloud and undeniable. Even after loving him so deeply for so long, you’ve found it difficult to scream it from the rooftops. Instead, you pack his lunch and make sure his hot cocoa won’t burn his tongue, you kiss him three times for luck, and you're always the first to praise him. No, you could never yell it out, but you’ve wished for him everyday and if he thinks it’s enough then it is. 

“Don’t worry about random girls, honey, my love isn’t fragile.” He says it with a fluorescent smile, so beautiful and so him that little by little it calms the wasps in your brain.

“I’m sorry, I was being silly. You’re just too pretty, I’m sick of other people being able to see you.” Through his tears, the star studded boy laughs–a big, body shaking laugh that takes you with it. Giggles through kisses and teeth clashing, too tight hugs that steal all the air out of your lungs and passing it back to him. 

This is love, quiet or loud, this is it–sharing breath and smiles and knowing he’s yours. 

You used to think people couldn’t belong to each other, but Felix’s heart is tied right to yours–chambers interlaced and arteries working together to keep you alive. Every bit of you is caged up with him, locked in tight together; dead-bolted and keys thrown away. You care for him quietly, but everything about your heart is loud–beating for him, faster and faster each day you share together. 

Releasing you from his hold and looking right into your heart-shaped eyes, he tells you not to be sorry; you’re too pretty to be sorry, baby and you know he’s making it better–Another kiss cure to mend the broken day. Soft smooches pressed all over your laughing face and down the side of your neck, a million ways to say thank you. 

When he releases you, he’ll be as bright as the sun–he’ll nurse your heart back to health and tuck you in tight under the covers. Humming sweet songs and hoping you have sweet dreams, three kisses goodnight for each year you’ve spent together. 

Tomorrow, he’ll tease and joke and love you endlessly, his devotion is as blaring as yours is hushed; changing your life with a wave of his hand and reminding you everyday that to love is to make magic–wishing on every constellation atop his nose that forever comes quick.

© luvtak

[cy-cyborg]

So Australia brought in a new law stating that autistic people now have to get medical clearance to drive. Even if you were late diagnosed and had your licence for decades, most states are still saying you need to get medical clearance. Queensland is the worst, with several thousand dollar fines if you don't. Other states aren't penalising people directly (or not as sevearly), but I believe if you don't disclose it, it can impact your insurance and cause issues if you're involved in an accident (even if you weren't at fault).

I'm using vague language here because the thing is, this whole thing is very vague and confusing. No one seems to know anything, even the government agencies who are supposed to be enforcing it.

So as a physically disabled Autistic person who already has to get medical clearance to drive anyway, I just want to let anyone new to this whole system know to be VERY careful where you get your information from and make sure to double check everything, even when its coming from usually reliable sources.

Unless you are talking to someone who's job it is to specifically deal with disabled drivers, most of the system has no clue. This includes cops, this includes your state's government service centre (e.g. services NSW, services QLD etc) and all the places you usually look for personal transport-related beurocrocy and laws. Even talking to your state gov's transport department directly (e.g. transport NSW) isn't garuenteed. It's not a bad place to start, but with how messy this whole thing is, please double-check what you're being told.

My assessments deemed I needed a specific type of hand control to drive safely. This is a very common modification that has been around for decades and has been regulated under Australian law for nearly as long. Yet every time I get pulled over the cops get really freaked out about it because they don't know what the laws are surrounding them. that's usually why they pull me over, because the part of the hand control that is visible from outside the vehicle looks kind of similar to an illegal racing mod, and then once they determine its not the same thing they always want to check everything I do have is legal, despite not even knowing what theyre looking at. Every time I need to get my licence details updated, every time I need to do anything at services NSW, they always get really confused because no one knows what they're supposed to do or what you need to do if youre not a "normal" driver.

That won't stop abled and neurotypical people from CONFIDENTLY insisting the do know though, and giving you the wrong information.

And this is with laws that have been in place for decades.

My point is this whole thing sucks at the best of times, but the way they brought these laws in is going to cause a shitshow in the system that was already struggling to deal with even the more "well understood" disabilties. That, combined with the general misinformation already circulating about autism... just be careful of the information you're being told, double check everything, etc etc.

[fairuzfan]

Almost done with witches by Brenda Lozano. Good book, I enjoyed it. Next up is "never whistle at night" and then "brothers Karamazov". I should probably formally finish "go tell it on the mountains" i do this thing where I read different parts of books randomly and I technically read the book already but my official stopping place was halfway through. Did that with witches. But I read the end and then parts of the middle at random times and the first half completely. I feel like i gotta sit down and finish it all at once to observe the linear storytelling rather than the way I usually read.... so I'll add that to my list. I'll read go tell it on the mountains and never whistle at night at the same time because I get bored easily if i only read one thing at a time and i think i need a break from "trinity of fundamentals". I also need to read "the queue" by basma abdel aziz and "hijab butch blues" but those are on my phone and not physical and i don't like reading digitally. i do that with posts often, i scan parts of the middle and dont read the beginning and i sometimes reblog things that i shouldnt so i go back to delete them when i realize. Idk i just dont like reading things digitally i prefer it in my hands. Also need to read "if beale street could talk" as well. And "salt houses".

I keep trying to finish "supplication" by Nour abi-nakhoul but for some reason I stop partway through everytime. It's interesting but idk what makes me stop.

Oh and I gotta read "the white book" by han kang because I told my friend I would tell her what I thought about it. I'll get that when the library notifies me.

And of course I'm slowly paging my way through the "trinity of fundamentals".... can't say i enjoy it but it's another important book.

Gotta find time read George Jackson "blood in my eye" and the palestine history books i have but I'm just not in the mood to read them right now. I really want to read them soon tho. Been reading palestine research papers for school so I think my brain is craving fiction lately.

I'm gonna turn on asks so send me your book recs for fiction especially magical realismmmm and things with poetic prose. Bonus if it has an audio book version I can get from the library since my job is. Really boring lol.

[idjits-areus]

I absolutely *love* the parallels between Dean and Cas' "I need you" and Sam and Gabriel's "I need you."

Dean and Castiel's:

Cas is being controlled by Heaven, well Naomi, and he's physically hurting Dean to get the angel tablet. At this point Dean's on his knees and begging Cas, trying to reason with him.

"Cas. Cas. I know you're in there. I know you can hear me. Cas...It's me. We're family. We need you. I need you."

The simple "I need you" is what pulled Cas out and allowed him to regain control.

The simple "I need you" that was originally scripted as "I love you."

Like, even though the words changed, we can still see it and feel it. Subtle subtext or not. Nothing's subtle about supernatural. They knew what they were doing even when they claim that they didn't.

Sam and Gabriel's:

After Ketch brings Gabriel out of Asmodesus' hands and back into the Winchester's, Gabriel doesn't talk, move, do pretty much anything. He's just kinda stuck in his own head. And you know Sam has to go and give Gabriel one of his famous little pep talks to try and get him back.

"Gabriel, you have to dig yourself out of this hole. Look, I know you think it's safer inside....And this is my life. No matter how many times I tried to fight it, this is what I was put here to do. This is where I make the world a better place. And sure, yeah, hookers in Monte Carlo sounds great, but your family needs you. Jack, your nephew, needs you. The world needs you. We need you. Gabriel, I need you."

The same "I need you" doing the same exact job here. Except for the fact that instead of Gabriel pulling a Cas, he just corrects Sam's words from hookers to porn stars. In my opinion, that's Gabriel's way of trying to hide the fact that he cares just as much as Sam does. Behind the comedy and the jokes he uses as defense mechanisms.

I know just reading words doesn't do any justice, but if you've seen the episode you know what I'm talking about when I say that Sam said it with feelings. And more than just sympathy and 'we need him to help stop Michael' feelings. Ever since Tall Tales, Sam has had *something* for this archangel. It's a shame that the writers never really explored that plot much.

It's-the parallels between the two "I need you"'s is what gets me. Like, they could've just left it with Sam and Gabriel. They could've just left it at "we need you" and everything would've been fine. No need for the "I need you." But no. Because they added it, they made Sam personally care. They made it just as emotionally charged as Dean and Cas' scene. They didn't have to do that. The only explanation I have is the writers knew what the hell they were doing. Once again, nothing is as subtle as you think on this show.

[ewingstan]

Hm, I think I mostly enjoyed Breakthrough's debate with Gary. As a look at the the different perspectives one could hold on power and capedom, it doesn't work at all; the reader isn't gonna seriously consider Gary's argument's when he's been positioned as a Teacher shill who'll go after a nine-year-old. But then, its not really being framed as an actual clash of ideas so much as a battle for narrative control.

And that's something I enjoy reading more than Ward's physical battles. The attempts at crowdwork, the politics and pageantry of capedom, is something I kind of wish had been a larger focus rather than the extended battle scenes. There's a lot of questions (what attempts at new modes of organization and protection have people advocated for in the wake of gold morning? how has the proliferation of groups that get hired out to "heroes" and "villains" alike affected perception of those categories?) that I wish got explored by the text more. I do wish they got explored in ways outside of an anti-parahuman movement created by a shadowy conspiracy, but hey, better than nothing.

Usually, at least. Exploring those questions gets worse when the character's attempts at narrative control intersect with wildbow trying to advocate for his own murky ideas of justice. Hence why I'm theoretically interested in how Breakthrough sells the public on Rain getting to be considered a hero, but am offput when the answer is "one girl at his trial recognizes that he's repentant and bravely forgives him, to the jeers of a crowd, because the reader is supposed to agree that Rain's willingness to be punished is both laudable and necessary." This section has enough of Victoria going "okay we gotta sell this specific point even if I don't believe it" that I don't really have the same sense that wildbow is actually making any prescriptive claims.

That falters a bit when Ashley disconnects her arms and Gary immediately loses rhetorical footing.

Ashley didn't really respond in a way that I see Gary's audience being swayed by. It challenges the "I'm specifically a monster" point but not his actual "we need to do something about Parahumans being in charge" point. He could and should be switching tacts to talking about Rune being with the heroes, or asking why they sought her as a candidate in the first place, or asking what it means that parahumans can so easily be made into a weapon even against their will. Breakthrough's argument is maybe effective in terms of having the reader reject Gary's claim, but that's because the reader has been following Ashley and knows how significant it is that she's rejecting having been a real member of the nine. As dramatic as the moment is, it doesn't really make sense for Gary to lose his momentum, and it feels like he only does to sell how powerful and important a moment it was for Ashley. Maybe its for the best, he's gotta falter somewhere for the argument to stop circling the drain, but I feel like I would've been more onboard if Breakthrough got the win through something more directly related to the narrative they're spinning.

Still, there were a number of good character beats. Ashley being faced with an accusation that she was getting preferential treatment through housing, and responding to it largely as an accusation that she was being kept as an object by the government, was a pretty great way to get across where Ashley's at. And Rain being the one to jump to "its all of us vs the villains," while Victoria privately disagreed and wanted to focus on "its the heroes vs the villains," did a good job of demonstrated Vicky's casual dismissal of non-parahumans. It was much less jarring way of communicating that to the reader than her earlier "we might have to tell them that we don't care about their concerns" comment to Vista, which felt too self-consciously villainous. Her needing to be pushed into treating non-parahumans as part of the in-group was a much more believable way of communicating the same thing to the reader.

[mychlapci]

Since you mentioned k9 prowl- something that always absolutely slaughters me in these kinds of scenarios-

Like we've talked about how badly Prowl picks up on the fact that he doesn't have to be an animal and that he can have his own needs and wants and he can do whatever he wants honestly. He still doesn't get it. Even when he's moved to his caretakers home- he doesn't really know why he's there. It would never occur to him that he would fulfil the role of a servant type bot either. He's not really a pet. Maybe he's a guard? He doesn't understand. The only thing he understands is that he works here. He doesn't quite have the concept of a 'home'.

He only does what he's told. He only goes where he's told to go. No matter how many times his caretaker tells him the place is his as much as it is his caretaker's, Prowl doesn't accept it. There's a part of his processor that doesn't understand.

But obviously Prowl isn't stupid. It's going to reach a point where he is going to understand. There's going to come a point where he trusts this caretaker, as weird as they may be. He would know what the caretaker says is true, and yet he actively rejects what he's told. His caretaker wouldn't lie to him, and yet he simply cannot allow himself to think that this is his home. He doesn't have a home. He doesn't DESERVE a home.

The fact that he's useless and has not had a real job or case to solve for so long still eats at him. This also becomes another active point of contention in his processor. Because his caretaker tells him again and again that he doesn't have to do that. He's not bound to that anymore. He should never have been. And that doesn't make him worth any more or less. But Prowl actively rejects it in his mind.

The mental stress often drives Prowl into states of what he would consider to be needless periods of being unfit for duty. He curls up and whimpers and holds his helm in his hands, the conflicting processes not just draining him mentally but driving his processor to physical pain. His caretaker would always sit by him and gently hold him, sometimes carefully stroking his shaking doorwings. (And honestly cos the more this comes up the more I'm inclined to say his caretaker is OP) If his caretaker is a bigger mech maybe they carry him so he can at least lie on something soft, like on the couch or something.

This is another thing that stresses Prowl out. Laying on furniture. Being held. The gentle servos on his doorwings that no longer hurt. They are all so... comfortable. Things he shouldn't have. Comfort shouldn't matter to him. But he wants it. And wanting is bad. And yet his caretaker says its fine. They say it's okay. They say he SHOULD want things. And it scares him.

Eventually, one day, when he's distressed and in pain, he drags himself over to where his caretaker sits on the sofa. He looks up, afraid, doorwings held low, as he watches his caretaker for any signs of anger or disapproval, before climbing onto the couch and curling up by their side, laying his aching helm on their lap. His processor screams at him when he does.

He's shaking. His processor screams at him that everything he just did was wrong in every possible way. He's ready to be thrown off or hit or-

Then he feels his caretaker's gentle servo on his back. Gentle strokes down his spinal struts have him slowly stop shaking. He's okay. He's not in trouble. The servo moves to carefully smooth over his quivering doorwings until they lay comfortably back down. He's. He's safe.

The caretaker is gonna heckin cry btw cos for Prowl to trust them? To finally do something of his own volition?? To actively seek comfort??

... I have literally been thinking of this exact same scenario for a few days now. it's sooo good. and also, gonna let you in on a secret, i have just been straight up imagining Optimus as his full-time caretaker for a long time now. I think he still works at the rescue, but if there's no huge crack-downs happening, his hours are short and he's mostly at home. It makes him perfect for giving Prowl the attention he needs.

Prowl is smart, he's resourceful, he's intelligent, but he just cannot put himself in the mind of a real mech. i suppose it's best he's eased into it, since he doesn't look like the type who'd take it well if his entire framework of life was shattered instantly in one fell swoop... Besides, the enforcers beat all 'normal' behaviour out of him, bit by bit when Prowl was still young and had desires of his own. That leaves a mark. He doesn't really remember it, being shoved down onto his knees, collared and muzzled, not understanding why. Being told that dogs don't speak, dogs don't walk on two legs. But whether he remembers it or not, it is cemented in his processor.

I imagine Prowl would have travelled between cages a lot, never having a place to call home, not even his cage ever belonged to him. So it's difficult to shake off the feeling of distrust. His caretaker will send him away, he knows that. It's going to happen one day, and he'll be back at the precinct, doing his job... it's a surprisingly comforting thought, one that withers away the longer he has to spend in this house.

aaaa Optimus feels so bad when Prowl starts getting sick in his care. It's not a physical ailment, just the stress of it all... which is almost worse, in a way, because now it feels like he's causing it. The day Prowl comes to him for comfort is like a miracle. He's never done that before. He's never asked or demanded anything nor has he really done anything out of his own volition or without being prompted before. I mean, if this was an ideal recovery, Prowl would have talked to him about it, but small steps count. They absolutely do.

... and, over time, maybe Prowl learns to want again. It's not perfect, he's still nervous and unsure, feeling like he doesn't deserve it since he's not working, but he comes to Optimus more often. If he wants a cube of energon outside of breakfast-lunch-dinner, he'll still ask for permission, but at least he's asking instead of just waiting until what he, in his processor, dubbed feeding time. He'll wander around the house more, and eventually, he'll take up the entire couch as he gets super invested in shitty detective dramas on tv. It's almost starting to feel like Optimus has a roommate instead of a distressed pet, even if things aren't perfect yet... And if this is the best it gets for Prowl? Well, at least he's comfortable.