#some bits are actually quite humorous?

[so-you-melted-22]

that specific kind of pain for when you just finished a movie and there is not a single gif set to reblog

how else am i supposed to tell everyone about what i just watched?!?!

[amazinglyashy]

Too heavy for me? Never

LADS men reaction to you only somewhat joking about being too heavy for them

Sylus -

He'll raise an eyebrow at you, staring down at you as you realize the joke fell flat. You try to back peddle, not wanting to cause any confrontation that never helps you feel better about your body anyway, but he simply holds up a hand to stop you with a shake of his head.

"I don't want to hear it, sweetie. I already know the nonsense you're going to say. How about you just come with me right now to the gym instead?"

You don't know how to tell him that saying that truly shattered your heart into a million pieces, so you just follow him in silence instead. You didn't think he would insult you so casually, and you were now trying to brace yourself for the inadequate feelings and self-loathing you were about to experience by having to train at the gym with him.

But... he didn't ask you to do a workout. He didn't tell you to get on a piece of equipment or to lie down on a mat for a physical exercise.

He told you to sit on a small bench against the wall while he went to the free weights close by.

Wordlessly, he loads weights- two- no, three times your weight onto the bar, before moving to lift it. Once. Twice. Again, and again and again-

His eyes flicker over to you at some point, and instead of making any remark or reference to the emotions clear across your face, he flashes you a slight smirk, just like he always does.

"Have I made myself clear, sweetie?"

Zayne -

Zayne will definitely think you're just pretending to be stupid at first.

He will look down at you with his brows furrowed and a small smile creeping on his lips, thinking it's all a joke.

"I lift myself during my workouts fairly easily, and I am capable of lifting a lot more. Quite funny, though I wouldn't make this form of humor a habit. It isn't particularly good for your mental health."

Then he realizes you're actually being serious in what you're saying.

He's upset, to put it lightly, but hes trying not to let it show. Favoring a small frown across his usually firm expression as he studies your face. Your heart will jolt just a little bit when you process just how sad his eyes look though... obviously he's hurt that you would even think something like that about yourself, much less come to believe it as true.

"Allowing a part of your brain to lie to you is not healthy if you don't push back with the truth. And the truth here, is that you are nowhere near too heavy for me to lift or carrying, even for prolonged periods of time. To demonstrate-"

And like it's nothing, he's picking you up and carrying you. His destination is not important, and the protests spewing from your lips fall on deaf ears as you try to gentle squirm out of his grasp. He'll continue to explain why your viewpoint is flawed, methodically and with logic, and in a way that you find yourself unable to argue back.

He doesn't want you to.

He knows you're wrong, and he will stop at nothing to prove it.

Xavier -

He's more surprised at the statement than anything. At first, he thinks you're making a jab at his strength, and wonders if he slipped up in front of one too many Wanderers and now needs to prove himself just to get you to stop teasing him for being 'weak'.

Once he (quickly) realizes that you're talking about yourself, jabbing at your own body and state, rather than at him, it's like a spark igniting in him.

"What? What would ever make you think that? No- that's not right. That's not right at all."

He's immediately going to try and grab you to lift you up, he doesn't care where you both are or what you're doing. Even if you've just woken up in bed and are still relaxing, he's trying to pick you up right then and there.

He stumbles trying to lift you, falling backward onto the pile of blankets and plushies that has taken over his bed. He feels awful, worried that you'll take his misstep as him falling over from your weight, immediately apologizing and trying to sit up and pick you up again before falling forward from the plush surface he's trying to rise on giving out too much beneath him.

You're both a giggling mess by then, and it's obvious to you that he's going to keep trying to prove it to you, just... a bit clumsily so. Several more attempts will be made as the evening goes on, and pretty soon he's showing you just how easily it is for him to lift you up- especially if he keeps doing it over and over and over again.

And he will continue to do it over and over and over again, even after today. As many times as it takes.

Rafayel -

You definitely made a mistake saying anything self-depreciating around him. Especially with how much he likes to prove you wrong in playful situations, this is something similar, but a lot more serious to him.

He'll make fun of you for anything, as long as you know he's just being lighthearted even if he's grumpy or upset when he fires a quip off at you.

But the second you agree with him, or say something bad about yourself- whether jokingly or dead serious- the gloves are off. He won't accept that from you, and he's already on it to figure out how to turn the opinion you've formed of yourself on it's head and into a more positive outlook.

Lifts you up bridal carry while spinning- quite literally sweeping you off your feet while he whisks you away. You would think you were a princess with how he spins around his studio with you in his arms, with no regard to the paintings or projects around him as he dances with you in his arms. And no matter how hard you protest, he doesn't stop until he feels for himself that he's done enough, giggling the entire time.

"Are you really going to doubt a sea god's strength? Geez, I didn't realize you were such a rude human."

He'll hold you up enough to press his forehead against yours, nuzzling against you with a smile, the slightest sadness playing across his expression.

"Man, I must be pretty lousy that you would ever think something like that about yourself. That must mean I don't think to pick you up enough like you deserve. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you by whisking you away every chance I see you from now on."

[landoughnut]

Pit Stop Staring

♡ masterlist - request

♡ pairing - lando norris x mechanic!fem!reader

♡ summary - lando notices you during a pit stop, gets distracted and stares at you, and embarrasses himself on the radio being aired as he gushes over you, but with a little push from Zak, he makes his move on you!

♡ warnings - fluff, BLUSHY and nervous lando, love at first sight, a pinch of jealousy, Zak's a wing man, lando being cute and STUTTERINGGG hehehe

♡ w/c & a/n - 1.86k | #ilovetommy

Today was your first day working as a mechanic during an actual race, and you couldn't be more excited. You'd just finished your months of training and you felt pretty confident in yourself, so you weren't too nervous.

The McLaren team was more than welcoming when you first started, although some were a little apprehensive to have a girl working with the heavy tires, you proved them completely wrong and quickly gained their admiration, making friends with some as well.

As for the two papaya drivers, you had only briefly met Oscar about a month ago while leaving a meeting. He told you he was happy to be working with you soon, and he thought you will do amazing. You spoke shortly before he was being called off by someone, but he said goodbye and wished you best of luck.

The other driver, Lando, you had unfortunately not met yet. You heard quite a lot about him, and people said he was kind with a great sense of humor, so you crossed your fingers and wished you were able to catch him and introduce yourself. You also had seen some edits of him on your feed, not that you would tell anyone that, but you couldn't deny that he was quite a looker.

Back to today, though, you were waiting to see the bright papaya cars pull into the pit stop for their tire exchanges. After some laps, the first one to pull up was Oscar, and you and the others quickly got to work with a successful change in just about 2 seconds.

You beamed as he drove away and got a high five from your mechanic friend, Tommy, and he grinned at you, "That was great! And your first time too! You'll be putting me out of my job soon," he laughs.

You shake your head and poke his side, walking back to the garage, "Don't be silly! I did learn from the best," you say and give him a dramatic wink.

"Ha. Ha. You flatter me," he pats your head. You just push his arm away and turn your head to look at the race stats.

Oscar is in a good fourth place currently, and Lando in second, four seconds behind Max. You watch the race for about three more minutes before you hear that Lando was told to box next lap, so you and the mechanics rush out to the pit once again and prepare your gear.

A few moments pass before you can spot Lando's bright helmet in his car coming closer. He finally arrives and pulls up into his spot, while doing so, he glances around and his eyes land on you.

His mouth drops open slightly and he whispers a little, "Wow." Everyone does his tire change just as fast as Oscars, but Lando was still staring at you, who he thinks might be an angel sent down from above just for him.

Wow, he thinks to himself again, you have to be the most gorgeous person he's ever seen. He doesn't even realize that everyone has cleared the way for him to exit the stop until he sees you tilt your head and he hears his race engineer's voice, "Lando! GO! What are you doing, mate?!"

That snaps Lando back to reality, and he quickly drives away, now in last place due to how long he was there. He feels his neck and cheeks heat up in embarrassment. There's no way he would have a chance with you after that.

"I-I'm so sorry, she was s-so beautiful, and she looks like an a-angel, I-I got distracted," he stutters quietly to Will, his race engineer.

"Oh my- Lando this is being aired, you can't say stuff like that, mate!" Will sighs but he can't help but laugh a little bit. However Lando does the opposite now, he chews his lip like he's about to cry of humility, since now he knows you just heard him say that and you were the only girl there, so you know he had to be talking about you.

Back to where you were, you laughed at the radio message, curious to who he was stuttering over. Tommy's eyes bulge as he hears it, head whipping toward you.

You look at him and furrow your eyebrows, "What?"

He just blinds at you before yelling, "Lando Norris said you're beautiful! And look like an angel!"

"What? No he didn't?"

"Are you- who else would he be talking about?!" Tommy puts his hands on your shoulder and gently shakes you.

"Uhh," you laugh and glance at the other mechanics who are smirking and you and raising their eyebrows up and down. "I don't know, there are some women team members right over there," you point to the side.

Tommy just drops his head down and shakes it, "No. He was talking about you!"

"But.. I'm.. well, me? Just an average new mechanic," you look down at your uniform, "in some very unflattering working clothes."

Tommy just steps back and crosses his arms, "First off, don't ever say you're 'just you', because you're my best friend here," he whispers, so the others won't hear him, and you giggle. "Second, the clothes may be a little unflattering but you're still a very pretty girl," he smiles at you.

"Awhhhhh, Tommy! Who knew you were such a sap!" You hug the boy in thanks and he reciprocates it as you walk to the garage once again.

"So are you going to ask him out later?"

You almost choke on your breath, "What? No! Of course not! Are you crazy?"

He rolls his eyes, "Come on, he was just stuttering. Lando Norris was stuttering over you, if that isn't love at first sight then I don't know what is," he shrugs.

"Tommy!" You slap his arm, "We are done with this conversation."

"But-"

"End of discussion!" You huff, turning on your heels and walk away. Leaving your friend to rub his face in defeat.

When the race ended with Lando placed seventh due to the mishap from before, he hopped out of the car and rushed over to Zak.

Zak pulls the boy in for a hug and ruffles his hair, which was quite the opposite reaction Lando had thought he would see, since he cost the team points.

Once he lets go of Lando, the only thing he gets out of his mouth is, "Who was that?"

Zak lets out a laugh and tries to keep in a grin, "Who? Her?" he nods over to you, standing while chatting with Tommy again. Lando frowns as he watches you two.

"Are they dating?" he asks the older man.

"Hmm," he pretends to think about it, "yes," he nods. Of course he's only kidding, trying the get a rise out of the British boy.

"What?" Lando's head snaps to the man, looking utterly devastated. Zak starts laughing loudly, looking at him, and thinks this is what the human version of a kicked puppy would look like.

"I'm only joking, buddy, why don't you go and ask her?" Zak pats Lando's shoulder.

"U-uh I don't know...."

"Oh, come on! You're Lando Norris!"

The boy sighs and looks at you longingly. That was until you glanced over at him and he quickly turned back to Zak, his face now turning red again at being caught. "What about no work relationships?"

Zak sighs and shakes his head, "Listen, I'll talk to people about it and I'll make it work, okay?" He smiles and Lando lets his lips twitch into a tiny smile. "Now, go get your girl!" He turns his shoulders and pushes him forward a little bit.

Lando blinks fast and his heart races as he nervously makes his way over to you two.

You don't notice but Tommy does and bites back a teasing comment. "Lando Norris! The legendary man himself!"

You look to your right and see the boy bouncing slightly on his feet, twisting his hands and he looks back and forth between you both. "H-hi," he whispers to you, his ears turning red at your kind gaze.

"Hi! It's nice to finally meet you," you smile at him.

Tommy nods, "Yeah, and nice radio message today, man, real smooth," he chuckles.

Unbeknownst to you, Lando now wishes the floor would swallow him whole. "Uh, y-yeah, thanks?"

Tommy just laughs, "Oh! I think someone is calling me, gotta go!"

You watch him walk away, and Lando glares at him. "Did you hear someone calling him?" you ask.

"No, but, um, I-I'm sorry for today, a-and I didn't-"

You quickly shake your head and smile, "No! Don't apologize, really! I'm honored!" You put your hand on his arm, causing him to tense. You quickly remove it and apologize, "I'm so sorry! I should have asked-"

"N-No!" Lando says, and Zak drops his head into his hands as he watches the scene from afar. "You can touch me anytime! I-I mean- bloody hell- n-not like that! I mean you can if you wa-" he slaps a hand over his mouth before he can embarrass himself and more.

You just blush as you watch the boy, you find it endearing, to be honest, you've never had someone act like this with you before. "Lando! Please, don't worry, I think your rambling is cute, and... you yourself are cute too," you put your hands behind your back.

"Me? Really? You think I'm c-cute?" He lets out a nervous laugh in disbelief.

"Is that so hard to believe?" You frown.

"I... guess not.. but you're.. you! W-way out of my league..." he trails off.

"You have to be joking!"

He just looks down at his feet and smiles, his body slowly untensing as he feels a little less nervous. It's not that he's stuttering and blushing because he's scared of you, he's just never met someone so... perfect.

He slowly raises his eyes back up to look at you, "Well... then would you m-maybe want to... get dinner with me later?"

Your smile widens at the hopeful look in his eyes, you pinch your arm once, just to be sure this is really happening and not a dream. "Of course! Oh, I'd love to, would you like my number to send me the details?" you ask him.

He nods and pats his pocket for his phone, "Oh! I left my phone in my driver's room... but if you have yours, I'll give you mine?"

"Sure," you nod and hand him your phone, watching as he creates a contact for himself. "Well, I do have to go back, I promised my friends to hang out for a bit after the race but I'll see you later," you tell him.

He smiles at you, "Alright, see you!"

You turn around, walking to your friends who were giggling to themselves, watching the whole thing.

Lando is left in his spot, practically lovestruck, "What a woman," he whispers to himself dreamily.

He jumps with a yelp when he feels a hand on his shoulder, "Well done, kid! You got yourself a date!"

Lando turns to look at a way too excited Zak Brown, "Yeah... I suppose I did."

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Terry Pratchett about fantasy ❤

Terry Pratchett interview in The Onion, 1995 (x)

O: You’re quite a writer. You’ve a gift for language, you’re a deft hand at plotting, and your books seem to have an enormous amount of attention to detail put into them. You’re so good you could write anything. Why write fantasy?

Terry: I had a decent lunch, and I’m feeling quite amiable. That’s why you’re still alive. I think you’d have to explain to me why you’ve asked that question.

O: It’s a rather ghettoized genre.

Terry: This is true. I cannot speak for the US, where I merely sort of sell okay. But in the UK I think every book— I think I’ve done twenty in the series— since the fourth book, every one has been one the top ten national bestsellers, either as hardcover or paperback, and quite often as both. Twelve or thirteen have been number one. I’ve done six juveniles, all of those have nevertheless crossed over to the adult bestseller list. On one occasion I had the adult best seller, the paperback best-seller in a different title, and a third book on the juvenile bestseller list. Now tell me again that this is a ghettoized genre.

O: It’s certainly regarded as less than serious fiction.

Terry: (Sighs) Without a shadow of a doubt, the first fiction ever recounted was fantasy. Guys sitting around the campfire— Was it you who wrote the review? I thought I recognized it— Guys sitting around the campfire telling each other stories about the gods who made lightning, and stuff like that. They did not tell one another literary stories. They did not complain about difficulties of male menopause while being a junior lecturer on some midwestern college campus.

Fantasy is without a shadow of a doubt the ur-literature, the spring from which all other literature has flown. Up to a few hundred years ago no one would have disagreed with this, because most stories were, in some sense, fantasy. Back in the middle ages, people wouldn’t have thought twice about bringing in Death as a character who would have a role to play in the story. Echoes of this can be seen in Pilgrim’s Progress, for example, which hark back to a much earlier type of storytelling. The epic of Gilgamesh is one of the earliest works of literature, and by the standard we would apply now— a big muscular guys with swords and certain godlike connections— That’s fantasy. The national literature of Finland, the Kalevala. Beowulf in England. I cannot pronounce Bahaghvad-Gita but the Indian one, you know what I mean. The national literature, the one that underpins everything else, is by the standards that we apply now, a work of fantasy.

Now I don’t know what you’d consider the national literature of America, but if the words Moby Dick are inching their way towards this conversation, whatever else it was, it was also a work of fantasy. Fantasy is kind of a plasma in which other things can be carried. I don’t think this is a ghetto. This is, fantasy is, almost a sea in which other genres swim. Now it may be that there has developed in the last couple of hundred years a subset of fantasy which merely uses a different icongraphy, and that is, if you like, the serious literature, the Booker Prize contender. Fantasy can be serious literature. Fantasy has often been serious literature. You have to fairly dense to think that Gulliver’s Travels is only a story about a guy having a real fun time among big people and little people and horses and stuff like that. What the book was about was something else. Fantasy can carry quite a serious burden, and so can humor. So what you’re saying is, strip away the trolls and the dwarves and things and put everyone into modern dress, get them to agonize a bit, mention Virginia Woolf a few times, and there! Hey! I’ve got a serious novel. But you don’t actually have to do that.

(Pauses) That was a bloody good answer, though I say it myself.

[pandapetals]

Mrs. Howlett

You get jealous of a student's mom trying to flirt with Logan.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor, jealously

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

You hated to admit it, but you could get a little jealous. Not that you ever had a real reason to be—Logan didn’t give other women a second glance, and he made it clear you were the only one he wanted. Most of the time, when someone flirted with him, you’d brush it off, secure in the knowledge that he was yours. Logan was usually too gruff, too uninterested, for anyone to make much headway with him anyway.

But today was different.

You were heading to his classroom to drop off some papers when you spotted him leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, a faint smirk on his face as he talked to a woman you didn’t recognize. She looked young—probably a little too young than some of the other student’s parents, with sleek hair and an outfit that was more stylish than practical. Beside her stood a teenage boy, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, clearly embarrassed.

But she? She was smiling up at Logan like he’d just hung the moon. Her hand even touched his arm briefly, a little too familiar, and you felt a flash of something hot and prickly ignite in your chest.

You tried to brush it off. It wasn’t a big deal. Logan didn’t even seem particularly invested in the conversation—just nodding along, probably humoring her because he had to be polite. And yet, the way she looked at him, hanging on his every word, had your jaw clenching before you realized it.

You took a breath, schooling your expression, but when you caught Logan’s eye over her shoulder, his smirk deepened, his gaze flicking to you with that glint of amusement he always got when he knew he had your attention. Oh, he’d noticed. Of course, he had.

Clearing your throat, you approached with an air of casual calm, though the jealousy simmering beneath the surface was anything but subtle.

“Oh, there you are, Logan,” you said, slipping your hand onto his arm with a bit more possessiveness than you’d planned. Your fingers tightened slightly, grounding yourself in the solid warmth of his bicep. “I was looking for you.”

The woman’s bright smile faltered for just a second, her gaze flicking down to your hand on his arm. She took a tiny step back, trying to recover her polite expression but with a hint of something else lurking in her eyes. “Oh, I didn’t realize… are you Miss… I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name?”

You felt Logan tense slightly, but you just smiled, leaning a little closer to him. “I’m Mrs. Howlett, actually.” Your voice was warm, but you let the words sink in, feeling a small thrill of satisfaction as you watched her face register the correction. Your fingers brushed up and down Logan’s arm in a slow, familiar rhythm, letting her know exactly where you stood. “And you are?”

She cleared her throat, glancing down at the teenage boy beside her. “I’m Liam’s mom,” she said, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder as if to keep herself anchored. “Logan—Mr. Howlett—was just telling me about the upcoming history project. I thought it would be good to get a sense of what Liam would be working on.”

Logan’s smirk widened as he looked down at you, clearly enjoying the subtle show of jealousy you rarely let slip. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer in a way that made his claim on you unmistakable.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he drawled, voice a low, amused rumble that you felt through his chest. “She was just askin’ about the assignment.”

You looked up at him, arching an eyebrow as you played along. “Of course. Well, Liam’s a very brilliant student,” you said sweetly, turning to the woman with a smile that held just a hint of a challenge. “Logan says he’s a natural at history. Must be quite a proud mom moment for you.”

The woman’s smile became a bit too tight, her expression polite but strained. She straightened, giving a brisk nod. “Of course. Well, I think I have all the information I need for now. Come along, Liam.”

As she ushered her son down the hallway, Logan’s quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest, his arm still snugly wrapped around your waist. He waited until she was out of earshot before he leaned down, his lips brushing close to your ear.

“Didn’t know you could be the jealous type,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. “Should I be flattered?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t quite keep the blush from creeping up your cheeks. “I’m not jealous,” you replied, feigning nonchalance. “I just didn’t appreciate her… forgetting my name. I mean, it’s Mrs. Howlett, after all.”

Logan chuckled, his warm breath grazing your skin as his fingers traced lazy circles along your hip. “I gotta say, darlin’… I kinda liked seein’ you all protective and possessive. Not somethin’ I get to see often.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t quite keep the grin off your face. “Oh, don’t let it go to your head,” you shot back, trying to sound nonchalant. “But I guess I might get a little territorial when some random woman decides to ignore the fact that you’re taken.”

His smile softened, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, lingering just long enough for his warmth to seep into you. “Relax, gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice low and fond. “You know you’re the only one I’d ever put up with.”

“Oh, really?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow with a playful spark in your eyes. “Maybe I’ll keep you on your toes more often, then. Just to see that little possessive streak of yours come out.”

Logan’s laugh rumbled through his chest, his hand drifting lower to give your hip a slow, teasing squeeze. “Be my guest,” he drawled, his lips curving into a smirk. “I don’t mind remindin’ everyone who I belong to.”

You tilted your head, your fingers tracing along his arm savoring the solid warmth beneath your touch. “Good,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “because I don’t plan on sharing.”

Logan leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss. His mouth was warm and unhurried, lingering as if he wanted to make sure you felt every word he hadn’t spoken. When he finally pulled back, you were left breathless, a soft heat blooming in your cheeks.

He looked down at you, the playful gleam in his eyes softening. His forehead rested against yours, and whispered, his voice rough but gentle, “You don’t have to, sweetheart. I’m all yours. Always have been, always will be.”

[jimilter]

the ferrari guy | jjk.

You hire an assistant – and Jeon Jungkook loses his mind. Is that irrational of him? Not when the guy you’ve chosen flirts like a hooker, looks like a runway model and dresses like he’s Giorgio Armani himself. 

pairing: jungkook x reader rating: pg-15 genre: humor | fluff | chaebol!au | fwb!au | ceo!jungkook warnings: swearing + implied sex + jealousy + insecurity + a certain loml charming everyone’s pants off <3 word count: 3 k note:  helloooo fam! i am alive and still writing apparently lmao. jimilter is still a safe space, a wonderful escape from real life and i have no plans of quitting this in near or far future (: no comments on the occasional disappearances tho bec real life has been hectic af! anyways, enjoy this humorous lil drabble from jk's pov (set between part 3 & 4) while i work on the massive angst in part 5! <3

— masterlist | feedback!

↝ the damsel & her knight ⁘ 01 02 03 [3.5] 04 05

On Thursday evening, while leaving work, Jeon Jungkook finds a flashy, bright red Ferrari convertible blocking his car in the parking lot of his office. An office in a building his father owns. 

Needless to say, he is beyond mad.

"Who the heck even drives a Ferrari in our company?" he barks into the phone, scowling when his secretary gives an exasperated sigh.

"President ma'am interviewed some people today, sir. Maybe it's one of the candidate's cars?" 

"What kind of a douchy person comes to a job interview in a convertible?" Jungkook is still scowling at the vermillion vehicle when his brain catches up with the rest of the information Haeri imparted. His mouth dropping open, he raises his free hand up in front of his face, as if to stop time. "Hold on – did you say President ma'am?"

"Uh, yes, si—"

"She interviewed people? Why? What for?" he cuts his secretary off, frowning.

"She is hiring an assistant, sir."

"Wha—why does she need an assistant?"

Haeri is quiet for a while. Then she clears her throat. "I would suggest you to not ask her this, sir."

Jungkook sighs. Haeri is always so straightforward with him. Sometimes a bit too straightforward. But she’s always guiding him around making stupid decisions, and maybe that is why he's had her in his office for nearly two years now. The longest he’s had a secretary ever since he joined the company as the CEO. 

There’s also the fact that Haeri actually has a boyfriend and is immune to all of Jungkook’s charm… Not that he’s actually tried them on her, per se. He’s been otherwise occupied in that department for a while. Very happily and proudly so. 

Clearing his throat, "Yeah, sorry," he grumbles to the girl, turning around to eye the offensive car again. "I'm texting you the license plate number, will you make an announcement on Prez's floor?"

"Sir, I—"

"Good. Thanks, Haeri, you're a gem!"

Even as a security guard comes and removes the obstructing vehicle within minutes and Jungkook is free to leave, his mind doesn’t feel settled. At all. He isn’t sure what it is that irks him about you hiring an assistant, but it is something for sure. Maybe he fears you’d pay him even lesser attention at work than the scant amount you do now. Maybe he thinks you won’t need his help with the integrated Firewall-VPN project anymore. Maybe he… Well, he isn't sure.

But something about this just usettles him. Which is what has him texting you close to midnight, casually dropping his question without offending you with a ‘why’ just like Haeri instructed him to.

↪ hey prez ↪ heard you’re hiring an assistant?

Your reply comes exactly ninety-four seconds later. Yes, he counts.

You heard that in the middle of the night?

He bites his lip, rubbing his reddening cheeks against the cold cotton of his pillow in embarrassment, but doesn’t lose hope because you’re still typing.

I have actually already had the interviews today The guy joins tomorrow You wanna drop by with a welcome gift basket? :)

His glare stays fixed on the little, taunting smile for a long while, before it moves to the word ‘guy’ in your text. You’ve hired a guy assistant.

Jungkook wonders if the bile suddenly roiling in his stomach has any correlation with the explicit images his brain suddenly conjures up of you and a faceless male making out in your office.

God, he’s going insane.

The next morning, Jungkook is barging into Yoongi's office with a frown. "Prez hired an assistant."

Min Yoongi very slowly looks up from his computer screen, gaze wary. "Good morning to you too, Jeon. I’m doing well, thanks for asking.”

Jungkook ignores the man’s sarcasm and instead drops into one of the couches placed on one side of his office, groaning. “It’s a guy.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Head whipping up faster than the blink of an eye, Jungkook gapes at your Creative Director. “You have heard?”

Yoongi gives him a tired look. “My office is on the same floor as hers, Jeon. I have more than just heard.”

“Have you seen the guy?” he quickly rushes out, wide eyes boring into Yoongi’s disinterested ones.

“Met him. Kid’s jovial and efficient. She’s gonna love him.”

What? Jungkook stalks up to Yoongi’s table with a scowl. “Kid?”

“Oh, he’s probably older than you.”

“Jovial?”

“Yeah, always got a smile on his face; not a word out of his mouth without giggles.”

Giggles? Jungkook's pinky finger twitches in irritation because giggling is supposed to be his thing. How dare you.

“And he's really freaking efficient too, man." Yoongi continues when Jungkook has stayed quiet for too long. "He's got a typing speed of 96 wpm, can speak five languages, is capable of charming every guest with a grin and some sweet words—oh! And he’s quick on his feet! Delivered five coffees on two different floors with the steam still coming out of the cups.” Yoongi has a fond, dreamy look on his face, and if it wasn’t for the wedding band on his finger, Jungkook would have assumed the guy has fallen in love with your new assistant.

Which doesn’t sit well with Jungkook at all. Teeth gritted and fists clenched, he gazes out of the glass doors of Yoongi’s office to yours. 

You aren’t in, yet. Should he pay your oh-so-wonderful assistant a visit before you are?

You’d surely have his head if you catch him threatening the dude – not that he plans on it; he just feels like he might – but it’s a risk he is very much willing to take.

And so, over Yoongi’s protests, Jungkook marches out of the guy’s office and, crossing the long corridor, lands at yours.

There’s an additional table placed perpendicular to yours within the glass cabin and Jungkook wishes he had laser vision so he could incinerate the damn thing in its place. He looks around the office for the guy of the hour, grunting at the small trinkets he finds adorning the new table.

Who keeps a freaking potted plant on a desk? What if it fell off and died?

Jungkook doubts this guy is as efficient as Yoongi talked about him being. He chokes in the middle of the accompanying scoff, though, because his eyes suddenly locate, well, keys.

Sleek, black, no bigger than a matchbox, with a silver, galloping horse engraved on the obviously custom made leather surface. Keys to a Ferrari. What are the odds?

“Ma’am, you’re in earl—oh…”

Jungkook twists on heels at the voice, coming face to face with a guy that honestly doesn’t look much older than him despite what Yoongi said. His eyes are wide and lips rounded, brown hair brushed off his forehead to display the perfect arch to his thick eyebrows. He wears a – Jungkook hates to admit – gorgeously tailored dark brown suit that Jungkook knows to be Armani because he just made the same purchase a week back.

The guy, simply put, doesn't look assistant-material at all. He could be on Vogue's cover with those plump lips and shapely eyes of his. Or perhaps pose for swimsuit commercials with that bubble butt. Or walk the ramp for Armani, Patek Philippe or Chanel, given the brands Jungkook can spot on him.

But he isn't in any of those places – he is here, in your office, as your assistant.

“Good morning, sir!” he suddenly exclaims, and here’s the jollity Yoongi talked about. “You must be Mr. Jeon, the CEO?”

Jungkook gives him a jilted nod, hating the flawless mannerism the guy displays and the accompanying subconscious twitch his lips give in response, and inches back towards the door. “Um, yeah… I was just leaving…”

Your assistant’s smile falls and a concerned look overtakes his face. “But you just got here?”

And something about the innocent pout with which he looks at Jungkook has him rooted to the place. In wonder? Confusion? Shock?

Awe?

He can't freaking tell.

“I can get you some coffee, if you’d like? Everyone’s been telling me I brew a killer espresso!” He flashes a proud smile while Jungkook just helplessly gapes. “I can also get you some snacks? Sandwiches? Cookies? Ooh, would you like some pastries? Our office canteen has some amazing Danishes, would you like one? Ah, your forehead is all misty. Here!”

Before Jungkook can react, the guy is in his face with a tissue, dabbing the sweat away from Jungkook’s arched eyebrows. His smile is blinding, dear God, Jungkook cannot articulate a single word out of the storming confusion in his head. Since when do men have such pouty lips? 

When he steps back, he immediately gestures to a couch. “Make yourself comfortable, sir! May I lower the temperature? You still haven’t said what you need.”

Finally, finally able to collect his thoughts, Jungkook releases a long exhale. 

Who the actual fuck is this guy? A witch? A siren?

Jungkook needs to get out of here and he needs to talk to you.

“Uh, no, thank you, none of that. I, um, I’m good.” Quickly flashing the guy a tight lipped smile, Jungkook slips out of the doors. “I came to see Prez, but she's obviously not here, so… I’ll – I'llcome back later. Good day.”

Even as Jungkook immediately storms out of the office and rushes to the elevators to hurry back to his own floor, your assistant calls out a very happy sounding, “You have the best day, sir!”

Well-mannered, fashionable, charming in a very alarming way. Dude literally had him gaping for a whole minute with his head pretty damn empty. Jungkook's head is never empty.

This guy is so weird and… dangerous. Where did you find him?

And, in fact, why did he come here?

The guy's obviously rich, given all the brands he wears like second skin, so why the heck does he want to work as your assistant? In the same office as you?

Jungkook roughly swallows as the images he conjured last night make a return to his head – this time, with your assistant’s regrettably very handsome face on the previously faceless guy you were making out with. 

He wants to punch a wall.

What he does, instead, is shoot off a text to his secretary, telling her he isn’t feeling well and is going back home. And then another one to you, asking you to pay him a visit tonight. And possibly stay the night because he bought some extra alcohol.

He hasn’t, but the first stop he makes after leaving the office will be to pick up some expensive red wine.

Everytime Jungkook pulls out of you, spent and sweaty and satisfied, after the deed is done, he is left in disbelief. Every single time. Is this really happening? Are you really sleeping with him? Do you actually feel attracted to his body?

He is smart enough to not delude himself into thinking there's more to it, but it doesn't matter because whatever there is between you both is enough to astound him every time the two of you have sex.

Right now, as you sit with your back to him, pulling on his t-shirt over your bare frame – Jungkook's mind is caught onto something a little different than his usual daze of disbelief, though.

And even though he’s risking it by questioning the ‘why’ despite his secretary’s warnings, Jungkook can’t help it when he brings it up. "So… Hiring an assistant. Why so suddenly?"

You hum and give a noncommittal shrug. "I can't be in the office all the time. It's high time I hired one, don’t you think?"

Jungkook doesn’t think so. But he’d definitely be dead meat if he said it out loud. “Sure… What tasks will you give him?”

That earns him a confused look from you over your shoulder. “Do you wanna tell me something, Jeon?”

Wide-eyed, he gapes at you. “What?”

“Did something happen with Haeri? Is that why—”

“Oh, no,” he exhales, beyond relieved, then shakes his head with a smile when you continue to eye him suspiciously. “I just… Well. I’m always making Haeri pick up after me as if she’s a babysitter and not an office worker, you know? So I thought I could use some tips from you…”

You nod at that, turning back around to pull on your panties, and Jungkook breathes easier. He has sold his lie and you’ve bought it. “That’s actually thoughtful and mature of you. Where was this maturity when you had me running after you, though?” you grumble with a playful glare, and he just laughs. 

“It is because of all of that that I’ve finally learnt to be mature, Prez.”

Straightening after having covered your lower half, you inch back on the bed and rest your back against the headboard. “Well. To be fair, he has been running around for tiny errands for the two days he’s been here, so I can’t really lecture you, right now,” you admit. “But I wanted someone in the office for the meetings-season that is about to arrive as we near the launch, you know? Both you and I will be busy with the project. Poor Yoongi will need all the help he can get.”

Jungkook frowns. “Why doesn’t Yoongi hire an assistant then?”

You snort at that and gesture to the bottle of wine on the nightstand. “Why’re you pressed about it? You said you need tips, right?”

“Ah, yes, of course. I just want some tips.” Quickly catching his slip, Jungkook pours you a glass and settles next to you, bare, with the covers thrown across his lap for modesty. “So… will he be accompanying you to meetings, then? Or fill in for you while you’re busy with other stuff?”

“Well, initially he will shadow me for a week or so. And then when I get busy overseeing the launch event and coordinating with the Lims and other investors, he can switch between locations around the city to ensure everything is in order because Yoongi can’t be doing everything, you know?” You take a sip from your glass of wine and shrug a shoulder. “He’s our Creative Director, he needs to hold the fort while everyone runs around like headless chickens.”

Jungkook sips at his wine and musters a thin smile. Because yes, it definitely makes sense why you needed to hire an assistant. Speaking of, Yoongi probably needs one as well. 

Damn, when he used to work as a Software Analyst at a different company, he had no idea the executives of a company had so much to do. It always looks like an easy life looking in from the outside. But as CEO, he has come to learn that if someone in a higher up position makes a mistake, they initiate a dominoes’ fall all the way down.

“You met him, didn’t you?”

His surprised eyes fly to yours at the question. You’re looking at him with a smirk, and Jungkook’s heart gives a thump at how sexy you look. Your question, though, throws him off. "I… How did you—”

You roll your eyes. “He told me you came in to see me and then left. I checked in with Haeri and she said you weren’t feeling well.”

Wow. They both snitched on him. Just great.

And now you're looking at him with barely contained laughter as if you know how jealous he feels. Who is he kidding, of course you know how jealous he feels. You always know this kind of stuff, ugh.

“Don’t be getting insecure, Jeon, my assistant will remain only an assistant.”

He doesn’t know why you say that, but he appreciates it all the same. The twinkle in your eyes expresses playful adoration and the way it makes his heart race kinda scares him.

But then you lean in with an exaggerated kissy face to press a wet smooch on his mouth. When you pull away, he looks at you with a slight pout on his lips. You tilt your head to the side with a squint.

"What?"

"It's… Why did you pick the Ferrari guy?" Jungkook sounds a little whiny, but he can't help it.

You look at him over the rim of your glass, eyebrows nearing your hairline, amusement spilling from your gaze. "Uh, what's wrong with the Ferrari guy?"

"Nothing, of course, that's not what I meant," he tries to amend with a chuckle, but given the way you narrow your eyes at him before putting your glass away to cross your arms, you probably don't buy it. So he speaks on. "It's just that he doesn't look like an assistant, you know?"

"I… don’t actually. What does an assistant look like?"

Are you being purposely difficult or is Jungkook being completely weird? He's not exactly sure how to explain it better, but he's definitely sure that any other way would have been better than what comes out of his mouth next. "I mean, a bit… less… flirty, I guess?"

"What? What the hell did he do to you?"

He groans at your excited expressions. "Dude had me gaping at him for fifteen minutes while he talked about God knows what, because I couldn't focus on his words! I don't even like men like that!"

You give a loud snort and then break into loud peals of laughter. "Well, Jungkook, maybe you do! Maybe you just haven't had your awakening yet!"

"Not funny," he grunts, even as a humored smile slips on to his face at your loud giggles. "What did you say his name was, again?"

You raise an eyebrow. "I didn't."

He rolls his eyes. "Well, my dear Prez, what is your new assistant's name?"

"Park Jimin." Your smile turns goofy and eyes almost dreamy. "Pretty name for a pretty man. Right?"

He rolls his eyes at your suggestive wink, grumbling as he finishes his glass of wine in a large gulp.

You give a small sigh. "He's a nice guy, give him a chance. Heart of gold, or whatever they say."

Jungkook decides that he, for reasons way beyond his supposed homoerotic awakening, absolutely hates Park Jimin's guts. He's going to convince you to fire him. And soon.

© jimilter | 2024

[cherry-leclerc]

we never talk about it ☆ op81

genre: humor, angst, yearning, massive crushes, and lots and lots of miscommunication, assistant!reader

word count: 11k

It's unwise—longing for someone like Oscar. While he's the epitome of someone anyone can easily fall in love with, you're the epitome of a devoted girl who will fall in love with him. You might not even care too much about all the heartbreak you endure along the way.

inspired by sharpest tool, sabrina carpenter !

cherry here!... based on real events.

Do you remember the day we first met?

The wind doesn’t do its job in blocking him out, the way you prayed and wished it would. You’re still able to catch the crack in his voice—a distant reminder of the way it once made you giggle. Even his nose is beet red, matching the Christmas lights. But apart from all that, you still hear him. You still see him. 

You always have.

“A little bit. Yeah.”

He flinches, then tries to play it off with a soft smile. Like he doesn’t want you to uncover the slight hurt he feels. But he can’t read your mind. He never could. And that was the problem.

Oscar nods, feigning indifference. “I do. Remember it all, I mean.  Think back to it quite often."

-

It’s utterly useless to try and ignore him, really.

His hair is too fluffy, his eyes are too bright, and his accent is making you want to flaunt the way some loony character would with a hand over their heart. It was honestly a tad bit demeaning.

But you can't help it. You admire the way his brown locks fall in a lousy manner when he towers down to sign the contract. You blush when his eyes get that twinkle in them. And you swoon over almost anything he says with a shy smile.

“You’re drooling.”

Mortified, you briskly run the back of your hand against your mouth before sending a harsh glare. Lando snickers. “Would you please stop?”

His jaw drops, theatrically. “You’re not actually into him—are you?”

He says it with a trace of humor, but also shock, and you can't help but have your mouth run dry. A loose grin starts to expand across his lips as you hurriedly shake your head. “O-of course not. Are you crazy?”

But if anything, you feel crazy. You must be, right? With every passing second of your heart beating faster and faster against your chest simply just by looking at the young Australian, you’re sure you fall straight into the category like some love fool.

Lando squints his eyes. “I don’t know.” He leans in straight into your face, nearly hissing. “Am I?”

“Am I interrupting?” 

Flinching hard, you turn quickly to face Anastasia. You’d initially met the black haired girl back in 2019. As you started off as the Brits personal assistant, she took over as Carlos’ and later also Daniel’s. Over the course of time, you two came to be as close as sisters. 

“No! Not at all,” you squeak, nervously before pushing the McLaren driver away and patting towards the open chair next to you. She giggles, rolling her eyes and adjusting herself. “How was the flight over?”

A shrug. “As good as it can get. Sat next to a silver fox, so I guess that must count for something, no?” Lando shudders. She leans in closer, plopping her head against your shoulder. “What’d I miss?”

“Not much.” Only, that’s not true. She missed the way he laughed awkwardly when the doors wouldn’t slide open and let him into the headquarters. She missed the way he rolled his R’s a little too hard when saying ‘sorry’. She missed the way he grabbed the pen with a certain glow on his face, like he almost couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Lazy fingers pat her head gently once before sighing. “He seems nice.”

“How do you know?”

You know because of the way he talks to everyone. Like he cares about what they have to say. Whether it’s about how great his career is going to be here in McLaren or if they introduce their kids to him via FaceTime. He always wore the same smile, talked in the same warm tone. So, could your guess be far off? Yes. It could be completely far off. But you would bet money that it wasn’t. 

“Just a wild hypothesis.”

Her laugh isn’t too loud, not ridiculously so, at least, but the fact that it echoes is what makes it appear as such. Anastasia is quick to slap her hand over her mouth, the Brit turns fast to face her with panic evident in his eyes, and you simply blink with a shade of red slowly creeping towards your cheekbones. 

Zak grins. “You three.”

“Oh, we’re out,” Lando mumbles in monotone, already grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the exit. You follow numbly, like you don’t have any strength left in your body. 

“You’re leaving me?” Anastasia hisses.

“She’s my assistant,” he says like a matter-of-fact. “Where I go, she goes.”

“Oh, you Judas—”

“All of you,” Zak clarifies, narrowing his eyes over to you and the Brit. You gulp.

With a soft curse, Anastasia stands up, tall and firm, and makes her way over with all the confidence in the world. You frown, craving to be the same way, even just a small percentage. Instead, you have to be forced by the McLaren driver. 

With every step, your head just spins faster because now, he’s more than real. You can smell his cologne. You can count all the moles that cover his face if you really wanted to. You can spot how his hair is still a bit wet, indicating an early shower. 

He’s just becoming— too real. 

“Lando, buddy, meet your new teammate!”

“Nice to meet you,” the blue eyed boy declares with a loopy grin, letting go of your hand in order to shake his. 

“Likewise.”

Zak claps once. “Oh! And meet your personal assistant, Anastasia.”

“Here for anything you might need,” she cheers with a bright smile.

“Fantastic.”

A wave of silence overlaps your four before Lando clears his throat. “And even though you might not be working with her one-on-one, this is my Anastasia.” A snicker. “My assistant, if you will.”

“Nice to meet you—”

“Nice to meet you—”

You both freeze, hands intertwined for a second longer before abruptly letting go. He lets out a dry laugh while you do the same. The way your skin tingles makes you blush. 

“This is fun and all, but we actually have somewhere to be,” the Brit claims with a suspicious look slashed across his usual laid back expression. You nod. “But we’ll see each other soon, man. Can’t wait to race together!”

In a flash, you two are out the door, leaving a dumbfounded Oscar blinking slowly.

-

“He fucks with you.”

“Excuse me?”

Another bench press. “As in, he likes you. He’s into you.”

You don’t dare ask who he is because you already know who the Brit’s referring to and that would only inflate your ego. Snapping your fingers, you narrow your eyes. “Focus. Two more sets left to go.” He groans, flipping you off.

It would be a lie to say that this didn’t make your self-esteem skyrocket. Could he be right? Could someone like Oscar ever lay eyes on you? Somewhere in your dreams, you’d like to say yes. Yes. That is a possibility. But the longer you think about it, the more unrealistic it gets.

You don’t have what others do. And that itself is enough to pop the bubble. 

-

The start of the season is always tough. 

“He’s extremely nervous.”

For some more than others.

You frown. “Really? But he’s usually so…relaxed.”

Anastasia shrugs, hair falling over her shoulder as she continues typing. “I mean, I tried talking to him but with everything I said, he’d just reply—'that's nice’. It was sarcastic, if anything. I would have laughed if I didn’t feel for him. Poor boy.” Her fingers freeze mid-air. “Wait—do you think you could talk to him?”

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea—”

“Come on! Maybe it’ll help him ease his nerves!”

“Ana—”

“Please.”

You huff. “Okay. Fine. Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”

As soon as you knock, you almost want to turn away. Maybe it was all an exaggeration. Plus, it’s not like he’s going to die from having butterflies in his stomach. Yeah, surely he’ll be fine and he doesn’t really even need you to—

“Come in.”

He wasn't expecting you, that much you can tell by the way his brows go up. But he’s quick to erase the confusion, settling with a fond expression. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you squeak before cringing at the sound. He chuckles, returning to his warm-up exercises. “How are you feeling?”

Another chuckle, this time amused. “Anastasia sent you, didn’t she?”

“What?” A beat. “No.”

He hums. “Tsk. I’m a bit nervous, that's all.”

You lick your lips, kicking your foot up against the doorframe. What could you possibly say that she hasn’t already? If she couldn’t ease him, then how can you? The thought of messing up and making it worse makes your stomach churn. 

“You’re going to do g—”

“Great?” He sighs, blowing his cheeks. “That’s exactly what she said.”

“And what’s wrong with it? She’s only trying to help.”

“No. I know she is, but…” He looks down onto his lap, pausing all movements. “Look, I appreciate you both. What you’re trying to do for me, but I can’t stand hearing what others think I want to hear.”

“It doesn’t do it for you?”

His eyes grow slightly wide with the way you go about and ask. He’s never seen you be anything other than sweet and reserved. But this—right now—is stern and very coach-like. Something and someone you aren’t. Not even close.

“It doesn’t,” he admits, finally looking away. “Never liked it. Always sounds too forced.”

You nod, crossing your arms. “Fine. I can tell you the truth. I can be truthful.” He perks. “Oscar, you’re a terrific driver.” He groans, covering his face with his hands. “But just because you’re great doesn’t mean you’ll be great all the time.” The Australian frowns, uncovering and looking up at you with attentive eyes. “You’re going to mess up. You’re going to be second, or third, or sometimes even twentieth, but that doesn’t matter, you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you signed that contract, so you sort of have to suck it up, either way.” He lets out a loud laugh. Very unlike him. A weak smile threatens to fall as you try your best to push it back. “There’s going to be bad races, but there’s also going to be very good races. It all depends on you and how hard you work. Sometimes you’ll have a good car, a good strat, and others you’ll have a shitbox and a bad strat. That’s just the way this sport works, okay?”

Oscar blinks slowly, as if trying to decipher who you are, and that itself makes you dizzy. “I-I-I don’t care if you’re nervous, I don’t care if you’re sure—all we care is that you drive that car, and that you try your best no matter what. Can you do that?”

It’s foreign. The feeling in his chest. He’s not used to hearing any of this. As of recently, everyones been texting him to say how great he’s going to be. How far he’ll go. And while he was grateful for having unconditional support, he also dreaded hearing it sometimes because he doesn’t even want to picture letting any of  them down. He’ll act like he’s fine, he’ll act like he doesn’t care—but none of that would be true.

The brunette tilts his head to the side, slightly squinting. “I can. I can always try my best. Even if I fall short.”

“Good.” A beat. “We all believe in you. No matter what, okay?”

A timid smile. “I know…”

He ends up having to retire the car by lap fifteen, but the most astonishing part is that he’s not even upset. He tried his best. He listened to every single advice his engineer would alert him with. He practiced long hours in the stimulator.

This is just the way things go sometimes. Just like you said.

-

“I’m bored. Can I get a ten minute break or something?” Lando grimaces, rolling his wrist like it's the worst pain in the world. 

You hum, fixing the signed hats back into the box. With eyes screwed, you shrug. “Fine. But only ten! I’m serious. We need to have this done by one.”

“Yes! Ten—got it.”

He doesn’t come back in ten. For the matter, he actually goes missing. 

You narrow your eyes towards the clock, watching as it clicks like some mockery. You’re going to strangle him. You vow at that very moment that you’ll strangle the Brit as soon as you lay hands on him. With one final huff of desperation, you stand up, rubbing your eyes. People frolic through the paddock—you’re sure you even catch a glimpse of Lewis being papped—but that’s not what catches all of your attention. 

Instead, you find yourself leaning against the rail, squinting down to where the man of the hour sits, microphones huddled all around him like some interrogation. Anastasia smiles politely, back straight, and voice-recorder in hand. 

It’s faint—you almost can’t hear a thing—but it’s just enough. 

How does it feel to be back home? Enjoying it, no?

Oscar hums, straight brows slightly furrowed due to the bright sun, but just one adjustment of his hat makes that all go away. “Feels good. I’m able to sleep in my own bed, so that’s pretty cool. And yes. It may be a bit biased, but I am enjoying my time here more than the last two races.” Everyone chuckles. 

Can we talk about your expectations for this weekend? 

You can see him pause, and from where you’re standing, the way his fingers drum against his chair. “Well, I, uh…I hope for a good car.” The joke is supposed to be there, but you can tell everyone was expecting more with the way they murmur to one another. You wince.

Will raises the microphone up to his lips, along with his hand in order to catch the brunette’s attention. “I’m sure there’s been lots of people reaching out to you since this is your first home race, but has there been someone’s advice that has stuck like no other?”

Oscar smiles gently. “There has been, actually.”

You freeze, gripping the steel bar with anticipation. Your knuckles nearly feel like they’re about to snap, and you feel like you’re probably leaning a bit too far over the edge to hear it all, but you don’t even care. Will chuckles. “If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind sharing with us all? I’m sure it’ll help a lot of youngsters watching.”

Anastasia slides the recorder closer. Oscar visibly swallows. “I’m not sure I can. I never asked her for permission to talk about it. And quite frankly, I’d like to keep it between us.”

Will perks up. “Her?”

The black-haired girl is quick to whisper into his ear, turning the opposite way so no one can even attempt to read her lips. He nods, eyes trained forward like some guard. “Any more questions?” But everyone’s intrigued at this point, so all the questions that follow remain the same. Something that makes Anastasia panic and Oscar regret his choice of words. 

“Can we get a name?” some blurts out, nearly seeming desperate to get the inside scoop.

Only, his face remains still, jaw slacked. “No.”

Will raises his hand. “Very well, we don’t have any right to know, but are you willing to share a bit about what she said?”

And it’s almost as if the Australian can foresee that the only way to get out of this situation is by giving them what they want. Even if it’s a stupid little crumb. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She told me to try my best. That’s all I can really do.”

The mix of photographers and journalists deflate. “I-I’m sorry,” Lawrence Barretto slides in with a light tone and an ever lighter smile. “Don’t mean to lessen its meaning, but isn’t that a common thing to say? To hear?” An awkward laugh. “I mean, I just thought it’d be something a bit more…deep. Inspiring, perhaps.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks and you’re grateful to whatever God may exist that you’re not down there. On the other hand, Oscar is a bit bothered by the innocent comment, but then realizes he doesn't have to be. They weren’t there. They don’t know just how much more you said. How upfront you were with him without sounding condescending. Something most people did without even realizing. 

The brown eyed boy spares a smile. “Like I said—some things I’d like to keep between her and I. And even if it was just that, it’s the way she said it.” A beat. “It’s quite a lavish thing to have. A sincere person to talk to, I mean.”

Will tilts his head suspiciously. “It appears she might be someone special to you, yes?”

The Australian freezes at the unwanted interpretation. Suddenly, the atmosphere is far too crowded. He lets out a forced chuckle, rolling his neck before messaging it gently. “Well, yes. I’d agree.” 

A mix of giddiness and shock rushes through your veins as you refrain yourself from jumping up and down with excitement. 

“You’d be lucky if you had her as a friend too.”

-

“Is everything okay?”

Biting down on the churro he had gifted you as an apology for not getting back on time, you growl. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Lando raises a thick brow. “Dunno. Maybe the fact that you’re moping.”

Your jaw goes slack, immediately turning to face him. “I am not moping.”

The sound he lets out indicates he doesn’t quite believe you, but is choosing to let it go. Also, he doesn’t want to see your patience run out, too scared of what you might do. The curly haired driver plops down onto his bed that stands in his motorhome, closing his eyes. You nearly envy the indifference in him. The lack of worry. 

“I can hear your teeth clenching. Gross.”

A grunt. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Need anything?”

“Only a nap. It’s a good thing you’ll be gone.” He turns over to his side, bringing your jacket over his face to block out any light. You bite the air, swinging silently for a minute or two before exiting the cramped room. 

The sun hurts, you remember thinking, but the upcoming migraine you’re getting is even worse. You should be used to this by now, given you’ve suffered from them since elementary, but based on the way you zig zag without meaning to is enough proof to know that you’re not. Everyone's voices are suddenly muffled, even the sound of engines roaring is as soft as a feather. You wince, massaging your temples as if that might help. 

Woah, are you feeling alright? 

“I’m fine,” you respond meekly, to who even knows. You wave them off rudely. “I’ll be fine. Just. Leave me alone.” 

Anastasia frowns, all while fanning your face. “No. You need to lay down.” She nudges the Australian, who up until now, you had no clue he had his arm clung around your waist. If you weren’t too busy feeling like shit, you’d definitely be making a fool out of yourself. Her green eyes fill up with worry. “I’m gonna go look for a paramedic.”

“You’re doing too much,” you slur, body letting loose and making the brunette shriek as he grips you harder, trying to keep you upright. 

A deadpan expression. “Oscar, take her back to your motorhome and have her lay down.”

He nods, hesitantly. “Y-yeah, okay. Okay.” Once she runs off like a headless chicken, you let out a dramatic gag. Sharp brows knit together with horror. “Do I smell bad?”

A giggle. “No. As a matter of fact, you smell rich.”

With his arm still wrapped around you securely, and warm eyes flickering from you back to see where he’s heading, he grins, eyes crinkling. “Rich? That just so happens to have a scent?”

You purse your lips, wincing at the fact that your peripheral vision has gone completely dark. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’m a terrific liar and I’m only stroking your ego for my benefit.”

Another chuckle. “Benefit? What benefit may that be?”

Tsk. “How else am I gonna get you to take me to bed?”

The Australian instantly chokes hard on a string of his own saliva, causing you to flinch at the loud sound. Loud to you, at least. He apologizes, but not before taking a glance down, like it’s the first time meeting you. 

As soon as you lay down on the miniature mattress, you release a groan. Even just having your eyes closed makes you dizzy. You let out a loud groan, kicking your feet against the cushion in desperation.

“That bad?”

“That annoying.”

And even though you can’t see him, he nods, internally freaking out, trying to think of ways to help. “Does this happen to you often?”

“Yes.”

He nods, sheepishly. “W-what do you normally do? You know? To help?”

Tossing over to lay on your side, you pinch your eyes, grinding your molars. For a minute, you sort of thought your teeth might crack. Everything about this situation was becoming unbearable. “My mom, she, um…she’d normally braid my hair. It helped sometimes. Others it didn’t.” Messy hair dangles over your face as you let you out a loud exhale, as if you were in the middle of releasing some demon. “I moved too much, she said.”

Oscar smiles, coming across like a faint memory locked in the back of your mind. “I-I-I can try…” Loopy eyes flicker up to face him, and he’s quick to scrunch his nose. The sight alone makes you breathe easier, though he doesn’t know that. Of course he doesn’t. “Only if you want me to…”

“You know how?”

“Sort of? When I was younger, I used to sit across from my sisters at the breakfast table. I was bound to learn a thing or two.”

The subtle proud smile makes your heart beat flutter, smitten at the insight to his childhood. You wish you knew more. Like what was his favorite show? Did he have any imaginary friends, just like you did? Or maybe his favorite superhero? But you swallow all those questions down your throat as soon as he kneels down next to you. The whiff of soft musk distinctively adds to your headache, but you’re too focused on him for something as dumb as that to matter. 

“Just…close your eyes.”

Taking one last glance at him, you comply, lashes fanning slowly before going completely dark. You can still hear him adjusting, you can feel him take your hair into his hands, but nothing makes you stop breathing like his touch that grazes your cheek. 

It’s almost ghostlike—doesn’t really stay on the same spot for too long—but you know it’s real. Long fingers calmly push strands of hair behind your ear, tranquility expanding over your body. The slight tickle it causes helps ease your pounding migraine, little by little. 

“Are my hands too cold?” he whispers, not trying to intrude, but at the same time, wanting to know. You twist, bottom lip jutting out. Not at all. Keep going. And he does. He ends up tangling your hair a bit, because as it turns out, he doesn’t remember much, but he’s sure to delicately fix his mess, brows drawn in with heavy concentration. 

As soon as your hair is back to flowing free, he relaxes, wincing a bit at the pain in his knees. Your hair feels soft. Just what he would imagine a cloud would feel like. For a second, he begins to wonder, who’s this really for? He feels like this might be soothing him more than you. 

Just then, his finger catches on a knot, and he freezes, stopping all movements. “Holy crap, I am so sorry, I—”

You let out a low whimper, but don’t do so much as bat an eye. You’re sound asleep. The brunette lets out a breath of relief, falling back to sit on the ground. 

Your face is a bit squashed—and you’re drooling just a tad bit—but for some odd reason, he finds himself admiring. You’re full lips. You’re lashes. God, even the way you breathe. He feels a tender smile itching, but it never truly gets to see the light of day, because before he knows it, the door is swung wide open. 

Anastasia stops dead in her tracks. “What happe—is she asleep?”

Oscar opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He does this a couple of times, awkwardly turning to face you and his assistant, back and forth, back and forth. “She, um…just did. A minute ago.”

She pouts, scratching her head. “Weird. Usually when this happens it prolongs for at least ten minutes before it gets any better.” The green eyed girl sheepishly waves the group of paramedics away. A trail of sighs echo as they turn away. As soon as they’re gone, she gently shuts the door, then tippy toes towards the edge of the small bed. Neat brows furrow. “At least she’s feeling better, no?”

Brown eyes follow her gaze. “Yeah. At least.”

-

Lando ends up throwing—and according to him— “The World’s Coolest Jamboree”. You beg for him to call it anything but jamboree, but he’s too attached to it by the time he sends the last text invite, which so happens to be to the rookie driver. 

“Has anyone RSVPed?” you question over his shoulder. He’s in the middle of mixing some mysterious liquid, but by the looks of it, doesn’t look any good. You grimace. 

He lets out a bleh before dropping his utensils. “No one RSVPs these days. They either show up, or they don’t.” 

A slow nod. “So, you don’t know who’s coming?”

“Not a clue. But most likely everyone.”

You scoff. “How are you so sure?”

He gives you an ‘are you kidding me?’ type glare before sending a sly grin. “First of all, it’s my party. They’d be crazy to miss out. And second of all…it’s only the biggest, funnest, coolest jamboree!”

“Funnest is not a word.”

“And party-poopers aren’t welcomed.” You gasp, smacking his chest harshly. He lets out a snicker, picking up a bag of ice and spilling it into the glass bowl. “But I’ll make an exception. Just this once.”

“Just this once,” you mimic before dipping your pinky in. He instantly slaps your hand away. Smacking your lips, you let out a yelp at the bitter taste. “This tastes like ass. God—not even Daniel will drink this, and that guy drinks anything in his way. I’m surprised he hasn’t been accidentally roofied.”

Lando claps his hands with amusement. “God forbid. And please, pay your respect to Lando’s Best Worst Decision.” A beat. “™.” 

“™?” you deadpan. “What? Are you planning on adding a trademark to this sewage water?”

“It’s good, okay?” Mixing the clear liquid once more, he smiles fondly down at it. “And maybe. I’m seriously considering it.”

You sneer, already walking away.

He ends up being right. Not even an hour later, the party is in full swing. Sure, a couple drivers aren’t able to make it, but it’s still jammed packed. It's honestly a miracle to get through the Monaco flat. 

You’re still sober?

Laughing, you nod, raising your water up in the air like some toast. Daniel frowns. “Considering I have to make sure my number one client doesn’t make any bad choices tonight, then nope. Can’t have a sip of alcohol.” 

Brown eyes flutter slowly. “I’m sure there’s other beverage choices. Have you tried Lando’s Best Worst Decision?” He leans in, winking. “™.”

“Oh no. Don’t tell me you actually like it?” He shrugs and you shudder in disgust. “I’m sure I saw him add ten energy shots and God knows what else.”

“No wonder I feel kinda funky.” Your face drops. “Hey, if you pass out, can I crash tonight?”

“Daniel!” you groan, covering your face. “I swear, I’m going to spill that stupid drin—” Only, Daniel is gone. Craning your head, you circle the room. From where you stand, you’re able to see Carlos and Lando taking part in a heated round of pool, all while Charles sways back and forth, infamous red cup in hand.

Marching over to the kitchen island, you pick up the glass bowl and carry it over to the sink before tipping it over. You huff, hair fanning across your nose. 

“Stupid, stupid boys—”

“Hey.”

You shriek, dropping the bowl, and wincing at the sound of glass shattering. 

Oscar grimaces. “Shit. Sorry. Are you hurt?”

“No.” You sigh. “Lando’s gonna kill me.”

Grabbing the nearby broom, the Australian sweeps carefully while knitting his brows. “Why?”

“It’s a family heirloom.”

“A glass bowl?”

You giggle. “I wonder why too.”

Despite the blaring music, and constant chattering, the room feels rather silent. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, and that seems to catch his eye as it dawns on him that he hasn’t really seen you in anything other than your usual uniform. To be fair, you could say the same. He likes it. 

You clear your throat. “Halfway done. How do you feel?”

He sips on his water, jaw clicking before settling with a sharp tsk. “Good. I think I’m finally getting the hang of it. Anastasia even congratulated me the other day when I diverted a series of questions with ease.”

Impressed, you raise your brows. “Bravo. Wish that was the case with Lando. I swear, sometimes I think he does and says things to make me look bad on purpose.”

“He should stop,” he says with a goofy smile. “Does he not know how lucky he is to get to call you his assistant?”

You blush. “Best friend, actually. I’ve been promoted ever since I pretended to be his girlfriend last New Year's Eve.”

The brunette inches forward with curiosity. “Wish to clarify?”

You hop onto the island, fixing your dress and crossing your legs. “Don’t tell him that I told you any of this, but I secretly think he was embarrassed of not having a midnight’s kiss. Especially since his ex was there with her new boyfriend. Talk about the unexpected.”

His chest tightens. “You two, um…kissed, then?”

“Yes,” you confirm with a childlike grin, and for some reason, it makes him want to puke. “Oh God, I haven’t thought about this in forever!”

He pretends to find interest in the crowded room, but really, it all remains on you. “Was it any good?”

You blush this time and he swears he’s close to walking away. “Yes and no. I mean, it wasn’t bad, but it just didn’t feel right.”

He perks up then, floppy hair bouncing at the sudden speed. “Really?” He coughs, then fixes his watch, training his eyes towards the floor. “Erm, I mean, is that so?”

A nose scrunch. “It felt like kissing someone you’re not supposed to. Which I suppose is true. We’re better off as friends.” He relaxes. “Thinking about it, we might’ve gagged each other's mouths.” You grimace. “If that doesn't show our discomfort, then I don’t know what will.”

“Good to know.” Oscar rubs his arm, up and down, then steps closer to you. You blink. “Hey, I was meaning to ask—”

Strippers? I didn’t order any strippers. 

Hire, a male voice interjects. He means to say he didn’t—hire—any strippers. 

“Son of a…” You wince apologetically, to which he shrugs. Don’t worry. Go. Biting your lip, you nod, rushing to the living room, where Lando, Daniel, and a bunch of other randoms circle the almost nude girls with long legs. 

“I mean, I won’t turn you away, ladies,” the Brit mumbled, already wrapping his arms around their waists. They all giggle, inching closer until he’s a blushing mess. 

You snap your fingers, pointing towards the exit. “All of you need to leave.”

Is that your sister? the one with a cowboy hat whispers into his ear. He quickly shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you like a deadly weapon. 

“No. That’s his girlfriend,” Daniel yodels, face pressed up against the couch, admiring the group of girls. “But they’re in an open relationship.”

“I’m not his girlfriend—”

“She’s not my girlfriend—”

Oscar’s jaw clenches, eyes focused on the entire commotion. The older Australian rolls his eyes. “Right. We don’t talk about it.”

“Would you stop trying to help?” you shoot back, sarcastically, and clap your hands as if you’re rounding up a new high school cheer. “I need you all out. You want money? Fine. He’ll give you money,” you declare, signaling towards Lando. 

“Hey,” he groans, instantly letting go and stepping closer to you. “They haven’t even done anything to earn it….”

Your eye twitches. “I swear to God—”

“Deal,” the redhead shoots out. “But we need a moment to come to an agreement. You know? On how much we want to ask for.”

“Perfect,” you chirp, rolling your heels. “Take out your wallet, Big Boy.”

“You used to be fun.”

“And you used to be terrified over a pair of tits when I first met you. Whatever happened?” Lando blushes profoundly before pushing you away. “Want them gone, Lando, gone!”

“Yes! Jesus Christ—let me deal with this.”

“I’m done,” you promise with your hands raised up in surrender. “But just remember what happened last time.” He frowns, cocking his head to the side. You wiggle your brows. “São Paulo.” 

Color drains his face before letting out an unhinged laugh and motioning you away. You giggle, heading back to where Oscar stands. 

“I see what you mean,” he announces. What? “How he can have a bit of a headache.” 

“See! I told you! Four years of this!” A dramatic yawn. “I’m tired.” 

A string of boo’s follow once the strippers prance out the door, waving all their money in the air. Specifically Daniel, who genuinely looks upset to see them go. Oscar leans down against the counter, the proximity between you becoming smaller. “You should get some rest, then.” But he selfishly doesn’t  mean it. He wants you to stay—to keep talking to him. 

You let out a snort, grabbing your sides. “I mean, I'm tired of being Lando’s assistant. It’s a full time job, y’know?”

“Oh.” He stands up straight again. “Right. Of course.”

You purse your lips, looking down to your shoes. “But that was actually quite thoughtful.”

She thinks I’m thoughtful, he internally swoons because that must be a good sign, right? Not everyone is thoughtful, but he is, and that must count for something. Gathering all the strength he has left—which is not much considering you blink up at him like some angel—he licks his pink lips. “Back to what I was going to say earlier before you left—”

“I wasn’t trying to step on him! I already said I was sorry!” you hear a familiar voice, instantly turning to find Anastasia kicking Daniel’s face back into place, well, since he now lays asleep on the floor. You curse beneath your breath, jumping off the island once again. 

“His head did a complete 360!” Yuki accuses, clearly panicked. “That's not normal, is it?”

“No, it is,” Pierre replies with a bored tone. “I’ve seen it happen before.”

Crouching down next to the curly haired driver, you jab his cheek before motioning Oscar and Anastasia closer. “Help me carry him to the guest room,” you instruct, already taking off your cardigan. 

The black haired girl is quick on her feet, grabbing the Australians right leg as you grab the left. Oscar, however, swallows hard at the amount of cleavage you’re suddenly displaying, but instantly snaps out of it when both you and Anastasia blink back at him. He picks up the Alpha Tauri driver’s upper body before puffing. 

You blush bright pink at the sight of his muscles pulsing against his t-shirt. “I-It’s just around the corner.” 

As soon as you make it into the room, you three carefully place Daniel onto the bed, to which he squirms before flipping over and snoring away. You motion a finger over your lips before pushing them both out. Gently closing the door behind you,you let out a breath of relief. 

Anastasia lets out a whistle. “Surprisingly not that heavy.”

Oscar scoffs. “Easy for you to say. I had to carry most of his weight.” 

She shrugs, hugging you hello and apologizing for being so late, and you’re quick to reassure her that it’s fine, though she missed the chance to see strippers give Lando a tough time. She sneers. “I didn’t even know there existed strippers in Monaco.” And then she’s off, clapping loudly at the sight of Lando giving out a round of jello shots. You sigh, rubbing your temples.

“I-I’m sorry. What were you going to say?”

He freezes. “Oh. Just that—” He panics. “Only that I like your shoes!”

You blink, deflating from within. But you try to cover it up with a soft smile. “Thanks, I guess?” Orbs flicker down toward your white Sambas. “Lando says they are overrated, but I like ‘em.”

He nods. “Yeah. I like them too.”

-

It happens one Friday afternoon—the decision. 

You’re in between races, you’re in between headaches, and you’re ready to self-implode. So, before any of that happens, you make your first decision. To go on a walk. 

It’s getting rather chilly these days, something you love, but also hate. You love it because there is a certain coziness that comes along with it, but you also hate it because you can’t always be cozy, so you’re left shivering. Much like now. But to be fair, this was your own choosing. 

The pounding that takes over your head lessens the longer you stroll, the longer you breathe actual fresh air. You don’t really think much, you mainly remain blank, but the sound of tires screeching rips you away. Squinting hard, you catch a glimpse of a lady with grocery bags flipping off the fellow driver, who shares nothing but an apologetic smile before driving off. 

“What happened? Do I have something on my face?”

Dusting your nose, then your cheek, you blush faintly. You instantly assume it’s the powdered donuts fault—the one you had gobbled up in a hurry during the drive back to the paddock. It was an early morning, and no one really made it on time when it came to early days, but you always did. And so did Oscar. So, a sleepy Zak gave you a wad of cash, and sent you two to the nearest donut shop. 

The Australian shakes his head, blinking straight ahead. “N-no, I was just checking my blind spot.”

That only makes you blush harder because in what crazy world would he be looking at you? 

A single nod. The car is quiet apart from the sound of his hands moving against the steering wheel, and the sound of the blinker clicking. It’s gloomy, too. You clear your throat. “I love it when it rains.” He hums, calmly, encouraging you to continue. “It just makes me happy.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You purse your lips. “I sort of wish I were home. That way I can snuggle near the window and fall asleep to the sound of light drizzle.”

The brunette quirks a brow towards the road. “That sounds nice. Like…really nice.” A pause. “Why can’t you do that here, though?”

Here—here means where you are right now. Here means this place that’s not home. Here is not close to being enough, but he doesn’t figure that one out. You blink, dragging your finger along the pink box sitting on your lap. “Trust me, I’ve tried.” A small shrug. “But it’s just not the same, y’know? There’s always something missing.”

He doesn’t waste a moment in asking. “What do you think that is?”

Taken aback by his inquiry, you let yourself surmise for a second or two before licking your lips. “Maybe a pup. To keep me company”

He semi-frowns, cocking his head to send you a deadpan expression. “A dog?”

Now it’s your turn to frown, sending him a glare. “What were you thinking?”

The red light lets him take focus on you. “Dunno. A boyfriend, maybe?”

You’re sure you’re nearly as tomato red as the light staring at you both. “What? You instantly just assume I don't have one already?”

He freezes. “Well, I, um…t-that’s not what I meant—”

“Look, I know I’m not a guys’ typical ‘dream girl’, but sheesh I’m not that unlovable. At least, I hope not, but now you’re making me second guess. I mean, your opinion must indicate everyone sees me as some sort of lonely widow.”

Oscar shakes his head, adamantly. “I don’t see you as such.” A slow pause. “A lonely widow, I mean. I find your words to not be all that true, really. You’re nice. You’re persevering, You’re beautiful. And you have a good heart.” The light translates back to green, and you’re freakishly thankful, that way he can’t see you burn up. “You could easily be anyone's dream. Whoever makes you think otherwise is a phony.”

It’s getting harder not to laugh—most likely out of skeptic shock—but you refrain. He’s simply being kind with you, but that doesn’t stop you from nearly going into cardiac arrest. His words should have been labeled with a warning. 

“Guess this world is filled with lots of phonies.”

He scoffs. “There shouldn’t be. Not when it comes to a girl like you.”

Your breath catches. “Os—”

All of a sudden, the car comes to a harsh stop, sending you flying, but not the Australian, who remains sitting up straight. An older man flips him off before riding off on his bike. You both breath hard, turning to face each other. 

“Are you okay?” he questions, voice laced with worry. 

You nod, slightly dazed. “I, um—yeah. Are you?”

A nod. “I didn’t even see where he came from.”

A weak laugh finally erupts. “Blame it on the poor innocent man— clever.”

Brown eyes soften. They flicker from your orbs back to your pouty lips. He’s only checking if you’re okay, of course. You send him a reassuring bow and he releases a heavy breath. 

“Guess I was too focused on my blind spot, once again.”

The next decision comes when you opt in to join your neighbor, Mr. Lennon, for a cup of tea after he finds you shivering. By that time, it’s raining hard, you're soaking wet, and it only makes sense to accept his kind offer. 

“Mint. To hopefully push back any upcoming cold. God, what were you thinking?”

You let out a laugh. “Not much. That’s why I was aimlessly roaming.”

“What about now?”

You halt, mug raised up to your chapped lips. “What about now?”

He smiles, softly, mixing his own tea with a heavy spoon of honey. “Did the walk help? Were you able to get the wheels rolling?”

Now you giggle loudly. “That’s not very nice! The wheels are working just fine, thank you very much.”

The light scent of pine trees enter the room as soon as he stands up to open his window, the sound of soft rain singing to you as some much needed therapy. “So? What were you pondering about out there?”

“I wasn’t pondering.”

“Walking alone in the middle of a thunderstorm?” A sore laugh. “Been there. Done that. There’s always something on someone’s mind when that happens. Which isn’t often, or usual, so that must mean you’re really stuck up on something.”

“Or someone,” you mumble beneath your breath. His brows dart up, and you sheepishly settle the mug down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

You blink. You don’t really talk about him out loud. Not with Lando. Not with Anastasia. Not even with your own reflection. Everything has always remained with you. A place you knew to be safe because you made it safe. But Mr. Lennon’s eyes prove to you that he’s lived enough lives—enough scenarios—to maybe understand. Even just a fraction. He watches you visibly gulp. And he knows that look. The confusion, the yearning. 

“I’m in love with this boy.”

He hums, leaning back against his wooden chair. “There’s always a boy.”

You look down. “He’s a friend of mine, which makes everything much worse because I can’t ruin that. But for the first time in all my years of living…” Round, glossy eyes stare back at him with a hopeless expression. “I really—really—want to.”

He’s attentive, he listens like some frozen statue, and maybe that’s what fuels your courage to continue speaking. “My entire life, I’ve had crushes, sure, but I’ve never loved someone. Not seriously. So, of course I’m caught off guard when I do feel that for someone who I’m not even in a relationship with.” A playful snort. “God, I feel so stupid.”

The silence that lingers is comforting. Your nerves flow away with the rain, and you feel at peace. Quietly, he clears his throat. “Can I tell you a story?”

A soft sigh. “I’m all ears.”

Gray brows furrow as if trying to recover a distant memory. “I once loved a boy, too.” Your eyes widen. Sure, you knew he was never married, never even had a kid, but you never thought of any reason as to why not. He nods, faintly. “Not many know, and not because I’m ashamed, not by any means…” A single beat. “But because real, sincere feelings are easier to ignore. Because who wants to deal with reality, right? Who wants to confess and be turned away like some dog at your door?”

Exactly, you think, nodding along. “Everyone is always going to be scared of something, but avoidant people like us are terrified about the what-ifs.” He sends a wink. “And I’m living proof that being that way won’t get you nowhere. And you'll realize sooner or later in life that you’d rather be nowhere with someone you love, than nowhere…” His eyes circle the nearly empty kitchen, despite living there for the past twenty years. “...all alone.”

Your chin wobbles. “You know you have me, right? I’m always next door.” A wet laugh follows. “Anyways, I might even join you in this lonely life, eh? Doesn’t sound half bad if I’m doing it with you.”

Tender eyes close slowly before blinking back at you. “No. I want you to be the complete opposite from me. Be different. Tell him how you feel. Even if it costs you a broken heart, tell him. Because I’m telling you right now that a broken heart is always better than the constant desire that will always follow you like the devil.”

A warm droplet rolls down your cheek as you sheepishly laugh, but he doesn’t judge. He never has. Instead, ever the true gentleman, he hands you his handkerchief. “Did you ever get the chance to tell him that you…”

His wrinkles imprint more vividly as he breathes out. “I did, but it didn’t really make the difference I had hoped for. He was already married to someone else.”

A loud sob escapes. “That’s not f-fair. You deserve to be happy with the man you love.”

“I do. But you know what?” You rub the tears away, eyes connecting. “I’ve made peace with the consequences of my own actions.”

By now the rain has died down, and so have you. With one last smile, Mr. Lennon gives your cold hand a soft squeeze.   

“Learn from my mistakes, won’t you?”

-

That same night, as you cried over a bottle of wine, you made your third and final decision. And you would execute it all the next time you saw him, no matter the outcome. 

But now that you spoke about it once to someone, you felt almost invincible. Which is why you called Lando. 

You what? 

A wince. “You can’t tell him, okay? I’m legitimately trusting you with this!” He opens his mouth, but you’re quick to signal him off. “Including Ana.”

“Wow. I thought she’d know.” You shrug because you don’t really have an explanation for not having had confided in her, but you know deep down that you’re not really into playing a game of Cupid, and that’s exactly what she'd turn this into. The Brit nods, sympathetically. “Alright. I won’t tell a single soul.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to tell him how you feel?”

His question comes out hesitant—like he’s afraid of scaring you away from the possibility—but it doesn’t. Instead, you nod, to which he’s extra surprised because you’ve never been the kind to. “That’s the main reason I told you any of this. Because I wanted to ask you if you knew if he has a girlfriend or not? Someone he’s trying to pursue? I’d hate to…intervene.”

Lando let’s put a soft smile, dimples imprinting neatly onto his face. “I mean, he’s particularly private—you know him—but I’ve never heard him mention having a girl. It doesn’t seem like he does. Go for it. What do you have to lose?”

“My dignity? A good friend?”

Silently, he grimaces because even he can see how much this all means to you—how much you’re scared. So, to boost up your confidence—which is something he definitely doesn’t lack—he flashes a loopy grin. “He probably likes you, anyways.”

You come to a fast halt. Suddenly, painting your nails isn’t your top priority. “Really? You think so?” He nods, and you can’t help but smile back. “What’d he say?”

“Well, as I already stated before, he keeps his things locked up pretty well. But I do recall one time…” He closes his eyes harshly. Then, he snaps his fingers loudly. “I believe in Hungary. He was on a high. And we shared a bottle of champagne to celebrate. So, he sort of let loose. Like insanely loose.”

“And?” you push, eagerly trying to get whatever he has stuck in his throat out of him. The green eyed boy snickers. 

“He wasn’t very clear, but he did say he had a crush on a girl. Someone he really wanted to get to know. But that  things were a little bit difficult.” You nod, urging him to continue. “I asked why, and he said it was because she had a good heart, or something of that sort? Good intentions? Can’t remember—and that he didn’t want to ruin it.”

Your breath hitches.

And you have a good heart. You could easily be anyone’s dream. 

-

Ironically, you’re huddled in Lando’s flat once again when it happens. Well. Almost happens. It’s filled with a few McLaren members because he insisted on hosting a nice brunch. And it was. Nice, you mean. 

“Pretty,” Anastasia says, sending a soft smack towards your ass. You yelp, swatting her hand away, and pulling your skirt downward. She snickers. “You should tie your hair up more often. Let’s everyone admire such an angel face.”

“Stop it,” you hiss, but can’t hide the pink flush. “But thank you.” 

She grins, eyes crinkling. Black hair sways as she moves to the beat of the music, nursing her drink. “Nice to have a break…”

“Definitely.”

At some point, she slithers away, leaving you all alone on the balcony. Which was quite lonesome until he came along. Oscar scrunched his nose, meekly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Don’t own this place, do I?”

He lets off a raw chuckle. Deeper than when you first met him, and you come to the realization that a lot about him has changed. His hair is longer, his neck is thicker, and his shoulders are wider. But his smile and eyes remain the same. Boyish.

“Thinking?”

You sigh, admiring the ocean set out right in front of you. “Thinking, yes. A lot these days.”

And if he’s patient enough, he’d notice the way your hands shake. Tiny vibrates, but still. He’d notice the way you bite down on your lip, brushing it along the way. He’d notice the way you blink feverishly, like even the wind hurts. 

And he is. He is a patient person. So, he does notice. 

“Do you know what song this is?”

Brows furrow, deep in thought. And he’s quick to note that the ticks you had are coming to an easy halt. Mentally, though, you’re cursing yourself out because you do know. You do know the song that flows nicely into your ears, but simply having him next to you is what’s making you forget. How dare he have that kind of power over you?

“I know it,” you start. “But I can’t seem to remember right now...”

The brunette gently nods his head along to the beat. His eyes close, and his hair delicately tussles, and suddenly he’s the only thing you see. “Sex,” he says. You blush, ripping your gaze away before he catches you in the act. Oscar laughs. “It’s Sex by The 1975. How could I forget?”

“Oh yeah.”

The guitar screeches when the volume somehow gets louder, despite not being inside. “Would have killed me not to get it right. My sister listens to it all the time.”

Plump lips pressed together. “You have a sister?” But you know the answer to that question, of course you do. You’re a girl. You’ve done your research, even when you pinched yourself not to. 

He nods. “Three, actually. Talk about a headache, am I right?”

And it’s almost nostalgic—your laugh. Like it might be one he heard in his past life, but in his current one, can't remember. But it’s okay if he doesn’t because at least he knows he can learn it. And he has. 

“You look really pretty when you laugh that way. Insanely so.”

You can’t seem to register his words. The way they come off as soft and ginger as they could possibly get. As if he really means it. And for the first time since your first interaction with him almost two years ago—you sort of believe he might. 

“You’re just saying that?” you question as some test, round eyes challenging him into finally spitting out the truth. The same truth you carry. He shakes his head, taking a step closer.

“I mean it.” 

Like a sudden magnet, you two are hesitantly connecting closer and closer together before either of you could stop it. Not that either of you would. The Australian towers over you, almost caging you like some endangered species he’s afraid of slipping away and going extinct. 

You swallow, lashes fluttering, and he smiles at the sight—melts. You’ve always been reserved. Quiet. Shy. And so has he, so he can’t really judge you, but he’s willing to be different—just once in his life—to get what he’s been wanting for a long time now. 

His eyes follow your lips. Admires how plump they are. How they’re the perfect shade of pink. So, when he leans in and you don’t pull away? He thinks he might explode with the need to kiss you. One time. If he’s lucky, just—once. 

“You’ve always been my dre—”

“There you two are!” Anastasia cheers, zigzagging to you both as an apologetic Lando follows right after. By now, Oscar has jumped far away from you, and you’re left feeling empty and lost, blinking at an alarming rate. “We’ve been looking all over!” A hiccup. “What were you doing?” Your lips remain open but Oscar is the first to let out an awkward cough.

“We were just talking about…logistics!” He turns to you, sparing you a pleading look. “W-weren’t we?”

You finally come to, nodding slowly, eyes buzzing between the two McLaren drivers and your best friend, who wobbles from left to right. “Yeah, I….we—logistics, and whatnot.” A beat. “Doesn’t matter.”

He flinches, avoiding your doleful stare. Oscar forces such a bright smile—the kind that can’t go unnoticed by even the biggest idiot on earth—and nods in agreement. “She’s right. It doesn’t matter.”

Lando analyzes you, then his teammate, and wishes he had done more to keep Anastasia from barging in. But really, was this some sign? Maybe you were some delusional little girl who truly believed she had a chance with the boy next door. The one everyone wants, but only one will get to have.

And let’s face it. 

It was never going to be you.

-

You’d make an excellent detective in your next life, you’re sure of it. But for now, you’re just some brokenhearted assistant who mourns the death of her what-ifs. Someone who is really good at picking up on clues. 

It’s right before Christmas—right before Anastasia’s birthday party—and you’re curling your hair quite poorly. You daze off every now and then, you apply mascara almost zombie-like, and you’re dreading even showing up. Have you been avoiding him? Yes. Yes, you have. Have you been good at it? Only the best, if we’re being truthful here. And were you ready to face him without feeling the need to bolt? 

Nope. Not in this lifetime nor the next.

But still, you force yourself to finish getting ready because this isn’t about you. This isn’t about him. It’s about being there for your friend. 

Mindlessly, on the drive there, pouting in the back of the yellow cab, you click onto Instagram and the first thing you do is smile at the birthday post Anastasia had posted not even five minutes ago. You scroll, smile wider, and then come to a harsh pause. The kind that makes your throat close up. The kind that makes you stop breathing. 

The kind that lets you know—

You’ve lost.

His arms are tied around her waist, his head nuzzles between her neck, but you can still tell it’s him. His hazel hair can’t go unnoticed. Maybe to someone else, but not you. 

Then, as if all odds are against you, your feed refreshes and you’re left far more dumbfounded. 

She appears in most of his pictures because why not? It’s his girlfriend's birthday, it goes as expected. Museum dates. Pictures of them with each other's families. And you feel greedy like never before because—why couldn't that be you? 

Venmo or cash? You look up, making eye contact with your taxi driver who looks just as tired as you. You press your lips together into a fine line. Digging into your purse, you grab all that you have and jump out of the cab. 

It’s chilly out and the lights are beautifully hung, but it doesn’t do you any good. You just want to go home. Curl up in bed and die. Dig a hole—self-suffocate—who cares. And you’re ready to turn around, go back and apologize to Mr. Lennon for not doing better. You really thought you had it in you, but it just wasn’t enough. 

Only then, the door swings open and Pierre curls a brow. Kika waves from behind “He thought you were some serial killer. He’s been watching too much Dateline.” The brunette scurries over, throwing her arms around you and takes a step back. “Come in before you freeze to death.”

But even that didn’t sound too bad. You sheepishly thank her, following the couple back in. A string of jazz cradles the warm lit living room and the scent of apple pie makes you inhale sharply. A giggle stirs up behind you. Anastasia grins.

“You’re here!”

All of a sudden, you hate her smile. You hate her laugh. You hate her entirely. But you also don’t. You can’t hate her smile. You can’t hate her laugh. You can’t hate her entirely. Because even though you feel like she owes you loyalty, that’s not really true. She had zero idea about your feelings towards Oscar and she won. Fair and square. That doesn’t mean you had to like it.

“Happy birthday, Annie.” Hugging her, you giggle against her ear when she jumps up and down, nearly knocking you two over. “For you. From me.”

She wiggles her neat brows, green eyes buzzing with suspicion. “Is it a vibrator again?”

You blush. “No. Even better.”

“Wow! Even better?” She rips the small bag open, eyes widened double in their size. “Oh my God, you got me the Mary Jane’s I wanted?”

“Well, you kept bugging me, and so I thought—”

“D'accord, je comprends. I love them, thank you.” Grabbing your wrist, she tugged you into the empty hallway, and you can already feel her buzzing with excitement. Your stomach churns. “I wanted to tell you as soon as he asked me out—I really did—but he insisted on keeping it between us two for a while, and I told him no, I had to tell you, but then I understood that maybe it was for the best, and I’ve always liked him—”

Every word makes you feel smaller and smaller because the light in her eyes gives it all away. She, too—much like you—is in love with Oscar Piastri. You shake your head, sharing a light laugh. “I totally get it. There’s no need to explain.” 

The green eyed girl visibly relaxes, shoulders rolling back. “I knew you’d understand. Oscar was right—you have a good heart.”

Ana, Yuki just spilled wine on your coach, Daniel rattles from the other side of the room, pointing accusingly towards his teammate who rubs the cushion with his Dior sweatshirt. She sighs. Be right back!

At that moment, you don’t care if you wind up with a deadly case of hypothermia, you simply walk out of the warm house.

“What are you doing? You’re going to get sick.”

Screwing your eyes shut seems to be the only answer to help your mending heart into not breaking completely. And fuck him—fuck him for sounding so goddamn caring. 

You turn with a soft smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Won’t really make a difference, I already feel sick.” You cough for emphasis. “See?” Oscar rolls his eyes, ignoring the poor excuse, and hands you his puffer jacket. You shake your head. Take it. “No.” He frowns. Why not? Rocks crunch with every step he takes. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“What? Borrowing a jacket from a friend?”

“Borrowing my best friend's boyfriend’s jacket.”

His stomach drops, rolling with a wave of anxiety as he tries to not show his uncomfort. “She told you?”

Your teeth grind harder. “That, and you both posted about a thousand pictures together. Wasn’t that difficult to understand what was going on.” A sore laugh. “I’m happy for you two, though. Really. I am.”

“You are?”

Sending a nasty glare that you tried to keep in for the life in you, you turn over to face him, nose rosy. “Yes. Over the fucking moon.”

He flinches. “Listen, about that day at Lando’s house. I-I-I was caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t have said what I said, o-or tried to kiss you—”

“You’re a phony, you know that, right?”

Another flinch. “I’m trying to apologize to you. I’m sorry. I feel bad, okay?”

Tears well up inside your eyes. Somewhere deep inside your chest, you feel a harsh sting, and still that doesn’t compare to his pity. You let out a scoff, crossing your arms. “You feel bad, for what? For messing with my emotions, or for getting with my best friend?” You poke his chest hard, but he remains as still as a brick wall, a pained expression mapped out. “Which one is it?”

“For all of it!” He grabs your face, making you freeze under his fire-like touch. “I loved you—God—I loved every inch of you. Your humor, your heart, your jokes that never land, the awkward giggles that follow afterward—everything. There was not a single thing you could do that could have pushed me away.”

“Then what happened?” you whisper, eyes tracing his pink lips, trying to enjoy his hands. They’re calloused, sure, but they’re by far the closest thing you’ve had, so nothing else matters. His breath hitches, soft eyes looking down at you in complete defeat. You grimace. “Why was I not enough for you to try?”

His hands drop. Brown locks shakes as he rubs his eyes, like this is all some part of a fever dream. Maybe it was. The Australian frowns. “I could ask you the same thing.”

It’s a slap in the face, and it burns like never before because you know he’s right. “I wanted to tell you!” A shaky breath. “I was going to tell you.”

Leaves rustle. “You were?”

“Yes,” you confess, nodding adamantly. “That day at Lando’s place—I wanted to tell you.”

The McLaren driver bites his tongue hard, blinking rapidly. “W-what would you have said?”

“That I loved you too.”

He can’t hide his pain just by hearing those words. He scrunches his nose. He nods robotically. And he keeps his eyes trained towards the ground, like he’s in the middle of solving a puzzle. 

“I really did like you. From the moment we met.” Finally, he looks up, round eyes searching for any sign of intimacy. If there’s any left—any you still save for him. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

“A little bit. Yeah.”

A second ticks by. “I do. Remember it all, I mean. Think back to it quite often.” He lets out a boyish grin, crinkles forming, making your heart flutter. “You took my breath away.” 

And as if humanly possible, despite the icy air, your cheekbones flush harder as you bite back a giddy smile. “You barely even noticed m—”

“You wore a white ribbon. Hair half up, half down. Denim overalls with your initials sewn onto them. Emerald earrings.” You blink, clearly taken aback by his polished memory. His eyes soften. “I’ll always notice you.”

-

Anastasia pecks the Australians cheek, giggling after each one. Oscar smiles, letting out a shy laugh. From the corner, seated next to Lando, you sigh sadly. The Brit bumps his shoulder up against yours. What’s wrong? But you must not have heard him, or you ignore him, but he, too, has eyes. 

“I swear I didn’t know a thing about them,” he whispers. “If I had, I would have warned you, you know that—”

“Lando,” you cut him off, voice weak and mellow. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

He frowns. “I know that, but—”

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, this time more firm. He swallows, nodding hesitantly. With a soft laugh, you poke his ribs and he’s quick to let out a yelp. “Just want to forget, you know?”

Lando hums. “Understood.”

Anastasia clinks her spoon against her mug. The one you each painted differently in that one pottery class years ago. She grins. “I’m so glad all of you could make it, really, it means a lot.” Her eyes crinkle sweetly towards Oscar who traces shapes down her back. She blushes for him—the same way you do. “I feel like…I finally have everything I ever wanted.”

A string of oohh's echo the room, whistles ringing. She laughs, head falling back, and he lets out a single chuckle, rosy cheeks making everyone grow louder. Meanwhile, you stay silent, focusing on Lando’s shoes. The Brit winces, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly. 

Daniel yodels, raising his beer. “Well, in that case, I feel like I do too!” He hiccups, making Pierre and Yuki snicker. “A hot girlfriend, good ‘ol friends, and a nice pair of abs.”

“They are nice,” Lily mumbles, earning her a soft smack from Alex who rolls his eyes. 

Carlos cackles. “Me next—um, okay. A good team, my girlfriend, and…and—my hair.”

“Narcissist,” Lando whispers, trying to get a good laugh out of you. And it works. You giggle, muffling the sound with the back of your hand. Oscar perks up, orbs floating over to where you and the Brit whisper to one another, smiles only growing wider. His jaw clenches. Either way, you tune out all the constant chatter after hearing how Pierre was grateful for having a massive cock. 

“I really hope nothing changes between us.”

You laugh. “I think it might be a bit too late for that.”

The Australian scratches his shoes against the wet pavement. He agrees. He won’t admit it, but he agrees. Everything has changed. Timidly, he glances over at you, biting the inside of his cheek. His gaze burns—just like always—and you turn to face him.

By now your tears have dried, but your heartbreak still continues. Something deep inside tells you that it will for as long as you live. You despise yourself for letting any of this get out of hand. For letting your fear of rejection play a big part in losing him. He smiles.

“I love you, okay?”

You smile. “I love you, too.”

Your voice sounds sweet—just like honey. And if it’s a lie, just to make him feel better, then he’s a grateful bloke. He might not have your heart—not completely—and he might not have your hand in his, but he’s fine with that. Because he’s heard all he’s needed to hear. And he can live at peace.

Oscar grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. It’s tender, just the way you pictured it. You smell like flowers, just like he had dreamt. He pulls away. “You can always talk to me. Whenever. I’ll always be there for you.”

“Thank you. But I won’t bother you too much.” His brows furrow, mouth opening to protest before you wave him off with a tired smile. “Don’t want to vent to you about…well—you.”

“What about you?” Anastasia squeals, making your jump in place. 

“What about me?” 

She rolls her eyes, theatrically. Oscar remains as still as a statue, enjoying the moment to admire you without having to explain why—all eyes were on you, after all. “Have you ever gotten everything you ever wanted?”

Wistfully, your eyes look up, connecting with the ones you know so well. You admire his boyish features one last time before looking down onto your lap and then focusing on Anastasia.

“No. But I once got very close.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious @notkaryna

[plussizeficchick]

Close to You | Denki x Chubby!Reader

Summary; Denki doesn’t play when it comes to threats to your relationship, even at the expense of his friends.

Warnings: smut (p in v, implied cunnilingus, breeding kink (I mean it’s me😂) slight quirkplay) mean!Denki (but really only to his friend, he takes it out on your pussy though😣) dickhead!bakugo.

SN: I will be posting the Jungkook fic soon!!😭but this is just a little snack I had preplanned until then😉😂

You weren’t quite sure how you got here.

As soon as Denki stormed through your door, everything had been a bit of a blur. The only things you were able to make out of the senseless rambling was “fucking dickhead” “can make her come harder than anything” “gonna fuckin’ breed her”.

That, that had your pussy quivering.

While you were busy pondering what brought on this sudden shift in your boyfriend’s mood, Denki was thinking of all the different ways he was going to show everyone just how much you’re his.

— —

“Does he always talk to you like that?” Denki looks up at you from where his head is resting on your lap. “Who?” He asks, brows furrowed in confusion. 

You’d both decided it was time for you to meet his friends and he couldn’t have been more excited about it. You met with the group at a homey sports bar for the more relaxed atmosphere and besides a few minor flubs, he thought you all got along well. You and Mina made plans to get your nails done together, you recommended the rolling papers you use to Sero, and Kirishima hadn’t found someone with his sense of humor in ages. You even managed to bring Bakugo out of his shell, bouncing recipes off of one another seamlessly. So he wondered what went wrong.

“Bakugo, I don’t really like how he talks to you.” You try to convey without looking controlling. “Like when he calls you stupid and things like that. I mean he even had you running around, getting stuff for him today like you’re some “errand boy”.” “That’s just how he is,” Denki waves you off. He was used to Bakugo’s antics after having gone to school with him, so he knows better than to take it to heart. “And he doesn’t genuinely mean it when he calls me dumb.” He chuckles, focusing his attention back to what’s playing on TV. You sigh, a bit unsatisfied with his answer. “You know your friends better than I do,” You start, carding your fingers through his blonde tresses. “I just don’t think it’d kill him to be a bit kinder to you. You’re not in high school anymore, you don’t have to cater to him.” You say, pressing a kiss to his forehead. But what you said got him thinking.

— — 

If Denki was being honest, he was pretty accustomed to the way things were. And if he hadn’t met you, he was sure that this would’ve been his everyday life.

You hadn’t meant to initially, but you made him realize that there was a sort of hierarchy within his friend group with Bakugo at the head and after being with you for so long, he realized he was actually getting fucking sick of it.

Sure, Bakugo’s kind of behavior is expected when you’re a hormonal teen struggling with new emotions, but now it’s time to get a fucking grip.

He hadn’t even meant for everything to go down the way it did, but Katsuki’s nothing if not a shit starter.

— —

“and then Mina’s gonna pick her up so they can get their nails done. I’m pretty sure they’re gonna head back to (Y/N)’s place to get ready and we can pick them up from there.” Kirishima explained to Denki, whilst simultaneously narrowly dodging a blue shell in Mario Kart. Denki grunts in frustration, his character having slipped on a banana peel. “That sounds good, gives us plenty of time-” He’s cut off by Katsuki’s brash voice sounding from the couch. “Hey, Dunceface, go and get me a milk carton from the kitchen.”

Now, normally Denki would’ve made a playful comment about Katsuki being lazy before getting up and doing what he was told, but after being with you, after spending so much time working on bettering himself not just for you, but for himself, he’s not just gonna be walked all over anymore.

“Nah I’m in the middle of something, anyways, Kiri. I was think-” “HAH?! Did ya fuckin’ hear me? I wasn’t asking-” “Is it really that serious, Bakugo? I’m doing something so just get it yourself.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes at Bakugo’s immaturity. Both Kirishima and Sero watch the display with baited breath, unsure why Kaminari suddenly has a death wish. Bakugo’s eyes widen at the blatant disrespect, sparks threatening to shoot from his hands, however, Kaminari doesn’t back down.

Katsuki narrows his eyes before a humorless chuckle escapes him, “Oh, I get it. Ever since Chubs decided to fuck with your dumbass you think you’re a big man. But no matter who you fuck, Dunceface you’ll always be the idiot who can’t function after using their quirk.” Bakugo practically spits. 

If Katsuki had said something like this around a year ago, Denki would’ve probably sulked and went to do what Bakugo had told him to, but now, he felt nothing but pure indifference. “You know something Bakugo, I really used to admire you,” Kaminari starts, a smug smirk making its way to Bakugo’s lips. “I really thought I wanted to be strong like you. But now, now I just feel sorry for you. I mean you spend everyday comparing yourself to Midoriya, you’re shitty to everyone who fucking cares about you and you’re so insufferable to everyone else that no one else genuinely WANTS to get near you.” A humorless chuckle leaves Denki’s own lips, grateful to finally get this off his chest. “You think people want to be around you because you’re cool when the only reason they can even stand to be near you is because of how dangerous your QUIRK is. People wouldn’t give a fuck about you otherwise.” Kaminari stands, collecting his stuff before moving towards the door, “I’ll see you guys later,” He emphasized to Kirishima and Sero. “Maybe you can get him to be an actual decent human being.” He scoffs, walking out of Kirishima’s apartment.

Bakugo’s left stunned, Kirishima’s shocked and Sero’s impressed. Though, it doesn’t take long for Bakugo’s shock to turn to anger, explosions ready to burst from his hands. “He’s. Fucking. DEAD!!” He exclaims, and that’s all it takes to snap Kirishima out of his stupor, trying his best to calm the explosive blonde down.

— —

It’s difficult for you to form a coherent thought with the sound of skin slapping against your ears.

You’re on your knees, arch pressed deep into your back as Denki slams his cock deep inside you. You gasp at the intrusion, but you have no time to recover as he sets an unforgiving pace. “He’s a fucking bitch. Doesn’t know shit.” He growls under his breath, hips canting against the fat of your ass, the sight of the rippling skin making his mouth water. You’re trying to talk, want to ask him what happened at Kirishima’s place, but then he’s slamming against that gummy spot deep inside and you keen. 

You’re limp, practically dead weight as Denki flips you over onto your back. He has your knees pressed against your chest, your pudgy tummy folded over as he slams his hips against yours, the fat jiggling deliciously. 

“Please,” you gasp, trying to catch your breath as he aims directly for your g-spot, your cunt clenching at his unforgiving pace. “Fucker thinks he knows shit about us, I’ll fucking show ‘im.” Denki mutters under his breath, cock throbbing at the warm wetness surrounding it.

He’s ravenous, tongue laving at your neck, sucking the skin harshly. You whine as his hands reach to pinch your nipples, your clit twitching signs of your impending release. “Please, baby. Let me cum, please.” You beg, tears threatening to pool in your eyes. The sight has Denki feeling a bit merciful, after all, you weren’t the one to rile him up. 

So he pulls back a bit, sitting back on his haunches to grind his cock deep inside you, hitting spots you couldn’t dare reach on your own. He guides one of his hands down to your clit, using little shocks from his quirk on the bundle of nerves.

The feeling sends a new wave of arousal gushing from your already sore cunt, but you’re nothing if not greedy for his cum. “Want you to cum in me, baby. Wanna feel you fill me up.” You murmur, cradling his face in your palms. You do your best to keep eye contact, though, with the way his cock is drilling inside you, the action is difficult. You connect your lips together and the act has Denki’s hips stuttering before he thrusts once, twice and he’s filling you up, snatching your nth orgasm unexpectedly from you.

You slowly pull away from each other, though Denki is sure to keep his cock nestled deep inside you, flipping you both over so that you’re on top of him. You trace shapes on his bare chest, slowly coming down from your highs. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?” 

Denki sighs as he thinks back on what led him here. There was no doubt that the dynamic in the friend group has shifted, whether that was in his favor or not remained to be seen but what he could see was right in front of him.

You.

You were his present and his future, and as he slips his cock out of your sore cunt and the rush of his cum gushes from you like a river, his mouth waters at the idea of this being his new everyday. He shakes his head as he pushes you to lay back, situating himself between his new home.

“Just wanted to be close to you.”

— —

Taglist: @xogabbiexo @kinq-sleazee @dabilovesme @blkchxrryblyss @tenyaiidasslut @cherries-c0la @bookwormsenpai @bl--ankhaeji @thicksimpx @namjoonswifeyy @nasty-quillz @musicisme333 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @celi-xxmoon @c0pkiller

[cvnt4him]

Save a horse-, ride a what?! ᯓ izuku midoriya.

synopsis ᯓ ❝ you meet a well-known cowboy around town! he seems awfully sweet and charming. He gets you out of a pretty sticky situation; little did you know it came with a price.. ❞

warnings ➪ bondage, spit/drool, fingering, ass slapping, choking, sir kink, size kink [slight], m4f

day 5, ೃ࿔ 𝑐𝑣𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯!

You were moving in from the city to the country. It was a sad change you weren't exactly ready for. Your grandparents were welcoming you in with open arms after you had to move. You'd been driving for some time already and had come up to a sign.

You sigh as you read the sign.

❝ WELCOME TO ‘TAFU! THE TOWN WITH PEP! ❞

It was cutesy to be honest. The whole aesthetic was welcoming.

As you sigh and drive through the dusty road past the sign you buckle yourself up for your future. The town wasn't exactly within range, it was a couple miles away. You'd be driving for quite some time.

A couple minutes pass as your car starts making odd noises. This has never happened before and to be honest it worried you. You try to push past it only for your car to literally shut down.

“ what?! no! no! no! damnit....”

You groan in annoyance and bang your head against your steering wheel. You let out a heavy sigh before remembering your phone!

With the slightest bit of hope still in you, you fish your phone out of your back pocket only to see....

“ there's no fucking service?! COME ON.”

You yell out. Anyone near would've been able to hear. You try your hardest not to just cry before you get out of the car to check the hood. Maybe it was your oil? Not that you knew shit about it...

You'd been on the road for about 5 hours. Who knew the city was that far away?

You lift the hood of your car to see smoke literally emitting from it. What the lovely fuck. You groan and just stare at it absentmindedly. What the fuck were you supposed to do?! You didn't know dick about cars..

That was your final straw. You slammed your hood shut in anger yelling out and stomping around before falling to your knees in the dirt.

You sobbed your eyes out. You'd gotten evicted from your small apartment in the city. It was expensive rent to pay and you only worked as a meet barista. The pay wasn't enough for you to live comfortably. You hardly ate and you tried your damnedest to pay your bills on time.

But it still wasn't enough. You felt so shitty for getting evicted yet even then you didn't cry. When you called your parents to see if you could come back home, or even for just a little bit of advice. They turned you down. Not offering a helping hand or friendly advice. They didn't care.

Even then, you didn't cry. You felt you had no one and nothing. You thought you'd be living in your car in the city. But even then....you didn't cry. You'd gone through so much and hadn't cried. It was about time you finally let it out.

The only reason you decided to move to the country was because in the middle of packing up your things you got a random call from your grandfather, telling you to come out to the country and see him before he died.

His humor was always different and you awfully enjoyed it. You couldn't help but to ask if you could say for a couple of months till you get back into your feet. Within an instant he said yes. You filled with utter joy. You wouldn't be lonely nor homeless!

But the drive was just so far.

Clearly.

You're stuck in the middle of fucking no where with no directions and no idea if you're actually going the right way, besides the sign you'd past before.

With your head buried in between your knees you hear distant footsteps. None of humans however. The way the steps clicked and clacked as they walked across the road sounded far too different from a humans footsteps.

“ y’ alright there, darlin’?”

At the sound of the husky deepish voice your heart jumps in your chest and you were quick to lift your head. Your eyes widened at the sight of the man atop of a beautiful and what looked like a well taken care of black horse.

The man was wearing a cowboy hat and a scarf around his face. You could hardly see anything other than his eyes and tufts of his hair peeking through the front of his hat.

You gulped and wobbly stood on your feet. Shaking off the dirt that got onto your pants and your butt. You clear your throat and try to speak before coughing.

The man raised an eyebrow and looks you up and down. Seemingly judgmentally.

You nervously smile and point to your car with a chuckle that seemed to never end.

“ yeah uh, hah! My erm- car just uhm, hahah! randomly stopped working uhm.. yeah! hahahah! hahah! hah.. hah.... ahem.”

The man scoffs before hopping off of his beautiful horse with a grunt. He stands tall, roughly by guessing around 6 foot? Wow...quite an intimidating height.....

He walked towards you, his footsteps heavy and dragging against the dirt. You leaned back against your car as he kept coming towards you. You gulped down hard trying your hardest to fight the warm feeling rushing to your face.

He stops directly in front of you. You closed your eyes before opening them again, it was as if he teleported in front of you. When you reopened your eyes your sight was met directly to his chest. You gasped before you looked up to him, who was looking down at you through his.....green eyes?

They were quite dark for green eyes....

He nodded towards your car before speaking,

“ may I take a look?”

His accent was thick, definitely fitting for the look. You gulped once more before stuttering out an “mhm..”

He tried moving to the side to take a look before you move to that side as well to get out of his way.

“ oh—! shit, sorry I'll just uhm...”

And to your luck, it happened again. You could tell he was quickly irritated and you groaned to yourself face palming and mumbling something before you felt large vient hands on the sides of your arms.

“ move.”

His voice was deep and undeniably sexy....he moved you to the side of him as he took a quick look at your car.

It didn't take him long to start working on it, rolling his sleeves up and getting to work. It was heart warming honestly... This random sweet man was helping you with your car..for free?! He didn't ask for anything. Literally didn't even say much..he just helped.

You admired him as he worked, he soon took off his hat and wiped the sweat on his forehead he set the hat down on the roof of your car before he got bacm to work.

You seen his luscious curly hair glow at the sides of his head, the forest green color was quite unique and oddly attractive. The sun shined in his sweat glistening body in such an enamouring way... You felt guilty for staring at him like this but damn can he work.

His horse neighed in your ear, scaring you making you scream and jump back. The side eye he gave you was so fucking embarrassing, he gave you the stankest eye before rolling his eyes and getting back to work.

You gave him an awkward smile before you saw him getting back to work. The way you wanted to commit horrible animal abuse is quite inhumane and probably would've landed you in jail. You swear the horse did it on purpose.

Within the next couple of minutes [45 minutes.] He was finished working on your car. He was sticky in sweat and car oil, he had taken his mask off to clean himself the best he could sighing heavily as he could finally breathe fresh air instead of the fumes from the car.

You swear this guy is a Greek god. His forearms were messy albeit but hot damn was he fucking sexy. His had boyish freckled peppering his cheeks and the longer you looked at him the more adorable he got.

It wasn't until he finally spoke to you that you realized 'damn.....that's a man....'

“ so the problem with your car is.......”

He started talking about god knows what and you couldn't even hear him. The way he looked you directly in your eyes with no fear whilst he spoke was....breathtaking.

Your eye moved down to his lips and the way they moved as he spoke. Slightly chapped but a hue of pink in color. His teeth were surprisingly pearly white aswell.... Now that you think about it, the smell that emitted from him was fucking sexy too. It was a mixture of sweat and just a bodily musk that smelled oddly delicious and alluring..

It suited him so well. Despite his boyish facial features he was nothing less of a man. He was strong, knew things about cars, polite for the most part, and just helpful. He was a divine human being with sexy features.

“ ...-so, ’ts safe to drive. course, i would urge you to please be careful until ya’ get it looked at by a professional. say...where er’ ya’ headed anyway?”

You didn't respond. Just so starstruck by this heavenly man.

He looked you up and down once more before paying a little more attention to you. His eyes followed the best they could to where you were staring, which wasn't his eyes,

His lips. The devilish smirk that appeared made you mindlessly bite your own. This time when he looked you up and down, he took all of you in. Inhaling to smell the sweet aroma that left you.

You were absolutely gorgeous. He scoffed to himself.

“ ma’am?”

The way you literally jumped back into reality was nothing less of embarrassing, the look he was giving you. You wanted to die inside of a hole. All of a sudden you felt as if you deserved for your car to be fucked up.

“ I-I am so.. so sorry I uhm...what- what did you say?”

“ why don't you let me give you a ride t’ where yer headed. might be safer than t’ drive that ol’ thing.”

“ that was my first car...”

“ ‘fraid to leave ‘er? think somethin’ bad’ll happen to ‘er?”

He teased you with a chuckle. He grabbed his hat from the top of your car and his scarf as well and tucked it in his shirt.

“ tch. whatever.”

You respond defensively walking towards his horse with your arms crossed. You nodded to the horse telling him let go and he quickly abliged.

He walked in front of you and hopped on top of his horse. Ushering for you to hop on.

You look at him as if he's crazy. There was no way in hell he actually expected you to get up there without his help.

“ awwh, does the pretty princess need upsies?”

He coos at you.

He snickered to himself before hopping down and hoisting you up with ease on top of the horse. He got back into and grabbed both of your arms and wrapped them around his waist. The way he pulled both of your arms made your cheek hit his back which was surprisingly very muscular and toned....

“ hold on tight...princess,”

The ride was long and you weren't sure if you fell asleep or not. Once you got to town you admired the scenery. Looking at the local shops and the people in town. They all seemed to wave at the two of you.

“ evenin’ zuku.”

“ howdy zuku!”

“ hello, zuku darlin’!”

You looked up to the green haired man who's tough demeanor seemed to change. He looked much more at peace, calmer in a sense. He had a bright smile and waved to everyone who spoke.

“ where are ya’ headed princess?”

“ uhm, I don't actually know.”

“ whaddya mean ‘you don't know’?”

“ I'm moving in with my grandparents and uhm. They haven't exactly told me where they lived. I don't get how they even managed to call me when I literally tried to call them before you came to fix my car and I had no reception.”

The scoff he let it was likely one of disbelief and annoyance.

“ y'know, just because we live in a lesser part of the world doesn't mean we're broke. We have reception. You weren't in town where your car broke down so ‘course you didn't have any service. ”

The way he spoke was definitely laced with attitude.

“ what's yer’ name.”

“ wh..what?”

“ yer’ name??”

“ oh... uh, y/n.”

“ and yer’ last?”

“ huh? oh, uhm l/n..”

“...l/n huh.. I know where yer’ folks are.”

“ you do!?”

The silence after you spoke was enough to make you cringe so far back into your skull you were sure you seen your next life.

You had your eyes closed as you guys rode the extra mile to your grandparents place. Once he spoke you opened your eyes to see a familiar house that hadn't much changed since you were a kid. The nostalgia hit hard and brought a smile and almost tears to your face.

“ we're here.”

You quickly hopped down literally almost falling asleep you did so. You rushed to the door and rang the door bell repeatedly until you heard an old man's voice.

“ I'ma comin’ damnit?!”

“ who the hell..— oh! pumpkin! Is that you!?”

“ hey papa!”

You laugh as you hug his tightly hearing a groan leave him.

Your grandmother came to give you a hug as well, the three of you standing in front of the door and laughing all together.

Izuku would be a lie if he said this wasn't sweet and wholesome. Because it wasn't he knew it was. He thought you were awfully pretty as well. It sucks you were a stereotypical bitch.

“ oh zuku, dear is that you! how is your mother doing these days!”

“ she's doin’ just fine Mrs, l/n. I've gotta head out y'all enjoy yer’ evenin’.”

“ nonsense dear, why don't you stay f’ dinner! you did us such a pleasure and brought our pumpkin home to us! It's the least we can do!”

“ well that's awfully sweet n’ all but I've gotta-”

“ c'mon in!”

Your grandpa was quick to get his horse to relax enough to lie down whilst izuku was on its back. Which izuku wasn't even skilled enough for that to happen.

Izuku stuttered on his words as he tried his hardest to say no but your folks just weren't budging. They were dead set on him eating with you all.

Izukus eyes turned to yours defeatedly while you looked at him with wide eyes and batted your lashes at him.

He sighed and finally agreed.

As you all say down for dinner you all ate chatted and you learned new things about your grandparents a few things about the towns cowboy.

Despite being handsome and awfully kind, he was humble, caring for all, and quite humorous.

All the jokes he shared with your grandparents were sweet and wholesome..... at first.

“ so y/n deary, any relationship we need to know about?”

“ yeah pumpkin. I want great grandchildren!!”

Your grandpa and grandma joked. Izuku wasn't..not, curious about your relationship status..

“ well I had a fiance but uhm... He uh, cheated on me.“

Izuku nearly choked as your grandparents tended up for bringing up the dating topic.

“ oh...I'm sorry to open that old wound, deary.”

Your grandmother apologized to you, reaching out to hold your hand. You smile and izuku just stares at you. No thought behind his eyes.

You gulp down and look back to your plate, playing with your fork.

“ yeah well, he wasn't right for ya’ anyways!”

“ what you need is a strapping young man, like zuku here!”

Your grandfather spoke proudly as he points to izuku with a smile. Izukus eyes wide as he lets out a “hm“ in acknowledgement.

Your grandmother claps and giggles.

“ oh yes! That would be amazing! Imagine that!”

“ yeah....imagine...”

You sulked in your chair. It seemed like izuku was more distant than when you first met. It's not like he was just talkative at first but now it's like he doesn't even want to be in your presence.

“ hm, yeah maybe. I mean who knows.”

You perked up and turned to the man next to you eating. You eyed him for a moment until he glanced at you. Your grandparents just silently watched the interaction go down. He looked at you with those dark and daring green eyes..God it's like you could get lost in them.

“ you should take ’er out! how about she walks you home!”

Your grandfather insisted.

“ what? I'm sorry I don't mean to offend, Mr, l/n, but it's far too dark out there for a lady like herself to be walkin’.”

The way he spoke was just so...perfect. he was perfect. He cared about you in some way. Maybe you hadn't fucked up after all!

Maybe...you had a chance!

“ I uhm.. don't mind walking with you, if you'd want me too that is....”

You shy away from him and his gaze as you insist. He looks at you before back to your grandparents.

“ no.”

His voice was cold and harsh. One word cut you like a knife. You gulped down and bit your lip, the rejection really really hurt.....

“ I'd better head out. night ’all.”

Everyone said their goodbyes as izuku walked out and headed back to his place in his horse. You closed the door behind him and walked to your bedroom. It was empty and had a nice bed however. It was quite big and they gave you fresh sheets and a blanket and pillow. Straight from the drier.

You sigh and lie down. You didn't have a fresh change of clothes so your grandpa agreed tomorrow he'd take his truck down to where your car is stranded and would pick it up.

The next day had came and you were able to shower! Your grandfather had actually gone in the middle of the night and made sure to have it back for you once you woke up!

You thanked him and showered putting on some cute little skirt and white shirt and some random accessories you could find.

“ y/n, deary, do you mind heading down to the shops to fetch me some milk for breakfast! It's not too far from here!”

“ alright granny.”

You headed out and got yourself ready for the walk. You looked at your car as you past it by. Your first baby, lord knew how long it'd be before you got to drive it again. He also knew it'd probably be hella expensive.....

Upon arriving you see tons of people out. They were all nice enough to give you a hello or how are you doing today which was sweet. Most people in the city just mean mug you or bump into you. It's a nice change.

You walked into the market and grabbed the milk quickly fishing out your wallet. Just as you were about to leave you bump into none other than the towns local cowboy himself.

“ welcome zuku’, here f’ yer’ regular?”

“ yup.”

He looked over at you now standing beside him to quickly get out of his way. He nodded at you before grabbing the bags the person at the front had for him. Paying quickly then walking past you.

“ hey! hey wait!!”

You yell out to him causing him to stop and turn to look at you.

“ somethin’ the matter?”

“ uh.. I uh.. just. would you like, maybe wanna grab a bite? some time? maybe.....?”

His eyes widened at your sudden ask. It's not like izukus never been asked out before. He has tons of people constantly complimenting him and telling him how sweet he is. He's had tons of ladies swoon for him and even mothers try and get with him. He just normally thought dating was a waste of time.

Izuku is a hard working man and of course he's dreamt of having a wife and settling down and starting a family but he had to take care of his mother first. He wants to make sure that his mother has all that she needs and wants.

“ if yer’ asking because of what went down durin’ dinner the other night, —”

“ yes well I just-”

“ I only said that to keep them offa yer’ back. y'know make them think about it. I don't have time for somethin’ as silly as datin’.”

“ oh-!”

Oh.

He turned around and hopped back on his horse holding his back tightly as he looked down at you. The way your lip quivered lightly and you looked at the ground. It was quite the sight to see....maybe he liked seeing you crying. He smirked.

“ but uh, maybe I could still show ya’ a good time, hm? y'know for me fixing yer’ car n’ what not.”

You were stunned as your head shot up to meet his gaze. The shit eating smirk he had on his face as he sat atop of his horse.

“ hop on princess, lemme take ya’ back and we can uh....get down to business, eh?”

You gulped and climbed atop of the horse the best you could, literally falling off. He sighed at the pathetic attempt and hopped down to put you up there.

“ hold on tight princess. unless you uh, know how to ride?”

The way he looked back at you with a mischievous glint in his dark eyes, his smirk was sexy and so was he. You could tell he meant something by his words but you were speechless. You huffed at him before wrapping your arms around his waist.

“ go on n’ take that inside so we can get.”

“ oh, okay...”

“ good girl.~”

You did exactly as you were told. The excitement and butterflies that swam around your tummy nearly made you throw up, all of a sudden your legs felt weak.. you placed the milk down before explaining to your grandmother you were going out with izuku. Of course she had no problem with that ushering you out the door and telling you to have fun with a wink.

He helped you back up and the two of you rode down to his house.

“ this is where you live...it's beautiful.”

“ yup, ma is out with a couple of ’er friends n’ what not so ts’ js me. I've done all I've gotta do so I'm pretty much free.���

“ ah, I see.”

He unlocks the door and holds it open for you to enter first. He was a true gentleman.

You looked around as he closed the door behind the both of you and set his hat down. You both took your shoes off before he directed you to his room which was quite fitting for him....for the most part.

“ Is that....all might? that actor from that one TV show? what was it....”

The blush that rushed to his face was adorable to say the least. He groaned and closed his closet door which held all of not most of his all might merchandise.

He sighed and plopped onto his bed, lying back and closing his eyes. You sat on the literal edge of his bed with your knees together and your hands onto them, your back stiff and straight as a board.

Izuku looked at you to see what you were doing. Surprise surprise, you were literally js sitting there looking around.

“ ya’ can relax y'know. we're supposed to be hanging out, sit back and make yourself comfortable I don't mind.”

You jolted at his voice. It was quite soft actually. You cleared your throat and got more comfortable on his bed sitting with your legs crossed and you faced him.

He hummed and watched you closely, just staring at you whilst you looked at him and gulped.

“ c’mere.”

Izuku motions for you to come closer with his finger. You do exactly as you are told once more which brings a small smile to his face. Once you get closer he grabs you by your hips and pulls you on top of him. The squeak you let out went straight to his lower tummy. There was a feeling erupting inside of him.

Izuku wasn't one to have a lack of self control but for some reason.......he just wanted to devour you.

You sat atop of him and he lifted up a little resting his back against his headboard which was quite wobbly. He held your waist tightly and bit his lip. Looking up at you and how you just barely towered over him.

Your breath was picking up just from the way he held and looked at you. His fingers started digging into your skin. The way he gently rubbed circles in the spot whilst hardly pressing down surprisingly felt....good.

He felt the way your cunt twitched on his thigh from the way he touched you.

He leaned In closer to your ear and whispered lightly,

“ d’ya want me, princess?”

All of a sudden the name made you feel some type of way. A sudden urge building inside of you. You wanted him and little did you know, he wanted you more.

You nodded your head before one of his hands moved to your ass giving it a quick harsh squeeze making you squeak.

“ use yer’ words baby.”

But you couldn't. You didn't trust yourself.

It had been a while since you've been intimate with anyone. You hadn't felt this way in quite some time. You didn't trust that your words would pull through. Maybe they'd get caught in your throat and make you choke on nothing, ruining the mood!

Or maybe worse.....you'd accidentally whine whilst you spoke letting him know you were desperate?!

You just looked at him in silence furrowing your brows at him in a pleading manner. But that wasn't enough for him.

A frown appeared on izukus face as he tsked. He was so disappointed. He expected you to abide by what he said like the good girl he knew you were. Maybe you just needed a little....coaxing.

He lifted your skirt and slapped your ass harshly making you yell out, he was quick to pull you into a hug and you buried your face in his neck sniffling lightly at the intense action. Your skin is still stinging and slightly turning red. In his opinion he hardly touched you but the way it felt....damn did it hurt.

He rubbed the skin where he hit you and cooed at you.

“ awwh... my pretty princess... that didn't feel good did it? so I'll tell ya’ again....use yer’ words.”

You sniff in his ear and muster up the best words you can think of.

“ yes.. I.. I want you ’zuku.”

Your voice was breathy and whiny, clearly desperate and needy for him. He seen that, he heard it. He could practically feel it with the way your cunt was twitching in his thigh. It really got him off, his hardening cock pressing against your ass.

And goodness, the way you said his name. It was so whiny and breathy, fuck.....

He sucked in through his teeth and held you close, gently using his hands to grind your body down on his. He groaned within an instant the second you started doing it on your own, rocking back and forth on his thigh, your ass rubbing his cock so deliciously.

The clothes at the top of hid cock giving him more friction, his eyes fluttered thank the kord you couldnt see it with how your face was still stuffed in his neck getting high off of his smell.

But fuck, he wanted to see your face. Many things started clouding his mind but they all vanished instantly once he heard the tint mewl that left your pretty lips. His eyes widenend and his grip on your body tightened.

A small growl left his throat as he rolled his eyes back and let you grind on top of him to your hearts content.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and began grinding harder and faster against his thigh, feeling the way your panties brushed roughly against your clit they were getting damp from how wet you were.

You couldn't help but to feed into the desperate urge to chase after your own orgasm. You groan lightly before moans started leaving your lips, your eyes rolling as you chased your high.

Izuku smirked at all the noises you let out for him. You were moaning because of him, you felt good because of him.

His cock was twitching and leaking so much precum through his pants. He groaned and tried his hardest to hold back and wait for you to cum first. Everything holy knew he wanted you to cum before him.

But with the way you were grinding on him he wasn't sure he would last.

“ f...fuck. c'mon baby, c'mon. ju...- just’ a lil’ more...”

his eyes squeezed shut as he held you as close as possible letting you grind as much as you want.

He expected you to keep going until he came but unfortunately for him, you'd already cum and were growing tired. You slowly ground down onto him trying to catch your breath.

His eyes shot open and he turned to you breathing heavily as his cock jerked and ached against the cheek of your ass.

“ ‘s that the best y’a can do?”

Before you could answer or even question him he pushed you black slightly to unbuckle his belt. The clacking of the metal part against the other coming undone. You could see just how needy he was for you. His cock was drenched in his own pre. It was the most adorable thing in the world to you, and fuck, there was just so much.....

He watched the way you eyed his every moved, watching as he slowly teased you stroking his thick and wet cock through his soiled boxers. You could see more pre bead at the top of his cock through the already soaked boxers. He quickly smeared it with his thumb and let out a shaky sigh. The sigh he let out caused you to whine lightly above him making him laugh at the desperation.

“ needy are we darlin’.”

He finally pulled his boxers down just enough for his fat sticky cock to spring free. The way it bounced up before falling against his tummy. He was well shaved down there, slightly trimmed green tufts of hair sticky with his pre.

The only thing you could think about was the fact his cock was so huge it couldn't even stand up on its own. It was just so fucking fat and heavy it needed help to stand up. You were sure it would plug you so good, and so was he. He could only imagine how wet and ready you were for him.

Before you could fulling soak in this thick and awaiting cock he picked you up and moved your panties to the side, sliding his fingers inside of your cunt quickly just to give you a quick stretch.

“ o..oh my...mmph..”

“ damn baby, so fuckin’ tight..”

“ won't be able t’ fit in here if ya’ aren't stretched...”

His fingers worked wonders, so thick and strong inside of you. He fingered you with ease, touching every spot inside of you that he could, he was quick to apply his thumb as well to help aid pressure to your clit.

A gutteral moan left you as you nearly fell over, getting light headed from the pleasure, your eyes fluttered and your mind was getting hazy.

He reckoned you were bout ready to take him.

He took his fingers out of you before slurping all of your essence off of them. Letting his tongue lick the pad of his own fingers to taste every last bit that he could. He groaned at the taste alone, his cock twitching against his tummy and a drip of precum sliding down the tip.

Izuku popped his fingers out of his mouth and lifted you once more, he sat in his hand and rubbed it all across his sticky cock. It wasn't that either of you weren't slickened enough, it's just that you were terribly tight which isn't a bad thing necessarily but he wanted this to be as pleasureful as possible.

He stroked his cock a couple of times with a shaky breath before putting his tip to your hole, he exhaled heavily at the warmth of your cunt around his tip. He could feel you twitching on it.

He gulped down before shoving it inside all in one go making you yelp.

“ oh! my.....god!- izuku— ”

“ ngh... damn.. I know darl, I know just.. fuck. take it f’me.”

The way he demanded you take it was hot nonetheless. But you couldn't exactly do that. He was so big and you were so tight neither of you could exactly move, just so stunned against each other from the sheer feeling of one another.

Izukus breath was shaky as tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. That didn't go unnoticed by him. He sighed before his kissed the tears away making you whine lightly at the softness of him.

“ sh sh sh, it's okay darlin’ I've got ya’...”

“ damnit...”

You whisper under your breath, the sniffle that left you made izukus heart break. He didn't want to hurt you, he wanted to make you feel good. And he only wanted you to cry if it was from feeling good.

It took you a while to be able to actually take him but once you did the pleasure truly began. Izuku let you go at your own pace, letting you ride him slowly to start to assure you were alright.

You held onto his shoulders for support, and just for extra he held your hips not applying any pressure or any weight, just letting you do you ,

You slight move back and forth on top of him, slowly to start. But then your clit brushed up against the base of his cock making you shutter. It's like it turned on a switch inside of you.

You started lightly hopping up and down on him your boobs bobbing as you did so. It was hard to keep a straight face when his cock was hitting so deep. And just as you thought, it plugged you so full the dirty sloshing noises that came from you both were just so filthy.

He watched very closely, a small smirk forming on his lips as he watched you slowly grow needier and needier.

“ oh god! Izuku..! Izuku.. fuck! I'm gonna..- shit!”

Uh oh...

That didn't sit right with him. He was quick to stop your hips from moving forcing you to sit fully on his cock. The moan that left you was so slutty. Izuku loved it he wouldn't lie, the way it got higher in pitch really did turn him on. But he wouldn't let what you did pass.

You tried to continue to move despite his harsh grip on your hips, he was quick to slap your ass with a painful hit. It made you jerk forward and lean against him for support, tears immediately spilled from your eyes. You sniffled and shook against him.

“ good girls don't use foul language.”

“ h.. huh--”

Smack! Another harsh hit landing on the same cheek.

“ did I ask you to speak? I didn't think so.”

You whimper against the skin of his neck, tears wetting his shirt as you sniffle.

“ yer’ gonna ride this cock n’ be greatful. g’na take this fuckin’ cock n’ say thank you. you fuckin’ hear me.”

“ y..yes.... Izuku..”

“ nuh uh... ts’ sir. say yes sir like the good little thing you are..”

“ yes..yes sir.”

“ atta girl..~”

He was quick to start you back up, letting you bounce on his cock as much as you wanted. You sniffled and threw your head back whilst you held on for dear life.

Your eyes were squeezed shut and your moans were coming out like a song, one that izuku swears he could never get tired of hearing from you.

As good as this felt and as much as izuku loved watching the way your body moved and jiggled against him. He wanted more. He wanted to feel more.

He was quick to flip the both of you over in one swift move without a word. Before anything could register in your mind he had began pounding you like there was no tomorrow. Stuffing you so full with his fat cock at such a fast pace. You felt so full and so fucking good. Your mind was turning to mush as he piston his hips into your ass.

His thrusts seemed as if they got faster and harder, the smacking noises seemed like they were louder as well. His his jerked into you at a god forsaken speed, making your head dizzy.

“ thank me- fuck.. fuckin’ slut. Thank me for givin’ it t’ya.”

“ thank you...~ than you s’much....!”

Your words were slurred and for the most part mushed together. But he wanted to hear them, hear them all.

“ yeah?, s’it feel fuckin’ good baby? tell me, tell me how good it feels.”

“ nngh... yes sir, feels s..s’good m’gonna cum... oh! p..please! please sir I wanna.. f... wanna cum..”

You tried your hardest to censor your speech so he wouldn't hit you again. You tried your hardest to be a good girl like he wanted but it was had. You felt too good you just needed to cum!

Izuku was surprised when you stared begging to cum however, that turned him on terribly so. A smirk appeared on his face as he dropped his movements, quickly pulling out and getting out of the bed.

The whine that left you was adorable to say the least. You hiccupped and sobbed at the sudden emptiness you felt. You wanted him to fill you up..

“ zuku please! pl..please!! js’ wanna cum!”

The sibs were getting to him. This is exactly what he wanted. But he wasn't done with you yet.

He left to grab a quick scarf. One that he used to tie your hands around your back. Once done he turned you around and shoved your face into his bed, he walked behind you quickly lifted his foot onto the bed and fucked his cock back inside of you.

“ fuuuck yeah baby.. take m’ fuckin’ cock, yeah?”

“ ohh-!.. yeah!, y-yes sir! yes sirr!~”

Once again you were fucked dumb in his cock, he thrusted into you while your bounced your ass back in his cock. He felt the way your cunt started spasming and tightening around his cock, he knew you were gonna cum.

Izuku was sure that's what you were trying to tell him though your words and cries were muffled by the pillows as he forced your face into them. He wasn't even sure if you could breathe but he didn't care. Not then.

He quickly grabbed you by your hair and yanked your face out of the pillows, tears streamed down your face and got his pillows wet, the small amount of makeup you had on like lip gloss and mascara was now smeared on his bed and tour face as you groaned and gasped for air.

He chuckled and he looked down and seen the makeup on his bed. He leaned in close to your ear to whisper dirty things.

“ fuckin’ slut loooves~ to be fucked like this, yeah? bein’ used like the whore she fuckin’ is hm?”

You nodded helplessly the best you could. Eyes rolling and tears still just falling down your slightly crusted cheeks. Drool was leaking last your lips as you groaned from the over stimulation, you'd had cum long ago, like 2 orgasms ago. You weren't even sure if he'd noticed but you didn't care.

You didn't care about anything while he was jackhammering into your puffy and over stimulated cunt. Izuku was really enjoying himself, he was also starting to feel himself teetering towards the edge.

He groaned deeply and let the pleasure take over him. He continued to hold you by your hair before stopping momentarily to change positions once more.

The whine you let out was whorish and as sexy as it sounded, it pissed him off.

“ shut the fuck up whore.”

A quick slap to your ass before he climbed on top of you and shoved your face back down onto the bed, this time your face was towards the side so you could breathe better, he still held your hair as he fucked into you roughly.

He huffed and groaned with each thrust, growls leaving him as he felt his orgasm approaching and fast.

“ god-.. fuckin’ whore, yer’ g’na take my cum in this tight little cunt hm? g’na take it all yeah?”

You sobbed and nodded your head the best you could before you felt his thrusts stutter. The groan that left him whilst he came inside of you was different.. it was slightly more whiney, breathy, whimpery. It's almost as if he was moaning.

His eyes rolled and his brows furrowed in a sad way, izuku literally started shaking from the sheer impact of his orgasm. It seemed as if it were never ending, his cum pumping you full literally overflowing at the sides where his cock filled you.

He sighed shakily and slowly pulled his cock out. You sigh and try to catch your breath before you feel a quick slap and squeeze to your ass making you jolt forward. Izuku used both hands as he held and squeezed you tightly, pulling your lips apart to watch all of his cum gush out of you like a thick waterfall of milk. The white color was so pigmenty.

It was pearly white to say the least, which was no surprise, he was a healthy person and maintained a good diet. He hummed in approval as he watched the way it all just kept spilling out all over his bed and down your thighs, you felt filthy. Utterly filthy.

“ hmm~ good girl. took it all inside m’ so proud of ya’.”

All you could do was whimper before you felt his hands rubbing your ass. Once the feeling left your eyes fluttered shut and you passed out.

Izuku however gave you a kiss on the forehead and ran a bath in his bathroom, he wasn't evil he'd clean you up n give you a fresh pair of clothes.

AN: this is SO fucking long. Even the smut is fucking long like damn. I was VERY descriptive with this shit LOLOLOLOL. Actually spent many hours writing this yawl. Love a little mean zuku hm!!!!

[rosesnbooks]

Astrology observations #5🖤

🌜I wrote these for fun, based on how i see these placements. i'm not a professional! hope you enjoy these🌛

⭐cancer placements allow themselves to feel their emotions. they may get annoyed by the intensity or the amount of them, but they process them fully, and this makes it easier for them to move on. random thought but writing letters to people they like may be something they do or did as kids haha. they're very romantic

⭐some aries venuses have obsessive tendencies when they have a crush, and they get frustrated a lot if they think they can't/shouldn't pursue them. they enjoy the tension, but they don't want it to last too long because they dislike not being in control, and having feelings for someone leaves them feeling too vulnerable. that's why they try to move on if they can, but it takes work. when they do find someone, they become really clingy but they still need freedom when it suits them

⭐mars in libra avoid conflicts and try to be reasonable about everything, but if they think you crossed a line, you'll see why aries is their sister sign pretty soon. once they tell you off, you'll never see them the same way, so underrestimate them at your cost

⭐having stelliums can be interesting. it for sure puts a lot of emphasis on the influence of that house on your life, and i found that it can be both positive and negative since they face lots of challenges related to their house but also many blessings. those who have stelliums kind of embody multiple characteristics simultaneously

⭐sun in the 11th people glow when they are with their closest friends. they also tend to dream big and care a lot about the world. their friends usually help them in their future goals. they feel a bit different than people in their hometown/country, mostly because they cannot be tied down to a single culture because they enjoy different things, which usually makes them quite open-minded and tolerant. they can be picky about the people they let in super close though

⭐mars in the 6th can procrastinate a lot actually, but they get things done. may get sudden waves of high energy and get things done rapidly and extensively. they expect a lot from themselves regarding their ambitions and aspirations. they try to improve themselves in any way most of the time, but they should also accept their current state if they want to evolve and love themselves. they need to watch out for their moral perfectionism too. it's okay to make mistakes as long as you apologise and strive to change for the better

⭐i've found that virgo mercuries can be really direct, even if they are shy or don't talk much around strangers or acquaintances, they have their moments. super funny too

⭐north node in cancer struggle with accepting their vulnerable side. they hate feeling like things and people can evoke strong emotions in them. they want to be more detached, but those that work on themselves find it very rewarding once they embrace their strong emotions. they can also be really reliable, practical, and thoughtful

⭐fire+water combinations in birth charts-i am sending you a hug. i know exactly how difficult it is to keep all those emotions under check, and that you need a lot of understanding and rest to function. use those emotions and passions well hun, you are strong and capable. you have a lot of empathy and wonder inside of you

⭐capricorn sun/mercury have a dry way of texting. their humor is difficult to read via text and they simply are not fans of texting, and it shows lol

⭐aries mercuries are not always available online and they may come and go when they're online, but they'll answer all of your messages one by one with lots of enthusiasm. they also like to send memes and joke around a lot

⭐virgo mercuries are not fans of texting and they can answer you after a couple of days or so even if they really like you. similarly to aries, they'll make sure they answer everything and they also pay attention to every detail you mention. very sweet really. their humor shines brighter in person

⭐taurus moon are very capable. they may prefer rest over anything else, but their patience and dedication to the things they need to do is really cool. they are calm most of the time so it's nice to be around them, just don't disrespect them and everyone will thrive

⭐taurus venus men can be really possessive. even if you like such behavior, some can go to extremes and try to control how you feel, think, and behave. they have a specific image of an ideal partner and they want you to fulfill it

⭐libra venus tend to care about how they look and present themselves so they put lots of effort into that. they also have standards when it comes to beauty and some expect others to dress and look well, whether they know them or not

⭐women with venus in aquarius-you may be attracted to men who are mysterious and act like they're special. just be careful because there are so many toxic ones out there who want a relationship but not truly, because they don't want to dedicate themselves to you and maybe plan on using you

⭐pisces moon can feel like they're drowning in their own emotions sometimes because they cannot control them easily and they tend to give in. if they like to portray themselves as a martyr these emotions can get out of hand because they let those emotions lead them which influences their mental health and relationships. those who are developed process these emotions and try to figure them out and let them pass. they can learn a lot about themselves and others this way. creative outlets can be of help to process this

⭐leo moon need to watch out for hurting people when their ego is hurt because they can lash out and make lots of damage. take a second to think whether it's worth it or not, since there is no point in trying to "win" in a fight with someone you love

⭐pisces mars can be too forgiving, especially to those they care about. don't let people walk over you dear, no matter who they are. nobody deserves that kind of treatment

thank you for reading!🤍i also offer paid astrology readings, so check out my blog for more info

©rosesnbooks

[ebodebo]

Rearview

a meet ugly with simon!

You’re late.

Like really, really late.

You were supposed to be heading into your lecture right about now, but instead, you're dashing to your car, struggling to balance the heap of items in your arms.

The lady in front of you at the grocery store insisted on having all her items perfectly bagged, and now you're running late.

Go figure.

You hurriedly toss your groceries into the passenger seat, forgetting all about connecting your Bluetooth.

With a swift motion, you buckle your seatbelt and shift into gear, only to roll backward instead of moving forward.

A yelp escapes you as you feel the sharp impact of colliding with a parked truck behind you.

"Shit!" You curse, slamming the gear into park before struggling to open your door, muttering another string of expletives as your seatbelt nearly chokes you.

As you step out, you're met by the sight of a man emerging from the truck you just bumped into.

He stands tall and imposing, a mask covering half his face, making it difficult to gauge his emotions.

His bright blue eyes are striking yet carry an unsettling darkness that raises the hair on the back of your neck.

“Oh my God!” You exclaim in a fluster, rushing to inspect the damage on his car. You run your fingers through your hair anxiously, trying to regain some composure.

“I’m so fucking sorry! I—I was in such a rush,” you blurt out. “The woman at the grocery store took forever; it’s ridiculous! Who needs groceries bagged just right? And my clothes, ugh! I forgot to start the dryer, so they’re still sopping wet! Just my fucking luck!” You throw your hands up in a mix of frustration and false enthusiasm, your words tumbling out in a frenzied stream.

“I’m definitely going to miss my lecture because of this, and my professor is already on my case, so this is just the cherry on fucking top of my terrible day. And—” You suddenly stop, realizing that you’re venting to a stranger whose truck you’ve just hit.

"Sorry," you say quietly. "I'm just having a really shitty day, full of shittiness."

"Shittiness?" He replies, a hint of humor creeping into his raspy English voice, catching you off guard since he had been silent until now.

You glance up at him, your lip twitching slightly.

"Yeah," you respond softly.

He pauses for a moment, taking in your sheepish demeanor.

"You hungry?" He asks, seemingly out of nowhere.

You raise an eyebrow, caught off guard by the question. "Hungry?"

He nods.

"Well—I mean…" you trail off, noting the damage before looking back up at him.

His expression is serious.

He’s serious.

Is he actually asking you out after you just fucked up his car?

"Are you serious?" You ask, hesitation clear in your voice.

"Do I look like the type to joke?" He replies, his tone dry.

A smile breaks across your face.

"No. Not really," you admit, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

You take a moment to soak him in.

He’s pretty…attractive now that you’re really looking.

Quite built and definitely older than you.

You wonder what he does for a living.

Or if he lives around here.

"Diner's right across the street," he says, nodding toward the quaint little eatery nearby.

It’s clear he’s trying to ease your worries.

You don’t have to get into his car with him; you could just walk over where there are onlookers.

Fuck it.

You’re already late for your lecture.

Might as well make it worthwhile.

"Okay," you say, your enthusiasm a bit more pronounced than you intended.

Your cheeks warm, but he remains silent, though you catch the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Let me grab my wallet," you say, reaching for your door handle, but he gently places a hand on it to stop you.

"Don't need it," he dismisses.

Your lips pucker in confusion. "But, I—"

"Come on," he replies, tilting his head towards the diner.

"Alright..." you say, slowly realizing you don’t even know his name.

"Simon," he provides.

You smile.

"Cute name," you compliment as you turn on your heels to head towards the diner.

Oh, now he's definitely smiling under that mask.

He takes you to the cozy diner and covers the cost of your meal, much to your dismay because, 'I really should be paying; I messed up your car.'

He brushes aside your attempts to pay him back, insisting that you should never front the bill.

"If you ever want to talk about your shitty day, just give me a call. Yeah?" He says, scribbling his number on a napkin from the diner.

"Yeah, I will," you promise as you reach for the napkin.

After your meal, Simon walks you back to your car, even opening the door for you as you part ways with a quiet 'goodbye.'

"See you later, Simon. I’ll text you later!" You exclaim, beaming with excitement. "I’ll send my insurance info tonight," you add.

He simply nods, fully aware he’ll delete that message later because he couldn’t care less about his car.

He’ll pay to fix it, along with your car.

Even if you fight him on it, he'll still do it.

He’s just so thrilled that a pretty girl like you fell into the palm of his hand

What a lucky bastard.

a/n: bring back meet uglies!

divider by @saradika-graphics

[telephoniii]

what app do you use for your smaus cause i canNOT find a good one

okay… this was supposed to be a quick and easy answer.

i use social maker. i’ve had it since 2020. it’s my personal favorite smau app and a highly recommend it. it’s pretty easy to use and you’ve got a lot of options on what you can do with it.

but, i was trying to get screenshots of it in the app store to show what app it was and…low and behold it got banned??

only people who have had the app downloaded before can use it unfortunately 😭

i feel bad leaving you hanging like that, so! i went on a trip to find an easy to use, nice-looking smau app!

and i decided to make it into a kind of smau post at the same time!

so you can enjoy some TWST silliness with the first years while I rank these apps :>

SILLY TEXTS WITH THE FIRST YEARS (while I rank SMAU apps)

First Years NRC boys x GN!Reader SMAU

Warnings: mention of political figures in Faker 2, Reader is Prefect, suggestive humor, possible OOC

A/N: this shows how much I love to yap. I did this to procrastinate but it was pretty fun! How did I turn my response to this anon from a single paragraph to a whole multi-section post? I have no clue. My brain works in weird ways. I hope you enjoy :>

SOCIAL MAKER (what I use)

I use this app for a reason! It’s so easy to use and it gives you 20 max messages. Personally, I really enjoy the look of the app and messages too. Unfortunately though, if you didn’t have this app downloaded before it got taken down, you can’t use it. At least on IOS. I don’t really know the situation for Android 💀

5/5 stars!! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

SOCIAL DUMMY

This is another app that you had to have downloaded before it got taken down to use it. I think it’s a really good SMAU app! Especially if you wanna do stuff outside of messages!! (twitter, instagram, youtube, etc.) The messaging system runs pretty smoothly, the only thing is that the max amount of messages is very short.

4/5 stars! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

CHAT STORY MAKER

This app is a bit outdated in my opinion. It’s kinda hard to use since you can’t exit out of the keyboard and get a clean picture of your messages. Also, when you close the app it doesn’t save ANY of your things. (That caused me a lot of trouble making this actually 😭). You can also only make two characters. However, it has good customization!! It has a very cute look and you can change the background + text colors. It’s also really easy to switch between characters which is always nice.

3/5 stars! ⭐️⭐️⭐️

TYPE STORY

This is the app that Social Maker actually made after their OG app was taken down! It’s, unfortunately, not super great in my opinion. I got really confused when I tried using it, even with a tutorial. Once you get the hang of it, it’s alright. The app just feels overly complicated. However, if you want to make SMAUs mainly with big group chats then this app might be pretty good for you!

3/5 stars! ⭐️⭐️⭐️

FAKER 2

By far the worse app among them all. It just reeks of money-greedy creators. An add plays after almost every action you do. (From customizing characters to sending messages, an add always plays) It was also quite confusing to use and you’re limited to three characters. There isn’t much you can customize either and it has a 5 message max. Also, it made me a bit uncomfortable because the three default profiles you have to edit to change into the characters you want included Trump and Elon… Yeah 💀. Not to mention that a lot of the adds were filled with AI videos that were just uncanny valley. Back on topic! The app locks a lot of features behind a paywall that doesn’t even seem worth it. I wouldn’t recommend it.

1/5 stars. ⭐️

TEXTING STORY

In terms of making SMAUs on tumblr, I wouldn’t recommend it. But, if you were interested in making texting story videos and/or publishing them on YouTube, this would be a good option! There’s a lot of opportunities for videos as it can automatically give you a video of you typing both sides. The typing sound is also pretty satisfying to me! Unfortunately, it’s not the best for tumblr SMAUs. There isn’t really any customization— you can’t even add a profile picture.

3/5 stars! ⭐️⭐️⭐️

TEXT STORY MAKER

Okay, I did legitimately save the best for last. This app is pretty great. It’s easy to catch onto and gives you A LOT of customizable options: background, text color, group chat cover, etc. Also, there’s an option for it to automatically take screenshots of the text which is just so convenient?? But there is a pretty big downside. You can only make two characters. That really sucks.

I think that if you want to make 1 on 1 SMAUs similar to mine, this would be a good app to use. It’s gonna be annoying having to remake the profiles and what not, but I think the pros out weight the cons.

4/5 stars ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

[avayarising]

My storge-loving heart is in love with the idea that this is absolutely not a ship, they’re just chaotic besties (Tim is hugely curious and Danny is actually keen to get some quantification on his abilities) and everyone is getting completely the wrong idea.

Things people could hear include:

Wait, sorry, did I hurt you? –No, it’s ok, I’ve just never tried this before.

OK, I’ll pull the chain tight, right there… –Shall I bite down? –Not yet…

Could we try it with your sister? –I’ll see if she’s interested.

Dick! I know you’re hovering out there. Do you want to come in and watch?

Because the reason they’re doing any of this in Tim’s bedroom at all is because they very quickly figured out the misunderstanding and are now leaning into it For The Bit. (Alfred is in on it. If you don’t think Alfred does things For The Bit then I invite you to reread the comics.)

It doesn’t last very long – only a few days really. They are all rather good detectives after all. But it is all worth it for that one moment at the dinner table when 15-year-old Damian announces that Tim and Danny invited him to partake in their experiments and it was very educational. (Because, of course, that’s exactly what happened.)

And of course then everyone instantly realises that it can’t be what they thought it was, but just for a moment there’s a spike of shocked horror around the table, and it’s worth it for that.

Ghost Fangs

After so much time changing between forms, Danny thought that he would no longer have external changes. His human and ghost forms were a bit more combined than when he was a teenager but it wasn't as much of a problem for him now that ghosts weren't actively trying to wipe out humanity and his parents had more or less accepted him.

The problem was when he started his internship at Wayne Enterprises and his teeth started to hurt. He didn't pay much attention to it at first since maybe he should visit Frostbite or some normal dentist. Cavities were pretty common when you ate fast food growing up.

The problem was when three days after the pain started, one of his teeth fell out. That didn't make much sense since the halfa had shed his baby teeth long time ago, and those were supposed to be "permanent".

He decided not to smile and continue working, avoiding anyone that could notice the change but the hole in his teeth was obvious when he looked in the mirror. Then another tooth fell, and he felt his gums itch. Something was beginning to grow.

That was how Danny started changing his teeth into ghost fangs at the worst possible time. Worst of all, he was sure he was growing a third, maybe fourth row of fangs, and fuck how was he going to hide it from his bosses?

He couldn't pretend that he was mute! What if a tooth fell out during work and someone found it? It was a nightmare!

[staryuee]

are you able to make some head canons of scaramouche, kazuha, xiao, (BASICALLY ANEMO BOYS), neuvi, kinich on how they react to reader being nonchalant like lwk i think itd be funny

NONCHALANT S/O

꒰warnings꒱ N/A

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . xiao, kazuha, scaramouche, neuvillette, kinich

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . happy new year ♡ still on hiatus but i didn’t want to leave you guys completely high and dry d(^_^o) + also kinich is most definitely out of character just bc i refuse to play the new update so i know nothing about him

XIAO

ʚ it doesn’t bother him, if anything he likes the fact you’re able to brush things off easily (makes it easier for him to stop crouching on nearby trees to assure you’re safe, but lord do you sometimes hurt his ego)

ʚ xiao isn’t confident in romantic gestures, even something as small as a compliment or pinky holding has him wanting to disappear and recover…so when you so easily act indifferent to it while he’s practically drunk on flush straight up makes him die a little

ʚ aside from the slight jabs to his pride, you aren’t uncaring and dumb enough to let his love go unnoticed (thankfully) so he can fully appreciate that you protect your peace

ʚ haunted by memories of war, death and the stench of metal, it’s nice to find some solace in the cool air you exude

ʚ from the outer perspective, two people who have nonchalant energy wouldn’t seem to work too well (but lord do people drool when you two are duoed for a fight), but you and xiao just click!

ʚ he’s quiet, protective but sweet and ready to take the first step to love you, while you’re chilled, confident and allow him to take comfort in someone who’s stable (and sometimes snarky lol)

KAZUHA

ʚ he takes your nonchalant energy as you being ditzy or levelheaded if anything - in other words - it’s really endearing!

ʚ you sort of match his personality to the T, except he’s just the slightest bit more reciprocal with other people’s energy meanwhile you just stand back with your hands either tucked in your pockets or fiddling with the edge of his scarf

ʚ he actually kinda just enjoys teasing you if anything to see if anything can make you crack, most attempts end in failure but it is a rather cute bonding exercise to whoosh you with anemo energy out of the blue to then help you reorganise your hair and straighten your clothes

ʚ he does worry for you on the occasion when you seem to show a lack of interest in him, he’s a pure romantic at heart! he thrives off the attention from his beloved partner! but once in a while you do show him just how much you love him

ʚ did he immediately brighten when you once placed your head on his lap really quietly when he was humming a melody to you? yes, and he has no shame about that

SCARAMOUCHE

ʚ oh you PISS him off

ʚ if ignorance and arrogance were ever personified it would be you and him respectfully

ʚ obviously you both love each other on deeper levels than just: “even though i’m above you i’ll still let you hold my hand, — “okay.” - but your relationship is just…humorous at best from an outsider’s view

ʚ the akademiya’s student body is currently conflicted between the idea that your relationship is either ideal or highly toxic

ʚ on one hand, it’s really adorable to see the mysterious, snarky student of vahumana that rarely ever comes to class be so oddly…chatty in your presence, as you so lovingly listened to every word (if the people close enough to actually hear can be bothered to ignore the fact he’s badmouthing the entire school while you shrugged at every word)

ʚ aside from the yapper x listener duo, he’d also…a little more physically affectionate? he rests his head on your lap quite frequently because you say nothing and therefore don’t bother teasing him

ʚ that’s also the main thing he hates: how nonchalant you are about everything makes his indifference seem futile and oddly more vulnerable. you don’t care about anything, and it’s incredibly infuriating! the first time he said “i love you” you replied with “huh?” and that was the first time he’s ever felt so scornful

ʚ he loves you most days, so he will deal with your frustrating silence - it’s nice to see him become the person he wanted to be with someone who rarely intervenes

NEUVILLETTE

ʚ he’s worried, intrigued and a little jealous all at once.

ʚ worried because he fears that your indifference is a direct consequence of his own inadequacy. are you perhaps not satisfied?? do you not like it when he cups the side of your face when he kisses you? or do you hate the purring noises he makes when you curl your hands in his hair? …it’s raining in fontaine again

ʚ he’s intrigued mostly because you don’t seem to care or even be fazed by the fact you’re not only dating a dragon - but a primordial, godly being that precedes the creation of the modern teyvat. he didn’t think the information would be useful to you in the first place, but when you asked so nicely about the two blue steaks in his hair, he felt obliged to tell you - and yet you replied with “oh, cool.”

ʚ a little jealous just because this attitude is rather perfect in court. you can’t show bias and any emotion whether for defence or prosecution can skew your perspective on a trial - it’s difficult. he’s grown to love the little beings that run around fontaine carelessly, passing judgement has become something so much more colourful than black and white. but with you? it’s like you either have no opinion, or just to not engage - slightly admirable, if a little scary

ʚ at the end of the day, it doesn’t worry him too badly. nonchalance doesn’t necessarily mean emotionally unavailable - and believe me he spends enough time next to you to love the little quirks and habits you do when no one is looking at that façade of yours

KINICH

ʚ you 🤝 kinich - two peas in a pod

ʚ you don’t give a shit about anything? neither does he! do you wanna kiss?

ʚ ajaw lowkey hates you both (said with affection) and does NOT hesitate to let his opinion be known, though kinich is of course quick to shut him down

ʚ he kind of enjoys peering his head at you during conversations to see what you’re like - if your face scrunches when people say something weird, if your brows pitifully furrow at the mention of loss, or even if you smile at laughter — and he sees quite literally nothing, which was honestly like looking in a mirror

ʚ no one actually knows how two people with nearly the exact same level of charisma (none) got together, but you two are happy with each other, so really - who else needs to comprehend your relationship?

ʚ you have a really similar approach to life: do what you must to get what you want. but to him that means dangerous commissions that no one would probably want, and to you that means lounge around graffitiing a wall with some symbols you thought of on the spot

ʚ it’s genuinely infuriating to have a conversation with either of you though when the person speaking isn’t looking for particular help (or is speaking too slowly for either of your likings), you either brush the person off and walk away, or kinich talks back rather abruptly

ʚ mualani made it a non negotiable rule to have someone, hopefully the traveler, around either one of you like some sort of support dog to ensure you guys actually socialise and don’t sit there like owls waiting to bite

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

[stllmnstr]

sure thing – part two.

pairing: yang jungwon x f reader

genre: coworkers au, underground boxer jungwon

part two word count: 10.8k

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

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

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

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

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

PART TWO

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

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

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

From: yangj@vesselsoft.co 

Subject: Printer Issue

Good morning, ___. 

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

Thank you in advance, 

Jungwon

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where he softens, however, you cage up. 

“You have one minute,” you tell him. 

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

“One minute to explain what happened Saturday night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could have fooled me.”

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

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

“You don’t get it–”

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

“____…” 

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

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

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

You were right about the apologies, though. 

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

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

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

You: I’ll plan on Friday.

…..

Friday morning comes with a vengeance. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 ___, it reads. 

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

– J

Frowning, you read it once. Twice. 

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

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

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

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

Jay: And again, I am so, so sorry

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And your message is still completely unanswered. 

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

And Jay still hasn’t texted you back. 

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

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

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

Sister’s baby shower. 

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

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

At his older sister’s baby shower. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2013.11.13 King Pen

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

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

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

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

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

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

You skip down a few more lines. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want answers. 

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

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

Eerily so. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. No. 

You’re trapped. Effectively locked in. 

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

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

What if this is the only entrance?

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

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

Both of their warnings start to come back to you.

“He’s not who you think he is…”

“I just want you to be careful…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slowly, carefully, you begin to open the door. 

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

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

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

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

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

King Pen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fight.”

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

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

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

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

But even dancers stumble sometimes. 

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

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

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

Again, Jungwon’s sure steps falter. 

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

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

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

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

It’s messy, sloppy, angry. 

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

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

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

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

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

Anything goes. 

Your stomach twists with nausea. 

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

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

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

Jungwon’s mouth moves again. 

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

With an agitated flair, Jungwon stands again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

The door opens before you do any of it. 

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

…..

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

“I’m not in the mood.”

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Go away.”

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

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

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

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

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Why are you here?”

A beat of silence passes. Another. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” He whispers. 

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

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

“This might sting,” you whisper. 

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

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

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

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

“It stings?” You ask him. 

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

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

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

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

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

Jungwon swallows audibly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His thumb stills against your skin. 

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

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

“But,” Jungwon whispers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like him, don’t you?”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

“You don’t have to say sorry–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He is. 

“I mean it.”

You do. 

“Thank you, ___.”

He means it too. 

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

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

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

…..

Monday morning brings with it a distinct sort of dread. 

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

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

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

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

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

“___,” he breathes. 

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

In the end, you just look at him blankly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It makes sense. It does. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you saying?” you ask him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you shake your head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And for once, it feels like a sure thing. 

…..

epilogue 

Jungwon: SOS

Jungwon: Babyyyyyyyy

Jungwon: I know you’re reading my messages 

Jungwon: PLEASE ___ I really need your help

You: I’m BUSY what do you need

Jungwon: The printer is jammed again

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

Jungwon: Oh please 

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

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

You: Literally what are you talking about

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

You: The entire floor was mad at me

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

Jungwon: PLEASEEEEEE

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

Jungwon: I promise

You: …

You: FINE

You: On my way

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

Jungwon, for starters, is nowhere to be seen. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not ly–”

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

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

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

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

…..

outtake — seven months ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Twice. 

With annotations. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But part of him is excited too. 

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

He actually fucking did it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. 

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

“Jungwon,” he supplies, a bit breathlessly. 

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

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

“Hi, Jungwon.” 

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

“Hi,” he manages. 

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

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

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

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

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

“You know the printer in the workroom?”

Terry nods. 

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

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

And then it’s just the two of you. 

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

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

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

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

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

His brow furrows. “It’s not?”

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

Your brow furrows. “For what.”

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

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

He hopes you mean it. 

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

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

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey I saw your post and honestly this is my first time making a request. How about arcane characters with a cat like reader? Idk it's just a thought that came (sorry if that's a bit weird)

Dunno whether this answers your request like you imagined. Also probs shit fire time writing for some of these characters.

Viktor found your cat like personality quite interesting and humorous if he wasn’t within the lab, working with things that normally didn’t capture your interest, unless they glowed of course.

Other than that it felt as though you were intentionally acting up in his lab for a reaction, like a cat would gauge the reactions of their owners before pushing a glass off the table. That’s how Viktor often felt with you

Then he has to keep an eye on you to make sure you didn’t touch anything dangerous because you were captivated by its light.

‘No, it’s dangerous and could hurt you my dear.’ He so often warms you as he guides your hand away when he felt it was dangerously close to what he was working with. Your mind didn’t head his warning, only the fact that there was a shinny object in the laboratory and it was the only thing you could focus on.

‘If so dangerous, why is it shining as though it wants me to touch it then?’ You responded, daring to touch the object once more and Viktor swore you either knew what you were doing and playing him for a fool, or you had no self preservation skills within your entire body to fight back against your urge to touch a dangerous foreign object.

It’s literally a stand still between the two of you and one that happens far too often that Viktor knows that this was all part of your plan, and unfortunately for him he falls for it almost always. He watches you while you watch him before doing something rash, making think you’ve actually touched the dangerous object, only to look at you unamused when you smiled at him mischievously as you wiggled your unharmed fingers at him.

This often leads you to being banned from the lab for pulling a stunt like that, however this was more for your safety and for him to calm his racing heart. You’ll kill this poor man with your antics but he wouldn’t want you any other way, especially when you cuddled up to him for warmth and sleep there.

It soothes him just as much as it soothes you.

Ekko found himself often wondering where it was you went sometimes.

He sees you in once place and then you disappear the next, returning to base only when you felt it necessary of you to do so, illusive and vague of where you’ve been it was often a bit frustrating. You could’ve been in serious danger for all he was aware and when he confronts you about this behaviour of yours, you’d only shrug and say:

‘Where it is a go on my own time isn’t something you should waste time worrying over.’ Before leaving to go elsewhere within the base and lounge against one of the trees thick and sturdy branches, eyes closed in content as you softly drift off into a light nap.

How the fuck you got up there, he’ll never know other than the fact that you managed to get up there in the first place with effortless ease.

Ekko’s nickname for you was either kitty or something along the lines of a cat based pun. You hated all of them equally but Ekko only feels more vindicated when you only proven his perception of you right whenever you displayed a trait that was common amongst cats. Whether that’d be silently judging everyone from your perch way up high, or lounging in his bed, more specifically where he had laid moments prior, feeding off of the warmth that lingered there or otherwise Ekko would find humour in you cat like traits because they were the things he loved the most.

(In a timeline where they actually have phones I can imagine him sending you cat memes and saying ‘this you?’ Or ‘I found your relative’ he thinks he’s funny, and he is but you won’t admit it out of petty pride)

However the one thing that you could always hold over Ekko’s head was the fact that you could silently manoeuvre your way into a room without him knowing and managing to catch him off guard. Ekko didn’t find it particularly funny but he lets up eventually and admits that it was kinda funny that you managed to take him by surprise. This was why you were more suited to missions heavily requiring a person with an abundance of stealth and agility.

‘Always landing on your feet aren’t you?’ He’d tease but you would let it slid as you shrugged your shoulders and reply. ‘What can I say? It kinda comes with the territory don’t you think?’

‘You sure you weren’t a cat in your past life or something?’ She would ask as she raised a brow at you as you cuddled into her side, much like a cat would when in they wanted to leech off is the warmth of a human.

‘No, why you ask?’ You say as you began to close your eyes, her warmth blanketing you almost immediately, and becoming increasingly sleepy.

‘You act like one for starters with how lazy you are.’ She pointed out and you’d only scoff at her, resting your head on her shoulder, having become too comfortable with your current position to even be bothered to move.

‘I’m not lazy, I’m merely taking advantage of the beauty that is power naps.’ You defend yourself and it was Sevika’s turn to scoff, having heard this excuse countless times before, and it never stopped her from continuing to compare your personality to that of a common house cat.

She disliked it at first, finding it weird and annoying at the fact that you didn’t seem all that bothered with the ongoings of Zaun, instead favouring to rest in high places that provided warmth or close to it and watching everyone with clear judgement within your eyes. However that judgment did end up saving her from time to time, not that she’d ever admit to this, as she was confident in her own abilities to smell a bitch from a mile away.

Though the more as time passed she grew to find it somewhat easier to deal with, though you cuddling up to her for warmth did put her off now and then, affection wasn’t commonplace in Zaun; so forgive her for not exactly taking to it immediately. Though each time you did cuddle into her side, her urge to create distance between you dwindled, from Perivale shoving you away from her, to slowly accepting that this was her life now.

‘Sure, that’s a hell of a way to avoid saying that you’re lazy.’ Sevika smirks when you glared at her, clearly insulted by this, before moving off of her to go rest elsewhere on the bed you shared and making sure your back was towards her in an effort to show your disagreement with her statement. ‘Not. Lazy. I just like napping.’ You retorted.

‘Yeah, sure keep telling yourself that, I’m sure it’ll be true one day.’ Sevika jokes and your shoulders only deflate more, knowing you’ll never win this war with Sevika when her mind is made up. She’s always in the right in most cases.

Mel is all too familiar with your cat like traits that nothing you do is out of the ordinary to her.

She finds humour and amusement in you participating in things commonly associated with felines. A human cat is what you were in her eyes as you slept the easiest you’ve ever slept when besides her, her presence was calming and was more then enough to have you reduced to a relaxed state before succumbing to sleep.

She just had that effect on you and you loved it as much as she does as she got to run her hand down your back.

‘You’re practically purring.’ She teases.

‘It’s not my fault you know exactly what makes me melt.’ You replied as you smiled up at her, never having gotten use to having this absolute goddess of a woman bless you with her smile, her heart, her everything.

Mel smiles softly. ‘You don’t exactly made it much of a challenge.’ She says as she watched the way you practically leaned in towards her touch, eyes closed in content with a smile spread across your face that she swore your nonexistent tail would be swishing from side to side. She has been in this position countless times before and yet it never gets old with how content she felt when moments like these between you and her freely exist within her mind.

You don’t exactly make it hard for her not to love you like she did, it came to you as easy a breathing as that’s how quick you were to fall for her, almost as if it was as though you were breathing; Easy, effortlessly and natural.

‘How can I when you read me so effortlessly and without fail?’ You replied back in almost a purr, a mischievous smile spread wide across your lips, ‘I shouldn’t need to hide myself from my lovers eyes, for she knows me all too well.’ You add. Another thing Mel adored was your cunning but cautious mind and the way you seemed oddly too relaxed for some, watching those very same individuals like they were merely mouses that squeaked about their freedom; like you were being amused by rather was being said in meetings as though you knew something they didn’t.

You were like the Cheshire Cat, often times speaking in riddles that only she herself understands.

Mel kisses the tip of your nose. ‘You smile like the cat that caught the canary,’ she says as she pulls away. ‘Learning more about you is more interesting and intriguing than the last.’

‘Then I hope I stay that way for a long while.’ You said, smirking when you felt her kiss your lips.