#felt cute might delete it later type of fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shaarlslec · 2 years

Text

you know me too well

part 2: the core memories of your relationship, the present

part 3: seeing him for the first time after your break-up, promises of the future

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

words: 6200 ish (hold on, this is going to have another part for sure);

warnings: full angst for most of this part (imagine breaking up with daniel??); daniel driving for mclaren; smut (just a tinsy bit);

masterlist

Breaking up with Daniel Ricciardo, the days and nights that followed and your meet-up four years ago.

THE BREAK-UP

Every love story ends in tragedy if you wait long enough.

Your relationship with Daniel was never perfect and you neither claimed it to be – and yet tabloids did so. You broke up with him once he got his McLaren seat and left Renault after another two excruciating years of you two being together while Daniel drove for Red bull. You despised the title of being a WAG for the entirety of your relationship. The only thing you have always wanted was to be Danny’s girl and with no intention whatsoever to be called yet another girlfriend of a high-profile sportsmen.

You wanted to make it work – you tried so hard to make it everything work out until the end. And yet, in between Daniel’s races and you building your own career back in Perth, calls eventually stopped and texts went dry, and everything went downhill from there ending your four-year relationship way ahead of its time and without you two even realizing that the rupture cannot be fixed giving the circumstances: distance and priorities.

The last four months of your relationship were horrendous as you were living two completely different lives that happened to meet occasionally when Daniel was back home at times you were not away from there. You were the one to put a hard stop on it not bearing any longer the coldness coming from Daniel being in his head all the time trying to prove his point as being worthy of the McLaren seat instead of letting you support him as you always had done before no matter how hard the times were wearing the dark blue suit or the bright black and yellow one.

“I am sorry, I will not be home for Christmas this year. There is an event in Paris for which I have been booked.” You told him over the phone in one of the rare times Daniel managed to pick up due to the different time-zones, “It is a huge deal offered by a large fashion company and it will help with my portfolio a lot.” You explained, nervously pressing your fingers down to your lap, “I am so sorry Danny, I should have told you weeks ago about it and I—”

Daniel interrupted you at the end of the call, “It is fine Y/N.” He breathed, and you could pretty much figure out that he was drained yet again by something that happened back in Woking just judging by the way Daniel breathed into the phone, “I do not really want to go home this year for holidays anyways, I need a break from anything and anyone familiar right now.” He then added with another heavy sigh, “I must go back into the meeting room. Text you later, alright?” Daniel finished, and you basically felt the curl into your stomach tightening.

You knew he will not text you later and that he will be probably beating himself over whatever was going on back in the McLaren HQs without telling you shit about what an awful day he had no matter how much you insisted for him to open to you again just as he did back when you were together-together. You took a full breath of fresh air in; Daniel was not even faking an interest in asking you about your gig in Paris, and as selfish as it sounded – you wanted him to care about you more than McLaren.

“This is not working anymore Daniel.” You blared the words out after a long pause from both you and Danny, “We both know that you will not text me back tonight and that you will regret it in the morning, you have not texted me back in days Daniel.” You paused, not wanting to continue anymore with the blaming speech when you knew you had your wrongs too in your relationship, “I know that you know it too.” You then spoke with a touching smile on your face waiting for Danny’s response while your neck went dry being hanged by a non-existent crown of thorns.

Your boyfriend’s breath was cut right in an instant, but Daniel managed to relearn how to breathe again after your tears rolled down your face and the runny nose along with the soft sobs were heard in the call, “Please don’t.” Daniel shortly managed to speak in a shaky tone knowing that you were crying at the other end, “Please do not let us break-up over the phone during a random Thursday afternoon, Y/N.” Danny pleased, and you exactly pictured how the man’s face looked at that moment and how all his facial expressions softened in nostalgia and sadness at once.

“You just said you need a break from anyone and anything familiar – I am giving you an out Daniel.” You continued in a sharp tone, wiping the tears from your cheeks as you talked and trying to calm that beating heart of your from jumping down the hills.

Daniel’s fingers tightened around the phone while on the other hand they tensed together in a fist, “Let’s talk about this after your gig in Paris, text me the details about it and I will fly to you.”

The promise has been kept and weeks later after barely managing to make time to call each other, Daniel flew to Paris and you two had two amazing remaining days together of your relationship. You barely talked about how the relationship was not working anymore the first time when you saw each other after months of not meeting, instead you just choose to laugh at all his silly jokes while Daniel chose to hold you as tight as he still could during what was your last waking-up together morning.

Arms holding you dearly as your head rested on the man’s chest, your fingers running above Daniel’s arm tattoos as your glare was fixed on Daniel’s fingers nervously playing with the bed sheets in between his knuckles. You knew Daniel, oh you knew him too well – and you knew exactly what was going through your boyfriend’s mind right then, believing that he knew what was going through yours as well. You stood in silence next to each other while both of you understood that that was your last time doing so.

“I am so sorry.” Daniel whispered into your ear, taking your hand in his and placing them on his beating chest so you could feel how his heart stopped for a split of a moment there as he spoke the words, “I will crowdedly take your out.” He then said, hardly pressing his mouth on the top of your head.

Closing your eyes as you felt Daniel’s warmth engulfing you whole, you sensed how the world shuttered for a while in one arm tightening around you and a heartfelt kiss instead of words. There was not a need for them, anyway.

You saw the end coming weeks ago, but now as you lived it you wished for you and Daniel to have meet sooner or later – not when your ambitions were higher than the present.

“I know.” You whispered back, looking up at him just to meet the sadness eyes you ever saw glaring at you back, “I am so sorry too.” You spoke, gently pressing your lips on Daniel’s for one last bittersweet clash of mouths.

So no, you did not break on a Thursday afternoon over the phone, but you did break-up on a Sunday morning almost naked in the same bed you spent your last night together in a withdrawn city from the one you met.

You stood like that for a while not saying anything after saying sorry as if you wanted to prolong a moment you knew you were not coming back to.

“Not to be insensitive or anything Danny,” You managed to speak after a sob, “But I am quite hungry.” You chuckled after you cleaned your dry neck with a cough, “Let’s go grab a bite before your flight.” You spoke, trying to unglue your body from Daniel’s but being pulled in closer in the process by his arm still gripped around you.

“Five more minutes and we will go.” Daniel spoke with his eyes closed, “I just need five more minutes of this, please.” He then pleaded, chest heavily lifting in a breath followed by a deep sigh.

Wrapping your arm around him too and closing your eyes to enjoy the last remaining minutes within the man’s throbbing chest and aching body, you stood there until Daniel was ready to let you go and now not just for a couple of days or months -- but for the remaining of your days.

Five minutes more were not enough for him, four-years were not enough for him – he would have held you for longer than eternity holds.

And yet, reality clocked in faster than dreams as it usually does, and Daniel had to leave you again for good this time alone in Paris.

THE DAYS AND NIGHTS THAT FOLLOWED

Mature break-ups suck, and they do suck especially when you still carry love for each other within those aching hearts of yours. You looked for affection in all the wrong places after Daniel left – and that did nothing good for you. Daniel sunk in into work with a team that did not do him justice – and that did nothing good for him.

Deciding to stay friends was one of the options, but how can you stay friends with someone you love too deeply to call them simply “my friend” instead of “my loved one”. For the following couple of months, you used to reply to Daniel’s Instagram stories, and he was more than edger to reply to yours too.

And yet, all the messages were dry, impersonal and way to fabricated to sound real when you read them out loud.

Congrats on your points, congrats on your new gig, congrats on your sister’s wedding, congrats of your brother becoming a father, happy birthday darling, happy birthday honey, happy holidays to your friends and family.

Fuck, fuck, fuck – all of them were not real. You both hated them, and yet you both keep sending them. You just wanted to talk to each other – that was all.

You missed late-night conversations; you missed doing make-up on him and he missed hearing you laugh at all his corny jokes. Oh, how much Daniel missed your laughs. And oh, how much you missed him making you giggle. No one managed to do it anymore for you, you laughed out of politeness at every corny pick-up line you received, and Daniel cracked jokes just to stay sane as he boosted his ego that he is still the funniest out of the group – but for whom was he trying this hard to be funny if it was not for you? It was meaningless, all meaningless for both of you.

And yet, you kept the appearances.

You seemed happy; you seemed like you moved on from each other. You got your new rebound boyfriend in one of the bars in Perth that you and Daniel used to frequent together back when you were together, and he followed your example not that very much later after you posted your first picture together with your new conquest.

The only difference is that Daniel did not post anything on his socials, he just fucked around every single girl was keen on fucking him – most girls were. Could you blame them? It was Daniel Ricciardo after all. None of them satisfied your ex-boyfriend enough, and he even moaned your name twice or thrice while on random girls he met after yet another failed race with McLaren.

In one of the nights when that happened, when Daniel was drunk enough to moan your name instead of the girl’s he was laying with in the same bad – he selfishly called you after midnight in desperate need of hearing your voice. Daniel wanted to hear from you, no matter where you were at that time or who you were with.

It was your very first call after the break-up in Paris, and your shaky fingers picked up the phone from the nightstand once you saw the ID caller while your heart heart sunk at Danny's name came in full on your screen instead of his nickname since you changed him back in Daniel Ricciardo on your phone.

“Danny?” You answered with a trembling just woken-up tone as it was just morning to you back in Perth while Daniel tried to sober up to properly talk to you without sounding like a fool.

“Oh fuck you for still calling me Danny.” Ricciardo spoke as soon as he heard your morning voice that turned him on in ways he could not explain, “No sorry – I did not meant to sound like that I just –” He paused, looking down at himself barely clothed standing alone on a high-bar chair in the kitchen while the girl he just fucked was deep asleep back in the bedroom of the hotel’s room, “I missed your voice Y/N.” He then breathed, “I missed your voce so much.” He repeated, breaking down slowly as he muttered the words.

You froze, and yet you could not tell that you missed Daniel’s voice too as you looked over your shoulder to see your current boyfriend quietly asleep next to you. It would not have been fair for him; the new man was extremely clueless about your whole relationship with Ricciardo. You never mentioned him to anyone after you broke-up, let alone to the man you were currently sleeping with.

“Daniel,” You corrected yourself, not wanting to cause even more damage to the one listening at the end of the call, “This is not the best time to call, I am not alone.” You honestly confessed as you rose from the bed to put your robe on and go on the balcony to light a cigarette.

“I know, I know.” Daniel spoke, hearing you lighting up the cig that stood so right in between your lips that your ex-boyfriend remembered the taste of so vividly and peacefully on his own, “I saw the pictures, you got yourself a pretty good-looking new man.” He then sarcastically spoke, “Look I just –” He then breathed heavily letting you know that he was on the verge of breaking completely down, “I just called to know that you are alright.” Daniel continued, “I am not worried about where you where or with who you are sleeping with, I was just thinking about you.” Your ex-boyfriend then continued, and you knew judging by his now calm tone and the words used that Daniel was completely honest.

You took a deep smoke in, “I am fine.” You lied after exhaling all out at once, tightening the robe around your waist to not let the butterflies out, “What about you? Are you okay?” You asked him, watching over the city getting slowly up – the city where you and Daniel felt in love in.

Daniel clenched his jaw, “I am now.” He then replied, “Hearing from you made me fine.” He continued with muscles tensed up within his body, “I know is stupid that I am whining about hearing your voice when while we were a thing, I was the one who was not picking up the phone but – fuck.” He then paused after yet another heavy sigh, “No one knows me like you do Y/N, and I had a couple of hard days at work, and I want to tell you all about them, but I know that I lost my privileges in doing so.” Daniel spoke, heart throbbing while the voice shook in between the lines.

“It is fine Daniel.” You replied, taking a seat down on the hard concrete floor of your boyfriend’s balcony, “You can tell me all about it – I always wanted nothing more but you talking to me all about it.” You confessed, watching your cigarette smoke itself as you placed in in the ashtray.

“It is not right.” Daniel replied at the other end of the call, “I disrespect you too much in our relationship, who am I do the same now?” He then asked, more for himself than for you to hear, “I am glad that you picked up the call, I am glad that I got to hear your voice – I will be satisfied with just that.” He then spoke, “I cannot do the whole remining-friends-with you-thing.”

Your heart sunk, and you knew that Daniel was pretty much aware of your reply that followed, “Neither do I.” You replied, taking back the cigarette from the ashtray to light it up again.

The call ended with both of you saying “goodbye” for what you thought is going to be your last time. You turned back to your new boyfriend bedroom where you found him as you left. You tucked in your blanket still next to the man who was not Daniel, wide-awake and with your thoughts running to your-boyfriend who was at the other end of the world getting yet another bottle of whisky to open not caring about the girl sleeping in the other room. You cried silently for a while covering your mouth, while Daniel drowned his sorrow in the end of a glass.

The replies stopped after your call, and you learned with time how to live without each other. You both managed to get through it while looking for unfamiliar warmth, but occasionally you found yourselves staring at photos or watching clips on your phone that brought you straight back up to the very first time you met having it documented – the first wedding of one of your mutual friends that you have ever attended separately and yet managed to go home together that happened more than four and a half years ago.

THE MEET-UP

“You keep saying that you will never get married Y/N, but what if you do fall in love with someone and they propose to you in the most romantic setting you can picture?” The bride had asked half-drunk and half-irritated of you just commenting that weddings are just mere methods to cash-in rapidly a large sum of money from your family and friends.

You chuckled, clicking your champagne with hers, “I will say no, and we will break up – and that is that.” You simply spoke, chocking the glass of champagne down to your throat in an instant, “Look, I am extremely happy for you and what’s-his-name, all I am saying is that I generally am against organizing a large event just for people to bring you money as a form of celebrating your love.” You added, leaning on the wall behind you as you took yet another glass of champagne from the waiter crossing in between your little group of what seemed to be a high-school reunion since everybody that listened to your argument with the bride were your ex-classmates.

She rolled her eyes, “I know that I cannot change your mind. You have been like this since high school!” The bride added, “Rejecting any type of attachment from every single one of the guys that liked you fearing that you might actually end up liking them enough to marry them.” She added, shooting straight fires at you just because you were not agreeing with her position when it came to the traditional norms of a relationship.

Your eyes widened in shock, and then your expression softened with yet another laugh, “Fine, fine.” You paused, mockingly surrendering yourself by lifting both arms in the air and spilling the remining of the liquid outside the glass in the process, “Blame me for not wanting to follow relationship advice gaslighting myself that the love of my life is to be found in the permitter of our high-school.” You continued, rolling your eyes in the same sassy way as your ex-classmate just to add even more sparks to the fire.

“I married my high-school sweetheart.” One of your other ex-colleagues spoke in an outraged tone after she heard what you just said.

Somehow you unintentionally offended two of your ex-classmates after just a couple of champagne glasses, and that was your signal that you had to get the hell out of the group before you indulge in even more alcohol and say nasty thing that they do not agree with.

“Good for you darling.” You spoke as you faked the most annoying smile you were not even aware you were capable of until then, “I will go and get some more booze, see you around.” You spoke, making your not-so-subtle exit possible.

That was where you met Daniel – at the bar. You ordered yet another shot of tequila while he was patting his shoulder with a napkin right behind you.

“One for me as well.” Ricciardo spoke as he pointed to your shot, “Tequila, right?” He then asked you, leaning on the bar with his elbow and quickly scanning you from head to toes within a split of a second.

You nodded, “Not the best, not the worst.” You answered as you took your shot from the bar’s table as you glanced back at the very handsome stranger next to you who you somehow recognized from somewhere, “But it does the trick.” You continued, waiting for the bartender to pour the liquid into Riccardo’s shot glass too.

“Let’s hope it does, because the champagne is not doing it.” Daniel then spoke, pointing to the shoulder he just patted.

And that is when you realized where you recognized him from – he was standing at the table next to you minutes earlier, “Oh my god.” You gasped, “Did I do that?” You added, watching the darkened stain on the man shoulder that you just spilled champagne on during your heated-up conversation, “I am so sorry.” You added, hand on your chest and all that.

The handsome stranger chuckled, Daniel knew that right away that you were not sorry and just trying to be polite, “Do not worry – that kind of conversation would have made me spill my drink as well.” He then spoke, clicking his shot glass with yours as he threw you a cheeky wink letting you know that he heard your comments towards the bride.

As your cheeks reddened, you smiled back to him and Daniel swore that his heart skipped a beat right then, “So, I guess you are not from the bride’s side?” He then asked, “She does not seem that friendly with you, and neither where those girls around you.” Daniel then argued, asking for two additional shots after you agreed with a nod to his hand gesturing to the empty glasses.

Your face slightly crooked, “I guess you can say that I am from the bride’s side although we are clearly not friends – I did her make-up and the bridesmaids.” You answered while nervously tapping your fingers on the table, “We were in high-school together.” You explained, clasping your hands together at your back as you saw him noticing your anxious tapping, “What about you?” You then asked, “Handsome stranger that I am so sorry I spilled my drink on.”

Daniel’s face widened in the brightest smile you have ever seen receiving a compliment, “I am from what’s-his-face part.” He then laughed, “Michael, the groom.” He explained, handing his hand in the air for you shake, “Daniel, please to meet you, gorgeous stranger that unintentionally spilled her drink on my shoulder.” Ricciardo introduced himself, and that was exactly the moment when it clicked for you from where exactly you knew him and not just from the table next to you. You were talking with that driver that Perth was so extremely proud off – Daniel Ricciardo from Red Bull.

“Y/N.” You replied after being starstruck for a second there but intentionally decided to play it like a fool, “Well Daniel from Michael’s side, I think we are just becoming drinking buddies at this already boring wedding.” You then added after a firm shake of hands, one that you somewhat knew you were going to remember forever.

“Well Y/N who hates weddings somehow from the bride’s side, I think you are right with the drinking-buddy pairing.” Daniel then replied with a pristine chuckle, handing you the second tequila shot that easily went down to your throats at the same time, “And yet, I must disagree with the boringness, this party is just getting started.” He then replied, handing you his hand to hold signaling to the dancing floor.

You hesitated for a second to claps your hand with Daniel’s, and yet there was something withing the dark hazel eyes of the curly-haired stranger that drove you to cave into Daniel’s invitation.

Daniel took dancing to a whole another level that night, and you followed suit. It was for the first time in forever when you danced your ass off at an event – especially a wedding you were not even excited to attend to being with. And yet, Daniel made everything easy from the very start.

In between shots of tequila and long drinks, Ricciardo took the role of your dancing coach serious alongside with the drinking-buddy role. You had a blast with the man you knew nothing about minutes ago – you clicked right from the start. Daniel was the soul and life of the party, and he took you into his world after you loosen yourself into his steady arms.

“It is okay if I touch you here?” Daniel asked as the Latino tunes were replaced by slow songs and his hands went from the air to your waist, being determined to dance with the gorgeous stranger he met at the bar for the whole evening.

You nodded as you wrapped both hands around the handsome stranger, “As long as you guide me, yes.” You spoke, titling your head at the side, “I suck at slow-dancing.” You confessed while Daniel was comfortably placing his hands in the curves of your waist as if they always had been belonged there as a cover of “wings” was playing in the background.

“I do think you are pretty good to it.” Daniel then commented, leaning into your ears so that he could whisper the words for you and only you to hear, “See, weddings are not that awful – you found a pretty good dancing and drinking partner here.” Daniel then spoke, glaring at your pleading eyes for more than just a mere touch of your waist.

You laughed once again at the Daniel’s words, “I think I made myself misunderstood back there, I have not said that weddings are purely evilly and awful – I just do not believe that your love should be celebrated through weddings from which you get a whole amount of money.” You explained yourself, trying to match Daniel’s steps on the rhythm of the song, “I know for sure that I will not be doing that.” You then add, “If I ever find somebody in the future.” You spoke as you saw the confused expression on Daniel’s face worrying that he is dancing with a taken woman, “I am very much very single right now.” You clearly spoke, giving him all the permission to continue with the sweet nothings spoken into your ears.

“That is good to know.” Daniel replied as he got even closer to you as soon as you permitted him to do so, “Do you think that Michael and his girlfriend organized this wedding just for the money part?” Do you not think that they truly love each other and that was enough for them to do so?” He then continued, looking down at you as he spoke the words to watch your expressions softened from up close as you spotted the couple you were talking about right over Daniel’s shoulder dancing next to you.

“To be truly honest with you as I the tequila just got me,” You paused as you threw a tongue-tied laugh into the play, “I just do not feel that I will love somebody enough to want to marry them, that’s all.” You ended, glancing over Daniel’s shoulder to watch the bride and the groom slowly dancing on the song as they dearly looked in each other eyes as they mouthed the words you were never brave enough to speak out loud to someone: I love you.

“Life might surprise you.” Daniel spoke after a long pause during which he shortly glanced at his friend and girlfriend, “Like it surprised them too.” He then continued after switching his focus right back at you, “Michael told me years ago that he will never see himself getting married and look at him now!” He happily spoke, tightening his fingers around the fabric of your dress.

You looked up to the handsome stranger that you learned the name of and whose name would linger for many years to come on your mouth, “Let’s hope that you are right, I am not much of a hopeless romantic as you seem to be.” You replied as the song ended, and your moment was interrupted by the wedding MC who announced that the single dance of the bride and groom followed.

“Oh God,” You softly chuckled as you went on the side of the dancefloor watching Daniel almost tearing up while the bride and groom dance begun, “I was right just now, you are a hopeless romantic.” You added, handing him a napkin that you picked from the bar earlier and hid in the pockets of your dress.

Daniel giggled back at you, “Is that a bad thing?” He then replied, taking the napkin from your hand to wipe his face, “Should I be a pessimist just like you?” He then asked, placing the napkin into the pockets of his own pants.

You declined with a nod, “Just please do not tell me that you are that type of person who believes that love will always bring you joy, excitement, smiles, stomach butterflies and sweet shivers down to your spine.” You spoke as you looked at your newest friend watching the two newly-leads dancing in the middle of the room.

“Oh no.” Daniel shortly replied, “Love will also bring you excruciating pain, blame, sadness, despair, hurt – lots of them.” The man then paused to switch his attention from the bride and groom to you already staring at him, “It will also bring you the power to overcome them all.” He then added, giving you one of his bright smiles again.

You pondered Daniel’s words for a while after you replied with a short huff of approval, although you half-hearted believed them. Up to that point you had not experienced a long-term committed relationship, due to the fear of every single word Daniel displayed that night.

You kept your heart away from the pain, blame, sadness, despair and hurt while you also sacred it from joy, excitement, smiles, and stomach butterflies. Not anymore, you thought as you eyed him watching you back.

There was an incurable romantic standing next to you hitting for the entire evening on you, and somewhat in between the lines of his words you truly genuinely believed that Daniel was honest with every single one of his opinions when it came to love.

You could have not been that stupid to say no when Daniel asked you if you wanted to get out of there together right before the party ended, you would have been the one to ask him anyway if he would not have proposed it to you first – there was something in the way your bodies glued for the entire evening on the dancefloor that made you utterly crazy for more than just public touches.

You entered your apartment, and it took Daniel exactly two and a half seconds to glue you on the hall’s wall and cup your face into a kiss that was built on the tension between your bodies glued on the dancefloor earlier that night.

It left you breathless as you knew it will, the handsome stranger was even more striking in the dim lights of your hall, and then your kitchen where he took your body up from the ground and placed it on the kitchen counter with him being fully in between your legs before you could even open perfectly for him.

The chuckles did not stop, you smiled as you kissed him while unbuttoning his perfectly ironed white shirt. Daniel unbuckled his tie on his own as the man mouth went on your neck placing deeply pressed kisses on your skin followed by bites and groans into your ears as one of your hands went underneath Daniel’s shirt to find its own way into his suit pants.

“Wait.” Daniel stopped, departing from you inches enough to look at your face, “Are you sure about this?” He then foolishly asked while your hand was already cupping his balls within your fingers to play with them, “We had quite a few drinks and I really do not want you to feel any pressure in –”

You stopped him from talking while you wrapped the other hand around his neck and glued him back to your body, “Look,” You paused, hand slowly gripping on his already hard dick, “You asking for consent is the hottest thing that a man has ever done before, but I am one hundred percent sure that I want you to fuck me on this very counter.” You replied with a sly smirk as you unbuckled the man’s pants and got them half down Daniel’s thighs, “Please?” You shortly pouted looking directly at him as you begged, driving him now completely crazy for you.

Daniel listened to your pleadings, oh Daniel listened so damn well. Taking your neck into one of his hands as you arched your back, the incurable romantic took your underwear off with the other hand that was more than edger to insert two of the fingers inside you just for a little tease of what had to come next.

“Oh damn Danny.” You moaned before biting the man’s lower lip as he swirled inside of you, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You continued, basically singing music for the handsome not-anymore-stranger inside of you fully now after minutes of teasing your clint with the tips of his fingers, knowing exactly when to stop and when to go rough.

Daniel moved then back and forth, back and forth, stopping once in a while to give you the pleasure of positing your legs and body just as you liked while the man’s mouth was on yours the entire time. Nails jabbed into the man’s neck, Daniel glued to your body as he listened to all your orders of going faster, deeper, harder, and then gentler, smoother, and softer to offer you a change to take proper breaths in between the wet hungry kisses for more than just skin, for more than just groans and moans. You guided him to the bedroom where you gave him the show for the night standing on top of him, allowing Daniel to bite, cup and lick your breasts as you were doing the work for him.

Riding him slowly you leaned down on him as he leaned back into your bed, and you could swear that you never felt hands that hurryingly to caress your back as you were kissing the man’s neck, shoulders, and chest leaving wet traces all over Daniel’s skin. There was more than just sex, and you knew that right then and there. No one you just fucked before embraced you that tightly and wanted you that close to them. There were traces of what will become love in between the touches, kissed and bites.

After what seemed hours of discovering each other’s kinks and pleasures, you laid with him by your side breathless and senseless. Your heads were spinning completely, and it was not just the alcohol. You looked at each other in the darkness of the room, and yet Daniel knew exactly where to place his hands to hug you, and your head fits its perfect spot at the man’s chest.

“I never heard somebody calling me Danny and to sound this beautiful.” Daniel spoke, pressing a quick peak on the top of your forehead as he played with your ruffled hair resting on your shoulders, “Please continue to do so.” He then asked, placing yet another kiss behind your ear as he whispered the words, “Not just continue, but never stop in doing so.” The handsome man in your bed warned in a funny tone, and you promised to yourself that you will listen to whatever Danny pleases from now on.

You felt asleep thinking about the fact that life really surprised you that evening, but you had no idea back then that it will continue to surprise you with him for the following four years after that that – if you could only turn back time you wished for this awful force called life to tell you that surprises might not the joyful kind with a happy end.

Y/N from four years ago had no idea through what type of a suffering she would have to go through when the man in within whose arms she peacefully slept in calls her after midnight while she is in bed with another men and he is fucking another woman.

Daniel from four years ago had no idea through what type of a grief he would find himself into when alone in a kitchen far away from the one he loved but failed into keeping by his side.

Damn, life – what did you do with them?

What went wrong from the moment you shared tequila shots to your break-up in Paris? That is the question you still not managed to find an answer for, although it has been there all along in front of your eyes: life and its surprises.

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stutterfly · 3 years

Text

Swipe Right 04 | Patch Notes | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst, humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 15.1K

Last time on SR03: You joined a gym to increase your confidence and things progressed the way you want with your tinder match. You ended up in an unlikely competition with your friends when you went new bar together, leading to some unexpected conversations and shenanigans.

CW & Other Tags: Drinking, anxiety/panic attack mentions, muscle tearing injury mention, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, flirting, pick-up lines, sexual tension, Joonie is still Y/N’s best boi, soft Jungkook

Series: Activate your SIMCard

Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

When’s the last time you felt as good as you do right now? Jungkook has pretty much stopped bothering you since that night at Seesaw, your date with Jason went well, and you’ve been sticking to your early morning workouts. You definitely don’t push yourself as much as trainer Hwasa, and you know you should really take advantage of the free trial, but it was overwhelming to take in so much at once and the session made you sore all over for days.

At least your stamina seems to be improving and you’ve discovered post-workout endorphins are real. Tonight is your second date with Jason, a date you’ve uncharacteristically elected to host at your apartment. You can place some blame on those endorphins for your boldness, with pining and disappointment composing the rest of it.

While your first date ended without a kiss, there was enough flirting to keep you hopeful. Neither of you were brave enough to do anything about it then, but you’ve mentally coached yourself into pretending like you have an unbreakable spine with nerves of steel. Meeting him only solidified your attraction, and you’ve resolved to take the lead, even though you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.

It’s not like you often make the first move, but your confidence in him to do so has waned. You’ve been talking and playing games together online for months without any physical touch. Despite how he’s said he likes you and wants to see you again, you’d still be waiting if you didn’t suggest today.

You’re determined to show him what he’s missing by being a recluse. That’s why you’ve picked out the sluttiest clothes and the strappiest heels you own, decorated your face with expensive makeup, and even styled your hair instead of just letting it do whatever it wants for the day. You check yourself out in the full-length mirror on your bedroom door for the millionth time and pull down on the hem of your dress like it will somehow magically grow longer.

You don’t need the heels; no part of the night calls for them. You’re going to be sitting on the couch with him. If you’re lucky you’ll even move it to the bedroom you spent so much time cleaning. But they’re cute and they make you feel sexy, so you’re going to keep them on until he’s peeling you out of your dress.

Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you have to pretend like they’re not there or you’ll fixate on how hard you’re trying to be confident and cool. You’ll fall apart when it’s obvious to Jason how hard you’re pretending to be everything you aren’t. Checking your phone doesn’t help; it’s almost time.

Taking a deep breath, you pace through the confines of your apartment as you wait, and answer group texts from Jennie and Namjoon. You offer up a selfie, hoping any compliments will build your confidence enough to stave off the anxiety in your gut. A few devil emojis later, some keysmashing, and more than a couple hamfisted compliments from Namjoon, your ego is adequately inflated but you can always use more hyping. Maybe you should send it to Jimin to fish for more compliments? He’d indulge you for sure.

Instead you flop on the couch and open Tinder. According to Jennie, Jason is stringing you along; it’s been months, but you hate to admit that she has a point. So you don’t. She’s been telling you for a while now that she thinks you should pursue other suitors. While you object to her assumptions, she has more experience with this kind of stuff. It’s not exactly something you want to believe, not when you’ve put in so much effort for literal months.

You want to believe in Jason being awkward and dorky and that’s why it’s taken so long for the two of you to hook up. He’s shy and super introverted, but so are you. So why are you the only one trying to make things happen? You want to believe, but at this point you’re uncertain enough to heed Jennie’s advice and keep swiping any time you find yourself in a situation where you’re waiting on him. Like now.

You have your reservations about swiping while you wait for your date to begin, but you can practically hear Jennie cheering you on. He’s late anyway, and it will keep you busy until he arrives. You open the discovery tab and swipe left on a couple incomplete profiles. Most of the guys on here don’t put in any effort. How are you supposed to want to give any of them a chance when you don’t even get a tiny snapshot of who they are?

When you pass on yet another fish pic profile, a blue frame appears around the next guy in line. It takes a moment for your brain to register the name along with the duck-faced photo as someone familiar.

[Jungkook said: Your legs remind me of oreos 🥴 wanna know why?]

How fucking dare he? You match with the intent to ream him out and leave.

You: I told you not to fucking find me on here

It takes only a few seconds before you see the dots move on his end, like he was waiting for the moment you would answer, and it keeps you tethered to the conversation.

Jungkook: Princess!! I couldn’t help myself how are you

Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me

You: Don’t worry I’m gonna

Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh

You: ???

Jungkook: Your legs

Jungkook: Like oreos

Jungkook: I wanna split them n lick the cream from the center 😜

Electricity rumbles in your gut, carrying heat and a surge of excitement to your cunt that threatens to flood your panties. You swallow hard and squeeze your thighs together as you stare at the screen. Embarrassed by the response his antics elicit, you scramble to formulate a coherent thought.

You: I wish I could unread 🤢

Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites

Jungkook: Just like you 😘

You: 🙄

You: I hate you so much

Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?

You stare at the message like a clever response will come to you and when it doesn’t you bite your lip. He’s got a point. Haven’t you learned your lesson not to encourage him? Your eyes scan the top of your phone for any notifications from Jason. Nothing. At least this is keeping you distracted. That’s what you tell yourself.

Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀

You: It means I’m tired

Jungkook: Of?

You pause for a moment. Namjoon and Jennie can’t know how anxious you are about Jason. It’s the guy’s last strike with them and he hasn’t even met them yet. Jungkook, an impartial third party, might be able to lend an ear. As much as you don’t care what he thinks, you need an outlet for the anxiety in your chest. You start to draft a word-vomit. Jason has been so hesitant to see you in person again and now he’s late. Maybe if you just put it out there to someone you’ll feel better.

Jungkook: If you need to sleep how about a massage?

Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴

Stupid. In what universe could you confide in Jungkook? Deleting your word-vomit before you can send it, you start to type something else, but your thumb accidentally taps enter at the exact wrong moment.

You: You know what? I want you

FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.

You scramble to rewrite the sentence but Jungkook is quicker. He has to know it was an accident, but you’re still fucking mortified.

Jungkook: 😈

Jungkook: My place

Jungkook: Ten minutes

You: *to stay off my profile

Jungkook: 👉👌?

You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT

You: 🤢🤢🤢

Jungkook: 😩

Jungkook: Now you’re just playing games with me princess

Jungkook: Can’t say I mind just fuck me up 🥴

You: Don’t you have a princess to fuck in another castle? Maybe she can stroke your tiny ego

Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here

He goes quiet and you close the conversation out. Setting the phone down on the cushion beside you lasts all of two seconds. When your phone buzzes twice, you know better than to answer, yet you feel compelled to look.

Jungkook: Hey quick question

Jungkook: Is this the most you’ve used the app to talk with someone you like? 👻

Just like that you unmatch with him and take a moment to seethe. Distraction or no, he’s not worth the mental energy. He always seems to draw you in like a pretty little thirst trap and drain you of your sanity. Not engaging is the safest option so why do you always end up doing so? Maybe it’s that shitty little part of you that gets excited any time he shows you attention.

There’s a gullible girl within you; she sets your pulse on fire when he feigns even the slightest interest, fills your head with wind when he brushes against you, and floods your eyes with tears when he walks away. Still, she wants him to look at you, even if it means he’s really looking through you. You hate her. Why can’t she learn that you deserve better?

You check the time again and wince. Jason is really late now. Not even a text. Or a phone call. Maybe it’s traffic?

Try to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re going to have fun tonight.

You start up a game to take your mind off the options available to explain his absence. When you’re invested in a game you often lose track of time, but tonight you’re hyper-aware of every minute that passes. You bite at your freshly painted nails during loading screens, chipping the red from their edges. Sounding casual is difficult when you’re worried, but you attempt it anyway via text. It’s ten more agonizing minutes of waiting before your phone buzzes with an answer.

The controller drops to your lap and immediately tears begin to sprinkle your thighs with the manifestation of your heartache.

He forgot.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

An earthy scent fills Namjoon’s apartment as he carefully transfers the last of his plants to a bigger pot, filling in the edges of its roots with fresh soil and patting the edges down with care. His plants have needed this, maybe even more than he needs the mini hangout that will soon follow. The kitchen table is covered in dirt, but at least he’s almost done.

It’s not his fault Jungkook showed up earlier than expected. At least he’s quiet now. It’s been a while, but he’s finally stopped asking about how much longer it will take, so he must either be invested in the show he put on or asleep on the couch.

“Almost done,” Namjoon loudly announces. “Can you text Tae?”

“Kay.” Jungkook yawns as he stands and heads towards the bathroom. “Jin was already cooking when I left so it should be ready soon.”

“Good. I’m hungry,” Namjoon says, carefully transporting the plant to the desk in his bedroom.

As he’s on his way to clean up the mess on the table there’s a soft rapid knock at the front door. The moment he opens it and finds you standing before him, he knows something is wrong. Even the ratty hoodie covering your shoulders can’t hide the effort you’ve obviously put into your appearance tonight. While your makeup seems to have fared rather well, your eyes are red and your cheeks are puffy. His mind automatically assumes the worst about your second date and his jaw tightens.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“He never showed.” You throw your arms around him and openly sob.

“Oh, Y/N…” His arms are around you in an instant, hugging you close while keeping his dirty fingers at bay.

You press your cheek against his chest, letting the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry. I know you probably have plans tonight, but I wanted to stop here—” You choke out a loud sob and wipe your nose with your sleeve as you look down at the floor. “I didn’t want to drive upset but you weren’t answering and I just—”

“Shit. Exam today. I left it on silent.” He pats his pocket to make sure it’s still there, wiping as much dirt as he can on his jeans before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths.”

Jungkook emerges from the bathroom quietly with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Did he hear your voice or is it his imagination? Unsure if you’re some wishful remnant of earlier texts, he peeks around the corner.

Heels: black, strappy heels with a velvety smooth red undersole. Has he ever seen you in heels? If he has, it’s never been something as flashy as these. His gaze travels up the smooth, exposed skin of your legs until it hits the hem of a skirt. The dark fabric seems a little short; it clings to your thighs, riding up as you embrace his friend. It’s hard not to notice how well it accents the curve of your hips and more importantly: your ass. He’s definitely never seen you in something so revealing, not even on nights where you’ve joined them for dancing.

He pauses for a fraction of a second, eyes trained on the swell of your ass before moving up to find the disappointing sight of your favorite hoodie barring much else from view. Namjoon’s arms outline your shape, but the places his hands rest are far too respectable to glean much else other than simple blueprints.

With his dick leading his steps, Jungkook opens his mouth to announce his presence with a joke. He means to selfishly steal a glimpse of your entire ensemble with some snarky comment but you choke out a sob and his stomach lurches to form a whirlpool of apprehension. His mouth remains open, but his words are swallowed back into the dark swirling pit that now wrenches his gut in circles.

Namjoon looks up just in time to read the confusion and shock on his features. He shakes his head and cups yours against his chest, wordlessly signaling Jungkook to keep quiet.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you wanna talk about it?” Namjoon asks, hoping you don’t see the man behind you slowly backing away like he’s just approached a rabid animal.

You’re sobbing. Why are you sobbing? What happened? Was it what he said before you unmatched? Jungkook tiptoes back into the kitchen without a word. He leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, trying to piece everything together. Did he cause this?

You screw your eyes shut to try to keep the tears inside. It’s no use. They always seem to find a way out. “He didn’t show up and when I texted him, he… he said he forgot."

“What?"

“I thought it would be good after the arcade date, you know? Like, good chemistry. He’s weird. I like him! He seemed interested and we made these plans and he just—” you choke out another loud sob. “God. Am I really so fucking forgettable?”

You wanted your friends to be wrong so badly that you ignored the fact that it’s been like pulling teeth trying to get Jason to meet up again. For him to forget completely is like a kick to the face that leaves all the teeth intact, maybe a little bloody, but stubbornly intact.

“Y/N, no. It’s not your fault. You deserve better than this fucking guy.”

Jungkook swallows hard. This definitely doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be hearing, but it’s loud enough to carry through the entire apartment. Kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom: his options are limited, but he knows there’s nowhere to go to pretend like he can’t hear it. It’s not like he can just walk out the front door now.

“Do I? It’s seems like a fucking pattern, Joon. I fall for people so easily and they always make me feel like an idiot for trying. Donghyun. Seojun. Jason. Jungkook… It doesn’t matter. No one fucking wants me.”

Jungkook tenses. He may not know all the names on your list, but his is among them all the same. Has he really hurt you so much?

“Hey… Don’t think like that,” Namjoon says, his voice soft as he rubs your back. “You know your worth, and it’s not measured by how well someone else can see it.”

Every time you think you’re done crying, fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks. “I’m tired, Joonie.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We'll get you home."

As you step back to look at him your ankle rolls, and you begin to fall. Hearing the scuffle, Jungkook winces and peeks around the corner. Namjoon has a good enough grip to stop you from fully tumbling to the floor, but you’re definitely not stable by any means.

Although you now face Jungkook, you’re too distracted by your ankle to notice the extra pair of eyes on you. He allows himself to stupidly linger within your line of sight, raking his gaze across your form to take in the details of your attire, right down to your choice of earrings. Even with a red nose and puffy, smudged eyes, the time you’ve spent on your appearance remains evident.

You did all that for some guy who didn’t even show? If that’s how you dress for your dates then his innocent perception of you is completely wrong. What kind of moron would pass up the opportunity to peel you out of that dress and dive into your cunt? You look incredible. What the fuck.

"God. Shit. Fuck! Fucking stupid heels!” You huff out your exasperation and let a small pitiful laugh pass your lips as you right your stance with Namjoon’s help. “You know, I spent hours getting ready and now I just look stupid. I feel stupid.”

“You don’t. You’re not,” Namjoon insists, his palm squeezing your shoulder.

“Namjoon, I shaved my entire body. Do you know how long that took?”

Jungkook forces himself to withdraw into the kitchen. If you see him now you might murder him. He purses his lips into a thin line and tightens his grip around his arms. In an instant he imagines hiking your dress above your hips and parting your legs so he might brush his cheek against the smooth expanse of your thigh all the way to your core. Are your panties as slutty as your dress? Are they cute? Lacy? Plain?

“Geeksquad…” Namjoon sighs loudly. “I really don’t need to know— Hold up. Wasn’t this the second date?”

“Are you slutshaming me?” The tired laugh that follows sounds more like you, but it still hurts his heart. “I’m stepping up my game.”

“Nah. You do you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips that’s obviously full of pity. “You want to stay and get some food? I think I have some sweats you can change into.”

Tires screech in Jungkook’s mind. Is he going to be trapped here for the night? Without dinner? What kind of karmic torture is the universe putting him through?

“No, I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. “Jennie wants me to come over but I—I didn’t think I could make it with having a full meltdown. You were on the way.”

“No need to apologize.” He pulls you into another tight hug. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m right in front. Thanks, Joonie.” Your phone begins to buzz in your hoodie pocket. You pull back and wave it at him, already on your way to the door. “It’s like she knew. I’ll talk to her on the way. Thank you for listening to me cry for the millionth time.”

“Always. Text me when you get there, okay?”

“Will do, mom,” you tease with a soft laugh.

“Zip up your hoodie.”

You grimace at him with narrowed eyes but heed his advice on your way out. You also pull your skirt down as far down your thighs as it will reach. Men are gross and you trust virtually none of them.

Jungkook waits until he hears the click of the lock on the door to breathe a loud sigh of relief. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and stares at the door. He worries about you.

“Yikes. That Jason guy is a dick huh?”

Namjoon swivels on his heels and rounds on his friend. “Like you were so much better to her?”

Jungkook casts his gaze to the floor. “I didn’t stand her up.”

Even he knows that argument is flimsy.

“Guk.”

“It was always just a joke.”

“It’s not though. She really liked you, man. I asked you not to mess with her.”

Memories have warped Jungkook into a jaded man: untrusting although not uncaring. Guilt is the only thing churning in his stomach as he thinks of you. He never expected to genuinely hurt you. Somehow things twisted into a gnarled mess that never really felt like more than a playful game of tug-of-war. But these kinds of games only work when the people involved know that they’re playing. It’s shitty when one pulls another into the mud when they’ve never agreed to participate.

Faced with the reality of how you consider him now, it dawns on him that he’s dragged you into the mud face-first without even the slightest resistance. You’ve stood up and you’ve even yanked the rope in retaliation, but you never should’ve been in the mud in the first place. Regardless of his own emotional ineptitude, he knows you never deserved that humiliation. No one does. The weight of his actions sits heavy in his gut.

Still he tries to justify himself. “All I do now is make pass after pass and she’s the one who turns me down.”

“You said it earlier yourself,” Namjoon sneers, irritated by his friend’s immaturity. “It’s always a joke. You’re never serious and she knows it. Look, you don’t have to like her back. She’s my friend and so are you. Just don’t lead her on and stop with the mind games. Be honest with her. The least you can do is apologize for being a dick.”

“That’s— I feel like… I don’t know how.”

Jungkook can’t bring himself to tell him of your conversation earlier tonight. It just adds to the guilt piling on his conscience. Namjoon used his own words against him and the worst part is it makes sense. It’s so much easier when it’s a stranger at a bar or a random encounter at a club, but you’re neither of those things. He lumped you into that category all the same.

Namjoon clicks his tongue and puts an arm around Jungkook’s back. “Starting with ‘I’m sorry’ can go a long way. She’s a good person and I know you guys can get along. Things were going well until you made that bet, right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. “Mmm.”

“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”

“Yeah.”

“I think…” Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Can you try to just... tone it down? Maybe try to patch things up?”

“Okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows and he chews his lip as he mulls over Namjoon’s words. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his keys. “You ready?”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Your head dips forward as your fingers glide across the keys. It's hard to concentrate on your task when you're this distracted by your own thoughts. You stare at the monitor with furrowed brows. Namjoon grabs the back of your chair and leans forward to tower over you.

"Went that well, huh? Did he blow the second chance he didn’t deserve?"

The motion jerks you backwards and you grip the armrests of the chair to steady yourself. Despite your best attempt to curb the irritation in your expression, your frustration remains apparent. You sit back and tilt your head up to look at him, trying to think of something to say, some excuse to not reinforce the "told you so" waiting in your future, not after you showed up at his apartment sounding like a dying whale a few days before. When no ideas come to your immediate aid, you click your tongue and let out a heavy sigh as you turn your attention back to the screen.

"Geeksquad," he presses. "Talk to me."

You exhale through your nose and briefly purse your lips before obliging his plea. The words are quick and quiet so you don't run the risk of bawling your eyes out again. "He canceled.”

Namjoon steps back and the pressure on your seat is gone. He places a large palm on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

Despite wanting to give the opposite answer, you shake your head. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you'd like to tell him. He's clever and you know he'll likely find a way to get it out of you with minimal effort anyway. Still, you don’t think you can manage the words without crying like a baby and you don’t want to do that when the morning has only just begun. Silence falls between the two of you as he gives you time to decide if you want to open up.

After a moment of tapping away you finally give in. You know you’ll feel better after you cry.

"He said he had to stay behind and help do clean-up for the party he was at. And that’s nice and all, but we had plans. I feel crazy. I should be glad that he’s so kind, right? Like that shows he’s a good person, right?” Your voice has cracked but it hasn’t quite broken.

He sighs and flops in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Y/N… I think you’re asking me for answers you already know.”

“But tell me anyway,” you press, tears welling in your eyes. “Our first date went so well. So why-y-” Your voice breaks.

“Hey.” He reaches across the desk and brushes his fingers against your arm. “I know you want me to help you make excuses for him... But you deserve someone who values your time. Clearly he’s just looking to waste it.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you don’t need someone like that. If this is what he’s like before you’re even together, then what kind of effort is he really going to put into a potential relationship? Not enough. There are so many people out there, people that would trip over themselves just to have the chance to be with you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s a mistake that you even gave him another shot. He blew it. Twice. Delete his number. Forget him.”

“I know,” you croak. Tears fall from your eyes and you quickly swipe them away, focusing on the task at hand.

Namjoon is right and you know it, but you’re kind of irritated about it. You know it’s not really him you’re mad at, but Namjoon is a good enough placeholder while you try to sort through your hurt feelings.

You muster your most monotone voice as you stand. “I updated your drivers and deleted any cached files that might have been causing issues. Is that all?”

“Don’t be mad at me,” he pleads, rising to block your path as you step towards the door. “You have a big heart and I hate seeing it stepped on.”

In a matter of seconds you melt into his embrace and bury your face into his shirt. “I hate how fast I like people.”

“I know.” He pets the back of your head softly and squishes you against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. How about udon later? My treat?”

“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.

“With beef,” he agrees.

“Gyoza?”

“Mhm.”

“And takoyaki?”

“...You’re pushing it.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You slide the appetizer tray across the table towards Namjoon. “Here.”

He shovels a dumping into his mouth right before he speaks. “I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”

“Could you afford it though?” you tease, taking a sip from the bottle of saké and crinkling your nose at it before passing it to him.

“Not if you’re joining me,” he snorts. “You’re supposed to pour it.”

“No, thanks.” You push the tiny glass full of liquid back towards him.

"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"

You know the source of the voice before you even crane your neck to see Jungkook.

"Pfft." Namjoon waves the question off with a deep laugh.

Despite finding the scenario of ever dating Namjoon absolutely absurd, you can’t help but feel a little insulted by the volume of his laughter. Namjoon’s hangout night was supposed to take your mind off of how unwanted Jason made you feel. Instead, the pit of insecurity within your stomach grows into a thick, tangled brush of hostility. Is being seen with you really so laughable?

“Why would we be?” you snap, turning your attention back to your bowl.

Heat settles in your face and you purse your lips, not daring to look at either of them. You try to wrangle some noodles to shovel in your mouth before you can say something stupid. Their eyes are on you. Jungkook is definitely confused but not alarmed by your hostility. It’s something he’s grown accustomed to. But Namjoon knows when he hurts your feelings, every time, and it’s easy enough to disarm your irritability.

“She’s way too good for a mess like me,” Namjoon says with a light laugh.

“Why are you here?” you ask, tone already softer than before.

"Post-work snackie," he answers, all too cheery for your sour mood. “Came for the noods. Mind if I join?”

He looks to the rosy-cheeked Namjoon for his answer, as you set your hoodie and purse down in the space beside you to give him yours. Namjoon betrays you by scooting over to make room on his side of the booth. You’d mentioned to him before that you’d eventually like to fix things with Jungkook, to somehow make steps for peace. But you only have so much mental energy left to give today.

“Not tonight, Jungkook,” you plead with a sigh.

The frustration in that puff of breath is enough to make Jungkook hesitate. He blinks a few times, wide-eyed. “What?”

“I just… can’t handle your bullshit tonight.”

Jungkook tries to break the uncomfortable tension with a grin. “No bullshit tonight. Promise.”

“No.” Your answer is firm and somehow so fragile that it makes both men worry their brows in the same fashion. “Please, just go away.”

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t know what to make of your demeanor, but he can put enough together to know the basics. You’re upset, maybe not at him for once. However unlikely, that’d be a blessing. Maybe you’re still upset about that guy that stood you up a few days ago. If that’s the case, he probably shouldn’t stick around and risk letting on how much he knows about that.

He tongues the side of his cheek and nods, forcing a smile to his face. “Alright. I’ll just order it to go. Planned on that anyway. Catch you later.”

Guilt wracks your nerves as he walks away. The moment you look back at Namjoon, you’re faced with a wall of disappointment that threatens to topple the scale of decision-making in Jungkook’s favor.

“You’re judging me for that,” you mumble. The noodles between your chopsticks slip back into the broth.

“Little bit,” Namjoon admits, watching his friend sulk over to the entrance waitstaff. “You know he told me he’s trying to be nicer to you.”

“What? When?”

“The other day. We hung out.”

He keeps his answers short and ambiguous, hoping your curiosity has been piqued. Maybe this is the golden opportunity he’s been hoping for to patch your friendship.

“Was this before or after he harassed me on Tinder?”

Namjoon’s heart sinks into his butt. Of course Jungkook would make reconciliation harder than it needs to be. “When did he do that?”

“That night I showed up at your apartment like a big crybaby.”

“I went over his place for dinner after you left. Jin wanted to try a new recipe out on us.” That seems to at least make you pause.

“You guys talked about me?”

“Yup.” He goes back to chewing his food, knowing he’s got you hooked.

Your incredulous stare does nothing to pull information past his lips. “Joonie. What did you say about me? What did he say?”

“Mmm?” He slurps up a long noodle. “A lot of things. But they’re not really my words to tell.”

“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that he told me that he wants to fix things. If you want specifics, maybe we can invite him to come eat with us. It might be easier for the both of you to talk about it over good food.”

You sigh, seriously considering his words even as you shake your head. “Joon, I’m already emotionally compromised. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jungkook tonight.”

“Why would you cry? This is a night for good things only. Namjoon-approved and protected. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to... I just thought it might be nice to make some good memories with good friends.”

You roll your eyes but hold your pinky out for him. “Fine. But this is Joonie-Y/N time. You’re cutting into that allotted time slot, you know that right?”

Namjoon rests his elbow on the table, preparing to pinky swear to whatever you’re about to suggest. “Conditions?”

“He sits next to you, he doesn’t make fun of me if I cry, and…. he doesn’t get to talk.”

“Y/N.”

“Fiiiiine. He can talk. But he better be as nice as you say he’s trying to be.”

“We allowed to talk about Jason?”

“If it comes up…” you sigh. “You know, if he’s mean to me and I cry then you have to deal with it.”

He clasps his long pinky around yours. “Deal. But with how all that just went down, you gotta go tell him to come back. He won’t believe me if I do it.”

“Don’t let him be mean to me,” you plead, tightening your grip on his pinky and locking eyes with him. “Good vibes only.”

“He won’t be mean. Good vibes only.” Namjoon nods with a soft smile. “He really is a good person where it counts, Y/N.”

You push your things aside and force yourself to find Jungkook. He’s leaning against a wall near the entrance, scrolling through his phone while he waits for his order. You quietly request to your waitress that you’d like his food brought to your table. She’s nice enough about it, but your stomach churns regardless. It’s the anxiety.

You gingerly poke a finger against his shoulder as you approach. “Um. Hey.”

He seems startled at first, but smiles when he realizes it’s you. “Hmm?”

You take a deep quiet inhale, trying your best not to get lost in the butterflies his charming smile conjures in your gut. You try to tell yourself it’s anxiety and nothing more. Apologies are hard and scary. That’s all.

“I’m… sorry for being rude. I’ve had a rough week but I shouldn’t take it out on you. Come eat with us, please. Namjoon’s buying anyway.”

His eyes seem to light up with surprise and a warm smile deepens the creases around his eyes and mouth. The hope that these feelings of attraction would evaporate with time is a flame swiftly snuffed out and replaced with a burning heartache that deems denial useless. Even now, pangs of infatuation lurk below your feelings of disdain, breaking the tension of its surface with each beat of your heart.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I shouldn’t have invited myself when I saw you guys. I should really get home and shower anyway.”

He looks so clean that you’d assumed he’d already showered. It’s not like you can smell him from where you stand. Maybe he’s lying, but at least you get the sense it’s coming from a place of politeness.

“Jungkook, I want you to come eat with us. Besides Namjoon wants someone to drink saké with him and I cannot keep doing it.”

“I see.” He offers a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty against it before. What changed?”

“Namjoon told me you’re trying to be less of an asshole to me.”

“Did he?” he licks his lips and tries to hide his pleased smile. “I’m surprised you believe him.”

“He also promised me I could punch you in the dick if you make me cry,” you lie, completely stone-faced.

If he knows that’s a falsified statement, he doesn’t say anything. He looks past your shoulder to quirk a brow at Namjoon, who appears to be furiously texting at the table. Jungkook’s phone buzzes a few times against his palm and he’s fairly sure he already knows who it is.

“Come on. I already asked them to bring your food to the table.”

He reads Namjoon’s messages as he trails behind you.

NAMJOON: If you seriously want to apologize stick around, make her laugh, just listen when you need to

JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry

JUNGKOOK: I got u

Before Namjoon can send a text saying that Jungkook's response has the opposite effect, you’re peeking across the table, trying to get a glance at the screen.

“Who’s that?” you wonder. Namjoon’s not usually one to be so secretive with his texts.

“Hmm?” he raises his eyebrows at you and pours you a shot. “Stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ha. Haha. Ha.” You gesture at your face. “You say to the girl with anxiety.”

Crinkling your nose at the glass he offers, you slide it across to Jungkook as he settles in next to Namjoon. “Here. I’m done drinking that stuff tonight.”

He regards it with a quirked brow. Something about your demeanor really has changed, but looking between you and Namjoon does nothing to answer the question of what that may be.

“Okay, so on reddit this guy was reaching. He’s going on about the symbolism in the red scarf—”

Your eyes gloss over the moment he mentions reddit. Is there anything you care less about than Joon’s favorite modern literary discussion threads?

“Got it. Not worrying about it,” you interrupt, bringing your bowl to your lips to slurp some of the broth.

Jungkook hides his smirk by throwing his head back to drink his shot. Namjoon is a genius. It might be scary if he ever decided to use his intellect for nefarious purposes. Lucky for the universe he uses it to protect others, like a real superhero would.

As the three of you dine together, you’re surprised to find that Jungkook isn’t being as annoying as he usually is. In fact, it seems the more he drinks outside of any competitive setting, the more affable he becomes. Maybe there’s something to Namjoon’s clickbaity words. He’s almost the person you remember meeting before the Halloween Party, maybe even more pleasant.

You’re grateful when the two of them start telling embarrassing stories so you can listen and laugh at the way they slur their words and interrupt each other. Laughter makes your heart feel light and full, and brave enough to take the last step to prove to yourself you’re done chasing Jason. As the two men fight over the last piece of gyoza and distract themselves over dessert, you quietly decide to clear your text messages from Jason. Your finger hovers over the delete icon for a second before purging his contact information from your device entirely.

It’s freeing to not have to worry about what you should send him. It’s frustrating to have tried so hard for so long and have nothing to show for it, but at least there will be no conversation history to pick apart anymore. It should feel perfect. That will definitely show him, right? You don’t have to reflect for more than a couple seconds to reinforce the memory of how little he actually reached out on his own.

He still has your number. The only time he ever called was on your first date. He never texted you unless you spoke first. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone. He’s probably relieved he won’t have to answer you anymore. He probably thinks you’re desperate for trying for so long. You don’t realize how well you wear your anxiety.

When you look up Jungkook is watching you while he chews with his mouth wide open. “Hey, why do-” He hiccups and swallows. “Why do you look so sad? You should have some ice cream.”

He scans the table for something to offer you, but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for in his drunken stupor. After a few seconds his eyes finally land on his own plate where the other half of his red-bean cake sits.

“Do you want my taiyaki?” He holds the tail end of the fish-shaped cake out to you. “It’s really good!”

You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected sweet absurdity of the night. “Jungkook, I don’t want your half-eaten cake.”

He frowns and looks at the pastry. “Is it because I bit it? I’ll break off that part for you if you don’t want your mouth to touch that.”

Although Jungkook definitely is more drunk than Namjoon right now, the older man can’t help but be amazed by how well this is going. He loads up on green tea ice cream and digs his spoon in it. He shouldn’t have been so worried. Jungkook can put away the act when he wants to, especially once alcohol is involved and there’s nothing to prove. You guys are actually getting along. What a relief.

“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.

Jungkook is already breaking the pastry apart in his hand, watching as it crumbles to pieces on his plate. He blinks a couple times and closes his mouth in a frown.

“I thought that would work.” He sounds utterly defeated.

The waitress walks over just in time to watch Namjoon stick a heaping spoonful of wasabi in his mouth. You're too busy laughing at Jungkook's forlorn expression to notice the way Namjoon's eyes water. His eyes drop to the ice cream he thought he shoveled into his mouth. Right next to the pristine, untouched scoop of green tea ice cream, he finds his spoon resting in the hunk of wasabi adjacent to it. He should really pay attention more. He pushes against Jungkook's side and motions that he needs to get up. The younger man spares a glance his way but Namjoon waves him off while mumbling something about the bathroom.

The waitress tries to keep her composure and looks between the pair of you. "How is everything?"

"Great! Could you please bring us some water?" you ask in your sweetest voice, realizing the two men with you should at least try to start sobering up.

You expected to have Namjoon crashing on your couch on a Friday night, or at least be dropping him off down the hall at Hobi’s place. Jungkook was not part of the plan, but you can’t exactly let him drive home inebriated. You know he’s not your responsibility but you’d feel guilty making him call for a ride home when you’re perfectly capable.

Although you hate to admit it, you’ve had fun tonight. If you’re being honest with yourself you’d like to see what he’s like without Namjoon nearby to police his moves. He’s been nice enough, but you want to know for sure this isn’t an act. You want to ask him if he’s made another bet, or playing some game since he hasn’t hit on you all night. Before you can get your line of questions in order, Jungkook turns to the server with large, pleading eyes.

"Oh! Can you bring some more dessert, please?"

He may be a grown ass man capable of charming the pants off of women everywhere, but right now he is little more than a child begging for seconds. Regardless of everything he's done, your heart softens, endeared and embarrassed by his drunken request to your server.

The waitress nods. "Sure, what would you like?"

His eyes fall to you for an answer. "What do you like?"

You blink at him. "Me? I thought this was for you."

He nods. "Mm. We can split it."

"Um, how about... tempura?"

"Banana?"

Jungkook’s voice is full of anticipation and his upturned eyebrows seem to bargain for agreement. It’s so hard to believe this is the same man who has been so cold to you for so long when he seems so open and warm now. You remind yourself it’s probably the alcohol. It’s probably some secret promise to Namjoon. Some bet with Hobi. Some game he’s playing. It’s probably anything other than what your dumb crush-stupefied heart wants it to be.

The waitress looks to you for approval and you give a nod. "Sure. Banana tempura."

The waitress awkwardly smiles as she gathers the empty platters and gives you a chance to break away from his endearingly drunken face. He smiles across the table at you and wrings his hands while you pick up your phone to check on those nonexistent messages. Maybe if you distract yourself enough you can ignore the feelings that are catching up to you tonight.

“Thank you for inviting me back over,” he says, reaching to the nearly empty bottle of saké to pour himself another shot. “I’ve... been wanting to talk to you."

"I’m surprised you didn’t blow up my phone.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s a harshness in your tone that exposes a venomous bite beneath it.

He downs the shot and plants his elbows on the table, leaning forward on them. "I wanted to say it to your face."

“Oh, really?”

You don’t allow yourself to entertain the idea that he’s about to say anything groundbreaking, but you look away from your phone to meet those dark, twinkling eyes. Suddenly there’s hope in your gut. You’re desperate to put some distance between the feelings jumping to the surface.

“I’ve been a dick.”

“No shit.”

Though the fog of alcohol consumes his apology, his eyes focus on you with clarity. “I’m sorry.”

How long have you waited to hear those words? You never really thought about what you might say in response. His apology sits in the air between you for a moment before he speaks again.

“I’m really sorry. Namjoon is right. I am trying to be less of an asshole to you. We don’t…” he catches himself, “I don’t have a lot of close friends who are women.”

“You don’t say.”

That seems to cut through the fog. He hangs his head and focuses his gaze on the table.

“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you mumble.

“I know... I’m sorry.” It’s like now that he’s said it once, he can’t stop saying it. He’s not sure how to make you understand. Maybe you do understand and you just won’t forgive him. Can he really blame you for that?

“Why?” you question; it’s the last barrier protecting your heart, the only thing keeping you from caving. “Why do you care now?”

Jungkook’s head lolls to one side as he sits back against his seat and stares at the nearly empty bottle of saké. “I don’t know. I guess I was thinking… I wish I had a save to reload. Before I messed up.”

It seems that’s the best you’re going to get out of him right now. The waitress sets down a beautiful platter of banana tempura meticulously arranged around a simple mound of ice cream, topped with a single cherry and drizzled with decorative chocolate. She places three waters on the table and you both take a moment to politely force smiles and pause your conversation.

He licks his lips and stares down at the plate and then back up at you. “Can we start over?”

“Depends. Are you gonna go back to being a dick when you’re not drunk anymore?”

“No, no. I mean it. I wanna try to be friends.”

“For real?” You swipe the cherry, pop it in your mouth and tilt your head to regard him. You can’t let yourself fully believe him. You want to. The earnestness in his drunken features charms you, but you hold onto a shred of disbelief as a crutch. You’ll wait for the moment he reverts. Hopefully this time you’ll be prepared for the whiplash that comes along with it.

“For real.”

You reflect on his apology as the pair of you dig into the dessert. “Maybe. Prove it.”

He perks up. He’ll take a maybe. Maybe means the damage he’s done might not be irreparable. The guilt weighing on his conscience feels lighter. It’s a start.

“I will. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

You roll your eyes, unwilling to put stock in his words. “Is this another bet with Hobi? About how quickly you can make me forgive you?”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously, wisps of wild black hair whipping his cheeks. “No, I mean it. I promise.”

You drag your lip through your teeth as you teeter on the line of acceptance. “What is a promise from a liar worth?”

He drops the flat of his palm to the table and he pouts. “Hey. I mean it…. Hm. If I break my promise…” His eyes scan the table for anything he can use to change your mind. He looks at his arm pressed against the table and then back at you. “You can choose my next tattoo.”

Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”

He eagerly nods. “I’ll get whatever you want wherever you want. Just. Not my face.”

“I want that in writing,” you snort.

Jungkook glances around the table and pulls a napkin from under the plate of tempura. “Do you have a pen?”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“I’m serious.” He’s not taking no for an answer.

You shake your head and rummage through your purse to supply him with a pen. He smooths out the napkin he’s chosen to use as a conduit for his promise. When he’s finished writing he slides it towards you.

Princess

I’m sorry. I can make it right.

I promise. Please give me another chance.

If I blow it you can choose what & where my next tattoo goes.

As long as it’s not my face. Let’s be friends? #promise.com ♡ Jungkook

Of course he signed it with a heart. Despite his inebriation, his handwriting is still neat. Well, that’s one hell of a promise.

“Okay.” You fold the note and drop it into your purse. “We can try.”

His face lights up as he stuffs a piece of tempura into his mouth, happily chomping with his mouth wide open. He reaches for the saké but you slide a water in front of him instead.

“Friends don’t let friends get totally shitfaced at Hajime.”

He frowns at you but seems to accept your answer with a pout.

“Speaking of which… Where is Namjoon?” You crane your neck to look around the restaurant.

“Friday noodle nights common for you guys?” Jungkook asks, digging into the dessert between massive gulps of water.

“No, not really. We’re usually watching movies at my place or hanging with Hobi. But Namjoon wanted to take me out because I was sad,” you say, finally catching sight of your friend on the other side of the bar.

Jungkook’s chewing slows and he regards you with furrowed brows. “Sad?”

Before you can decide how you want to answer, Namjoon is scooting into the booth next to Jungkook and reaching for a piece of tempura. “Mmmm. What did I miss?”

“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”

Namjoon nods like he understands exactly what you’ve been talking about. “He’s a dick, right? Like how do you even stand someone up, not once, but twice? Makes no sense.”

“Joonie—”

“And I know what you’re gonna say, but I disagree. It has nothing to do with you or how you look, Y/N. You don’t need to workout like a maniac to try to change anything. Especially not for someone like Jason. I can’t even imagine—”

“Joon.” You click your tongue and slide a glass of water in front of him. “Please, shut the fuck up.”

As you glare at him, he looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes. Unsure what to do now that he’s obviously fubared the conversation, he casts his guilty gaze to his cup and brings it to his lips.

Jungkook stares at you with furrowed brows, trying to wait to let you fill in the blanks even though he’s itching to ask about everything. He picks another piece of tempura and stuffs it into his mouth, but when you remain silent the impulse to pry takes over. “Jason?”

“He stood me up…” you start, but you close your mouth when you realize you’re going to try to defend him. Your throat feels full, like you can’t get enough air through with a giant knot in it like this. You have to whisper so your voice doesn’t crack. “Twice.”

The couple drinking at the table nearby becomes a much more interesting place to rest your eyes than the two men across from you. Tightening your jaw doesn’t prevent the gloss from coating your eyes. Thinking about it makes you feel so stupid and desperate. Bending over backwards a thousand different ways to accommodate him couldn’t convince him to put in even a minimal amount of effort one time.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. “Twice?”

The hurt you feel in your chest scorches your cheeks until anger is filling your head like a teakettle ready to release an unhealthy amount of steam right in Jungkook’s face.

“That’s what I get for giving people second chances,” you snap as you focus back on him.

Joon says your name like it’s a warning but you don’t need it. You feel guilty enough for projecting your anger onto Jungkook with a petty one-liner.

“Sorry. It’s not your fault. I just…” Your throat closes around the rest of the words.

Before an uncomfortable silence can settle over the table, Namjoon inches the bottle of saké with his fingertips until it’s in front of him. “Dating is tricky. Jason sucks. It sucks that he hurt you. But you don’t have to twist yourself into whatever you think he wants anymore. And that…” He pours the pitiful remainder of alcohol into a shot glass and slides it towards you.“...is worth celebrating.”

Jungkook silently nods his head in agreement. It’s obvious you’re on the verge of tears and he doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.

A soft smile curls the corners of your mouth. “That’s true, but…” you slide the glass back towards him and steal the last of the banana tempura. “I can celebrate back at my apartment. Finish your water so you’ll be awake enough to join me. Both of you.”

Jungkook perks up and happily reaches for his water while Namjoon gives you a proud, yet confused look. It seems like a new start to something. What that is remains to be seen.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook watches intently as the colors of the city shine through the windows. He runs his fingers over the soft blanket you keep in the backseat, mouthing the words to the song softly playing from your dashboard. Namjoon has been talking nonstop from the passenger seat, which is fine with Jungkook since he’s feeling a little tired. The last session of the day was a bit more intense than intended, but the client left happy and covered in sweat. A success. But Jungkook is sore and exhausted. Physically and socially.

A sense of relief floods him at the memory of his conversation with you. Things may actually be okay from here. Who would have thought crashing your noodle night with Namjoon could have yielded such results?

His head bobs to the music as his eyes wander across the scenery outside until he grows bored and they drift to the interior of your car. A graduation tassel swings from your rearview mirror as you turn. He follows the movement of the tassel when it swings towards you and his eyes land on your face, or at least what he can see of it from this angle.

You look focused and calm while conversing with Namjoon but your posture is a bit rigid and your hands remain planted on the steering wheel in complete control. There’s something about this candid snapshot of your persona that puts him at ease. Your voice is a soft contrast to Namjoon’s, but equally enthusiastic.

He tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, pulling the blanket over his lap and twisting the fabric around his palm. Your eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, catching his. He gives a tiny wave and rests his head against the cushion, fighting the temptation to close his eyelids for longer than a second. The more he listens to you laugh, the more he finds himself smiling. It’s goofy.

It’s also kind of cute.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook is surprised when Yoongi answers your knock; he thought he would be asleep. He’s even more surprised when you make yourself at home on his couch and guilt him with a puppy dog pout to make you a drink, and he complies. When Jungkook asks the same, Yoongi tells him there’s beer in the fridge while measuring out the ingredients for your cocktail. The suspicious sour ache of jealousy stabs his gut as he moseys to the fridge but he quickly shakes it off, settling on the floor in front of the tv with a beer in hand.

After a couple hours of drinking, laughing, and playing Jackbox games with the three men, you’re feeling much better about everything. Life is good. Friends are good. Alcohol is very good.

It doesn’t take much to get you drunk. You’re about as much of a lightweight as Hobi and for better or worse everyone has come to know that fact. What’s nice about drinking in Yoongi’s apartment is that you don’t have to walk very far to get home. Things don’t get awkward with the three of them together; it’s actually kind of nice, like a mini Saturday night pregame.

Soon Namjoon and Yoongi are snoring on the couch with a movie playing in the background while you stand in the kitchen with Jungkook. He pours another drink for himself, though he knows it will mostly likely remain unfinished. Tomorrow may bring a massive hangover, but tonight has been surprisingly pleasant. He feels like he’s finally on okay footing with you, maybe even on the road to serious repair. Amazing how well you get along when inhibitions are replaced by inebriation. If that’s what it takes, he’s determined to keep it up.

As he turns his back to place the liquor bottle in the cabinet by the fridge, you swipe a sip of the drink he’s concocted. He spins around in time to see you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out.

“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.

“Blegh. You can have it. Yuck!” Your face screws up again at the aftertaste.

He drunkenly giggles as he slides the drink closer to him. “What, don’t like sour?”

“Too sour!” You reach for the water bottle Yoongi gave you hours ago and attempt to rinse the puckering sensation from your mouth.

Amused, he tilts his head and watches you take gulp after gulp. He purses his lips and holds back the comment itching to escape, deciding to enjoy a sip of his drink instead. You shimmy out of your hoodie and tie it around your waist and his eyes lazily follow the motion of your arms, noting a slight difference in their musculature. Some errant thought about their shape leads him back to an earlier unaddressed comment that he’s finally comfortable enough to prod you about.

“What kind of workouts are you doing?” he blurts.

Suddenly you feel very exposed. You straighten in your seat and suck in your gut, hyper aware of every imperfection of your body on display to someone so in shape. You immediately begin to fidget with the sleeves of the hoodie you just tied around your waist.

“You don’t have to tell me. I just—” he pauses, exhaling a small breath and looking down at his drink as though he’s wary of continuing the thought.

“No, no it’s fine,” you assure him, too curious to say otherwise. “What is it?”

“When Namjoon said…” he sighs and takes a sip, smacking his lips and licking them before looking back to you. “I thought maybe I can prove myself to you by helping you come up with a plan.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You plant an elbow on the counter and lean on it.

“I want to,” he insists, reaching out for your arm.

His hand is like fire engulfing your skin and your eyelids flutter at the sensation. Instinctively you place a hand over his and rub your thumb anxiously over it. He looks down to where your thumb grazes his knuckles and then back up to your face with a surprised smile.

“Um… Everything,” you say, trying to sound as vague and nonchalant as possible so he doesn’t judge you for your lack of knowledge.

“Like, full body?”

“Uh...” You’ve managed to make a habit of going to his gym a few days a week while successfully avoiding him, but it seems that time is coming to an end. “I… machine.”

“Oh. Like at a gym? Did you join one?” He seems genuinely curious.

“Um, yeah.” Suddenly you pull your hand back when you realize the speed at which your thumb is moving.

“Which one?”

The more you say, the more suspicious you seem, but is saying less any better? Jungkook rests his elbow on the counter and simply looks at you but you don’t look back. A slow smile spreads his lips as the possibility dawns on him.

“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”

You puff your cheeks and force the air through the tiny opening of your mouth. You don’t offer any sort of confirmation and continue to avoid his gaze.

“And you didn’t tell me?” he playfully prods, drumming his fingers against your forearm.

“I… Yeah,” you admit, your voice small as you stare at the counter. “I didn’t want you to know.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“I don’t want to give you another thing to make fun of me for.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” When you don’t respond he tugs on your arm. The motion is enough to angle you towards him. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”

“What?” you grumble, staring at your lap even as you face him.

He takes your hands in his and drunkenly waves them around. “Heeeeeeeey. Look at me.”

He pouts until you reluctantly drag your eyes to meet his. “What?”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” he says softly. “Even me.”

The shift in his demeanor catches you off guard and you subconsciously lean forward as you relax. “Well I started with Hwasa, but I was too sore to ask for another session with her.”

He nods sympathetically, clapping his hand over yours. “You should try again.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I feel like…”

“Like?” he prods when you let the silence trail for a bit too long.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sigh. “I feel like I don’t belong there. I look so stupid reading the instructions on the machines. I don’t even think I’m doing it right.”

“What?” He makes a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “There’s nothing wrong with making sure you don’t hurt yourself. Nobody knows how to instantly do things. If they tell you they do, they’re lying.”

“Or they’re Namjoon,” you say with a roll of your eyes, glancing over at your snoring friend.

He smiles and clicks his tongue against his teeth in thought. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I started.”

“Really.”

You’re skeptical. It’s always seemed like he was born in a gym. Or maybe hatched. He’s kind of inhumanly gorgeous. Maybe he sprouted from a flower like a mythical god.

“For real. First time doing squats. I think it was gym class? Yeah, I was like twelve or thirteen. I was… not very athletic. Didn’t play sports or anything. Kind of shy. Didn’t really have a lot of friends either…”

The way he trails off makes your heart hurt. Puberty isn’t nice to most people. It’s hard to imagine a world where someone like Jungkook isn’t instantly popular and naturally fit. While you’re not exactly the same person you were at twelve, a lot of your interests and personality quirks have remained the same. You’re still painfully awkward at times. How did he manage to overcome something like that? Is it not ingrained in him like it is you?

“Just a big dork, you know?” He laughs. “I see this girl I had a crush on, Amber. She’s looking at me. I think I have to impress her. So I’m stacking up weight and I think I’m hot shit and go too fast. Know what happened?”

“Please don’t tell me you dropped it on your foot or something,” you plead, squeezing his palms at the way he’s building up the story. The secondhand embarrassment is too real.

“I hear a pop.”

“No!” you gasp, bringing your hands to your face as if you can stop the past from happening.

“And pain. So much pain. I don’t remember putting the weights down but I remember ending up on my back, staring up at the ceiling.”

“Oh no. Knees?”

“Worse.” He points down to his crotch. “Pulled a muscle in my groin. Had to sit the rest of the day with an ice pack on my junk. Was not fun. My point is: don’t give up. You learn more as you go. Give Hwasa another shot.”

His anecdote gives you pause but you’re desperate to cling to the comfort of your anxiety. “My free trial with her is almost up and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to keep at it.”

“More excuses,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “At this point I should just—” His eyes widen, a lightbulb practically forming above his head as he puts his cup down. “I’ll be your personal trainer!”

“Uhh…”

“No, no. It’s perfect. We’re friends now.” He smiles, proud of himself for finding a way to prove himself to you. “I can teach you everything you need to know about working out. I can set up a plan for you and figure out the best way to help you achieve your goals. Oh, man we’re gonna have to figure out your goals. What do you—”

“Hold on. Hold on,” you interrupt with a nervous laugh. “You’re missing the part where I still can’t afford it.”

He rolls his eyes and grabs your glass, holding it under the sink to refill it. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover it.”

You’re stunned into silence as you observe the expanse of his back, searching the black fabric of his t-shirt for the definition of his muscles. He sets the cup in front of you, waiting for your agreement. When it doesn’t come, he second guesses himself. Did he overstep?

“I mean if you’re okay with that. Would-would you want to do that?”

The innocent drunken sparkle in his eyes makes your stomach do a flip. When you woke up this morning you hardly thought the day would include getting sloshed with Jungkook and having him offer to take you on as a fitness trainee. It’s like he’s opened himself up just enough for you to see the soft mess beneath. You like it. You like it a lot and you kind of hate yourself for it. While you don’t know if you can trust him past the evening, you find yourself hoping you can.

“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask timidly before bringing the cup of water to your lips.

“It’s my job not to make fun of you. We start where you’re at and go from there. And like I said, I’ll cover the fees for as long as you want. No pressure.” He smiles at you. “What do you think?”

“...Okay,” you murmur with a nod of your head. “If you’re serious, then I’m… I’m in!”

His lips part to expose his teeth as his grin spreads. “Yes!”

As he brings his hand up in a sign of victory, his knuckles knock against his glass. You reach for the cup with impaired reflexes, hands fumbling over the slippery surface in conjunction with his. The sour contents spill across the counter as the pair of you struggle to right the glass. While he’s quicker at getting the glass upright, your brain is faster at processing what to do next and you already have a paper towel in hand, wiping up the liquid as fast as possible.

Your eyes follow the spill to the edge of the counter where it’s flooded over the side. Acting on instinct rather than rational thought, you quickly press down where the liquid has begun to pool in his lap. As you fold the paper towel over, you rub frantically as if the action will keep the stain from setting into the fabric. He shifts in his seat and squeaks out a sound so small that you can’t actually tell whether it came from him or the chair.

It only dawns on you how inappropriate your actions are when you glance towards his face and find his wide eyes gazing back at you. His cheeks, already flushed from inebriation, seem twice as vivid and his mouth is parted slightly as though he means to speak, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it’s too late for that.

Your palm stills against his crotch as the shape beneath becomes clear in your mind. For a second you’re frozen, but your lips work quickly to mumble an apology. It feels like an eternity before you will your drunken fingers to release the paper towel. The clearing of Jungkook’s throat is followed by a tiny giggle, then a full on snort. A grin spreads across your lips and you soon follow him into a fit of laughter. You thank the universe for the small mercy of being drunk enough to push your embarrassment to the side for the time being.

“I wasn’t thinking!” you wheeze, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’ll dry.” He laughs, dabbing his pants and shirt in the absence of your hand. As he stands he pulls the hem of his shirt away from his torso and looks down at it. “Really. It’s my fault I’m so…”

“Sticky?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a blatant flirtatious action thinly disguised as a joke as you eye the blot of liquor staining the lower half of his shirt.

Both of his eyebrows raise and a mischievous smile curls the corner of his lips. “...Wet.”

You consider his answer with a pleased hum and turn back to the counter to polish off the last of your water. You’re friends now, right? It can’t be that easy. But it kind of is. So what’s wrong with a little harmless flirting between friends?

Drunk brain, who happens to be a notorious hoe, assures you it’s great. Rational brain might disagree, but she’s taking a well-deserved nap. You’ve at least had a good night. You’re not sure it matters at this point who is giving you the attention you crave. It feels good. So good, in fact, you’re sure you can indulge drunk brain a little more.

You’re drawn to the inky shapes swirling around Jungkook’s bicep as he wipes the counter down. Every time your eyes begin to focus on an object marking his skin with some kind of meaning, he moves and you lose it. It’s brush strokes, isn’t it? You’ve definitely seen a paintbrush and mountains and a knife surrounded by roses. A swathe of grey and purple connects to each one you’ve seen, but you know there are more.

Before you can blurt that you’re dying to know how many he has and how bad it hurt to get them, he turns toward the sink and begins to work his t-shirt up his torso. You watch in awe as the toned muscles of his back are exposed. The image of the bright phoenix does little to hide their definition.

Trying to will yourself to look away is of no use; he’s hot and you’re drunk enough to acknowledge that fact. Of course he peeks at you just as the shirt slips over his head to find you open-mouthed and dazed, ogling him as though there isn’t any shame in the world that could pull your gaze from him. He turns to the fridge to give you a moment to compose yourself, nabbing a water bottle from the shelf in the process. You’re clearly not ready for the way he quickly spins on the balls of his feet to face you.

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

Your fingers hang in the air suspiciously until you lazily drop them. But Jungkook dons a toothy grin and has the audacity to look shy. He mockingly shields his chest from you with the shirt clutched in his hands.

“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”

Somehow you don’t let the fire in your face turn your brain to ash.“Pfft, no.”

“What’re you doing, then?” he teases with a laugh as he sits, scooting his chair closer to yours.

“Counting,” you reply simply, brow furrowed in concentration. To drive the point home, you poke at his flesh everywhere you can make out an object drawn into its surface.

“How many?” he wonders, watching with cloudy, amused eyes.

“Mmm…” You trail your finger down his arm and back up, following the curve of the brushstroke around his shoulder. “Can’t tell if this counts as one.”

He shrugs and rests his head on his palm as he leans against the counter. “What do you think?”

You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.

“I think… A lot.”

“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.

Awkward laughter steers the pair of you towards your waters. The TV in the background provides enough noise to steal your focus; you’re grateful for the distraction from the attractive man beside you. Drunk brain is telling you to touch him again, to grab his hand, to feel the touch of someone just for the night, to ruin every good thing this night has started to rebuild between you. Anything to stave off the emptiness of your bed, the 2AM thoughts of failure, and the drunken desperation to find someone, anyone, who will fall in love with whatever image you happen to project on your dating profile.

Heart pounding wildly in your chest and blood rushing through your ears, your fingertips tap against the countertop as they inch closer to where his arm rests. Luckily your futile attempts at nonchalance go unnoticed. Jungkook anxiously turns his water bottle over in his hands, trying to gather words in his brain before freeing them from his mouth.

“So…” he begins.

You jump at the sudden sound and retract your hand while he’s not paying you any mind.

“I was thinking. About that guy…”

You wish you could at least pretend you don’t know who he’s talking about. You’ve vented plenty tonight, but still your heart sinks. Deleting Jason’s digital footprint from your life was simple and quick, but the feelings of rejection and disappointment that swirl in the back of your mind spill forward the longer his pause continues.

“I know this probably means nothing coming from me. But I just— I know you liked him, but you can do better.“

Your posture stiffens at his reassurance and you find yourself grateful he’s not looking at you. Do you deserve better?

“You deserve better,” he affirms, as if somehow aware of your internal struggle.

“Thanks,” you murmur with a distinct lack of enthusiasm as you stare down your glass.

It's cry hours, isn’t it?

Realizing you don’t believe him, he takes a deep breath and nudges you with his elbow. “Hey.”

“What.” You refuse to look up because you know you’re on the verge of an irrational stream of tears over some guy you hardly knew. It’s stupid and you know it. But the wet warmth coating your eyes tells you it’s coming regardless.

“I’m... sorry that you don’t feel like you do. Some people can’t get over the weight of their own shit. But that doesn’t mean it’s on you to pick it up for them. If they can’t even bother to carry themselves to meet you halfway, then they’re not worth the effort.”

It’s a perfect time for your heart to seize up and it takes the opportunity to do so. The advice he offers doesn’t stave off the tears, but it resonates deep within you. Namjoon said something similar. It makes you ache to hear it again from someone else. It just leads you back to the same questions you keep asking yourself. What’s so wrong with you that people don’t even want to try? Is it your personality? Physicality? Is it a lack of confidence? What is it?

‘I can’t even get a shitty guy to like me. Maybe I’m the one not worth the effort.’ You don’t dare say those words out loud. Pity isn’t something you’re looking for. A warm body to fill your bed maybe, but not pity.

“Sounds easy when you say it like that,” you murmur, trying in vain to will the tears not to fall. You’re quick to swipe at them and force a smile. “I guess I have trouble giving up on people. It’s not that I’m naive. I try to be realistic. But no matter how many times I get fucked over I just... hope for the best in people. I can’t help it.”

He pats your arm reassuringly. “That’s why you deserve better.”

If only it was as simple as hearing those words and magically being able to believe it. A big chunk of your confidence has crumbled away and there’s no clear path to restoration. As the warmth of his palm comes to rest against your arm, you place your hand over his and squeeze.

“I don’t know if I believe it,” you pause and thoughtfully add, “but thanks for saying it.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he offers a tiny, “You’re welcome.”

A shaky chuckle passes your lips. All of his features seem to soften the more you look at them. Maybe it’s the drunken gloss coating his big brown eyes or the way his lips slightly part as he looks back at you. The tightly coiled nerves in your belly urge you to unravel.

Although it's a subtle gesture, he licks his lips as he smiles and it practically seals your fate. If you don't leave now you're bound to do something you'll regret.

"It's late. I should sleep."

Or masturbate.

The speed at which you launch yourself from the seat is unpleasant. You're not sure what's worse: the dizzying vertigo or waves nausea sloshing in your gut. Jungkook's reflexes may be delayed but he's a steady mass of muscle the moment you reach out to steady yourself.

"Whoa. You okay?"

"Maybe," you mumble, finding yourself drawn to the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of walking away, slump down to rest your cheek against his shoulder and sling an arm around him. You might be drunker than you thought. "I don't know."

"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"

"Just wanna stop spinning."

His stance shifts to better accommodate the additional weight you press against him.

"How about you take over Yoongi's bed tonight," he suggests softly. "He's passed out anyway."

"No, I should go home." You peel your cheek from the warmth of his skin.

“You gonna make it there?”

“Yes,” you say indignantly. The world may be a bit wobbly right now, but you’re certain you can handle the short stroll down the hall.

"Okay.” He smiles, loosening his hold. As you step back your foot catches on the leg of the chair and it drags loudly against the floor.

Despite Jungkook’s attempt to keep you standing by grabbing at your arms, he loses his balance and he drops to his knees. The chair clatters to the floor before your ass does. Luckily his grip keeps your back and head far from impact, but you’re too cramped to be comfortable.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Those big, dark doe eyes of his are frozen in fear and a frown adorns his face. He looks so serious it’s ridiculous.

You can’t help but laugh, wiggling backwards to make space between his body and the heat steadily building between your legs. “I’m fine. Stop making that face.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He sits back on his feet and tilts his head to the side in confusion.

He breaks into a fit of giggles when you dramatically mimic his expression. You roll back onto your elbows, making another ridiculous face to further mock him.

“No, no. It’s more like…” Jungkook takes the opportunity to lean over you, reaching with one hand to squeeze your cheeks to pucker your lips. You blow a disjointed raspberry at him before pulling his hand off to the side.

While the clamor of the fallen chair did nothing to rouse the men on the couch, the sound of Jungkook’s hearty laughter is loud enough to disturb the rhythmic snores of Namjoon.

Jungkook sits back on his heels and peeks over the countertop. He seems miles away, even as you sit up and scoot in to bring yourself closer. Laughter fades into a quiet hum as Namjoon’s snoring resumes.

You're lost in the abyss of his gaze as he turns his head to look back at you. All that remains in your brain at this point is a foggy desire to tug on the silky spirals of his ebony hair until he presses himself against you one more time.

Your hand settles for following the curves of his bicep instead, wondering how it might feel to be wrapped within his embrace. Some might say liquor makes you bold and stupid, and they're right. They should say it. But it also makes you feel invincible, like a goddamn glowing Mario star power-up.

"Princess?"

Enraptured, his eyes follow the motion of your hand as it slithers around his arm and squeezes. Unable to ignore the prompt, he answers with a flex against your palm. His ego swells when you shiver and noticeably hold your breath.

You know it's a mistake. You know it goes against all of your sober judgement, but you find yourself doing it anyway. It doesn't matter that you still harbor a grudge that holds your heart hostage. Drunk hoe vibes are taking the wheel. You’re tired, drunk as hell, and just want to feel wanted. And he's here.

Every fiber of your inebriated being is singing in unison: Why the fuck not?

Heartbeat pounding against your eardrums, you attempt to gauge his reaction as you lean towards him. It's hard to tell from beneath half-lidded eyes, but you think he's leaning towards you too. If he isn't you suppose you can always play it off like you're just a mess. It's not far from the truth. Focusing on the tiny freckle below his lip, you allow yourself to finally close your eyes and go for it.

But the universe isn’t here for your dumb boozy bitch mistakes.

The front door swings open with the sound of jingling keys dropping to the floor. It snaps you back to reality and you freeze, realizing there's no defense that will save you. Jungkook is quick to disengage, poking his head above the counter to acknowledge Hoseok’s presence with a wave. But his friend is completely enamored with the company he’s ushering towards his bedroom.

“Yeah, baby? How bad?” Hoseok whispers to the giggling girl wrapped around his arm.

He pins the stranger against the door to drag his tongue across her neck. Their bodies move rhythmically in a slow grind, a precursor for what’s likely to come. Jungkook purses his lips. How long until one of them notices him watching? It’s not until the girl moans Hoseok’s name softly that Jungkook spares a panicked look towards you.

Oh shit.

You gesture for him to get down before he draws their attention. The last thing you want to explain is why you’re on your knees in Hoseok’s kitchen with a very shirtless Jungkook standing close by. He obliges your silent request, squatting down beside you.

“Feel how hard you made me?” Hobi chuckles quietly.

The girl giggles, her voice growing closer. “You gonna fuck me right here or what?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Naughty girl. What if my roommate wakes up? Looks like he has a friend over too. You really want them to see what a dirty slut you are?”

You can hear her giggle as he directs her where to go, failing to keep his voice down so you hear every filthy thing he says after. Your hands fly to cover your mouth. Is your skin made of lava? You want to blame it on the close proximity to Jungkook, but the only thing you can imagine is Hoseok’s dick and the eager mystery woman about to be impaled by it. Can you scrub your brain of this memory? How are you supposed to look at him after this?

Jungkook watches your face carefully, trying his hardest not to laugh. Your eyes look so big he’s pretty sure they could roll out of your skull any second. Are you really so innocent? The way you cover your mouth says you are, but maybe it’s just the shock. Maybe you’re just trying to not laugh. Or scream. Or breathe? It kind of looks like you might pass out.

Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.

Once you hear Hoseok's bedroom door close, you fuss your hands over your hair and scramble to your feet, releasing a big exhale. The hushed words fall from your lips while you scurry away like a timid mouse. "I should go."

Despite being too far to make contact, he reaches out as you round the counter. "Wait—"

As soon as the word leaves his mouth he struggles to come up with the rest of his statement. There’s no reason to keep you here, except to maybe laugh a little about what just happened to smooth over any second-hand embarrassment. So why doesn’t he want you to go?

He swallows down the blank space caught in his throat and searches every last crevice of his brain for something of import to say. Guilt weighs his gut down, though there isn’t a clear cause. He’s probably screwed something up again without realizing it.

“Thanks for giving me another shot,” he says softly.

You breathe a sigh of relief and offer a tiny smile as you half turn, your hand already on the door handle. “Don’t blow it.”

He nods with a smile. “I won’t. Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” you mumble.

As soon as the door is closed you practically sprint down the hall to lock yourself within your apartment. Maybe it will also lock out all the mistakes your brain has made tonight.

The world feels colder now that you’re not pressed against the human-shaped heater that is Jeon Jungkook. Thinking about him makes your heart swell and ache at the same time. Regardless of how badly you wish you'd asked him to bed, you know loneliness is fleeting and guilt would be a far worse feeling to be saddled with.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook picks up the fallen chair, finding your soft, worn hoodie draped over it. Rubbing a thumb over the material, he considers running it back to you, but he can't remember which door is yours. It's not like he's been here often enough to know. Instead he slips his arms through the sleeves before flipping the hood over his head.

He settles on the floor in the space he previously claimed for the night, pulling a blanket out from under Yoongi's ass. Yoongi rolls his head up, a scowl on his features though his eyes remain closed. He grumbles but lies down, facing the couch.

Jungkook regards his friend for a moment before deciding to drape the blanket over him instead of claiming it for himself. Jungkook rolls onto his side and fluffs the throw pillow under his head. As he watches the credits roll on the TV, he nuzzles into your sweater.

He closes his eyes, thinking of you. He knows he shouldn't linger on the little occurrences of the night, especially with how foggy his brain is. He can't trust anything about his memory.

Still he thinks of the way your fingers trailed along his arm and curled tightly around his bicep. He lets himself dwell on the tiny sound you made, the involuntary tremble of your body, and the subsequent hitch in your breath.

He smiles and inhales the subtle scent you've left behind. A new spark of adrenaline fans flames that inflate his ego, spreading warmth from his stomach up into his chest. The world may wobble around him right now, but the little magical warmth within his gut helps him comfortably drift off to dreamland like he's the world's most immovable object.

#smutcentralnet #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #bts fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic

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teklarn · 3 years

Note

I NEED A PART TWO FOR BAUKGOU’S AWKWARD CONFESSION!!

𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓵 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 𝓹𝓽. 2

character(s): katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

a/n: k the first one kinda blew up and i've been on tumblr for like a week and it made me rly happy receiving the requests ty <33 thank u for all the reblogs too !! this is a bit later than i hoped it would come out b/c half of the original fic was deleted by accident, but i’m on summer break until sept 5 so hopefully i’ll still update frequently.

𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕!

summary: bakugou finds he’s rejecting his feelings for you in fear of becoming weak, however he just can’t seem to ignore you.

genre: lil angsty, fluffy at the end

warnings: cursing, one-sided pining, gave reader a quirk, the fighting scene is bs i cannot write action scenes at all im so sorry lol, second hand embarrassment for our dearest dynamight :(

word count: 2507

pls don't mind any typos! i try to edit to the best of my ability but i tend to type fast and i might miss a few or a lot of things.

- - -

read part one here my loves !!

you found yourself bored, cheeks puffing out as you swirled around the drink in your glass cup, sitting across from midoriya. he was muttering again, which you’d always found cute, however you weren’t listening this time at all.

part of the reason you’d rejected bakugou was due to the fact midoriya had requested your attention first, and not as friends. if you’d told bakugou that, it would just wound his delicate ego on top of the fact that you truly had no interest in him whatsoever.

at the moment, though, he was the only thing on your mind. there was no sudden spark of attraction you’d felt when he’d confessed. of course, anyone would find it flattering that the katsuki bakugou found you attractive. his standards were higher than the clouds.

at the moment, it felt like something was blocking your chest from feeling something for him, however you couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“—it was amazing, right, y/n? y/n?”

your eyes flickered up to meet the emerald, wide-eyed eyes of your friend. you contemplated lying, but it was no use. shaking your head softly and pursing your lips, you set your drink down. “i’m sorry, midoriya. i’m just kind of...out of it, i guess you could say?”

he cocked his head to the side. “’out of it’?” he repeated.

“yeah,” you sighed, head pounding.

“is everything alright? maybe today isn’t the best time for this.”

“yeah,” you agreed. “maybe.”

“do you want to go back to the dorms?”

you nodded, massaging your temples. “yeah, yeah let’s go home.”

midoriya let out a soft chuckle through his nose, smiling. “alright.” he offered his hand, and you gladly let him heave you up.

“i’m sorry about this. honestly, midoriya, i enjoy your company, i really do. but i never assumed you’d catch feelings for me too—”

“too?” he blinked. the two of you continued on your way back to Heights Alliance.

you gulped. “yeah, there’s—”

“are you saying you caught feelings for me, as well?”

your eyes fell blank, lips parting in question. “no, uh. you know what? never mind.” you giggled gently in hopes the two of you would laugh it off without another thought. perhaps you should keep you and bakugou’s quiet interaction to yourself. midoriya and bakugou were already rivals enough.

the following week was agonizing in many ways. sitting beside bakugou guaranteed that you would get strange, judgmental looks. it never guaranteed his stolen glances. when you’d catch him staring, his cheeks would flare up, and you swore he had smoke puffing out his ears.

each time, he looked as if he would explode. what can you expect from a guy like him?

it was easy to assume you’d just pissed him off, though. you weren’t the type of person to tell everyone you’d been asked out, but you needed to speak to someone about it. the thought had been nagging you, stuck at the back of your mind but just on the tip of your tongue.

you even found that you were distancing yourself from midoriya, who, after asking you out, had insisted you begin calling him izuku. over everyone else, you’d choose him to speak to about the matter, but ever since you’d discovered he had feelings all along, it was strange being around him.

you viewed him differently. he shot you glimmering smiles and blushed softly when you said his first name.

“y/n?”

you twisted around to see mina rocking on her heels behind you. “yes?”

“are you okay? you seem...how do i put this.” she tapped a pink finger against her lips. “off. you seem off. is everything alright?”

your brows raised. “oh, yeah. i’m good. thanks for checking in.”

“is there anything you want to talk about?” she adjusted her hero costume. you and the rest of the girls were currently changing for another training exercise.

yaoyorozu fixed her hero costume. “i don’t mean to impose on anything, but i have to agree with mina, y/n. of course, there’s no pressure to tell us anything. you’re under no obligation to unless you need and want to talk to someone, but we’re here if you need us, okay?”

you nodded, smiling softly. “thanks you guys.”

it was the same training as before, however you were able to select a partner of your own. being that there were 21 students in the class, there was always ought to be a group of three, or one person left out. you’d come into yuuei out of pure luck, as some like to put it.

you’d found it offensive they’d assumed it was that and not your own pure skill. it’d taken a while to re-convince yourself that you were worthy of being in the class, even if you were usually the odd one out.

most students had already bonded by the time you arrived here, so finding a partner wasn’t always easy. once you and midoriya had gotten close, you two did most things together, however at the moment, you weren’t quite feeling it.

surprisingly, your eyes caught bakugou standing alone, eyes scanning the room for a partner. kirishima must have partnered up with another friend, then. it was always them together.

unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough to avoid either of them. bakugou was already trotting up to you, eyes locked on your figure just as midoriya began jogging to your side.

in perfect unison, they asked, “be my partner?” (in two very different tones, of course.)

you blinked between them, about to answer when aizawa came up behind you three.

“are you guys in the group of three?” your teacher deadpanned.

your shoulders slumped. “yeah, i guess so.”

“get to work. you’ve already wasted five minutes standing around.”

you nodded politely. “yes, sensei.”

you swallowed. bakugou’s crimson gaze was pinning you in your spot, and midoriya’s lips thinned with a lack of enthusiasm when bakugou looked back at him.

“get to work, you three,” aizawa repeated, walking away.

“i can take on both of you.” bakugou cracked his knuckles.

you clenched your fists. “we already know you’re at the top of the class, bakugou. there’s no need to rub it in our faces.”

he averted his eyes, cheeks flushing red. it was like a sad, silly way of letting you know you won this fight.

“i’ll go against you two,” you said, adjusting your hero costume.

midoriya’s eyes widened. “what? y/n, but—”

“but i’m not strong enough?” you finished for him. you knew where they ranked in strength, and while yours was just as powerful, if you let one thing slip, your arrows would disappear and you’d be dust. “that’s exactly my point, you two are practically at the top of the class with your quirks.”

“tch, don’t hold back,” bakugou said, readying himself.

“don’t go easy on me,” you mocked.

“y/n, do you really think this is a good idea—” before izuku could finish, you and bakugou launched yourselves at one another.

you charged forwards. an arrow flew from your hand, twisting its way right through the smoke of an explosion. when it cleared, bakugou was nowhere to be seen.

a gasp fell from your lips as you turned around just a little too late. your ears rang terribly as your back collided with the ground.

izuku cried out. green lightning flashed, and he was at your side in a moment. “kacchan!”

you groaned, sitting up. bakugou cut through the smoke with an arm. “fight me, damned nerd. there aren’t any pauses in a real fight.”

you wriggled yourself away from midoriya. “midoriya, you’re my enemy in this.”

“bu—”

“no buts. fight me. and don’t hold back.”

midoriya noted the determination in your eyes and stood, giving you a sure nod. you were back on your feet in a second. bakugou flew in the air and came crashing down just as fast as he conjured a blast in his right hand.

attacking wasn’t your best option right now. you were smart enough to know that. an arrow appeared flat at your back and pulled you from where bakugou was targeting.

cement flew into the air.

that blast could have wounded you badly. possibly killed you, if he’d hit the right spots.

in the air, you examined their zealous features. midoriya’s brows were furrowed in that determined smolder.

bakugou, as always, looked angry. as expected, he charged first, shooting himself into the air. his foot nearly collided with your face, missing my barely an inch. you took your shot, revealing the arrow you’d hidden behind your back. the tip collided with his chest.

you left the arrow to complete its command and stick your blonde opponent to the wall and trap him there while you went after midoriya.

while he bested you in strength, you did the same to him when it came to speed. you dodged his punches like they were weak attempts at hitting a ball in a park.

you grinned. in a battle of strength and speed, whoever landed the first hit would win. there was no question.

twisting in the air, you allowed the ball of your foot to shove midoriya to the ground. he cried out as his face was crushed into the cement.

it was perfect timing, as bakugou ripped free of your hold, the arrow keeping him in one spot dissolving into air as soon as its purpose was lost.

your head whipped around to see him charging for you.

your fingers curled. the headache pounding at your temples was beginning to get hard to ignore.

bakugou launched himself at you, spinning in the air like a missile. he really wasn’t going to howitzer you...right?

when he didn’t slow down, you threw your body to the right, the attack just barely missing your leg. it scorched a bit of your thigh. a groan fell from your lips as you cupped the area around the burn, shuddering with pain.

bakugou’s chest was puffed proudly as he marched up to you, hands cracking with excited explosions.

he pulled back his right arm, ready to spark up another fight as midoriya recollected himself. you bit your lip to hide the fact you were quivering.

it was sudden, but bakugou paused when he saw your hand fly up.

“give me a minute...” you gasped out, skin still sizzling.

“y/n! are you alright?”

you didn’t respond. midoriya smacked his friend’s arm. “kacchan! what’re you thinking?”

“midoriya, i’m fine. don’t stress over it.” you limped to your feet, rejecting the extended hand from your green-haired friend. “i’ll just go see recovery girl.”

“do you need—”

you smacked midoriya’s hand away, a little bit more rude than you intended it to be. “i’ll be...fine.” you offered a weak smile to hopefully make up for your tiny outburst.

although you could see in his eyes he wanted to help, midoriya nodded and stood by, hand falling back to his side. you clutched around the patch of burned skin. the sting had faded a bit, however there was a soreness to the wound that felt like a constant stabbing to your leg.

you swallowed the pain down, marching towards the exit with determination and a bit of a limp.

you looked back to see midoriya had gone off to tell mr. aizawa what was going on. your teacher nodded, understandingly.

there were a few worried glances and offers for help in the hall, but you’d neglected them all and found yourself relieved to see recovery girl in her office, typing away.

she turned as the door opened. “please knock beforehand next time—oh, dear. y/n? are you alright?”

you gave a tense nod. “mhm. just got a bit banged up in training today.”

the old woman pursed her lips, smile lines becoming evident. “i see.” she led you to the small cot reserved for patients such as yourself and directed you to sit down.

she examined the bruise. “it’s fairly bad. what happened?”

you made a gesture to the door. “i was brawling with bakugou and things got...intense.”

“that boy has quite an extreme side to him, as i’ve come to notice.”

“mhm,” you agreed.

“unfortunately, y/n, i have no ointments to be able to treat this properly.”

you nodded sheepishly before the old woman smooched your cheek. a soft green glow radiated around you.

when she pulled back, she said, “now, your body will be trying to catch up on the healing process. that’s what my quirk does. speed up recoveries. since it’s sped up, you’ll require some rest, preferably sleep. i’ll make sure your teachers know you’re excused for the rest of the day, sound good?”

“yes, thank you recovery girl.”

she pushed herself out of her rolling chair and left the room, smiling at you.

your eyes fluttered shut not long after that.

the sun was gone when you woke up, the hallway light flickering off.

“good, you’re awake.”

you looked to the left. you cried out, gathering the white sheets around yourself despite being completely clothed. “bakugou! what the hell? you stalker! you creep!”

bakugou took the slap you gave him on his arm. it was light, and didn’t do much damage.

“what...what do you want?”

even in the dark, you could tell bakugou’s cheeks were burning red. “about...about the other day. i wanted to talk to you about it.”

your chest fluttered in unwanted hope. “there’s nothing to talk about.”

“dammit, y/n, i wish there wasn’t anything to talk about. you’re insufferable and annoying and i can’t stand being around you because no matter what’s going on, you make my chest feel all funny. it’s stupid, and i can’t take my eyes off of you.”

heat rushed to your cheeks. “i’m flattered, really. but i-”

“i’m not asking you to reciprocate my shitty feelings. if anything, it’s better if you don’t.”

“bakugou, i wasn’t...” you paused.

“you what?” he snapped, voice soft despite his tone.

“i was going to say that ever since you...ever since you asked me out, i’ve been conflicted about my own feelings.”

“the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“i’m not sure if i like you back or not, bakugou. but hearing you say all this...makes me want to give it a shot. sort of. also, why the hell are you watching me sleep?”

bakugou swept hair from his eyes. “don’t go and try to change the subject on me, dumbass.”

you gulped.

“so what’re you saying?”

“i’m saying,” you started, “i’m saying that maybe i want to go out on that date with you.”

“say it again.”

“what?” you looked up, his eyes boring into yours.

“i said i want you to say it again. tell me you want to go out on a date with me.”

it startled you how sure he was when he knew what you wanted, too. this was unlike the last attempt to ask you out.

“katsuki bakugou, i want to go on a date with you.”

he grinned. “where to?”

237 notes · View notes

ticklishfiend · 4 years

Text

Pure Gold (My Hero Academia)

Lee!Mina / Ler!Bakugou ⚠️PLATONIC⚠️

A/N : haven’t posted a fic in a while cause my laptop broke but hey!! i fixed it!! so here we go. i wanna make a sequel to this with the sleepover mentioned at the end, so if ur interested or have any ideas, lemme know!!

Summary: Mina catches Bakugou in a very incriminating circumstance, and of course, records it (cause how could she not). Unfortunately for her, Bakugou doesn’t think this is as funny as she thinks it is, but decides to make her laugh with his own methods anyways.

Word Count: 3084

REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED, MWAH <33 xoxo

. . .

Mina rolled onto her right side for what had to be the millionth time tonight, nothing ever feeling comfortable enough to just loll her into the right sleepy headspace she needed to get some goddamn shuteye. She’s never really had many problems with falling asleep before, so why tonight she had to be burdened with this temporary insomnia was beyond her.

Mina threw her arm out behind her back towards her bedside table, fingers fumbling around for her phone before finding it connected to the charger. Detaching it from it’s plug, she brought it towards her, face flinching at the sudden brightness before her eyes adjusted to the light. She groaned as she scanned over the time, 1:02AM, far later than she would typically still be awake. Sure, it was Friday so she didn’t have any classes to worry about the next day, but it was still frustrating to get off her normal sleeping schedule so suddenly and for seemingly no reason. She had to fix it soon before she pulled an accidental all-nighter.

Whining and groaning the whole way, Mina threw her legs out over the side of her bed, dangling her feet for a moment before slipping them into her cute fuzzy panda slippers she kept on her bedside. The girl figured her best bet for now would be to drink one of the soothing teas that Momo kept lying around in the kitchen for anyone to use. She dragged herself towards the door, allowing her arms to stretch over her head with a yawn before grabbing at the cold metal door handle and slowly creaking open the entrance.

She was careful to be quiet, turning the handle before shutting the door as to avoid any unnecessary clicks. She’d be damned if she made any of her light-sleeper classmates go through the same sleepless night she was currently going through by waking them up so late in the night. She walked heel to toe through the carpeted hallway, finding her way to the elevator finally and breathing a sigh of relief as the doors closed without a dinging sound.

After what felt like a treacherous journey, she finally made it to the corner that would lead her to both the kitchen and common area. But, before she turned the corner, she saw a light illuminating off the walls coming from the commons. Her brow quirked, not expecting any type of light to be shining from the area.

No worries, she thought. If someone accidentally left a light on I’ll just turn it off real quick so no one gets in trouble, easy peasy! She finally made it around the corner when it finally dawned on her where the light source was coming from in the first place; the TV.

Her eyes met the muted TV that seemed to be playing a...romance anime? The subtitles were on and the volume was completely turned off, so whoever had been watching it was obviously aware of how late it was and was trying to stay quiet for the rest of the class like Mina had been.

The pink girl watched the screen for a moment, reading the subtitles to find that one of the characters had apparently just confessed their love to someone else in some heroic fashion. It was super cute, and she’ll definitely have to look up whatever this is so she can watch it in her own time. Before she could make her way towards the action to turn the TV off, however, she heard...is that…?

...sniffles?

She paused, her ears perking up at the sound just in case she had imagined it. Then, no more than 3 seconds later, she heard it again. Sniffles, this time accompanied by a little groan of what sounded like endearment. This is so cute, she thought to herself, bringing her hand to her mouth to cover up any giggles that dared to escape. Someone’s crying about a romance anime right now, and it definitely sounded like one of the boys too! There’s no way I can’t find out who this is.

As quietly and sneakily as the acidic girl possibly could, she made her way towards the back of the couch, crouching down just slightly as to not alert them with her shadow. She finally allowed her eyes to peer just above the top of the cushion aaaand…

…

BAKUGOU?!

Mina could hardly believe what she was seeing. Was she complaining? Absolutely not, this was pure gold, it was just surprising! THE Bakugou Katsuki, curled up on the corner of the couch swaddled in a fluffy All Might blanket, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes with an actual smile on his face. He stuffed his mouth with popcorn before wiping his tears with the corner of his printed blanket, muffling a small “Finally,” into the fabric.

There was no chance in hell Mina was going to miss this golden opportunity.

Like a spy, Mina quickly but quietly snatched her phone from the pocket of her sleep shorts, opening the camera before pressing record. She zoomed in on the romantic scene displayed on the screen, before slowly panning down to the still sniffling Bakugou, the light from the TV bright but his smile even brighter. She hit the off button before stuffing the phone back in her pocket with a grin, quietly making her way towards the kitchen.

She went to take a mug out of one of the top cabinets, purposefully shutting it louder than she needed to to alert the blonde on the sofa. He jumped at the noise, whipping his head around towards the girl before throwing his arm towards the coffee table to snatch the remote and turn the TV off with force.

“Why the fuck are you in here, Pinky?!!” Bakugou whisper-shouted from across the room, and though the light from the TV was now gone, Mina could just tell he had to be blushing from embarrassment. She grinned widely.

“Oh, y’know, couldn’t sleep,” She smirked, not looking Bakugou’s direction while filling her kettle with tap water. “I’m guessing the romantic buildup had to be pretty intense to make THE Lord Explosion Murder shed a few tears, huh?”

Bakugou froze before his body started to shake with anger, launching himself over the back of the couch and lunging towards Mina, grabbing her by the shoulders and digging his fingers into the flesh aggressively. He was seething, his jaw clenched and eyes white with anger, and though Mina was a little shaken up when he initially grabbed her, she couldn’t help but giggle when remembering what she had just seen moments ago.

“I WILL KILL YOU, YOU ALIEN FUCK!” He almost-shouted, and it was obvious he was still cautious of waking anyone up so Mina wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about what she had witnessed. “You keep this shit to yourself, got it?! Cause I’m not scared to fucking kill you!”

“Oh I know that, Blasty,” she smiled up at him, unable to suppress another giggle. “It’s too bad I got your little cry-sesh on camera then, huh?”

Bakugou’s face fell, his eyes wide before he squeezed even tighter into her shoulders. “You...you WHAT?!?!” Mina had meant to let out another laugh at his expense, but it turned into a yelp as she was aggressively hoisted up over his shoulder.

Mina kicked and laughed, hitting at his back to no avail as he stomped towards the couch and unceremoniously threw her down onto it, pinning her against the cushions, her hands now laying flat underneath his knees that were thrown over her waist.

“Woah, take me out to dinner first!” Mina’s eyes were wide as she let out a nervous chuckle. She tugged at her hands, but they weren’t going anywhere under his weight. She even tried kicking a little against the cushion, but yet again, nothing.

“Not into you like that, Pinky,” He aggressively pointed towards her face, the angry scowl never leaving his now wrinkled expression. “And you’re gonna delete that fucking video, got it?!”

“Are you kidding me?! I could never delete that! It’s gold and you know it!” Mina exasperated, shocked he could even consider that a possibility.

“NO IT’S FUCKING NOT!” He whisper-shouted into her face, moving his hand even closer to her face until it booped her nose, her eyes crossing down to look at it. “Delete it, Horns...or I’ll fucking make you.”

Mina uncrossed her eyes and looked up to Bakugou, whose face remained angry and undeterred. She sighed, “Ok, first of all, they’re not horns; they’re antennas. Secondly, you were too cute in the video to delete it! I’m sorry, Baku, but I can’t do that.”

Bakugou just grunted, moving both of his hands down now to grip at her waist, making her eyes widen with a sudden knowing fear. “I am NOT cute, and you WILL delete that fucking video, Pink-Fuck! You always give in to this shit,” Bakugou couldn’t help the smirk that rose on his face as he squeezed her sides once, making her jump and yelp.

“Nohoho! Bakugou, please, not thihis!” Mina couldn’t help the giggles that left her lips even if he hadn’t properly done anything yet. It was just the knowing of what was to come that caused nervous laughter to bubble from her chest and into both their ears.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, moron,” Bakugou said, eyeing down at her waist before noticing the phone-sized bulge in her shorts pocket. He smirked, reaching down and pulling it from its hiding spot. He looked at the screen before huffing, turning it to face her eyes. “Gimme the code. Now.”

“No way! You’ll just delete the video!” Mina said before yelping with another jerk as he pinched at her side again. “Dohon’t!” He sat her phone down on the arm of the couch before wiggling both his hands over her belly, the sight alone making her shriek and let out a flow of giggles.

“You’re gonna wanna give me that code, loser,” Bakugou grinned, jerking his hands down towards her stomach without touching her and bringing them back up, making Mina jerk aggressively with another yelp. “I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already freaking out! This is gonna fucking suck for you if you don’t let me delete that damn video!”

Mina just pursed her mouth shut tightly, shaking her head “no” while letting little huffs of suppressed laughs escape from her nose. Bakugou just sighed, raising his wiggling fingers just slightly higher before a wide, sadistic grin cemented itself to his face.

“You asked for this.”

Before she had time to retaliate, wiggling fingers came down to pinch up her sides and into the dips of her ribs, sending her into a cackling fit. She kicked uselessly from behind him, tugging at her trapped hands to no avail.

Bakugou used his right hand to dig his fingertips into the bottom of her ribs, while skittering his other nails over her quivering belly. She sucked her stomach in as much as possible, but with each laugh it was brought back up, practically tickling itself on his fingers.

“Bakugohohou! Plehehease! Nohoho!” She squealed, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as he continued his relentless but playful torture.

“No what?” the blonde teased, using his index and middle fingers to vibrate into her tummy. She let out a shriek at that, jerking violently while trying to smush her face into the cushion beside her. “Ohoho, that bad, huh? Pretty effective method if I do say so myself,” Bakugou then used his two fingers on each hand to vibrate into her lower ribs, a spot he knows all too well is absolutely unforgiving. She screamed at this, shaking her head side to side as laughs poured from her gut. “I always get what I want, Pinky, and this isn’t gonna be any fucking different.”

Mina couldn’t help the loud shrieks and squeals that left her body, tossing herself from side to side with no effect whatsoever. “GAHAHAHA! Plehehease! It tickles too muhuhuch!”

“Not my fucking problem,” Bakugou went back to his squeezing method from before, this time bringing one hand down to pinch at her hip. Mina jolted at the touch, screaming and cackling at his relentless squeezing. “The code, moron, lest you forget about what got you here in the first place.”

“Nehehever! I cahahan’t!” she laughed before gasping in a breath of air as his hands let go of her body for a moment. She hesitantly opened one of her eyes to look at her tormentor, who was yet again wiggling his fingers over her tummy. She shut her eyes again tight at the sight, a new bout of giggles leaving her from anticipation. “Nohoho!”

“You can never handle being teased, can ya?” Bakugou grinned, before bringing both his hands back down to lift up her nightshirt up to her bottom ribs.

“No! No no no! Please! Bakugou, let’s talk about this!” Mina spluttered out nervously, opening her eyes to see him just ghosting his fingers over her still quivering belly. She tossed her head back with a giggly whine, kicking her feet behind him like a child in a tantrum.

“Nope. You had your damn chance, and you blew it,” He smirked devilishly, bringing his fingers down to gently skitter over her now bare belly, dissolving her into a fit of high-pitched giggles. “Now you’re gonna get-” BZZZ! BZZZ!

Bakugou paused his previously wiggling fingers, his head whipping up and eyes making contact with the now buzzing phone resting on the arm of the couch. He groaned when he read who was calling on Mina’s FaceTime, resting one hand on his knee while reaching out and swiping the phone from it’s resting spot (though his knees were still pressed firmly against Mina’s trapped hands- he hadn’t yet planned on stopping her torment.)

Bakugou pressed the bright green button on the screen and stared blankly at the dark screen as Denki answered. The boy had obviously been trying to sleep, evident by the fact no lights were on in his room.

“Bakugou?” The boy asked groggily on the other end, and even though Bakugou couldn’t technically see his face, he knew he had to have the dumbest expression printed all over it.

“Yes, what the hell do you want Pikachu?” Bakugou growled at the screen.

“Can you tell Mina to quit screaming? I could tell it’s her, her laughs are always the same; just so fuckin’ loud,” Denki chuckled, and Bakugou could hear his sheets shuffling. “What’s got her laughing so hard anyway? You aren’t exactly the funniest person on the planet.”

“I’M FUCKING HILARIOUS YOU DUNCE!” Bakugou shouted angrily into the phone, gripping it tightly as Mina just prayed he wouldn’t crush it with his pure fiery rage. “And that’s none of your fucking buisness!” Bakugou paused, looking down at Mina who had a sheepish grin on her face. He sighed. “She’ll be quiet now. Just go to sleep so you aren’t dumber tomorrow than you usually are,” Bakugou huffed, hanging up without allowing the blonde on the other end to get any word in.

The explosive teen threw Mina’s phone down beside her on the couch, hoisting himself off her with a scowl on his face and a roughness to his movements. Mina couldn’t help but feel a little guilty as he jerked his blanket out from under the girl aggressively and began making his way away from the couch. She quickly sat up and snatched his wrist, pulling him back slightly and making the boy grunt, looking back at her with tense brows.

“How about a compromise?” She proposed, a small grin on her face. He looked at her through squinted eyes for a moment, questioning her request. Finally, he rolled his eyes with a huff.

“Hit me with it,” he didn’t look at her in the eyes, but she celebrated internally at the fact he wasn’t too visibly angry at her.

“I’ve got a sleepover tomorrow with all the girls, and we’ve been dying for a special guest,” She bit her lip with a cheek-tearing smirk as his brow somehow managed to furrow even deeper. “Hang out with us for just a few hours tomorrow night; you don’t even have to sleep over, just stay for the fun parts. I’ll delete the video as soon as it’s over.”

He continued to stare at her questioningly, obviously not convinced nor happy with this compromise. She needed to give him more.

“I promise I won’t show a soul the video if you promise to go tomorrow. No one will even know it existed before it’s already gone,” she said, before deciding to finally pull out the big guns. She pouted out her bottom lip and lowered her wide eyes, eyebrows piercing upwards like a sad puppy. “Pleeease Bakugou? I promise it’ll be fun!”

He paused, staring at her sad little face and feeling himself go slightly soft inside while staring at his friend. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and jerked his arm out of the girl’s grasp with a loud groan.

“Fine...as long as this shit stays between us...I guess I’ll go,” Bakugou nearly whispered the last part, as if the words had to crawl their way out of his throat while being tied down from his sheer stubbornness alone.

Mina couldn't help the shriek of excitement she let out, her mouth quickly getting covered by Bakugou's large calloused hand while his other planted an index finger on his own mouth towards her. “Shut the fuck up Pinky, we already woke Dunce up!” She just smiled behind his hand, nodding up and down quickly.

Bakugou let out a sigh as he moved his hand from her face, using his fingers to squeeze at the bridge of his nose. “You are so fucking annoying, y’know that?”

Mina just giggled, standing up and giving Bakugou a hug so quick he couldn’t pull away from it. He stood in shock for a moment, before shoving her shoulder and making the girl fall back on the couch with an oof! followed by her giggles. He just rolled his eyes with a, “Tch,” throwing his blanket over his shoulder and walking towards the hallways.

“Night, Blasty! Get ready for the night of your life tomorrow!” She whisper-shouted towards the exiting boy, who only flipped her off as his body finally disappeared into the shadows of the shared hallways.

. . .

A/N : hope you enjoyed!! i didn’t rlly proofread this so if it’s terribly written i apologize lmaoo, again if ur interested in a part 2 lemme know!!! much love <3 xoxo

#my hero academia #my fic #mha #tickling #tickle fic #tickle community #mha tickle #bakugou #mina #katsuki bakugou #mina ashido #ler!bakugou #lee!mina #bnha #boku no hero academia #ticklish

178 notes · View notes

hange-zone · 3 years

Note

Hello! I really like this song called Heather by Conan Gray. Can I please request an eremin fic based on it and with a happy ending? (I'm not great with angsts.😂)

They’re under the bleachers – far away from anyone else, close together. Eren’s hands are soft in his. He’s holding them gingerly, as if he’s afraid that his fingers would leave a mark on the back of Armin’s palms, something that told the whole world they’d touched. His breath brushes Armin’s cheek. Their faces are inches from each other and he can’t bear to look Eren in the eyes. Instead, his gaze flickers to his lips – there’s a sheen to them where he’d licked them nervously, pink tongue going round and round and there were little droplets of sweat above his upper lip, a tiny beaded mustache.

A single moment of wanting seizes him and before the fear kicks in, Armin leans forward clumsily and presses his lips against the other boy, who responds with an equal and opposite reaction.

He was thinking about that now. That moment where time slowed and the world shrank to immediate sensations – the salty wetness of Eren’s mouth, the softness of it all, the expanding satisfaction neat and pert in his heart – and he smiled quietly to himself, remembering the six seconds where nothing mattered anymore.

But it turned out the kiss probably didn’t mean anything at all. Eren was still the same as ever, friendly, yes, but there was something distant about him. They passed in hallways and Armin expected a sort of shared understanding about what had transpired that afternoon between best friends – a nod, a touch, something, but Eren hadn’t mentioned it and he himself had been too scared to ask. So there wasn’t anything at all. He thought about ships in the night and wondered if this were what it meant.

And the way Eren had acted after made him feel sick. How in the few days after the encounter he’d suddenly attached himself to Historia, been extra chatty as she passed them in the same corridors. And the same softness had descended on his features and he’d looked lost in a daydream after her small figure. Armin hated it even more, hated himself, actually, because in that moment he hated her, hated how sweet and lovely and unassuming she was, how she would hide her smile in an admittedly cute giggle and Eren would smile back and he could only think that Eren didn’t care about him in that way, he probably liked Historia and she liked him back and -

And he hated knowing that maybe it wouldn’t ever work out anyway, that maybe that one time where they got too close was a mistake and he shouldn’t have even entertained the thought in the first place. They were better off as friends. Good guy friends, who maybe kissed that one time but it was water under the bridge, off the duck’s back.

All this he told Mikasa after school, while they sat on the sidewalk and ate their rapidly melting ice creams. It had been four days since the incident and its dizzying spiral of consequences.

“Mm,” she said, in between licks. “Yeah, I noticed too. He’s been a bit weird lately. But I suspect it’s because he actually likes you back. He just hasn’t found a way to say it properly. So he’s overcompensating.”

“That’s dumb,” Armin said, taking a long taste of his ice cream and feeling the cool sweetness spread across his tongue. He thought about the pinkness of Eren’s mouth and sighed. “Though I guess it makes sense, in a way. But it’s also so incredibly dumb.”

Mikasa shrugged. “I know.”

She paused, thinking. Then, slowly, pragmatically, “Do you want me to tell him? I mean - what you’re thinking. It’ll save you both a lot of - ”

“No,” Armin said quickly, horrified. He thought about Mikasa accosting Eren, asking him in her usual solemn way, to act rationally and explicably about the kiss. It seemed absurd and not to mention intrusive to bring her directly into that moment between them. And then he thought about confronting Eren himself, gesturing to the space between them, and asking, desperately, what about this? That also seemed too much all at once. The thought of exposing his raw jealousy to Eren seemed terribly mortifying as well - to say, also, that he hated the other girl who was so small and cute and perfect? Who Eren had given his brown sweater to when it was raining and she’d looked miserable and cold? He made a face.

Historia hadn’t even done anything objectionable. In fact half the boys at school had been too glad to offer their varsity jackets when she’d forgotten her umbrella and had to run out in the rain. She’d merely taken Eren’s because he was the closest and besides, friends did that all the time right? He’d lent Eren his blue cardigan a few weeks ago and he hadn’t seen it since. He wondered briefly if he should ask Mikasa to get it back from him. She was the only one who could make sense - or be bothered to parse through - the mess that was Eren’s bedroom. He sighed, and swallowed the rest of his strawberry cone in a big, sad bite as he looked at his reflection in the shop window. Though they were both small and slight, yellow-haired with large cerulean eyes, he was certain that he would never be as pretty or attractive as Historia. They were going for the exact same place in Eren’s heart, and she had won on all counts, depsite not even trying. She probably didn’t even know they were competing in the first place. She was also probably a better, kinder person whose insides didn’t twist up when she saw Eren standing too close to someone else. And Eren liked her instead. And so he wouldn’t kiss him again. Ever.

“He’ll come around eventually,” Mikasa said knowingly, comfortingly. She stood up, brushing the crumbs off her skirt, and helped Armin to his feet. “Even if he’s being silly about it right now and it takes him some time to sort himself out.”

“I hope so,” Armin said, and in a sudden gesture Mikasa had leaned over and given him a hug.

“I know so,” she said firmly. He smiled into the warmth of her shoulder and mouthed thank you. There was a certain sort of solace in her certainty, and he felt a bit more of a spring in his step as he walked her to the bus stop and waved her off. He went home feeling considerably lighter and a tiny bit more hopeful than before.

Mikasa - brilliant, lovely, perfect, sage and compassionate Mikasa - was right about Eren coming around. Or she might have knocked some sense into her brother, because at the end of the longest week of his life, in which Armin spent trying very hard not to think of the green-eyed boy, Mikasa had smiled an extra big smile at him as they said their goodbyes, and later at home he got a text which made his heart skip a beat. It was from Eren, and it simply read, Are you free?

By the time his shaking hands had typed out, deleted, retyped and finally formulated a faux casual reply - yeah, what’s up - the doorbell was ringing insistently and his grandfather was calling his name from downstairs and then shouting about a visitor. He heard those footsteps which could only be one person and by the time he scrambled out of his chair and over his bed and finally, finally, opened the bedroom door Eren was standing in front of it.

In his hands he was holding Armin’s crumpled blue sweater - it’s just polyester - and he was saying, “Armin, I was being dumb, I’m so sorry -”

But already Armin had closed the gap between them and the knitted sweater had fallen forgotten to the floor because Eren was holding him again, his hands wrapped around the back of his head and their faces impossibly close. His breath was warm and his mouth was soft and he was leaning in, pressing the two of them together in another soft, sweet kiss.

here you go anon & hope you like it! sorry it took a while but here’s me channeling my best high school AU vibes and secretly loving Mikasa, she’s the real MVP here :”) and here’s the ao3 crosspost if you’re so inclined

...you don’t know how much Conan Gray is a guilty pleasure of mine (and how many times I’ve played crush culture / maniac / overdrive / wish you were sober on repeat…)

#eremin #eren #armin #mikasa #snk #aot #askbox

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staylavendertea · 3 years

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music, ya know

this is a complete impulse of lying in bed middle of the night thoughts that i don’t even know if anyone’s gonna see that have been stemmed off the experiences of the past couple days, topic of 1:41 am mind boggle:

music and it’s aesthetic and importance in literal every sense cause it’s just that important to me

first experience of realizing this, i’ve always loved film scores and listening to music and the orchestral pieces from movies and shows, but it really seemed to hit me recently, like the fact that this week’s new LOKI episode, no spoilers, has the most badass score and a badass scene with such a perfect mix and musical atmosphere. i literally had one of my best friends over, who has a very small interest in comics, cinema, marvel in general, especially a show about a norse comic god that they know nothing about, and whilst they sat there for my own regard, watching the show like a normal human being would, i sat there clinching their hand, watching in awe as our music is louder than actors talking tv speakers spurted out the most spine tightening world building story and just wandered “jesus that was good” and whilst i will always think about the superior acting, cgi, the amount of different people that just went into those few scenes and like what was physical set and what was computer image and what the hell did i just watch that has my brain running olympic marathon circles right now?

the thought that said brain kept going back to was that fucking score. it was literally tearing apart of every corner of my head and why was it doing that?

second experience, another marvel one, but i digress. black widow (no spoilers i promise), thursday night, movie theater for the first time in i can’t even remember how long now and we set through so many previews just for fucking boss baby to start playing and the reaction of the theater to make me burst out laughing.

however whatever works in that little projection box, gets fixed and the movie is pushed to just a little before it starts, a nice small pepsi ad, the regal rollercoaster intro (if you go to regal movie theaters ya know what i’m talking about), and then i hear it - the marvel studios logo - something so musically engraved into my head that my ass that can’t sing for anything, can harmonize with the sound and makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up around movie theater surround sound. but i can’t think of that now, i’m here to watch black widow, a movie on hiatus with the rest of the world for so long now, a character i didn’t know much about it or truly, didn’t have the most connection with in the first place. yet through that one movie, i seemed to build one of those.

ofc though scarlett johansson’s beautiful acting and world building, but it isn’t until the end of the movie that i even realize why. it was the fucking score again. when i think about it, the beginning of the movie felt like all of black widows scenes in the avengers movies for me, kinda just, there. not really emotionally tugging, not bad ofc either, but just, there. in the present, watching something cool in motion. but then it hits, what i can only describe as a theme that somehow tells the entire black widow movie in one singular composition. something so badass, story telling, but also just singularly black widow-esk. i can tell you that i walked out the movie theater rambling about the composition and looking up composers.

third experience, the most recent as it was literally like 20 minutes ago and sprung one train rail of a thought process that immediately tugged me into typing this brain vomit into a tumblr post. i have playlists. for everything. and when i say everything, i fucking mean everything. i’m a writer and a reader, i have playlists mostly for the young avengers, my most utter comfort characters, and their stories i’m writing. i also have playlists/genre/specific song for about every book i read.

when i read red white and royal blue when that came out, i noticed i listened to one of the drunks by panic at the disco the entirety of the ending of the book and the words and music fit together like puzzle pieces, not only did it make the reading experience better, but i was so fucking emerged in my over hyper-imagitive brain that when i finally actually finished the book, i still never left. rewind present day to the beginning of this past june, one last stop comes out, ofc i get it the day it comes out with my anticipation building like wildfire. i start reading that night and i put on my recents on my liked songs playlist (true to true spotify user) and i slowly over the next day as i read and finish the book, windle down to the genre, then the band, to the album, to the exact song that feels like the carbon copy of the words i’m reading. that song was only ones who know by the arctic monkeys. now go back to this past week, anyone who reads the carry on series knows, anyway the wind blows came out this past tuesday. i waited till wednesday to buy the ✨pretty special addition barnes and nobles copy✨ so that the dear friend that indulged me by watching loki that same day could buy it at the same time and make a cute book date or whateva. i started reading that night and something just felt ,,, off. i didn’t know what it was, but i was living off the pure joy that simon and co give me so i ignored the feeling. until i realized why it felt off this morning. i wasn’t listening to any fucking music, literally nothing, not even queen. motherfucking. queen.

i looked for the snowbaz playlist i made when i read carry on for the first time back in 2016/2017 when i was still a freshman in high school just to remember i deleted that literally forever ago. so i made a new one. like an hour and a half ago. very inspired on how i made the playlists for the young avengers and all their stories. letting the music talk.

the fact that all these rambling thoughts have led to this conclusion makes my head hurt, but for me at least in my own experiences. music talks. a two way conversation. a radio broadcast, turning the peg until you match the same frequency thats being put out and you can hear it and understand it. it’s like when you see comedians on stages or actors on panels, they talk, you have reactions, you talk back, and so forth the loop continues until the last voice, last note, rings out. music and songs and orchestral pieces and bands and composers and lyric writers are telling you the stories in reverse. they don’t know their doing it, obviously they meant something entirely different in their creations, but it’s like literature and any work of words and storytelling. interpretation. to me, the notes, pianos, violins, guitars, drums, singers, cellos, and anything that can make sound you can think of, is telling you something. whispering in your ear as you watch or read. facial features, emotions the characters dont say out loud, outfits, they way their standing or talking or moving or interacting with anything and everything.

when i just made that carry on playlist, i played it, decided to try read some good almost 2 am fan fic as you do, my hanging on by a thread sleep brain telling me words aren’t recognizable right now, and tighten myself into a blanket to see if i can sleep at all. the playlist still plays and my never shuts up head thinks it’s own daydreams, stresses out about anything it can, that is until the song plays. the one that just speaks the carry on trilogy language. the one that i found whilst i was reading wayward son and then would play whenever i re read carry on. the one that started this whole way too long ass post in the first place. cant be alone tonight by atlas. i heard just the first sound and i saw them, as if i were in the same room, like i never even put the book down in the first damn place because i’m actually terrified of finishing it. i could see simon in his oversized hoodies, baz in an outfit that was way too good just to be sitting inside, agatha looking as pleasantly pretty as ever, penelope poking fun at shepherd, and shepherd poking fun right back; bickering, laughing, saying the dialogues i try to remember so i can write them later, existing.

in a way music doesn’t just talk, but it lives. it lives and breaths. a three way conversation you could say. characters, stories, plot, and settings talk to the music, then the music delivers us listeners the message, so that we can send one back. this literally took me over an hour to write and i should point the important note that i do have synesthesia where colors and sounds and colors and words do the association so this entire thing might be me being entirely biased, but alas, i love sound so much and if there is anyone else that feels the same ways as i do as just a simple good film score and song makes anything ten times better, feel free to talk, i will totally be awkward, but i need some music freaks like myself around so feel free to hit me up, also if you love movies and cinema also feel free to hit me up as i need movie buddies and now it’s 3 am and i will be going to bed - peace out 🛸

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

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Coach Cavill - Chapter 4

Summary: The Jung family are at a pumpkin patch and invite coach Cavill to join them.

Coach!Henry Cavill x Amelia Jung (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 3.6k

Warnings: None

A/N: Since I’m not sure if the taglists work, I’m posting them in a reblog hopefully that works 🤷🏽‍♀️Also, I’m going to delete the Tumblr app on my phone and log out on my laptop for a few days, since I have some school stuff to do and Tumblr has proven itself to be very very very distracting. However, please continue to leave comments on my fics, questions or tag me in stuff, I’ll come back to it later! It’s just that I need to take a quick break from it, to focus on my schoolwork. I hope you understand and remember, I love you all 😘

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

After the match yesterday, multiple parents kept looking at me, as if I was the bad one, but when all in all it was Dean who ruined it all. Maybe that sounds childish, but it’s true. Since I really needed to forget about yesterday, I wanted to do something fun with the kids. That’s why I came up with the fantastic idea to go to the pumpkin patch with Benji and Isabella. We do that every year, but this is the first time after the divorce. It’s weird how activities we always did, suddenly seem like a first time ever since their dad and I split up.

We walk around the field, hoping to each find a pumpkin we want to carve out. ‘Mom, mom, mom,’ Isabella says. ‘I want that one.’ She jumps over the other pumpkins, but she can’t seem to lift her pick up. She pushes out her bottom lip, looking over her shoulder.

That’s all Benji needs to see. ‘I got it,’ he says, already walking to his little sister, lifting the pumpkin with ease. ‘How about you look for a spot?’ he suggests.

‘Okay.’

She skips to a table, her skirt dancing around her legs and when Benji walks by, I brush some hairs out of his eyes. ‘You’re a sweetheart, Benji,’ I tell him.

He smiles, a bright one even after what happened yesterday. After Dean left, he bounced right back and when we were at Eve’s place to celebrate his second place, he was fine. We didn’t bring up the elephant in the room—an elephant named his idiot father—but I felt like we shouldn’t do that in the first place. He ruined a lovely moment already at location, no need to bring that home with us. It’s just surprising that Benji isn’t taking this to heart. I wondered what changed, but I don’t need to wonder that long. I have a feeling that his new coach has everything to do with the change in behavior. After he got his silver medal, he walked up to Henry, showing his silver medal off, the biggest smile his face. It’s nice to see Benji happy, because since the moment I kicked their dad out of the house, his already shy personality, only intensified to a point where I was really worried about him.

‘I already saw one I want,’ Benji says, ‘so I’m bringing this one to Isabella and I’m picking mine, okay?’

‘Of course, sweetheart. I’m going to look for one too.’

I step over a few pumpkins, but I look over my shoulder to see Benji placing the pumpkin in front of Isabella, pinching her cheek. Isabella sees that as an invitation to jump up, right in his arms, causing her big brother to laugh.

I remember when I told him I was pregnant and he was going to have a little sister or brother. He was six at the time and he looked at me dead in the eye and said: ‘I hope I have a little sister.’

‘Why is that, sweetheart?’ I asked him.

He simply shrugged. ‘Because I feel I can teach a sister more than I can teach a brother.’ I had no clue what this kid was going on about, so when I asked him to explain, he simply smiled and said: ‘I can show her how her future husband should treat her.’

While I felt that he could teach a brother how he should treat a woman just fine, I felt my heart explode. Seeing their bond, always makes me so grateful that I have these wonderful kids. Their dad might be the biggest lowlife walking around on the planet earth, but they are the best that ever happened to me and I would do it all over again.

Even if that meant being with their dad again.

Benji grabs the pumpkin he wanted, before sitting down next to Isabella. They don’t start right away, but I know they want to, so I make a quick decision and grab a pumpkin. ‘You kids ready?’ I ask, when I sit across from them.

‘Yes, mom, we are!’ Isabella exclaims.

Benji stares in the distance and I snap my fingers in front of his eyes. ‘You’re here with us, Benji?’ I ask.

‘Coach Cavill!’ Benji jumps up and rushes passed me. I turn around, to see Benji running towards Henry, who has a huge dog standing next to him. Benji is pretty reserved when it comes to strangers. His former coach and he liked each other, sure, but it was never like this. This instant connection between my son and a coach, it’s unusual.

I feel like Benji is even closer to Henry than he is to his own father and what does that tell you? That Dean was a dick? That Henry is the male role model I always wanted to have for my kids? Or both?

My eyes nearly roll out of their sockets, when I see the most unexpected event happening right in front of me: Benji wraps his arms around Henry’s waist and I can’t exactly hear what he is saying, but Benji isn’t shutting up.

Henry smiles, patting Benji on his back, before pulling him in a headlock. He holds up his hand when he notices me gawking at the sight and I raise my hand to wave back at him. ‘Mom, is that Benji’s new coach?’ Isabella asks.

‘He is, sweetheart.’

‘You like him, don’t you?’

What a way to get exposed… ‘What?’ I ask her. ‘I mean, he is nice, of course.’

‘Well, you made him not one, but two sandwiches,’ Isabella says, before giggling. ‘You never make sandwiches for people you don’t like. When you and daddy were fighting, you’d never make him a sandwich the next morning.’

‘You should become a detective,’ I smile. ‘Sharp as a knife.’

Benji ushers Henry with him and he asks when he is close again: ‘Mom, can coach carve pumpkins with us?’

‘I really don’t want to intrude,’ Henry adds, but I shake my head and say: ‘No, no, you can join us. I think Isabella really wants to pet your dog and your presence is well appreciated.’

‘I do want to pet your dog,’ Isabella says. ‘He is cute.’

‘He sure is,’ Henry agrees. ‘His name is Kal.’

Isabella stands up from her seat and carefully pets the big furry dog. ‘Kal is soft. He kinda looks like a bear, don’t you think?’

‘I do think so too,’ he says.

‘Coach,’ Benji says and I barely recognize my own son, ‘you should grab a pumpkin.’

Henry looks at me, non verbally asking if I’m really okay with this and I give him a little nod, encouraging him to join us. I mean, I like this man a lot, I’ve been having pretty vivid dreams about him, so spending time with him is absolutely something I don’t mind.

He quickly grabs a pumpkin and places it on the table. ‘I’ve never carved a pumpkin before,’ he admits.

‘You haven’t?’ Isabella asks. ‘You are such a weirdo.’

‘Isabella,’ I say, using my stern teacher/mother voice. ‘You can’t just go around and call people weirdo’s.’

‘But you always call dad an idiot.’

Oh great… I’m setting a terrible example for my kids and now Henry is a witness of my wrong doings as a parent. Exactly the type of impression I want to make. ‘But that is different.’

‘How is that different?’ Isabella asks, cocking her eyebrow and now she is really testing me.

‘Well,’ Henry says, ‘your mom knows your dad. You barely know me. I think there is a difference in who you can call bad names.’

Isabella stares at the man sitting beside me, studying his face, before she nods. ‘Yeah, you’re right,’ she says. This girl agrees to someone outside own her family? What the hell is this man’s secret that my kids just simply accept him and like him? ‘Sorry, I called you weirdo, coach.’

‘That’s okay.’ The beautiful man who is sitting beside me, has a friendly smile on his face. ‘But, Jung family, show me how this is supposed to be done.’

✰ ✰ ✰

‘Mom, the skin is too thick,’ Isabella whines.

‘Let me help you, Isabella,’ Henry says, wiping his hands clean on the cloth, before standing up and walking around the table. He sits next to Isabella and saws out the part she was having trouble with. ‘You’re right,’ he admits, ‘the skin is pretty thick. You sure did pick out a good one.’

‘I have x-ray eyes.’ Isabella stands on the bench and she is approximately the same height as Henry is. Though she is eight, she is a pretty tiny girl, always has been and probably always will be. She wraps her arm around his neck, placing her cheek against the top of his head. ‘Coach,’ she says, ‘do you think my mommy is pretty?’

‘Don’t answer that,’ I tell him. ‘And Isabella, remember what I told you at least a dozen times already? Don’t go around and ask that to people. You’ve done that multiple times now and every time it’s harder and harder to talk myself out of it, okay?’

‘Okay,’ Isabella says with a shrug, ‘but you are really pretty and I think coach agrees with me.’

This girl… I don’t know who she’s got this attitude from, but sometimes I wish that she would just zip it from time to time.

‘Isabella is right,’ Benji decides to butt in. ‘You are really pretty, mom.’

This really isn’t the time to be blushing this hard right now.

‘See?’ Isabella has a smug smile on her face and whispers loudly in Henry’s ear so I can hear it too: ‘Do you agree with us? Just nod or shake your head.’

Henry chuckles, before nodding nearly shyly. If my face wasn’t fiery red already, it sure is now. ‘Anyways,’—Henry awkwardly clears his throat—‘I think yours is done, miss Isabella.’

‘Thank you very much.’ Isabella sits down on the bench again, while Henry helps out Benji with one thing on his pumpkin.

Henry is such an easy guy to be around with, that not only I feel comfortable with him, but my shy son and my sassy daughter feel so too. He sits down next to me again. ‘Need some help, Amelia?’

‘I’m okay,’ I say, but I can’t seem to move the knife anymore.

‘Let me help you,’ Henry offers.

‘You know,’ I say, pushing the pumpkin to him, ‘for someone who has never carved a pumpkin before, you sure are a pro at it.’

He actually gets the knife to move, but it pleases me to see that even he has some issues with it. Through his sweater, I can see how thick his arms are and my oh my, does this man look strong as hell. Am I hallucinating or is he flexing a little extra?

‘Excuse me,’ I hear a shy voice say and when I look up, I see it’s Hattie Fisher, the sixteen year old sweetheart who lives in the same street as us. ‘Miss Amelia?’

‘Hi Hattie,’ I say with a smile, ‘how are you?’

‘Good, thanks.’ She runs her fingers through her light blonde hair and I always thought that in combination with those doll like eyes, she’d have potential to become a very successful model. ‘I just have a question. Is this a right time or do you want me to come by tonight?’

‘Please, go ahead.’

‘For school we have to do this thing, where we check out a few professions and I wanted to try and work at a school. I was wondering whether or not I could go to your class.’

I nod. ‘Of course you can, honey. I would love to. When is this starting?’

‘Not until three weeks, but can I drop by tomorrow. Bring some paper work, if that’s okay with you.’

‘Yes, yes, of course,’ I say. ‘I would love for you to help me out a bit. They can be quite a bunch, so an extra pair of hands would be lovely.’

‘Thanks, miss Amelia, you’re the best. I feel like I could actually learn something when I’m with you. My dad wanted me to help him out, but that meant serving the old men at his office coffee the entire day and I feel like I’d die out of boredom.’

‘Oh honey,’ I say with a chuckle, ‘I had to do the exact same thing when I was still in high school and I went to work with my mom at the retirement home and after the third round of bingo, I was ready to to murder at least one elderly.’

Henry, Isabella and Benji start to laugh along with Hattie. ‘Kinda want to avoid that,’ Hattie says. ‘I’ve seen the men that my dad works with. Some just ask to be murdered.’

I wholeheartedly agree, because I have been to mister Fishers office a few times, since mister Fisher himself was my lawyer to get me through the divorce and while he is a lovely man, his colleagues are terrible.

‘Hattie, what’s with the camera?’ Isabella asks.

‘Oh, my mom wants to have some new pictures for the towns Instagram, so you know how she is: sending me out there to document everything, while she takes takes the credits.’ Hattie nearly rolls her eyes. ‘Oh, Bella, this one actually looks really good.’

‘Why do you sound so surprised?’ Isabella asks, as the teen is taking a few pictures of our pumpkins.

Hattie curls her lips inside. ‘Well, when I was your age, I could barely draw something decent on a pumpkin, let alone carve it out, like you did. It’s quite impressive really. Since I’m here, you guys mind if I take a picture of you?’

‘Sure,’ I say, ‘if you don’t mind…?’ I carefully look to the side, to Henry, who simply shakes his head and says: ‘I absolutely don’t.’

‘Okay, say pumpkin,’ Hattie chuckles, before snapping a picture of us. ‘Looks really good. You mind if I post these on Instagram later?’

‘I don’t,’ I say.

Henry shakes his head. ‘Of course not, Hattie.’

The blonde teen smiles brightly. ‘Good. I’ll see you tomorrow then, miss Amelia. Thanks again for helping me out.’

‘Not a problem, Hattie. I’ll sign off on all sorts of paperwork, but we’ll discuss that tomorrow.’

✰ ✰ ✰

While I’m making tea, I hear Isabella and Benji talking Henry’s ear off, as his dog Kal is joining me in the kitchen. It lightens up my mood to see them so at ease with someone else outside of their familiar circle. I’m not surprised that Isabella is instantly fond of him, but Benji keeps on surprising me. He is seeking approval from Henry, something he never did with his father. He asked us if we both liked his pumpkin and I could see the worried look in his eyes when Henry was pretending he had to think about it.

Maybe this is way too premature, but seeing him in my house, it just fits. I never had a dog, because Dean was allergic and we’ve been together since I was nineteen. My parents never wanted a dog, until I moved out at age fifteen. All of the sudden they were experiencing empty nest syndrome and got themselves a tiny little toy poodle.

But this enormous dog in my house, it just matches perfectly.

‘Is this your mom?’ Henry asks, pointing at a picture on the wall.

‘Mhm,’ Isabella says, ‘she used to be in a K-Pop group.’

‘No way.’

‘Tea is ready,’ I say.

Benji walks in and sits on the kitchen island. ‘Mom was the main vocalist and visual of the group.’

Henry leans against the counter, thanking me for the tea. ‘Really? I can imagine what a vocalist is, but what exactly is the visual of the group?’

‘The prettiest,’ Isabella explains. ‘She is obviously the prettiest.’ She sits next to me on a stool and gives me a kiss on my cheek. ‘She was really good. Mom, you should sing something.’

‘No, not today.’

‘She was in the group ‘Forever Hope’, so you should check it out on YouTube,’ Isabella says. ‘I want to become a K-Pop idol too one day.’

I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her closer to me. ‘But I continue to tell her that it’s hard work and this little girl is as lazy as they get.’

‘That’s not true!’

‘It’s true,’ Benji agrees with a chuckle.

Henry takes a sip of his tea, his eyes not leaving me once. ‘Well, your mom is full surprises.’

‘Did you know she used to do judo too?’ Benji asks. ‘I’ve got it from her.’

‘I did not know that,’ Henry says, the smile on his face a bit bigger than before.

Despite living in the public eye for two years, I don’t want all the attention to be focused on me. ‘Not to be a party pooper,’ I say, ‘but I’m gonna be one, because it’s my job as your mother. Benji, Isabella, did you finished your homework?’

‘No,’ he whispers, while Isabella shakes her head.

‘You know what to do,’ I chuckle.

Isabella nods, takes a cookie and jumps off the stool. ‘Bye coach,’ she says, ‘thank you for carrying the pumpkins back home.’

‘No problem, kid,’ he says, giving her a high five as she passes.

‘Thanks coach,’ Benji says and they have this cool handshake I wasn’t aware of and I hide my smile when Benji chases Isabella up the stairs.

‘Your kids are lovely,’ Henry says.

‘There sure are. Listen, Henry, thank you for today.’ I scratch the big dog behind his ear. ‘I know I keep saying this, but… It’s good for them to have a male role model that is there for them.’

‘My pleasure.’

‘So, what brought you to Luna Meadows?’ I ask him, not wanting to talk about my divorce or anything related again.

‘I was in a desperate need of a change a scenery.’

‘Why?’ I ask.

‘I just needed to get out of there, before I totally lost my mind.’

‘Where are you from then?’

‘Jersey,’ he answers. ‘It was just… Too much at one point.’

My mom and teacher instincts kick in, because I can sense he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. ‘Well, we’re very lucky to have you here. It’s good every now and then to shake things up a bit.’

‘It sure is.’ He wraps his hand around the mug and while it’s the biggest one in our house, it looks like an espresso cup in his hands. ‘Back at the game you told me you were not here from your fifteenth till eighteenth. Had that something to do with you being a K-Pop idol?’

I nod. ‘Yeah, that was my change of scenery.’

He smiles. ‘Must’ve been hard.’

I can’t do anything but to agree. ‘Yeah, especially since I wasn’t planning on becoming an idol. I was just an exchange student, but I was approached by a company when I was at a fan sign with a friend.’

‘And you became a main vocalist, that must’ve been pretty important.’

‘It is, you kinda have to carry the entire song. Not that I sang all the time, but the chorus, mainly me, just like the high notes, adlibs, stuff like that.’

Henry nods. ‘And being a visual, must’ve been hard too.’

‘That too. It’s an insane amount of pressure, always having to be picture perfect,’ I say. ‘I mean, I don’t want to complain. It was such a great time in my life, an amazing opportunity. And every time Isabella says she wants to do this too, I just hope that one day she comes to terms that it’s hard work and… That it was terrible from time to time.’

Henry leans with his underarms on the counter. ‘How was it terrible?’

‘The days were so long, filled with training, singing and dancing and performing,’ I say, ‘I had to maintain my figure and… I don’t want to complain, because it was amazing. I had eight girls around me, who were going through the same thing. I was never alone.’

‘You still speak to them?’

‘Occasionally,’ I say. ‘Most of them are still in the industry. They barely have time.’ I feel warm tears running over my cheeks. ‘Oh shit, sorry, there I go again. I’m sorry, you must think I’m an emotional wreck, a terrible example for her kids.’

Henry chuckles. ‘Amelia, that’s not true. You’re not an emotional wreck, you’re just in touch with your emotions. You’re an amazing example for your kids. Yesterday…’ he starts, clearing his throat. ‘You did what any mother would’ve done. You stood up for your son and that is more than admirable.’ He looks at the clock. ‘Ah, shoot, I’ve gotta go.’

‘Oh yes, of course.’

‘I really had fun today. The Jung family is a fun one to hang out with.’

A chuckle leaves my lips. ‘We sure are.’

‘Can you hold onto Kal for me, then I’ll go and say goodbye to Benji and Isabella.’

I nod. ‘Sure, yes. Their names are on the doors and please don’t look into the bathroom. I collect the laundry there and I might have forgotten to do it since Thursday.’

‘Copy that,’ Henry chuckles and he rushes up the stairs, taking two steps at the time. I hear faint voices in the back, some laughter, while I give Kal some scratches and kisses. Henry comes back down and says: ‘Well, I really wish I could stay, but I’ve gotta go. I’m sorry.’

‘Save your apologizes for when it’s really needed,’ I say.

He smiles. ‘Right, I’ll work on that. I’ll see you tomorrow at practice, Amelia.’

‘Want me to bring you a sandwich?’ I ask.

‘I’m never saying no to a sandwich made by the fantastic Amelia Jung.’

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x amelia jung #amelia jung #asian ofc #Coach Cavill #coach!henry cavill

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yikeswtfmate · 5 years

Text

Strange Times || Ch. 1

main masterlist // Strange Times Series Masterlist // next part

Summary: Mickey Pearson sends Raymond to fetch his sister from the airport. He’s never met this woman, but he soon finds out she likes to play with her food first.

Pairing: Raymond (Charlie Hunnam - The Gentlemen, 2020) x Reader

Warnings: swearing; sexual themes; mentions of violence

A/N: Here it is my lovelies, the fic i’ve been telling you about with Charlie Hunnam’s character whom i fell in love with (it’s the beard....and the glasses....and the hair....and the suits......and the whole righthand to a drug lord thing maybe?). I’m still unsure about posting it here because it’s a different type of Reader that i’m used to write (maybe i’ll just switch her to an OC) and it’s not Bonky. So please let me know what you think and whether i should post the next parts as well (it’s already 5k long) but if you don’t like it, this is a “felt cute might delete later” type of situation so no harm no foul. And for those of you who haven’t seen the movie yet, slight spoliers ahead!

The office is quiet, save for the scratching of a pen on paper and the ticking of a clock that is starting to irritate Raymond to no end. He’s been meaning to either throw it out or switch it with the one that is in the living room, but he knows how his boss would not appreciate the disposal of a five thousand pound clock plated in gold. Raymond personally thinks it’s tacky, but it’s Mickey’s house after all, and he should be concentrating on sorting out the logistics for that shipment that’s supposed to go out to Italy anyway. He turns back to his laptop, intent on fulfilling his responsibilities for the day, when Mickey stops writing behind him and clears his throat, demanding his attention.

“Raymond, I need you to go to the airport tomorrow.”

Ray stands up from his chair at the desk and moves to the table in the middle of the receiving room. He’s learned all of Mickey’s tells during the ten years he’s been his righthand man, and when he stops sorting out his agenda to pour himself a cup of tea, Ray knows he needs to stand to attention.

“Any reason in particular?”

“I need you to pick up my sister and bring her to the estate.”

“Your sister?” Ray is utterly confused, mainly for the fact that this would be the very first time he’ll be meeting this woman.

He was aware that Mickey had a sister back in the States, but even though he knows every aspect of Mickey’s life inside and out, this elusive woman is his boss’ best kept secret. He’s unsure whether it’s just brotherly protectiveness, pure paranoia at the prospect of their enemies finding out there’s still another weak link next to Rosalind, or it’s simply the fact that Mickey doesn’t want to talk about his family back home.

He’s heard she’s been studying for a degree in business at Wharton, but he doesn’t know what to expect, for all the odd comments Mickey and Rosalind make about her when they think he’s not listening. One thing he’s completely certain of, however, is how much Mickey looks after her, considering the sizeable amounts of money that are going into her bank account every month.

Mickey raises an eyebrow over his teacup. “I don’t see why you’re acting as if you didn’t know I have a goddamn sister, Ray.”

Raymond shrugs, deciding that it’s best if he won’t tick off his boss at the moment. He’s been on edge ever since the whole debacle with Matthew Berger and Fletcher went down. Mickey’s decided to hold off his retirement plans until someone comes along with a better offer (preferably none of Lord George’s minions though), so he hasn’t only been stressed about maintaining the value of the goods, but also pissed off that he couldn’t just drink whiskey unperturbed all day in a countryside manor.

“I’ve sent you all the details you need. Don’t be late, I don’t want her left unsupervised for too long.”

Raymond nods, eager to go back to his laptop. It’s time for homework, and there’s nothing he love more than information.

“And Ray?” He turns back to Mickey, but the man’s just looking out the window, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Be careful.”

“Of course, boss. I’ll treat her like a princess.”

“It’s not her I’m worried about, you moron.” He says with a frown. “I meant you. She likes to play with her food first.”

The private jet should be a surprise, but when you’re in the line of business Raymond is in, he’s practically seen it all. The charcoal trench coat he’s wearing today is flapping in the whirl of wind so it’s a good thing he foregone the machine gun in favour of an inconspicuous handgun. He’s almost certain nothing would come up on their way from Heathrow to Oxfordshire, but he made sure David fully stocked the car before they left, just in case.

He’s waiting patiently in front of the car, lighting a cigarette, while he watches the airport’s employees fuss around the plane. The airstair is released and Ray stands up from leaning against the car. The smoke that he exhales blind him for a second, but he still needs to blink three more times to assure himself he’s not fucking hallucinating when a woman that he can only assume is Y/N Pearson steps off the plane. She drags a hand through her long curls, moving her head from side to side in what must only be slow motion. Her heels click on the pavement as she makes her way towards him, and Raymond smiles involuntarily.

“I see the money’s been treating you well, Raymond. Although I have to admit, I kind of miss the long hair.” She says before Ray can utter a word. She places a manicured finger under his chin, closing his mouth, kissing his cheek with a smack. “You don’t remember me, do you?” Her eyes are patient, as if exhausted after explaining a child the same exact thing for the past hour. “We’ve met fourteen years ago, when Mickey expanded the business to five farms. You were only an errand boy then, remember? Granted, I was only fourteen at that time, a gangly little thing with braces, of course you don’t remember me.”

Raymond’s mind flashes to a vague memory of a girl in a sequinted t-shirt, a choker that could only be worn with so much seriousness by a teenager, and boots with fur, mated in English mud. She blushed to the roots of her hair when he asked her if she knew by any chance where Mr Pearson was, having to deliver a parcel to him personally. She just pointed with a black fingernail towards her left and squeaked something unintelligible before ducking her head and running in the other direction.

“Ah, there he goes.” She sing-songs as she watches his eyes shift in recognition all over her, but there’s nothing left of her teenage self, having grown into her body, comfortable in her skin, confidence built up with precision and care, together with an appropriate, if rather extravagant fashion sense.

“I can’t believe how much you’ve grown.” He says, realising that he sounds like a cliché when she rolls her eyes.

“Right, that’s what happens in life, honey. Can we please go? We can exchange pleasantries in the car, this wind is ruining my hair.”

Raymond keeps the door open for her, nodding to David who just finished loading the trunk with her luggage and he hops in the backseat next to her.

“I hope we’re stopping for lunch on our way.” She warns. “I’m starving and I couldn’t eat anything since I woke up because of those stupid turbulences.”

“Mickey is expecting us to be there in an hour.” He responds cautiously.

“Mickey can go fuck himself. I want a pizza and I haven’t been to Zizzi in a long time, so you better take me there, Raymond, or I’ll just ask David to kindly move to the passenger seat.”

The man in question looks at Ray in the rear view mirror, awaiting instructions. Ray sighs and nods once again, now starting to realise why his boss felt the need to warn him in regard to his sister. He hopes he won’t have to deal with her for long after she’s safely delivered to Mickey, because for all her beauty, she’s starting to piss him off.

“Oh, don’t look so glum.” She chides, after a few minutes of him plainly ignoring her. “I’m good company, I promise. I’m just cranky because I’m hungry. I’m hangry, Ray. I just need you to feed me.” She flutters her eyelashes, and she rests her hand on his thigh, purposefully ticking him off.

Ray shifts in his seat, trying to put as much distance between them, to which she just scoffs and rolls her eyes. This woman is dangerous, and for all his sinful thoughts that have been going through his mind ever since he laid eyes on her, Ray has to remind himself that this is his boss’ little sister, little as in eleven years younger for fuck’s sake. He’s positively sure that if he even lays a finger on her, his balls would be cut off and fed to the hunting dogs.

They finally stop after a short silent trip, and he helps Y/N into the fairy lit restaurant, leaving David posted in front of the car. He hopes there will be no more trouble like last time, having had his share of adventures for the goddamn decade.

Holding a chair for her, Ray waits for Y/N to take off her coat, and now he suddenly feels the need to swallow hard, as he rakes his eyes over her body. She’s wearing a leather skirt that is too tight to possibly be comfortable, but long enough to almost meet her knee high boots; her sweater is thick, appropriate for the cold January weather in the south of England, yet Raymond can’t help but wonder if her nipples are as perfect as her lips. Speaking of which, they curl up in a patient yet satisfied smile, a raised eyebrow that wants to show him she’s merely allowing him to inspect her so blatantly.

After she orders her pizza and Ray asks for a glass of water, clearly showing his disapproval for this unexpected stop. He can feel a nudge on his shin and she smiles at him in a way that he can only describe as charitable.

“You know, I’ve had the biggest crush on you back then.” She says and Ray chokes on his water. “It’s true. You were this tall rugged man with long hair that I wouldn’t have known what to do with then, but would definitely know how to handle now.” She smirks, while Ray raises an eyebrow, silently asking her to stop talking. Mainly because his imagination is starting to go haywire. “The beard suits you. But I kept thinking about licking your jaw all the way here so it’s a shame really that I can’t now. Those were some long 8 hours, Ray, I had to occupy myself somehow.”

“Y/N, you should really stop talking.” Ray would give himself a pat on the back for all the restraint he’s showing at the moment. There’s nothing he would like more than to shove her in one of the bathroom stalls and have his way with her, and by the look in her eyes, she knows exactly what he’s thinking so she’s relentless.

“Why? Afraid Mickey would disapprove? I thought you were a big boy, Ray, who doesn’t have to ask permission.”

“It’s not about permission, and we both know it. Your brother would literally kill me if…”

His words are cut short by the waiter who’s bringing Y/N her food and brazenly ogles her down. Ray can feel his hands involuntarily clench into fists, his jaw set at the man who would not just fucking go and keeps offering her pepper, sauce, or his fucking cock for that matter, because it’s so fucking obvious that’s what he’d actually want to say. Y/N just smiles sweetly, humouring his clumsy flirting, and Ray is more than certain that she’s starting to form a habit of doing things just to piss him off. When she touches the waiter’s forearm, he growls lowly, directing their attention to him. She feigns surprise, but he can read her amusement, while the waiter seems to decide whether to apologise or take his chances and go off. Ray knows that his glasses might put people at ease, making him look approachable, friendly, easy-going at first, but he’s perfected the frown and posture to go with it that puts people immediately in their places. Not to mention that spending over a decade in the business would shape anyone in a ruthless brute if need arises.

“My girlfriend here would like to enjoy her food now, thank you. She doesn’t need anything else, mate, you can go.”

The waiter finally scampers off, and Ray knows he’ll regret saying anything before he turns back to Y/N. She’s smirking like a bloody Cheshire cat if he’s ever seen anyone actually doing it, satisfied beyond belief.

“Don’t.” He warns when she opens her mouth to make a smartass remark, but she raises her hands in surrender and proceeds to eat.

Another battle of restraint and patience, as this woman eats as if she’s in a bloody porn movie, and who the fuck can eat pizza seductively anyway, for fuck’s sake. Raymond takes a deep breath, fishing his phone out of his coat pocket and calls his boss, doing his best to ignore the moans, the finger sucking and the swirling tongue in front of him.

“Hey, boss. Got Y/N from the airport, we’ll just be a bit late.”

“She wanted to eat, didn’t she?” Mickey asks and Ray can hear the exasperation in his voice. Apparently his boss is well aware of his sister’s antics, but it would’ve been better if Raymond were better prepared for the full force of what this woman can get out of him in a short half an hour.

“Tell him to suck a bag of tiny dicks, I don’t need his judgment.” Y/N says between licking a side of her finger and plucking an olive off her slice.

“We’re in Uxbridge, hopefully we’ll be there in an hour or so.” Raymond notifies, choosing to ignore her again.

“Fine. Just…make sure she stays out of trouble. It can stick to her like a fly to shit.” And with that Mickey disconnects the call.

Raymond sighs and puts his phone back. There is an uneasy feeling flowing through him, his instinct telling him to run away in the other direction, to avoid interacting with Y/N at all cost until her return to the States, but there’s another part of him, more primal, more carnal that is drawn to her. He hates it, mainly because there is no logical reasoning behind it, and he’s a very cerebral person, and he can’t figure her out for the life of him. Maybe it’s just the fact that she’s probably the first woman to act like that with him, as if she doesn’t care about the consequences, doesn’t give a toss whether he’ll bite or not. She likes to play with her food first, were Mickey’s words, which make so much more sense now.

Raymond can’t put his finger on it, and although he can have his pick of women anywhere he’d step foot in – he is very much aware of how handsome he is, thank you very much – there is something about Y/N that demands to be unlocked. Or maybe it’s just that her tits look really great in that sweater and it’s the whole “forbidden fruit” bullshit. Regardless, Ray just wants to drop her off and go back to London where he can drown himself in work so he can forget about her. Or maybe have a night out, pick someone at a bar and pretend it’s her, because he’s absolutely certain by this point that it’s just the novelty of Y/N that lures him in, and definitely not those eyes full of mischief.

***

Taglist: I haven’t tagged anyone in this, as I’m unsure whether you want to read something that’s not Bucky related. Let me know if you do! Toodles!

#charlie hunnam x reader #raymond x reader #raymond the gentlemen #the gentlemen 2020 #charlie hunnam fanfiction #charlie hunnam fanfic #charlie hunnam fic #the gentlemen fanfiction #the gentlemen

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kpop-uni · 5 years

Text

Through the Lens // Five

Christian YuxYoutuber!Reader Words: 4.5K A/N: WOW did this take forever :( I’m sorry for the long wait but as you guys probably know I’m not in the best mental place right now and my main priority was getting help for me. Though, thanks for sticking with me! Love ya lots! But we’re looking at maybe? Two chapters until the end? Like usual I might post a poll on what fic to post but if anything I’ll just post summaries and Ill update as I go along~ If anything, a poll will be up with weekend to see what fics I’ll be posting next!

Chapter Four // Chapter Six

To everyone, except for Gyungmo of course, nothing was out of the ordinary with you. You smiled and joked around the same, always enthusiastic about going out to eat or shoving your mouth with snacks. But, the moment that Christian joined, or if Chaeyoung was present, everything with you went quiet. You stayed in your place with the same excuses.

"I'm editing." "No, I'm just making sure the battery is okay." "I gotta make notes on what to delete."

Scott, on the other hand, began to notice, furrowing his eyebrows and thinking that maybe Chaeyoung had said something to you. But even when he knew no one was noticing the two of you, Chaeyoung offered you her snacks, always asking if you needed something from the store or if she could watch while you went over the edited videos. You tensed a bit when she was near you, giving her one-worded answers or sometimes answering with a shake of your head.

"Did I do something to her?" Chaeyoung looked over at Christian.

You had left the room rather quickly after Chaeyoung gave Christian a kiss on the cheek. Chaeyoung turned to you as you slammed your laptop shut, quickly walking out of the studio with Scott right behind you.

"Hm?" Christian finally gave his attention to Chaeyoung, eyes moving away from the reflection of the studio glass. He saw how Scott was whispering to you, your shoulders slumping, getting up and leaving with him right behind you. Christian's blood boiled, hands clenching into fists.

"If I did or say something to her," Chaeyoung repeated, elbow resting on the table and fist on her temple. "I feel like she doesn't like me much,"

Before Christian could answer, Gyungmo came in with Cline right behind him, the two showing Christian the finished song.

"Gyungmo, I can't do this anymore..." You sighed, your thumb pad between your teeth as you nibbled on it, a habit you had when nervous or stressed.

"I told you, just stop overthinking these things-"

"But it's like he's rubbing it in my face," You turned to Gyungmo, hands now on your knees before you sighed, going back to staring at your laptop screen. "This video is almost half an hour long and I still haven't added any footage of him. And to top it, this whole part was about his process!"

Gyungmo sighed, biting his inner cheek, silent until you let your head fall. "So? Are you gonna cut this part out of the series?"

It was quiet, Gyungmo waiting for your response before you shook your head, giving out a sigh. You'll admit, you wanted to skip this part of the series but you knew you would get questions about why and the last thing you wanted was for fans to twist around your intensions. "No, I have to film him and see if he needs anything edited out."

With a nod, Gyungmo left you to continue his work. You hesitantly reached for your camera and laptop, holding on to the charger with your finger as you made your way to Christian's workspace. You stood outside the door, calming your nervous as you lifted your fist, about to knock when the door was pulled open, Christian looking down at you.

He was a bit startled, blinking and taking the tiniest of steps back before you immediately looked down. He watched as you fidgeted, almost dropping your laptop in the process of trying to find your words.

"I need to edit my video with you, just to see if it's okay with you and if you want-"

"I'm going on a date with Chaeyoung, can it wait?"

You gulped at the interruption, your voice already shaking with the nervous. The last thing you wanted was to make an even bigger fool out of yourself so you nodded. You simply stepped back, Christian moving past you and ignoring the way you bit your lip, heading in the opposite direction.

You locked yourself in Cline's space, taking deep breaths and calming yourself down. You slumped down on the arm of the couch, closing your eyes and breathing in and out. With a sigh and soft bite to the corner of your lip, you gulped down the rest of the feelings you had, fixing your laptop and charger in your hand before standing.

Scott looked down the halls, trying to find any sign of you before spotting you checking your phone, calling your name. You were a bit startled, Scott laughing as he walked over. "You hungry?"

You spent the afternoon in with Scott at a small restaurant, the two of you laughing and talking about anything Scott was working on. Eventually, the conversation turning into a game that Scott was interested in playing.

"I think my next series is going to be just playing that game, I've heard good things about it,"

"Are you seriously going to go back to gameplays?" Scott asked, excitement in his eyes as you laughed. The two of you eventually felt like you overstayed your lunch break, Scott letting you pay for the food after losing to a quick round of rock, paper, scissors.

When the two of you walked out, you looked up to find Christian and Chaeyoung walking across the street, hands tightly grasped. Chaeyoung giggling about whatever Christian whispered about, a smirk on his face. You ignored them, focusing on Scott who kept telling his story, your hand in the crook of his arm as the two of you decided to go on a stroll. You laughed a little at what Scott said, distracting you from Christian.

But Chaeyoung noticed you right away, smiling a bit and leaning her head on Christian's bicep. "Aren't they so cute? I feel like they were meant for each other,"

Christian looked over, quickly spotting how much you were laughing at Scott's hands tickling your sides. He clenched his teeth, Scott leaning all his weight on you as you attempted to hold him up, whining his name as he laughed, the two of you stumbling slightly.

You let Scott drag you back to him, continuing the walk. Christian hummed, turning back ahead and trying to ignore what he saw, letting out a breath. "She seems so nice... I kind of feel bad because I think she just doesn't like me," Chaeyoung let the conversation end there, focusing on Christian and their date. But Christian's jaw tensed, looking down at Chaeyoung.

"I'm sure you did nothing, she's just a little hard to get along with at first,"

Gyungmo and Scott had invited the guys on your last night to end your vacation with a celebration, hosting a house party in Scott's place. You knew it wasn't nice, but you couldn't help but feel happy that Christian and Chaeyoung didn't go. You wanted to enjoy yourself once more before heading home, and you knew you weren't going to be able to if you only saw them together.

You let yourself relax, enjoying the company of Hyuk who wouldn't let you go, making you shy whenever you were teased about it. Woo taught you how to spin a few records, teaching you the basics of how to DJ. You stayed with your camera glued to your hand, taking pictures and videos of everyone and everything.

The next morning, you sat on the hotel bed, showered and with everything packed save for your laptop case. You tried looking for the courage to send the text, looking down at your phone. You let out a breath, squeezing your eyes closed and pressing the send button.

Christian's attention was given to his phone at the ding it made, seeing a text from you and sighing a bit.

Y/N 12:54 PM: Can we edit the video now?

Christian knew he couldn't avoid you forever, so he replied back that he was in his studio and to go over. He sat back in his chair, hands rubbing his face as he knew he needed to face you sooner or later. But still, he couldn’t help the anger that bubbled up whenever he saw you, knowing you belonged to Scott.

Christian waited for half an hour, closing his laptop and just about to give up on you when you knocked, heading inside the studio.

"Hey,"

Christian looked up from his laptop, seeing you walk in with your own laptop on hand. You closed the door behind you, Christian, without a word, moved his things aside and giving you room to set your laptop down.

The tension was thick and you began to think that you took forever in setting your editing programs up, taking a seat and clearing your throat. "So, I'm going to combine the videos and play them, I'll tell you my plans and you tell me what you want me to get rid of."

With only a nod and a hum that Christian gave you, you opened the file only for Christian's part of the series, clicking into each video in the order you set it. You waited as he watched the first clip, biting your tongue gently.

Christian was clicking away in the video, eyes focused on his screen as you zoomed in a bit, giggling. He turned to you, giving you a confused look before breaking out into a smile.

"You don't need this one," Christian sat back into his chair, making you hum.

"This one is the intro, kind of to kick it off." You hesitated on looking at him, Christian rolling his eyes and shrugging, sighing out a quiet whatever. You looked back at the video, clicking out of it and moving it to a new file, continuing the second video.

"Delete that, I want my programs to be kept to myself," You nodded, adding in an edit, making sure to type it into the notes on your phone, continuing the video.

Your leg shook with nerves, eyes glued to the screen, going from video to video and doing everything that Christian told you to do with it. It was only a couple more videos when a knock on the door made you both turn, Chaeyoung poking her head before giving a shy smile. “Sorry, I’ll let you guys continue-“

“No, it’s fine.” Christian waved her in, pulling a chair right next to him. You squirmed in your seat, eyes going back to your screen and clicking through the video. You ignored the tiny giggle that escaped Chaeyoung and the soft kiss that Christian gave her until Christian gave you his attention again.

By the end, what could've been a 24-minute long video turned into only 5 minutes. You combined all the videos together, seeing the time limit and frowning, going through other files to look for any other videos you could add.

"That's it, right? We finished?" You could hear the impatience in Christian's voice, pulling his laptop closer. Chaeyoung helped him pull his items closer, going back to resting her arm on the table.

"No, the video needs to be longer than just five minutes," You ignored the way Christian grumbled, closing your eyes and continuing to look for more videos.

"Why don't you like Chaeyoung? What did she do to you?"

You were caught off guard with the question, fingers freezing as you looked at Christian. He glared at you, almost as if he wanted to bury you alive, hand gripping the mouse. Chaeyoung, who was once on her phone, turned to Christian so quick, you thought she was going to snap her neck.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, letting your hands fall from your keyboard to your lap, shaking your head as you scoffed. “What?”

With a sarcastic chuckle, Christian shook his head. “Everyone can tell that you don’t like Chaeyoung. So why? She’s been nothing but nice to you-“

“Who said that I didn’t like her? I never said that!” You argued back, turning fully toward him.

“You make it so fucking obvious!” Christian raised his voice, hand waving as if he were showing you how obvious it was. “All that’s left is for you to openly tell her to fuck off-“

“Why the hell are you saying such shit?” You yelled back, glaring at Christian. “I’m sorry that I don’t want to talk to your girlfriend like she's my best friend! Is that what’s bugging you?”

“Ian, stop...” Chaeyoung tried to stop Christian, looking at you with worried eyes. “I’m so sorry, please just ignore him.”

“Come on,” Christian laughed, shaking his head. “Y/N, you literally act like a bitch with her. You’re all fun and games with everyone and when she comes in the hate just oozes out of you!”

Your eyes widened, slamming your laptop closed and grabbing your things. Chaeyoung flinched at the slam, a quiet yelp leaving her and Christian only flinched a bit. “Have you ever thought that maybe it’s not her I hate, Christian?” You turned to the door, grabbing the doorknob. “Maybe, just maybe, it’s you that I hate?”

Before you could even take a step out, the door was slammed closed, catching you off guard. You were spun around, backing yourself to the door as Christian's jaw clenched, eyes filled with anger as your hands pressed into his chest, attempting to prevent him from getting closer.

"You have no fucking reason to hate me," Christian's words came out quietly, each one oozing venom. Your eyes that were once wide in surprise turned into a hard glare, adding force to your push that only resulted in Christian moving only slightly back. "I never did anything to you.“

"Ian..." Chaeyoung hissed, worry evident on her face as she desperately tried to pull him away from you. "That's enough, okay? You don't need to do this-"

"Never did anything to me?" You scoffed, staring up at Christian in disbelief. "You treated me so nice the whole beginning, but one little drunken night that we kissed and you suddenly changed on me! And you got yourself a girlfriend making me think that I'm the problem!"

Chaeyoung finally stopped trying to pull Christian -who was frozen in shock- back, as Chaeyoung looked at you as if you had grown another head, shaking her head a bit. "Christian wouldn't do that..."

You looked at Christian, an eyebrow raised as you waited for him to talk. “You didn’t tell her? That I pulled you out to dance and you made me think there might have been something between us, only for you to make me feel like a cheap hookup?”

Christian was at a loss for words, only staring at you as he finally stepped back enough, letting you rush out of the room. You stopped before closing the door, looking at Christian one more time. “I regret ever getting close to you,” The slam of the door echoed in the room, Chaeyoung letting out a breath and moving away.

“I really thought you started to like me,” Chaeyoung’s voice was soft, pulling away from Christian to grab her phone.

“I do-“

“No, you don’t,” Chaeyoung looked up at Christian. He faced her, worry on his face as Chaeyoung sighed. “Why did you even do this to her? To me?”

Christian tried to say something, anything to not hurt Chaeyoung. His mouth opened and closed as if he was choking on air, trying to find the right words before closing his eyes, letting out a breath.

“She doesn’t like me, she was drunk and I thought maybe, just maybe, she liked me but she only liked Scott. She probably only kissed me to get back at him since he was with some other girl.” Christian moved to sit on his chair, burying his face in his hands. “I didn’t want to hurt you, and you’re so cool and I thought maybe I can forget her but-“

“You’re still into her,” Chaeyoung finished his sentence, Christian quiet. He clasped his hands in front of his face, only nodding. Chaeyoung looked down, silently walking out the studio.

Christian stayed in silence, head spinning with thoughts of everything that has happened. He groaned, burying his face in his arms, wrapping his hands around his head, wanting to curl into a ball and hide for a while.

You tried to calm down, huffing out in anger as you set your things down on a desk, your eyes closed as you finally let yourself breathe. "Everything okay?"

Scott smiled when he found you, walking over as you sat up on the desk, swinging your legs lightly. He stood next to your legs, watching your lips curve up into a small smile. "It's flight nerves, nothing too big,"

Scott stayed quiet, knowing you were lying but only responding with a smile, patting your thigh gently. You were quiet, your fingernails gently scratching Scott's head as his eyes closed a bit, enjoying the attention. You smiled a little, tilting your head a bit. "Sometimes when you spend time with me, I wish you were the one I fell for,"

Scott scoffed, laughing a bit as his eyes stayed closed, leaning more into you before resting his head on your arm. "We would be that famous couple that people would call us mom and dad,"

"Bold you to think they already don't," You giggled as Scott laughed quietly.

You both stayed silent a bit longer, Scott eventually pulling back and grabbing your things, silently giving you the hint that it was time to leave. "I'm sorry things didn't work with the guy you liked," Scott grabbed your hand, fingers intertwining as the two of you headed to your hotel.

"It's whatever, I'm just glad I never told him or else I would've died from embarrassment." You shook your head, letting out a sigh. "Guess I just thought he liked me too,"

"Well he's an idiot if he doesn't like you, you would've been an amazing girlfriend." Scott smiled at your laugh, staying quiet during the short walk. He held the door of the hotel open for you, following you to the elevators.

“You know, lowkey you can give Gyungmo a chance.”

The suggestion caught you off guard, making you look at Scott as the two of you stood in your spots, ignoring the elevator door as it opened. Scott only laughed a bit, pressing the button to keep the door open as he stepped inside. “I was just saying,”

“Scott, what does that even mean?”

You knew exactly what it meant, anyone hearing Scott would know what it meant. But still, you were caught off guard and now with this sudden news, you weren’t sure you were hearing things correctly.

“I mean, Gyungmo has a thing for you. Or had... I’m not sure anymore.” Scott pressed the button again as the doors closed, reaching for your wrist to pull you inside.

“He had a thing for me?” You ask, letting yourself get dragged into the elevator.

“Okay don’t make this weird for him, I wasn’t supposed to tell you,” Scott watched as you simply nodded, blinking a bit but still processing everything he said, only looking up when the doors opened on your floor.

“Is he still coming to drive me?” You asked, Scott now on his phone.

“Yeah, he said to just give him a heads up.”

You asked him to send Gyungmo the text, stepping inside your room and putting away the last bit of your things. Scott sat at the end of the bed, phone in hand as he scrolled through it, occasionally looking up to see if you needed any help.

With a groaned sigh, you plopped on the bed next to Scott, resting your head on his shoulder. You two stayed quiet, looking at everything ready to be taken to the car, Scott occasionally chuckling a bit at something he would see on his phone. At the sound of a knock, you let Scott open the door and let in Gyungmo and Cline. You held on to Gyungmo's sleeve, letting him stay back as Cline and Scott left with a suitcase, the two talking.

"Scott said something to me," You kept your eyes on Gyungmo as he furrowed his eyebrows, thinking on what Scott could've possibly said to you. "He said you have a thing for me?"

With a sigh and smile, Gyungmo shook his head, intertwining your fingers with his. "I had a thing for you, I mean, you're so cute in your videos and you're kind and a sweetheart in person. But I like you like this, being with me and gossiping about stupid shit,"

You couldn't help the smile on your face, getting shy and looking down a little. Gyungmo watched as you collected yourself, lightly slapping your cheeks to get rid of the blush that you knew was present before swinging your bag over your shoulder. Gyungmo stayed by your side, the two of you in comforting silence. "Thanks for being there for me all this time, I hope you know I'm going to be there for you if you ever need me,"

Everything was quiet until you made it outside, Scott and John laughing loudly as Cline was dancing weirdly. Gyungmo stood next to you, a smile on his face as he watched Cline before elbowing you lightly, motioning to your phone. You giggled as Cline exaggerated his dancing more, moving closer to you and the laughter got louder from all of them. Before Cline could exaggerate anymore, John gasped about the time and everyone scattered to put the luggage in Gyungmo's car, rushing you inside.

The airport buzzed with people traveling in and out, the place almost a blur with everyone. You checked in with Scott by your side, making sure you had all your documents before you made your way to security. A soft sigh later, you let Scott pull you into a hug, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

"Thank you for letting me do this, I promise you guys are going to love it," You pulled back to offer Scott a hug grin, getting one in return.

"We better, or you're coming back to film everything all over again," Scott joked, making you giggle.

You gave Cline and John a hug, looking over at Gyungmo and wrapping your arms around his neck. "Thanks for everything," You whispered, kissing his cheek softly as you pulled back. Gyungmo smiled, trying to hide his blushing. With one final wave, you fixed your bag, using your phone to record the guys once more before heading to your terminal.

Christian tried not to make it obvious as he walked up and down the halls of the building, looking for any sign of you. It had been two days and after you blocked him on Instagram, Christian had no idea what you were up to. He hadn't seen you in so long, and he didn't want to ask Scott seeing that as every time he tried to get some info, Scott just told him to text you.

Christian didn't bother to knock, just swinging the door open of Scott's studio to find him too close for comfort with a girl that wasn't you. She had a smile on her face, eyebrow raised as Scott leaned closer, only a breath away from kissing her. But the sudden door opened caused the two to look at Christian, his eyes wide in shock.

"Hey, what's up?" Scott turned to Christian who collected his thoughts before his blood boiled, teeth-gritting in anger.

"Are you fucking serious?" Christian erupted, Scott and the girl both startled from the sudden outburst. "Just because y/n isn't here you get to cheat on her?"

"What?" The girl glared at Scott, starting to push him away. "Who the hell is y/n?"

"Wait! What? No, hold up!" Christian moved aside as the girl furiously left, Scott trying to call her back before giving up, glaring at Christian. "Dude, what the fuck! You know how long I've been trying to get her to agree to go on a date-"

"What about y/n?" Christian yelled back, pushing Scott back.

"What about her? She's not even here!" Scott stumbled into the soundboard table, muttering a curse as his wrist got hit by the edge.

The outburst caught the attention of Gyungmo who rushed over, getting between both men. "What the hell is going on?"

"This asshole is practically fucking some girl in here just because y/n isn't here!" Christian tried to push Gyungmo away, trying to reach Scott but he moved farther away.

"What does she have anything to do with it?" Scott yelled back, gesturing around the room. "She's not here!"

"How the hell are you going to cheat on her like that!"

Scott stopped himself, blinking a bit before thinking about what Christian had just said. "Cheat on y/n? I'm not dating her, man."

Christian stopped trying to get past Gyungmo, furrowing his eyebrows. "Did you break up with her?"

"I wasn't dating her in the first place?" Scott grew even more confused, Gyungmo stepping away from Christian as he sat on a chair, sighing heavily.

"You really never noticed that it was Rome that she liked?" Cline's voice made the three turn to him, being caught off guard. Gyungmo was just as surprised at Cline's comment, the three staring at him. "Wait-"

"Did you think I didn't know?" Cline interrupted Gyungmo, head tilted in curiosity. "It was pretty obvious, I mean, I thought he liked her too but I guess not since Chaeyoung is in the picture." With a shrug, Cline dropped the subject, making everyone look at each other.

"Well, here I was thinking it was Hyuk..." Scott rubbed his cheek, pensive about everything that was said. "No wonder it didn't make sense."

"Wait... What?" Christian still couldn't get the whole picture, shaking his head. "She likes me?"

"She fucking fell in love with you, idiot." Gyungmo sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Only you would think she and Scott are dating."

"Man, Hyuk was a better suspicion than me. He was practically all over her, especially during her goodbye party. " Scott sat on the edge of his soundboard, shaking his head.

"Goodbye party?" Christian repeated, looking at Scott.

"We texted you about it, we just thought you were being an asshole and didn't want to go," Cline spoke up, still standing right outside the room. "She went back home like two days ago,"

Christian groaned, rubbing his face and gripping his hair. "I fucked up..."

"You think?" Scott scoffed, rolling his eyes. But still, Scott watched as Christian beat himself over what happened. With a sigh, Scott stood up straight. "I can help you find her. So you can properly apologize for being such a fucking dick." Christian looked up at his friend, slightly nodding his head. With a glare and roll of his eyes, Scott pulled out his phone, going to an old video on your channel and showing it to Christian. "She always hangs around here. It's her favorite place."

Tag list: @derya-t // @mara-twins // @thefangirlsoul

#christian yu scenario #christian yu angst #christian yu fic #christian yu fluff #dpr ian scenario #dpr ian angst #dpr ian fic #dpr ian fluff #dpr scenario #dpr fluff #dpr angst #khh fluff #khh angst #khh scenario #khh #khiphop angst #khiphop fluff #khiphop fic #khiphop

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ao3-spideypool · 4 years

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Won’t You Be The Johnny To My Baby?

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/35dYFPd

by onewithtoast

A partner in crime (stopping) and dancing.

Words: 427, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 10 of Drabbles/Short Fics/One Shots

Fandoms: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Deadpool - All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen, M/M

Characters: Peter Parker/Spider-Man, Wade Wilson/Deadpool, Peter Parker, Wade Wilson

Relationships: Deadpool/Spider-man, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Pre—Relationship

Additional Tags: 🎶dancing in the moonlight🎵, was gonna write more but this seemed perfect for a one shot, can be read as established relationship if you want, Slow crime nights, Youtube Tutorials, Felt cute might delete later 💞, written on mobile, but don’t worry I read it like twice, no errors!, Waxing poetic about dat ass, In case it wasn’t obvious enough I was watching Dirty Dancing, Thought of this concept before watching it tho, Anyways I’ll stop soul spilling in the tags, bye

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/35dYFPd

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #spideypool

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aleteia-ff · 5 years

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A Decade To Find You | Part 4