Fighter || Lookism x Reader

17

You showed up at the gym that afternoon, later than you intended. Gun was already there, of course, going through his usual warm-up. His movements were fluid and precise, but even from across the room, you could tell his focus was elsewhere.

You dropped your bag onto the floor with a deliberate thud, the sound echoing through the gym. Gun's eyes flicked up to meet yours, narrowing slightly as if he already knew what kind of mood you were in.

"You're late," he commented, his voice carefully neutral.

You shrugged, walking over to where he stood. "Yeah, I just arrived back in Seoul."

Gun's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond right away. "Found out anything about your grandma?" He asked and you shook your head, instead of pushing it, he simply nodded. There was no one else around. Just you and Gun, alone in the empty gym, the air between you charged with something electric.

He motioned for you to take your stance, his eyes never leaving yours. "Let's see if you can keep up."

You grinned, settling into position. "I think I'll do more than keep up."

Gun didn't waste time. He was on you in an instant, his punches sharp and controlled, testing your reflexes. You could see the tension in his movements—the way his frustration was seeping into every strike.

"You're distracted. Focus," he barked, his eyes narrowing as you dodged another punch.

You smirked, deliberately slowing down just a fraction. "You think I'm distracted?"

His next punch was harder, more forceful, but you ducked under it easily, spinning around him with a quick jab to his side. Gun didn't react, but you saw the flash of annoyance in his eyes as he reset his stance.

He lunged again, and this time, you let him get closer, feeling the heat radiating off him as his fist grazed your jaw. It wasn't a hard hit—just enough to remind you that he could end this at any moment if he really wanted to. But you weren't backing down. Not today.

You stepped in close, throwing a sharp punch of your own. He blocked it, but the momentum pushed him back a step, and for a moment, you saw the flicker of surprise in his expression.

"Is that all you've got?" you teased, your voice light and mocking.

Gun's eyes darkened, his frustration boiling over. He moved faster now, his punches coming in a relentless flurry. But you were quicker—sidestepping, dodging, making him miss by mere inches. You could feel the tension building, the way he was struggling to keep his composure. And you couldn't help but push him further.

You danced around him, throwing in the occasional jab just to keep him on his toes, but never fully committing to a strike. It was a game of cat and mouse, and you were enjoying every second of it.

"Stop messing around," Gun growled, his voice low and dangerous.

"Make me," you shot back, your grin widening.

He lunged at you with a ferocity that caught you off guard, his frustration spilling into every movement. You barely had time to react, sidestepping just as his fist grazed your ribs. The impact sent a sharp sting through your side, but you didn't let it show. You were too caught up in the thrill of pushing him further.

"Getting sloppy, Gun," you teased, circling around him, refusing to give him an easy opening. Your smirk only deepened as you saw the tension in his jaw, his eyes locked on you with an intensity that bordered on dangerous.

"Stop toying with me," he growled, his voice tight with barely contained anger.

But you didn't stop. You moved in close, throwing a quick jab that he blocked with ease, and then you stepped inside his reach, pressing your body close enough to throw him off balance. For a moment, his eyes widened—just enough to show that you'd caught him by surprise.