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stllmnstr · 1 month ago

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sure thing – part one.

pairing: yang jungwon x f reader

genre: coworkers au, underground boxer jungwon

part one word count: 12.9k

warnings: swearing, descriptions/depictions of physical violence, blood and minor injuries, jealousy, a bit of a love triangle I’m SORRY, blonde boxer jungwon because yes I think that does warrant a warning, I had to split this into 2 parts because post block limit got me everyone say BOOOOO TUMBLR!!!!!!

note: this is what happens when you watch the no doubt music video and then also listen to too much chase atlantic. ALSO let me duck before the sacred monsters readers start throwing tomatoes at me I PROMISE I am working on part 4 I just... had this idea and it would not leave me alone. but cheers to another fantastic enhypen release (daydream and no doubt are both on repeat for meeeeee) and to my first jungwon fic. enjoy!

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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.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

The printer is jammed.

It takes a very exaggerated eye roll and an embarrassing amount of self control to refrain from kicking the damn thing. Besides, you’re pretty sure your previous wording was too kind.

Because a more accurate depiction of the situation would be:

The printer is jammed. Again.

You’re not sure which cruel deity is responsible for the creation of Monday afternoons, but you’re sure they’re laughing at you now. Dressed in business casual and praying against all odds that the clock hanging on the office wall will start ticking a little faster, you almost wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. Spare you from your misery

And it’s not like a jammed printer is the end of the world. From a logical, unbiased point of view, you’re sure it’s nothing but a small, easily solvable problem.

But it’s four pm on a Monday afternoon and you’ve had back-to-back meetings since you clocked in at eight this morning. The only real break you had lasted twelve minutes. Most of which were spent dabbing coffee stains from your blouse after Terry from accounting knocked into you in the staff kitchen.

Your head is pounding and your feet are aching and your bladder is overly full and your left bra strap is starting to dig into your shoulder in a way that is entirely too overstimulating.

And you really, really just need this report to print.

After all, your boss made it very clear that you would not be clocking out for the day, no matter what hour of the evening it is, until said document is laid on his desk. Never mind the fact that you weren’t made aware of this demand until a handful of hours ago.

So yeah, the printer jamming – again – does kind of feel like the end of the world.

The screen is still flashing with an angry reminder to fix the paper jam in Tray 2. The instructions are starting to blur a little as you furiously blink away hot tears.

You won’t cry at work. You won’t.

But your exhaustion is catching up with you, and the first thing it usually takes with it is your control over your emotions.

The more you try to will them away, the more insistently they want to escape.

Bent over the printer, you’re in the middle of trying to dislodge a particularly stubborn piece of A4 when the first tear finally does escape. It falls in a thick, wet train down the length of your cheek, settling for a moment at the base of your chin before dripping, a little pathetically, right onto the stack of papers in the printer tray.

Your hands go slack on the sheet you’re warring with.

For a moment, all you can do is sigh. Hang your head and hope some higher power takes pity on you.

Stressed, burnt out, overworked. This was not how you thought you’d be spending your early twenties. But a salary is a salary, and fighting with an inanimate object on the worst day of the week keeps your lights on and your stomach full.

Hunched over, you’re suddenly glad that the printer is kept in a separate room outside of the main office space. That there are no witnesses to your slightly pathetic meltdown.

Save for a few, it’s not like you care all that much about what your coworkers think of you. But the last thing you need to add to this day is a fresh bout of humiliation.

Just one more minute, you tell yourself. One more minute of silence before you pull yourself together and finish dislodging the stupid piece of paper.

It must be at least 4:10 by now, which means you have less than an hour to go. You can do it. You can. You just need one more minute of silen–

“Everything okay?”

The sudden intrusion is so startling that your head jerks up in a subconscious reaction. Only, of course, to be met with the open printer tray you’re currently trying to troubleshoot.

The clunk that echoes through the tiny printer room as your temple comes in direct contact with hard plastic is almost as loud as it is painful.

“Ah,” you wince, hand instinctively flying to the side of your head.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, ____.” You’re not sure if your hesitation comes from embarrassment or the fact that you head is still spinning. Either way, you’re slow to move as you look up at your sudden audience.

Over your shoulder, Yang Jungwon has nothing but apologies written all over his delicate features. Brow pulling into a concerned frown, he’s quick to kneel to your level.

If anyone was going to find you like this, you suppose you’re glad it was him. A recent hire fresh out of university, Jungwon has carved out a quiet kind of reputation for himself in the office.

His presence isn’t commanding, but it is steady. The kind of person that you never see get worked up or angry or even annoyed no matter how many last minute deadlines are assigned or how many printers get jammed when he really needs to use them.

And from what you’ve gathered, he mostly keeps to himself. It’s not from a lack of effort on your coworkers’ behalf. You know firsthand that he’s been invited to multiple post work gatherings and weekend events.

His popularity doesn’t exactly surprise you. Even with his quiet demeanor, he has a striking presence. One that makes you curious, leaves you wanting to know more.

Never mind the fact that he’s absolutely gorgeous.

Still, despite their efforts, you also know that he’s politely declined each and every invitation without ever giving any real explanation.

In all honesty, you’ve always just assumed there was a girlfriend he was eager to run home to.

But even that is nothing more than a mindless assumption. After all, you’ve only had a few interactions with him, and nothing beyond the typical small talk all office workers develop a talent for.

Even now, he makes the simple button down and slacks he’s wearing look like they came right from a runway.

You’re not quite sure why, but it almost makes you want to cry harder.

At the very least, you’re pretty sure you don’t need to worry about rumors of you having a minor meltdown in the printer room spreading through the office. Jungwon might be a hot topic of office gossip, but he’s not one to spread it.

“I am so sorry,” he repeats, “I didn’t mean to startle you.” His words are spilling out a bit too fast, blurring into each other around the edges. “I just saw you in here, and I couldn’t tell if you were okay or not, so I wanted to–”

“Jungwon,” you interrupt. There’s no kind way of telling him that his rambling is only making your headache worse. That it’s only making your tears fall faster. Instead, you abet his misplaced guilt. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

A bit shakily, you muster up your most convincing smile. But your smudged mascara, slightly puffy eyelids, and still visible tear track suggest otherwise.

Jungwon’s brow just pulls together a little further. “Are you sure?” He’s unconvinced. Taking a wary glance at the printer tray, he looks back to you with concern in his eyes. “That sounded like it hurt.”

“Really,” you force another weak smile. “I’m sure.”

“Can I at least take a look at it?” Guilt is still written plain as day across his face.

Assuming he’s referring to the printer, you nod before taking one big scooch to the side. Within the confines of this tiny room, it only puts you closer to him.

And it takes less than a second for you to realize your assumption was wrong. Because Jungwon doesn’t reach for that stupid piece of A4 still jammed inside Tray 2 or even the printer tray that just nearly concussed you.

No, instead, his long fingers trek a steady path towards your hand. The one that still rests against your temple. Gently, he pries it away, replacing it with his own careful touch.

You’re all but immobile as gentle fingers press lightly against the side of your face, adjusting it slightly. His fingers are cool, soothing as he turns your injury towards the overhead light.

Pliant in his hands, it’s all you can do to watch as his brow furrows in concentration, eyes scanning over your skin. Taking the skin of your bottom lip between your teeth, you pray he doesn’t notice the sudden heat in your cheeks.

From this angle, with this proximity, you can practically count his eyelashes. They’re long, you notice. Long and wispy where they frame his dark eyes.

“No broken skin,” he finally asserts. You can feel his breath against your skin. It takes nearly all your concentration to suppress the shiver that threatens to trace your spine. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if it bruises. There’s a bit of swelling, too. Keep an eye on it these next few days, and let me know if it doesn’t go down on its own.”

You’re not exactly sure if Jungwon – quiet, gentle Jungwon – would be the first person you’d go to for first aid advice, but you nod anyway.

And you’re not sure where it comes from, the sudden urge to cry again. But somewhere between the pain in your head and the soft probing of his fingers against your skin, emotions are starting to bubble beneath your stoic facade.

It’s subtle, barely perceivable, but you can feel your bottom lip beginning to quiver.

Much to your unending humiliation, you’re not the only one who notices.

You’re not sure how he does, but he does.

“Hey,” Jungwon tries. His hand is still on your face. His voice is impossibly soft, and it only makes you want to cry harder. You feel like a skittish kitten he’s trying to lure in from a rainstorm.

His lips part as if he’s going to continue. They fall shut again before he can.

Something in his brow softens. Concern is replaced with empathy.

Hand falling back to his side, he suddenly changes the subject. “You’re in the marketing department, right?”

Lips still trembling, you turn your eyes towards the floor before giving him a small nod.

From this angle, the only thing you see are his shoes. Standard leather work shoes, they’re slightly scuffed where they rest against the carpet.

They still look formal, of course. Nothing that would raise any eyebrows in a professional setting. And from far away, you’re sure they appear pristine.

But from this close, you can make out all sorts of rough edges. Little marks and dents and scuffs that serve as evidence of where he’s been.

“Why don’t you head home for the day,” Jungwon suggests gently from above you. “I’ll let your team and your supervisor know that you’re not feeling well.”

You take a deep breath, do your best to make sure your voice is steady before you respond. Shaking your head, you point out, “It’s almost the end of the day anyway–”

“Exactly,” Jungown nods, kind but firm. “There’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Actually,” you grimace, trying not to let the truth inspire another round of tears. “I need the report I was trying to print. I have to turn it in before I leave today.”

There’s a beat of silence. You’re worried that Jungwon will keep offering you too much kindness, so you rush to fill it. “It’s fine, though. I think the paper jam is almost fixed, and I already sent the report to the printer, so I’m sure it will come through in a minute–”

“Perfect,” Jungwon interrupts again. “I’ll take it to your boss, then. Alan, right? I’ve spoken with him before. I’ll also let him know that you went home for the day.”

“Jungwon, you don’t have to–”

“I know.” At the interruption, your eyes snap back to him. There’s an intensity in his eyes when you match his gaze. Something so sincere that it’s hard to look away. Even though you know your eyes are still shiny with tears you wish you’d hidden better. Even if the stress and exhaustion and weariness are probably written plain as day across your features.

“I know,” he repeats. “I want to. Go home and get some rest, okay?”

It’s probably stupid, to agree so easily. But something in his eyes has you believing, even if just for a moment, that everything will be just fine if you do what he suggests. That all of your concerns and worries will work themselves out and you’ll be able to come into the office tomorrow feeling refreshed for once. For the first time in a long time.

So you nod. You let him help you up off the floor and don’t bother hiding your face as you wipe the last of your unshed tears from your eyelashes. It probably only smudges your mascara further, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about that, either.

The printer is still jammed and your report isn’t turned in and you’ll have to walk past your entire team back to your desk to get your things on your way out.

But for this fleeting moment, those worries feel small. Distant. Manageable. Able to be tucked away and saved for later.

You still don’t know much about Jungwon. The only knowledge you have comes from speculation and wishful thinking. But now, more than ever, you really wish you knew something of substance.

But you have no idea how to tell him that. Don’t know if you even should. So instead, you say what you can.

“Thank you, Jungwon.”

For a moment, all he does is smile. It’s small, but it reaches his eyes. Makes them sparkle a little brighter.

His voice, like the rest of him, is gentle when he says, “Sure thing, ___.”

…..

Despite the fact that it accounts for roughly eighty percent of your job, you prefer to avoid your email inbox like the plague.

Most days, by the time you do get around to checking it, it’s already jam packed with unreasonable requests and last-minute changes and passive aggressive friendly reminders from your superiors.

When you sit down at your desk on Tuesday morning, you’re extra reluctant. After the printer fiasco yesterday, you’re feeling particularly sensitive to all of the potential bullshit. And you have the distinct feeling that a rather nasty message about leaving the office early unannounced is surely waiting for you.

But the inevitable can only be delayed so long. With a wince and a final swig of coffee, you muster the courage to give the mail icon on your desktop a double click.

The top of your inbox is filled with the usual nonsense. A request for a meeting tomorrow morning on a project idea you’ve had finalized for months. An RSVP form for the optional, but highly encouraged, upcoming staff party. A reminder from your boss that final quarterly reports need to be submitted by Friday at the latest.

A few lines down, though, something out of the ordinary catches your eye. Checking the time stamp, you see that it was sent right as the day started.

From: [email protected]

Subject: Printer Issue Follow-Up

Contemplating for a moment, you frown. The first floor of Vesselsoft is no stranger to printer jams. They’re typical occurrences, not major problems to be resolved via email. You didn’t think there was a printer issue to follow up on.

But it’s far more intriguing than anything else on your work account. So, ignoring all of the other messages, you open the email from Jungwon.

Good morning ____,

I hope you’re doing well. I wanted to let you know that the workroom printer jam has been fixed, and your report was delivered safe and sound yesterday evening. I also wanted to check in and see how your head is feeling.

Best,

Jungwon

You reread it. Once. Twice.

It’s a simple message, all things considered. But it has you searching for subtext where there likely isn’t any. If anything, this serves as a confirmation of what you already knew about Jungwon.

He’s kind. Considerate. The type of person that would help you fix a jammed printer and check in on you the next morning. Right when he clocks in.

The type that could probably tell that your head was the least of your concerns yesterday, but still chooses to ask how you’re doing without drawing excess attention to it.

For a moment, you almost wish he would make a habit of attending after hours work events. You have the distinct feeling that sucking up to your superiors would be a little less awful if someone like him was around to do it with you.

From: You

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Printer Issue Follow-Up

Good morning Jungwon,

Thank you for resolving that printer issue! And thank you for checking in. My head is feeling much better today.

Thanks again,

____

After a final once over, you press the send button, watching as the animation shows the message flying out from your inbox.

You imagine it flying into his. It’s subconscious, the way you start to picture what his face will look like when he sees it.

You know he’s in the programming department, which is on the same floor as your office. Honestly, you’re a bit surprised you haven't seen him around more.

Will he smile, you wonder. Will he have that same, gentle fondness in his eyes he seems to carry with him everywhere?

You don’t get an answer to that particular question, but you do learn that Jungwon is an incredibly prompt communicator.

It’s barely been ten minutes before your inbox is chiming again.

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Printer Issue Follow-Up

Sure thing, ___. Glad to hear it.

Jungwon

You can’t hide the small smile that threatens to turn the corners of your lips upward. It’s not like he’s done anything particularly groundbreaking. But even bits of kindness have become a bit of a rarity for you these days.

You can’t think of anyone else in the office that would insist on sending you home thirty minutes early and offer to finish up your work for you. You can’t think of anyone else who would have navigated yesterday’s fiasco with as much gentle care as he did.

You can’t remember the last time someone bothered to consider you. To lighten your load when they noticed you starting to sink under the weight of it.

So you’re smiling. Despite the fact that it’s still a Tuesday morning and you have a long week ahead of you. Despite the fact that you’re still very much locked into a job you mostly despise.

Mentally, you make a note to give some gesture of your gratitude. To do something that will brighten his day a bit, too.

But you don’t know him. Don’t know how he takes his coffee or if he has a favorite brand of ballpoint pen or if he could use an extra favor from someone in the marketing department. All the sorts of things that coworkers do to show a little bit of appreciation.

But the universe, at least in part, seems to be on your side today.

When you head into the staff kitchen for your mid-morning coffee refill, you find it already occupied.

It’s a bit ridiculous, the way you suddenly feel flustered. Have the urge to smooth your hair, fix your blouse.

He has his back turned to you, and it takes you nearly half a minute of contemplation to decide whether or not to say something. In the end, the decision is made for you.

Your phone lights up with an urgent request that you check over the second half of the report you – well, Jungwon – submitted last night.

Sighing, you turn away from the kitchen. Your second cup of coffee, and a conversation with a certain programmer, will just have to wait.

You do, however, notice one last thing before you go. Watching silently, you can’t help but smile a bit as you watch Jungwon add two sugar packets to his mug.

Sweet, you think. Just like him. And now you have at least one bit of information to work with.

After submitting the edits on your report, you decide to use your recently earned knowledge. Deciding that he’s worth the splurge, you open the delivery page of the cafe down the street, the one that’s ridiculously overpriced but undoubtedly makes the best coffee in the area.

And when you order it in his name, a hot coffee with two sugars, you ask the barista to attach a note.

Thank you again for yesterday. I hope this is how you like your coffee!

An hour later, your inbox chimes with another message.

From: [email protected]

Subject: Thank You

You’re too kind, ____. Thank you for the coffee. How did you know just how I like it?

All the best,

Jungwon

If his words make you smile a little too hard, well, you figure no one ever has to know.

The universe, however, would seem to have other plans.

Of everyone in the marketing department, you find your coworker Grace to be the most bearable. A few years older than you, she was by far the most welcoming when you joined the team.

And you have the sneaking suspicion she has just as much disdain for your supervisor as you, even if the two of you have never openly discussed it.

Unfortunately, she does have the fatal flaw of never being able to finish her work day without getting herself involved in someone else’s business. For the most part, you’re spared from her nosiness.

Mostly because your life doesn’t carry the same flair for drama that she loves most. But today, she decides to give it a shot anyway.

Standing behind your office chair, she nearly startles you out of your seat when she asks, “Who’s got you smiling like that?”

Closing the email as quickly as you can, you turn to face her.

“No one.” It’s too rushed, too evasive. She sees right through it.

“Mhmm.”

Heat rising in your cheeks, you double down. “No, really.” Scrambling for a lie, your eyes land on one of your desk photos. One that shows your childhood cat, affectionately named Mr. Snuggles by your elementary school self. “I just heard from the vet that my cat is feeling a lot better. I was worried she was really sick.”

It’s a bold faced lie. Mr. Snuggles has been dead since your third year of high school.

“Ah,” Grace says. Her features fall slightly as she realizes she won’t be getting a worthy scoop from you. Realizing that’s probably not an appropriate reaction, she forces a smile. “That’s great! I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” you nod, hoping it will mark the end of the conversation.

But Grace isn’t quite ready to let it go. “That does remind me, though. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Uh oh.

“You’re not seeing anyone, right?” You’re not sure how a sick cat would remind her of your dating life, but you suppose there are larger mysteries to be solved.

And on second consideration – oh. Is it really that obvious? “No,” the syllable drags as you attempt to tread carefully. “Why?”

Grace shrugs, but the conversation feels more calculated than nonchalant. “I was at my friend’s baby shower a couple of weeks ago, and her younger brother just moved back to the city. He’s been living abroad since high school. He’s around your age and a total catch. I didn’t talk to him much, but he reminded me of you a bit. I think the two of you would get on.”

“Oh,” is all you say. Your uncertainty must be written all over your features, because Grace is quick to continue.

“No pressure, of course. But let me know if you’d like me to pass his number along.”

Do you? It’s been ages since you went on a date. And even longer since you went on a date with someone you’d describe as a total catch.

And apparently, your single-ness is painfully visible to the people around you if Grace was able to pick up on it so easily.

Besides, it might be nice, you think. To have a conversation with someone that isn’t about quarterly reports or upcoming deadlines or jammed printers.

But then your mind wanders to the last conversation you had about a jammed printer. To a set of pretty, dark eyes and a pair of gentle hands.

To a string of email conversations that don’t really mean anything. But you almost wish they did.

It’s messy, you think. Far from ideal. JUngwon might not be in your department, but he still works just down the hall. Inter company relationships aren’t forbidden, but they do carry a certain amount of risk.

Jungwon isn’t petty. He wouldn’t make your life a living hell if things were to end badly. But you might start feeling awkward in the staff kitchen and you might have to start timing your walks to the parking lot so that they don’t coincide with his.

Small adjustments. Minor inconveniences more than anything.

Besides, it’s all conjecture.

You can count the conversations you’ve had with Jungwon on your fingers, and the majority have been channeled through your work email.

It’s hardly romantic.

But even as you try to see things from a detached, logical perspective, one thought keeps swimming back to you.

You think you could talk about jammed printers forever, as long as it was with him.

Sighing, your heart can’t decide if it wants to sink to your stomach or crawl up your throat at the realization.

Turning back to Grace, you just offer her a tight smile. “I’ll let you know.”

…..

In the coming weeks, your coincidental run-ins with Jungwon start to become more and more frequent.

First, it’s the two of you just so happening to need a coffee refill at the same time. When your path cross in the staff kitchen, you raise an eyebrow at the sugar packets he adds to his mug and he shakes his head as you take a long sip of your plain, bitter drink of choice.

Then, it’s the morning in the parking lot when the two of you just so happen to arrive at the same time, pulling into adjacent parking spots. His smile is gentle, albeit a bit sleepy, when he bids you, “Good morning.”

Your heart flutters a bit when you return the sentiment. You do your best to ignore it.

Next, you stumble across him in the staircase on an otherwise quiet afternoon. This time, however, he’s already deep in another conversation. Or, you realize at second glance, trying very hard to wiggle his way out of another conversation.

For all intents and purposes, Jenna from the legal department is a sweet girl. A bit overbearing at times and doesn’t always take well to being told no, but she’s harmless for the most part. Smart and driven and you admit a little glumly, quite pretty.

Even underneath the overhead fluorescents in the stairway, she manages to avoid looking washed out.

They’re already talking by the time you get there, and the only thing you catch is the tail end of their rather one-sided conversation.

“It’s a great place, really,” Jenna insists, smiling a little too brightly. “And the food is to die for. They’re always running really unique specials. I think you’d really like it.”

And you could just turn around and pretend not to have seen anything. You could just take the elevator instead. In fact, you probably should.

But suddenly, it’s as if your shoes have been filled with lead. Feet frozen to the earth, all you can do is watch.

“Oh,” Jungwon reaches for the back of his neck. “Thanks for thinking of me, Jenna, but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.”

“Oh, really?” she pouts. “Is there another night that would work bett–”

“Jungwon!” Your voice is too loud, reverberating off the walls of the stairway in a way that has two pairs of eyes immediately darting towards you. And interrupting had seemed like a good idea a few seconds ago, but now you realize your fatal mistake.

You have no plan. No idea what to say next.

Still, you force a smile. “Just the person I was looking for.”

You don’t think you’re imagining it, the immediate wash of relief that colors Jungwon’s features.

“Hey, ___,” Jenna waves, a bit dejectedly. She doesn’t exactly look pleased to see you, and you can’t really blame her. “Could you give us a minute? I was just in the middle of–”

“Sorry, Jenna,” you shake your head. “This is kind of urgent.”

“Right,” Jungwon nods, looking at you again. “We’d better go then.”

“But I–”

“See you around, Jenna.” You’re tone is too bright as you spin around, making a beeline back towards the door. A flicker of satisfaction warms in your chest when you realize Jungwon is right on your heels.

He waits until the two of you are back in the empty hallway, closed door serving as a barrier between you and Jenna, before he speaks.

Looking at you, he quirks his head to the side. “So, what’s the urgent thing you need help with?”

Oh. Right.

Sighing, you decide honesty, or at least partial honesty, might be your best bet.

“Sorry,” your smile is sheepish, “did I read that wrong? There’s nothing urgent. I just…” you trail off, searching for the words. “It just looked like you might have needed an exit.”

For a moment, he says nothing. The silence gives your mind too much room to spin

Maybe you did read things wrong. Maybe he was enjoying a perfectly pleasant conversation with perfectly pleasant Jenna. Maybe he was looking forward to going to a nice restaurant with her and trying all sorts of unique specials and–

“Thank you.”

“What?”

Jungwon’s eyes soften. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost describe his expression as… fondness. “An exit,” he clarifies. “I did need one. So thank you.”

“Right.” Your voice is suddenly breathless, and you can’t think of a good excuse for it. Feigning a nonchalance you don’t feel, you wave off his gratitude, “Anytime.”

“Careful,” Jungwon warns, but the same hint of teasing, the same glimmer of affection, is still there. “I just might take you up on that.”

“It’s a good thing I meant it, then.”

Jungwon’s features soften into a smile. A small one, meant just for the two of you. Reaching up, he pushes a stray strand of hair from his eyes.

It’s only natural that you follow the movement. His hands are nice, you think. Long, lithe fingers, and–

You frown, eyes zeroing in on the knuckles of his right hand.

Bruises, you realize. Dark, purple bruises span the length of his knuckles. Angry and mottled and from what you can tell, recent.

And so many. You can’t imagine what he could have possibly done to earn them.

Gaze still trained on the injury, your eyes widen. “Are you okay?”

It’s Jungwon’s turn to be confused. “What?”

“Your hand,” you nod at it. “Are those bruises?”

“Oh.” He shrugs, brushes it off like it’s nothing. But his hand falls to his side, obscured from your sight, all the same. “Yeah, I just slipped the other day trying to hang a picture in my apartment. The frame caught me funny when it fell.”

“You… slipped.”

Your disbelief must be apparent, because Jungwon is quick to add, “My hand slipped, really. My phone started ringing, and it caught me off guard.”

“Ouch,” you grimace. “That sounds like it hurt.”

Again, Jungwon shrugs. But his eyes are doing that thing again. Sparkling. “It’s not so bad.”

“Still,” you insist. “You should be more careful.”

“Yeah,” Jungwon agrees. It’s just the two of you, alone in a dimly lit hallway. His gaze is trained on yours. The distance between you is respectable, appropriate. Suggests that the two of you are coworkers and nothing more. But you have the distinct feeling that he’s not entirely talking about hanging pictures when he says, “I probably should.”

…..

The next morning, Grace is the first person you see as you walk into the office. And she’s already waiting for you. As soon as you come in, she hands you a coffee with an apologetic smile.

“Uh oh.” You hang your coat, accepting the cup from her hands. It’s not unusual to receive coffee from a coworker, but it usually comes as a form of consolation. “What’s this for?”

“It’s from Alan, actually.”

Your lips flatten. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“It’s not that bad, really.” Grace’s smile is less than convincing. “He just wants us all to get together this Friday night after work at that bar down the street. Y’know, to network.”

You groan internally. There go your plans for a relaxing Friday at home.

“How is it networking if it’s just our team? We see each other every day.”

“That’s the other part,” Grace nods towards the cup in your hand. “Didn’t you notice he pulled out all the stops? That’s from the shop down the road. The one that charges eleven dollars for a small latte.”

“Oh god,” you groan, this time audibly. “What else does he want?”

“We’ve all been strongly encouraged to invite people from different teams around the company.”

You suppress a strong urge to roll your eyes. “Of course we have.”

Privately, you think that if Alan wants to network so bad, he should be responsible for creating the guest list himself. Outwardly, you just sigh.

As if you didn’t have enough on your plate already. Now you need to schmooze some other poor employee into wasting their Friday night talking about work.

Sitting down at your desk, you take a sip of your coffee. It is admittedly delicious. The thought only makes you want to bang your head on your keyboard even more.

The problem of finding a plus one follows you all the way through the afternoon. All the way to the workroom, where you once again stumble into a certain blonde programmer that’s beginning to feel like part of your daily routine.

This time, Jungwon is alone.

He’s frowning at the printer, brow furrowed.

“Don’t tell me it’s jammed.”

When he sees that it’s you, his features immediately soften. He smiles and something tugs at your heart. It’s enough to have you forgetting about Friday night, even if just for a moment.

“No, thankfully. My computer just doesn’t seem to want to connect to this printer.”

“Mm,” you hum. “Send it to me, and I’ll try printing from mine.”

Jungwon shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll just go up to the accounting department and try their printer.”

“Jungwon,” you level him with a look. “You are the last person to be telling me I don’t have to do you a favor. It’s really no problem. Just send it over.”

“Okay,” he finally relents.

Waiting for it to ping through on your end, an idea suddenly strikes you. You’re not sure if it’s a good one or if your judgment is starting to be warped by all of the toner cartridge fumes, but here, in a quiet workroom with nothing but Jungwon and a half-working printer to keep you company, you find a bit of your bravery.

“I know this probably isn’t your idea of a perfect evening,” you start. Your words feel too loud in this tiny space. “But the marketing team is getting together after work for drinks this Friday night. We’re also encouraged to branch outside of our department and invite other company employees, so if you’re free, we’d love to have you.” The more you say, the worse it sounds to your own ears. Why would anyone, much less Jungwon, want to come to a work event for the marketing team. Suddenly embarrassed you even brought it up, you find yourself rambling. “The bar is actually pretty nice. It’s not super fancy or anything, but it has, uh, really great chandeliers. It’s a nice ambience, and–”

“___.” Jungwon interrupts with the sound of your name.

“Yeah?” You’re trying not to sound too hopeful, but you have the distinct feeling that you fail miserably. Despite your hesitance, you realize something.

You want him to say yes.

You want him to give you a different response than he gives everyone else. A different response than he gave Jenna.

You want him to say yes, even though no one wants to go to a work event for the marketing team on a Friday night.

You want him to say yes anyway, because it’s you.

“I’d love to, really.” He reaches up, scratching at the back of his neck. “But I’m busy Friday night.”

Short. Succinct. To the point. He doesn’t spare any extra details.

You already knew it was a long shot. But it stings all the same.

You wanted to be the exception to the rule. Someone that would finally get him to say yes. Or at the very least, someone he would bother to give an actual reason for his absence to.

“Oh.” Your voice is smaller than you mean for it to be. “Of course!” And now it’s too loud, too bright. You can’t find the happy medium, can’t find your natural tone. “I’m sure whatever it is will be way more fun, anyway.”

Jungwon just gives you a small smile, not bothering to affirm or refute your assumption. Not deigning to add any more details.

It kind of makes you wish that the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

“Well, I should probably get back to my desk.” You don’t know why you’re scrambling for excuses. Jungwon clearly doesn’t feel the need to provide any. “Did everything print okay?” You nod towards the small stack of papers in his hands.

Jungwon is still looking at you. His lips part, as if he wants to say something. Brow creased, it’s as if he’s at war with himself. As if he can’t decide what to say or how to say it.

After a beat, his mouth falls shut again. He gives a minute shake of his head. You watch as his hair sways in time with the movement.

“Yeah,” he tells you. But he still hasn’t bothered to look down at the document between his fingers. “Everything printed fine.”

“Okay.” You nod again. “Good.” Your voice sounds hollow in your ears. “Well, I’ll see you around, then.”

I’ll see you around?

It takes all of your willpower not to cringe outwardly. It’s the most awkward, stilted thing you could have possibly said, but you’re not sure how else to fill the stifling silence.

“Of course,” Jungwon nods. “Have a good day, ____.” The worst part is that he looks like he genuinely means it. “And enjoy your Friday night.”

“Right.” Your smile is feeble, doesn’t reach your eyes. “You too.”

You’re so caught up in your own humiliation that you don’t notice the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes either. “Sure thing.”

…..

Changing your clothes in the last stall of the office bathroom kind of feels like a new low for you. But by the time Friday evening comes around, the last thing you want to do is attend a mandatory – scratch that, highly encouraged – work event at a bar still wearing your blazer and slacks.

The jeans and sweater you replace them with are still nice by any standard, but they’ll feel a bit less stifling after a handful of drinks.

Grace, at least, seems to have the same idea. Deciding she’s by far the most bearable person of the evening, you slide down next to her in the booth.

Of course, that thought only makes you think of another person you’d invited. Someone whose absence feels especially notable as you nurse the remnants of your first cocktail.

You don’t really want to get drunk tonight. You don’t want to be here at all.

You put in your forty hours of work this week, and the only place you want to be is at home in a pair of sweatpants.

The only person that would have made it a little more worth it made it very clear that he had better things to do. The details of which, of course, he didn’t bother to share.

The thought spurs you to take another long sip.

You don’t want to get drunk. But you don’t want to think about him either.

Besides, Grace doesn’t seem to share your reservations.

It’s barely been forty minutes when she pulls out her phone, thoroughly tipsy, and decides that you are the best person to help her sort through her list of matches on her favorite dating app.

“He’s cute, right?” She flashes her phone screen towards you.

He is. You nod and tell her as much.

His eyes might not sparkle very much. And his hair might not fall perfectly over his forehead. And he might not furrow his eyebrow in concentration whenever the printer in the workroom gives him a hard time –

No.

Tonight is not about him. He made it very clear that he had no interest in being here tonight, and the last thing you’re going to do is spend the evening fixated on him.

Grace, at least, seems willing to help on that front.

“Oh,” she suddenly interjects from your side. “That reminds me. I’ve been meaning to show you a picture of my friend’s brother. You know, the one I mentioned a couple of weeks ago?”

It’s a bad idea, probably. You’re still feeling slighted and bitter and no matter how many times you tell it not to, your mind keeps wandering to Jungwon.

Despite your reluctance, the cocktails are catching up with you. There’s a pleasant, slightly numb haze in your mind. It makes resistance feel futile.

All you do is nod, and Grace starts searching for his social media profile. It takes her a few more tries than it would sober, but she does eventually find it.

“Here,” she says, offering her phone to you. “His name is Jay. He grew up here until he left to go to an international high school. He’s been living abroad ever since, but he recently moved back. Their dad is pretty high up at a software development company. I think he came back because he landed a job there too.”

You do your best to absorb the information, to nod along with what she says, but in all honesty, you’re quite distracted.

Jay is quite distracting. His feed is well-curated without being overbearing. Covered in travel photos, unbelievably flattering candid shots, and stunning nature pictures, he immediately piques your interest.

Not to mention the fact that he’s stunning. Maybe not quite as stunning as –

No. Again, you refuse to go there.

You’re not sure if it’s the drinks or the photos or the spite that makes it suddenly feel like a good idea, but you’re telling Grace to pass your number along to Jay before you can think better of it.

And if nothing else, at least he doesn’t seem like the kind of person that will make you wonder. Or even wait for long.

You’ve barely gotten home, mind mostly clear even if it is still a bit muddled from the exhaustion of a long week, when your phone screen lights up with a notification.

It’s just a string of numbers for now, but you’re quick to create a new contact.

Hey, the message reads. This is Jay. Grace gave me your number. I hope that’s alright!

A few seconds later, another text comes through.

Jay: How do you feel about art exhibitions? There’s one opening this weekend right next to one of the best coffee spots in the city. I’d love for you to join me.

It’s simple. Straightforward. Not something you’ll search for subtext or pick apart for weeks.

And it’s easy to respond to.

You: That sounds great! I’ll look forward to it

…..

Another week at work passes with the same monotonous, sluggish flow as any other. But this time, it’s interspersed with messages you’ve started to look forward to.

You’ve just sat down with your third cup of coffee on Monday morning when the first one chimes through.

Jay: Good morning, ___. I hope your Monday is off to a better start than mine.

A second message comes through. This one is an image. One that unmistakably shows a stack of papers covered in a dark brown stain you recognize all too well.

You: Oh no!

Pausing for a moment, your teeth worry at your bottom lip. Deciding to go for it, you send your own picture in return.

The image of your full coffee cup goes through, along with another message.

You: I think it might be. My coffee is still in my cup, at least

It takes him less than a minute to respond.

Jay: Black coffee! Oh, you mean business. I’ll deny it if you tell anyone, but I always have to add sugar and cream to mine.

You can’t help the smile that starts to spread over your lips. Sugar and cream. An aversion to bitterness. It reminds you of someone else that always adds a little sweetness to their –

Shaking your head, you force the comparison away. Putting the other man firmly out of mind, you decide to return Jay’s lighthearted message with one of your own.

You: Don’t tell anyone, but this is my third cup of the morning.

Jay: Third cup of straight black coffee. Whew, remind me not to get on your bad side today.

Jay: Speaking of which, do you always drink it black or could you be persuaded into something a little sweeter?

He’s talking about coffee, yes, but it feels just a little bit like flirting. Biting at your lip again, you decide there isn’t much to lose.

Besides, it’s kind of… fun. You can’t remember the last time you were well and truly flirted with.

You: Depends who’s asking

Jay: Hmm

Jay: I’ll have to work on my persuasion skills then

Jay: The place I’m taking you to on Saturday has an insanely delicious caramel latte, and I need to know what you think of it

You: Tempting

You: But I’m not sure I’m convinced

Jay: I’ll work on that, then

You can’t hide your smile this time.

A minute later, two more texts ping through.

Jay: Duty calls, unfortunately

Jay: The rest of my Monday is stacked, so if I am slow to respond to any messages, that’s why. Enjoy the rest of your day, ___

He’s straightforward. Communicative. You appreciate the notice. The fact that if you do send another message without a response, you won’t have to waste your day wondering why.

You: Ugh, don’t you hate it when you actually have to work at work?

You: I hope all goes well! Enjoy the rest of your day too, Jay

Setting your phone down, you return your gaze to your computer screen and unfortunately very full inbox.

Your focus, however, remains half-occupied by a message thread sitting dormant on your tucked away phone.

…..

Jay’s messages begin to become a highlight of your work day. Despite the fact that there’s often a large lapse in time due to both of your busy schedules, you start to anticipate every text he manages to send.

And they only serve to build more excitement around your upcoming date.

By the time Thursday comes around, you’ve all but mentally clocked out for the week. Refilling your water bottle in the staff kitchen, your mind is so occupied that you almost run right into the person coming through the door the same time you’re leaving.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was–”

“___.” The sound of your name stops you in your tracks. “Breathe,” Jungwon is smiling, but there’s a hint of concern there, too. “You’re okay.”

“Jungwon,” you exhale. Your frantic apology begins to subside, replaced by an overwhelming surge of self-consciousness as you tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You haven’t spoken to him, haven’t even seen him, since he rejected your invitation last Friday.

He’s not trying to pick at old wounds, but it still stings a bit when he asks, “How was Friday?”

“Oh, you know,” you shrug, “It was a typical work gathering.” Then again, it occurs to you that he might not know. Since he never bothers attending any of them.

Not that it really matters. Besides, you’re lying a bit anyway. Typical work gatherings don’t usually end with you setting up a date. Not that you want Jungwon to know about that either.

You can't pinpoint exactly why, but the thought of him knowing doesn’t sit with you quite right. Besides, it’s not like he’s ever shown any interest in your personal life, anyway. He would find it weird, most likely. Annoying, if you were to divulge any details.

“Oh, well, I’m sorry again that I couldn’t come.” Just like that day in the workroom, he reaches back to scratch at his neck. You have the distinct sense that he’s the one who suddenly feels a bit awkward. “Friday nights are…” he trails off, “Friday nights are hard for me, usually. I’m always pretty free on Saturday mornings, thought, so if–”

“Don’t worry about it.” Oh god. Your intention certainly wasn’t to make him feel guilty for having a social life outside of the office. Suddenly worried that you read the situation all wrong, you’re quick to assure him, “You don’t have to come to anything that you don’t want to. And especially if you have plans already. I just asked you because my supervisor wanted us to invite people from other departments.”

If his face falls slightly, you’re too caught up in your own rambling to notice.

“And, you know,” you continue, “since you helped me that day with the printer.”

“The printer,” he echoes, voice suddenly hollow. “Right.”

“Right,” you echo. The room falls into silence again, and this time, it’s weighted with a horrible awkwardness neither of you can shake.

“Well,” you finally say, holding up your bottle. “I got my water, so I’m gonna head back to my desk.”

“Yeah,” Jungwon nods. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you around?” It’s just as stilted as it was before, but you’re desperate for any way to exit this conversation.

“Yeah,” Jungwon repeats. “Sure thing, ___.”

…..

By the time Saturday morning comes, you’re a mess of anticipation and frayed nerves.

You’re early to arrive at the address of the coffee shop Jay sent you a few nights ago, but he’s already there waiting for you. And his social media might have painted an impressive picture, but one look tells you that it still doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing.

Jay is gorgeous.

Almost as gorgeous as –

You kill the thought as soon as it comes. This day isn’t about him, and comparisons will do you little good.

Instead, you refocus on your date.

He’s polished and put together in an effortless sort of way. The kind of person that you see once in passing and then can’t stop thinking about for the rest of the week. His features are angular, sharp. But they soften into a warm smile the second he lays eyes on you.

In the end, it doesn’t take him much convincing at all to persuade you to try the caramel latte. And he’s right. It is absolutely delicious.

It was easy to fall into a natural rhythm over text, and your face-to-face conversation flows even better.

He tells you about life abroad and all of his favorite parts of living in another country. He tells you about his family and what he missed most about this city he’s learning to call home again.

He listens, actively, while you tell him the more mundane details of your own life. His questions are well-timed and never feel like interruptions.

His kindness doesn’t feel like a facade. His interest doesn’t feel like a cheap trick to get what he wants from you and then disappear without a word.

And when it becomes painfully apparent at the art exhibition that he’s far more well-versed in the subject than you, he doesn’t make you feel stupid. Instead, he takes his time explaining each piece. Highlights the aspects that would be most interesting to someone without any kind of background in art.

He’s kind, considerate, and the day passes by in a blur of fleeting glances and shy smiles. At the end of it, he offers to drive you home and opens your car door for you. Small gestures that make you feel seen, considered. Valued.

When he says goodbye with a hug that doesn’t last nearly long enough, the smell of his cologne is something you hope will linger as long as the memories of the day do.

It’s easy, you think, as you watch his car drive away from your window. Jay is someone that’s easy to be around, to spend time with.

And when he messages you later that night, reiterating his enjoyment of the day and asking to meet again, he’s easy to say yes to.

…..

You’re not sure how, but the only person that seems even more excited than you about you and Jay is Grace.

Despite the fact that your communication as of late hasn’t involved anything scandalous, she feels the need to rehash every detail until she’s heard it one hundred times.

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell her that the last text message he sent you wasn’t anything to swoon over. In fact, it was rather short and unexciting.

Jay: Have you seen my ring by chance? I remember wearing it that day I was in your car, and I haven’t been able to find it since then.

But Grace won’t hear it. You’re not exactly sure what she heard from Jay’s sister, but she spends the rest of the coming week hounding you over the details regardless.

The staff kitchen is hardly the place for conversations about your personal life, but the setting doesn’t seem to bother her at all. Instead, she pretends to be busy washing an already clean coffee mug while she asks again, “So you went out for the first time last Saturday, right?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

“And then you got dinner together Wednesday night after work?”

“Yep.” You’re pretty sure she’s already asked the same question at least six times.

“And he’s planning to take you out again this Saturday?”

“Right.”

“My god, you two are practically married.” She punctuates the absurd claim with a wistful sigh.

“We most certainly are not.”

“Okay, but you literally just met, and you’ve already seen each other twice with plans for a third.”

She does have a point there. Never mind the fact that you haven’t dated anyone in a while. It is a quick timeline, no matter how you look at it. But you’ve been itching to spend time with him ever since your first date, and Jay seems to be on the same page.

It feels fast, yes, but it doesn’t feel forced. For you, that’s what matters most.

That, along with the fact that a certain someone has been noticeably absent from your mind the more time you spend with him. For now, you’ll choose not to read too much into that.

“God,” Grace sighs again. “I miss going on dates.”

“What are you talking about? Didn’t you go on one a couple weeks ago?” You distinctly remember helping her set it up that night at the bar after work.

“Well, yeah, but I mean good dates. You know, getting properly wined and dined and all that. I guess I’ll just have to live vicariously through you.”

“We went to dinner once, and there was hardly any wine involved.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. All I’m saying is you’re lucky to be seeing someone that actually puts in effort for your dates and doesn’t just take you to the closest bar to his office and hope that buying you a handful of drinks means he’ll get lucky.” Pausing for a moment, she looks up, eyes landing somewhere just over your shoulder. “Right, Jungwon?”

Immediately, it’s as if you’ve been submerged in ice cold water. Because there’s no way she said–

“Jungwon?” Turning around, you’re put face to face with the last person you wanted to overhear this particular conversation.

“Hey, ___.” There’s a smile on his lips. Small as always, but something feels wrong about it. “Grace,” he nods at the girl over your shoulder. “Sorry,” he’s still looking at her, “were you asking me something?”

“No, we were just leaving, actua–”

Grace pays you no attention. “Just telling ___ how lucky she is that her man actually puts effort into their dates, since it feels like such a rarity these days.”

“He is not my man.” The glare you send your coworker is lost as Jungwon turns back to you, eyes wide, gaze indecipherable.

“You’re dating someone?”

“I…” The easy, most available answer is yes, but you’re having a hard time getting it out. And there are other semantics involved.

Are you dating? Not really. That usually indicates some kind of commitment, exclusivity. Going on dates might be a better way to put it. But clarifying that miniscule distinction for Jungwon feels strange for some reason.

“My friend’s brother,” Grace supplies unhelpfully from the corner. “What can I say? I’m a natural born matchmaker.” Her proud smile is lost on the both of you. You’re only looking at each other.

“Oh.” Jungwon’s voice is small, hollow. “That’s nice. I’m happy for you.”

You want to scream, just a little bit. Or maybe cry. You can’t make up your mind.

And you’re not sure where it comes from, the sudden, overwhelming surge of guilt that begins to build in your gut. You can’t even decipher who it’s directed towards. Towards Jungwon? Towards Jay? Towards yourself?

Grace, despite her self-proclaimed talent for setting up dates, is apparently incredibly inept at reading the room. With no prompting but her own, she’s pushing forward. “He lived abroad for a while and just moved back to the city, which is like, the perfect scenario for going on dates. And he’s always had a flair for romance. I remember–”

“Well,” you interrupt, desperate for an out, “we better get back to the project we were working on—“

“What project?” Grace, it would seem, is determined to be anything but helpful.

“You know,” you glare at her, “our project.”

“Right!” She looks sheepish, finally catching the hint. “That project.”

Turning back to Jungwon, you can still see the rigidity of his features. The tension that has yet to ease. “I’ll…” you’re not sure how to part ways now without making things worse. But it feels wrong to just leave without saying anything. For the third time in the span of days, you tell him, “I’ll see you around.”

And for the third time, he agrees, “Yeah.” This time, however, his eyes still flickering with annoyance, shoulders still set with residual frustration. “Sure thing, ___.”

It’s what he always says, you realize. But this time, it’s missing that easygoing, genuine lightness he usually says it with.

This time, it sounds like rejection.

Yours or his, you’re not entirely sure.

…..

You manage to avoid Jungwon for the rest of the week. It’s ironic, almost. You were so worried about pursuing a potential relationship with him because you wanted to avoid this exact scenario.

Now, a handful of dates with someone who is very much not him tucked under your belt, you still feel the need to turn and walk the other direction whenever you think you hear his voice or get a glimpse of blonde hair.

But the office is only so big, and there are only so many corners to duck into. Barely a week has passed the next time you unwittingly bump into him.

“Oh,” you startle slightly, walking into the workroom and already finding it occupied. And of course you’d run into him here, of all places. Kneeling in front of the printer, his brow is furrowed in concentration as he tries to dislodge yet another paper jam.

“Sorry.” You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for exactly, but it feels warranted regardless. “I’ll just leave, and—”

“___,” he cuts you off with the sound of your name. Looking down at him, you're met with the expanse of his back. A button down shirt tucked into dark pants. Standard work attire that has no business looking this ridiculously good on anyone. “You’re fine. You don’t need to leave. Just give me a second, and the printer’s all yours.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. If the lack of a verbal response bothers him, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he busies himself with the jammed printer, muscles of his back flexing slightly underneath the fabric of his shirt as he tugs at the stubborn papers.

Cheeks heating slightly, you force your gaze elsewhere.

“There,” he says after another minute of adjustments. Standing to full height, he turns to face you. “All fixed.”

Looking up at him, you’re about to offer a quiet thanks when your eyes land on his right cheekbone. Specifically, the fresh cut that spans the length of it.

The gasp the spills from your lips is entirely without permission. But you can’t quite help it. The wound is quite superficial, surface level at most, but it mars his otherwise perfect skin in a way you weren’t prepared for.

Without your permission, your fingers start to reach towards the injury. They make it halfway before you remember yourself, before you regain your sense of reality. Your hand falls limply back to your side.

“What happened?” You breathe.

Jungwon’s brows draw together in confusion for a moment before a flicker of realization dances across his features.

“Oh.” He exhales, fingers tapping against the broken skin of his cheekbone lightly. “Nothing. I just, er, fell the other day.”

“You fell,” you echo. Like all of his other excuses, it’s vague. Flimsy at best.

“Yeah,” he confirms with a slight nod. Again, he says, “I fell.”

It’s evasive. And it feels like more than just an explanation for his injury.

It feels like confirmation of the distance between the two of you. His final assertion that you’re nothing but a coworker to him. Someone that he tells edited versions of stories to, someone that he keeps firmly planted an arm’s length away.

Fine. If he wants to give you shitty excuses for his Friday nights and his absences at work events and now his injury that very obviously did not come from a fall, that’s just fine with you.

After all, he’s nothing but a coworker to you either. The upcoming date you have planned with Jay is enough to prove it.

“Well,” you tell him, forcing a smile. The fake, disproportionately bright kind that you only ever use with your coworkers. “I hope it heals quickly.”

And then you’re brushing past him, making your way towards the printer as if he’s nothing but an obstacle in your path.

Collecting your freshly printed document, you turn and walk out the door without so much as a backward glance.

…..

Sliding into the passenger seat of Jay’s car Thursday evening, you feel the stress melting from your shoulders the second the door shuts behind you.

This is something else he makes easy: forgetting about whatever woes you managed to acquire after a long day of work. Jay just smiles as you sit down next to him, turning down the volume on the radio as he asks about your day.

Tonight, the two of you are headed to one of your favorite diners. Somewhere where you can chat and laugh and relax over a pile of french fries and obnoxiously gaudy decor.

But before you turn down the street that leads to the restaurant, Jay asks if the two of you can make a quick stop.

“I left my bag at the gym last night,” he explains apologetically. “Do you mind if I swing by and grab it real quick? It’s on our way.”

You reassure him that it’s no problem, and a handful of minutes later, the two of you are parked outside of a rather nondescript, faded building.

Frowning slightly, your eyebrow quirks up in surprise. Although he hasn’t outright disclosed anything, from what you’ve gathered so far, Jay’s family is quite well off. The kind that pays for expensive memberships at bougie gyms with saunas and swimming pools. Not the kind that frequents dark, run down gyms in the middle of a random residential area.

Pulling his key from the ignition, Jay turns to you. “You can wait here, if you want.”

“That’s okay.” You’re already unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’m tired of sitting, anyway.” You really are. Plus, you have to admit that you’re kind of curious.

You fall into step at his side as the two of you make your way towards the building. The closer you get, the more decrepit it appears. Paint is peeling from the exterior, leaving it an odd, mottled brown color riddled with rust marks.

Even the sign, Kang’s Gym, is small, faded, and only visible once you’re nearly to the entrance.

Jay steps in front of you, holding the door open for you to enter.

The inside, you realize as you step in, is in no better shape than the outside. The wall closest to you is lined with weightlifting equipment that looks as if it were pulled from past decades.

Padding is torn in places, and questionable stains cover the place, accumulated from years of use.

You’re about to ask him outright why on earth he patronizes such a run down place when your eyes land on the far wall of the gym. There, you think you find your answer.

There’s no weightlifting equipment or cardio machines. Instead, the majority of available space is filled with several sets of boxing rings. Like the rest of the gym, they’re equally faded and worn with years of use.

But the lighting in that part of the gym is noticeably better. Far brighter, more intentional. As if the rest of the gym is just for show and that is the true purpose of this building.

You’re suddenly overcome with the urge to take a second glance at your date.

He has a lean, athletic build, yes. The kind that you assumed came from some kind of regular exercise regiment and not his office job.

But boxing wasn’t exactly what you expected.

Jay turns to you. His expression gives nothing away, holds no indication that this is anything out of the ordinary for him. “I think I left it over by the locker rooms.”

Encasing your hand in his, he leads you towards the rings. Several of them are occupied, mostly by one-on-one sparring matches.

Walking past the first one, the two men inside the ring turn to look at you and Jay as you pass.

“Hey, man,” the first one offers with a nod of recognition that Jay returns. As his eyes slide over to you, they widen slightly in surprise. Gaze falling to your intertwined hands, the man just shakes his head slightly before returning to his sparring partner.

Moving past them, you shake the odd interaction from your mind.

You spare fleeting glances for the rest of the people you pass. For a moment, you try to imagine Jay in the ring instead of them. It’s an odd contradiction with what you’ve come to associate with him.

Easygoing. Considerate. Even tempered. They’re traits that feel at odds with the kind of stark physicality required in a boxing ring.

Then again, the more you consider it, the more you start to make sense of it. Jay is all of those things, yes, but there’s also an undercurrent of something else.

A quiet intensity he carries with him. Something he has control over. Something he can channel when needed.

The more you think about it, the easier it is to picture him in the ring, throwing precise, calculated punches until victory rests on his square shoulders.

You’d be lying if you said the mental image didn’t pique your interest. You’re about to ask him if he’ll let you watch next time he’s in the ring when a flash of color in the last boxing ring, the one closest to the locker rooms, catches your attention.

It’s unlikely. It feels impossible. Even more so than the thought of Jay in a boxing ring. But as you draw closer, you confirm your suspicions.

After all, you would know that shade of blonde anywhere.

It takes everything in you not to stop dead in your tracks. But even as you continue forward, hand still encased in Jay’s, your eyes are trained solely on the space between Jungwon’s broad shoulders.

It’s almost inhuman, the feline agility that he moves with. He’s smaller than his opponent, but he’s faster. Lighter on his feet.

The punches he throws are dizzyingly accurate, and his sparring partner seems to think the same. A muted thud is followed by a string of expletives that become more clear the closer you get.

“Jesus, Jungwon.” The man across from him is still a bit breathless as he recovers from having the wind knocked out of him. “Bad week at work or something?”

“C’mon, Heeseung.” It doesn’t sound anything like the Jungwon you know. Gone is the quiet friendliness you’ve always heard from him. His voice is still gentle, but it carries an unmistakable command. “Stop going easy.”

“I’m not,” the other man – Heeseung – argues. “What has gotten into you? It’s like you’ve been insane since that match last week.”

“Whatever,” Jungwon scoffs, shaking his head. “Let’s just take five.”

“Make it ten,” Heeseung goads across from him.

Jungwon sends him a warning glare, but says nothing. Instead, he reaches for his water bottle at the corner of the ring, leaning against the ropes that enclose it.

All you can do is watch, suddenly fascinated by the way sweat darkens his hair, trails down the length of his neck. Jungwon gives a quick shake of his head, sending his hair scattering over his forehead as he leans further into the ropes behind him.

Tipping his head back, his throat works against a swallow as he takes a long drink from his water bottle.

Jungwon sets his water bottle down, turning towards Heeseung like he’s about to say something else when movement catches his attention.

More specifically, your movement. His eyes fall on you, and for a moment, you’re rendered just as immobile as him. His gaze widens in recognition and then suddenly, he’s standing.

Long strides eat up the length of the boxing ring as he crosses it, every step bringing him closer to you. With a distinct sort of grace and practiced ease, he jumps over the side of the ring, landing on his feet just as you and Jay pass him.

With a hand on your shoulder, he stops you both in your tracks. His touch is gentle, but commanding. It leaves little room for argument.

“This is the guy you’ve been seeing?” Jungwon’s eyes are molten lava. If you thought that day in the staff kitchen was the most visible emotion he was capable of mustering, you were sorely mistaken. The Jungwon that stands in front of you now is simmering with it, vibrating with barely contained emotions.

At your side, Jay turns back. With your hand still enclosed in his, Jay’s gaze goes straight towards Jungwon’s hand on your shoulder.

“Jungwon,” he nods coolly.

Jungwon ignores him entirely. His gaze is still trained directly on you.

Glancing between the both of them, the tension between them is palpable. Over Jungwon’s shoulder, you can see Heeseung leaning against the edge of the boxing ring as if he can’t decide whether to intervene or not.

“Well,” you say, attempting to diffuse a bit of the rising animosity, “I guess I don’t need to introduce the two of you, then.”

This time, it’s you that Jungwon ignores. Turning to Jay, he’s all venom. “And you brought her here? What the hell are you doing?”

“Relax, man.” Jay rolls his eyes. “We’re just grabbing my bag.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you left here,” he bites. “You know better than to–”

Shaking his hand off your shoulder, annoyance makes itself visible across your features. It’s one thing for Jungwon to be pissy towards your date, but it’s another entirely for him to assume that you can’t handle something as mundane as a boxing gym.

And if you're honest, the whole overprotective act just rubs you the wrong way. Why does he think he gets to ignore you all week at work and then act like he knows what’s in your best interest?

“I think I can handle watching people throw a few punches, Jungwon.” Your voice is all ice, and it changes his demeanor immediately. The anger begins to dissipate, leaving him with wide eyes that beg for your understanding.

The frustration is still there, though. “That’s not what I meant, ___.”

“I don’t really care what you meant.” You’re not sure if it’s true, but you want it to be. For now, that’s enough. “Why don’t you go back to your friend and pretend like you never saw me. You’re good at that, right?”

It’s a low blow. And it has his features falling immediately, eyebrows slackening as if you’ve slapped him.

His voice is notably gentler when he says your name. “___…”

This time, it’s Jay that speaks. “I suggest you listen to her, man. We’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Jungwon wants to say more. You can see it in the way his mouth twitches, in the way his shoulders still rise with tension. Finally, he relaxes. Just a fraction of an inch, but you know it’s over. At least for now.

He doesn’t say anything, but he does take a step back. And then another.

His eyes are still on you, even as Jay keeps walking, pulling you gently along with him.

By the time he finds his bag and the two of you make your way back out, Jungwon is nowhere to be found.

You can still feel eyes on you, though.

This time, it’s Heeseung’s gaze that follows you all the way out the door.

Back in Jay’s passenger seat, you turn towards your date, a million questions swimming in your mind.

“What on earth was that all about?”

Jay just frowns, knuckles white against the steering wheel. Instead of answering, he asks a question of his own. “How do you know him?”

“What?” Too confused to protest, you answer. “We work together.” Then you repeat, “What’s going on?”

Jay sighs, leans his head back against his seat. “He’s in marketing with you?”

“No,” you shake your head. “Programming. I don’t want to ask you again.” This time, you can’t help the expletive. “What the fuck was that?”

“We…” Jay trails off, searching for an explanation. “We know each other.”

“Yeah, no shit. How?”

“We went to the same middle school, before I left for high school. He was a year behind me.”

“And what?” You ask, trying to think of what kind of feud middle schoolers could possibly have that would warrant tonight’s interaction. “He stole your lunch money and you never got over it?”

“Not quite.” His lips are tight. “Look, ___. I know you can’t help who you work with, but Jungwon… he’s not who you think he is.”

“And you are?”

Jay turns to you, hurt clearly written across his features. “That’s not fair.”

“No,” you argue, doubling down. “What’s not fair is giving me vague half truths about my coworker and expecting me to just agree blindly while you evade all of my questions.” A moment of silence passes. Jay says nothing. Finally, you tell him, “If you’re not going to be honest with me, then I think you should just take me home.”

“Wait, ___–”

“I’m serious, Jay. I’m not about to go have dinner with you and pretend that this didn't just happen. Just take me home.” Softening a bit at the obvious distress on his face, you add a quiet, “Please.”

You won’t compromise your boundaries, but you don’t have it in you to be needlessly cruel, even if his evasiveness bothers you to no end.

Jay just sighs, pulling into an empty parking lot before turning around and heading in the opposite direction. Towards your apartment.

The rest of the car ride passes in stilted silence, neither of you willing to break it.

Jay is the first one to speak, but it’s not until you’re sliding out of his passenger seat, back turned towards him.

“Good night, ___.”

For a moment, you consider just ignoring him. But it feels petty, even for these circumstances. For now, you’ll just have to trust that he needs time to find a way to tell you the truth.

“Good night,” you tell him. But you still don’t look back.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

READ PART TWO HERE

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: I AM SO ANNOYEDDDDD this was all supposed to be one long fic, not two parts, but tumblr's post block limit got me. Honestly I don't know how I avoided it this long. Anyway the second part is written and will be posted soon. In the meantime, let me know what you're thinking so far! As always, thank you for reading ♡

#jungwon fanfiction #jungwon fanfic #jungwon x you #jungwon x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #enhypen x you #enhypen x reader #jungwon scenarios #enhypen scenarios

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red-archivist · 5 months ago

Text

TMAGP 23 SPOILERS!

i heard those lines and was immediately inspired to make something sad lol

Twenty years ago, Jonathan Sims quits smoking.

Twenty years ago, Martin Blackwood’s mother survives her second stroke.

Twenty years ago, Jonathan Sims quits smoking.

It’s not enough to just stop, the shakes and the headaches nip at him constantly, and he reluctantly concludes that bad habits need to replaced by better ones.

That’s where the cycling comes in, to start with.

It’s exercise, it’s eco-friendly, and he can pretend he is literally leaving his cravings behind him as he pushes hard on the pedals.

He does his homework first, researching what is the best option for city cycling, for his budget, for someone that hasn’t ridden a bike since they were nine.

He plots out his paths to the office, the shops, and the nearest puncture repair centre, just in case. He even makes a spreadsheet to keep track of them.

He is sure Tim would poke fun at him for it, if they were still talking, but the organisation keeps his twitching fingers busy and his roaming mind away from the half-finished box of cigarettes in his desk drawer that he promises he will throw away any day now.

What all that planning fails to account for, as soon as he actually gets onto the road, is the rest of the world moving around him.

Every stereotype he has heard about antagonistic drivers is proven ten-fold as he dodges swerving cars and gets sworn at for whizzing past stalled traffic. He soon learns to sneer through tinted windows.

Pedestrians are almost worse. They seem blind to him, stepping out directly in front of his wheels and making him wobble as he overcorrects. As if a bike can’t still do some damage if he were to actually hit someone. Once, he clips the edge of a pram and stops in the street to shout some sense into the careless father pushing it.

He bitches openly about this during his lunches and his coworkers only roll their eyes at him sometimes.

The cycling becomes a bit of running joke in the office when they spot him coming in with his bike shorts and change of outfit, but he ignores them. The shorts are practical. For some reason, telling them that only makes them laugh harder.

He takes the fastest route into the office and a scenic one home. It winds through quiet well-off estates, before opening out to one of the less well-known urban parks. It’s calming, almost meditative, to roll through the cool shade the cluttered trees offer after another meaningless day of data entry.

In those times, he doesn’t think of his empty flat or his dead-end job, he forgets his sniggering coworkers and his ever-dwindling contact list. It’s just him and the wind.

The only thing that could make those moments better, he admits to himself, is a smoke.

The problem with this particular path is how hard it is to see around corners in the park. There is some national re-wilding initiative in the works and the foliage looms over the roads in a way that block his line of sight.

He checks every turn, even though it is rare to encounter a car in this area. Better safe than sorry.

The night he dies is warm but overcast.

He follows his usual route and cranes his neck to see around the overgrown corner he is approaching. A drooping branch grazes his head and something falls from the tree onto his neck.

It could be a leaf, or a twig, or a ladybird, but Jon feels the whisper-touch of something small at his throat and his only thought is: spider.

He has been afraid of them since he was very young and terrified instinct immediately beats any reason. One hand flies up from the handlebars to bat away at his collar. He swerves. Fear makes him pedal faster and the bike speeds onto the junction.

He is so scared of the potential at his throat that he never even sees the delivery truck.

The bike is sent flying from the impact, Jon falls under the wheels.

The driver, to his credit, calls emergency services immediately, distraught.

The ambulance is there within five minutes, but they needn’t have bothered. Jon is declared dead at the scene with a broken neck.

What few friends he has left comfort each other with that fact.

At least it was quick.

Twenty years ago, Martin Blackwood’s mother survives her second stroke.

This is a good thing, Martin reminds himself, more than once. It is Good that his mother is alive.

It doesn’t matter that the nurses need to attend to her around-the-clock now. It doesn’t matter that the care home bills have skyrocketed. He is grateful that she is still with him.

He starts looking for a third job. The admin work during the day and the shelf-stocking at night barely covered his previous bills. He’ll have to look for some flexible positions to cram into his schedule.

In the meantime, he cuts back. Eats cheaply, eats less. Cancels overdue check-ups and doesn’t touch the heating.

His days are a current of constant worry, occasionally breached by a wave of panic that he tries to quell by hiding in the office bathroom and digging his nails into his legs.

Panic won’t pay the rent or keep the lights on or remember to call Mum every Sunday. He smothers it deep in his chest and ignores the spasm of pain he gets whenever he forces it down.

He has been getting those more often; sharp, sudden chest pains, numb fingers, dizzy spells, an aching back, shortness of breath.

He had been going to ask the doctor about it all before he cancelled the appointment but. Well. Needs must.

He has his first heart attack on the evening shift.

Pulling a box of washing up tablets from the top shelf in Aisle 4 causes such a rush of agony in his chest that he dares to ask the manager to take his 15-minute break early.

He doesn’t make it to the back room before he collapses.

In the hospital, after he wakes, the doctors ask if there is a family history of heart problems.

If he didn’t feel so weak he would laugh.

He has more in common with his mother then he likes to admit. Of course they share a bad heart.

Or maybe it came from his father. Mum always said he was heartless. Maybe there’s a hole where Dad’s DNA should be.

When the medical team leaves him to rest, all he can think is how much this will cost him.

The NHS is no charity no matter what their marketing says, not to mention how much money he will lose by recovering. He can’t afford six weeks of not working. His first job doesn’t have that much sick leave and his second doesn’t have any.

He runs the numbers in his head, tries to find what else he can hack out of his life to keep his head above water. Occasionally his thoughts swerve, self-recriminating and barbed. He is so stupid for letting this happen at all.

It’s all his fault.

Mum is going to be so angry with him.

His heart pulses in keen pain, bitter and broken.

Somehow, he drifts off, counting figures instead of sheep.

The second heart attack kills him in his sleep.

They die on the same day, at nearly the same time (Jon rushes ahead, always too eager, Martin follows inevitably after him).

Their death certificates are filed away alphabetically by a bored clerk in the dusty management system of the General Register Office.

Twenty years later, Samama Khalid exhumes them and examines them, with more curiosity than sense, only to be disappointed by the mundanity of their ends.

He returns them together, heedless of any organisation.

Jon and Martin meet, in the quiet and the dark.

The filing cabinet is a shared headstone, their names rest side-by-side.

Also on AO3

#the magnus protocol #tmagp spoilers #tmagp 23 #tmagp #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #is a ship a ship if its posthumous? im saying yes #tmagp fanfic #red-archivist scribbles

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4vanaa · 26 days ago

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WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING, rafe cameron, 05

summary: y/n left the outer banks years ago, determined to build a life far from the memories of her childhood love, rafe cameron. now a botanist, she's moved on-though a quiet part of her still clings to the past. when an event brings her back to OBX, she's forced to confront the one person she never truly forgot.

cw: mature language | masterlist | 04 | 06 |

yourusername 4h

liked by miaroan, rafecameron and 48 others

yourusername i’m a bridesmaid !!!

sarahcameron the most perfect bridesmaid

johnbroutledge the most perfect bride

yourusername no flirting in my comments 🙅‍♀️

miaroan ugh can this wedding come faster, i need to get drunk again

yourusername girl you got drunk last night

miaroan i want to do it again

kiecarrera omg we’re so cute

jjmaybank i’m cuter

cleo well no !

sarahcameron wedding festivities can officially commence

cleo finally

jjmaybank all thanks to me, really helped john b out

popeheyward well no!

user aww couple goals ^^ 😏

cleo mama your wedding behind you 💜

miaroan 🤣🤣

sarah’s phone

rafecameron 1h

liked by gracieabrams, yourusername, and 678,000 others

rafecameron been working on something special. sunshine is yours 12.13

view all comments

rafesreverie claiming 🙏🙏

user okay now release an album

sarahcameron sunshine 🧐

rafecameron reflecting on my love for the sun

topperthornton oh totally

kelce2fye definitely sounds right

rafesmuse already soty

jjmaybank oh yes my sunshine too has a face

rafecameron ur going to be blocked soon

rafeupdates come release this 🐱next

user bro you’re gonna make him limit the comments again

blonded excited to listen

user frank release please 🙏

a/n: it’s getting better, just bear with me please 🙏 ahh i love gracie, wonder what she’s doing there 🧐🧐

tags: @xoxo-ada @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

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episodone · 10 months ago

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HAIR TIE

SYNOPSIS: It was a heated day back in Coruscant and your body was starting to give up. With your long hair making the situation worse, Anakin decides to be of help.

PAIRING: rots!anakin x fem!reader ( implied )

CONTENT WARNING: established relationship, a bit of swearing, teasing, a whole lot of fluff, reader is implied to have long hair, anaking being a bit suggestive but nothing major

WORD COUNT: 857 ( i think … )

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi everyone!! wow … here’s my first ever work on this account ? this is a special moment for me, okay !! anyways, i really hope you all enjoy whatever this turns out to be! this is also my first time writing properly with upper case letters so this is weird to me .. also please excuse any mistakes ! this was written by a very sleepy lily …

star wars masterlist

You had experienced long hot days before, but never something quite like this one. The heat was insufferable back in Coruscant, and as much as you would love to complain about it, you couldn’t. The Jedi Temple was nice enough for having a cooling down system for all of the Jedi’s inside to enjoy, and it seemed to be working for everyone, except for you.

Training was getting harder for your body. You could feel sweat drops running down your face and you muscles wanting to give up due to the temperature. You felt vulnerable, which wasn’t usual of you. Even your Padawan was giving you weird looks from time to time, but you decided to brush them off. For all that matters, your Jedi robes and cloak weren’t helping, either.

You weren’t one to back down on your trainings, and you wanted to persist in the duel against your Padawan, trying to give them as much knowledge in lightsaber fights as you possibly could. That was you purpose, after all. But enough was enough, even for you. Just as you were about to call out for a break, they were faster than you. You thanked Maker it was over and granted them to leave the room to cool down and rest and you decided to do the same yourself shortly after, running outside. While walking down the long hallway, with your heavy chest panting from the heat, a familiar voice calls out for you.

“Here’s my pretty girl.” a tall figure makes its way to your side and you look up to see Anakin, as perfect as ever. Not a single drop of sweat on his face and biggest grin ever while looking at you, like the heat doesn’t even bother him. How you envied him in that moment.

“Not here, Ani. Someone could hear you.” you look to your sides, searching for any sign of life besides you two that could compromise this moment, and Anakin watches you with a glint in his eyes.

“As far as I’m concerned, everyone is too focused on cooling down right now rather than look for forbidden couples walking around the Temple together.” you turn to him with an unamused look and playfully hit his arm as he only laughs at you.

“You should probably do the same, my love. It seems the heat is taking a toll on you.”

“Very funny, Anakin. Not everyone looks as perfect as you after a long session of training under the warmth.” You curse under you breath by how unaffected he was, with his perfect blonde locks and perfect smooth skin with no signs of tiredness. How confident he seemed when his whole body was stinging, begging for a breath of cold air.

“So you think I’m perfect?” he turns to you with a teasing smile and you scoff in response.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Skywalker.” you answer bluntly and he smiles at you, inspecting your figure.

“No hair up today?” he asks and you turn to him, clearly confused.

“What?”

“Your hair. Since it’s so hot, I thought you would put up your hair.”

Oh. That’s right. Your hair. Your forgot about that one little detail. How were supposed to manage the heat better if you hair was blocking your neck from all the cooling around? Now you know why your Padawan was giving you funny looks. What kind of person in their right minds would walk around with their hair down on an extreme heat day?

You quickly sense around your pulses for a hair tie, only to find out that you forgot about them in your dorm earlier today.

“Kriff.” you mumble. “I forgot my hair ties this morning.”

You think back to who could borrow you one for the day. A fellow female Jedi around the Temple. The one’s you didn’t know so well, unfortunately. While your mind runs through the endless options and the embarrassment that would come with you asking, you hair gets suddenly lift up.

You try to look back to see what happened but you’re stopped by Anakin, who now holds your hair with one of his hands in a makeshift ponytail.

“Wait.” his other hand sneaks around your waist, stopping you in your tracks. A sense of relief washes over you as a breath of cold hair spreads around your neck and shoulders. You instinctively close your eyes to the feeling, letting out a deep sigh. Pink tinted blush creeps up your cheeks at the thought of Anakin behind you, his lips puckered up and busy being your savior of the day. You stayed in that positions for a few second until air flow suddenly stops, making you flutter your eyes open.

“Better?” his voice makes a smile creep up your face and you shyly nod in response.

“Yeah... Thank you.” you feel his strong arm pull you closer to him as he drops sloppy kisses to the area he just cooled down, smiling between each peck.

“You should really start bringing your hair ties with you, my love.” he mumbles against your skin and you nod, savoring the moment as he was savoring your skin. “I can’t walk around like this all day.” he shakes your hair in his hand and you smile at him, a teasing glint in your eyes.

“You should start bringing them too, you know. With how long your hair is right now.” The kisses suddenly stop and you feel a hand pinching the side of your waist, making you giggle.

“Don’t make me drop your hair already.”

“Please don’t.”

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars #star wars fluff

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mjolnirswriststrap · 4 months ago

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Dark!Rafe Cameron x Plus size!Reader

Word Count: 2,223

Summary: You go on vacation to work on yourself, but what if there’s a guy on the beach who just won’t let you.

Warnings: No specific warnings for this chapter. SERIES WARNINGS-> 18+‼️, dark noncon themes, rich boy Rafe doesn’t take no for an answer, infidelity, reader cheats on fiancé in future chapters, SMUT.

Masterlist

Some things never change; the sand, the water, the moon rising over the horizon. You hadn’t stepped foot in North Carolina in almost 12 years, but you counted on one thing; the beach was the same. When your family moved back home, you cried for weeks, you knew the island was where you belonged. But years passed, and you didn’t see your extended family you left behind in North Carolina, and the yearning for home became too much. So here you were, on a vacation all alone.

You left your fiancé and family back home, you wanted them to come, but they all had plans. Your fiancé couldn’t call off work in time to heed your cravings for salt water. Assuring him that you’d be okay alone, you ran as fast as the wind could take you, for as long as your bank account could handle. You needed this escape from reality, life was becoming too real, too fast; you just wanted to feel like you were floating for another week or two.

You knew what waited on you when you got back home, your fiancé, buying a house, being terrified of getting pregnant every time you have sex. You weren’t ready for children, you wanted marriage, and to spend your life with someone, but things are moving too fast and you can’t even decide if that’s what you still want with him. You got together when you were fresh out of high school, getting engaged at 20, now you’re 23 and you just don’t feel the same that you used to.

You needed space most of all, space from your fiancé. He wasn’t suffocating you or anything, it was the opposite. He was good, too good for you. He tried his best, and it wasn’t enough for you, you hated to admit it; you felt an overwhelming guilt because of it.

Your fiancé held an innocence that was ripped from you when you were a child. He gave you his all, every second of the day. You cursed yourself for complaining that there’s no romance. You don’t dare speak a word to anyone on how unfulfilled you feel, like there’s more out there waiting on you. You live with a growing guilt, one that the devil on your shoulder tells you; you shouldn’t feel at all.

You were falling out of love with him, rapidly. Not wanting to be the villain, you knew this trip might fix you; you hoped it would. That’s why you sat in the sand with your suitcase beside you. Jean shorts and tennis shoes already covered in the tan substance. It was late when you got here, you missed check in at your hotel, so you asked your Uber to drop you off at the beach close to your aunts house, you’d walk there after you had some time alone.

The sun was setting behind you on the sound, the empty beach was a stark contrast to what it had been when you were a kid. Then you heard them, a group of younger guys laughing and carrying on as they walk down the beach. You try to ignore their conversation, focusing on the sand you have your fingers dug into. You look out into the water, watching the gentle waves come in, your eyes don’t even register the three boys walk past your eye line, instantly refocusing on the dark blue mass.

You cringe as sand suddenly flies in your direction. A body landing not too far from where you’re sitting. Another body lands on top of him and starts putting him in an arm bar. “Woah.” You say hopping up, grabbing your suitcase in an attempt to move away from the situation. You might not have given them a second glance but you knew it was the group that just blocked your vision, loudly taking up their own space on the beach.

“Watch out,” The third guy yells at his friends, he looks over at you and you can’t help but notice the way your heart starts beating faster, like you were being studied under his gaze. “There was a pretty lady sitting there.”. He says it smugly, but there’s no hint of a smirk on his face. It’s deadpanned, devoid of emotion, like he’s too focused on watching you.

The two guys obviously play wrestling break apart. “Don’t make me kick your ass again.” The dark haired one says to the blond; but the blond just laughs maniacally. Deciding now would be the perfect time to head back to your aunt’s house; you start pulling your suitcase away. You didn’t wanna get caught in the crossfire of some drunk frat guys.

“You need some help?” The tall, non-wrestling blond asks. You turn around to see if he’s addressing you, only to find that same dark stare, studying you, as if he hasn’t looked away once. “I’m fine.” You rush the words out, not knowing what to say even if you did need help.

His face finally cracks, forcing a fake smile to his lips, you can tell he didn’t like the instant rejection. “You sure?” He bites back, “That suitcase looks awfully heavy.”.

You can tell this guys no good, just by the way he talks, as if you’d give in to his persuasion. You can’t lie to yourself, of course you thought he was cute. A tall lean body with ocean blue eyes and blond hair, he was a model for a surf magazine. You can’t be thinking like this, he was everything your fiancé wasn’t, and you shouldn’t be wanting his help. “Thanks, but I got it.”. You nod slowly as you say the words, trying to reassure him.

The forced smile drops from his face and he takes one last look from your feet to your eyes, raking in every detail you have to offer. He drops his chin in, only what you could call acknowledgment; before walking back to his friends that were busy dusting themselves off.

Not wanting to wait around for another awkward interaction you skip steps as you hoof it to your aunts. This was the first night of your trip and what were you doing instead of working on yourself? Letting a guy ogle you, simply because he was cute. He could’ve been anyone, a trust fund baby from New York or a firefighter on a night out with his friends. He could be the sweetest guy in the world or the devil; you don’t know yet you still gave him your time, more than enough if it.

Your thoughts are cut short when you hear quick footsteps behind you. Then a hand on your arm. Before alarm bells could ring or you could scream, that familiar voice from before speaks, making you look into the blue eyes of the once thought assailant. “You didn’t really think I’d let you walk home carrying this, alone, did you?” He asks, with a deep serious crease in his brow.

Your mouth hangs open, searching for something to say. But you’re too stunned by his actions, meekly letting go of the handle of the suitcase when he snatches it from your grasp. You would think he was being chivalrous, if he hadn’t been so rough taking it from you. “Thank you.” You mutter, walking in step with him towards your aunt’s. You couldn’t place his slight agitation. Was it really because you didn’t want him carrying your suitcase? You barely knew him, what did he expect?

You can only figure one thing, most women agree with everything he says. Most women probably would’ve been more than glad to accept his offer of help. You could see yourself appreciating it too; if you were more secure in yourself and your engagement. To be honest with yourself, you didn’t know his intentions, maybe he really is a gentleman. But you can’t trust yourself, his intimidating aura and even sharper eyes are everything you were afraid of.

You decide to not spark up a conversation, knowing it will only dig you further into a hole. One that’s bottom will collapse open and you’ll free fall to the center of the earth. He notices the distant look in your eye, how you kept a few feet away from him as you walked down the skinny pathway. “What’s your name?” He asks, and there was that agitated tone again. “*you* didn’t give me the chance to ask.” He says it like an accusation, how dare you not give him more of your time.

You can feel a swirling feeling in your gut, one of defensiveness, and then one telling you to submit, do not bite back. Since you don’t know his intentions, you decide to be the bigger person, plastering a small smile on your face. “Y/N, and you?” You mistakenly look over at him, and he’s silently mouthing your name, testing it on his tongue. He feels your gaze and breaks out of his trance. “Rafe, Rafe Cameron.” He says.

You just hum and nod your head. The way he said it, was like his name was meant to mean something; but it didn’t. His eyes looked like they were expecting some kind of reaction out of you, and when he didn’t get one you saw a slight sneer appear. When you take a sharp right turn he stands there for a second, watching you walk ahead, his brain is about to short circuit, why are you being like this? You should be hanging off of him already.

He catches up to you before you notice, his steps matching yours. “What do you have planned for your trip?” He says, changing his tone. He’s trying to play nice, see if you’d open up for him. That has you looking over at him, and even the look on his face has changed, slight wrinkles under his eyes, and a smile that would make anyone drop to the floor.

You steady your mind, looking back at the sidewalk in front of you. “Just visiting family, learning to relax.” You say honestly, you didn’t need to tell him you were here to work yourself, but you didn’t see a point in lying.

“That’s nice.” He says, but it lacked enthusiasm. Nodding your head you can’t help yourself but to ask him. “You from around here?”, there it was, the bite. The proverbial shovel was already scooping dirt out of the hole. Rafe relaxes as you carry on the conversation, not feeling like he’s talking to a brick wall anymore. “Yeah, I live on the other side of the island.” He smirks.

Oh, so he was some rich boy. “That’s nice.” You say, looking around noticing the houses get more impoverished as you walk towards your aunt’s street. He scoffs, “I guess,” and pauses and watches your hair fan over your back as you walk. “By chance are you single?” He finally asks.

That has you bristling, of course he had to ask. Somethings telling you to say yes, he wouldn’t know if you were lying, you took off your engament ring, telling your fiancé you’d lose it in the ocean. But you knew you couldn’t, the universe was crafting a punishment for you, and lying would only make it worse. “I’m engaged, actually.” You say it almost as if you’re apologizing, for the inconvenience.

You can see him visibly react, the smile falling from his lips. “I figured you wouldn’t be.” He says dejected. You knew he’d ask, and you knew you’d have to tell the truth. You never thought of what happened after, you just expected him to accept it, understand that this couldn’t go any further than a friendly gesture.

You didn’t expect him to say what he says next. “That kinda thing doesn’t bother me much.”. It has you stopping in your tracks, your aunt’s house in view. You turn to him with a puzzled look, “What?” You blink, trying to reassure yourself that is just what he said. “I said, a ring hasn’t stopped me before.” He says it with a confidence that makes you cringe internally. You could see the look in his eyes, like a snake ready to strike. You hated snakes.

“I-“ You stutter, trying to find the right words. You couldn’t even chastise him for what he said, knowing that he would only continue bantering with you, drawing you in deeper. “I have to go.” You say, grabbing your suitcase from his hands, you could feel him hold onto it, as if he’s deciding whether or not to just let you go. But as he studies your hard pressed face and nervous reaction, he feels pity for you. And he likes you too much to make you suffer, he knows he’ll see you tomorrow; he’ll make sure of it.

So he releases the handle to your grip, raising his hands up in mock defense. “Alright, alright, I get it.” He says in a cool tone. But that smirk is back on his face, “I’ll see you around.” He says taking a step backwards, but he keeps facing you, waiting for your response. You shrug, turning to put your back to him. “It’s a big island, don’t hold your breath.”. He watches you walk away with a stunned look on his face, his mouth slightly hung open.

He knew what he was doing this summer, breaking you.

•••••••••••••••

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matryosika · 1 year ago

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Incoming Call

Pairing — Hyunjin x fem!reader Wordcount — 3,394 words Genre — Smut (18+) Includes — Suggestive content. Smut warnings under the cut. Author's note — This honestly came out of the blue. I was just feeling like phone sex and exhibitionism and this is what I ended up writing, haha. I hope you like it, it's just a silly little drabble in which my writer's block didn't get the best of me. I am actually proud I could come up with something, but it's not as filthy as other of my works. Please remember that english is not my first language, so i apologize for any mistakes in advanced! If you wish to support my blog further, please reblog and comment, leave an ask and check my pinned post for my ko-fi!

Smut warnings — Dirty talk. Phone sex and exhibitionism if you squint. Masturbation (m), Hyunjin is kind of a perv but it's very very tame. Use of petnames (baby), mentions of creampies, and other sexual fantasies. Hyunjin is needy and desperate. Reader's mom interrupts the hated moment (not cool!).

Time zones.

By far your most terrible enemies these days.

It wasn't only the jet lag that threw you off from coming back home, but the abysmal time difference between you and your boyfriend —he goes to bed right before you wake up, and his most active time is when you are about to sleep.

It has been a couple of days, but texting with him has been an absolute nightmare.

“It’s only a week,” you reassured him as he waved you goodbye at the airport. His lower lip was slightly pouting, and his usually straight eyebrows were raised in a subtle furrow. “I’m sure you’ll live, Hyunjin”.

“Yeah but I wanted to come with you,” there was genuine pity in his voice and you knew he meant it —he never misses a chance to join you on your trips back home, or meeting your parents.

Because of how busy he has been, and the fact that this trip was practically nonexistent a week before, he just couldn't ask for a time off at work this time.

“We’re spending Christmas there this year,” you tried to cheer him up, rubbing his arm with solace, “time flies by, anyways”.

Hyunjin nodded, resigning himself to the imminent struggle of being hours and miles apart from each other.

“Text me when you get there, yeah?” He planted a chaste kiss on your forehead and held you tightly. “Text me all the time, I’ll reply when I can, okay?”

You nodded against his chest, and kept his promise throughout the whole trip.

You texted him when you got to your home country, and you also texted him a picture of your first meal there. You told him all about the weather, how happy your parents were to see you after a while and the things you missed the most.

He promised he would reply when he could, but you knew that wasn't going to happen any time soon. Or at least not for a couple of more hours, until he woke up.

And basically, that has been the whole dynamic all along ��you text him everything about your day at a given time, and he texts you everything about his day at a given time as well. There's very little conversation happening in between, but it's understandable.

By day 3, Hyunjin learned to convert time zones. If it is morning for him, it is late afternoon for you. If it is his late night, you're probably just waking up.

He knows when to text you —if he is expecting a quick response— and knows when you're sleeping. Taking all that into account, Hyunjin tries to make the most of the time that's actually convenient for the two of you to talk.

[08:19 a.m., Hyunjin: Baby]

With furrowed eyebrows, your fingers type away faster than your mind can comprehend it.

[08:19 a.m., You: Shouldn’t you be asleep?]

[08:19 a.m., You: Isn’t it like 11 p.m. in Seoul?]

He is a night owl. Always have been.

But he has been trying really hard to adopt a healthier sleeping schedule, so seeing him online past 10 p.m. it's unusual these days.

“Everything alright?” Your father asks, picking up on the subtle furrow of your brows.

“Yeah, I’m just talking to Hyunjin,” with your phone in one hand, and the other busy with a fork on your breakfast, you await his response.

“It’s such a shame he couldn’t make it,” your mother adds, “it has been a while since we last met him”.

At that moment, when your mom and dad start talking about how great of a guy he is and how happy they’re to have him as part of the family, your phone vibrates yet again in your hand.

[08:21 a.m., Hyunjin: Attachment: one image]

[08:21 a.m., Hyunjin: Can you see how much I miss you?]

If it wasn’t for the glass of water you smartly chugged down to hide your coughs, you would have choked on a piece of fruit. Inevitably, and after a failed attempt to conceal the embarrassing moment, your parents' eyes are fixed on you with concern.

“Sorry,” you excuse yourself, cleaning your lips with a napkin while you relentlessly try to put your phone away from anyone’s sight.

“Are you alright?” your mother asks this time, softly hitting your back

“Yes,” you nod swiftly. “I just- the food kind of went into the wrong pipe”.

On your lap, your phone keeps vibrating —one after another, you lose count after message number 4.

[08:22 a.m., Hyunjin: God, I miss your body so much]

[08:22 a.m., Hyunjin: Just want you here for me. Don't want anyone else to have you right now]

[08:23 a.m., Hyunjin: My hand isn't enough. It doesn't feel like your pussy does]

[08:23 a.m., Hyunjin: Can you come back to me now? Lay underneath me and let me have my way with you?]

[08:24 a.m., Hyunjin: You have no idea how fucking hard I am]

You gulp loudly.

“What do you think?” It's only when your mother directs a question at you that you snap out of your trance.

“Huh?”

“What do you think about spending Christmas in some beautiful cabins? They're like 45 minutes away from the city,” she continues, offering you some of the context you missed because of Hyunjin’s heated messages.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply with hesitation. Not because of the idea, but because you really can’t process anything other than the warmth between your legs. “I- uh, I have to go to the restroom”.

For all he knows, you're lying comfortably in your bed as this is around the time you usually wake up. So damned you, for not letting Hyunjin know that today you are having breakfast with your family at a restaurant. And damned him for putting you into an awkward situation without even knowing of it.

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Can I call you?]

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Want to hear your voice]

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Please, talk to me. Tell me anything you want. Just let me hear that pretty voice of yours]

[08:27 a.m., Hyunjin: Fuck it]

[08:27 a.m., Hyunijn: I’m calling you]

Good luck can’t be any more useful than right now, that you enter the restaurant’s restroom with your fingers crossed and an immense feeling of relief when you see every single stall open.

And, as if on cue, the soft piano melody coming from your phone's speakers tells you that Hyunjin stuck up to his last message.

“Are you busy?” It’s the first thing he says, with a hoarse voice and a hitched breath.

“I’m at a restaurant,” you reply with just a little bit of shame in your tone. “With my parents”.

Your boyfriend lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Shit I’m- I didn’t know, I’m sorry,” you can hear him panicking, maybe because he thinks you're upset. But in reality, it's all quite the opposite. “I’ll call you later just- forget I even- whatever, I’ll call you another time”.

“No,” you rush to say, locking yourself into one of the bathroom stalls. “Don’t hang up, I can- I’m at the restroom”.

There's a quick seconds of silence from the other line as Hyunjin gathers the remaining coherent thoughts after getting to hear your voice. “Is it- are there other people there?”

“For now it’s just me,” you reassure him.

“Just you?” He asks, and you hum in response. “I’m sorry for calling it’s just- God, I can’t spend another day without you”.

The wet, sloppy slow sounds paired with the laziness of his voice can only give you a hint of what he is doing.

“Are you- masturbating?”

It's not like you're a prude, but this whole thing is taking you by surprise. You're always together, so there's no need for phone sex or anything of that sort. Sexting isn’t unusual, but this is definitely a first.

“Yeah,” he replies with a raspy scoff. “Want me to stop?”

“No, I- no,” when you encourage him to continue, the lewd, wet sounds start to become more and more frequent —increasingly loud for you to hear them, “keep going”.

Hyunjin lets out a deep sigh of frustration.

“Do you miss me too?” he asks, biting down his lower lip to prevent any whimpers from falling from them.

“Yes,” with shortness of breath you admit. “I miss you too,”.

“Yeah?” He whispers under his breath, letting small grunts make their way to your ears. “I miss you badly. Can’t stop thinking about you- shit, can’t stop thinking about how pretty you look when you’re naked in my bed”.

The compliments, all together, make your cheeks and body grow hotter. But inevitably, they force you to fix your gaze under the bathroom stall, in that little gap between it and the floor. There’s no sound nor signals of footsteps approaching, but the adrenaline of hearing him say such dirty things when you're out in public is definitely a new experience.

You can't say you hate it.

“Baby,” Hyunjin moans. And although you can’t see it, you can take a wild guess what he looks like right now: head kicked back, legs spread, his hand and dick glistening with lube, or lotion, or maybe spit. You can picture how pretty his face is right now, contorted in pleasure, with his lips all swollen from licking and biting them, eyes completely white while he bucks his hips up against his fist. “Talk to me, tell me about your plans for the day”.

You can’t help but laugh a little in the midst of the tension.

“You want me to- talk about my day while you masturbate?”

“Well,” he scoffs under his breath. “I don’t expect you to say dirty stuff while you’re locked in a public restroom where anyone can walk in”.

“Right,” you nod to yourself. “But I don't understand what that would do for you”.

“I like your voice,” your boyfriend lets out a deep exhale of relief. “I can get off just by listening to it, doesn’t matter what you’re talking about”.

“You’re crazy,” a soft chuckle falls from your lips. “You’re not even going to pay attention to me”.

“Please?” you can hear a small whimper, and that alone convinces you.

“Okay well,” you clear your throat before continuing, wondering how this could arouse him. But he is asking you something that is nowhere near difficult, so you comply. “I’m having breakfast with my parents right now”.

“Aha,” Hyunjin hums, and if you play close attention you can hear his hand sliding up and down his cock. All you're left with is your imagination. “Keep going”.

“I will meet with a friend later, we’re going to grab some coffee”.

Despite the weirdness of it all, there's something enticing about knowing he is using you, in some way, to get off. You're only talking about your day. But knowing your boyfriend is masturbating to the sound of your voice is arousing.

“Then I’ll go back home, get some work done,” you continue. “Think about you, think about how much I miss you right now”.

The line goes silent, except for a mixture of gasps and groans.

“You’re going to think about me?” Hyunjin asks, his silky voice sending shivers down your spine. “You’re going to touch yourself thinking about me?”

“Yes,” of course he doesn't expect you to talk dirty to him. But that never meant he couldn't say that kind of stuff to you. At that, you're at a disadvantage. No matter how turned on you're getting, there's nothing you can do about it and Hyunjin sort of feels thrilled because of it.

“You’re going to fuck my pussy with those fingers of you?”

God, how much you hate him for that. How he talks about your body as if it is his, reminding you that you belong to him and him only.

You only hate it because it never fails to arouse you.

“Y-yes Hyune,” you reply, swallowing thickly. You're aware you can't say anything too obscene, but you still can engage in that kind of conversation without airing yourself too much. “Or should I- use something else?”

“You packed your toys?” your boyfriend lets out a satisfied groan at your hum of agreement. You two are just so alike. “Which one are you using tonight, baby?”

“The transparent one”.

“The transparent one?” he thinks about it for a second, and immediately remembers which one you're referring to. “Thought you were going for the wand because it's your favorite, but I'm guessing you miss feeling full?”

“Aha,” you exhale. “Yes, I- miss it so bad”.

“You miss my cock stretching that tight pussy of yours?” At that, the wet movements become louder. “Stretch it nice and open for me baby, make sure to prep yourself every day for when you get back”.

You bite your nails. “What’s going to happen when I get back?”

The answer is rather obvious, but you want to hear it from him.

“I’m going to make you come until you pass out,” Hyunjin bites his lips and kicks his head back, reminiscing all those times where you’ve come around his cock, fingers and tongue. “Make it up to you for all the days you've been away”.

You can feel the pooling wetness in your underwear, the minimum squeeze of your thighs against each other is a constant reminder of it.

“You miss my lips against your pussy like I do?” he asks, letting out a liberating gasp. “You miss tasting yourself off of me while we kiss?”

“You know I do,” you gulp loudly, caressing your lips with the tip of your fingers. God, how much you miss feeling his against yours.

They’re so soft, and velvety, and they know exactly how to kiss and bite you.

“I’m so close,” Hyunjin announces, and you feel your nipples hardening underneath your underwear at the despair in his voice. “I just- wish you were here, want to come all over your face, and body, make you swallow me full”.

You want to say something, anything, but his words have much of a chokehold on you. You'll give anything to taste him, to kneel in front of him right now and open your mouth wide for him.

You miss his taste, miss kissing him afterwards in between whines and grunts.

“I would grab your hair really tightly,” he explains, increasing the speed of his sounds. “I’d push my cock deep inside that pretty mouth of yours, have you gagging and drooling all over it”.

Between his overwhelming words, and the loud sound of someone barging through the door of the restroom, you mutter a quick "can't talk anymore" before going completely silent.

“Honey, are you okay?”

Shit.

You close your eyes, trying to focus on both parts: Hyunjin’s moans, and the way your mother is standing right outside your bathroom stall.

“It has been like 10 minutes, your father and I got worried”.

Your boyfriend lets out a teasing scoff, one that only you can hear.

“She’s asking you a question,” Hyunjin murmurs, still with a hitched breath. “Aren’t you going to answer?”

“I’m fine,” you rush to say. “Just- having a stomachache”.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve got some medicine in my bag,” of course she did. She always does, ever since you were little.

“Maybe you should tell her the truth,” the voice from the other line calls. “Tell her that you’re busy making me come”.

Immediately, your eyes open like plates and you wonder if the sound of the phone is too loud for your mom to hear it inside the quiet restroom.

“I forgot!” you snap, practically yell out loud. “I forgot you carried those with you”.

“Want me to bring them to you?”

You hear the faucet running, and Hyunjin chuckling slowly. At least she isn’t standing right outside the stall, but you’re still not at ease.

“Y-yeah, please,” on the line, Hyunjin is waiting for the perfect moment to interrupt.

Those two words are enough to send him to the edge. Despite the lack of sexual connotations, hearing you beg for anything it’s enough to arouse him.

“Ah, but I’ll have to bring you some water too,” your mother explains. “Maybe you can have it when you return to the table?”

“No!” You insist, all in an attempt to kick her away from the restroom. “Please, I need it right now. Please?”

“Are you going to beg for me like that too?” Hyunjin groans through the line, not caring if anyone can hear him. Also not caring about interrupting your conversation. “Are you going to open your legs for me and beg for my dick like you’re begging right now?”

You almost choke on your own saliva, but the feeling quickly goes away when you hear your mother mutter an “okay, alright” before walking out the restroom door with a mission of easing your fake stomach ache.

“I almost get caught,” you gasp, only when a couple of seconds pass after she leaves.

“Then hang up,” his shakily breath only tells you he is not that far from coming. Especially after hearing your voice again, pleading for whatever it was you were asking.

“No,” you shake your head. “Want to hear you, please”.

“Want to hear how I come for you?” he chuckles. “Want to her how I moan your name while I come thinking about how much I wish I was fucking you?”.

In a whisper, you hum quietly.

“So dirty,” he is getting closer. “So, so f-fucking dirty. I can tell you’re enjoying this, even while you're out in public. Maybe you'll like it if i were to fuck you right there, while your parents wait for us at the table?”.

You cover your mouth in surprise, trying to muffle a gasp.

“I would love to come inside you right now, pull up your panties and force you to spend the rest of the day with my cum leaking out of you,” he lets out another loud, choked groan before continuing to elaborate on the fantasy. “You'd be so wet, you wouldn't know if you're turned on or it's just my cum”.

“You’re insane,” you whisper under your breath.

“Yeah?” Hyunjin asks teasingly, slurring his words in between moans. “I know you are too, baby. I don’t even need to take a look at you to know you’re probably dripping just by my words, right?”

Damned him.

“And I know I’m not too out of my mind when I say you would let me fuck you right then and there, where everyone could hear you and anyone could walk in,” at that, the lewd noises increase. “Might even let me finger you underneath the table, right? Bet you would love to have my fingers deep inside you while you try to pretend you don’t”.

Oh you're definitely going to cancel all your plans for the day. Might even book an early fly.

Anything, just to see him soon.

“God,” Hyunjin exhales, and it’s between quiet moans that you realize he is coming. “F-fuck, ‘m coming so fucking much”.

You can picture it. His tone abdomen all glistening with sweat and cum, shining brightly underneath the dim light of your room. His cock is probably red, and swollen, and twitching while he overcomes his high.

Fuck, damned be Hyunjin for making you ruin your panties this early in the morning.

“So much,” he repeats, fingers trailing the lines of his abdomen as he collects his arousal off of it. “Too sad it went to waste, I would’ve preferred to fuck it back inside of you”.

“I hate you,” you finally breathe, both in relief and frustration. “I hate how much I miss you”.

“Then come home soon,” your boyfriend pouts.

And honestly? You might.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut

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pupyuj · 7 months ago

Note

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C6_fxx8Pm0x/?igsh=MWw2MGF0bzgzMjdpYQ==

UHMM?? HELLOOOOO? OBSESSED YUJIN, STALKER YUJIN,CRAZY YUJIN💦

HEHEHDHDHCJ i thank the lord everyday for the existence of accendio mv bcs EVIL!YUJIN??? god i need her. GOOD!GAEUL GIVE ME THE WAND I CAN DISTRACT HER 😛😛😛 also this doesn't have too much smut purely bcs i didn't rlly think it'd fit much into the scenario but there's still some crumbs! 😭

[cw: dubcon (implied), yujin is really creepy and insane]

anon said the words ‘obsessed’, ‘stalker’, and ‘crazy’ and i just immediately thought of those admirers that go too far with their crush on that one person and yeah.. sounds like something yuj would be alright 🤪 her being the cool sunbae yujin that’s taken a strange liking to you, literally just some girl 😭 yujin being so confident of herself that she doesn’t waste energy by being subtle at all! constantly waiting by your locker to say good morning, sometimes she even takes you to class, waves at you if she doesn’t have time to talk to you, makes small talk in the bathrooms, the library, the courtyard, the gardens—wait, how is it that she knows wherever you are almost all the time?? 🤔 maybe it was all just a coincidence, yujin knows the campus like the back of her hand after all! 😅

anyway, yujin is very romantic! she knows a lot of things that you like! how? why, she kindly asked your friends.. with a few threats here and there bcs they were becoming suspicious of her intent but the point is that she got the information she wanted, okay? ☺️ she knows your favorite type of flowers, favorite foods and delicacies, and sometimes shows up at your front porch with those exact gifts just for you! 🥰

except that.. you never told her where you lived. not even which part of town your house was in. not even your friends could’ve told her. that’s why they showed up to school with bruises and cuts one day. but turns out yujin found you anyway. like she always does.

that was the final straw for you—you were officially creeped the fuck out! and so you start putting some distance between you and yujin but she didn't like that at all! she started following you around more, practically running after you every time you dash away from her.. she wasn't going to give up easily! 😣😣 you tried to block her from all of your social media accounts bcs she keeps spamming you with borderline threats and pictures of you that she has taken while she stalked you but she was really stubborn!

wouldn't think there would be anything wrong with climbing your house and watching you right next to your bedroom window,, her heavy breathing fogging up the glass with how close she was just to see your clearly,, you looked so beautiful sleeping so peacefully! :(( but you'd stir in your sleep, as if you knew something was amiss beyond your little dreamland.. then you'd wake up and find your window slightly open,, at first you thought that you probably just forgot to close it again but then your eyes snap open at the sight of the figure sitting on your bed,, your first instinct would be to kick it and move away but it was faster than you! it covers your mouth shut and only under the tiniest stream of moonlight did you recognize the person that had broken into your room—ahn yujin!

ofc she wouldn't see a problem with breaking into your home,, doesn't hesitate to threaten you either! saying that she'd hurt you or worse if you were to make a single noise and alert your neighbors. yujinnie just wanted to get close to you! in her head, she has been nothing but kind! why did you insist on rejecting her?! she truly didn't understand, but that was okay. she was going to make you understand! now that she has you all for herself... she can do anything she has been wanting to do! like kissing you (she was very happy when you eventually kissed back despite your initial resistance!), touching you (she always knew your skin was so soft), and ofc, fucking you (you rlly had to make her for work it—kicking and punching and trying to bite her hand... but in the end, yujin got her way with you. like she always will from now on.) 😰

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living-dead-author · 9 months ago

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Sexual therapy: Hannibal x Reader Chapter two: Praise

This is a bit over double the word count of the last chapter and now we're getting into the meat of this. I have a ton more chapters planned so get ready for all that is to come.

Content includes: Naked reader, consensual kink, vibrator used on reader, clitoral stimulation, praise, aftercare, mentions of spanking at the end

This is 18+ minors and ageless accounts will be blocked

At 7:30 sharp Hannibal opens his office door, smiling at you. You wore what he instructed you to wear, something formal but comfortable and easy to slip out of. He steps aside and lets you in.

“Good evening Dr. Lecter.” You say, looking back at him as he shuts his office door.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again Y/N. Do you remember what I have planned for us today?” He asks as you notice the chase lounge in his office is now covered in some kind of clear vinyl material. You nod your head and turn back to face him.

“Yes Dr. Lecter I do. Today we will be experimenting with praise and you will be using a vibrator on me. The scene will end when I reach an orgasm or when either of us says the safe word. I’m very excited for today's session.” Hannibal smiles and nods his head, taking off his suit jacket.

“That is correct. You’re a very smart person I must say. Now, be good for me and take off your clothes.” He says, his hands moving to unbutton his suit vest. You do as you're told and you take off all of your clothes, holding them in your arms for a moment before you set them down on one of the leather chairs in his office. “You’re a good listener, very obedient.” Hannibal smiles slightly and makes his way over to his desk. “Now lay down on the chase in whatever position you normally masterbate in.”

His direct language caught you off guard but again you do as you're told and lay down on the chase, feeling the cool material of the clear vinyl underneath you.

“Are you worried I’m dirty Dr. Lecter?” You ask in a light hearted manner as he pulls out a small oval shaped device and a small remote. Hannibal shakes his head and walks back over towards you.

“Of course not. My perfect patient is very clean I’m sure, I just want to be cautious about any material that could stain getting on my lounge chair.” He says, bending down and looking at the slit between your legs that’s growing wetter by the moment. He gently and carefully places the oval device on your clit and positions it so it’s comfortable.

“Now, if you want to go faster or slower you will ask politely and I will wait to see if you deserve it.” He says, standing back up. He presses a button on the remote and you feel the device start to vibrate against your clit in the perfect way. You can’t help but let out a moan and shut your eyes as Hannibal smiles.

“When was the last time your ex boyfriend made you orgasm?” He asks in a calm manner, waiting for a response as you adjust to the vibration against your clit.

“Mmm~ In the…beginning of our relationship…three years ago…” You say between moans as Hannibal increases the speed on the vibrator, making you cry out in more pleasure as you jerk your hips before setting them back on the chase again.

“That’s a shame.” Hannibal says, walking around the lounge as he looks down on your, soft moans escaping your mouth, small beads of sweat forming on your forehead, the way you bite your lip to try and stay quiet. “Don’t hold back your moans. I want to know how good I’m making my perfect patient feel.” You slowly open your mouth again and you let out more and more moans. “You’re taking this very well. I can see that you’re going to react well to what else I have planned for us. But it’s a very pleasing sight seeing you in a divine state like this.”

You nod your head and keep moaning quietly as the vibrator hums on and on over your clit as you get wetter and wetter. You’re not sure what it is but you never get this turned on on your own, or when your boyfriend tried to be intimate with you. This is the most aroused you’ve been in a very long time.

“Oh Dr. Lecter~ Please~ Please turn it up~” You moan out to him, your head tilted back as you adjust yourself to get more comfortable.

“Does my perfect patient deserve a higher speed?” He asks, looking down at you with that remote in his hand. You nod your head and he smiles softly. “Use your words like the intelligent person you are.” Those words send a surge of blood to your clit, making the feeling of the vibrator all the more intense as you try to get out the words.

“Yes~ Yes please Dr. Lecter~ Please~ I deserve it~” You moan, a small bead of sweat rolling down your face and neck as you wait for him to react.

Hannibal presses a button and the speed gets faster, making you moan out louder.

“You’re taking this very well. I want you to take a deep breath for me. You’re obedient enough to do that.” Hannibal comments, smiling down at the sight of you struggling to keep your pleasure under control as you try to follow his instructions. “You deserve this. You deserve to feel this good, you deserve to be praised like the good submissive that you are.”

Those words send you over the edge, making you orgasm hard. Your hips raise in the air as Hannibal turns down the vibration slightly, but not fully, to let you ride out this orgasm. Slowly but surely, as you come down from your high, the pleasure is replaced with a need to squirm. As you lay back down, limper than before, Hannibal turns off the vibrator and walks over to you, removing it from between your legs and turning you over to rest on your stomach.

“The scene is over. You did very good for me.” He says, walking over to his desk, placing the vibrator and remote in a plastic bag before returning with a glass of water in his hand. He tilts your head up and helps you drink from it, pushing your hair damp from sweat off your forehead as he lets you finish the glass on your own.

“Thank you Hannibal.” You say as you continue to lay there limply, taking in slow, deep breaths as you come down from your orgasm. Hannibal sits at the edge of the chase, rubbing his hand up and down your back in a soothing manner.

“Of course Y/N, aftercare is very important. It’s crucial to make sure you don’t get into a depressive episode because of improper care. Now, do you need anything else before I help you to the bathroom so you can clean yourself up?” He asks, keeping up his soothing, soft motions of rubbing your back. You think for a moment and look over at him.

“May I have another glass of water?” You ask, wiping more sweat off your forehead. Hannibal nods and gets up, picking up your glass before returning with it, filled with water again. You take it from his hands and sit up as you slowly drink it all. Hannibal takes your hand and leads you over to the private bathroom in his office.

“If you require any assistance please let me know.” He gives you a soft smile before shutting the door and letting you clean yourself up.

You return back to his office after you finish. Hannibal is drinking his own glass of water and you start to get dressed again, your face glowing with pleasure and satisfaction. Like a five year long itch has just started to get scratched.

“I want to try something a bit different next time.” You say, looking over at Hannibal as you zip up your pants. He smiles softly and you and sets down his glass.

“What did you have in mind?” He asks, resting a hand on his desk.

“I want to try a roleplay. I want it to be your assistant and I want you to be my boss. I want you to spank me while I’m in some lingerie during that roleplay.” Hannibal nods and motions for you to sit down while he takes a seat in his own chair.

“I like the idea of that. Let’s discuss this more before our session ends.” You nod your head and smile, making sure to get comfortable because you know Hannibal loves to be thorough.

#hannibal smut #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc

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starwrighter · 1 year ago

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I am not a baby!!(Yes you are)

(Ao3) (Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)

(Chapter 18 baby!)

The hatchling didn’t stay in his nest very long. Damian had thought the little one would be exhausted after his first encounter with Grayson. He himself had been exhausted by the encounter. It had taken ages to convince the other to leave and stop stalking near the plateaus.

The constant attempts at surveillance from his siblings were irritating before he’d been assigned to watch the hatchling. They were infuriating now. He isn't an infant anymore, and he hasn't been one for a thousand years. It's annoying that his siblings thought him so incompetent that he couldn’t complete this one simple task.

They acted like they weren't guilty of losing hatchlings in their territories. Scolding him like a hatchling slipping past someone was this unheard-of act of negligence. He knew for a fact each and every one of them had lost track of a guppy at least once. At least the little one he’s guarding was still alive. Damian had managed to keep it that way. Unlike other's he could think of.

This little one was healthy, swimming around faster than a pissed-off crashfish. He clicked his teeth at the child, a call of “come here” that the child either couldn’t understand or was blatantly ignoring. The little one was desperate to explore, but as he kicked his little legs closer and closer in the direction of the crash site, Damian couldn’t help but take action.

Bolting from his spot in the sand, he crooned. A worried scolding noise. A gentle nudge from clawed hands was met with a frustrated nip from the hatchling. With puffed-up cheeks, the hatchling darted around him, dodging his attempts at blocking him with a stubborn determination.

Why the little one was so determined to make his way to the crash site was beyond his understanding. Was it a built-in instinct to head towards their “Mother”? The structure that harbored them was no doubt artificial so it was safe to assume he wasn’t straying to gain comfort from a dead parent. Maybe he thought other members of his clutch would be nearby. These little ones tended to flock towards places other hatchlings had been. Presumably, Duke had been the one to find the hatchling near the egg in the kelp forests, even if the elder didn’t realize it.

Damian followed the hatchling deeper into the sand-clouded waters anxiety flaring the longer the little one ignored his warning. The metal here was still hot enough to mutilate a hatchling who drew close enough to touch it. Wreckage everywhere the eye could see, Damian didn’t trust any of it. How could one trust something that tended to spontaneously combust around a child? You couldn’t. This biome was too dangerous for a hatchling and he hadn’t even taken the reapers into account yet!

“Owwwwww”

Damian stared at the little one. There wasn’t a scratch on him yet pain and nausea radiated of him. The child blinked rapidly, pushing through the water despite Damian's attempts to pull him back.

“Get back here!” Damian called, the hatchling didn’t even acknowledge him. He just kept swimming forward. Closer to the reaper and closer to a mother that likely was never alive in the first place. The hatchling acknowledged his own pain, his swimming staggered the hatchling struggling to keep upright but continued his plight.

Damian huffed, snapping his teeth, flaring his gills, and striking the space beside the little one. An intimidation tactic, if the child wouldn’t respond to a guardian, he’d respond to an agitated predator. Using his size to his advantage, Damian towered over him, the glowing blue slab in the hatchling’s hands screamed.

Those little slabs had to have a tracker of some kind inside of them. The children would look at those glowing screens and wander towards somewhere dangerous. Specifically, a dangerous area another hatchling had once been in. Damian couldn’t bring himself to feel bad when the screen went blank.

“No!”

Distress was clear in the little one’s cry, blue eyes fixated on the slab.

“Sad” Damian reached for the child, freezing in his spot when a bone-chilling noise could just barely be heard. A noise he could recognize in a heartbeat, but it didn’t matter how quickly he recognized the sound. He had heard it, and that meant it could see them.

A reaper shouldn’t be here! Jason was supposed to be corralling them today. They’d wandered too close, and a reaper had snuck away from Jason’s care to take advantage. The hatchling kept staring at the dead tablet, unaware of the impending danger.

Damian puffed up, taking in a breath and letting out the loudest shriek his body could manage, wrapping his body around the guppy. His clawed hands prevented escape or in this case, prevented sharp mandibles from impaling the tiny skull of an infant. The little one was silent as the reaper charged, Damian’s tail raised to smack the mindless attacker away.

Its body was all muscle, eyes hungry and irrational. The strikes from his tail made an audible crack but did nothing to deter the beast. His defenses only served to anger it further. Reapers only cared about food, it would’ve been normal behavior had it not been for the bloodthirsty way they attempted to eat anything that moved regardless of size or age. Damian was far too large for the reaper to eat on its own on the unlikely chance the creature managed to finish him off, but it didn’t seem to care.

Logically he knew the animal was driven by instinct, but his bitterness prevailed. Reapers were not a part of this ecosystem that he favored, but he could understand the crucial role they played in local population control. Even if said population control attacked everything, including each other.

Blood spilled into the sea, but so long as it wasn’t red, Damian didn’t falter. Red copper-smelling blood meant death; a sign of ensured failure that’d stick with him for the rest of his natural life. Damian glanced down at the hatchling. The little one pointed a tool through the small gaps in his claws.

The tool was easy to recognize. The little one pointed it at everything, sometimes he would eat whichever flora or fauna he used it on. Damian wouldn’t be surprised if he was taking the opportunity to check if a reaper was edible. Father told him growing babies were always hungry and this hatchling had done nothing to disprove this theory.

Damian thrashed his tail, striking the beast into the ground. They didn’t know where that fish spent its time. Reapers didn’t care if what they ate was diseased. The ultimate carrier of plague. A baby's immune system was so incredibly fragile it had only taken three hours for the child in Dick’s territory to fall prey to illness. They needed to get out of here, now.

“Swim!” The hatchling beat his tiny fist against his skin. It was only the direction he was drifting towards that reassured him the little one wanted away from the reaper. He snapped, baring his teeth at the reaper, striking it down once more before shooting off with the hatchling gripped gently in his claws.

“Speed!!” The hatchling cheered, kicking his legs like he hadn’t almost been swallowed whole by a reaper.

“We wins, next time” The little one stared at him with those expressive blue eyes. There wouldn’t be a next time so long as he could help it. It wouldn’t be long before he was lectured for allowing the child anywhere near the site in the first place.

His tail ached, as they glided towards the safety of the shallows. A tsunami of nausea struck him as lingering adrenaline slowly faded from his system. He hadn’t failed, the guppy was fine. Not a scratch on him. This was fine. There would be no need for Father to assign someone else to watch the hatchling.

He was the most competent out of all of them! A whole three days this hatchling had been alive on this planet. His siblings couldn’t even keep one alive for three hours. This little one was stubborn and tiny, everywhere was a good hiding place for him and if he wanted to go somewhere he’d go with or without a guardian. Anyone with a brain could imagine the outcome of a hatchling wandering the crash sight by themself. They’d seen what happened, and it wasn’t pretty. Damian had done everything right, and dealt with the difficult situation handed to him without any casualties.

All it would take was a few seconds of them watching him before the guppy escaped from their watch. A few seconds and they’d be swimming around panicked like a shoal of rabbit rays. Damian doubted the hatchling being passed to someone else would stop his need for exploration. With the ability to maneuver on land, it wasn’t hard to imagine the child running off to explore one of the islands completely out of their reach. Damian didn’t even want to think about the possible tragedies that could happen if he’d wandered completely out of reach. The little “adventure” they’d gone on today induced a lifetime of anxiety in just a few minutes, but he doubted this would be the last time something like this would happen.

“Free me!” The child demanded, squirming in his gentle grip as they entered the coral-filled biome. The little one pried the claws off his back, diving into the sand the moment he regained his freedom.

Thwack!

“OW!”

A peeper charged straight for the child, impacting against chubby cheeks with a loud smack! With the bravo of a biter, it slapped the child directly in the face with its body. He couldn’t help but snort, quickly batting the small blue fish away before the hatchling could take his revenge. A thin trail of glittering gold followed the retreating prey fish, leaving Damian alone to do damage control.

“Gross!” The hatchling scrunched his nose, rubbing his hands against his face. Not a mark was left on him, only the lingering sparkle of yellow clinging to his skin. An encounter with a peeper wouldn’t kill them. If anything, one might argue it's healthy for him.

“Bleeding!” The child frowned, staring guilty at Damian’s tail. Yellow oozed from long thin scratches running down the thinner parts of his tail. Minor injuries that’d do him no harm in the long term. It was the better of the many morbid outcomes that’d been possible.

“Am sorry,”

Damian chuffed, holding the child in his palm, raising him slowly to the surface. Chubby hands smacked against his forehead the moment he lowered the child into the water a brief warning before he shot off into the kelp forest.

There wasn’t a second where he took his eyes off the guppy. Stalking with his body pressed up against the ground. The biome had plenty of hiding places for the hatchling but Damian was limited. His second form was far better suited for stealth but ran a higher risk of fatal injuries from larger fauna and attracted the attention of precursor-built predators.

A Warper was the last thing anyone wanted to introduce to a child. They attacked at random, culling off populations of fish and flora. While they preferred killing those with glowing cysts on their body, it didn’t stop them from attacking perfectly healthy individuals. It wouldn’t stop them from attacking the hatchling.

Tiny flippers cut through the water. An abundance of creepvine keeps the biome a murky green. He curled around stone arches watching the hatchlings chase fish, catching them between sharp canines.

“Distraction!” The child shouted, followed by the wet thwap of a dead fish impacting against a stalker's jaw. The animal was dazed by the attack but not injured as they eagerly scarfed down the “Weapon” that struck them. Other stalkers were smarter. Slowly approaching the child with open jaws, accepting a snack without having to face the violent throwing hand of an infant.

He himself was guilty of feeding stalkers. They never became docile enough to be a pet, but were still one of his favorite animals. Feeding them was much easier for him than it was for a hatchling this tiny. The child’s method was rather violent but it was necessary to ensure he wouldn’t be eaten alongside the offered fish.

“What the fuck were you doing in the crash site earlier?” Jason questioned cutting through his observations. Concern entwined with the fury lacing his words.

“You need to be more specific Todd, everyone’s been frequenting the crash site recently,” Damian replied, an obvious dismissal of the other’s concerns.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about,” Jason seethed “You’re on babysitting duty. Why the fuck would you try to fist fight a reaper when?”

“Would you have preferred I allowed the creature to eat the hatchling?” Damian sneered. “He’s determined to wander, our excursion to the crash site wasn’t planned,” He started.

“You were supposed to keep him in the shallows,”

“If I’d managed to stop him he’d have escaped and gone on his own,” Damian reminded, his voice tense. Many hatchlings had escaped or died on their careful watch, especially when they were kept confined to a single biome.

Damian didn’t want to keep the hatchling cooped up somewhere so cramped. Not when their species was still unknown to them. What if wandering allowed them to fulfill needs crucial to their survival? Precursors were the ones who kept children as prisoners. They were the ones who’d lock a child up and leave them until they died in agony, not him! Not his family, they wouldn’t do that. “Is he okay?” Jason asked.

“He’s catapulting dead fish at stalkers so I think it’s safe to assume he’s healthy,” Damian replied.

“What about you, demon spawn?” Jason questioned

“A reaper couldn’t even dream of hurting me,” Damian huffed.

“Not what I meant,” Jason sighed, the other sounded exhausted. “Something in the crash site is making everything really fucking sick. Bruce thinks it’s the mother spilling off some nasty decomp,”

“…” Damian felt fine, a little nauseous, but he was fine. There was no need for bed rest or a break. The idea of an artificial structure spilling toxic decomp was new but not impossible. Precursors did have a morbid fascination with playing god. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to assume this is a failure of this overconfident thought process.

In the thousand years Warpers’ had been on this planet, none of them had ever died naturally. None of them had shown even the smallest sign of degrading with age. A Warper rotting, was an unthinkable concept you’d expect to happen when the sun dies out. But these hatchlings weren’t Warpers. Warpers were put together in an intricate process that had likely been perfected over a long time. These crashes screamed of a rush job. Tim had theorized the precursors had set both “mothers” on a timer before they’d gone extinct. Since there was nobody to monitor development, they were shot down far too early.

They didn’t know whose DNA was stolen to make any of the hatchlings. Knowing the precursors, most of these hatchlings had DNA that could stem from other unfortunate planets.

Damian glanced back to the hatchling. Incredibly tiny, with dull fingers and a reliance on the technology he created. They were dealing with a premature baby. A premature baby whose egg had malfunctioned upon impact. Smaller than any of the hatchlings they’ve seen before yet twice as ferocious to make up for that.

A string of strange chirps sounded from the little one’s tablet glowing once again. The guppy spun around looking around the kelp forest before his eyes landed on Damian.

“I sees you!” The child shouted before returning to cut pieces of kelp. Damian wasn’t sure if the boy’s short attention span was a blessing or a curse.

“Will I need to be quarantined?” Damian stalked the child as he swam back to the shallows. His tail dragged awkwardly against the sand. Small piles of rock were knocked to the seabed, a cloud of dust upturned with his attempts of swift stealthy movements.

“Probably, B has me contained in the fucking dunes,” Jason complained like he didn’t spend his time there daily.

“Sad,” The hatchling projected, Damian looked around, searching for anything that could have caused the child distress. Maybe he was tired? Damian wasn’t a guppy anymore, he didn’t think the same way a child would, but it was only logical for him to be tired after the day they’d had.

“Want my siblings,” the guppy cried, shaking his head with a scrunched nose. Damian frowned, reaching out for the child with a mournful croon. The child had been looking for his clutch mates back then and likely had been searching for them when he’d escaped Damian’s watch before.

“Loud, ouch, hurt” He froze watching as the little one cradled his head in his hands. A softer lower croon was sufficient for a hatchling with a developing sense of hearing. The child stared at him with utter confusion, like he couldn’t comprehend Damian could control his volume. Everything the hatchling said was either a shout or barely audible. Compensation for not having access to the bond yet.

“Mad!” The hatchling huffed, almost giving him a heart attack as he began coughing. A hatchling couldn’t die from being too mad right? No, none of his family would have made it past infancy if that were the case.

“Who will watch the hatchling while I’m in quarantine?” Damian questioned.

“Tim or Dick, they’re the only ones who haven’t gone to the crash site recently,”

Damian rested his head on his chin with a sigh. Tim being one of the only ones not to enter the crash site was a surprise. Tim was the first person you’d think would be flocking to the biome to investigate. Tim loved knowing about everything precursor-related and was especially obsessed with the tools the hatchling used. The insomniac thought they’d be able to mimic the hatchling’s abilities if they studied them hard enough. Tim had fought tooth and claw to loot the few buildings the hatchlings managed to make but Father rejected his requests no matter how he begged. Said it was disrespectful to the dead, and so the buildings were left to rust.

Tim not swarming to scavenge through the wreckage before anyone could stop him was strange. An outlier in an otherwise predictable pattern of behavior. It was an obvious plot to gain access to the only hatchling who lived long enough to build. It’s infuriating but at least the hatchling would be safe under his keen but obsessive eyes.

Dick would be a good babysitter in theory but was overly excitable. Shallow water made his emp field oppressive, and dangerous, something the hatchling had been rightfully terrified of. Dick showing up would surely stress the child out more than would be necessary. The moment he made a grab for the child was the moment he fled and they lost him forever.

“No touch!” The little one puffed up his chest darting back to his nest with ferocity kicking his legs like he wanted to attack the water itself. Damian could only assume the hatchling was cranky because they were up all day. Father said guppies needed lots of sleep but this one didn’t seem to get the memo.

“How long will I be quarantined?” Damian asked staring deeply at the metal structure.

“Until you’re better or until we figure out if what we caught is contagious,” Jason replied bluntly. Damian glared at the sand like each grain had offended him personally. What if the hatchling forgot about him? Object permanence in hatchlings is severely lacking, this one wasn’t any different. It was an unfortunate factor of harboring a brain just beginning to develop and take in information.

“Where am I quarantining?” Damian questioned, raising an eyebrow when he heard the other groan exasperatedly.

“In the dunes with me and everyone else,”

“You’re joking,” Damian accused. The dunes were plenty big enough to hold all of them but it’d be extremely unpleasant.

“Kill me,” Jason deadpanned. Damian nodded, a mercy killing was the ethical solution to this problem.

“I was screwing around earlier so now Duke and Steph think they’re dying of a new precursor plague and Cass has been playing dead in a ditch for about an hour,” Jason complained, a painful-sounding wheeze tainting his words.

“I see…” This wasn’t an ideal situation. He assumed the hatchling would be quarantined inside its nest. It was too dangerous to move him but deadlier to infect him with whatever they’d caught if they didn’t have it already.

Damian eyed the hatch of the child’s nest. The only entrance to the little building. Before he even knew what he was doing he’d curled himself around the hatchling’s base taking incredible care not to break anything. Like a boulder blocking a cave entrance Damian rested his head in front of the hatch.

Blocking the hatchling’s escape into anywhere dangerous while also preventing any physical contact with him. Now all he had to do was wait until his replacement came. Damian sneered, the thought of leaving the hatchling behind for someone else to bond with still irked him more than the pounding headache.

Maybe now the child might finally decide to sleep?

(No more tags because we're on the 18th chapter and there is both a master post and an ao3 link,)

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #subnautica au

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yours-etc · 16 days ago

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12 Days of Steddie-Mas

Day 5:

You would be there too, under the mistletoe

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Steve had always wanted to be the person who hosted holiday parties. With his parents constantly being gone, the holidays never felt like they were supposed to. He had always dreamed of having a house full of people all dressed in ugly sweaters chatting over mugs of spiked hot chocolate or eggnog.

With a little luck (and government hush money) Steve was able to move into a smaller place with Robin. They fixed up the house to their taste and decided they were to be the hosting house for the party from here on out. No more parents just upstairs or walking on eggshells trying not to break any antiques. This was a house just for them to be themselves. After all they had went through together, they deserved a space to truly be themselves.

When December finally came Steve and Robin had already planned their beige Christmas Eve Eve bash for everyone. They sent out real invites with silly Christmas stamps and everything.

Looking around the room Steve sees his dream finally come true. Everyone is there with tastefully ugly sweaters and laughing and filling the house with warmth. Tinsel lined every surface possible and presents laid under the tree to be handed out later. He couldn’t help the smile that made its way to his face. For the first time in a long time Steve could say he was not only happy, but content.

The doorbell rang signaling the last stragglers had arrived.

“I got it!” Steve said jumping into action, playing the perfect host.

When he opens the door there is Gareth and Jeff waiting on the other side, arms full of gifts, only slightly disappointed at the last of their usual third party.

”Hey Steve! Merry Christmas!” Gareth says running into the house, looking like he was about to drop everything and needed to put them all down before that happened.

Jeff followed him in, “Hi Steve, Thanks for the invite!”

“Not a problem,” Steve says, moving out of their way in the doorway.

“Eddie is still in the car grabbing the last of the things,” Gareth calls back before he can close the door.

Steve looked out the front door to the drive way to see Eddie’s van sitting there with back doors open wide. He quickly puts on some shoes and runs out to help, “Need some assistance?” He asks.

Eddie jumps slightly, not having heard Steve walk up. He looks to Steve, noticing his lack of a jacket, “Jesus Harrington, no need to freeze yourself on my account! I got it all, go back inside,” He says shooing Steve.

He ignores him, going to the open back door and picking up several wrapped boxes, “The faster we get these inside the sooner the real party can start,” he says teasingly. Steve walks away arms full, he hears Eddie quickly gather up the last of the boxes and close the back doors of the van before running to catch up to him.

——————————

Everyone is sitting around in the living room and passing out gifts to one another. Wrapping paper is going everywhere, Steve thinks its time to grab a trash bag to start collecting it all, they aren’t even halfway through everything and the mountain of paper is getting ridiculously large. He stands up and makes his way to the kitchen to retrieve the sack.

When he turns around Eddie is standing there, looking shy.

Thinking he needed some water or something from the counter he was blocking, Steve moves to the side, “Sorry Eds, let me get out of your way,” He tries to hurry out of the room, always feeling to warm whenever he’s in a room with Eddie alone for too long.

But Eddie sticks his hands out to stop him, “Wait I came in here for you!”

Steve looks at him with wide eyes, “For me?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a smile, “I have a gift for you, but it's sort of— private, I guess.”

He didn’t think his eyes could go this wide, or heartbeat this fast, “Oh okay,” His voice cracking with nervousness.

It is then that he notices Eddie’s hands holding something behind his back. Steve looks expectantly, wanting to see what was so special Eddie wanted to give it to him alone…

The boy in front of him scratches his neck, “Uhh, could you close your eyes real quick?” He asks.

Steve closes his eyes without another word. He waits for Eddie to be ready. If he was honest with himself, he would admit that he’d do anything Eddie asked him to do.

After a few moments Eddie lets out a big breath, “Okay, you can open your eyes.”

When he does he sees Eddie there with a bright red flush, and when Steve looks up to what he is holding above them, he sees a fresh bunch of mistletoe.

Steve’s heart feels like its about to burst out of his chest.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while, but I’m a fucking scaredy cat, and this is pretty terrifying. And you’re perfect and everyday I don’t tell you it gets harder to keep in,” Eddie starts to ramble as Steve stands there shocked, “But I’ve had this stupid— silly really— crush on you since like sophomore year, and now that I actually know you… it’s ten times worse. And I don’t know recently it’s felt, mutual? Please don’t hit me for saying this and I’m so sorry if I’m reading everything wrong, but I want to kiss you so bad right now, there is no reason you should look as good as you do in an ungly Christmas sweater!” Everything just spews out of him and Steve just listens, waiting for a moment to respond.

He soon realizes that if he didn’t stop it, Eddie would ramble forever. So he took Eddie’s face in his hands and pulls him into a small kiss. Something sweet, and simple, and far too short, but now is not the time to have a make out session in the kitchen. When Steve pulls back, Eddie has gone completely still in his hands.

Steve goes in again. Eddie is more reactive this time, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist, leaning into him. He could feel how nervous Eddie was in the kiss. Steve pulls away again, this time pulling a groan from Eddie in protest.

“I’m not doing much for Christmas Eve, Robin is going to her parents. If you’re free,” Steve starts, but he is cut off by Eddie moving to him first this time. They both smile into this kiss. Eddie’s hands and more confident now, grabbing Steve and pulling him in tight.

Steve tries to push away, “Eddie everyone is in the other room.”

“I actually couldn’t give less of a fuck in this moment,” He say before attacking Steve’s neck.

Dustin’s voice rings out from the living room, “Steve where the hell did you go?”

Footsteps getting closer had them jumping apart with lightning speed.

Steve moves first, meeting Dustin halfway, “I’m literally right here, just getting a glass of water and a trash bag since you all insist on making a mess.”

Dustin rolls his eyes, “Yeah, well hurry up, you have a pile of things to open.”

When Steve sits back down next to Robin, he notices a grin plastered to her face.

“What?” He asks squirming under her gaze.

Robin raises an eyebrow, “I see you like Eddie’s gift,” she says matter of fact.

He looks at her baffled before shoving her over, hard enough to get the point across, not hard enough to push her off the chair, although he really wanted to.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Day: 1 2 3 4 5 6 AO3

DAY 5!!! How excitinggg!! Thank you all on the love for all of these <3 Christmas gets closer and closer everyday! I cant get enough of these two idiots in love, they mean the world to me.

As always thank you for reading and more to come!

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #k scribbles on paper #k does 12 days of Steddie-Mas!!#this is 5 out of 12 #steddie drabble #christmas steddie #steddie christmas

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slasherbtch · 1 year ago

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☆ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝: 𝐘𝐞𝐬/𝐍𝐨

☆ 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐡𝐜

☆ 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐫: 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭!

☆ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

✮ What an amazing joke. Brhams does not and never have gotten stuck in a wall. When he’s in a fit of rage, he actually breaks through walls/mirrors and punches doors with his bare hands!

✮ Let’s also take into account how old the house is. I'm a little surprised it hasn’t gotten blown over by the wind.

✮ While yes, technically, someone with his big ass build should be getting stuck—as would any normal person in such a cramped place but two thing’s for sure and one thing’s for certain, Brahms was not normal.

✮ He grew up living inside those walls because of his family. He had no other choice but to learn how to maneuver through them, to figure out where he could fit and could not fit as he grew to maturity. Not that he has actually matured mentally.

✮ When you factor in all of that, it’s just not possible for him to get stuck. He knows the ends and outs of the house—if one end gets blocked, he’s already running to the other.

✮ Now if we are talking hypothetically and that’s a big hypothetically, a mc nanny is most likely involved. If that’s the case, he will play victim. After all, you are there to take care of him.

✮ He may be taller than you, stronger than you and faster but like mentioned before—he hasn’t exactly reached that level of maturity. He still acts out when he doesn’t get his way or he’s being childish by throwing tantrums. He plays games often—finds it fun to confuse you or scare you. He will play the hurt kitten card if it gets your attention only on him, he has no shame—and he will play it well.

✮ Recently I read a headcanon from another writer that he liked to read the ‘Hero save the Princess’ books when he was younger and he often imagined he was the knight saving her. In reality mc is doing the saving; saving him from his loneliness, his lack of attention/affection and I guess, from being “stuck in the wall”.

✮ I put quotations because he’s not really stuck. He’s playing another game. Another one you're already tired of as you talk to him through the wall, reassuring him that everything’s going to be okay. It’s certainly okay but you’re gonna have to work for it to get him out of the wall before dinner time comes.

✮ He’ll talk to you in his child voice, urging you to come inside the wall and help him. He. Just. Can’t. Budge. As if your small frame compared to his was going to make him move. That’s like trying to move a mountain and mountains (yes they do; look it up) move when they want to, hence how when you get inside the wall through the closet—he’s not where you last spoke to him.

✮ You aren’t happy, you let him know that the game has to end. You threaten no goodnight kisses to show you were serious. He didn’t like that. Suddenly, you're wrapped in his beef arms, pressed to his chest as he stares at you silently. Where the hell did he come from?

✮ “Brahms sorry. He’ll be a good boy now.”

#ᯤ 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝! 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥! / 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐦𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐞 #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #slashers #brahms the doll #brahms hillshire #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms x you

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oswildin · 2 months ago

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Hi, I was wondering how Loki would react to a romantic partner who stutters. It's not bad, but it worsens when they are nervous. There's a thing that happens to me called blocking, basically the words get stuck in my throat and refuse to come out unless I force them out or if i find another word to replace it. It all makes me very insecure and I am trying, but it's hard for me not to dislike myself and see myself as not worth it. Which isn't true, but it's me of course I'll get these thoughts

Perhaps for the same for Sylvie too (as in, if she had a romantic partner who did that too) but I have no idea if you write for her! If you don't, ignore this bit

Oh wow, I didn’t even realise there was a word for that! That’s exactly what happens to me! Just did a little research and it happens to me when I’m under stress or nervous or my mind goes ‘blank’ (especially in trying to find a word and I end up having to change the word I was originally trying to say!). So thank you for sharing that, and I relate to that struggle! I often feel the same about it, and I struggle with feeling ‘stupid’ when I know that isn’t the case - I’m sorry you feel that way, but remember you’re strong, you are worthy and you’re valid 💚

Loki with a Partner who stutters Headcanons:

People would be surprised at how patient Loki is, not because of you but because Loki isn’t exactly always known for his patience

He wouldn’t rush you or make you feel on the spot when you’re trying to find the right word or get the word out

He would give a small subtle smile and nod, a little look of encouragement and reassurance, letting you know that he was listening and understanding

If you looked like you would particularly struggling, he would offer the word kindly and softly, helping you to continue with your sentence

Reassurance! He would never want you to feel like it was something to be insecure or embarrassed by. He would try to be as comforting and open as possible to make you feel like you could express such issues with him

“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.” “Is this the word you were looking for, darling?” “Take a breath, give yourself a moment, don’t rush on my account.”

He would do whatever he could to help you when you’re nervous, not by speaking over you or for you, but by simply being near you. Maybe a hand on your lower back, his eyes on you so he could give you small looks of encouragement and reassurance. His goal is to never make you feel like you are alone or like you are less than - he knows how that feels - but he also doesn’t want to seem like he’s trying to speak for you or over you

If anyone ever made a comment about it, oh Loki’s eyes would turn to daggers faster than you could say ‘Loki, no’. It’s too late, he’s already absolutely making a sardonic quip/dig at the person, a small ‘roasting’ if you will

Loki would always ask what you need from him. He prefers to be told, so he knows exactly how to offer any sort of aid or support, because his priority is always making sure you feel comfortable with him

Sylvie with a Partner who stutters Headcanons:

Sylvie has experience with patience, I mean she spent years concocting a plan against the TVA, so she always has time for you

She would wait patiently, probably glancing at you rather than an intense gaze, not wanting to make you feel under pressure

She may not be the best at comforting you, but she does her damn best and always makes sure you understand that she’s there to support you

She would nod along, offer the word you may have been searching for softly with a quick smile, her eyes crinkling faintly in the process

She would also probably ask you directly what you would like from her, wanting to be sure that she was offering the right sort of comfort and support

When you get frustrated, she would give you an empathetic look, she knew how it felt to be frustrated and not able to do something about it

“It’s okay, take your time. The world isn’t ending, we have all the time in the universe.” “Hey, don’t worry about it. It’ll come to you. Take a second, despite what you may think, I’m not going anywhere.”

When you’re nervous, Sylvie would likely find your hand and loop your pinkies together. It’s a small and subtle gesture, but one that she hopes brings you some reassurance and comfort, a bit of strength too. She would likely stay quiet, not quite knowing exactly what to say, but gives you the time and space to take a moment and recollect

If anyone ever makes a comment about it, the whole room better clear out. Sylvie is already grabbing whoever it is by the collar and giving them a good little reminder of manners

#loki x reader #loki headcanons #loki imagine #loki mcu #sylvie x reader #Sylvie headcanons #sylvie loki #marvel x reader #marvel headcanons

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zorosangell · 2 months ago

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⛥ﾟ・。 protector: chapter twenty-four

synopsis: " you were supposed to stay a crewmate, just another back to watch, " he tightened his hold, " i didn't even notice the change until i woke up one day and realized i'd take a bullet for you "

cw: violence, gore, fighting, mature themes, profanity, MAJOR/MINOR ANIME SPOILERS, follows the plot of the anime, slowww burn.

a/n: reposting from another account

You were royally pissed, but mostly embarrassed, that you were out for the near entirety of the final fight, only waking up right when God, or Eneru, as you learned, was defeated.

Still, for the near entire time you were down for the count, Zoro kept you attached to his hip, not letting you out of his sight.

Even for the celebratory party.

The Shandorians and the Skypieans were beyond grateful for the crew's help, and wanted to give thanks by offering a boatload of gold.

However, the lot of you had already slipped away, settling for your own stolen treasures instead.

And after the crew said their goodbyes to Conis and Pagaya, you set sail for the Blue Sea.

But being part of the Strawhat crew meant never getting a moment's rest.

Because only after escaping a marine base, running into a navy admiral, witnessing a frog getting hit by a train, and meeting a drunken grandma and her granddaughter, did you all finally reach your destination.

Water Seven.

Home to the best shipwrights in the world.

"You've been at that for two days straight. I think it's time for you to rest," Zoro sighed as he walked out on deck, annoyed that you were still conjuring things and forcing yourself to hover.

"Nope," you denied, a bead of sweat rolling down your temple as you formed a scimitar and made it disappear, "Can't have... a situation like Skypiea... happen again... I have to get stronger."

The information you once knew about your powers was getting less and less reliable with each level up.

It was getting too inconsistent, and in order to force your power into becoming reliable, you would have to train harder than ever before.

"According to Chopper, you got cut so deep your organs were almost exposed," he stated, seriously, as he took a seat against the taffrail banisters, "I think that warrants you a little slack."

You scoffed, "I was dead weight when yo—the crew... needed me most. I don't deserve slack."

You quickly glanced over to him, checking to see if he noticed your slip up.

He hadn't.

'That was a close.'

The swordsman groaned, rolling his eyes and grabbing your ankle, roughly pulling you down to sit.

"Ow! The hell was that fo—?!" "Be quiet and take a nap," he hushed, propping up his swords in his lap and shutting his eyes, "You keep overexerting yourself like that and you'll be too exhausted to do anything. And then you'll really be dead weight."

"But, I—" "Sleep."

"Zoro, I—" "Sleep," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Fine..." you huffed, flopping onto your side and shutting your eyes.

"Not here! I meant go up to your bed or—" But he was interrupted by your snores, as you were already dead asleep.

"...something."

He sighed, letting the back of his head rest on the rail as he looked up at the sky.

His relationship with you was changing faster than ever before.

Faster than he could even comprehend.

The more time he spent around you, the more hyper-aware he became to everything about you.

Like your frequent tunnel vision.

You would be so laser focused on one thing, or one idea, that you'd completely block out everything else, making it hard for you to see the bigger picture.

And with any other person, it would begin to annoy him, even frustrate him.

But with you?

He gained an odd sense of patience and understanding, for reasons unknown.

In fact, he was beginning to realize that you brought out many emotions within him, some he didn't even know existed.

It was odd, uncharted territory for the swordsman.

And something he would need to mull on in order to form a rational response.

He turned to glance at you, thoughtlessly checking to see if you were cold.

But you looked content, features soft and a small string of drool leaving your mouth.

He cracked a smile.

It was actually pretty adorable.

'It's decent weather. She'll be fine.'

The others were ashore, taking care of a couple errands, and probably wouldn't be back for a while.

'A nap actually doesn't sound too bad right now.'

The swordsman shut his eyes, taking a deep breath before letting his shoulders sink, allowing himself to drift into sleep.

Of course, until an enemy boarded the ship.

Their leader, who was clad in a suspendered bowling ball with a pink star on it, swung his sword at Zoro.

But the swordsman blocked it with ease, opening his eyes with a sharp glare.

"Pity, I was hoping that we could kill you in your sleep," the man smirked.

"You got a lot of nerve," Zoro spat, pushing the man away blade to blade, making a loud shing, "Who are you?"

"You don't know who we are?! Really?" the leader grinned, "'Cause we sure know you, Pirate Hunter!"

He turned to you, brows flattening.

"Not so much her, whoever she is."

'Huh?'

"Babies stop crying when they hear our name! A collection of bounty hunters!" the man raised his sword proudly, "We are the Franky Family!"

'Bounty hunters...'

"I think we'll be taking that sixty-million bounty you've got on your head. When we're done with you, we'll wait inside that cabin of yours and ambush the rest of your crew when they get back! We're gonna be rollin' in the dough in no time!"

The group charged, all heading straight for the swordsman.

"It's my lucky day!"

He swung for an attack, but Zoro stopped it with one move, smirking.

"Lucky, eh? We'll see about that, now won't we?" the swordsman swung over his other sword, using its hilt to punch the man clear across the deck.

"Two-Sword style..." Zoro held both his swords vertically, before slashing them in a checkered formation, "Rhino Cycle!"

The rest of the men were sent flying off the ship, crashing far away into the water below.

Zoro turned to check on you, only to see that you were still fast asleep, a peaceful look on your face as if nothing happened.

'Unbelievable...'

"Back to sleep," he grumbled to himself, sitting back down and closing his eyes.

"What? Is that true?" Sanji asked, wide eyed as you, he, and Chopper listened to Zoro's report.

They had just returned from their errands, and were already met with bad news.

"Well, that's what the shipwright said," the swordsman sighed, resting his hands behind his head.

While you were asleep, some square nosed guy came onto the Merry and did an assessment of her damages.

And it turns out her keel was beyond repair, making the ship itself about as useful as a hunk of scrap.

"It can't be fixed? Even if we have money?" you asked, shocked.

The Merry was an important member of the Strawhat crew.

She'd gotten you all through thick and thin, and was a special gift from a friend.

There was no way you could just get rid of her.

"Then... Then what's going to happen to the Merry?" Chopper added, his voice shaky and sad.

"Beats me," Zoro shrugged, "Honestly, it really just depends on how Luffy and the others react after hearing the assessment."

'Usopp...'

You had almost forgotten about him.

If anyone was going to get upset over this news, it would be him.

He loved the Merry more than anyone.

"Either way, I'm sure they'll get it sorted out while they're at the shipyard."

"It just seems so extreme! I mean, look at her," Sanji ran a hand through his hair, "Same old Merry that she's always been. We've traveled together all the way from the East Blue to this place! Why now?"

"You just answered your own question," Zoro stated, looking up at the cook, "Human beings become stronger hardship after hardship. But ships are different. Their wounds just pile up."

Silence fell after his words, everyone a little bit in denial.

You all knew his words were true, but it was just so hard to accept.

"I'm more concerned about what Usopp is gonna say when he hears about all of this..." you sighed, looking down at the deck.

"I don't wanna leave her! I love the Merry!" Chopper cried.

"I know, we all do. But her wounds are too deep," Zoro turned to him, "There's nothing we can do."

"The Merry's in trouble and Robin's still missing," Sanji stated, walking up to the figurehead, "I'm worried about both of them."

"Hey! Everyone!" Nami called.

You and Chopper quickly got up, joining Sanji by the rail to see Nami walking over.

"Look! It's Nami, and she's alone," Chopper noticed.

"Hmm? That's weird. I wonder what happened to Luffy and Usopp," Sanji, rubbed his chin, concerned, "Hi, Nami! Is everything all right?"

Everything was, in fact, not all right.

When she came aboard, she explained everything that happened.

Usopp had split from the group before the news about Merry was revealed, and while he was gone, the Franky Family kicked his ass and stole the money.

Nami found him bloody in the street and came back to the ship as soon as possible.

You, Zoro, Sanji, and Chopper went back into town to see if Usopp was where Nami had left, but he was gone, patches of dried blood leading away from the spot.

You ran into Luffy not long after that, and you all stormed the Franky Family's hideout together.

Only to find Usopp lying on the ground outside, beaten to a bloody pulp.

Luffy's face hardened, the five of you looking down at the sniper.

"Is he breathing, Chopper?"

"He's unconscious, but yes, he's breathing," the doctor assured, clearly upset at the state of his close friend, "He'll live. I can save him."

Luffy nodded, lowering his hat to shade his eyes.

"You wait out here for us. 'Kay, Usopp?"

Sanji lit a cigarette, and Zoro tied up his bandana, clearly angry.

Chopper lowered his hat as well, and you tied up your hair, taking out your earrings.

"We're gonna go level that stupid house to the ground."

The walk to the house felt like years, and the shared anger between the five of you was so palpable, that none of you dared speak and set it off.

'Those bastards are gonna pay.'

As you all reached the door, a very large man exited out of it, stopping when he saw you.

Luffy wound up his arm, letting it stretch, before punching the man straight in the face, sending him flying through the door and back inside.

"What was that?! What happened?!"

The dust settle to reveal the five of you standing in the large doorway, clearly upset.

"Who the hell are those guys?!"

"You jerks! You got a death wish?"

"I recognize them," one hunter exclaimed, fearful, "It's that pirate! Strawhat Luffy!"

The rest of them looked terrified, but one giant stepped forward with a cocky laugh.

"So you came here to get your money back, did ya? Bad move," he smirked, "Just take a look around. Do you really think the five of you are enough to handle all of us?"

He laughed, heartily.

"But since your here, we might as well take those big bounties you've got on your heads."

"He's the captain of the long-nosed weakling we took care of earlier!"

The others began to join in on the chuckles, making your blood boil.

"With that pitiful excuse for a pirate on his crew, he can't possibly be that strong."

The giant took another large step forward, staring you all down.

"Let's go! C'mon, shrimp!"

Luffy looked up at him, a dangerous glare in his eye as he wound up both his arms.

"Gum-Gum..." he started, punching the air around the giant at lightning speed before slamming one monster hit on the giant's armor, shattering it, "Canon!"

The man went flying, and the other bounty hunters shouted in fear.

"HE PUNCHED A HOLE RIGHT THROUGH IT!"

"Okay, guys! Fire the cannons!"

About seven canons all went careening straight into the air, and you flew up to greet them.

"Angelic..." You conjured up a mace, and hit them back like baseballs, "Shower!"

The crashed into the back walls of the house, completely destroying them.

"Impossible!"

Zoro quickly ran in after you, slicing up all of their cannons.

"Two Sword style: Kara Suma... Raven Hunt!"

"Holy crap!"

"These guys are seriously bad news!"

"Let's get out of here! Everybody run for the back door!"

They all turned around and booked it for the exit, but Sanji jumped over them, landing on a man's face.

"You guys started this fight. It's kind of pathetic to run from it like cowards," he glared, "Party Table... Kick Course!"

He swirled his legs, knocking out every hunter within a couple feet's radius before ax kicking one in the neck.

"The windows! Get to the windows!"

"Rumble!" Chopper exclaimed, tossing one of his Rumble balls in his mouth, "Horn-Point!"

He charged, chasing all of them down and using his horns to toss them into walls.

"Roseo Colonnade!"

"Wait! W-W-Wait, you guys!" One of the last few standing blubbered, "It's the money, right? You just want the money back? The two-hundred million berries the long-nosed guy had? Is that it?"

Luffy's eye twitched at the groveling.

It was pissing him off.

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you but that pile of money isn't here anymore! Franky, the family boss, took all of it and went on a shopping spree! And since he's buying something on the black market, we don't have any idea where he might be or even how to find him!"

He panted, taking a deep breath.

"So, no matter how much of a rampage you go on, that 200 million won't be coming back! So why don't you and your-"

Luffy didn't even let him finish the sentence, dropping him without a second thought.

"ZAMBAI!"

"Shut up. That's enough out of you," Sanji spat, brows furrowed, "This has nothing to do with the money."

"Damn straight. It's too late for that," Zoro agreed.

"You screwed up the second you laid a finger on one of our crew. There's no taking that back," you glared.

Luffy turned to look one of them dead in the eye, more serious than you've ever seen.

"Not even your bones will be left when we're done."

"Should we go after Franky?" Sanji asked, taking a seat on a large piece of scrap.

"And start looking where?" Zoro cocked a brow, tying his bandana back on his arm.

The five of you stood in the leveled remains of the Franky house, the place now just a pile of splintered wood.

Every single one of their hunters was out cold, strewn all over the makeshift battle field.

"It looks like these idiots really didn't know where he took the money," you sighed, furling your wings, "And even if we did find him, and he did spend the money, then there's no getting it back."

"Then what now?" Zoro crossed his arms, "Even if we wait around for him, he might not be back for quite a while."

You and Sanji gave each other an unsure look, not having the slightest on where to go from there.

"Okay! The first aid treatment is all done!" Chopper called, standing up from his spot next to Usopp, "We'll need to take him back on a stretcher, so I could use some help over here!"

Zoro nodded, turning towards the ship, "Well, hanging around here won't do us any good. Let's head back to the ship for now. We can strategize later."

"Yeah," Sanji agreed, "We left Nami there all by herself, and Robin's still missing. The ship's still a problem, too."

"Hey, Luffy!" you called to the boy, who was standing on a tall fixture not too far away.

"I've made a decision," he stated, facing towards the open ocean.

You paused, a little confused.

"Huh?"

"About the ship... It's time to part ways with the Merry. We'll say goodbye to her here."

#one piece x reader #one piece #op x reader #op #roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa #roronoa zoro #zoro #zoro x reader #zorosangell #zorosangell--protector

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