#and then asking him if he wants ice cream | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luveline · 16 hours ago

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𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

six | chapter list

Finding out you’re a princess isn’t half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can’t seem to stop flirting with you.

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, implied chubby!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au, all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance, slowburn, background wolfstar

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Why aren’t you hitting me?” James asks.

The safety mat under your feet does little to assuage your fears. James Potter is perhaps the last person on earth you’d expect to hurt you, and yet you can’t shake the image of him deflecting your punch and sending you reeling.

With his lovely curls slicked away from his face, his nice mouth, the curve of it where he’s smiling encouragingly, you don’t really want to hit him.

“I can’t,” you say.

“Yes, you can. One day you might have to, and I need to know you can do it without breaking your own hand.” The no nonsense tone he’d tended to sport when you first met barely three weeks ago is seemingly gone, replaced by a friendly, almost cavalier tone. Like this is fun. “It won’t hurt you much, I swear. And you should get your revenge. I hit you pretty hard.”

“You didn’t hit me,” you say. “The door did.”

“It was my fault.” He smiles, readjusting his stance with feet planted firmly against the mat.

“James…”

“Just hit me,” he says.

You tense your fist around your thumb and hit him square in the chest. It’s not a punch by any means, a weak landing of your knuckles that doesn’t move him. Still, you’re surprised with yourself, checking his face for a sign that you’d done any damage.

“There are so many people who’d love to punch me,” he laughs, nodding to your hand, “you can do better than that, if only to do what they couldn’t.”

“I don’t want to hit you, James.”

“I know, you have to. Come on, it’s easier than you think. You bring your first back to your shoulder and you move into it, okay? Use your weight to do the work. You’ll never hurt anyone if you don’t.”

“I’d rather not, though.”

“I know that, too, but you might need to. God forbid you be in a situation where I’m not there to protect you,” —here he does something strange with his eyebrows you’ve yet to encounter, sending a straight shot of butterflies through you, their wings fluttering in the soft part of your throat— “but you don’t have to be defenceless if I’m not. Give me a good swing and I’ll make sure Marlene has that pear ice cream at dinner tonight.”

“Marlene would make it if I asked,” you say unsurely.

“But if you hit me, I’ll ask for you.”

“You can be very manipulative.”

“Sometimes. Alright, hit me. Or I’ll tackle you again. You didn’t like that last time.”

Obviously you hadn’t enjoyed being tackled, because James hadn’t hurt you, he’d simply overpowered you. In one sense, it had been panicky to realise you were at someone’s mercy. James had grabbed you simply behind the back with your chests pressed together and hooked his calf behind your legs, taking them from under you, and following you to the ground. You didn’t like it because he didn’t hurt you, he’d pressed his weight into yours with an arm tight across your chest, just under your throat, and you could smell his hair. Smell almond or jojoba or– or something warm.

It isn’t that you have feelings for James. You don’t know him well enough. But having someone like James pressing down on you was impossible to ignore, consciously and subliminally.

You really don’t want to do this, drawing your arm back, tightening your first two fingers. James’ eyes widen, his lips falling open as you hit him hard enough to bruise a half inch from his heart. He stumbles and you follow, before flinching back hard, tucking shameful arms to your chest.

“Sorry!” you burst. “Fuck, sorry! I thought you were ready!”

“I was ready.” James grins widely. “Awesome. Do that again, yeah? Let’s have one on the cheek this time.”

“I am not punching you in the face.”

“You could always aim somewhere softer. The point is to incapacitate me. Hitting me in the chest won’t do that.” He rubs a hand into his shirt, the dark compression material barely moving. “You might have bruised me, though. I’m a good teacher.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you say.

James deliberates. He tips his head back, showing you the rather nice point of his chin and his neck. A beauty mark sits nestled atop his Adam's apple.

“Alright. Sorry. No more hitting. Maybe we’ll give the offensive a break for a while and go back to defence again in a few days?” he suggests.

You relax.

You’re wearing clothes you’re not used to, a compression shirt like James’, a pair of dark trousers of a similar material with loose ends. Sirius had done some online shopping with you, not worrying as your elbows brushed. He pointed at things and you’d given weak yesses or resolute nos. The total had climbed and climbed, and Sirius had taken your choking for self-preservation. “Not to worry,” he’d said, grinning, “the royal coffers will pay for this lot.”

It doesn’t feel real. Endless money with no limit nor reason. He’d opened Curry’s swiftly after and asked you what laptop you wanted for uni. He’d attempted to goad you into two.

It’s alien. All of it, even James across from you where he’s sitting now to put his trainers back on. He doesn’t feel anymore real than the day you met, this handsome, tall boy tasked with keeping you safe. You’ve never been someone’s number one priority.

“Come and put your shoes on, lovely.”

You’re not sure how to cope with that, either. He and Sirius both seem quick to coddle when you’re distracted, and you’re distracted often. You shrug away your thoughts, relaxing your tight shoulders as you cross the empty gym to sit next to him. Your trainers are new, too, a sporty pair that cost more money than your last three pairs combined.

“It’s nice to have new things,” you confess, “but odd.”

“Yeah?”

“I… I’ve been wearing the same pair of converse for two years. I had one pair of proper shoes, and one bag. One purse. And I didn’t mind it, just… just, it makes you feel sick sometimes when you want stuff. It’s embarrassing.”

If James is surprised at your sudden admission, he doesn’t show it. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of in wanting things,” he says, hands braced on his knees, “but I can guess why you might’ve felt like that. We try not to think about the things we want because that can make not having it worse.”

What couldn’t you have? you think, searching his expression for a hint.

“I’m glad it’s nice,” he furthers, tapping his heel against yours. “They look good. Are they comfortable?”

“They feel like I’m wearing socks half the time.”

James nods appreciatively. “Well, get them on. We’ll nip into the pharmacist before we go home, do you have your sunglasses?”

“It’s too grey outside for sunglasses, we look ridiculous.”

“You look like the front page of every newspaper. Ever. In the entire western world. Here, put your hoodie on.”

You and James leave the gym with a wave to the women at the front desk and begin down the street. James hates the city obviously, wrinkling his nose at the grey cobbled streets and all of its sooty puddles. He walks from place to place rigid as a tentpole, swerving in front of you the second that someone looks at you too long. You wonder if this is what having a boyfriend is like. James is constantly making sure you’re safe, that you’re on the right side of the pavement, that you’re warm and fed and smiling. But you don’t suppose a boyfriend gets paid to spend time with you, nor do they spend nights on the lumpy sofa in the living room when they’re too tired to drive home at the end of a long shift.

You think without wanting to of James climbing into bed with you, a split second of his warm arm over your back, and shake it away as he pulls you into the pharmacy.

“Can you look at something else?” you ask, turning to him as you pull off your silly sunglasses.

James raises his eyebrows. “Whatever for?”

“I need stuff.”

“I know you need stuff. You asked me if we could come here. Which, by the way, you don’t need to do. You’re supposed to boss me around.”

You look over a shelf of shampoos and deodorants and begin reading their labels. James took you shopping the day after you got back, but you’d been stuck in your old ways and what you didn’t skimp on, you forgot. You eye a large bottle of shampoo that brags deep moisture for your hair type and take it from the shelf, then the matching conditioner, and then its hair mask. Your shoulders curl forward, worried James will think you greedy or sad or something in between, but he just says, “Pass them here, Princess.”

“It’s fine, I can–”

“I’ll have them. I’ll go get a basket.”

He scoops everything into big hands and walks back to the pharmacy’s entrance.

It’s a big pharmacy, modern, with white walls and bright fluorescent lights behind shelves. You catch yourself in a mirror next to a stand of cosmetics and wince. You look odd in these sporty clothes. Your nose is shiny.

You wipe your face with your sleeve and stare at the cosmetics with no clue what to get. Should’ve asked Sirius to come. Or better yet, someone who regularly wears makeup. Only thing is, you don’t really know anybody who does.

“You don’t have to rush,” James says, joining you at the makeup section, such a long walk from the shampoos. “Did you sprint down here?”

You’d speed-walked past the sexual health aisle actually, but James doesn’t need to be privy to that information. “You don’t want to be here all day.”

“I want to be exactly where you are. If that’s looking at lip gloss, then so be it.”

You smile, a little shy, a little rueful, and turn your attention back to the lip glosses in question. There’s browns and pinks, blush-rose red and moodier cherries. “I don’t…”

“That one,” James says, poking a barrel with confidence, “would suit you. And this one, too. You’ll look lovely.”

You don’t know what to say. The colours he’s chosen get added to your basket without comment, after you’ve wrestled it out of his unwilling hands. You spend a few minutes spready tester shades of concealer against the back of your hand, where James again recommends the one that matches your skin tone best. He leans behind you, and he does his job, sweeping the aisles and giving the shop a long up and down every once in a while, but for the most part he acts like he’s there to be there.

You get to the bit of the pharmacy you’d come for initially, the shorter but well-stocked supplement and vitamin aisle. Realistically, you aren’t going to take ten different vitamins a day, and with Marlene’s cooking it isn’t as though you need them, but there are things you’ve always craved. Biotin and collagen, for healthier hair and nails. Multi-nutrient sachets for every day, the good stuff, and so expensive your eyes initially skip over them.

Your hand hesitates in front of a box and James makes a warm humming noise.

“They look promising.”

“I’ve never had them before.”

“I have a killer magnesium deficiency,” James says. “I usually take the magnesium and zinc, but that throws my copper out of whack.”

You can’t tell if he’s messing with you. You smile at him, not quite stickily but getting there, your cheeks appled with it. “Not your copper.”

“It’s not funny, Princess. It makes me want to sleep all day.”

“Not funny,” you agree, grabbing the box of sachets and placing them atop the new electric toothbrush you’d fancied. You feel gluttonous and weird with it, because you don’t suppose you really need one, but James had only said That’s a nice colour.

“James,” you say, meandering with him toward the tills, “you didn’t need anything, did you?”

He grins at you like you’ve said something different. “I have everything I need, don’t worry.”

“You sure?”

His eyes seem lighter, then. Amber flecks in the browned honey of his irises. “Promise.”

He tries to get you to visit the perfume counter, but the basket is getting heavy and you’ve spent enough as it is. Not even a tenth, a hundredth, a thousandth of what you have now at your disposal, but so much more than you ever would’ve before.

The lady at the till eyes James behind you. She beams when James opens his wallet and passes you the card you were given by Sirius for expenses, and laughs when you refuse to take it. “I have mine,” you say, “this is all for me, I can pay.”

“Technically it’s your upkeep,” James argues.

“James.” You pass the cashier your card as James frowns.

“I wish my boyfriend offered so quickly,” the cashier says.

You go hot all over, but before you can tell her James isn’t your boyfriend, he’s laughing and taking the handles of your heavy pink carrier, pulling it toward him as the cashier sorts your receipt. “I shouldn’t have tried, really.”

“It’s the thought that counts.” She hands you your receipt. “You should to let him pay, chick, especially if he’s offering.”

“Maybe next time,” you appease.

You’re still flushed when you and James break outside again, the cold a blessed relief. James lets your pink bag rest in the crook of his arm, while the other hovers behind you, looking around the street unhurried. “Anywhere else you want to go, chick?” he asks.

You laugh. “She was nice.”

“Very motherly.”

“I want to go home, I think. Did you need anything else?”

“I do all my shopping when I’m not working.”

“When aren’t you working?” you ask genuinely. “You spend more than half the day at my flat, and when you leave– if you leave, it’s night time.” You give him a sideways glance. “I have nothing else to do today.”

James contemplates this. “I– I’ve been meaning to get Sirius a gift. It’s his birthday next week, did you know?”

“No! When?”

“The third.”

“What does he like?”

James beckons toward a neon signed music shop. “He loves music. Music and the macabre, you know, like, horror movies. And he reads, despite what he might have you believe.”

You fall into step. “Alright. You’ll have to tell me what to buy.”

Again, he gives you a look like you’ve said something different, like you’ve said something lovely.

“I can do that,” James says. “I won’t steer you wrong.”

—

Later that evening, after another tentative hour in the car with James’ patient coaching, you return home to shower. It’s luxurious and strenuous simultaneously. The new hair mask is fragrant and silky between your fingers, leaving the bathroom thick with its smell, the warm air clouding the windows. You hurry between the bathroom and your bedroom in a bath sheet and pretend you don’t notice James’ head tipping in your direction.

“Everything alright?” he calls to your bedroom door.

You spy on him through the gap. “I’m fine. Sorry I took so long.”

“Remus has asked if he can come early and have dinner with us.”

“He doesn’t need to ask!” you call, closing the door soundly.

It will be nice to have Remus for dinner. He doesn’t have to tell you what fork to use here, you only have one kind, but he explains the heritage or main flavours of each dish and doesn’t make you feel embarrassed when you don’t know the Genovian Marlene uses. Honestly, you hadn’t even realised Genovia had a language, a hodge podge, Remus says, of Italian and French. And Remus has a steady voice that feels evidence of his more humble background —he’s like you, you’ve found out, working class and humbly brought up. He attended their boarding school on a scholarship of academic prowess, and served as a prefect for all seven years.

“How exhausting,” you’d said.

“With those two? You wouldn’t believe it.”

His disdain was feigned, mostly. It’s why you’re excited to have him for dinner. When the boys are together, they end up telling you stories about their hijinks at school, and you get to peek into the window of their lives, see their fondness for one another in praises and shoulder squeezes and their ridiculous nicknames.

You haven’t managed to ask about them yet. They slip out every once in a while, and in multiple variations. Moony, Moons, Moon and Pads, Pad, Padfoot. Remus’ you’ve deduced from a story they told, how Remus could be oh so moody when he wasn’t very well, like a wolf, a werewolf. Isn’t that clever for a gang of twelve year olds? Lupin, the wolf boy. You have a feeling it didn’t start out as a particularly kind nickname, but it morphed into a loving moniker later on. Sirius’ nickname, however, you’ve no chance at working out. Padfoot?

And Prongs? You assume James had a nasty run in with a fork.

You dress in soft, new clothes. Prongs, you think, doesn’t suit him at all. The James you know is only ever prickly when you’re at risk. He doesn’t flinch when you panic, never hardens. He has a soft hand for your back whenever you need a pat.

Your socks slide on the living room tiles as you make your way in. James is clicking away on his phone, a dark business phone with many, many buttons. It’s dwarfed by his hand. He swears under his breath.

“Everything okay?” you ask softly.

James looks up and his gaze snags on you, his head tilted to his phone and his eyes steadfast where they look you over. “Fine. Nice shower?”

You’re rich now. Every shower is nice, the boiler turned to a high six, hot water neverending.

“It was good. Where’s Sirius?”

“I’m actually not sure.”

“Isn’t that your job?”

“No. And if it were I wouldn’t know anyways.” He turns back to his phone. “He’s a slippery one, Pads,” he murmurs, “I couldn’t really keep track of him if I tried.”

You feel as though you’ve caught him at a bad time. Restless, you turn away from him and head for your small kitchen, unsurprised to find Marlene still cooking and the continued remodelling of your kitchen. Old countertops find themselves housing new oiled cutting boards. Your grody cooker seems small beneath a HexClad Dutch oven, where oil bubbles and spits lightly, dough cuts set on a baking sheet beside it.

“Hi, Marlene. What are you making?” you ask curiously.

She grins at you from over her shoulder. “Apple cider doughnuts. I’ve made cinnamon sugar, do you mind it?”

“What’s the thermometer?” you ask.

She laughs at you lightly. She’s used to you dodging questions. “Just making sure I don’t set your house alight. At home I can do this by eye, but it’s finicky with your oven. She’s temperamental.”

“Sorry.”

Marlene waves a hand. “You want to try?”

“I’ll just be in your way.”

“No, you won’t. Frying doughnuts is fun, here. I’ve put each of them on a bit of greaseproof paper. They slide right off.”

Marlene doesn’t usually take no for an answer. She’s not bossy, but decisive. You’re hesitant at first of the boiling oil and the greaseproof paper doesn’t cooperate when you try it, but eventually you’ve freed a crispy bit of paper from the dough, watching patiently as Marlene turns the doughnuts. She tells you about the dark colour you’re searching for, “I’ve put apples in the dough, see, so they’ll come to a brilliant dark colour without burning. We’ll have them with ice cream or whatever you like.”

”James told you I wanted it?” you ask shyly.

“James didn’t mention you at all, he just begged a bit for it. He can be quite pathetic when he needs to be.”

“I resent that!” James calls.

Sirius and Remus arrive in their usual pair, Remus tall and light to Sirius’ tighter darkness. Remus wears glasses today, black thin frames perched atop a scar on his nose. Sirius is being himself, poking at them and reminding Remus that just because he is an insufferable swat doesn’t mean he has to look like one.

“You’re worse than insufferable,” Remus says. When he sees you, he brightens. “Ah, Princess. James hasn’t injured you, that’s brilliant.”

“And you clearly haven’t killed him in a motor vehicular disaster,” Sirius says cheerfully. “Praise be.”

“We’re both fine,” you say.

“Were you worried about us?” James asks.

“I wasn’t worried about you, James,” Remus says with a smirk.

You eat as you have every day for the week since you’ve been home: around the coffee table, five plates and drinks rearing to get knocked over and ruin it all. Your knees press into Remus’ on the left and Marlene’s on the right. James sits across from you now that Frank’s shown up for his night shift, digging in with vigour, beaming around his fork as Sirius gives him a good nudge. So many people in your crammed flat. It doesn’t seem real. Half the time, they’re just here to keep you company.

Paid to keep me company, you think, biting your tongue as you do. This isn’t… real.

Something taps you under the table. James’ hand, you find, long fingers pressing soft into your kneecap. You quickly lift your head again to find him frowning at you mildly. Okay? he mouths.

“Bit my tongue,” you say.

“Ouch,” Remus says.

James pokes his lip with his tongue. “Be careful,” he says eventually.

You ignore whatever it is he’s not saying and pick at your food instead. For dinner, Marlene has made a traditional Genovian pasta dish heavy with red pesto and steak. It isn’t what you’re expecting, used to the paler whites and greens of the last week's worth of dinner. James couldn’t be enjoying it more, and Sirius has pledged his undying love to Marlene three or four times since you sat down.

“Jesus, I barely miss Genovia when you cook like this,” he says. “I will happily serve my country.”

“Unlike before, when you were here unhappily,” Remus teased.

Sirius looks you dead in the eye. “Princess, I would follow you anywhere. Marlene is an added bonus.”

“I– I really wish you guys wouldn’t call me that.”

Sirius looks gently chastened. “Sorry, sorry. It’s muscle memory at this point. If I called Princess Julianna by anything but her title, she would’ve had me drawn and quartered in the royal courtyards, is all.”

“And the rest,” James snorts.

“I try not to address her at all,” Remus says to himself.

Everyone laughs. You join in a second later, wondering about your unknown cousin. “She was rather spoiled, wasn’t she?” you ask.

“You’d think she’d tone it down some. Her royal status is rather tenuous, you know.”

James gives Sirius a look. Careful, it says.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Well, she’s a royal by marriage, not blood. We explained that, didn’t we?”

James had said it was complicated. You’d been too startled about your own royal status to inspect it any further. “She’s not a Renaldi?” you ask.

As it’s explained, your uncle (uncle! who is indeed royal by blood, and the eldest son) forwent the throne when it became clear he wouldn’t be allowed to marry a divorced lover otherwise (reminiscent of certain British scandals). Said divorced lover already had a daughter, a young Julianna. And so your uncle remained a prince but not a king, and Julianna became a princess, to the ire of half the country.

Traditions have changed in time, but Julianna still lacks Renaldi blood.

“It drives her mad,” James says. He’s leaning back against the armchair now, dinner finished, a big glass of apple cider in his hands.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you say. “Sorry, I sound horrible, just. She wasn’t super friendly.”

“It would’ve been better for everyone if she was,” Sirius says.

You wait for him to continue. Marlene prompts him, “You think so?”

“Well, yes, I suppose. Anything is better than a country ruled by Baron Riddle. Evil, loathsome man. He thinks that nobody knows he’s had a nose job, you know.”

“Who’s Baron Riddle?” you ask.

A hush falls around the table. You look down at your plate, eyes on the red shine of pesto and olive oil where it’s grown cold on your plate. A hunk of soft bread is discarded beside it. You poke at it with your nail until crumbs flake away, lips parted, not sure what to say. “Is he–?”

“He’s a bad man, Y/N,” Sirius says. His voice has turned soft but not thin. “He’s prejudiced and cruel. If nobody of Renaldi blood takes the throne when your grandmother steps down, he’ll rule Genovia. And he’ll run it into the ground.”

James isn’t looking at you when you drag your head up. He downs the last of his cider and stands up, murmuring about clearing the table as he carries his and Sirius’ plate to the kitchen.

“I didn’t know,” you say. Well, you’d known someone would ascend to the throne if you didn’t. But you didn’t know about Riddle. A guilty heat builds in your throat. “I had no idea.”

“James asked us not to tell you,” Remus says pointedly.

“She has a right to know,” Sirius says. They glare at each other, but the heat in Sirius’ voice doesn’t rescind. “What? She does. She’s a grown up.”

You shake your head. “Thank you, um, for telling me. I’ll just take these out, should I?” You gesture to the plates and stand up quickly. You can’t escape the feeling that Sirius is very angry with you, and you don’t want to face it, so you escape the room instead.

James’ shoulders are tense in the kitchen. He scrapes his plate clean into the food recycling bin, offering his hand without looking for your own.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

“Of course.”

Silence blossoms like an achy bruise.

“James–”

“Thank you for having me for dinner, but I really should be going now. I promised my mum an overdue call.”

He’s angry.

You cringe away from him. “Okay. Yeah, no problem.”

“Okay. Stay safe while I’m gone, yes? Remember your panic button.”

Your hand inches up to the opposite wrist, where your tennis bracelet of sapphires sits tightly. You’d forgotten all about the panic button embedded in disguise under one of the gemstones.

He smiles at you briefly, and in a minute or two he’s gone. Sirius goes out after him, leaving you and Remus and Marlene to the heap of dishes, a bad taste lingering on your tongue that has nothing to do with dinner.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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rispwr · 2 days ago

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Number one girl ・❥・J.JK (Fluff)

pairings : jungkook x afab! reader

genre : frienemies2??, established relationship, fluff, slight angst, enemies in public, bsfs in secret.

sypnosis : what's more confusing than math? your feelings for a man you don't like but you don't hate.

content : student council vp! reader, playfuckboy! jk, bets, ciggarettes, alcohol, parties, club, jungkook map of the soul persona era, no smut just plot and fluff, misunderstanding.

word count : 14,4k

music rec : number one girl by rose, if you want to by beabadoobee, do i wanna know by arctic monkeys, number 1 party anthem by arctic monkeys.

It was 9 PM, And Jungkook had shown up at my door earlier, carrying my favorite food, with a grin on his face. now i was wrapped securely in his arms.

My legs were draped over his lap, and my head rested against his chest, As his hands moved lazily through my hair, his fingertips tracing soft patterns on my scalp. His voice, low, hummed a tune I didn't recognize but found comfort in.

"Kook?" I murmured, my voice muffled against his chest.

"Hmm?" His response was gentle, paired with the subtle vibration of his voice as he kept humming.

I lifted my head, finally meeting his gaze. His dark eyes softened as he looked down at me, his lips curving into a slight smile as his hand continued its soothing motion through my hair.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, my voice teasingly light. "...For dessert?"

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. "You want ice cream?" he guessed, amusement flickering in his tone.

I nodded quickly, the excitement bubbling up and escaping in the form of a wide grin. He chuckled softly at my enthusiasm. "Alright," he said with a soft laugh, his hand leaving my hair briefly to tap my nose.

"So, do you wanna let go of me so we can get some?" His voice was playful, his smile knowing.

I raised an eyebrow, feigning sarcasm. "Let me enjoy this moment, Jungkook," I replied dramatically. "When you're not being a moody girl on her period for once."

His laugh was warm, filling the space between us as he pulled me closer, his arms tightening around me. "A moody girl, huh?" he teased, his lips brushing the top of my head as he spoke.

I groaned loudly, burying my face back into his chest. "Kookkkk!!" I squealed, my voice muffled by his hoodie.

That's when it started. His hands, once gentle and soft, suddenly moved to tickle my sides. My laughter erupted uncontrollably, as I wriggled in his grip, trying and failing to escape.

"Stop! Jungkook!" I cried between gasps of laughter, my hands slapping against his biceps in a weak attempt at resistance.

But he only laughed harder, his grip firm as he leaned over me, effectively pinning me beneath him. and soon I was sprawled out on the bed, breathless and flushed.

He paused then, hovering over me with a grin, his dark hair falling into his eyes. For a moment, everything stopped. His laughter faded. His gaze locked with mine.

It was the way his eyes softened as they roamed over my face, the way his breath hitched ever so slightly.

He leaned in just a fraction closer, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something.

But then, as quickly as the moment came, it was gone.

"Uh, okay," he blurted, his voice an octave higher than usual as he broke the silence. "Let's go?"

The sudden awkwardness was almost comical. He scrambled off me, sitting up on the bed and rubbing the back of his neck.

I stayed where I was, still lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling in stunned silence. My heartbeat thundered in my chest, and I pressed a hand against it as if that would calm the storm raging inside me.

Jungkook stood then, adjusting his hoodie as he avoided my gaze. "So... you wanna get up and wear a bra so we can go out, hun?"

The teasing lilt in his voice snapped me out of my daze.

"Jeon Jungkook!" I gasped, sitting up and grabbing the nearest pillow. I hurled it at him with all the strength I could muster, but he dodged it effortlessly, his laughter filling the room once again.

"Shut up!" I yelled, my face heating as I scrambled to sit properly on the bed.

his laughter echoing down the hallway as he left the room.

Once he was gone, the silence returned, and I was left alone with my thoughts. My hand instinctively moved to my chest, pressing against the spot where my heart still raced.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath, closing my eyes.

I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away as I climbed out of bed, grabbing a hoodie to throw over my shirt. The last thing I needed was to overthink this.

Jungkook was just... Jungkook.

Right?

I sighed, making my way out of the room to find him. He was waiting for me at the door, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, that signature grin plastered across his face.

"Ready?" he asked, his tone light and teasing as always.

I nodded, slipping into my shoes as he held the door open for me.

----

we climbed into his car. The quiet hum of the engine filled the silence as he pulled out of the driveway, his hands gripping the steering wheel with casual ease.

"You're not gonna make me pick the playlist, are you?" I asked, settling into my seat and glancing at him.

"Nah, I've got us covered," he said, already queuing up a playlist on his phone. Moments later, our favorite song filled the car, and he started tapping the steering wheel to the beat.

Kiss me Kiss me with your eyes closed Whisper that your heart shows

I couldn't help but laugh as he began singing. well, shouting? the lyrics dramatically.

Hold me, I'm your bunny

Tell me I'm not funny

"Are you auditioning for something, Jungkook?" I teased, watching as he turned to give me an exaggerated wink before returning his focus to the road.

"Maybe. Think I've got a chance?" he asked, his tone light but his grin mischievous.

"Only if they're looking for someone to scare the judges away," I quipped.

He gasped in mock offense, placing a hand over his heart. "Wow. Betrayed by my own princess passenger."

---

We ordered our ice cream quickly, opting to eat in the car rather than sitting outside in the chilly night air.

The car was warm and cozy as we sat, our cones in hand. Jungkook took an exaggerated lick of his ice cream, his eyes narrowing at me like he was waiting for me to mess up somehow.

"What?" I asked, taking a cautious bite of my own.

"You've got..." He gestured vaguely to my face, his expression far too smug for my liking.

"Where?" I asked, swiping at my cheek.

"Nope, not there."

I frowned, trying again, but his grin only widened.

"Here, let me help," he said, leaning across the console. Before I could protest, he swiped his thumb across my cheek, his touch light and fleeting. Then, with a grin, he licked the ice cream off his thumb.

"Jungkook!" I gasped, shoving him lightly as heat rushed to my face.

"What? I was just helping!" he said, his voice dripping with fake innocence.

I tried to glare at him, but the laughter bubbling out of me betrayed my attempt. "You're impossible."

"And you're pretty," he shot back, his tone teasing but his eyes soft.

At some point, Jungkook leaned back in his seat, turning to look at me with an unreadable expression.

"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head with a small smile. "Just... i like the ice cream"

"Yeah," I said softly, meeting his gaze. "Me too."

The ride back was quieter. His hand rested casually on the gear shift, and every now and then, his fingers would brush against mine. Neither of us moved away.

-----

As I made my way to the student council meeting, I caught sight of him. Jeon Jungkook.

He was leaning casually against the lockers, surrounded by his usual group of guys. His hair was a mess in that perfect, lazy way, and he had that smirk on his face. the one that made the girls around him giggle like he was some kind of god.

I kept walking, my head held high, trying not to engage. We had an unspoken agreement, after all: no interaction in public. Jungkook made it crystal clear he didn't want to ruin his reputation by being seen talking to me. Not that I cared.

The less drama in my life, the better.

Still, I couldn't help but hate the way he gave me mixed signals when we were alone, only to act like a complete stranger in public.

"You good, Y/N?" one of the student council members, Hana, asked as she passed by me.

I nodded quickly, adjusting my glasses as I brushed past her. "Yeah, just heading to the meeting."

"Cool, see you there!"

As she disappeared into the crowd, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw Jakay's name pop up on my screen.

Jakay: Yo nerd, wanna go out later?

I rolled my eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

You: I have a meeting with the student council.

Jakay: Picking them over me, huh?

You: Wouldn't even pick you in a room full of your clones.

There was a pause before his reply came through.

Jakay: Ouch :(

Jakay: Can we at least just FT?

You: You tryna get in my pants or something?

Jakay: Want me to?

I stopped in the middle of the hallway, blinking at my screen. For someone who was usually all jokes, he had a way of toeing the line between playful and annoying.

You: Ew. I'm blocking you.

Jakay: LMFAOOO

Smirking to myself, I quickly blocked his number and tucked my phone back into my pocket.

A few seconds later, another buzz.

Jakay: Wait.

Jakay: You actually blocked me?!!

Not Delivered

Jakay: 💔💔

I stifled a laugh, shaking my head as I made my way to the student council room.

-----

The notifications on my phone lit up as I opened the chat.

Jakay: Can I now finally please come over? Jakay: Pretty please?

Rolling my eyes, I typed back.

Me: Better show up with ice cream.

The reply was immediate.

Jakay: Mint?

Me: You know it. Me: You can go to my place first. You have the key. Clean my table, pleaseee.

Jakay: Alrightt.

Satisfied, I locked my phone and stuffed it back into my pocket. The corner of my lips twitched upward, but before I could dwell on the ridiculousness of my on-and-off dynamic with Jungkook, Namjoon's familiar voice broke through my thoughts.

"Heyyyy," he said, slinging his arm casually over my shoulder as he caught up to me.

"What's up, Joon?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at his sudden appearance.

"Let me walk you home, hm?" he offered with a grin.

I chuckled, shaking my head but nodding in agreement. "Alright, alright."

As we walked along the street, a nearby cafe caught my attention.

"Wait," I said, pausing mid-step. "I'll just grab some coffee." I pointed toward the cozy cafe.

Namjoon followed me inside as I walked straight to the counter.

"brewed coffee and an iced americano, all grande" I told the cashier confidently.

Namjoon blinked in surprise. "Oh, I don't want any—"

"Not for you, bro," I interrupted, laughing as I turned to smirk at him.

He sighed dramatically. "Dang. Cold-hearted."

I rolled my eyes playfully and paid for the drinks. While we waited, Namjoon shifted my bag and books from one hand to the other, balancing the weight. I finally collected the drinks, gripping both cups carefully, while Namjoon resumed his self-proclaimed role as my porter.

"Walked you home, carried your stuff, and still didn't get anything," he muttered under his breath, though his playful tone made me laugh.

We arrived outside my apartment building, and I juggled the drinks to pull out my keys. Unlocking the door, I held it open for Namjoon to step inside.

"Just put my bag on the coffee table, thanks," I said, heading toward the kitchen to set the drinks down.

"Sure thing," Namjoon replied, stepping further into the apartment.

As I turned back around, my breath caught in my throat. Standing in the hallway was Jungkook. Shirtless. A towel hung low on his hips, and droplets of water slid down his chest, his damp hair clinging to his forehead. He looked up, catching my stare, and the corner of his mouth curved into a mischievous grin.

"Done staring?" he teased, his voice dripping with amusement.

I snapped out of it, my cheeks heating. "Oh, shut up, Jungkook," I shot back, my tone sharper than I intended.

Jungkook chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he reached up to rake a hand through his wet hair. The way he was clearly enjoying my flustered reaction only made me more annoyed—or was it embarrassed?

Behind me, Namjoon cleared his throat loudly.

"Ooookayy... so, I'm..." He glanced between Jungkook and me, his brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and realization. "Going?" he said, dragging the word out awkwardly.

Before I could even think of a response, Namjoon awkwardly laughed and moved toward the door.

"Thanks for walking me home!" I called after him, trying to smooth over the awkwardness as I followed him to the door.

"Yeah, uh, no problem. See you around!" Namjoon waved briefly before disappearing into the hallway.

I shut the door and turned to face Jungkook, who was now leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, his expression smug.

"Friends, huh?" he said, his tone teasing but with an edge of something deeper

I crossed my arms, tilting my head with a smirk. "Why? Jealous?" I teased, raising an eyebrow at Jungkook.

His confidence faltered for a split second, and his face flushed a telltale shade of pink. "Why would I be?" he shot back, but the defensive edge in his tone only made me grin wider.

I took a step forward, then another, closing the space between us until we were just inches apart. His eyes widened slightly, flicking between mine, his breath hitching as if he wasn't sure what was coming next.

"So close, Jungkook," I murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, leaning in as if to kiss him but stopping short. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his body stiff as a board.

"There's an iced americano for you," I whispered against his ear, my voice soft and teasing.

I heard his sharp intake of breath as I pulled back, grinning at his completely stunned expression. His face was a perfect mix of confusion and embarrassment, his lips slightly parted as if he were about to say something but couldn't find the words.

Turning on my heel, I burst out laughing, leaving him standing there, flustered and dumbfounded.

"Also, go wear some clothes!" I yelled over my shoulder as I walked to the counter.

Grabbing my iced white mocha, I took a long sip, savoring the sweetness while sneaking a glance at Jungkook from the corner of my eye.

He was still frozen in place, his hand running through his wet hair as he muttered something under his breath. Then, finally, he stormed off toward the bedroom, grumbling loud enough for me to hear.

"Unbelievable," he huffed, though the faint smile tugging at his lips didn't go unnoticed.

---

Jungkook disappeared into my room, grumbling something under his breath. I chuckled to myself as I heard him rifling through drawers. He always left a stash of clothes here, sweats, shirts, and sometimes even socks, as if this was his second home. I didn't mind. It just meant I got to see him looking effortlessly cozy, even when I wasn't ready for the effect it had on me.

A few minutes later, he emerged, now dressed in gray sweats and a loose black t-shirt. His damp hair still clung to his forehead in soft waves, and he ran a hand through it as he joined me in the kitchen. Without a word, he plopped onto the stool beside me, his elbow propped on the counter as he reached for my brewed coffee

"Touch it and you're dead," I warned, pulling the drink just out of his reach.

He smirked but pulled back, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"So," he said, leaning against the counter. "How was your student council meeting?"

I groaned at the question, resting my head on my hand. "The same. Boring and stressful. We have so many projects to focus on for the school. I don't know if I can even do it anymore."

I punctuated my complaint with a loud slurp of my iced white mocha.

Jungkook frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You need sleep. And you're definitely not getting any if you keep drinking that," he pointed out, gesturing to the drink I'd been clinging to for dear life.

I tilted my head and raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze. "Would you rather this be vodka or... coffee?"

He hesitated for a moment before muttering, "Coffee..."

"Good choice," I teased, taking another sip.

"But seriously," I added, "I've got a presentation and essays due, like, all at once. My calendar's booked solid this month." I let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing my temples. "Might have to block you again to stop you from bothering me."

Jungkook's lips twitched in amusement, but he rolled his eyes. "You know you could just mute me, right? That's a thing."

I shook my head, leaning closer to him with a grin. "That would be too boring. I like being spammed with notifications of a play-fuckboy begging me to unblock him."

As if to punctuate my point, I reached out and booped his nose lightly with my finger.

He scrunched his nose, laughing softly. "You're so annoying, you know that?"

"That's rich, coming from you," I shot back.

Jungkook paused for a moment, his expression shifting slightly. "Hey, Y/N?"

"Hmm?" I hummed, turning to look at him.

"Nothing," he said quickly, glancing away as if he'd thought better of whatever he wanted to say.

I tilted my head, frowning slightly. "What's with you? Are you sick or something?"

"No," he muttered, waving off my question.

"Argh!" I groaned, pushing myself up from the stool dramatically. "I don't wanna be here anymore."

But as I stood, the world tilted abruptly. My legs wobbled, and I felt the ground rush up toward me.

"Y/N!" Jungkook was at my side in an instant, his arms steadying me before I could hit the floor.

"Fuck, are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with worry as he gripped my shoulders.

"I'm fine," I mumbled, trying to shrug him off. "Just lost my balance."

"You're not fine," he snapped, his jaw tightening.

"I just need to lie down for a bit—"

"Fuck no," he muttered, cutting me off. Before I could protest, he scooped me up in one swift motion, holding me in his arms like I weighed nothing.

"Jungkook, put me down!" I squealed, flailing in his grip, but he only tightened his hold.

"Nope," he said firmly, carrying me toward the door. "You're going to the doctor."

"You're overreacting!" I whined, kicking my legs weakly.

"And you're underreacting!" he shot back, his voice a mixture of frustration and concern.

The door swung open, and Jungkook carried me into the hallway. I buried my face in his chest, mortified as neighbors peeked out of their doors to see what the commotion was.

"Put me down! People are staring!" I hissed, trying to squirm out of his arms.

"Let them stare," he said, completely unfazed as he made his way to the elevator.

By the time we reached his car, I had resigned myself to my fate, crossing my arms with a pout as he settled me into the passenger seat.

"You're ridiculous," I muttered as he buckled me in.

"Yeah? And you're stubborn," he shot back, closing the door and jogging around to the driver's side.

The drive to the clinic was filled with silence. Jungkook's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his jaw set in a way that he was still annoyed or worried.

"You don't have to do this, you know," I said, breaking the silence.

He glanced at me briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. "Someone has to."

The simple statement sent a strange warmth through my chest, and I found myself biting back a smile.

At the clinic, Jungkook still refused to let me walk, carrying me inside despite my protests. The doctor confirmed it was nothing serious just exhaustion, stress and low blood sugar.

"You need to take care of yourself," he scolded as we left the clinic. "Eat something, sleep more, and stop living on caffeine and stress."

"Okay, dad," I teased, earning a glare.

Back at the apartment, Jungkook carried me inside again, this time depositing me gently on the couch.

"Stay," he ordered, pointing at me like I was a misbehaving puppy.

"I'm not a dog," I muttered, but I stayed put, too tired to argue.

He disappeared into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a plate of "real food" and a glass of orange juice, not just your usual coke and apple.

"Eat," he said, setting it in front of me.

I raised an eyebrow but obeyed, taking a bite.

Satisfied, he flopped onto the other end of the couch, watching me closely.

"Feel better?" he asked after a while.

"Yeah," I admitted, avoiding his gaze.

"Good girl."

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "I'll be busy tomorrow," he said casually.

My brows furrowed. "Why? Gonna be busy fucking other girls?" I teased, my voice dripping with bitterness (jealousy) that I didn't even try to hide.

He straightened, tilting his head as he looked at me. "You really think that's all I do?"

"You seem to," I replied, averting my eyes and shrugging like it didn't bother me.

"For your information," he said, leaning forward slightly, "I haven't fucked anyone in four months."

"Wow, I'll give you a reward for that," I shot back sarcastically, though my heart was unexpectedly beating a little faster.

"Come on, Y/N," he sighed.

I looked up, surprised to see him sliding off his chair and kneeling on the floor in front of me. His gaze was soft but insistent, his presence filling the space between us.

"I'll be in Busan tomorrow," he said, his voice quieter now. "It's my mom's birthday."

"Oh," I said simply, unsure where this was going.

"Do you want to come?" he asked.

"Why?" I blurted out, narrowing my eyes at him.

He hesitated for a moment before answering, his voice steady but slightly unsure. "I wanna... introduce you to her."

My chest tightened at his words, and for a moment, I was completely thrown off. He wanted me to meet his mom? This wasn't something we did. This wasn't how we were supposed to be.

"Okay," I heard myself say before I could think twice.

Jungkook blinked, clearly surprised. "But you said you're fully booked this month," he reminded me.

"I'll make time and clear it up for you," I said, the words leaving my mouth without a single hesitation.

My own reply startled me. Why was I saying this? Why was I rearranging my schedule for him, of all people? He was just a... friend. Right?

"Alright," he said after a moment, a smile spreading across his face. "Pack up early."

Before I could respond, he suddenly stood and scooped me up in his arms again.

"What the fuck, Jeon Jungkook," I grumbled, glaring at him, though the warmth of his arms made it impossible to push him away.

"Relax," he said, laughing softly as he carried me to my room. He pushed the door open with his foot and stepped inside.

With surprising gentleness, he laid me down on the bed and tucked the blanket around me, his hands lingering for a second longer than necessary.

"I'll be here in a sec," he said, his voice softer now. "I'm just gonna clean up the mess in our kitchen."

He stood, giving me one last glance before heading out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

I stared at the ceiling, my heart thudding in my chest as the word "our" echoed in my mind.

Our kitchen.

The casual way he said it sent my stomach into a loop. It shouldn't have meant anything. It was probably just a slip of the tongue. But still, the idea of something shared between us, of an "our" instead of a "yours" or "mine," made my thoughts spiral.

This wasn't normal. None of this was. The teasing, the way he made himself so comfortable in my space, the way I let him take care of me even when I insisted I didn't need it. it all blurred the line of what we were supposed to be.

Why did I agree to go to Busan with him? Why was I clearing my schedule for him?

"Get a grip, Y/N," I muttered to myself, pressing my palms against my heated cheeks.

I groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over my head. This was going to be a long night.

True to his word, Jungkook returned a little while later. I heard the faint creak of the door as he pushed it open, followed by the soft sound of his footsteps approaching the bed.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice soft and tentative.

I peeked out from under the blanket, squinting at him in the dim light. His hair was now dry, now curling slightly at the edges, and the loose shirt he wore made him look almost boyish.

"The kitchen's clean," he said, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweats.

"Good," I muttered, my voice muffled by the pillow.

He chuckled, the sound warm and low, as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"And you're a pain in the ass," I shot back, though there was no real bite in my tone.

For a moment, we just looked at each other, the quiet settling around us. His presence was grounding, even if I hated admitting it.

"Want me to go home, or...?" he asked, his voice trailing off as if unsure how to finish the sentence.

I blinked at him, surprised by the question. Did I want him to leave?

"No," I said softly.

His brows lifted slightly, and he tilted his head. "You sure? I can just crash on the couch."

"Sleep here," I said quickly, tugging at his arm. "On the bed with me."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Still a brat, huh?"

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Your point?"

He chuckled softly, the sound almost affectionate, as he gave in. "Alright, alright. Scoot over."

I shuffled to the side of the bed, watching as he slid in beside me. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and the sudden closeness of him made my heart race.

Jungkook turned to face me, propping his head up on one hand. His other hand reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face.

"You're comfortable with this?" he asked, his voice low and almost hesitant.

I nodded, not trusting my voice to sound steady.

"Alright," he said again, his lips quirking up in a small smile as he laid back, pulling me against him.

I froze for a moment as his arms wrapped around me, but the warmth of his embrace melted my hesitation. His hand found its way into my hair, his fingers threading through the strands in a soothing rhythm.

"Better?" he asked softly, his breath warm against my temple.

"Yeah," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

For a while, neither of us spoke. The gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek, the quiet sound of his breathing, and the soft touch of his hand in my hair lulled me into a state of calm I hadn't felt in days.

"You're dangerous," I mumbled sleepily.

"Hmm?" he hummed, his fingers pausing for a moment before continuing their gentle movements.

"You make me feel..." my words slurred as i began to fall asleep.

----

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the blinds. I was already up, moving quietly as I packed for the three-day trip to Busan. I still didn't fully understand why I'd agreed to go or how I had so effortlessly rearranged my schedule for him. But as I folded clothes into the suitcase, a small part of me felt... excited.

Behind me, the sound of shifting blankets broke the quiet. I glanced over to see Jungkook stirring, his eyes barely open as he propped himself up on one elbow.

He blinked a few times before his gaze landed on me. "You're pretty," he said, his morning voice raspy and warm, catching me completely off guard.

My face heated instantly, and I fumbled with a bottle of skincare I'd just picked up. "Morning," I muttered, turning to face him briefly.

"You should wear a shirt and get ready," I said quickly, trying to redirect the attention away from my flushed cheeks. My eyes betrayed me for a split second, darting to his biceps. a habit I'd tried and failed to curb. He always had this infuriating tendency to sleep shirtless, even when he wasn't alone.

He smirked, clearly noticing, but thankfully didn't say anything.

After we both finished getting ready, we grabbed our bags and headed out. His car was waiting for us in the lot, and I climbed into the passenger seat as Jungkook loaded the luggage into the trunk.

As he slid into the driver's seat and started the engine, he glanced at me. "What'd you tell them?" he asked, his tone casual.

I grinned, leaning back in my seat. "Told them I was sick. Showed them the doctor's letter."

He chuckled at that, his laugh soft and low.

"You're something else, hun," he said, shaking his head with an amused smile.

We drove in comfortable silence for a while, the hum of the engine and the faint sound of the radio filling the car. I found myself nervously picking at the hem of my shirt, my thoughts drifting to what lay ahead.

"So... is your mom..." I hesitated, glancing at him.

He raised an eyebrow, sparing me a curious look. "What?"

"Is she scary?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

"Why? You scared?" he teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Who wouldn't be?" I exclaimed, turning to face him fully. "It's my first time meeting her. First impressions last, you know?"

I slumped into my seat, crossing my arms as anxiety began to creep in.

Jungkook let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling as he glanced at me. "My first impression of you was a scary, strict vice president," he teased.

"Strict?!" I exclaimed, reaching out to playfully slap his biceps.

"Very strict," he said, laughing again. "You wouldn't even let me cut in line for coffee at the canteen that one time."

"You were trying to skip!" I protested, though I couldn't help but laugh along with him.

"And you called me out in front of everyone."

"Because you deserved it!"

Jungkook shook his head, a grin still plastered on his face. "And now look at us. Guess first impressions aren't everything after all."

His words hung in the air for a moment.

I looked out the window, my lips curving into a small smile.

"Guess not," I murmured.

I started to relax a little. Jungkook's ease behind the wheel and the familiar way he teased me made it harder to stay nervous.

"Do you think she'll like me?" I asked suddenly, my voice quieter this time.

Jungkook glanced at me, his expression gentler now. "Of course she will."

"You sound so sure," I said, biting my lip.

"Because I know her," he replied, his tone steady. "And I know you. You're... you're great, Y/N. She'll see that."

I blinked at him, caught off guard by his sincerity.

After what felt like an eternity of driving, we finally arrived in Busan. I stepped out of the car, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves swirling in my stomach. I adjusted my shirt, suddenly hyperaware of every wrinkle and stray strand of hair.

Jungkook moved to the trunk, effortlessly grabbing our bags. His casual state only made me feel more out of place, my shyness creeping in.

"Mom! We're here!" Jungkook called out as we approached the house, his voice carrying warmth and familiarity as he rang the doorbell.

A moment later, the door swung open to reveal his mom. Her face lit up the second she saw him, and she pulled him into a tight hug.

"Jungkook, my son!" she exclaimed, ruffling his hair as he grumbled in protest, though his smile betrayed how much he didn't mind.

Then her attention turned to me. Her gaze softened, her kind eyes taking me in as she stepped forward.

"Hello, dear," she said, her tone gentle as she opened her arms and pulled me into a brief but warm hug.

"Hi, ma'am," I replied, smiling shyly as I straightened up.

"Call me Mom, dear," she said, patting my shoulder affectionately, her smile widening as if I'd already won her over.

The unexpected kindness made me relax a little. "Okay, Mom," I said softly, smiling back.

"Perfect," she said, her eyes twinkling. "Come in, come in. Make yourselves at home."

Jungkook led the way as we stepped inside, the warmth of the house enveloping us. It was cozy, with soft lighting and family photos lining the walls. The faint scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, making my nerves ease just a bit more.

Jungkook set the bags down by the stairs and glanced back at me, offering a reassuring smile. "See? Nothing to be scared of."

His mom chuckled, catching his words. "What's this? Were you nervous to meet me?" she teased, her tone lighthearted as she glanced at me.

I laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of my neck. "Maybe a little. First impressions and all..."

"Well, let me tell you," she said, reaching out to squeeze my hand gently, "you're doing just fine."

Jungkook smirked at me, clearly enjoying my flustered state, and I shot him a subtle glare.

"Jungkook, why don't you bring your stuff upstairs while I finish up lunch?" his mom suggested, already heading toward the kitchen.

"Will do," he said, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the stairs before I could protest.

Jungkook led me through the house, pointing out random things like the cozy balcony view of the ocean. Then he stopped outside a door and pushed it open, revealing what I assume was his old bedroom.

"This is where I used to sneak out from," he said with a mischievous grin, pointing to the balcony door on the far side of the room.

"Why am I not surprised?" I teased, crossing my arms as I leaned against the doorway.

"You shouldn't be," he said, laughing softly as he walked into the room.

The space was simple but cozy, with warm wooden furniture, a few posters still tacked to the walls, and a bed that took up most of the space.

"Guess this is where we'll be staying," he said casually, tossing his duffel bag onto the bed.

"We?" I echoed, my eyebrows shooting up.

He turned to look at me, clearly amused by my surprise. "What? You scared to share a room with me?"

I rolled my eyes, though I could feel heat creeping up my neck. "Just don't hog the bed," I muttered, stepping into the room and setting my bag down.

Jungkook chuckled, leaning against the wall with his hands stuffed into his pockets. "See? Not so bad, right?"

"Not bad at all," I admitted, glancing around the room before my eyes landed on the balcony door again.

The sound of his voice brought my attention back to him. "She likes you," he said suddenly, his tone softer now.

I blinked, caught off guard by the statement. "How can you tell?"

"Because I know her," he said simply, his gaze meeting mine. "She wouldn't be this warm if she didn't."

A warmth spread through my chest at his words, and I found myself smiling despite the lingering nerves.

"Come on," he said, pushing off the wall. "Let's go help before she thinks I'm useless again."

Back in the kitchen, his mom was setting the table, the smell of homemade food filling the air.

"Perfect timing! Jungkook, you can put these on the table," she said, handing him a tray of side dishes.

"And Y/N, dear, could you help me with the soup?"

"Of course," I said, moving to the stove to carry the pot she pointed to.

As we worked together, Jungkook chimed in with little jokes and playful comments, earning a mix of laughs and exasperated eye rolls from his mom.

"Still the same troublemaker," she said, shaking her head fondly.

"Some things never change," I teased, glancing at Jungkook, who grinned shamelessly.

Once everything was ready, we all sat down to eat. The conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and stories of Jungkook's childhood. His mom had an endless supply of embarrassing anecdotes, and I couldn't stop laughing at the way Jungkook tried to defend himself, his ears turning pink as she recounted his antics.

"Mom, stop," he groaned, burying his face in his hands after the third story about him crying over a lost toy at the beach.

"Oh, don't be dramatic," she said, waving him off. "Y/N should know what she's getting into if she's spending time with you."

I couldn't help but laugh, feeling more comfortable with each passing minute.

After lunch, Jungkook helped clean up while his mom and I chatted at the table. She asked me about school, my family, and my interests, her questions thoughtful but never intrusive.

By the time Jungkook joined us again, I felt like I'd known her for years.

"Alright, Mom," he said, stretching as he stood behind her chair. "I'm stealing Y/N for the rest of the day."

"Stealing her? She's right here!" she teased, turning to pat his hand.

He grinned. "We're gonna go check out the beach."

His mom smiled knowingly. "Go ahead. But don't let her get cold, Jungkook."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a playful salute, earning a laugh from both of us.

As we grabbed our jackets and headed out the door, I glanced back at his mom, who waved at us with a warm smile. For the first time that day, I felt a little less nervous.

-----

We stood at the edge of the beach, the cool breeze tousling my hair as I watched the waves crash gently against the shore. The sun was beginning to set.

Jungkook was standing a little farther away, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "I used to come here whenever I felt sad," he said quietly, almost to himself. "It's really relaxing here."

I glanced at him, then back to the peaceful view. "It really is," I agreed, feeling the calmness of the place wash over me. It was the kind of tranquility I hadn't realized I needed until now.

Suddenly, Jungkook moved, taking his phone out of his pocket. "Stand there," he instructed, pointing to a spot near the water, a small smile on his face. "Let me take a picture of you."

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at the spot he pointed to. "Really?" I asked, trying to hide my smile. "You know I'm not exactly in the mood for a photo shoot."

"Just one picture," he insisted, grinning like he always did when he was being playful. "I promise it'll be a good one."

Reluctantly, I stepped into the spot he'd pointed out, the wind picking up and blowing my hair behind me. I couldn't help but smile, the feeling of the breeze and the soft sound of the waves putting me at ease.

Jungkook tapped the screen of his phone, taking the picture. "Perfect," he said, walking toward me as he looked at the photo. He glanced at me and smirked. "But, no posting this, okay? The school board might think I made an excuse to go out."

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. "But you are," he teased, clearly enjoying getting under my skin.

I shot him a playful glare. "Shut up," I muttered, though I couldn't help but laugh.

"You know," I began, breaking the silence, "I only stay in Seoul to get away from my parents."

Jungkook looked over at me, eyebrows raised, clearly intrigued. "Why?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

I shifted my gaze toward the horizon, the vastness of the ocean making me feel smaller, but in a good way. "They always want me to be the first in everything," I vented, my words coming out faster than I expected. "Be like this, be like that... nothing I do is ever enough for them. It's always about achieving the next thing, being perfect. I don't know anymore," I finished, the words feeling heavier than I anticipated.

I let out a weak chuckle, trying to push the lump in my throat away. "I don't even know who I am sometimes."

Jungkook's gaze softened, and I could tell he was genuinely listening. But of course, he couldn't leave it without teasing me. "Is that why you're a nerd?" he asked with a playful tone, trying to lighten the mood.

I raised an eyebrow at him, rolling my eyes, but I played along. "Maybe," I said with a small smile, the tension in my chest easing just a little. "I was raised that way."

We both laughed, and it felt like the weight of everything had lifted, just for a moment. Maybe it was the beach, or maybe it was just being here with him,

We stayed there for a while, just sitting on the soft sand, the night sky above us twinkling with stars and for once, I felt at peace. We talked about things that felt too deep to share with anyone else

But eventually, the cool night air started to get to me, and I let out a small yawn. "We should go back. I'm sleepy," I said, stretching my arms and feeling the weight of the day catch up with me.

Jungkook nodded, standing up and offering his hand to help me up. "Alright," he replied, pulling me gently to my feet.

-----

After cleaning up from dinner and spending hours chatting with his mom, Jungkook and I finally headed back to his room.

"You can take the bed," I said, trying to sound casual as I rummaged through my bag.

"So can you," Jungkook replied, his tone laced with amusement as he tossed his hoodie onto the chair.

I glanced up at him, narrowing my eyes. "Jungkook, it's your bed."

"And it's big enough for both of us," he said with a shrug, plopping down onto the mattress like he owned the place—which, technically, he did. "Unless you're worried about me hogging it."

"You do hog the bed," I muttered, crossing my arms.

He smirked, lying back against the pillows and stretching out his arms. "Guess we'll find out, won't we?"

I huffed, but deep down, the thought of sharing the bed with him wasn't nearly as daunting as it probably should've been. With a resigned sigh, I climbed onto one side of the bed, slipping under the blanket and keeping some space between us.

For a moment, the room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the wind outside and the soft creak of the mattress as Jungkook shifted to get comfortable.

"Comfortable?" he asked after a while, his voice low and warm in the dimly lit room.

"Yeah," I murmured, my back still turned to him.

But then I felt the bed shift again as he moved closer. His arm slipped around my waist, pulling me toward him.

"Kook," I whispered, my voice catching slightly. "If your mom comes in, she might get the wrong idea."

"I don't care," he said simply, his tone steady. His arms tightened around me, and I could feel the faint smile on his lips as his chin rested lightly against the top of my head.

I giggled softly, the sound muffled against his shirt.

"You're not funny," I muttered, though I didn't even think about pulling away.

"And you're funny?" he teased, his fingers finding their way into my hair. He began threading them gently through the strands, his touch soothing and familiar.

the next day

I became aware of a gentle touch against my face, soft and featherlight. His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering as if he were memorizing every detail.

When I finally opened my eyes, Jungkook's face was the first thing I saw. He was propped up on one elbow, his eyes warm and filled with a quiet fondness. His lips curved into a small, tender smile as he continued to study me.

"Morning," I said, my voice groggy with sleep as I let out a yawn, stretching my arms above my head.

"Morning," he replied softly, his tone almost teasing but still gentle.

I blinked at him, my brows furrowing slightly as my brain caught up with the moment. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, giving him a suspicious look.

His smile grew, but he didn't answer. Instead, his gaze stayed locked on mine, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners.

Flustered, I reached out and lightly smacked his arm. "Stop it," I muttered, my cheeks heating as I quickly sat up.

Jungkook laughed softly, his voice deep and husky from sleep. "What? I'm just admiring the view," he teased, his grin playful but still disarming.

"i hate you" I shot back, my face burning as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

I could feel his eyes following me as I made my way toward the bathroom, his quiet chuckle filling the room.

"Where are you running off to so fast?" he called out, his tone laced with amusement.

"To get away from you!" I shouted over my shoulder, though the smile tugging at my lips gave me away.

As soon as I closed the bathroom door behind me, I leaned against it, my hand pressed over my rapidly beating heart.

---

As we entered the dining room, my eyes were immediately drawn to someone new sitting at the table. Jungkook's brother, Ji-won, glanced up from his phone, his expression brightening when he saw us.

"Good morning," I said with a cheerful smile, adjusting my glasses as I stepped closer to the table.

Ji-won's gaze flickered between Jungkook and me, a teasing grin forming on his face. "Woah, you leave Busan for two years, and you already have a hot, smart girlfriend?"

I felt my cheeks flush at his words, but before I could respond, Jungkook waved his hand dismissively, his voice calm but firm.

"Oh no, she's just my friend. We're just very close," he said, pulling out a chair for himself and sitting down.

The words hit harder than they should have.

Just my friend.

I froze for a split second, forcing a polite smile as I took a seat at the table.

Just friends?

No way in hell "friends" did the things we did. No way they shared beds, whispered soft words at night, or looked at each other the way he looked at me this morning.

"Yeah, right," his mom chimed in, shaking her head with a knowing smile.

Before I could dwell on it further, she turned her attention to me. "Oh, Y/N dear, come here, eat up," she said warmly, handing me a plate piled high with food.

"Thank you, Mom," I said softly, trying to focus on the kindness in her voice rather than the pit forming in my stomach.

As I began eating, Jungkook's mom leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Does Jungkook feed you nice?" she asked, her tone playful.

I laughed, deciding to play along. "He doesn't even want to go to my favorite samgyupsal place," I said, pouting dramatically for effect.

"Hey!" Jungkook cut in, clearly flustered. "I buy you ice cream all the time!"

I raised an eyebrow, smirking at his weak defense. Before I could counter, his mom interjected, her laughter filling the room.

"Well, Kook, ice cream isn't very healthy, you know," she teased, shaking her head at him.

Jungkook crossed his arms, his lips forming a pout as he leaned back in his chair. "Well, if the princess wants it, she gets it," he muttered, feigning sulkiness.

The sight made me laugh softly, my earlier doubts momentarily pushed to the back of my mind.

"That's better," his mom said with a chuckle, patting his shoulder before turning her attention back to Ji-won.

I tried to pretend it didn't hurt.

Jungkook and his mom left for the supermarket, leaving me alone at the kitchen island with Ji-won. I had my laptop open, trying to focus on typing my speech for the foundation day, though my thoughts were a mess.

"So," Ji-won began, breaking the silence. "Do you like Jungkook?"

The question made me freeze, my fingers hovering over the keys. I took a moment, trying to gather myself, then resumed typing without looking at him.

"W-we're just friends," I said, the words feeling heavy as they left my lips.

Ji-won let out a low hum, clearly unconvinced. "Really? Because I don't think friends sleep on the same bed and cuddle each other to sleep... naked."

I gasped, my head whipping toward him. "We do not sleep naked!"

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my flustered reaction. "Saw you both last night. Jungkook was... shirtless, and you—"

Before he could finish, I cut him off. "No! I was wearing a tank top, and Jungkook was... shirtless." My voice trailed off, accepting my defeat. "But Jungkook always sleeps shirtless!" I added quickly, as if it somehow defended my dignity.

"Right," Ji-won said, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. "So, if you're not his hot, smart girlfriend, then... who was he talking about?"

My body went stiff, and my eyes dropped to my laptop screen.

He has a girlfriend?

My heart sank as the thought hit me.

"I-I don't know," I mumbled, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace as I stood, grabbing my laptop. "Excuse me."

"Hey!" Ji-won called after me, his voice filled with teasing humor. "If you don't want Jungkook, I have a friend I can introduce you to—"

Before he could finish, I hurried upstairs, my footsteps loud against the wooden stairs.

In Jungkook's room, I placed my laptop on his desk, my breathing heavy as I tried to steady myself.

"fuck," I muttered under my breath. But the words did little to stop the ache forming in my chest.

"I need air," I whispered, grabbing a few cigarettes and a lighter from my bag.

---

The beach wasn't far from the house. The moment my feet hit the sand, the cool breeze washed over me.

Lighting a cigarette, I took a long puff, letting the smoke swirl in my lungs before exhaling slowly.

Is he really that stupid?

I took another drag, the embers glowing in the fading light of the evening.

Making me feel like this... and having a girlfriend?

All this time, he didn't want me.

Why was I even feeling like this? He was right. We were just friends. Nothing more.

He's my friend, and I'm his... loser, nerd friend.

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head as I brought the cigarette to my lips again.

Should've known from the start. He doesn't even want to interact with me in public for the sake of his reputation.

The familiar ding of my phone pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced at the screen.

Jakay: Where are you? Jakay: Nvm. I checked your loc. Jakay: I'll go there with you.

Seen.

I put my phone in my pocket, plugging in my earbuds and pressing to play August by Taylor Swift.

"August slipped away like a bottle of wine 'Cause you were never mine..."

I sank onto the sand, pulling my knees to my chest as I stared out at the waves.

"I remember thinkin' I had you..."

Before I could take another puff of my cigarette, it was yanked from my hand.

"Y/N..."

I looked up to see Jungkook standing over me, disappointment etched across his face. He held the cigarette between his fingers, his jaw tight.

"You told me," he began, his voice low and steady. "You told me you wouldn't smoke anymore."

I turned away, hugging my knees tighter. "You smoke too," I muttered.

"Yeah, Y/N," he said, his voice softening. "But just because I do doesn't mean you should."

Before I could respond, he knelt beside me and pulled me into a hug. His arms wrapped tightly around me, his chin resting on my shoulder.

"You know I care about you, right?" he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. "Even when you're being such a fucking brat... I do. I fucking do, Y/N."

His grip on me tightened as he continued. "I can't handle seeing you do the things I do. It kills me."

I closed my eyes, his words sinking in, but the ache in my chest didn't ease.

I pulled away from his grip, standing up and brushing the sand off my clothes.

"Let's go," I said coldly, refusing to meet his eyes. "It's your mom's birthday party."

Back at the house, everyone was busy setting the table and decorating for the celebration. I immediately went to help Jungkook's mom, avoiding him entirely.

"Happy birthday, Mom," I said with a warm smile as I hugged her tightly.

"Oh, dear, come here more often, yeah?" she said, patting my back affectionately.

"I'll make sure to," I promised, returning her smile as I handed her the plates.

Dinner went by in a blur of laughter and cheer, everyone singing happy birthday as the candles on the cake flickered. But through it all, Jungkook's eyes never left mine.

"Happy birthday!" everyone cheered as his mom blew out the candles.

I clapped along with everyone else, but the weight of Jungkook's gaze made it impossible to focus on anything else. Across the table, his dark eyes locked onto mine

After dinner, I helped clean up the dining room, making sure to keep my distance from Jungkook. Once everything was done, I retreated upstairs to his room, collapsing onto the bed with a heavy sigh.

"Y/N?"

The door creaked open, and Jungkook stepped inside, his expression unreadable as he approached the bed.

"Can we talk?" he asked, sitting down beside me.

I didn't answer, instead sitting up and taking a deep breath.

"Why do you... why do you always make me so confused?" I finally said, my voice trembling.

"What?" he asked, his brows furrowing.

"I don't even know what I feel anymore, Jungkook," I continued, my words spilling out. "One second, you're treating me like I'm someone special to you. Then the next second, you remind me we're only friends."

"Y/N, I—"

I cut him off, my voice breaking. "I hate it, Jungkook. I fucking hate it."

Tears streamed down my face as I looked at him, my chest heaving. "You bring me here to meet your mother, and then I find out you apparently have a 'hot, smart girlfriend.'" I paused to take a shaky breath. "I hate that I'm crying in front of you right now."

Before I could pull away, he brought me into his arms. I tried to push him off, but his grip didn't falter.

"You're out there fucking other girls at school," I sobbed, weakly hitting his chest. "And I'm here, being a fool for your words and actions. I don't even know what to feel anymore."

I looked down, my voice barely above a whisper. "I think I'm in love, but I'm not, because I despise your guts. But at the same time... I love hating you because....." i sigh not wanting to drop the L bomb.

Jungkook let me rant, his arms never leaving me.

"Did you drink?" he asked softly.

I froze, looking down at my lap.

"How much?" he pressed.

"Maybe... three. Or seven," I mumbled.

He let out a deep sigh, gently putting me down on the bed.

"We'll talk when you're sober," he said, grabbing my makeup remover and carefully wiping my face.

I stared at him, speechless.

"Didn't your doctor tell you to stop drinking? Smoking? Any of that?" he muttered with a soft chuckle, his voice heavy with frustration.

He paused, his voice barely audible. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I couldn't respond. Instead, i fell asleep.

-----

I woke up, my head spinning slightly as I blinked at the clock on the bedside table.

12:23 PM.

I shot up, panic coursing through me. "Oh my god," I muttered, scrambling to throw on something decent before rushing downstairs.

As I went downstairs, I found Ji-won, Jungkook, and his mom already at the kitchen table, chatting and enjoying what was left of brunch.

"I'm so, so sorry I woke up late," I blurted, trying to catch my breath as I stood by the table.

"Oh, it's alright, dear," Jungkook's mom said with a kind smile. "Jungkook told me you weren't feeling well. Here, go eat." She pushed a plate toward me, still warm with food.

"Thank you," I said, my voice softening as I smiled back and sat down. Jungkook's eyes were on me the whole time, but I avoided looking directly at him.

"We'll head home in a bit," Jungkook said after a moment. "Maybe later, once Y/N finishes getting ready."

I turned to him, frowning slightly. "D-do you know what happened last night? I don't think I remember much. I just remember you telling me we'd talk."

He tilted his head, his lips pressing into a tight line. "You don't... remember?"

"Why? Did I say something bad? Or wrong?" I asked nervously.

"Nothing," he said flatly, his attention shifting to his phone as his tone grew colder.

The tension in the room was suffocating, so I quickly finished eating and stood up. "I-I'll go dress up," I mumbled, heading upstairs without waiting for a response.

In the room, I focused on packing, trying to push away the unease settling in my chest. I zipped up my suitcase just as Jungkook came in, helping me carry our stuff downstairs to load into the trunk.

---

After bidding his mom and brother goodbye, Jungkook and I climbed into the car. The silence between us was deafening.

"Just drop me off at my apartment," I said, my gaze fixed out the window.

"I know," he replied curtly.

The drive back to Seoul stretched endlessly, each second weighed down by unspoken words. I stole a glance at him occasionally, but his expression remained unreadable, his focus firmly on the road.

When we finally arrived, Jungkook carried my bags into my apartment. He set them down quietly, his movements stiff.

"Bye," he said simply before walking out the door.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the room, and I sank onto the couch, exhaling shakily. My phone buzzed on the cushion beside me.

I picked it up to see Namjoon's name flashing on the screen. With a sigh, I answered.

"Hey, wanna go to a party with me?" he asked, his voice chipper.

"Joon, you know I don't like parties," I replied, leaning my head back against the couch. "Plus, I'm a VP. I can't be doing that."

"Come on! Just this once, pleaseee," he begged.

I groaned, rubbing my temple. "Alright, just this once. But—"

"But what?" he interrupted eagerly.

"What do I get out of it?"

"A really fun time and a cool best friend: me," he answered with a laugh.

"Shut up," I muttered, though I couldn't help but grin.

"Get ready," he said. "I'll come over and help. I know you're clueless about party outfits."

"Excuse me?" I shot back, feigning offense.

"On the way," he said before hanging up.

---

Namjoon arrived a few minutes later, letting himself in with his usual energy.

"Alright, where are our candidates?" he asked, clapping his hands.

I pointed to the dresses hanging in my closet.

The first was a tight black dress, sleek and long with a high slit.

"Too long," he said with a shake of his head.

The next was a baby pink, flowy dress.

"Too cutesy."

I rolled my eyes and held up a white, shiny dress adorned with rhinestones.

"Are you dressing up as a disco ball?" he teased, making me laugh despite myself.

Finally, I pulled out a light pastel green, silky dress that hugged my body in all the right places while maintaining an elegant air.

Namjoon's jaw dropped slightly as he stared at me. "This is it. You're gorgeous," he said, still looking a little stunned.

I smiled shyly and began curling my hair, keeping my makeup natural with a soft, flushed look.

When I was done, I called Namjoon into the room.

"Okay, I'm ready," I said, gesturing for him to come in.

He walked in and froze, his eyes widening.

"Woah," he said.

"What?" I asked, tilting my head.

"You... you don't have your glasses," he said, his voice softer.

"I'm wearing contacts, silly," I replied with a small laugh.

Namjoon shook his head as if snapping out of a daze. "Alright, alright. Come on, let's go."

I glanced at the clock and sighed. "Can't believe it's already 9. It took us seven hours to get me ready!"

"Well, it was worth it," he said with a grin. "Let's party."

The party was already in full swing when Namjoon and I arrived. The bass of the music thumped loudly in my chest as I looked around, the crowd a chaotic blur of moving bodies and flashing lights.

"Hey, Joon? I'm gonna grab some drinks," I called out over the noise.

He nodded, already immersed in conversation with someone.

Weaving my way through the crowd, I was halfway to the bar when I accidentally bumped into a group of guys. The smell of cologne and alcohol was overpowering, and as I glanced up, my heart sank.

It was Jungkook.

And his friends.

"Hey, loverboy," one of them said with a grin, nudging Jungkook's arm. "Look, is that your girl?"

The group burst into laughter, their teasing loud and sharp.

Jungkook's ears turned red, and he hesitated before mumbling, "N-no."

His answer made something in me twist painfully, but before I could process it, one of his friends stepped closer, his smirk widening.

"How does it feel being one of Jungkook's bets?"

The words hit me like a freight train. My breath caught in my throat, and I turned to Jungkook, my vision blurry from the sting of unshed tears.

"Y/N—" he started, his voice panicked, but one of his friends grabbed his arm.

"Let her be," they said, laughing cruelly.

I yanked my arm away from the guy and hurried to the bar, my heart pounding so loudly that it drowned out the music.

Sitting on a stool, I poured alchohol into a red cup with shaky hands and took a large sip. The burn didn't matter. anything to dull the ache in my chest.

The hours blurred together. By the time I finished my ninth cup, the world spun hazily around me. I stumbled toward a couch, collapsing onto the soft cushions, my head buzzing.

Two men approached, their faces vaguely familiar from campus.

"Hey," one of them said, leaning in closer. "Aren't you the VP?"

I nodded drunkenly, unable to form a coherent response.

The other one grinned, his eyes lingering too long on me. "You don't seem like one right now."

I tried to laugh it off, but then I felt a hand on my leg, slowly creeping upward.

"Stop," I muttered weakly, but they ignored me.

"STOP!" I cried out, my voice breaking into a scream as I tried to push them away.

Before I could move, a fist flew past me, landing squarely on the guy's face. He stumbled back, clutching his jaw, and I blinked blearily as Jungkook stood in front of me, his chest rising and falling in anger.

"Touch her again, you punk," Jungkook growled, his voice low and dangerous before landing another punch.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as people turned to watch. Phones appeared, cameras flashing as whispers filled the room.

"Isn't that our VP?" "Don't they hate each other?" "What's going on?"

Jungkook turned to me, his face etched with concern as he grabbed my arm.

"Come on," he muttered, pulling me to my feet.

"Who brought you here?" he demanded, his voice sharp as we stepped outside into the cool night air.

"N-Namjoon," I mumbled, giggling drunkenly.

"Fuck," he hissed, running a hand through his hair. "How much did you drink?"

"I-I don't—" Before I could finish, my knees gave out, and I felt myself falling.

"Shit," Jungkook cursed, catching me just in time and scooping me into his arms bridal style.

As he carried me toward his car, I stirred slightly, my head lolling against his chest. "Do I love you?" I mumbled, my words slurring together.

Jungkook froze for a moment, his grip tightening on me.

"I should be mad at you for making me your bet," I slurred, tears streaming down my face. "But... I feel this weird feeling."

"Y/N—" he started, his voice soft, but I cut him off.

"I don't wanna love you, Jungkook," I cried, my words breaking with a sob. "I don't love you. I shouldn't."

My chest heaved as I buried my face against his shoulder. "Why do you do this? I'm so confused. I just wanna be the number one girl in your eyes," I whispered, my voice trembling.

"I hate this, Jungkook... I hate you," I muttered weakly, my tears soaking into his shirt as I finally succumbed to exhaustion.

Jungkook sighed heavily, his expression unreadable as he opened the car door and gently placed me in the passenger seat. He tucked the seatbelt around me, his movements careful and deliberate, before closing the door and walking around to the driver's side.

The car ride was a blur, punctuated only by the sound of my occasional hiccup and the faint sound of his playlist. When we finally reached my apartment, Jungkook wasted no time carrying me inside. His steps were careful, steady, as though he was trying not to move me too much.

He pushed the door open with his foot and gently set me down on the bed, brushing stray hair from my face as I muttered incoherently.

"Kook..." I mumbled, tugging weakly at the strap of my dress. "My dress. Please... undress it."

Jungkook froze, his ears turning red as he looked at me, flustered. "I can't," he said softly, his voice strained.

"Just close your eyes," I slurred, meeting his gaze drunkenly, my eyes half-lidded.

He hesitated for a long moment, his jaw tightening before he sighed, relenting. "Fine."

"Get up," he said, helping me sit up on the edge of the bed. I swayed slightly, leaning on him as I turned around. His hands hesitated at the zipper, his breath hitching.

"Y-you're not wearing a bra?" he stammered as the zipper came undone, the fabric loosening around me.

"The bra strap would make it ridiculous," I muttered, shrugging as though it were obvious.

Jungkook let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he tried to keep his eyes tightly shut. "You're unbelievable," he said under his breath.

He stood and moved to my closet, rummaging for something suitable to replace the dress. Finally, he pulled out a pair of shorts and one of his oversized shirts, a look of familiarity flickering in his eyes.

"C'mere," he said, his voice low but gentle.

I stumbled toward him, my bare shoulders brushing against his arm as he carefully helped me into the clothes. His hands worked quickly, his eyes still closed as he guided my arms through the sleeves of the shirt.

"There," he said once the task was done. "You're all set."

I flopped back onto the bed, letting out a tired sigh. But before I could sink into the mattress completely, Jungkook spoke again.

"Wait, your makeup," he said, reaching for the wipes on my bedside table.

I groaned but didn't resist as he sat beside me, his touch surprisingly delicate as he began to wipe away the remnants of my makeup. The cold wipe against my skin was oddly soothing, and I found myself watching him through half-closed eyes.

"Why do you do all this for me?" I slurred, my words heavy and unsteady.

Jungkook didn't look at me, his focus on carefully wiping away the smudged mascara. "Because I want to," he answered simply.

I tilted my head, frowning slightly. "How much did you get?"

"Huh?" he asked, his hand pausing mid-wipe.

"How much money did you win?" I repeated, my voice softer but sharper.

Realization dawned in his expression, and he looked away for a moment before muttering, "a hundred bucks."

I let out a drunken laugh, though there was no real humor in it. "Grab my wallet," I said, making his brows furrow in confusion.

"What?" he asked, staring at me as though I'd lost my mind.

"Go ahead. Grab my wallet," I insisted, giggling to myself as I added, "You won me, so I'll win myself again. I'll just buy myself back."

Jungkook froze, his jaw tightening as my words hung in the air.

"But you won me, too," he said softly, his tone laced with a faint teasing edge. "So I guess we both won each other."

I shook my head, my laughter fading. "But I didn't make you a bet," I said quietly, the ache in my chest seeping into my voice.

The words hit him like a blow, and I saw his expression falter, his stomach clearly twisting with guilt. He looked away, his grip on the makeup wipe tightening for a moment before he resumed cleaning my face.

"Are you wearing contacts?" he asked after a beat, his voice low but steady.

"Maybe," I muttered, my head lolling slightly as the alcohol swirled in my veins.

"Let me take them off," he said, his thumb gently pulling down my eyelid. His touch was careful as he removed the lenses one by one, leaving my eyes bare and vulnerable.

"You go sleep now, alright?" he said softly, brushing a hand through my hair.

I reached out weakly, tugging at his arm. "Can you... can you just hug me to sleep?" I asked, my voice small and trembling.

Jungkook froze, his body tensing under my grip. "Y/N..." he began, his voice hesitant.

"For the last time," I murmured, my eyes fluttering shut. "Before you go away."

His hesitation lingered in the air, but eventually, he relented. I felt the mattress dip as he lay down beside me, his arms wrapping around me carefully, tightly.

----

I woke up to a pounding headache, my head spinning as I slowly sat up. The sunlight streaming through the window felt like knives piercing through my skull, and I groaned, rubbing my temples.

As I shifted in bed, I noticed the fabric of the shirt I was wearing. It wasn't mine.

It was Jungkook's.

The oversized shirt hung loosely on me, the faint scent of his cologne still clinging to the fabric. My breath hitched as I brought it closer to my nose, the smell both comforting and suffocating at the same time.

Did he come here? How did I get home?

I tried to piece together the fragments of the previous night, but my memory was hazy. I reached for my phone on the bedside table, the screen lighting up with notifications.

And there it was.

The first video was blurry but unmistakable. Jungkook stood in the middle of a crowd, his fists clenched as he towered over a guy on the couch.

"Touch her again, you punk," his voice growled through the speakers.

The bystanders gasped as Jungkook pulled me up, his arm protectively around my waist.

I scrolled further, finding another video. This time, it was of him carrying me in a bridal style, weaving through the crowd.

The audio was faint, but I could just make out my own drunken voice slurring, "Do I love you?"

Jungkook froze for a moment in the video, his face tightening as he looked at me.

I groaned loudly, burying my face in my hands. "ARGH!" I yelled, the sound echoing in my empty apartment.

I threw the phone onto the bed, pacing the room in frustration.

----

I had barely stepped onto campus when the student council secretary approached me, her expression a mix of pity and worry.

"Hey, Pres is calling for you," she said, her voice low. "You should go to the office."

My heart sank. I shut my eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to prepare for whatever storm was waiting for me.

----

Walking into the student council office felt like stepping into a courtroom. Our president was seated behind the desk, her arms crossed, her expression one of pure fury.

"Hello—" I began hesitantly, but before I could finish, she slammed her phone onto the table with a loud thud, cutting me off.

"Y/N, are you fucking kidding me?" she snapped, her voice sharp enough to make me flinch.

She picked up her phone and shoved the screen toward me. There it was: the video of Jungkook punching the guy and carrying me out of the party.

"I know—" I tried to defend myself, but she didn't let me finish.

"First, you ditch our project meetings for three days, and now you're trending all over school being associated with Jeon Jungkook!" Her voice was rising with every word.

I swallowed hard, guilt pooling in my stomach.

"Do you even realize what this could do to our school's reputation? You're a VP, for fuck's sake, Y/N. Act like it!"

I stared down at the floor, the weight of her words pressing down on me. "Pres, I'm sorry," I murmured weakly.

Her glare didn't soften. "You'll be the one delivering the speech this Friday. Have you prepared everything?"

"Yes, Pres. I have. I'll email you everything today, I promise," I said quickly, hoping to salvage what little trust she had left in me.

She leaned back in her chair, her gaze still hard. "Why were you absent?"

"I, um... I was sick," I lied, trying to keep my voice steady.

Her eyes narrowed, and she scoffed. "Lies."

Reaching for her phone again, she swiped a few times before holding it up to me. "Have you seen Jeon Jungkook's Instagram?"

My heart sank further as I stared at the screen. The feed was filled with pictures from Busan—our trip to Busan.

I swiped through the photos, each one hitting me harder than the last.

The first was a picture of me asleep in Jungkook's arms, my face soft and peaceful against his chest.

The second showed me helping his mom set the dinner table, a smile on my face as I handed her a plate.

The third was of the beach. A candid shot of me laughing, the ocean behind me, my hair wild from the wind.

And then there was the last picture.

It was a candid shot of Jungkook and me. We were standing close, our faces inches apart, like we were about to kiss. The caption underneath read: "My number one girl."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat.

A part of me fluttered with a strange mix of happiness and flustered confusion. But that fleeting warmth was quickly crushed by the weight of reality.

Was this just for his bet?

The thought tore through me, leaving my heart aching.

The president sighed, snapping me back to the present.

"This is unacceptable, Y/N," she said, her tone cold. "You're supposed to represent the school, not become some tabloid headline."

I nodded numbly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I understand."

"Fix this," she ordered, her words final as she dismissed me with a wave of her hand.

I turned and walked out of the office, my legs shaky beneath me. The hallways felt suffocating, every student's gaze like a spotlight on me. The whispered rumors, the muffled laughs all of it rang in my ears.

How could he do this?

I walked into class, my head still pounding from the events of the morning. As I slumped into my seat, Namjoon turned toward me, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Told you I shouldn’t have gone," I snapped, shooting him a glare. "Now I’m screwed."

Namjoon’s smile disappeared, and he clasped his hands together in a mock plea. "Y/N, I’m really, really sorry. I swear I will never invite you to another party again."

"You mean to not leave me alone at one," I retorted sharply, crossing my arms.

Namjoon winced, nodding. "I was trying to find you, but by the time I did, Jungkook was already there."

I sighed, shaking my head at him. "Alright. Just... don’t let it happen again."

He leaned closer, nudging my arm gently. "So, is it true? Did you ditch your project meetings to go on a trip with Jungkook?"

I glared at him again. "Say another word about that, and you’re dead."

Namjoon raised his hands in surrender, a nervous laugh escaping his lips as he turned back to his notebook.

During class, I discretely checked my phone under the desk, ignoring the lesson for a moment. My notifications glared back at me, drawing my attention to Jungkook’s messages from the night before.

Yesterday, 11:03 PM Jakay: Y/N... I’m sorry. Jakay: Can we talk about this? Jakay: I’ll explain everything after the party.

Seen. Blocks.

I locked my phone, shoving it into my pocket and forcing my focus back to the lesson.

After school, I trudged back to my apartment, exhausted and emotionally drained.

"I want ice cream," I muttered to myself as I walked into the kitchen and opened the freezer. My eyes immediately landed on the mint chocolate ice cream Jungkook had bought for me.

As I pulled it out, a small note stuck to the lid caught my attention. The handwriting was unmistakable.

"I love you. I’m sorry."

I stared at the note for a moment, my chest tightening. Then, without a second thought, I crumpled it up and threw it into the trash. My hands trembled as I opened the ice cream aggressively, shoving a spoon into it and taking a large bite.

---

I had just started to feel slightly at ease when my phone buzzed.

Unknown: Y/N, I’m sorry. Unknown: You probably don’t want to talk to me ever. Unknown: I was really genuine about bringing you to Busan to introduce you to my mom. Unknown: I won’t bother you again. Unknown: Good luck with your speech at Foundation Day. :)

I clenched my jaw, my fingers trembling as I began typing a reply.

Me: If you were really genuine, you wouldn’t have posted me on your IG when you knew what could happen. Me: I thought we agreed to not associate with each other in public. Me: I thought it would be a social suicide for you. Me: Unless you were really desperate for that bet money that you had to drag my school life into this, knowing I’m on the student board, a VP. Me: Fix this, because I’m not apologizing or cleaning up a mess I didn’t make. Me: Goodbye.

Seen.

---

The following days were filled with avoidance.

Flowers left outside my door? Ignored. Chocolates with handwritten notes? Straight to the trash. Mint chocolate ice creams? Untouched in the freezer.

I threw myself into student council work, directing Foundation Day projects with single-minded focus. By the time I finally got home each night, I was too exhausted to think about anything or anyone else.

It was the night before Foundation Day. I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, my body aching from the day’s work. The clock read 10:34 PM, and I was just about to fall asleep when my phone buzzed.

An unknown number.

I ignored it, but it rang again moments later. With a sigh, I picked up.

"Hello?" I said, my voice groggy and annoyed.

"Do you know Jungkook?" an unfamiliar voice asked, urgency lacing their words.

"Yes, why?" I replied, sitting up.

"Can you come to euphoria Club, please? It’s urgent," the man pleaded.

Alarm bells rang in my head. I quickly threw on a cardigan over my Hello Kitty pajamas and ordered an Uber, my heart pounding with worry the entire ride there.

---

The club was chaotic when I arrived, the music blasting so loud I could feel it in my chest. I pushed through the crowd, calling out his name.

"Jungkook!"

"Here!" someone called out, waving their hand.

I hurried toward the voice, finding Taehyung and a few of Jungkook’s other friends standing near a slouched figure.

"Y/N...?" Taehyung’s voice trailed off, surprised as I brushed past him to Jungkook.

"Kook?" I said softly, kneeling beside him. "Come on, let’s go home."

He looked up at me, his eyes glassy and unfocused. "I’m sorry, Y/N..." he muttered drunkenly, leaning forward to hug me. "I really am. I fucked up."

"Can you drive?" Yoongi asked, his face serious.

I nodded. "Help me pick him up."

Together, we managed to get Jungkook to his car. He was barely coherent, slurring his words as I buckled him into the passenger seat.

As I drove, Jungkook chuckled weakly to himself, his head lolling against the window.

"I like this girl so much," he mumbled, his words slurred but clear enough. "But she’s still so clueless and confused about it, but i think she's just convincing herself she doesn't want me"

I gripped the wheel tighter, pretending not to care.

"She’s really pretty and smart, y’know?" he continued, his voice soft and wistful.

He paused for a moment before letting out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, I won the bet... but I lost her."

My chest tightened at his words.

"So basically, I lost," he said, shaking his head and pressing his palm to his forehead.

"You can’t have both," I replied softly, focusing on the road.

"Why did I even pick the bet over her?" he muttered, more to himself than to me.

When we reached his apartment, I gently guided him to the couch. He leaned heavily on me, his movements sluggish.

As I turned to leave, his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist.

"I missed you," he murmured, pulling me into a hug.

I froze, his words hanging in the air as his grip slackened and he drifted off to sleep.

With a sigh, I glanced at the clock on my phone: 1:00 AM.

I stayed where I was, sitting beside him on the couch. Exhaustion overtook me, and before I knew it, I had fallen asleep, too.

The shrill blare of my alarm yanked me from sleep, and I groggily blinked at the time.

"Shit!" I shot up, panic surging through me as the realization hit.

"Jungkook! Jungkook!" I shook him awake, my voice urgent.

He stirred, rubbing his eyes before looking at me with a mix of confusion. "What? What’s going on?"

"Please, please drive me to my apartment—quickly!" I said, already scrambling to gather my things. "Today’s Foundation Day!"

That seemed to snap him out of his half-asleep state. "Fuck," he muttered, getting up in a rush to grab his car keys.

"Wait!" I stopped him, heading for his bag. I found the painkillers I knew he’d need and poured a glass of water from the kitchen. "Take this first," I said, holding the pill and water out to him.

He downed it quickly, nodding as he grabbed his jacket and motioned for me to follow.---

We sped through the streets in his car.

"Fuck, fuck," I muttered under my breath, tapping my foot nervously.

"I’m sorry—fuck," Jungkook muttered, his voice tense as he focused on the road.

When we finally reached my apartment, I leaped out of the car, hurriedly grabbing my things. I barely had time to thank him as I rushed inside to get ready.

The next thirty minutes were a disaster. I applied my makeup with practiced speed, slipping into my carefully chosen pretty outfit for the day.

Jungkook had followed me inside to clean up as well, and when I emerged, I found him waiting by the door, dressed sharply in a casual outfit.

"You ready?" he asked, his voice steady despite the chaos of the morning.

"Yeah. Let’s go!" I said, grabbing his arm as we rushed back to the car and sped toward school.

---

The field was already bustling with activity when we arrived, the energy of Foundation Day in full swing. As we hurried across the field, I could feel dozens of eyes on us, whispers trailing in our wake.

"Why are they running together?" "Isn’t that Jungkook?" "What’s going on?"

I ignored the murmurs, my focus solely on making it to the stage in time.

"Okay, just sit there!" I pointed to a chair in the front row near the stage, my tone leaving no room for argument.

Jungkook nodded, taking the seat as I hurried backstage.

Minutes before my speech, the student council president found me, her arms crossed and her expression tense.

"What was that?" she hissed, her voice low but accusatory. "Why were you with Jungkook again?"

"Just... please," I said, my voice weary. "I’m exhausted. Can we not do this right now?"

She narrowed her eyes but said nothing more, stepping aside as my name was called.

Taking a deep breath, I walked onto the stage, my heels clicking against the polished wood as I approached the podium. The field quieted as all eyes turned toward me.

I smiled warmly, gathering my thoughts before speaking.

"Good morning, everyone! Honorable principal, respected teachers, esteemed guests, fellow students, and everyone gathered here today, it is an honor to stand before you on this remarkable occasion, our school’s 14th Foundation Day.

Today, we celebrate not just the number of years but the legacy of excellence, growth, and community that has brought us to this moment.

Foundation Day is not just about celebrating the past; it is about envisioning the future. Let us take this opportunity to commit ourselves to uphold the values of our school and work together to make it an even better place. Let’s aim higher, support one another, and leave a legacy for the generations to come.

Thank you, and happy Foundation Day!"

I finished with a smile, my voice steady and confident. The crowd erupted into applause, and the energy was electric as cheers filled the air.

As I stepped back from the podium, scanning the crowd, my gaze landed on one person.

Jungkook.

He was seated exactly where I had told him to sit, his eyes locked on mine. His lips curved into a small, proud smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

For a moment, the chaos of the morning, the lingering hurt, and the whispers of the crowd all faded. It was just him and me.

With my heart feeling lighter than it had in days, I left the stage, exchanging one last look with him before disappearing backstage.

It was a few hours after the speech when Jungkook found me, tugging me gently by the wrist to lead me somewhere private. We stopped in a quiet corner of the campus, away from peoples eyes and curious whispers.

"Look, I want to explain everything," he started, his voice unsteady but determined.

I crossed my arms, tilting my head as I waited for him to continue.

"Taehyung my friend did a really stupid bet," he began, his words spilling out like he’d been rehearsing them. "He said if I could get you to like me, I’d win a hundred bucks. But during the bet, I realized..." He hesitated, running a hand through his hair nervously. "I realized I wanted you too- fuck- no, I loved you too-"

I cut him off with a raised eyebrow and a small, amused chuckle. "Who said I loved you too?"

Jungkook froze, his mouth slightly agape, before I waved him off with a smile. "Okay, sorry. Go on," I said, letting him finish.

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching mine. "At first, I really just wanted to win the bet. But the longer it went on, the more..." He trailed off, his hands gesturing helplessly. "My brain just went blank-crazy every time I looked at you. I enjoyed teasing you, making you mad at me, just so you’d keep talking to me. And I really, really am so sorry for everything. for making you feel betrayed, sad, confused-"

He looked down, his voice quieter now. "I can’t believe it took something as stupid as this bet to make me realize what I felt about you." A weak chuckle escaped his lips.

I softened slightly, watching him as he fidgeted.

Jungkook reached out, gently taking my hand in his. "I have to admit... at first, I was ashamed." He hesitated, his gaze flickering up to meet mine. "Ashamed of being friends with the VP. I was a coward, scared of something I couldn’t even explain. But now? All I want to do is kiss you in front of everyone and let them judge us."

His words hung in the air, heavy with vulnerability and sincerity.

I gave him a small smile, shaking my head. "Kissing me in public would only make the rumors worse, Jungkook. It could get us in trouble for committing inappropriate acts at school, you know," I said with a teasing edge, my lips curving into a grin.

He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Also," he added, his voice softer now, "the hot, smart girlfriend I was talking about to my brother..." He paused, his cheeks flushing slightly. "It was you."

I raised an eyebrow, tilting my head. "Who said I was your girlfriend?"

His head snapped up, his face a mixture of confusion and panic. "Huh?"

"You can’t just hurt me like that and think you’ll get it easily," I said with a smirk, my eyes sparkling with mischief.

Realization dawned on his face, and he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You’ll have to earn me again," I added, turning my gaze away from him, pretending to inspect my nails.

Jungkook laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. "Alright. I deserve that."

"Also, you can’t get both," I continued, my grin widening. "So, give me the hundred bucks."

He blinked at me, then burst out laughing. "Alright, fine. I’ll Venmo it to you later," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Then, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Can I kiss you?"

I leaned back just a little, raising an eyebrow. "Too fast," I teased, scrunching my nose playfully.

Instead, I offered him my hand. He smiled, taking it and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it, his eyes never leaving mine.

drabbles?

this is literally a rushed lazy fic cuz i was bored. crazy i even made it to 14k word count

will be making a jks pov ver named "number 1 party anthem" tihii.

this isn't actually proof read sooo yeah just tell me what i missed.

#rispwr #bts #jungkook ff #bts x reader #jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook bts #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook #bts fic #bts au #bts fanfic #bts jk #bts jungkook #fic : number one girl

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keferon · 2 days ago

Note

You all flatter me! Now I am all pumped up to continue on the TF mecha au train. Ratchlock has me in a chokehold. You can't compliment me like that, It goes to my head! I haven't writen anything in like 12 years 😭. Also Yes yes to all the angst. I thrive on it more then the fluffy moments. Jazz and Deadlock/Drift are lining up nicely for a possible meeting. But first Deadlock WILL bath in blood! Wanna see?

****

Ratchet will not let Deadlock follow him around. Nope. Instead he keeps Deadlock on strict bed rest /he's learning human terms in his free time/ with the oh so sweet promise to weld him to the wall if he doesn't listen. He knows better to not test Ratchet, he'd do it no hesitation. Deadlocks fangs and claws only cause a raised eyebrow and wave of a slipper near well... anywhere in Ratchet's swating or throwing range. Since both of them honor their word/glyphic, they made a deal that if Ratchet comes home on time then in return Deadlock will be on his best behavior.

They use every extra moment together to learn, heal, and plot together. Deadlock's wounds are fully healed by now. He is ready to be the guardian knight he vowed to be for Ratchet. Ratchet's knuckles still ache which makes his hands shaky at times, especially when cold, but his squishy perseveres like a true warrior. Deadlock has learned that revving his engine to build up heat and letting Ratchet rest against his chassis helps with those trimmering aches the bioengineer tries to rub out.

He wants to give any comfort he can to Ratchet while he's working in that cursed lab with those ungreatful sacks of slags. He has photos of each one of those fraggers saved in his proccesor. The list only grows the longer they wait to leave. If he can work around Ratchet somehow, he'll cross them off at some point with a deep satisfaction while doing it. Ratchet has been as sly as a turbofox. He's been sidestepping, talking around, and out ranting the higher ups for a while. Deadlock is so proud of him for not backing down or falling silent. Right now Deadlock has the tv playing a sitcom while tinkering with his long range blaster. His audial fins flick as the door opens and closes. Ratchet looks at the show while shrugs his winter coat off, "So has Sam confessed his undying love to the ice cream vender Carly yet?" Ratchet asks walking over to the lazy-e-boy chair.

Deadlock reaches out and taps his back before he can sit down. "Refuel first." He reminds him before going back to tightening some wires. He smiles at the grumble and is pleased when Ratchet listens to him for once and heads to the kitchen, "and no the episode ended with him getting hit by a waste disposal truck. Now it's a filler episode. Jack is trying to get out of going to an Amica Endura's beach party. He is playing up a illness called the pox."

Ratchet comes back with a warm plate of food. Deadlock nods pleased with the portion. Ratchet rolls his eyes and sits down, "They did that same plot with Raphael four seasons ago." He grumbles and bats at Deadlocks claw when he tries to ruffle his hair, "If they drag this out for three episodes like last time I am popping in a different show." Both are content, they banter and complain about the show while Ratchet eats. When Ratchet reclines his lazy-e-boy chair Deadlock puts his weapon away, "They are transferring some of us to a different base in the morning. You know First Aid. They are putting him on a transport to the sister base north east of here. Called the Alpha Blade Strikers."

Deadlock tilts his helm, "That's the one that was visiting here? The commander of that base is the one you knocked out for slagging you off right? You mentioned the base being cursed." He asks leaning forward a bit, his servos tingling for revenge.

"Yes, same place and person. Don't believe in any of that cursed stuff but a lot of talk does go around about it. Mostly one pacific mecha being the main cursed object. First Aid was stressed to tears about being transferred. He had just gotten comfortable here with his friends. I feel a bit bad for the kid." Ratchet mumbles rubbing his face with his unbandged hand.

Deadlock gives a soft smile, "From what you've told me, he keeps his helm down. I am sure he will find friends or leave when he can. But if you are worried I am not opposed to taking him with us."

"We do not kidnap people, Drift. He wouldn't want to come along anyways. He wants to 'do his part for human kind'. Besides it takes him a while to get use to change and the possibility that we may be hunted down once we leave would most likely send him into cardiac arrest." Ratchet tilts his head back gives Deadlock a stern look, "On the topic of leaving we'll need to do that sooner then planned. Something isn't right, I don't like how hyper focused Pharma has gotten with quintessons corpses. Now he is showing intrest in you. He wants to know how I programmed a mecha to be powered by an AI system so flawlessly. It's driving him up a wall to not know. You know, since a mecha has never moved around without a pilot and can not talk. He keeps begging the higher ups to let him 'partner up with me' or let him take over the 'project' since I am just 'playing around with you'."

"Right fine. No kidnapping the youngling. But do not assume we will be the ones being hunted." Deadlock hums amused but turns serious when Pharma is brought up. That name is at the top of his 'don't let Ratchet catch on' splat list, "But me being 'imprinted' on you is keeping them from letting him get his quintessons gut covered servos... Err hands sorry, on me."

Ratchet nods rubbing his face again with a tired sigh, "I made certain they know you'll attack anything that isn't me." Deadlock can tell Ratchet is fighting a yawn. He lays down behind the chair and rumbles his engine. Ratchet's lips twitch with a smile hearing how smooth it's running now, "Pharma has never been a good listener though. Just be on guard okay kid... he's ploting something." Ratchet mumbles soaking up the heat coming from behind him. He tilts his head back against the head rest looking up at Deadlocks handsome, smug, sharp fanged grin, "He tries touching you, you can kill him. Don't let him into your system. I fear what he'd do. Probably make you even more loony and unbearable." The bioengineer yawns his voice full of fondness that makes Deadlock's spark sing.

Deadlock purrs as he gently pets Ratchet's head with a, claw retracted, digit. Ratchet's eyes grow heavy missing the most feral, down right demonic, energon hungry look Deadlock has at the permission to off Pharma, "He will not harm me. But I can tell he has worn on you today. You are more drained then grumpy, your insults are lacking any heat. Recharge Ratchet. I will reconfigure our supplies and time line while you regain your strenght. Then I'll show you in the morning. You can edit it while you fuel." He chuckles as Ratchet grumbles and mumbles at him. His squishy can't fight the cozy warmth and soothing pets. Deadlock's humming engine makes a familiar white noise that has grown to mean safe to Ratchet. In no time Ratchet is out cold. Picking up a blanket with a careful pinch he lays it on top of Ratchet and follows him into recharge.

-- --

They are so close to leaving. They have a place picked out and a time. Their supplies are packed and hidden away with a close friend of Ratchet's. The thing still keeping them on base is Ratchet's need to clear out all of his research. He doesn't want anyone to have anything of his, to have a chance to twist it into something that would cause more harm and death. It's been a tedious process but Ratchet has been deleting his work bit by bit so no one catches on.

Four days before their chosen leave date Ratchet walks into his lab only to be escorted to a debriefing room. One he has have never been to. Deep under the base. He had tried getting anyone to speak up about what's happening but the escorts, six of them for fuck sakes, don't even look at him. His gut instinct is screaming DANGER the deeper they go. His skin is crawling with uneasiness and he is fighting his fight then flight instincts. He taps at the small circler tracker he has in his winter coats collar as subtly as possible. Hoping it looks more like a nervious tick then a trigger to call for help. Hopfully they aren't to far down for it to work. The group stops at a vault door and Ratchet cuts off a growl growing in his throat when one of the 'escorts' pulls out some heavy duty cuffs. "Tell me what reason you have for those or their not going on Spike." He warns fists clenching at his side. He huffs at the click of a gun and someone has the balls to press it into his back.

The young soldier, Spike, frowns and waves his hand at the others behind Ratchet, "Ratchet please it's just procedure. You have saved a lot of our lives don't make us be rough. We don't want to be. Just put them on so I don't get yelled at later." Ratchet narrows his eyes, frown tightening. Spike groans, "I don't know what they want. No one told us anything. Please I am just doing what I was told."

Ratchet can tell Spike is holding his breath, pleading silently for Ratchet to listen. Ratchet does let a growl slip when the guns barrel grinds into his spine. His head snaps around and he glares hard enough to cause pause, "Cut that out, I know exactly how far to shove that to not kill you but make damn sure you wish I did." He snarls as he holds his wrists up to Spike. The comment earns him muffled chuckles and a few glares. Cuffs on Ratchet walks into the room. Spike shoots him an apologetic look as the door closes behind him. With a heavy exhale Ratchet takes in the room. A concrete floor, circular shaped room with thick metal walls. Cameras line the ceiling edges. His exhale catches in his throat as the metal walls start rolling up to reveal bullet proof glass filled with quintessons in various stages of dissection and tests. "We have another sublevel secret lab bellow our sublevel secret lab. Of course we do." Ratchet mumbles flatly to pissed off he didn't know this base was more fucked up then he thought then to be scared.

Speakers crackle on and an annoying whine comes through, "Not the reaction I was hoping for. Come on Ratch buddy show a bit more emotion then that. Less grump more begging maybe? At least shock." Pharma's voice chimes around him in an irritating way.

"Looks like all of this has been going on for a while. Why bring me into this now Pharma?" Ratchet says calmly since that seems to piss Pharma off more. He looks at his cuffed wrists and his blood runs cold as the hair on his neck stands on end. Goosebumps cover his arms making him shudder under the heavy coat, "I am not here for shop talk."

"Mmhmm, I am going to miss that snarky brain of yours Ratchy. But you did do a lot of things that put the base in danger. Security has taken notice of a lot of data, intel, cameras and video footage being tampered with." Pharma almost has a mocking sing songy tone to him. Strange, Ratchet knows he didn't tamper with anything that would jeopardized the security of the base. Definitely not the cameras or video footage, "You know what you've done and what we do to traitors. I already have received the ok to take over your work. The good commander is allowing me to say goodbye to you since we were such good old friends. Don't worry. I'll take good care of your Mecha." Yeah, Pharma sounds real choked up about all this, Ratchet rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, he'll take care of you Pharma." Ratchet keeps his tone and body language nonchalant as he studies the cuffs. He takes note of the little bit of gap, if he dislocates his thumbs.. "Only thing that's annoying about all of this is I'll be late getting home."

"I swear you are boring me to death on purpose Ratchet!!" Pharma snarls as a thud noise rings through the speakers

"Oh could I be so lucky?" Ratchet sighs sounding hopeful. He stiffens as the room lights turn red and multiple hisses of compressed air being released surrounds him. A robotic voice rings out a warning that the test subjects are being released. Ratchet whips his head around stepping in a circle as snarles and screeches drowned out the warnings. Ratchet steadies his breathing as best he can as his hands trimble and heart beats wildly. Deadlock would be livid if he doesn't go down giving it his all to get back to him. Ratchet would be just as pissed to, "I'll do what I can but you better hurry kid..."

-- --

"You weren't suppose to do that Pharma." A flat voice speaks up from behind Pharma after picking up the chair he had kicked away. Pharma scoffs and grumbles, "You are not even going to ask him what he ment by being late to his quarters?" The chief of security drones on.

"Be sure to capture all angles. I want detailed shots of it all." Pharma growls removings his hand from the release butten he hit hard enough to crack. "You are being paranoid per usual. Don't tell me you never heard the rammblings of a dying man?" Pharma sighs, with a dramatic flick of his wrist he walks out of the room.

"No, but I imagine I will soon enough." The security director mumbles under his breath. Reaching over the chair he resets the cameras.

OH. OH THEY ARE FUUUUUUCKED

OH THEY ARE SO SO INCREDIBLY FUCKED THEY ARE GONNA GET SPREAD EVENLY ALL OVER THE FLOOR AND I WANNA SEE IT SO B A D

#YEAS #YES PLEASE #ANON #ANON I LOVE YOU #Also Deadlock basically purring is just #kfmfnfjfjfmmfnfmfkfkfkfl #tf mecha universe #also Deadlock keeping track of Ratchets routine is so cute omg

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alkaline-wtr · 2 days ago

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141 x sick!reader headcanon

Description: They take care of you when you're sick. Genre/Warnings: 141 x sick!reeader, fluff, comfort, headcanon

** This is bad, oops. But here is a little bit of sick comfort because, I am sick right now and procrastinating Chapter 6 of 'We Will Survive' Enjoy.

GHOST: Whenever you're sick Ghost jumps straight into his 'doctor' role.

Rather than giving you a hug and rubbing your back soothingly like you hoped he is up poking and prodding you, asking you more questions than you care to answer.

"Yer not warm."

He says placing his calloused palm on your forehead.

"How 'bout yer head, does it hurt? Throat sore? How 'bout here does it hurt when I do this?"

He asks pressing on your side with his fingers.

"Si."

You groan swatting his hand away.

"Can't you just... Will you make me tea?"

Ghost sighs and kisses the top of your head.

"O' course love."

GAZ: The morning you wake up with a scratchy throat and a relentless sinus headache, is when Gaz is quick to take over the daily chores and responsibilities.

Cleaning and cooking are his top priorities. Anything that can keep you in bed and stress free he's on in.

Sometimes you think he's trying to heal you through food and drinks alone.

Bringing you teas, water, and softer food or soups for breakfast and lunch. For dinner he'll order takeout from your favorite place and ends the night in bed with ice-cream and your comfort show or movie.

Gaz is a sole believer in resting both your body and mind during days like this and he takes his domestic duties seriously in order to guarantee you a comfortable and clean space to relax and recover.

SOAP: Soap is known to be a bit overbearing when you're not at your best. Smothering you in affection, fluffing your pillow, and crowding your space on the couch with anything he thinks might help you feel better.

You're restricted to the couch, surrounded by water, juice, snacks, plushies, and even objects of entertainment like a game, or a book to read.

Any move you make to shift into a more comfortable position or get up to use the bathroom Soap is by your side immediately asking what you need or how to help.

You always appreciate his care and concern, but it would be nice to use the bathroom for a couple minutes in peace, without Soap knocking lightly on the door to ask if you want him to run you a bath.

PRICE: Price isn't the type to go overboard and tend to your every need. He'll start the day off giving you a simple breakfast in bed, and some medicine before bed rotting with you the rest of the day.

You both nap on and off all afternoon. He holds you in his arms brushing your hair with his fingers gently and leaving plenty of kisses on your cheeks.

It is a slow and quiet day, the TV plays softly in the background as you laze around curled into Prices chest. Curtains pulled shut to leave the room dark and obscure any sense of time you might have. As far as anyone is concerned the world is on pause and it's only you and John today.

You being sick, means he's sick too. He won't be leaving your side, and you will be resting and recovering together.

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throneofsapphics · 2 days ago

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hello! can i get an iced hazelnut chai with whipped cream and cinnamon <3

absolutely you can!

summary: azriel, forced proximity with fluff, spice, and angst

warnings: not very descriptive but still smut, angst

coffee bar celebration

“I can't look at you,” he stood by the window, hands braced against the glass planes. “Every time I look at you, I think about doing something stupid.”

You weren't certain you wanted to know what stupid impulses he was having.

His shadows were nearly encasing the room, poking at all the barriers and wards placed to keep the two of you in.

“We could just make a plan to kill our High Lord,” you said the title with a hint of mocking disdain, enough he would know it was a joke. Azriel never took threats against his friends lives lightly.

His chest shook, but not a sound escaped him.

Your mouth tightened into a thin line. In the past, he'd always let his laughter loose around you. Always. Fists clenched at your side, a shadow swirled around one and you released them.

One hand still placed firmly on the glass, Azriel pivoted just enough for his face to become clear. Beautiful, raw, and threatening to drag you under.

Insisting you could stay friends was bullshit, this would never work. You tried to reach out to Rhys and tell him that, but the normal channel he kept open between the two of you was airtight.

This time, you turned around, facing the mirror.

Eyes tired, bags underneath, hair disheveled, face wan. You looked a mess.

“Every time I look at you,” you tore your gaze, still in the mirror, away from your own reflection to find Azriel watching, his reflection wavering slightly. He cleared his throat. “Every time I look at you, I don't know if I want to go drown myself in liquor or kiss you until you can't remember your own name.”

Goosebumps trickled down your spine, one after another like a haunting melody playing its tunes on your body.

“There's plenty I'd like to forget right now,” you swallowed, pulse jumping in your throat.

“Oh?” You spun around, ready to curse him to an eternity, but Azriel was in front of you, so close that if you arched your back your breasts would brush against his chest. “What, exactly would you like to forget?”

“You,” you spit the word with as much venom as you could manage, and he laughed.

Planting both palms on his chest, you shoved. He didn't move. Unsurprisingly.

“You're an asshole,” you hissed.

“And you wouldn't have it any other way,” mirth danced in his eyes, pressure built in your chest, ready to explode.

Before you could say another word, he leaned in and kissed you. His lips were soft, gentle, and you found yourself falling into familiar patterns, into that dance of decades you'd done for far too long, before logic overrode the other parts of you thinking too much.

You gripped his chin, shoving his head to the side, away from you, and stepped backwards. Your back hit the dresser.

Perhaps for the first time, you saw the shadowsinger shocked. You'd never rejected a single advance from him before. Good. Maybe he should get used to rejection.

But … your soul was clawing and scraping in your chest, begging to be reunited with the one it thought completed it. It was wrong.

“You don't get to kiss me to keep me quiet,” you seethed.

“That's not what I meant to do,” his voice was dry, perhaps a tad bored, but you saw the plea in his eyes. The truth.

Crossing the two steps between you, you gripped the front of his leathers.

“Promise?” You didn't know what you were asking him to promise.

“Always,” he answered, not missing a beat.

This time when you walked him back, Azriel moved easily. When you undid the laces on his leathers and rode him, he thrust his hips up into you. When your eyes met, he held the contact, gripping you chin so you would too. When he flipped you on your back and pushed your legs up to your chest, he moaned loud enough Rhys's wards couldn't possibly keep the sound out.

When you'd driven each other to completion, your head resting on Azriel's chest, his arms wrapped tight around you, you thought perhaps you were always destined to burn hot and fast, but maybe there's a chance this could work.

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar imagine #acotar drabble #irene's coffee bar

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tinylilacbun · 3 days ago

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Hii

Can I request something with jj and toddler reader?

Basically, Jj works at Country Club (at least I think that is the name of that place he worked that kooks attended) and he's a waiter. Anyways, he's passing from table to table and he begins to notice there is this baby girl who can't be more than three (reader) sitting in one of the tables and is staring at him every time he checks. As soon as he waves a bit at her and she blushes and giggles all embarrased, he understands it right away: this unknown kook kid is having a little crush on him. And he can't deny that is too funny and amusing to him. It all gets even better when he's the one who serves their table.

(reader's parents don't have to be mean even tho that's the kook stereotype. Also, you can add whatever you want🫶)

JJ is cleaning up one of the tables, clenching his jaw when he hears some stuck up kooks complaining about pogues who were being a bit rowdy on figure 8 a few days back.

The country club is the last place he wants to be voluntarily, but the empty fridge and other necessities require him to get a job as a waiter to survive.

Grabbing the few plates he turns to make his way towards the kitchen, glancing through the room he catches a little girl watching him, a adorable smile on her face.

He smirks and goes to the kitchen to place the dirty plates in the sink, making his way out again and sees you still staring at him while your parents try to keep you focused on eating.

JJ keeps making his rounds, taking orders, cleaning tables, or serving food and drinks, but he can feel the little pair of eyes following him and he can't help but smile anytime he catches your gaze on him.

At some point he gives you a small wave and your face flushes up, shying away and pressing your face into your mother's arm who smiles down at you, and JJ watches her leaning down to whisper to you.

As much as JJ hates this job, you somehow manage to make it bearable, at least for today. He passes by your table when your father stops him politely, asking if he could order dessert for you all.

"Sure thing." JJ answers, pulling out the small notebook and a pen, scribbling down what your parents wish to have before he looks directly at you. "And for the little princess?"

You blush and giggle, hiding in the safety of your mother again and she chuckles, rubbing your back. "She's a bit shy."

"Well, how about some ice cream then? Or cake? We even got muffins today." He lists your options and your eyes practically twinkle at the mention of ice cream.

"Ice cream...pwease." You whisper shyly, pulling back to look at him again.

"A'ight." He smiles, leaning down to your level. "I'll make sure to add extra sprinkles." He whispers to you, reaching down to pick up the bunny lovey that fell on the ground and hands it back to you, booping your nose before he turns to get the dessert for your table.

Soon he's carrying everything towards your table, placing the plates and your bowl of ice cream in front of you.

"Thankies!" You smile at him brightly and JJ could swear he never met a toddler, especially a kook, as polite and well behaved as you.

JJ is standing behind the bar counter, cleaning the surface as he sees how your parents pay and get ready to leave, noticing the way you frown and reluctantly get up from your seat.

You take your mother's hand and tug on it to get her attention and she leans down to hear what you want to say, smiling and nodding her head.

JJ smiles when he sees you walking over to him and he squats down. "What's up, cupcake?"

You giggle and hold out a 10 dollar bill. "S'for you..."

He feels his heart skip a beat at how adorable you are, taking the bill from your hand he boops your nose again. "Thank you. Til next time."

You smile at him before dashing off towards your mother and let her pick you up, waving one last time at JJ.

A few days later he unfortunately got fired because his temper flared when Topper made a snarky comment.

Your parents were there the day, luckily without you so you didn't have to witness this, and watched how he stormed out, feeling bad for him and knowing how sad you will be when you find out that you won't see him there again.

But guess who got hired as your new babysitter?

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou @sunf1ower16

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @flora-eva

#little kook princess au #babysitter!jj maybank drabble #toddler!reader

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rinawantstosleep · 1 day ago

Text

"I don't like your stupid, white hair."

"And I don't like your boring, brown hair, buddy."

"W-well... well, I don't like your ugly, doo-doo face!"

"Your mama does."

The two could go bickering like this for hours on end if you let them. What may seem to be a mutually digressive arrangement is actually an oddly adorable bonding in disguise. Satoru and your son put on a front of being annoyed at the other's presence, but you've never seen them apart for longer than a few minutes at a time. They've grown on each other; much like how moss grows on a statue that's been lingering out in the open. An indispensable cycle of life that's truly inevitable.

"No, she doesn't! She doesn't! She likes... sof- sofis... sofistogated guys."

"You mean sophisticated?"

"Shut up!"

You'd been terrified that your little one wouldn't have a father-figure to rely on anymore after you divorced your husband. However, it was something you had to do for his sake. The child deserved to live in an environment that wasn't always reeking of alcohol, where he wasn't subjected to the constant, drunk yelling of a pathetic excuse of a father who couldn't get his shit together and lazed around at home all day while you did all the work. If that meant that you'd have to raise him on his own, then so be it. At least he'd be raised properly. Signing those papers was, by far, the easiest decision you'd ever made.

"I'm not shutting up because a kid in clothes too big for him is telling me to."

"You... you're the one always wearing tight clothes around the house to impress my mama."

"No, that's because I'm ripped. Gotta show off what I've got. And your mama loves that."

"Oh, yeah? That means you show off your... your - um... ugly, doo-doo face!"

Would you regard it a miracle that Satoru just so happened to stumble into your life around that very time? Well, relatively. Meeting him wasn't something you'd planned, nor anticipated. The kind stranger who offered to pay for your order at a café a year ago has somehow, thanks to quite a romantic sequence of events, turned into your boyfriend; a rock to lean on for when you need the support. And, also, someone that your little one can look up to (with the fun, bonus benefit of the pair getting into silly, childish quarrels nine times out of ten). What is Satoru if not a three-hundred-and-thirty-six-month-old toddler, too? Puts your five-year-old to utter shame with the way he acts.

"Enough. Baby, we've been over this before. Behave."

"But, mama, he's being a meanie!" "But, babe, he's acting all pretentious."

The responses come simultaneously: one is high pitched and whiny, and the other is your son. Sometimes, you have to pause and ask yourself how you haven't gone insane yet. It's the love that keeps you from falling apart. How could you ever harbor any other feeling for these two, except for wanting to cherish them? You just... need to work on a pet name that doesn't apply to the both of them at once.

"I don't want to hear it. Sweetie, finish your lunch. And, Satoru?"

"Yes, honey-who-loves-me-and-my-'ugly, doo-doo'-face?" He's smirking, snickering, while saying this, the sly bastard. When will the pair ever relent on trying to one-up the other?

"Why have you got one of my hair ties on your wris- never mind. Don't forget to change the sheets in our room. I'd do it myself if not for the meeting I need to get to in an hour."

"Yes, ma'am."

Cue a tiny gasp.

"But, mama..." The voice of your little one breaks the peaceful silence at the dining table once again. His legs start kicking back and forth - a sign that he's growing restless - from the chair they're dangling off of. He's got a protest already forming up in that head of his. "Toru said he'd take me to the skate park today. And he promised to get ice cream after."

Toru, huh? That's new. You can't help the smile that paints itself on your lips. The two have been getting along pretty well, it seems, contrary to all the bickering they do. That's always nice to know. It's amusing to see the dynamic they've built. One second, they're riling each other up to no end, the next, they've already formed a secret alliance to go out and have fun together. How cute. "Is that so?"

"Mhm! So that means we need to leave riiight after I finish my lunch. Don't get mad, okay?"

It's the small things like these that warm your heart. Some sacrifices can be made if it's in regards to this adorable (step, even though you haven't married Satoru yet)father-son moment. The sheets are insignificant right now. "Awwh. Of course I won't get mad, baby. It's good for you to want to spend more time with Satoru. Isn't he a fun guy?"

"... maybe."

. . .

"Just make sure he's safe out there. Helmet and gear on at all times, no big ramps. And don't let him eat too much sugar. He'll get hyper. Once the rush dies down, he'll get cranky -"

Satoru's arm wraps around your waist before you can finish your sentence, pulling you overwhelmingly close to his frame. Instinctively, your arms move to wrap around his neck, just the way Satoru likes it. Oh, how he wants to just throw everything else out the window and drag you to the nearest room with a lock in place.

"You -" A quick peck to your lips, followed by a nibble on your bottom lip. "- worry -" Another peck. "- too -" Another. "- much." Then, an unexpected bite on the shell of your right ear. "I'd never allow myself to let that little demon get hurt; or hyper."

Large hands wander across the curve of your back, resting firm on your butt. Satoru doesn't want to expose your son to the way he's squeezing your plush flesh with his long digits, so he shifts to have your back pressed against the wall. A perfect opportunity to kiss you - which the man can't help but seize. What else is a smitten boyfriend to do while waiting for your son to get ready and come down from his room upstairs? Lips against lips until one of you pulls away for air. "He's safe with me, okay?"

"Okay."

"Atta girl. Now, you go that meeting of yours. And, tonight, after we both get back- oww."

"Groooss! Don't kiss my mama, or you'll make her ugly! Like youuu!"

"Baby, no. Don't kick Satoru's ankles-"

"I'm saving you, mama."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujustsu kaisen x reader #fluff #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #jjk satoru

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capquinn · 1 day ago

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Dad!Quinn takes his daughter out for the day to spend some time together while mom is taking care of the newborn. Maybe he takes her to get the new doll she’s been wanting or something as a present for being such a great big sister and helping out while he was on the road right after their son was born. They go out to lunch and she gets excited when he says she can order anything on the menu, including ice cream for dessert! Just a wholesome daddy and daughter day! ☺️

The day started early, Quinn slipping out of the house with his daughter’s tiny hand clasped in his own, her giggles trailing behind them as they whispered their goodbyes so they wouldn’t wake her baby brother. She was bundled up in her favourite coat, her glittery sneakers flashing with each excited bounce as they headed toward the car.

“Where are we going, daddy?” she asked, her wide eyes peeking up at him, already brimming with excitement.

“It’s a surprise,” Quinn replied, grinning as he buckled her into her car seat. “But I think you’re gonna like it.”

He had planned this day for weeks, wanting to carve out something just for her — a moment where it could be the two of them again after the whirlwind arrival of her baby brother and the chaos of balancing work and family. She’d been a trooper through it all, her small hands helping in ways that tugged at his heart, her patience and sweetness never faltering. She was already the doting big sister, cradling her brother’s tiny hand whenever she had the chance with a tenderness that made his chest ache. Today wasn’t about spoiling her; it was about showing her just how much he saw her.

Their first stop was the toy store, and the moment they stepped inside, Bug’s face lit up with pure, unfiltered excitement. Her eyes darted across the towering shelves overflowing with brightly coloured boxes, a kaleidoscope of possibilities. Still, she didn’t hesitate — she knew exactly where she wanted to go, her tiny feet carrying her with purpose toward the aisle she had dreamed about for weeks.

“The dolls, daddy, quick!” she squealed, tugging his hand toward the aisle she’d clearly memorised from their previous visits.

Quinn followed close behind, a smile tugging at his lips as Bug made a beeline for the shelf. Her little hands reached out with determination, grasping the doll she’d been talking about for weeks — a princess with shimmering hair and a dress that sparkled like starlight. She turned to him, holding it up as though presenting a treasure, her grin so wide it nearly outshone the doll.

“Look!” she said, her voice brimming with pride.

He crouched down to her level, tilting his head and pretending to inspect the doll seriously.

“Hmm,” he said, his tone teasing. “You sure this is the one? She’s got nice shoes, but… doesn’t she need a crown?”

Bug’s little gasp was immediate, her brow furrowing in a mix of offence and uncertainty as she turned the box around, double-checking as if she needed to be absolutely sure.

“Daddy, she does have a crown!” she said, her voice carrying the faintest hint of indignation as her finger shot up to point. “Look, right there!”

He feigned surprise, his hand coming up to rub his chin thoughtfully. “Ohhh, you’re right. Silly me,” he said, nodding. “Alright, Bug. She’s yours.”

Her triumphant grin could have lit up the entire store as she hugged the box tightly to her chest, the princess doll already her new best friend. He followed her as she practically skipped toward the register, her sneakers lighting up with each step, his heart full as he watched her delight unfold.

But then, as they passed another aisle, she slowed. Her gaze snagged on a shelf filled with stuffed animals, and she let out a tiny, audible gasp. He didn’t even have to look to know what had caught her attention. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide and fixed on a soft, floppy bunny with long ears and a pink bow tied snugly around its neck.

“Daddy…” Her voice was quieter now, a hesitant sweetness lacing the word as she turned to face him. Her expression — those big, hopeful eyes and the slight tilt of her head — was enough to make his chest ache.

He sighed internally, knowing exactly where this was going.

“Bug…” he began, trying to sound firm but already failing as she hugged the doll a little tighter, like an ace up her sleeve.

“But it’s so cute,” she said softly, her voice full of innocence and wonder, as though the bunny were the most magical thing in the world. “She could have tea parties with the princess.”

Quinn rubbed the back of his neck, glancing between her and the bunny, his resolve crumbling faster than he cared to admit. He crouched down to her level, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

“You know you’re really good at this, right?” he said, his voice tinged with mock exasperation, though the warmth in his tone betrayed him.

She blinked at him, her grin starting to grow as she realised she had him.

“Please, daddy?” she whispered, leaning just the tiniest bit closer, her glittery sneakers rocking on the balls of her feet.

With a quiet laugh, Quinn reached for the bunny and placed it in her small hands. “Alright,” he said, shaking his head as she squealed with delight. “But no more surprises, okay?”

“Okay!” she chirped, clutching the bunny to her chest alongside the doll. Her face was so bright, so full of joy, that Quinn couldn’t help but smile as he stood back up.

“You know you’ve got me wrapped around your finger, don’t you?” he muttered as he led her to the register.

She giggled, skipping alongside him as her treasures jostled in her arms. Quinn shook his head fondly.

Yeah, she knew. She absolutely knew.

The rest of the day unfolded like a collection of small, perfect moments — the kind only a three-year-old could conjure. Lunch at her favourite diner was the sort of outing Quinn knew she’d talk about for days, recounting every detail in her sing-song voice to whoever would listen. The diner itself was a cheerful little spot with checkered floors and booths that squeaked when you slid into them, the scent of syrup and fresh coffee hanging in the air.

Bug scrambled onto the booth seat, her glittery sneakers thumping against the vinyl as she tried to settle in. She grabbed the laminated menu with both hands, holding it up like she was deciphering a treasure map. Quinn watched, amused, as her brows furrowed in concentration.

“Do you know what you want?” Quinn asked, sliding into the seat across from her, the menu already in his hands.

She shook her head quickly, her little frown exaggerated and serious, though the sparkle in her eyes made her excitement shine.

“I don’t know the words,” she said, placing the menu flat on the table with an air of finality, as if it was his responsibility to figure it out.

“Okay,” he replied with a grin, leaning forward and pretending to study the menu with great care. “Let’s see… There’s waffles, chicken fingers, grilled cheese, a burger, or…” He paused for effect, letting his eyes peek over the top of the menu to meet hers, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. “…pancakes.”

Her whole face lit up, a gasp escaping her lips. “Pancakes!” she declared, her voice loud enough to make a nearby diner chuckle. “With sprinkles! And whipped cream!”

Quinn smirked, lowering the menu and raising an eyebrow. “You don’t want ice cream today?”

Her grin widened, her head bobbing in enthusiastic agreement, as if the very idea of adding ice cream was the most exciting thing she’d ever heard. “Ice cream, too!” she said, her hands clapping together in delight.

“Pancakes, whipped cream, sprinkles, and ice cream,” he repeated with mock seriousness, leaning back in his seat. “You’re going all out today, huh?”

After lunch, the two of them ended up at the park — a quiet one with wide, open fields and a small playground tucked into the corner. The sun warmed the crisp afternoon air, and Bug immediately kicked off her sneakers, running barefoot through the grass with her doll in tow. Quinn followed at a slower pace, his hands in his pockets as he watched her dart back and forth, her giggles carrying on the breeze.

When she finally tired out, she ran back to him, her arms outstretched.

“Up, Daddy!” she called, and he crouched to scoop her up, settling her easily on his hip. Her cheeks were rosy from the running, her curls sticking to her forehead, but her smile was as bright as ever.

As they strolled back to a nearby bench, she rested her head on his shoulder, her tiny fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt.

“Daddy?” she murmured.

“Yeah, Bug?”

She sat up a little, her expression thoughtful. “Do you think Cub likes me?”

Quinn blinked, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness in her tone. He adjusted his grip on her and sat down, settling her on his lap.

“Likes you?” he repeated, the words catching slightly as he processed her question. The simplicity of it tugged at something deep in his chest, a raw tenderness he hadn’t quite expected. Bug, his brave, funny, curious little girl, with so much love to give, was already wondering if she was enough. The thought made his grip on her tighten slightly, protectively.

How could she not know? He had seen it in the way her tiny hands cradled her brother’s even tinier ones, the way she whispered to him in that soft, singsong voice she used only for him. She adored her baby brother, and he knew without a doubt that love would only grow.

“Bug, he loves you,” Quinn said, his voice steady but full of warmth. “You’re his big sister.”

“But he’s so little,” she said, frowning slightly. “He just cries and sleeps. What if he doesn’t know I’m his big sister?”

Quinn smiled softly, brushing a stray curl from her face. Her thoughtfulness always caught him off guard, the way she tried to make sense of things so much bigger than her tiny frame.

“Oh, he knows,” he said softly, his voice steady with reassurance. “Every time you hold his hand, or sit next to him, or tell him all those stories — you’re showing him. He might not be able to say it yet, but he knows. And when he gets bigger, you’ll be his favourite person in the whole wide world.”

Her eyes brightened at that, her lips curving into the beginnings of a smile.

“Really?” she asked, her voice full of cautious hope.

“Really,” Quinn said, his tone warm but firm. “You’re already the best big sister. Mom and I see how much you love him, and he will too.”

She stared at him for a moment, her smile growing as she processed his words. Then, in the way only she could, she threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice soft but full of the kind of unwavering trust that only a little girl could place in her dad.

By the time they pulled into the driveway, the sun was just beginning to set, casting the house in a warm, golden glow. Quinn turned off the engine, letting out a quiet sigh as he glanced in the rearview mirror. In the backseat, Bug clutched her new doll tightly to her chest, her head resting against the car seat, cheeks flushed and eyes heavy from the excitement of the day. Her hair was slightly mussed, her glittery sneakers dangling lazily, and the sight made Quinn’s chest tighten with affection.

“You okay, Bug?” he asked softly, twisting in his seat to look at her.

She blinked slowly, her lips curving into a small, tired smile.

“Yeah,” she murmured, her voice softer than it had been all day.

He got out and circled the car, opening her door and carefully unbuckling her from the seat. She leaned into him immediately, her small arms wrapping loosely around his neck as he lifted her up. The doll was squished between them, and he had to stifle a laugh at how seriously she protected it, even in her sleepiness.

“Did you have fun today?” he asked as he carried her inside, her weight resting heavily against his chest.

She nodded, her face pressed to his shoulder. “Yeah,” she whispered. “You’re the best daddy ever.”

Quinn’s breath hitched slightly, her words hitting him square in the chest. He paused in the hallway, his arms tightening around her just a little.

“I think you’re pretty great too, Bug,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him, her sleepy eyes sparkling.

“You’re my best friend,” she said quietly, her tiny hand lifting to rest against his cheek, her touch so gentle yet filled with a sincerity that made something in his chest tighten and ache. Then, with a softness only she could manage, she leaned in, wrapping her little arms around his neck, her head tucking against his shoulder as if it were where she belonged.

And for Quinn, that was exactly where she belonged — safe in his arms, her tiny frame pressed close, her trust and love so freely given. In moments like this, the weight of the world seemed to fall away, leaving only her — the one who had redefined everything for him, who had made him realise just how much love a heart could hold.

He stood there in the quiet hallway, holding her as the moment stretched out, his arms tightening just slightly around her tiny frame. She smelled faintly of syrup and sunshine, and the warmth of her small frame against his filled him with a peace so profound it seemed to settle into every corner of his being. His little girl, his Bug. She had no idea just how much she meant to him.

“You’re mine too,” he murmured finally, his voice soft but carrying a weight that matched the depth of the moment.

She’d said it a million times before, but now, in her quietest, most unguarded state, he could feel the truth of her words settle into his chest.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, his lips lingering for just a moment before he pulled back to look at her. Her eyes were heavy with sleep now, her grip on him loosening slightly, but the tiny smile on her face said everything.

“Come on, best friend,” he whispered with a soft smile, shifting her gently in his arms. “Let’s get you to bed.”

#PLS he's a girl dad through and through i will die on this hill #dad!quinn #capquinn’s requests #capquinn's writing #quinn hughes

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thoughtfulfiction · 2 days ago

Text

Stolen Glances

Author’s note: reposting my old work on this side blog! Let me know if you’d like to read a specific one. Thank you for reading!

Warning: alcohol and drinking mentioned

Five days. That wasn’t even a full week. It should be relatively simple. You and your friends were going to spend a few days at the Fern Ridge Reservoir in a luxury home that Justin had rented out for the group. Everyone had their own rooms, the house was massive and you’d get to relax off the grid and recharge your batteries. There was relatively nothing to complain about.

“So…are you going to tell Justin you’re into him yet or just keep torturing yourself?” Your friend Bree asks, snapping you out of your daydream, carrying her bags to the car. The two of you had flown into Oregon from LA and were driving to the lake with Charlie and Tate, two of Justin’s friends that had really become like family to you in the last few years.

“She’s more likely to admit her feelings when she’s dead.” Tate scoffs while grabbing your backpack and shoving it in the trunk. “I want to have faith in you kid but, I just don’t know if you’ve got it in you right now.”

Charlie walks out of his house and hands you your water bottle, “you can tell him when you’re ready. Don’t listen to them, they're just impatient. Like five year olds who keep asking their mom to buy them McDonald’s on the way home.”

You simply nodded, staring daggers at your friends after Charlie came in and defended you. He hopped in the driver’s seat while Bree and Tate sat in the back. Looking out the window, you let your mind roam, both excited and nervous for what this little trip had in store.

It really wasn’t your fault, falling for him was like waking up on the couch with the tv on and not even remembering that you fell asleep. One day he was a good friend, a friend who you met years ago when he was a rookie living in a frat house in Costa Mesa. Then, somewhere along the way you fell for his unwavering kindness and his sense of humor. Or maybe it was the way the corner of his mouth tilts up sometimes in a side grin. Or his ability to always look like he just rolled out of bed but somehow still looked extremely put together. Everything about Justin, especially the little things, made you want him more. You just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that. Admitting your feelings would just complicate things. And what if he didn’t even feel the same way? The thought of listening to him let you down easy while trying to spare you the embarrassment really just made you want to crawl into a hole on the side of the road and never come out.

So yes, long story short, these so-called “feelings?” You had no choice but to take them to the grave.

“Can we just have a nice relaxing weekend and enjoy ourselves? We can leave the drama and whatever else for when we get back to California, please.”

They simply nodded and you caught Tate and Bree sharing a look but you didn’t want to even think about what that could mean for you, instead deciding to focus on the scenery for another 20 minutes before the house came into view. Charlie started honking as soon as he pulled into the driveway and Gabe came running out, pulling you in for a hug.

“Hey neighbor.” He mutters out, giving you a squeeze.

“We haven’t lived next to each other in four years, Gabe.”

“Best year of my life honestly. I don’t think I’ve had more junk food…ever.”

Bree comes up behind the two of you and gets a hug of her own. “That’s because you and Nabers here kept suggesting pizza and ice cream nights. When y/n told me some NFL guys moved in next door I thought we’d be seeing more vegetables and less Oreos but it really was the best time.”

The guys unloaded all the bags from the car while you and Bree caught up with Gabe’s girlfriend Jordan. She informed you that Justin had gone out to get groceries with one of her good friends that she brought with her.

“Katie just thinks Justin is the sweetest thing ever so I figured why not introduce them. I’m tired of watching her drool over his old Instagram pictures. Hoping to play Cupid this weekend.” She jokes and you force out a small laugh, feeling your stomach turn at what this girl could possibly look like.

An hour later Bree rushes into your room and closes the door behind her after everyone has finally met and introduced themselves. “I know you said no drama but—”

“Nope, I don’t wanna hear it,” you interrupt her while you unpack your bag. “We are in a freaking mansion, on the water. Let’s focus on that!”

“Or…” she sits on the bed, completely interrupting your flow. “We could just acknowledge the fact that she took the room right next to Justin’s after knowing him for approximately two seconds. And she looks like the second coming of Candice Swanepoel. I mean, it’s kind of unfair,” she huffs.

You shake your head with a laugh. “She’s gorgeous, it’s pretty unreal. And definitely unfair. But we are going to focus on other things like having fun, enjoying the weather and spending quality time with our friends. Maybe have a couple strawberry margaritas with sugar on the rim. And we will be nice to Katie, even if she does look like an OG Victoria secret model before SavagexFenty kicked them to the curb. We will be welcoming and nice.”

She looks up at the ceiling like she can’t hear you and then back at you to face your pointed look, warning her to be on her best behavior. “Fine. I will be nice to Candice Jr.”

“Thank you.” You roll your eyes and pat her on the back.

Justin suggested riding jet skis which sounded amazing until Katie said she’d just finished touching up her makeup. Bree was about to make a snide comment but you elbowed her in the side before she could get the words out. Gabe and Jordan were taking a nap and Charlie was on the phone with one of the parents of the high school team he was coaching so you, Bree, Tate and Justin headed out after changing into your swimsuits.

Everyone found a life jacket that fit them just right and you hopped onto the back of Justin’s jet ski.

“Please promise me you won’t drive this thing like a grandma. I’m here for a good time, not a long time.” You joke, grabbing onto his waist. His laugh vibrates against you and you bite back a smile. He takes off and the two of you bounce against the water leaving you holding on for dear life. After a few minutes, you get used to it and it honestly feels freeing, just you and him out on the open water, taking a tour of the homes that are a little ways away until he stops at a man made cave, far away from any prying eyes.

“What are you doing?” You ask, feeling your heartbeat in your ears. Even in the shade, the reflection of the water hitting his eyes made you feel insane. And you couldn’t stop looking at him if you tried, not that you were trying very hard in the first place.

“Have you ever driven a jet ski before?” You shake your head no and he motions for you to switch spots with him. He leans over you to show you where the on switch is and how to work the speed and the brake, curving his hands over yours on the handles.

The smile that is threatening to take over your face is too much, so you settle for a joke. “You, Justin Herbert, giving up…control? This is a moment in history.”

“Just drive,” his cheeks heat up, turning a light shade of pink, “and try to get us back to the house in one piece, please.” You may or may not have driven as fast as you could with a few extra turns just to feel his body against yours for a little bit longer.

Although the afternoon was a victory, the evening brought you right back to reality. Katie had practically been glued to his side ever since you came back to the house. She sat next to him at dinner and practically jumped into the loveseat after he sat down for movie night. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and walked into the kitchen to grab some kettle corn, taking your time in the kitchen before eventually making your way back to your seat. Luckily it was a movie you’d seen a dozen times so you weren’t missing anything. If anything, the movie in front of you was nothing compared to the horror film to your right, so Charlie cracked a joke to get you out of your head. Justin was so focused on watching his friend make you laugh that he didn’t even realize that Katie had fallen asleep on his shoulder, holding onto his arm like it was her personal body pillow. You caught a glimpse of the domestic scene that looked straight out of a romcom and it almost made you want to call it a night right then and there. But you sat through it and watched some random girl cozy up to the man you’d had serious feelings for…for the last year.

The next morning, you woke up later than usual. Truth was, you hadn’t gotten much sleep since you were thinking about Justin and Katie all night and you needed something else to focus on. You walked into the bathroom you were sharing with Bree to brush your teeth and get ready for the day.

When you swung the door open you froze, staring for a brief moment before covering your eyes. “Um—I’m so sorry I had no idea you were in here! Why, why are you in here? Doesn’t the master bedroom have a bathroom attached?”

Justin quickly covered up, grabbing his towel and wrapping it around his waist. “Bree liked the mirror in my bathroom so I let her use it. I thought the door was locked, how did you get in?”

“The lock is broken, Bree didn’t tell you that?”

He lets out a nervous laugh, “she may have neglected to mention that.” You were going to kill her.

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna go. So sorry again for the—you know what? I’m just gonna leave and we can act like this didn’t happen.” You close the door before he can utter a word and you head back to your room, silently praying that no one finds out about this.

He couldn’t take it anymore. You were avoiding him like the plague the entire day. Since the morning you’d hardly looked at him, even when he pulled you aside to assure you that your little encounter this morning, although awkward, was totally fine. He even sat through watching you and Charlie go tubing together and share a pizza at lunch, but his final straw was when he saw you taking a nap together in Charlie’s bed with the tv playing. The two of you had always been close but the quarterback couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something more was going on and he didn’t like it. This trip was supposed to be about him getting to spend some quality time with you before training camp and Charlie knew that. Nothing was going according to plan and Justin knew he had to do something about it.

He rushed to get ready for dinner and let out a sigh of relief when he found you in the kitchen. “I know it’s none of my business but, is there something going on with you and Charlie?”

You took a big breath, not exactly ready to have this conversation and yet here you were. “No,” you state blankly, “there’s nothing going on between Charlie and I.”

“Then what’s going on? You’ve barely said two words to me all day so there has to be a problem.” Justin knew he had no right to be jealous, especially of one of his best friends but something was just nagging at him to keep asking questions. It was like word vomit and he couldn’t stop.

“Why are we even talking about this right now? It’s really not a big deal Justin, seriously, just let it go please.”

He clearly wasn’t having your attempts to dodge him. “No! I'm not going to let it go until you tell me. I mean, if this is about this morning I thought we handled that.” You don’t miss the subtle clench in his jaw. His patience is quickly running out and you really don’t get why this has him so worked up. Possibly because you’re so focused on your own rollercoaster of emotions.

“It’s not about this morning!” You blurt out. He was backing you into a corner, literally.

His pleading eyes were begging you to talk to him. “Then what is it about?”

“You! It’s about you. How I feel about you is a problem. It is THE problem, okay?” You shake your head, mentally shutting down at the look on his face. There it was, that horrible look you wished you’d never see…pity. Honestly? It looked worse in real life than it ever had in your nightmares and the sigh he gave you afterwards was just the icing on the humiliation cake.

“Y/n, I—”

“Are you guys ready to head out for dinner?” Gabe pops his head in, catching an immediate whiff of the uncomfortable air in the room. “Uh sorry. Was I interrupting something?”

“No.” You fold your arms across your chest, creating a physical and emotional barrier between the two of you.

“Yes,” Justin says at the same time, furrowing his eyebrows and giving you a sideways glance, his gaze softening at your watery eyes.

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” you huff out with a sniff, after a quick swipe under your eye you step around the man who was whispering for you to wait. You ignored him and kept moving your way out of the house, sliding into the car without turning back. Charlie took one look at you and asked if everything was okay but you really weren’t sure how to answer. How you were really feeling would surely bring you to tears and you really didn’t feel like crying in a car full of people.

That evening, your phone lit up as you sat motionless in your bed, contemplating going home the next morning. Of course it was a text from Justin.

I know you’re awake, I can’t sleep either. Can we please talk?

You texted him back a simple “fine” and there were two tiny knocks on your door less than a minute later. He was probably standing outside your room door when he texted.

“We didn’t get to finish our conversation earlier.” His voice is even deeper due to the exhaustion. You didn’t even think that was possible.

“I said everything I needed to,” you say with a casual shrug.

“Well good because I need you to listen,” Justin closes the door behind him and takes in a breath. “You’re one of my best friends…”

“Oh god please. You don’t have to let me down gently. I’m a big girl I can—”

“I’m not done. And I’m not—I’m not letting you down gently. I’m not letting you down at all. You have been one of the most consistently good things in my life and somewhere along the way you became a lot more than consistency. You’ve become somewhat of a necessity, an essential part of my life that I don’t think I can or want to live without.” He sighs, running a hand over his face with a sigh and you just stand there, limbs shaking in anticipation, waiting for him to get to his main point.

Justin closes his eyes, visibly collecting himself and his thoughts. “What I’m trying to say is that you aren’t the only one with feelings here. And that your feelings? They aren’t a problem.”

“You—you mean that you share the…you like me too?” You laugh a little, in complete disbelief.

He steps toward you, nodding with a smile of his own. “I really like you.”

“Wait…but what about Cand—Katie? She’s gorgeous, fun and is super into you. Plus she looks borderline perfect in the morning from what I gathered. I’m pretty sure I drool in my sleep sometimes and I have eye boogers.”

That really sends him over the edge and he covers his mouth to stifle a laugh. “It’s a good thing I love eye boogers, they’re my favorite.”

You smack his chest at the playful joke and his energy pulls you in, pressing your bodies together like magnets. And right there you feel like a kid again, standing next to your crush with your heart racing. He leans down and his lips brush against yours and he asks if this is okay, causing you to nod because obviously you want this with him, and more. Your lips fit together seamlessly and he tilts your head up by lightly cupping your face, running his thumb across the length of your jaw while deepening the kiss. Your entire body is covered in goosebumps even though the kiss is so soft and gentle. He pulls away slightly, pecking your lips after he takes a second as to not rush into things too quickly, waiting too long to ruin the moment. Pure bliss coats all of his senses as he begins peppering your face with more feathery kisses, silently willing himself to always remember the softness of your skin and how amazing it feels to finally be this close.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” the grin he’s sporting is taking over his entire being and before you can respond he’s kissing you again. You happily oblige, smiling against his lips with a satisfied hum.

The next morning you were pretty sure you were still smiling. You woke up feeling super comfortable, turning around to catch a glimpse of him, thinking about pinching yourself to make sure this was real. He looks so peaceful, his clothed chest moving up and down rhythmically, a slight pout on his face. You can’t help but run your fingers through his hair, smiling to yourself once again when he begins to stir in his sleep. With his eyes still closed, he pulls you into his arms, lazily kissing you like he’s been doing this for years.

“Good morning,” he whispers, his eyes finally open, looking alert and bright.

“Good morning, I cannot believe you practically tackled me first thing in the morning. I probably have morning breath.”

“You don’t and even if you did, I wouldn’t care. And you don’t have eye boogers or drool on your face, you look really good first thing in the morning. The most incredible sight to wake up to.” You want to kiss him again but you decide it’s best to hold off, leaning over to check the time on his phone. “It’s 5am, you should probably head back to your room before everyone wakes up and this turns into a CIA interrogation.”

He chuckles, kissing your forehead before he gets up to stretch out his limbs. “We have all the time in the world to figure this out when we get back to LA, keeping this between us is probably our best bet for now. I do not want to hear all of Tate’s questions. And Gabe would be even worse, he’s been telling me to do this for years.”

You tilt your head towards him and whisper yell, “you’ve thought about this for years and didn’t say anything?”

“Yeah, you’re not the only one who was helplessly pining over someone and refused to say anything about their feelings out of fear of rejection. I was scared too. And now I’m not. Now, I’m going to head back to my bed and count down the minutes until I get to kiss you again.”

You shake your head, laying back down ready for your second round of sleep. “You’re a dork.”

“I am. And that is your favorite thing about me. Get some sleep, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Waking up again around 8:30, you realize that skipping out on dinner last night has come back to haunt you. Gingerly walking down the stairs as to not wake anyone up, you tip toe into the kitchen quietly, only to find Katie already up and pouring a glass of orange juice.

“Good morning,” she sings, looking bright and cheery. Maybe in another life she was Giselle from Enchanted because she could definitely be some sort of Disney princess. “I’m so glad you’re awake because I need some advice. Do you think Justin would want pancakes or waffles? I wanna surprise him with this breakfast tray and I just want everything to look right you know? So what do you think?”

I think his tongue was practically down my throat last night and he’d probably want to have me for breakfast but I can’t say any of that. “Um let’s see. Definitely pancakes and skip out on the orange juice cause he’ll probably want some coffee.” As painful as it is to help her, you know this small sacrifice will pay off. You’ve basically already got the guy, there’s no use in rubbing it in the poor girl’s face when you won’t be seeing her anymore two days from now.

Katie nods excitedly, prepping her pancake batter and thanking you several times. You settle for a bagel with cream cheese and head back upstairs to get ready for the day. The afternoon isn’t very eventful, you realize that the guys had already left for a fishing expedition earlier in the morning so Katie’s breakfast was cold by the time Justin got back. He looked at you hesitantly, waiting for you to nod your head before he thanked her and tossed the food in the microwave. Jordan suggested the group go out to a bar/club that night since you and Bree had been mentioning these famous strawberry margaritas since the day you arrived.

The music was loud as soon as you walked in. Gabe ordered the first round of drinks and you snuck out of the booth to reapply some mascara while the other girls browsed the marg menu. A knock on the door startles you into dropping your makeup in the sink.

“Occupied!” You yell out.

“It’s me.” Smiling to yourself at the familiar voice, you lock the door behind you when Justin walks in.

“Hi.”

Your face is in his hands with the mascara long forgotten as he softly says “c’mere,” leaning down to capture your lips with your back still against the door. He tastes like the shot of Don Julio you all just took and a little bit of mint. Your hand is in his hair again, pulling it ever so slightly so you are still as close to him as humanly possible without standing on your toes. Justin knows you both have to be back soon before anyone notices but the thought of your body not being practically glued to his makes him really want to go home. The kiss today is sloppier than last night, there’s more urgency, more fire. Neither of you thought it could get better but your hands are all over each other, your arms struggling to wrap itself around his bicep and at some point he had a handful of your ass. Not that you were complaining.

The kiss leaves you breathless, letting out a soft laugh as you pat him on the chest. “We should stop. I don’t want to but, we have to unfortunately.”

His lips curl into a small frown, almost a pout and you are seconds away from kissing him again. “I know. You should go first and I’ll be right out. Definitely need to splash some cold water on my face or something, I need a minute.”

Nodding your head in understanding, you step out to give him some space, but not before he grabs your hand and kisses the inside of your wrist.

An hour later you’re two margs and two shots in. Katie has been hanging all over Justin as soon as he got back from the bathroom and it’s taking everything in you to prevent yourself from yelling at her to get her hands off of him. And bless his heart he really is trying to keep his distance, catching your eye with an apologetic look every time she finds her way next to him again but it’s really getting exhausting.

“We should go dance!” Bree exclaims, snapping you out of your jealous rage. You nod immediately, desperate to look at anything other than what is happening at your table.

🎶H-O-T-T-O-G-O

Snap and clap and touch your toes

Raise your hands, now body roll

Dance it out, you're hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

Snap and clap and touch your toes

Raise your hands, now body roll

H-O-T-T-O-G-O🎶

You found yourself singing your heart out with not only Bree but some guys that also knew every word to the song. Getting lost in the moment and also not being remotely close to being sober you danced, letting him grab your hand and spin you around as Chappell Roan continued to play.

“I’m Matt,” the stranger tells you when the song is finished.

You hold your hand out, “y/n. You’re not a bad duet partner Matt.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he laughs, still holding onto you.

An awkward silences washes over the moment when you begin to sober up a bit and pull your hand back. “I need to grab some water, excuse me.”

“Hello! Earth to y/n! That guy was cute and totally into you. What the hell is your problem?” Bree lectures you as you sit at the bar.

He’s cute but he’s not Justin, you think to yourself. “I just needed a drink that was a lot of dancing and it’s hot out there.”

Your excuse is pointless because you feel a presence behind you. “Can I get three waters please?”

Bree looks at Matt, thanking him and grabbing her water bottle to give you some privacy. He settles in the bar stool next to you and slides the water in your direction. “Are you from here? Because I’d remember a face like that walking around.”

The sentiment would usually make you feel good but now you just wished a certain someone was giving you flirty compliments. “I’m only here for a few more days unfortunately. Then it’s back to real life.”

“Well maybe I could convince you to come back? Make this some sort of regular thing? Us seeing each other?”

Back at the table, Justin was staring daggers at the bar area. As soon as Bree sat down without you, Tate asked where you were.

“Attagirl.” The football player heard his friend say and he moved around in his seat to get release the building tension in his shoulders. Katie was next to him saying something but all he could focus on was how close this guy was sitting next to you. Did the chairs really need to be that close?

“Bro, Justin.“ Charlie snaps in his face.

“What?” His tone was a bit more aggressive and irate than he intended but he couldn’t help it.

“If you hold that bottle any tighter you’re gonna shatter the glass man.”

He hadn’t even noticed he was treating the Nectarine Premiere bottle like it was a stress ball. The man slid it away from him on the table, turning his gaze back to the bar. You were laughing at something the guy was saying and the way the guy was looking at you was eating him alive.

Katie placed her hand on his thigh and kept going with her story that she’d been telling. Justin couldn’t take it anymore.

He plucked her hand off of him and got up when he saw you and the guy heading outside. “Excuse me.” The group watched him take several long strides until he was out the door.

Matt looks up with his mouth open as soon as Justin comes into view. “Dude, you’re Justin Herbert! I’m a huge fan man I bought your jersey last year. Wear it every Sunday.”

“It’s uh—it’s nice to meet you…”

“Oh it’s Matt.”

“Matt,” he says slowly trying to get rid of the bitterness in his voice but it doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Matt is too busy being a fanboy to see that anything is wrong. They take a selfie and Justin sends him on his way, the fan now too excited to have remembered he was trying to get your number.

Justin blows out a breath, staring at you until he hears you laugh. “This isn’t funny,” he groans.

“On the contrary, it’s hilarious. I’ve had to deal with it for the last three days. You didn’t even last an hour before running over here and putting a stop to it.”

“I didn’t run,” he counters, “I walked—very quickly. Not my fault I have long legs.”

You take a sip of your water. “Sure. Now how are you going to get yourself out of this? We said we weren’t going to tell them until we talked about what this is.”

“We did say that but I know what this is. I want to be with you. I want to kiss you, hold your hand, dance with you. I want…I want us to be together. That was the whole point of this trip.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you urge him to explain. “I told Charlie I was ready. Planned this entire getaway to have one last trip before camp but I also didn’t want to leave again without telling you how I feel. What better place to tell someone you love them than at the lake?”

“You love me?”

He grabs your hand, feeling a sudden need for you to anchor him to the ground. “I love everything about you. I’m just sorry it took me this long to tell you the truth.”

“Better late than never. I love you too, a lot.”

He smiles again, a weight lifted off of him that he’d been carrying for quite some time. Justin is so happy that he doesn’t think he’s capable of words right now.

“Come here,” you tell him and he immediately closes any distance between you.

You give him a slow kiss, knowing you have all the time in the world to get to be with him.

Until a knock on the window startles you apart.

“I FREAKING KNEW IT!” Bree yells.

“Finally.” Charlie says shaking his head.

Justin rests his forehead against yours, too far gone to even care about PDA. He’d deal with the consequences later. “Do we have to go back in there and answer all their questions?”

“I think I’m gonna need one more kiss before we go,” you whisper.

Your brand new boyfriend nods in excitement, leaning in immediately. “Yes ma’am.”

#justin herbert #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert x reader #justin herbert fanfic

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