#sometimes the poor guy thinks she's glancing at him because he made a mistake or something lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yeojaa · 4 years

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( DEVIL IN A NEW SUIT. )

Money’s something that makes the world go around. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag. You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do.

That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash. You simply can’t let it go on.

pairing. jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. idiots to lovers. fluff, angst, smut. the holy trifecta, babies! explicit, obviously.

tags / warnings. mentions of infidelity, kook being adorable and sad, reader being a bit of a tactless butthole, a satin playsuit (very nsfw), kook does a 180, smut in the form of: a slight oral fixation, too much spit, overstimulation, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (pls don’t be irresponsible).

wc. 12.2k of nonsense. pure nonsense, i tells ya.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif did what she always does aka read through this and made me a better writer and @yeoldontknow dealt with my big dumbass and let me cry about my pea brain to her. i love you both sm!!! ✨💜

author note. the long-awaited fic is here!! i really hope you enjoy it. if you do, please maybe leave a comment or something? i swung back and forth between loving and hating this so it’d really, really mean a lot. anyway, thanks as always for reading and i adore you! stay safe and happy and healthy!

He’s a sucker. That’s what you think of him, despite the fact you’ve never met him. It’d be impossible not to, given what you’ve heard.

His girlfriend - or something - is in every other week, flashing his black card like she has something to prove. Sometimes, she’s by herself; often, she’s with another gaggle of girls that fawn all over themselves and shriek a little too loudly for your taste. They’re vapid, snooty in a way that makes you cringe every time they step into the boutique. Still, you’re nice because this is your job and you have to be. You can’t exactly tell a paying customer to get lost - even if you think it at least six times each visit.

“He has no idea.” It’s always the same thing, a story that pulls at your heartstrings yet has you scoffing in equal parts. “I told him we were doing a girls’ trip but Hyunjin’s going to meet me on his way back and we’re spending the week at the Ritz.”

How can he possibly be this dumb, you wonder. How can’t he see past the pretty pink lipstick and perfectly coiffed blonde hair? It isn’t even that nice of a colour job - too icy and reminiscent of Malibu Barbie.

(She’d bragged about it once - how she’d gotten an appointment at one of the most coveted salons in the city, spending hours in the stylist’s chair to get this “perfect shade”. Her words, not yours.)

You figure he must be some lonely schmuck, some poor old sap who can’t possibly get what he’s looking for anywhere else. Maybe he had some weird spoiling kink - if so, where was your man like that - or he just wanted companionship and found it in the arms of girls who paid him any sort of attention. Truthfully, you thought a lot of things about him. Kind of had to, given how often his girlfriend was in, rambling about her exploits and snickering behind his back.

You’d never expected him to be like this.

Jeon Jungkook shows up on a Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch and with the dopiest smile on his face.

Your colleague notices him first, nudging you to attention because you, unlike her, actually do productive things while you’re at work like go through layaways and make sure items aren’t sitting in the back gathering dust.

“He’s cute,” she very poorly whispers, voice carrying because it always does. She’s a younger girl - maybe a few years your junior, who’d gotten her job through pure nepotism - but she’s sweet enough. Zero tact, though. Never notices when she’s being just a little too forceful with her sales but her sweet smile and full rack seem to keep her from getting into any trouble. You consider her a vaguely annoying sister, someone you love even when you don’t necessarily like her.

You glance up from the iPad balanced in your hands, disinterested. “Who?”

There’s an older couple striding past the entrance, hand-in-hand with three Hermes bags. (God, what awful taste.) There’s another couple standing at the mouth of the Louis Vuitton boutique, bickering about which belt will best match the boyfriend’s tux best. (The answer is neither, because those belts do not belong with a classic black tux.)

“Him.”

Yejin all but points him out, jerking her chin in his direction. You don’t know how you hadn’t really clocked him in the first place. Maybe because he’s so unassuming that you’d just brushed over him, noting his outfit before moving on. When you look at him - really look at him - you can’t look away.

You think he’s handsome in that off-kilter kind of way, too-big teeth and too-wide eyes. He’s terribly innocent looking, despite the fact that he’s wearing a gleaming gold Rolex and sleek black boots you recognise from Prada’s 2019 RTW. Everything he wears is tailored, fitting him to the point you wonder who his seamstress is.

But then he speaks, and it’s not the suave, sultry voice you’d expect. It’s featherlight and almost shy, bashful in its delivery.

“I’m here to pick up a bag for my girlfriend?” He upspeaks. It’s stupidly adorable.

Bless her soul, Yejin throws a glance in your direction first. A silent ‘yours or mine?’ that’s answered when you step forward, blindingly bright customer service smile in full effect. “What’s the item and the name it’s under?” You keep in mind he’s said girlfriend very clearly, even as you can’t help but trail your stare over his shoulders, the dimple that digs itself into his cheek when he speaks again.

“Oh, it’s under mine. Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”

You’re floored. This is Jeon Jungkook? This specimen draped in leather and fine Japanese silk is the poor idiot wrapped around Barbie’s finger? You’ve got to be kidding.

You wonder whether the surprise is evident on your face. It must be, given how quickly Yejin interrupts, piping up in that saccharine sweet voice of hers. “I’ll grab it! The Box bag in cloud, right?”

Jungkook can only nod dumbly. He has no idea what he’s there to pick up - only that he needs to because his girlfriend is away on a trip with her two best female friends. He tells you as much, chuckling at his own ignorance. It’d be cute if it weren’t so sad, his eyes twinkling like the jewels set in your ears. There’s so much love in his eyes it’s frankly sickening.

It comes before you can help it, snapping off your tongue - an oil spill ready to drag him to the depths of hell.

“Oh - you’re Kiko’s boyfriend? I thought you’d left for Hong Kong already.” Your head tilts - the picture of innocence as you continue to spew things you shouldn’t, staining the innocence of his expression with each word that drops off. “She said she was leaving on Friday.” Even while you’re tearing this poor man’s life apart, you’re racking your brain for the off-handed comments she’d made. “She kept going on and on about how she was so excited to be staying at the Ritz.”

It’s almost like you gain some sick sort of satisfaction in watching his face fall. You’ve never seen someone crumble so quickly, every ounce of affection swept up and spat out in the time it takes you to take a solid, proper breath.

You do feel bad. Not for saying it, but for being the person to do this. For hurting this stranger. (At least he knew?)

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else.” Gone is the sunny friendliness, the blissful geniality. He’s very much uncertain, bunny teeth digging into the full swell of his bottom lip. He’s pigeon-toed and round-shouldered, thick brows drawn neatly over his stare as he focuses on some indeterminate point somewhere by his feet.

If Yejin were on the floor with you, she’d tell you to knock it off. Chastise you for getting involved in something you had no business being in. (She’d be right, but you’ve always been an advocate for tough love.) As it stands, she’s still in the back finding that stupid girl’s bag and you’re here, shaking your head, weakening Jungkook’s resolve with the edge of your teeth. “No, she definitely said she was going away with her boyfriend. Did you maybe give us the wrong name?”

Maybe if he weren’t so upset, he’d be more offended by the insinuation he’s stupid. Instead, he only falters further, head mimicking yours. Poor guy.

“I—I think there’s been a mistake.”

Yeah, you dating that gold-digger, you want to say. Instead, you meet his stare like you haven’t just dug a thousand holes in his foundation. “Oh, maybe. I’m sorry.” The apology is honest, even if the meaning behind it isn’t. That’s a thing, right? Apologising to make someone feel better, even when you don’t necessarily agree with it?

God, you’re an altruist.

“It’s fine.” When he stutters, adorable lisp coming out to play, you know it’s not. You applaud him for his brave face, even if it’s very poorly offered - a makeshift mask you think you could tear off with just another well-aimed word. (You won’t.)

“Here it is!” Yejin’s back, bouncing out from behind the counter with the giant white bag in her hands. If she notices the atmosphere, she says nothing. You remind yourself to tell her good job once Jungkook leaves - and you know he’ll leave the moment he’s got those silk handles in his hand. He looks about ready to cry - or ready to fight, you’re not sure.

Once the purchase is passed over, he nods his head furiously and you swear you see a tear go flying. You don’t have time to ask before he’s hoofing it out of the store.

He doesn’t even notice he’s left his wallet on the counter.

By the time you snatch it up and round the corner, he’s nowhere to be found. Probably because running in stilettos is next to impossible and he’s gotten an embarrassed head start. Well then.

“I guess we’ll have to call him,” you hum, turning the Prada bi-fold over and over in your hands. It’s practically brand new, stuffed with large bills, his driver’s license, and few credit cards, including a Hyundai black card. The same one on file that his girlfriend - maybe soon-to-be ex-girlfriend? - uses shamelessly.

Yejin’s watching you carefully, silently. You’re counting down how long it’ll be until she asks - because you can see the curiosity swimming in her eyes, practically bulging her cheeks with the effort of keeping her questions caged behind her teeth.

Finally, after a good three minutes, she’s at your side, bony point of her chin digging a grave into your shoulder. It’s probably not the most appropriate thing but she’s never much been one for decorum. (You either, but still.)

“So… what was that about?”

You don’t bother to turn when you speak, back to running through order details and matching them with customers. “What?”

“You know— that!” She waves her wrist in a circle, gesturing toward the space Jungkook had occupied not five minutes ago. “He ran out of here like he was scared for his life.”

“Scared of the truth,” you correct.

You hadn’t thought it was possible for her to get more pale - she’s already fine porcelain, perpetually slathered in sunscreen - but she somehow does, balking at your response. There it is.

“What?” There’s a reproachful edge to her words, an uncertainty that tells more than the single syllable.

“What?” It’s mimicry and a challenge all in one, meeting her stare from the corner of your periphery. You can read every emotion that runs through her expression: shock, displeasure, confusion.

She retreats a step, bottom lip caught between her teeth. (She really does remind you of your little sister.) “So, you told him?”

You shrug, a noncommittal gesture that disrupts the curtain of silk that falls over your shoulder. You hadn’t laid it out for him but surely he had an idea now. There was no way he didn’t.

“I pointed out a few conflicting facts. That’s all.” You’re not ashamed about what you’ve done. You’d want to know if you were him. Consider it an act of goodwill.

The silence that meets your ears isn’t surprising but you don’t pay it any further mind. What’s done is done. Now he knows, or something close to it. The chips would simply fall where they were meant to.

You have to admit - you’re rooting for him.

Whatever Yejin’s thinking, she keeps it to herself for the rest of the shift. She knows better than to berate you about something like this, not that she would anyway. Obnoxious as she can be, you have an understanding. It strengthens your not-quite-close-friends-but-more-than-colleagues relationship.

It’s only at the end of your shift that she brings it up again, drifting over to you as you complete your cash count for the evening.

She holds Jungkook’s wallet in her hand, mouth pursed thoughtfully as she taps it against the edge of the counter. “You have to call him.”

You almost lose your count, finishing with a pinched expression. “Whoever works tomorrow morning can call him.” You’re not brushing off the responsibility - you really could care less - but simply passing it along to the next person. Sensible.

As it turns out, you’re the person who works the next morning, called in because another associate has come down with a cold.

You’re two lattes deep when you remember the wallet, tucked neatly behind the counter with a yellow sticky note posted to the front. You suppose it’s your responsibility now. You know if Yejin comes in tomorrow and sees it, she’ll give you her childish brand of hell.

The line rings twice before it picks up, that oddly familiar voice crackling through the speaker. “Hello?”

“Jungkook?”

There’s a beat of silence followed by a careful confirmation. “Yes, that’s me?” Upspeaking again. How cute.

“I’m calling from the CELINE boutique.” You can practically imagine the look on his face, eyes as wide as saucers as he recalls the awful-to-him encounter. “You left your wallet here and I wanted to make sure you got it back.”

“O-oh, uh—“ It’s like encountering a baby bunny - or deer or something equally adorable and vulnerable. “Thanks. I didn’t even notice. Um, I can come pick it up today?” There’s another pause, the sound of fingers over a screen, and then he’s back. “Is that okay?”

Leave it to him to have lost his wallet and yet be worried about putting someone else out. He truly was a sucker.

“That’s fine. We’re open until six tonight.”

“I’ll be there before dinner.” As if realizing how vague that is, he continues, words running headlong into each other like he can’t get them out fast enough. “Before six, I mean. Um, is around five-thirty okay?”

You want to tell him to just come whenever, that it really doesn’t matter to you, but that probably isn’t going to help the situation. Instead, you hum a quiet sound of confirmation. “Of course. We’ll see you then.”

He hangs up immediately.

The second time you meet Jeon Jungkook, he’s just as endearing as the last. It’s actually surprising, if you’re being honest. You’d thought he’d be resentful or mean or any other emotion better fitting someone whose entire world had turned upside-down.

As it stands, he’s just the right-side of anxious, a hundred little sparks of uncertainty flaring beneath his skin and lighting him up in neon. You can see him from a mile away he’s lit up so bright, seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin.

Your heart aches for him - and then it skips, almost trips over its own two feet when he wanders into the store with his hands dug deep into the pocket of his pants.

How he looks tonight is nothing like how he’d looked yesterday. Somehow, you like it more. The undone head-to-toe Balenciaga, the unruly curl of his dark hair. It’s effortlessly chic - though you think it might have something to do with the fact that he’s just an attractive person. (Good-looking people could get away with anything - even god-awful fashion faux pas.)

At the sight of you, he seems to further lose steam, eyes widening to such an extent you briefly worry for him. Surely they’ll fall out of their sockets one day.

“O-oh. It’s you.” The moment the words come, he’s blushing the colour of your red-soled shoes, horrified. “I m-mean, just—” He takes a deep breath, finds his footing and tries again. “You’re the girl that helped me yesterday.” Spoken like you, the exact girl who helped him yesterday, wouldn’t remember that fact yourself.

“That’s right,” you say evenly, expression neutral. It’s almost as if that surprises him more - as if he’d expected you to shy away from the knowledge.

The two of you stare at each other for longer than is strictly speaking necessary. Well, you stare at him and he kind of bounces his eyes around the room. You know he can’t be that interested in the croc stamp Belt bag behind your head or the selection of small leather goods in the glass case.

He’s so awkward.

(You did kind of ruin his day though, so you can’t blame him.)

“So, um, my wallet?” He’s made barely any headway, still lingering awkwardly by the front of the store. You can’t help your smile - it’s more of a smirk - as you raise the item in question.

“Right here.”

Jungkook glances from it to your face, then back again. He makes the same trip twice more. “Can I have it?” To your surprise, he’s taken two whole steps toward you, brow furrowed. He’s still terribly soft, rounded edges and innocent eyes, but he’s making progress. Good job, you think.

“Of course.” You mirror him, moving out from behind the counter. Somehow, that’s not the right move, because his features are breaking and rearranging, big bunny teeth worrying a hole straight through his bottom lip. You’d think he’d be more confident, more demanding, more… everything. (You quite like that he isn’t - a complete anomaly - but you also imagine it’s also to his detriment. Too much honey, not enough vinegar.)

This time, he closes the distance with three long strides. It hadn’t escaped you how tall he was, the length of his gait - after all, you’d tried to run after him - but you’re still a little surprised when he’s in front of you, not a foot away, arm extended. Palm out, he asks again, all while refusing eye contact. “May I have it, please?”

You hand it over with a soft laugh, pressing the grained leather into his hand. You expect him to retreat immediately and he does - but then he turns and his expression is inscrutable. Is he going to say thank you? Berate you for what you’d done yesterday?

Neither, it seems. “Why did you do it?” There’s no anger, just an abiding sadness that laces his words, turns them the saddest shade of blue.

“Do it?” You know what he means. You ask anyway.

“Why did you tell me?” Jungkook’s doing that thing again, alternating between biting his tongue and chewing his cheek as he stares at you. You can practically see the melancholy rolling off him; it shines dark on the depths of his irises, how his fist trembles just barely at his side. For all his good looks and leisurely charm, you can see the effort it takes to hold himself together now.

Guilt ascends, starts somewhere deep in your stomach and turns stomach acid to butterflies. It creeps higher and higher over your spine, locking each vertebrae until you’re immobile, unable to tear your gaze from his. “I thought you deserved to know.”

“But why?”

“What do you mean?”

It’s almost comical, how both your expressions descend into bewilderment - like looking into a fun house mirror. He’s trying to wrap his mind around your actions and you’re just trying to make sense of his confusion.

You anticipate a response - can see it tittering on the tip of his tongue - but he seems to think better of it, shaking his head. It dislodges a wayward curl from behind his ear, silver twinkling with the movement.

“Thank you” is all he offers before speed-walking away.

You don’t expect to see Jeon Jungkook for a third time.

He’s waiting for you when you end your shift on Thursday, standing somewhere between the two boutiques, loitering like some kind of gremlin. (Except he’s dressed exceptionally well, slick black jeans and a Balenciaga tee shirt that rivals the cost of your shoes. Of course he’d get away with hanging out in the store without being told off.)

“Excuse me.” For once, he doesn’t sutter. The lisp doesn’t present itself, either. Was this the same Jungkook? You’re not sure until you meet his stare - or try, his own skipping away the moment you make contact.

There he is.

“Yes, Jungkook?” He flinches, as if he isn’t expecting you to know or say his name. How can someone so big, so broad across the shoulders with a face that belongs on billboards, look like such a terrified rabbit? It makes no sense to you.

“Can we talk?” The stare he levels you with is unfair, too sweet and coaxing for you to even consider saying no. You’ll still mess with him a bit though.

“We are talking.”

He sputters at that, hacks out a cough that makes you snicker openly. It’s just so easy with him, like taking candy from a baby.

“I mean like— talk talk.” The set of his jaw gives away the whisper of frustration, the fleeting touch of exasperation that doesn’t allow itself to live anywhere else. His eyes are still soft, round and glossy beneath the fluorescent storelight.

“Sure, we can talk talk.”

“Did you, um, want to grab dinner?”

You don’t mean to mock him (at least, not really) but he just makes everything so easy. You hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“W-what? No!” Despite the immediacy of his response - the look of utter shock that cracks the careful facade - he’s burning bright, cheeks aflame with colour that licks up and over his ears. “I just— I thought you’d want to talk somewhere else—”

“I’m kidding. Let’s go.”

You move first, stepping past him and onto the elevator without a backwards glance. He scampers after you, trails like a lost puppy in the wake of your shadow. Even while you stand in the corner, waiting for the lift to meet the main floor, he keeps a careful distance, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” It seems you have to take the initiative, throwing him a curious stare as the floor number ticks down. His gaze is trained on neon digits, unmoving. You repeat yourself, glancing up at him, half-tempted to nudge him out of his reverie. It’s almost like talking to a really hot brick wall. “Jungkook?”

He tears out of his thoughts like a wayward bullet, head swivelling wildly. “Huh?”

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Um—” He hesitates, not as if he doesn’t know the answer, but rather that he’s hesitant to speak it into existence. There’s a tidal wave in the depth of his stare, a cresting wave that looks on the edge of breaking. “—m-me?”

Brows furrow then amusement spills out. “You want to talk about… you?”

“That sounds bad.” The shape of his grow prominent over his bottom lip, his mouth pulling and pursing with whatever maelstrom exists inside that pretty skull of his.

“It’s fine. We’ll talk at dinner.”

He nods. You think it means thank you.

Sitting across from each other in the Michelin-starred restaurant - a sought after spot that takes reservations weeks in advance - it’s easy to imagine Jungkook is just another guy. Another bachelor with too much money and not enough sense, eager to sink his teeth into his next victim.

It’s hilarious how far that is from the truth.

“What did you want to eat?” He’s speaking into the pages of the leatherbound menu, half his face hidden. Whether it’s a defense mechanism or just how he woos pretty girls, you’re not sure. (You have a feeling it’s the former.)

“Whatever.” Everything here is incredible. You really don’t mind.

Jungkook’s face falls, folds in on itself like wet paper and you sigh a sound that further breaks apart the pillars keeping his composure in place. His right cheek is hollowed, interior being shredded by enamel. You take pity on him then, flipping open the menu with a great flourish.

When the waitress - a lovely little thing whose gaze lingers on your dining partner for too long to just be polite - comes to take your order, you rattle off your usual order, doubling certain selections. Soft-spoken as he might be, you have a feeling the size of his stomach makes up for all the mumbling and half-hearted glances.

“So?” You level him with a stare over the rim of your glass, lavender and lemonade bursting across your tongue.

He echoes you, wide-eyed and Bambi-like and stupidly cute. “So?”

“What did you want to talk about?” If you’d had a worse day, if you were a lesser person, you might be irritated by having to repeat yourself so often. As it stands, you’re only curious, your inquisitive nature outweighing your naturally short temper.

“Oh.” Poor boy looks like he’s been asked an impossible question, like what’s the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth. He fumbles with the edge of his sleeve, turns the plaid over and over in his fingers as if it were a puzzle. You stare at him the whole time, unflinching, unrelenting. He’d asked you here so you damn well expect an answer.

You’re about ready to repeat yourself - fourth time’s the charm? - when he finally finds his voice.

“I wanted to say thank you.”

It’s not the answer you’d expected. It whacks you in the face, smacking your usual confidence out of place and shooting your carefully threaded eyebrows into your hairline. “What?”

He’s terribly uncomfortable, unhappy with being on the spot. You watch the flicker of emotions through his face, the ones that creep into the delicate skin beneath his eyes, the wobble of his bottom lip. Try as he might, he can’t keep the light from his eyes - twinkling stars that bloom like newly minted stars.

“Thank you.” It’s just that much harder when he repeats himself, edges he builds with his bare hands and a clearing of his throat.

You’re silent for a long while - long enough for the first few plates to be set before you. You gather up shredded radish and perfectly charred beef with your chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully on the morsel. Jungkook doesn’t move - doesn’t even reach for his chopsticks - and simply stares at you. You might find it off-putting if it were anyone but him.

You get through half the bowl of green beans, well on your way to finishing it, when he finally begins eating, deftly transferring little bites to his bowl.

The only sound is crunching - king oyster mushroom tempura, ice from your cocktail - and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it’s not uncomfortable. A little different, sure, but altogether nice. Like dining with an old friend.

You finally answer when half the plates are gone, another three laid out in their wake. You’re careful not to speak with your mouth open - you notice Jungkook doesn’t either - and take a long sip of your water. “You’re welcome, I guess.”

Something tells you you’re always surprising him - whether intentionally or not. His eyebrows have a tendency to shoot up, making him look even more shocked than he normally does. (Seriously, how big are his eyes?) You find that funny but don’t comment on it, opting to pop a silken piece of black cod into your mouth. Your stare never falters, trained on his face as you chew thoughtfully.

“What?” He’s had enough of your quiet observation, apples of his cheeks reminiscent of the tree in your parents’ backyard.

“What?” You parrot back, shameless, dark eyes twinkling at him.

“Y-you’re staring at me.”

“You’re sitting in front of me.”

The line of his mouth hardens then, tongue rolling against his cheek in a gesture that stands out. It’s the first glimpse of something rude, something not doe-eyed and innocent. Oh?

“You don’t have to stare.” Said with a speared piece of sashimi, the end of his chopsticks assaulting the poor piece of bluefin tuna like it has personally offended him.

You reach for the same place, knock ornate wood against his, and quirk a brow when he meets your stare. “Does it bother you, Mr. Jeon?” The inflection is drawn out, almost mocking, only softened by the smile you offer.

“That’s not my name.” The bite disappears past his teeth. You expect him to continue three chews later but he only goes for another, filling his plate and then his mouth.

“Sorry— Jungkook. Does my staring bother you?”

It feels a little like playing with fire - holding your hand too close to a flickering flame, curious what it’ll do. Juvenile in a way but enticing in another. You’ve never met anyone quite like Jeon Jungkook.

“It’s rude,” he reasons, glossy eyes meeting yours for perhaps the fifth time that evening.

“Maybe I’m just rude.”

He shakes his head then - dislodges untamed strands from behind his silver-lined ears - and sets his chopsticks down. (Perfectly matched up, propped against the provided rest.) “You’re not.”

You can’t keep the surprise away, the emotion threading through your brows to tie them into a little knot of consternation. He says it so readily, as if he knows you and this isn’t one of a handful of very short, very unexpected conversations. He’s not even looking away, meeting your stare with a confidence that surprises you.

It lasts for all of five more seconds before he clears his throat and sips at his tea. Anything to busy his hands, you think.

“You don’t know that,” you finally return, after what seems like too long.

“I do.” He nods - almost to himself - and continues, matter-of-fact. “You care about people. You’re… hard around the edges but you don’t mean to hurt anyone. You want to do what’s right. Sometimes it means you have to do things that aren’t easy.”

For once, you’re at a loss for words. Really and truly silenced, unable to articulate anything that might beat back the kindness he’s offering.

How the tables have turned.

He likes waffles with chocolate syrup rather than honey. He doesn’t like whipped cream or citrus-flavoured desserts. He has a tailor he’s gone to since he was a child, the same elderly woman he sometimes calls halmoni because she’s watched him grow up. He decorates his apartment with the most random things: limited edition KAWs figurines and the guitars he still hasn’t had the most practice with, one of a kind paintings from the gallery one of his best friends curates. He buys the most expensive bottles of wine at any given restaurant not because his palate is so evolved it matters, but because it’s what he’s been taught to do.

He’s been in four serious relationships in his twenty-five years. All of them have ended poorly, though his latest with Malibu Barbie is the first where he’d been cheated on. (Somehow, you doubt that but you don’t voice this disbelief.) He tends to lean towards long-term relationships with women who baby him (your words, not his). He scoffs when you call him a serial monogamist, insists he isn’t even as you list out all the facts pointing otherwise.

“I just… don’t like wasting my time,” he insists from behind his coffee cup.

“You mean you don’t like the potential to be hurt.”

Jungkook blinks at you then, Bambi eyes so big and bright you almost want to laugh. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He seems confused - as if his reasoning is solid, irrefutable.

“High risk, high reward, Jungkookie.” It’s something your father had taught you years ago, the crazy old sap. It’s probably why he’s had three divorces since you were seven years old, but you suppose it’s worked out for him now. He’s been happily married for the last ten years - the longest relationship he’s ever had. Youngin is good for him, though. You like her - even if you sometimes wish she weren’t young enough to be your older sister and not his wife.

“You say that a lot.”

“I mean it when I say it.”

He’s quiet then, shoving a corner of his croissant past his lips. When he speaks - starts to, anyway - his mouth is still full and you level him with a look that silences him until all traces of the pastry are gone. “Girls are scary.”

You laugh. Cackle, really. You can’t help it. He says it with a pout, the expression so utterly at odds with the offensively revealing shirt he wears, the smooth unblemished skin of his chest almost too much for such a quiet afternoon. He glares at you across the table, shoves another piece of the flaky golden treat into his mouth, and waits for you to speak. He knows you’re going to give him a piece of your mind because you always do, rebuffing 99% of the things he says. (Sometimes for fun, often with good intentions.)

“Heights are scary. Death is scary. Leaving your wallet at home when you’re low on gas is scary—”

“Don’t you have Apple Pa—”

“Don’t interrupt.” He clamps his lips shut, folding his arms across his chest. From anyone else, it’d be a defensive gesture; from him, it’s patient. “Girls aren’t scary. Having real feelings for people is scary, but that doesn’t mean you should just stay with people who don’t deserve you.”

“Not all of us have cheater-sniffing noses.”

You suppose he’s right but the fact still remains that he’s too nice for his own good. Too trusting, too lenient, too blind to all the red flags. Like he’s living life in greyscale.

“Well, that’s what you have me for.”

The look Jungkook gives you then is incredulous, screwing his pretty face up as if he’s about to sneeze. Instead, he laughs. “I’m not hopeless.”

“Oh, but you are.” You’re adamant, insistent. He’s more comfortable with you now - sometimes teases you in a way you’d never have expected weeks ago - but he’s still so soft. An absolute marshmallow dressed in designer duds, a heart of gold wrapped up in a bubble gum package.

You want to protect him, teach him to fly. Be his wingwoman until he’s soaring the skies on his own.

You know it’s not his pride that keeps him from saying yes. He doesn’t have an abundance of that, far too gracious to ever deny help when he really needs it. He’s just shy, doesn’t know what he wants until it’s staring him right in the face.

“Fine,” he agrees after you’ve stared at him for too long. It’s one of his weaknesses - his inability to handle attention when it’s laser-focused. It makes him sweat, prompts his nervous habit of chewing at his bottom lip, long fingers picking at the peach fuzz on his cheeks.

“You won’t regret it.”

Jeon Jungkook has gone on six dates over the last ten days. You know, because you’ve helped him pick out outfits for each of them, seated at the edge of his bed with your knees folded and a bag of white cheddar popcorn in your grubby little paws.

It’s not that he isn’t stylish - you both know he is - but there’s a certain finesse to dressing for dates, to knowing the likes and dislikes of your potential partner and playing to those.

He, to no one's surprise, does not have this finesse. If it were up to him, he’d wear his favourite clothes every day, different jeans and joggers in medium-wash denim and impossibly soft cotton. He’d swap his Balenciaga separates in and out and stick with the finely tailored Gucci suit he calls his lucky ticket (ew). He’d live in those stupid two-toned sneakers and barely do his hair, allowing it to become a powder puff reminiscent of old Hollywood movies.

The girls would probably still love it. (It’s easy to love him.)

“What do you think?” It’s low-cut black, relaxed in the shoulders and flattering in the torso. It holds him just right, hugging the muscle that threads across his shoulders like armour, coils around his upper arms and makes his tattoos stand in stark relief where the sleeves end, mid-forearm.

It looks good— but then again, a lot of things look good on him. He wants great.

You answer honestly, because that’s what you do and that’s what he has you there for. To knock him down when his (admittedly small) ego gets a little too big, remind him of his hubris like the summer sun upon his candle wax wings. “Not bad…”

You don’t even need to finish the thought for him to be tugging the shirt over his head, back flexed, ink-strewn fingers gripping the hem.

Not for the first time, you’re reminded of just how unfair life is.

How had Jungkook - bona fide dork, certifiable shy guy - been gifted one of the best bodies in human existence? (You wish you were joking.) It was utterly absurd, a complete waste on someone who’d only learnt to utilise his good looks in the last five months you’d known him.

“This one?” He’s grabbing another hanger, all but thrusting it into your face. Medium-weight cashmere. Probably too hot for a night like tonight but you’ve seen it on him before and it hugs him like a lover, displaying his best assets (titties) and drawing attention to the narrow shape of his waist. It’s the equivalent of a little black dress.

“Look at you go,” you tease, mouth full of mirth and popcorn kernels. “Throw that Juun.J trench you have overtop and you’ll be set.”

Jungkook nods sagely, as if your word is law. You suppose it is.

“Thanks, ____,.” He says it in that sweet way of his, eyes lost to the weight of his gratitude.

Your response is a shrug. “Bring me back some dessert and we’ll be even.” You don’t know where he’s going tonight but you figure it’s one of the many restaurants you’d recommended earlier in the week when he’d started lining up his various dates. You know there’ll be something good on the menu.

He promises he will as he slides the turtleneck on, tucking it into the dark trousers he’d picked up days ago, and redoes the slim black Rag & Bone belt around his waist. You have to admit - you’ve done another great job of styling him. Simple yet painstakingly attractive, playing at all the little bits of Jungkook’s best qualities without outlining them in bright red ink. Understated but elegant, effortless yet seriously hot.

Maybe you should quit your day job and become the female Hitch. That was a viable plan, right?

You’re mulling it over when you realise your walking Ken doll is making toward his bedroom door, wallet clasped in one hand and phone in the other. “Hey! You’re leaving already?” It’s polite surprise that colours your words, stare drawn to the screen of your iPhone. It’s only 6 PM and the reservation isn’t for another hour.

There’s a sheepish look creeping over his features, painting itself in delicate strokes that you spy past the line of his smile, how the skin crinkles around his eyes. For a moment, he’s the shy Jungkook you’d met in your store and not the one that now bleeds careful confidence, filling his little black book (read: phone contacts) with names as easily as he breathes. “I was, uh, going to stop and get f-flowers.” A silver-lined hand scrubs across his nape, dislodges the carefully styled waves he’s settled for.

Flowers, huh? Well, that’s certainly something new. Good for him, you think.

“Jeon Jungkook, going all out.” It’s heavy on the teasing, playful mockery lending a warmth to your words. “She’s special.”

Which you’d figured, given he was seeing her. Repeats were rare for him now that he’d learned how to weed out the bad seeds, held his hand a little closer to his heart (at least, sometimes). Since he’d started dating again, this would be the first time he’d be going on a second date. It’s a big deal.

“Yeah—“ Nervousness sparks across his face, lights up his stare like the stars in the night sky. “I guess she is.”

You smile fondly, like a proud mother. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“I will,” he promises, looking so giddy it makes your heart swell ten sizes.

You don’t even think anything of it as you follow him out of his room, bag of popcorn neatly rolled under your arm and your socks slid back into place. It’s only when he levels you with a strange stare, pauses in the shrugging on of his coat, that you return his look. “What?”

“Where are you going?”

“Leaving?”

“Why?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question?

You don’t normally leave, usually waiting here at home for him until he returns to give you a rundown of his date (and the promised appetizer/dessert/whatever). It feels somehow wrong to stay, though, as if you’re taking up space that doesn’t belong to you. He’s going on a second date, after all. Soon enough, he won’t need your help picking out clothes or deciding on a restaurant. You won’t get to curl up on your usual corner of his sectional, wrapped up in the obnoxiously soft blanket you’d convinced him to buy one night while online shopping.

But it’s fine. Totally, one hundred and ten percent fine. The two of you are friends. You’d always expected - anticipated, hoped - this day would come. Baby boy was growing up.

“Y’know.” You answer a second too late and he’s still wearing that odd expression, handsome face flooded with something that looks like disappointment. It flickers in the bits of his stare you can make out past his fringe, partially concealed by the dark silk that you know feels as soft as it looks.

“I know?” He never tries to read your mind - knows it’s utterly useless.

You wiggle your hand dismissively. “Second date and all that.”

Jungkook giggles - the same deceptively sweet sound he always makes - and finishes tugging his jacket on. It fits him so well it should be illegal, falling to his knees and ending just shy of the intricate laces of his boots. “Just stick around. I’ll drive you home when I get back.”

It’s something he always does - his way of saying thank you for putting up with all of his first date jitters, his outfit changes, his worrying over how to first approach a girl on Tinder - so you don’t doubt him. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

He beams, caught halfway out the door. “Tell me to break a leg.”

“Go break her back,” you retort to the sound of his laughter.

You’re almost asleep when your phone starts going off, the vibrations jolting you awake. It rattles across the glass table, won’t shut the hell up until you’re slamming your hand atop it, glaring at the screen as it lights up with notifications.

It’s almost 2 AM and they’re from Jungkook. This can only mean one thing.

from jeon jungkook: Hey. from jeon jungkook: I’m really sorry but I won’t be home tonight. from jeon jungkook: If you want to stay over, I can drive you back in the morning. from jeon jungkook: Please don’t be mad.

Leave it to him to apologise for getting his dick wet - to feel bad about having a successful second date. It makes you laugh as you stare down at the texts, tap a quick response you know will have his heart racing. (Even after months of friendship, it’s hard not to tease him just a little bit.)

to jeon jungkook: i officially hate you

The typing notification gives him away immediately, but the moment you do the same, he stops. Of course. He hates confrontation - would rather leap off a cliff-face than deal with negative emotions. (He’d told you that once, over a night of beer and fried tteok.)

to jeon jungkook: it’s fine! have fun! to jeon jungkook: turn her world upside down 😏

He doesn’t answer after that but the read receipt pops up. Good, you think. About time he finds someone nice. You wonder what she’ll be like when you meet her.

Jungkook’s third date comes with another third - you.

He drags you along to dinner, insisting there’s nothing at all weird about the fact. He has to repeat it at least four times during the drive there, head nodding like a plastic bobblehead as he weaves in and out of traffic.

“I want you to meet her,” he mumbles, like that makes it better. As if bringing a friend along to a date with that reasoning means it’s totally acceptable and not on the list of Hard No’s When Dating.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?” He’s too focused on changing lanes to answer you, signalling before seamlessly drifting over. (He’s an impressively responsible driver, but that’s unsurprising.) You repeat yourself.

“It’s not… weird.” But you have a feeling that he knows how odd the request is. Knows and doesn’t care, unfortunately. “She wants to meet you too.”

(When had Jungkook turned into this person who argued with you?)

You somehow highly doubt that. No girl in her right mind would leap at the chance to meet her potential beau’s wingwoman. It’s something reserved for official status, when the foundation is set. Still, you play into his hand, level him with a stare he should recognise. It’s the one you throw his way any time he’s too nice, gives a mile when he shouldn’t even offer an inch. (It doesn’t come as often anymore, but it still makes appearances once in a while.)

“What does she even know about me?”

“That we’re friends.” His vague response speaks volumes. The look changes - grows into a glare that has him furtively peeking at you from the corner of his periphery. When he speaks, it feels like a dead giveaway. “That I really value your opinion.”

You groan, a noise so loud it rattles around in the car and interrupts the ballad playing through the speakers.

“She’s trying to figure out if I’m competition or not!” Of course. It’s obvious. She wants to know what she’s getting into it before things get too serious, determine if her Prince Charming is really all that. (He is.) “I’m not coming to dinner.”

“You’re already in the car,” he reasons.

You note he doesn’t deny your first statement, mouth rounding into a pout that should crush your resolve. Instead, it drives you mad, irritation bubbling in your throat.

“I just won’t go in.”

“____,.” When he says it like that, it’s hard to deny him. Jungkook might not utilise his charms often but when he does, it’s lethal. Undeniable with those dumb Bambi eyes of his.

“No.”

“____,,” he repeats, almost pleading. You can’t look at him. You won’t. The moment you do, you’ll be sucked into the swirling vortex that makes up his stare - a million pretty little lights caught in the brown of his iris, so many possibilities you’d lose yourself trying to explore them all.

You last a whole ten seconds before his staring becomes too much, those round eyes tracking you in the rearview mirror until you’re relenting, softening in the way that only he can cause.

“Fine.” You hate how it sounds rolling off your tongue, terse and a little pissed off. You’re not actually mad. Just worried. You’ve seen situations like this play out - not that you’ve been in this position before - but female friends and potential girlfriends just don’t go hand-in-hand. It takes a very special kind of person to facilitate a meeting this early and you are not that person. You’re ragged edges, uneven temperament, distrust that you can’t help.

Jungkook knows that. Should, anyway. You’ve grown close over the last nearly half a year.

When he mumbles a quiet sorry, turns to rest his chin against his knuckles as he drives, you know he means it. He’d never put you in this position if it didn’t mean a lot to him - if his own happiness wasn’t somehow also on the line. (Truthfully, it’s your fault. All that self-love encouragement was coming back to bite you in the ass.)

You grumble an obligatory acceptance as the streetlights fly by. You’ve got a reputation to uphold.

“You’re paying for my dinner.”

“Of course.”

How many times have you pictured this same situation, watched it unfold on your television screen as the protagonist gasps wildly, hand at their throat? How many times have you laughed at the exchange, snickering into your palm as the romantic interest makes some wild declaration of love and wins the protagonist’s heart?

Answer: you’ve lost count.

Still, it doesn’t prepare you to be thrust beneath the spotlight, half-dreaming and terribly confused.

“What’re you doing here?” At any other time, it might be as reproachful as you want, full of disapproval and sleepiness. Here and now, it’s slurred speech and the lines of your pillow dug into the softness of your cheek, lashes dusted with sleep and breath freshly minted.

Jungkook’s oddly surprised, considering he’s appeared unannounced at your doorstep at the crack of dawn (not really). “C-can I come in?”

You don’t budge. It’s not because you’re about to say no, but because you’re still really tired. So tired you stare at him for a moment too long, zoning out as you drink in his appearance. He’s wearing the clothes from last night - the same animal-print silk shirt that hangs obscenely low and reveals too much skin. You recognise it because you’d picked it out for his date.

(The one where he was supposed to ask Jiwon to be his girlfriend, you fail to note.)

You repeat yourself around a yawn, ignoring the way your vowels crash into each other and barely make it to the light of day. “What’re you doing, Jungkookie?”

“Please let me in,” the doe-eyed prince at your door mumbles, gaze bouncing somewhere beyond your shoulder, over your face, to the wayward strands that’re the result of sleeping too well. Everywhere but your eyes.

“Fine,” you huff, stepping back to allow him over the threshold. You don’t miss the way he smells - his signature cologne and something else. If you had to guess, it’s her perfume. It’s distinctly floral, drawing you into a garden of roses. You don’t know if you like it.

Without a second glance, you’re shuffling away from him, dragging your slippered feet into the kitchen.

You move on autopilot, spooning coffee grounds into the Chemex filter. You don’t bother asking whether your surprise guest wants any - assume he does, because the fiend somehow lives on caffeine - and settle against the counter as you wait for your kettle to whistle.

You’re still so tired you feel like you might fall asleep standing up but you think you do a good enough job of levelling Jungkook with a solid stare. “So?”

“W-what?”

It’s been so long since you’ve last heard his stutter that it surprises you, recentres your attention from your own exhaustion and has you frowning. Something’s happened. Must have. There’s no other explanation for it - for how he looks at you, so uncertain like all those months ago when you’d smashed his glass house to pieces.

“What’s going on?” You’re demanding, full to the brim with concern as you round on him. He flinches away as if your words have burnt him, leaning into the stainless steel side of your fridge.

(Silly Jungkook - that won’t protect you.)

“What do you mean?”

The early hour has, luckily, dampened your usual aggression. He’s stalling, you can tell. You hate when he does this. You tell him as much, glowering at him as he tries to shrink his nearly six foot frame into something small. “You’ve showed up at my house unannounced. What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?”

He looks as if he’s on the brink of repeating himself, biting it back behind his neat white teeth when your expression grows darker, more frustrated.

It’s impossible to stay dressed in red, lethargy swathing you up like a cocoon and softening your edges. You sigh heavily - perhaps a little overdramatically - and go about completing your coffee ritual. Patience works best with Jungkook, you’ve learned. (Though, he sorely tests your own sometimes.)

With a steaming mug in your hand and the other passed over to him, you gesture toward your living room.

He nods once - a small up and down of his head.

“So.” You try again, softer this time, warmed by the heat that permeates ceramic and settles your sleep-ravaged nerves. You’re seated cross-legged on your couch, facing him with your back pressed to the arm rest. He’s half-turned to you, coffee cup slotted between his thighs. Feet turned in, mouth wobbling with the intensity of how hard he’s chewing into his bottom lip.

“I couldn’t do it.” The words rush out too fast, tumble into each other in such a way you have to take a second to comprehend what he’s said. Couldn’t do… it?

You stare at each other for a long while, you trying to understand and him refusing to meet your stare.

When realisation dawns on you, you can only imagine how you look. It must be terrifying by how Jungkook practically tries to crawl into the cushions of your couch, shoulders rising around his ears like a turtle.

“You didn’t ask her?” It explodes out, a question that demands an answer.

He’s staring past your head, unblinking. You’d almost worry he was a robot if his voice weren’t so damned human, full of melancholy and rounded by his lisp. “I c-couldn’t. It was just…” The shrug he offers is half-assed at best, not nearly good enough to excuse him.

“Just what?”

“Just—” There’s the wiggly hand gesture you do that he’s adopted, his ink-strewn hand waving through the air like a floppy chicken foot. He thinks it’ll earn him a pass but your unrelenting glare indicates otherwise. He deflates, hand falling back to his lap, clutching his mug like it's a makeshift security blanket. “It didn’t feel right.”

What did that even mean? Feel right?

Love didn’t just appear, fully-formed and complete. It took work and dedication and the understanding it could all come crashing down. Didn’t he understand that? Hadn’t you drilled that into his head?

You exhale through gritted teeth, push breath past enamel that acts like a solid steel gate.

“Jungkook, it’s not going to just ‘feel right.’” You’re air quoting, all tact thrown out the window. “You like her, don’t you?”

You expect him to nod immediately. He doesn’t.

“Jungkook.”

“Yeah?”

“You like her, right?”

“I think so.”

You want to tear your own hair out. Instead, you press the pads of your fingers into your temple - apply pressure in hopes of alleviating the tension that settles there. “So, you like her.” It feels a bit bad, condescending in a way; you don’t mean it in any way but supportive. You just want him to be happy. “But you couldn’t ask her out because it didn’t feel right?”

“She’s not you.”

He’s looking at you now, looks like he might have a heart attack if he does so any longer. But he doesn’t tear his gaze away when you meet it, entire expression warped into something you don’t recognise. Hope, maybe? Fear?

“What?” You wish it were hard rather than feather light, almost lost to the cacophony in your head.

The hollow of his cheek is thrown into stark relief, the line of his jaw clenched tight. He repeats himself even as you’re the one looking away, shaking your head as if that might will away the irksome answer. (It won’t.)

“Don’t say things like that.”

It’s hurt that flashes through his expression and strikes you right in the centre of your chest. His face crumbles, brows knit together beneath his mop of shiny hair. He looks so terribly sad - a kicked puppy, an abandoned deer. Bambi, through and through.

“You asked why I didn’t do it,” he reasons in a voice far more solid than he looks.

“I didn’t think you’d say something so ridiculous.” It’s cruel. “You’re making a bad choice. You’re into this girl. Don’t be dumb.”

His features rearrange, then so do his limbs, entire body lifting from his seat in jerky, disjointed movements. “I’m not dumb.” There’s a reproachful quality to his words, a distaste he doesn’t bother to mask. It’s not something you’ve ever faced, surprising you enough to draw your eyes to his face.

He doesn’t look like the Jungkook you know.

When he leaves - sets his cup in the sink and storms out the way he’d come before you have time to stop him - you wonder if you ever knew him at all.

“Okay. Spill.”

Yejin’s tired of your abrasiveness, tired of having her head bitten off every time she tries to approach you with a question. You can’t blame her. You’ve felt like shit the last week, sleep-deprived and generally pissed off.

All because of a doe-eyed idiot.

“What?” It’s less snark, more sigh. You’re counting down the minutes until you’re free, until you can curl back up in your bed and try to sleep like you’ve done the last four days.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” she hums, trailing after you as you move behind the counter. “You’ve been in a bad mood all week. I’ve never seen you this upset like, ever.” She’s right, of course. You’ve always been very careful to keep business separate, pushing the customer service agenda no matter what. “Did something happen?”

You grit your teeth. An expletive careens off your tongue when you slam the tip of your finger within the drawer you’d just shut.

“____,” she tries again, concerned.

“Nothing happened.”

“See, I don’t believe that because like, look at you!” She gesticulates wildly, adorned wrists clinking loudly. “You look like hell—”

“Thanks.”

“—and you’re being clumsy and like, I think I know you well enough. So just tell me?”

You hate that she’s right. It doesn’t mean you’ll relent, too caught up in your own strange brand of strength to unload. (Maybe it’d be helpful. Probably. But you’ve never found comfort in other people. At least, not like this.)

“Yejin.” Her name stops her in her tracks, hurried and insistent as you pull your coat on. “It’s fine. Really.” You’re swallowing your pride - practically choking on it - as you offer what you hope is a reassuring smile. “I just need to get some sleep.” And figure out what the hell to do about Jungkook, but that’s a can of worms you refuse to open and certainly not here.

Maybe at home, over a glass of wine, fueled by liquid courage.

The bottle of Côtes du Rhône has aided you more than you’d hoped, offered an armour that slinks over your shoulders and drives your fingers to action. It’s prompted something - started the ball rolling.

(Idly, you think that might not have been a very good idea, but it’s too late to care now.)

“You’re here.” You being him and him being Jeon Jungkook, hair damp and imposing frame draped in an oversized sweater. He looks terribly uncomfortable standing in your doorway - more so than he had days ago - hands shoved into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, dumb sneakers pigeon-toed as if he’s ready to take flight.

“Y-you asked,” he mutters, refusing to meet your stare. At least, you think he’s refusing. It’s a little hard to focus when there’s this fine film turning everything hazy, the bitter taste of wine heavy on your tongue.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy then, though he never quite meets your eyes. It’s a smart tactic - level you with a look then immediately bounce it away. It has you coming back for more, eager to refocus his fretful gaze until it’s locked with your own.

“Will you come in?” You sidestep, give him enough space that he can enter without feeling suffocated. He still hesitates, takes a second too long in deciding. “I won’t bite.”

You don’t miss the better promise that comes under his breath.

“So.” This feels oddly familiar, him backed into the corner of your couch again while you settle across from him. He hums a noise but offers nothing further.

This is how it’ll be then. Fine. If he wants to be this way.

“You like me.”

He sputters - doesn’t mean to, by how big his eyes go. He hadn’t expected it to come barreling out of your mouth. “I— I don’t— I didn’t say that.”

If it were anyone but him, you’d take his reticence as rudeness.

“Tell me why.”

The poor boy blinks, stares at you full on now. Can’t look away, locked in the intensity of your stare.

“W-what?”

“Tell me.” You sip carefully at the liquid in your glass, swirl it ‘round and ‘round. “You said that girl wasn’t me but you haven’t made a case as to why that matters. What have I got that she doesn’t?”

“You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack, Jungkookie.”

The brunet swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. You think he might say no, outright refuse. You don’t expect him to start rattling things off like the list lives in his head, answers printed against the darks of his eyelids.

“You’re funny. You’re honest. You speak your mind.” You don’t mean to scoff but his reasons are so shallow - so easily found in other people. He must read the doubt in your expression, pushing on to cut you off from doing the same to him. “Y-you care about people even when you pretend like you don’t. You’re just as scared of being hurt as I am.”

For the first time in a long time - in years and years - you feel seen. As if he’s pulled back the cover of your unpublished draft, memorised the redlines and notes in the margins.

“I don’t—”

“You have this face you make when you’re proud of me.” He’s turning his own fingers over in his lap, knuckles white from the strain of locking them together and undoing them again. “When I do something you approve of or when I make you laugh.”

There’s something thick in your throat.

“You make me want to try.” He clears his own, speaks so softly you have to strain to hear it. “Y-you make things not so scary.”

It grows heavier, harder to breathe as you stare at the man sitting across from you. He’s focused wholly on his hands, too caught up in his words to help the way he plucks at his skin, fiddles with the silver chain that loops around his wrist.

“You know what I need, even before I know myself. You make me laugh.” He laughs, an almost choked sound that fizzles and rattles bashfully. “You look really, really good in your work skirt.” You know the one he means - all black, pencil-fit. Makes your legs look a mile long, despite the fact that they aren’t.

You can’t help but join him, a little breathless, with a strange sensation behind your ribs. Like sunshine on a cold day, filtering past the walls you’ve put up, streaming through the windows that’d replaced drywall when Jungkook had waltzed into your life with his fluffy hair and boyish laugh.

When you speak, you don’t even believe your own words. They come of their own accord - a defense mechanism. “I can’t.”

As if he knows - as if he’s got a polygraph going, Jungkook shakes his head, meets your eyes and holds you there with the intensity of his attention. “Can’t or won’t?”

“I—”

“I’m not asking for the world here. Just a chance.” He’s got a peculiar look on his face. “Don’t you think you owe it to me?”

“Excuse me?”

All of a sudden, he’s close. Closer than you’d expect, far closer than he should be. There’s nothing beyond his expression, the way his eyes twinkle under the dimmed apartment lights as he stares you down. The scent of his cologne is cloying now, the fading nectarine hint of his shampoo making your mouth water.

“You kind of ruined my life. I think this makes us fair.”

You sputter, gasp, make sounds that careen off your tongue and fill the air with nonsense. You’d ruined his life? (You’d made it better - made him see the light, you thought.) You’re working to find your voice, ready to tear into him for this abrupt accusation.

Then he’s giggling, nose scrunched and delight filtering past his teeth.

“I’m kidding.”

It feels like whiplash. You’ve created a monster.

“But you do owe me, I think. So why not?”

You only have yourself to blame when you say yes, conceding to his pretty eyes and sweet smile.

Dating Jungkook is easy - as effortless as breathing. He’s a bona fide dreamboat plucked from your wildest dreams.

He texts when he says he will and picks you up every night, stamping a kiss to your cheek the moment you’ve clocked out. He holds your hand and refuses to let go, rubbing soothing circles over your wrist when you’re tired or stressed or annoyed. He brings flowers to every date - insists on them even when you tell him they’re a waste of money. He knows your coffee order, has learned the art of the pour over when he wakes up before you.

You understand now, why he’d stayed with women who were terrible for him (to him). If you were them, you wouldn’t have let him go either. Would lock him up in an old tower like your own personal Rapunzel.

(You say that because you’ve been on a Disney movie binge. He is, unsurprisingly, very into these sorts of things.)

“Open it,” he pleads, pushing the luxurious pink box towards you.

You stare down at the lid, the Agent Provocateur label glaring back at you. You can’t help how you laugh, sound bouncing around his bedroom. “Are you trying to tell me something, Jungkookie?”

Your lover - not boyfriend, because you haven’t had the talk and it’s still new and you’ve never been this careful before - rolls his eyes, pushes the box closer with a huff. It’s adorable.

“Just open it.”

You finger the soft bow strapped across the top, play with the neatly cut ends. You can feel the impatience radiating off Jungkook, feel those pretty doe eyes boring holes into the top of your head. You take your time even more now, unravelling the ribbon with slow, measured twists of your wrist.

Whatever you’d expected to find nestled among the tissue paper, this isn’t it.

You’d imagined he’d be into something feminine, all pristine white lace and scalloped cups. Something he could brush his cheek against, run his fingers over.

Tucked within the box is something that doesn’t even earn the title of lingerie, a few flimsy straps bonded together. Blush pink satin and dressed with buckles, you turn it over in your hands, trying to make sense of the way it all connects. Surely there’s more to this. Surely, darling innocent Jeon Jungkook doesn’t expect you to wear just this?

“Do you like it?” You can sense the eagerness in his voice, that desire he has to please that seems to never go away.

“What is it?”

“It’s a playsuit.”

“A playsuit?” You’re no stranger to experimenting in the bedroom but this— this looks like it’s meant to harness a dog in. Would it even fit? Soft as it is, it seems terribly restrictive, made for someone with model proportions and no body fat at all.

He nods, round eyes so bright, so hopeful, you can’t voice your concerns. “Will you wear it?”

It fits you better than you’d expected. Or at least, you think it does. If Jungkook’s reaction was any indication, it’s heaven sent - the perfect gift wrapping for a present he’s been dying to claim.

The buckles you’d studied earlier - that had taken you too long to strap together - dig into the tender flesh of your hips, the shape of his fingers imprinted along the metal. He grips you so tight you think you might bruise, left with a reminder of his love for weeks.

“S-so wet,” he groans, sound dropping into an almost whine as the swollen mushroom head of his cock brushes through your folds. The satin of the playsuit has been long since tugged aside, stained with your arousal as it cuts into the softness of your thighs. He repeats the motion once, twice, coats your clit in pre-cum that leaks out of the slit and adds another layer of slick. “So ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod dumbly, drool around the two fingers he’s got slotted against your cheek, ring finger pressed down over your tongue.

“Use your words, gorgeous.” As if you can, as if you’re not riding the high of your last orgasm and about to come apart beneath his playful teasing.

The palm of his hand meets your overstimulated clit with a sharp smack, the cold of his teeth bared against your neck. He doesn’t like when you don’t answer - much prefers to make an effort even if it’s indiscernible.

“What did I say?”

Something garbled comes, a plea as much as a sob. Another hit lands, just shy of the pearl that throbs with need and pain, landing instead on the sensitive, already red skin of your inner thigh. He soothes it this time around, massages your own wetness into the roses that bloom beneath his touch.

When he speaks again, it’s so utterly sweet, tender as can be. The Jungkook you’ve known for months and not the devil in disguise.

“You like this, don’t you?” His kisses are searing, laced with reverence that feels at odds with the way he forces your gag reflex, taps his curved cock against your pussy. “You like what I’m doing?”

“Y-yes,” you cry, spit pooling past the sides of your mouth, dripping lewdly across your breasts. The hand cradling your chin is all but drenched, dark ink thrown into stark relief by the way it slides over his skin. Jungkook hums against your cheek, licks a fat stripe from shoulder to ear.

“Good girl.” Two fingers spread across over your heat, pointer and index sliding over your lips. You’re spread obscenely - can see it in the mirror that rests against the far wall. Can see how the head of his cock peeks between your thighs, runs the same path over and over with each languid, slow roll of his hips. “Such a good girl for me. My perfect girl.”

Your shoulders shake with the effort you put into nodding, throat clenching on reflex when the three fingers in your mouth flatten over your tongue, hold you steady in place.

“Pretty girl wants more, doesn’t she? Wants me to fill her up?”

He’s teasing you, the bastard. Dragging his aching erection against your cunt as you writhe against him, desperate. It’s amusing to him - you can read the delight in the reflection, see it shining bright like a beacon when he pulls his hand away and recentres it across your chest. Digits tease at the already pebbled buds, swollen and sensitive from how hard he’d sucked them into his mouth earlier.

“Say it. Say you want me.”

You do, without hesitation, without fear. You know he’ll catch you. “I want you.”

He sinks into you the same instant the words fall, holds you tight against him when your entire body begins buzzing and threatens to do the same. Your walls feel like a vice grip around him, greedily sucking in his cock as he slams home, ruts into you like a wild animal.

Strong as he is, he’s weak to the noises you make - the broken sobs that spill off your tongue and make up the prettiest sound he’s ever heard - and how you feel absolutely perfect, wet and warm. The muscle in his thighs strain, pleasure vibrating up the notches of his spine, setting every nerve ending alight with its ascent.

“B-be mine,” he returns, practically begging as he spreads you wide, making you take everything he has to offer. Heart and soul and stupidly huge, perfect cock.

“I am. I am. I am,” you chant, tears welling along your lash line. They fall when his rhythm stutters, when the heat overwhelms and you’re coming for the third time that night, crying his name like it’s the only word you know.

They continue to pour, carve trails down your reddened cheeks as you reach nirvana, wait for moment he’s right there with you. It doesn’t take long - a few more punishing thrusts into your fluttering heat - and then he’s found his bliss, crying into the silk of your hair, spilling inside you.

It doesn’t happen how you thought it would - a shy question poised over dinner, sealed with a sweet kiss on the way to the car - but it means just as much. Breaks you apart as it rebuilds you, fills you up as it splits your seams.

You’re his and he’s always been yours.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @shaybtsforever @we-found-wonderland-in-1989 @justanothergirlfromeurope @jalexad @bonnyskies @coffeeismylife28 @haeilove @purplespaceymermaid @sunsetsnsirens-blog @beingbeings @veronawrites @notmontae97 @papillonsgf i’m really hoping i didn’t miss anyone e___e

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impulsivefanwriter · 3 years

Text

A Tiny Spark Leads to a Roaring Flame (But Flames Can Always be Doused by Water)

Heeyyyyy so y’all know the Reverse Thanos Snap AU for SPBNR? Basically everyone but Smith/S!Kai gets sent to the M!verse. Everyone. The entire population of S!verse Ninjago City & a few surrounding areas. Except poor Smith. Essentially it happens because S!Garmadon tries to send Smith to a place where he can't mess with his plans, and ends up sending everyone away from Smith to take him out of the equation.

The second part to this AU is that the S!Ninja end up searching for Kai in the chaos and grab the Red Ninja before jetting out of there with the Bounty. Except... they didn’t grab Smith (who’s still home), but rather Red (M!Kai).

Red thinks the S!Ninja are babysitter clones created by Garmadon after he somehow turned Lloyd younger without his memories & is trying to raise him to be his new General #1. With this in mind, he pretends to be S!Kai, and waits for the moment he can rescue Lloyd.

What would happen in the S!Ninja discovered his deception/their mistake of grabbing a wrong Kai and mistake Red for a recreated Aki (aka Bizarro Evil Clone Kai) before he could enact his plan?

Well, this is that idea. (Title inspired by how a crack AU spiralled into a beautiful angst-fest)

Enjoy. :3

-----*-----

Red was going to get Lloyd out of here tonight.

Away from these Not-Friends made by Garmadon to emulate the Ninjaforce. Away from this flying ship built to emulate Master Wu's ship, so familiar and yet so off. Away from this false reality and back to the real everything where they could hopefully get his memories back and his age back and everything back to the way it was before the city descended into chaos.

He just had to... bide his time. Be patient.

FSM, he was bad at being patient.

His hands itched to grab Lloyd and run now, but he was horribly outnumbered and without his mech. No matter how badly he wanted to, he couldn't rush this. If he did, he would make everything worse. Like he always did.

But fate- or rather, Lloyd- had other plans.

The little version of his younger brother- yes, they were roughly the same age normally, shut up, Lloyd was still his younger brother- had been... eying him weird all morning. Not like Not-Jay and Not-Cole and Not-Zane, but like Not-Nya. Like he actually knew instead of suspected. These babysitter clones seemed to think he was the Not-Kai, and if that was the opportunity the universe was going to give him, then by the flames of the departed world was he going to skip this chance to save Lloyd.

Currently he stood on the deck of the ship as they parked in the sky a few meters above the docks on the outskirts of the city. It wasn't the docks with the Bounty warehouse, curse his luck, but it wasn't the endless sky or the empty ocean (though it was still too close to that murky, haunting water for his liking. Water was his sister's domain for a reason). At least he could sneak Lloyd off in the cover of night, maybe find someone in the city who wouldn't recognize the Son of Garmadon this way and would be willing to help them hide until they could make it back to the real ninja.

"Kai," Not-Zane spoke suddenly next to him.

Red would never get used to the way his voice... lacked the same effect the real Zane's had. The effect that Kai and the rest of his team had assured their friend over and over was unique, special, but in a good way. To embrace it. That it wasn't noticeable, but when it was, that it was so Zane that his friends didn't care that it was different.

This 'Zane' sounded much too different than his own. He hadn't recognized Kai's tested line of 'road work ahead' when they passed one of the many construction signs littering the city (even more so since the chaos happened a week ago), and instead had responded with 'a great deal of work to fix in the city'.

Seriously, Garmadon, do better research on your clones.

Not-Zane was also much too... calm. Too 'wise' compared to the wild teen that was Zane. And he walked without heelies or whatever Zane used to slide around like a boss, though he was still silent. And that meant, like now, he snuck up on Red fairly often- and Red was training to be a Ninja, so that took serious talent.

"Kai," Not-Zane said again, and Red finally broke his gaze from where he'd been staring over the railing, planning tonight's escape route. "Lunch has been made for over an hour. Are you alright?"

Red forced his brightest smile. "Course I'm alright! Just trying to figure out what happened, as usual."

Why Lloyd was suddenly like, 8, and without his memories. Why the Not-Friends were on this Not-Ship and had mistaken him for Not-Kai. Why the city was in a state of disarray and chaos.

Not-Zane studied him, then turned to give the city a sad look. "I'm not sure myself. My scanners can't seem to figure out what is happening. It is as if... blocked by some force."

Red winced, then expertly disguised the move by leaning against the rail. Zane never would use 'my scanners', despite how often Red and the others assured him it was okay. Yet another reason why this wasn't his friend.

"You know Ninjago City," Red said with a weak laugh. "Always one crisis or another. Always those annoying Garmadon Attacks"

This seemed to satisfy Not-Zane, who nodded thoughtfully. "This event definitely seems to have Garmadon's hand in the mess."

He patted Red on the back. "Well, don't worry yourself ragged, Kai. Come in for lunch soon, alright? We have training for Lloyd later."

Ah, right. Training. AKA what Red assumed was how Garmadon was planning to shape this impressionable version of his friend into his new General #1.

"I'm ready for training now, Zane!"

Speaking of Lloyd-

The little gremlin came up from the hull with the rest of the Not-Ninja. Red hated when the entire group was together; it was way more difficult to act as Not-Kai around them, especially around Not-Nya.

For starters, Not-Jay had a notch in his eyebrow that the real Jay never had. He was missing the iconic freckles, and the scarf, and the fluffy hair, though you could always say it was just a wardrobe change. What you couldn't change was the personality differences. This couldn’t be Jay. Jay was anxious and quiet, his jokes (while plentiful) said more timidly and his newest ideas shared with hesitance that only shrank after years of encouragement. He would never be this loud, ever.

Not-Cole was the leader, probably because Lloyd was so young. But even then, in Red's team, Nya would probably take second-command. Cole was their sturdy support, yes, but he was chill, laid-back. Ready to follow and support his friends to the ends of the earth with his tunes and occasional sarcastic wit, but not lead. Not like Not-Cole, who was more serious and commanding and didn't. listen. to. music. Red hadn't spotted a single record or boombox in the room in the hull. That was a tragic oversight on Garmadon's part. The members of his research team should be Fired.

And then there was Not-Nya. Who wore a dress with confidence that his sister would love but never publicly wear. Who had short hair- Nya had tried that style once, and decided it itched around her neck too much- and jewelry, and a giant flying Samurai mech suit. His sister had the Water Strider Mech, and Not-Nya had a flying combat suit. Sure. Close enough. Personality-wise they were similar.

Similar at first glance. Nya was fluid and adaptable to whatever role she needed filling. She was spunky, and as fiery as him when it came to tempers, though she knew how to keep hers in check (she had to, right? No one called her hot-headed and impulsive and reckless and blamed her temper for mistakes or damage or whatever the news comments liked to say about the Fire Mech). Not-Nya was also adaptable and independent-minded, but she seemed more rigid. More doing her own thing.

Point was, everyone wasn't actually his friends, despite how much they tried to prove they were. And they kept acting like he was this Not-Kai, who was just as hot-headed but apparently more mature and training-oriented and basically the better, cooler (or hotter, perhaps, for the fire theme of the red ninja) him, since his acting never seemed to fully convince them. Trying to impersonate a standard he couldn't seem to reach, some legendary hero he wasn't- er, wasn't yet! Yeah! He just needed to prove himself, be better, and he'd be fine. Just... fine. Yeah.

Mini-Lloyd (Red was tempted to call him L'ilyod in his head, but that felt wrong somehow, like he was infringing on some kind of copyright law) stared at him like a goddamn falcon, and he wasn't talking about the bird that circled the ship. He had this bowl-cut Red would tease him about endlessly after all this was over- seriously, how had Mr. Fabulous Hair started with this mess? Garmadon probably didn't even have hair, so there was no way the guy knew how to style it, and it was very evident based on Mini-Lloyd's hairdo.

Red noticed that all of them were staring, actually. Despite his relaxed rest against the rails, his fingers behind his back clutched the cool bar with a dull shake. He didn't notice how the metal seemed to glow red under his touch.

"Training, right, we should get onto that," Red tried. "What do you want to start with, Lloyd?"

"How about a little game?" Lloyd asked with complete innocence. "What we were playing last week before we got interrupted."

Oh sh!t.

"I-I don't know, shouldn't we start with stretches? Or how about some sparring, that's always more fun than a game!"

"But I wanted to continue our game..." Mini Lloyd said, and FSM's sake, he couldn't deal with that pouting look.

Okay. Okay, don't panic. Think logically. What kind of game would an 8-year-old Lloyd like to play with him? Something physical, so no board games- he liked to test his mettle against Zane on those, and sometimes he would almost not-lose. Logic puzzles also fell more on Jay's area. Trivia, especially music trivia, was a bubble between the anxious motormouth and Cole. Video games fell on team building, and wouldn't classify as a training warmup.

"Well," Red said, taking a hopeful stab in the dark. "There's not too much space on the deck for... tag..."

Lloyd nodded, looking satisfied. The Not-Ninja looked- well, their expressions were hard to read because of how different it was compared to his friends. But Red was a master of deception (well, fire, but eh, technicalities), and he had them fooled, and he just had to keep it up until nightfall so he could rescue Lloyd and explain in a safe location-

"HE'S NOT KAI!"

Orrrrr improvise. Okay, yep, he could improvise.

Red lunged forward and grabbed Mini Lloyd's wrist from where he had his hand extended in an accusatory point. He ducked under Not-Jay's attempts to grab him- fast, but not as fast as his Jay, his Jay who could disappear from an awkward social interaction in the span of a flickering lightbulb- and dragged his younger brother with him as he vaulted over the railing. Not-Zane almost managed to yank him back onto the Not-ship, but his icy grip caught only empty air as Red pulled Lloyd into a tight hold and ducked.

He hit the dock below with a stumble, rolling back onto his feet and taking off with a very stubborn green ninja in tow. It took all his strength to drag Lloyd (kicking and screaming like he was being kidnapped or something when Red was just trying to rescue him, for FSM's sake. Lloyd didn't know that, but he could still try to be at least a little more considerate.)

The wooden docks creaked and shuddered underfoot and Red grimaced; whoever rebuilt them after the latest Garmadon attack had shredded them like newspaper clearly hadn't wasted any unnecessary change. It certainly didn't help that Lloyd packed quite the punch for someone so small. Red definitely would come out of this with bruised shins and arms from where Mini Lloyd tried to push him away, but it would be worth it to keep his teammate, his younger brother, safe.

Then green filled his vision and broke his hold on Lloyd's wrist, sending him skidding across the dock planks as he was sent flying. When he finally rolled to a stop, neck and shoulder stinging from where the blast had caught him (no burns, just jitters like he'd been shocked), he had to take a few seconds to re-orient himself. Did the Not-Ship have cannons or something? What hit him from behind, so close it could have hit Lloyd?

Lloyd. Was Lloyd okay?

Red pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the bleeding scrapes on his hands and legs from where he'd gotten banged up by the splintered docks. His gaze, sharp and frantic, searched for signs of green. The warning of more blasts, the flash of the fabric of a gi, anything.

He spotted his brother in the arms of Not-Cole. No, no, no-

And suddenly Not-Nya was there, given a boost by Not-Jay. Her grip was as if she were wearing the robotic mech suit, harsh and powerful and near in-human. She threw Red back to the dock floor as her face twisted with the fury of a storming ocean. A resounding crack rang out over the harbour.

Red couldn't tell if it came from the planks under him or his own shoulder.

She pinned him to the wood, barking accusations and threats in his face faster than Not-Jay could talk. Red blinked through a haze of pain, trying to focus on her face and words. She was missing the beauty mark on her face, he noticed. Yet another tell she wasn't his sister.

"-scar on the wrong side-" And it was hard to hear again over the ringing in his ears. He tried to throw her off, get back to Lloyd, anything, but he was-

Useless.

Her hands suddenly got in his face, slamming his left cheek to the wood. She was close- close to his face, close to his eye, close to his scar- pushing and prying as she tried to do something. Red picked up in his struggling, his attempts to free himself turning to desperate shoves and wild clawing like a trapped animal. He wouldn't let this creation of Garmadon's finish the job that teen had started all those years ago.

"Or better yet, he needs to shut his damn mouth."

The flash of a knife. His vision half-blurry. Blood- so much blood- and a lasting scar.

"-contacts-" "-red-" "-struggling-" "-we know what he- it- is already-" "-not the real Kai-" "-wish-" "-Garmadon-"

He had to get away. Get Lloyd away from them now.

In one surge of strength- and yep, his shoulder definitely wasn't okay after that move, as if he'd ripped it not just from its socket but from its very attachment to his body- he knocked Not-Nya aside. If he could’ve seen through the red haze, he might have noticed red embers dancing around his fingertips as his desperation and fear tapped into something deep in his soul.

He tried to shoot to his feet, tried to run for Lloyd (held so tight in Not-Cole's grip, surely they were hurting him, he couldn't let that happen-). He roared, "LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE!", but before he could take another step through Not-Jay and Not-Zane in his path, the docks gave one last ominous shudder before deciding it had finally had enough.

The planks crumbled underfoot like charred firewood in a crackling campfire, and Red was sent tumbling into the frigid ocean water below.

#spbnr #reverse Thanos snap au #reverse thanos snap #ninjago #lego ninjago #same People but not really #kai ninjago

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whisperlullaby · 3 years

Text

Just Say It And I’m Yours-Ch.1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Language, stalking ish themes

Words: 1490

Summary: Steve is considering retiring from being Captain America. He doesn’t remember why he took the shield or what it means for him anymore. Then he met you.

A/N: First and foremost I am SO SORRY FOR BEING SO SHIT AT SUMMARIES. I just don’t want to give anything away. Second, this is my first series! So like, comment, reblog, let me know you want to see more of this. This story is going to start in Steve’s perspective and switch to the readers. I’ll let you guys know when the POV is shifting so no worries. So, this first chapter is told through Steve. Third, if I missed any warnings please let me know. Last but most CERTAINTLY not least, a very VERY special thanks to @river-soul for reading through this and assuring me it was a good first chapter. I am so grateful for you. Let me know what you think! (Gif by @navybrat817 )

“Steve, she's getting married tomorrow,” Bucky solemnly states as he puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “If you’re going to do something you better do it soon.”

“I know Buck, but what could I say to her? I haven’t been able to tell her how I feel about her for years.” Steve looked out over the lake, his eyes pricking with tears. “She made her decision.”

“You’re an idiot. You’ve been in love with her since you first saw her. If you don’t tell her, she’s going to make the biggest mistake of her life. We both know that,” Bucky sighed, raking a hand over his face. “I know she loves you. You need to talk to her. She can’t marry him Steve, you know the second she does she’ll be gone forever. The person you knew reduced to, whatever this shell of a person is.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck and looked down where the water was gently lapping against the shore. After a few moments, he heard Bucky make his way back to the lodge. As the small waves ebbed and flowed against the shallow shore Steve thought about you and how he was an absolute coward back when you were a big part of his life.

One and a half years ago

Steve was sketching at Marine Park in Brooklyn during golden hour when everything seemed to glow. He needed a break from his Captain America responsibilities and every time he put his charcoal to the paper everything seemed to melt away. The world was vastly different since he came out of the ice and he felt his heart swell thinking about all the fights he had to endure in order to restore some semblance of peace in the universe. He was happy that he had his best friend back, cleared of the mind control Hydra put in him and he made so many new friends and a family in The Avengers. Yet, as he drew out the skyline on the thick white paper, he couldn’t help but feel like he was still missing something. He knew he needed a break from his duties to figure it out constantly being pulled into a fight was a great distraction, but he knew he needed to figure out what brought meaning to his life. The decision to take time off gnawed at Steve like a dog to a bone, who was he if he wasn’t Captain America?

Steve heard you before he saw you, picking up the fierce tone you were using made him glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of your reprimand. Steve looked up to see you wedged in between a woman and her dog and a man probably twice your size towering over you, trying to be intimidating. The fact you stepped forward refusing to back down made Steve smile, oddly fond of your bravery. The commotion you were making drew a small crowd and Steve felt a strange pull to join the group to be close to you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Following this poor woman around like a stalker,” You yelled, poking your finger in his chest. “Did you think she was being coy when she told you to stop following her? Was that some deranged invitation to keep on top of her the rest of the world is unaware of?”

Steve could tell that you were not about to back down as you protected the other woman. The fire in your eyes was something Steve was familiar with in himself before he went into the ice. He noticed the man ball his hands into fists and before you could react he had pulled back to hit you. Steve jumped in and caught the punch, inches from your face.

“You’re gonna want to walk away pal before you make things worse for yourself.”

Steve’s voice was low in warning. When he glanced over at you, you looked up at him almost offended that he had stepped in. Before Steve could say anything you returned your gaze to the other man and swiftly kneed him in the balls.

“Stop following women you fucking asshole,” you admonished as the man crumpled to the ground in pain. “I know you probably have a hard time listening to women when they say no because there is just a bunch of empty space where your brain is supposed to be, but maybe take this as a warning.”

Steve watched you slack jawed as you flagged down a police officer to give a statement to. He observed you as you spoke with the other woman, who was visibly shaken by the incident, with such genuine concern and kindness. He couldn’t stop looking at you as you soothed her with gentle touches and quiet whispers. Steve waited for his turn to speak with the officers regarding the incident, after which the man was taken into custody. When Steve turned around you were walking towards him.

“Umm thanks for catching the punch,” you said with a shrug. “I could have taken him though.”

Steve let out a soft chuckle.

“Well I wouldn’t be much of a superhero if I stood around and let a civilian get clocked for defending someone.”

You cocked your eyebrow at him and crossed your arms.

“Yeah but you’re not in the suit, which means you’re off duty. Either way I’m grateful, I have a job interview tomorrow and can’t really show up with a black eye. It wouldn’t really say ‘hire me I��m even tempered and have a keen ability to moderate conflict in a calm respectful manner.’ ”

Steve smiled, letting out a sigh as he cast his eyes to the ground.

“Oh sweetheart I’m always on duty, comes with the territory.”

He looked up to see you watching him with kindness and understanding.

“I’m sure that must be a very heavy burden to carry,” You sighed. “I hope you can take a vacation or something soon. It looks like you might need one.”

To say Steve was enamored by you would be the understatement of the century. In the brief time he had spent with you, he had noticed that you were fierce, kind, honest, compassionate, and absolutely stunning. He found himself physically having to shake his head to keep from staring at you.

“I’m Steve,” he blurted out. “I feel like you already know that though. It was really nice of you to say that. Sometimes I only see myself as Captain America, no vacation days in sight.”

Steve chuckled as you rolled your eyes at him.

“Y/N, and I mean it. You shouldn’t feel like you’re always on duty.”

You pointed your finger at his chest.

“Besides, I’m a tough girl, I can handle myself. You should trust people a bit more Rogers.”

You gave Steve a cheeky grin and started walking away.

Steve scrambled to follow you, not ready to have your conversation end.

“So, job interview? What do you do?”

Steve easily kept your stride. When you chuckled Steve swore his heart skipped a beat.

“Would you believe I’m a victim advocate? I have an interview with the state prosecutor. I make sure anyone who has experienced trauma of any sort is represented and protected during court cases and criminal trials,” you stated proudly.

“After what I just witnessed, I would have been more surprised if you told me you were an accountant.” Steve joked. “Would it be okay if I walked you wherever you’re going? I know you can handle yourself but I’d like to make sure you don’t leave a trail of broken men in your wake.”

You snorted out laughter.

“Yeah wouldn’t want to get put away for attacking more skeezy men. That sounds great Captain, thank you.”

Steve smiled and kept asking you questions on your walk. He had this need to know everything he could about you since you blew into his life like a sunshower. When Steve got you back to your apartment the sun was just setting.

“Well Rogers, it’s been an interesting day,” you say, nonchalantly fiddling with your keys.

“I’ll say, I didn’t think my day would consist of watching someone stand up for another woman who almost got punched, then kneeing the guy in the balls.”

Steve smiled.

“I am pleasantly surprised with the way my day turned out,” he told you.

“Well there’s a lot more where that came from if you stick with me Cap.”

You smirked at Steve grabbing his sketchbook.

“Here’s my number, if you ever need a little extra adventure in your life, call me,” you said.

With that you turned the key in the lock and pushed yourself inside the apartment. Steve was left to stand staring at your closed door. He didn’t know what force drove you into his life but knowing you for those few hours made him feel more alive than he had in years.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #marvel fic #marvel #captain america x reader

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dadsbongos · 3 years

Text

Red Scare

Movie/Game/Show: Marvel Dynamic: Peter Parker/Reader Warnings: some au where everyone’s in the compound and happy because :), i wrote out a russian accent for pronunciation purposes (it’s then quickly wrote out but hey), “slowburn” written by someone impatient, fem pronouns Summary: Peter just really wants to hold your hand and gets embarrassed by Nat and Tony to do it. Word Count: 3.5K ~~~

Steve was the one who’d found you originally. Well, fought you - to be accurate. The super soldier was a target you’d been put on as a Widow when Natasha found you both and broke the fight up. She’d just barely managed to convince Steve to keep you around - insisting that she could help defect you from Widowing and mold you into a new Avenger. It’d worked for her, surely, it’d work for you too - she just needed time. Time that, while hesitant to do so, Steve eventually granted.

Natasha graciously took you under her wing and began teaching you about American culture and how to blend in for more than spy work.

Now, Natasha watches with furrowed brows as Wanda approaches you. She had her arms crossed tensely as you two came to a meet in the middle of the room. She watches you, her dear student, reach out, hesitating before softly taking Wanda by the shoulders and leaning in to gently kiss her left cheek, then right, then left again.

“Okay,” Natasha put up her hands, signaling the two to stop, “so, ученик, you see where you went wrong there? If Wanda’s a stranger, you wouldn’t kiss her on the cheeks, right?”

“Vanda is friend, no?” you gestured between you and the other woman.

“She is,” Natasha nodded before jabbing your forehead with her index finger, “but you need to pretend she isn’t, just for right now.”

Throwing your hands up in defeat, you huffed, “Vhat? I’m bad guy because zis is ridiculous?”

“No one’s trying to say you’re the bad guy,” Wanda gave you a smile and pat on the shoulder, “Just in need of a little more practice.”

“We should start working with accents,” Bucky pitches in for the first time since ‘American etiquette’ lessons began that day, “Her’s is a dead giveaway.”

Natasha nodded before glancing over at the clock, “I’m sure you’d love to do that one, big guy.”

“Why me?” Bucky sat up straighter - he was no good with one-on-one interactions unless they were fights, and with your upbringing in the Red Room, Bucky was certain you didn’t need any combat training.

“I’ve got a mission to get to with Wanda,” the assassin pat the man’s arm with a teasing grin, “So, unless you wanna see who else is available for that, just sit tight till we’re back.”

The two redheads were out before Bucky could even reply, a sigh leaving his lips at the new awkwardness of the situation. It wasn’t even his idea to be involved - he just got looped in because of his time with HYDRA. Which, in his opinion, was unfair - Natasha and Wanda were at least actually Eastern European, he was lumped in by association. He stood, beginning out of the common room with a nod for you to follow, muttering under his breath.

“If I may,” you interject, nearly rushing to keep up with Bucky’s hurried strides, “zat eh, Spider. Spider boy. Is only one home. Stark, maybe. But Spider, definitely”

“Parker…” the man takes a glance at you, trying to shove his disdain for the boy back, “Sure. He should be in the lab.”

It doesn’t take long to find Peter with Tony, Bucky knocking on the doorframe to catch both of their attention, “We need help teaching accents.”

“And articles,” Tony interjects, pushing a stool beside Peter’s and motioning for you to sit, “Unfortunately for you, lavalantula, it’s hard to take you seriously when you say things like ‘get in house’ like a cavewoman.”

“Mr. Stark- “

Before Peter has the chance to defend you, you’re quirking a brow at the man and putting your own two cents into his take, “In fairness, vhat idiot vould get in different house?”

“Accent and articles!” Peter claps, a forced smile bright on his lips, “Will do, Mr. Barnes, you can trust me.”

“I really don’t,” Bucky glares at the poor boy all while he leaves, “If she starts making references to your movies, I’ll personally bring you harm.”

“Opposed to what?” Peter murmured, “Impersonal harm?”

That brought a small laugh from between your lips, causing Peter to perk up once again at the positive attention. It isn’t every day he gets to make a former Russian assassin laugh, he supposes he should take it as a compliment.

He cleared his throat as Tony went about the lab, “Alright, I think that first we should start with articles.”

“Sounds pointless.”

“They kind of are, but we use them here, so…” he scratches at the back of his head, “How about we try making the ‘th’ sound first, sound good?”

“Not really.”

It was a few days with learning from Peter, but you’d felt as though so much progress was made towards the lessening of a Russian accent. Or maybe the praise that slipped from Peter’s lips just made the most minor step forward seem like a leap. The praise brought a new bubble of joy in your chest, one that was never there when Wanda, or the ever rare Natasha, complimented your work. Maybe it’s because Peter was born and raised in America that made it seem more valid - maybe it was his buzz and excitement at teaching. Maybe it was just him.

“Why don’t you try telling me about your day, to get used to speaking with what you learned so far?”

“Uh,” you fumbled, trying to translate the events in your head before speaking, “I woke up. I trained v- with Thor. Then he left for mission,” you paused, realizing your mistake and sighing.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Peter was quick to jump in when he assumed self-doubts were bubbling up, “You’ve got a lot of time to learn, don’t beat yourself up over a mistake. English is a pain in the ass to learn, you should be proud of yourself for picking it up so fast.”

“Yeah?” he could sense the hesitant disbelief in your voice.

Even so, he didn’t let up, giving a confident nod, “Yeah. Just start over whenever. You were doing really well.”

You took a moment to plan out the response in your head, running through it internally a few times before giving Peter a verbal run through, “I woke up. I trained with Thor. Then he left for a mission. I went to the lab. Now I’m here - with you.”

“See? You’re already doing so well, you should be proud. We can work on elongating sentences later down the line, but this is already pretty great!”

You take a moment, planning the pronunciation in your head before responding, “Thank you, Parker.”

“Peter,” he jumps to say, shrinking back slightly at his own eagerness, “Peter is fine, if you wanna call me that.”

“Piter,” you try the name on your tongue.

“I don’t think we’re saying it the same way,” he nods curtly, “but that’s okay! Doesn’t have to be perfect the first time.”

“I would like to try again,” you whisper his name to yourself a few times before repeating it aloud, “Peter…”

“Right! Wow, you’re so good at this already,” Peter turns to Tony, who’s doing a poor job of pretending he wasn’t listening to the pair, “Isn’t she smart, Mr. Stark?”

“Coming from you, kid? That’s a big compliment.”

“I think it’s well-deserved,” he gives you a chuckle, “I really mean it, you’re good at this and this is just a few days into working on your accent.”

“You think so?” there’s a wave of sheepishness that comes with Peter’s attention, with his wide-eyed, all-believing stares that leads you to scratch at the back of your neck, “Good. I would not enjoy to be a bother for long.”

“Not a bother, at all. I like spending time with you, even if it’s just to teach you about American accents.”

Tony closes his eyes and shakes his head, honestly not believing the words as they come out of his mouth, “You two live together, you could hang out whenever you want, kid.”

“Oh, yeah, huh?” Peter’s eyes seem to come alive again, “We should, then. Hang out, I mean. Outside of these accent lessons, unless you don’t want to.”

“No, no,” you feel a small, unfamiliar smile stretch over your own lips, “I vou- would. I would like that, very much.”

“Yep,” Tony slaps a stack of papers on the desk before beginning to make his exit, “Definitely have to work on those sentence frames, Captain Ivan.”

For the duration of Natasha’s absence, you’ve stopped coming to Bucky for lessons on Americanization. Sneaking off with Peter to the kitchen when you can.

"I used to think that melancholy was a vegetable."

"You're genius enough to catch Stark's attention, but thought melancholy was the name of vegetable?"

"Doesn't it sound like it though? Can you really tell me I'm wrong?"

"No, no, I can see it. Like celery and the uh, the one fruit. They had a baby."

"The one fruit?"

"The one, I forgot the word. Don't you have a word for дыня?"

"You do realize I have no idea what you just said, right?"

Sometimes to either of your rooms, or walking together around the perimeter of the building, or traversing through the little garden Wanda had been working hard on.

"Would you like some food? I'm ordering."

"I don't have any money, sorry."

"I did not ask if you had money, Peter. Do you want food or not?"

"But I can't pay you back and then I feel all icky on the inside part."

"Think of it as gift then, no paying back needed. Gift for being a good friend."

"Aw, you think I'm a good friend?"

"If I had to have a first friend, then I'm glad it was you. You're a good person, Peter. I'm glad we met."

"I'm really glad we met, too."

Little times set apart to spend time together that always begin as lessons.

"You ever heard of solipsism?"

"Maybe, what is it?"

"Uh, the belief that everything around you was created in your mind."

"Then yes, why, Peter?"

"Well, I just was thinking… You know, if everything around me is imaginary then you're the best thing I've ever come up with."

"Peter…"

"I'm sorry, was that too cheesy?"

"No, I just- it was really nice, actually. Thank you."

"Well, don't thank me, it's true."

Times that quickly morphed into discussions on Peter’s favorite movies or what little parts you miss of home.

"Would you ever go back? Like, to Russia?"

"Only if I had to. Too many poor memories there."

"What would be 'having to'?"

"If someone I really cared about needed me to. You or Natasha, mostly."

"You'd go back for me?"

"If you were in need of saving and I had to return to Russia to do it, yes, I'd go back."

"That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard."

"Peter, it is quite actually the bare minimum in terms of saving you."

Nobody expected it to last longer than the time that Natasha was gone - she was like a big sister to you, a safeplace when the Tower felt cold. So, when she came home and you didn’t re-glue yourself to her hip - people were quick to notice.

“I didn’t think Parker could get worse,” Sam noted under his breath, “But there he is, digging underneath the bar.”

Truly, Sam could’ve just looked away - but it was hard to do that when he was watching Peter fucking Parker, the littlest Avenger, try to win a game of footsies with you at the kitchen island. It’d be a cute sight if Sam weren’t the one having to see it.

“I’m staying out of it,” Bucky shook his head, staring down at the table as he pushed his food around his plate, “I haven’t been hungry since they got in here.”

Suddenly, Peter stands, “You’re low on coffee,” he points down at your mug before moving around the counter to the pot, “Do you want more? Just, while I’m up and here.”

“I hate that kid,” Sam shook his head, standing up and starting out of the kitchen, “I hope she rejects his ass.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Steve muttered, “In a way only an ex-Widow could manage.”

“She would’ve eaten him alive on the field, you know?” Bucky shook his head as he watched Peter contently refill your coffee and you give a rare smile only he and Natasha ever really knew, “I miss those days.”

“You try so hard to content me…” you begin, unaware of the conversation behind you, and tap your fingers on the counter’s marble, “Why?”

“You seem nice,” he shrugs, deflating when all you shoot him with in return is a skeptical look, “You do - you are. I like spending time with you.”

Before he can scold himself, you’re smiling again, patting his shoulder, “Thanks, Peter, you’re reassuring. I will be training with Nat if you need me.”

Peter expected a lot of things in his life - joint pain when he’s old, to be an Avenger with Mr. Stark, for missions to not always go perfectly, but gaining a crush on a girl who, admittedly, kind of intimidated him, wasn’t one of those things. But, also admittedly, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome, he’s noticed. He waits for Steve to make his exit before turning in his stool to face the only other man left in the room.

“Hey, Mr. Barnes?”

“Oh my- what?”

“You know Miss Romanoff, right?”

“Nat?”

“No, that’s Ms. Romanoff.”

“You mean ученик?”

“Sure, yeah, that’s what you guys call her.”

“Why are you calling her ‘Romanoff’, that’s not her last name at all.”

“No, but she’s like Ms. Romanoff's sister, or daughter, or something, so it fit. Anyway, do you know her?”

“Yes, Parker, obviously I know her.”

“Well, I think I may or may not like her like more than a friend, a lot, and I was wondering if you knew what she was into? Like date-wise… or gift-wise… or hey, even partner-wise, if she talks about that, ever.”

“She doesn’t and please don’t involve me in this. Go ask Nat.”

And so, Peter does ask Nat.

He makes up an excuse about wanting to be more agile on the field to drag her away from you before popping the question, “Do you think she likes me?”

Natasha doesn’t need clarification, she’s seen the way Peter looks at you whenever you’re around each other. It’s sweet. It’s like he’s seeing a full moon for the first time. He’s so attentive and soft towards you. Sure, the dynamic of a gentle-natured superhero from Queens and a Russian ex-Widow, current Avenger-in-training is a little strange, but she’s all for it if it means you’re happy. You’re like the little sister she so desperately wants back.

“She might,” the redhead shrugs, “Poor ученик isn’t so open with her feelings, kid. I can barely get her to open up about what she thought about dinner let alone her feelings towards the others,” when the boy’s face drops, she tilts him by the chin to meet her eyes, “That being said, I’ll talk to her. She’s a lot nicer to you than she is with the rest of the team so I wouldn’t kill that hope so fast.”

Peter barely manages to smother down a smile before nodding, giving an awkward thumbs up, and racing back down the hall, a “Thanks, Ms. Romanoff!” echoing after him.

Nat purses her lips in thought of who could be able to help her. Who was nosy enough and bothersome enough to try and set up two teenagers?

“Hey,” Tony pointed to the group of Natasha, Wanda, Bucky, and yourself on the couch, “Red Scare, in the training room.”

“Vh- Which one of us are you referring to?”

The man simply tapped the door frame with a nod, “Five minutes or I’m docking your missions.”

“He can’t do that,” Bucky shook his head, eyes narrowing as realization sat in, “Can he?”

And so, in under five minutes, the quartet found themselves in the training room with Tony.

“Underoos needs some training with fighting tactics known to HYDRA - so, who here wants to be the helpful little hero to do that?”

You look between the others, quirking a brow and shaking your head, “HYDRA is not a hub of top secret fighting techniques, it would be like pairing Peter with anybody else.”

“Sounds like you need to get familiar with other fighting styles then,” Natasha tuts, “I’ve let you off too easy just training with me.”

“I literally fight Steve and Thor all the time, there isn’t much difference just because he’s American,” you narrow your eyes at the woman, “If you both are up to something just admit it now.”

“No, no, there’s definitely a difference,” Bucky pitches in - though clearly not content with being roped into the mess of getting Parker a girlfriend, “He’s all in-your-face and forceful, you’re more like sneak-and-stab.”

“Because I am spy and he is fighter!” you shout, looking to Wanda with wide eyes, “Am I being the specific one? I feel as though I am not being the specific one.”

Wanda feels guilt run through her veins as she shrugs, actively knowing she’s aiding in tricking you, “You should give it a try. For comparison reasons.”

“You’re all making me feel crazy and I do not like it, I am at least a little certain this is a form of manipulation.”

“You’re a spy, you should be able to tell,” Bucky pats your back, “Anyway, I’m busy - you have to fight the kid.”

“Vision and I had a dinner reservation,” Wanda ducks out of the room quickly.

Tony points at you with raised brows, “You got it then, Xenia Onatopp?”

“I- “ you sigh and throw your hands up in defeat, “I suppose I do.”

A few minutes later, Peter is shoved into the training room while you stuff on a pair of gloves - eyes sliding over to the doorway to look at his jumpy form. You scoff, “They are up to something and I feel like I know what.”

“What? What - what do you mean?” Peter nervously crosses his arms and tilts his head, “Up to what?”

“Peter,” you raise a brow at him in question, “do you expect me to believe you are dumb? They are making us spend time together like this, what could that possibly mean?”

His mouth opens and closes, eyes avoiding your gaze like it’s deadly, “Who knows, honestly?”

Shaking your head, you begin removing your gloves, “Okay then, do not talk to me until you are ready to tell the truth.”

“Wait!” Peter latches onto your hand as you pass him by the doorway, “Wait, wait, wait… I- I’m sorry. I just really like you and so I asked Ms. Romanoff for help and I didn't think that she’d team up with Mr. Stark because nothing really good comes from Mr. Stark meddling in things other than tech and saving the world, but she did and they did this. I would’ve said something but you’re just really cool and I was scared you wouldn’t like me back so I tried to see if Ms. Romanoff could test the waters for me.”

“You see where that was a mistake, right?” you reach up, brushing your hand through Peter’s bangs, “I do like you, Peter. A lot. So I would appreciate you being upfront with me rather than looking through Natasha for answers.”

“Right, and I’m sorry- “

“Was honest mistake, Peter, do not worry any longer.”

“Are you sure?”

“Would not have said so if I wasn’t. I do not like your worry.”

Peter wrought his hands together, lips pursed, "Can we not pretend to train and just hang out then?"

"Are you certain you do not want me to kick your ass?"

“Well, now that you said that I feel pressure to prove that you won’t,” Peter shook his head and sighed, “I’m okay with taking a loss today.”

“You didn’t even try, didn’t even initiate.”

“So I’m the bad guy cuz I don’t wanna get my ass kicked, okay,” the boy sarcastically muttered before laying his back against the wall and sliding down to the floor, “Hey, you’re bilingual, right?” at your nod of confirmation, he continued, “What language do you think in? Russian?”

You pondered the question before shrugging, “I’m not even sure I think.”

---

“So,” Natasha looks between the two, “how was the training?”

“Awful,” Peter shakes his head, “Hated it.”

“Right… and you, ученик?”

You look over to Peter, his subtle grin and fidgety movements, before shrugging, “He’s a child,” you sigh, “Terrible.”

“Oh, is that so?” Natasha squints between the two of you.

You both nod in unison, “Definitely.”

“Anyway,” you cut in quickly, “we are off to ask Thor to let us try and lift Mjolnir. Please, don’t meddle in teenagers who have will-they-won’t-they scenarios, just let us be awkward about it.”

“What she said,” Peter grinned broadly before gently tapping his finger against your hand and withholding a small cheer when you intertwined your hand with his and led him through the halls to find Thor.

He was almost scared how much he enjoyed the feeling of your hand in his, something so small and inconsequential and yet it made his heart flutter all the same.

“This is nice,” he lifts up your hands briefly.

“I would hope so,” you tease, “I like it, though, is cute, no?”

“It is. Definitely is. I think so.”

“I do, too. We should do it more often.”

#peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #peter x you #peter x reader #idk if the length of this gives it away #but i really like the idea of peter and his russian murder girlfriend

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venomous--fics · 3 years

Text

You shuffled through your papers, doing your best to make sure they were organized. Once they were organized, the next thing to do was to put them into the system, and once you did that, it was onto a new stack. Just like every day.

"Y/n,"

You were too focused, thinking it was another nobody trying to interrupt you, you went to wave them off. Except your wrist was caught and you jumped a little your head upwards to look at the person.

Mobius raised an eyebrow and you quickly darted out of your seat, wiggling out of his grasp and dusting yourself off, "Right, it's- Sorry-"

"You coming with me or not?" he asked, already turning and walking away.

You glanced at your work before quickly following him, "Where are we going, Mobius, sir?"

He chuckled a little, "I told you to stop with the formalities."

"Right."

"To a hearin-"

You couldn't stop the small groan that escaped your lips, which of course got his attention. You cleared your throat, "With all due respect, remember what happened last time we attended one of these things?"

"Whatdaya mean?"

"I'm not going to say it. I just don't think we should meddle in Renslayer's business again.."

It was quiet for a moment before Mobius muttered, "It wasn't that bad."

"It was pretty bad." You rubbed your temples thinking about it, "I had so many papers to fill out because of you- And it flooded the- Just don't get us in over our heads again."

Mobius' hand rested against the big door, "Have I ever led you astray before?"

"Yes."

As per usual, the "courtroom," as Renslayer liked to call it, was pretty empty. There was only a few guards in there, and then the accused. You followed Mobius to the front, garnering an odd look from Renslayer, and using your hands, you were trying to assure her that you two came in peace this time. At least you did.

"I just don't understand why I'm here." the guilty party half shouted, "I mean, the other guys went back in time- Like farther back than they were supposed to."

"Because of you," Renslayer leaned forward, "If you hadn't-"

"Yeah, I know. Stolen the tesseract and gotten away with it. You guys keep telling me this. I get it." The person clapped their hands together, "However, I feel like I was supposed to do that because it was mine to begin with."

There was a silence.

"No? Not going to argue with me on that one?"

Again, no response, only a sigh.

"Does that mean I'm right?"

Your shoulder was tapped with something, pulling your attention away from the mess. Mobius handed you a file. It was plain and paper thin, which was surprising to you. Normally they had a little bit more to them than just a single printout.

You looked at Mobius for a split second again before opening the folder.

Loki. You looked back up towards the front of the room. That must've be that guy over there chatting it up with the judge. Poor thing. Doesn't even know that it won't make a difference.

"Don't mock me. I am a god."

Oh boy, you thought. You watched as they pathetically tried to use whatever magic powers they may or may not have had.

Renslayer had see and heard enough, "Prune them."

You watched as two guards grabbed each of their arms and dragged them away from the podium. Loki, you believed them to be, was struggling against them, saying how unfair and stupid this was and that we'd all regret this.

That when, much to your dismay, Mobius stood up. You panicked and stood up beside him, "Don't-"

Renslayer stared at Mobius as he appoarched the bench. By the look on Renslayer's face, you already knew how this was going to play out, so you opted to step into the aisle. Sure this could end in your guy's- Or Mobius'- favor, but you wanted to make sure you could run in case it went awry.

Sure, what a terrible choice to make. To abandon Mobius like that, but to be fair, he has gotten himself into more trouble than ever lately. How were you supposed to get him out of it if he get himself pruned?

Mobius, with a triumphant pep in his step, lead the variant over to you. "And this," Mobius had stated, gesturing to you, "Is Y/n. Kinda my assistant, but they don't really like to be called that. More of an equal to me."

Loki looked at you, almost no readable expression on their face, "I see."

You held your hand out, "Pleased to meet you."

Loki grabbed your hand and shook it eagerly, "Charmed."

You and Mobius led Loki to the interrogation room, "Sorry about Renslayer. She's a bit-"

"Hostile. Does she ever take a vacation?"

"Uh," you responded, "No. None of us do that."

Loki almost wanted to laugh, "You mean to tell me you do this all the time? Nonstop?"

"Sometimes I sleep at the break tables..." you admitted, "That's pretty exciting."

"What's with this place." it came out as more of a flat statement than a real question, but you answered him anyways. Whether it was out of habit or something else, the words just came out before you could process them.

"It's not so bad. The TVA really is just trying to keep everything in order. Without us doing our work, who knows, the whole universe could just unravel and," you paused to chuckle a little, "Maybe it would explode! Or maybe it would simply turn into a tangle mess of timelines."

"Doesn't that make you a little curious?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"You keep everything in order to prevent some sort of outcome. What if it's not a bad one?"

Mobius opened yet another door and ushered Loki in, "Let's not be putting cockamamie thoughts into anyone's heads."

Loki wanted to know the answer, though. Ever since he was dragged here, all anyone could preach about was how the sacred timeline would and should be maintained. But why? Why was that such a big deal. Seriously, what real harm could come from a few timelines branching out? It didn't seem like that big of a deal.

Mobius asked you, for privacy reasons, to busy yourself somewhere else. You understood, and left him to his work. You'd just met them, but Loki had already done it. He had already gotten into your head.

See, you always felt like something was wrong with this place, but you could never pinpoint why. Nothing seemed to fit in, yet everything still worked and made sense. You had no memories outside of work. No family, or friends, outside Mobius- Did he consider you a friend- That's not important.

Did you do anything before all of this? You asked yourself that every time Mobius brought you files upon files to catalog. You really could help but like your thoughts wander. Surely there's more to life than doing someone else's bidding. But no matter how hard you thought, everything either came up blank or hazy.

Your train of thought was interrupted by Renslayer blocking your path. Her glaze was cold and nothing less than stern. You stood straight in your spot, hands at your side. You could feel them tremble, but you tried to not let it show. She looked you over for another minute before handing you a new file.

Opening it showed that it was just and updated version of Loki's file. You stared at his profile picture for a good minute, wondering if he was trying to annoy you or if he was being truthful. You'd done this for so long but you could never tell if someone was ever lying to you.

You looked back at Renslayer, who tucked her hands behind her back. You straightened up a bit more.

"Don't mess this up." she said coldly, "One mistake and I'm pruning all of you."

You clutched the file to your chest and nodded silently, knowing better than to speak right now.

"Do I make myself clear?" is all she asked as she stepped past you.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good."

As naïve as you were, you knew she wasn't lying. You turned on your heel to deliver the file to Mobius. You couldn't help but mentally curse him out for this. One bad joke from this variant and you'd all be dead. You were silently praying that they'd both be on their best behaviors.

As you got to your destination, you hesitated. You just realized that Renslayer gave you a new file. But that wasn't the problem. You just processed the fact that she was withholding information from you.

Why would she do that? She's never done that before.

#loki imagine #loki x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #mobius imagine #mobius x reader

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Better Man. ( Taehyung x Oc)

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 ~ Its okay to want something to end and also be sad that its ending.

With infidelity, its never black and white.

There’s different kinds of infidelity and you can’t ever say which is worse. That depends entirely on the people involved and the values they hold dear. What may be a small indiscretion to someone, may well be an unforgivable act of betrayal to someone else.

And that’s fine. People aren’t one dimensional. We can’t all have the same perspective.

So infidelity is also never one dimensional.

Sometimes its a one night stand. Something done and forgotten. Discarded from the mind like the used condom in the motel room floor.

Sometimes its a dear friend who betrays you, your best friend who apparently always had a thing for your husband and felt perfectly fine making a move on him. That one stings . Because you lose two people. Two very important people at the same time.

Sometimes its a coworker, someone who stays by their side majority of the day. Who offers a sympathetic ear when your husband wants to relax.

Sometimes men just fall out of love and are too much of a coward to say it out loud, opting to cheat on you instead.

Sometimes, they are jealous, of your career, of your kid, or your friends. Too lazy to win your affection they go find satisfaction in some one else’s bed.

Sometimes it never even gets physical. Sometimes its just someone catfishing your husband or sending him nudes.

And sometimes, its an emotional connection. They actually fall deeply in love with someone else and I think, for most women, that would be the one that would sting the most.

With Taehyung, it had been a night of drinking. He had had one drink too many, had tumbled into bed with some trainee a decade younger and had broken our marriage vows.

Not really a very thought out or planned mistake. He hadn’t cheated with the intent to cheat. He had just been too drunk to know better.

So, why did I leave him?

Because it hadn’t been about the cheating.

It had been the drinking.

When we first met, Taehyung couldn’t hold his liquor. Not that it mattered because he didn’t like it all that much. Didn’t mind sipping juice when other’s nursed beers.

But as he grew older, as he grew more successful, he had started accepting drinks from producers and directors and fellow actors... Because, it was rude not to and Kim Taehyung was nothing if not the personification of politeness.

His tolerance hadn’t increased but his drinking had and that was a bad combo.

:”You need to stop doing this Tae. You can’t just come home black out drunk, every time you have an after party.... You’re going to hurt yourself or god forbid someone else... some day and I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to wreck your entire life over a stupid drink....”

It was a speech I had made way too many times. The words recycled and reframed, and rearranged to try and give them more weight , to help him realize how serious the issue was. To help him understand that what he was risking, it wasn’t just his reputation. It was his entire career, his life if he somehow got behind a wheel someday.

And Taehyung, who had won a bunch of Daesangs for his acting always convinced me that he understood what I was trying to say. That he understood the magnitude of my words and would heed them the next time.

So really, what people didn’t understand was that....

That evening, when he stood in front of me and said that he slept with another woman because he got drunk out of his mind, it wasn’t the sleeping with the girl that had bothered me. ( at least not that much. it hurt of course but it wasn’t that strong. it stemmed more from a place of “why didn’t you just ask someone to drive you home, you idiot.”.. rather than, “ how dare you sleep with another woman?” )

It was the got drunk out of my mind thing.

That was what I ended my marriage over.

That was it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The details were hashed out easily and I didn’t particularly protest or change anything. Taehyung suggested an equal division of assets and I quickly disagreed. I wasn’t exactly poor. I worked as the Head of Marketing in a successful conglomerate. I had no use for excessive amounts of money. After some debate we agreed on setting up a trust fund for Hoshi with the money. He could use it after he turned twenty five.

And then came the next part.

Compensation for physical / Mental Damage.

I felt like i was spiraling.

“None On my side. None.” Taehyung said quickly and I swallowed.

Ms Lee gave me an encouraging smile.

“You can be honest Mrs Kim. We’re trying to go for a clean break between the two of you without any resentment carrying over. So its best to be honest. If you feel you need recompense for any emotional distress or abuse Mr. Kim may have put you through, you’re free to tell me. I’ll make sure it goes into record.”

And this was why I hated the idea of getting divorce.

That entire dialogue had sounded so...so... terrible. So accusatory and ugly. It wasn’t at all the way I felt about my husband.

It was just hurt. Plain and simple hurt because he didn’t take me seriously. Because he didn’t think my words were worth listening to. It was hurt laced with fear because he was putting himself in danger with his reckless actions and I wanted him to stop. That’s all it was.

It was hurt.

Taehyung had hurt me but it wasn’t emotional distress. It sure as hell hadn’t been abuse.

“None for me either.” I said firmly, honest .

I glanced at my husband, trying to tell him that I wasn’t just saying it. That it was true. I really didn’t want him to pay me money for what had happened.

But, Taehyung wouldn’t meet my eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung signed over full custody of Hoshi with a smile.

“I trust you. “ He said quietly, penning his initials carefully on the document.

I nodded, feeling a little like drowning.

We had a very comfortable way of doing things as far as our son was concerned. Taehyung got Hoshi anytime he had time off and also on weekends.

With a very shifting schedule it was hard for Taehyung to pin down exact dates so we had long decided we would make things easier for each other. He would call me a day or so in advance and i would drop him off at Taehyung’s penthouse or the company. Special days like birthdays were always celebrated in a neutral place with both parties attending.

Hoshi loved it because it was a pleasant surprise for him, when his dad swooped in out of nowhere and took him off to amusement parks or arcades or swimming. He loved Taehyung .

So the visitation rights were easy to sketch out.

It was nothing new but to have it all put down on paper and initialed and notarized....it just felt invasive. Some judge somewhere would read all about how my marriage had crumbled to ashes and would pass judgment on me and that just felt odd.

Like airing your dirty laundry. Like letting strangers into your bedroom.

And the worst part was this : I felt myself getting upset , anytime Ms. Lee gave the slightest negative connotation to Taehyung’s actions or responsibilities. Anytime she tried to imply that he couldn’t be neglectful as a father, I wanted to jump right up and defend him. To tell her that he was a better father than the ones who lived 24/7 with their kids and didn’t know a damn thing about them.

That even as my husband, he had been so good to me. Had treated me like his best friend, his confidante, his lover. Had never shied away from showing me how much he loved me. Had been the best husband in the whole entire world.

And I hated myself for it.

What was wrong with me?

Why was I still so fiercely protective of him, I wondered. I hated the idea of him being criticized by anyone for any of it.

And it made feel like such a hypocrite because if he was so amazing, why on earth were we here??

Why on earth were we getting a divorce if Kim Taehyung was husband and father of the fucking Year?!!

Was I making a mistake? Had I made a mistake?

It confused me. These feelings that just refused to go away. I would never act on them because therein lay the path to misery but why were they still there?

This desperate clawing urge to make sure he came out of this whole debacle as a good guy. To make sure no one would brand him as a cheater . Because they would. When the divorce went public, they would dig things up and they would know.

I didn’t know how I’d gotten to this point where , I could somehow forget everything that was wrong, simply because I wanted to focus on what felt wrong....

Technically I should be happy.

Taehyung did something unpardonable ( for me, at the time. Now I wasn’t so sure. Now I felt like I could forgive him for it but he hadn’t asked for forgiveness. What he’d asked for was a divorce. ) and I left him. We were separated . And now finally we were getting a divorce.

Divorce meant we could finally get out of this no man’s land of uncertainty where we had hung for two whole years and move on, from each other and finally give a label to where we stood. Exes. We were exes. We were done. It was over.

Hadn’t I just yelled about him about how I liked labels?

And yet,

This entire divorce felt so wrong. So unnecessary.

And in a moment of clarity, as I watched Ms Lee read he whole thing over again for our benefit, I realized why it felt wrong.

It felt wrong because Taehyung was the one who wanted it.

Why did Taehyung want it? What had made him want to end it, officially?

Was he seeing someone else? Was he considering seeing someone else? Did he want to start enjoying the single lifestyle again?

Did he finally take a good long look at our marriage and found nothing worth salvaging anymore?

My head ached.

I couldn’t wait for the whole thing to be over. And yet my heart broke at the thought of it.

Ms Lee finally gathered up all the documents and gave us a wide smile.

“I wish every client I had was this reasonable. You two are a delight .” she shook her head. “ Should we get a drink to celebrate a day well spent?”

I opened my mouth to accept when Taehyung said, “ Sure, but it would have to be a juice for me. I don’t drink.”

I felt my heart take a swoop, nosediving to my knees.

I stared at him, stunned speechless.

“Haven’t had a drink in two years Mia. I’m done with that shit.” He said softly.

I swallowed.

“I didn’t know that.” I felt miserable all of a sudden, the weight of what we had just done pressing down on my heart like a 200 pound stone,

His gaze held mine.

“There’s a lot you don’t know.”

We stood staring at each other in silence and Ms. Lee cleared her throat.

“Uh... I just got a text from my next client. Maybe raincheck on the drinks? “

I nodded , watching her leave. Thank you i wanted to say, but for what?

For ending my marriage of eight fucking years?

And how ridiculous that very thought was. ..... She hadn’t ended our marriage, I had.

“I have the next two days off.” He said casually.

“You can pick Hoshi up from my mom’s place. I need to head back to the office.” I muttered, choking a little on tears that had sprung out of nowhere. .

“Hey.” his fingers closed over my wrists tugging me gently and I let myself get pulled into his arms. I hugged him, feeling my tears soak through the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way.” I choked out.

He stroked the back of my head gently.

“Me too. “ He pressed a kiss to my hair and it only made me feel worse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Tae is 35, OC is 32

#taehyung smut #taehyung fics #taehyung fanfic #taehyung #taehyung fanfics #bts fanfics #bts smut #bts fanfic

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edie-baby · 3 years

Text

Les Fleurs du Mal Chapter 2 | Pierre Gasly

Summary: Sava Dvorakova had big dreams for Formula One. An opportunity of a lifetime comes around, so she takes it and runs. She proved just about everyone wrong, and is awarded a very controversial seat on the F1 grid. There’s smiles and grins, hugs and kisses, love and laughter. There’s tears and sobs, fights and break ups. There’s evil where you least expect it, hidden in the garden of eden. The Flowers of Evil.

Warnings: a lot of swearing, shitty parents (they’re a recurring theme), sexism, i ignored a lot of actual f1 rules because i couldn’t be bothered writing it into the story tbh, yuki is fcking adorable, a lot of smut eventually, like a lot.

Sava woke up on Friday with no intention of getting out of bed before noon. And then realised that she wasn’t in her bed, it was a hotel room. The memories and realities of her current situation made her head spin, and with a shit eating grin on her face, she jumped out of bed and into the shower. Feeling as though she should stay on brand, Sava pulled on a white pleated skirt and tucked the oversized Carlin shirt into the waistband. She braided her hair while it was still a little wet, knowing it would be easier than the kerfuffle she had yesterday trying to walk, carry a helmet, and braid at the same time. Combat boots, a phone, and paddock pass later and Sava was leaving the hotel room to meet Amelia in the cafeteria-like space on the ground floor to have breakfast and chat about the agenda for the day before they headed to the track.

Unbeknownst to Sava, a number of the F1 drivers were staying at the same hotel, and when she stepped into the room, eyes focused on finding other Carlin shirts, many heads turned her way. Obviously, news about a girl in a Carlin race suit with pink hair had spread into the formula one paddock quite quickly. Sava gave up on trying to find her assistant when she had no luck, preferring to make her way to the coffee bench to make herself a very sweet black coffee over ice. While the coffee began brewing, she turned her back to the bench, taking another look out over the crowds of people at tables to try and find her friends again, only to see that 75% of the room was already looking at her, and those that weren’t were whispering to the people that were. The poor girl looked like a deer in the headlights, and apparently one man couldn’t see her like that, as he stood from his table and walked toward her. He was still metres away and Sava was already having to strain her neck to look up at him.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bombard you like this while you’re already quite overwhelmed. But I can tell you’re a bit lost. Would you like to come and sit with me until you find your team?” The man asked, his accent was distinctly French, and Sava kicked herself for not instantly recognising the man as Esteban Ocon.

“Oh my, yes please! This is my first time outside of karting, let alone in the actual F2 paddock, so I’m so lost and don’t know anyone.” Sava giggled, finishing up making her super sweet coffee and following Esteban’s stride toward a table of black and yellow clad people, along with the unmistakable grin of Daniel Ricciardo.

“I’m Esteban, by the way. I think I heard your name was Dvarokova?” The Frenchman questioned after a few beats of silence, realising that the 5’1 woman couldn’t walk as quickly as he.

“Ah, Dvorakova. Don’t worry about messing up the pronunciation, I misspell it sometimes. My name is Sava, but pretty much everyone calls me Bunny.” Sava replied with a giggle at the butchering of her surname. She couldn’t blame anyone, it was a hard enough name to most Eastern Europeans, she couldn’t even imagine how some of the nationalities in the paddock would pronounce it.

“Bunny. That’s quite cute.” Esteban mused, and they finally reached the rowdy table of Renault employees.

“Guys, this is Bunny. She’s going to sit with us cause she’s new and can’t find anyone from Carlin.” Esteban introduced, and a round of wolf whistles sounded as she threw up a peace sign, then took the seat next to Esteban, across from Daniel.

“Hi, I’m Danny. You’re such a little cutie.” Daniel introduced, leaning his arm over to poke at Sava’s cheeks that immediately heated up in a flaming blush. Another round of oohs and ahs went through the table and Sava giggled again.

“Pipe down, I’m only 17.” In immediate reaction to her statement, Daniel threw his hands up in surrender, his eyes connecting with a few guys nearby who all laughed at his expression.

“Way to make a man feel like a pedo.” Daniel mumbled, and more chuckles reverberated around the group who heard. The team all spoke to Sava with interest and respect, something she didn’t expect she would be getting before she had even gotten into a car. After about fifteen minutes, she spotted Yuki walking through the door with Amelia, and excused herself quickly, exchanging fist bumps with everyone she passed along the Renault table. When she got to the end, she met Yuki and Amelia with surprised looks on their faces before the three found a small table by the window to finally sit down and eat.

“How ready are you Bunny?” Yuki asked later on that morning while the two pulled their race suits up and made final preparations. Sava looked over at him nervously as she tucked her pink braids into the suit.

“Considering I’ve only ever driven a go-kart or a Hyundai I-20, I’m shitting myself. But I’m confident enough in my karting ability to do well-enough here. How about you? Amelia told me you have a seat at Alpha Tauri next season, are you still nervous about these races or are you a cool guy about it?” Sava hit back, smiling at her first friend in serious motorsport, who she could tell she would miss if she made it into F2 next year like Dr Marko had suggested.

“I still want to do well so that they don’t think they’ve made a mistake. But I’m not as nervous as I was when I didn’t know if I’d have a seat.” The Japanese man replied, and pulled on his balaclava, Sava following shortly after. They made eye contact, their mouths obscured by the fabric, and burst out laughing. Amelia guided Sava away so that she could get her helmet on and have one final chat with the engineer she would be hearing in her ears for the weekend. Yuki ran over just before Sava jumped in the car and slapped the top of her helmet, just like her uncle Sebastian had done before every race and she smiled the biggest she probably ever has. With a quick hug to Yuki and another scolding glance from Amelia, Sava climbed into her car for her first ever free practice in a single seater.

“Radio check.” Sava spoke, her voice wobbling slightly as she felt the rumble of the car beneath her.

“Confirm, Bunny. Hop to it.” Her engineer, Marcus, stated with amusement in his voice. Sava audibly laughed as she stepped on the accelerator, rolling out of the garage when she got the signal. Driving through the pitlane was surreal, and Sava knew she’d be feeling that a lot throughout the weekend. She ran two warm-up laps, getting acquainted with the car and testing the responsiveness of the brakes and the throttle. Once her tyres were at the right temperature, she got a radio message to give it hell, and so she did.

It was complete radio silence in the Carlin garage as everyone, including Yuki, sat and watched the rookie on her first hot-lap. She got a purple first sector, green second sector, and purple third sector, putting herself at the very top of the timing tower. While the practice session had only been active for around eight minutes, she had already beat two other drivers who had put in preliminary hot laps. Marcus relayed the time to Sava, and when she asked for the fastest time out of a qualifying session from the year prior, she groaned in frustration.

“Can I run a few more out laps and get comfortable with the responsiveness? I know I can do better.” Sava pleaded, and Marcus quickly agreed. If she thought she could get a better time than the one she had already given them, then hell they’d let her run all day. After four out-laps, she was brought in for a quick refuel and to look over the data of her hot-lap in comparison to Yuki’s. He was braking later, but Sava was getting better acceleration out of the corners. She knew now just how good the brakes were and considering she was known throughout the European karting scene for braking extremely late, she knew she could get better times, and maybe knock a few tenths off her entire lap. By the time she was finished looking at the data, everyone on the grid had put in multiple flying laps, and she was confident that whatever she pulled out now would be a decent comparison of her speed to the rest of the grid. With two more out-laps to get her tyres and brakes at the perfect temperature, she was off again.

Purple first sector, purple second sector, purple third sector.

As her name flew up the timing table, the Carlin garage waited with baited breath, to finally see Sava Dvorakova land at P1, four tenths quicker than the next fastest, Juri Vips.

“No fucking way.” Amelia mumbled, her eyes trained on the initials of the girl she had been following around for the past two days. Similar reactions were happening over in the Renault garage, many of the team who spoke with the girl earlier that morning tuned in to catch the first performance.

Qualifying later that day followed a very similar pattern. Finishing P2 behind Juri Vips, their times separated by one one-thousandth of a second. The real test was to see if the Czech could keep up the pace in their sprint and feature races over the next two days.

Those boys had hell to pay, and sure as shit, Sava was gonna come collect.

#pierre gasly #Pierre Gasly fanfiction #Pierre Gasly imagine #Pierre Gasly x reader #pg10 #gasly #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic

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shhhhyoursister · 3 years

Text

enemies to lovers/band!au

okay yeah heres the final one, the big boy, the one im probably proudest of, i really really hope you guys like it!!

Matteo was lucky that the conductor liked him, because showing up 10 minutes late to the first rehearsal of the year was bad, even for him. Matteo wasn’t known to be the most responsible member of the band, and usually the only thing he could be counted on to do right every rehearsal was show up, and show up on time. He adjusted his grip on his baritone case as he sped down the hall of the music department, cursing as he checked the time on his phone again, and when he got to the door of the theater they rehearsed in, he cracked it open as quietly as he could.

“Ah, Matteo!” the conductor yelled from the stage, and Matteo flinched before stepping fully into the room, “You decided to show up! I was worried you quit after playing that really loud wrong note at the concert last semester.”

“Which one?” Matteo joked back, knowing that if it was any other professor he would have just apologized and rushed to put his instrument together. He was on a first name basis with Rick, who was probably the most laid back member of the music faculty. Some of the players on stage laughed at the exchange, and Matteo smiled as he popped his case open.

“Just hurry up, we do actually need a full band to rehearse,” Rick said, turning back to his stand with a chuckle, “and poor David looks like he’s going to explode if we don’t start soon.”

Matteo rolled his eyes. As if that would make him set his baritone up faster. He ignored the second wave of laughter that followed the conductor’s comment and grabbed the folder with his music, and made his way onto the stage. He took his seat next to the other baritones, in the third chair, and tried to ignore the glare he could feel coming from the clarinet section.

Matteo was a little upset that he had missed his favorite part of each rehearsal; before Rick got there, when people were still whispering to their stand partners, some quietly tuning their instruments or practicing difficult measures, some tapping their feet and counting out the beats. It felt more alive than when everyone was coming together to play one piece, and while Matteo loved the sound of a full band playing beautiful music, he really needed that calm before the storm. It reminded him that the music that he listened to came from people like him, who had to practice and tune and count and focus to produce the notes and phrases that seemed to flow so naturally.

He risked a glance over at David when Rick asked him to play a note so he could tune the band to it, and, like always, felt a little bit of a shiver run through him when he watched David take a deep breath before playing out a long, perfectly in-tune note. He knew it wasn’t only because of the sound of the clarinet, which Matteo secretly thought was the nicest sounding of all the wind instruments. Although David couldn’t stand him, and Matteo didn’t have too many kind feelings towards him either, it was hard to deny that first of all, David was an amazing musician, and second of all, much less importantly, he was really hot.

Matteo didn’t feel bad for thinking it. Every person in the band who was into men was into David. Matteo would hear girls whispering about him while they were setting up their flutes and oboes, and there was the one guy in the saxophone section who had been trying to get his number for a year. It was old news, but Matteo couldn’t help himself from staring at David when he had long measures of rests, and had to admit that David was the cause of his distraction during some rehearsals.

Rick finished tuning the band, and had them flip to the piece that Matteo was the least confident in. He looked up and took a breath with the whole band when the conductor brought his arms up, and dropped his eyes back to the notes a split second before the downbeat.

Inevitably, Matteo got to a part in the song where he had four measures of rest, and he leaned back in his chair a bit and stretched his neck out. He was counting on his fingers and tapping his foot to the tempo and managed to come back in at the right time, only for Rick to cut them off as he flipped aggressively through the papers on his stand.

“Where is the second page? Why do I only have half of the score here?” He asked angrily, and then huffed and said, “Okay, everyone take out the next piece. David, take over for me.”

Matteo rolled his eyes as Rick walked off the stage, and David took his place in front of the band. David always got the most cocky, smug look whenever he was asked to conduct, and some people rolled their eyes because they knew David was harsher, faster, and much less forgiving than Rick was.

“Okay guys, remember we tried to play this last semester, but some people couldn’t keep up,” his eyes flicked to Matteo, who just shrugged, and then smiled as the frown on David’s face deepened and he continued, “as long as everyone watches me, we’ll be able to get through it. Let’s start at the beginning.”

That won’t be too hard, Matteo thought to himself, and smiled before bringing his lips to the mouthpiece.

They got through the first half of the song with no issues, David going slower than usual to let people warm up to playing it again. Matteo knew that the only reason he hadn’t messed up yet was because his eyes were glued to his sheet music, but he saw that the tempo was changing in a few measures so he would have to look up. Once he did, he caught sight of the serious expression on David’s face, his eyes scanning over the band and darting down to the score in front of him, his arms waving and emphasizing different beats in a fluid and practiced way, keeping the tempo while cuing the other instruments to come in.

“Stop, stop! You were supposed to come in there, baritones, what happened? Are we playing too slow for you?”

Matteo (and everyone else) knew that when David was yelling at the baritones, he was really yelling at Matteo. His animosity was known amongst the other students in the band, so they weren’t surprised to hear a critique aimed at that section of the low brass. That was confirmed when Matteo looked up to see David glaring directly at him, his hand that wasn’t holding the baton clenched tightly around the stand.

They got through the rest of the song with no incidents, Matteo purposefully playing quieter to avoid making any loud mistakes. Rick came back just as David was berating them for speeding up at the end, and he clapped him on the shoulder before waving the missing pages of his score in the air.

“Thank you, David, for re-traumatizing your bandmates. Let’s go back to the first piece, and I promise I won’t yell as much as he did.”

The band laughed and David chuckled (at least he’s self aware, Matteo thought to himself) as he took his seat, with one final glance in Matteo’s direction. They could both see each other from where they were sitting, David being at the end of the second row and Matteo diagonal across from him in the back. He watched as David settled back into his seat and picked his clarinet up, his tongue flicking out to wet the reed, and when David’s eyes shifted back over to him he blushed and looked down at the floor. He scowled, angry that he got caught staring.

***

He struggled through the first week, playing confidently when he could and quieting down whenever he got lost until he could figure out where they were again. Sometimes he found himself so confused he would whisper out of the corner of his mouth, “Where are we?” to his stand partner, and she would roll her eyes before pointing out the correct measure.

The next week of rehearsals, Matteo started out on a much better foot. He was running early as opposed to late, and he hummed to himself as he strolled calmly down the hall leading to the theater. There was one measure of their newest song that he just couldn’t get right, and he flipped open his folder as he walked, knowing that the page with that measure would be at the front. He stopped paying attention to where he was walking, tapping out the beat of the notes on his hip, and just as he turned the corner into the room he crashed into someone leaving, and heard an annoyed, “Are you serious?”

He tensed when he recognized David’s voice, and looked up to see the exact glare he was expecting aimed directly at him. He almost missed the stack of papers that David had dropped, and only noticed when one sheet landed perfectly on top of his open folder.

“Sorry,” Matteo muttered, not knowing what else to say, “let me help.”

“No, I’ll do it,” David snapped back, the glare on his face darkening a little as he snatched the paper on top of Matteo’s folder and said, “I had them organized by section, and by part. You’d just fuck it up. Go set up.”

Matteo took a deep breath through his nose, tired of being torn down every single time David spoke to him, and he took another breath before glaring back and saying, “I wouldn’t fuck it up. I know how sheet music works.”

“Yeah, but if Rick wanted you doing any of this I’m sure he would have asked,” David scoffed, kneeling down so he could gather the papers together, “but he didn’t.”

Matteo bit his lip as felt something angry building in his stomach, and he knew it wasn’t professional or smart of him to do but he couldn’t help but bite back, “Look, we all know that you’re just using us to set yourself up for the future, and that’s fine, but it doesn’t give you the excuse to be a fucking asshole all the time.”

He stormed off before he could see David’s reaction, and set his baritone up with trembling fingers. He was already in his seat and tuned up by the time David stalked into the theater with all of the papers, and Matteo watched with a smug grin as David quietly apologized to Rick for being late before handing off the sheet music and taking his seat. He grabbed his clarinet, his fingers pressing down on the keys harder than was probably good for them, and shot Matteo one final, piercing glare before turning to his music. Matteo smiled to himself as the conductor got everyone’s attention.

***

Things got a little more tense after that.

Getting even more on the bad side of the most talented, and most respected (and most feared) musician in the band was not Matteo’s best idea, but he had no idea how to fix it, and didn’t even know if he cared enough to.

Matteo didn’t know exactly what he was going to do once he graduated, but assumed that he’d figure something out. Pit bands were always looking for fresh talent, so he assumed that he would join one of those and get some menial job on the side while he waited to see where his life would lead. He knew that David, on the other hand, had a plan, and it seemed like their interaction in the hallway led David to believe that Matteo was the one thing standing in his way.

Another week of rehearsals went by, Matteo trying his best not to mess up, and failing almost every session. He knew that his conductor was starting to get a little frustrated, and he didn’t know how to explain that his new bout of issues weren’t coming from a lack of understanding the music; it was just difficult to play when you could feel someone openly glaring at you anytime the first clarinets had rests in the music. He and David hadn’t spoken or interacted at all since the incident in the hallway. They had never really spoken before that, so it wasn’t too unusual, but that amount of glaring was new.

And after a day or two, Matteo started glaring back. He would only do it when David wasn’t looking at him, either focused on the music or counting or watching the conductor, and it felt like the smallest form of retaliation that Matteo was willing to participate in. He knew that he couldn’t talk back to Rick, and he was doing all he could to avoid having to actually speak with David, so the glaring was a good alternative.

It was also a bit of a problem, the glaring. Sometimes Matteo would get lost in his own anger, resulting in him getting lost in the music, and Rick would stop the band and tell the baritones to pay attention to the music, not their bandmates, and Matteo would whip his head back to his music, his cheeks red at being caught.

It came to a head during one rehearsal, the first rehearsal since the glaring had started where Rick had to step out of the room. He handed David his baton and walked off with a wave of his hand, and Matteo noticed David smirking in his direction as he took up the position in front of the band.

“Okay, we’re going to start at measure 46,” David said, his eyes yet again scanning over every member of the band, squinting a little as they passed over Matteo, “the low brass has really been struggling with this section, and I’m going to take it faster so we can see exactly who is having trouble.”

Matteo’s eyes widened as he looked over the part David was referencing, realizing quickly that it was the hardest set of measures for the baritone section out of all of their pieces. He looked up again, trying to look determined despite the nerves starting to make his fingers twitch on the valves of his baritone, and caught David smirking at him again. David raised the baton, and Matteo lifted his baritone to his mouth and tried to focus his eyes on the music.

He managed to play through the first few measures correctly, but his nerves got the best of him and he messed up in one of the worst ways you can mess up as a musician; playing during a full-band rest. He felt his entire body tense up as half the band turned to stare at him, and he knew that it was the perfect excuse for David to go off on him.

“I heard that in the baritones, don’t let me hear it again.” David said sternly, the tip of the baton pointing right at Matteo. He looked mad, but there was something slightly encouraging there too, like he was trying to give Matteo another chance.

Matteo was surprised but grateful that his mistake didn’t send David into a fit and really tried to take that second chance and run with it. They started playing again, and Matteo made it through that measure, and then managed to mess up on the next one. He held one note too long and then played a sharp instead of a flat, and David didn’t stop the band but his head flicked to Matteo and he gave him a look that made his fingers freeze, and it took him a measure to come back in because for some reason that look scared him more than the many critiques and looks he had gotten in the past. David looked furious, as if Matteo was messing up intentionally.

They played through the rest of the section, Matteo getting less tense the more measures he played right, and just as they reached the last measure Rick came back into the theater, the door creaking a little behind him, but enough that it distracted Matteo, who not only played the last note wrong, but he felt his face heat up at the monstrous honk that came out the bell of his instrument.

“Matteo!” David snapped, and his other hand grabbed the top half of the baton and quickly bent it, snapping that as well.

Most of the band gasped, Matteo included. David seemed shocked himself, staring down at the fractured wood in his hands. Rick walked up to him and without saying a word, grabbed the two pieces, and turned to face the band with a stoic expression.

“I think I’ll call it for today, everyone. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, before dropping a hand onto David’s shoulder and looking up at Matteo and saying, “You two, in my office.”

Matteo gulped, and tried to ignore the look on David’s face as he got out of his seat and made his way over to his case. He put his baritone away slowly, watching as the rest of the band filtered out through the main doors, some shooting him sympathetic looks as they walked out. He might not have been the best member of the band, but he was nice enough that most people liked him enough, and probably felt bad knowing that he was about to get screamed at. He looked away when he saw David walk into Rick’s office hot on his heels, already saying something that would probably get Matteo in more trouble.

He made his way over to the office once he had all of his stuff together, and took a deep breath before knocking on the door and walking in. He entered and saw Rick sitting at his desk, looking annoyed, and David standing in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he had just finished ranting, his face red and his chest heaving, and he turned to fix Matteo with a glare as he walked into the room.

“I don’t know why two of my best musicians hate each other as much as you guys do,” he started, and Matteo’s eyes widened a bit at the bluntness of his statement along with the compliment, “but you need to work it out before next week.”

“Sir, I don’t know if I’d say he’s one of the best-” David started, his voice hiding the hint of a pretentious laugh, and before thinking about it Matteo cut him off.

“You don’t know shit about how I play.”

David turned to him with tight lips and said, “Well, I’ve conducted you before, so I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“Yeah, how could I forget being verbally abused.”

“It wasn’t abuse, if you aren’t going to play right I’m going to say something and I’m sorry if I don't sugarcoat it. I focus on being right, not on being nice.”

“Yeah, obviously.” Matteo muttered under his breath, and just as David turned to him to snap back at him, Rick clapped his hands together, loudly.

“Okay, I know what we’re going to do to fix this.”

***

That was how Matteo found himself the next day, an hour before band was supposed to start, during his only free period of the day, making his way to the music building so he could get to the practice rooms. He was walking slow, making sure to be on time but exactly on time, because he didn’t want to spend a second longer with David than he had to.

To their chagrin, Rick decided that the best way for the two to get along was for David to help Matteo figure out the parts of the music that he was struggling with. He had set up mandatory twice a week private sessions for both of them. Matteo had a feeling they wouldn’t make it past the first week without screaming at each other.

Matteo got to the door of the room he was meant to meet David in, and he could hear shuffling so he knew David was there already. He rolled his eyes and braced himself before pushing into the room.

“Put your instrument together,” David said, not even looking at Matteo as he set two chairs up in front of a stand, “ and get your music out. Let’s not be here any longer than we have to be.”

David finally turned around when Matteo didn’t move, and raised an eyebrow at him. Matteo had been expecting the hostility, and knew what he wanted to say in response.

“If we’re being forced to do this,” he said calmly, dropping his baritone case on the chair and popping it open, “I’m not going to let you be a dick to me. You need to be here just as much as I do. If you’re mean I’ll walk out, and then we’re both fucked. Don’t test me.”

He turned and started setting his baritone up, not waiting for David to react or respond to what he said. He only looked up at him once he sat in the chair and had his music on the stand, and he was surprised to see David look down at the ground, his face almost completely neutral except for the corners of his lips, which were twitching up a little.

“Fine,” David said, sitting down in the other chair, moving his leg quickly when his knee bumped into Matteo’s, “Play it right and I won’t be a dick.”

Matteo rolled his eyes but figured that was the best he was going to get, so he took a deep breath before bringing his mouthpiece up to his lips.

He played through the first few measures that David pointed at, trying to be as quick as he could while still following the tempo David was tapping out and playing the notes correctly. He knew that he had nowhere to hide if he messed up. Not that he really did during their bigger rehearsals, but he also felt much more confident playing by himself. He knew he wasn’t going to mess up the timing of anything, but he was worried about a set of measures near the end that had a beat that was so complicated he couldn’t figure it out.

He messed up right away when they got to it and he stopped, expecting David to make some harsh comment that would have him snapping back, but was surprised when his only reaction was, “Go back a few measures, try it again.”

He tried again and messed it up the same way, and then tried again, before putting his baritone down with a huff. He was frustrated at himself for messing it up, especially for messing it up in front of David, knowing that there was no way he wouldn’t say something sarcastic or rude after Matteo messed up for the third time.

“Why are you counting it like that?” David asked, his voice surprisingly devoid of any mocking or cruel tone. He sounded genuinely curious, but Matteo was still wary.

“I don’t know, because that’s how it looks?” He answered quickly, rolling his eyes, shifting uncomfortably under his horn.

“If I’m promising not to be a dick, you need to promise to take this seriously,” David said, turning to look directly at Matteo for the first time since the lesson had started, “I know you don’t really care about all this, but I do, so if that means teaching you how to fucking count I’ll do it. Now, play it again, but right.”

“Who says I don’t care?” Matteo asked, keeping his baritone firmly in his lap, “And I know how to count. That measure just makes no fucking sense.”

“Yes it does, you just aren’t counting it right,” David said, his voice tight, and he took a breath before saying more calmly, “here, give me your horn, I’ll show you.”

Matteo hesitated before handing it over, and he sighed a little in relief when David took Matteo’s mouthpiece off and took another one out of his bag.

Matteo was always impressed at the sound that David was able to pull out of any instrument he touched. There were multiple times where their conductor would ask David to grab an extra trumpet or sax or flute or set of mallets for a marimba, and would shove him wherever the band needed extra help. The only reason he never sent him to sit with Matteo’s section was because they didn’t have any extra horns, and Matteo was beyond grateful for that.

David pointed at the measure, and said, “See, you’re playing this,” he played out the beat that Matteo had been playing and then stopped and said, “but that amount of notes doesn’t fit in the measure, you’re adding an extra one in the middle. It’s supposed to sound like this,” he raised the baritone to his lips again and played out the measure, tapping his foot loudly as he continued playing so Matteo could hear how that measure fit into the rest of the phrase.

He gave Matteo the horn back after switching the mouthpieces again, and Matteo hesitated before starting to play again, and when he got to the measure and played it the way David showed him, it flowed perfectly into the next one and he even saw David smile a little.

“Yeah, you got it that time,” David said, and Matteo smiled back at him before turning back to his music as David said, “now let’s fix this other part.”

***

After a couple of weeks of the private sessions, Matteo was starting to sense a pattern. They would be completely civil during their one-on-one sessions, David only critiquing when necessary and only with comments that were actually helpful, and then they would get to band and it would start all over again. Matteo would get lost, Rick would snap at his section, he would look over and see David glaring at him or shaking his head in disappointment.

He didn’t know why it was getting to him in a way that it hadn’t before. He always knew that David was a little tougher on him than others, but he had really been hoping that the private sessions would stop the glares and the looks and the scoffs whenever he messed up. If anything, the private sessions only made the actual rehearsals worse.

The second boiling point was reached their third week of the private sessions. Matteo had sat through his perfectly cordial hour with David before band, and was even looking forward to playing that day. He felt like he had finally nailed the set of measures that he and David had been working on so he was excited for Rick to hear him play it right. He was so giddy about it that he even smiled when he caught David looking at him from across the band. David had raised a confused eyebrow at him before shifting his gaze back to the front of the band, and Matteo blushed and looked down at the ground, feeling a little silly.

Again, after a little while the conductor had to step away, and again David took his place at the stand, and picked up the baton. He looked right at Matteo as he told the band that they were going to start a few measures before the one Matteo had been messing up, and he sat up a little straighter and returned the look, nodding when David finished speaking. David nodded the slightest bit back at him before raising his arms, and Matteo breathed with the rest of the band before bringing his mouthpiece up to his lips.

And it was like nothing had changed. Matteo found himself getting lost watching David’s waving his arms in all directions, wild but completely in control of himself and the band. He missed one note and David’s eyes flicked to him, and held there as Matteo panicked and stumbled his way through the measure that he had spent two weeks of private lessons fixing.

He saw David’s jaw clench and he cut the band off with a sharp wave of his hand, before turning his full body in Matteo’s direction to say, “So the last few weeks have been a total waste of my time?”

Matteo didn’t think before standing up and walking off the stage, and out of the theater. He ignored the whispers and looks that followed him out, didn’t think about when he was going to be able to go back and get his case and bag and music, and he walked to the hallway of practice rooms and entered one, slamming the door behind him.

***

He emailed Rick and got permission to skip rehearsal the next day, the conductor ending the email with We really need to figure this out before your issues with David end up hurting the rest of the band. Matteo had read the response and collapsed back into bed, glaring over at his baritone (in the case, his roommate and friends brought his stuff out for him after he left).

It was also the first night of the first concert in the music department. Matteo wasn’t performing but he was required to go, and as he got himself ready in his appropriate concert attire, he worried over the fact that David was going to be there, to perform and to watch. Matteo couldn’t think of something he’d like to do less than watch the dude who embarrassed him in front of their entire band perform and get endless praise for it.

Matteo sat quietly next to his friends throughout the concert, and when David walked onto the stage, he felt himself tense up. His best friend Jonas, a trumpet player who was more than aware of the situation in and out of rehearsal, put a hand on his leg and squeezed, trying to offer a bit of comfort. Matteo smiled tightly at him as David lifted his clarinet to his lips and took a deep breath.

No matter how much Matteo hated him, he couldn’t ignore the fact that David was the best clarinet player he had ever heard. It was like his body and his clarinet were formed together, the way he breathed sound through it and moved around it, how quickly he could run his fingers over the keys and play the most complicated string of notes without a single flaw. Matteo found himself entranced by the song David played, and he opened his eyes when the last note faded out into the otherwise silent theater, and he watched as David kept his clarinet up for a beat after the song finished before his eyes opened, and they looked directly into Matteo’s as the audience clapped around him.

He looked away as quickly as he could, ignoring the face Jonas made at his sudden movement, and tried to focus his attention completely on the girl who stepped up next with her violin. He only let his eyes flick to David once more before the concert was over, and while his view was obscured because David was sitting a few rows ahead of him, Matteo could see his fingers twitching in his lap, probably resisting the urge to make the player follow his lead. The concert was over after that last girl, and Matteo turned to his friends quickly to stop himself from staring in David’s direction again.

Coincidentally, (or not at all) the night of the first concert in the music department was also the night of the first party being held by some people in the percussion section, a couple of guys who had a big house that was perfect for hosting a bunch of drunk but mild-mannered music majors.

Matteo had barely even wanted to go, knowing that his reputation amongst the rest of the band was not a great one. He wasn’t hated, but most only knew of him because of the amount of times per rehearsal the conductor would have to stop and critique the baritones (him) or tell the baritones (him) what measure they were on, and now because of all the new drama with David. He also didn’t want to face his bandmates after walking out during the last rehearsal, but the pushing and prodding of his friends made him reluctantly agree.

“Dude, we’re gonna get you so fucked up you can’t even think about what an asshole Schreibner is,” Carlos said as they made their way to the house.

Matteo snorted as they turned onto the correct block, and they quickly spotted the house that was holding the party. There were lights and music loud enough that they could hear it down the street, and Carlos and Abdi started whooping before running over to it.

“You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” Jonas said when Matteo hesitated near the front door.

Matteo waited another second before shoving into the house, and throwing back over his shoulder, “Who cares about that asshole, I want to drink!”

And drink he did. Matteo was on his third beer after only twenty minutes, and he was considering it a win that he hadn’t seen David yet. He could feel himself getting more drunk, and didn’t know what he would even say to David if he saw him. He was glad that the little corner of the room he and his friends had grabbed seemed to be pretty hidden away.

Matteo was handed a joint after a little while and he grabbed it quickly, sticking the end in his mouth and taking a deep hit. He closed his eyes as he blew the smoke out his nose, and took another hit as he opened his eyes slowly, and saw David walk into the room. He didn’t seem to notice Matteo though, seemingly focused on getting to someone that was standing in the opposite corner.

“I didn’t know that David and Leonie are friends,” Carlos said quietly, staring over at the two, “she’s in the orchestra with Kiki. I heard she’s just like David but worse.”

“Matteo would love her, then,” Jonas said, ruffling his hair, and he flipped him off before taking another hit and passing the joint along.

“Why are talented and attractive people such assholes,” Matteo said, and when the three other boys turned to him, their eyes wide, he asked, “what?”

“Did you just say something nice about David?” Abdi asked with a grin, and Matteo rolled his eyes as the boys all oooohed.

“Me saying he’s attractive and talented isn’t nice, especially when that was the lead up to me calling him an asshole,” Matteo said, grabbing the joint when it was handed back to him, “I don’t have a single nice thing to say about David. He can play good, but he’s a piece of shit and nobody is going to hire someone with his kind of attitude. He thinks just ‘cause he can play and wave his arms around in the air that he’s going to become a famous musician and conductor, but he needs to work on being a decent fucking person first.”

His rant wasn’t the most coherent, but it felt good to get off his chest, and he leaned back against the wall and took a hit to emphasize his point. The boys were quiet, and when Matteo raised an eyebrow at Jonas, he tilted his head to the front of the group where David was standing, scowling at him.

“We need to fucking talk.” David growled out through his teeth, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, looking like he was going to vibrate out of his skin with the amount of tension in his body.

Matteo said nothing but handed the joint off, and followed after David when he turned and walked out of the room. He was done. At that point he didn’t give a fuck if he got kicked from the program, or if he was fucking kicked out of the school, because he and David needed to settle whatever their issue was then and there.

David led him down the hall and he knocked loudly on a door before shoving it open, and grabbed Matteo’s wrist to pull him inside. Matteo noticed it was a bathroom, and quickly glanced around to see if anybody was watching them. He wondered what they thought was happening. Someone in the band would probably recognize the stiff way David was holding his body, and see Matteo trailing almost lazily behind him, and know that something was about to go down. But someone else might just see two boys going into a bathroom together at a party, and come to a completely different conclusion. Matteo almost laughed at the thought. Yeah, he was gay, but he didn’t know if David was. He didn’t know if David even had the time or patience to date or hook up with anyone.

He could tell that his apparent apathy towards the situation was just pissing David off further, so he closed the door slowly, not even locking it before leaning back against it with a bored sigh. He definitely wasn’t actually as calm as he looked; he crossed his arms across his chest so the shaking in his hands would be less obvious, and it was taking a lot of effort to keep his face neutral when he saw how angry David was. He didn’t think David was going to hurt him or anything, but he was terrified about what the fight could lead to when it came to his position in the band.

“I don’t know what your fucking problem is, Matteo, but I don’t have any kind of attitude. I care about what I do and I want it to be done right. It’s not my fault that you don’t care enough to actually try, but it is really fucking with my experience here,” David said quietly, his voice a little too calm for his red face and clenched fists, “I can’t conduct a band when I need to stop every five seconds because you lose your place.”

Matteo snorted, and leaned his head back against the door. It was taking him a minute to figure out what he wanted to say and he was surprised that David was quiet, like he was giving Matteo the time to think.

“David,” Matteo said, after figuring out what was probably the dumbest part of the whole issue, “you’re good enough to be hired anywhere. Me being a shitty band member won’t stop you,” he paused for a moment, and then picked his head up and said, “And I do try. I’m good. The only reason I’m still here is because they know I’m good. I just don’t need to prove it like you do.”

He was glad that his mind was clear enough to get his exact point across, and he watched David as his words sunk in, realizing that David had probably drank too, considering the way he was leaning back on the counter, his legs a little unsteady. David stared at Matteo for a minute before standing up straighter.

“I don’t need to prove anything,” he said, “I know I’m good.”

“Then why are you such a dick?” Matteo asked, “Like, specifically to me? Yeah, you yell at everyone but you’re just mean to me. Are you homophobic or something?”

Matteo couldn’t stop the thought from drifting through his mind and out his drunk mouth. Maybe David was, and there was going to be no way to solve the issue. What the fuck would he tell Rick?

“What? No, I’m not homophobic,” David said, looking like he wanted to laugh at the idea but was too confused to, “I’m trans.”

“Trans people can be homophobic.” Matteo said, shrugging, knowing that it was a stupid point to make. He was honestly just happy for a break in the tension.

David actually laughed, before tilting his head and smirking at Matteo and saying, “Trust me, I’m not. That would be kinda weird considering I’m also not straight.”

The way he said it made something hot bloom in Matteo’s stomach, and he hated his stupid, gay brain for reacting. That statement combined with the look on David’s face, and the fact that despite their stupid rivalry David was still really fucking hot, was making Matteo lose sight of the original conversation a little.

“You’re hot.” He said, verbalizing his thoughts before he could stop himself, and then he clamped his mouth shut and bit his lip, half terrified that David was going to get angrier, and half glad that he was just getting everything off his chest thanks to the alcohol in his system.

David fell back against the counter, the smirk dropping from his face, and he blinked before stammering out, “Uh. What?”

“I think you heard me,” Matteo said, shrugging, and then he looked off to the side before looking back at David’s confused face and saying again, “you’re hot.”

“Why- what does that have to do with any of this?” David asked, and Matteo couldn’t tell if he was angrier but he sounded different, in a way that made him stand up against the door a little.

He just shrugged again, and then stared at David as he tried to work through whatever was going on in his head. Matteo watched as he stood still for a minute, his fists loosening and tightening at his sides, and he watched as David’s eyes scanned up and down his body with the same focus they would scan the band with, and he watched as David pushed himself off the sink, took a few confident steps forward, and shoved Matteo against the door and pressed their lips together.

Matteo’s eyes widened and then slid closed as he felt David’s hands clutching tight onto his hips, and he grabbed at David’s arms and just as he started moving his lips David pulled away roughly, and was back against the sink in a second.

“That was a bad idea,” David said, holding onto the edge of the sink, avoiding Matteo’s eyes by looking off to the side, “we’re both drunk, we’re fighting, we can’t do that.”

“We don’t have to fight,” Matteo said, knowing that it probably was a bad idea but stepping forward anyway, until he was close enough to see just how tight David was anchoring himself to the sink, “you can tell me to fuck off and I will. Or,” he said, taking another step closer until his foot was kicking against David’s and he could reach out and grab his wrist, “I can stay.”

David only looked back at him when he felt the tug on his arm, and he looked down at Matteo’s hand before looking him in the eyes. Matteo took a risk and slid his hand down, grabbing David’s, and was shocked when David used that grip to pull him in for another kiss, backing him up until his back was smacking into the door again. He got an arm around David’s neck before he was pulling away, again, and Matteo sighed as David rubbed a hand over his face and said, “Fuck, no, this is such a bad idea.”

“Maybe,” Matteo said, rolling his shoulders as he asked, “can you just make up your mind? This is hurting my back.”

David looked at Matteo again, looked him up and down the same way that he had earlier that night, and something seemed to click. He tilted his head again, his eyes filled with a sudden new brightness as he stepped forward, placing his hands on the door on either side of Matteo’s hips, boxing him in.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” he said, and Matteo raised an eyebrow, amused, before he continued, “whatever happens tonight happens, and then we don’t talk about it, and it never happens again. Deal?”

Matteo thought it over for a minute, more trying to get one last little jab at David by making him wait for an answer, and once he saw David’s face go from confident to bordering on annoyed, he grinned and stuck out his hand, and said, “Deal.”

David ignored his hand but grabbed his ass and pulled him in close, his hands dragging up to Matteo’s waist as their mouths met again, and Matteo slid a hand into David’s hair and let himself melt against the door.

***

Matteo woke up the next morning with a dry mouth and a bad headache, both of which he attributed to the hangover he almost definitely had. He couldn’t even remember drinking that much, but the pain behind his eyes was more than just him being tired like usual. He got himself out of bed, just wanting to drink some water and get into a hot shower to wash away the sweat and alcohol from the party.

He got into the bathroom and turned the shower on, tugging his shirt over his head as he yawned and rubbed at his eyes. He blinked at himself in the mirror, taking in the pale face, the fucked up hair, the red eyes, the bruise on his neck, the-

Matteo jolted forward and slapped his hand over the mark on his neck, before moving it so he could gawk at the dark purple and red. Seeing it brought back a rush of memories from the night before, memories that Matteo couldn’t believe he had forgotten, and he stared at himself with wide eyes and let out a quiet, “Fuck.”

***

Matteo debated whether or not he should skip the next band rehearsal. He knew that realisitcally he couldn’t, and that skipping because of a hickey was so dumb that he shouldn’t have even been considering it. He just didn’t want to face his friends and have them ask questions, and even more than that he didn’t want to see David.

He figured that David wasn’t planning on showing up for their usual private session, so he got to band with just enough time to still be considered early, and he found a quiet corner of the theater to set his baritone up in, a row of seats off to the side. He smiled when he saw Jonas come in, but it fell quickly when he saw Jonas notice the hickey on his neck, and the pure joy and confusion that came over his face.

“Dude!” Jonas exclaimed, staring obviously at the mark, “Who gave you that?”

“Someone from the orchestra, I barely remember his name.” Matteo said as casually as he could, having thought of the lie on his way to band. Jonas nodded with a grin and held out his fist, and Matteo rolled his eyes and bumped his against it, grateful that the idea of him and David hooking up was so unbelievable that it wouldn’t even enter Jonas’ mind.

“And what happened with Schreibner?” Jonas was bouncing on his toes, excited for the news and probably expecting a story.

Matteo snorted and rolled his eyes again, before turning back to his half-assembled baritone, and shrugged and said, “We worked it out.”

Fucked it out is more like it, Matteo thought to himself, and he shook his head to rid it of that kind of thinking.

Matteo got settled in his seat, listening to the cacophony around him, and then finally let himself glance around the room to see where David was. He was surprised when he didn’t find him, unable to think of any other time where David showed up late (besides that one time with the sheet music), but the doors suddenly burst open and the conductor walked in, David hot on his heels as always, whispering as they finished up what looked to be an intense conversation.

“Sorry we’re late, we got caught up discussing the sequence of songs for the concert, but I’m glad to see you’re all ready to go.” Rick said as he grabbed his baton, and he waited for David to sit in his usual seat in the clarinet section before counting them into their first song.

Matteo spent the entire rehearsal trying his hardest to not stare at David while doing exactly that, but he was lucky that David never returned his gaze. He seemed to be actively avoiding looking in Matteo’s direction, which made sense considering the deal they had made, but he was still a little let down that David didn’t even look at him. He even found himself disappointed when David didn’t end up conducting that day, and got up and went over to his case once they were dismissed.

He was glaring at his bottle of valve oil, realizing that he was low and was going to need to go get more, when a shadow fell over him. He looked up with a smile, assuming it would be Jonas, but it dropped when he saw David standing there. He had his jacket on, his clarinet case clutched tightly in his hand, and his backpack on his back, and he was staring down at Matteo with something between apathy and irritation on his face.

“Where were you earlier?”

Matteo raised an eyebrow. He tossed the valve oil back in his case before snapping it shut, and stood up and gathered all of his things before turning to face David again and shrugging, letting his eyes drift to the side as he said, “I figured I’d give things a day to chill after...you know.”

“After what?” David asked, with a tilt of his head, and more pointed, forced confusion on his face than Matteo had ever seen. Oh, so that was how it was gonna be.

Matteo smiled back tightly. “You know what, never mind. I’ll be there next time.”

There was a moment where David’s eyes darted down to Matteo’s neck and back up just as quick. His cheeks got a little pink. Matteo smirked.

“Good.” David said simply, and then turned and left. Matteo stared after him, and smirked when he saw David turn again to look at him one more time before almost jogging out of the theater.

Matteo heard a snort from behind him, and he whipped his head around to see Jonas standing there.

“Fuckin’ dick,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of the door, “what was he yelling about this time?”

“Nothing important.” Matteo said, shrugging again, readjusting his grip on his baritone case as they started walking towards the door.

“Is it ever with him?” Jonas joked, elbowing Matteo in the arm, and they both laughed as they left the theater, Jonas waving a goodbye to the people who called out to him. Nobody said anything to Matteo, and he sighed as they made their way down the hall.

“Who knows, man,” Jonas started after a second, pausing and then turning to Matteo with a grin, jabbing him again, “maybe Schreibner is just secretly gay and super jealous of whoever gave you that hickey.”

Matteo snorted, before laughing out loud as they got outside. He shook his head and chuckled when Jonas shot him a confused look.

“I don’t think that’s it.”

*****

The next day that Matteo was meant to meet David, he woke up, and the anxious and dark feeling that settled over him immediately made him want to turn over and go back to sleep. It didn’t have anything to do with David, Matteo knew that, had a diagnosis that proved that, but he couldn’t help the dread that filled him at the thought of sitting in a practice room getting scolded over and over again by the same guy who had given him a hickey the week before.

He lit a joint as he left his place. There were tons of off-campus apartments around his school, and he had managed to get a place with Jonas. It was small, but they had all the rooms they needed, and a balcony attached to Matteo’s room for him to smoke on. It was perfect.

Smoking that day was a bad choice, though. He had gone to band high before, and knew that his fingers would be slower and he wouldn’t be able to focus, but it wouldn’t be any different with the fog filling his head. The only difference was that at least he would be out of it enough to not be bothered by the criticizing.

But by the time he got there, he had almost forgotten that before he had band, he had to see David. He knew it would be obvious he was high, and was preparing himself for whatever David would have to say about it. He was also a little late because he needed to take a minute outside of the building to breath and calm himself down. The weed had done the job of dulling everything coming in, but the anxiety twisting up inside of his gut was still pretty active. He took another shaky breath before pushing into the practice room.

“You’re late.” David said sternly, turning in the seat to glare at Matteo as he shuffled in. Matteo barely acknowledged that he had spoken besides a half shrug until he was settled in his chair, with his baritone set up.

“Bad morning,” he said in a quiet voice, before putting his music on the stand and saying, “let’s just start.”

David went easy on him at first, starting off with one of their simpler songs just to make sure Matteo understood one set of measures that the entire band had been messing up. It didn’t require much complex counting or a lot of movement, so Matteo was playing fine. It was a little further into the session when David switched to a different song, one that Matteo could play most days, but not with his fuzzy brain and fingers that started to shake when David pointed at the measure he wanted Matteo to start with,

He barely got through the first measure before David was cutting him off and telling him to start over, and then stopping him again to count out the beats, and then finally stopping him again when Matteo was playing at a tempo so wrong that he didn’t even know what he was doing.

“Okay, stop, stop,” David said, and he flopped back in his chair with a huff, “what the fuck is going on today?”

“Nothing,” Matteo muttered, leaning back in his chair as well, but crossing his arms over his chest, “I told you, bad morning.”

David turned to stare at him, actually looking at him for the first time he had come in, and Matteo saw understanding dawn on his face before a glare took its place.

“Oh, I get it,” David said, shifting back in his chair, “you’re really trying to get kicked out, aren’t you?”

“No, what the fuck?” Matteo said, shaking his head at the idea.

“So you thought coming in stoned was a good way to keep your spot?”

Matteo froze, before asking quietly, “Are you going to narc?”

David rolled his eyes and snorted, and opened his mouth, before closing it again and leaning back more in his chair. He squinted at Matteo for a second, and then asked, “Why did you do it?”

“What?” Matteo asked, running a hand through his hair, his eyes darting to the side because he hadn’t even thought about what could happen if David told anyone that he had showed up high.

“Get high, before coming here? If you aren’t trying to get kicked out? Did you think it was a good idea?” David seemed almost amused by the conversation.

“None of your fucking business.”

“I kind of think it is, though, if you’re going to be showing up here, at a time that I only agreed to meet at because you need help-”

“Shut the fuck up, you have to be here just as much as I do, in case you forgot,” Matteo snapped, feeling himself losing a bit of the control that he was usually very careful to hold onto, “and if you really need to know, my brain is pretty fucked up and coming here and getting yelled at by you doesn’t help. Shockingly, it makes it worse. So if you’re going to run off and tell the department that I’m high, make sure they know it’s because you’re so unbearable to work with that it’s the only way I can get through it.”

David stared at him, and swallowed, his face unreadable. Matteo took a deep breath and looked down at the ground, his pulse pounding in his ears. He pressed his fingers down on the valves of his baritone as he tried to get his breathing back under control after losing his temper, and with the new panic that was filling him. He was done for. There was no way David would let him get away with all of that, and Matteo knew that the department would not be happy to hear that he showed up to a rehearsal high before screaming at everyone’s favorite.

“Okay,” David said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Matteo’s head whipped to him. “What?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m pissed that you’re high right now,” David said, but his voice was still soft, and he was looking at Matteo with the closest thing to sympathy on his face that Matteo had seen from him, “but brains can suck. And I get that I can be...blunt.”

Matteo snorted. “Blunt, sure.”

“So here’s what we’re gonna do,” David said, and he took his phone out of his pocket and started typing, “have you ever listened to the songs that we’re playing?”

“Well, he played new pieces for us in the beginning of the semester. And I hear them when we play.” Matteo said with a shrug. He had never really been the type to listen to band music. He loved it, and loved playing it, but it already took up so much of his time. When he was listening to music on his own he usually chose stuff that he couldn’t tell you the time signature of.

“Yeah, but sitting in a section of a band and listening to the people around you is really different from hearing it like the audience does,” David said, barely looking up, “we still have some time before rehearsal, so let’s just listen to the songs until it’s time to go. I’ll point out some parts that you’re struggling with so you can hear how you fit into everything else.”

“Oh. Okay. That sounds good.” Matteo said, staring at David in shock as he kept tapping on his phone. After a few seconds, Matteo could hear the run that starts the first song in their program. David raised the volume and set his phone on the stand, and then leaned back in his chair, the corners of his lips turning up as the clarinet came in, playing the solo that David played every class.

“That person played it better,” Matteo said under his breath, a little uncomfortable with how suddenly accommodating David was being. He was sure light teasing was still safe. He smirked at the eyebrow David raised.

They listened to the next couple of songs, David pausing every now and then to point things out or tell Matteo to listen to the part coming up next. Matteo could see his hands twitching on his lap, tapping along to the beat, and sometimes, seemingly without even noticing, his hand would come up and with just a finger he would conduct to the room. Matteo watched until it seemed like David wasn’t paying attention to him anymore, and he leaned back in his own chair, and closed his eyes.

He was still listening, and he continued tapping his foot to the beat of every song that played. As the last note of the last piece played out in the room, Matteo let out the breath he had taken in and held during the final crescendo. He didn’t realize until then that he hadn’t even put away his baritone, the horn just resting in his lap, his hands moving across the brass and pressing down on the valves of their own accord.

“We should probably head out,” Matteo heard, and he opened his eyes slowly, not expecting to meet David’s as quickly as he did. David was staring at him with another unreadable expression, biting his lips as his eyes darted around Matteo’s face, down to his lips, before he bit his own and jumped up from his chair with a, “yeah, we need to be there in ten. Let’s pack up.”

*****

[insert blah blah whatever but then the conductor is like haha later this week im gonna be gone and david is gonna conduct all of you the whole time and matteo is like “lol k” but it actually ends up being fine?? And matteo plays better and david doesnt have to say anything to him and near the end he actually SMILES at him and matteo is like okay oaky….this is kinda nice i like not fighting with this dude also hes STILL SO FUCKING CUTE]

[flash forward to a couple weeks later they're still kinda getting along like they are still constantly teasing and bantering and arguing but its like,, nice and funny and ,maybe flirty??????]

“Why can’t we talk about it?” Matteo asked, finally, snapping his case shut and turning to stare at David’s suddenly stiff back. He heard David’s case zip up after a second, before he turned around, a tight smile on his face.

“Talk about what?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that made it obvious he wasn’t pleased.

“Stop acting like it’s fucking crazy that two people who don’t like each other got drunk at a party and hooked up,” Matteo said, rolling his eyes at David’s carefully controlled expression, “just because you’re so busy and important doesn’t mean you have to be boring.”

“I’m not boring,” David hissed, but he flopped back down in his seat and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling before saying, “I don’t want other people in the band finding out. I have a reputation with them, and I know that...I know this would make things weird.”

“If anything they’ll be jealous of me,” Matteo said with a laugh, “as if you don’t know how many of them eye fuck you while you’re conducting.”

“I’m not...oblivious,” David huffed, and Matteo smirked when he saw his cheeks get red as he looked down at the ground, “and that’s not it.”

Matteo tilted his head, trying to figure out what David meant as he looked up from the ground but off to the side, chewing on his lip. Somewhere in the back of his head a thought started brewing, and once he thought it it was impossible not to clear his throat, and take a breath before asking, “Is it because you think I’m bad? Like, a bad player? Do you not want them knowing you hooked up with me?”

“What? Matteo, no,” David looked at him sincerely for the first time since Matteo had started the conversation, and he reached a hand out, and Matteo jumped when it wrapped gently around his wrist, “I don’t think you’re a bad player, and that...that isn’t the problem. You aren’t the problem with this.”

“Then what is?” Matteo asked, exasperated even though he was the one to ask.

“It’s them,” David said, gesturing vaguely out but Matteo could guess he meant their bandmates, “I love them, but do you know how hard it would be to lead a group of people, including lots of people who have hit on me, if they knew I hooked up with the one member of the band that I-”

“That you what?” Matteo asked too quick, excited to hear the answer.

“That they have seen me get angry in the past- perhaps angrier than necessary.” David said calculating and slow, like admitting it hurt him somewhere deep. Matteo kind of hoped it did. After smiling to himself at that he refocused on the point of the conversation.

“Do you really think I’m planning on telling any of them?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief, “The only other people I talk to besides you are Carlos, Abdi, and Jonas, and I’m not telling them about any of it because I don’t want them giving me shit for any of it.”

“Why do you even want to talk about this?” David asked, looking up and fixing Matteo with a hard stare, “It happened a while ago, and it’s not like we had some romantic fucking moment of reconiliation. We got drunk, we argued, we hooked up, and now we can move on.”

“Well,” Matteo said, licking his lips and shrugging before looking up at David again, knowing that he didn’t really have a reason besides, “I had fun.”

David opened his mouth, and then closed it again, and then opened it again and just went, “Okay?”

“Didn’t you?” Matteo asked, trying for confidence, but coming off as a little desperate with the way he twisted in his seat to make sure he would catch David’s answer.

“I mean…” David started, his cheeks getting darker as his eyes darted around the room, then down to Matteo’s lips and up to his eyes again as he said, “yeah. I did.”

“Yeah, so,” Matteo said, shrugging again, “what’s the big deal if we acknowledge it? It happened, and now we-” he cut himself off, before taking a deep breath and continuing, “and now we see what happens next.”

David’s eyes popped open. Matteo shrugged again before standing and picking his case up, and his bag, and taking a couple of steps to the door. He turned when he heard silence behind him, and saw David frozen in his seat, still staring at him. He stared back for a moment before gesturing out the door and asking, “Are you coming?”

David blinked and nodded, before getting up and gathering his things as well, and he followed Matteo out the door, and they made the short trek to rehearsal.

Matteo felt different sitting down next to his bandmates that day. He was still full of adrenaline, but felt ready to play, quietly humming one of their songs to himself as his fingers pressed down on the associated valves. He couldn’t stop his gaze from flicking to David every few minutes, and he caught David looking back just as Rick walked onto the stage. David coughed and looked away, and Matteo smiled to himself before leaning back in his seat.

He could feel David’s eyes on him throughout the rehearsal, and he was surprised, but it encouraged him to keep sneaking peeks as well. His eyes would wander up from the page even when he was playing just to catch a glimpse of David in his seat, sitting up straight, his strong arms and shoulders holding the clarinet up, his lips wrapped around the mouthpiece-

Matteo was glad he had a lot of rests.

“David! You were supposed to come in there!” Rick yelled suddenly, smacking the score in front of him with his baton, “You’ve never missed that cue before, what’s got you so distracted today?”

The band was silent and they watched David blush as he said, “Sorry, Rick, I’ll focus better. Won’t happen again.”

The conductor just shook his head before telling them to start the piece over, which was followed by angry grumbles and the sound of papers flipping. David looked down at the ground, his cheeks an angry red, and Matteo bit back the smile that threatened to grow on his face.

[david cancels their next private lesson and matteo is like what why and then he gets to band that day and david is conducting again and he basically ignore matteo the entire time and matteo is a lil mad and then after matteo goes up to him and is like “hey wtf why did you cancel on me and then not even correct me when i messed up” and david is like “fuck cause youre super fucknig distracting now and i cant spend an hour alone with you and then get up in front of a group of people and conduct like an idiot cause im too busy thinking about YOU” but hes likes embarassed and actually mad about it and matteo is like oh my god are we going back to the anger i thought we were passed that and davids like well i guess not and matteos like lmao do we need to hook up again cause that seemed like it worked pretty well last time and david is like,, so fucking pissed but is more pissed that hes kind of into that idea so he locks the practice room door and basically they hook up in the practice room because wow what a fantasy that is]

[things are like….weird but chill for a while after that. It seemed like being able to hook up with matteo again made david less distracted by him in a destructive way and even put a bit of a pep in his step?? And matteo notices that hes being a bit nicer to everyone, not just him, and hes actually smiling and complimenting matteo during their private sessions, and even though nothing is explicitly referenced they both know something's going on. Neither of them would call the other a friend though]

[this is after they hook up the third time, which is the first time that isnt completely out of anger but they arent really friends They just happened to run into each other after a concert and were both being a bit flirty and matteo was very boldly like “hey uh come back to my place” because he thinks and david actually does]

“Tell me something about you,” Matteo said, turning his head and propping it up on his arms so he could see David. The light was low in the room, and the plant near his lamp was casting strange shadows on the walls, and on David himself, leaned back against the wall like he was.

“Uh,” David started, his eyes dancing around the room as he tried to think of something, “I started playing the clarinet when I was-”

Matteo reached out and pinched his leg. David twitched, and raised an eyebrow at him. Matteo hoped that David was okay with the fact that he just kept touching him. It was hard to keep his hands away, and he didn’t know David’s comfort level with non-sexual physical contact. So far he seemed more amused than anything else.

“Tell me something not related to music.” Matteo said, and David snorted at the request.

“Why?” He asked, reaching down to push Matteo’s hair out of his eyes. He bit his lip, wishing that David kept his hand on him longer.

“I just think, you know,” Matteo said, hoping he wasn’t pushing it by sliding his hand onto David’s thigh, the same one he had pinched, “might not be the time to to get into that topic. Just in case.”

I don’t want to start arguing when we just had really great sex and we’re like five minutes away from cuddling if I play my cards right, is what Matteo was thinking, but he figured he got the point across.

David hummed, and nodded, the amused smile still on his face, and tilted his head against the wall and said, “Okay, let me think.”

Matteo stared at him, from where the blanket was draped over his lap, up his bare chest, up the angle of his neck, and still found himself blown away at how beautiful he was. He sighed, glad that David wasn’t watching him swoon.

“Okay I got something,” David said suddenly, turning to Matteo, his eyes bright, “so, growing up we had a cat. My sister got to name it because she was older, and she named the cat Martha Jones, after a Doctor Who character. That cat fucking hated me.”

Matteo laughed, but David didn’t look like he was done, so he prompted him with, “And?”

“Years later, I moved in with my sister, and she wants us to get another cat. So, we go to a shelter, and there’s a cage in the back with a sign on it that says ‘Martha Jones’. Completely different cat, but of course my sister says we have to see her.”

Matteo nodded, enthralled.

“So she goes to ask a worker, and this dude says that that cat was a biter, would hiss, and scratched anyone that went near her unless they had food. Laura insisted, because she’s stubborn, so they brought us into a room and the dude basically tossed the cat in with us and closed the door.”

“That doesn’t sound safe.” Matteo said, shifting closer until he was able to rest his head in David’s lap. He couldn't hold back the need any longer, and he was pleased when David started playing with his hair.

“It wasn’t, she immediately scratched me so bad I started bleeding,” David said with a chuckle, “but she chilled out after a bit, my sister was very persistent. After like 20 minutes she was purring in my lap.” David finished with a proud smile down at Matteo.

If Matteo hadn’t already been crushing that would’ve sealed the deal. It did make something soft settle in his chest, and made his hands a little tingly, and he didn’t think twice before asking, “Can I see a picture?”

David looked thrilled at the question, and he leaned over to grab his phone. Matteo watched, biting back a grin as David scrolled through his pictures before settling on one and handing his phone over, obviously excited for Matteo to see.

The first thing Matteo could make out was a metal music stand, the same basic kind he had in his room for practicing, but it was tilted so the tray was lying flat. He grinned at the cat bed that was resting on top of it, and actually awwwed out loud at the pretty calico, splayed out on her back in a sunbeam. The stand was in front of a large window, and Matteo could see plants around it, and he wondered if it was David’s room.

“Yeah,” David said, looking at the picture again himself before putting his phone down. Matteo felt a tug on his hair, and he looked up to see David staring down at him, and he said, “now you.”

“Me? I don’t have any cats to show off,” Matteo said, wrapping his arms around David’s legs so he could squeeze himself closer.

“No, now you have to tell me something about yourself,” David said, rolling his eyes, but his face was softer than Matteo had ever seen it.

“Oh, shit,” Matteo said, not thinking that David was going to turn the conversation on him, and he hummed for a second before saying the first thing he could think of, “well, I like to sing. When I was younger I used to have a vocal coach and everything, now I mostly just sing whenever my roommate isn’t home.”

It wasn’t something he brought up, or really thought about too often, because ultimately the decision for him to stop the training was out of his hands, and he regretted not being able to go farther with it the same way he could with the baritone.

“Why’d you stop?” David asked, his voice soft, as if he could sense the sadness underlying the statement.

“Well,” Matteo said, shifting back a little bit so he could roll onto his back and say it up to the ceiling, “my mom was the one who got me the lessons, I had already been taking them for the baritone for a year or so. My dad got pissed, because I was already singing in the church choir at that point, and he didn’t want singing to distract from my other music shit. When I got older, uh,” he paused to take a breath, “there was a while where my mom wasn’t living with us, so all the singing lessons stopped. I stopped singing at church, too, and, well. I was better at the baritone anyway.”

He hadn’t noticed that while he had been talking, David had slid down more on the bed until he was resting on his side, and he was staring with a concerned look when Matteo turned to him again,

“They have vocal coaches through the school,” David said, an arm inching across the mattress towards Matteo, “you can sign up for one, if you want. I can get you the email of the person who sets them up, I-”

Matteo laughed at David’s eagerness to help, cutting him off, and rolled back over onto his side, surprised at how close he found himself to David. He felt a hand gently sliding onto his hip, and he bit his lip, his eyes meeting David’s, and he leaned in to kiss him.

David didn’t seem to have expected it. He made a sound, and Matteo worried for a moment that he was going to pull away but instead he was pulled in closer, David’s hand sliding onto the small of his back. He pulled away, and David rolled onto his back, his cheeks pink.

“Thanks, but I don’t need any of that,” Matteo said, and he hesitantly let his head drop onto David’s shoulder, and then let his arm drape across his stomach when David tangled their legs together, “it’s just something I do for fun now.”

“For fun,” David repeated, and then took a breath and asked, “since the topic of music is back on the table, do you want to hear a secret?”

Matteo looked up, amused, and then propped his chin on David’s chest so he could see him better, and he said, “Yes, please.”

“So, I can play almost every wind instrument, right? And brass too, and I can figure out percussion pretty quickly. I can pretty much play anything you’ll find in the average wind ensemble, and then some.”

Matteo rolled his eyes, “That’s not a secret.”

“Yeah, but,” David took another breath, and it seemed like it actually pained him to say, “I can’t play anything with fucking strings.”

“Really?” Matteo asked, leaning up a bit more so he could see the hurt on David’s face, and he grinned, and questioned, “not even guitar? Or ukulele? Even I can play those a bit.”

“Nope,” David sulked, “nothing. One time my friend gave me her violin to try and she said I should be banned from ever touching anything with strings again.”

Matteo covered his mouth with his hands to stop the giggles that were threatening to pour out of him. It wasn’t like there was any actual expectation that David was able to play every single instrument that existed, but the shame he seemed to be feeling about his own inability was hilarious.

“Now you have to tell me something else too,” David said, poking Matteo in the cheek, obviously trying to change the subject,

“You offered that information up freely, I don’t have to tell you shit.” Matteo snarked back. He was still reeling from how strange this new dynamic was, and he wanted to push a bit, see what was allowed.

David scrunched his face up before suddenly grabbing Matteo’s wrist and flipping him onto his back, David hovering over him, looking much too pleased with himself. Once he could tell Matteo wasn’t going to try to move he slid his hand off his wrist and down his chest, onto his hip, and blinked his dark eyes slow and said, “Tell me something.”

“I can speak Italian,” Matteo blurted out immediately, unable to resist a hot, mostly naked boy pinning him to his bed.

“Oh yeah?” David asked with a grin, “Fluently?”

“Yeah,” Matteo said, his eyes wide as he stared up at David, “my dad’s from Italy, we spoke it when I was growing up.”

David hummed, still looking down at Matteo with the same cocky smile on his face, and said, “Say something.”

“No,” Matteo refused, and with a sudden burst of confidence he slid his hand onto the back of David’s head and said, “kiss me.”

David’s eyes widened but he smiled, and did as told. The conversation ended there.

*****

A few days later, a weekend, Matteo walked out onto his balcony. It was midday, and he had already eaten and gotten the work done for his academic classes, so he had an unlit joint dangling between his lips. He stretched, and squinted when the sun shone down on him bright enough to hurt his eyes. He dashed back into his room, intent on finding the sunglasses he knew were somewhere, and he saw something balanced against the wall in the corner that made him pause.

It was a ukulele, his ukulele, one that a random family member had gotten him when he was first accepted to the school. It was a bright blue, and Matteo knew that with most instruments a bright color didn’t ensure the best quality, but he didn’t mind because he barely played the thing. It was good enough for the random time every few months where Matteo would decide to teach himself a new song.

He thought back on his conversation with David. He felt the corners of his lips twitch up, remembering David’s pained face when he revealed his secret, and with a small laugh he grabbed the neck of the ukulele and tucked it under his arm. He found his sunglasses on the floor next to his desk, and slid them onto his face before walking back out the door.

He leaned against the railing of the balcony as he lit the joint, smiling around it, and puffing the smoke out his nose. His room faced out to an empty street, across from a bunch of buildings that he was sure nobody had gone inside for years. He liked how private it felt, for the years he had lived there he had only seen a handful of people out there.

Which made it the perfect place for him to pluck out a few random chords on the ukulele without the judgement he usually faced when playing music. He wasn’t good by any means, but he knew enough chords to play enough songs to keep himself occupied. There were even a few times when he and Jonas had played together out there, usually after a few beers or joints when Matteo was feeling less self conscious about giggling as he badly played along with Jonas actually playing his guitar.

He puffed on the joint, his eyes closing under the sunglasses as he started strumming. His fingers had settled naturally on the frets, playing the chords to the last song he had taught himself, one Jonas had played in his car that got stuck in Matteo’s head. He hummed along, but stopped when the joint almost fell out of his mouth. He took a step back, rolled his shoulders, and started playing again.

The joint did fall out of his mouth, tumbling to the ground at Matteo’s feet, thankfully not setting anything on fire, when he heard from the street below him, “Matteo?”

Oh god, he recognized the voice immediately. He bent down to grab the joint and stubbed it out on the ashtray conveniently right next to him, and took a deep breath before peeking over the railing. And he was right about the voice, as David was standing there, a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun, squinting up at the balcony.

“Uh, yeah,” Matteo called back, lifting a hand to wave awkwardly before realizing that he was still clutching the ukulele, so he set it down, his fingers tight around the neck, “that’s me.”

“Nice shades.” David said, smirking up as he moved his hand from his eyes. The sun was going behind some clouds so the glare was gone, and Matteo lifted the sunglasses from his eyes with a blush.

“What are you doing over here?” Matteo asked, leaning over the edge so he could get a closer look. David had a bike next to him, and a backpack tight on his back, obviously either coming or going from somewhere.

“Oh, well, actually,” David said, digging the toe of his shoe into the ground like he was embarrassed by the question, “I was just taking a shortcut.”

Matteo snorted, and looked down at his arms folded across the railing. He didn’t really know what to say. He wasn’t expecting to see David obviously, and it didn’t seem like David’s answer matched his reaction to the question. He wanted to know what that was about. After an almost awkward silence, just as David’s hand tightened around the handle of his bike, Matteo quickly asked, “Do you want to come up?”

Something about David made Matteo do that a lot, blurt out things that drifted through his head that he wouldn’t usually say without a second more to think about it. He blushed after he asked, looking down at his arms again, not wanting to watch David uncomfortably decline. Sometimes it was hard to remember that they weren’t really supposed to like each other.

“Okay.” David said, confidently, and Matteo’s eyes snapped back down. David was looking up at him with his head tilted, a smile on his face like Matteo’s question was a challenge.

“Oh,” Matteo responded, needing to take a minute to realize that David was actually agreeing, “um, go around the front and I’ll buzz you in?”

David nodded, and hopped on his bike and disappeared around the corner of the building. Matteo let out a breath and rushed into his room, looking around with wide eyes to see what he needed to quickly kick under his bed and shove in his closet. He managed to tidy his room up enough to not be embarrassed by the time the buzzer went off, and Matteo ran to it, not even knowing if Jonas was home but desperately hoping he wasn’t.

He pulled the door open, biting his lip when David came into view, smiling slightly in that cocky way he did. He felt like he would swallow his tongue if he spoke out loud so he waved David into the flat, blushing at the chuckle David let out as he did so, and David bowed his head as he walked in, stepping past Matteo and stopping in the entrance to the main part of the flat.

“We should go chill on your balcony,” David said, looking around like he had never been there before. To be fair, the only time David had been there they were stumbling through the dark to Matteo’s room trying to keep their lips connected, so he didn’t blame him for taking the time to look around in the daylight.

Matteo nodded, and then realizing he hadn’t actually said anything since David came up, cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, sure.”

He led an amused David through his room, pointedly avoiding looking at his bed, his face flushing although he kept his eyes trained forward. David didn’t say anything, or even show in any way that he remembered the fact that just days ago they had been wrapped up in each other in that very same bed, kissing and touching and a lot else. Matteo didn’t know how he was so nonchalant about it when the sight of the bed instantly brought the taste of David’s lips to Matteo’s head, the feeling of his hands on him, Matteo’s hands in his hair. He shook his head and pulled the door to the balcony open harder than he meant to.

He was glad that they had chairs set out on the balcony, ones they had found outside some other building when they first moved in. They didn’t match but they were surprisingly comfortable and most importantly, not broken. Matteo only sat after David had picked a chair, and looked up at him, an amused smile still on his face.

“I should tell you that I lied, earlier.” David said suddenly, after Matteo sat. He looked up, confused, at David’s smile.

“Lied about what?”

“I wasn’t really taking a shortcut.”

Matteo raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

David nodded, and bent down, digging around in the backpack at his feet. Matteo settled back in his seat to watch until David sprang back up with a book in his hand.

“Don’t tell anyone,” David started, flipping to a page near the end, “but I might sometimes sneak into buildings in a way that isn’t totally...legal.”

Matteo smiled at that, tilting his head, and asked, “For any particular reason, or do you just like the thrill?”

David smiled back, not cocky, and said, “It is pretty thrilling, especially when you get chased out by security guards. But I really do it for this.”

His cheeks got a little rosy when he handed the book over to Matteo, and Matteo’s jaw dropped when he looked down at the page. He was expecting words, but instead there was a sketch done in black pencil, and it took Matteo a minute to piece together what it was.

[idk dude figure out what he drew i guess lmao i dont care enough to try to write this part rn]

“These are… really good,” Matteo said, flipping through the pages. He didn’t really know if David wanted him to but he didn’t try to stop him, so Matteo let his eyes wander over the pages.

“Yeah, well,” David said, sounding a little sheepish, “it’s a hobby, I guess.”

Matteo was quiet as he turned page after page, finding sketches of more abandoned buildings, random people, different plants. A cat popped up a few times, which made Matteo smile, along with the doodles of instruments and staff lines half filled with notes. He didn’t realize how long he had been absorbed in the book until he noticed he was on the second to last page. He stared at the drawing that seemed somewhat familiar, a barely-started portrait, a head with short swooping hair, a button nose, a small smile-

“Okay, um,” David said quickly, his hand darting out to grab at the book, “yeah, a lot of those last ones aren’t finished. Not really that interesting.”

“I thought they were,” Matteo muttered, a little annoyed at being interrupted. He had been enjoying himself.

“I, uh,” David started as he shoved the book back into his bag, “don’t usually show that to people.”

Matteo tilted his head. He had never seen David look less sure of himself. He leaned back in the chair, biting his lip, his eyes avoiding Matteo’s. He seemed almost… shy? Timid? Words that Matteo would never associate with David.

“Well, you should,” Matteo said after a moment of silence, “it sucks that you’re amazing at that too.”

That got a bit of a chuckle, and Matteo grinned at David until their eyes met. There was a beat, and then David looked away again.

“I don’t know,” David said, his cheeks getting pink again, “that’s something I really only do when I need to escape. I just… go somewhere, and draw whatever I can find. I don’t really show people because I’m not doing it for anyone else. Like… you know.”

Matteo had a million questions about what he meant by that, but David had crossed his arms over his chest and looked off to the side after saying it, his jaw set. He let out a long exhale through his nose, and Matteo got the hint that he didn’t want to further dissect that statement.

Matteo leaned back in his chair, quiet, trying to figure out how to turn the conversation back around. He could tell David maybe hadn’t meant to say as much as he did, maybe was a little embarrassed at revealing something so personal. Showing off a picture of his cat a week or so prior was nothing compared to talking about something that he was actively keeping to himself. His escape, from what Matteo knew was a very stressful and hectic life.

He thought for a moment, his eyes darting around the balcony to find something to change the topic, to stop David from looking so uncomfortable. His eyes landed on his ukulele. He paused there, the thought alone making his heart race and something nervous twist up in his stomach, but before he could stop himself he reached out and grabbed it, letting it settle in his arms the way it always did. David didn’t look over until Matteo accidentally twanged one of the strings.

“Um,” he said, when David’s eyes widened and a grin started growing over his face, “I’ll trade you.”

The grin stopped, David tilted his head in confusion and asked, “You’ll trade me what?”

“You told me about what you do that’s just for you, that you don’t usually share with other people,” Matteo strummed, quickly adjusting a couple of the tuning pegs until the sound was just right, “only fair that I do the same.”

“I didn’t think that playing the ukulele was that important to you.” David said, uncrossing his arms, relaxing back into his chair a bit. The tension was gone from his face, and his lips were curved up at the sides.

“It’s not,” Matteo said with a smirk that looked more confident than he felt, and he took a deep breath before putting his fingers on the frets.

He started strumming the song he had been playing when David showed up, looking down at his hands because he knew he would need to focus on the chords and not on David looking at him. He took another deep breath, tried not to think about it, and started singing.

“There once was a bittersweet man and they called him Lemon Boy….”

Matteo hadn’t considered the lyrics before singing them, just picking a song that was fresh in his head so he wouldn’t embarrass himself by messing up, not that David would have been shocked by that. It was a simple song, pretty, one that he didn’t have to think too hard about. But as he sang it, as the lyrics came out of his mouth less timid with every word, he felt butterflies in his stomach. He got to the chorus, and closed his eyes.

“Lemon Boy and me started to get along, together,” he sang, ignoring the heat he could feel spreading across his cheeks, “I helped him plant his seeds and we'd mow the lawn in bad weather.”

Matteo stumbled on a chord, managed to fix it in a second but he knew David heard it. He continued, though. David had reminded him of that often, not to stop when he made a mistake.

“It’s actually pretty easy being nice to a bitter boy like him...”

He sang the next verse, getting a little sloppy with the chords as he failed to not think about the words he was singing. He got through it, got halfway through the next chorus, and was suddenly cut off when loud classical music started playing from David’s bag. His hands stilled, and he opened his eyes.

It was as if David hadn’t even noticed he stopped, or the sound coming from somewhere near his feet. His eyes were wide, shiny and dark, staring into Matteo’s, leaning forward in his chair like he didn’t want to miss a single word, a single strum of Matteo’s fingers over the strings. His head was tilted, lips parted just enough that a long shaky breath could escape, his hands gripping tight to the arms of the chair. He looked awed by Matteo’s mediocre performance.

David’s gaze snapped down to his bag when the classical music started again, and he whispered an, “Oh, shit,” as he dug through it. He pulled his phone out and Matteo expected him to put it to his ear, assuming the music was a ringtone, but instead he could see it was an alarm that David turned off with a slide of his finger across the screen.

“I was supposed to be home a while ago, I need to, uh,” David cut himself off as he stood, shoving his phone into his pocket and zipping his bag closed before swinging it onto his back, “I have to do my shot today.”

“Oh,” Matteo responded, not understanding what David meant. He wasn’t able to say anything else, like singing had taken the rest of his voice for the day.

“You know, testosterone?” David stuttered out, nervous, as if Matteo didn’t already know he was trans.

“Oh,” Matteo said again, almost smacking himself in the face when he blurted out, “have fun?”

That made David pause, his franticness to leave slowing as a smile grew over his face. He bit his lip, and then to Matteo’s shock, let out a laugh.

“I’ll try my best,” he said, winking. That action alone was enough to have Matteo collapsing back into his chair. David turned towards the door, put one foot back into the apartment, and then stopped before saying, “oh, and Matteo?”

“Yes?” Matteo said, leaning forward again, greedy to hear whatever David was about to say.

“One day I’ll show people my art. Have an exhibit at a museum, maybe.” he said, turning his head so he could look back at Matteo with a soft smile on his face, “but only if I can hire you to sing there.”

Matteo’s jaw dropped, his face turning bright red as David walked through the door. He flopped back in his chair, waited until he could hear the clicks of his door opening and then closing, and let out the breath he had been holding for who knows how long.

#oi this was a big one #i spent so much time on it and i hope yall like it even though its not finished #davenzi

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sweethq · 4 years

Text

♡ fem!so who seems intimidating but is just shy // headcanon

❝omg hey! i love your writing and your texting fics! i was wondering if you could write headcanons of tsukishima, sugawara, tendou, and kuroo with a fem!s/o who seems really intimidating but she’s actually just really shy? thank you so much!❞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* requested by: @chopstickcamewithalargelomein *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

𑁍 Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Sugawara Kōshi, Tendou Satori, Kuroo Testurō

»»—Trigger warning(s): none—-««

➶ Genre: hmmm fluff?

-ˏˋ A/N: Thank you for the request, love! I’m glad you enjoy my writing and texting fics! I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted......ˊˎ-

wow what a powerful couple

tsukishima himself is intimidating, but add you to his side, you guys are basically untouchable

you had this kind of reputation even before you guys started dating

when people would try and talk to you, you would kinda just stare at them and not respond lol

not because you want to be rude or intimidating or anything, you just don’t know what to say

you’ve never been the best with being vocal

because of this, people thought of you to be as cold as ice and to not be messed with

people would tend to avoid you when you walked through the halls or give you short glances when they thought you weren’t looking

what people didn’t know is that you’re incredibly shy and have a hard time opening up to people

you were a little hurt in the beginning just because you couldn’t help how you react in those types of situations and the fact that people would say things about you made you sad

the only person in your life who understood you was tsukishima

you met him through your mutual friend, Yamaguchi, and instantly clicked

maybe it was the fact that you both had the same stigma around you at school or maybe it was because of the attraction you each had for one another

it wasn’t a surprise to others when the two of you started dating since they saw you as basically the same person

what did surprise them, however, was how both of you slowly began to open up to others

which is weird because you wouldn’t think that two introverted people could break down each others walls very easily but it happened

he brought out the best in you, and you to him

since you became so comfortable talking to him, it slowly became easier and easier to talk to others (but it did take a lot of time and practice)

you now knew how to properly hold a conversation instead of just blankly staring at the person lol

and since you and tsukishima started dating, he has also began to show his more extraverted side that no one knew he had

at volleyball practice he is a lot more willing to give compliments and ask for feedback, something he got used to after spending time with you

he also sometimes laughs and jokes around with the other members, even Kageyama (although this is still rare)

basically you two have a relationship where you’re able to help each other build up your strengths as well as improve on your weaknesses

he’s so good for you, and even more, you’re good for him

you poor baby

all you want to do is fit in and have friends but you’re just so shy that people mistake it for something else completely

you like to keep your distance from people and sometimes feel uncomfortable holding a conversation so there’s times where you run quickly walk away just because you have no idea what else to do in that situation and you do not want to be there

soooooo you kinda have an interesting reputation

people are intimidated by you but not because you’re mean or scary, but rather because no one knows anything about you or what you’re feeling in any particular moment

this makes you even more shy and uncomfortable talking to people since everyone also seems to not want to approach you

except for one person

sugawara was in your first and fourth period classes

and oh boy, he sure was curious about the cute girl who never talks

when he heard that there was going to be a group project in your fourth period class, he made sure to ask the teacher to make you his partner

he’s just so charming that the teacher does whatever he says??

after spending so much time together, you were able to come out of your shell around him

he was the only person that you felt comfortable around and felt like you could trust him with anything

before you knew it, you fell for him

and lucky for you, he did the same

people were so confused in the beginning

they still thought of you as the girl who doesn’t want anything to do with anyone so when they find out you’re dating sugawara, an actual prince, they couldn’t believe it

how could someone like suga be with someone who was so different from himself? or so they thought

after spending more time by suga’s side in public, the sweet and caring personality that usually only he saw started to shine in other places

he likes to introduce you to new people, knowing that you really want to make more friends but are too scared to do it by yourself

the biggest step in your relationship was when you met the rest of the volleyball club

these were the people that are the most important to suga, so the thought of them not liking you or feeling intimidated by you made you incredibly nervous

luckily for you, they are a group of the most chill and understanding boys

they instantly welcomed you to their family and fully supported your relationship

being with suga allowed you to come out of your shell not only to him, but to everyone

although you’re still a relatively shy person, the stigma people once had about you no longer exists thanks to suga

poor boy knows what its like to be an outcast, i mean, kids were pretty mean to him when he was younger

soooo when he saw this cute girl in his class who didn’t seem to interact with anyone, he was intrigued

your sheltered demenour reminded him of himself in his younger days when the kids didn’t want to play volleyball with him; it reminded him of the feeling of not belonging

he knew the feeling all too well, but also knew that one person could change that for you

and he quickly decided that he was going to be that person

after what felt like a million years, you eventually let tendou inside and shared some of your deepest secrets and biggest insecurities; one of them being your extremely shy personality

as your relationship with tendou turned from a platonic one to a romantic one, he was able to help you blossom more than you ever thought possible

he didn’t necessarily help you bring out your more extraverted side, but rather helped you become more confident in who you already were as a person

people had always given you weird looks, thinking that you were so strange to not peep a word to anyone throughout basically your entire high school career

and it sure didn’t stop, even after you started dating tendou

but he was always so supportive and reassuring, and showed you that other people’s opinions about you don’t matter

who cares if people are intimidated by you because you’re shy??

as long as you’re comfortable with the person that you are and you’re happy, who gives a damn??

not to mention that he never fails to mention how much he adores you and your shy personality

and the whole shiratorizawa volleyball club loves you and is happy that tendou has you and vice versa

basically tendou allowed you to see yourself in a different light and show you that you’re perfect the way you are, no matter what anyone else thinks

i imagine him to react to this situation similar to the way tendou did even though they had different childhoods

kuroo only had two close friends growing up (you and kenma), but he didn’t really feel like an outcast and even if he did, he didn’t really care

he always kinda had the “who cares what other people think” kind of attitude, which is what he always stood by

since this was the only ideology that he knew, he was super confused when you would start telling him about how you were sad because people at school found you intimidating even though you’re just incredibly shy

he didn’t understand the logic of being affected by the words of other people who don’t even know you

nonetheless, he comforted you and continued to tell you all the things he loves most about you

and even accidentally slipped a confession in there oops

this man really has a way with words

so after the two of your started dating and he was able to actually tell you how he feels about you, he nEVER STOPS

like he’s so whipped for you and thinks you’re too perfect, so when others start making you feel uncomfortable with who you are, it makes him want to explode

he makes it a point to tell you every single day that he loves you for who you are and that he would never want you to change because of what others might say or feel

just wants you to love yourself and feel more confident in your skin

eventually you do become more confident in who you are, especially with kuroo always by your side, giving you loads of encouragement

you’re able to smile and joke around more when you’re in school, which makes people feel less intimidated when they see you actually express emotions lol

you’re just thankful that you have kuroo to show you unconditional love and even teach you to love yourself

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu social media #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu writers #kuroo testuro #tsukishima kei #sugawara koushi #tendou satori #kuroo x reader #tsukishima x reader #sugawara x reader #tendou x reader

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purplerose244 · 3 years

Text

My thoughts on Seabound!!! 🌊🌊🌊 (4/4)

Here we are! What a journey, and while perhaps this season wasn't at MoM level it was REALLY good, with great new villains/allies, great little throwbacks and an awesome story! 🤩

How to get this was very good to great? Give me a very good ending Seabound!! 💕💕

Alright, here we go!

GENERAL THOUGHTS

I genuinely got too much into this remaining four episodes and forgot to put any general thoughts 😅 So you'll see me rambling at the end, see you there 😉

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

This title really summarize my feelings so far, like, I'm seriously wondering how it will move on from now, but I do expect the outcome to be CRAZY 🤯

Aaahhhh, yep, the one in Shintaro is a fake 😅 I wonder when did the change happen? How did Kalmaar pulled that off, wow

I'M SORRY WHY ARE WE PUTTING THE TITLE SCREEN WITHOUT THE INTRO?? THAT'S A FIRST EPISODE STUFF AND IT HONESTLY SCARES ME??? It reminds me of Winds of Change too and that episode was WOW 😭😭😭

Heeeeyyy, it's youuuu... huh... *watch scribble on hand* google snake guy, huh... Glucose... yep, good old Glutine and everything 😅

Are we having a "I may have made a mistake being evil" with this guy?

Jay: ah, Prime Empire! I was in that game you know! I fought for my life and the ones of all of Ninjago and I've seen my best friends and the love of my life die before my eyes... good times 🙂

Jay and Nya having fun at DDR has to be one of my favorite thing, they are so in sync and so lovable ❤💙❤💙

DID THEY ACTUALLY PUT THE JAYA SHIP NAME INTO THE SHOW??? OMG GUYS THE FANDOM IS TAKING OVER THE SHOW AT LAST!!! 🤯🤯🤯 The electric Jaya, heeeyy, niiicee 😎😎😎

HOW CUTE CAN YOU BE

MY SHIP 💙❤💙❤ They even gave each other high gives... this is neat, and it means something awful will happen right 🙂

Commissioner: he's saying something about a giant snake... and the end of the world... didn't we already have something like that?

Okay yep, he did the trick while fighting Nya, dang Kalmaar is sneaky! Not too shabby... but I gotta say, the summoning of the Great Devourer was a lot more dramatic 🤣🤣 Props to the serpentine, still my favorite snakes 💪💪

Wojira seems to be a little smaller than the Devourer maybe? His head way bigger than the bounty, while hers is not that massive even in comparison with Kalmaar

I might be wrong but at first glance, I stand by my opinion and by the superiority of the OG giant snake 🤷‍♀️

Yep Glutine guy did have a change of heart, better late than never 🤷‍♀️

You're telling me that Jay doesn't do engineering anymore, okay... HOW IS KAI A BETTER SOLUTION??? 🤣🤣🤣 Lol look at the messy brothers, love Lloyd and Kai so much I miss them interact 💚❤💚❤

Thank you Kelly for the alert 😗

It makes me wonder if they actually do have simulations of evacuations often, it would be pretty smart considering the city 🤷‍♀️

OKINO IS THERE HI DUDE!!! 😍 I hope he's doing great! 🥰🥰

Gail Gossip! Been a while!

WOW, this is going Deluge like, my first Spinjitzu Master! 😱 How... how do we go with three episodes from here? Like, I'm guessing Nya will have to do what Nyad did before her (which TERRIFIES me), so are they going to struggle trying to find another way? IDK BUT I'M IN LET'S GO!! 🤯

ASSAULT ON NINJAGO CITY

Alright, pretty straightforward title, let's see what we got here!

Tourists?... that actually makes sense, I mean, I would want to visit all the places where history was made on this island 😍 Aww nice to see they remember the battle against Garmy of Hunted, also that it is known that Jay was the one who faced Unagami 👍👍

DARETH!!! 🤎🤎🤎

Where have you been you knucklehead, I've missed you! 💕 I think I've last seen him in a commercial from the Fire Chapter?

This is a terrible guide 😵 Not knowing the brown ninja? Owner of the dojo the Green Ninja had trained in? Brief commander of the Stone Army? Master of makeup and puffy potstickers? Unforgivable, someone fire this woman ASAP 😡😡

LOOK AT DARETH TAKING CHARGE!!! 🤩 He's right, he should get involved every once in a while, come on guys!

Ah okay good, I'm not the only one struggling with that google snake name 😂

Yay Bentho is fully integrated with the team! He is a great addiction, like, I know he'll probably take the throne at the end or something but I do hope we'll need his help again in the future! 💙

Sometimes I forget how much I love Kai and Zane interacting 🤣 The brainiac and the airhead 🤍❤🤍❤

Oh right, Cole came back from Shintaro! So... now in this extremely secret city there is a fake amulet hanging into a highly secured place... how is it always Shintaro the keeper of flukes? 😂😂

A bath as a boat but it has a whole 😂😂 I love this show's randomness

What ears are they supposed to cover 😅

I LOVE THIS ATMOSPHERE!!! 😍😍😍 Between the gray sky of storm and the sea underneath, this is the perfect scenario for Wojira and it's not even forced! I love how they are handling backgrounds for Ninjago recently, I really hope it gets as good as in the finale of Prime Empire 💙💙💙

AAAAAAHHHHHhhhhh okay for a moment I was scared Wojira was going to eat Jay 😅 After The Island this is already the second time Bluebell risks it... STOP

WHY THE CLIFFHANGER!?!?

NUUUUU WHAT NOW??? 😱😱😱 We have two more episodes, how is this going to end? I DON'T KNOW AND I REALLY WANT TO PLEASE GIVE ME A GOOD FINALE SEABOUND!!! 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

NYAD

I AM SCARED FOR MY WATER LILY OKAY

Daaaang she can just float on that? She got super good at controlling water! Now I want her and Kai just randomly flying around with their powers 😂😂 Kai got missiles in his hands come on 🔥🔥🔥

JAY CAN YOU LET ME WORRY ABOUT YOU GUYS ONE AT THE TIME??? 😱

What would Kai do? WHAT WOULD KAI DO?? DID YOU DECIDE YOU WANT TO DIE JAY WHY WOULD YOU THINK OF HIM??? ... although technically Kai is the only one with Jay who didn't straight up die before coming back to life in a dramatic moment... huh... Kai might be the most reasonable choice after all 😅

We grew up from Ninja never quit to NINJA AREN'T IDIOTS AND KNOW WHEN TO GET THE HECK OUT 😎😎 Even our motto got a character development 💪

JAY NOOOOOOOO 😱😱😱😱

BENTHO YAAAAAAASSSS 🥳🥳🥳🥳 Did I ever say that I love shark boy? BECAUSE I FREAKING DO!! 💙

Master prankster Wu once again, take that empty ship Calamari head 😎 Although the poor bounty doesn't deserve to get destroyed as many times as it did until now, it's my favorite ship... pun intended 😜

Ah more ninjajan, wait a moment

"Auto Pilot". Fair enough, although I was hoping for a "psych" or something 😂😂

NO WAIT NO WHAT THE HECK!!! I THOUGHT JAY GOT SAVED HE INHALED WATER??!? BLUEBELL NOOOO!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

But Cole running to his best friend immediately? HECK yes 🖤💙🖤💙

NYA CARRYING HER BOYFRIEND BRIDAL STYLE THIS IS THE RIGHTEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN!!! ❤💙❤💙❤💙❤💙 Gosh this season gave me amazing Jaya moments, I've been fed 👌👌

Okay Lloyd pacing back and forth? Kai already mad at their enemies? All the guys eager to help Jay? MY FAVORITE NINJA FAMILY BABY!!! 😎😎

I NEED A MOMENT 😭

Oh... oh gosh I knew Nya doing the Nyad thing was meant to happen, but this way? My heart is melting already 😭

I remember a post that said that Jay told Nya that he loves her many times, while she never did. Tommy reponded that she lets her actions speak... boy do I see it now, I see all of her love 😢😢

I never felt such conflicting emotions for a villain like I do for Kalmaar, like, he caused so much pain to Nya... but he is voiced by Giles... but he is the reason Jay is hurt... but that startle gag 😂😂😂

Okay this? Is adorable?

What the HECK? The police in this city is generally not very helpful, but the Commissioner is very wholesome 💜

Nyaaaaaaa 😭😭😭😭 I didn't think it was possible to love her even more, she was ignored for so long during the show, but now we finally see all of her. She is an amazing warrior, a selfless person, and a real hero 💪💪 And coming from such a mature girl that doesn't like to act irrationally, this means so much more

Jaya grew up so much, it went through some very questionable phases yes, but what they have here? It's the result of all they had lived together 💙❤💙❤

I have chills, this is amazing so far, I'm legit scared of going further 😱

SHE SAID IT!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭 Okay this moment, everything, EVERYTHING, is absolutely marvelous. Nya said I love you without a voice, alone, showing again that she values the actions more, but still her feelings are 100% truthful. Then the transformation (THERE IT IS HER BEAUTIFUL WATER FORM 😍😍😍), Jay getting saved, the realization of what she just did from everyone... DANG IT IT'S ALL BEAUTIFUL HOW LONG DID IT TAKE TO THINK OF THIS SCENE???

*slow clap for Bragi, Tommy, and the Ninjago crew*

Jay and water Nya with their hands together gives me big The Form of Water vibes... LOVE THAT MOVIE WHO'S READY FOR AN AU??

Jay wants to help her, I had no doubt 💙 They always help each other in these BOUNDs seasons 😍😍😍

Kalmaar: where are the ninja??

Commissioner: I don't know, they are ninja!

FINAL BATTLE INCOMING AAAAHHH I HOPE THIS WILL HAVE A GOOD ENDING OMG BRING IT!!! 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩

THE TURN OF THE TIDE

Oh, curious title? It feels a little vague, I don't really know what it could be

YES GIRL GO GET HIS CALAMARI BUTT HECK YES!!! Just how cool can you be for walking slowly while the attacks go straight through you? 😂

Hey Nya still recognizes Jay! 😃😃

HEY NYA GOT VAPORIZED WTH 😱😱 It's too early, I don't believe that's it!

WHOA JAY WENT BERSERK JUST NOW!! I don't think I've seen this before, this is the coolest thing! 💙💙💙 I just love when he shows how strong he is, you can be a comic relief AND kick butts 😎

FIGHTING ANIMATIONS MAN I LOVE THESE SCENES!! 😍😍😍

What the- was... was that a cameo of the lightning chicken? Ninjago what the HECK I love your randomness 😂😂

BENTHOMAAR TAGS IN!!! Showing off why he is best boy of the season 💙 These fightings are very cool but I can't help imagining Wojira just chilling while there are midgets getting very angry at each other onto her head 🤣🤣🤣

WHOA, CALAMARI BITE! Kalmaar got the Pythor treatment... might change color by next season if he returns 😅

(Please return I loved having Giles' voice in this season 💙💙💙)

NYA IS A DRAGON!!! I REPEAT NYA IS A DRAGON!!! 😍😍😍😍😍😍 I was wondering where the dragon moment was, this is Ninjago after all 🤷‍♀️

Head empty, just Jay smiling softy at Nya because he loves her 💙💙💙

IT'S RAINING NYA, HALLELUIA IT'S RAINING NYA, HEYE!! ☔☔☔ This fight is MASSIVE! We had finales with big creatures before but now one of the ninja is big enough to face them and that's 🤯

NYA DID IT!!! 🤩🤩🤩 ... now onto the angst that I KNOW it's coming

Kai being unbelieving is tragic, and Jay's "don't leave me" broke my heart. Please end this misery, where is the deus ex machina that solves everything?

Wait she left?

...

WAIT SHE ACTUALLY LEFT??? WHAT THE HECK THEY AREN'T ENDING IT LIKE THIS

...

OH MY GOSH

ARE THEY?!?

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯

Omg the grief in this is beautiful, nice to see Jay and Maya so close to each other! Also Kai leaning onto his mom while Cole is comforting his best best friend? Amazing, they really do these scenes great 👌

EVERYONE SHOWED UP I LOVE THIS CITY SO MUCH 😭😭😭 Aww Ed and Edna, wasn't this such a sad situation I would be so much happier to see you guys 🥺

Master Wu even mentioned that she built Samurai X, you really want to make me cry now do you? 🥺🥺

MAYA AND RAY 😢😢😢😢😢😢

Omg look at Cole being there for his best friend, he is amazing 🖤💙🖤💙

I have such Rebooted vibes from this... is it hopeful? That Nya comes back like Zane? She's no nindroid but still... oh my gosh they got her symbol on the vase I just noticed, I need more tissues 😭😭

"In loving memory of Kirby Morrow". Always in our hearts 🖤🖤🖤

...

Wow

WOW

THEY ACTUALLY DID IT I NEED ANOTHER MOMENT 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 WHAT IN THE WORLD THIS IS THE BIGGEST CHANGE THEY DID IN A WHILE!!!

AND NOW WHAT??? 🤯🤯🤯

FINAL THOUGHTS

I'm speechless... like that's true, have A LOT to write over here 😅

This type of plot twist reminds me of our early seasons. Zane sacrificing himself, Garmadon giving up his life, those moments that made me so curious and excited about the following. I have no idea what will be the outcome for this, but I can't wait to find out

With that out of the way, AMAZING SEASON 😍😍😍 I think this finale beats MoM's, just because it was really unexpected and opens up a SEA of possibilities... yeah too soon 😭

I'm still shaken, my world, they did something HUGE and I do hope it will be a good shake to the entire Ninjago plotline. Nya is "gone", we still don't know about the person behind all that vengestone, we haven't heard from Garmy in forever, there are so many good ideas out there now that they've set the ground for more 🤩🤩

Voice acting was *chef's kiss*, not only for the villain which I already stressed enough about, I think Kelly reached a new level of emotional intimacy with Nya and I'm so happy she showed her skills 💜💜

Animation is TOP, there's little to no point into saying anything else since they showed it very clearly in the latest season ☺

This was the emotional, witty and engaging writing I was looking for! Good jokes, meaningful dialogues, emotional scenes, everything was really good and I'm gonna rewatch some scenes especially for that 😍

It turned out having Maya and Ray back was kind of a distraction to fool us all 😅😅 Well played actually, and it was very cool seeing them again in any case 🙋‍♀️

And now? Jay lost his love, I have no idea if the show will work on him getting over her or hold onto her memory (thinking of Jay probably the latter, although I do think that handling the first would be an interesting idea). KAI LOST HIS SISTER 😢😢😢 I have no doubt he's gonna beat himself up for it, like he did when Zane was gone too. Everyone lost their friend, she had become such a vital part of the team and now she is not here anymore it will be hard...

They are back with the four plus one green savior formation, I sincerely don't know how I feel about that 😅 I'm always happy when we get the OGs, but this is about going on without Nya... maybe Skylor will be called? Or Pixal will be more active? That could be interesting to see, who knows 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Gosh, how are they going to handle the next season? It will have to give A LOT of answers to the millions questions we all have right now. Man I can't wait, it could be anything!!! This is a Ninjago revolution!

But if I have to mention a little complain, and I'm a fangirl so I absolutely have to, Kai didn't show much of a reaction to Nya's "departure". Okay, she didn't straight up die like in Skybound (I'm gonna fear all BOUND seasons from now on 😱), but he's her brother and he loves deeply his family. Either we're gonna see him go all out next season, or the writers really did only focus on Jaya. A tiny bit salty... but you got me a fantastic finale so I'll move on 👍

Outstanding, I'm blown away. Whenever I think I'm used to this show they do stuff like this. I'm so glad and sad you guys 😅 But mostly happy that despite everything I still get very strong emotions while I watch this long time favorite show of mine 💜💜💜

What else can I say at this point? ONTO NEXT SEASON!!! 🤩🤩🤩

Thank you for reading me freaking out over LEGO spinning ninja as always! It helps me calm down but this time it might be harder thant the others... *sobs*

I need to lay down and process all of this, I'll be on my way 😂😂 BYE!!! 💜

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hpalways · 3 years

Text

Lyrical Mess || Venti

BARD Venti was someone you looked up to. Words would spill from his mouth like a waterfall, for he never ran out of lyrics and rhymes alike to sing about. You aspired to be like him, to one day have talent in bringing people together through music. Unfortunately, your mind was a little underwhelming in the creative department. Phrases and sentences jumbled up like a mess, trapping you in a sea ridden of any motivation whatsoever.

"The distant lands, the people, the trees, they all truly resonate in me!" he sang, filling your ears of the melody. He was currently sitting on the huge tree in Windrise, rocking back and forth on the branch. Meanwhile, you were on the ground and leaning against the bark, trying to write down anything that could be worth mentioning. However, the page was as blank as it could be, an empty void of nothingness. The quill in your hand shook and squeezed, because the frustration was beginning to take its toll.

"Venti, I can't think of anything! Don't you have any secrets that could help me?" you whined, pulling the ends of your [h/c] locks. Grabbing the lyre that was brought everywhere with you, you thrummed the strings of it, playing an ugly chord that halted his own singing. The golden instrument glimmered against the sunlight, nearly blinding your eyes. After spending almost all your savings on it one day, it easily became your most treasured item.

The male leaned forward from the branch, his two aqua ombre braids waving along with the wind. Green eyes on you, they crinkled as he grinned in excitement. In his usual white top and teal shorts with stockings, his style was enough to make him recognizable. Not only that, but he was as adorable as when you first met him. To have him by your side... well, you certainly looked like a nobody. "Well, why are you sitting there on the ground? Come up here and you'll get loads of more inspiration."

"Really?!" you exclaimed. Your gaze brightened as if you had met God and you quickly scrambled to your feet. He nodded, putting his hands on his hips in pride. "Okay. I'll go join you then." Rolling up the sleeves of your shirt, you knitted your brows together in perseverance. Readying for the climb ahead, you lifted your foot to take that first step.

Goodbye. You were ready to die. Venti had made it look so easy with those fast and flexible limbs of his, but you were trembling to the core at this moment. The tree was much taller and wonky than you expected, gnarly and dangerous for someone with no balance like you. Panting heavily, you tightened your hold on your lyre as you heaved yourself upwards one last time. You crashed on the spot beside the bard and hit the hollow trunk in annoyance. Flinching at the pain inflicted more-so on you, you rubbed your hands as you tried to settle down.

The view surely was nice. Mondstadt, the city of Freedom, could be seen from here. Meadows and small hills laid out across the board too, luscious and full of natural beauty. The color of it reminded you of Venti.

"I can't do this," you groaned, rubbing your face in weariness. "I'm too tired to even think."

"You quit too easily," he said, frowning. Feeling all ashamed suddenly, you drooped your head and sighed. There was nothing worse than getting critiqued by someone you looked up to. "Oh, I know! I have a few other secret spots to show you. What do you say, my friend?"

"Alright. I'll give it another shot."

Before announcing to you what he was about to do, he scooped you up with those nimbly arms of his and jumped straight off from the branch. A scream threatened to leave you, but you kept quiet as you held onto him for dear life. He was crazy! But that might just be the reason why he was so popular in Mondstadt.

With a thump! at the landing, Venti smoothly reached the ground with two legs still working. Carefully releasing you, he took out his own lyre from under his arm. It could not be said the same regarding you. Wobbly support below, you kneeled down and calmed your racing heart.

Once you gained your grounding again, that was when it was time to set off. Following the bard on his tail, you watched as the dirt path turned into pavement and then into bricks. "Mondstadt...? Are you sure this will be helpful?" you questioned, squinting at the mundane scene in front of you. Living here your whole life, it was all too familiar for you to believe you'd find anything here.

"Just trust me, [Y/N]!" he said, turning his head over his shoulder. Giggling softly, he returned to look ahead and marched onward.

You assumed it would be an unknown spot that could exhilarate you instantly. But of course, reality bit the dust. Standing in front of you was the local tavern, crowded of drunken adventurers. "You just wanted to stop by for a drink!" you said, whirling around to glare at the male.

He stuck a tongue out and winked, leaving you more infuriated. This was the guy you idolized so much? He was such a sham. "Trust me... trust me..." he repeated, pulling your arm with him. The door opened up and he slipped in, with you stumbling after him. His grip never once loosening, he waltzed towards the bartender and dropped coins of mora. "The usual, please!"

Securing a table to sit at, he set you down and sat directly from you. As you were about to spew words of insult, he beat the punch.

"I'm serious. This is one of my secret spots," he explained. He nudged his head at the back of the tavern, where an empty space cleared of tables took place. "I sometimes perform here and so whenever I come here, I would get a good amount of ideas."

He had a point. You had been there too when he performed here, intrigued and immersed by a new world introduced by him. Slumping your shoulders slightly, you mutely nodded in agreement, tapping the quill against your chin. He grinned at your reaction, as if he was relieved to have escaped your wrath.

As he sipped his drink in peace, you began to write down some ideas. It was silent at the table, but it was not uncomfortable or awkward. You had known Venti for quite some time... and though you still admired him tons, he became a dear friend. Ink met the parchment and you scribbled them down quickly, as if your life was on the line. This proceeded for a while until he slammed his first empty glass down. When showing the notebook, you fidgeted in your seat as you waited for his thoughts.

"Whisking her away, he drowned the walls. She said he said to come to the dock..." he read it out loud. His features tightened and he let out a nervous laugh. "Um... er... it's not bad... How about this?! Why don't you perform a song from Teyvat! Singing a song always inspires me. You can use the stage over there! I'm sure the customers would love a lovely song sung by the beautiful maiden [Y/N]."

"So it's bad," you deadpanned.

"It's not!" he argued, panic shown in his eyes. "It could use some improvement, but anything can be improve, you know?"

"You don't need to lie to make me feel better," you sighed, pulling yourself up from the seat. Lumbering up to the stage, you strummed the strings of your lyre, catching the attention of a few customers. Breathing in deeply, you closed your eyes and started to sing a song. The song you heard Venti sing a few times. The song your parents sang as they lulled you to sleep. The song that wasn't yours, but everyone's.

You were a fake. A lyrist who couldn't form her own words. A singer with no direction to turn to.

When the song ended, a round of applause exploded from the audience who were smiling in approval. They all enjoyed it, except you. Giving them a quick bow with a smile plastered on your face, you then exited the stage and rushed through the tables, passing Venti and straight out the door. Running to the gates and not stopping once until you were out in the wilderness again, you slumped to the ground in shame. Angry tears blurred your vision and you crumpled the poor grass upon your hands.

"You performed it perfectly..." he whispered, his small figure crouching down next to you. When did he get here? "What's upsetting you?"

"I messed up," you told him, glancing at the lyre in your hands. "I can't do a single thing right."

"No one noticed it."

"But... I did. It doesn't matter if no one else realized it, I know of my mistakes. And I'm so sorry Venti. I've been such a hindrance towards you today. You don't deserve listening to my complaints. Nor do you deserve cleaning after my mess." More tears slid out, slipping down your cheeks. "I just wish I was you."

A thumb swiped the droplets from your face, his skin warm to the touch. Startled, you watched him grow slightly sad. Why was he making that face? It looked so... empty... hopeless. He knew of something you didn't. "You don't want to be me, [Y/N], trust me. And I like you the way you are... so please, don't say that ever again." He straightened up and all traces of any misery was erased from his expression. "Let me cheer you up a bit! I can go sing a tune for you! I think that should do the trick for some inspiration."

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naughtyneganjdm · 3 years

Text

A Compromise - Chapter 2

Summary: The first thing Negan does with Y/N on their first night surprises her with how innocent it actually is, but a little while into their first night together she realizes that things are going to be a lot harder than she thought they would be.

Characters: Negan, the reader (OC)

Warnings: Swearing, Dirty Sex Talk & a bit of touching

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27834154/chapters/68293072

“Oh, we’re starting off real hardcore, aren’t we?” Y/N teased as Negan pulled into the parking lot of a diner and a smile cracked in over the corners of her lips. Negan looked over his shoulder at her and gave her an odd expression before smirking. “Like I said, I was thinking of red rooms so coming here is pretty tame in comparison to what my mind was conjuring up.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you with the lack of chains and whips,” Negan retorted with a snort, pulling his helmet off, carefully pulling himself from the motorcycle. Reaching his hand out, he urged her to grab a hold of his hand and winked. “I was just hoping to get to know you first. Talking to you at the club wasn’t all that comfortable. So, I figured I would buy you a late-night dinner and get to know you. It’s quiet and I can actually hear you.”

“And that’s what you want to do with me tonight?” she looked down at his hand while she wrapped her fingers around it. Negan helped her off of the motorcycle and she felt him pull her in closer to him making her let out a shuddering exhale. “I didn’t think I would be having a late-night dinner with someone for two hundred bucks.”

“Like I said, I’m not having sex with you any time soon. I just want to get to know you. To me, it’s well worth the two hundred bucks,” Negan reached up to nudge her chin playfully with his fingers and nodded toward the diner. “Plus, the people that work here will leave us alone and not get up in our business like I feel people would anywhere else. They are good folks here.”

“Well at least I know you’re more of a burger and fries kind of guy instead of a four-star restaurant kind of guy,” she knew that her mind had come up with multiple scenarios of what Negan was like in her head and it was almost relaxing to know that Negan was more laid back than she pictured him to be. When he was tossing money out like he was, she assumed he wanted the best of everything and debated how she would be able to please a man like that with her time.

“I can be both, but who really gets to know someone at a stuffed shirt restaurant?” Negan pointed out, his hand sliding in over the small of her back to make her follow him toward the doors of the diner. Once they were inside, Negan made eye contact with one of the waitresses and pointed toward one of the booths in the back. Following him there, she took a seat with his help and watched Negan wait for her to get comfortable before going to the other side. “Here we can just talk and not really worrying about impressing anyone. It’s a relaxed environment and I feel like when people are in those, they are more open to talking.”

“And what do you want to talk about?” she inquired, her eyebrow perking up while looking him over. She had so many questions, so many thoughts she wanted to bring up to him, but this was supposed to be his time she was on. Asking a thousand questions would likely turn him off of her and that’s the last thing she wanted to do right now.

“Well first of all, why don’t you tell me about school. What were you studying before that asshole did what he did?” Negan laid his hands over the top of the table and she couldn’t help but take notice at how long his fingers were.

“Law,” she explained feeling her cheeks flush over when she thought about her education. “I wanted to be lawyer.”

“Oh, that’s a great profession for you,” Negan chuckled, lowering his head for a moment. It seemed like he was stuck on a thought that entertained him and she tilted her head to the side. “The first case you lose, if you think the judge was being a dickhead you would knock his lights out.”

“Oh ha-ha,” she rolled her eyes, reaching up to brush her hair back and out of her face. The waitress came to ask them what they wanted and when she ordered just water, Negan gave her a frustrated glance. She didn’t really want to go out and eat while getting to know Negan. What if he was disgusted by her and decided to change his mind? She could really use this money and there was a reason he was interested in her. If she ate a certain way, she didn’t know if it would stop him from wanting to be around her. After all, tonight could be a test. She quit her job for this guy based on his offer. He saw her eat and was turned off by it, she may have made a huge mistake. “I’m not all that hungry.”

“Get something to eat,” Negan ordered, his eyes narrowing while he stared out at her expectantly. “And get something you would actually like.”

Negan had gotten himself a burger and she just went with a club sandwich hoping to get something that wouldn’t be too messy. When she was done ordering, Negan eyed her over and cocked his head, “I fully expect you to get what you want when I tell you to.”

“I wanted nothing,” she responded and Negan bit into his bottom lip clearly not believing her. “I just don’t want you changing your mind about me after I eat. You don’t need to see my chowing down on a meal and then decide I’m not worthy of your time.”

“Well, since you’re big on rules…never do that kind of thinking. Never worry about what might turn me off of you,” Negan grunted, looking over toward the front of the restaurant. “I’ve picked you; I’m sticking with you. So, when I tell you to eat, you eat…”

“Yes sir,” she somewhat laughed and Negan’s eyebrow rose at her sarcasm. It was clear he wasn’t completely enthralled with her over-the-top mocking tone and she lowered her head down. She really had to dial back the sarcasm. Lowering her head, she shrugged and wasn’t sure really what to say. “I’m going to have to work on all of these rules that you are going to come up with. Sometimes I have a mouth on me and I need to learn to tone it down.”

“We’ll get you to where you need to be,” Negan stretched out, placing his arms on the back of the booth he was in and she found herself charmed by how confident Negan appeared to be. Watching him while he surveyed the restaurant made her swoon. This guy was gorgeous and the thought that he wanted to be near her and spend time with her really blew her away. His chiseled jaw flexed when he spotted something and looked back to her. Immediately she lowered her head again. Being caught staring might be uncomfortable at this stage for him and she wanted to appear as normal as possible to him. It was just hard to understand why someone like him would want to be around someone like her. “Do you like pie?”

“Like…pie pie?” she repeated making Negan chuckle. It was hard to really know what he was attempting to ask her because she was thinking dirty thoughts based off previous things he said. With the uniqueness of the situation she was saying ridiculous things and she knew that. Hopefully he didn’t think she was simple because she wasn’t. It was just a strange situation and she was uncomfortable. When she was uncomfortable, sometimes she said some silly things. “I don’t know if you are asking something…dirty.”

“No, I mean like apple pie. They have a great apple pie here and I thought we could share some after our meal,” Negan’s face scrunched up after it was clear he was amused with her. Did he find her charming or just ridiculous? It was hard to read his expressions at this point in the game. “If I am talking to you about something sexual, you’ll know.”

“Okay,” she wasn’t sure how to respond, this was all still odd to her. She could only picture how awkward she was coming off to him. “Apple pie is…nice.”

“Good,” Negan stretched his neck out and he bit at his bottom lip. There appeared to be some tension in his neck and her first thought was rubbing it for him. God, she felt pathetic. She was desperate to touch him and be close to him only after the second night of knowing he actually existed. “So, you take school seriously?”

“It’s been my entire life for as long as I can remember,” she answered honestly knowing that there was no sense in lying. While she could pretend that she wasn’t a total geek to a sense, she knew that Negan would find out eventually that her education meant everything to her. Being honest about that she felt was key. “I’ve put my everything into my education. It’s why I’m as upset as I am about what happened with college. I was damn good at what I was doing.”

“I believe that,” Negan nodded his head, his eyes surveying her closely and it made her wonder what he was thinking about her. It was hard to read his expressions and she shifted uneasily before him in her seat. “What are you going to do about school?”

“Well they think they can expel me because they have proof that I broke the windows and set the car on fire,” she told him what he obviously already knew because of what he had heard with her and her father. “What they don’t know is that I flirted with someone from the AV club and they took the tape for me. Eventually, I’m supposed to get the tape from the guy. So, they have no proof. When the appeal comes up, the thing they think they have on me, won’t be there.”

“God damn,” Negan let out an impressed sound and he leaned forward to get closer to her. “Just when I think I won’t like you anymore than I already do, you go and say something like that. Shit! Tell me, should I be jealous of that poor sucker in the AV club?”

“No,” she made a disgusted sound and Negan’s eyebrows bounced up while he listened to her. “I just flirted with him. You’d be surprised how desperate some people can be just for a little attention.”

Y/N thought about what she said and wondered if that was appropriate to say considering the situation they were in right now. It kind of came off extremely arrogant and she didn’t know if he would be turned off by it, but he looked to be the opposite.

“You’re a fucking badass,” Negan lowered his arms and laid them back on the table again. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

“When the world is against you Negan, you learn to do what you have to in order to get by in life,” she responded knowing that things were harder when you were a woman in the career path she was interested in. “The world doesn’t make it easy for women.”

“I like that. Hearing that you would do anything to get what you want really puts things into perspective for me,” Negan drew his tongue over his bottom lip and his hazel eyes were locked on hers. “You are something else, you know that?”

“Thank you,” she didn’t know what to say as he nearly ate her alive with his eyes. It caused a chill to fill her body and she had to force herself to look away from him. “How about you? Why are you a teacher when you could clearly do anything you want with the money you have.”

“I like feeling like I changed someone’s life for the better,” Negan grunted, “Plus I really like sports. This lets me teach while also getting to coach. I really enjoy it. A lot. People look up to me, it’s a nice feeling.”

“Ah, so you like people looking up to you,” she lifted her gaze catching the smirk that pressed in over his features. “I’m sure you have a lot of boys and girls that are drooling every time they are in your class or whenever you are coaching them.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Negan snickered acting like he didn’t even think that was a thought in his mind. “I’m sure a lot of them fucking hate me too. That’s what you get when you teach high school students.”

“I would have loved having you as a teacher,” she confessed catching the interested look that filled his face when she said that. He sat up straighter and nodded making her lick her lips. “I would have been interested in actually showing up.”

“Mmm…I think you would have been one of my favorite students,” Negan assured her with another confident wink.

“Have you ever had a relationship with a student?” she pondered knowing that this was more so about him getting to know her, but she was interested. “I always wondered these kinds of things.”

“No, but if you were my student, I would have thought about it,” Negan quickly responded making a shocked sound escape her throat. “I was married for most of my career sweetheart and if someone found out I was sleeping with a student it would ruin my career. I also tend to like my women of…age.”

“Well some of them are eighteen,” she remembered what it was like being in high school. If there was a teacher that would have been there that looked like Negan, she could have seen herself doing whatever she could to get his attention. She was sure he got that kind of thing now by people who caught on to how gorgeous he was. “At eighteen I would have loved to have you…”

“Go on,” Negan noticed she stopped when she caught herself clearly thinking something naughty. This is what he meant when he mentioned quiet places. People got comfortable and just let whatever was on their mind come out. That’s how he wanted these things. “What would you have done at eighteen and I was your professor.”

“I would have done anything to get your attention,” she asserted, biting at her bottom lip in an attempt to play coy.

“Well, in a power position it would feel wrong to accept something like that,” Negan reminded her with a simple shrug. “Kind of like that asshole professor that fucked your shit up.”

“That’s different though. I’m a damn good student. I was doing everything right and he tried to fuck me to use his power to get what he wanted,” she insisted with a firm shake of her head. “When you have a good teacher, like I’m sure you are…I would have been totally drawn to you. I don’t think you would have forced yourself on me at all. I would have likely forced myself on you.”

“Wow, we’re going there, huh?” Negan mused with a half laugh. “I’m getting the slightest sense that I may be your type Y/N.”

“Possibly,” she chortled, reaching up to rub her hand in over the side of her warm cheek. There was no doubt that she was doing some heavy blushing and she couldn’t help it. “I honestly don’t understand why someone like you…is interested in someone like me.”

“Well that’s for me to know and for you to…potentially find out in the future?” Negan slurred, trying to find the right words to say. “I like a bit of mystery.”

“No kidding,” she took notice of how things had gone done between them. “You’re a big ball of mystery for me Mr. Smith. Do you want to tell me why you are doing this in the first place?”

“Doing what?” Negan played ignorant with her, but she knew he knew that she was asking about why he was having her spend time with him for money. The look she gave him must have told him that and he laughed. “You don’t even have to speak and I know what you are thinking by that ridiculously sassy expression of yours.”

“Then you should answer the question,” she scoffed making Negan laugh again. Well at least he laughed and was amused with her. That was a plus. It would have been bad if she just annoyed him with her forward attitude. “What am I here for? Is this going to be like a purely sexual relationship that is no strings attached?”

“Listen, I’m not looking to fall in love with you or hoping to sweep you off your feet if that’s what you’re asking me,” Negan proclaimed with a small sigh. “I’m not in a position in my life where I’m ready for that.”

“I see,” she looked down toward his left hand to see that he was still wearing his wedding ring like her mother had pointed out to her previously. “Can I ask you…anything?”

“Anything,” Negan grumbled noticing that she was looking at his wedding ring that he was wearing.

“Why still wear the ring if she passed away?” Y/N wondered, knowing that it may have been a little cold for her to ask that, but it was on her mind. If Negan was looking for attention from her, why was he still wearing the ring? Negan’s cocky arrogance seemed to fade a bit while he shifted anxiously before her.

“Just because she died doesn’t mean that she isn’t still my wife Y/N,” Negan looked to his hand and eyed over the ring that he had kept on his finger. It had been there for so long; he just didn’t want to take it off. “Sometimes we need things in life that ground us. When things get a little crazy, we have that thing that pulls us back in. Lucille was that for me. It’s why I keep the ring on. It reminds me of her and it pulls me back in.”

“Lucille?” she repeated the name clearly realizing that was the name of his late wife. “I’m sorry she passed away.”

“Me too,” Negan swallowed down hard and bit down on his bottom lip. “She was an amazing woman.”

There was a silence between them because she didn’t want to say something to upset him any further than she clearly had already done. Negan played with the ring over his finger with his thumb before lifting his gaze to her.

“I’m going to assume that you aren’t dating anyone since you took my offer?” Negan acknowledged and she sighed heavily before nodding. “So, no one special?”

“I told you, education has been my primary focus for a while,” she confessed and Negan rest his chin on his palm while getting comfortable listening to her after bracing his elbow on the table. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve had anyone special in my life.”

“So, are you a virgin?” Negan simply blurt out making her cheeks flush over and she lowered her head to look at the ground beneath the table. “Don’t be embarrassed. Whatever you answer won’t make me like you any less.”

“No, I’m not,” she responded simply and Negan wiggled his head about as if to say she was being vague.

“Have you had a lot of sex then?” Negan uttered and she shrugged.

“What’s a lot of sex for someone my age?” she attempted to get a feel for what he thought about things and he threw his other hand out as if to say he didn’t know. The answer was no, she wasn’t very experienced, but she didn’t quite want to admit that knowing he may have been looking for something a little more than what she had to offer. “Have you had a lot of sex?”

“What’s a lot of sex for someone my age?” Negan almost mocked her with an amused smile and she rolled her eyes at him. “You not being a virgin makes things easier to be honest with you.”

“How’s that?” she was confused as to why he would say something like that.

“When you sleep with someone for the first time, it should be special. You know?” Negan stated with a tilt of his head.

“Apparently I missed that memo,” she exhaled heavily and Negan gave her an interested expression. “I was at that point in my life where everyone was going crazy about having sex. I felt out of place for not having sex and I was trying to figure out why everyone was so big on it.”

“That’s a horrible reason to have sex,” Negan grunted and she felt her face flushing over. Why was she being so honest with him about this?

“Long story short, I did it to find out what the big deal was and to feel not like a loser,” she muttered and Negan nodded, the look he was giving her changing when she said that. “I wish I could get those few minutes back…”

“It wasn’t good?” Negan prodded further and she laughed. “What wasn’t good about it?”

“It was more so uncomfortable and the guy it was with, I was just ready for it to be over,” she admitted with a hesitant sound. “He thought he was impressive and he definitely thought he was hot.”

“And he wasn’t, huh?” Negan grumbled, his eyes narrowing out at her as she tilted her head to the side. It felt weird talking to him about her first experience with sex.

“He thought he was spectacular at sex and God’s gift to women. Let’s just say he wasn’t all that impressive,” she frowned, looking down toward the table again and she felt embarrassed to be saying this.

“See, it’s hard for me to picture that you can’t get a decent lover,” Negan informed her with an expecting glance. “You just told me that you flirted with the AV club guy to get what you wanted. You’re hot, you know you’re hot. So I feel like you could have gotten whoever you wanted.”

“I’m good with flirting Negan. I know how to use what I have to get what I want. It doesn’t make me a slut,” she snorted and Negan’s eyebrows perked up when she said it. “I slept with someone people considered hot and it didn’t take much convincing. Trust me a lot of girls at my school would have been jealous that I got him, but he wasn’t a big prize like most of the girls thought he was.”

“You excite me the more you say to me,” Negan hummed thinking about some of the words she used. “You’re nervous, but you are extremely confident. You’re a badass, but also down to Earth. Fuck, I like learning the layers of you.”

“You make me sound exciting,” she rolled her eyes and Negan tapped his hands against the table. “What about you? I’m sure your first time was much better than mine.”

“My first time was a long time ago,” Negan snorted seeing the way her cheeks flushed over again and he smiled. “What would you say if I told you I was a geek and I didn’t get laid until college?”

“I wouldn’t believe you,” she answered and Negan gave her a sideway glance.

“You’d be right,” Negan shrugged, throwing his hands up. “It was worth a shot.”

“You were definitely a jock and you were very popular,” she took notice of the way he acted. There was an air to Negan that showed he was admired most of his life. He was cocky and there was a reason. People always let him be cocky. He was good looking and he knew it. “You likely slept with most of the school.”

“Maybe,” Negan paused to think of what he should say next. “I was the captain on our basketball team in high school.”

“And did you or did you not sleep with most of the cheerleaders?” she egged him on and watched Negan’s features scrunch up with amusement. “I know I’m right.”

“Mhmm,” Negan slowly nodded, biting into his bottom lip. “You want me to be honest with you?”

“It’s a night of honesty,” she retorted with a dramatic shrug. “So why not?”

“In college I stayed with a friend of mine. We lied and said I was her brother so that way I didn’t have to pay for a place to stay. It was a building with nothing, but girls…” Negan admitted almost making a pleased look for himself. “Let’s just say, when you are the only male in a building, girls are pretty damn eager to…get to know you.”

“Of course you did,” she lowered her head into her palm, letting out an amused sound.

“Does that turn you off of me?” Negan poked, his eyes hooked on her when she lifted her gaze again.

“As you said Negan, you’re completely my type,” she reminded him, hating to confess that to him. “I would have been one of them hoping to understand why sex was so damn good and why everyone wanted to sleep with you. Maybe you would make me realize why sex is so damn good.”

“I’m better now than I was then,” Negan almost flirted with her making her shudder. “I know what a woman wants now. Then, I was just happy to be getting laid at the rate I was. I thought I was such big shit.”

“Well, I bet the people you slept with felt lucky. Unlike I felt with the guy I slept with,” she brought back her past and let out a long sigh. “It’s one of the biggest regrets I’ve had in my life and I’m still wondering why people are crazy about sex.”

“You just didn’t have the right partner,” Negan insisted, reaching out to place his hand over hers to give it a firm squeeze. “Once you find the right one, you’ll never get enough of it.”

“Yeah?” her eyebrow rose as she leaned in closer to him at the table. “Why is that? What would you do to make me enjoy it? Now, not back when you were younger.”

“You want me to go there?” Negan grinned with air of arrogance. When she nodded, he took a look around the diner and made sure they were secluded so no one could hear them. “Give me a situation. Where are we?”

“Let’s go with where we are now,” she looked around the small diner. “What would you do to make sure that I enjoyed it?”

“Well, first of all…” Negan lowered his voice, his eyes narrowing out at her. “I would get up from this side of the table and slide in beside you. I’d start kissing your neck, learning the places you liked to be touched. Since you’re wearing that sexy little skirt, I would caress over your thigh with my hand in teasing strokes. I’d gradually slide my hand up between your thighs and trace over your panties with my fingertips. I’d make sure my eyes were locked on yours to be sure I could see which ways I touched you made you shudder or shake. After I knew that you were turned on and full of lust, I’d push your panties aside and push this finger inside of you.”

She watched him raise his hand up and wiggle one of his fingers. Listening to him was drawing her cheeks to turn a light shade of red again and he could sense that her breathing had gotten heavier while he was talking, “I’d finger you, urging you to make sure that you stayed quiet while we were in here because we wouldn’t want to be caught. After you were nice and wet, I would put a second finger in. I’d vary with slow thrusts of my fingers to quick. It would be based on if you were about to have an orgasm or not. If you were close, I would slow down, making sure to drag it out. When we could get away, I’d go to the bathroom and instruct you to follow me in there. When we were alone, I’d make sure the door was locked and I’d hoist you up on the sink. I’d take your panties off and put them in my pocket. Get down on my knees and eat our your pretty little pussy. It would be about dragging out the pleasure for you. I would use my fingers and tongue in equal amounts teasing your clit while also focusing on hitting your g-spot. I’d do it until I had you screaming out my name having your first orgasm.”

“Yeah?” she was eager for him to continue as Negan checked to make sure they were still alone within reason. The undoubtable pounding of her heart inside of her chest was felt and she felt goosebumps pressing in over her arms. Truthfully, this was making a warmth pool at her core and it ached. Negan was turning her on incredibly bad by just his words and it was hard to admit it, but it was true.

“Just when you thought you were at the peak of your pleasure, I would let you take my cock out because something tells me that you would eagerly like to get me out of my pants yourself,” Negan looked down toward his groin, a wicked smirk pressing in over his handsome features when his eyes lifted back to hers. “I’d have you put me inside of you and I would make sure to kiss you while you got used to my size.”

“I take it that means you are big,” she felt her throat go dry and Negan sat up straighter.

“I’m six foot one,” Negan cleared his throat and she felt her frustrations getting the best of her when he clearly teased her again.

“You know I mean your dick,” she simply stated, licking at her lips. “I’m trying to put an image in my mind and make this as realistic as possible. “Do you have a big cock?”

The sound of a surprised breath fell over them making Negan choke in amusement when the waitress had brought their drinks to the table. An incredible amount of embarrassment filled her entire body as she groaned inwardly and lowered her head into her palm after seeing the look on the waitress’s face.

“Thank you,” Negan was chuckling when the waitress swiftly walked away from the table. “Very subtle. We’re clearly going to have to teach you to do things on the downlow so we don’t involve other people and make it uncomfortable.”

“Why didn’t you tell me she was coming?” she lifted her head from her hand and could see that Negan was completely amused with her.

“I didn’t know where you were going with it,” Negan snickered, lowering his head to laugh to himself. “It’s why I answered my height.”

“After all of this, I think you at least owe me an answer,” she claimed nodding toward him when he lifted his head to look up at her. “I did just embarrass the hell out of myself there.”

“It’s pretty good,” Negan rubbed at the back of his neck, letting out a strained noise.

“What does that mean?” she was flustered with his answer and it was clear he liked screwing with her.

“It means it’s bigger than the average size,” Negan bit at his bottom lip, his tongue flicking out over his bottom lip. “I’m not a horse or anything of the sort…”

“So bigger than six inches?” she confirmed making Negan grin over her interest.

For someone who hated sex as much as she said she did, it entertained him that she was so sexual with him about her questions. It really was flattering that she was so hot and bothered by him.

“Why? Do you want a monster cock after your first experience?” Negan teased her and she let out an agitated sound. “Yes, it’s bigger than six inches and it’s thick. Would you like me to continue or would you like excruciating details of my penis so that way if you ever do see it you aren’t surprised at all?”

“Keep going,” she almost begged looking around to make sure the waitress wasn’t anywhere near their table. “Please.”

“Okay,” Negan watched her scooting in closer to the table and he found it cute that she was so eager to hear how they would finish in his little story. “Once you were used to my…size…”

The way in which he said that made a smile crack in over his lips. Well one thing was for certain, he certainly was someone that liked fucking with her and liked getting her hot with what he was saying.

“I would start off at a slow pace making sure that your eyes were hooked on mine. Once you were relaxed, I would make each thrust just a little bit harder. I’d want you to hold onto my shoulders tightly so that when I started fucking you harder you would have something to brace yourself with. When it seemed like you were about cum, I would stop. I’d get you on your feet and make you face the mirror. You’d brace your hands on the mirror while I thrust into you from behind. I’d make you watch me fuck you while my fingers rubbed your clit at the same tempo I was thrusting my cock inside of you. This time you would be allowed to cum. Near the end I would make it so you could crawl in over me and ride my cock to your own accord. Letting you control when I get to cum. You’d bring yourself to another orgasm before making me cum inside of your tight little pussy. We’d kiss until I went soft inside of you…”

“Wow,” she breathed out slowly, feeling certain parts of her tingling when Negan explained just what he would do to her. An involuntary shiver filled her entire body and she waved her hand in the air. “You are…”

“Oh look, our meal,” Negan rubbed his hands together when the waitress came back with their food. Instead of being able to say what she wanted, she swallowed down hard and avoided making eye contact with the waitress. “Thank you darlin’.”

The area around Y/N felt like it was spinning and she was doing her best to bring herself back down from the high his story gave her. Negan had started to eat, but when he noticed she wasn’t eating he gave a wicked smirk.

“Eat your food sweetheart,” Negan winked and during their meal he asked her questions about herself that were rather innocent. They talked about things to get to know each other better on a more personal level that didn’t really involve anything sexual. How he went from being that…sexual to just talking like it never happened blew her mind. She was still heated and she could tell that Negan got her mighty excited. When they were done, Negan ordered a single piece of pie and when it came to the table, he grabbed a forkful to hold his hand out for her to take a bite. “Open wide.”

“Yes sir,” she smirked parting her lips for him to feed her the bite of pie. When she made a pleased sound, he was proud and grabbed a bite for himself. “This was nice.”

“Yeah, it was,” Negan agreed with a loud sigh, thinking things over as he took a couple more bites from the pie. Slowly, Negan pulled himself up from the side of the table that he was on. Taking a seat on the same booth as her, he urged her further in wrapping his left arm around her shoulders. The way she gasped made him smile while his hazel eyes hooked on hers. “This has been quite an eye opener for me. You know? I’m glad you agreed to this. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed with agreeing to this whole thing.”

“Yeah?” she felt heated when he leaned in closer to her. His right hand grabbed a hold of her jaw and she felt his lips pressing in over her jawline making her take in a sharp breath. The sensation of his lips trailing over the side of her neck caused her eyes to slam shut. She was tremoring and she knew he was doing what he told her would be the first thing he would do if they had sex at the diner.

“You are something else,” he muttered against her flesh, biting softly at her skin. A small moan fell from her throat and Negan’s gaze lifted to look at the diner to make sure she hadn’t drawn attention to them. When he was certain they were fine, he went back to depositing wet kisses over her skin taking the time to see what areas seemed to drive her the craziest with desire. “I think the two of us are going to have a lot of fun together.”

“I think so too,” she agreed, biting into her bottom lip when his rough palm settled in over her bare thigh. The roughness of his skin tickled hers and it drew her to spread her legs further apart for him. Negan was pleased with himself and he continued to slide his hand further up her thigh. “Negan…”

“Yeah?” Negan hummed against her neck, his tongue flicking out over her skin before nipping again.

Sliding forward in her seat when she felt Negan’s fingers exceedingly close to her panties, she found herself ridiculously excited at the idea that he was doing what he had told her at the beginning of his story. It wasn’t like her to want to have sex with someone like this, but there was something about Negan that just drew her to him. God, he was so sexy.

“We should probably pay for the bill,” Negan pulled his hand back and his mouth away from her neck. A desperate sound fell from her throat when he had clearly tormented her with the idea of what he had said in his story. “I should get you home. It’s been a busy night for you.”

“What…what about the bathroom?” she suggested and Negan lifted his gaze to look in the direction where the bathrooms were. “Don’t you want to go in there?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Negan reached up to swipe thumb in over her jawline. It was clear that he was teasing her. He got her excited at the idea of what he had told her before they had eaten, but he wasn’t going to give that to her. “I don’t need to go.”

“But…” she tried to reason with Negan watching him get up to pay the bill. She was shaking. Her breathing was heavy and she was truly heated. More than anything she wanted Negan to take her into the bathroom and do just what he had said he would. Yet, he was fucking with her. Her lips parted and she swallowed down hard. “Fuck.”

“You ready to go sweetheart?” Negan reached for her hand and helped her up from the seat she was in. When he noticed her legs shaking, he stepped forward and made sure his lips were pressed to her ear. “Just how wet is your pussy right now?”

“You could find out,” she whispered and Negan laughed against her flesh making a chill run down her spine again.

“I think I’ll wait for a better opportunity,” Negan hushed her, pressing a soft kiss against her earlobe before tugging softly on her hand to get her to come with him to his motorcycle. The urge to beg Negan to desperately fuck her was there, but she didn’t want to come off completely pathetic. Shuddering, she got back on the motorcycle with him and heard him let out a satisfied breath. “Make sure you hold really tight to me baby. I’m going to take you home.”

“What about my car?” she thought back to the fact she had driven herself to work before Negan convinced her to come with him. “It’s still at the club.”

“Tell your parents that you were feeling sick and a friend drove you home,” Negan answered like it was no big deal at all. “They will take you to pick it up in the morning.”

And like that, she didn’t fight him. Holding tightly to him, she rest her cheek against his back as he drove them home. It was a nice feeling that she wasn’t quite ready to end when Negan finally did get home. When he pulled into his driveway, she was disappointed and wanted the night to last longer.

Steadying herself on her Jell-O feeling legs, she rubbed at her arms and could see Negan staring out at her with an expecting glance.

“Do you…want me to come in?” she pointed toward his house and Negan’s eyebrow arched up. A wolfish smile pulled at his lips and he shook his head slowly. “We could get to know each other a little bit better.”

“Not tonight,” Negan denied her, shoving his hands in his pockets while he turned his attention back to her. Why was he being so damn difficult? “I think we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well for tonight. We can end it here.”

“I still feel like there is so much more to learn,” she reasoned with him and Negan nodded.

“Which is why I look forward to our future encounters,” Negan stepped forward, getting exceedingly close to her. The warmth of his breath over her face caused her to shudder and she found herself leaning in closer to him. With his eyes on hers the way they were, she felt connected to Negan in a way that made her eager to get to know him more. “I’ll see you morning.”

“Wait…aren’t you going to kiss me?” she called out to him when he pulled away from her to leave. “That’s the perfect way to end the night, right?”

“Would it be perfect for me…or perfect for you?” Negan stepped forward nuzzling his nose against the side of her neck when he lowered his head. Negan dragged his bottom lip over her flesh making her whimper out. Dragging the back of his fingers over her lower abdomen, Negan bit back a groan himself. “Can I touch you.”

“Yes,” she shuddered when Negan slid his palm between her thighs to palm in over her mound. It made her cry out into his collarbone, burying her face against his leather jacket. Negan hummed with approval when he managed to slip his hand beneath the material of her panties. All he did was slide his palm over her body before a proud sound fell from his throat.

“You are so fucking wet,” Negan growled, pulling his hand from her panties and bringing his fingers up to his lips. There was a wicked smirk over his handsome face when he sucked softly at his fingertips. “I have a direct order for you tonight. I know when I leave you tonight, you are going to want to touch yourself when you’re in bed tonight. You’ll want that release because I’ve got you fucking soaked and aching…”

Involuntarily she was shaking and Negan grunted when he reached to pull her close to him, “but you aren’t allowed to touch yourself. You can’t shower, you can’t masturbate…you are to go to bed immediately. You need to get your sleep because I expect you here bright and early tomorrow after you get your car. I have plans for you. So, in the morning you can shower and get yourself ready, but not tonight.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” she bickered in a soft voice and Negan let out a disappointed tsking sound.

“You’re not allowed to, no matter what,” Negan maintained, pressing a long kiss over the side of her face. “If I find out you did, you’ll be punished for it and trust me…you’re the type that can’t hide lying very well so I will know.”

“Yes sir,” she obeyed and Negan back stepped away from her, his amused breath filling the air.

“Good girl,” Negan clicked his tongue at the top of his mouth and leaned back in a dramatic manner. “I’m so proud of you.”

There was a silence while Negan clearly thought hard about something and he held his hand out to her, “Give me your phone.”

Listening, she handed him over her phone and saw him typing something in. When he handed it back to her, she could see that he put his phone number into her phone and sent himself a text so he would have her number as well. When Negan started to move away from her, she was thinking a desperate way to try and keep him there with her.

“So, no kiss?” she reaffirmed and Negan nodded once. Damn, that was disappointing. She imagined kissing him was amazing and the fact he wasn’t doing it made her even more uncomfortable than before. “Well, goodnight I guess.”

“Sleep tight,” Negan wiggled his fingers and headed back toward his home. Moving back to her parent’s house, she found herself staring as Negan moved into his home. He didn’t even look back over his shoulder at her and it disenchanted her.

Truthfully, the perfect night would have been doing exactly what he told her in his story, but instead she ended up with this. Heading inside she went upstairs and crawled into her bed after getting dressed for bed. There was a strong ache at her core and she looked to the time. Negan wouldn’t know if she touched herself, right?

Biting firmly into her bottom lip, she closed her eyes and pictured everything he told her at the diner tonight. It was easy to picture in her mind and even though she wanted to caress over her aching body, she knew that she was given an order not to. Whining, she looked toward the window and wondered if Negan was thinking of her the way she was thinking of him.

Damn, it was going to be hard to sleep tonight thinking about Negan. Especially when she was desperate for tomorrow morning. She was excited to see what Negan had in store for her in the morning. If it was anywhere near this, she figured it was something she would definitely be happy with.

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