#man i just want the tiniest of breaks. just. two days out the week? yeah? can i get my fucking packages sent out on time? l
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my luck is so bad it is legitimately just cruel. every day literally feels like i am being punished for every little decision i make. it’s almost hard to believe and yet somehow i’m too dumb to anticipate this…?
#i have previously been burned by usps coming an hour early and not picking up my packages#i woke up at 4:45 am this morning and got out the bed fr by 9. i knew i should have had my packages out as early as possible.#i want to get paid for the items im selling as soon as possible. i want to get a refund for my returns.#and i want these people to get their stuff#yesterday usps returned a package i had sent out to me so its already delayed#i was in the middle of packaging everything up when i noticed a package was delivered#i meant to check my email to see if they sent me that bullshit fucking email claiming to have picked up my packages when they didnt#but got distracted#so naturally. my dad leaves (the only person i could ask to drop packages off at the post office) and only then do i see that dumbass email#delivered an hour ago#i am so serious……..i cannot do this anymore#it is like this every single day#like okay. if the rest of my life is terrible. if i’m losing my mind from social isolation. if my parents quite honestly hate me.#if i have no future and no hope.#if the only interaction i can rely on is friendly coworkers and patrons at the library.#if i have to spend my days off with basically only myself and my dog to talk to.#can the little fucking things go my way? like…half of them? is that possible?#i’m not even asking to have a happy life i’m not asking to be loved i’m not asking to belong i’m not asking for a point to living#man i just want the tiniest of breaks. just. two days out the week? yeah? can i get my fucking packages sent out on time? l#can i get to work on time? with no stress? can i not look forward to eating a salad all day only for my dad to have eaten it?#can i have a normal menstrual cycle? can i stop having back pain? can i be a little comfortable? can i time my birth control correctly?#this is just so exhausting. how am i supposed to do this for years and years and years#my grandma is fucking 91#my great grandma died at like 93#i can’t even do another year of this man#i’m dreading my 25 birthday this september#i don’t know how i’m gonna make it to 30#let alone anything after that#my parents are in their 60s………it’s a nightmare to have to think about living that long
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Journey to the Past
Warnings: Mentions of absent mother, Angst, Fluff, Grammar mistakes as always, LET ME KNOW WHAT I MISSED
Parings: Sebastian Stan x Teen!Daughter!Reader
Word count: ~890
Reader age: I imagine 14 but I guess early teens/preteens
A/N: Hope you enjoy! Please reblog and/or like if you liked it! PLEASE DO NOT REPOST!
“30 to 28. Watch out, I'm right behind you.”
“Yeah, whatever”
You had just finished your homework, and your dad just came home from work, and you guys decided to unwind a little by playing some card games and catching up since it's been such a long week.
“You shuffle, and I'll get ice cream.”
“I can't shuffle well, remember?
“I know. That means it's easier because we both get a bunch of wild cards.”
You let out a fake dramatic gasp and gathered all the cards together and started shuffling to the best of your abilities. “How was school today?”
“Hm. It was fine I guess.”
“I'll take fine.”
You thought of how you should bring it up to him. “Uh- I have to do a project in bio. It's about genealogy and stuff, so I need your help with some parts.”
“Cool, I'd be happy to.”
“Can I ask you-”
“How many scoops, one or two?”
“Three.”
“Yes, ma’am”
He sat back down and handed you your bowl. “Dad, can I ask you something?” He took a bite of the ice cream and and gave you a soft smile. “You just did.” You rolled your eyes and gave him a playful smile as you were shuffling the cards. “I'm kidding. Go ahead.” After a moment you put the newly shuffled deck down and looked your father in the eye. “So…Where do I- Like…come from?” He knew that wasn't what you meant to say, so he poked fun with you. “Well, Y/N, when a man and a woman love each other very mu-”
“No. No. No. I know that that's not what I meant.” You said laughing. “I mean…well…I-”
Your father started to get the tiniest bit worried. “Just say it doll. What's wrong?”
You looked right at him. “Do you remember her?” Bucky gave a confused look. “You mean ‘her’ as in-“
“My mother.”
He let out one of his iconic parental deep sighs. “Yes.”
In all honesty you expected him to say no. Not because he might not have known, but because he never, ever talked about your mother. He would try to dodge the questions you threw at him, and he had never said anything even when you were little, not even a name. You were learning about genealogy in school, and your assignment for your school project was to learn about your heritage and family background, so this time you kind of had a reason why it needed to be answered.
“My project is based on both sides of my family, dad” He rolled his eyes and got up grabbing both his and your bowl of ice cream. “But you only have one side.”
“That's not actually true.”
He turned around and faced you. “Come on, It's time for bed.”
“What? Your gonna end the fun night we're having just cause I asked about her who shall not be named.”
“You can stay up, but I'm going to sleep.”
“Dad, please come sit.”
He ignored you and started walking up the stairs. You stopped him halfway before he could walk any further.
“You can't keep this for me forever.”
“But I can.”
“Grandma doesn't know, so it has to be someone who you didn't really know right? Was it a one night stand?”
“Y/N.” He said sternly, trying to get past you.
“Dad, I have a right to know who my mother is! You have to tell me some day!”
He stopped and looked you in the face. He took your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Did you break him? Was he finally gonna say?
“You’re right. But, that day is not today.”
“So when is it then? Tomorrow?”
“We will talk about this later.”
“Stop! I have been trying for years to figure out who she is and you haven't given me a single clue! Just tell me! I don't care if she's dead or someone I know. I'm old enough to realize that whoever they are doesn't want me or doesn't care about me, and since you're a pretty popular guy I would think they would have reached out to you by now! So please you are the ONLY thing standing in my way of what I have been wanting forever. I Just-”
“Her name is Kathryn.”
“What?”
“Kathryn King. Born in Richmond, Virginia, about 37 years old. She was an actor. I know she moved to L.A. right after we split, but other than that I have no idea what she does, what she's like, anything. The last time I saw her was in a grocery store when you were three.”
“How long were you two together?”
“About six months.”
“So, I wasn't planned? I was a mistake?”
You walked up to you and grabbed your shoulders. “No.No. No. You were not a mistake. We were not together for long, but both did love each other. You were born out of love. By some sick twist of fate, she left you with me because she knew she couldn't be a good mother to an incredible, beautiful, and kind little girl.”
You didn’t realize you made your way to the floor and into your dads arms. You looked up and smiled at him. “Thank you. For everything.”
He returned the grin. “I would want anything else.”
#sebastian stan x daughter!reader#sebastian stan x teen!reader#Sebastian Stan#sebastian stan x teen!daughter!reader
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Mine Again - Harry Styles
a/n: this is something i just thought about after my nap today lol, so enjoy this treat, a classic exlovers to lovers fic!
pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader
word count: 3.4k
masterlist
Seeing an ex is never easy. Whether it’s by your choice or not. Working together with an ex is even harder and now you brought a situation on yourself where this is your reality.
Arriving to the studio of The Late Late show you immediately get escorted to your designated dressing room where a hair and makeup artist are already waiting for you. Today you are here to promote your new movie, Don’t Worry Darling with your onscreen lover, Harry Styles, however, what no one else in the building knows is that once the two of you were real life lovers.
Your romance blossomed during filming, having spent so much time together on set, it didn’t take long for a relationship to form between you and him, the chemistry you shared was immense and undeniable, anyone could see that and you felt like you were burning in a bonfire of the most intense feelings you’ve felt for any man. It was passionate and intoxicating, it felt like something that could only happen in movies, but it was your reality.
However filming ended and you were forced to go your separate ways, you both tried hard to keep what you had and though your feelings never changed, distance brought the worst out of the both of you. Six months after you became an item, you mutually agreed to break it off.
You haven’t seen him since then, meaning that it’s been five torturous months without having any contact with him and now that promo has officially kicked in, you are forced to travel around and make appearances with the man you love, yes, still love more than anyone on this Earth. Not even five months and absolutely no contact could change your feelings for him, however he might already be over you at this point, having forgotten about feelings and memories you still hold close to your heart.
How has he been doing? What is he like now? Has he been thinking about you? Does he miss you? What is it going to be like to see him for the first time?
The questions flood your mind as you sit in the chair and let the professionals work their magic on you, covering up the dark circles under your eyes that formed due to the sleepless night you had the day before, nonstop thinking about Harry and what it’ll be like to see him for the first time again.
After careful elimination, you choose a dress for the appearance, it’s tight and short, the fabric is covered in glittering sequins down your body and the long sleeves as well and while the dress covers a lot up from the waist, it makes up in the lack of length on your legs as the end of it barely reaches the upper part of your thighs, ending it black feathers that tickle your freshly shaven legs. The nude heels add even more to them, making you appear like you could hit the runway any moment when in reality you are not high enough to be a model.
There’s still some time until the taping starts, James drops by to say hello and tell you how excited he is to have you and Harry on tonight and you chit-chat for a little before you go to take a quick business call outside. When you’re done with that, you head back to your dressing room to take a few quick photos to post later, but right as you near your destination, a door swings open down the hallway and Harry steps out, wearing a black suit, of course, head to toe Gucci. The crispy grey shirt’s first few buttons are left undone, allowing you a glimpse of his toned chest and his necklace with the tiny cross pendant on it.
He looks good. No, he looks absolutely stunning, just like he always does and just the sight of him takes your breath away, forcing you to stop in your tracks when you lay your eyes at him. He spots you as well, stopping to take a look at you before you see a small smile on his perfect pink lips.
“Y/N, hi! You look… gorgeous,” he speaks up lowly, his eyes raking your body up and down.
“I, uhh—Thanks!” you breathe out, feeling already flustered. How are you gonna survive the interview, sitting next to him, talking about what it was like to play a married couple?!
His hand moves a bit and there’s a moment of awkwardness, neither of you really knowing what to do, last time you saw each other you kissed as your hellos, but now it’s not an option, obviously. At last, he moves forward and goes for a hug.
He envelopes you in his arms as you wrap yours around his neck, the warmth of his body bringing you a sense of home and it hits you hard how much you’ve missed him in these five months.
You swear he holds you just a second longer than what would be appropriate before his arms fall from around your frame and you force yourself to let go of him, though every fiber in you is protesting against it.
“How—How have you been?” he asks, his beautiful green eyes finding yours.
“I’m good. I’m good,” you nod. “What about you?”
“Same. Just the… usual stuff.”
“Writing music?” you ask with a soft smile. You still vividly remember those nights you spent together after a long day of filming, crashing at either his or your place and you often found him strumming his guitar in a corner, scribbling words down into his notebook. Sometimes he sang you the songs he came up with, sometimes he kept them to himself.
“Yeah, I’ve been writing a lot lately,” he admits with a shy smile.
Someone calls his name down the hallway and his head snaps up before looking back at you.
“I gotta go, but I’ll see you soon, right?”
“Yeah,” you nod, stepping aside so he can walk past.
“And you really look amazing, Y/N,” he calls after you one last time before jogging down the hallway.
You walk into your dressing room and shutting the door you lean your back against it, huffing heavily as you try to recollect yourself. Somehow, this encounter went really well, because the two of you were civil and respectful, but it was also a painful shock to see him in the flesh again. It was one thing to see pictures of him here and there, but actually meeting him, hugging him, talking to him… you need time to process it all.
Unfortunately, you don’t have much of that. Twenty minutes later you are walked to your spot behind the curtains from where you’ll walk out when James calls your name. Just as you arrive Harry appears as well, casually talking with one of the camera guys, having a laugh and just as he sees you, his eyes fall down your body again and you swear you see him gulp hard before turning his attention back to the man.
“Ready?” he asks upon walking up to you, a hand coming to rest on your lower back. Glancing over your shoulder you look down at his hand, lips parted at the feeling of his welcoming touch. He sees your glance and pulls his hand back quickly. “Sorry, it’s a habit, I guess,” he mumbles, blushing softly.
“It’s fine,” you smile. Of course it’s fine, for what you care, he could throw you over his shoulder like a cave man and run out of the building, you wouldn’t say a word. You want his touch on your body, you’ve been craving it since the moment you last saw him, but are you even allowed to admit it? You have no idea what he is thinking or feeling, you can’t just come right at him like that.
Harry fixes the lapels of his suit jacket, but what he doesn’t see is that the collar of his shirt is kind of stuck under the jacket.
“Your shirt is… let me fix it,” you breathe out and he turns to face you, letting your delicate hands fix his outfit, perfecting the look to the tiniest bit. “There, you look great,” you smile, your hands sliding down his chest before they fall to your sides again.
“Thank you,” he nods smiling back at you before offering an arm that you take gladly. He knows how much you hate high heels and that you are always scared of tripping and falling and being the gentleman that he is, he’ll be the support you need.
The taping soon starts and the two of you stand patiently behind the curtain as James introduces you.
“And now, please welcome the stars of the upcoming hit movie, Don’t Worry Darling! Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N and Harry Styles!”
The crowd starts clapping and cheering as the curtain moves and the two of you walk in, arms linked and Harry makes sure to slow down when you walk down the few little stairs. James welcomes the both of you with two kisses before everyone takes their place, James behind his desk, you and Harry sitting on the couch.
“Thank you so much for dropping by tonight, guys!” James smiles at the two of you.
“Thank you for having us,” Harry nods with a soft smile.
“You both have been guests on the show separately, but tonight you are here as a pair, since your latest movie, Don’t Worry Darling is hitting the theaters this weekend. How are you feeling about that, excited to see the film finally?”
“Very excited,” you nod with a smile. “I can’t wait to see the final version, because obviously we only know the version we envisioned while filming, but the actual movie is going to be something else.”
“Y/N, your role in the movie was originally handed to Florence Pugh who had to step back because she broke her arm,” James points out and you nod.
“Yes, I stepped in her place just about a week before production started and if I’m being honest I was scared that people would prefer to see her in the role, but I had a talk with her actually and she said she helped Olivia, the director to pick out the person to take her place and she said she instantly knew I would be perfect for it, so I trust her.”
“That’s amazing to hear, that the two of you didn’t have any rivalry going on,” James enthuses.
“She actually visited set a few times,” Harry chimes in and you nod.
“Yeah, we had a great time together.”
“Sounds like a lot of fun, the three of you together,” James chuckles. “So, the two of you play a married couple in the film and if I’m not mistaken you didn’t know each other beforehand. Was it hard to get into the roles with not much background on each other?”
“We met up a few times before filming started to get to know each other more and I think we hit it off right away, so it wasn’t hard for me,” Harry speaks up and you nod along.
“It was obviously a little different situation than when you meet someone and become friends, because as we got to know each other more, we had to go through scenes that were meant for a couple that was already years into their relationship, but I think it strengthened our friendship,” you answer, hands laid flat on your bare thighs.
No lie has been told, everything you said was the truth. You just left out the part where you become real life lovers and started dating a month into production.
“Y/N, you’ve been acting for a while now, have quite a few roles under your belt, what did you think of Harry’s acting?”
“I think that he is a wonderful actor and I hope people will give him his much deserved credit for it. He is often still seen as just a silly singer from a former boy band and they don’t take him seriously when he really is a very talented man. You’ll see in the movie as well, his role was a tough one, needed a lot of work and a wide range of emotions, but I think he did an amazing job.”
You dare to glance at him at the end of your little speech and for a moment you forget about the audience, James and the cameras. He is looking at you with so much gratitude and thankfulness. You remember every talk you had where he opened up to you about wanting to be taken seriously in the acting business, that he is not trying to be just a joke and another failed attempt of a singer to try himself out in movies. He told you how scared he is of not being good enough when you saw him every day on set and you were blown by his eternal talent and special take on his role. He deserves to be praised, he deserves every bit of it.
“It was easy, I had a great partner to learn from,” he smiles softly and you feel the heat crawling up your neck.
“You two really have the chemistry we’ve heard so much about, I can’t wait to see it on the big screen!” James sighs. “Tell me a little about what it was like to film? You guys spent a lot of time together, must have made a lot of memories.”
You take a deep breath as all those memories mentioned flood your mind. You had the best time of your life not just with Harry, but with the whole crew. Leaving after production was wrapped really broke your heart.
“It didn’t even feel like working,” Harry starts. “We always joked around, had lunch or dinner together, we were like a big family. It was so nice to have so many amazing, talented and hard-working people around you all day.”
“The jokes never stopped,” you add chuckling.
“I wish I could have been on set!” James laughs wholeheartedly. “That didn’t happen, but we have a little something. The crew has put together a short BTS video of the filming, so let’s have a look at that,” he announces and the video starts playing on every screen in the studio.
It’s a short little montage, but it captures the vibes of filming just perfectly. Clips shown from set are not just of you and Harry, but all the other cast and crew members. Goofing around, having lots and lots of laughs, dancing on set, which happened quite often and just all of you having a great time. Some of the slips however pain your chest, the ones of you and Harry.
This was very early into your relationship, no one on set even knew you were together, but seeing yourself on the screen you can’t deny the sparkles in your eyes every time you were around him.
A clip shows the two of you between two takes, doing a goofy dance in the kitchen of the home that was used as the set of the house of your characters, you are both wearing your costumes, Harry looks great in his suit and your long retro dress is flowing around you with every movement you make. He grabs you by your waist and spins you before you end up in his arms laughing crazily, you were so happy, so carefree. You wish you could go back to that moment…
Another footage was taken in your trailer when Harry took the place of Clare, your makeup artist and tried to do your eyeliner but miserably failed. In the video, he is gently clasping your chin, angling your face for himself as his other hand is working on the line, but it’s wobbly and way too thick, so you both end up just laughing when you check yourself in the mirror.
And there are some small moments of the two of you, moving around on set, lying in bed between takes, sitting in your chairs while eating, just tiny memories you still cherish so much and wish to live through again, but it’s the past. And it wouldn’t hurt this much if you knew Harry from the video was still yours.
When the video ends you need to blink a few times as your eyes have watered a little. You catch Harry’s gaze and he looks worried, he clearly wants to ask if you’re okay, make sure it was just the sentimentality of the moment, but he doesn’t have the chance, the cameras are still rolling.
“That looked like so much fun! Next time make sure to invite me on set too!” James jokes and you force a laugh out of yourself.
A few questions are asked about future plans and just generally about your careers before the taping finally ends. You thank James for the invite again and a photo is taken of the three of you, you standing in the middle with the two men on your sides. When everything is settled, you head to your dressing room, using the chance to slip away silently while Harry is still chit-chatting on the set.
In the comfort and silence of the dressing room, you lean onto the vanity, staring at yourself in the mirror, finding it ironic that on the outside, you look perfectly fine, healthy and pretty, but on the inside… you could scream. You miss Harry so much, you hoped that your feelings for him have toned down a little over these five months, but it was just the same if not even worse.
A faint knock is heard on the door and you quickly fix yourself before calling out to the person outside. The door opens and for your surprise, Harry steps inside, closing the door behind him.
“Hey, you disappeared so fast,” he softly says.
“Yeah, I’m just… a little tired,” you lie, though you know exactly he can see right through you.
“Y/N, I saw that look in your eyes after the video…”
“What look?” you ask with a huff. “What do you want me to say, Harry?”
“The truth,” he answers. “I’m not James, don’t bullshit me.”
“You want the truth? I’ll give it to you, but don’t blame me if it’s uncomfortable for you,” you chuckle bitterly, throwing your hands into the air. “I’ve been miserable, Harry. I miss you so fucking much, seeing you today was like Hell. I really thought it would be easier, but now I’m stuck with going from one interview to the other with red carpet events all around the world, seeing you every day when I terribly miss you and it fucking sucks, because you might not even feel the sa—“
You don’t get to finish, because Harry crosses the distance between the two of you, his hands grab your face and pulls you into a hard and passionate kiss. His lips move perfectly against yours and it feels like he is trying to squeeze every missed moment from the past five months into the kiss, making you melt into his arms completely.
He is everywhere. He is all you can taste, you breathe him in, his hands are everywhere on your body and your chest is pressed tight against his as you wrap your arms around his neck, locking him into your embrace. Your tongues dance, teeth tugging and pulling on lips, it’s a whole mess, but it’s the most perfect mess you’ve ever been. He takes your breath away completely and you don’t even want it back if it means you can’t have him.
Harry pulls away first, both your chests heaving wildly from the heavy make-out session and he looks down at you with hooded eyes.
“If you think I haven’t missed you like crazy… you can’t be more wrong, baby. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to call you a thousand times and beg for you to come back to me, but I thought you already moved on.”
“Moving on?!” you huff with a tired smile. “Harry, I could never…”
“Alright, then I’m not letting you go again. No way you are walking out of this building without being mine again.”
A shiver runs down your spine at his words as you pull him down for another kiss, needing to feel his lips on yours.
“I never stopped being yours,” you whisper against his lips and he moans weakly before crashing his lips against yours again.
-
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!
#harry#styles#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles au#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles fluff#harry styles x famous!reader#harry styles exlovers to lovers#harry styles blurb
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Hickeys and Revenge - Bakugou Katsuki
Bakugou x f!reader
Warnings: angst, crack, swearing, fluff
Summary: Bakugou learned his lesson from his cheating prank but you weren’t satisfied quite yet. The man really almost broke you so to get back at him, you decided to pull this little masterpiece.
A/N: H/T means Hair Type!!! This is also related to this fic which you should read in order to understand the beginning of this story.
BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST
“Mina. Get your ass over here, I need you to suck on my titts.”
—
You couldn’t hold your laughter as you demanded your best friend to come and give you hickeys over the phone.
Not too long ago, your lovely boyfriend, Bakugou Katsuki, decided to pull a little prank on you. It wasn’t uncommon. You were the type of couple to enjoy a laugh every now and then but there was only one rule. No cheating pranks, no breaking up pranks. That was all. However, after being on a losing streak, your boyfriend decided to pull a little prank that very much broke the rules. In the end, he was also hurt but at least you knew he wouldn’t be pulling anything stupid like that again.
After that, you both went back to normal. You guys were once again happy, loving, cuddly, all the good stuff. But something in the back of your mind knew you weren’t quite satisfied with Katsuki’s punishment. You decided you had to feed the flames just a bit more to have your revenge. This ended up with you pulling a little hickey prank.
Now you were a prank master! You were skilled, smart, creative, and maniacal. Things had to be just right when it came down to it. That is why instead of using makeup like anyone else would, you’re looking for real, authentic hickeys. Since you obviously can’t have your boyfriend be the one to give you these hickeys, it would have to be your bestie, Ashido Mina.
—
“What?!” Mina laughed on the other side of the phone.
“It’s for a prank! Remember Katsuki’s cheating prank?” You said with excitement.
“Yeah. The one where he failed miserably and you ended up breaking up with him until you figured out it was a prank and you guys got back together after 3 days.” She explained.
“Gee, thanks for the play by play of me almost walking out of my very happy relationship.” You sarcastically replied. “Anyway, as revenge, I’m gonna do a little hickey prank!”
“Revenge? Girl, were you not satisfied with him being devastated over your almost breakup?” She asked.
“It’s not enough!” You replied.
“Not enough? Honey, he locked himself in the house for days. Eijirou had to force him to bathe and eat. What do you mean not enough?” She explained.
“Awwww, my poor baby. Look, I know he went through shit but he caused it! I didn’t get any revenge. I’m feening for it.” You explained.
“Alright, alright,” Mina giggled. “I’ll be over in 10..you fucking sadist.”
“Thank you!”
—
Time had passed and you were expecting the arrival of your best friend any minute now. You figured it’d be fine for her to be over for a bit because Katsuki was out on his final patrol for the week. After that, you’d have him all to yourself since he’d be home for the rest of the day.
Finally, after waiting and waiting, a knock was heard from the front door. You ran to the wooden structure and opened it to be blessed with the pink sight.
“Hickey time!” Mina said in a sing-song voice. You both laughed as she came in and you pulled her to the couch. “Okay, how are we doing this.”
“Uh, I don’t know- fuck this is so weird!” You joked as you both laughed again. “Okay, ummm, I think I’ll take a few on my chest and then some on my neck.”
“Okay. Should we have them like, trail up. Do you want me to go and make it look like he went from here to here?” She said and pointed from your chest to your lips, to which you nodded. “Wow bitch, you’re bold, wearing a tube top and everything!”
“I know right!” You both laughed. You layed back and pulled your tube top down to reveal your bra. Before you started, you pulled out your phone and started recording. You needed proof to show Katsuki that this was the work of your best friend and not some rando. Finally, Mina leaned down as you both released giggles and she placed her lips on your left mound. “What the fuck, this is so weird!”
You both laughed and Mina pulled her lips away as she began dying. You both turned red in the face as tears filled your eyes due to all the laughing. You both finally settled and she began sucking on your boob.
“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” was all you could say as you laughed. “Wow, oh my gosh, your lips are sooo soft! Kiri is getting a treat!” You teased as Mina pulled off to laugh again.
She finally created the first mark and pulled off as you both took a look at her work. “Holy shit! There’s a fucking hickey!” You said like a teenage girl.
“That’s a fucking hickey, all right.” Mina said, proud of what she had done.
“What the fuck? This is really good!” You laughed. “You’re so good at this, how often do you practice? Is there a hickey on Kirishima right now?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mina laughed. You both joked around a little more as she continued to mark you. It’s safe to say the whole procedure was quite comical.
—
“Can you like..make it darker? Like suck harder.”
*Mina sucking on your neck harder*
“Yeah, yeah. Harder. Yeah.”
—
“Ow! Did you just bite me?”
“Sorry! Instinct!”
“Ow...does it look bad?”
“It looks more believable.”
“Oh.....do it again.”
—
“This is weird...it’s like..hot when Katsuki does it though.”
“Okay, can you not talk about how you like it better when your boyfriend gives you hickeys while I’m literally swallowing your neck right now?”
—
Finally, after about 20 minutes of sucking and laughing, you were finally marked with red and purple hickeys. You looked in the mirror and were stunned with the work. You turned to face your best friend and high fived her.
Encouraging her to stay for a bit, you both spent some girl time together before she had to go due to Katsuki’s arrival approaching. After saying your farewells, you shut the door and jumped in excitement.
“Shits about to get real.”
—
You sat on the couch waiting for Katsuki’s arrival. Soon enough, the sound of his car door shutting alerted you of your boyfriend’s presence. You quickly covered your hickeys with your hair and went back in your phone to appear natural. Finally, after the sound of jingling keys, your boyfriend walked through the door with his best friend.
“Hi baby!” You said with glee as you got up and went to greet Katsuki with a kiss. He happily returned the quick peck and took note of your attire.
“The hell? Why’re you wearing this?” He asked, looking down at your tube top and spandex. You rolled your eyes knowing how he was whenever you wore clothes that exposed a little more than necessary around others.
“Because I didn’t know you were bringing Kirishima over so I stayed comfy.” You explained as Katsuki held his arms around you, grumbling about how you made a fair point.
After speaking for a little bit at the doorway, Katsuki made his way over to his best friend who had already made himself comfortable in the kitchen with a beer in his hand. The two were like brothers so it wasn’t uncommon for them to act this way in each other’s homes. While the two men were in the kitchen, you made your way up to your shared bedroom. You would rather have Katsuki see the hickeys in a private setting so that your upcoming argument wouldn’t take place in front of Kirishima.
Katsuki spent about 20 minutes down there with Kirishima before deciding to check up on you. The red head was fine with waiting in the kitchen and nodded his head at his friend when he decided to check up on you.
The blonde finally walked in through the room to see you sitting criss-crossed on the bed, looking at your phone. He shut the door as he approached you and you looked up and smiled at his arrival.
“Hi.” You said as you sat up a little straighter.
“Hey.” He said as he walked over and wrapped his arms around you before picking you up to kiss you. You both held the tiniest make out session before you settled to just holding each other, with your arms wrapped around his neck.
Katsuki joined you on the bed for a bit as you both sat together while still cuddled up. “How was your day, baby?”
“It was fine I guess. Nothing really happened. I stayed home, waiting for you dummy.” You said, trying to make Mina’s markings more noticeable. He still didn’t see them though.
“Oh yeah? Waiting for me to do what?” He smirked at you.
“Shut up, you fucking horn-dog. Waiting to spend some time with you. That’s all.” You said and Katsuki jokingly pouted.
“So you didn’t want me to come home and fuck you stupid?” He asked, pulling you into his lap.
“No. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to now.” You said in a soft voice. He chuckled softly before kissing the clean side of your neck.
“Maybe after Shitty Hair leaves,” he said before picking up his little pecks again. “I’ll do you just how I want to.”
He finally shifted over to the other side of your neck where the markings remained and he finally took notice of the work Mina had done. He paused his teasing and pulled away with a confused look in his face and furrowed his brows. He licked his thumb and reached out to wipe at the mark but silently seethed when it didn’t wipe away.
“What?” You questioned and Katsuki gently took you off his lap before standing up to pace around a bit. You walked to Katsuki in a “confused” manner before he stopped you.
“Uhhh...hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on.” He ran his hand through his hair, like he usually did in stressful situations, before looking at you.
“Uh, what- what is that? On your Uh-“ he said and tapped his neck. You went to your vanity mirror before turning to face him again. “Is that a hickey?”
‘Showtime’ you thought to yourself. “N-no. No, it’s not a hickey-“
“Then what is it?” He eagerly questioned with fear and anger laced in his voice.
“I don’t know, I was running and I fell and-“
“And what? You fell and got bruises?” He said looking at your neck and chest. He walked to you and pulled down your shirt to reveal the hickeys Mina left on your mid-chest. Katsuki shook his head and backed up, more pissed off than before. “No. No- you don’t fucking fall and get bruises on your neck and chest like that. So is it a fucking hickey?��
“No, no it’s not a hickey I swear.” You said softly, walking up to hug him but he gently stepped out of your hold. “Babe, babe-“
“Mm, no that’s definitely a fucking hickey.” He said as he chewed on his lower lip. “S’a fucking hickey.”
“No it’s not, I was using the H/T iron and I guess I burned myself-”
“Your hair is naturally H/T. Why would you need to use a H/T iron?” He said. You were stunned in silence but wanted to smile, appreciating the fact that your boyfriend knew you so well.
“Y/N are you fucking serious?!” He said, raising his voice a bit to show his anger.
“It’s not a hickey! I swear!” You said and walked to the mirror and he followed you.
“You’re fucking lying! ‘Cuz you don’t fucking get hickeys on your chest and titts randomly.” He said as you turned to walk to him, causing him to step back.
“I- I was using makeup and-“
“I swiped at it already, it’s not fucking coming off!”
“No I was like, I was fighting-“
“Fighting with what?!”
“I don’t know I just-“
“No, no! Stop! Can you stop coming towards me right now? You’re fucking lying to me and making up excuses. Those are fucking hickeys.” He said at a good distance away as tears began to fill his eyes. “Are you serious, Y/N?”
“....I’m sorry.” You quietly said. Your apology pushed his tears to flow as he dropped his head back and used his hands to wipe away his tears.
“You’re sorry? You’re not fucking sorry! You’re a fucking hoe that cheated on me while I was away. Are you fucking serious?” He said looking at you with teary eyes and a red nose. “Hurry the fuck up and just say you cheated on me!”
“No!” You whined. Katsuki laughed and rolled his neck as he wiped more tears before taking some random thing and throwing it at the wall, creating a loud sound.
“The fuck is wrong with you?! Did I do something wrong?! Tell me!” He said, shouting at you.
“No! You didn’t do anything!” You said, standing still.
“I must’ve done something! Or what? Are you just a slut that likes fucking attention? Is that why you’re okay being dressed like that around Kirishima?” He asked with an angry voice as he looked at your attire once more. He watched as you shook your head ‘no’ before his eyes dropped down to the markings on your upper body.
“Why would you do this?!” He said with a cracked voice as he openly cried now and walked to you. “I fucking love you Y/N! How could you do this to me? We’ve been together for years! I spent years of my life with you and you do this?!”
After seeing his tears and hearing his broken voice, you decided this was enough.
“Katsuki...” you softly said as you reached out for his arm. You expected the argument to go on longer but Katsuki seemed like he was heartbroken and done as he tried to walk away from your touch. “No, no Katsuki wait!”
“Get off of me.” He said trying to shake you off but you lightened your voice and coated it with giggles to assure him.
“No wait! Baby it’s a prank! It’s a prank I swear!” You said standing in front of him, pushing him deeper into the room. He turned around to avoid you but you only clung to his back. “Mina did it! Mina came and did it!”
“Baby, I swear!” You said, turning him around and keeping his front facing you
“KIRISHIMA!” He called out and soon enough, the red head came in, cautious of what was going on.
“What happened?” Kirishima softly asked in confusion. A quiet silence filled the room and all that could be heard was your boyfriend’s heavy breathing.
“I’m shaking right now.” The blonde said in your hold.
“Why?” Kirishima asked, looking to you.
“He thinks I cheated on him because I have hickeys but Mina came over earlier and did it.” You said as the red head walked into the room.
Silence filled the room once more as Kirishima inspected the scene. He looked at your hickeys, to your face, to Katsuki’s shaking body and teary eyes. “I don’t believe that.”
“You don’t believe me?” You asked him.
“Not really. I want to but why would Mina come and give you hickeys on your chest and neck?” The red head said with his hands in his pockets and head tilted to the side.
“I swear she did it, I have the footage.” You said pulling out your phone.
“No- no, this is fucking dumb. I guess we’re over.” Katsuki said and began walking to the door but you quickly pulled up the video and jumped on him. He wouldn’t turn and so you put the video in front of his face as he began to watch, alongside Kirishima.
After finishing the video, Katsuki crouched down to the ground and allowed his head to drop as he gave a relieved sigh. You laughed at him and began to hug his shoulders as Kirishima laughed in the back.
“I’m sorry baby!” You said. Bakugou surprised you with tears of joy and a smile as he quickly turned to give you a hug while he stood up and assaulted your face in quick pecks.
“Alright, well how the fuck do we get rid of these Mina marks?” Katsuki asked, wiping at your neck.
“You could do it with a cold spoon.” Kirishima interjected causing you and Katsuki to settle.
“Oh..oh yeah, you would know.” You both simultaneously said and laughed at him. The red head blushed and turned to the same shade as his hair before coming up with a comeback.
“You guys are just weird!” Kirishima embarrassingly joked before walking out of the room, laughing and going back down to his beer.
Bakugou held you in his arms and swayed you as you allowed him to kiss your face. “I’m sorry~”
“Baby, that’s so messed up!” He laughed out with a sigh as he placed his head to your own. “I almost fucking left you!”
“I know, you were so mad.” You said in a sad but laughing voice as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “But that’s what you get! Now you know how I felt when you fucking pranked me last time.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I get it, this is why we don’t pull these types of pranks.” He said.
“Exactly.” You pecked his nose before continuing. “I’m sorry.” You whispered before he placed a long and hot kiss on your lips. He picked you up as you wrapped your legs around his torso while your arms tightened around his neck.
“Aww, I feel so bad!” You whimpered as you tucked your head into his neck. “Are you mad at me?”
“No. You’re my girl.” He said with his husky voice.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
You pulled your head back to peck his lips and he did the same and kissed you back. You both went in for more small pecks before you pulled away the slightest bit to make fun of him.
“You got praaaannkkkeeddd!” You said before laughing again, to which he rolled his eyes and flopped onto the bed with you in his hold.
“I’m gonna get you back.” He said with determination in his eyes.
“You’re gonna get me back?” You questioned.
“Yup.”
“No!” You giggled out.
“Mhm. I’m probably gonna cut your hair this time. Maybe throw all your makeup out the window, I don’t know.” He threatened.
“Those aren’t pranks! Those’ll actually do damage!” You said.
“Mhm!” He agreed and you both just laughed some more. You made it up to him with apology cuddles in bed for the next half hour before you both remembered you had a guest in your house. Katsuki quickly got up once he realized his friend was still in his house and went to kick the red head out.
“Why’re you making him leave?” You asked as Katsuki stood at the bedroom exit.
“Because apology cuddles aren’t enough. You’re making it up to me in another way.” He said with a wink and smirk before walking out the door. You laughed and sighed before flopping down on the bed with a blush. With his leave, you mentally began to prepare yourself for the hours of rough make-up sex that was to come.
Tag list: @sxcker4you @aomi04 @tessabrown101 @ebiharachan @is-this-ash @iris-shihabi @sxturn-stars @isolight
#bakugo x reader#bakugou fanfiction#bakugou katsuki#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou imagine#bakugou x y/n#bnha bakugo katsuki#mha#bakugou x reader#bnha#bakugou fluff#bnha bakugou#katsuki x reader#my hero academia#my hero academia bakugou#katsuki bakugou#mha bakugo katsuki#bnha bakugo x reader#boku no hero academia#mha bakugo x reader#mha bakugou#katsuki bakugou x reader#boku no hero bakugou#bakugou angst#bakugo angst
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sometimes and always
//a love story in five acts
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader
Summary: It's hard to resist falling into bed with a cute neighbour, but it turns out it's even harder to resist falling for him. (alternatively- Spencer Reid and the reader struggle to resolve their feelings but make valiant attempts to do so while lying horizontally in each other's beds.)
Word Count: 7k
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, strong language, decidedly non-American spelling conventions
Author's Note: SO. This fic was originally part of a fic swap for the wickedly talented @imagining-in-the-margins, but it is now over six months too late. Thankfully, patience apparently springs eternal in her?? besides all the other amazing things?? Unfair, but good for me. So, Pom, this one is for you. Thanks for being the absolute best and putting up with my rants and not judging me for mocking everything and everyone all the time.
Love, Perpetually Tardy.
(i)
This is how it happened the first time.
I was frowning at the pitiful stack of mail in my hands, wondering if the conspicuously missing letters and subscriptions would ever be returned to me. Ever since moving to my new apartment, I had been at the mercy of the Postal System and that was never a good situation to be in. I’d resigned myself to having to take an extra trip back to my old building and do some investigating, when the elevator dinged and I stepped in. Just as the doors slid closed, there was the frantic rumble of footsteps and a hand slipping into the narrowing gap.
The doors sprang apart to let in the harried owner of the appendage, who barely spared me a glance before turning to face the front, eyes briefly darting to the buttons. It took me a second to recognise him. It was the guy from the apartment opposite to mine, although so far that seemed to be only a nominal living arrangement; in my two weeks there, I’d seen him exactly once, merely in passing, and we had exchanged a sum total of zero words.
I followed his lead and stopped blatantly staring at him, though I continued studying him covertly through my peripheral vision. He looked—well, his jawline looked like it could cut glass effortlessly and he had the soft chestnut hair of a male model and I knew I was probably going to develop a very embarrassing crush on him at some point— but besides that, he looked browbeaten, his whole posture seeming to buckle under the invisible weight of the world.
There was an awkward moment when he realised we were both heading in the same direction, and I took it upon myself to break the ice.
“Hi,” I greeted, introducing myself, “I just moved in. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” I gave him my warmest smile.
His swift assessing glance would have escaped my notice if I hadn’t been paying such close attention; his expression was still shuttered off, but he offered an endearing little quirk of his lips and an introduction. “Spencer Reid. I’ve-uh, I’ve been away on a work thing.”
“Oh? What do you do?” I asked, beginning a leisurely walk down the hallway and fishing my keys out of my bag. I immediately regretted the query when, impossibly, his eyes became even more guarded.
“I’m an FBI agent.”
Well, that clipped admission would have given anyone pause. “Oh, wow. That’s really impressive, dude.”
“Thanks.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”
“So, you’re like a psychologist?”
“I catch serial killers.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was brimming with my insecurities. The alcohol in my blood helped with that, though; the next words were out of my mouth before I even registered the thought.
“Do you want to come in?”
“Oh, uh—”
He was going to say no.
“It’s just that you look like you could use some company. And I think it’s absolutely criminal that we haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”
“It’s really late.”
But he was rocking forwards on his toes just the tiniest bit, leading me to believe that some part of him did want to take me up on my offer that night.
“So it is. Come on, Agent Reid. Be a good neighbour.”
“It’s Doctor, actually,” he corrected. “Doctor Reid. I have Ph.Ds. Three of them.”
My eyebrows had risen to my hairline and, sensing the change in the air, he hurried to put me at ease. “But you can just call me Spencer.”
“Huh. You don’t hear that every day.” I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, come on in, Doctor.”
There was a moment when his whole body leaned towards me and his face looked conflicted but slightly enthusiastic, and I was convinced I could turn the night into a very pleasant one for both of us. Then, with a loud clatter, my keys slipped from my hands, startling us. The moment was broken, and I sighed in resignation.
“Let me guess, you’ve decided I’m too drunk and we’re going to go our separate ways.”
At least he had the good grace to look apologetic. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now,” he told me slowly as he bent down to pick up my keys and pressed them securely into my outstretched hand, “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. I’ll...see you around?”
“Sure,” I managed to say with a regretful smile, “I’m holding you to that.”
*~*
That, however, turned out to be easier said than done, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the Herculean feat of unpacking and organising my new place with a mild hangover and a tinge of frustration over lost opportunities looming over me. Once that was dealt with, the bigger challenge turned out to be actually locating the man in question. I knocked on his door a few times, but when the responding silence continued to persist for over a week, I began to think he’d just been a drunken hallucination in the first place. And the longer I went without any follow-up interactions, the more intensely I started overthinking the slightly fuzzy memory of our brief conversation.
Of course I’d managed to make a fool of myself in front of a really cute guy. That was absolutely in character for me. Every time I passed by his door, I convinced myself a little more that I owed him a sincere apology for my poor, inconsiderate conduct.
Beyond the embarrassment, however, work didn’t leave me much time to think about it, and by the time I was trudging to my apartment the next Saturday, the whole encounter had been relegated firmly to the back burner. Naturally, that was when the faint glow of light under his door distracted me from the very passive-aggressive email I was composing. I hesitated.
The deep breaths I sucked in didn’t serve much more purpose than to make me somewhat lightheaded, but I forged on anyway. I knocked on the door, and waited.
There was silence, followed by the sound of reluctantly shuffling feet, and then, finally, I was face to face with Spencer Reid once again.
“Um,” I started, “hi.”
He stared at me wordlessly for a beat, during which I started to wonder if he’d actually forgotten me already.
“So, we met the other day, and I just want to apologise. I didn’t mean to come on to you so strongly, and I get that you weren’t int-”
“Do you want to come inside?”
“..What?”
“Do you want to come inside?” he repeated, enunciating clearly. That didn’t clear up my confusion, though.
“Um. Yes? Sure. I mean, no, shouldn’t we talk about this a bit?”
He let out a tired laugh. “I don’t want to talk right now.”
“Alright,” I said, biting my lip. I followed him inside, and pushed the door closed behind me; it emitted an innocuous little click as it fell shut.
There was something about the weariness behind his eyes and the careful set of his jaw that made me want to study him and understand what was going through his head, but all I could glean that night was that Spencer didn’t seem amenable to much time spent on documentation.
“So,” I began unsurely, shedding my jacket and scanning the contents of the room, the piles upon piles of books and the distinct lack of much else, “tell me about yourself.”
“Didn’t I already do that?”
“Hmm, that’s not the whole story,” I mumbled, running my fingers over a broken-spined, wrinkled copy of Paradise Lost laid open on a heavy wooden desk. A single smudge of blue ink stood out against the yellowing page, and beside it, the print read: This horror will grow mild, this darkness light. “You’re not just an FBI agent.”
“That’s all that’s important,” he asserted, taking a step towards me. He had one eye on my curiously wandering fingers and, sensing that it was making him more antsy than he needed to be, I tucked my hands into my back pockets, facing him with a grin of false bravado. I really wished I was drunk. That would have made things infinitely easier.
“Besides,” he continued, this time meeting my eyes directly, “I don’t know anything about you either.”
“Fair enough,” I conceded, stepping closer to him.
His eyes didn’t leave mine, until my own strayed to the bobbing curve of his throat and the tantalising motion of his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not for the first time that week, I wondered how terrible of an idea it would be to try to kiss my attractive neighbour. I could see my own apprehensions mirrored in his stance, and I saw the exact moment when he identified the focus of my gaze.
I didn’t have to spend much time contemplating. He decided, just as I did, that any consequences of this impulsive decision could be dealt with later.. I lunged for him just as he closed the distance in one long stride, grasping my jaw in both his hands. Then we were firmly attached at the lips, and his arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me closer, seemingly intent on devouring my mouth. Gradually, our actions slowed a bit, the kiss turning softer and more exploratory, our tongues winding around each other gently, my lungs readily accepting his deep, nasal sigh.
His arms around my waist were a steadily spreading band of warmth, and I could feel the growing evidence of his arousal against my thigh. I found myself thinking I could be very happy with just kissing him like this, feeling his breaths tickle my face, letting my hands suffer minute pinpricks from the stubble littering his jaw. But then his grip shifted to my hips and tightened ever so slightly, and it was like I’d been doused with fuel and set alight. My fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt as he pressed distracting kisses along my neck, my soft whimpers breaking the relative silence of the room.
All of a sudden, the ground shifted and my stomach swooped, and it took a second or two before I realised I was now in his arms, being carried towards, presumably, his bedroom. Content, I got to work on undoing the last button and trying to slip the shirt down his arms entirely. He granted me a chuckle for my troubles before laying me down gently on our destination and taking it off himself.
He didn’t waste any time in sinking his knees into the soft mattress on either side of my legs, helping me out of my own clothes and methodically kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, until finally, I was clad only in flimsy cotton and he was nosing at my aching core. With two fingers, he deftly removed the last of my defences and pressed his mouth against me. I moaned, my hands flying to his hair and trying to keep from pulling too hard as he used his tongue to examine every inch of my arousal, evidently experimenting based on the sounds he managed to elicit from me.
“Oh, my God,” I babbled, hips bucking wildly under the iron grip holding them down.
“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling away slightly, “tell me how much you like it.”
“Spencer,” I breathed desperately, “Please. I need- I need more.”
He hummed leisurely against me, frustrating me to no end. My grip in his hair tightened at last, guiding him where I needed him most, and I swear I felt his lips stretch into a smile.
It went on for what felt like hours, but there was no earthly way I could have lasted that long. He took mercy on me eventually, plunging two long fingers deep inside me, closing his lips around the bundle of nerves that, predictably, sent me into a violent, shaking climax. He nursed me patiently through the aftershocks, waiting till my legs had stilled before rising to undo his belt and rid himself of his pants. I was already mourning the loss of his closeness, and I pulled him back on top of me the moment he was within reach.
“Come on, Doctor,” I taunted, “It’s time you made good on your promise and got to the main event.”
“I never promised anything,” he retorted, but the playful glint in his eyes excited me, and while he reached over beside us to the nightstand, I rose to the occasion.
“Oh? Well, if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just head out, then,” I teased, going so far as to attempt to sit up from underneath him. I felt a low, threatening sound begin in his chest and make its way up his throat as his hands gripped my wrists and brought them down to my sides, pinning me in place.
It was my turn to chuckle at his eagerness, lifting my head to briefly peck him on his lips.
“Don’t worry, Spencer,” I cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Now fuck me already.”
“With pleasure,” came the response, and while I wondered idly how a smirk could simultaneously be sinister and bashful, there was the sharp sound of crinkling foil, and then he cut off my thoughts by entering me in one fluid motion.
“Fuck!” I cried out, holding him around the shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer.
“That’s it,” he groaned in my ear, “let me hear you.”
He set a torturous rhythm, thrusting into me harshly before pulling out slowly, carefully, making me relish the sensation, anticipation building steadily in the pit of my stomach and spreading until it engulfed me. A ceaseless litany of moans and whimpers filled the air around us, the source of each barely discernible. At last, I could feel myself riding the very precipice, and his name began to fall from my lips like a prayer.
“Spencer,” I called, “Spenc-”
He swallowed the rest of my inconsequential cries, bringing his thumb to where we were joined to guide me over the edge, and as I convulsed around him soundlessly, he reached his own climax, blunt fingernails leaving crescent marks on my hips, his heavy panting breaths stuttering, once, against my clavicle, before calming and slowly evening out.
We stayed that way for a few minutes, my hand combing lightly through his hair, his closed-mouth kisses pressing against my neck like a balm. Eventually, though, we had to move, and it was he who did first. He pulled out and walked away from the bed without looking at me, tossing the tied-up condom in the trash. I sat up, cross-legged, watching him for a bit, pursing my lips when I noticed he was actively avoiding my gaze.
I cleared my throat. “Where’s your bathroom?”
He pointed in a general direction and mumbled something incoherent; sighing in disappointment, I stood up gingerly and went to clean myself up. When I returned, the room still smelled like sex, and Spencer was still evasive, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looked up when I entered, watching me pick up my clothes.
“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.
I glanced over at him. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”
Nodding, he watched me get dressed, then followed me into the living room and watched me drape my jacket over my arm. Then he watched me walk to the door, all the while not saying a word.
The cool steel of the doorknob in my hand, I looked over my shoulder one more time.
“Well, Spencer. You know where to find me, I guess,” I muttered, shaking my head slightly. Then I left his apartment, and despite the enormity of what had transpired during my visit, the click of the door closing sounded exactly the same.
.
(ii)
Of course, after that, I resolved it would never happen again. The man next door clearly had some issues with what we had done, and I couldn’t be bothered to solve them. It was, frankly, idiotic to jeopardise the prospect of good neighbours in favour of sex, however great it might have been.
It was embarrassing how quickly my resolution packed its bags and jumped out of my third-storey window.
I was awoken the next morning by three firm raps on my door. I think I knew, somehow, who was trying to get my attention, so I took my time, but the reveal of Spencer’s regretful face didn’t surprise me any less. I was wary as I stared at him wordlessly, cycling through all the possible reasons for his visit, and his eyes dropped to the way my arms tightly hugged my midsection. He winced then, meeting my eyes.
“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he blurted, and it sounded so rehearsed that I had to stifle a guffaw. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that could have been frustration, but he powered through. “I’ve had a pretty terrible week at work and I think I was trying to get something out of my head. But I was awful to you, and it was completely my fault. I’m sorry if I offended you. I had...a great time.”
I’d been watching him carefully throughout his speech, and if he was faking the earnestness in those last couple of lines, he was an extraordinary actor. I concluded, as I studied the apologetic slump of his shoulders and the dark bags into which his eyes had sunken, that I didn’t need to worry about the veracity of his words.
“It’s okay,” I said hesitantly. “I mean, no, it’s not okay, it felt really awful, but thanks for explaining. I get it now.”
“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, “that’s great. Thank you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.
“Problem?” I was bemused.
“No!” He was looking back at me, now. “I- well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. I thought I’d have to convince you.”
“Huh. Well, you can still convince me, Doctor. Give me a second to get ready. You’re buying me breakfast.”
I quite liked the shy smile that graced his face in response.
*~*
It kept happening. There was no way I could have stopped it, and there was no reason I would have wanted to.
We quickly grew into a familiar rhythm. Each time, it started with one of us having a particularly stressful day. Each time, it started with a knock on the door and some perfunctory shuffling around. Before wasn’t the time for talking. Each time, we’d stumble into whichever surface was closest, and every time it wasn’t the bed, Spencer would make some halfhearted protests about germs and hygiene, before I shut him up very effectively with a manicured hand on his dick. Each time, in the During, I marvelled at how well we fit together, how quickly we’d learned each other’s bodies, and each time, I saw more of him than I had the last.
And I loved every bit of it.
Spencer no longer retreated into his shell in the After. He’d try sometimes, but I knew how to coax him out, now. I’d slip my hand into his, ever so gently, and wait. Or I’d sling one arm around his waist until he returned the embrace. I was getting scarily good at reading him. It was like working on an intricate puzzle, and every new achievement was rewarded with a deeper, longer look into his mind.
I carefully stored away every casual anecdote about someone from work or his godson or his mother, and I loved to watch the life burn bright in his eyes. Of course, they were all happy stories. I could sense the bittersweet aftertaste they left in his mouth, but he never let me inspect it too closely. In turn, I regaled him with tales of my own, of my sister and my parents, of my cat that was perpetually falling asleep on top of me. I told him all the easy, palatable things, holding back just as much as he did, always careful to maintain the wall of superficiality.
But things did slip through the cracks every once in a while, from both of us-- they were bound to, what with the sheer amount of time we spent together in various states of undress. Things that made me burn with curiosity that couldn’t be sated without jeopardising the very foundation of our arrangement. So I turned a blind eye to the jagged scars on his thigh and neck when he failed to maneuver to hide them; in return, he kept mum when I walked into his apartment, on the day of my worst professional disaster, with runny makeup and bloodshot eyes, shivering all over.
If he noticed that I kissed the skin over his scars a little more tenderly, lavishing attention on him the first time I saw them, he didn’t show it. If he liked the way I always nuzzled my face into the one on his neck when we were done, he didn’t show it.
For my part, I tried very hard not to read into the slow, shallow thrusts or the almost reverent way he handled me when my tears still hadn’t dried. I definitely did not read into the arm over my shoulder or the slightly baffled crease in his brow while we sat on his couch with a random episode of The Office.
And if, maybe, the frequency of his visits increased as the months went by, who could blame him? He was an FBI agent. He probably had a lot of bad days.
Sometimes, though, I’d go over when I’d had a good day and I felt like celebrating. Sometimes, I’d knock on his door just because I was bored and I wanted to see him. It wasn’t as if he would know the difference. Our bodies knew how to be around each other, and that was all that mattered.
This was just stress relief, after all.
(“Have you ever been in love?” I asked him once, abruptly, my heart still pounding as the sweat cooled on our skins.
He glanced at me warily, but he must have detected only honest curiosity on my face, not lovesickness or anything else that would have had him running for the hills.
He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Once.”
“What happened?” My finger traced an aimless pattern on his chest.
“She loves me,” he said, “but she isn’t in love with me.”)
We never articulated any feelings we may or may not have about each other or our situation. We dodged sincere conversation like it would kill us. So all the pieces we owned of each other were ones that we had been remiss in guarding diligently. That only made them all the more precious.
But on the heels of every stolen glance, there was a moment where he looked right through me, where I felt blank and insubstantial, like I was a placeholder for something or someone, and that would be enough for the wall to be between us again, rigid and unrelenting.
It was a shame that I was stupid enough to hold on to the scraps that fell through anyway.
.
(iii)
I was an immensely stupid person.
That was the only explanation for why I was leaning against the outer wall of our apartment building at three in the morning, desperately shoving my hands into my coat pockets to brace against the cold.
“You don’t have to be here.”
Can he read minds now? I wondered sullenly. Spencer was sitting on the front steps, with his head in his hands. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were the picture of torment. I would have loved to console him, but every attempt so far had been firmly rebuffed.
He had knocked on my door an hour ago and silenced my greeting with a bruising kiss. Of course, I knew how to do that dance, but Spencer had been off his rhythm tonight. When I’d reached for his shirt, he’d pushed my arms away. When I had kissed his jaw, he'd flinched. When I’d finally retreated in concern to ask him what was wrong, he had huffed out that he was perfectly fine, before trying to lift my shirt over my head.
I’d pushed him onto the bed and tried to distract him, and he had responded by clenching the sheets in his fists instead of grabbing my hips. I’d whispered his name in his ear the way he usually loved, and he’d climbed out from under me, sitting up on the bed with his chest heaving. At that point, I’d given up. What had followed was an exercise in patience.
(“Spencer, what’s wrong?” I’d asked again, to no avail.
“It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” he’d gritted out, glaring at me.
I’d sighed. “Okay, which is it? Nothing, or that you don’t want to talk about it?”
Silence.
“Well something is clearly bothering you. Am I just supposed to ignore that?”
“We don’t need to talk about anything.” He’d tried to kiss me again. That time, I was the one who pushed him away.
“No, Spencer, this isn’t working. I don’t think we should do this tonight.”
The glare had intensified. “Fine.” He’d gotten up and tried to put his shirt back on, but his hands were shaking.
Cursing my investment in this man, I’d helped him while he stared daggers at me. When he’d hunted down his shoes and made his way out of my apartment, I’d pulled on my coat and followed, petting my cat briefly when he tried to follow us.)
So now we were outside, experiencing the most awkward silence ever known to man. Every time I attempted to put a hand on his shoulder or sit beside him, he would tense up yet again.
“Yes, Spencer,” I replied at length, “I do. You look like you might accidentally walk into traffic. I’m not leaving.”
“It’s not your problem.” The petulance was beginning to get on my nerves. I hadn’t signed up for sleepless weeknights.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I told him, shrugging.
I pulled out my phone to distract myself with the cute animals in my game. Spencer was still worryingly silent. But if he didn’t want to talk to me and he wouldn’t let me near him, there was little I could do but stand there.
Every now and then, his breathing would hitch, and I would study him out of the corner of my eye. Whether he fully registered my presence or not, I was unsure, but he seemed to be calming down. He looked less on edge, his eyes less wild, and I was about to approach him and try again, when a black car pulled up just ahead of us.
Both our heads jerked to attention, but the petite blonde who exited the car only had eyes for Spencer.
“Spence!” She rushed to him, pulling him into a hug that he slowly reciprocated. “Your phone is off. After what happened, I was so worried,” she murmured into his hair, her eyes shut in relief.
And Spencer-- Spencer’s face was something to behold. His eyes were tightly closed, his lips turned down unhappily, and his face was so naked and open that I almost looked away. Almost. The pain that shone there riveted me. I felt as if I could see every wound he had ever suffered, in that instant. He’d never shown me that before. And he still hadn’t-- this wasn’t for me. The embrace broke, but his face stayed the same while the woman fussed over him.
Something came back to me, a fragment of a memory. She loves me but she isn’t in love with me. Unbidden, a sound of realisation escaped my throat, drawing two pairs of eyes to the dark corner in which I had been so far obscured.
Spencer schooled his face back to some semblance of normalcy, and ran a hand through his hair.
“Uh, JJ, this is--”
“Leaving,” I blurted out, then cleared my throat. “I was just leaving. Work in the morning. Nice to meet you.” I tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a pained grimace.
I brushed past both of them, but hesitated on the top step. “Spencer…”
His gaze was inscrutable, and I was too tired to try to decipher it.
“Feel better,” I mumbled, and then I left them there.
*~*
I was not sulking.
I told myself this as I lounged on the couch in my most comfortable pyjamas, stuffing my face with junk food and watching Michael Scott lament his foot injury.
So what if Spencer was in love with a beautiful blonde while getting him to talk to me was like pulling teeth? It wasn’t like I’d been carrying a torch for him. We were just extremely compatible sexually. And in very close proximity to each other. That put us in the ideal position to hook up whenever we needed it. That was the extent of our relationship. For all I knew, he’d been sleeping with other people this whole time. I hardly had the right to protest it if he had. We hadn’t set up rules. We just fell into bed together as and when we liked.
It was a good, uncomplicated thing.
So I needed to make sense of whatever needless jealousy I was feeling, before I ruined it. I couldn’t sit around being pathetic. I had a life.
There was a knock on the door.
Sighing, I turned off the TV and put the snacks away. Spencer was quiet as I let him in. His eyes roamed the small living room as if he didn’t know his way around my place as well as he did his own. I perched on the arm of the couch and stared at him, hoping my face didn’t betray the rollercoaster of emotions I’d experienced over the last forty-eight hours.
“So,” I started, “you okay?”
He looked a bit startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to address it at all. I tried not to roll my eyes.
“Yeah. I’m alright.”
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I prompted, “It was pretty intense.”
“It-uh, it was a work thing. JJ helped me out.”
Of course she did. “Great,” I said aloud.
We looked at each other for a beat. “She’s the one, isn’t she?” I blurted before I could stop myself.
“What?”
“The one you’re in love with?”
There was a telltale spot of red high on his cheeks, even as he sputtered. “That’s not-- I mean, yes, but that was--”
“It’s fine,” I said cheerily. “I was just curious.”
He frowned at me. “She’s my best friend, it’s not--”
“No, I get it.” My stomach was somewhere near my feet. “So, do you wanna fuck?”
Again, he seemed taken aback. “What?”
“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I directed my gaze at his meticulously polished shoes.
“No.” A pause. “I just wanted to say-- would you look at me for a second?”
I forced myself to comply.
“I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For staying with me the other night.” The sincerity in his eyes was a bit too much to bear at the moment.
I hadn’t done anything, and I told him as much.
“You didn’t have to. Just being there was more than enough.”
“Right,” I said hollowly. “So is that it?”
“Yeah.” He seemed very lost. “Um, are you okay?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re acting kind of strange.”
“That’s because there isn’t usually this much talking,” I snapped.
I longed to smooth out the lines on his face and make him feel at ease again. This was supposed to be the good, uncomplicated thing. He was apparently making an effort. I could return the favour.
“I’m sorry,” I said, letting out a deep breath and rubbing a hand over my face. “Can I get you something to drink? We can talk about it if you want. Or just hang out.” I tried to squash down the hope that bloomed in my chest.
“Oh. Sure, if that’s okay.” He was chewing on his lip again, and it was unfairly appealing.
And so he stayed. I got two mugs of coffee, and when I came back, he was on my couch reading a well-worn paperback, as if he belonged there. I had to agree with the thought. When he heard me enter the room, he looked up with a smile.
When he left three hours later, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about or the name of the book he’d abandoned within minutes, but I remembered the way he’d leaned close to me while gesturing wildly with his hands, and I remembered that we hadn’t touched beyond accidental brushes of our fingers the entire time.
He still hadn’t revealed the source of his despair, and I knew there was someone he loved. I knew whatever this was, it would be temporary.
But the smile on my face as I closed the door was real.
.
(v)
Spencer kept coming over. I was never given the chance to initiate contact because it seemed like he was always at my place. Whenever he was in the city, he would be with me. I started to worry about his apartment gathering cobwebs from the disuse. But I couldn’t honestly complain about this new development.
Sometimes we had sex, and sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes he came in sore and tired, other times he was brimming with excitement with a playful grin. Sometimes he was angry at the world and I was allowed to coax him down from his rage. Those nights were in turn infuriating and thrilling.
(“What happened?”
“Work.”
“That’s really helpful, Spencer, care to elucidate?”
“No.”
“Okay, caveman.”
“Shut up and take off your clothes.”
I’d rolled my eyes and complied.)
I enjoyed every bit of him. I wanted to observe and chart every one of his moods and his little quirks. I loved the small pile of his books that had found their way onto the coffee table. I loved introducing him to pop culture that he approached with the same diligence as he would a textbook of quantum physics. He was an eager student, and I attempted to return the favour whenever he launched into his obscure tirades.
Some nights I would drowsily let him in and he would crawl into bed with me, fully clothed. The following mornings, I would wake up with a silly grin on my face, seeing him utterly relaxed and at peace. We’d have breakfast in my kitchen and slowly come awake together over our steaming mugs of coffee.
It was fun, learning him.
In the dead of night, as I was drifting off to sleep, he would tell me bits and pieces of horrible things he’d had to see. All I could offer him then was a tight, protective embrace and a steady gaze as the words clawed their way out of his reluctant throat. It felt like he was giving me some sort of twisted boon, these revelations of his pain. I collected them just as carefully as I did everything else. If it was a part of him that was freely given, I knew I wanted it.
At intervals, I would have to remind myself that he wasn’t truly emotionally available. It wasn’t hard. I only had to picture JJ’s relieved smile and the raw uncloaked expression on his face that I had never seen again. He mentioned her every now and then, and I’d discovered that his godson was her child. He never seemed upset, talking about her family, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would resent another’s happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own. I knew that now. I still remembered the way he would pull away from me and flinch at my touch, and I knew I was playing a losing game. There was no way out of this where I didn’t get hurt. All I could do was try to control it.
Three months after that night outside our building, I knew I’d fallen for him.
I was in trouble and I needed to do something about it, quickly. So I stopped preemptively cancelling plans with my friends and coworkers. I joined a book club. I called in a guy to loudly fix my bathroom sink the day I knew Spencer would be getting home. I even got a gym membership. I tried to be away from home as much as I could.
Whenever Spencer texted me, I would let him know I was unavailable. His texts got progressively more frustrated. Watching the excitement on his face dim when I turned him away at my door was painful. But it was necessary. I convinced myself that when Spencer and I stopped existing in this vacuum without other people, my feelings would weaken and I would be able to get him out of my head.
It didn’t work, of course, and I spent every day missing him. I tried to distract myself with work and my suddenly-full schedule, but the feelings were still there. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking of him every morning and every night, and every time I passed his door and every time I walked by a bookstore.
So when Neil from work asked me out a week later, I said yes.
I wore a nice dress and heels, and he picked me up. We went to a midscale restaurant and talked about boring first-date things, and I knew within the first fifteen minutes that I didn’t want to see him again. I went through the motions, smiled pleasantly at him, and told him I would take a cab home. When I walked dejectedly up to my apartment, it took me a second to realise what I was looking at. My heart leapt and I dropped my keys.
Spencer was sitting on the floor outside my door, and he looked tireder and older than I’d ever seen him. He had looked up at my approach. I froze.
“Spencer.” I hadn’t seen him in a month.
He looked me up and down, and there was an unhappy tilt to his mouth. I wanted to kiss it away. He reached for the keys and rose to his feet.
“Hi.” He held them out to me, and I wanted to laugh and the eerie reflection of our first meeting.
“Hi,” I echoed.
“Were you on a date?”
There was no point in lying to him. “Yes.”
He looked away, his jaw clenching.
Silently, I unlocked the door and held it open. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked in.
He paced the floor of my living room. I took off my shoes and put my keys on the table, waiting for him to speak. I felt out of sorts and unprepared for what was to come. Even when I heard him come to a halt, I didn’t lift my gaze to meet his.
“Why would you-- I thought we had something.” His tone was heavy with accusation.
I stared back at him in challenge. “Sure. We had something. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking it was more than it was.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Us! You. You send me all these mixed signals, and I know you’re still hung up on someone else but I let myself get in too deep anyway. I had to protect myself.”
“I’m not hung up on someone else,” he shouted, raising his hands in frustration.
“Of course you are!” I matched his volume. “You told me so yourself.”
“When did I do that?” He sounded honestly bewildered.
“A few months ago. You said you were in love with someone but she didn’t love you back. And then I saw you with JJ that day. I know it’s her. It’s okay. You didn’t promise me anything.”
Feeling drained, I wrapped my hands around my middle. The tears were threatening to fall, but I tried to hold them at bay. This would be over soon. It all would.
“JJ--” he barked out a laugh, surprising me.
“What about this situation is funny to you?” I demanded.
“No, listen--”
“You’re hot and you’re cold. You kick me out right after our first time and then you’re sweet the next day. How do you want me to feel about that?”
“I’m sorry about-”
“Trying to talk to you is impossible! I want to help you. But you clearly don’t want to talk to me!”
“That’s not--”
“And then you’re over here all the time, and I get that it’s because you want to distract yourself, but you have to know how it would con--”
“God, would you just shut up and listen to me for once?”
I glared up at him. He was undeterred, a strange glint in his eyes.
“I love you,” he informed me, striking me dumb. “It took me a while to realise it, but it’s true. I love you.”
All I could do was gape at him as he walked closer to me and took my tightly clenched fists in his hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was holding back. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t know what you thought you saw between me and JJ,” he said very slowly, stroking his thumbs gently over my palms, “but all that’s there is a lot of trauma and shared experiences. Yes, I thought I loved her once, but that was a long time ago. We’ve never-- she’s not you.”
Traitorously, that tendril of hope began to coil around my heart again as I searched his face, looking for a trace of a lie.
I found none.
I surged forward, crashing my lips to his with no finesse and too much force, but he was ready for me, releasing my hands and cradling my waist instead. I gripped his hair, letting the tears spill at last, an overjoyed laugh bubbling out of my throat and into his mouth. I let my hands roam the hard plane of his body, the delicious ripple of wiry muscle beneath his shirt, the hidden softness that only I could feel.
“I love you,” I told him when we broke apart for air. “I’m glad I can tell you, I love you, I fucking love you.” Spencer grinned down at me, and the look was so fond I had to kiss him again.
The rest was a blur of hastily discarded clothes and the steadfastly ignored pain of knocking into furniture before we finally found my bed and tumbled into it.
(“All this time, I could have had you,” I groaned into his ear while he thrust his fingers into me, mouthing along my jaw.
“You have me,” he promised into my skin an eternity later, when he was inside me and my nails were scrambling for purchase along his back, my vision going white.)
That night, there were no painful confessions or taunting insecurities. There were just the two of us, blissfully entwined together, and the deepest of dreamless sleeps. Somewhere in the middle of falling out and falling back together, we had found our new rhythm.
.fin.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagines#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x oc#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid smut#criminal minds smut#mgg#matthew gray gubler
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Web of Lies
from Textbook Love drabble series
pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader
genre: drabble, smut, college au
synopsis: Soyeon is honest, Taehyung is using his last breaths to tell you the truth, and Jungkook is lying. It seems that everything you know boils down to Jungkook lying.
warnings: angst, panic attack, dry humping, the TINIEST bit of fluff
word count: 4.3k
Obstacles are inevitable in relationships; there’s always something that must go wrong. They can come in the form of arguments, disagreements, actions, or people like Taehyung. One physical obstacle that always knows when Jungkook is with you.
A few days after the fight between the two close friends, Taehyung’s nose somewhat healed and Jungkook doesn’t shy away from you as frequently. What’s the point when the people he tried to hide you from found out about his relationship with you anyway? The only reason he doesn’t approach you every time he sees you is because: 1. He doesn’t enjoy being clingy; that would mean he likes being around you all the time which he refuses to admit. 2. You would probably get tired of him and stop loving him. 3. He kissed your friend who always sits next to you outside.
Now that he’s taking most of his opportunities to talk to you, and maybe kiss you, Taehyung is growing restless. Every time Jungkook is with you, so is Taehyung. Some. Fucking. How.
To name one of the busts: when Jungkook was kissing you in the university’s hallway two days ago, Taehyung popped in out of nowhere and shouted, “Get a room, you sluts!” It made for a good laugh between the students, especially when Jungkook ran after him out of the building.
Another time is when Jungkook was watching you work in the yard and Taehyung joined you two to ask about that “one hot friend of yours”. You ended up telling him about Soyeon and Minnie while Jungkook glared at Taehyung that conveyed a clear message: Don’t. So, he didn’t. It didn’t have anything to do with getting elbowed when you weren’t looking.
It was because that would ruin the fun, and he has a sense of purpose while roaming the entire campus to make his fourth bust of the week. He’s searched the hot and empty spots, but he just can’t find the passionate couple anywhere. If he can’t keep disrupting their displays of affection, how will Jungkook get annoyed enough to spill the truth to you? You deserve that much, and if you still accept him, then Taehyung’s out of the picture.
Why can’t Jungkook see that?
For starters, one of the reasons is Jungkook is distracted and growing very irritated by the heavy stare he feels digging into his skin. Who the fuck is watching him? He thought it would be nice to keep you company in the main campus library by controlling your hand under the table over his clothed erection while you skim through your textbook for a light revision, but a pair of eyes behind a bookshelf won’t stop glaring into his soul through thick frames that he can’t see.
He blows out a breath and screws his eyes shut. His jaw clenches and you immediately catch on, worriedly asking, “What’s wrong?”
“Someone’s fucking watching me and I can’t get off,” he grits. Your cheeks heat and grow crimson when you glance down at your occupied hand, palmed by his bigger one in a tight grip.
“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, “we can go to my dorm, if you’d like? Whatever you want.” In an act of comfort, you stupidly start caressing his length until he stands up.
“Gotta confront the fucker.”
Right when he raises his foot to take a step in the direction that his senses lead him to, Taehyung joins in on the mission. “Who are we confronting?” he asks casually with an arm over Soyeon’s shoulder, who is trying to suppress a grimace at the intervention. Jungkook glances at him and then your friend before sucking his teeth and rolling his eyes.
You grin brightly at the greeting and explain, “Someone's watching him. He’s going to find the stalker.”
“Might’ve been me, oops,” Taehyung raises his brows guiltily before slumping on a wooden chair adjacent to you, looking around the spacious area that makes him feel too loud. When he notices Soyeon still standing, he tells her, “come, sit,” and pats the seat next to him. She does so timidly. “Isn’t it so wonderful—”
“Why are you here?” Jungkook interrupts, but Taehyung continues, “—that we’re forming a friend group of our own? We’re all so familiar with each other.”
“Oh, Soyeon hasn’t met Jungkook yet.”
Taehyung narrows his eyes at you with a scrunch of his nose. “Sure about that?” Jungkook strides behind his chair and starts massaging his shoulders; a very harsh massage that has him holding back a wince. “Oh, Kook, that’s a bit rough. Tell me, is he like this in bed too?”
You gape at him in surprise, bashful because your lover doesn’t kiss and tell, and he doesn’t look too happy about it either.
“Tae…” Jungkook snarls.
“Well, is he, Soyeon?”
The library’s silence graces your table as everyone falls quiet, if you don’t count Taehyung’s groans at Jungkook’s bruising hold that is. Soyeon’s jaw drops and her eyes widen at the sudden switch in your gaze, searching for answers from her. “That’s not funny, Taehyung,” she breaks the silence with her blunt statement.
“Don’t mind him, baby, he has brain damage,” Jungkook spits and brings a hand up to Taehyung’s hair to yank it back. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” he whispers in his ear.
Your features begin to soften from its hard expression until Taehyung smiles wickedly at you. “Oh yeah, it wasn’t sex, was it? It was a tongue battle-” His voice cuts off the moment Jungkook starts choking him with his elbow, and his gags fall on deaf ears. Soyeon tries to push him off, but you’re just blank because Jungkook isn’t denying it; it was as if he was expecting it, trying to stop him all along.
The sudden interest in your friend, the constant interruptions, the hits…
“Soyeon?” you call quietly with welling up tears. “Did you kiss him?”
Your best friend doesn’t lie, and apparently neither does Taehyung. Does Jungkook lie? You’re conflicted between living in bliss, ignoring the dying man in front of you because your boyfriend might have kissed Soyeon, and facing reality by asking the hard questions.
Her hands are still tugging on his shirt to save Taehyung, but her persistence weakens when she looks at you: guilty and… exposed? “I didn’t know it was him,” she confesses. It is indirect, and doesn’t reveal much except that she kissed the one man she wasn’t supposed to.
“When?”
“The party,” Taehyung wheezes as he struggles against Jungkook’s arm, his nails drawing blood on his skin. His face is red from the lack of oxygen but he isn’t worried about dying.
“Oh, he put you up to this, didn’t he?” Jungkook speaks through clenched teeth to Soyeon. “They’re setting me up, and who the fuck is watching me?!”
You stand up slowly and close your textbook with a soft thud, packing your materials so graciously. Your hands are shaking, but the tears blurring your vision don’t matter to you. Soyeon is honest, Taehyung is using his last breaths to tell you the truth, and Jungkook is lying. You sling your bag over your shoulder and trudge to the exit, counting your steps to calm down. You ignore Jungkook asking you where you’re going, Taehyung gasping for breath, and Soyeon telling him to leave you alone. It’s all muffled and you’re too sad to care.
It’s a case of he said she said, but your heart is siding with your friends with how painfully it pounds against your chest. Your trust in Jungkook couldn’t have been that fragile, could it? Why did it break with one sentence?
Heavy footfalls follow you beyond the exit, but you’re too distracted by trying to move your legs steadily to notice. It isn’t important enough to distract you from someone calling your name though, or the light weight of a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hm?” you say without looking up, frozen in your steps.
“A-Are you okay?” A smooth voice asks.
“I’m a bit sad,” your voice cracks and wavers from holding back a meltdown, “hurt.” You want to recognize the blurred image of the man standing next to you, so you blink and a tear sheds from each eye. “I told you to never talk to me again, Jimin.” You feel overwhelmed, and yet the memory of the blackmail has little impact on your mess of emotions, but it doesn't help you feel better either.
“Sorry,” he breathes, “I still don’t understand why, but you can do the talking for me. Wh-what happened?”
“Why do you ask? So you can use that against me too?” you scoff through the lump in your throat. Confusion washes his soft features, so you add, “maybe another handjob for it?” You shrug off his hand and continue your walk of shame.
“I-I’ve never used anything against you, what are you talking about?” He’s chasing after you and it’s a bit of help in swaying your thoughts in a different direction, and your emotions towards anger and disbelief instead.
“Does a video ring a bell? The one you threatened to leak if I didn’t touch your…” You groan to yourself and quicken your pace towards your dorm. Maybe you could mope comfortably in there without the annoying presence of an arch enemy, who is feeding you more lies than you’re capable of consuming in one day.
“What? I never— Listen, I deleted that video the second I received it. Whoever told you that was lying, please!”
It seems that everything you know boils down to Jungkook lying. His love was a lie too, apparently. Maybe the Jungkook you know is just one big fat lie who can’t seem to tell you the truth in any moment you’ve been with him. How many times do you need to hear from others and yourself that Jungkook is lying?
“I know,” you whimper and run off.
Once Taehyung catches his breath after coughing for a minute straight with a fresh bruise blossoming on his neck, he interrupts the hushed argument between Jungkook and Soyeon by asking, “Where’d she go?”
“I don’t know, but you’re going straight to hell once I fucking kill you for good,” Jungkook fumes with flushed cheeks.
“If you die by murder, you go straight to Heaven. How do you not know this?” His voice is low from the assault and his throat aches, but he still attempts to lighten the mood.
“I swear to fucking God, Taehyung—” Jungkook stops his threat when he sees Soyeon sneakily walking away. “Where the fuck are you going?”
“Air,” Soyeon vaguely answers.
“Bullshit.” Jungkook tries to go after her, wanting to be the first to find your dorm so she doesn't say more about that night, but Taehyung holds onto his wrist to stop him.
“She needs time—”
“Fuck off.”
When Jungkook begins to walk off after yanking off his hand, Taehyung immediately searches around the room and takes out a pen from a cup on the reception desk before jumping Jungkook from behind just as he was about to leave. They struggle against each other and start rolling around, but Taehyung is driven by adrenaline as he grounds himself on top of him. He holds him down with his legs and uncaps the pen to start writing on his forehead.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” Everyone in the library peeks at the commotion due to Jungkook’s loud yell, but neither of them pay mind as he tries to move away from the pen.
“See if she takes you seriously with dick written on your forehead,” Taehyung chuckles before sprinting off with him hot on his tail. Jungkook is stronger, but Taehyung is much faster as he loses him pretty quickly by hiding in an occupied lecture hall. The professor looks at him questioningly but he thinks fast and breathlessly asks the students, “Is Jeon Jungkook here? The headmaster is looking for him.” Some people search for him, but when no one makes a peep, he escapes the room and Jungkook’s wrath.
Now to go to your dorm before Jungkook scrubs off the ink…
“I didn’t know his name,” Soyeon murmurs while fidgeting with her fingers. When she came in the room, you were muffling your sobs with your pillow and all she saw was your jerking shoulders. She tried to comfort you, to hug you, but you weren’t exactly being friendly, and the setting is pretty much the same except she’s sitting on your bed while you still cry. “I asked people what he looked like, but it was just a description of every guy in the room. He wasn’t around for them to point at, and so I thought maybe he didn’t come. Then this guy kisses me on this couch, feels guilty about it, and tells me his name. I-I didn’t know it was Jungkook. He left for you anyway…”
Her attempt at consolation is fruitless because it only makes you cry harder. She rubs your back soothingly before standing up. “I’ll check up on you later. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” You nod against your stained pillow.
The moment she opens the door, Taehyung’s fist misses her head by an inch. “Oops,” he says before gently pushing her aside by her shoulder and entering. His eyes fall on your fetal position first thing and he pouts at you. “Aw, baby—”
“She doesn’t want to talk right now.”
“I’m good company,” he dismisses her with a flick of his wrist, “you can go.”
She rolls her eyes before shutting the door, and it’s only you and him now. Your hiccups fill the room as he sadly watches you, a quiet sigh leaving his mouth. “I tried to tell you. Well, I tried to get him to tell you.”
“Y-You said,” you snivel against the sheet, “th-that he was whipped for me.”
I said that to get you to open up. Even in his head it sounds cruel, so he rethinks his response with a grimace. “Jungkook told me he liked you.” Maybe shifting the blame wasn’t exactly much better, especially since he told him that after the claim, but you have enough on your plate.
“H-He told me he loved me,” you hiccup, releasing your death grip on the poor pillow. It’s a mask rather than a silencer now. Taehyung widens his eyes to himself and purses his lips. He takes Soyeon’s former seat and turns you on your back. His heart sinks a little when he sees your face: red nose, heavy lids, bloodshot eyes and quivering lips with messy hair. You look really pretty to him right now. “He lies so much. H-He even made me give Jimin a handjob.”
“Made you?” he repeats with his thumb drawing circular patterns on your collarbone.
You nod. “It’s a long story, and I don’t want to talk about it. It was horrible.”
His brows furrow at your tone. “That’s so fucked up... Man, you need to avoid him.”
“Jimin?”
“Jungkook. That’s too twisted, even for him. You’re an angel…” his palm reaches for your cheek and his thumb continues its soothing motions. “You didn’t deserve it.”
“Thank you,” you mouth and fresh tears brim as you try to swallow. It feels like you’re sick all over again, except there’s no misunderstanding to clear this time. He wipes a stray teardrop and smiles down at you; it’s a relaxing gesture. You close your eyes and hold onto his wrist, snuggling into his warm hand.
“I sound really cheesy, don’t I?” he chuckles. “Can’t lie, wish I had someone call me an angel after I caught my ex cheating on me.”
An involuntary giggle erupts from your mouth at his joke. “You’re an angel, Taehyung. An angel in disguise.” You peek at him before fluttering your eyes shut again. A pursed smile graces his lips, and he’s convinced he isn’t interested in you romantically, that it was just an invisible force drawing him closer to you, that he wasn’t the one aiming for your lips until a pound on the door resounds in the room.
You flinch away from his hand and he pulls back instantly; both of your heads shoot to the source of the noise.
“Open up!” Jungkook yells and continues fisting the door. “Open the fucking door!” Taehyung holds a finger against his lips, signalling you to stay silent until he leaves. “I want to talk. Open the door… please.” Neither of you say anything.
“Fine,” he agrees, “don’t talk. I’ll talk, but at least give me a sign that you’re here.” Before Taehyung can stop you, you rush to the door and knock once. You hear him slide down the door, presumably leaning his back against it and sitting on the floor. “Okay. I’m sor— They were lying—” you slam your fist against the door in denial. “Okay! But they weren’t telling the whole truth back there. I was um… on drugs. I was really fucking high, okay?”
“Yet your high-self still managed to yell at me! Clearly you weren’t high out of your mind,” you snap menacingly. He flinches at your sudden shut-down; he’s never heard you yell at him before, nor has he ever been the victim of your anger. It makes his heart drop.
“That was like, three hours after I got high! I was practically sober, plus, you weren’t talking to me that day!”
“I had lost my voice! I didn’t want you to get sick—"
“I DIDN’T FUCKING KNOW THAT!”
He gulps at your silence and inhales a deep breath to calm down. He hears you sniffle on the other side. “I-I didn’t know that. You wouldn’t kiss me, wouldn’t talk to me, and I didn’t know why. I thought you stopped loving me and… that really upset me.” He sighs to himself because he’s never opened up so honestly and it’s difficult, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice. It just feels so embarrassing.
Taehyung opens the window of your dorm and climbs out. You don’t see or hear it happen, too invested in your argument to even remember his existence. “Do you remember what I told you the night we did it for the first time?”
His face scrunches as he tries to replay the events beside the sex. The corner of his lip tugs upwards when he recalls you calling him a slut, but he’s still clueless as to why you’re bringing it up. You don’t leave him in the dark for long. “I told you I wouldn’t forgive you a second time.” He gnaws on his lip as his palms feel clammy with nervous sweat.
“W-We weren’t dating then,” he tries to justify. “I didn’t need forgiveness then. You’re so unfair!” He stands up and knocks with his fist again. “Let’s talk it out face to face, I’ll explain everything. You’re putting me at a disadvantage! Don’t you want clarity? Don’t you want this to work out?!” He starts chanting your name when you don’t answer. “I will break down this fucking door if you don’t open it,” he doesn’t sound nearly as intimidating as he usually does when threatening; he sounds more like he’s a second away from breaking down himself. “No, no… please. I-I’ll kiss another girl if you break up with me! You don’t want that, right? So just open the door.”
His tough façade crumbles the longer you ignore him, and he can’t believe the heavy weight he feels all over his body wants to leave in the form of tears. It stings in his eyes but he doesn’t dare let them fall. “You’re so fucking cruel!” He twists the door handle violently; desperately. A dry sob escapes him as he kicks the door one last time. “Oh God, oh God…” he tries to breathe but it doesn’t enter his lungs. It’s like being choked with a noose as he gasps and a tear runs down his cheek. His wheezes become so loud that you start hearing them and grow concerned.
You consider the possibility that it’s one of his tactics, trying to manipulate you, but you open the door anyway. It’s a slight crack and you barely get a look at him before he pushes it open completely and forces his way in. He sits on your bed and his shoulders hunch, breaths still shallow. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t like her, never did, I only— I was mad, and I couldn’t go through with it, and I’ve never shown you affection b-because I’ve only ever received it from you—” you hush his rambling with a hug, but he continues with his head against your stomach anyway, “I’ve never been in a relationship and I’m a fucking mess and I understand why you wouldn’t want to be with me, but please don’t leave me. I’ll do my homework, I’ll stop being mean, I won’t even talk if you don’t want me to, but please don’t stop talking to me.”
“Jungkook…” you trail in shock. “I’m here. Take a deep breath.” When he tries, it’s so shaky that it makes you tear up for the umpteenth time. You’re a mess with him. “In and out, love, in and out.” You would do it with him like an instructor, but it’s not possible when he’s squeezing your waist so tightly. It takes a few minutes for him to relax his grip and he looks up at you pitifully. “It’s okay,” you assure and pet his hair, “you’re okay.”
“I’m sorry. I love you.”
“I love you more.”
“I love you most,” he exhales. “I mean… I realized that night, that I only want to be with…”
“I get it,” you whisper to comfort him, knowing he has struggles with expressing himself, but he doesn’t stop. He wants to get it off his chest, and he quietly tells you, “I kissed another girl when I wanted to make you jealous, and then another to forget. I don’t want to do that, I mean I only want to kiss… you.”
You initiate it first by leaning down to peck his lips, and you don’t pull away too far. You peck him again, and then start kissing him. He’s never been this slow with you before, but the panic attack must have drained him. It’s the way that he doesn’t immediately turn it heated with the intent of taking it to the third base that warms your heart. He’s hesitant and taking his time, mindful of your reactions because you’re in control for once. You’re aware of how vulnerable he is being with you, and he conveys that with the gentle press of his lips.
He whimpers into the kiss, and it’s so quiet and mournful that you lean back but he chases after you. He doesn’t want to stop like you’d assumed, so you place your knees on either side of him and hover over his thighs. Even his hands are hesitant as he lightly sits you down on his lap by pulling your waist. You smile against him and with his submission, you swipe your tongue across his lip. He opens for you. You roll your tongue around his, and he eventually begins to suck on yours. There’s a pit in your stomach that confuses you; is it arousal? Flattery? You feel so special because you know he hasn’t been like this with anyone else; so powerless and passive.
It’s passionate. You inch your body a little closer to him and he grunts when you brush against his crotch before settling down. This isn’t about sexual needs, and you don’t treat it as such but your body has a mind of its own with its constant shuffling that turns him on. He doesn’t want to feel that way, but his hips have a subtle way of thrusting beneath you. His hums rumble and you kiss him harder, losing all your senses except for the warmth of his skin. You don’t notice him controlling the movement of your hips because he’s taking it slow, and you don’t need to know why he’s quietly moaning into you.
At least no one’s watching him now.
You pull back in surprise when he groans loudly, and you know he’s back to himself as his actions grow rough. You’re practically jumping when he grinds on you with his spit all over your mouth because of his explorative tongue. From past experience, you’ve figured out that Jungkook is more honest when he’s in the heat of the moment, so you inquire against his lips, “Why did you lie to me about Jimin?”
“That fucking freak,” he growls, “I needed a reason to get you to hate him. He didn’t stop you when it happened, did he?”
Still manipulative. “Will you do the same with Taehyung?”
“No, I,” his thrusts slow down, “I’m gonna, err…” He looks at you for help.
“You’re gonna be a good boy and talk things out with him, right?”
“Right,” he breathes, “talk.” He slams his lips against yours again, and it’s not long before he sighs at his climax with your cooperation. There’s a small patch growing on his pants through his underwear, and he cusses when he notices it. He pecks you one last time before hugging you and laying on the bed, cuddling you like a blanket. “Do you forgive me?”
You rest your head on his chest and feel his pulse to contemplate. He brings a hand up to your hair and starts running his fingers through it, unbothered by your lack of answer. “I’ll make it up to you,” he says. “Do you…” he clears his throat, “do you maybe want to have dinner with me?”
“Like a date?” you tease with a grin.
“Yes.”
“There’s my answer,” you lift your head to wink up at him. “But if you test me again, I’ll break your heart just as you did mine. Don’t worry though,” you whisper, “I’ll never leave you.”
#bts imagines#bts scenarios#jeon jungkook#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#bts fic#jungkook smut#bts smut#jungkook imagines#jjk smut#jeon jungkook smut#bts#networkbangtan
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Playing the Pocky Game with Mankai Co.
☀️Summer troupe☀️
🌻Tenma: “The pocky game, huh? I’ve never actually played before. I mean there was this one time with this actress in a dra- Okay, okay, I’ll play with you.” The way he goes about it is really clumsy and awkward, nearly dropping the stick a few hundred times. By the time you finally reach the center, the kiss you share is actually a pretty good one. Not too short, but it didn’t go too far either. When you break, you’re met with a Tenma that is blushing as red as a tomato, trying to avoid eye contact. “That was pretty fun actually… wanna go for another round?”
🪡Yuki: “The pocky game? Really? Why would I want to do that? Ugh, if you really insist, then we can play. C’mere.” He’s actually very chill about the game, and plays pretty well, but tries to avoid the center. You end up reaching it first, giving him a quick peck so as not to get him too flustered. “Man, that sucked. Thanks for playing with me though, it was kinda fun.”
📐 Misumi: “Look, look! I made a triangle with some of the pocky Kazu gave me! Ooh, a game? Sounds fun! Let’s play, let’s play!” He actually has genuinely never heard of the game, so you have to explain the rules(but you leave out the kiss part to make it more fun). Once you actually get to playing, it’s a really fun experience. Misumi’s really quick and nimble, so he gets to the center impossibly fast, but you still somehow manage to get that kiss in there. You make it a small and friendly peck, and you could see Misumi’s eyes widen in shock right after. “A kiss? Hehe, thanks! That was suuuper fun, let’s play again!”
👑 Muku: “The pocky game? With me? The kind of person that’s a shriveled up piece of lettuce that you left in the back of the fridge for a few weeks and now it’s starting to just get wetter and wetter and you can’t use it- ah, but it’s be just like one of those scenes in shoujo manga where they both plan to do it as a friendly game and then they develop feelings-mmph!” He’s cut off by you putting the stick of candy into his mouth as you begged for him to start playing with you. The game itself wasn’t too bad, actually. A little awkward and clumsy, sure, but you both managed to make it to the center in a reasonable amount of time. The kiss was just a simple peck, but it left Muku breathless, and would probably keep him nervous around you for about a whole week. “T-thanks for playing with me, it was fun. Should we do another round?”
🌺Kazunari: “The pocky game? Yeah, I’ve played! You wanna give it a go? It is pocky day after all.” Really chill about it, and he clearly knows what he’s doing. What you end up getting kiss-wise ends up being a quick peck on the lips, then another on the cheek. Kazu looks around to make sure that nobody is around to see you two before bowing his head towards you, allowing your foreheads to touch. “Thanks for playing with me, sweetheart.” he says before placing one last kiss to the tip of your nose.
⚾️ Kumon: OH BOY is he embarrassed when you bring it up. “Uh, that? Oh, yeah, it’s that day, would you look at that? Play with you? Uh, sure!” The game is pretty much just Kumon being nervous about literally any move he makes. It’s kinda cute tbh and you just want to make him even more flustered. You have to be the one who initiates the kiss bc this boi is taking the tiniest bites. When you finally do kiss, it’s really short so as not to cross any boundaries. “That was…kinda fun actually. You wanna play again? I wasn’t doing good because I don’t like sweets that much, but I think I can handle a second round!”
🌸Spring Troupe🌸🍁Autumn Troupe🍁❄️Winter Troupe❄️
#akajdjka I’m now getting self conscious about the way I write Kazunari again#I’ve never been told it’s ooc but I think it is#it’s mostly based on his initial SR story where he recreates some scenes from a show he and mc were watching#and he totally becomes a different person#and I LOVE IT#anyway now for the actual tags#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! game#a3! actor training game#a3! x reader#a3! summer troupe#a3! natsugumi#a3! fanfic#fanfiction
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Temporary Home: Chapter 14
Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)
Summary: The guardians keep trying to include you in various activities to keep your mind off what's troubling you since you won't talk about it. However, one of these activities turns out to have a, shall we say... slightly less than desired outcome.
Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here
Or click here to: Start From Beginning
Author’s Note: Thank you to @quillsandtypos, @theambracer88, @mcugiggles, @marvelouslyfluffy and all the anons who participated in my questionnaire post! As you probably guessed, I'll be using the answers (and any future ones, if anyone else still wants to play) to complete some fluffy scenes in the story!
Also, for my records this chapter ends on day 23 of the Guardians living with reader. Enjoy!
Word Count: 4,683
Rocket, though he finally had a way to repair the device, had decided to wait a bit before actually doing so. Hell, he had waited this long, certain that his smuggling had been in vain once he found one of the parts had broken on... ahem, "departure," so what was another day or two? It was obvious they were going to be here awhile anyway, so he wasn't too rushed.
One might wonder, how was Rocket able to smuggle anything if SHIELD had searched him, already having found and confiscated contraband he had hidden in his "back pocket?"
Well, Rocket wasn't an idiot. He knew of other ways to smuggle goods on his person. Or, in his person, rather. That being said, maybe to say he wasn't an idiot might be giving him a bit too much credit... Swallowing the pieces of a small data pad might not have been exactly the safest thing to do, though he had given himself a pat on the back for rightfully assuming the Terran's wouldn't think to put him through a body scanner.
He had been damned lucky that nothing had gotten lodged or had punctured any of his innards on the way through, but hey, it worked, didn't it?
Well, mostly.
As said, a part had broken on "departure," which he of course blamed on Gamora and Mantis for rushing him in the bathroom that first day. If that bug-eyed chick didn't have such a tiny bladder then he could have allowed for a more "graceful landing."
No matter, he now had a way to fix it thanks to you. This had admittedly softened his attitude towards you the tiniest bit, though he wasn't going to admit it, nor was he going to completely let his guard down. Use of your workshop was probably just another bribe to win his favor, after all. Just like the bed. He was definitely going to take advantage of it, don't get him wrong. He wasn't just not going to use the tools available to him. Just like he wasn't going to just not sleep in the bed you built him. It was better than sleeping in the crib, though he had been grateful the crib had been left in the room when you left the bed. He had been hiding the pieces of the smuggled device under the crib's mattress -the only good use he saw for it, other than the fact that Groot actually slept pretty well in it- because boy, if the others had found out he had smuggled that in, they would have been pissed. Hence, why he wasn't in too big a hurry to fix it just yet.
Perhaps it couldn't hurt to maybe fix that broken stool in the shed for you, though. Just for a warm up, not because he thought he owed you anything, of course.
***
The evening of the check-in you had found yourself with nothing to do and back in the thoughts that had plagued you since the couple came, and you once again considered pouring yourself a glass or two of whiskey.
Yondu had been leaning against the counter enjoying a snack when he saw you retrieve the bottle from the fridge. Remembering the previous night he raised an eyebrow at you. The last thing he wanted was to witness a repeat, but thought he'd still keep an eye on you. Cut you off again before/if you started to look a little too "weepy." He had doubts that you even remembered what you'd done the previous night, and this was confirmed when he made a lighthearted comment about, "Ya goin' to take it easy tonight, or will I be needin' to cut you off again?" and you raised an eyebrow at him before saying, "What? You didn'- Oh right- I think I do remember you taking my drink now that you mention it," as you set the bottle on the table and went to retrieve a glass from the cupboard.
You now sported a slight blush and, pausing your actions, asked, "I um, didn't say or do anything embarrassing to have warranted that, did I?"
Yondu looked you right in the eye, and lied. "Nope. It was just clear ya had a bit much. Figured I'd save yer wimpy Terran liver." He laughed at your slight pout and added, "Ya just whined at me fer takin' yer drink and then fell asleep. Nuttin' too excitin'."
Yondu could see the relief on your face and it solidified his lack of regret of not telling you. Sure, he might have wanted to crack the mystery to see why you were the way you were, but not like that. He hadn't expected the previous night's display, and if anything, it made him feel like he should back off. Yes, it prompted more burning questions, but even he knew there were some things you just didn't pry into.
Around that time Peter and Kraglin came into the kitchen, messing about and horse-playing. You considered telling them to break it up, but then decided you didn't actually care enough as long as they weren't about to break anything... or anyone. You were about to make your standard polite offer of a drink when suddenly a rip was heard and Peter whined out, "Aw man! You ripped my favorite shirt!"
Sure enough, their rough-housing had managed to rip the seam along the left-shoulder of Peter's dark blue shirt, leaving a sizable hole of a couple inches long that revealed another white shirt underneath.
You rolled your eyes and told him where he could find the sewing kit.
Peter looked at you sheepishly and said, "I don't know how to sew."
You sighed and said, "I guess I'm not doing anything..." and you began to walk towards him and the exit of the kitchen, abandoning the bottle of whiskey on the table without having poured a drink.
Peter took off his ripped shirt and in a surprised voice said, "Oh!- Thanks-" starting to hand you the shirt as you walked past.
You didn't take the shirt, just looked at him as a laugh escaped your throat. "I didn't say I'd do it for you. I meant I'll teach you." With that you cocked your head towards the door and headed out towards the sitting room.
As you walked away you shook your head and muttered something Peter couldn't hear but assumed was an insult as he blushed both from embarrassment at his mistake and from hearing Yondu and Kraglin now laughing at him. He wordlessly followed, not wishing to make more of a fool of himself.
Watching Peter leave, inspiration struck Yondu. It might be overstepping, and might have been a long shot, but it was worth a try. He nudged Kraglin in the arm to get his attention. "Ya remember last night? How things got a little too..." he searched for the right word.
Kraglin finished for him, "Sad? Yeah. I remember." He caught sight of the bottle on the table. "She back at it tonight?" He and Yondu hadn't discussed what happened when he had returned to the kitchen after walking you to your room. It had gone unsaid that you were in a bad way.
"She was gonna," Yondu answered, "but then you two came in and gave her something to distract herself. Might not hurt to keep doing that for a bit."
"Ya wanna keep her busy?" Kraglin asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Better than watchin' her drown herself in a bottle," Yondu replied flippantly with a shrug, but Kraglin could see through his blasé attitude.
He was slightly surprised, but not completely opposed to Yondu's suggestion. You had been drinking a lot the past few days. It didn't take a genius to see that something was obviously wrong, and he knew better that drinking like that only made sad feelings worse. If this had been the Eclector, and you part of the crew, he or Yondu would have cut you off well before now once they saw the pit you were digging. You just don't let sad people drink themselves into a stupor. It's bad form. But this wasn't the ship, and you weren't crew, and they couldn't stop you. They were in your house. They've barely known you for three weeks. He knew they couldn't just order you around, but if a little bit of distraction kept him from seeing you looking that sad again and kept you from hiding in the bottom of a bottle, he was for it.
Yondu spoke again, more or less repeating Kraglin's thoughts back at him. "I know we're on her turf, but someone's gotta do somethin'. It's bad form to just let h- to just to let a person drown like that. She needs to get her mind off what's been troubling her."
Kraglin examined the former captain's features. There was something else there. An emotion behind his eyes the first mate was familiar with after years of faithful service. Cap'n might not always be the best at admitting his softer feelings, but Kraglin knew. He could see it.
It was a look similar to the one he wore after he finished telling Rocket just how alike they were, right before they went to fight Ego. It was the same look in his eyes he had shortly after Peter came aboard the Eclector as a boy and it was decided he wasn't going to be delivered to Ego. One Kraglin even thought he recognized being on the receiving end of when he was a younger lad on the crew.
Kraglin smiled, a soft mix of understanding and sadness. "Sir," he said gently.
Yondu grunted in response and glanced at him.
"First, I do agree with ya, we should help keep her mind off it, but I just gotta say this too." He sighed before continuing. He knew Yondu wasn't going to like what he was about to say, but they were alone now, so he felt safe to say it. He knew if he said this in front of anyone else it'd a a surefire way to put Yondu dangerously close to whistling territory. "We can't be getting too attached, now."
Yondu glared at him. "Who said anythin' about-"
"Sir, all respect and all, but I think I can say I know ya better than anyone else here." Kraglin said, having cut Yondu off with a slight chuckle. "I can see it, I can tell when you're getting attached." His tone got slightly more serious, more comforting. "I don't think it'll be good for ya to get too attached, sir. We'll be leaving here eventually, and we know she ain't gonna be coming with us."
Yondu set his mouth in a firm line and stared Kraglin down hard but didn't say anything. He knew his first mate was right, but that didn't mean he had to admit it. Finally he answered with, "I ain't gettin' attached to nuttin' or nobody."
Kraglin sighed. If he knew anything else it was that Yondu could also be stubborn as hell. If he wanted to live in denial, well there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it. "Alright, sir," he said with a shake of his head. "I believe ya." He didn't, and his tone betrayed that, earning him a narrowed eyed look from Yondu, but they dropped the conversation, at least for now.
***
Showing Peter how to sew went fairly smoothly. He seemed to grasp the concept well enough, watching you sew the first third of the tear - not the easiest task with your brace on- and then repeating what you had shown him on the rest himself. He finished soon enough and thanked you before leaving the table.
However, almost immediately after that Kraglin showed up with something ripped and asked if you could teach him too. You sighed, and mildly scolded him about how come he couldn't have asked while you were showing Peter, but you agreed regardless. Again, it wasn't exactly the easiest task considering you only had a limited range of motion to move your arm, but you managed. After he finally seemed to get it (he asked a lot of questions, even if he understood, assuming it'd be helpful to keep you occupied for longer) you noticed it had gotten dark out, and you were tired anyway, and so when it looked like he had a handle on it you decided to just go to bed.
***
The next day it seemed like people just kept asking you to do things. Not like they were ordering you around, but more like asking you to do things with them, which they hadn't often done.
It wasn't all bad, but you had the feeling it wasn't just a coincidence that they were seemingly trying to keep you engaged in various tasks and activities after Maria had informed you that one of them had expressed concerns about your well-being. You didn't know if they were now acting on their own or if Fury or Agent Hill had suggested it, but either way you figured you'd just roll with it. If you made an effort maybe they'd be happy and drop it.
That morning, before you realized what was going on, Mantis came to you with a book on plants and asked you to help her identify different plants around the property. You had almost said no, perhaps another time, but then you saw the expectant look on her happy face and decided you had time to kill anyway, so what could it hurt?
It was about when you were asked by Mantis and Drax to join the others for a game of UNO that you started to suspect what was going on.
Before this, Peter had kept coming up to you wanting to show you funny videos he found, having recently discovered the YouTube app on the TV; Yondu had come to you with an archery book and tried making small-talk asking about Terran types of archery; and Gamora and Kraglin asked you to help ref while everyone sparred.
You had agreed to reffing, feeling a little better than you had been all those days you had refused and now therefore not seeing any reason not to.
It was a slight bummer though, needing to sit on the sidelines and watching others train, but you supposed watching them to see if they knew any cool 'space moves' couldn't hurt. Plus, watching how the raccoon was able to hold his own against human-sized opponents was always interesting. Groot sat with you, not being permitted to spar with the others (except for when Rocket would decide to pretend spar with him, just to make him happy) and he was adorable as he played with the grass, so it wasn't all bad.
After that everyone else was pretty much tired, but Groot came up to you with the car you had given him, holding it above his head. You raised an eyebrow and looked to Peter, who informed you that the little guy wanted you to push him on it. You did, because how could you possibly say no to that?
What was cute to Peter, however, was the fact that no one had prompted Groot to do that. He just genuinely wanted you to play with him.
After a while of playing with Groot is when Mantis and Drax had come to you about playing UNO. Now you were getting a hint of what they were doing, but you agreed to play a few games with them anyway. You even caught yourself actually starting to have fun.
Around suppertime Peter came up to you, asking if you could teach him how to cook something. He talked about how he thought it'd be fun to learn to cook more things from his home world, and also reminded you how you did say several times that he could 'help you cook later.'
You sighed and after some more prodding from Peter you finally agreed, asking him what he might like to learn how to cook.
Peter looked like a deer in the headlights before admitting that he didn't actually know. He didn't remember a whole lot of different Terran foods from when he was a kid, and he was now drawing a blank.
You nodded towards the kitchen and told him the two of you would figure it out.
After looking for a bit you decided on a vegetable stew, mostly because this had been unexpected and you hadn't pulled any meat from the freezer to thaw.
Peter was surprisingly not bad at it. He handled the knife safely, he cut the vegetables evenly, and he listened as you told him what to do and when. You wondered if he had some experience cooking before, but you didn't ask.
After dinner Gamora wouldn't take no for an answer on helping with the dishes, of course using your injury as an excuse. You sighed, but allowed it, agreeing to dry while she washed, still under the impression that if you just indulged them for a bit they'd eventually stop and start leaving you along again.
Just as you finished Peter came to the two of you asking if you wanted to see a new movie he found on Netflix.
Figuring it wouldn't hurt to make an effort, you agreed to watching a movie with them and followed into the sitting room, wondering what film he had picked out.
Turned out, he had chosen a horror movie. Candy Man.
You sighed. Obviously you weren't completely immune to jump scares, but you didn't really mind horror movies. You could even go as far to say that you enjoyed most of them. However, you were concerned about Mantis, who you could see sitting happily on the rug in front of the couch next to Rocket as you entered the room.
"Are you sure this movie is appropriate for everyone?" you ask Peter.
"What? You scARed?" Rocket taunted with a smirk, and it was then that you saw Groot on the rug as well, having been sitting in Rocket's lap.
You roll your eyes and explain that your concerns were for the wooden child and Mantis, as your time spent with them hadn't made you very confident that they would recieve a scary movie well. "I'm more concerned the movie's gonna give them nightmares," you explained as you took a seat at the end of the couch.
Gamora seemed to agree with you, but the two of you were outvoted. Rocket just rolled his eyes and snarked that he bet you were scared, and Mantis assured excitedly that she could watch it. Groot, even though you couldn't understand him, also seemed adamant. You had a feeling they didn't really know what they were getting into, but combined with the fact that Mantis was an adult, and Groot wasn't your child, and Peter was doing his best to convince you and Gamora that everything would be fine, you eventually gave in, stating, "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. She better not crawl into my bed tonight. I'll send her your way."
Peter just laughed and shook his head, not taking you seriously, before turning out the lights and taking a seat next to Gamora at the other end of the couch. Kraglin took the last available seat between you and Peter and Rocket smarted off again.
"If you're gonna get scared maybe Kraglin will hold your hand!" he laughed as Peter turned on the film.
You rolled your eyes at him and crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to look at Kraglin to give the rodent any satisfaction that he might have succeeded in embarrassing you. This, Kraglin was grateful for, because he was sort of an easy blusher, and he didn't want you to get the wrong idea. He just gave Rocket an unamused look, but he was also grateful the lights had been dimmed so that Yondu couldn't see him blushing and then tease him for it. Whether or not the former Ravager captain would actually believe Kraglin might have managed to develop feelings for you wouldn't matter. That fact that Kraglin had just told Yondu the previous night that he shouldn't be getting attached would be enough for him to jump on it and tease the hell out of him purely out of spite.
Despite the movie being old, it was still relatively new to you. You had heard about it, thought you remembered seeing a commercial or maybe a clip or two of it over the years, but this had been your first time actually watching it.
It was about halfway though and nothing terribly scary had happened yet. There was the flashback scene of a little boy having been mutilated that made you cringe, as any show that featured little kids being harmed always hit a sore spot, but it didn't really show much more than a bloody bathroom.
You were starting to think it probably wasn't going to be any real scary scenes, but then Candyman started to call the college lady's name, and it actually made you fight a shiver. You didn't know why, but creepy sounds were one of the few things from a film that could actually strike fear in your heart. Thankfully it didn't last long. You weren't looking forward to being teased for jumping or shivering at a movie that wasn't really even that scary.
At least it would mean that Mantis would be unlikely to crawl into your bed scared tonigh-
Candyman just shoved his hook through the college lady's medicine cabinet.
Half of everyone jumped, including you. Among those startled was Kraglin, and he shot you a glance that you purposely didn't return, not wanting to answer to any cocky smiles or teases accusing you of being scared.
A shot came on the screen centering on the baby Candyman took and you tensed, worried he was going to kill it, but you were relieved to see that he only let it suckle on his finger.
Kraglin felt you tense and then relax beside him, and he frowned, remembering the other night. He considered asking if you were alright, but then thought better of it and held his tongue, instead watching on as a scene played where the lady was now stuck in a mental hospital, having been believed to have killed her best friend and said baby from the previous scene.
Yondu didn't think he liked this movie, but he continued to watch in silence. He didn't want to see kids being hurt, and he had also tensed at the previous scene. Like you, he was sure that the bad guy was about to kill the baby. However, as he was sitting in his usual spot in the armchair, his tension went unnoticed.
Mantis let out a short scream when the lady summoned Candyman and he killed the psychiatrist. You sighed, realizing this wasn't looking good for her staying in her own bed tonight. Little did Peter know, you hadn't been kidding. If she tries to crawl in with you, you're sending her right to him, seeing as it would be his fault.
The lady was now exploring Candyman's lair, and you started to get a little tense at the creepy sounds of his breathing, and you mentally cursed whoever mixed the sound for this movie.
You got even more tense and fidgety when he opened his robe to reveal a ribcage full of bees. You only hoped no one noticed to tease you for it. Body horror was another thing that never failed to make you shudder.
Eventually the movie started to come to a close, a scene played where the lady's jerk ex-fiancé was having flashbacks to how good he had it with her now that she was dead, and you thought it was just going to end on a sad note.
That is, until he said her name, Helen, five times in the mirror (just like Candyman) and she came back and killed him with the Candyman's hook. Her sudden appearance made you startle slightly, and you heard more squeals from Mantis. You sighed again. Yep, she was definitely not going to sleep tonight.
The movie was finally over and Peter got up to turn on the lights. He turned to see you giving him a glare and he smiled. "What? Was it too scary for you?" he jeered.
You just pointed down to Groot. He had his head buried in Rocket's chest and was softly whimpering. "I told you that movie wasn't for kids."
Rocket scoffed at you and told you he would be fine, then turned it on you, saying how he felt you jump at least three times from where he was sitting.
You rolled your eyes and ignored him, turning to Peter and this time gesturing to Mantis, who still looked a bit shaken. "I meant what I said. She tries to crawl in bed with me, I'm sending her to you," you say, leaving to go to go get ready for bed, both because it was now late, and to avoid any inevitable further teasing from Rocket.
The others seemed to have much the same idea about bedtime, and a few of them followed you up the stairs.
You let Mantis shower first, hopeful that if you went after her that she might hopefully be asleep by the time you got out. However, when you finished your own shower, Peter had thought it'd be funny to jump-scare you as you exited the bathroom, grabbing your shoulders and shouting, "CANDYMAN'S GOTCHA!" which resulted in you jumping a mile with a noise you'd deny was a shriek before you turned to punch him in the arm scolding, "Damn you!"
He, along with Rocket, only responded by laughing their asses off at you. You thought you could also hear Drax's own booming laughter down the hall from his room, and you caught a glimpse of Yondu and Kraglin sharing amused glances and snickering from their shared room.
Your face getting warm at the fact that he had actually managed to get you pretty good, you then just storm off to your room, ignoring Rocket's teases that he bet that you'd be the one crawling into Mantis's bed tonight.
You shut the bedroom door behind you to see Mantis awake and clutching her bear for dear life. Whether she was just already awake due to nerves or you had woken her with your startled cry, you didn't know, but you flicked on your desk lamp for her, turned out your overhead light and crawled into bed without a word.
Sometime later, long enough for you to have drifted off into a decently sound enough sleep to be dreaming, you were startled awake by someone crawling into your bed.
Guess who. That's right. Mantis.
You groaned and turned to see she had already crawled halfway into your bed before you stopped her by rousing. "Mantis," you groaned, pointing towards the door, "go climb into Peter's bed. He's the one that chose the movie."
Mantis tucked her chin sheepishly and admitted she had already tried that, but his and Gamora's door had been locked.
You stared at the ceiling and sighed. Clever bastard.
You made a mental note to squirt lemon juice in his coffee in the morning before letting out another groan. "Ugh, fine. But just this once," you allowed, ignoring the fact that this would actually technically be the second time. You were also not actually quite as salty as you let on. If anything, you should maybe thank her for waking you from a bad dream involving the Candyman's ribcage full of bees, but you weren't going to tell her that.
She smiled gratefully and thanked you as she snuggled in.
You sighed quietly and Mantis fell asleep quickly. At least she didn't snore.
You spent the next bit before you fell asleep yourself contemplating different ways that you might be able to annoy Peter for sufficient payback.
#gotg#gotg fanfiction#guardians of the galaxy#x reader#yondu lives#scary movies#candyman#yondu udonta#kraglin obfonteri#rocket racoon and groot#mantis#peter quill#starlord
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2prettybestfrens | jjk
muses. jeon jeongguk x reader x park jimin ft. kim taehyung
genre. strangers to lovers!au. university!au.
words. 18.2k
drabbles. pjm
feedback.
warnings. mentions of physical insecurities, alcohol use, juul use, mention of adoption, mentions of dysfunctional families, handcuffs - lots of handcuffs, jeongguk crossdressing, too many one-sided pinings lmao
synopsis. you’re in love with kim taehyung who’s in love with jennie kim who’s in love with professor kim namjoon. so park jimin doesn’t exactly fit in all of this, yet he’s always been there in your weakest moments which may or may not be caused by your heartbreak boy - or so jeongguk likes to call him.
oh and jeongguk? you don’t even know jeongguk until that party-gone-awry night where you end up handcuffed together to ponder on what you did.
x
when you uploaded a snapchat of your darkened room and a single teary-eyed emoji because kim taehyung uploaded one where a beautiful girl was covering her mouth while she giggled, jimin snapped back a ‘why r u awake 😬’ to which you snapped the same darkened room with a slightly different angle and a ‘just cause’. his last snap to you contained a ‘cool wanna call?’ before you dialed him up and ended up talking until 5 in the morning before bidding each other-
“well, good night then,” you’d muttered.
“g’morning,” he’d wished you back in a soft mumble and a hint of sleepiness taking over.
that happened on a friday night. on monday and for the rest of the week, you merely greeted each other in the hallway and went on your days without the inclusion of the other.
when you sat by yourself on the bench on the sidewalk of campus, under the shade of a great old tree a few feet away from your department after being left high and dry when kim taehyung’s friends asked him if he’s joining them to get mcdonald’s which he’d in turn asked if you wanted to tag along and you said you were good only because you never did well in groupies - park jimin sat down next to you, head thrown back as he squinted at the gaps of the leaves where the tiniest of sun rays managed to pass through and dot his face. blonde tresses swaying ever so softly when the wind blew past you.
“so how was finance?” he looked like he was asking the waving branches.
“eh, it was fine, professor kim’s a good teacher,” you shrugged, the sight of jennie suavely smiling and said professor shooting glances at her made you mentally vomit.
“man,” he blew a gust of air from his mouth as he ran a hand through his semi-long tresses, “were we in the same class? because all i remember was dozing off five minutes into class.”
“that’s why you should sit at the front,” you’d suggested.
it was then, did he push himself off the ground and stood up, black and white jacket pushed back as he slipped his hands into the pocket of his jeans. eyes narrowing while his tongue protruded against the inside of his cheek before he went, “you hungry?”
“starving,” you rolled your eyes before collecting your mac and holding it to your chest, bag slung over your shoulders.
the both of you didn’t go to mcdonald’s but the food tasted just as good that day at the cafe in your faculty.
when kim taehyung asked jennie if she was free friday night and the girl turned to you with an endearingly oblivious, “do we have any plans on friday?” and taehyung awkwardly but not so hesitantly corrected, “um, i mean, just you jennie,” the air, without a doubt turned tangibly tense and awkward.
“oh,” jennie’s brows knitted together as she stared at him, as though trying to spot the caption on his forehead as to why he invited only her when everyone knew you and jennie never go anywhere without the other if you didn’t have any prior engagements, “well, ___ and me are going to hang out together so yeah, i’m not free.”
you weren’t sure if she was dumb or playing dumb but you’d found out later that night, that she’d been irritated with kim taehyung’s non-considerate advancements which she’d recently noticed seemed to exclude you ‘i hate people who make plans in front of someone and not invite them’ was her exact word before she followed up with a ‘blockedt’.
but backtrack to when the tension seemed to rise higher than the sky, you were saved by jimin when he came mini-jogging towards you with that adorable boyish smile and crescent eyes, “hey, i was looking for you - you wanna walk to accounting together?”
you’d waved jennie and taehyung goodbye and gladly walked with jimin to class.
and so it goes, with kim taehyung’s eyes lighting like fireworks in the midnight sky when he sees jennie and the girl itching to make a beeline to the opposite side of where he comes from and you shooting her ‘be nice’ looks whilst park jimin pops up now and then in the most convenient time until ‘us’ no longer comprise of you and jennie but also taehyung and jimin.
so much so, some of your casual friends come to you asking for either of the boys when they seem to have something to inform them which you’re not sure why isn’t informable through text. but either way, you’ve become two best friends with additional friends.
maybe said additional friends happen to fall in the top list of cuties in the girls and gays’ books but besides kim taehyung, if you looked, like really really looked at park jimin, you concurred, perhaps he does have the right to be in said list with his unblemished, smooth skin, perfect pink lips and pretty sparkly eyes.
“what?” his lips do the thing where they curl, revealing a pair of perfectly lined white pearls.
“nothing,” you say as you find yourself third-wheeling in taehyung’s bmw with jimin at the back and the first commenting something about his older sister liking to shop at zara as well when jennie asked you if you were free tomorrow to go to the mall near campus.
“i mean i can go with you girls, i have a two-hour gap between classes,” the boy offers.
“oh,” the first laugh trickles out of your mouth without a stop switch, “you’re so cute.”
you can hear jennie snickering in the passenger seat as you turn away from the angle where taehyung could see you in the rear-view mirror, only to come face to face with jimin who seems to get your humor.
“it’s not a big deal,” taehyung shrugs, a tinge of pride in his voice.
“my man,” jimin pats said man on his shoulder, “you don’t know jack shit about women.”
“what?” the older boy asks, perplexed and quite honestly irritated for some reason - but then again, he never seems to like jimin’s quick-to-catch-on nature when it comes to any girls-related topics.
“two hours is not enough to shop, taehyung,” jennie finally decodes the long standing cipher, “we can barely explore one shop.”
by the end of her words, you’re is full out snickering like an unattractive hyena, “i thought you have a sister?”
“i do,” there’s a tinge of confusion in his tone, “she usually goes shopping with her boyfriend.”
“well, how long did it take them to go shopping?” she quizzes, sharing an amused look with jimin.
“uh,” it’s then, do you hear the sound of the screws in taehyung’s brain twisting, “she usually stays over whenever they do.”
“well, whatever you think they did after they went shopping - it’s probably not it,” jimin snickers, shoulderline jolting as he crosses his arms over his chest.
“so cute,” jennie echoes your earlier words, neck craning to look at the two other passengers in the back seat as she gives you a one-eyebrow-lifted look as if to say ‘this is the guy you’re crushing on?’
at that, you shrug, unapologetically mouthing ‘he’s cute’ - in a much different and adoring sense than the first time which jennie must’ve gotten when she shakes her head, a hopeless smile on her lips as she turns to the road again.
you were on your way to the movies then.
x
“oh my god,” jennie squeals, eyes skimming your specifically-handpicked-by-jennie-kim attire, “you look so cute!”
“only because i agreed to be your live mannequin,” you say rolling your eyes but the curl of a smile on your lips is unstoppable.
“no - because i know what kind of style suits you,” she narrows her eyes in a ‘you know i’m right’ kind of manner, “no offense, your usual style is cute too but it’s more like an... ‘i have a crush, don’t talk to me’ kind of look, you know?”
“am i wrong though?” your eyebrows rise, mimicking her ‘you know i’m right’ look.
she raises a hand, her free one scrolling through her phone as she announces, “i don’t recommend crushing on airheaded guys but you do you sis,” then she looks up, staring at you straight in the eye with the most deadpanned expression, “but if he breaks your heart, i’ll break his leg,” it’s a full, solid moment later, just as you were about to burst out laughing, does she say, “literally.”
and it’s times like these that you fear for another person’s life that isn’t yours - well, taehyung’s life isn’t just anyone’s but - as she turns back to her phone ever so casually.
but before you can fret any further, your phone vibrates, the words ‘chim’ flashing across your screen with a ‘get yo asses down’ and contrasting ‘ur chauffer awaits’ popping a second later.
“get your ass up. they’re here,” you end up saying, pushing your phone into the back pocket of your leather pants that jennie manages to convince you to put on for some unknown reason - that reason going along the lines of ‘kim taehyung’ and ‘jealousy’, but you’re not one to dwell on why one do things they do as you accept jennie’s grabby-motioned hands in request for assistance to be pulled up.
it turns out the shopping plan gets pushed to saturday where taehyung is basically spouting out how he’s a good judge for fashion and that he hasn’t gone to the mall since the semester started which to be fair, was only a month ago.
you’re not sure how jimin ended up tagging along - the two aren’t even the bestest buddies - but someway, somehow, he always manages to get taehyung to pick him up and drop him off whenever the taller man makes plans to go out with you and jennie.
“wow,” jimin is the first to notice, mouth taking on an ‘o’ shape he basically ogles in plain daylight.
“what do you think?” jennie comes up behind you, chin resting on your shoulder as she wraps her arms around your waist then she turns to taehyung who was the last to get out of the car, “doesn’t ___ look pretty, taehyung?”
at the sound of his name rolling off the tongue of the girl he’s been pining for since he laid eyes on her, his gaze lights up - but only to meet jennie’s. one look at you and he turns back to her with the most beautiful smile, “yeah, she looks great - did you help choose the top?”
“actually,” the girl begins with a cheery tone - they’re walking a few steps behind you whilst you and jimin walk together. it’s been like that for as long as you remember, “i picked out the whole fit. it wasn’t easy though because...”
kim jennie walking side-by-side with kim taehyung whilst you with jimin whenever the two boys join you, be it whether to get to a class you all share, to go to the library to study or to get some lunch - has become a familiar view to your mutual friends. so much so, you’ve heard of a rumor going around that you’re a couple of best friends.
like literal couples. you with jimin and jennie with taehyung. thanks to that, no one would have suspected jennie’s relationship with professor kim nor would anyone see through the veil of friendly smiles and amicable conversations to be you pining over your best friend’s alleged boyfriend.
you’ve gotten used to hearing jennie and taehyung’s conversation fade into the background yet never really able to disregard the way taehyung laughs at something your best friend says or the sight of the two walking a few feet ahead with taehyung’s head almost always turned to jennie’s and the girl, oblivious, occasionally cranes her neck to look at him at the beginning of her sentence before directing her gaze to the front where she’s walking.
jennie dislikes taehyung less now, if only because he steers the conversation towards the areas of interest - which he seems to know a lot of. kudos to you for answering his ass-crack o’clock texts of ‘heyyy what kind of movie does jennie like?’s and ‘heyy you girls got any plans tomorrow?’s.
“you look great in those leather pants, by the way,” jimin’s voice makes you turn to the other boy, a boyish smile on his lips, “so let me guess,” his head tilts to the side as the dip between his thumb and index finger hooks itself underneath his chin, eyebrows knitted together in heavy contemplation, “are you going for a good girl gone bad kind of look,” a playful smile tugs on the corners of his lips, “or are you in a secret biker gang and have a biker meeting at 7?”
you lean closer to the man, hand covering your mouth as you whisper, “you didn’t hear this from me but we’re convoying to disney land. i heard it’s more magical during christmas.”
or so you thought your whispering skills were close to perfect but a cat with brown hair pops up from next to you, eyes glinting with excitement, “did someone say christmas?!”
so you end up early-christmas shopping just because of that one word that triggers the warm-hearted-who-ness in her. and that’s how you, taehyung and jimin gets dragged from one store to another. but where your attention gets robbed with material things like-
“oh look, a snow globe with a puppy and a snowman in it!” you shake the see through globe, watching as pseudo snowflakes rain over the unmoving pupper and olaf lookalike before you sigh, “technically the snowman isn’t alive and the doggo is alone by itself in a world where nobody else can enter - and on christmas at that . oh my god, i think i’m gonna cry.”
- but jennie’s interest lies within the holiday-themed clothes. sweaters. costumers. lingerie. you name it and jennie kim tries it on.
“___ - pssst, hey,” there she goes, hiss-whispering your name as if you’re not right in front of the curtain she’s poking her head through, eyes darting around for the two boys who, last you saw, were doing the best to look interested in reindeers and candy printed sweaters.
“what, girl, what?” you whisper back, trying to peek through the gap of the curtain over her head as if you’ve never entered a changing room together.
and as if reading your mind, her bare arm that’s supposed to be wrapped with the floral cotton material of her sleeve - shoots out, hand wrapping around your wrist.
a “wha- ah-!” probably echoed off the walls and turned some heads but you’re no longer in the position to check as you find your back pressed against the wall of the cubicle and red and white lace-wearing jennie posing for you.
“so?” she beams.
“those are so cute, oh my god,” you end up his-whispering whilst trying to keep your voice low, “where did you get them? i only ever saw you checking out - and you have got to admit this - ugly sweaters!”
“girl, the lingerie section is just next to the sweaters,” her eyes seem to disappear behind her crescents as she crinkles her nose, “no but for real, you think i was gonna buy them? i just needed the boys to go away. and. they. finally. did,” she rolls her eyes, “it took awhile but kim taehyung is so persistent.”
“that’s why he’s so... cute,” you hum, eyes shutting close as the picture of the aforementioned man flashes behind your eyes. he’s looking at you with those dark eyes and he’s smiling at you with that magnetic-
“gross! get your ass out of the gutter,” a squeal hits the air as your eyes flutter open to the sight of your best friend’s contorted faces as if-
“um, girl,” you tilt your head just the slightest bit, hand on your hip while your other hand raises in a ‘hold up’ manner, “out of the two of us, you’re the one that’s gotta stop being silly and start wrapping professor kim’s willy.”
a stick of tongue out is all you’ve got as a response before she turns to her phone that’s vibrating at an alarming rate.
that’s when you feign almost-vomit, “did you - ulgh - sent him a - ulgh - nude?”
in any ordinary circumstance, she would have made faces to mimic a much ridiculous series of vomiting in response to your fake almost-vomits but when her smile tugs downwards in a disheartened pout, you practically drop all the ugly sweaters you picked out just for the sake of getting into the christmas spirit and rush over to the girl - which is only one and a half feet away.
“hey, hey, what’s wrong?” you coo as she starts blinking back tears.
“i knew it,” she huffs out a puff of air, hand fanning at her waterline, “i fucking knew it.”
in between the ‘you’re okay’s and ‘everything’s going to be okay’s on your part and jennie’s increasingly growing sobs, you manage to make out the words she blurts out. something along the lines of ‘not spending as much time as we used to’ and ‘because i’m ugly as fuck’. so you hold her tighter, fingers brushing out the potentially forming knots in her hair each time it gets into her tear stained face and gets aggressively pushed out of said face with the back of the hand.
it’s been going on since the start of the third year - the ‘i can’t make it tonight’s and ‘sorry, i’m going to have to rain check’s.
you’ve been a silent spectator of how your best friend’s face lights up whenever she talks about her secret affair with the youngest professor in the business faculty, how he lives up to her private swooning with the smallest ‘miss kim, how was your day’s when he met her in the hallway, ever so casually greeting one of his supposed students like any professor would and treats her to fine-dinings and became the reason why forehead kisses are her favorite kind of kiss now.
he never really tried to hide his fondness for her even at the faculty and though you knew your best friend could get anyone she wanted, you were dubious of whether that anyone actually deserved such a loving, beautiful person. nonetheless, kim namjoon seems to be the exact person who does.
“hey, look at me,” you implore, sitting cross-legged on the floor whilst your knees touch and your fingers twine together in a fingers hug, or so jennie coined the term in your first year, “you’re so beautiful.”
“you don’t mean that,” she mumbles out.
“girl, if i were to be born again and were allowed to choose how i’m going to look - i want your eyes, they like, pull people in - not gonna lie, i started talking to you because you were intimidating but also really alluring. does that make sense?” you hold up a hand when she begins to giggle lightly, head shaking in show of her disagreement.
“but when i did get to know you, you’re the sweetest, squishiest,” a protest falls from her lips as she clasps a palm over the spot on her arm that you just pinched, “person alive. and oh!” you pinch her cheeks next, chuckling at how she crinkles her nose and like the feline she’s always been associated with, “and i want your cute chubs cheeks! and your adorable nose, and your lips,” you pause for the longest moment before retracting, “okay maybe i’d want my lips but your lips are juicy too!”
she makes a sound at the back of her throat, eyes of dried tears rolling, “please, i barely have any lips.”
“i mean, they’re still kissable,” you shoot her a suggestive look, “and i know out of the two of us, one would kiss you if she’s a little bit more fruity.”
“okay, maybe you think i’m kinda pretty,” she gives in.
but that’s not enough for you,“bih, you’re a literal goddess,”
“i’m not but anyway beauty is subjective so maybe namjoon’s perspective’s changed.”
“nope - nu-uh, we can cry and just... let ourselves feel the emotion that’s been bottling up and burst at one single message but what we’re not gonna do is mope around, being sad all day because of our presumptions that someone else thinks we’re not good enough or pretty enough. because you are and i would die for you.”
she hiccups, “i don’t know if i would die for you but i’d sacrifice my first born for you.”
“ew,” you feel your nose crinkling, “no, you’re not gonna trap me with a kid - that’s a trap right there and i’m not falling for it.”
jennie ends up laughing too loudly that one of the store attendants end up kicking you out. jimin and taehyung followed suit a second later, acting like they didn’t know you two but walking towards you anyway. you’re not sure if they noticed jennie’s swollen eyes but neither mentioned anything about it. instead, taehyung suggests- “since we’re already out, you guys wanna go to chanyeol’s party?”
x
so you end up going to the party. the apartment’s too cramped for your liking but jennie’s found some mutual friends of yours that she’s dancing and laughing with. and maybe that’s why you haven’t bolted right out of the door the moment you stepped in.
jimin found some of his own friends. they’re probably not from the faculty since you don’t remember seeing them around and taehyung-
you’re not quite sure why taehyung is following you around like a lost puppy and trying to make small talks with you. internally, your heart’s doing flips but your head’s been giving out one of those obnoxiously loud sirens with lights as red as the cup you’re holding.
“...and you know, it’s pretty cool how they managed to attract foreign investors within six months of starting up their business,” taehyung is saying, the awkward shrug and eyes glued to the ground telling you that he’s not so into whatever he’s saying either.
“yeah, like, they definitely got lucky or something,” you nod in agreement.
funny how the blare of the music is barely allowing you to have a proper conversation but all you hear is deafening silence as you stand five feet apart - the kind of distance that screams acquaintances but less than friends and most definitely not lovers.
but then he stands on his two feet instead of leaning his weight on just one - and he looks at you right in the eye for the first time that night. and your stupid heart goes fluttering like the petals in a field.
“hey, i don’t wanna be a nosy or anything but,” he pauses for the briefest second, eyes slanting to somewhere on the dance floor where you think you last saw jennie and then he refocuses back to you. but you already know where his mind and soul remains, “what happened today? like, jennie’s acting off, like something’s bothering her and she’s kinda drinking more than she should and it kinda feels like she doesn’t want me around.”
it takes a moment to ponder on how much you should say before your words become affirmation and affirmation will probably lead to more assumptions and - “well, you should ask her.”
“uh, i- she doesn’t- i don’t know how - i don’t wanna annoy her, you know what i mean? and since you’re best friends, i thought maybe you’d-” he’s scratching the back of his head when you cut him off.
“there’s your answer,” you raise the half-empty cup that’s been lying undrunken in your hands, “if you’re not gonna square up and tell her how you feel, then you, my friend,” your stomach drops at the word but you manage to land a solid pat on his arm, “are going to live the rest of your live like this - wondering what the hell is going on because you’re really not sure where you stand. and i get it, confessing to someone is terrifying and depending on jennie’s answer, you might or might not be able to talk to her ever again but it’s better to get it out there. feelings are like farts, you know?” the way his brows come together in a confused what-the-hell moment, is adorable, “hold it in and you’ll feel like something’s not right and it is never going to be until you get all of it out of your system.” and with a nod and a tight-lipped smile, you leave him with a “good luck,” before wandering over to the dance floor, not sure where you’re going because jennie, lisa chaeyoung and jisoo’s not where you thought they were and the only less crowded but still suffocating part of the apartment is the kitchen where you don’t want to risk going back and seeing taehyung there, unmoving in the spot where you left him.
amid all of it, you almost get your shoulder dislocated before a hand shoots out and pulls you back on your two feet whilst you raise your cup higher in hopes to save its contents from spilling.
the man that caught you looks between you and your raised cup for two solid seconds before a grin tugs on his face and he clicks his own cup to yours, “cheers.”
“aha, yeah,” you laugh as you feel his grip on your arm loosening and you pull it back to your side like a robot, taking a sip of your nicely saved drink.
“thanks for not letting me fall,” you say a moment later, after thanking whatever deity is out there that allows you to get your first drink into the right pipe without feeling the need to cough out loud.
“no problem,” even in the poor lighting, you can easily catch the sight of pearly whites lined up perfectly amid an alluring smile, that is, before a pair of brows knit together in what seem like an unresolvable conundrum, “hey, you don’t happen to...” he pauses for the longest moment, eyes slanting to scan the crowd and making you do the same until he commands your attention back with his next words, lips curling back into the breathtakingly attractive smile as words tumble past them, “...see two pretty best friends in here, do you?”
and that’s when your interest, wherever it is, plunges straight down to the ground and into the ether, “oh,” your vision shakes as you nod repeatedly before forcing out a dry “ha ha” which isn’t meant to disguise your displeasure at all - if anything, a wave of satisfaction crashes over you when his smile falters, “yeah, that - that’s really funny,” you say plainly, smile still plastered on your face.
“o-kay,” he drags out the word for half a second, teeth clenched together in growing panic as all traces of humor fade away, “...joke too old?”
“well, let’s see,” you feel your index finger tapping your chin as you throw your gaze up to the ceiling, “i get it, tell the ugly best friend she’s ugly but in a joking way,” you shrug, “you don’t need to rub it in my face cause i know and yes it’s getting old.”
it takes a whole solid moment of blaring music and non-caring half-way-drunken college students continuing to grind against one another and this insanely attractive stranger staring at you with jaws on the ground, for you to wave a dismissive hand.
“you know what? don’t worry, jennie’s not here, thankfully or she would’ve blo-” air fills your throat and cuts you off when he frowns, “who?”, to which you raise your eyebrows, “je-” you almost choked, “jennie?”
he shakes his head the second time, bottom lip jutting out in an additional- “nope” gesture as he continues with “never heard of her,” after your “jennie... kim?”
so you go one, “kinda cute height, long hair, brunette-” he shrugs, “nope- doesn’t ring a bell,” in the middle of your, “-fierce cat-like eyes but adorable as heck personality?”
in the end he wins with a final word of, “no - nope,” after a whole solid moment of your silenced disbelieve and him drawing his pondering session to a close.
“oh,” escapes your lips before you can even register, “so - it was- like-”
“yeap,” he nods, “it was-”
“a joke?”
“a joke.”
you both announce at the same time. the tones may differ but the essence is there, leaving one to stare at the ground in shame for having snapped at a complete stranger and the other staring with unapologetic eyes.
“i’m sorry,” you finally manage to utter, shoulderline falling with your walls of pride, “i thought it was one of those micro aggressive jokes people throw around just because they can’t straight out tell someone they’re ugly-”
but the words seem to enter through one ear and go out the other when his brows begin to knit together for the nth time of the night - and in a matter of less than thirty minutes at that - when he declares before you get to properly end your sentence, “you’re pretty as hell. why did you think i’d randomly try to crack a joke to a stranger and risk pissing pants off on the off chance she took it badly... which you did. i’m sorry for pushing the wrong button.”
“oh,” but just like him, your brain short-circuits and you seem to only truly hear the first part of what he’s saying as just like any girl - you curse yourself as you - shy away from his gaze, hand going up to tuck your hair behind your ear before you slowly peek up through your lashes, “thanks,” you blink once, shrugging, “and it’s fine i get that joke a lot - i don’t usually care, i don’t know what got into me tonight.”
but before he manages to say anything, the loudspeaker starts reverberating with the sound of someone clearing their throat and a “how’s everyone doing?” and a dismissive “alright, alright you might be wondering ‘who the eff is this guy’ right? yea, yea, i know, but-” he stops, eyes scanning the crowd for a suspenseful effect, “-but you’re gonna wanna hear this,” to which a groan erupts from the crowd, so he quickly gets to the point “don’t panic,” most of the time, that’s exactly when you should panic, “so, the police are coming.”
x
his name is jeon jeongguk and he goes to your university’s rival university. his hair is actually a shade of rich deep brown that forms wavy ends and contrasts glaringly against his sharp jawline under the fluorescent lighting which also highlights his pearly whites that remind you of bunnies when his lips curl over them when he smiles.
to think that he’s doing that now while the police officer, a man in his 40′s and on the shorter side of the spectrum is ten steps from marching up to you with a disapproving gaze on his face.
his hair falls over his face in half ringlets, an excited glint in his eyes, “he’s mad cause we’re clean.”
a guy somewhere a few people away from you is sobbing increasingly loudly with every step the officer takes before he comes to a stop in front of you, eyes skimming each faces one by one until he stops on you.
“you,” he announces before sighing deeply, “you look like a kid who wouldn’t cause trouble, why are you here?”
“uh,” the chain around your wrist feels cold but jeongguk’s pinky that’s touching yours as your thighs brush together - is warm, “i...” you pause, in search for words before settling with a disappointing confession “i don’t know,”
the officer echoes your statement with a critical emphasize on the ‘don’t’.
and because of that, you blink once, “in fact, does anyone know what they’re doing at all? if you think about it we’re just astronomical particles in this vast universe which is called the milky way,” you pause, if only squint at his sparse mustache, “why is it even called milky way? like, there’s absolutely no scientific evidence that milk exists in outer space or do you reckon the guys that named it just feels like drinking some milk while they were-”
by the end of it, a few snickers have escaped from the people you and jeongguk were caught with, the aforementioned man, having turned his head the other way as his shoulders jolt silently and it’s only then does the officer’s increasing confused expression contorts into that of a maddened bore, “keep hanging out with him and you’re gonna find yourself behind bars.”
“that hurts my feelings, detective yoo,” jeongguk confesses, forehead creasing as his uncuffed hand holds the spot on his chest where his heart should be.
the man finally shakes his head, motioning to a younger officer who looks just about your age to start unlocking everyone’s cuffs - there were a few other people you’ve never seen before dragged out of the vicinity and to the station. he speaks a moment later, “you kids are lucky because none of you are associated with the ones down the hallway - we were initially going for them. busted their asses and found over a hundred kilograms of cocaine.”
once your cuffs are off and you get your phone back, you’re fast-scrolling through the messages on the notification window before swiping up and searching for jennie’s contact. it turns out she, taehyung and jimin guessed you were one of the few who didn’t make it and waited for you near the building where the party was busted.
“oh my god,” jennie is the first to dash into your arms as if she hadn’t seen you since forever, “i’m so sorry i left you!”
“well to be fair, i left you,” you mumble, your arms banded around her waist while hers around your neck.
and just when you thought the melodrama would end when she pulls away, you find yourself staring at sparkly-eyed jennie and the most heartbreaking downturned lips, “i will never,” she pauses, “ever let you out of my sight.”
you’re exactly against that idea - after all, you’ve made plans to buy a beach house and move in together in your olden days once you’ve poiso- burried your husbands who died of a totally natural cause.
it’s only after breaking apart from a second hug, do you realize the man standing not-so-awkwardly five feet away.
“don’t mind me,” jeongguk holds up his hands, “i don’t watch much drama but i might after all this.”
“jeongguk,” you can’t help the smile that creeps up your face at his joke, “this is jennie,” then you turn to the girl who still has her arm around your waist, and you her, “jennie, jeongguk.”
“have i seen you before?” her cat-like eyes narrows just the slightest bit, as though if she tried hard enough, she’d see the pieces of moving memories that’ll somehow point out where she claims to have met him - but you don’t doubt it if they have, jennie gets invited to a lot of parties and hookups.
you should’ve known when jeongguk’s eyes sweep over you with a playful glint in them as he begins, “that’s funny because ____ here-” that from this point forward, that you shouldn’t have put your foot forward and prance at him like a predator with a secret, hand clasped against a surprisingly hard chest before your brain can register what you’re doing.
and when it does, you’re left to awkwardly pat his chest in what you hope to be friendly gesture whilst you force out a laugh, “that- that was really funny jeongguk,” you turn to jennie who, having known you all your life easily catches onto your out-of-character laugh but says nothing, so you point at the guy you’re basically and is still groping - to which you’ve finally tear your hand off his body, “he’s a funny guy.”
“and who exactly is this funny guy?” taehyung comes up on your left - you think you catch sight of his sleek bmw parked on the other side of the street where he must’ve strutted up from in his beige jacket with his hands buried in its pockets.
“just...” you trail off before your brain completely fries and you blurt out, “some guy.”
and that’s when jeongguk decides to call you out, “some guy? i helped you through a life lesson.”
you attribute the alcohol in your system that’s slowing down the neurons and disables you from thinking before you act when you roll your eyes, “in case you didn’t realize, you were in there laughing your ass off when i had to have my own back while that officer looked like he was a word away from dragging me to the police station for talking back to a law enforcement.”
“you talked back to an officer?” jennie chirps, her jaw falling to the ground as her cat eyes widen in excitement and astonishment.
“she did,” jeongguk nods at the girl, a displaced proud smile on his lips before he looks back to you, “brought out the boomer in him too.”
“you pissed off an officer?” this time, it’s jimin who pops up from behind taehyung, before casually nodding to jeongguk with a “hey man.”
“i mean, it was probably ___’s sheer guts and rebellious streak alone that helped free us,” jeongguk goes on, eyes glinting with amusement in the briefest moment they slant to meet yours but they’re gone too soon as he redirects your attention to jimin and jennie’s overpouring questions.
and because jennie wanted to hear more about how jeongguk embellished what went down, taehyung ends up agreeing to give the stranger a ride as you get squished between two men with jennie constantly pulling on the strap of the seatbelt to look over to the backseat, her mouth constantly dropping with every word jeongguk utters like he’s some well-known storyteller.
by the time the car rolls to a stop in front of his apartment building, jennie’s shooting you approving, borderline provocative looks your way - you don’t doubt that if she had any power in her hand to put both you and jeongguk in the same room, lock the door and swallow the key, she would in a heartbeat.
“hey,” jeongguk leans over the doorframe, “can i talk to you for a sec?” it’s the way he tilts his head to the side on a 35 degree angle, paired with that dangerous smile he’s been shooting you in the briefest span of moments jennie’s head is turned to the road and jimin’s gave is thrown outside of the window and taehyung isn’t stealing glances from the rear-view mirror - that makes you want to shake your head in rejection to his request and prance out of the car like a predator in heat at the same time.
but instead, you calmly slide over to the side now vacant side and slip out of the car, closing the door behind you so no ears can eavesdrop.
the scent of his cologne wafts stronger into your senses now that you have no police officers to be cautious of nor any embellished stories to correct.
that, or maybe it’s the way he’s got you trapped against the car door and his body, right arm placed perfectly on the roof of the car, next to your head.
“bout time you give me your @, no?” the corner of his lips tilts higher into a cocky smirk.
“um, yea,” you begin, “i think it’s better if we leave into the night like strangers with stories, you know? and if we’re meant to find each other, we will,” you swear on your grandmother’s grave that you will never go to any parties anymore, “makes a good plot for a drama,” eyes going wide and mouth taking on an ‘o’ shape, you continue, “didn’t you say you were gonna start watching those?”
his shoulderline shakes as he chuckles, head dropped it tilts up, eyes capturing yours, “i’m not falling for that,” his announcement is plain and simple and yet you’re forced to put twice the effort in your smile as to not let it falter, “after getting my chest groped and caressed, i deserve at least-”
“it was a friendly pat, mind you,” you correct, smile still glued to your face before rolling your eyes, “but snapchat is as far as i’m willing to go.”
“works for me,” the screen of his phone flashes with a dark mode keypad splayed over it - you’re not sure how he unlocked it without taking those glinted eyes off you but he did. so you swipe the phone off his hand and send yourself a request through his account.
“i’m gonna open your snap and leave you on read!” you announce, and he laughs, “alright, bet!”
and with that, he waves at you using the same phone he told you to put your number in, taking a few steps backward, allowing you room to breathe properly again before he whirls on his heels and walks through the glass double doors.
you don’t wait any longer than you have to, shivering from the cold night air when you slip into the car.
“did you give him your number?!” jennie practically screams.
“no but i gave my snapchat only because he looked like he wouldn’t sleep a wink at night if i didn’t,” you shrug.
and that’s how kim jennie gets it into her head that you’re going to get your first-boyfriend-cherry popped. or so she likes to believe.
but that’s the least of your concern for the greater one comes in a devil with black jeans and matching plain t-shirt and timberlands and a lit up screen at exactly three something in the am, right after you’re done with a hot shower and in a middle of towel drying your hair and putting on your night routine skincare.
you open the text revealing a night view of a cityscape from a window which room is surrounded by darkness and a transparent horizontal strip with a ‘❄️ ’ in the middle from a goldenjks.
so you snap a picture of your skincare products next to a mirror with you and a towel on your head, face blocked by your hand that’s holding your phone, choosing to send ‘🍜’.
and so it goes, the snap war that erupts between you and user goldenjks throughout the night which, after you’d gotten into bed with the lights off, basically includes snaps of your darkened room and his more superior window view.
before long, you started texting on snapchat about how the police officer seems to know him and how-
goldenjks
u were p chill for someone who got arrested for the 1st time
you’re giggling in the darkness at 5:23 am.
you
cs ik i didn’t do anything wrong
duh
and he mentions something about a sobbing kid that was made to wait with you and nobody really did anything to comfort him.
goldenjks
that coulda been u if i wasn’t there probably
you roll your eyes but you can feel your muscles becoming sore from the way your lips are stretching from ear to ear.
then it starts with how taehyung didn’t saying anything throughout the ride up until the car rolled to a stop in front of jeongguk’s place.
goldenjks
r u guys using him for his car???
cs same
i would 2
you
wtf
we’re not 😭😭
and without much thought, you end up spilling a not-so-secret but not-so-well-known truth.
you
welp
he’s using me to get close to jennie so
ig i should use him for his car
oof
goldenjks
ooof
so let me guess
u can’t say no to him cs u have the biggest crush on him
“what the hell?” you mumble to yourself, smile pulled down into a frown, but before you can type out a reply, two more pop up on his side.
goldenjks
and jimin head over heels for u
you
🧢 🧢 🧢
u funny 😂😂😂
goldenjks
fr fr tho 😔😔😔
i would b too
all of a sudden, a boy with the softest blonde hair and crescent eye smiles floods your throughts. you and jimin might have been casual friends for the longest time and only until recently started hanging out together - and he may or may not hold confidential information about the littlest details of the lack of smile on your face and the blank snaps in your stories whenever you’re down.
but to say he’s reacting such way because he’s into you would be a total scam.
so you shake your head, laughing out loud, “nah can’t be.”
you
alright imma 😴😴😴
to which jeongguk tests back a gnight and after one whole solid minute, a text u tmr?
you leave him on read.
x
“like, who does he think he is?” you huff, burying the plastic spoon into the ice cream before scooping up a chunk of neapolitan flavored goodness and directing it into your mouth, “he literally met us just last night and he’s spouting shit like he knows us for years?”
“i don’t know,” jennie humps, tongue darting out to lick the remnants of strawberry ice cream on her upper lips before she goes on with a smile that screams ‘just get together already’, “it’s kinda hot to me when guys know shits, you know what i mean?”
you’ve managed to avoid jimin and taehyung at all costs and sneak to the ice cream parlor that’s five minutes away from campus where you spilled your guts out about how you got unreasonably irritated by the long running joke, about how jeongguk’s hand wrapped around your wrist and he pulled you out of the way of the chaotic college students who were rushing to get out of the small, cramped apartment and how you stopped him from relaying your disbelief of his lack of knowledge about her.
“like, i flipped out at him because of some stupid joke,” you shrugged, hands fiddling with each other while a coat of smoke wafted over the newly scooped and paid-for ice cream.
your name rolled off her lips before she stared at you with her hands on hear heart, “i- i didn’t know you would go so far as fight a guy for me for calling me ugly,” then she laughed, “but you don’t have to. girl, we been knew i’m ugly as fuck.”
your jaw hit the ground at the word she used to describe herself before you blinked and came back to your senses and aggressive defenses, “oh my god, i’m the ugly one and you’re the literal goddess - like, i shouldn’t even be looking at you. i should be looking at your sole. you should be stepping on me - step on me! now!”
a yelp resonated into the air as you groped around for jenni’s left leg in an attempt to lift her foot to make her step on you to which you both ended up laughing hysterically after realizing that she was wearing a skirt and the way you were sitting may or may have not resulted in an array of possible outcomes.
“oh my god, do you think she saw my panties?” she meant the woman in her late 40′s who were shooting disapproving eyes at the both of you as she scrolled through her phone, seeming to be waiting for someone before placing an order.
“you just flashed a poor old woman who came to have some ice cream,” you were hunched over, hand covering your face as you stole glances her way which didn’t hold long because you ended up giggling with the girl when you caught each other’s eyes.
“you think she likes what she sees?” jennie’s brows rose suggestively and you knew what she was going to say next before the words even leave her mouth, “you think maybe i should tell her about my onlyfans?”
it was a few bursts of giggles later, that you’d finally managed to talk properly. or probably because jennie’s question brought out an unwelcomed emotion that you pushed to the back of your conscience last night and for the most part, managed to forget, “so,” her brows were wiggling like earthworms on her forehead, “did he text you?”
that was what spurred the whole confession and up to the moment where you spilled the contents of the unfairly attractive stranger’s text.
“i don’t know, he kinda went overboard,” you shrug and jennie’s hand reaches over yours, patting it once with what you assume is an understanding manner.
“sweetie, i get it,” she announces, “you feel exposed because he said the absolute truth and only the truth and now you’re projecting your embarrassment on him through disdain.”
silence follows her statement.
and staring.
on your part, that is.
“girl,” you blink once, eyebrows arched, “whatever you’re having - i want some.”
that warrants a bout of giggles from said girl before she scoops her last bite of ice cream and hook arms with you as you walk towards the trashcan to dump your empty paper bowls, “no but for real, i like jeongguk-”
“then you date him,” you announce, nodding in approval.
“i like how he brings this... this... fire out of you, you know?” she quizzes to which you shake your head in a ‘no, i don’t know’ kind of manner as she goes on, “and i already have namjoon so,” she sing songs as she starts to skip in the middle of the mall and since your arms are linked together, you end up taking larger steps to accommodate to hers before deciding that you can’t root your feet down to slow her down into a normal pace. so you join her, skipping to the exit where you wait for your uber.
“you guys made up?” the question comes out in a calm, poised manner once you’ve both slipped into the backseat of the uber - you’d like to believe you’re doing a pretty good job on trying to conceal your spiking disbelief and the need to whoop someone’s ass. that someone being a girl who just pledged an oath to choose herself first instead of some man who-
“i texted him and told him how i felt with him cancelling on our plans and when i didn’t get any reply, i turned off my phone and got into bed because i’m not gonna mope over someone who won’t appreciate me,” at that, you give her an approving nod, “but then he came knocking on my door at like 5 in the morning in yesterday’s suit because apparently he has a deadline to meet and he’s been bending over backward trying to finish it on time and he brought his laptop with him too and managed to submit on time after explaining everything. he said he tried calling multiple times but obviously it went to voice mail so... yeah we made up.”
“that’s...” you trail off, only to stare at your friend’s beaming face like she’s just had one of the best facials on earth, “wow, i... i don’t know what to say now that we know he’s not trash.”
“i know,” you feel her pat the back of your hand sympathetically, “and that’s what a man is,” and when she looks at you with eyes that have one goal in her mind, you know not to start listening because the facts are going to bruise your pride and hit the nail on the head more times than you’d-
“liking a boy has more downs than ups but i’m not too worried because you’re a self-loving bitch and i love that for you but kim taehyung is not it,” she says all that with a straight face.
“yeah,” you mumble, thumbs fiddling together as you turn your attention to them as if it’s the most magnifying thing in the world to find out that identical parts of your body could move on their own with just a thought.
“okay, but i swear, he’s so oblivious all the time-” the girl stops short of her lament, you can see her head tilting to peer at you at a slightly different angle as if to see traces of an impostor on you, “wait, what?”
“we got into a fight last night- i don’t know if it’s even a fight but you know how i go off in a tangent when i get like annoyed, right?” you steal a glance at her for half a second before going back to your thumbs, “so i kind of did that to him before the dude announced the cops were coming and we haven’t really talked to each other since then.”
before any of you could say anything else, the sound of a cough echoes in the air, warranting your attention to turn to the driver, a woman in her mid-thirties. you return her smile through the rear-view mirror, “if you don’t mind me saying this - i know you girls are smart as fuck, but you sound just as dumb as that guy - whoever he is because it’s completely normal to get mad at someone you’re crushing on and still have a crush on them but sounds to me like you’re thinking one fight is the end of the world for you.”
“sis, please, don’t encourage her,” jennie talk-whispers as she leans forward just the slightest bit and covers the side of her mouth with her hand.
“well, we’re not really friends,” you begin and jennie groans - you two went over this and agreed to disagree with each other’s wildly contrasting views about crushing on crushes that could crush you but the lady hasn’t heard it so you’re not going to stop lamenting over it, “and whatever i do, it’s like i’m teetering on a tight rope because one wrong move and he probably won’t talk to me ever again and i’m not like miserably crushing on him - like, whatever we are right now - it lets me see him every day and he has the cutest smile and the prettiest fingers- i just - it’s better than not talking to each other forever, you feel?”
“um, don’t i?” she rolls her eyes, as if coming from a place filled with oblivious boys and hopeless crushes.
her name is solar and she does uber as a part time while working 9 to 5 at a firm that she claims to pay better but still not enough for her to save up for her wedding on the side and she and her fiance knew each other since high school but she’s seen him date two girls and get his heartbroken by both before he actually noticed her, the friend that’s always been there for him through his heartbreaks.
coming from someone who isn’t jennie and her alarming obsession with breaking parts of bodies of people who hurt her loved ones, solar’s view is somewhat a mixture of you and your best friend’s which still bases on one simple fact: whatever you say to and about taehyung comes bouncing back at you like a ping pong ball because-
“you have a crush on him and he has a crush on jennie,” she surmises before looking over at the aforementioned girl, “and people with crushes act like idiots- by the way how do you feel- like how do you handle the guy’s advancements and still aren’t awkward with each other because i have never seen...”
when the car rolls to a stop in the parking lot of your faculty, she finally turns to the two of you, her bleached blonde hair framing her face in waves as the silence - on you and jennie’s part as you both share glances at the indicative joke opening - hangs in the air with a sort of tension you can feel.
might even bite back like you did with jeongguk but you’re more in control now.
“...two pretty best friends who are still best friends when there’s a guy that comes between them.”
“oh thank god,” jennie sighs, laughing and you’re nodding in agreement, “thanks for not-” and your best friend echoes, “yeah,” before you can even finish your sentence, “-saying that cliche joke or like for giving your own twist to it,” waving a dismissive hand, you address her initial worries, “and taehyung doesn’t-”
“he doesn’t-” jennie chimes in.
“-come between us.”
you both say at the same time.
“oh my god, that’s great, you know my best friend tried sleeping with my fiance behind my back once,” solar crinkles her nose, “wasn’t a good experience but anywho, i’m so glad to see two girls having each other’s back like you guys. makes me want to...”
it’s a few moments later that you finally hand her the money and murmur out appreciations for being such a great uber driver along with some ‘give me five stars! thanks!’ and ‘we will! have a nice one!’
you both part ways in the hallway when you’re supposed to go for marketing and she has to go for personnel management. jimin’s already reserved a seat for you, waving at you to catch your attention which he succeeds splendidly. by the start of the second year, you’ve opted to sit together in classes you have in common, though not as close as the front as you’d like, it’s better than sitting at the back where you can hear the buzz of flies - you mean people, talking.
“are you doing anything this friday night?” jimin asks amidst people zooming out of the class as if they don’t want to be there for longer than a minute after being dismissed.
that, or they have another class to get to on the other side of the campus.
“uh, just me or me and jennie ‘you’?” you dumbly question.
that warrants a chuckle from the boy, “you and jennie... unless you wanna come alone?”
a hum vibrates in your chest as you narrow your eyes at him, as though if you looked close enough, you can see through his skull and right into his thoughts.
but you can’t so that’s why you’re spouting out another question, “where exactly are you inviting us again?”
“so, like, you know i dance right?” he drops his gaze for the briefest moment before coming back up to lock it with yours, “it’s very lowkey - just something i do for fun, but we kind of have a dance off with other teams every month and this month’s round is this friday night so i was wondering if you wanna come?” then he quickly adds, “with jennie, of course.”
to be frank your weekends are as boring and dull as it gets - the party-busted incident was a rare exception - but you and jennie are quite content with it. you start having more to do and places to venture out to when taehyung and subsequently jimin join your group of two and made it a group of four but for the most part, if you’re not going anywhere, your weekend is usually spent with watching movies and burying yourself in work for the rest of it.
“bet,” your reply might have come a tad bit delayed judging from how his brows rise to the ceiling and his eyes go round as he chirps, “really?”
“yeah, just text me or jennie the location the day before,” you request as you both walk down the hallway.
“great- yeah, i’ll... i’ll text you the place,” jimin beams even as he bumps into someone behind him, turning around to lower his head and mumble out an oh sorry before turning back to you, “i got another class but i’ll text you- on thursday - not today, of course.”
and you wave back, shouting out an ‘okay bye!’
then he’s gone like the wind.
x
the days pass by like a breeze.
kim taehyung caught you in the middle of waiting for jennie’s class to end whilst also finishing up some work in the library. he knew your favorite spot and he knew where you’d usually be - but you had an inkling that you weren’t exactly the reason why he memorized these little things. he waved at you in greeting and you waved back. you would’ve pretended he didn’t exist after that and go back to your laptop if he didn’t hold up his phone screen with blank white space and blue and grey bubbles on the side.
so of course you picked up your phone, noticing that there were already three wiggling dots when you tapped on his name.
kth: hey
you met his gaze once, as if to affirm that he meant to send it. when he shota half, almost pleading smile, you typed out a reply.
you: hey what’s good
kth: nothing
kth: just waiting for a friend
seeing as there was not really a conversation going on where jennie wasn’t involved and how the boy’s blatant dismissal in addressing the big, giant elephant in the room, taehyung must’ve had seen the way your lips pursed into an irritated pout before his phone vibrated.
you: cool
and then you were back to your laptop, typing sentences out and backspacing because of its incoherent nature, or lack of quality or whatever reason that stopped you from doing your job before kim taehyung’s arrival.
then he started whispering “hey, uh, ____,” from across the table. upper body leaned to the front as if it’d help enunciate his words.
you took your sweet time taking out your airpods from each individual ear and placing them down next to your mac before finally arching a brow at the boy, “what?”
“hey,” he repeated, this time with a frozen mid-wave, “hi, how you doing?”
“great thanks,” there was a minimal effort on your part to disguise your ‘what even?’ expression on your face as you picked up your right airpod first - only to be stopped by the boy’s-
“i’m sorry.”
it’s clean and short but his face made up for conveying his genuinity.
“why are you saying sorry?” it didn’t mean you were going to let him off the hook easy.
“well, because...” he trailed off for the briefest moment but the unconcealable bop of his adam’s apple isn’t really helping him appear any more convincing, “i was being pushy...” he looked to you for an indication of him being on the right track to which you were not sure if he did get any but he still went on with his wits and his will - it took you everything not to gush over how cute he looks with his panic-blinking and pretty lips moving as if to say something but no words coming out, “...and i was generally being an annoying little shit.”
“and?” you pressed on, blinking once as if to paint a look of unbotheredness.
“...and...” he echoes, eyes darting from your phone to somewhere behind you and then something next to it but only silence fills the space between you and him.
“alright, i’m gonna be real with you,” leaning back, you cross your arms over your chest, “i know you talk to me when you need something and i don’t really care - well i do, but i just bottle it up until it one day burst out, you know what i’m saying? so yea, if you’re wondering if that night was me blowing up on you, it kinda was and it wasn’t because you were making small talks with me just to poke into my best friend’s business - well, it kinda is but like not in that way, you follow? what i mean is.. don’t let me catch you sneaking behind jennie’s back asking personal shits about her that you don’t think she’s going to disclose even if you straight up ask her - that’s sus, taehyung.”
by the end of it, he was staring at you like you had two horns and a tail swaying around behind you. but you concur, that may or may have not been your inner self coming to light - just a hypocrite criticizing someone for doing the things she would have done, if she wasn’t already doing it, if she was in his shoes.
and to be quite frank, taehyung’s shoe size is probably a few inches bigger than yours but if they had laces, you would’ve been able to put them on and tied them up to accommodate your ego.
so taehyung didn’t - couldn’t say anything in response to your second time going off into a tangent and because of what he did, at that. he stopped texting you altogether and only talked to jennie whenever you weren’t around and left before you got to them if he saw you coming his way - jennie’s actually.
either way, jennie wasn’t as elated as you thought she’d be once you told her that you called taehyung out on his bullshit.
“um, i’ve always wanted to tell him about me and namjoon so he’d give up - you were the one who didn’t let me,” she might or might not have said something along the lines of you making her “lead him on all because you wanted to an eye candy to look at every day.”
“what do you mean?” your forehead was creasing a thousand folds.
“not that i’m pointing fingers,” she went on, eyes glued to the pairs of indoor shoes in the corner of the room and anywhere but your eyes, “but i’m like, cool with or without him around but you sort of said ‘okay, then it’s cool if he comes with us right?’ and you were making puppy eyes and i couldn’t no to that-”
and so you were laughing dryly, “aha- wha- what so it’s my fault that he’s being a total wuss and won’t square up?”
“i didn’t say that,” jennie’s reply came a heartbeat later which meant yes, it was.
so now you’re not talking to your best friend and neither are you talking to the boy who’s crushing on her. which leaves you a lot of free time to finish up your work in time to hop into a bullet train and then an uber and get to the building where jimin’s dance off is held.
you’re in the middle of texting the boy a ‘sorry, might b late. i didn’t know there’d be a line 😭’ when a figure comes up to you from the corner of your eye.
fitted in black jeans and matching tucked in t that shows off his slender waist and beanie, the only thing that isn’t black is probably his white-yellow timberlands, “so you weren’t kidding when you said you were gonna leave me on read.”
“you know, it’s so cute that you think you’re worth the reply at all,” you blink, eyes going wide and jaw hanging loose from shock, “this... this... confidence - where do you get it? seriously, tell me because i have never seen someone with such immaculate self-absorbance.”
jeongguk’s head moves as he nods in admittance, hands buried in his pocket before he looks up at you. that familiar glint in his eyes is telling you that whatever he has up his sleeve, you’re not going to be able to refuse.
“you know, eugene over there and i are homies,” he nods towards the burly tall man at the front who’s mainly the reason there’s a line in the first place - one that no one seems to dare cut, “i could get you in faster.”
“oh my god, look what that self-absorbance’s got you believing,” you put one, sympathetic hand on his shoulder as your free hand goes to cover the spot on your chest where your heart is, “i’m so happy for you,” you glance over to the not-declining-anytime-soon line behind you, “but sometimes, even confidence can’t get you into invites-only events.”
to any other person, it must’ve looked like you and jeongguk are friends - friendly acquaintances hitting best buddies at the very least. but something in the way his grin curling sweetly on his lips and the curve of the half ringlet of his hair touching the corners of his onyx eyes, makes your toes curl inwardly and your stomach churn with a sort of emotion you can’t pinpoint.
and because of that, you know there won’t be any sort of friendship forming between you and jeongguk.
he leaves you with an amused smirk and a “see you inside,” and marches up to eugene, the two sharing an uncomplicated handshake before the man steps to the side and lets him in.
well.
it takes you another ten minutes of standing in line and assuring jimin that he doesn’t need to rush out and risk having his team go without him when their turn comes. which according to jimin, ‘isn’t anytime soon - they let the bigger teams go first’.
but then jimin knowing jimin, that probably meant soon enough.
when you’re finally on the front of the line, crumpled up ticket in hand, eugene gives you a once over and nods at his not-as-burly-but-just-as-scary-looking friend.
“follow me,” and with that, she struts in through the door but instead of going down the hallway like the ones before you did before they disappear from eyesight in the corner, she takes a sharp turn to the right until she stops in front of an elevator.
her deep violet hair brushes against her cheekbones as she nods at the empty box with mirrors all around.
yeesh, guess everyone expresses themselves with their bodies here.
the numbers constantly change from ground level to 1 to 2 and finally stops at the 3rd floor where the blare of the music seems to come from. and that’s when you see the black haired boy who has his forearms leaned against the railing as he grins at something on the bottom floor where the shouts and cheers seem to erupt from. but before you can make a sharp 180 to go back down where jimin said you’d only need to follow the hallway and take the turn around the corner like the people before you did, jeongguk looks up as if sensing the heat of your gaze drilling holes inside his head. with one hand raised, he beckons you over.
“your majesty,” you drop into a bow once you reach him, “this humble servant thanks you for bringing her here but,” pointing your thumb over your shoulder at the hallway you just came from you continue, “i think i’m on the wrong floor because all i can see here is flocks of hair - an oh, shiny scalp from that guy - arms flailing around. takes away the magic of dance, you feel?”
“so you’re here for jimin.” it doesn’t sound like a question - so it must not be. a ponderous hum vibrate from his chest as you shoot him an arched brow whilst your insides burst like fireworks at the way his darkened eyes traces down your body and back up after he’s done with what seems to be a scout’s assessment.
“no leather pants and no best friend or heartbreak boy hovering around like a lost puppy - let me guess, he did something that made you mad, the best friend backed him up and now you’re mad at both of them?” he raises his own brow, lips curling into an assured smirk, “oh and jimin here’s probably taking a neutral stance because it ‘doesn’t concern’ him.”
you don’t know if you want to run away or grab the neck of his shirt and smack your lips on his.
so you settle with handguns pointed in his face, “alright, catch you never.”
but before you can even take a step to where you came from, jeongguk’s laying out his card on the table, “you sure bout that? it’s bulleproof boys’ turn - it’s jimin’s teams name, in case you’re wondering and judging by who they’re going against, it might be their first and last performance for the night.”
“i knew that,” respectfully, you had no idea that the teams have specific names besides the alphabetical letters given to them upon registration.
jimin’s only mentioned dance match once and that he’s in team c that’ll go against team d.
so you stick around, watching from all the way on the third floor where the lest people are gathered, cheering out names of teams that are alien to your ears which seem to be the team jimin is going against. but the fact that jimin could dance with such precision and grace is magnifying enough. he’s mostly posed on either sides of the formation, switching from the front left to the furthest back line on the right side as the beat drops.
jimin’s name pours out of your mouth in cheers but it’s swallowed by the other cheers before it can even reach him. in the end, jimin’s team loses. they still go up to their opponent and share handshakes and sidehugs before moving away from the dance floor.
he’s not smiling nor is he frowning as he stands in the crowd after the prelims but his lips curl and eyes disappear into crescents when he sees you.
“hey!” his arms open up into a hug, only to stop halfway in hesitation but by then you’re already wrapping yours around his neck with a “you were so cool!”
and just like that, the awkwardness in the air dissipates.
“i didn’t see you in the crowd.”
“so what? you thought i left?” a light smack lands on his arm, “by the way, you didn’t tell me it was this intense - i can feel the tension from all the way...” you pause for the briefest moment, “...in the audience.”
“everyone here just likes to dance so it gets competitive at some point but at the end of the day, it’s important to have fun,” he shrugs, a shy smile plastered to his face.
“either way you did great,” you bump his elbow with yours, and he shifts his weight to his left foot.
“we lost but it was a fair match the bts people were too good,” a mixture of regret and contentedness crosses his face as he nods to himself, as if admitting the difference in skills.
“let’s get a drink later, i’m buying,” you propose and jimin looks like a kid who just received his favorite candy.
well, that was the plan for the rest of the night up until the winner was announced. then a boy no older than you and jimin came up to the latter, arms slung over his shoulders, “dude, beyond the scene just asked if we wanna join them at the afterparty. can you believe it?”
“dude, you capping - don’t fucking joke with men man, i was about to shit my pants-” jimin attempts to shove the guy away half-heartedly which does nothing as his friend - teammate, cuts him off.
“i’m not fucking joking, man, behind the scenes literally asked if we wanna chill with them!”
the two boys are basically shoving each other back and forth before they start slapping each other on the face once to wake the other up. whoever this behind the scenes guys, they seem like a pretty big deal if two grown adults are fanboying this hard about them.
only after they’re sporting the faintest shade of pink on their right cheeks, do they finally realize that they weren’t squeal-whispering by themselves. he introduces himself as kai - “jimin’s best friend and mentor.”
“he likes to say that because i got into dance because of him,” jimin adds, debunking the mentor myth.
you’re about to wave the two goodbye and call it a night since it’s pretty clear that the behind the scenes guys only invited them and not their friends.
“come with us,” kai announces as the three of you walk down the back entrance where it’s less crowded and meant for the participants to use, “baekhyun can’t make it so we’ll still be five people.”
“i really should go- it’s getting late and my place is in seoul-”
and so begin your war of apologies and ‘no, you’s.
“oh shit, i forgot.” jimin’s usually almond-shaped eyes turn round and wide, “you used the subway-”
“yeah, but i can still catch the last train home-” you try to assure.
“i’ll accompany you back-”
“no, no - you should go with them-”
“no, i made you come to watch-”
and it would have gone on until morning if you and jimin were left to argue on who should do what if kai didn’t clap his hands together and put an end to the long debate, “okay, okay, break it up.”
he looks between the blonde haired best friend and then to you, “jimin came with me so i’m gonna drive him back anyway and i could drop you off too after chilling with bts - it’s nothing you’re not used to, beers and games and shits, you know? plus it’ll be like, less than 20 people there - bts never invites other groups into their circle - who knows, maybe you’ll find your true way like jimin did,” he pats the aforementioned man on his shoulder whilst jimin rolls his eyes at the way best friends who’ve heard their best friend boast about an-untruth for the umpteenth time.
and because you basically made another friend and that means you’ll have at least 2 people to hang out with if the rest turns out not to be your kind of people - so you cave in, “okay, sure, why not?”
x
'why not’s are subjective - or so you’d like to think.
like when you’re not particularly into americano and prefer latte but wouldn’t say no to having the first if jennie mixed up your order and bought you your not-so-favored but also not-so-hated drink.
but jennie’s known you since she shoved you off the swings at five after you outran her only to get to the swings faster because only one was vacant and the other kid was already in the other one.
so she’d know your preferred drinks.
but in the event she suddenly has amnesia or anything and got you and americano, that’s when you’ll go, “why not?”
but that and finding out that jeongguk used to be part of bts until he hurt his during practice, having to have 2 major surgeries because of it, rendering him no longer able to dance so he’s only going to the dance offs to cheer for his friends which was how he met you at the entrance and now you’re handcuffed together (and yes, again) in the middle of the forest - are two disparate things altogether.
hoseok, the most outgoing and friendliest of the bunch, suggested for the ice breaking to be in a form of 2 beer bottles and a sort of rope or chain tying people from bts and the bulletproof people together to talk for five minutes. they only have 2 pairs of cuffs so the others that lack them have to make do with bandanas and you think a seokjin got harassed into taking off his shirt and using it as him and his designated partner’s pseudo handcuff.
yours and jeongguk’s are - you’re not sure if it’s a fortunate or unfortunate thing - real ones (you’re not sure if you want to know why and how seulgi easily pulls out a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs and a normal-looking one - out of the blue).
but you’re almost sure that you’re leaning on the side of the internal argument of this - this, right here - is why not.
“why didn’t you text me back?” jeongguk is in the middle of asking as you take a big chug of the alcoholic beverage.
"oh my god,” you let a pleased smile tug at your lips as you feel the buzz of the alcohol coursing through your system, “i was just gonna talk to you about that - jennie said i was being a ghosting b because you only said facts and i got like, offended without a reason but i agree that people can be wrong sometimes and that was her time... i just...” you shrug, “i just didn’t want to text you back so i didn’t,” you look at him with a new found familiarity, “anyways, how was your week?”
by the end of it, jeongguk’s nodding and poorly suppressing his smirk.
“well, let me start first,” you begin before he can even say anything, listing down the happenings in a chronological order which may or may have not confirmed his initial assumption on why you’re here alone “...i mean, was it my fault though? between you and me, i think jennie and i need to sit down and actually talk about accountabilities first, you know? but anyway, that’s how my week went! how about you, how was your week?”
to say that your turmoil of a week is anything close to a laugh-worthy joke, would be a lie but for some reason, trickles of laughter are escaping jeongguk’s lips and into the night air as he leans back, holding his stomach. he would’ve hit the ground if you’d poke him.
“wow,” you slowly nod, “that’s... that’s very... flattering that you think my somewhat a quarter life crisis is amusing,” a grin stretches across your face but your eyes drill holes into the boy’s skull, “maybe i should just quit uni altogether. that’d be... exciting, right? just... quit uni and live a life as a comedian because look at how much i’m cracking you up right now!”
and it goes on for another minute of jeongguk’s laughter filling the air as you threaten him to stop in the guise of encouragement besides the cracking of the branches as it gets swallowed up by the fire in the barrel not too far away from where everyone’s scattered.
“god,” when he’s finally reduced to chuckles and wiping invisible tears off the corner of his eyes, you’re about halfway done with your bottle.
“and he’s back,” you announce, “welcome back. can’t say i missed you though but glad that you’re back with us.”
but before jeongguk can get a word out about his own week which you’d asked, if only to be polite, hoseok is already summoning everyone to gather around the barrel as he raises a bottle in the air to - “new groupship and friends!”
or so you think he said.
you’re not too sure because you’re too busy demanding jeongguk to - “uncuff me right now, jeon - was that too pushy? let me try again,” you pause, clearing your throat, “can you please, please, please, uncuff me so i can go back to my friends and not have to stay here a minute longer?”
“don’t act like you don’t enjoy my company,” he offers you one of his self-assured smirks before addressing your concern, “i’m trying,” he says simply, free hand patting around the pocket on the side of his jeans before groping his own ass.
“um, maybe try harder?” you suggest, smiling sweetly but it downturns into a frown not even a minute later when he declares, “i can’t find it.”
“you... can’t find it?” you echo his words.
“it’s not on me,” he states.
“well, did seulgi give it to you at all or...” you trail off only to be met by a devious smirk which doesn’t exactly help his case.
“guess you’re stuck with me,” he shrugs ever so easily.
“oh, hell nah,” and that’s when you latch onto to smirking boy’s body - on your hands at least, and since his left hand and your right hand are cuffed together, it doesn’t allow much room for your physical inspection which is how using your only free hand to get to the side of his pocket that’s farthest from you - may appear suspicious to others.
you only notice that you’re fully facing jeongguk and having your back turned to everyone else when hoseok’s voice cuts through the air, “yo hold up, hold up, hold up - this is bonfire and chill, not netflix and chill.”
your jaws hurt from hanging a bit too low as you meet each and everyone’s eyes, their giggling and laughing already telling enough of what the majority thinks - everyone except jimin, that is.
but you’re a bit too preoccupied with trying to clear the supposed air of you and jeongguk getting it on in the middle of the forest with both your friends and his around, “aha,” you force out, “i know this,” free hand waving between the chain linking your wrists and the open air which isn’t helping your case because jeongguk’s poor attempt at subduing his smirk is well, poor, “might look sus to you but it isn’t - jeongguk lost the key and if someone could help us find it, it’d-”
“oh, don’t worry, i have a spare at home,” seulgi chirps up, hand waving her illuminated phone, “i’ll text my girlfriend to bring it here.”
well, that explains the fluffy cuffs.
“sick,” jeongguk nods over to the girl to which she holds up an ‘okay’ sign and a meaningful smile to him which shouldn’t be ominous but is.
so you fix him a stare when hoseok goes to say something along the line of ‘great’ and ‘lifesaver’ to seulgi.
which the boy only asks back with a “what?”
“i have something to say but i’m not gonna so i’m just gonna keep quiet but just know that i’m watching you,” but the warning doesn’t exactly bring out the intimidating aspect that you hoped for.
“watch all you want, i’m yours for tonight,” the velvety sound of his chuckles is awfully distracting because you don’t even notice the chain clinking until his fingers interlock yours before he brings them up in the air - as if to emphasize on the technicality of his titillating claim.
the night goes on with bottles of beers scattering over the ground, faint smoke dissipating into the air as the scent of something sweet and fruity wafts around whilst the juul gets passed around.
once in a while someone’s laugh echoes between the gaps of the trees and into the night, amidst the sound of woodland creatures. you’ve downed one and a half bottle of henny whilst jeongguk doesn’t seem to have gone past even half of his first bottle. but he’s chuckling and laughing at something someone said which, for the most part, is funny or warrant a jaw-dropping, pin-drop-silence kind of reaction just like now as seulgi confesses to-
“never have i ever slept with my mom’s boyfriend at 19.”
“and that’s on mommy issues,” you hold up a beer in a ‘cheers’ manner at her whilst she mimics your action before you both tilt your head up and take a chug out of your individual beers at the same time.
“what about you?” jeongguk asks and for a moment, you forget that there are people around because jeongguk’s eyes look like someone reached up the sky and handpicked two stars each for his irises and trap them in there like a class case.
but you’d like to believe it’s the alcohol doing its rightful work in your system because you’re back on the ground with an unrelenting itch on your ankle where it’s brushing against the blades of grass.
“yea, what’s your never-have-i-ever mommy issues edition?” kai speaks up.
“nah, it’s wack,” you wave a dismissive hand but end up agreeing to spill the beans when a bout of protest spreads across your ever so faithful audience.
“okay, okay, never have i ever fucked my biological mom’s husband who isn’t my dad,” you say which earns a bout of cheers and ‘that’s messed up’s before seokjin claps his hands together.
“never have i ever...” he pauses, grinning as an added suspense before he goes on, “fucked my brother’s boyfriend.”
the game doesn’t last for long when everyone collectively agree to take the atmosphere up a notch and play strip truth or dare. but before your turn came, seulgi announces her girlfriend’s arrival concurrently with her having to leave for the night because she’s her ride home. and because you and jeongguk are both of the same mind that you’re the ones that should be following after her to get yourselves uncuffed, you do just that.
yeri is a sweetheart and matches seulgi’s playful yet reserved nature. they take the cuffs with them and seulgi waves you two goodbye with the same, meaningful smile directed to jeongguk - but if that’s not enough, the ‘good luck’ thumbs up is a screaming red button for you.
but before you can even call him out for his possible hand in convincing his dance friends to invite jimin’s and consequently you to the forest after the match - he beats you to it.
“you okay?” this time, his features are lacking the smirk.
“yea, why wouldn’t i be?” you say, hopping on the rail of the train track that’ll lead to the spot where the others are - so far, you’re doing a good job not falling to your demise.
“i don’t know,” the scraping sound of his soul kicking against the pebbly ground fills the air as he walks next to you, hands in his pocket, “you’ve been pretty quiet after that thing about your mom.”
“you think what i did was messed up?” you inquire, resisting the urge to steal a glance at him to see what kind of emotion he’s making - whether it’s contorted with disgust or whether his nose is crinkling at an attempt to appear unbothered or whether there really isn’t any judgments being passed and he’s just downcasting his eyes because he’s looking out for possible sharp objects protruding from the ground.
“everyone’s a little messed up,” his shoulderline shakes as he shrugs, “it’s the why behind it that counts.”
“nah,” your hair tickles your face as you shake your head in blatant refutation, “i didn’t have a reason.”
and just when you expect a disgusted scoff to erupt from jeongguk’s pink lips... it doesn’t.
“that works too.”
silence follows his words for the longest moment with you trying placing one foot in front of the other, pretending like teetering on that tightrope you’re stuck on with kim taehyung at the end of it, not even waiting for you but just happen to be there.
so you break the silence, “i finally found her last year - flew all the way to jeju because my biological aunt saw my the post i put up on facebook in a last ditch attempt before i hire a private investigator like my dads suggested. she set us up to meet,” the picture of a woman who’s so similar yet dissimilar to you flashes at the back of your head, a biscoff cheesecake slice lying untouched on the table and someone screaming at the top of their lungs right in front of your ears, “my biological mom didn’t know anything about it, flipped out and told me to never bother her again so i looked up where her husband worked and slept with him and sent the video to her.”
jeongguk doesn’t say anything, only nodding in your periphery before a soothing kind of silence lapses between you.
“what’s your story?” you ask a moment later.
“hm?” he glances at you, the moonlight shining over that smirk that you’ve come to miss in the course of the five minutes it went missing, skin painted a creamy white.
“if you don’t wanna tell, that’s fine too but like, you basically tore down my walls and i’m naked as hell - figuratively -” you add as soon as his eyes light up, “right now.”
but then he tries to bargain, “promise you’ll text me back and i’ll tell.”
and you try to teeter in the grey area between words and its meanings, “alright, promise... i won’t leave you on read.”
“nah, you gotta promise to text back,” his half curls sway as he shakes his head - your end of the bargain not sufficiently satisfying.
it’s a few moments after your surrendering, “you know what? keep your skeletons in your closet - i’m good,” that he finally says something.
“i used to do tracks, lucked out with a sports scholarship but by freshman year in college, realized i didn’t even like tracks and dropped out...”
jeongguk’s parents weren’t happy about it - didn’t exactly welcome him when he came back with a suitcase and a letter from his unversity claiming the outstanding balance of his first two semesters. but he wasn’t happy at home either.
so he packed his bags one more time and took the first train to seoul where he worked part time at a restaurant and occasionally at the dance off’s, before he found the beyond the scene people and subsequently found dance. that was amidst of a developer of the game he was playing approaching him through the game’s chat server and offering him a job to test out their games with the condition that he gets a degree in computer science which they paid for on the company’s scholarship fund.
and so it was obvious that jeon jeongguk, wherever he chooses to go and stop at, blooms like a wildflower that strives in any condition thrown in his face whether it be a storm, a hurricane or a sunny weather that barely allows any rain to cover the soil he’s rooted in.
and because he’s true to himself, it isn’t as unbelievable, when almost everyone - from every layer of backgrounds, flock around him like honeybees in spring - allured, magnified and bewitched by jeon jeongguk that makes him... well, him.
to say you understand him a little bit better may be an overstatement but maybe you’re less suspicious of his keen intuition and uncanny prognosis of what happened in your relationships, both with your friend and your not-so-friendly crush.
jeongguk jests that his leg “doesn’t work like it used to but-” - he’s been to places. seen people.
“so why are you obsessed with me?” you question into the night in a light hearted joke, “i mean, i can possibly see why because well, i’m... me and i’m amazing but you know, it’s not healthy to be this obsessed with people.”
his chuckles sounds like wind chimes on a spring day, "besides the fact that i was too busy being a tracks nerd for most of my life so i have zero flirting skills and decided to make all the calls that seem to irritate the one person i want to get to know? it’s because you looked like you were head over heels with the guy you were putting in place but still managed to not make it personal.”
it takes a moment for you to digest what he just said, and even then, you’re nodding in complete disagreement as you blurt out, “pretty sure some parts were personal,” and you turn to him with a smile stretched over your face, “but glad that you don’t think i’m the impostor.”
so you stop twenty steps away from where you can see the fire in the barrel and hoshi, one of the guys from bulletproof boys, standing in boxers and shouting an oath before gulping down a bottle of henny at an alarming rate.
“everyone’s a little sus now and then,” he refutes, nose crinkling as a grin spread across his moon-kissed features as he offers you his hand and you take it, hopping off your tightrope journey and onto grounding earth.
x
when morning comes, you wake up to the familiar but not-very-welcomed sound of cars honking from outside your window and the light piercing through your eyelids, so much so, you surrender to the start of the day. arms stretched over your head and a guttural sound vibrating within your chest as a sign of protest before your vision finally gets used to the bright sunny rays.
and that’s when you freeze. arms stretched and all.
“after all this, you can’t say no to a date with me,” jeon jeongguk is lying right next to you, in your one-person bed which you could never imagine would fit more than your need-for-maximum-space self when you sleep but there he is, in yesterday’s clothes, hugging your light pink alpaca plushie on his stomach whilst his elbow which you don’t notice before is poking into your rib.
the events of last night untangle in a web of hazed memory coming to high definition as each passing second pass by.
you and jimin live on the opposite ends of the city which made you reluctant in having kai drive you back at all, so jeongguk offered to split the uber bills with you because apparently, “oh, hey, we live in the same area!”
which later turned out you didn’t and it would’ve made more sense for him to hitch a ride with kai and jimin. but you didn’t even need to ask why he did what he did.
because by the time you and jeongguk returned, it’d been a set-in-stones assumption that you were off making out somewhere under a tree and everyone cheered you and him for it upon your return.
well, except jimin.
so you pulled jeongguk to the side once the attention was directed to hoseok whose dare was to lick the grass he was stepping on.
“is that thing about jimin liking me true because he’s been like, avoiding my eyes the whole night and now he’s acting like i don’t exist and i’m pretty concerned because his friend is my ride home,” you whispered underneath your beath.
jeongguk threw one, confirming glance at the aforementioned man before nodding casually, “he’s jealous as fuck because he thinks we did the do - cross my heart and hope to die.”
so you ended up offering jeongguk to sleep in your bed because it was already late and it felt like a waste to spend another thirty bucks to go back to a place where nobody was waiting for him anyway.
you were so beat, you’d fallen asleep as soon as jeongguk pulled your protesting self off the futon-splayed floor and held you captive in your own bed.
“you know what? i might as well,” you say, legs thrown off the bed and stretching some more before looking down at the smiling, plushie-holding, grown ass person in your bed, “now we need to figure out how to sneak you out because this is a girls-only dorm and if they found out i have a guy over, i might get expelled.”
but before you can even start brainstorming the best possible route for jeongguk to sneak out without being detected, an obnoxious rapping reverberates against your door. the look of pure horror settling in as jeongguk’s smile melts into a wide-eyed, panicked face would have been adorable if you’re not in the middle of shoving him into your “quick, in the closest!” which he needs to hunch his shoulders to become as small as possible before you can close it whilst you yelp out a “just a minute!”
by the time you manage to school a smile on your face, jennie’s is already sprinkled with a dust of red as her brows come together, judging your choice of outfit and the events that went down last night.
“hey, girl,” you drag out the first word in idle panic, body leaning against the doorframe a little too defensively, “what’s...” you can’t even find the right words as you tap your fingers against the doorframe before finally saying, “what’s good?”
but one questioning look from her and you’re stepping out of the way, left to stand at attention like a cadet in the presence of the general whilst said general struts into your room and scans it once before turning to you.
“’what’s good?’” jennie echoes and you know from the way her head does the slightest of movements according to her enunciation, “imagine seeing your best friend on some mutual friend’s snapchat story which mind you, said mutual friend isn’t anywhere close to either of you and the time in the snap says a big whooping 4:03 am while you’re here feeling bad for hurting her feelings with your words words. but does she feel bad? well, it doesn’t flipping look like she even gave any thoughts about you, did it?”
and that’s when the closet decides that it’s had enough of storing a full grown human in its belly and slowly, but surely swings the door open with thunderous creak in the midst of the calm before the storm. and lo and behold, a jeon jeongguk, still hugging your alpaca tightly, keeping his eyes closed as if it’ll make him invisible before he gradually screws one eye open to the sight of a raging but confused jennie kim and a mortified you turning to said girl.
so much for keeping skeletons in closets.
“i-i can explain.”
x
it turns out all it takes for jennie’s anger to subside is for her to find a boy in your room. namely the boy she’s been blatantly shipping you with even though you barely knew each other then.
“i have a wig in my room,” she suggests after you’ve exhausted all options - jeongguk can’t climb through the window and jump down from the second floor.
“well, he can but there’s no guarantee he’ll be able to leave without one of his limbs intact,” you’d added, shrugging.
he’s sitting crossed leg on your bed, alpaca in his lap and looking cute as hell as his eyes go round at the mention of a wig and five minutes prior, crossdressing. the plan is for you and jennie will walk him out once he’s all dresed up like you’re just three - well, one is kind of buffed up but still pretty - best friends who had a girls’ night and crashed in your room.
he whistles lowly, head lulling to the side as he stares at the door before turning to you with a playful smile, “i’ve always wanted to wear a skirt.”
and so it goes, jennie kim’s squealing and making a short trip to her room and returning with a bag full of wig, stretchable sweaters and lycra skirts whilst she scours through your closet for clothes that you have but don’t even remember. the oversized sweater that’s a few more inches too big for you wraps around his body tightly and the skirt is a tad bit too short for him, going down to a few inches above the knee. but the head turner is the way the curly brown wig gracefully frames his face and softens his jawline, giving an illusion of how his half-ringlet would have looked if he grew them out.
you apply the soft pink lipgloss on his already rosy lips as a joke in a guise of a final touch, heart skipping as his lips curl whilst he gazes at you the whole time you’re putting on the glimmering liquid.
“okay, i feel bad,” you confess, shoulder line falling, “i thought you’d hate the lipgloss and i was going say it’s important to make the look work if you said no but you’re not saying no and you’re looking at me like you’d trust me with your life...” a sigh rolls off your lips at the end of it.
“you feel bad?” he echoes, glossed lips looking kissable as hell - it doesn’t even matter that he’s smirking like it was part of his plan all along to manipulate your conscience into confessing your ulterior motive.
so you nod.
“good,” he states simply.
“you saying good like you’re satisfied that you managed to pick on my guilty conscience is making me feel less guilty,” you narrow your eyes, not even bothering to hide the smile creeping on your lips.
“oh my god, my ship is sailing!” jennie’s whispered squeal cuts through the air before she reverts to her deadpanned self, “okay but seriously, if you’re done sprinkling sugar cubes all over the place, i think we should get jeongguk out before miss snitchery sonyeon next door sniffs the man in jeongguk and snitch on us.”
sonyeon has been known for reporting 2 boy-sneaking activities that went on last year which would have been justified if the girls that brought the boys into their room was doing questionable things and loudly at that but the first incident was with a late enrolled newbie that just moved in and didn’t know that boys weren’t allowed inside and though the other girl did sneak her boyfriend in, it was only because he was bleeding profusely and needed first aid treatment which she stored in her room.
you’re just about a few feet away from the double doors when a familiar but disembodied voice drums in your ears.
“you three, stop right there.”
you think your heart stops working for the briefest moment as time freezes and you’re craning your head to look at jennie whose fear-stricken face mimics yours and then jeongguk whom you don’t expect to wear such ceases in his forehead.
so you do the one thing that you think of-
“run.” you whisper.
all of a sudden, the wind is in your face and a few heads turn your way - but you doubt that it has more to do with how unfairly gorgeous jeongguk looks than the fact that the ra is on your tail, her pitched demands for ‘someone stop them!’ whilst. you’re not sure if someone did try to chase after you or if the adrenaline pumping in your system is what helps you sprint faster than a cheetah but when you finally slow down, almost skidding to a stop on the grass somewhere on campus grounds instead of the dormitory area - it’s because jennie is dramatically breathing through her mouth and found herself a bench to put on an act of dying whale.
“you guys... go on... leave me be...” she croaks out in between breaths, hand reaching out to the air.
“dude, tell me if you’re gonna stop so we can stop and get caught together,” you guff, plopping down, your state no better than jennie’s while jeongguk shakes his head at the two of you.
not even a beat of sweat or heaved breathing coming from him - not to mention that-
“how are you the fastest-” you suck in a much needed breath, “-when your leg doesn’t work as good anymore?”
“yea, didn’t say i can’t run,” he grins.
“jen, let’s go,” you say, tapping the dying whale on her shoulder as she starts wailing words of saddened goodbyes.
“forsake me! save yourselves!” she wheezes, staring into nothingness before waving a dismissive hand, “no for real, i don’t think they’re gonna chase us all the way here. you guys go, i have a date anyway, i’ll text kim,” it’s the name you coined for namjoon whenever you talk about him in public, “to pick me up here.”
a year ago, you would have called her a brave fool for having her boyfriend slash professor that’s teaching at the same university - pick her up in plain sight. but once you saw the unfamiliar ferrari roll to a stop in front of the dorms with tinted black windows, you understand why they can be as free and uncaring as they are.
“you sure? what if they saw you here?” you question, needles of doubt still deeply pierced into your racing heart.
but when she looks at you with arched brows and a familiar couldn’t-care-less attitude, you know nothing you say can change her mind which helps ease the knots in your stomach by a lot.
so you cave in, waving her goodbye - but not before the scarring ‘we still need to talk though’ reminder - and going back to the tall, brown haired person who’s holding his left hand midair and wiggling his fingers about in what you think is a parodic depiction of how girls wave at each other while mouthing a nasally, higher-pitched “thank you so much for helping us.”
one minute into the walk, you stop in front of the cafe you’re used to having lunch at with your group of 4 - if there’s even any group left after this, “so this kim guy - he’s way older isn’t he?”
“if you’re all knowing, you wouldn’t end that sentence with a question,” you assert, “so i’m not gonna say anything.”
“that’s a yes then,” he nods.
“i think we lost them,” you say, a tad too late but pretend to look around anyway like you’re not 200% sure of that fact.
to any outsiders, you’ll probably look like two girls standing three feet apart from each other, looking out in a distance.
“nice,” jeongguk nods, joining in your scouting party before he squints his eyes at something in the most casual manner before suggesting, “so... you wanna go on a date?”
x
“you think we lost them?” you whisper under your breath, worry filling your chest as you throw your gaze over somewhere at the end of the alleyway where flashes of red and blue lights passed by.
but before the black cladded boy can say anything, his lips smack together as he and you both press yourselves flat to the wall as the sound of radio static bounces into the narrow space you’ve found yourselves in. six months after your first date, which involves a crossdressing jeongguk and a day at a park that had you returning to the dorm with a giant teddy bear and a strip of photo you took from the booth comprising the multiple personalities embodied in one person from sassy to stare-into-the camera-intimidating face to him looking down and shyly peeking through his pushed back curls - you’ve gone on multiple other dates.
none of which can be considered normal because you’ll always end up in a sticky situation like you are now.
on your second month, you found out that jeon jeongguk not only has a stable income for literally playing games while trying to balance out his education but he also paints and draws.
on your third month, you go on your first mural-painting-in-the-middle-of-the-night-dressed-as-robbers date to which ended pretty well with the two of you getting hungry and having ramen at a 24 hour convenience store. so the mural painting becomes a monthly routine.
jimin finds out about it somewhere down the line and broke out into the most heartwarming smile while teasing you about how “the singles lost another one,” as he shook his head in dismay. but things went back to normal for the most parts. taehyung talks to you more now. he apologized for having only treated you like someone useful to him when he needed something and found that you have more in common than you think.
like how you’re decently informed about the greatest artists of all time - all because jeongguk was telling you about them whilst you chill at his place on days you don’t feel like going out but still want to spend time together. jeongguk, later found out that his supply of artistic information was what led to you and taehyung’s improving friendship and offers to become your spokesperson by having you invite taehyung to a cafe so he can pour his abundance of knowledge in the fine arts of painting - “since he’s so interested in van gogh, you know what i mean?”
he even finished it with a tilt of his head and an sassy ‘ugh.”
“i think we gotta run,” jeongguk’s declarations doesn’t have you arching your eyebrows and looking at him in an ‘are you for real?’ kind of manner.
it could be because you’re so used to running from law enforcement now.
or maybe because jeongguk showed you the world through his eyes. doesn’t mean it’s any less terrifying - the thought of being caught and shoved behind the bars whilst they included it in your records. but hey, at least, you’re no strangers to handcuffs.
“on one,” you say and he nods, hand squeezing yours as if saying i’ll never let them get you.
“three,” you begin, eyes fixed on the stars in jeongguk’s gaze, “two,” jeongguk breathes in deeply, “one.”
run.
x
note. i hope you guys enjoyed reading!! and if you want anything similar to this kind of style, i have one more college au. the second part of that one is my pinned post which also has a link to the first part. if you’re curious why i’m not gonna link or name it is because i’m convinced that tumblr literally makes anything that’s linked or mentioned it blocked for some reason idk.
but anyways, thank you for reading!!
#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x reader#bts x reader#bts smut#jungkook smut#jungkook scenarios#bts scenarios#bts fanfic#bts x you#jungkook x you#jungkook scenario#bts scenario#bts au#bts college au#bts jungkook#bts fluff#jungkook fluff#bts angst#jungkook angst#bts imagines#jungkook imagines
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delicate; b.barnes
chapter twenty - “collateral damage”
delicate masterlist
word count: 2k
synopsis: bucky and y/n deal with the emotional fallout of her departure from wakanda.
pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader
warnings: mildly suggestive content, nothing explicit, 18+ readers please.
The flight home was wretched. Sleeping on the jet was impossible. Every time she shut her eyes she saw his face. If her mind did somehow manage to drift off to sleep, Y/N dreamed of him and woke up trying not to rip her hair out.
"We can still stay in contact, right?" Bucky asked as they were walking back from the waterfall.
They had left their catharsis by the water, still upset, but now calmer and more logical.
"I don't think so..."
"What? Why? It's not like we don't have the technology to do it."
"I know, but.." Y/N trailed off, trying to think of a sensible excuse.
Obviously they could stay in contact if they wanted. But any kind of phone call would be able to be tracked or recorded. That, and she didn't want him to hang on to someone who betrayed him. She couldn't imagine the guilt she'd have hearing Bucky's "I miss you's" or "Baby doll's" from miles away, knowing she lied to him.
"You don't even have a phone..."
"That's an easy problem to fix."
"I know... I just think you should focus on the rest of your healing, and... you know, I'll have a lot of work once I get back...." she took a breath. "I don't know if it's super healthy for us to cling on to each other when it... may be better to move on..."
"Move on?"
"Yeah..."
Bucky stopped walking and turned to face her. They both stood still and he stared at her, confused, as if he was trying to figure something out. He knew her well. She was scared he'd see right through her.
"So let me get this straight. When you're here we can talk all the time and... plenty of other things. But when you're away we can't even call each other?"
"Bucky..."
"That's not all, is it?"
She sighed. "I'm just... worried... about- like-... getting in trouble. If someone overhears or tracks a phone call...What if someone finds out where the 'Winter Soldier' is and comes here to exact revenge?"
That was partly true. She'd never want anyone bad to find out where he was. But no one was tracking her phone calls; she wasn't really a person of interest. In all likelihood, it probably wasn't something she'd have to be terribly worried about.
However, if anyone overheard or saw Bucky on the phone, they'd know it was her, and she doubted anything she could say would convince them that she didn't tell him about the arm.
Or maybe no one would find out. She just didn't want to take the chance. The last time she took a chance, this happened. She wasn't willing to do it again.
He stared at her with dejected eyes. "You know you don't have to worry about me. I'll be okay."
She rested her hands on his forearms and laughed sadly. "Bucky, I don't think I'm ever not gonna worry about you."
He was already in her heart. She didn't think he could leave now.
He let his eyelids fall shut. "I really don't want you to go."
She closed her eyes as well and let her forehead rest against the top of his chest.
"I know. I'm sorry. I don't want to leave you either. But you're gonna do so well, even without me. And every day I'll wake up and think 'wow this man is sexy and has good coping mechanisms! I wish I was him!'"
In the midst of his sadness, she made him laugh. It was a despondent, quiet laugh, but she managed to lift his mood all the same - even if just a little bit. She'd always make everything better.
He gazed down at her, eyes heavy, and without even thinking about it... "I love you."
She looked down at the grass below her feet. "Buck..."
"I do. I'm sorry but I do."
She wrapped her arms around the middle of his back, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her in tight, one arm up her back and the other cradling her head.
In the tiniest whisper, she let the truth flow out from her chest. "I love you, too."
The clouds provoked her, so peaceful and quiet, while her head was a big, loud mess. Y/N leaned her head on the window, glaring at them and wondering if she should've said what she did. That she loved him. Internally, she debated whether or not it would make things worse. But she wasn't going to see him again; she might as well have left him with the truth.
Time was lost to her. She thought she would be landing soon, but she couldn't be sure. She couldn't be sure of anything anymore.
-
Bucky sat at the lake - their lake - and just stared into the water. It felt so strange to him, that she was gone. One minute she was here and now he was just... alone.
It was so quiet. Too quiet. Of course being alone was quiet, but after Y/N left, the air just felt empty.
He wished he could talk to her. Whenever he was upset, all he wanted to do was talk to her.
"So, is this... d-do we say goodbye now?" he asked when they got back to his hut.
"Yeah..." she sighed. "yeah."
"Are you going back to Europe?"
"Yes. Belgium. Haven't been in my apartment in forever."
"Belgium," he wondered. "It's nice there. Safe. What are you gonna do for work?"
"Probably just continue where I left off on my research. Fancy brain stuff, ya'know?"
He grinned, proud. "My smart girl."
She looked around her, as if watching for something. Or someone.
"Buck, I think I have to go now."
"Just one more minute? Please. I wanna remember you like this. Not sad and crying."
Y/N smiled, grabbed his hands, and kissed his knuckles. Both flesh and metal. Because they were both part of him and she loved him. All of him.
Then, she placed both his hands on either side of her face. Softly she said, "remember me like this," before bringing their lips together.
He looked down at his vibranium arm, twisting his wrist to watch how the plates whirred.
Since the first moment he put it on, he had been using it to be gentle, loving, and affectionate. This arm was good. This arm wasn't used for death and destruction and violence.
With this arm he held her, kissed her, loved her. And now she was gone. And now it felt like dead weight.
— ONE WEEK LATER —
Whenever Bucky looked at his bionic arm he saw her. It began to make him sad.
His hair had been getting longer and longer. He could cut it now, now that he had two arms. But every time he tried, all he could do was stare at the arm and hear her voice in his head.
"That's your heart. That's you. You're all heart, Buck. You're so deeply, wonderfully human. All the way to your bones."
That was the first time he expressed real distress about missing a limb, he recalled. That was the first time they kissed. Funny how that transition was made, funny how she could remedy some of his worst emotions.
His days were boring and uneventful and nearly silent. He sat alone a lot. There was no laughter anymore, none of her laughter. There was no more holding, no more kissing, no more loving. The arm just felt... wrong? Like what it was born from had died.
-
In Belgium, Y/N felt incredibly uncomfortable. She knew she just needed to adjust to the change, after getting to used to life in Wakanda - life with Bucky. Her vacant apartment didn't feel as homey.
It had been, what, a year and a half? About a year and a half since she had been home. About a year and a half spent with Bucky.
Her apartment seemed so... barren. Void of life. And cold. She was used to the Wakandan heat. When she closed and locked the door behind her, she looked at the golden square that the sun cast through her window. It reminded her of that heat.
Y/N sighed, cursing her very own hippocampus for providing her with memory.
"God, I wish you had an AC in here."
She was in his bed. Well, she was on top of him, straddling him, in his bed.
"Is it hot or is it just you?" he joked, poking at her sides and trying to not pout at the loss of her lips.
"Ha. Ha," she rolled her eyes and brought her face back to his.
"Wait," Bucky said and gently pulled her face away to examine it. "You are a little warm."
"It's okay," she quickly tried to resume their previous activity.
"Hold on-" he got cut off as Y/N kept pecking his lips over and over.
"I have-"
Kiss.
"An idea-"
Kiss.
Lightly he pushed her shoulders away, nearly giggling. "Stop it! Just wait a second!"
Bashful, she conceded. "What?"
"Just-" he reached out and put the vibranium hand on her forehead, effectively cooling her down a bit. She closed her eyes and flashed a goofy smile.
"That feels nice."
Then, suddenly, he wrapped both his arms around her back and flipped them over so that he was on top. He smirked.
"Oh yeah, you just wait."
She hung her keys up and took a deep breath, absorbing the emptiness. This was her new normal; she just had to get used to it.
-
"I just- I don't really... I don't think I need it," Bucky tried to explain.
Want it, he thought. I don't want it. I can't stand to even look at it.
"You don't need it?" Shuri asked.
"Yeah, it-uh it takes a bit of getting used to and I think I just need a break. And I wouldn't want to damage it so... figured it's better with you."
He was better at lying than he gave himself credit for.
"Okay," Shuri accepted his answer and began to detach the bionic arm. "But you let me know if it's uncomfortable or painful anywhere so I can adjust it. Alright?"
"Alright. Thank you."
Finally he was rid of it- that cursed metal weighing down on his soul. Maybe now he could focus on other things. Maybe. It didn't seem likely...
However, as the days drew closer, it did make him slightly - only slightly - less nervous about the trigger word experiment. Now he didn't have a weapon attached to him. Though he reckoned he was the weapon.
No. He wasn't supposed to think like that. He knew Y/N wouldn't want him to. He knew she would say something like, "You aren't what they tried to make you into. You're you and all HYDRA's awfulness can't change the good at your core. My Bucky. You're perfect."
He'd deny to high heavens that he was the farthest thing from perfect. Bucky had no clue how she could say such things. But her conviction never faltered.
Soon enough the day came. The experiment. All he could think about was how she was supposed to be there. He didn't want to do this without her.
But now, he found himself sitting at at a fire on some mountain with one of the Doras. It was dark and it was scary. He was scared.
"It is time," said Ayo.
Nevermind want. He wasn't sure if he could do this without her.
"Are you sure about this?"
"I won't let you hurt anyone."
He was still scared. He still didn't trust himself. But, staring into the fire, he thought back to a past conversation.
"You don't have to trust yourself. That's hard enough as it is and Hydra didn't make it any easier. You just trust me, alright? ... And I will not let anything happen to you."
Bucky didn't have to trust himself. He just had to trust her. Even if she wasn't here, even if she was on another continent, all he had to do was trust her. When Ayo began reciting the trigger words, that was the one thing thing he held onto. The one thing that kept him afloat.
His trust in her.
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Manual
Terushima Yūji x Reader (Haikyuu!!)
Word Count: 4.5k
TW: dub/noncon (noncon filming & voyeurism), manipulation, drugs (weed and alcohol), implied virginity, degradation, exhibitionism, daddy kink
A night of danger and debauchery with the city’s infamous drug dealer.
It was a simple enough text that started it, but you’re not even sure how he got a hold of your number. A few days ago, a plain ‘hey’ had flashed across your screen and before you knew it, you were agreeing to go for a ride in his speedy car. ‘How fast is it?’ you had asked as an attempt to stall the conversation. But it was his reply that settled it for you: ‘As fast as you want it.’
It’s stupid how easily swayed you were, but the words left a knot in your stomach that you had never encountered before. Like a ship setting its anchor on the seafloor, though not one of anxiety nor tension caused by any of the usual stressors of your life—something entirely alien. The real issue wasn’t its unfamiliarity, but how much you took pleasure in it. And as ships do, the feeling set sail as quickly as it appeared, and you were left wistful and aching for its return.
Never had you been like your classmates at the private school, who used familial wealth to excuse week-long benders and avoid lengthy jail sentences, because never had you felt that depravity necessary. But as you make your way down the block, you envision daddy waking up to find his little girl simply vanished, and you can’t help the wicked smile that spreads across your face.
When you arrive at the grimy, red sports car— music blasting through the open windows despite the dead quiet of the block— that ball of thrill settles in your gut yet again. As long as you’re in the company of Terushima Yūji, you’re well aware that the feeling isn’t going to go away.
The car is low. So low, in fact, that you have to balance a hand on the roof and slide in legs first. How does he even drive around in this metal death trap without scraping the asphalt? Your leather skirt bunches and slips further up your thighs no matter how hard you tug it lower.
“Alright?” It’s the only form of greeting he calls out to you over the ear-splitting music. Terushima eyes your lustrous, bare legs resting in the passenger seat of his beat-up Camaro, but doesn’t bother turning down the tune. He’s not very polite, but you didn’t exactly accept his offer to be drowned in refinement, did you?
“I’m okay,” you shout, struggling to be heard over the booming voice rapping about ‘drugs and bitches.’ Typical. “How are you?” You’re not sure if it’ll break the ice, not even sure he wants to speak at all, but anything’s better than fidgeting awkwardly in your chair with nothing but the god awful music to drown out your anxiety.
He mumbles back a simple reply, fixing his gaze on your breasts straining against the tight, low cut tank. You fished the two-piece outfit out of the depths of your wardrobe, a revealing number borrowed from a friend that you never even bothered trying on before tonight. His stare has you itching to cross your arms over your chest, but you hold out. You can’t have him thinking you’re a prude, even if it is the truth.
His hand grips the stick shift lazily and before you know it, the engine is rumbling and you’re peeling away from the curb. Terushima’s driving is every bit as reckless as you assumed, stop signs appearing to be soft suggestions rather than mandatory decrees. The residential roads are practically deserted, but the lack of caution has your heart racing wildly all the same, fingers clutching at your seat. As the adrenaline rushes through your veins, your stomach sinks further into the frayed leather seat.
When the music is shut off abruptly, you believe he must finally want to speak to you, perhaps even exchange pleasantries— but the next words out of his mouth are a sly,
“Do me a favor, yeah?” You nod, before realizing his eyes are still fixed on the road ahead. It’s not like it matters anyways, because he continues on as if you had answered him. “Grab the bottle under your seat for me, princess.” Princess. It’s uttered so nonchalantly, but there’s a certain edge to his tone— the tiniest hint of a teasing lilt. You don’t like it, but logical as your brain may be, your stomach still swirls with butterflies.
Swiping at the floor, you search until your fingers make contact with glass. Low and behold, you pull out a bottle of–
“Smirnoff,” your eyes scan the label intently, attempting to place the emblem among the liquors you’ve seen at the country club. While you weren’t exactly expecting a water bottle— that’d be much too off brand for Terushima— you aren’t too keen on the idea of reckless and intoxicated driving. He glances towards you once, but doesn’t make a move towards the drink at all.
Only a few seconds later, he shoots you another look, single brow raised in quiet anticipation. The long-forgotten burdens of high school peer pressure washes over you again, fingers quivering as you unscrew the cap.
You’ve never had vodka straight out of the bottle, never had vodka in general except for when it’s mixed into your cocktails. But his expectation weighs heavy in the confined space. So, fuck it. What did you come out with him for if not to live a little?
Nail polish remover, children’s cough syrup, and liquid fire. That’s all you taste as the lukewarm fluid glides down your throat. The burn is unbearable, but a pool of warmth oozes through your chest and your hand relaxes a bit on the edge of your seat. You don’t even realize that you’re coughing.
“First time drinking?” He offers you a lazy smirk, tone edged in ridicule.
“What?” Holding your breath, you silently beg the itch in your throat to disappear. “No, I- I have wine with dinner.”
The laugh that rumbles through his throat is deep and hoarse, much too loud to be laughing at your comment— and thus, is only perceivable as taunting. Even so, you can’t deny the seduction threaded into his smoky vocals, or the wire deep within your core, pulled taut and ready to snap at any moment.
“Wine,” he snickers again. “You’re funny, you know that?” He swipes the booze out of your hands and chugs. If there’s ever a proper time to start worrying, it’d be now. But at least he stops for lights?
Besides, you can’t say you’re not enjoying the view. Terushima’s defined jaw ruts outward with every swill, his lips puckered towards the bottle as if his life depends on it. As cautious as you should be, he’s too pretty to keep your eyes focused anywhere else; your mouth surely knows it, practically salivating at his Adam's apple, bobbing as he gulps. If you reach your hand out just a few inches, you can run your fingertips against it and–
“Gross,” he pushes the bottle back towards you.
“Black cherry,” you counter, as if it’s an explanation for the disgusting taste.
“Is that the flavor I nicked? Damn, wasn’t paying enough attention,” he shrugs.
“Nicked?” Mouth agape, you stare intently at the side of his face and hope for a valid answer.
“Bottle looked lonely, so I swiped it,” he brushes a finger at the alcohol trickling down his lip; one of your own digits twitches in envy. “Is that too criminal for you, princess?”
So he is mocking you. The vodka must be melting your brain, because all your body comes up with in response is a wind chime of a soft laugh— an entirely foreign noise to your ears. It must be a mistake, or the music playing tricks on your hearing, because you don’t giggle.
Still, according to Terushima’s awful pet name, you have something to prove. Not sure how else to shut him up, you opt for the easiest way out.
“I’m not drunk enough for this.” The bottle meets your lips and liquid fire waltzes through you again. Seconds pass as you chug, the haziness of your last sip urging you to down just a teensy bit more. Just enough to get you tipsy, just enough to prove him wrong, just enough to drown out the voice in your head claiming this is a terrible idea.
This time, you don’t cough.
“‘Atta girl.”
Then, you’re drinking, and he’s drinking, and the two of you are having the grandest of times. Never mind the fact that he’s consumed far less alcohol than you have, or that lines are blurring and you’re no longer able to see straight. Gone is the anxiety you were plagued with upon meeting him and the worries that shadow you day and night in your regular life. And that’s all that really matters.
He blasts the music once again. Maybe it isn’t as terrible as you originally thought. A deep, pumping bass resonates through every bone in your body and Terushima seems to be pressing the pedals harder with every beat.
Up you go, higher, higher— higher?
Your eyes have been scouring the mischievous man next to you so intently that you never bothered to ask where you were going. But can you blame yourself? Even now, as you round up the side of a cliff, every thought passing through your murky brain pertains to him.
His lazy half smile that won’t drop, as if he’s keyed in on a secret that’s all his own, lidded eyes that make him look entirely apathetic and alluring all at once. Hell, even his fingers are beautiful. Slender and graceful, one hand is placed leisurely at the wheel and the other is shifting the gear stick with meticulous precision. Terushima Yūji has always struck you as raw and vulgar, but now you see there’s a sense of finesse to him as well— and of course, you’d need to be halfway into a drunken stupor to truly notice it.
You’re shaken from your thoughts once he cracks the windows, hair whipping around violently. If you only knew the lyrics to any of these songs, you’d be singing along. Instead, you settle for kicking your legs out the window and tapping your fingers to the beat. Who cares that your fingers are moving too slowly to match the rhythm?
Terushima says nothing at your erratic behavior, only smirks when your head leans against his shoulder and you stare idly up at him. Relief. It’s the only identifiable emotion you’re able to place in the midst of this haze. Yes, the world is foggy and black spots take over half your vision. But you hold onto that feeling— the breeze, the weightlessness. All the while, the anchor in your gut makes its home further into the sand.
“We’re here,” he chuckles, pointing at your windswept hair when you turn to him. It’s the first time his laugh sounds genuine, bubbling up naturally instead of forced and vicious. And he’s finally looking at you; not in stolen glances, with eyes glazed over in mockery or lust, but truly looking at you. You break out of the murkiness clouding your brain to catch what ‘here’ is, only to gasp at the sight in front of you.
He’s brought you to the very top of a cliff, overlooking the city. Cars and buildings seem nothing more than blips on a map, insects to your God-like view.
As beautiful as they are, the dazzling lights of the world below you pale in comparison to the deity seated inches away. It’s difficult to believe that you had never once taken notice of him, though your younger self filed him away as a troublemaker—an invaluable waste of space— based on gossiped knowledge and without a second glance.
“Y’know what I never noticed?” You’re well aware the words tumble out a whine, drawn out and a bit slurred, but proper diction is the last thing on your mind. “You’re really pretty.” As soon as you’ve said it, your face is set ablaze. Control yourself.
“Pretty? Haven’t heard that one before,” he throws his head back and you’re struck with that gruff, raspy laugh once again.
“But you are,” you’re unable to contain yourself at all now, all proper thoughts replaced by the cut of his cheekbones, the messy bleached hair tumbling over his sleek undercut— and best yet, the tiny piece of metal prodding through his tongue and now balanced between his teeth. “A pretty bad boy, with pretty teeth, and a pretty piercing, and you texted me why?” With the hurried words, another wave of heat spikes your body.
Perhaps his eyes brighten at your little confession, or perhaps his face gives away nothing. You can’t really tell much of anything.
“You really wanna know?” You nod hungrily at his whisper, his hushed tone teeming with temptation. Terushima creeps closer, so much so that you feel his breath fanning your face. Underneath the overwhelming scents of cigarettes and booze, he smells a bit like tea leaves. Strange, but pleasant. “Are you sure?” He’s smirking now, obviously finding your curiosity entertaining.
At the same time, one of his hands inches towards you— cautiously, deliberately, like a predator creeping towards its skittish prey. You tremble in your seat, unsure why the proximity has your heart beating out of its chest.
All at once, his hand shoots past you and towards the glove compartment. Terushima lets out a snicker, flashes you a brilliant set of teeth, and proudly offers you nothing: “Sorry, not tellin’ you.”
Your slurred gripes do nothing to sway the tease, who’s now engrossed by the itty bitty ziploc baggie he pulled from the glovebox. Though your head is spinning, you yourself can’t help but feel enthralled by his movements— staring shamelessly as he sprinkles the weed onto paper. His fingers prove precise yet again as he rolls the greens into pretty little cylinders.
Almond eyes meet yours only when he brings the wrap to his lips, gazing directly at you while his tongue slides across the paper. A chill prickles across your skin, but there’s only heat within the parked car.
Before you know it, he’s extending a large hand towards you, silently willing you to take the first hit. Somewhere far away, you hear your own voice mumbling, ‘I don’t know how to.’ As hard as you try to put up a front, to exude sex and confidence in front of this well-versed man, you’re not quite sure you can pretend your way through this one.
A wispy laugh, a sly comment and a wink later, two of his fingers have the joint pressed between your lips. ‘I’ll teach you,’ he promises, instructing you on precisely how to breathe. You barely register the palm fastened at your chest. Is he being a creep? Maybe he’s just trying to help. Either way, you don’t pay it much mind.
And then, smoke fills your lungs, fills your head, fills the already-depleting air of his tiny car. You’re coughing again, but he warned you of the burn this time, and ‘besides, it’ll get you higher.’
You were hoping to see chalky hues of pinks and blues, but the drug does nothing but provide you with lidded eyes and a tingle that runs from head to toe. A single stroke of your finger against the leathered seat sends waves of shivers throughout your arm. Your palm splayed against your own thigh feels unfamiliar and ticklish.
The buzz is only truly worth it when you finally turn to look at the wicked man next to you; Terushima has a slick smile dancing across his face, eyes heavy and probing you for any sort of reaction. The bleached blonde hair at the top of his head pales under the moonlight, suddenly seeming impossible to resist. When you reach out to grasp a strand, he moves quicker, gripping your fingers tightly between his.
“What do you think you’re doing?” His low drawl is lazy, more amused than genuinely angry. But your fingers twitch beneath his grasp all the same, completely embarrassed and still itching to touch his locks. “Princess doesn't know how to ask for things politely?” You don’t have to look into his eyes to feel the smugness radiating off of him.
“No, I-” There’s no saving face now, and he knows it as well as you do.
“Or are you just so used to getting what you want?” Even as he taunts you, his digits thread through yours, pulling you towards him so that your hands hover over his lips. “Is this what you wanted?”
You shake your head, but the thought of grazing his pillowy lips— of your trembling fingers exploring that tiny metal ball in his mouth— is now etched into your clouded brain.
“No? What about here?” He trails your digits down his crisp t-shirt, stopping only when you’ve reached his midriff. You should stop, should adhere to the yellow tape bound around this entire encounter; instead, you stare at the blonde with wide eyes, tongue poking out of your mouth as you debate your answer. He breathes an airy laugh, “use your words.”
But before you can, his lips are meshing into yours. And here are the hues of the pinks and blues you so desperately wished to see, hidden in his caress all this time. There’s heat, and heat, and more heat— and a quiet hum traveling from the very tip of your mouth to your toes, as you melt together.
When he releases your hands, they fly towards his hair, finally tugging at the soft pieces. A simple clasp of your waist and you’re moaning into his mouth, a warm welcome for his tongue to slide in. Embers spread through the tiny space, setting your lungs ablaze far quicker than any drug could. His cool, metal piercing tickles the roof of your mouth; if you were coherent enough, you may wonder what it would feel like skimming other stretches of skin.
But your thoughts are cotton candy melting at his touch and allowing one, singular thought: him, him, him.
Your sugar-spun mind loses track of the time he spends pressed into you. Seconds, minutes, hours later, he finally pulls away, the long string of saliva between you the only remnant of your lip-locked endeavors.
“It’s getting late,” his words are a whisper, a break in the heavy silence of heaving chests and spinning minds. You’d have thought the infamous heartbreaker would urge for more, and a part of you wishes that he would. But instead, he drives you back down the cliffside in silence, his hand on your thigh rooted in place, keeping you longing for another taste.
Only when you’re coming down from the high, still a bit tipsy, do you realize you’re almost home. Terushima’s fingers still play at the hem of your skirt, stroking at the fire deep in your gut. With all his teasing, you figure you may as well make your move now.
“You can pull over here,” you instruct, happy to have found your usual domineering voice. Perhaps it was buried under the weight of weed and wandering lips.
“Your house is another block away,” he refutes with a grumble, but heeds your demand anyways. When he turns to you, you’re caught in that bewitching gaze, finding yourself at a loss for words yet again. “Anything else you need?” The words are laced with possibility, a dangerous challenge. But any gall you felt coursing through your veins has vanished without a trace.
“No- I- I should get home,” your eyes drop, staring at a loose thread on his pants— and all at once, moving to leave the car. “Daddy’ll be mad if he catches me out.” The words are barely out of your mouth before he’s chuckling, repeating them.
“Daddy will be mad? You still call your father daddy?” And there’s the Yūji Terushima you thought you knew, mockery and taunts always at the tip of his tongue. You throw a weak punch against his chest, huffing in confusion.
“What’s so wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” He exclaims a bit too smugly, climbing out himself.
Next thing you know, you’re caught between his body and the hood of the car, sturdy arms trapping you in place. Chilled air nips at your bones; a single skim of his knee against your thigh and that cold is forgotten. You really should be at home.
“Terushima.” It’s funny how a single word— a person’s name— can contain a thousand different meanings. You’re not even sure how you say it, questioning the inflections of your cracked voice and wide eyes. He whispers your name right back, the gleam in his eyes magnifying tenfold.
You’re well aware he has you right where he wants you, a little bird caught in a cage, though you’re more than happy to be singing any song he asks.
But there’s only silence as you stare at each other beneath the flickering street light. So much so, you can hear your hearts pump blood, can hear the engine of a car rumbling by, can even hear your neighbor’s pesky dog barking a block away.
“Do you need something, or do you just like saying my na–”
You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in.
It feels different now. Perhaps your nerves aren’t frenzied, and you don’t attain euphoria with every graze. But you feel him. You can taste the smoke on his tongue as it knocks against your teeth. Black cherry floods your brain, the same flavor that drifted you up that cliffside to begin with.
Terushima’s hands grab at your waist before you’re hoisted up and placed on the hood of the car. Gone are the lazy kisses of two heads in the clouds. His movements are quick and decisive, aggressive even. A hand roams your body, trailing under your tank and across your breasts. The other shoves aside your panties, nimble fingers circling your bud.
A low whimper leaves you when he runs a digit across your slit.
“Careful,” hot breath fans your lips as he chuckles, “too loud and he’ll hear us.”
But you can’t stop your wanton mewls. Not when he dips into you, curling his fingertips to hit a spot that has you seeing stars. Not when his teeth nip at your jaw, your neck, the shell of your ear— leaving soft marks behind. And most certainly not when you can feel his cock straining against your thigh.
“Fuck, Teru I–” Within minutes, your entire body trembles, hands clutching at soft hair as you chase your high.
“Tell daddy what you want,” his eyes pierce into yours, completely unashamed of his perversion of the pure term. You try to shake your head no, to refuse his order— but he simply flicks his wrist quicker, pumps into you faster. You’re so fucking close, too near the edge to care, so you simply allow the words to tumble out,
“Daddy p-please, I want to cum.”
A few circles on your clit, and you’re putty in his hands. The high hits you with a loud, leg-shaking cry— far more dizzying than any of the debaucheries of hours past.
You’re flipped over without a moment to breathe, breasts rammed into the frigid car hood. Terushima pulls your skirt up with one hand, the other nudging your cheek firmly against the metal.
Never would you have thought you’d be one for such public indecency, but the elation of your last orgasm still hasn't even completely resided. For the third time tonight, you find yourself drunk off the ambrosia of this wayward god.
“Beg for it,” he slides his cock up your slit, coating his thick member in your slick.
“Please Teru,” you whine helplessly. A loud slap echoes through the empty street as his hand meets the globe of your ass, the pain more shocking than painful.
It reminds you that anyone could walk out of their homes to see you being railed against a beat up car— and the thought of one of your neighbors waking up to that sight wracks your body with a twisted pleasure.
“What was that?” The bastard actually laughs, gruff and hearty, as you writhe against him.
“Daddy, I need you.” And then he’s thrusting into you, pushing into the tight ring of muscle. Though he prepped you, you claw at the car, searching for any sort of relief from the overwhelming pain.
A few snaps of his hips later, you relax as the stretch becomes bearable. He takes his time rutting into you, spreading your legs further, making sure you feel every inch of him deep inside you.
Only when you begin bouncing back to meet his drives does he quicken his pace, a single hand gripping your waist— five finger-shaped bruises you’re sure will be evidence for days to come. You barely recognize your own voice; high-pitched wails spill from your lips, curses and pleas and cries of ‘daddy’ like a broken record on replay.
“Look at the little slut, creaming all over me,” a particularly hard thrust sends you reeling, tears flowing freely down your face as you blabber mindlessly. “Who’d have thought the city’s very own ‘prude princess’ would be blacking out over some dick?”
You should be ridiculed, would be utterly offended by the insult, if not for the fact that his cock has you teetering the delicate line of consciousness. Those words are precisely what send you over the edge for the second time tonight.
“Fuck, stay right there,” a low, gravelly groan as Terushima continues pounding into you. Then, a few more prods and he’s following suit, pulling out to spill his seed all over your backside.
Vision still spotty, you finally turn to look at the beautiful man, hoping for rosy cheeks and that soft smile you believe is a secret saved just for you. Instead you’re met with a dull frown and a look of pure apathy.
He won’t even meet your eyes.
“Can you walk the block or should I drive you?” Though he poses the question, the lack of his typical liveliness tells you everything you need to know about his preference: he doesn’t have one.
Somewhere far away, you hear yourself tell him you’ll walk. Your head’s still caught on cloud nine, or perhaps it was only ever the ninth circle of hell—twisted and contorted by black cherry and rotten greens.
“Are you sure? You look a little shaken,” he laughs, that same hoarse tone you once thought charming now seeming gnarled and vicious. The taunts once endearing, now simply malicious.
From the corner of your eye you spot his phone, unlocked and teeming with messages. A flash of a familiar black leather skirt bunching, a flip of your hair, pieces of your purity plastered across his screen for the world to see.
You walk back home in silence.
#haikyuu fic#haikyuu#terushima yuuji#terushima smut#terushima yuuji x reader#tw dubcon#tw manipulation#tw drugs#tw weed#tw alcohol#tw virginity#tw degradation#tw exhibitionism#tw daddy kink#tw noncon
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the trophy wife (m)
summary: the proposal doesn’t go as planned (established relationship, idol au, fluff and angst)
pairing: min yoongi x fem!reader
rating: explicit (18+)
warnings (containing spoilers): swearing, robbery, pandemic, vomit, description of injuries and blood (very abstract), mentions of depression, insomina and periods, a hella lot ugly crying
info: when i tell you that this is a super-duper fluffy piece, i’m not lying! it was 99% sweetness, so i added a little... angst (but like... only 10%)
related work: the stalker | baby, what’s wrong? | favoritism (m) | the trophy wife
words: 5.7k
“would you still love me if i became your trophy wife?”
yoongi snorts into his iphone, your grimace too adorable to be taken seriously.
“how bad are these papers?”, he asks. jungkook next to him is stealing curious glances at his hyung’s screen. to hear your voice so distressed makes him worry. you’re the best thing that ever happened to his member – your well-being comes right after his need for homemade kimchi.
“how… can they not know which products contain dairy? how yoongs?”, you vent eyeing the ungraded test in front of you.
“i ate… so much yogurt. the whole class did. we tested so much dairy products… like… so much. we drank all of the banana milk… how can they get this wrong?”, you continue. unbeknown to you, the maknae is now furrowing his brows at your words. wait a minute…
“noona, did you steal my banana milk last week?”, jungkook questions and moves closer to yoongi. before you can hide you see his big eyes joining your boyfriend on the screen.
“wow, jungkookie – your undercut looks so good. damn!”, you say. it’s not a total deflection; he does look extremely handsome after his haircut.
“noona, i thought i sleepwalked”, he whines, not caring for your compliment… right now.
“taehyung even made a meme out of it”, he complaints and you have the audacity to coo at him. yoongi tries to hide his smile, but he can see his reflection grinning on the screen.
“it was oppa’s idea!”
and now his smile freezes as jungkook moves his accusing glare to him. you don’t usually call yoongi by this name. and he’d be all too happy to shut you up in your shared bedroom. but now he and the boys are in the outskirts of seoul to film the newest music video, far away from you and your treacherous mouth.
“hyung?”, jungkook asks with the voice of a cheated wife ready to sign the divorce papers.
“it’s for the kids, maknae”, your boyfriend defends himself to which jungkook only huffs in irritation.
“there was a time when i was the kid – what happened? am i not cute enough anymore? noona? am i not the most adorable?”
his deer eyes stare at you – big, brown and full. you can’t help but to take a screenshot of these two – your rapper visibly done with his member and jungkook in the middle of a banana milk breakdown. you’ll have to frame this picture.
“you’re the most adorable thing there is, jungkookie”, you reassure him. yoongi just snorts when he sees the faintest flush on his bandmate’s face.
“that’s enough praise for him, baby. save it for your students.” there is no humor in the smile you send him. after a beat of silence in which you burry all your frustration deep inside the pits of your stomach, you try to change the subject.
“how is nature?” they’ve been in the woods for weeks, completely closed off from all the city drama. you’ve never seen jimin so excited to drive – while namjoon’s sour face reflected how much the latest failed drivers test bothered him.
“jin-hyung nearly died in the water today. it was epic”, your friend instead of your boyfriend answers and you have to shift a giggle at yoongi’s eyeroll.
“be gone, maknae”
rudely blunt – just how you liked your partner. jungkook just winks at you in a silent goodbye and gets up. he’s nearly out of the picture before his upper body shoves against the rapper. his nose is way too close to the screen and you’d be worried about his eyes – if you didn’t know how often the singer spends his nights in front of his computer.
“noona, you’ll replace the milk, right?”
“jungkook”, yoongi growls in responds. the boy is not acknowledging his colleague, so you give in and nod.
“of course, kookie. it’s already waiting in the fridge for you to come back”, you tell him. as soon as these words leave your mouth, the maknae is satisfied and gone.
“you don’t have to baby him that much, ____”, yoongi says while moving the phone closer to his face. you can see the dark circles under his eyes better now.
“what’s keeping you up at night, yoongs?”, you ask instead of answering his complaint. the rapper smiles faintly at the screen.
“you, baby, always you” yu snort and let yourself lie down on the couch – the papers can wait another day, or a lifetime.
“i wish”, you say truthfully. you’d sell one of your kidneys to relax with the boys far away from the pandemic madness. after having yoongi to yourself for two weeks non-stop, you are way too spoiled. even though your legs are deeply grateful for this recovery time, you miss the constant calm radiating off of your boyfriend.
“i’ll be back soon, baby”, he reassures you and draws lines across the screen. your cheeks look colorless and it worries him just as much as his lack of sleep bothers you.
“make it sooner”, you mutter and close your eyes when you hear his chuckle in responds.
“have you had dinner yet?”, yoongi asks but you don’t want to open your eyes, not ready to face his criticism.
“nah, i’ll wait till sungho gets here.” you don’t need your eyesight to feel his disapproval.
“that’s not very socially distance of you, ____.” yeah, no baby anymore. still, you remain shut off.
“he’s just a friend. one friend. one work friend. one work friend that needs help with the new school cloud. the online grading program is a pain in the ass.”
“and why do you have to do that at six on a friday night in our home?”, yoongi notices the tiniest of smiles on your lips as he mentions your shared home. he, too, loves your little flat with a pandora of memories.
“because i am a loner and don’t have anything better planed for the weekend and my boyfriend is camping in the woods and oh – there is a global pandemic”, you snort and open your eyes to watch your boyfriend’s tensed expression.
“if you’re a loner – what am i then? a stone?”, yoongi asks sarcastically.
“maybe a boulder”, you shoot back with a soft smile that melts his jealousy away… nearly.
“just… don’t let him touch my stuff”, yoongi orders. he’d trade his own maknae to be the one at the other side of your door when he hears a distant knocking sound.
“that’ll be him, yoongs”, you say and move off the couch with as much dignity as one can muster after a whole work week and no motivation left in the bones.
“promise to call me back when you’re in bed?”, your boyfriend pleads, reluctant to let you go. with him going on world tours this phone conversation isn’t your first and it won’t be the last. still, his small request fills you with yearning.
“of course”, you promise, eyes still on him as you open the door without a second thought.
a fist connects with your skull while your eyes widen at the sight of two ski-masked men. the pain is instantly blinding your senses and you start to scream with tears clouding your vision. you fall to the floor before they push their way inside your home. one of them, muscle clad with wide shoulders kicks you in the stomach just to move you out of their way. the other, smaller in statue, crushes your phone with his shoe, the cracked screen frozen with your boyfriend starring at you in horror.
**
namjoon will never forget the bone chilling scream waking him this evening from his nap. he’s never heard yoongi’s voice filled to the brim with pain. not even registering his movements, he tumbles into the living room where is friend is still yelling your name, his face a mask of panic.
“hyung, what’s wrong?”, namjoon asks as footsteps behind him signal the arrival of his bandmates.
yoongi’s hands shake as his eyes stay fixed on the screen of his form. the leader moves first, not able to watch his friend losing himself. when joon steps behind yoongi’s figure to calm him down, a cold shower travels through his body. the screen shows you lying on the floor with red dripping from your mouth. your eyes are closed, but namjoon notices the uneven rise and fall of your chest – you’re breathing.
“jin, call the police”, the leader orders without turning around. his hands try to pry the phone out of yoongi’s fingers, but they are white with pressure and unforgiving. his lungs are still screaming and namjoon’s heart breaks at the scene.
“hyung, - just… calm down”, he says, not quite believing in his own words. he wouldn’t calm down either in yoongi’s position.
“what am i reporting?”, seokjin asks, close enough that the question answers itself as soon as he peaks over yoongi’s shoulder.
“i’d like to report a break-in – there is a person, hurt. the address is-“
yoongi can’t hear his oldest colleague, the voice drowned by his worry for you. at first, he doesn’t register namjoon’s chest pressing behind his back, but then his body shudders when the fellow rapper hugs him from behind.
“hyung, we – sh – it’s gonna be okay. it’ll be okay, she’s okay… we… you have to calm down, yoongi”, namjoon sooths his friend of ten years and rocks them both from side to side.
“taehyung, call the building manager – there should be security in the foyer”, seokjin commands the young man who watches the scene in front of him passively. as soon as he hears his name though, the singer moves to grab his iphone with shaky fingers.
“look, hyung, she’s awake”, joon points out and yoongi shakes his head to move these stupid tears out of his vision. indeed, your eyes are open as you try to even your breathing. it looks like you are crying as well and yoongi has never felt this kind of searing pain before. to see the love of his life in tears and burglars destroying your home while he is in the middle of fucking nowhere, makes him sick. when he sees you trying to get up, only to drop back onto the floor, his stomach turns. yoongi vomits onto his lap and namjoon has to hold his friend upright as he loses consciousness.
**
you’ve never been this glad for the heavy painkillers your boyfriend has tugged away in the bathroom due to his immense shoulder problems. the icepack pressed to your forehead cools for body down; still, you are shaking with adrenaline as you watch the security guard pace in front of you.
“yes, sir, yes – no, of course sir, negative sir”, he looks at your shaking form and grimaces before answering. “minor injuries”, the guard holds his phone further away when his caller answers a few decibels too loud.
“the paramedics are on their way”, he responds, not daring to look you directly in the eye. after another game of “yes and no”, the security ends his call.
“how are you, ma’am?”, the man in uniform asks, but remains standing a few feet away. when he first got here after receiving a hectic message from his boss, you were crying on the floor – alone. his colleague is already checking the floors, while another is combing through the surveillance footage. it’s been five minutes and you still look like a ghost.
his instructions were crystal clear – don’t touch the subject. but his heart clenches when he sees your trembling form trying to calm yourself down.
before you can answer him, two paramedics arrive through the door. they zero in on the blood drying across your forehead. their hands press gently against your skin and ask you questions you try to answer. soon, they move you to a standing position, with your head wound dressed and your vitals checked.
“we’ll take you to the hospital, ma’am”, the older woman explains. with a few steps you are at the door – there, right on the threshold where your nightmare began half an hour ago, stands sungho, chinese take-out and laptop in hand. your fellow teacher looks at you with widened eyes.
“_____ - what the hell?”, he curses and nearly drops his food when you smile at him – your teeth unbeknown to you still tinted red.
“are you her partner?”, the paramedic asks.
“just a friend”, he answers, not letting you out of his sight.
“we have to get her to the hospital – will you accompany us?”, the medic questions and sungho nods. your little crowd moves to the elevator and the security guard closes your door with a soft click. the police will be here soon, he thinks as he watches your beaten figure step onto the elevator.
**
“this cannot be the way to do this, ___”, sungho exclaims while you are staring at the iv-drip connected to your arm in distress. you hate needles.
the hospital’s v.i.p room is normally reserved for celebrities, but they made an exception for you, the girlfriend of min yoongi. sejin’s hunched form outside the room might have played a role in that. bangtan’s manager arrived half an hour ago, worried and disheveled. his posture calmed when the doctors reassured him, you’d be okay. now, he’s waiting for seven idols in various stages of panic to arrive.
“it’s the way this works – just… do as i say, okay?”, you huff. there is a part of you not willing to let the last hours crash into you; not without your partner here. so, you’ve spent the last sixty minutes showing him how to use your new school cloud – the easy way, not the right one.
“but the course still doesn’t show in my settings”, he whines, and you roll your eyes while pushing cold pad thai in your mouth. the rich flavor appeases your hungry stomach and you swallow the take-out down in one breathe. songho is a godsend for bringing the ordered food with him to the hospital. it’s a much-needed distraction from the horror of your cracked rib and light concussion.
“you have to set the course to ‘official’ – it’s still private”, you explain with another mouthful of oily noodles slurring your speech.
sungho’s brows furrow in concentration when you hear heavy footsteps in the hall. the boys are there – and they are not slowing down.
before sejin can even try to greet the idols, yoongi pushes through the door – all six of them only a breath behind.
the second you see him, the tears start without your consent. yoongi looks crazy – his eyes gleam with insanity – as he sucks in the hospital air through his mask.
you’re here. you’re alive. you’re safe. you’re here. he’s here. you are both here. his thoughts are running in circles – not ready to slow down, not ready to expand.
your boyfriend resembles a statue; just standing in front of the hospital bed. his face screams for help and it breaks you as the first cry leaves your throat. in a flash yoongi is moving to you, bumping into a shocked sungho. his finger brush against your wet cheeks like you’d break under his touch, while your body collapses.
“baby”, he whispers – the first word his members have heard since he regained consciousness.
“yoongs”, you answer and throw your arms around his neck. the smell of vomit and sweat makes your nose crunch up, but your boyfriend hugs it all away. his forearms rest on each side of your head – supporting his weight – as he lets you hold on to him, the boyfriend who was playing idol life in the woods instead of being at home with his girlfriend. even through his mask he can breathe in your unique smell, clouded by disinfectant.
“noona”, the youngest whimpers from the doorway. jungkook is silently crying, his mask discolored from the tears. every member looks at you with sorrow, the younger ones visibly not as professional at keeping their emotions together. namjoon looks like he’s aged a decade, but there is a small smile pressing his eyes together behind his mask. you try to reciprocate his smile, but yoongi’s head his pressing against your cheeks with vigor.
“why don’t we give them some space?”, sejin says to which your coworker nods instantly. he’s your friend for sure – but this is a level of intimacy he’s not willing to share with you.
the members need more convincing as hoseok tries to gently pull jungkook back. the maknae vehemently shakes his head, not ready to leave you and yoongi alone.
“we’ll wait right outside, kookie”, seokjin coax him out of the room. he’s still reluctant so go, but jimin’s small body pushes against his back. soon, namjoon closes the door, leaving you alone.
your tears won’t stop and you try to move closer to your boyfriend – you want to feel him all around you. without words yoongi understands your need and presses his body down on yours. there is a sharp pain when his stomach meets your fractured rib.
“ah”, you breathe, hurting. yoongi extracts himself from you in a flash; every fiber of his being furious at your injury.
“baby”, he calls out as his fingers ghost across your ribcage.
“it’ll… it’ll heal soon”, you say timidly.
“how could this happen, baby?”, he asks, still more interested in your upper body than your eyes.
“i-i i should-d have che-checked the door before, ah before answering”, you whimper, ready to face the blame.
with yoongi’s lifestyle comes a certain level of danger. you’ve been trained to be more cautious with everyday things like grocery shopping, inviting new friends over, answering the door without checking the cam.
“no, no, no, no – baby – no…”, he hushes you. “they should have never been able to pass the foyer, nor should they have been able to move to the penthouse level.”
“i-i was so scared”, you admit, linking your fingers with his and pressing them close to your still beating heart.
“i know, baby, me too”, yoongi soothes you and flexes his fingertips against your warm skin.
“i’ve never felt this worthless… you got hurt… right in front of me… and i … i couldn’t do anything.” his voice shakes with emotions and slowly his stare moves to your bruised face. the madness has nearly died in his eyes – but there is still so much pain hidden behind his brown iris.
“i- i could have lost you”, he whispers darkly, speaking a truth into reality he is not ready to face. your crying has stopped now that the both of you are calmer and connected.
“nah, never, remember?”, you say with some form of humor behind your words. “i’m your trophy wife. trophy wives don’t die. first, they’d kill their rich husband”, you remind your boyfriend of your conversation half a lifetime ago.
“it’d be an honor getting murdered by you, baby.” his mask is gone in a flash and then you feel the warmth of his lips against your temple. “just let me finish my third mixtape first.”
**
“don’t move, noona”, jungkook pleads as the warm sunlight irritates your skin. the fresh air is caressing your body while the youngest tries to finish his painting. trees surround the both of you, resting on a soft picnic blanket. it’s the first time since your release from the hospital that yoongi has left you out of his sight. granted, you’re still not totally alone with the strongest bangtan member watching over you like a hawk. but it’s definitely a much-needed break from yoongi’s fretting.
after nearly throwing a tantrum in front of his manager und some staff members who wanted to continue the filming of their new “in the soop” show, all the members knew they’d have to handle their rapper with care. leaving you alone wasn’t an option, so taehyung and seokjin packed your suitcase with essentials and after your doctors determined you ready to rest at home, all eight of you moved back to the chill vacation home in the middle of nowhere.
the last few days have been difficult – the filming staff getting more and more irritated because the members flocked around you 24/7. sejin had to come up with a different schedule allowing every bandmate time to reconnect with you as well as time to do their work. only yoongi was allowed to not leave your side most of the day – him working on the new music being the cover for his absence.
but after days of your boyfriend breathing down your neck, you’ve had enough. so, now yoongi is out on the water with seokjin fishing, while you’re spending time with jungkook.
“when did the police say they are coming?”, you ask the painter. his nose is crunched in concentration as he tries to outline your hipbone.
“they should be here before lunch – if your boyfriend even manages to catch some lunch”, he answers. you snort, messing up his grasp of your proportions.
“i do have faith in seokjin’s ability.” jungkook chuckles but keeps his eyes on your drawing. you look so delicate, so soft, he can’t believe they nearly lost you.
“i got robbed – i didn’t die, kookie”, you read his mind as his eyes darken.
“you got hurt”, he responds through clenched teeth.
“and they’ll pay for that”, you vow. the police had called this morning with the news of your robbers being captured during another crime. you’re still not sure how the officers can be so sure they’re the same criminals, but you’re eager to close this chapter with your statement later that day.
your painting session gets interrupted by namjoon. “the detectives are already here, ____.”
jungkook is by your side in a flash and together with the leader the both of them help you up. the rib is healing and harsh movements still hurt. yoongi had a near meltdown when you tried to ride him yesterday morning only to topple over in pain.
“yoongi and jin don’t have a signal out in the water – but they won’t be long”, namjoon explains and guides you indoors to meet the two officers.
“ms. ______, a pleasure to meet you”, the older policeman says in greeting. the younger one only shifts uncomfortable when he sees you flanked by two famous idols.
“thanks for coming all this way”, you respond and bow slowly, not to put extra pressure on your rib.
“is there somewhere we could talk – uhm- privately?”, the old man asks and you show them to one of the office rooms in the back. jungkook reluctantly leaves your side and joon only squeezes your hand in passing.
“just holler when you need us, _____”, he says before ordering the maknae to clean the art supplies.
with both officers sitting across from you, you nervously fiddle in your chair.
“the two intruders were caught this morning while pawning off their haul”, the younger policeman states and shows you a surveillance picture of two familiar men. their figures alone invoke iced fear in your heart, and you push the picture out of your sight. after a moment of silence, you collect yourself enough to absorb the information.
“what did they steal? i – i didn’t report anything missing, sir”, you question. sure, they trashed the painting yoongi brought for you during your last vacation in italy. and some cloths were thrown across the bedroom – but there was nothing stolen. you even signed your statement last week before leaving for the woods.
the officers look at you like you’ve grown a second head.
“miss, you reported the item missing days ago. there is even a harsh voicemail left with your fiancé demanding a swift investigation.” you shake your head at their words – no, you didn’t.
“which item?”, you ask the men with narrowed eyes. you’d been off the pain meds for days now. but to call yoongi your fiancé? clearly, they’d switched up cases. the older officer opens his briefcase to retrieve a plastic bag with a… ring in it.
“in my days, my wife would have never forgotten about her engagement ring”, the man snickers as you watch the cold metal in front of you. it’s beautiful – it’s so yoongi, you wouldn’t be surprised if he himself crafted the asymmetric diamond set on roughened silver.
you’d dreamed of this moment for over a year – to lay eyes on the ring cementing your future in stone – or diamonds.
never would you have imagined it to be this tainted with two officers starring you down and the jewelry wrapped carelessly in plastic – a piece of evidence – while your boyfriend is fishing with kim seokjin.
“uhm”, you hesitate as emotions swirl around your brain. he was going to propose? to you?
“i had half a panic attack carrying it around with me the whole day – that thing could pay off all my debt, as well as my kid’s college fees”, the officer jokes, still not recognizing your surprise as genuine.
“uhm”, you try again to form words.
“we’ve all the papers here for you to sign; after that we’ll be ready to get out of your hair… for now”, the youngest states and moves different documents across the table. they lie next to yoongi’s engagement ring – your engagement ring.
“uhm”
giving up on forming a coherent sentence, you move along and sign your name on the different protocols. the paper from your insurance company makes your heart still – reading all the zeros on the price of your ring.
this… is by far the worst engagement set up you’ve ever heard of. your hands shack and your signature looks just terrible, but it’s enough for the two detectives. they still don’t seem to find your reaction odd as they collect their stuff and bid you fare well. like a zombie you get up and follow them to the front door, your ring clutched between your fingertips.
jungkook and jimin are waiting for you next to the foyer and jump at the sight of your pale face.
“everything alright?”, jimin asks and places a protective hand on your back. your slow nod does not convince them and their eyes sour at the policemen.
while the younger officer takes a step back, the oldest just chuckles at your idol friends.
“all is well, kids”, he sooths them. then both bow to you and you can only muster an awkward smile, the jewelry heavy in your hand.
“happy wedding planning, ms. ____”, he winks at you before they leave. the soft click of the closing door is the only sound in the hallway. you’re not even sure you’re breathing.
after a beat of silence you flinch at the sound of jimin’s high-pitched squeal.
“weeeedding”, he asks, way too loud and way too joyful. the mochi-cheeked idol excitedly jumps up and down, not really caring that you remain silent.
jungkook on the other hand looks … really upset. “you told the police but not me?”, he whispers betrayed.
you could cry as you feel the headache from your concussion clouding your mind. this is… too much.
“uhm”, you’ve decided to stick with your running-gag answer and push both idols out of your way.
your feet carry you out of the house, through the terrace door and before you know it, you’re running across the green gras. the smell of the lake invades your nose while you search for you boyfriend. yoongi’s boat is still on the water and you spot both men resting against each other with their rods, ready to catch your lunch. sunshine shimmers on the lake’s surface as you run onto the dock. your bare feet press against the wood while your hair rushes around you – the wind breezing through the unkempt strands.
**
“is… is that _____, yoongi?”, seokjin asks his fishing buddy who’s more focused watching the water for prey than his surroundings.
“huh?”, he hums, not really listening to his friend.
“i- i think your girlfriend wants to talk to you, yoongi”, the old singer says hesitantly as he sees you jumping up and down on the wooden dock. this can’t be good for your health.
swiftly, the rapper turns to the spot seokjin is pointing at. and there you stand – beautiful and barefoot, dressed in his t-shirt and some old leggings. your hair is a mess and the sun dances across your skin like the tiniest firework.
“MIN YOONGI”, you shout at the top of your lungs. your boyfriend flinches hearing your loud voice across the water.
“she sounds angry”, seokjin whispers.
“YOU FOOL”, you continue to yell and see seokjin’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.
“oh, i hope the crew gets this on tape”, he says with glee while yoongi really, truly tries to find a reason for your anger. he’s left you alone today, at your request. maybe you didn’t really want him to go? was it a test to see how much he wanted to stay with you? did he fail?
“I GOT YOUR RING!”, you shout and flash the evidence bag high in the air.
immediately, the rapper shoots up from his sitting position, rocking the boat dangerously form side to side.
“yah, yoongi, what the hell?”, seokjin swears but your boyfriend’s eyes rest on you, holding your engagement ring in a plastic bag. there is no air in his lungs – he’s been thinking about this moment for the last two years. he dreamed of your joyful tears, how soft your hands would feel while pushing the silver banner on your finger.
and now… he’s an ocean away from you holding on to the jewelry that got you hurt weeks ago.
“DO YOU WANT TO ASK ME SOMETHING, MIN YOONGI?”, you scream and your boyfriend’s eyes widen when they see the smile on your lips; do you – do you find this funny?
without thinking, he takes a step forward.
You can only watch seokjin’s helpless grimace as yoongi brings the boat out of balance. both idols topple over and splash into the cold sea.
the icy water doesn’t bother the rapper as he pushes to the surface. the sun shines high up while he speeds to the dock. you’ve never seen your boyfriend this determent – his laps forceful and quick, leaving a still shocked seokjin behind.
your fingers shake as you watch him come closer and closer to you. in mere moments he’s close enough for you to hear his heavy breathing.
yoongi heaves himself out of the cold, his shoulder screaming in pain, and then he is dripping in front of you. your boyfriend looks like a wet dog, the black hair plastered to his forehead as he steps forward. you can smell the sea salt across his drenched clothes.
the engagement ring screams from the bag to be acknowledged and yoongi is just… staring at you deeply.
“i had it all planned”, he whispers wringing his sweater. the gush of water drops on the deck, but the idol only looks at you. “weeks ago.” his fingers wrap around your writs, a silent plea to give the ring to its rightful owner – for now.
“i wanted to take you to the restaurant where we had our first date”, he admits and opens the bag. your first date had been a disaster – you’re still vividly remembering the food poisoning.
“then all the restaurants closed down; we were both so stressed… and… life went on”, yoongi continues as the ring dances between his fingertips. it looks like art without the plastic cheapening its presence.
“i... wanted it to be perfect.” his whispered words fall to the floor as he kneels in front of you. warmth is coloring your face, seeing your idol submitting to you.
“baby… you know how much i love you… how much you inspire me every day to become the best version of myself”, yoongi’s voice cracks against his words and you can’t help the softest coo from leaving your lips.
“i promise i’ll make you the best trophy wife of south korea.”
you snort as you hear boyish snicker from behind you at yoongi’s joke.
“will you spend the rest of my life with this ring on your hand?”, he asks and without waiting for an answer, he pushes the silver band on your finger. it fits perfectly.
“am i not supposed to agree first?”, you respond as your eyes stay on your future husband.
“oh baby, you agreed the moment you ate my burned pasta.” yoongi gets up and pushes a lose strand of hair behind your ears.
“you agreed the moment you moved in with me, a struggling insomniac.” his hands cradle your face, framing the expression of love between his palms.
“you agreed the moment you let me change your tampon because you were too drunk to move.” he gives you airy butterfly kisses.
“you agreed the moment you didn’t kill me for stealing your favorite ice cream from the freezer.”
“that actually was a close call”, you chime in, only to hear his soft chuckle.
“you agreed all those nights staying with holly in our shared bed while i traveled across the globe.”
a kiss is planted on the fresh scar across your temple. “you agreed all these moments where my depression was too much, where i was trapped in my own misery.”
a line of kisses travels to your mouth. mere millimeters from your lips he stills. “you do, right?”
under all the layers of love, confidence and familiarity, there is still a shy boy unsure of his worth. your smile is infused with giddiness as you close the gap, pressing your lips together in the softest kiss.
“i do”, you whisper in his mouth, only to meet his tongue with your own in a joyful dance. the boys around you are cheering, while the soft waves of the lake clash against the dock. you’re in pure bliss, kissing your wet fiancé fiercely.
and then you hear a loud thud, a wet slash on the wood. surprised, you both jump away a step – only to see a heaving seokjin lying flat on the deck, chest rising at a fast pace.
“i near- i nearly died for th-this engagement, ____. if – if i’m am not the be-best man, i’ll… will cast a spell on all- all yo-ur children.”
____
ah, this fic is crazy and totally not what i imagined it to become. i hope you enjoyed the read! there is only one chapter left (the stalker) – who’s excited for it?
i hope you are doing well! to you, your family and/or loved ones i wish only the most festive time this week! love, dana
#btswriterscollective#bangtanuniversity#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#bts x reader#bts established relationship#yoongi idol au#bts idol au#yoongi fluff#yoongi angst#min yoongi
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Last Kiss (This Love pt 6)
Bucky x reader (elemental witch)
Set on Endgame.
Note: This one is a rollercoaster of emotions
previous part
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Fear was creeping up within you as you stared at Thanos’ army approaching definitely outnumbering you and the rest of the team. Nevertheless, you were ready to fight in honor of Nat. The wound in your heart from losing her is too fresh.
But before you knew it, a golden ring, followed by another one after another started appearing behind you, and you were too struck to move when one by one, everyone who disappeared five years ago started walking out.
And then you see him, weapon in hand, ready to finish the fight.
The fear within you was long gone, and was suddenly replaced with hope.
--------
Everybody was working together in the fight. You were holding your own pretty well, just killing any one of Thanos’ army near you or overwhelmingly attacking anyone else on your side. You paused for a second to catch your breath when a voice spoke behind you.
“Can’t you look ugly for once, doll? I mean we’re in a middle of a fight and you still look like an angel.” You turned and faced a panting Bucky. He was still holding a weapon, dirt and dried blood on him, but he was giving you a small grin.
Your eyes welled in tears as you take him in. Hell, you don’t know what to say...
“I-”
But before you could finish embarrassing yourself before the man you’ve been waiting on for five years, he closed the space between you and captured you in a kiss.
His lips were softer than you’ve imagined them to be, but before you could even comprehend what was going on, he broke away.
“Buck-” you whispered.
“Just wanted to do that in case I turn to dust again.” he whispered with a shit-eating grin, before turning back to fighting.
You chuckled, shaking your head to not get too distracted from that welcomed rude interruption and went back to fighting.
---------
Nat and Tony. Two of the first Midgardians you’ve met, and now you swore to hold in your heart forever.
It was just a little while after the funeral when you decided to sit with Tony’s daughter Morgan, and Happy.
“You’re Y/N.” She gazed up to you with wonder behind her eyes.
“Yeah, I was your dad’s friend.” you smiled, looking down next to you where she sat. You didn’t know Tony talked about any of you to her.
“He said you would be the best one to build forts with and that he didn’t like your boyfriend.” She tilted her head to the side, reminding you of Tony’s mannerisms.
“I uh... don’t have a boyfriend.” you coughed awkwardly.
“That’s ok, I’m not allowed to have one too.” she gave you a toothy grin. Happy and you exchanged looks.
“Is it Jesus with the robot arm? I saw him staring at you.” She asked you with no hesitation, prompting Happy to stand before you two.
“Yeah, that’s enough. Wanna get that cheeseburger now?” He offered his hand to her, which she took happily and said a quick bye to you.
You made a mental note to pay them a visit someday. Standing up from the seat, you walked down and stopped by the lake when Steve approached you, now in his suit.
“I saw the punk finally kissed you.” He smiled at you.
“We haven’t really talked about it yet. A funeral is hardly the best setting for it.” you shrugged.
“I hope that was the end of you being dumbasses around each other.” he nudged your shoulder, chuckling.
“I don’t know, Steve. I quiet enjoy making you want to pull out that golden hair of yours.” You smirked at him.
“Take care of each other, okay?” He faced you now, making you turn his way as well in confusion.
You were about to ask him why he was talking like he was leaving for good when it clicked. He smiled at you when he saw the realization dawn on you.
“Take care of us yourself, coward.” You smirked, but your eyes were also tearing up. Steve was leaving too.
“I just lifted your father’s hammer.” he feigned offense, and took a step closer to you, taking you in his free arm. “I love you, kid. Despite how much you like making my old heart uncomfortable sometimes.” you felt him kiss the top of your head.
“Again, I called you ‘daddy’ once and it was out of a dare.” you weakly punched his chest. “I love you too, old man. No matter how boring your war stories are.”
Breaking away from him, you wiped the stray tear on your cheek. “Go get that dance.” you smiled genuinely at him, which he returned.
“What, no last snarky remark to remember you by?” he teased, making you roll your eyes at him.
“Don’t break a hip doing so.”
“There we go.”
--------
“Are you sure you wanna stay?” Thor asked you for the third time.
“I don’t like space that much.” you smiled at him. He decided that he was gonna join Quill and the rest of the group. “And with the amount of people who just missed 5 years, I wanna help them get back on their feet.”
“And the old man?”
“Father, I’m older than him.” you reminded. He still couldn’t accept it when Mantis pointed out to him that you have sexual love for the man with the lomg hair and metal arm. He was acting like a protective father.
“If he hurts you, you tell me.”
“Do you have a phone now? A computer?”
“No, what for?” He laughed at you.
“You’ll hear from me through Rocket.” you promised. “You guys take care of yourselves, ok?” and he assured you with a nod.
Throwing your arms around him, you promised to take care of New Asgard, and to stay out of trouble. Your father sealed his departure with a kiss on your temple and a promise to visit you when he can.
--------
You were now walking around the property, exchanging greetings and goodbyes to the people who were still there while looking for Bucky, when you finally see him walking around aimlessly. And as if sensing your eyes on him, he looked your way.
You tried to give him a smile, and you were confused when he didn’t return it, just nodded at you and walked the other way.
You decided to follow him. Catching up, you were now only a few steps away from him when you called him.
“Buck are you okay?” you asked him, concern lacing your voice.
Stopping on his tracks, he turned around to face you with a serious expression.
“Steve left.” He stated looking at you with a frown etched on his forehead.
You nodded as a reply. You couldn’t begin to think how he was feeling.
“You know, it seems that everyone else already knows which path to take next except me. All I’ve been doing is jumping from one fight to another.” He started to rant.
“Wakanda-”
“Y/N I was hiding in Wakanda. I need... I want to start finding myself now that I’m recovered. And let's face it. You need it too. We can’t keep living in a sanctuary. And I just think I can’t start fresh when I’m around people who would remind me even the tiniest of my parts as the winter soldier.” you were still trying to wrap your head around what he was saying when he spoke again.
“I’m sorry for kissing you. I wasn’t thinking straight.” he looked anywhere but you, but his face was contoured with certainty.
“Buck what are you saying?” deep down you knew. You just didn’t want to believe it.
“I’m saying I’m letting you go, Y/N.” He said, his eyes finally meeting yours. “Take care of yourself.” he finished, and turned away again, starting to walk away.
“Bucky I...” You wanted to tell him. To just let it finally out, but now something in you, maybe a little anger, stopped you from making any more of a fool of yourself.
But it didn't go unheard by the super soldier as he turned to look at you one last time.
“I know, Y/N. And I’m sorry but I can’t... I can’t love you the way you'd hope me to. You’ll see that I’m right someday, and you’ll thank me for it.” He gave you one last sad attemot of a smile, before finally leaving you, glued to where you were standing, unable to fathom what just happened while simultaneously feeling a part of you just... break.
--------
(set a little into TFATWS finally)
WARNING: Mention of assault. Look out for *(start) and ** (end)
Six months. It’s been six months since you’ve last seen him. And every day it was getting harder to keep yourself from finally admitting to yourself that you’re mad at him.
True to your promise to Thor, you were taking care of the people of Asgard, using some of the wealth him left you with to send some of the younger ones to school, and with the help of Pepper, even buy some shares of some companies. To say the New Asgard was doing well would be an understatement. The people were merely taking up jobs out of interest.
Val as usual, saw through you. She told you it was okay to be mad – that it was a stepping point to start moving on.
“Come on Y/N. The dude kissed you and changed his mind just like that. I would’ve broken his nose if I were you.” She told you one night after catching you looking at a photo of him given to you by Steve. “You can’t tell me you’re not holding even just a tiny grudge.”
“Okay, if it makes you feel any better, I am holding a little resentment.” you shrugged at her, making her reply ‘good enough’.
You just didn’t think it was going to end that way for you both. And now you were wishing you’ve taken those 5 years as an opportunity to rid of any romantic feelings you had for him. Maybe then it wouldn’t have hurt at all when he left.
You tried to ask Sam a number of times if he had any idea how he was doing, but he’d say that Bucky kept ignoring his texts.
For a few weeks every night, you’d been wearing one of the only shirts he owned back in Wakanda. And before you sleep, you think of the image you’ve engraved in your mind – him sleeping peacefully next to you in Wakanda, just after a nightmare. Then you’ll wake up the next morning hoping he’d have a good day, and that maybe something would remind him of you and make him wish he’d stayed. And It went that way over and over, until one distinct night.
*
There was knocking on your door late at night, waking you up from your sleep. Opening the door, you were met with three of the women you know, holding up a younger one who was crying and shaking in shock.
They explained that she’d been close to getting assaulted after a night of partying and losing sight of her friends. Thankfully the three women found her and were able to pry the man away. But what was worse was that this wasn’t the first time something like that happened.
**
Save the world once or twice, there would still be shitty people. That was what you realized that night.
So maybe he was right. You realized that what the Avengers taught you about Midgard didn’t cover much of the shitty things that happen frequently to innocent people.
And that was when you decided to replace nights off wallowing in self-pity, with going out at night, staying in clubs or hanging out in its bathrooms, just making sure everybody was safe. And soon enough, crime rate at night in your area reduced significantly.
Maybe if you divert your attention to literally anything else besides the man, you’d actually get over him.
All was well until one morning as you were kicking off the heels and taking of your dress from the night before to finally get some sleep, the tv you had on flashed something that caught your attention.
A stranger holding Steve’s Shield was being called the new Captain America.
What the actual fuck?
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@eternalharry @iheartsebandchris @lizzarooni @the-ayo-lit @tanyaherondale @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul
#bucky#bucky angst#bucky barnes#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes masterlist#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes series#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky fanfic#bucky fic recs#bucky fluff#bucky imagine#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x you#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#avengers#the avengers#captain america#the winter solider x reader#the falcon and the winter soldier#thor#end game#avengers endgame#the falcon and the winter soldier imagine
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a gift to you: bellflowers - mammon x GN!MC
Word Count: 1287
Genre: Tiniest bit of angst, comfort, fluff
It was a long day. A very long day. It had started raining while you were at work and you forgot an umbrella. There were one too many rude customers to count and when you came back home there was nothing to do but sulk in your small apartment. It was quiet, and it was lonely. You had said goodbye to the brothers a little over 9 months ago, and it had been going okay since you were able to keep your D.D.D to keep in touch. It seems that God had other plans though. Your D.D.D ended up breaking two months ago due to a stumble you had taken while coming home from work. You parked in your apartment complex's lot and was about to head in when a biker zoomed past you, catching you off guard and causing you to fall hard to the concrete. The fall broke your D.D.D and it's wasn't like there were many places that could fix it.
You fumbled with your keys remembering the upsetting event and opening the door. The bag from your hand was quickly dropped on the ground, your hair was let down and the jacket you were wearing to protect you from the wind outside was discarded. It didn't feel the same as coming home to the House of Lamentation, but the apartment was as close to home and comfort that you could get. If you were able to summon any of the brother's you would've but with the cut contact and Solomon's busy schedule, it just wasn't possible. While you would've been fine with anybody, there was an obvious ache that sunk deeper whenever you thought about about a certain white haired demon.
Really, you only thought of him.
The way he smelled like the sun despite there being no sun in the devildom.
The smile he had on his face whenever you walked in a room.
How he'd hug you after a long day.
How you'd embrace him when he was having a hard time.
It's just not fair. He's always in your head, and sometimes you wonder whether you're ever in his just as much.
It's fine though. In a little over 3 months you'd be able to see him again, and wake up in the same house as him. Eat at the same table as him, and see the same sky that he is. At this point, you'd think yourself obsessed with the second born. You'd normally be embarrassed and flustered now that you caught yourself thinking about him but you were just too drained and too tired. Memories of him and his brothers popped into your head every once in a while when you changed and prepared dinner, they had distracted you so much that you hadn't noticed the new vase on your counter until you got a plate. Quirking an eyebrow you made your way to it. You took a look at the flowers and found an envelope stuck under the decoration. The flowers were a beautiful blueish purple shade and they took the shape of church bells. Moving the vase, you took the envelope in your hand, not letting the shiny golden seal go unnoticed. There was nothing written on it so you could only assume the contents. You sat down at the table and pushed your food aside, making space to open it. The seal easily slid off and you pulled out the paper inside. When you opened it you noticed the whole jumble of words and scribbles, also noting the familiar handwriting. It already made you smile and you haven't read a word yet. Letting out an audible laugh and closing your eyes, you sighed and started to read the letter.
Hey MC,
It’s me, Mammon. I really miss ya It's been a little while, so I wanted to check up on ya. Not sure why ya stopped contacting us, I'm sure it's not big deal but I've been really anxious thinking about ya I just thought I'd make sure you're safe. Wouldn't want Lucifer getting mad if something happened to ya before the program was complete yeah?
*a large paragraph of scribbled out words*
Okay...I really can't keep this up. I'm dyin ya know? How could you leave me high and dry like that... I've been thinking of ya. Everyday. All the damn time actually. Just wondering where you've been, and why you haven't been responding. I keep telling myself that you're okay and that I'll get to see ya in a few months but- that's not enough. You know me. I'm greedy and I need more, so if you get this, and you're not tryna ignore me maybe- send a call sometime? Or a letter just, something. Please. I'm beggin ya.
Everyone else is worried too ya know. Lucifer acts like he doesn't care, but he's stressed he can't make the time to find ya. Levi's been more shut in ever since you left so can't imagine how he's actin now that you've been...away. Satan and Asmo have been actin pretty normal, but behind closed doors- MC you wouldn't believe it if I told ya. Beel And Belphie are waiting too. Ya can't leave them hanging like that right?
But hey, never forget that I'm your first man, and I'll be thinking of ya more than the others. Swear by it. If something happened to ya... I don't know what I'd do, so I just hope that you get this. And in good condition too. I'd hate it if something happened and I wasn't there to help or protect ya.
You did so much for me ya know? I'm just, so grateful. That I have someone like you in my life. I'm missin ya more by the day MC. Help me out yeah? Just send a word in, maybe look out for my crows. I'm sure they're our there somewhere maybe give them a pat on the head.
MC you're okay right? I'm okay if you are. So, be okay for me. Being away from you like this made me realize how lucky I was to have just met you. Well that's a lie, I knew the day I made that pact with ya. Each time you'd help me out, comfort me, or even just smile. You really mess with me ya know that? I can't have ya do that if you're not around...so, hurry back to me huh? I can't be holding my arms out forever- but I will. Even if you don't come back to them, they'll always be out. Only for you MC. I love ya, and I can't wait to hear back from ya.
Your Mammon
P.S.
Ah by the way, I forgot to mention. I sent some flowers. Barbatos helped me pick them out. They're Bellflowers, he said something about them representing gratittude, affection and... everlasting love. Take care of them yeah?
They're pretty, but not as beautiful as you are.
Now that was pretty cheesy wasn't it?
The paper was wet. You'd thought for a brief second that maybe the table or your hands were wet, but once you came to your senses you felt the tears streaming down your face. You closed your eyes tight, hold the letter gently to your chest, whispering a quick "I love you too Mams" before completely breaking down. That was the most you'd cried in weeks, that empty feeling you had left all together. With the strength left you ignored the now cooled down food on the table and made your way to your room finding some stationary you picked up a pen.
Now you obviously couldn't leave him hanging after that.
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Obey Me Masterlist (unfinished)
#fanfic#obey me#shall we date obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me brothers#fluff#mammon x reader#om! mammon#gn!mc#mammon obey me#loving mammon moments#obey me letters#mammoney#mammon avatar of greed
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— SQUIRM, BABY.
You don’t like Doh Kyungsoo. Especially not when he’s got his fingers buried knuckle deep inside of you and your seeing stars —goddamn stars!— but can’t make a sound unless you want the entire library to know exactly what he’s doing to you under the table.
┗ Pairing: Tutor!Kyungsoo x Reader
Genre: college au, tutor au, enemies w benefits au, smut
Words: 4.7k
Rating: 18+
Warnings: strong language, sexual acts in a public setting, fingering
A/N; tomorrow is going to be my 1 year anniversary as an EXO-L!! oh my goodness that feels so crazy, time really flies. so here is a little present from me to you, enjoy lovelies!!
“These are all wrong,” Kyungsoo mutters blankly, “start over.”
A loud groan is ripped from your throat, the sound earning you more than a few sideways glares from the surrounding tables but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been here for two hours, studying one of the most intolerable subjects in the world: Calculus. The mere mention of its name made you shiver in disgust.
To be blunt, you’d always been shit at math. Numbers and equations were never your strong suit, not in high school and definitely not now with the added complexities of derivatives and differential equations (neither of which made even the slightest bit of sense to you). You much preferred the gentleness of literature and history to the strict logic and rules of mathematics and science. Unfortunately for you, the latter subjects were just as vital a part of your education, and opting out of them was not an option.
“Can’t we take a break?” You almost whine the question, pressing your fingers into your throbbing temples. “My brain feels like it’s going to explode.”
“No.”
You scowl at the bluntness of his rejection. “I’m paying you.” You point out, stabbing a finger into his bicep for emphasis. “Shouldn’t I have a say in when we take a break?”
He rolls his eyes, swatting your hand away and shoving the paper back in your direction. “I’m giving you your money’s worth. Do it again.”
You let out a noisy huff of air, slouching over dramatically in the stiff plastic chair until your chin is pressed against the cold table. “I hope you know I am deeply regretting some of my life decisions right about now.” You grumble, shooting him an icy glare that you hope conveys the absolute loathing you feel for both him and the set of problems laid before you.
“I thought that was a daily thing for you.”
Scoffing, you bury your mouth in the thick sleeve of your hoodie. “Your face is a daily thing for me.”
He doesn’t even bother to look at you, though you could almost feel the intensity of his deadpan. “I think that was the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”
“Your face is the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”
“You do realize that that makes absolutely no sense.”
“Your fa—”
“Shut up and do your work.”
He either doesn’t hear or consciously chooses to ignore the colorful array of curses you grumble spitefully in his direction, though simultaneously resigning yourself to the fact that you won’t be able to put off your work inevitably. Kyungsoo was a stickler for proper time management. If he had an agenda set in place for your tutoring session (which he always did), then you better believe he’d be checking off each item within its designated time frame. And if you don’t cooperate— well then, your best bet is to pray that there isn’t a mechanical pencil within his reach.
He might not always be able to reach the top shelf, but Kyungsoo had ways of getting what he wanted. Usually, that chilling glare was enough to get those around him to bend to his will. He could be a scary little shit when he wanted to be. You’ll admit, even you had been the tiniest bit intimidated when you first met him. He was quiet, reserved, strict in manner, but also the dangerous unpredictable type, you gathered that much quickly enough. Maybe that’s why the two of you didn’t get on too well.
Where he was cool and standoffish, “a man of few words” some might say, you were more vocal about your opinions, social by nature, always eager to meet new people and make new connections. You had a tendency to speak loudly when excited and talk with your hands when passionate about a subject. That was something most people learned about you very quickly. Unfortunately, upon your first official meeting at a party in your freshman year with your mutual friends, Kyungsoo had no idea just how emphatic you could be until you’d knocked his drink clean out of his hand and spilled it down the front of his brand new shirt.
It was an accident, of course. You’d apologized profusely and he’d accepted it (albeit somewhat begrudgingly), but that was probably the first of many missteps in your... unique relationship.
With such conflicting personalities, it was understandable that you got into frequent arguments about one thing or another. Petty disagreements would often grow into something larger than they really needed to be. Mostly because despite having such contrasting personalities, you shared the trait of innate stubbornness, neither of you willing to admit when you were wrong. It was easy to argue with him, and you liked when you proved him wrong. You liked the way his brows furrowed and his cheeks flushed. You liked the way he glared, the way his lips pouted. You like the challenge he presented you with every time he opened his mouth. Above, you loved to win. Especially when it was against him.
So you pushed, and he pushed right back. And before you knew it, you found yourself a proper ‘frenemy’, though you aren’t sure that that’s quite the right word to describe whatever it was you two were.
But that’s just how the two of you are, how you’d always been. If you were being honest, riling him, seeing that usually so stoic, so controlled expression crack when you pushed just the right buttons— it was fun. You thoroughly enjoyed fucking with him, discovering new and creative ways to get under his skin. And you knew he got just as much satisfaction from doing the same to you, rendering you speechless with witty comebacks, flustering you with his sharp tongue and impressive rebukes.
So really, was it such a terrible thing?
Not to mention, a number of not-so-terrible things occurred as a result of one of your many arguments, such as hiring him as your calculus tutor. One that started out with you claiming he would probably be the shittiest teacher to ever exist (which seemed a valid argument at the time considering how short tempered and impatient he could be *cough* with you *cough*) to which he rebutted with the claim that he could “teach a goldfish advanced calculus” if he set his mind to it, and considering that you “had an IQ equivalent to one”, he could without a doubt teach you. His words, obviously.
It just so happened that you had a calculus exam coming up that next week, so to prove his point, he tutored you for the three days preceding said test. Even though you loathe being proven wrong, you ended up getting one of the highest scores you’d ever gotten on a math test in your entire academic career.
Putting your pride aside, you made the suggestion that he continue to tutor you. He only agreed when you offered him green in exchange for his troubles and admitted that he was right (it took a few extra hours to convince yourself that your grades should be held above your ego before you could bring yourself to verbally admit defeat).
And now here you are, not flunking out of calculus. You’d consider that worthy of the bruise to your pride, even if only by a small margin.
“Kyungsoo, why’d you mark this one wrong?” You frown at the large red X marking problem two as incorrect. You’d been glaring at your scribbled work for almost two minutes, running over the problem in your head, but you couldn’t seem to figure out where he thought you’d gone wrong. It looks right enough to you.
Kyungsoo shifts over to get a better look, his arms pressing against yours in the process and you are briefly stunned by the sudden, unexpected closeness, wholly unable to stop yourself from noticing the faint, woody scent of his aftershave that caresses your senses. Fuck. You can’t tell if you hate or love the fact that he smelled so good. Partly love it because good hygiene is always something to admire in a man (even if that man was Doh Kyungsoo), partly hate it because dammit it’s Doh Kyungsoo and you loathe finding anything that has to do with him attractive. Plus, it’s distracting. You’re here trying to learn and he has the audacity to go around smelling like pine trees and fresh moss after a rainfall. Unfair.
“Right here.”
The scowl you don’t realize you’re wearing immediately drops away as the low baritone of his voice thrums through the cavity of your ribcage and you lean forward to see exactly what he’s pointing at.
“You multiplied straight through instead of distributing.” He explains further upon seeing the uncertainty on your face. A few seconds of further inspection and you finally see what he’s talking about.
“Fuck,” you hiss, “I’m so stupid.”
“It’s an easy mistake to make.” He reassures.
“Yeah, but I should know that by now, I should’ve—” you turn your head, only to nearly choke on air as you discover that any space that once existed between the two of you has virtually disappeared, “... seen it.”
He’s close, so close that you can feel the cool rush of his breath against your skin as he exhales, goosebumps bristling across your arms in response. He’s close. Too close. You can’t think straight, can’t even breathe. The moment that surrounds you feels fragile, like even the slightest disruption would rupture it completely.
Frozen, you can only swallow around the sudden dryness of your mouth as your treacherous eyes drop to trace the plush line of his lips. Who even has lips like that? They’re just so big and so pink, that dark, kissable kind of pink that every girl just wishes her lips could be. You, included. They look soft, and you can’t help but to wonder if they’d still taste like the strawberry bubblegum he’d been chewing on at the beginning of your tutoring session.
“Careful, ___.” The sound of Kyungsoo’s voice, raspier than you recall it being before and laced in a faintly taunting pitch, is enough to break you from your trance and, once freed, you whip your head around fast enough to give yourself whiplash.
“Fuck off.” You cough, jaw clenching as you attempt to drag your mind out from the gutter and back onto the calculus problems you have yet to correct. But for whatever reason your brain refuses to cooperate, instead filling your head with images of his pretty mouth and everything it could be doing instead of rambling on about something as uninteresting as calculus. Damnit.
No doubt seeing the distress written clearly across your face, Kyungsoo chuckles, the sound low and smooth where it drips from his lips, and a familiar heat blossoms in the pit of your stomach.
You can feel his eyes on you now, every cell of your being suddenly hyperaware of his presence beside you. The pressure of his knee where it nudges against yours, the teasing curl of his lips as he watches you struggle to focus, the warmth of his palm caressing up your thigh, the— wait what?
Your gaze whips down, breath hitching at the sight of Kyungsoo’s hand gently gripping the lagging clad flesh just above your knee. It’s another few seconds before you’re able to find your voice again.
“W– What’re you—?”
“Focus.” He cuts you off smoothly, fingers soothing over the inside of your leg, squeezing gently. When you don’t look away from him, he smirks, jerking his chin forward in a manner you can only interpret as challenging. There’s a familiar glint in his eye, a dangerous glint that doesn’t fail to provoke your competitive side. You know that look well. He’s challenging you.
And you don’t back down from a challenge.
Especially not from Doh Kyungsoo.
Determination flairs up inside of you, your jaw clenching as you strike him with a single, heated glare that read plain and simple ‘you. are. on.’ before honing all your attention onto the worksheet in front of you. It’s not too difficult to focus at first, to disregard the tingles that erupt across your skin where his hot touch sears into it. You manage to find and correct your error in one of the problems (impressive for you even if Kyungsoo wasn’t feeling your leg up under the table).
But whatever pride you find in doing so is quickly quelled when his hand suddenly shifts higher, and you feel the faintest pressure against your heat. It’s a sensation that robs you of your ability to breathe entirely for a handful of seconds, and you can’t stop the shiver that ripples down your spine.
This, you see, is one of the more recent developments in your oh-so complicated relationship with Doh Kyungsoo. Yet another that began with a disagreement at a party, over something you can’t even remember anymore thanks to the haze of alcohol that clouded both your minds at the time, that spiraled way out of proportion. You remember yelling at him, insulting him, stabbing your finger into his chest, feeling the sting of his lethal glare. God, he’d looked so pissed off, and you just fed off of it, fed off the rage and the frustration that festered like lava in those dark brown eyes. The angrier he got, the harder you pushed, until he finally snapped.
You’re still not sure what you expected to happen. What you expected him to do. But you sure as hell hadn’t anticipated him grabbing you by the throat and pulling you into one of the hottest, most mind numbing kisses you’d ever experienced.
Next thing you remember is being in a bed. Whose bed it was, isn’t important. What is important, however, is the fact that that night you had the best sex of your entire life with the man you thought you couldn’t stand.
Hate sex with Doh Kyungsoo opened your eyes to a whole new world of mind boggling pleasure that you’d never experienced before. Pleasure that no other person had ever been able to give you. God, the things he did to you. No one had ever touched you like that before. It was like he knew all the places on your body that made you unravel. He honestly ruined all other men for you that night because none have even come close to comparing. Which was beyond frustrating especially considering that, at the time, you thought it was a one time thing.
The morning after you both pretended that nothing happened. In the two weeks following as well, neither one of you mentioned it. You tried to erase the memory from your brain, tried to go back to normal, but it was hard considering every time you needed some sexual release (which was more often than you care to admit), it was his hands, his mouth, his cock that you imagined while you touched yourself. You replayed his moans in your head, his deep, rasping voice growling your name, and fuck, you never came harder.
But it was still nothing compared to the real thing.
As time passed you only grew more and more frustrated. Worst of all, you could tell he was feeling it too. It was obvious in the way he looked at you, with fire burning in eyes, in the way he spoke to you, with a pitch of something hot and wanting in his voice, in the way he lost his cool far quicker and far more often than he had in the past, your arguments fiercer and more frequent than they’d ever been. The tension between the two of you was palpable, thick enough to be cut with a knife. It got to the point where even your most oblivious of friends started noticing it as well, though they knew better than to voice their curiosity.
The second time it happened, you were both sober and, somehow, it was even better than you remembered. The pleasure was more intense, more overwhelming, a feeling you can’t even put into words. Then it kept happening. Late at night when he’d show up unannounced at your door. Early in the morning when you had an important exam later in the day and you needed some pre-test de-stressing. Between classes in the back seat of his car just because you could. At parties when your friends were too shit faced to notice the two of you slipping into an unoccupied bedroom.
Just sex. That’s what you both agreed to when it became blatantly obvious that your little ‘arrangement’ wouldn’t be coming to an end any time soon. No strings. Just sex. Just really, really good sex.
And that was perfectly fine by you.
Exhaling shakily through your nose, you try to block out the feeling of his thumb as it begins to caress gently up and down your clothed core, suddenly very grateful for the layers of fabric that separate you from his intoxicating touch. But it’s a gratitude that’s short lived. Just as you manage to adjust and scribble down a correction, he cups his hand over your mound and squeezes. A gasp escapes you, and you try to cover up the sound with a series of short coughs, the sting embarrassment intertwining with the warmth of pleasure as a few eyes briefly glance in your direction.
“You’re such an asshole.” You hiss under your breath, thighs tightening around his hand, locking it in place.
He throws you a lopsided grin, brows lifting and you don’t miss the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I’ve been called worse.” What he means is you’ve called him worse.
Your lips part, but any intelligible words die on the tip of your tongue as he grinds the heel of his palm down, directly against your clit. Your head drops, eyes squeezing shut, teeth locking down firmly on your lower lip in order to silence the soft moan that threatens to break free.
“F- fuck.”
You hear him coo tauntingly beside you at your slip, the tips of his skilled fingers easily locating your entrance and prodding experimentally. At this point, you don’t doubt he can feel the fabric of your leggings growing hot and wet with your arousal.
Despite being used to the quick effect he had on your body, you can help but to feel the slightest twinge of shame at how he was able to rile you up this much with little more than a few well-placed strokes of his fingers. But fuck, it felt so good. You’d already been feeling somewhat deprived since you’d both been so busy this past week with exams and projects and what not. This is the first time you’re spending time with him since almost a week ago.
And you are in need of a fix.
“You look like you’re having a bit of trouble on that problem. Do you need my help?” Kyungsoo leans into you, his face right up next to yours, and you have to resist the sudden urge to kiss him right then in there in front of everyone in the stupid library.
Instead, you grit out an unconvincing, “I’m fine,” and force yourself to stay focused on the dizzying mess of numbers and letters on the worksheet in front of you and not on the delicious warmth of his hand where it is applying just the right amount of pressure to keep you teetering between pleasure and the insatiable need for more.
“You sure?” There’s a certain lightness to his voice that tells you he is thoroughly enjoying watching you struggle. Sadistic bastard.
“Positive.”
And just like that, he’s gone. You almost gasp as a rush of cold air fills the places he had been, and you can’t help the frown that tugs at the corners of your lips, disappointment and irritation coloring your features before you can reel them in. From the corner of your eye, you chance a glance in his direction. The smug, knowing little smirk staining his lips sends a wave of heat pulsing into your cheeks, and you grit your teeth in frustration.
“So what, you’re just going to stop?” You whisper sharply, not making any attempt whatsoever to hide your annoyance.
A look of feigned innocence overcomes his features. “You said you didn’t need my help.”
You grit your teeth, glaring at him as hard as you can manage with how incredibly turned on you are. But he remains unfazed.
“If you want my help,” he continues, voice dropping an entire octave, “you’re going to have to ask for it... nicely.”
Nice wasn’t a word in your vocabulary when Kyungsoo was involved.
Seeing the resistance you are still putting up, he feathers his fingers over your thigh, tracing slow designs across the thin, black fabric. You swallow, unable to look away as they trail dangerously higher, teasing closer to where you both knew you wanted them most.
“You do want it, don’t you?”
Fuck, you want it so bad.
You know that he knows you want it. It’s just the getting yourself to actually say it out loud part that proves to be a challenge. But that’s exactly what he wants you to do, he wants to hear you say it, wants to see you cast aside your stubborn pride and beg for it. Beg for him.
Lifting your eyes, you glance unsurely around the library. It isn’t overly crowded anymore since most of the other students have begun to trickle out as late afternoon approaches. Plus, the table you were seated at was tucked into the far back corner of the room, secluded and out of the way. But still, your nerves buzzed at the thought of someone seeing. Though maybe — just maybe — there was a buzz of something else as well. Excitement, perhaps?
Grip tightening around your pencil, you chewed on the corner of your lip, refusing to meet Kyungsoo’s penetrating gaze as you let out a soft murmur. “...ease.”
He leans closer, mirth shimmering in his eyes. “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”
Groaning, you shoot him a scowl, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Please help me, asshole.”
Laughter bubbles at his lips, the genuine kind that makes his cheeks lift and his nose wrinkle. You like it when he laughs like that. Makes him look a lot less like a serial killer.
Sinking his teeth into the pillowy flesh of his lower lip to stifle his laughter, he shoots you a lazy grin, “that’s all you had to say.”
Next thing you know, his hand is slipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and into the soft cotton confines of your underwear. Your mouth fell open, a sharp inhale filling your lungs with cold air as his fingers slid through your slick folds.
“I knew you were wet but shit.” He hisses, thick brows furrowing at the feeling of your heavy arousal coating the length of his digits. “I must say, I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be,” you breathe, eyes fluttering, “even Chanyeol can get me this— ngh!”
Without warning, he plunges his middle finger inside of you, and the remainder of your sentence pitches into a strangled moan. One look at his face, jaw clenched, nostrils flared, lips down turned, tells you he isn’t all too pleased at the mention of another man’s name, especially when he’s the one buried knuckle deep in your greedy cunt.
A hazy smirk curls onto your lips and you let out a low hum of pleasure, walls squeezing around him. “You’re sexy when you’re mad.”
“Is that why you enjoy pissing me off so much?” He questions, tone biting and low, and you shutter involuntarily as he rolls the pad of his thumb harshly over your aching clit.
“Partly.” You admit, somewhat breathless. “But you’re also just a really fun person to piss off.”
He chuckles dryly in response, though the sound lacks any genuine amusement. “You are such a brat, you know that?” He emphasizes the word by stretching you around a second finger, and you have to drop your pencil in favor of clasping your hand over your mouth, unable to swallow down the soft whimpers that tremble up your throat.
“You love it.” You manage to get out before you’re forced to bite into the tender flesh of your palm to muffle a desperate cry when the slow thrusts of his digits suddenly picks up speed. Your thighs squeeze around his hand, hips jerking up to grind your throbbing clit against the heel of his palm. Electricity ricochets through your veins, and you feel that distinctive tightening in the pit of your stomach. Kyungsoo also feels the way you throb and clench around him, and makes sure to grind down hard against your swollen clit.
Heat immediately spreads through your core, the intensity of the pleasure becoming more than you can handle. “Oh god, Kyungsoo.” Your voice comes out louder than you intended, and you quickly duck your head, doing your best to make it seem like you’re focusing on your work and not the fingers drilling relentlessly into your g-spot, praying to god that no one had seen the blissed out expression on your face. Still, you can’t help the quiet whine that escapes you when his ministrations slow.
“Are you trying to get us caught?” He asks in less than a whisper, breath hot against the shell of your ear. “Ever hear of subtlety?”
“Ever hear of suck my dick?” You snap back without missing a beat, only to jolt as his fingers curl inside of you, pressing directly against that sensitive bundle of nerves. Every muscle in your body tenses, and fuck you’re so close you can almost taste it. Frantically, you thrust your hips, desperately trying to fuck yourself down on his digits.
“Sit still.” He growls, and you quiver when he sinks his teeth into the lobe of your ear, obeying only because you really don’t want to get banned from the campus library if someone happened to catch on.
“Soo— fuck,” the force with which you bite into your lip is nearly about to break the skin, but you can’t be bothered by the pain, not with how quickly your orgasm was approaching. Sensing as much, Kyungsoo goes the extra mile of drawing hard, fast figure eights over your clit with his thumb while simultaneously thrusting his fingers into you so fast that you swear you can almost hear it.
All at once fire roars through your veins, euphoria consuming you as your high crashes over you. Your walls spasm around his digits, painting them with your release.
He doesn’t withdraw from you until you go slack, thighs spreading, body slumping back in your chair, eyes fluttering as a hazy, blissed out smile touches your lips. You can only watch through hooded lids as he brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, sighing in amazement as he sucks them clean. There’s a twinge of arousal in your core as he moans softly at the taste of you on his tongue, a downright lethal sound that somehow manages to rouse your positively spent pussy.
This man is going to be the absolute death of you one of these days.
“Fuck.” You chuckle airily, heady gaze flickered over him lazily, only to do a double take when you notice something standing upright beneath the zipper of his jeans. The corners of your lips twirled into a mirthful grin, eyebrows raising slowly.
“Need some help with that?”
“Yes.” He answers shamelessly and without hesitation, grunting softly as he adjusts himself in the tight confines of his jeans to make the raging hard-on he’s sporting somewhat less obvious. “But not here.”
“I figured. So... your car or mine?”
“Didn’t you just get a new one with reclining seats?” He questions, running the tip of his tongue over the seam of his lip at the mere implication.
You strike him with a wicked grin, already beginning to shove your things into your bag. “I did indeed.”
“Then what are we— wait.”
“What?”
“You didn’t finish correcting the worksheet yet.” He points out, drumming his fingers across the paper that had completely slipped your mind.
You pull a face, pausing in the act of gathering your belongings long enough to cross your arms pointedly over your chest. “No offense, Kyungsoo, sweetheart, but I’d much rather suck your dick than do one more of those stupid fucking calc problems.”
His brows leap to his hairline, and he offers a single nod of acceptance, in no position to argue with such a valid point.
“Noted.”
#exo imagines#exo oneshot#exo scenarios#exo au#exo smut#exo fluff#Kyungsoo#doh kyungsoo#kyungsoo x reader#exo x reader#exo fanfic#exo fanfiction#exo fic#kyungsoo imagine#Kyungsoo Scenario#kyungsoo oneshot#kyungsoo au#kyungsoo smut#kyungsoo fanfic#kyungsoo fanfiction#exo kyungsoo#d.o.#kpop#kpop fanfic#kpop smut#exo
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nanamin + 24? 👉👈
Thanks for requesting, anon! I hope you enjoy! 😁
A/N: I chose Nanami’s drinks based on my recent coffee orders. I feel like, as a foodie, he would be open to trying new things but still have some solid go-to beverages. (And I don’t know why I’ve come to associate him with chocolate croissants. It just sort of happened.)
• • •
Nanami + “confusing a handshake for a fist bump”
You have quite a few regular customers at the small coffee shop where you work, from the nearby florist who occasionally brings you fresh blooms, to polished businessmen who always order the same thing, in that clipped, serious tone.
But recently, you’ve noticed two newly-familiar faces stopping in a few times each week. And without you realizing it, you’ve begun to look forward to seeing them — well, one in particular, if you’re being honest.
“Nanamin!” A teenage boy with pale pink hair is crouched in front of the baked goods display, face nearly pressed against the glass. “Look! They have those chocolate croissants you like.”
The man standing beside him sighs. “I can see that, Itadori-kun.”
He’s tall and well-dressed, wearing a tan suit and a navy blue button-down paired with an abstract-patterned tie. His blond hair is pushed back from his angular face, and a pair of armless glasses sit on his nose, making it difficult to see his eyes.
As if sensing your gaze, he turns and asks, “Can we please have two chocolate croissants, a flat white, and a hot chocolate to go?”
Behind him, the boy’s head whips around, his expression elated. “I get one, too? Ooh, ooh, can I have whipped cream on my hot chocolate?”
The man sighs yet again, but when you laugh softly, he looks at you — really looks at you, in a way many customers don’t — and you swear the corner of his lips tilts up.
When their order is ready, you hand everything across the counter, smiling as the boy — Itadori — immediately takes a gigantic bite of his flaky treat.
“‘S’good!” he proclaims, mouth still full, and the man grimaces.
“You’re impossible.” His tone is deadpan, but the look he gives you is much less harsh. “Thank you. Have a nice day.”
“You, too!” you manage to reply, glad that you didn’t stumble over your words this time. The last time you saw him, you stammered so badly while repeating his order, you were positive he assumed you were incompetent.
In reality, you just have the biggest, stupidest crush, on a man whose name you don’t even know, apart from “Nanamin.” That has to be a nickname, you think, watching them both walk away.
Outside, you see Itadori turn and offer his fist to your mystery customer, and with what looks like another heavy sigh, he stiffly bumps his own fist against it, resulting in what seems to be a loud cheer from the boy.
Before they turn the corner just beyond the front window, you see the man push his glasses further up his nose. He looks beleaguered — but also, you think, happy. In his own subdued way.
A few days pass, and you would never admit it to your coworkers, but you spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about your handsome new regular. And every time the bell above the door rings, you look up, hoping it’s him who walks in.
But you don’t see him again until the following week. This time, he’s alone, and he’s carrying an umbrella, looking dismayed by the afternoon downpour. At the moment, he’s your only customer, and with your coworkers out for a late lunch, you’re the only one behind the counter.
Here’s your chance, you tell yourself, heart pounding anxiously as he approaches.
“Good afternoon! What can I get you today?”
He looks at the menu on the wall behind you, tilting his head slightly as he considers his options. You take the opportunity to openly gaze at him, noticing that his tie is the tiniest bit crooked, a few strands of hair have fallen across his forehead, and there’s a small stain on the front of his otherwise-pristine shirt. Maybe some jam or ketchup...?
“What would you recommend?”
You’re thrown by his question. Every time he’s come in, he’s been decisive, always ordering either a flat white or a black coffee. You suspect the choice depends on his mood, though, at this point, you don’t have much data to support your hypothesis.
But this is something totally new.
“Oh! Uh... I’m kind of all over the place with what I pick,” you say with a smile. “But for a rainy day, maybe... a lavender latte with oat milk?” Before he can respond, you quickly add, “But if you don’t like lavender, we also have —”
“I’d like to try it.” Unlike the rude customers who sometimes talk over you, his voice is quiet and kind, his interruption meant to reassure rather than exasperate.
You busy yourself with his drink and ask, head bent down, “Did you want anything else? I think there’s a chocolate croissant left.”
“I’m surprised you remembered.”
“They’re my favorite, too.” The excuse comes easily, maybe because it’s the truth, and you feel your face grow warm. You secretly hope it’s one of many things you both might have in common.
He doesn’t reply, but you go ahead and retrieve the pastry anyway, carefully bagging it up before handing him his coffee.
It’s while you’re counting his change that you swallow thickly, take a breath, and ask, “What’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking.” When you look up and notice his raised eyebrows, you hastily explain, “I like to get to know our regulars, and you’ve come in a lot lately...” You hold out your hand. “I’m Y/N.”
“Nanami Kento.” But when his hand nears yours, you’re startled to see that it’s... clenched in a fist? He freezes, having noticed his mistake, and immediately readjusts, clasping your hand tightly.
“I apologize,” he mutters. “Itadori... He —”
“Oh, I know.” When you laugh, you’re even more amused to see a faint blush in his cheeks. “It’s cute.”
He looks stunned. “Cute?”
“Yeah.”
You both stand there for a moment, looking at one another, and you’re not sure you want to break the silence. It’s comfortable, talking with him in the quiet of the afternoon lull, listening to the rain patter against the windows.
Nanami takes a sip of his coffee, and then says, “I’ll have to remember to order this next time.”
“If you don’t, I’ll remember for you,” you offer without thinking. And even as you wonder if that was too forward, too weird to say... he smiles. Not just a quirk of his lips, but an actual smile, albeit a small one.
“Thank you, Y/N.”
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