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taestefully-in-luv · 4 years ago

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Always You | JJK (Five)

Summary: you and Jungkook have been best friends since freshmen year of college, there’s a lot of unsaid feelings and tension but neither make a move. what happens when his friend Taehyung (also your crush) needs a fake girlfriend?

Pairing: Jungkook x Female reader, slight Taehyung x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slight slow burn, roommate au, college au, SMUT (starting ch2), fluff, angst (in later chapters) slight crack, lots of drama

Word Count: 12.1k

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, sexual tension (?) sad oc, mentions of sex, kind of over the clothes action, drama, heated dance session lol, slight memory of sex, hair pulling, back scratching, mention of boner, second chances (?)

Notes: Okay, first of all THAT 1st TEASER PIC!!! DID WE SEE THAT? *chefs kiss*. Anyway thanks for comments you guys leave I really love reading them!!! Remember to send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist or just want to chat about the story:) have a great week everyone!

Taglist: @mooniyooni @thisartemisnevermisses @giadalin @kookiebunny097 @cosmosjk @moonchild1 @just-jeon @anpanman-sonyeondan @starlight-night0 @yessii-i @apollukee @mikasaredscarf1 @kaye-rosales @bunnyjeonjk @dyriddle @seagulljk @hass-mich-los @peachy-skz0325 @wonusbitch

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May

Gloomy: The dictionary may describe it as hopeless and despairing but really it should just be a picture of your sad, sad face.

1 month…yes, one whole month has passed since you last spoke to Jungkook. No text, no calls, no random show ups, nothing. Gloom. Gloom. Gloom. Graduation came and gone so quickly…you walked the stage with your friends minus two but honestly you can hardly remember the event. You tried your hardest to be as excited as everyone else but the feeling of gloom stayed with you.

By the end of the month you finally started accepting he isn’t coming back and right around that time you actually heard from him—Jungkook that is. He sent you a pathetic text that he’s moving out and will be by to retrieve his things. More gloom.

The next couple weeks after that are a blur, you recall the sound of movers throughout your apartment. You didn’t have the courage to speak to him…you didn’t have the courage to even leave your room if you didn’t have to. You were so wrapped up in everything you didn’t even consider that fact that you will have to find a new roommate to cover the other half of the rent.

Every day just dragged on, every day a repeat of the last. Wake up, drown in black coffee, scroll mindlessly through your phone and work your full time job. You called in sick too many days already so you have to go or you’re at risk at getting fired. The same day, every day. The same gloomy fucking day.

Jimin tried to call or text every day to make sure you were like, alive. He apologized over and over for not telling you as soon as he found out about the Taehyung situation but he felt that if Taehyung was going to tell you then it is best it comes from him and not Jimin. You can understand that. He also frequently would show up at your apartment to surprise you but you rarely let him in. You did feel bad though, he’s just trying to be there for you.

Jimin 6:04pm

Please let me in?

Jimin 6:05pm

Well…I have some take out for you babe, ill leave it on the doorstep.

Jimin 6:05pm

Call me sometime ok? Love you

Guilt would consume your body but you just couldn’t deal with human contact right now.

June

Around month 2 you finally felt okay to see people again—your close people that is—aka Jimin was finally allowed in, he made you take a hot bath while he cleaned up for you and made you a proper meal. The amount of instant ramen containers lying around the place was by far one of the grossest things he’s seen. The shit that was growing…he shudders just thinking about it.

He would come over every day after work in the evenings. He left day time babysitting to Trina.

“Girl…all this over a boy?” she would constantly say.

You also tried applying for job after job, but the postgraduation life is harder than you thought…at least for you. Jimin landed a job as a kids choreographer, Trina starts up at one of the local elementary schools as a kindergartner teacher and you? You’re still working at the bakery down the street. You applied for many entry level positions in the marketing field but failed miserably in interviews…which only further discouraged you and worsened your mood.

It was also around this time you decided to finally delete Jungkook off all social media and block his number. You refuse to hear from him at this point…not that he was reaching out or anything. You wonder what he’s up to postgraduation? No, you don’t want to know or care. You considered hanging up a picture of his face on your wall so you could throw darts at it but you decided that was maybe on the crazy side. Taehyung sends you weekly texts, asking about how your day/week is going. He updates you on his life as well, apparently he got the curator assistant position at the museum that he wanted. You still feel hurt over everything but you are happy for him. It’s funny, you feel so betrayed over that but Jungkook is the cause of your gloom.

Every day just drags on, you feel heavy everywhere you go. Even when you’re just at home in bed.

By the end of the month your friends somehow convinced you to go on a date—a horrible date at that.

He was awkward as hell, a bad kisser and would lightly…tap your ass in attempt to be sexy. It was a disaster, you don’t even remember what the two of you even talked about at dinner. You just remember his tongue being horribly shoved down your throat and his weird ass tapping habit.

July

Then month 3 finally came around. A month where the weeks went by breathing became just a bit easier. Yes, any and everything still reminded you of Jungkook but it didn’t hurt as terribly as the previous months. By the end of the month you even agreed to your first real social outing. You are hesitant, but you agreed…

“I don’t know guys…a birthday party? We like, don’t even know the girl?” you frown, nibbling on the flesh of your bottom lip.

You are sitting in the middle of your bedroom floor, clothes piling all around you as you try to decide on what to wear.

“You need to get out babe…plus it’s a friend of a friend, so it’s cool.” Jimin says holding up a rose colored crop top, motioning for you to nod yes or no to his suggestion. You cock your head to the side, deciding what pants to go with it.

“I have to say I agree with Jimin, y/n.” your new roommate Holly chips in, “Since I’ve moved in I don’t think I’ve seen you go out even once.”

“Also a party is the best place to find some easy dick.” Of course that’s what Trina has to offer.

“Yes to the crop top Jimin.” You point your head towards the shirt, “Okay don’t have to call me out like that Holly.” You glare at your roomie, “And Trina, we both know I ain’t ready for no type of dick.”

“So we’re looking for some pussy tonight?” Trina smirks, “Nice.”

You rolls your eyes, a chuckle escaping your lips, “Shut up.” you throw a pair of shorts at her face.

“But seriously y/n…Maybe Trina is on to something…” Jimin sits down next to you, crossing his legs in front of him, “Maybe this is a good chance to like—”

“If you say move on I will literally kill you.” You cut in, “There’s nothing to move on from!” you throw your hands up dramatically. “Taehyung used me, Jungkook wants nothing to do with me. And—”

“Then why aren’t you ready for any type of dick?” Holly puts in her 2 fucking cents.

“Because I don’t want to be associated with any boys! Jimin is the exception.”

“Somehow I don’t feel flattered by that…” Jimin puts a hand on your shoulder.

“When’s the last time you got off?” Trina abruptly asks. You turn your head in shock at her shamelessness.

“Trina!”

“Answer her, I’m curious too.” Jimin squints at you trying not to laugh.

“It’s…” your eyes slide to the side, “It’s been a while.”

Trina shakes her in disapproval, “Damn girl, really? My fingers constantly playing DJ, you know what I’m sayin?” Trina goes in for a fist bump but you just push her hand away.

“You’re gross.” You laugh out loud, and it sounds like music to everyone’s ears.

“I’m just real babey.” She flicks her hair back with a proud smile on her face.

Having these 3 around has no doubt helped you deal with the loss you feel. You feel like you are still mourning the dead. How’s Jungkook even doing? You’re too afraid to ask Jimin. Too afraid that he’s doing amazing without you. He must of realized how much better off he is without you around and that makes you feel small.

“Fine…” you mutter under your breath…Jimin snaps his head to look at you, his sly smile growing as he watches you fiddle with a short mini skirt.

“Fine what?” Trina asks with a smirk.

“Let’s find me some dick tonight.”

“Hell fucking yeah.” Jimin claps his hands together, “Tonight is about you!”

“y/n makes her debut tonight! She’s hot, she’s single and she is ready to mingle!”

You can’t help but giggle, your hands bunching up the material of the mini skirt as you look down at it, making your decision.

“Let me get ready and we can get this night started!” you rush to your feet, all the sudden feeling excited for tonight. You are going to actually do your hair and your makeup—you even shaved. You are definitely breathing easier tonight and you have to take advantage of that!

“Let’s do shots as we wait girlies,” Holly shows a bottle of rum she had hiding behind her back, shaking it in excitement.

“Naughty girl.” Jimin winks, standing to his feet, heading towards the kitchen to grab some shot glasses.

You get ready quickly, but taking your time where it counts. You give yourself a once over in the mirror and you have to say you are impressed. Your black jean mini skirt sits right below your ass, while your tits pop in this rose crop top. You wear short heels, and simple jewelry with just the right amount of makeup that makes your features stand out, and you have to say you would kiss yourself if you could—you look fucking good.

“woooooo” Jimin and Trina whistle out at the same time as they walk back in your bedroom.

“I’d fuck.” Jimin says plainly.

“Same as fuck.” Trina says bluntly as she swallows down a shot.

“Yeah you look pretty y/n!” Holly smiles, not really on the same level of honestly as your other two friends.

You burst into giggles, throwing your head back in approval. “Thanks guys…..Lets fucking do this.” You walk towards Trina and grab her shot glass, and you take the bottle from Holly, pouring yourself a shot.

“Ready to fucking mingle.” You gulp down the rum, the burn only encouraging you, the warmth stinging your entire chest and you couldn’t feel more content.

This house was one of the bigger ones, it was full of people and more people and like, more people. You managed to swallow down 3 or 4 shots back at your apartment and the alcohol is definitely working its magic on you, the world just a little nicer.

The amount of people doesn’t even bother you like it usually would, instead you find yourself barging through the front door and making your way to the dance floor with your 3 friends trialing behind you.

The heat of the living room is already intoxicating you, the amount of bodies rolling and grinding makes you feel loose and free. Before you know it Jimin is pushing a drink into your hands and you hug him gratefully as you begin chugging it back.

“Woah slow down, we have all night—actually fuck it, I like your spirit tonight!” he chuckles lightly, his hands going to your waist, rocking you to the beat of the blaring music. Trina and Holly disappear into the kitchen to grab more drinks while you and Jimin dance to whatever b…t…ah, forget it, you forgot the band’s name.

“Are you having fun?” Jimin slurs out, his eyes barely visible as he laughs at nothing.

“So much fun!” you yell out over the music then you lean down into his ear and whisper, “Thanks so much Jiminie…I know I was a little difficult…”

“A little?” he teases.

Jimin’s eyes travel behind you before they are widening. You notice, of course. You are about to turn your head to take a look at whatever he is seeing when his snaps back to you in panic, his troubled smile growing.

“Let’s go find Trina and Holly, yeah?” he tries to usher you toward the kitchen and you oblige. Too drunk and feeling too good that his odd behavior goes ignored by you.

“Kay!” you smile, hooking your arm with his. “Letsa go!” you say like you’re fucking Mario.

The two of you walk to the kitchen, finding Trina and Holly playing a game of beer pong with two random guys.

“Hello my bitches!” Trina hollers over the thumping bass, as she scores a cup of pong, her other hand on Hollys lower back.

“Wait, gotta use the bathroom, be right back!” you slur into Jimin’s ear, he just nods distractedly as he watches the game, laughter erupting his body for probably no drunken reason.

You walk back into the living room and start heading towards the other side where the bathroom is. The journey to the bathroom is fun, you accidently bump into a lot of people but they don’t seem to mind as they will just drunkenly smile at you and you would smile back in your own drunken daze. You skim the room with a dopey smile on your face, just admiring the crowd. You are shocked with yourself…you missed people and you cannot believe it. You continue to observe when your eyes land on tattooed hands. The hands are grabbing a handful of ass on the dance floor. You know these hands. Your eyes travel from his hands to his strong arms to his face…it is hiding in the nook of some girls neck and you feel like someone knocked the wind out of you. Jungkook.

He is kissing on some girl, no doubt leaving bruises behind from his attack on her neck. His hands cupping this girls ass so tightly, he guides her hips into his. You watch as she throws her head back in pleasure and you see him smirk. All his signature moves. You are left speechless. What could you even say? Why does this hurt? Why does this make you feel fucking sick? Why does it feel like you aren’t supposed to be witnessing this? Well, you know why but god, why?!

“y/n!!” It’s Jimin, jogging up behind you, “Fuck, I was trying to avoid you seeing this…” he admit softly, “I swear I didn’t think he was going to be here tonight…he didn’t seem that interested when I asked him about it…”

“It’s fine Jimin…” you mumble.

“Does it feel weird? Seeing him with this girl…?” Jimin is obviously trying to get you to admit something right now but you are not in the right head space to even give it a second thought.

“Why should it? Plus I’m used to this…she’s just some random girl for one night.” You twirl the ends of your hair between your fingers.

“Oh babe…” Jimin glances down at the ground, “This girl…she…he’s brought her to every party for the last month…” Jimin sounds as sorry as you feel.

The same girl? That’s impossible, you scoff. There’s no way Jungkook is actually seeing someone. But that doesn’t stop your stomach from twisting and turning and making you feel fucking sick.

“What do you mean?” you finally slur out, leaning your frame on Jimin.

“He brings her and they leave together too…” Jimin holds on to you, “I haven’t really asked him about her though.”

“Whatever. Fuck him, right? I won’t let this ruin my night.” You smile coyly, draping your arms around your friend. “Bathroom please.” You pout theatrically, pointing your head towards the bathroom.

“Okay let’s get you peeing in peace.” Jimin laughs, guiding you towards the door.

Once at the door, you knock a couple times to find that it is empty, “I’ll wait for you out here.” Jimin assures you.

Once inside the small room, you bunch up your skirt and pull down your panties, squatting on the toilet. You sigh in relief as you pee, but the relief you feel in your body stops when you recall the way Jungkook held and kissed this random but not so random girl.

Why should it bother you? It’s about time Jungkook got serious! But why did he have to dump you to achieve that? And why did It have to be with someone el…

You reach for the toilet paper, ripping it after a few sheets and wipe yourself as you drunkenly sing a tune. So what? You can easily replace Jungkook too!

You stand up, pulling your panties up and your skirt down and take a long good look in the mirror. Your hair is still intact, your makeup is only a little smeared—quick fix, and your tits are still poppin’. This night is just beginning, you decide. A whole new wave of confidence begins washing over you.

“Ready!” You pounce on Jimin’s back, he stumbles forward while laughing wholeheartedly.

“Should we look for Trina and Holly again? They’re probably still playing beer pong!”

“Sure.” You smile, walking hand in hand with Jimin as you make your way back to the kitchen.

Hours pass and you are now outside on the back porch piss drunk with your 3 friends and a couple new friends. Nick and his pal that you can’t remember the name of—but you remember Nick. He’s really tall and has nice muscles covering his body, his light hair is messy and looks like you would have fun pulling it.

“And that’s why I think aliens are already here bro, like they are probably here at this fucking party bro.” No name friend finishes his point. Nick holds in his chuckle as his drunk friend rambles.

“Totally bro.” Then his eyes land on you. Fuck, were you staring? Oh well, it’s best to get to the point. You two have been making eyes at each other all night and it’s time to make the next move.

“Hey Nick, wanna grab a drink with me in the kitchen?” you inquire with a sly smile.

Jimin’s eyes widen before he’s smirking “Don’t be silly, wrap that willy.”

Trina and Holly laugh at Jimin’s words while you turn fucking red with embarrassment.

“Sorry about him…” You excuse Jimin, but you continue to smile slyly.

Nick grins with all his teeth as he takes your hand and leads you back inside the house. His hand is much larger than yours and you are already imagining what his beefy fingers will do to your vagina. God, what’s his dick like???

You enter the kitchen and you and him walk towards the cooler full of beers, he lets you stand to the side as he goes to grab them.

“Nick!!!!” you hear a familiar voice and you wince. Jungkook stands next to the cooler, his hand wrapped around the girls hand, but he briefly lets go of it to dap up your fuck for the night.

“What’s up bro!” Nick returns the handshake, a wide smile on his face.

They know each other?

“I thought you said you weren’t coming tonight?” Jungkook’s hand goes back to holding on to the girl.

“I wasn’t going to but,” he nods towards you, “Glad I did.” He winks. Jungkook’s eyes follow Nicks nod and when he sees you stand there awkwardly he goes completely pale. Your eyes meet uncomfortably, Jungkook let’s go of the girls hand without a second thought.

“y/n?” he questions with a pained expression.

“You know her?” Nick asks, totally out of the loop.

You shift from one foot to the other, not really sure what to do or say. So you settle for his name. “Jungkook.” It feels foreign on your tongue. Like if you said it 3 times in a mirror a sinister ghost would come to murder you.

Jungkook opens his mouth then closes it then opens it then closes it again.

“Baaaaabe,” the girl next to him whines, “let’s get out of here already.” She says, not even acknowledging your existence.

Jungkook shamelessly eyes you up and down, his shock is very evident as he looks at you.

You can’t help but smile a little, knowing you look damn good.

“Let’s go too, Nick.” You saunter to his side, grabbing a hold of his bicep.

That’s when Jungkook knocks out of daze, his brows crease as he looks between the two of you.

“Wait—you and Nick?” he asks, completely amused.

“Is that a problem?”

“Nope.” Jungkook looks fucking smug as he smiles, his hand going to grab the girls hand again. “See you later?” he asks you. You of all people! “Uh? Probably not?”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Jungkook winks, turning around to leave as he leads his girl out.

Nick just continues to smile, completely oblivious, “So cool that we all know each other!” he grips on to your waist.

“Wait, how do you know Jungkook?”

“We—”

“Wait, it honestly doesn’t matter. Let’s just get out of here.”

“My place?” Nick breathes into your ear, he pushes your hips into his crotch so you can feel his half hard cock.

“Why are you already getting hard?” you tease, leaning up to kiss his neck.

“Honestly, I can’t stop staring at your tits. And I am imagining all the things I want to do to them.” He confesses hotly.

The uber ride to his place is short, only 10 minutes and it goes by quickly as you two have one another’s tongues down each others throats. His hands traveling all around your body, he even manages to slip his fingers past your panties to feel how wet you are.

“Fuck I can’t wait to get you inside…” his rapid breaths fan across your face as you nibble on his neck.

“Gonna fuck me?” you whisper quietly, not trying to get heard by the Uber driver, but you could also hardly care if he hears you or not, he gets 5 stars.

“Want you to ride me.” He palms his cock through his pants as he imagines you bouncing on his cock for him.

“If you deserve it like a good boy.” You replace his hand with your own, rubbing him ferociously over his jeans. You haven’t felt dick in months and the feeling is driving you absolutely wild, you haven’t felt this needy in a long time.

The Uber comes to a stop, parking in front of an apartment building. He lets the two of you know you reached your destination. You and Nick giggle as you thank him and stumble out of the car as you follow him to his apartment. He would stop every few seconds to plant kisses on your lips and grab your ass with a tight squeeze. He groans and rolls his eyes back as he explores your body.

“Wait til we’re inside,” you breathe out, your voice silky as hell.

Finally, after a short, kiss filled elevator ride later you arrive at his front door. His lips never leaving yours as he pulls out his keys, fumbling with them until he finds the right one.

He pulls away for a second to unlock the door and desperately pushes it open to let the two of you inside. Your lips are already back on his as you two trip into the entry way of the apartment, you walk him backwards, until his back is against a wall.

The apartment is dark besides the living room TV, you take a second to pull back and admire Nick’s fucked out expression, the blue glow of the TV making everything feel surreal.

You dive back in to kiss him, he prods his tongue into your mouth, swirling it around with yours making you moan into his mouth.

“Hi guys!”

Your eyes shoot open, mouth still attached to Nicks. You push your head back, disconnecting from Nick and yank your head to the left where you see a wild Jungkook sitting on the living room sofa, his mouth full of the cereal he is eating. He is wearing the most shit eating grin you have ever seen on him.

“Jungkook?! What the fuck?” You spit out, totally fucking shocked. Like, obviously.

“Hey man…” Nick breathes out heavily, trying to speak properly, “I thought you would be at Vanessa’s tonight?”

“Nah,” Jungkook smiles, “Dropped her off and came home.”

HOME?

“H-Home?” You look between the two guys, what the fuck does he mean by that. This is Nicks place, right?

“Oh you didn’t know?” Jungkook nods his head toward Nick, “Nick here is my beloved roommate.”

“What the fuck…” you mutter under your breath, trying to understand the mother fucking situation. Were you about to fuck Jungkook’s roommate? Are you still going to is the real question?

“Wait, how do you two even know each other?” Nick starts to look antsy, “Don’t tell me she’s one of the girls you’ve fucked…come on bro, leave some for the rest of us.” He chuckles somewhat bitterly.

“No!” you’re quick to say. You begin smoothing out your skirt, then your hair. “We just…”

“y/n is my bestie!” Jungkook grins, putting the cereal down and standing up. He walks forward until he is making a triangle with you and Nick.

“Was.” You spit out harshly, crossing your arms across your chest. Nick just stands there confused as hell, looking between the two of you.

“Anyway, I should get going.” You turn your body to Nick, a look of apology on your face.

“What? We can just go to my room?” he slurs, tugging on his pants uncomfortably, his boner still apparent.

“Sorry, no longer in the mood.”

You pull out your phone to order an Uber when Jungkook takes your phone from you.

“I’m not drunk, I can drive you.” He offers. You push your head back in disbelief, how does Jungkook have the AUDACITY to offer that to you?

“Why the fuck would I want that?”

“So we can…” His eyes slide over to the ever growing confused Nick, “Talk.”

You haven’t spoken to Jungkook in 3 months and today is finally the day you are able to breathe a little easier and he just has to barge back in.

“Like I said,” You snatch your phone back from him, “Why the fuck would I want that?”

Nick shifts around uncomfortably, his eyes darting from you to Jungkook.

“Well, I am gonna head to my room…uh, bye y/n…it was nice meeting you…I guess…”

You and Jungkook both turn your heads toward Nick at the same time, eyes shooting daggers at him.

“Yeah, bye.” Jungkook dismisses his roommate, his jaw clenching.

“Nice to meet you too…”

Nick walks backward until his back meets his bedroom room, he looks at the two of you one last time before turning around to disappear into his room.

“I said, let me drive you home.”

“And I said, why the fuck would I want that?”

“y/n don’t choose now to be difficult.” Jungkook takes a step closer to you, his hands running through his dark, messy hair. His eyes shut in frustration, “I just want to talk to you.”

“And I don’t want to talk to you.” You take a step back, “Plus, how would your girlfriend feel if you took me home?”

Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his mouth setting in a firm line.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Could of fooled me and like, everyone else.” You scoff.

Jungkook bites down on his bottom lip, not knowing what to say. While she’s not his girlfriend she’s also not not his girlfriend. It’s complicated.

“Can I please, just please, can I take you home?”

“No, Jungkook. The fucking audacity,” you scoff again, “You haven’t spoken to me in 3 months,” your voice fucking cracks and you feel like dying. “Don’t start now.”

“y/n…” he runs another frustrated hand down his tired face, “I didn’t mean for it to go this long…” “I don’t fucking care, Jungkook.”

You feel your chest begin to burn, and your eyes begin to gloss over but you won’t cry. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

“I want nothing to do with you.”

You stare at the phone in your hands as you begin ordering your Uber when he yanks it from your hands once again, he hides the phone in his back pocket and you snarl.

“What the hell Jeon?”

“I said I am driving you home so we can talk so that’s what we are gonna fucking do, okay?” he grabs your hand and begins walking you towards the front door. There’s something about Jungkook...you decide to listen. You watch silently as he puts on his shoes and grabs his wallet and keys.

“Okay…” you finally answer, your voice timid.

He said you guys are going to talk but the car ride has been mostly silent save the low radio playing in the background. Maybe it’s better this way, you think. You aren’t sober, that’s for sure but you also don’t think you are drunk enough to handle this properly. You decide maybe that’s also for the best.

“You sir, are a fucking asshole.” You speak up, your fingers playing with the zipper of your purse. The car smells like it always does, his fresh laundry car freshener and you get sucked into a million memories linked with this scent.

“I know.” Jungkook eyes you from the driver seat, you shiver from the running AC and so he turns it down, “There’s a blanket in the back if you want to grab it.”

“No thanks, don’t know where that’s been.”

“It’s clean, I promise.”

Your eyes go wide as you recall his last promise to you…”Just a few days. I promise.”

“Yeah, I don’t actually believe in your promises anymore.” You continue to pick at the zipper of your purse, your eyes never leaving the zig and zag of the material.

“I needed space y/n, fucking sue me.” He groans out, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“Oh I wish I could.” You snap back.

You feel your chest burn and tighten again, your eyes slightly watering. You have to force them shut to keep from any tears growing.

“I called and texted you every day.” You whisper, his grip getting tighter on the steering wheel.

“I gave you a few days Jungkook. But I never heard from you until 11 at night one night telling me you are fucking moving out.”

“I know, that was…fucked up, I admit. But I had to do what I had to do and I just wish you would let me explain that—”

“No.” you cut him off, “You don’t deserve to explain anything.”

“You mean so much to me y/n…”

“Don’t.”

Jungkook pulls over on the side of the road, turning off the ignition.

“What are you doing?” you sputter out.

He clicks his seatbelt off his body and turns to face you, “Getting comfortable.”

“Why?”

“Will you look at me?” Jungkook tilts his head towards you, “Will you please look at me?”

“No.” you stay facing forward, your hands folded in your lap.

“y/n…please.” His voice sounds strained and you almost feel bad. Almost, but not quite.

You don’t need this…you don’t need him. Ouch, you feel pain in your chest as you think that…oh, the lies you tell yourself.

“Say what you need to say Jungkook, so you can take me home.” Your face stays neutral.

Jungkook sighs out, feeling almost defeated, but not quite.

“I…I am so sorry.” He finally says.

“About what?”

“Everything y/n.” his voice cracks and somehow you feel satisfied.

“You’ll have to be more specific if you ever want my acceptance”

“I know…the first thing I am sorry for is not telling you about Taehyung. That was…that was wrong of me—”

“No shit, but go on.” Your voice stays steady as you speak.

“I was worried about other shit, I was selfish and it’s taking me a long time to forgive myself…but I’ve thought a lot about it these last few months and—and…”

“Oh? You’re worried about you forgiving yourself? Shouldn’t you be a little more concerned about I don’t know, me?”

Jungkook frowns at your words, because well, you’re right. And he’s getting to that part but you keep interrupting him. But he lets you.

“Yes. I am most worried about you, of course.” He breathes out. “You have no idea what these 3 months without you have felt like…”

“Really Jungkook? If anyone knows its fucking me. I went 3 months without you too. You left me!” you start to lose your composure as you speak, your hands gripping on to your poor purse. “When I was going through a really hard time you straight up left me.” You whisper.

“Please believe me…I had my reasons. It was truly for the best y/n.”

“For the best?” you scoff. “You’re such an asshole.”

Jungkook winces at your words, he knows you mean them and that hurts him even more.

“Can you just trust me?” Jungkook blurts out.

Huh? You shake your head, disappointed he would say something so …well, ridiculous.

“Just stop, Jungkook.” You hesitantly roll your eyes, still shaking your head.

Jungkook licks his lips over and over, trying to figure out his next words.

“I really really,” he begins to lose it, his eyes darting all around the car. “just need you to trust me.” He blinks repeatedly, his eyes not focusing on anything in particular.

You, of course, do not believe your ears. Trust him? How could you possibly trust him?

“I just really…I really had my reasons y/n. And I’m sorry, but I just need you to just trust me, that I had my reasons and that I do care about you.” His voice is shaky and you’re uncertain how to take this information.

“I’m confused…” you begin, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You want me to trust you? Even after you left me? Even after I ‘threw myself’ at you?!”

“You weren’t in the right head space y/n…you were vulnerable and…and you didn’t actually want me. You just were feeling used and rejected and needed something to make you feel wanted. To feel better. You wanted to use me for that and I couldn’t let you. But how much could I handle? You liked one of my friends, dated him…sort of, even slept with him and I had to be your shoulder to cry on when,” his breathing picks up heavily as he tries to speak, “it doesn’t matter.” He grits out.

You sit there…speechless. He wasn’t wrong, was he? You were feeling lost and rejected and used and you just wanted something or someone to feel better and who better than your best friend? But it’s also his fault you needed things to work out with Taehyung in the first place!

“Jungkook—”

“I’m not done.” He breathes out, his hot breath reaching your skin.

“I needed some space to think. But I realized I couldn’t properly think things through if I saw you every day, so yeah, I moved out. I’m sorry…” He runs a hand through his hair, a light chuckle makes it way past his lips “Then I met Vanessa.”

“I don’t want to talk about your little girlfriend.” You turn to face forward in your seat, your eyes glancing at the stop sign ahead.

“I told you, she’s not my girlfriend. But it is complicated.”

You continue to look straight ahead, your heart racing in your chest. The subject of “Vanessa” making you feel anxious.

“Complicated how?” you gulp.

“Don’t worry about it.” He laughs to himself, you turn your head to look at him.

“Are you serious, Jungkook?”

“We fuck y/n.”

“But it’s more than that right?”

“Yeah…” Jungkook bites down on his lip.

You look at him bewildered.

“Do you like her? Love her?”

You grip your purse in your lap, waiting for his answer. How would you feel if he answers yes? Are you brave enough to endure that answer? And if he says no? should you be happy? Should you feel relieved?

“No.” he closes his eyes, he folds his hands in front of him. “It’s complicated.”

You sign in relief—oh. Relief is the emotion you are feeling. Why? Why should it matter?

“Why are you telling me all of this?” you whisper.

“I want to be friends again, y/n.” he says softly, his eyes searching yours.

This is madness, how the hell could you save this friendship? Your face scrunches up and the first couple of tears slide down your cheeks, you shake your head as they continue to fall.

“You don’t know how this makes me feel…” you cry out. “I don’t even know how it makes me feel.”

You miss him, so fucking much and he’s right here offering himself to you. But you ‘re so hurt.

“y/n…I know I hurt you. But you gotta believe me when I say it is the hardest thing I have had to do…you understand that right? I had to do it…you understand right?” he begs.

“You were so quick to abandon me, Jungkook.” You drop your head into your hands, the tears uncontrollable now.

“I…” Jungkook begins to panic, his own eyes glossing over. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. Please y/n…I can make it up to you.”

“Things would never be the same, you get that right?” you bawl into your lap, your words coming out broken.

“Please baby, I just need you in my life again…” Jungkook admits, his own words choppy. He reaches his hand to touch you, to his surprise you don’t flinch. His hand cups the back of your head and he begins to massage it softly.

“I have missed you so much and nothing I mean nothing can replace you.” He hesitates to continue, “trust me…I have tried.”

You sob into your hands harder, the weight of his words crushing you.

“I’m sorry Jungkook but I…I don’t believe you.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen as he absorbs your words, his mouth falls open in shock. Don’t believe him?

“What—what do you mean? What are you saying?” his panic filled voice makes your stomach churn.

“I reject your offer. Now please take me home.” You lift your head and stare straight ahead. “I’m serious.”

Jungkook face twists into a bewildered expression, he doesn’t believe his ears. You…reject him?

“Wait—”

“I said take me home now.” This time you snap your face in his direction, the cold look in your eyes piercing his very soul.

“Okay.”

Hopeless: the dictionary describes it as without hope ; despairing. But in reality, it’s just a picture of Jungkook’s poor, poor face.

Jungkook parks in his designated spot in the lot of his apartment complex, he reverses in because why the hell not. So extra. His drive home was silent… not even the radio on a low volume keeping him company, just complete silence. He turns the car off but doesn’t make a move to get out, he just continues to sit here in his car and sigh out dramatically every 5 seconds.

He’s so confused and lost on what to do. He bangs his head against the steering wheel a few times just for the hell of it, he just…he didn’t think you would reject him. But honestly? Can he blame you? All he’s done lately is be selfish and mess up over and over again. But he wishes you could just trust him but he also wishes he could just tell you the truth. Maybe then you could understand his position and you wouldn’t be mad at him anymore. But he has to wait.

Jungkook’s head is still banging against the steering wheel when more thoughts of you bombard his mind. His breathing picks up and he starts to sniffle, he doesn’t want to cry but you just…you don’t want anything to do with him. He balls his hands into fists and hit the steering wheel over and over causing the horn to go off a few times but he doesn’t care he’s so upset, he just….

When Jungkook saw you tonight for the first time in 3 months he swears his heart actually stopped. He swears it raced so quickly that it just stopped. He let go of Vanessa’s hand so quickly because he wanted to rush to you and hug you close, he wanted to just feel you. Not having touched your skin for the last 3 months…he doesn’t want to imagine even another day.

A few tears slip past his closed lids, he chuckles darkly as he recalls you and Nick. He thought, wow, the universe is cruel and also hilarious. His fucking roommate? He shakes his head, laughing again but his lips remain downward. He feels so fucking helpless right now. But he deserves this, he deserves to feel this pain. He did this to himself and he’s fully aware of that.

Jungkook thinks of your face, he thinks of your smile, he thinks of your eyes and he cries harder, his tears landing on the steering wheel and sliding down landing on to his lap. Yes, he feels like all hope is lost but he knows he cannot give up. He will win you over again one day. He lifts his head and wipes his tear streaked cheeks with the back of his hand and breathes out steadily.

“y/n…” he whispers to himself. Your name leaves his mouth in frustration. He won’t give up. He can’t.

~~~~

“And they were roommates?!” Jimin shouts, a banana half sticking out of his mouth, Trina gasps and whispers “Oh my god they were roommates.”

“Yeah, it was a total shit show.” You bang your head against your breakfast table. Holly rubs your back as she sits next to you.

“Then what happened?” she pries further.

“Yeah what the hell happened y/n!” Jimin yells out.

“He asked to be friends again…and I totally rejected him. Maybe I was too harsh? He was so sad guys…it makes me think…I might agree to kind of being…friends?”

Jimin shuts his eyes as a frown decorates his face, he places a hand on his hip and he inhales a sharp breath, “Listen…you’re both my friends and of course I want you to be good again…but he hurt you …bad.”

“I know Jiminie, but his reasons…” you bite your lip, “Never mind.”

“Well, I don’t like it.” Trina butts in. “He fucking left you, remember?”

“Yes Trina, I fucking remember—”

“Then fucking act like it!”

“Trina relax,” Holly intervenes. “They have a long history, right? It’s hard to just forget about everything…”

Jimin stands from his chair, hands on both hips. “Fine, if we are doing this…then you better actually try. Don’t half ass shit, if you’re going to be friends then don’t be an asshole to him, don’t make snarky remarks…I know your ass.”

Jimin has a good point, you haven’t actually thought about how you will act.

“I’ll be a good girl.” You raise your right arm to salute him.

“Fucking smart ass.” He rolls his eyes.

“Are we serious right now?” Trina shakes her head, “You moped around for 3 fucking months y/n. You cried every time you even thought of Jungkook…which was a fucking lot.” She points out, “Listen, you stayed strong when you talked to him in the car. Don’t break just because you feel bad for the dude because he’s fucking pitiful. He doesn’t deserve your pity girl. He’s an asshole!”

“Trina, be nice.” Holly says sternly, reaching forward to grab on to Trina’s hand. Trina visibly relaxes and nods her head towards Holly and smiles softly.

You and Jimin share a look. Are they….?

“You…” You slam your eyes shut, Trina’s words ringing loudly in your ears. You know she’s right. “I’ll think about it some more. For now, I gotta get ready for work.”

~~~~

“Doesn’t Hazel look so pretty here?” Adam shoves his phone in your face as he gushes about his girlfriend.

“Yes dude, she’s so pretty.” You deadpan. “Now can you please put the brownies in the oven? We’re low.”

“Wait wait…here’s one of us together at the park.” He nudges his phone in your hands, you roll your eyes but you take it.

The two of them are sitting on a park bench, she’s leaning into his frame and they both have wide smiles on their faces. They seem so in love. And you know they are because fucking Adam reminds you every 20 seconds.

“Their love makes me sick.” Jade walks over, her hands patting down on her work apron, her tone is bland but she still tries to smile. “Like, we get it.”

“Who loves who more?” you begin with a toothy grin, “Adam to Hazel or Lenny to the sugar cookies?” you laugh while pointing at said Lenny stuffing his face with the reject cookies. Jade and Adam chuckle while they stare at him.

“Hey guys, really?” Lenny says with his mouth full. “You know I feel bad when we throw them away.” He pouts, crumbs decorating his lips.

“Lenny I catch you eating fresh ones all the time!” Adam points out.

“Sometimes they’re a little ugly…” Lenny reasons, “So I…”

“You don’t have to explain my guy, you just really love your cookies.” You hand Adam back his phone as you head towards the walk in freezer to take out the brownies yourself. You load up a tray and stick those suckers in the oven.

“You’re useless Adam.” Jade sticks a piece of gum in her mouth and chews obnoxiously “U-s-e-l-e-s-s. Useless.”

“You’re always so mean to me Jade what did I ever do to you?”

All 4 of you shoot your heads up when you hear the bell go off on the door of the bakery, its loud chime signaling the arrival of a customer.

“Oh.” Jade says while popping a bubble. “It’s your usual customer y/n.”

You tilt your head towards the front of the store to get a look at who she is talking about, and yup its him. Your most consistent customer who orders the same damn thing every single day. 2 oatmeal raisin cookies and that’s it.

“Can someone else just take care of him today?” you whine, “I’m not in the mood to argue.”

“You know he’s just going to ask for you…” Lenny says stuffing his face with another cookie.

“God damn it.” You huff out, you grab two gloves from the box on the counter and begin walking towards the front of the store.

You reach the front counter and take in your enemy—you mean, your customer.

“And what do I owe the pleasure Mister Oatmeal Raisin?” you raise a brow towards the man. He’s only a few inches taller than you, his hair is a sandy color today and you hate to admit it looks good on him.

“You know you could just call me by name.” the man sways side to side with a smirk on his face.

“I like Mister Oatmeal Raisin.”

He has been coming to this store for the last couple of months and you two…don’t necessarily get along swimmingly. He complains a lot and is a total smart ass. And you? Well, you’re not much better.

“Well, I’ll have my usual.” He smiles, “And you know the drill, please make sure there is a normal amount of raisins and not a million, I don’t want 8 raisins a bite. But one every now and then.”

You roll your eyes extremely dramatically, pressing the buttons on the screen for his order.

“Sir yes sir.” You salute towards him, “How could I not know the drill?”

“That’s the spirit.”

You spin on your heels and head towards the back to heat up his two cookies. You carefully select one cookie with barely any raisins and one cookie with a million, just like he didn’t want. You cackle to yourself as you place them in the baggy, feeling beyond satisfied.

“How haven’t you gotten fired?” Adam crosses his arms over his chest as he watches you, “And how hasn’t he complained about you? You do this every time I don’t get it.”

“He likes her.” Jade says plainly while scrolling through her phone.

“As fucking if!” you scoff, “He wants nothing but to annoy me!” But you can’t help but smile.

“He literally only asks for you every time you’re in.” Lenny reasons, “but you shouldn’t like him back…he likes the worst cookie on the menu. Sugar is where it’s at.”

You laugh at your coworker while walking back up towards the front of the store, reaching the counter.

“Your cookies!” you hand him the baggy with an evil smirk, “I hope you enjoy them.” You wink.

The man opens the baggy and inspects each cookie and with his own evil smirk he winks back at you, “Are we serious right now?” his sly smile doesn’t leave his face as he begins to complain, “You are such a brat.”

“$4 Mister Oatmeal Raisin.”

He hands you the cash, you put it away quickly and with a wide smile you gesture towards the door for him to leave.

“Min Yoongi.” He shakes the bag of cookies in front of him, “Not Mister Oatmeal Raisin.” He turns around and starts walking towards the door but before he exits he tilts his head to look at you one last time, “See you tomorrow…y/n.”

You feel a harsh blush creep up on your cheeks, or your whole face actually. Maybe your whole body. You feel taken aback he knows your name but then you remember you have a god damn name tag.

“Uh…yeah.”

“See you tomorrow…y/n.” all 3 of your coworkers mock in a deep voice.

“Shut up guys!” you whine into your hands, “Can we please just get back to work!”

~~~~~

A few weeks later

The drive to Jimin’s is a quick 7 minutes but you did take a little detour. You decided to stop at the pizzeria that’s on the way and grab a hot pizza for the two of you.

“Hehe.” You look over to the steamy food sitting in the passenger seat.

Jimin has been such a great friend to you all this time and you feel like you’ve never really thanked him…so, tonight you two are going to have a fun night in—he just doesn’t know it yet.

Who doesn’t love being surprised with food?

You pull up to Jimin’s apartment complex and after driving in circles you finally find a parking spot. You grab your purse, your backpack, and the pizza and make your way up to his apartment.

You knock on his front door a few times but get no answer. Maybe he’s not home? No, you definitely hear music coming from the other side…so, you decide to call him.

“Hello?”

“Jimin~ let me in!” you sing into the phone.

“You’re—you’re here?”

“Let me in already!” and with that you hang up and wait patiently outside the door.

A few moments pass before the door is opening up, when Jimin really registers that it’s you he’s kind of closing the door until only his face is shown through the crack.

“Ummm…yes?”

You quirk a brow at the boy, “What do you mean ‘yes?’ let me in!” you begin walking forward when a panicked Jimin opens the door wider to let himself outside and shut the door behind him.

“y/n…why are you here? Did we have plans tonight?” he looks down at the pizza in your hands.

“Not exactly…” you admit, “But I figured we could have a night in.”

Jimin frowns. Fucking frowns!

“Or not?” you say awkwardly.

You hear some sort of banging on the other side of the door and then it clicks.

“Oh? You have someone over?” you smirk.

“Uhhh…no. Nothing like that.” Jimin’s eyes slide to the side as he tries to think of what to say next.

“Babe—”

“Jimin!”

The door is being swung wide open and your eyes travel from some horrendous toes socks to some tight jeans to a striped t shirt to yes, Jungkook’s surprised face.

“Oh.” You both say at the same time.

You and Jungkook stare at one another for a few moments, neither of your eyes leaving the other when Jimin clears his throat.

“Sorry y/n. Jungkook is already over…” he gives you an apologetic smile.

“Is it just you two?” you ask quietly.

“Huh? Uh, yeah.”

You glance down at the pizza and think to yourself. You and Jungkook may not be friends but you can be civil? Yeah, totally! You can definitely be civil! You already bought this fucking pizza so you and Jimin are going to eat it! And you guess, Jungkook too.

“Okay, let me in.” you start shoving your way past Jimin, you watch as his and Jungkook’s eyes go wide.

“Maybe you didn’t hear him, but I am already hanging out with him?” Jungkook sputters out. He awkwardly moves to the side anyway to let you through.

“I can be civil with you Jungkook. Plus, I don’t want this pizza to go to waste. So let’s eat.” You walk through, nudging the pizza box into Jungkook’s hands, he takes it while looking at Jimin with shocked eyes.

Jimin just shrugs and follows you inside.

“Yeah, let’s eat.” He says nonchalantly.

Jungkook is left at the door with the pizza in his hands as he is left completely dumbfounded. He is malfunctioning.

“Jungkook?” you call out over your shoulder, “Hurry up, I’m hungry!”

“Yeah, Jungkook hurry up!” Jimin smirks, he isn’t totally sure what’s going on but he kind of likes it.

“So what were you guys doing before I got here?” you shove an entire slice of pizza down your throat, the sauce getting left behind on your lips.

“I was teaching Jungkook some of my dance moves…we made a bet that he couldn’t learn the entire routine in 3 times…and—”

“Let me guess, he fucking learned it.” You laugh.

Jimin groans, his head thrown back as he begins nodding his head ‘yes.’

“So annoying! What can’t he do!” Jimin throws the pizza crust in the box and Jungkook immediately picks it up and eats it.

“Pshh, I could name a few things.” You point out bitterly. “But we won’t get into that.”

“Yeah, please don’t.” Jimin pleads.

“I’m curious…what is it you think I cant do?” Jungkook quirks a brow at you and your eyes darken in his direction.

“You really want me to?” you take a napkin and wipe your lips, “It’s nothing nice.” You admit.

“Oh then yes, please don’t.” Jungkook is quick to say.

“Yes, please don’t.” Jimin begs again.

The 3 of you are sitting on the living room floor, maybe only 30 minutes or so has passed by and it’s not too awkward. But it’s not necessarily comfortable either. Jimin looks between you and Jungkook constantly, waiting for someone to crack but neither of you really speak to each other. Both of you really only communicating with Jimin.

“So Jimin, are you going to show me another routine?”

“Why? So you can prove you’re the master of everything again? No thanks.”

“Jimin, maybe you can show me a few steps?”

Jimin smiles awkwardly while Jungkook is quick to burst out laughing. You snap your head towards Jungkook and raise your brows at him.

“Why is Jungkook laughing, Jimin?”

“Umm…” Jimin smiles softly, “You aren’t the most…”

Jungkook laughs harder as he watches Jimin trying to explain.

“Aren’t the most…?” You tilt your head towards the boy.

“C’mon y/n don’t make me say it…” Jimin drags out his words in a whine, he plays with his fingers, looking around the room awkwardly.

“Just say it Jimin.” Jungkook chuckles out.

“If you’re trying to say I’m a bad dancer, we all know that’s not true!” you defend once you catch on, you pout at the boys.

“Well…”

“You have both told me I am a good dancer!”

“Well, you know how to move. But steps…following a routine…that’s different. You aren’t very coordinated.” Jimin finally admits, a sheepish grin on his face.

“He means you can roll your hips but your feet are clumsy as fuck.” Jungkook says, still laughing at the situation.

“Shut up.” You glare at Jungkook.

“No, he’s right.” Jimin begins laughing as well, he looks at you and smiles. Well, if Jimin is saying it…maybe it might be true. It’s not like you didn’t kind of know. But still!

“Fine, whatever. Don’t teach me then.”

Suddenly, Jimin’s phone is going off and he rushes to the kitchen to answer it. You and Jungkook eat your pizza in silence, awkwardly catching one another’s gaze.

“So—”

“Don’t talk to me.” You cut in. Jimin isn’t here so it’s not like you have to be totally social with Jungkook.

“Oh.” Jungkook dramatically slumps his shoulders and pouts. You watch him as he throws a silent fit like the baby he is. “Okay.”

Jimin walks back into the living room looking annoyed, he stands between you two and throws a hand on his hip.

“I have to go down to the front office, there was a mix up in packages…I shouldn’t take too long…” he bites down on his plump bottom lip, “Please be civil while I’m gone. Jungkook…” he looks at the boy then at you, “y/n…” he warns.

“Sir yes sir!” you salute towards your friend with a straight face.

Jimin only narrows his eyes as he looks between you two.

“I’m serious…” he says.

Then he is putting on some shoes and heading out the front door, the soft click making you shudder. You’re alone with Jungkook.

A few minutes pass and you both awkwardly just sit there, sometimes catching the other looking. You finally huff out and accidentally giggle.

“What’s funny?” Jungkook’s curiosity getting the best of him.

“It’s just…I feel like we’re Jimin’s divorced parents and we’re trying to be civil for our child.”

Jungkook stares at you with scrunched brows, then looks away while a chuckle escapes his lips.

“Yeah. You’re right.”

You only nod your head in response. You two go back to the awkward silence.

You aren’t used to this…this awkward and odd silence that lingers between you two. It feels so fucking suffocating you almost wish you were on total talking terms so you didn’t have to endure this shit show.

“You know I could…no, forget it.” Jungkook bites his nails as he speaks, “I…”

“What?” you don’t mean to snap at him, but somehow even talking with an attitude feels better than not talking at all.

“I was going to say…I could teach you some steps…then you could surprise Jimin. He’s been working on a salsa piece…I can teach you some? Then maybe he will stop talking shit on your dancing.” Jungkook laughs awkwardly.

“Wait—he talks shit?!” somehow this doesn’t surprise you in the least.

“Only a little.” Jungkook shows you how little with his pointer finger and thumb. “But uh, want me to show you?”

“I don’t even want to talk to you, you think I want to dance with you?” you raise a brow in amusement. You forget this boy has all the audacity.

“Dancing doesn’t have to have any talking.” Jungkook states with a sly smile.

“So you’re just going to show me the steps?”

“Precisely.”

You don’t know why, but this sounds better than actually speaking and/or just sitting in miserable silence. And maybe, just maybe you have a desire to be close to him.

“You think I could learn in time before Jimin gets back?”

“With me as your teacher? Definitely.” He fucking smirks at you and you can’t help but feel that feeling in your stomach. Not necessarily a bad feeling but a fucking feeling.

Jungkook stands to his feet and extends his hand out to you for you to take.

“Here, stand up.”

Your eyes travel from his hands to his eyes and you blink lazily at him…wait, you’re really doing this? He stares down at you and he smiles softly and it creates a warmth in your chest that you’re trying so hard to ignore. You can’t.

Even so, you hesitantly begin to reach up to grab on to his hand, once your skin touches his you feel it. The burning. You should be used to it but right now, the fire is raging and the heat is almost too much. But you let him close his hand over yours as he helps you up.

You’re now standing in front of one another, in complete silence again. But this time it’s not awkward—no, it’s a different type of tension. Your hand lingers in his, neither of you brave enough to let go of the other. Jungkook looks down at you and you up at him, and you feel a million things. But the number one thing you feel is pain. You slowly pull your hand back and break eye contact with him, your head dropping low.

“Show me already.” You whisper.

“Shh, no talking.” Jungkook quietly demands. “Only speak with your body.” He puts some music on the speakers and smirks at you.

Jungkook steps closer to you and you stay grounded in your spot, you can feel the heat of his body begin to radiate and warm you. One of his hands find yours, he weaves his fingers through your own and puts one hand on your hip, he looks down at you to warn you this is how he will guide you.

“Just follow me.”

“You said no talking Mr.Jeon.” you say almost under your breath as you stare into his eyes. Jungkook rolls his head back with a smirk on his face, he looks at you and nods.

He puts his left foot forward and steps with his right foot in the same place at center, then puts his left foot back again. You try to copy his moves but even with such simple steps you step on his feet. He looks up at you disapprovingly. You only smile at him.

You two continue to try these steps until you finally manage to understand them even just a little bit. Jungkook brings your body closer to his as you two move your hips to the music while following the simple steps. His chest flush against your own, his heart beating so loudly you can feel it. Your heart isn’t any better. You start to finally get the hang of it, the music slowly taking you to another place. Jungkook moves his hips to the beat so flawlessly and honestly? You’re doing pretty fucking good if you do say so yourself.

Jungkook’s grip on your hip tightens as he grinds himself closer to you, you feel lightheaded as you two dance to the song. Your breathing getting just a little heavier and you feel lost and pathetic but you’re too immersed in the dance to care. Jungkook finds his head falling into the crook of your neck, his hot breaths fanning against your sensitive skin and you find your hand skimming up his back until you have a handful of his hair. You lightly tug on his locks and Jungkook quietly groans. You don’t know if you’re even doing the right steps anymore, your feet moving all around the place, but somehow it’s working. You’re still following his lead and you’re sure the dance looks somewhat okay. All you care about is how both of your hips move to the beat of the music and into each other. You two are so in sync its driving you nuts.

Jungkook lifts his head and watches as you close your eyes and he closes his own eyes, his head falling forward, your foreheads close to touching. You feel so dizzy, so light and airy, so fucking great like you’re floating. You can’t help but feel the heat creep up your entire body, you feel sweat start to build as you two move. You tighten your hands around Jungkook’s neck and pull him down impossibly close, until his forehead is touching yours. Your harsh breaths mingling with his. You get dragged into the memory of when he had you pinned to his dorms mattress, you recall how his lips left kisses all along your throat, his hot breath reminding you of the past. You think of how he rolled his hips into you effortlessly then as well, you think of how you scraped your nails down his back as he thrusted into you. God, you need to think of something else but Jungkook is filling your mind.

Jungkook’s breathing picks up again, as does yours. Your memories making this dance that much more sensual. You remember the way Jungkook nibbled on your ear as he let filthy words spill from his mouth when he fucked you. God, you should not be thinking this but his body feels so good. God, you should think of anything…literally anything else. You remember how he held you close much like how he is right now. You two continue dancing to the song that is soon coming to an end. You know exactly how it feels to have Jungkook inside you, moving and stilling. You know exactly what it feels like to come all around his cock. God, you need to stop. You need to slow your breathing. God, you…you…you...he continues to guide you along to the music when you feel something hard poke against you. Oh. Oh. OH. Hard. He’s hard.

Immediately, you pull back and take several clumsy steps backward. You blink at him with wide eyes when you realize that maybe he was recalling the same memories as you. Your wide eyes concerning Jungkook.

“Okay, that’s enough lessons for today.” Your harsh breaths don’t go unnoticed by Jungkook, his own breathing quite unsteady.

“Right.” Jungkook mumbles.

You two stand around for a few moments, just taking in the experience you just shared.

You still feel…how do you feel? You just shared a hot dance with your best friend? Wait—ex best friend? You don’t know. The memory of his body moving with yours, his skin touching your skin, his breaths on your neck, his hair balled up in your hands. God, it felt so good.

But so wrong.

“Umm…thanks.” You finally say.

Jungkook perks up at the gratitude, even if it’s somewhat forced. His frown turns into a small smile and you can’t help but smile back.

“I miss you y/n.” Jungkook instantly regrets it by the look on your face. Your expression turning hard. “Sorry I—”

“No, I miss you too.” You answer honestly. “But this doesn’t change anything.”

“But why not? Do you really not want me in your life for like, ever?”

Jungkook’s questions settle deep within you. The depth they hold…it’s too much. You wonder? Is this anti-Jungkook thing permanent? Or are you just trying to teach him a lesson?

Jungkook rubs his temples as he thinks, he sighs out instead of talking more.

“Not forever.” You finally say. Jungkook looks at you, a sliver of hope flashes across his face.

“But when?” he asks softly.

Yeah y/n. When? You know you both can’t go back to how things use to be but maybe starting over? God, you don’t know what to do! You know someone like Trina will be disappointed you became friends with Jungkook again so quickly, but you know someone like Jimin would be happy his two friends are back to being on okay terms. Why are you trying to please everybody? What do you want?

“Will you ever give up?” you say a little more lightly.

“No…” he says under his breath, his eyes focusing on the TV. “Not until you agree to be my friend again.”

You look at Jungkook with disbelief written all over your face, this boy has the fucking audacity once again. You’re amused though.

“Excuse me?” you say, cleaning your ear out with your point finger. “I didn’t catch that.”

Jungkook looks into your eyes, his eyes are large and doe like and it brings you back to every moment ever that he has given you this look.

“You’re stuck with me until you love me again.” He says more firmly.

“Who said,” you look at him with soft eyes, “That I ever stopped loving you?”

Jungkook smiles, he fucking smiles. His adorable bunny smile that makes your heart race.

“You still love me?”

“Only a little.” You jut your lip out, “I mostly hate you.”

Jungkook only frowns for a second before he is smiling again, “That’s fair.”

The two of you stand in comfortable silence for a few minutes, you sway back and forth wondering what you want to say to him—you miss him, of course but…

“Let’s take it slow.” You finally break the silence. You miss him more than anything and it might be worth it to have him in your life again, “You aren’t going to be a priority in my life anymore.” You crack you knuckles, the sound filling up the room.

“I know,” Jungkook feels his heart twist at your words but at least it’s something. “We can go however slow you want y/n.”

“You are on—”

“Thin fucking ice, buddy. I know.”

You exhale a shaky breath, thinking about how to go about this, “We can text every now and then, I’m not sure I want to hang out with you quite yet.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe a group hang out first…”

“I’d like that.”

Jungkook reaches over to grab your hand but you pull back, “That’s a no from me for the affection.”

Hurt flashes across Jungkook’s features but he softens up as he nods his head. “Noted.”

You wonder if you’re making the right decision. This wasn’t easy, you know? This actually felt quite hard. But somehow you feel like some weight has been lifted off your shoulders, like things maybe just maybe will be okay.

“I won’t push myself on you, I promise.” Jungkook sits back down on the floor, crossing his legs.

“Just be yourself, Jungkook.”

“If I wanted to be myself I would be hugging you right now but that’s apparently off limits.” He jokes.

“One hug.” You open your arms timidly. You feel one hug can’t be too bad?

Jungkook widens his eyes in pleasant surprise. He stands to his feet again and opens his own arms.

“C’mere.”

You watch in disbelief as he grins with his arms wide open, expecting you to go to him! And you do. You fucking do.

His arms wrap around you, he pushes you into his chest and you feel so fucking good. So warm, so cozy. His scent making you feel dizzy again, his warmth causing you to heat up. You lean back and look at his content face, he honestly looks so fucking content. Like, this hug is everything to him. And maybe it is, but you don’t know that.

“Uh, am I interrupting something?” you both snap your heads toward the front door to see Jimin standing there with a package in his hands.

“I can come back later?” he smirks at you two.

“No no no no!” you drop your arms from hugging Jungkook and take a few steps back, “We were just—”

“We made up, Jimin.” Jungkook says calmly with the softest smile you’ve ever seen on him.

“We’re taking it slow!” you rush to say.

“Oh?” Jimin winks, he walks forward until he’s in the living room joining you two. “Does this mean you will be joining us this Thursday at Jungkook and Nick’s place?”

“Huh?”

Jungkook shifts on his feet, “Yeah, uh, me and Nick are having a small get together on Thursday…you can bring whoever you want…but you’re definitely invited.”

“Before I answer that…Jimin how did you not know about Nick and him being Jungkook’s roommate?”

“Listen! Jungkook is always HERE! I never go over there! The few times I was there Nick was never home okay?!” Jimin whines obnoxiously.

“Okay, whatever. And Jungkook, I said—”

“You said group hang outs.” Jungkook pouts.

Oh. You did say that. But this soon? And is she going to be there?

You chew on your lips before answering, “Okay. But I’m bringing Trina and Holly.”

“Oh bro, Trina is not your biggest fan.” Jimin cuts in.

“Yeah, I know how she is I already anticipated that.” Jungkook shrugs, he looks at you with a small smile.

Okay, starting over? Taking it slow? Can you and Jungkook do this? You look between the boys and smile,

“Okay. See you boys on Thursday.”

#bts #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #taehyung angst

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hangovercurse · 4 years ago

Text

Live from New York

You’re hosting SNL and get close with one of the cast members

Request: “hi! can you do something about pete where the reader is hosting snl and throughout the week they’re flirting with each other but she’s unsure if they should date and he convinces her? maybe a combo of fluff/angst/smut? it can be whatever :,)”

Pete x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: I told myself I wasn’t going to take that long on this one and then I ended up watching an entire documentary on the making of an SNL episode because I wanted to be as accurate as possible… someone stop me pls

Word Count: 2834

Monday

Despite being a swiftly rising actress, you hated being the enter of attention. You’d always gotten anxious as a kid when a teacher made you stand in front of the class for presentations or during first-day introductions. So being front and center in a room of 30 people who were all there to study and try to impress you was not something you found pleasant.

“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You spoke timidly to the crowded room, people clapping from their spots on the floor or various couches around the room, “it’s great to be here.”

Lorne cleared his throat, “alright, let’s start with you, Anna.”

You looked around the room as a young woman pitched the first sketch of the night, listening intently to her ideas while trying to match faces with the names Lorne had given you earlier. Then your eyes locked with a pair of deep brown ones, the man wearing a soft smile on his face. He radiated gentle energy despite the tattoos you could see running down his arms.

The pitches continued with an air of lightheartedness and fun. You found nearly everything funny, so you couldn’t even begin to imagine how you were going to cut any of the sketch pitches.

After a lull in ideas, Lorne announced that cast members could now pitch ideas for Weekend Update character appearances. The man you’d taken an interest in earlier, who you’d since learned was named Pete Davidson, pitched a new set of characters for you and him.

“You know those weird stoner kids in high school who were always hanging out in the parking lot and acted really weird and mysterious? Those characters who just give really vague answers to anything you ask and act like they’ve seen some shit when they have the most normal home lives.”

You giggled, knowing the exact kinds of kids he was talking about. Colin and Michael also chuckled, writing the idea down with some notes of their own. Soon after that, everyone went back to pitching regular sketches, Jost and Che pitching an unusual number of sketches featuring you and Pete.

After a few long hours, the session wrapped; everyone leaving the office space except for you and Lorne, “so, what did you think?”

You chuckled lightly, “you have some seriously talented people on this show, Mr. Michaels. I don’t understand how you guys write an entire show every week.”

“We all work very hard; I’ll tell you that. Now, talk to me. Anything you really liked or really hated?”

You shrugged, “you’re the comedy mastermind, I know nothing. But I thought that weird kids from high school bit was pretty funny.”

Lorne nodded, “So did Jost and Che it seems. Sometimes the kid has a good idea.” You giggled at his reference to Pete as “the kid.” He sighed, “anything else? I noticed you liked that proposal sketch.”

“Yeah, that one was super funny. I will say, I wasn’t too in love with the dad-teacher one, but I would have no problem with it being done with someone else as the daughter.”

Lorne and you spent the rest of the workday discussing the different sketch ideas that came up and gauging what type of comedy suited you best. Before you left, he introduced you to Donna, your dresser who would be helping you out throughout the week.

Tuesday

After a quick tour of the studio by Donna, you were given a list of cast members and writers who wanted to meet with you to get ideas about sketches. You first stepped into a small room with a desk and futon, Donna introducing you to Chloe Fineman and Celeste Yim.

Chloe smiled brightly at you, “okay, so we were thinking that we could do something where I bring you to a sleepover with some friends that you don’t know. But at some point, you try to go to sleep because you have a soccer tournament in the morning but everyone else is being loud and it turns into this big overdramatic argument.”

You giggled softly, “I love that!”

After writing with them for a while, you were whisked away to room after room, finally landing in Colin Jost and Michael Che’s office, where they were hunched over a computer with Pete.

Colin smiled at you, “hey Y/N, how’s your day been?”

“Busy, how are you guys?”

The men responded with variations of “good,” before Michael spoke, “I know it’s late, so don’t feel obligated to stay longer than you’re comfortable with.”

You shrugged, “what time is it? It doesn’t feel that late.”

Pete laughed, teasing Colin and Michael, “c’mon guys, don’t you know that the young people of New York don’t sleep?”

You giggled in agreement as Colin frowned, “I’m only 38, that’s not that old.”

“I’m only 26, Colin,” you said, laughing at the men.

Michael patted Colin on the shoulder, “Jost, we’re getting old.”

Colin frowned before clearing his throat, “anyways, we had a couple ideas for some sketches with you and Pete, if you’re up for it, and we wanted to hash out your weekend update appearance.”

You smiled and nodded, “yeah, that sounds great.”

The rest of the night (and into the early morning) was spent with the three men, eventually joined by Heidi Gardner and Kyle Mooney to work them into the scripts. A majority of the writing process was simply messing around with various sketch situations until someone found a joke that worked best.

Pete watched you carefully the entire night, doing everything in his power to make you laugh. You had no complaints, doing your best to not openly flirt with him in front of the rest of the cast (and failing quite miserably).

Wednesday

Wednesday was the designated day for the roundtable readthrough. You took a place between Pete and Lorne, who began the reading, “we’ve got 41 sketches so let’s get started.”

The table read was just like any other you’d been through; Lorne wasting no time between sketches to discuss or joke. You struggled with containing your laughter throughout the reading, trying to act professionally. It didn’t help that Pete was making jokes any chance he got, eliciting even more giggles from you.

The three hours seemed to take no time at all as sketch after sketch was read out loud. Every so often you would catch Lorne looking at you with an eyebrow raised, usually after you read one of the sketches with Pete.

After everyone was dismissed, you were led to Lorne’s office with the head writers and producers. There was a large wall covered in sticky notes with each sketch’s name written on one. Lorne turned to you, “what do you think?”

You scanned the wall, listing off some of the sketches that you really liked, though most of them were great, so you had trouble narrowing them down.

Lorne let out a small laugh, “you guys noticed how she picked out the sketches with Pete in them, too, right?”

Your face went hot, immediately turning to face the ground. Colin and Michael chuckled, “we noticed,” the latter commented.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, Y/N, just wanted to point it out to you.” Lorne teased before turning back to the wall and thinking.

You giggled, “you guys suck.”

As embarrassed as you were, your anxiety was surprisingly low. You had been worried about hosting since you got the invite, but the cast and crew had been nothing but kind to you. Even just being able to make jokes like this with the writers made you feel oddly comforted.

You worked on narrowing down which sketches to keep for rehearsals and which ones were going to get cut immediately, a job that was very easy for Lorne but very difficult for you.

Eventually you got it down to enough sketches that Lorne was satisfied and he sent out the list to the cast. He led you out of his office, “you know, you have a real affinity for comedy,” he told you. “I don’t know if you’ve ever thought about sketch comedy, but from that read through you seem to know what you’re doing.”

You blushed slightly, thanking him, “we’ll see if you’re still saying that on Saturday.”

He chuckled, “have a good night.” You waved at him as you walked towards the exit, running into none other than Pete Davidson.

“Hey, you headed out?”

You smiled, “yeah, just got out of my meeting with Lorne. Did you get a chance to look at the revised sketch schedule?”

Pete nodded, walking with you to the door of the theater, “yeah, I noticed you kept a lot of our sketches in there,” he bumped your shoulder, a playful smirk on his face.

A giggle rolled from your lips, “what can I say? We’re funny together.”

He raised an eyebrow, watching as you flagged down your taxi, “whatever you say.”

“Are you complaining about having to work with me?” You asked, opening the door.

He chuckled, “oh yeah. I am just dreading tomorrow.” Sarcasm laced his words, making you laugh.

“Goodnight, Pete.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Thursday

Donna ushered you around all day, making sure you were in the rehearsal space when you needed to be and supporting you from the side. This part of the process came naturally to you, as it was the most similar to rehearsing and filming on movie sets.

When you weren’t rehearsing a scene, you were hanging out with Pete. It was strange how easily you got along, your humors aligning almost perfectly. Not to mention he was a huge flirt and was making it more and more obvious with you. You flirted right back, earning looks of amusement from Lorne throughout the day.

The day was a whirlwind, and by the time you were able to go home, you were exhausted. Pete walked you out to the street again, talking about one of the sketches that went wrong earlier until your taxi pulled up. This time he opened the door for you and helped you inside, “see you tomorrow.”

You smiled up at him, “bright and early.”

Friday

After hours of rehearsing, you plopped onto the couch in Pete’s dressing room, where you had found yourself a home over the past few days, “I don’t know how you guys do this every week. I’ve been here for four days and I’m exhausted.”

Pete chuckled, “to be fair, you’re the host. The key is to try and only get one sketch into the show so that you don’t have to do anything during the week.”

You laughed, letting a comfortable silence fall over you. Pete studied you, taking in your tired appearance, “you’re doing great though, being a host. I’ve seen some people come in and try to take control of everything and then no one has fun. You’re really good at just letting the comedy speak for itself. Not many people do that.”

Shrugging, you responded, “I mean, I’m not a comedian, I’m just an actor. You guys come up with everything. I don’t know enough to try and control things around here, I just do what I can to make your visions come to life. I figured that’s what a host should do.”

Pete nodded, “yeah, but again, a lot of people want their SNL episode to look a certain way. You don’t seem to care.”

“I just want to have fun, honestly.”

He smirked, “are you?”

You looked up to him with a smile on your face, “definitely.”

Suddenly the speaker in the room rang out, “Y/N and Pete to main stage 1.”

Groaning, you lifted yourself from the couch, Pete watching you with amusement, “c’mon Ms. Host, we’ve got a show to rehearse.”

Saturday

The day was hectic; filled with rehearsal after rehearsal. Lorne and Donna made sure that you were comfortable all day, but you could feel the stress radiating from every inch of the studio.

Stronger than that, though, was the sense of excitement buzzing around everyone. You were fit into more costumes than you could count, all leading up to the final dress rehearsal of the night in front of the live studio audience.

Dress ran smoothly, but you could see Lorne cutting lines from sketches from stage out of the corner of your eye. Luckily, Pete distracted you from all the anxious energy. “I know Lorne looks like a psychopath, but that’s just what he does. Everything’s fine, don’t stress about it,” he said over dinner.

You chuckled, “thanks. I feel so out of my league this week.”

“I told you, you’re great. Everyone here loves you. I heard Lorne talking about wanting you back as soon as possible.”

Rolling your eyes, you responded, “yeah right, I’m never gonna do anything big enough to get me on this show again.”

Pete laughed, “you could always make guest appearances with me on the Weekend Update.”

“You aren’t sick of me already?” you joked.

After dinner you were paraded around by Donna, who got you into your style for opening monologue. She smiled at you through your dressing room mirror, “how are you feeling?”

You gave her a nervous smile, “terrified, but ready.”

The lady chuckled, “you’ll do great. I’ll be right offstage if you need anything.”

“Thank you, for everything this week.”

She squeezed your shoulders, “don’t mention it, though if you really want to thank me, go ask that Davidson boy out on a date.”

Your eyes went wide, “Donna!”

A chuckle rang out through the room, “what? I say it for your own good.”

She led you through a maze of hallways and tunnels until you were in place to walk onstage, the speaker announcing your name to the audience followed by cheers.

Exactly 90 minutes later you were gathered with the cast on stage, “thank you to Fletcher, Lorne Michaels, this amazing cast and crew, and thank you all for watching. Goodnight everybody!”

You turned to Pete, who was standing beside you and let him pull you in for a hug, “you did it!” he cheered.

You passed around the cast, giving hugs to as many people as you can before Lorne announced, “that’s a wrap on Y/N Y/L/N and Fletcher!”

Everyone cheered, clapping for you and your musical guest before heading to their dressing rooms to change into their night clothes. You went back to your own dressing room, taking a moment to bask in the feeling of accomplishment.

A knock on your door pulled you out of your haze, “come in!”

Pete entered the room, a wide smile on his face, “congrats!” You let him pull you in for another hug, “so I know that there’s supposed to be this big party after the show, but I was wondering if you’d let me take you to dinner instead?”

Your breath got caught in your throat, those words being the last thing you expected to hear from him. Of course, you wanted to say yes because you did, truthfully, really like him. But part of you was hesitant.

You’d dated your fair share of celebrities, and things always ended very publicly and typically poorly. On top of that, you couldn’t help but feel that this might be happening a bit too quick. You started to doubt that he would still have feelings for you in a week since he wouldn’t be around you nearly all the time.

And then there was the issue of your insane work schedules. Having just lived through his, you weren’t sure if you would be able to keep a relationship like that.

“Pete, I think you’re amazing and I really like you, I just-“

Pete nodded his head, cutting you off, “I know we only met like a couple of das ago, but people go on dates with literal strangers all the time.”

You sighed, “it’s not that, Pete, it’s just that…” you paused, searching for words, “things like this tend to be very public with me, and I really don’t want to have a relationship where there’s all this pressure by the media to be perfect.”

He shrugged, “I get that, but it’s just dinner. And we can go somewhere quiet and private, no one has to know. And if things go further then we’ll just keep it on the down low until you’re ready. Trust me, I know what a public relationship is like, I’m not a huge fan either.”

“Yeah, but what about your work schedule. I mean, I’ve only lived in your world for six days and I want to sleep for a month. How do you even hold a relationship on this schedule?”

Pete moved closer to you, fingers grazing your arm, “we can make it work. I promise. Just give me one date, and if it’s not the best first date of your life, you have no further obligations to me.”

You giggled lightly, leaning into his touch, “I’m only saying yes because you’re kinda cute.”

He smiled down at you, eyes twinkling, I’ll take it.”

#pete davidson #pete davidson imagine #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson fluff #snl

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mickey-henry · 3 years ago

Note

Hey love,

Can you do something with roommate! Bucky surprising you on your birthday and making it special? 🥺💞

hi sky!! this is SO PRECIOUS!! 🥺 I combined this lovely idea with the request for @mostly-marvel-musings for a birthday with bucky so here it is! (also I couldn't wait for headcanon wednesday; I got too excited!) 💖

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬

you weren’t expecting much for your birthday this year. all of your family is too far away and none of your friends were available to hang out. at this rate, you were planning on just cuddling up on the couch with a pizza and your favorite bottle of wine.

however, your roommate bucky believed you deserved all of the hype, so he got to work on planning a special celebration for the two of you.

you groggily shuffle to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face.

you open the bedroom door, surprised by the smells wafting your way. bucky's making breakfast?

you reach the kitchen and finally remember what today is: your birthday.

party decorations are haphazardly set up; he tried his best, but he does not have an eye for interior design

the banner is lopsided, the streamers look a little silly, the balloons are chaotically placed around

the table is set neatly with a matching set of plates, cups, napkins, and cutlery that match your apartment’s aesthetic

his lack of taste is why your shared apartment is covered with succulents, cacti, and your paintings.

it seems that bucky had a secret plan in the works. you wonder how he hid all of this from you; this boy tells you everything.

he tried his best and it warms your heart. this definitely isn’t helping with your secret feelings you’ve been harboring for him since you met.

you turn to the kitchen table to see a wonderful spread of breakfast potatoes, scrambled eggs, delicately placed slices of honeydew and cantaloupe, and pancakes with blueberry smiley faces baked in the middle.

bucky is frantically working in the kitchen wearing only boxers and an apron that says “kiss da cook”

it looks like he’s trying to bake you a cake and is failing miserably; he’s made a mess of his face, his apron, and the kitchen

dishes lay everywhere and somehow flour is on the cabinets? you don’t know how he managed that. bucky’s cat, alpine, is enjoying watching bucky’s crazed state from the top of the refrigerator

“whatcha doin’ there, buckaroo?” you ask as you approach him.

“good mornin’ dove! i’m sorry about the mess, I thought i’d be done before you woke up and clearly I was wrong. whoever said that baking isn’t rocket science is a fucking liar because how the hell did I mess up such a simple recipe?! it has like eight steps—”

“i’m sure it’s going to be wonderful, bucky. I can’t believe you did all of this for me?”

“of course I did, my best girl deserves the world,” he answers sheepishly, running his hand through his messy hair.

his pet names make you fall harder each time he says one. being in love with your handsome roommate is getting exhausting.

“come and eat! I can finish this cake after we eat,” he insists as he pulls a chair out for you. he serves you a plate of food and pours you a cup of coffee before you can insist otherwise.

your coffee is made just the way you like it. your heart flutters—you’ve never told him how you take it, so he must’ve paid attention when you made it in front of him

you take a bite of the pancakes and stifle a moan, “holy shit bucky, this is so good.”

after you eat three plates of food (you couldn’t resist his smile when he offered you more), he runs to grab your present

the wrapping is a bit chaotic, but it gets the job done

he made a handcrafted card out of your craft supplies you leave all around the compartment

he knows how much you love succulents and cacti so he tried to paint them in watercolor

they look more like green blobs but its still the prettiest artwork you’ve ever seen because it’s from the boy you love with all your heart

the message inside makes your heart race

my dove, happy birthday! I hope this is the best one yet. I know you wanted to do more this year, but when we’re done with today, you won’t be missing anyone. I’m so glad that we met and I love living with you. you’re my best friend and I couldn’t imagine my life without you. you’re the best! -your buckaroo

a tear trickles down your cheek as you thank him

he looks at you with eager eyes as you unwrap his gift

it’s a scrapbook filled to the brim with pictures of the two of you, ticket stubs, and mementos from your adventures together

“I knew that these would be important to hold onto,” he murmurs, running a nervous hand behind his head and through his hair.

“bucky, this is so wonderful and special. thank you,” you whisper.

“I wanted it to be special because you’re special,” he says. he takes a deep breath before continuing, “there’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you, dove. you mean the world to me, as you know from what I just gave you, and I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t tell you how I feel. I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment we met and it gets harder to hide it everyday.”

you just stare at him silently, completely shocked.

after an agonizing minute passes, you finally mutter, “you’ve liked me this whole time?”

“uh, yeah, I have.”

you scoff. he looks hurt.

“no, wait! i’m not laughing at you. bucky, i’ve felt the same way this whole time.”

“you have?!”

“yes!!”

“we’re idiots.”

“yeah we are, but you’re my idiot, buckaroo.”

he finally kisses you, so sweetly and passionately. it’s everything you ever dreamed of and the best gift you could’ve asked for.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #thefanbasewhore #mostly-marvel-musings #mickey henry's headcanons

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the-iceni-bitch · 4 years ago

Text

Puppy Love

Pairing: Jake Jensen/Fem-Reader

Words: 4684

Summary: You and Jake Jensen work together for the first time on a recon mission. You’re the consummate professional, while Jake is basically a man-child with a heart of gold. Will he be able to soften your cold demeanor?

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of violence, SMUT, 18+

A/N: I ended up be a little later than I had planned with this one as I wanted to do some edits since the first draft didn’t seem quite right to me, but here it is, for day 5 of my birthday week. I actually watched “The Losers” for the first time today and I would highly recommend it. It’s a bit on the cheesy side but Jake Jensen really makes it worth it. I’m going to tag @stargazingfangirl18 and @starlightcrystalline, as I know they’re fans of Jake’s. Please enjoy!

“What’s he look like again?”

“Golden retriever in human form, blond buzz, goatee, Harry Potter glasses.” Aisha instructed you over your phone. “Probably stuffing his face at the buffet. He’ll have a comm for you. Thanks for stepping in for me at the last minute.”

“Well, you didn’t give me that much of a choice.” You said, no real malice behind it. You did owe her after all. “Found him. Talk to you in a sec.”

She had been right, you found your contact at the buffet, balancing two plates on one forearm and loading them with an obscene amount of h’ors douvres. He didn’t notice you walking up behind him, he was so engrossed in the spread.

“Jensen?”

The man nearly jumped out of his skin, just barely avoiding spilling foie gras on his tux.

“Shit.” He muttered under his breath as he set the plates down on a table and turned back to you. “Y/N? Hi! Call me Jake!” He wiped his hands on his pants leg before offering you one to shake in greeting.

You cocked one eyebrow at him as he gave you a slightly crooked grin and took his hand. “Right, you have a comm for me?”

“Crap, yes, here you go.” He handed the small earpiece and gave you a good look, eyes scanning up and down your body. You were wearing a long sleeve green satin gown. The bodice hugged you tightly down to your hips before flaring into a skirt that had a slit running all the way up your leg. The gown didn’t have a back, showing off the lean muscles moving beneath your skin.

Jensen cleared his throat and took what you thought was supposed to be a nonchalant pose; leaning back on one foot with his arms crossed, one eyebrow lifted in an expression you couldn’t identify. “So,” he said in an artificially deep voice. “Where, uh, where are you from?”

You rolled your eyes and ignored the question as you inserted the comm link into your ear. “Comm test, can you read me, Aisha?”

“I read you, I see you found Jensen.”

“Yeah, where are we heading?”

“Right down to business, I can respect that.” Jensen said, nodding his head as he shuffled his feet and crossed and uncrossed his arms repeatedly, trying to give off an air of confidence and failing miserably.

“There’s a hallway to your left that should lead to the north wing of the property where the entrance to the server room is. Security is pretty lax right now but they’re definitely still there so make sure you don’t look suspicious.”

“Got it.” You turned back to Jensen and put one arm through his, giving him a radiant smile as the two of you started to head down the hall.

“Hahaha, what’s happening?” Jensen laughed nervously at your sudden and extreme change in demeanor.

“Relax, Jensen. We’re just taking a stroll to look at the artwork. Nothing that should concern anyone.”

“Oh, ok. Are you acting right now? You’re really good at it.”

Your smile started to strain. Wasn’t this guy supposed to be a professional? “That’s part of the job.” You grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the waiters before you headed down the hallway. You nodded to Jensen to grab one as well, hoping that if he started drinking, he might stop talking.

You were wrong.

“I always feel so awkward when I have to act on a job, you know? Like, what’s my character’s story? His motivations?” He took a sip of champagne. “Mm, this is good.”

You chugged your glass in one gulp. Maybe if you got a buzz going, the constant chatter wouldn’t bother you as much.

“Wow. That was impressive.”

“Jensen, Y/N is too much of a pro to say so, but you need to shut the fuck up.” Aisha said through your comms, exasperated. You heard laughing from the rest of the team in the background and gave a small smirk.

“Right, sorry. I babble when I’m nervous.” He said, taking another sip of champagne.

You were getting close to the server room now and saw a security guard walking towards you. You pulled Jensen off to the side and stared at a beautiful replica of John William Waterhouse’s ‘The Soul of the Rose’.

“Tell me about this one, sweetie.” You said, your voice sickeningly sweet as you giggled breathlessly and looked at Jensen coquettishly, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

“Uhh, this is a painting of… a woman, um, smelling a rose. From…. Sometime in the past?” He said, painfully.

Fortunately, the guard didn’t stop to analyze the absolute stupidity that was coming out of this man’s mouth. He continued past the two of you and you started to head back towards your destination.

“Fascinating analysis, Jensen.” You said dryly.

“Listen, I can’t ad lib. I need time to prepare my lines.”

“How have you survived in this… fuck.” You drew him back sharply before he had a chance to round the corner. There were two guards posted at the door to the server room. “Aisha, we’ve got two bogies right where we need to be. Is there any other way in?”

“Shit, no. Vents are welded shut and the roof is crawling with security, so the sky light isn’t an option.”

You chewed your lips as you weighed the several different scenarios. “Is there a closet or other sort of storage nearby?”

“Yeah, there’s a janitor’s closet right across the hall.”

“Great.” Not trusting your partner to act the part believably, you figured startling him would get him into a convincing state.

You grabbed his ears and pulled his face to yours, kissing him hard. He gave a small yelp into your mouth as you pulled him backwards with you, into the view of the two waiting guards. You separated from him and he gave you a goofy grin trying to kiss you again as you turned away from him, pulling him by his wrist and giggling.

You staggered drunkenly towards the two guards and gave them a sloppy grin. “’Scuse me.“ You slurred at them. Jensen collided into your back clumsily, panting breathlessly. “We’re looking for the bathroom.”

“You need to move out of this area.” One of the guards scowled at you, his hand moving to the gun holstered on his hip.

“How… dare you?” You whined, stepping forward and poking him in the chest. “Do you even know who you’re talking to? Do you know who my daddy is?”

The guard looked past you at Jensen. “Sir, you need to take her out of here.”

“Don’t you talk over me!” You dug your hand in your purse. “I’m calling daddy right now, you are going to be so fired.”

He rolled his eyes and moved to grab your arm when you pulled the syringe out of your purse and plunged it into his neck. He let out a hiss and slumped against the wall. You pulled his gun out of the holster and whipped the other guard across the face with it before he had a chance to reach for his radio.

“Wait, was that not a real kiss?” Jensen asked with a confused look on his face. He stared at the two guards lying on the floor, his brain trying to catch up with everything that just happened.

“Oh my god, Jensen, get your head in the game.” Aisha scolded through the comms.

“Help me get them into the closet.” You hissed at him after you managed to gag and hogtie both of them.

“Right.” You shoved the guards into the tiny storage area and forced the door closed. Jensen moved to the key pad and connected it to his phone, a look of concentration coming over his face as he got to work.

You rolled your neck loosely as you waited and in less than a minute he made a small triumphant noise.

“Jensen comes in in the clutch and the crowd goes wild!” He made a noise like cheers in a stadium and put his hand up to give you a high five.

You opened the door to the server room and headed in, leaving him hanging. You heard him slap his own hand before he followed you. “So serious.” You heard him whisper over the comms. “ ‘Good job Jensen. And by the way that kiss was amazing, let’s do it again.’ “

“We can hear you, idiot.” Aisha said in your ears, her tone dripping with annoyance.

“Oops.”

“Where’s the server we want?” You asked him over your shoulder.

“This way.” He led you down an aisle to your right before arriving at the server you needed, pulling a small tablet out of his tux jacket and connecting it. “This should just take a few minutes.”

“Great.”

“So, um, how do you know Aisha?” he said, trying to fill the silence.

“High school.” You said flatly.

“Oh, really? That long?”

“No.”

“Of course not. She mentioned something about Finland?”

“Yep.”

“So, snowy there, huh?”

“Sure is.”

“Oook.” He felt horribly awkward. He knew he had no game, but dealing with women like you and Aisha really cemented that. He turned his concentration back to the algorithm that was running and started singing Bon Jovi to himself.

You rolled your eyes. You couldn’t believe Aisha worked with this man-child. He must be a genius with computers for her to put up with this bullshit. Granted, he filled out that tux real nice; his broad shoulders stretching the back of the jacket in a titillating way before his torso narrowed in an almost perfect V to his hips. The jacket covered it some, but you could tell he had a nice ass under the slacks as well. Maybe she kept him around for the eye candy.

“Wanted, wantehehed, dead or alive! And done!” He finished up, disconnecting from the server and turning to give you another goofy grin.

You smirked at him and started to head back out of the room.

“Was that an almost smile, Y/N?” he said teasingly behind you. “Are you warming up to me?”

“Please stop talking,” You told him half-heartedly, too mentally exhausted to really scold him.

You turned the corner and ran into three armed guards. You all stared at each other for a second before they drew their guns and brought them up to fire.

You shoved Jensen behind the servers and dove after him as bullets started ricocheting everywhere.

“We’re blown, Aisha! We need an exit.”

“Shit, hold them down while I work something out.”

“Got it. You armed, Jensen?” You looked at him as you slipped out of your heels.

“Fuck, no. I was worried a gun would ruin the lines of my tux.”

“That is so fucking stupid.” You hissed. Of course, you hadn’t brought a gun either, but that was because you knew the venue’s security measures would have gone into hyper drive if you had gotten caught with one. You shoved your shoes into Jensen’s arm along with your purse as you pulled out a ceramic blade from under your skirt.

“Where were you keeping that?” Jensen asked you, eyes bulging as he tried to imagine where you could have been storing the giant knife in your skintight dress.

You gave him a grunt as you edged your way between the servers slowly, moving closer to the gunman as they shuffled forward, continuing to fire at the two of you.

You reached the server next to the nearest gunman and shot your arm out to knock the gun out of his hand. You brought a knee up into his diaphragm and plunged your knife in between his shoulders and then his neck, slipping back between the servers as he dropped to the floor.

The other two guards seemed to remember suddenly that they were in a room full of delicate computer equipment and they stowed their weapons, dropping into fight ready stances as they tried to determine where you were.

You shot out like a whip, punching the first guard in the gut then the throat and grabbing him around the waist to tackle him. You used the momentum to carry you forward and delivered a scorpion kick to the other man’s face, making him stagger back into the servers, clutching his nose. The first man wasn’t going down, so you released him and sprung off one leg to push off a server wall and whip the opposite foot around to drive into his face hard, sending him sprawling as you landed on one knee beside him, plunging your knife into his chest.

“Jesus, Jensen what’s happening?” Aisha yelled over the comms.

“Uhh, Y/N is kicking some serious ass.” Jake watched you stand up slowly from the second body, spinning your knife through your fingers as you turned to face your final opponent.

“Well both of you need to get to the skylight ASAP for extraction, Pooch’ll be there with a chopper in exactly one minute.”

“Got it. You get that, Y/N?”

“Yeah, just a second.” You jumped up to grab one of the pipes running along the ceiling and wrapped your thighs around the guard’s neck, squeezing him hard enough to cut off blood and oxygen to his brain. You didn’t notice him draw a knife of his own from a sheath at his thigh.

Jake hissed when he saw and grabbed the gun the first guard had dropped, shooting your opponent three times in his chest before he had a chance to slash across your femoral artery. You landed on your feet as he dropped between your legs.

“Nice shot.” You told Jake, giving him an approving nod as the two of you started to jog to the extraction point.

“Aww, shucks.” Jake groaned internally at that, not wanting to think about how stupid he sounded.

“We’re here.” You told Aisha over the comm. “How exactly is Pooch getting us out of here? There’s no room on the roof for a chopper.”

“He’s going to drop you a line.”

“Great.” The skylight was purely for show, there was no way to open it. You pushed Jake back and took the gun from him when you heard chopper blades, and shot the glass out of the window.

A rope dropped through the opening immediately and Jake wrapped his right leg and arm through it before holding you to him with his left arm.

“Hi.” He said sheepishly as he looked at you. “Wait, weren’t there guards on the roof?”

You didn’t get a chance to answer as the two of you were lifted into the air as the chopper took off. You heard gunfire and saw muzzle flashes before you were exposed to the open air.

A bullet ripped through the air less than 6 inches from your face and Jake swore. “Don’t drop me.” You told him as you started firing at the guards on the roof, making sure to pick your shots carefully so you didn’t waste any bullets.

Once you were safely out of gun range, someone in the chopper started pulling the two of you up. Jake gave a melodramatic sigh once the two of you were safely inside, laying back against the floor, still holding you to him, before he let out a whoop and sat up quickly, releasing you. He watched you with one of those ridiculous grins on his face as you settled yourself into one of the seats.

“That was exciting!” He said giddily. “Cougar, you should have seen it. Y/N took out three guys with guns with just a knife and, like, her legs.”

You couldn’t help it, that damn smile of his was too infectious. Your lips curled up slightly as he narrated the fight to a disinterested Cougar, leaning you head back against the chopper. The idiot had grown on you.

“And, hoo, when you kicked that one guy in the face, while you were tackling the other guy. Man, that was fucking ace!” He finished up his narration as you landed back at the warehouse.

Clay and Aisha greeted you when you landed. Aisha let out a deep breath once she saw to two of you step out of the chopper, tension leaving her body.

“You two get it done?” Clay asked.

“We sure did, boss! Backdoor is open for us anytime!” Jake said excitedly.

“Perfect, let’s all get some drinks.”

“Glad you’re ok, Y/N.” Aisha said, handing you a shot of tequila when you arrived at the basic bar set up.

“Well, we’re officially even now.” You told her around a grin before tossing back your shot and pouring another.

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask you for any more favors.” She said through a smile of her own.

“Aw, c’mon, Aisha. The two of us make a pretty killer team! I think she should maybe join our little loser club!” Jensen draped an arm around your shoulder. He had undone his bowtie and the top few buttons of his shirt, exposing a light dusting of dark hair at the top of his chest. He looked down at you and gave you a grin and a wink.

Well, fuck.

You slammed your second shot back, nodded to Aisha, and pulled Jake by his wrist to follow you to one of the side rooms of the warehouse as he gave you a look of confusion.

“Have fun, you two. Don’t break him, Y/N!” You heard Aisha call behind you.

“Um, what are we doing?” Jake asked as you pulled the door to one of the storage rooms closed behind you.

“Stop talking, before I change my mind.” You told him, placing a finger over his lips as you slid his tux jacket off his shoulders.

You stepped into him, your body pressing him into the door as you brought his face to yours for a kiss before he could start babbling again. You teased at his lips with your teeth before running your tongue around the cushion of his bottom lip and he opened himself to you, groaning into your mouth. He kneaded his hands into your hips, pulling you against him close. You felt him starting to harden through his pants and gave him a sigh before you started moving your mouth down his jaw to his neck as you started to unbutton his shirt.

“Shit.” He murmured as you lightly sucked against his pulse point, drawing a soft bruise against his skin as your hands finished their work on his buttons and he shrugged his shirt off. You stepped back to let him remove his undershirt too and gave a moan when his torso was fully exposed, running your fingers over his abs lightly before pressing your palms against the plain of his chest.

“Mmm, who knew you were packing all this under here sweetie.” You murmured before moving your mouth back to his neck before you started slowly traveling south.

“Um, Y/N? Is this just like, a post-mission type thing? Or what?” His voice cracked when your tongue ran over his nipple as you tweaked the other. You kept moving down his abs until you reached the top of his pants and started to undo his belt, kneeling in front of him. “Not that there’s any pressure, or anything, just curio-- mmph.”

You had slipped your panties off as he chattered away and shoved them in his mouth before you went back to undoing his fly.

“Seriously, Jake, you need to shut the fuck up.” You pulled his zipper down finally, and drew his pants and boxers down his legs so they pooled around his ankles.

You gave yourself a little hum as you examined his cock. His swollen head was already leaking pre-cum before you had even touched him. You spat in your hand before wrapping it around his impressive length, giving him a few pumps as you lapped soft kitten licks over his slit. He gave a groan from deep in his chest and leaned his head back against the door, thumping his fist against it at his side.

You took the head of his cock in your mouth and hummed around it, causing him to twitch before you moved him further in and slowly back out, repeating the process to take him a little further into your mouth with each bob of your head.

Jake was using all his concentration to keep from coming 30 seconds into a blowjob like a chump. The tangy taste of your arousal was on his tongue as he bit down on your panties, which wasn’t helping. When you started breathing through your nose and relaxed your throat to swallow around him though, he was lost.

He let out a muffled groan and pressed a hand to the back of your head when he bucked his hips and shot his release down your throat.

You let his softening dick slide out of your mouth as you wiped a small amount of drool from around your mouth with your fingertips. You drew yourself up to your feet and plucked your now saliva soaked panties from his mouth before pulling him in for another kiss.

“Was that good for you, honey?” You asked, giving him a wicked smile as he rested his forehead against yours, panting as he came down from his orgasm.

“Fuck, yeah, that was good.” He said, kissing you again as his big hands pressed into the small of your back before moving their way up to your shoulders.

He slid the shoulders of your gown down your arms slowly and then down your hips once your arms were free. You stepped out of it as it pooled on the ground and he turned you suddenly until he had you pinned against the wall.

Jake took a step back and drank you in. He ran his hand over your hips and up your abdomen until he was cupping your breasts, gently running his thumbs over your nipples until they were raised to sensitive peaks.

“Mmhm, pretty girl.” He murmured as he palmed your breasts, making you gasp. “I’m gonna make you feel good too, baby.”

He removed his glasses and set them on the table behind him before stepping into you and curling his thick fingers over your mound. You bit your lip and moaned as he teased his way between your soft folds, brushing his fingers through the arousal at your entrance as he sank to his knees.

He pushed your lips apart gently, then dragged his tongue over your slit heavily, causing your knees to buckle when he found your clit. He moved one of your legs over his shoulder to keep you from falling as he started licking small circles over the tiny bud.

He shook his head from side to side to press himself deeper into you before sucking gently, making you cry out. His tongue entered your canal and he started to alternate between fucking you with it, and sucking on your clit.

You felt your core tightening as your orgasm built and you ground yourself into Jake’s face, begging him for more. He wrapped his lips around you tightly and sucked hard, and you felt the coil in your belly snap as you screamed his name and your release gushed all over his mouth and chin. You kept grinding against him as you came down and once you had finally finished, he gave you a wicked grin from between your legs before rising back up to kiss you.

You felt your desire stirring again already when you tasted yourself on his tongue and you let out a heavy sigh. He pressed himself into your front and lifted you until you could wrap your legs around his waist. He pressed his face into the hollow of your throat and softly nipped at the skin there. You gave a soft whine and gripped the back of his neck.

“You good with me fucking you against the wall, sweetheart?” He asked against your neck.

“Oh, fuck, yes.” You said breathlessly as he continued nuzzling you softly.

He kept you propped against the wall as he moved a hand between the two of you to line up at your entrance. You felt his tip brush against your folds and let out a sigh, trying to grind yourself into him.

He pulled his head up and gave you one of those grins before lowering you slowly onto his length. You moaned as you stretched over him until he was fully seated in you.

Jake gave a grunt and braced one hand against the wall before he started moving his hips, fucking his cock up into you roughly. His breath was hot against your neck as he panted in time with his thrusts, making you whimper softly in his ear.

“God, sweetheart, you’re so tight. This pussy feels so good.”

He started to pick up the pace then. You screwed your eyes shut and tilted your head back with a low moan, loving the full feeling he was giving you in this position. Jake lifted his head to look at you and watch as you took his cock, your tits bouncing each time he drove up into you. He bent his face down to nuzzle against them and you gasped as he drew his tongue over your nipple.

His cock was hitting your sweet spot each time and the position you were in had him rubbing right against your clit. You could feel yourself building towards an orgasm fast and dug your nails into the muscles of his back.

He felt you starting to flutter and clench around him and picked up the pace, adjusting the hand he had holding you up so your hips tilted just a bit and that small change sent you over the edge.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it!” You cried as every muscle in your body tightened and vibrated while your pleasure released violently. Jake kept his relentless pace up as you rode it out and you sagged against him when you came down.

You felt his hips start to stutter and then his dick was twitching inside of you, his cum filling you up until it was leaking out around his cock.

“Fuck, sorry.” He murmured against your hair as he held you to him. “I meant to pull out.”

You lifted his head up and slowly unwrapped yourself from him, placing your feet on the floor gently and almost collapsing on your shaky legs.

“That’s ok baby.” You said, giving him a reassuring pat on the cheek. You gave him a hungry kiss, painting the inside of his mouth with your tongue before whispering in his ear, “I love feeling your cum leaking out of my cunt.”

He gave a laugh that was on the hysterical side as you started to slip your gown back on. He was sliding into his pants when you turned back to him, and he gave you a sheepish grin. He found your panties as he was drawing his shirt off the ground and tried to hand them to you.

“Oh, sweetie, you keep those.” You told him with a throaty chuckle. “They can be a little souvenir.”

Fuck, that’s hot. He thought to himself as he tucked them into his back pocket.

“So, should we do this again sometime?” He asked awkwardly, not knowing what to say to you now. He definitely wanted to do it again. He wanted to do it a lot. But he was worried this was just a quick fling for you, a release after a stressful mission.

“Aww, puppy.” You pouted playfully at him. “We’ll do it again. Those stupid grins of yours have grown on me. I don’t think I have it in me to break your heart.”

He gave you one of those signature grins now as he pressed himself into your back and nuzzled in your hair. You whipped the door open and held his hand as you led him out to a chorus of whistles and catcalls, and he wore that stupid grin all night.

Permanent Tags:

@drabblewithfrannybarnes

#chris evans smut #chris evans #chrisevans #jake jensen #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #eighteen plus #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen smut #the losers movie

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duskholland · 4 years ago

Text

The Fame Game (Part Nine) - Tom Holland

Summary ↠ Breaking up is hard. But breaking up with your fake boyfriend, with whom you’ve fallen irrevocably and painfully in love with? It’s almost impossible.

Warnings ↠ Angst, Y/N’s being stubborn but can we blame her? Cursing and crying. All the good stuff.

Word count ↠ 5.2k

A/N ↠ This part? Emotional rollercoaster and a half. We’re almost at the end of the story, though! :((( Only part ten and the epilogue to go, and I am not okay. Crazy crazy crazy. Anyway, buckle in and enjoy part nine :)

NINE: Expiration Date (Y)

It’s raining in London. Tracks of grey, miserable water stream down the dirty window, obscuring the view of the city beyond. Your fingers are cold as you hold a mug of stale tea, the liquid pale and long-past its best. You’d poured it an hour ago, intending to throw it back and pull yourself out of your stupor, but you’d failed.

Today is the end of your relationship with Tom - the expiration date, as your team likes to call it. In a move of obscene pathetic fallacy, the weather curled across London seems to emanate your innermost thoughts. It’s cloudy and grey, darkness settled across the sky. In the distance, the clouds grow blacker, and a part of you wonders if it’ll thunder later.

You feel a tear slip from one of your eyes, and the warm line traces down your cheek as you sniffle. With slow movements, you finally put down the mug, crossing your arms over your chest as you continue to stare out of the window, vacantly. You’re in your London flat, your belongings in boxes around you. With the conclusion of a final filming project comes the end of your lease, and when you leave London tonight on a plane, you leave behind your flat, your job, and your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

Your fake boyfriend, who sometimes acts like your real boyfriend, but has made it all too clear that he is only, only, only your fake boyfriend.

A scowl springs out across your face, and your fingers curl into fists at your sides.

You thought you’d been hurt by Tom before. For years, you’ve felt anger towards him - resentment, irritation, burning frustration. You’ve cursed him out on countless occasions, publicly denounced him, and watched on as he’s returned every move you’ve made against him with equal ferocity. At almost every given opportunity, Tom has launched blow after blow at you, but you’d taken it. You had accepted that that was just your relationship - that sometimes two people don’t get along, and sometimes they thrive off irritating the other. His insults didn’t touch you - not really, not like this. They’d riled you up and they’d made you seethe, but they were just insults - just empty, irritating insults, which you’d returned with a smile on your face. But now…

For the first time, Tom Holland has actually broken your heart.

It’s painful when you think about him, as you cast your mind back to your last day together. You’d been so excited, so hopeful, when you’d turned up at his place in LA, and as he’d laid you down and you’d held one another, you’d felt the love you have for him grow. Each time he’d kissed you, you felt your love deepen. Each pass of his hands over your skin made your heart race, your mind shake. You’d been waiting on the right time to open your mouth, say the three golden words, and then propose giving your relationship a real shot, only for Tom to jump the gun and tell you that he, in fact, loved you.

To have Tom stand opposite you and tell you that he loves you - only to immediately follow it up with a retraction - has shattered you. You can’t stop thinking about the moment that you’d let yourself believe, for one brief, shocking second, that Tom reciprocated your love - that Tom had softened out, and grown to love you, too. His words had knocked you off-guard, but fuck, if they weren’t the sweetest three words you’d ever heard. You’d been fully prepared to drop everything and jump into his arms, only for him to add--

“No… Wait, no.”

You are upset. You are so fucking angry. You are a whirlwind of tears and clenched fists and stiff jaws. The more you contemplate it, the hollower you feel. You have never known heartbreak as pronounced as this.

You hate the power that you’ve given Tom. Hate that you’d walked straight into this, eyes open. You can’t even blame it on blind infatuation, because you’d been aware at every moment how dangerous your budding feelings were, just you’d chosen to ignore the warning signals, too distracted by Tom’s easy smile and his kisses. You hate that you let him break your heart, hate that he’s emerged from this unscathed when you feel the weakest you’ve ever been.

But above all, you hate that you don’t hate him. It would be so easy to slip back into old habits, to return to that blind, festering hatred that used to roar through your veins at the mere mention of his name. You can’t return to that, and every time you try to drum up some anger towards Tom, you’re instead reminded of how nice, and funny, and sweet he can be.

You release a shaky breath. It’s your expiration date, today. All that’s left of your relationship is a visit to Tom’s house to collect your things, and a few pap photographs of you leaving his place, in pieces. There’s no doubt in your mind that the paparazzi will find it convincing: you’ve been a mess for days, your tears will be real. You’re full of apprehension and rattled nerves about seeing him again, about walking back into his house knowing it’ll be the last time and having to act like he hasn’t reached into your chest and ripped out your heart.

You are an actor, to your core, but your role within this relationship has been your hardest performance to date - and you have the sinking suspicion that not even you can pull off the denouement.

The paparazzi are already outside Tom’s as you walk down his front path, raindrops bouncing off your jacket. The flashes from their cameras illuminate the garden, and your eyes hurt as the light glints off the collection of small garden gnomes Harrison and Tom keep in front of their house. You’re quick to drum your knuckles on the front door, tugging on the chords of your hood and trying to shy away from the yelling journalists.

After what feels an eternity, the door is opened. Tom stares out at you, eyes widening as he takes in the pouring rain.

“Shit, it’s wet today, isn’t it?” He mutters, quickly moving aside. You hurry into the house, sighing contentedly as the warmth envelops you. You kick off your shoes, but your fingers are frozen solid and you can’t quite tug the zip of your coat. “Do you need help?”

You glance up, seeing Tom eyeing your shivering fingers as you try and fail to release the slippery zip. “Yeah,” you mutter, quickly glancing away. It’s not your intention to stay long, but you’re not so inconsiderate that you’d traipse through Tom’s entire house in a dripping jacket.

You stay very still as Tom steps forward, one of his hands holding the bottom of your jacket as the other goes up to the zip. His tongue slips out between his teeth, and a deep crease appears between his eyebrows as he grasps the zip and carefully tugs it down. A smile splits over his face, and you sigh as the coat releases.

“There you go.” Tom doesn’t stop there, though. He goes so far as to help you wiggle out of the jacket, and even hangs it up on the peg for you. The same peg you’d used when you’d stayed with him a few months ago. Your peg. “So.” Tom rocks back on his feet, looking at you through narrowed eyes. “Why haven’t you been answering my texts?”

You clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. “What?”

“Y/N.” Tom steps a little closer, his eyes wide with hurt. “My calls, too. I really needed to talk to you.”

“Sorry,” you fib. You’re not sorry, not even one bit. Every time you’d watched your phone go through to answerphone, you’d felt a little stronger. “I’ve been busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Oh, you know. Stuff.”

Tom frowns at you. “Well, I needed to talk to you.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You clear your throat, shaking out your arms as you try to lighten the air between you. You hadn’t meant to come into your last encounter with Tom with so much hostility on your shoulders, but being so close to him again makes your chest ache. “Sorry,” you mutter. “What did you want to talk about?”

Tom nods his head. “Well, it’s… It’s complicated.” Now he’s hesitant, with reluctance clinging to his features. You feel irritation stir inside as you watch him fluster. All you want to do is get this over and done with, so you can leave his house before you start crying again. You don’t want to drag this out.

“Well, can we talk about it as I pack my things?” You ask, your voice clipping a little at the edges.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Tom moves out of the way, letting you into the main body of the house. “What do they want us to do, again?”

You bite your lip as you see the photograph that hangs from the wall in the hallway. It’s new, and it shows you, Harrison and Tom, laying out together on one of their sofas. You remember the night well: Harry had taken the picture, teased Tom for the way he’d got you wrapped up in his arms and refused to let go for the duration of the scary film you were all watching. On your other side is Harrison, glaring at you and Tom, mock outrage on his face. It was a good night - near the end of your trip to London, back when things were better.

“Did they send you a box?” You say, voice vacant. You can’t stop looking at the photo, at the way Tom has his face buried in your neck. You look so happy. “They want me to put all my stuff in a box. Apparently, paps just need to see me leaving with all of my things, and then they’ll get the picture.”

“Pretty simple, then?” Tom drops down to his knees, beginning to rummage in the cupboard under the stairs until he procures a big red box. “This is the one they sent.” He passes it up to you. “Will that be big enough?”

“Yeah. I only have a few things here, I think.”

“Cool. Do you want to start upstairs?”

“Why not.”

You feel awkward as you slowly climb the staircase. The air between you is unsettled, and you can tell Tom’s hurt that you’re clearly less than enthused to be here. Part of you wants to soothe him, but the other part wants to run, run, run.

“Harrison not here?” You ask as you walk past his empty bedroom. You enter their spare room, which you’d been crashing in back when you’d stayed, and quickly start pulling out the odd book and bottle you’d left. Management had instructed you to leave a few things back when you’d left, and now you understand why.

“Nah, Liverpool,” Tom says. “It’s just me.” He sits on the edge of the bed, watching as you quickly pile everything into your box. “Look, Y/N, can we please talk?”

“I’m listening.”

“No, no.” Tom stands up, and you freeze as he reaches out for your arm. The second his warm fingers touch your skin, a lump comes to your throat. “I need to- we need to talk.” You stay completely still, closing your eyes as you feel him slide his hand up your arm. His palm rests on your shoulder, weighted and familiar, and the contact makes your heart pang.

“What do you want to talk about, Tom?” You ask, voice hoarse. You keep your eyes shut. The scent of his cologne is so familiar it brings back the tightness in your chest. You aren’t sure if you’re so upset because this is the last time you’ll be together, or if it has more to do with the fact that you can’t look at Tom without being reminded that he doesn’t love you.

“Come and sit down. I can make tea.”

You suck in a deep breath. “You know that I’m walking out of your house in ten minutes and probably never coming back again, yeah?” You mutter. “What’s so important that it deserves a cup of tea?”

Tom only chuckles, not seeming to mind the bitterness of your voice. “I’ll tell you. Over tea.” He squeezes your shoulder, and you finally open your eyes. Your vision swims with tears, but if he notices it, he doesn’t comment on it. “You can pack your stuff up here, and I’ll meet you in the living room. Okay?”

You nod. “Alright.”

You try to delay your conversation for as long as possible, which takes you on a short trip into Tom’s bedroom. In your defence, you don’t mean to snoop - you did, in fact, leave your favourite book on his desk - but you do also take the opportunity to have a little look around.

On Tom’s windowsill is a line of very dead plants, their leaves shrivelled and broken. You roll your eyes as you peer into the empty watering can, chuckling softly. Typical. On his desk is a pile of scripts, dog-eared and stained with the round marks of spilt tea, and crumpled clothes hang everywhere, shoved over various armrests and laying in heaps on the floor. Tom’s entire room is organised chaos.

What catches your eye, though, is the large shelf hammered into the wall. You’ve been in Tom’s room before, hell, you’d spent your last night in London in his bed, but you’d never taken the time to look up and examine this shelf. Settled in the middle of it, gathering dust, is Tom’s BAFTA. You sigh, and instinctively, you reach up and take it.

It’s heavy in your hands. You’ve felt it before, but you’d forgotten the weight of the blue glass trophy. When you’d last touched it, it’d been on the night of the show, and Tom had thrust it into your hands mockingly, making some flippant comment about it being a mark of his success. You’d immediately tossed it back at him, almost dropping it in the process, and shut him down with a snide remark.

Now, you run your thumbs over the award. The curves are smooth beneath your fingertips. You blink a few times, and two tears splash out onto the thing. As you rub them away, you take a deep, shuddering breath.

Pull yourself together, Y/N.

You swallow, and when you release a deep exhalation, you feel steadier. The award goes back to the shelf, and you pick up your box. Just ten more minutes. One conversation, one cup of tea, and ten more minutes. Then you can leave him behind.

How much can change in ten minutes, anyway?

There’s something melancholic about the way you find yourself sitting on Tom’s sofa, facing him again. You’re in the same position that you were in back when you’d customised your shoes together, before everything had gone to shit: you, leaning up against one armrest, Tom against the other, both of you with your legs outstretched and meeting in the middle. Tessa has staked her claim sitting on your feet, and as you sip nervously at your tea, you keep your eyes on her.

“So.” Tom’s fidgeting. If he’s not drumming his fingers over the ceramic of his mug, he’s picking at the strap of his watch. “I need to talk to you.”

You wince a smile. “Yeah, you keep saying that.” You take a sip of your tea. It’s still hot, and it burns the tip of your tongue, but part of you wants to down the whole thing just so you can leave. Being so close to him makes your chest sting.

Tom takes a deep breath. “I said something really stupid the last time we were together. I was… I was just going to leave it, but then I realised that doing that would be even more stupid,” he starts. Immediately, you feel yourself bristle. You can’t have this conversation again.

“We don’t need to talk about it, Tom,” you mutter. “What’s the point? I’m leaving soon.”

“Which is exactly why we need to talk about it, love.” Tom’s eyes are wide, a hint of desperation swirling in them. He sets his tea down on the coffee table and sits up straighter. “I didn’t mean it.”

You sigh, rubbing at your forehead as you feel another stab of pain in your chest. He’s really twisting the knife, now.

“I know,” you remind him. “You’ve already told me that you didn’t mean it.”

“No, no.” Tom shakes his head, running a hand through his curls. “No.” He’s visibly anxious, but you’re too perplexed to consider offering him any comfort. “I mean… I said I didn’t love you. Well, I said I loved you, and then I took it back.”

You release a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan, and it brings on a fresh set of tears. “Yes, I remember, Tom.”

“Well, I was wrong.”

Very slowly, you look up at him. You put down the tea and bring your knees to your chest, staring at him through hard eyes.

“What?” You say, voice dull.

“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have taken it back.” “Tom.” You’re exasperated and confused. “What are you trying to say?”

“I love you, Y/N. I’m in love with you.”

Your eyebrows pull together. “What?”

“I love you.” Tom’s lips quirk into a soft, warm smile. “And- And I know you probably don’t feel the same way, and you probably don’t want to hear it, but I had to tell you before you leave. You have to know how I actually feel.” He sits forward, and his foot nudges your knee. “I love you. I’m sorry for being a dick, I just… I panicked, I guess.”

Your brain feels like it’s running slow, wading miles behind the rest of you. You’ve spent so many days coming to terms with the fact that Tom doesn’t love you that the evidence for the contrary isn’t sinking in.

“What- but you said that you didn’t love me?” You puzzle.

“I was wrong.”

You look at him. You look at him long and hard. Your eyes dissect the soft smile on Tom’s lips, the eagerness in his eyes, and the blush on his cheeks.

You don’t believe him.

“How can you get something like that wrong?” You ask him, frazzled. “Tom, I- I don’t know if I can trust anything that you say.”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “So you want it to be true?”

“What? Shut up, this isn’t about me.” You have a lump in your throat. “Tom, this is- this is about you, not knowing how you feel.”

“But I do know how I feel. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you-”

“Stop.”

You can’t take it. With every repetition, it feels like Tom’s rubbing it in your face.

“Y/N?”

You stand up from the sofa, displacing Tessa who whimpers in response.

“You’re so cruel, Tom.”

Tom scrambles to his feet too, hopping as he regains his balance. He stands in front of you. “What? What do you mean?” His eyes are wide with hurt. “I’m being honest, Y/N. How is it cruel to love you?”

Tears form in your eyes.

“You don’t get to take it back. You… First, you said that you loved me. Do you… Do you know how happy that made me?” You screw your hands into fists, voice hoarse. “I thought, for a second, that you loved me. I really, really did. I thought that we could end this stupid thing and just be happy. But then, you turn around, and you take it back. You’re not allowed to take back a declaration of love, Tom. Do you know how- how crushing that was?”

“-But-”

“No, I’m talking.” The end of your nose tingles, and you reach up to brush the wetness from your cheeks. “You… You broke my heart, Tom. Because I-” You break off, and you meet his eyes. You speak directly to him. You finally bare your soul. “I love you, Tom. I fell in love with you, and so for you to turn around and take it back-” You break off, waving a hand through the air. “It broke my heart.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice is raw, and you watch as Tom rubs at his eyes. “I didn’t know, Y/N.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” You look at the floor, vision blurry. “How am I supposed to believe that you aren’t going to turn around in two minutes and take it back again?” You rub at your arms. “Why do you get all of the power?”

Tom steps closer, but you just move away. “Y/N, please. I don’t want to hurt you. I would never, ever want to hurt you. I was confused, but I know now more than ever how I feel about you.”

“But you have hurt me, Tom,” you say, finally looking back at him. “Our entire relationship has been us hurting each other. Why should it be any different now?”

Tom clasps his hands together, his cheeks red and ruddy. “We both know it’s different now.”

“Is it?” You release a dim laugh. “Because I feel, just now, exactly as horrible as I used to feel when we’d argue, Tom. All we’ve ever done is hurt.”

“That’s the past.” Tom’s voice is picking up now, growing in strength. When he looks at you, you see his jaw flexing. “I’m sorry for the ways I’ve acted, Y/N, but I can’t change it now. All I can tell you is that you’ll be making a bad decision if you walk out of the door.”

“I have to.” It’s too much to process - too much to think about when Tom’s looking at you so desperately. This morning you’d woken up expecting an awkward visit and then a plane ride far, far away from him. This revelation upends all of that.

“No, you don’t.” Finally, you let Tom take your hands. He runs his thumbs over the back of your palms and you whimper. “Stay. Stay here with me. Fuck PR, fuck the paps. We can be together. We can love each other.” He smiles again, softly. “Let me love you. Please.”

It’s very tempting. As Tom holds your hands tightly and stares into your eyes, you want so desperately to cave. You want to throw yourself into his arms and tell him that you love him, that yes, yes, of course you’ll stay with him. But you think back to all the tears that you’ve shed, and you look at his face, and you’re reminded of the night at the BAFTAs when he’d thrust his polished trophy into your face and bragged about it. You think about all of the times he’s made moves against you and tried to trip you up. You think about your last day together, and how easily he’d retracted his statement.

How can he stand here in front of you, and ask you to forget about all of that so easily?

“I can’t.”

You step away from Tom and instead grab your big red box. You walk quickly into the hallway, your eyes full of hot tears. He follows.

“Yes, you can.”

You sit on the stairs and start lacing up your shoes, staring at Tom angrily.

“I can’t.” Your fingers shake as you tie your laces. “I have a flight. I have a life in LA that I need to get back to. This was never part of the plan, Tom. You’re my fake boyfriend. You aren’t supposed to be my real boyfriend.”

“But you love me.” Tom’s blocking your way, his biceps bulging from his black t-shirt as he stands in front of you desperately. “You told me. You said that you love me, Y/N, and I’m telling you that I love you too.”

“Love isn’t always enough, Tom.” It hurts to look at him, to think about how easily and foolishly he’s handled your heart. “Let me go.”

“Love can be enough.” It’s his final attempt; you can see it in his eyes. “Don’t let us end like this, Y/N. Please.” He takes your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips. His mouth moves over your skin, dropping kisses to your cold skin.

You feel trapped. You know the car is waiting outside, and it’s all come on too fast, too soon.

“Tom,” you say. You pull your hand from his grasp. “Let me go.”

Tom steps aside. He finally slumps against the wall, pressing his head into his hands. “Is this what you really want?” His voice is raw, broken, and his eyes are red.

You tug your soaking jacket from the peg on the wall as you shrug haplessly. “You can’t drop these feelings on me ten minutes before I’m out the door and expect me to change my life for you.” You look at him. “It isn’t fair.”

“Fine.” Tom stands up straighter. “You should take off your hoodie, then. It’s mine. Wouldn’t be the best impression of the paparazzi to be seen wearing my clothes, would it?”

You drop your jacket to the floor and start shuffling out of the pink hoodie. It’s an oversized fit, and it comes off easily, but you chuckle bitterly. Tom’s taken everything from you - your heart, your sanity - even the very clothes from your back. What more could he possibly want to take?

“There.” You shove it into his hands and angrily pull on your coat. The sleeves are cold and damp against your skin, making you shiver. “Happy now?”

Tom looks down at the jumper. “No,” he says, voice soft. His eyes are round again, widening further as you reach for the front door. “Y/N, please.”

Your fingers linger on the doorknob, cold to touch. You hesitate. When you glance back at Tom, your resolve crumbles. As frustrated and bemused as you are, you love him. You love him, and he’s your best friend, and you’re leaving him.

“Tom,” you whimper. You step away from the door, dodging the box, and fold into his arms, crying with your face on his shoulder. Tom’s arms wrap around your back and he pulls you in tightly. “I’m sorry.” You aren’t sure what you’re apologising for - your departure, your broken heart, your tears staining his shirt. You just know you are so overcome with every emotion that it’s overflowing now, leaving your mouth in ugly sobs.

“Shh.” Tom rolls a hand over your back, patting in large circles. Your jacket crinkles at the action, and you think you can feel his chest shake. “It’s okay.”

You stay in his arms, your face buried in his neck until you stop crying. Even then, you feel clogged up and weakened. He’s so warm - his embrace strong, and comfortable. You feel protected, and when you step back, you feel your heart break again.

“I’m sorry, Tom.” You wipe at your eyes and pick up the red box. Tom’s face falls in response. “I just… I need time. I’m not- I’m not saying that we can never be together, I just… I can’t stay just now. It’s too fresh, I don’t...”

“It’s okay.” Tom steps forward. One of his hands goes to the doorknob, the other rests on your shoulder. He’s near to you - so near that you can see the flecks of pain in his eyes and the freckles on his face. His gaze flickers down to your lips. “I can wait.”

You lean in and kiss him, softly. His lips taste of salty peppermint.

“I… I’ll see you later.” You want to say it, want to tell him so desperately that you love him, but the words choke in the back of your throat.

Tom just smiles, the action not stretching to his eyes. He tilts his head towards the door. “Are you ready?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Tom looks at the box in your hands and reaches up. He tugs up the hood of your jacket and tucks your hair into it carefully. “Safe flight, darling.”

“Thank you.”

He opens the door and steps aside, and then you’re on your own.

London Heathrow Terminal 5 is very empty. You’re sitting alone in the back corner of the waiting room, hood drawn around your face, sunglasses resting heavily over your nose. You haven’t been able to stop shaking since you left Tom’s house. Feeling numb through bag drop, security, and duty-free, it’s a miracle you’ve made it to your gate on time.

You close your eyes, and you see him. You open your eyes, and you expect to see him. He’s everywhere.

Is this what you really want..?

It plays on loop, lilted in his voice. Is this what you really want? To be sat alone, crying in Heathrow airport, when Tom is waiting back at home, finally willing to take you into his arms?

You sniff as you wipe at your eyes, furiously trying to stem the flow of tears. It had all happened so quickly; it felt almost unfair.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you’re grateful for the distraction.

Tom <3: Have a safe flight. I’m sorry for being such a dick. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I love you. I love you and I’ll wait for you. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to figure it out. I love you. Xxxxxxxxxx

You put the phone down, sucking in a deep breath. Your eyes fall to your feet. You notice, for the first time, that you’re wearing your special personalised Converse.

With shaking hands, you pull off your sunglasses and stare at your feet. The ink has run a little, obscured by the pouring London rain, but you can still make out some of the shapes Tom had drawn over them, all those weeks ago. A love heart, a flower, a couple holding hands. The lump in your throat grows bigger.

Is this what you really want..?

“Now boarding, Flight BA0269, London Heathrow to LAX. We now invite our platinum club to board.”

You sigh. You stand up and pull your backpack over your shoulders. You look back at your feet.

The love heart is wobbly and uneven, and you remember the look of concentration on Tom’s face as he’d tried his best to doodle over your shoes. The room had been so warm, back then. Just the two of you, together, finding comfort in one another’s company. It’d been simple, and you can remember looking up at him and feeling warmth for him in your heart.

Is this what you really want..?

No.

Your relationship has felt like a series of rash decisions lately, and you aren’t about to make the final, irreversible choice of leaving London. You can’t leave - not now, with the path finally clear. You can’t leave Tom, who’s finally told you how he feels. He’s messy, and complicated, and being around him makes you feel like your heart is on fire, but you love him. You love him, and maybe he’s right - maybe love is enough.

You know that you have come too far to throw it all away without giving him a chance.

You’ve never been a fan of bold, romantic gestures, but as they call your gate again, you turn off your phone and you turn around. You turn around, and you run. You run back to him.

↠ next part

#sob #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland #tom holland series #crying on main time #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #tfg #ahhhhHHHHH screaming truly #what am i gonna do with my fridays when im finished with this series!!#:((( anyways #please let me know what you're thinking :)))#almost didn't include the final scene in this part but :)) i thought it deserved to make the final cut

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drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

Note

Okay, so I wanted to bounce off of the anon's imagine for a juice spider fic, but I also want to see the guys' react to this situation. I know that would be asking a lot, so maybe a headcanon for how the boys would react? Can you imagine Tig's cheekiness/horniness, or Happy's deadpan reaction? Hell, even Chib's would be hilarious. I leave it to you

Since we’re doing this HC for multiple characters, I figured a list might be better than multiple fics. Hope that’s alright! Also threw Opie into the mix because I love him haha. Based off of This Fic

(Also currently drafting a fic that is a different version of this for Kozik for a different request which is why I didn’t include him in this)

Reaction to finding you screaming and naked outside the bathroom because of a spider-

Tig:

For sure bursts into the room with his gun ready to shoot someone because he doesn't think that there’s any reason someone would scream that loud except if they’re about to be murdered

When he walked into the empty room he was insanely confused, but that confusion only lasted for about three seconds when he saw you standing outside the bathroom naked, dripping water all over his floor

He doesn’t even bother to ask what happened or what’s wrong as he makes his way over to you. You can see it in his eyes that he only has one thing on his mind, and it has nothing to do with the spider on the other side of the door

You push him back, telling him that he doesn’t get to lay a finger on you until he takes care of the monster living in his bathroom.

“It’s not going anywhere, c’mon, we can be quick,” he reached out to touch your hips. But you’re firm, keeping him at arm's length, “You don’t get to touch me until that spider is dead.”

He tries to protest, to sweet-talk you into forgetting about it, but you step away from him and point at the door. You make it very clear that the vibe in his dorm isn’t going to be a sexy one until you know that the eight-legged nightmare is dead and flushed down the toilet.

He rolls his eyes with a sigh but he begrudgingly opens the door to take care of the problem. You can hear him mumbling under his breath about how he can’t believe that you would really push him away over a spider and that he couldn't believe you expected him to see you standing there like that and think about anything other than having his hands all over you.

Despite your annoyance, you had to laugh at his frustration. He made quick work of the problem and came back out, a smirk on his face. He backed you towards the bed and both of you had to laugh at the entire situation

“Y’know, I might start keeping other weird shit in there if it means I get to walk in and see this all the time,” there was a cheeky grin on his face as he thought about it.

You shook your head, “I find any more spiders in there I’ll never be naked in this dorm again. You can count on it.”

Chibs:

If he had heard the scream coming from anywhere else, he would’ve been concerned. But he knew that there couldn't possibly be anything that terrible happening inside the shoebox of a room that passed for his dorm.

He found himself chuckling when he heard you yelling his name, telling him to “get the fuck in here now.”

He walked in and found you sitting on the bed, knees pulled up to your chest. He saw the trail of wet footprints leading from the bathroom to the bed and he had a million questions he felt like he should be asking.

“Do I even wanna know, love?” he was trying not to smile and failing miserably at it. You looked at him, “Do you like company when you shower?” Confusion came across his face, “What?” You repeated yourself, “Do you like company when you shower?” He laughed, “Only if it’s you.”

You shook your head, “Really? Because you have quite the friend hanging out in there waiting for you!” He couldn't even try to pretend that he understood what you were talking about, “Ye gotta start talkin’ sense to me. What the hell--” You cut him off, “There’s a giant fucking spider in there!”

Once he realized that that’s what it was, his laughter continued. He came over and stood by the edge of the bed, pushing the dripping hair back out of your face. He didn’t want to say what he was about to, but he couldn't lie to you, “Aye. I know. Keeps all the other bugs away.”

“You know?” in that moment you contemplated leaving him. If you hadn’t been naked you would’ve stormed right out of the room and left the compound. He held his hands up in mock surrender, “I hardly ever use the shower here! We leave each other alone!”

“Go kill it. Now.” It was plain as day on his face that he was amused but also didn’t really want to do what you were asking him to. He tried to reach out and caress your face but you pulled away, “C’mon, love. That just don’t seem fair. He’s just tryin’ ta do his job.” You started daggers at him, “Filip. I swear to god--”

“No need to bring God into this,” he chuckled as he made his way over to the bathroom, “I’ll take care of it for you.” He opened the bathroom door and took his boot off so he could squash the creature causing the issue.

A few moments later you were rewarded with the sound of his boot banging against the wall. He walked back out, pulling his shoe on as he did so. He shook his head as he walked over to you, “All taken care of.”

You allowed him to drape a fresh towel around your shoulders, “If you want a pet we can get a fucking cat or something. Or a dog for the clubhouse. But no more spiders.”

Happy:

He swung the door open to the room, the same angrily neutral expression on his face that he always had. He could hear the shower still running, and it made him wonder why exactly you were standing outside the door to the bathroom. He looked back and forth between you and the doorway, waiting for you to offer something up about what was going on.

“Why’d you scream?” his voice was gruff. You pointed towards the shower, “There’s a spider in your shower!”

His brows furrowed in confusion, “So? Kill it.” Your eyes went wide as you shook your head, “I’m not gonna kill it!” He tilted his head slightly, “Just gonna stand there naked and waste all the hot water, then?”

You huffed. You loved the man but sometimes you wanted to smack him repeatedly with a rolled-up newspaper. There were downsides to being with someone with a bloodlust like his, one of them being that he would never be able to wrap his head around being afraid of something like a spider.

“Can you just go kill it for me, Hap? Please?”

He didn’t say anything else to you about it but he did go over and walk into the bathroom. He shut the shower off and after a few moments of him looking around, he lifted his foot and kicked the wall of the shower where the spider had been, a brief grunt falling from his lips as he did so.

He walked back out to you, “It’s dead now.” You had to laugh at his deadpan delivery of the statement, “Thank you.” He grabbed a towel and handed it to you, “You should get used to killing stuff. You chuckled, “Yea. I’ll get to work on that.”

Opie:

He walked in and saw you frantically waving him over. He shut the door behind him, not wanting anyone to walk by and see you. You were holding the bathroom door shut like you were trying to lock someone inside.

“Who you got in there?” it was hard for him to not find the situation at least a little comical. He reached and grabbed a shirt off the top of his dresser and handed it to you. “Not who,” you shook your head as you quickly pulled his shirt on, swimming in the fabric.

“What’s going on?” he reached for the doorknob but you beat him to it. You waited for him to look at you, “There’s a spider in there.” The confusion and concern melted away from his face as he laughed, “A spider?” You slapped his chest, “Don’t laugh! Thing has legs as long as yours.” He smiled and shook his head at you, “I doubt that.”

You hand him a shoe that had been cast aside by his dresser. He shook his head and waved you off, “I think I’ll be alright.” You stepped back as he walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind himself. There were the quiet sounds of him scuffling around on the other side of the door.

A minute later you heard the flush of the toilet and let out a sigh of relief. He opened the door and smiled at you, “All gone.” You peaked around him and did a quick scan of the room, as if to make sure he was telling you the truth.

He pulled you against him and pressed a kiss into the dripping wet hair on top of your head. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was thinking of another smart comment to make so you quickly started pushing him back towards the door. He laughed as he allowed himself to be escorted.

“Just bring me in to do your dirty work?” You laughed as you stood on the other side of the doorway from him. You didn’t justify the comment with a response as you shut the door on him. His laughter made it’s way through the walls between you, “I love you!” he called to you. You rolled your eyes despite the fact that you couldn’t see him, “I love you too, even though you raise monsters in your shower.”

These were super fun to write!! Hope you enjoyed them. xo

#Anonymous #ask #asks #soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #tig trager #chibs telford #filip telford #happy lowman #opie winston #sons of anarchy hc #soa hc #hc #drabblesmc

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levi-ish · 4 years ago

Text

Little Talks | 5

Pairing: Bartender!Levi X Reader

Genre: [+18] Slice of life, drama, romance, fluff, smut

Words: 3k

Warnings: Alcohol, cheating mentions, drugs, cussing

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Masterlist

“Your taste in tea is shit” Levi scanned through the old teabags you had lingering in your cabinets.

“Sorry if I don’t have enough money to buy those fancy blends you like” you rolled your eyes as you leaned further into the throw pillows you had on top of your old couch.

“Tch.”

You turned around and watched the man tumble around with your mugs and you knew that he hated your unmatching sets, always making small comments about them. He then set for the most common ones you had and brought them to you after quickly making your drinks.

It had been a few weeks since the night when Levi comforted you after your ex-beloved’s visit. You two held hands and pretended that it was nothing while watching random cooking shows, then after you fell asleep he left but not before making you another cup of tea that you woke up to find inside your microwave, sitting there waiting for you.

You thanked him in person two days after and exchanged numbers because he claimed that he didn’t ‘trust’ your building’s security. Even when you told him that Zeke only got up because your concierge knew him.

But now things were better than you could expect. Levi would drive you home almost every night and wait for your ‘ok’ text when you took the elevator, to be sure you were safe and sound. He mostly made you tea at 4AM when the bar was closing and you had no classes the day after, and you two hung around at your apartment quite a lot, watching shitty movies and listening to him complain about how you were doing your laundry all wrong.

Whoever saw you two together would think you were a couple of elderlies married.

“I can’t believe he didn’t like how she plated it” you pointed at the TV, quite angry at the cooking show passing on. “She even put those fancy herbs.”

“It’s shit”

“Everything is ‘shit’ to you” you rolled your eyes.

“Only the things that are shit” Levi replied as he sipped on his tea.

You rolled eyes once more as you felt the shift on the sofa, not noticing his movements if it weren’t for it. Levi held his phone to his eyes and a sheer of light illuminated his strong features, highlighting that glorious jawline and the thin lips you—

What?

Shaking your head, you quickly got rid of those thoughts, adjusting your own position and making your back fall more comfortably on the cushions. Levi let a small sigh and brought the teacup back to his mouth, drinking slowly.

“Hange again?” You asked, giving him the side of your eye as you stirred your own drink.

“Kirstein this time” Levi replied, letting out his signature ‘tch’. “I should’ve been there. Those idiots can’t do their jobs properly without supervision.”

“Hange forcing people to listen to their theories again?”

“No. Jean broke the sink and is trying to blame it on the weather somehow.”

“How…”

“No fucking idea.” Levi put his phone back inside his pocket and drank the last of his tea, sighing after. It was a heavenly vision to see, you weren’t gonna lie.

With a small yawn, you stretched your legs and downed the tea in one gulp, earning a side eye from the man who wasn’t pleased you were appreciating one of his fancy blends. The minty taste lingered on your tongue as you licked your lips, and you could smell the hint of cinnamon wandering in the room, mixing with Levi’s cologne that you so much adored.

“I’m bored” you let out, pouting as you rested your face on the pillow closer to his shoulder.

“You wouldn’t be if you stayed quiet and watched the show.”

“Do you hate me or what” you scoffed, pouting even more.

Levi turned to you, watching your expression and that’s when you noticed how close you were to him. His breath fanned over your face and you swore you could see his lips twitching and him inching closer, clearing your throat, you looked down, completely breaking eye contact.

“Do you really wanna know?” He replied and you pushed him. “At least clean your hands before touching me.”

“You wish I was touching you” you bit your lip and rose your brows teasingly.

He turned to your face once more, eyes dead serious focusing on you and he licked his lips slowly, posture completely changing.

“Maybe.”

He caught you off guard with that comment, making a small shiver go down your spine, but you decided that brushing it off would be better than acknowledging new reasons to make the relationship you two had more uncomfortable. You knew Levi wasn’t very pushy about things and probably would forget about it as soon as you would, without giving it another thought.

Oh well.

“Uh…” you tried to say, licking your lips again after your mouth went full dry “… are you hungry?”

“No” he said, eyes still on you as you tried to get his attention away from you.

“Uhm… then do you wanna do something else or…?”

Levi inched closer now, his nose brushing against yours and breath warming your chin as you rubbed skin together, feeling each other scents and every little movement was big enough to make both bodies swarm under the tension in the room.

“Levi… what…”

But before you could continue, he closed the distance, lips colliding as you felt the dry specs of his chapped skin brushing against yours. Is this really happening? What…? It was, and he was still going, hand now holding your nape to have your face closer to his than before, as if he never wanted to let go. You turned to the side to allow his tongue inside, feeling it dancing with yours in a difficult and shy but intense tango that seemed too familiar but strange at the same time.

It was a sensation you never wanted to end.

But as soon as it started, it stopped; his hand left your neck and went back to his side, and his usually unfazed look now seemed more panicked, as if he was already regretting it.

Please, god, don’t regret it. Please…

“I—”

You were abruptly cut off by him standing from the couch and grabbing his coat by the rack, quickly opening the door and leaving your apartment, leaving you by yourself and with empty lips but a full heart that felt too heavy for your shallow chest.

Things changed since that.

Levi completely disappeared. Hange and Jean would say that he would leave the key to them and only showed up in the mornings to rearrange things the way he liked them but left very quickly each time. He didn’t text and you didn’t try to, knowing it would be useless since we are talking about him, most emotionally unavailable person to exist. You still went to the bar every night, trying to catch him around and maybe clear things up, but failed miserably.

You didn’t regret it, not at all. In fact, you wished it would last longer, even though it was enough material for your mind to wander around the floor full of eggshells that were your memories from that night. You wanted more, you wanted him, and now you weren’t ashamed of admitting it to yourself.

And you were almost giving up seeing him again, if it weren’t for Sasha, who was livid over how he had reacted and insisted on dragging you back to the bar.

So there you were, Mikasa holding one of your arms and Sasha holding the other, both giving you pep talks on how you should go there and confront him. You knew he was working tonight for sure, that’s because Mikasa told you she’d texted him about it before and learned he was taking some weird shifts and closing on weirder times. Annie was busy with her two-year anniversary with Armin, so she couldn’t come, but she did text you to be brave. The way Annie would, I mean, sending a small “punch him” and a smiley face.

“C’mon (y/n), you look hot and he will regret leaving when you show up” Sasha’s grip on your arm tightened as she tried to drag you inside. “Tell her, Mikasa”

“You look hot” the other woman said, and you knew that she wasn’t putting much effort in because it made you uncomfortable, otherwise you’d have been inside already since Mikasa was stronger than you two combined. “Levi’s an idiot.”

“I don’t wanna go” you said, whining as they let go of you for a moment. “He did what he did and I was pretty much rejected. I don’t wanna push harder.”

“What’s even his problem?!” Sasha crossed her arms, her expression turning into a mad one. “Was he always an idiot, Mikasa?”

“He changed a lot since he was left at the altar.”

“What” you and Sasha said in unison, shocked by the new piece of information.

“Did I never mention it?”

“No?” You frowned, coming closer to her face. “What do you mean by ‘left at the altar’?”

“Exactly that.”

“Mikasa” Sasha pushed her lightly.

“I don’t know exactly, I was 15, but he was getting married to this girl and she left him the day of the wedding.” Mikasa said as if it was nothing. “Everyone was there to see, and he was devastated.”

That left you wondering… a lot. Why’d Levi never tell you about that? You two went into some deep discussions at times, talking about stuff that you never dared to share with others, and he did open up a little about some of his things, but this? You thought that would be something to tell someone you would think of kissing. Unless he wasn’t really thinking those things about you, then it would be a whole other topic that you were too much of a coward to consider.

Did anyone else know? You had so many questions and you really wish you had the answers because of the anxiety now growing in the pit of your stomach.

“You didn’t think that was important information to share?” You questioned and Mikasa shook her head.

“Not really.”

“Okay, we are getting in. You can deal with that later” Sasha pushed you through the door and now you couldn’t say anything else because your feet already touched the wooden floor.

It was a full house, everyone was dancing and singing along with the old jukebox and there were girls leaning on the counter flirting with Jean as your eyes wandered. Hange was mixing drinks and Levi was nowhere to see, what made you feel a lot more comfortable being there. Sasha and Mikasa pushed through the crowd and found you a place on the counter, sitting on stools and leaving you to sit in between them, so you did, and the blonde bartender was the first one to notice you there.

“Ah!” He chirped loudly, leaving the girls behind to come to you. “My favorite girl… and company, hi, hello.”

You noticed he was now flirting with Mikasa, but she just ignored his presence.

“Hot wings!” Sasha punched the counter and grabbed you by side shoulder, pointing at the shelves. “And shots, keep them coming, my friend here needs them.”

“I’m sure she does” Jean kept his gaze on Mikasa, trying to be subtle about it as you rolled your eyes at him. “Our short friend has been pretty hard to deal with lately, so without you around I already knew something went down.”

“They kissed” Mikasa let out.

“ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT LEVI?” Screamed Hange from where they were, coming right away and pushing Jean with their hip. “Also, hi, but answer me!”

“They kissed” Mikasa repeated, and you gave up on trying to stop them.

Hange’s hand fell on your shoulder as they approached the group further, inserting the ponytail-head in the middle and readjusting the glasses above their nose, “You and shorty? Are you kidding me?! Tell me everything!”

“I’ll leave you to deal with Hange now” Jean said as they leaned a little more into Mikasa’s side. “So… are you in college?”

She only gave him a side glance and ignored his question, making the man confused.

“Focus!” Hange slammed their fist, now sitting on your side. “You have to tell me about it!”

“Oh gosh, please let me breath!” You rose your hands and they all moved their attention to you, making you feel a little overwhelmed and guilty — they were simply curious creatures. A deep sigh left your mouth as you put your palms back on the wooden surface of the table, opening your eyes slowly. “We kissed… and he left.”

“Without saying anything?” Jean asked and you nodded. “Damn… he ghosted you.”

“He might just be too busy?” Hange suggested and you gave them the harsh glare. “Maybe not?”

“Can anyone bring me—us some wings?” Sasha pleaded, leaning onto the table.

“You two need to talk” Hange added, bumping onto you jokingly. “Kiss and make up.”

“That’s not happening.”

“C’mon, he’s in the back. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

You just lowered your head and that was enough for them to understand.

“Well, I’ll leave you be” they just gave you a slight nod and stood from the booth. “Good luck.”

You felt some warmth crawl into your belly and smiled at them, following by another glance onto the other two in front of you.

“Mikasa is such an exotic name, where did it come from?” Jean leaned further, trying his best to sound smooth but the girl’s reaction was too bothered to be working.

“We’ll leave you be” Hange said as they grabbed Jean by the nape and dragged him back to the bar.

[…]

Sasha was on her third plate of hot wings when caught the first glance of Levi.

He came from the back for a moment to grab the electric kettle from under the counter, turning around quickly as if he already knew you were around and was avoiding any type of contact. Being treated like a disease like that made you feel angry, it wasn’t like you’d done anything wrong, you just kissed him back — he was the one to initiate it! The nerve of him.

You gulped down the rest of your beer and threw yourself back on the cushions of the booth, earning a look from Mikasa, but she decided to ignore it knowing you were procrastinating the inevitable, now focusing on Sasha who was unbuttoning her pants to eat more.

“Hey, you’re (y/n), right?” Someone approached your table, hands filling the pockets of their letterman jacket and blonde hair neatly sitting on top of his head. A thin goatee painted his chin and a gentle look sat around his clear eyes.

“Yea” you shook your head, looking at his face, frowning slightly. “Sorry, I—”

“It’s fine, we have Latin together” you now recognized him as the boy who sat in front of you and occasionally borrowed a pen.

“Oh! Reiner, right? You want some hot wings?” Sasha was not pleased you offered, but you just ignored her growl.

“No, I’m fine, just came to say ‘hi’” he gave you a small smile. “See you around.”

You reciprocated the smile and watched as he left, and your eyes collided with cold, grey ones across the room, behind the wooden counter as you felt your heart rush again, as if it was the first time once more. Levi had his muscular arms crossed as he stared right into your soul, making cold chills run all over your spine, holding your body to make it stop.

He turned around to leave and as if a lightning had just struck in you, your body involuntarily stood from its place and rushed to the counter, running around it and pushing the backdoor open, revealing an annoyed short man holding a cup of tea.

“What the f—”

And before he could even complete his thoughts, you grabbed the cup and placed it on the table right next to you, all that before pining him roughly against the wall, staring quickly into his eyes, searching for the same flame you could see inside you now burning around grey specs. A small smile grew on your lips and you kissed him hard.

He hesitated though, leaning back quickly as if something had snapped in his mind, making him realize what was really happening there. But before you could react again, he turned you around, pining your hands above your head as he kissed you feverously, the other hand feeling the skin of your hips from under your shirt, making the chills go harder around your bloodstream.

Levi moved positions once more, taking the back of your thighs and sitting you on top of the same table, making the teacup fall to the floor, but he seemed unbothered by it. His tongue now made advances on your mouth, playing with yours in soft movements even when his own lips made harsh movements, combining everything like sugar and cinnamon, and the pine scent of his cologne invaded your clothes that were now too hot for your needy skin.

His hands clenched around the fat of your legs, holding it as if his life depended on it and he started to lower his lips to your neck, giving it open-mouthed kisses that made a small moan fall from your throat. Ashamed, you didn’t realize that your grip on his shoulders was a little too hard and he put a hand from under your chin, holding your face as he stared deeply into your soul. A satisfied scoff fell from his own plump lips and he came back to what he was doing.

That was somewhat a dream, something you had fantasized about too many times to count, and now that it was happening, you refused to pinch yourself in fear of waking up alone. But when his slim fingers rose your skirt to your hips, things felt too real for it to be just your mind playing tricks. Small whimpers escaped your mouth as Levi decided to explore around your navel, playing softly with the hem of the lacy panties you were wearing, and you thanked whatever god was up there for not wearing those comfortable ones you almost wore tonight.

He removed your panties and lowered himself now, a small breath fanned over your naked parts, making you shiver slightly, only to be held still by his own hands. He gave you a small glance before you nodded in consent, and it was all it took for him to devour you in the most amazing ways you had never experienced before.

Levi had experience — you could tell — and the passion he exhaled was enough for you to moan without caring about anything in the world. His fingers joined his tongue and played with your entrance, teasing slowly as his mouth did wonders around your sensitive bud, movements going from harsh hands to slow kisses that left you whimpering, needing everything, anything more from him, legs hooping around his shoulders while trying to make him come closer to your heat.

You whimpered, moaned, cried under his spell, and everything felt 1000x more sensitive against his touch. His fingers entered you and played around all the right places, hitting every beat to the song that played muffled inside the bar, making a small giggle fall from you and he noticed it, now fastening his pace as if he wanted to go back to shutting you up with his own mouth.

Repeatedly he hit your most sensitive spot, licking, and tasting all he could as he did his best to make you cum. It didn’t take long for you to feel the heat pooling around your stomach, throwing your head backwards and fisting his hair between your fingers as you felt his rush against your orgasm, taking everything from you simply with his mouth. You moaned loudly as you rode his face quickly, hips moving without your consent and he pulled your lips apart to clean the remnants of your pleasure, not leaving one spot untouched.

Your chest heaved from the rush as your eyes made contact with grey seas that now leveled with your height, watching you under spells of lust while he sucked slowly from his fingers, tasting every last bit of you, like you were mead for his tastebuds, and you could swear you saw his lips curl a little upwards.

“You surely know how to make a mess” he noted, a ‘tch’ leaving his mouth.

TAGLIST

@zeickv @thirstyforsometea @nalu-trashytrash @umheyasf

#levi #levi smut #levi ackerman #aot #levi x reader #zeke jaeger #jean kirstein

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violetsoju · 4 years ago

Text

let’s go on a ride (where to)彡★

suna rintaro · fluff? · 3.1k

a/n: here’s a cookie for you if you can guess correctly from which song i got inspired by 🍪 (hint: it’s from a female soloist!) do let me know if you enjoyed it! ❤️

The first time you got on his bike was when you were late for your finals. Being the ironically procrastinator and overachiever you are, you dunked 3 cups of coffee the previous night in attempt to stay up drilling pages and pages of chemical processes and reactions, along with the insane number of structures and behaviours of molecules that seemed to stretch on forever into your poor cramped brain. So when you woke up to your clock staring at you with its long hand 20 minutes away from the scheduled time of your doom, you knew you were indeed, doomed. Your shouts and failing hands to the bus driver fell on deaf ears, leaving you gasping for air, hands on your knees as you reached the now empty bus stop.

You were about to make a run for it when a motorbike pulled up beside you, a male voice catching your attention. “Hey.”

You turned to see fox-like eyes staring back at you, one which had you intrigued since the first encounter. Even though his other features were hidden beneath his helmet, the boy clad in black on the bike was undoubtedly, your next-door neighbour.

“Get on my bike, let’s go.” he said, throwing a helmet in your direction.

Despite living right next door, the both of you never had a conversation with each other. You don’t really see each other too, in your defence. Normal greetings would just be a small nod of acknowledgement, sometimes with a small ‘hi’ if you were feeling sociable enough.

But desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

“Where to?” he asked, as you climbed onto the back seat.

“Hyogo University, please.” You grabbed on the rail bar behind, praying that you won’t somehow fall off.

Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you missed the bus, because weaving through unusual heavy traffic on two wheels was definitely more efficient than being stuck on four wheels. You yelped as you almost lost your balance from the zigzag drive, instinctively grabbing hold of his waist as you both zoomed past the congested roads.

Never in your life had you been so happy and relieved at the sight of your university. Jumping off the bike, you were about to sprint to your faculty when you stopped midway at your tracks at his call.

“Hey! My helmet!”

Turning back meant risking having the examination doors being slammed in your face. “I’ll return it to you later!” you shouted, waving the back of your hand towards him as you dashed to your examination venue.

Later that night, the boy found the sides of his lips tugging upwards slightly, huffing a breath from his nose in amusement at the sight of his helmet hanging on doorknob of his apartment. It was filled with packets of choco pie and a small yellow note in it.

「 Thank you so much for today! I got to my examination venue right on time thanks to you. Please let me know when you’re free. I’d like to treat you to a meal as a gesture of appreciation, these treats obviously aren’t enough.

-Your next-door neighbour 」

He opened a packet of choco pie and folded the small piece of paper neatly into the pocket of his jeans, making his way into his apartment.

Your eyebrows arched in surprise when you locked your front door the next morning. There was a small green note stuck on your door, along with a box of chocolate koala march biscuits secured tightly with tape.

「 It’s not a big deal. Now we’re even, so save that for something else. 」

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The second time you got on his bike was on the way home from your job interview. You knew your heels were to go, and you should have gotten a new pair soon. But being the last-minute shit you were, you prayed with all your heart for it to survive on you till the end of the day.

Well, to be fair, it did cooperate with you for most of the day, besides than the awful blisters on the back of your heel and toes. It only gave up on you after the interview that went wrong (allocated interview slot being postponed and postponed, the central air-conditioning blasting like the North Pole, and what was it with companies and their ridiculous prejudice towards young women and maternity leaves), when your right heel got stuck in a sewage drain cover, snapping into half when you used too much force to get it out.

Then it rained. And of course, you left your umbrella at home as there were no indications of rain when you checked the weather forecast. Maybe the rain felt like giving the sun, along with the weather bureau, a surprise that day.

And maybe it felt like it had its fair share of fun after seeing your miserable state, drenched in its merry little splatter and your own infuriation, as it bid the sun goodbye and went back home once you got off the bus to your neighbourhood.

So here you were, walking barefoot on the scorching yet damp concrete pavement back home, adding more damage to your open wounds. Well, what other choice did you have? It’s not like you would break the other heel into half to balance it out, right?

The stares and hushed whispers around you couldn’t much compare to what was going through your mind now. Heck, you couldn’t even care less of how you looked. Smudged makeup and faint colour of your innerwear peeping beneath your now see-through white blouse were the least of your worries now. All you wanted was to get home, fill the tub with warm water, turn on some music, and let all the frustration built up in you sink away through the evening.

Walking around the last block of shops, you kept your eyes on the pavement, not noticing a familiar figure leaning against the wall a few shops ahead.

“Hey.”

You were so absorbed in your own thoughts, you didn’t realise a human wall up ahead.

“Hey!”

You winced at the sudden impact from the body slam, snapping up to find a boy around your age towering over you, alluring fox eyes meeting yours. “Sorry,” you muttered, stepping aside to continue on your way.

A warm hand grabbed hold of your arm, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden touch. He had his head tilted slightly to his left, his usual blank face staring back at you. But the hint of concern that subtly flickered in his eyes as he silently inspected you from head to toe made you stop in your tracks.

Maybe it was the series of incidents that happened throughout the day that had your mind spiraling in turbulent directions, or maybe it was the delicate warmth in his eyes that seemed so inviting, it wasn’t a bad idea to linger in it for a while. Whatever the reasons were, he was granted the rare permission to take a small peek through the faint cracks of your hardened shell, into the dark fiery void that held you hostage.

You kept your eyes glued on the ground as he kept his gaze on you, curling your bruised toes together against the hard concrete, contemplating if you made the right decision.

Once he was done with his inspection, he moved towards his bike parked by the side of the pavement, grip still on your arm, and dug out for an extra helmet underneath the seat of his bike. He placed the helmet over your head, featherlike fingers brushing against your skin as he secured the straps around your chin gently.

“Get on, let’s get home.” he said, tapping the top of the helmet as if he was patting a little girl’s head.

The journey home was silent, in a comfortable way, and you were grateful that he kept his curiosity to himself.

He dropped you off at the lobby entrance of your apartment, nodding in acknowledgement as you returned the helmet while mumbling an audible thanks. You should’ve waited for him to take the elevator back up to your floor together, but you were just so bloody done for the day. At least you pressed the ground floor button as you exited the elevator.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The third time you got on his bike was after dinner one night. You were at the nearby convenience store in your pjs, a bowl of hot oden in hand, staring out at the night through the glass window. Late night convenience store runs were the best, because most people would be snuggled up in their homes, leaving the world to those like you to enjoy in peace in quiet.

You were on your third fish cake skewer when an unexpected presence made its way next to you. Gleaming hazel eyes locked with yours, and you found yourself unconsciously lost in it again.

He placed a plastic bag filled with an assortment of jelly fruit sticks on the table, savouring a purple coloured one in hand. You chuckled at this new side of him. This wasn’t quite something you pictured him to be.

He turned to you questionably. “Is there a problem?”

You shook your head. “Not at all, I’m just surprised with this new information.” You offered a fish cake skewer to him.

He gave you a green coloured jelly fruit stick in return. “There’s no age limit for these, are there?”

“Nope, you’re more than welcome to enjoy them,” You peered at the plastic bag. “Can I have the red one instead?”

“Picky.” he jokingly huffed.

The both of you enjoyed the rest of the night by the windowsill, making comfortable small talk here and there.

It was past midnight when you both made your way out of the convenience store. “Do you usually walk back alone at this time?” he asked, rummaging his pocket for his bike keys.

“Yeah, but not to worry, I can protect myself quite well. Ain’t no damsel in distress.” You jiggled your self-defense kit attached to your house keys at him.

He hummed in agreement, handing you a helmet. “My younger sister has a set of that too. That pepper spray is no joke.”

“What did you do to piss her off?” You fastened on the helmet strap nimbly, climbing onto the now familiar backseat.

“I was her guinea pig to test if it worked. And damn it worked well. 5-star rating.” The bike engine roared, muffling your laughs and off the both of you went in the night.

You furrowed your brows when he drove past by the turn to your apartment. “Hey, you missed the turn!”

“Buckle up, we’re going on an adventure.”

Apparently, his so-called adventure was to the neighbourhood hilltop which you had never dragged your lazy ass up to hike before. There wasn’t much to see in the dark surroundings, maybe it would be better in the day.

“For a moment I thought you were gonna abduct me or something.”

“By a guy that eats jelly fruit sticks at this age? Plus, you’re not even worth a bag of jelly fruit sticks.”

He fake coughed as you shoved the helmet in his chest playfully in retaliation.

The hilltop wasn’t that high, but high enough to overlook the charming neighbourhood below. Looking at your neighbourhood from a different perspective made you appreciate it more. The quaint coffeeshops, the now quiet primary school, the lush recreational park, they all looked so small from the top. So this is what birds see from the top, you thought.

Placing your hands on the wooden fencing, you closed your eyes for a moment to enjoy the cool breeze caressing your face, taking in a long, deep breath. Even the air up here was clearer.

You turned behind to find him lying on the grass with one knee up, arms folded behind his head, eyes on the black canvas above. You took your place comfortably next to him, mimicking his actions. A soft gasp escaped your lips, taken aback by the view displayed before you.

Maybe it was the cold reality and gradual maturity along with age that had your mind conditioned to thinking only the glowing lights of the city lit up the dark night skies. Long had you forgotten the existence of the scattered diamonds shining up above; one that lit up the skies and your eyes as a child, one you dreamt of picking from the sky to replace the plastic fluorescent ones on the celling of your nostalgic childhood room.

It was simple pleasures like this that kept boundless curiosity and imagination run wild, that made each day enjoyable and fun, that made one realise how beautiful life could be.

And to remind one how important it is to live in the present.

“Do you know how to identify constellations?”

“I only know the name of my zodiac sign, if that counts.”

“No.”

You chuckled at the small pout that formed on his lips.

“Don’t you think it’s amazing how people in the olden days could navigate their way with just a few blinking dots in the night sky? I don’t even know how to use a compass.”

“That’s why we have Google maps now.”

“Can you be a lil bit more enthusiastic?”

“You can’t deny that what I said is true, can you?”

It was his turn to chuckle at your exasperated sigh.

“Have you seen a meteor shower before?”

“Yeah, once I think.”

“Did you make a wish?”

“I guess so.”

“Has the universe granted your wish then?”

“A secret shall remain a secret.”

You hummed in response.

Truth to be told, the both of you were keeping secrets from each other: your identities. Sure, you both knew each other as next-door neighbours, but what else?

Perhaps he has the upper hand here. He knows you’re a university student from the first ride on his bike, he (somehow) knows you’re searching for a job from the second ride, and now he knows your little late night konbini run affair. All you know about him is that he rides a bike and likes jelly fruit sticks.

But you don’t mind. In fact, you like this anonymity. It’s what makes the relationship between the two of you more engaging, precious and real. You could let down your guard with him. No judgements, no defensive barriers, no facades.

Sure, you would be curious about his background at times. Is he the same age as you? Is he a fellow struggling university student like you? Or has he plunged into the battlefield called work already? But if you could be you wholeheartedly, and he could be him wholeheartedly too, that’s what matters the most at the moment.

“Are you certain that you made your wish correctly?”

“Are there procedures for making wishes upon shooting stars?”

“Duh. You gotta look up to the night sky, close your eyes, clasp your hands together, then make your wish. That’s how it works.”

“You could shake hands with my younger sister and be sappy drama sisters.”

“Maybe that’s why your wish hasn’t come true yet.”

“I’m not falling for your trap.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Man, I can’t believe nothing came out from what I studied for the whole week. Nothing. My feelings have been cheated on.”

Atsumu and you were currently slumped over the table at the convenience store next to the university, each with a hotdog in hand, along with an array of snacks scattered across the table. The both of you had just finished your classes for the day, and instead of grabbing proper dinner, you both were stuffing yourselves with junk food like children.

As to quote Atsumu, “Where’s the joy in life in blindly following the rules? Rules were meant to be broken. And it’s not like we do it every day.”

“Giving up so quickly? What happened to the ‘new semester new me resolution’, huh.”

Atsumu slammed his face on the table, groaning in distress. “Everything’s a scam. Life is a scam.”

You huffed out a small laugh at his exaggeration, eyes riveting back to the bustling street outside the window. Groups of students making their way to the bus and train station, couples choosing their dinner place hand-in-hand after work, a line forming outside the newly opened sushi place that served sushi on a mini bullet train. A typical Thursday evening.

A familiar jet-black bike among the line of bikes lined up by the pavement in front of the convenience store caught your sight. Oh?

Your mouth must’ve worked faster than your brain as Atsumu looked up to face the same direction you were looking at. “What yer looking at?”

“Oh, Suna must be around here somewhere. Haven’t seen him in a while.”

Suna, huh. Nice name.

“That’s one sexy looking bike, isn’t it? I always wanted a ride, but dude always speeds off even before I have the chance. Treats it like his wife. Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone one ride it besides him.”

“Poor you, it’s a really nice ride.”

“The engine sounds amazing too- Wait. Wait a hot second. You rode it before? How? You know Suna?” Atsumu’s energy switch was turned back on, eyes wide like saucers as you shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.

“He’s my next-door neighbour, duh.” Atsumu swore he was so close to throwing hands at your nonchalant attitude on the matter.

“Speaking of the devil, there he is.”

Suna emerged from the bakery on the opposite street, a bag of freshly baked goods in hand. Crossing the busy road to your side of the street, a glint of surprise gleamed in his eyes at the sight of both of you through the window, mostly from the shock and betrayal expression of the blond. He nodded to Atsumu in greeting, which was replied with Atsumu barking questions at him from the inside.

“What the hell, Suna? We’ve been friends for so long and I’ve never had a ride before, and she gets a ride? Really, Suna? I thought we’re more than this-”

“You know he can’t hear you from outside, right?” Atsumu paused to stare at you for a moment, and continued shooting questions and making dramatic gestures to the boy grinning slyly at him outside.

Suna turned his eyes to you, tipping his head towards his bike. Wanna go home?

You gave him a smile. Yeah, sure.

You got up from your seat and shoved half of the snacks on the table into your bag. “Later, Atsumu.” You bid the blond goodbye, patting his shoulder in condolence as he gawked at the both of you like endangered animals in the zoo.

“Suna you lil shit.”

Maybe you weren’t only getting rides back home on his bike, maybe you were getting a ride into his heart too.

168 notes · View notes

crown-anon · 4 years ago

Note

aah i thought of a req!!!!! could i maybe request one shots or hcs (separate) w dream, sapnap, n wilbur with a s/o (preferred he/him!!) who draws a whole lot,, n one day they catch him drawing him?? tysm :]

@ghcstbnr asked

gn i just realized i made a typo i meant cc catching reader drawing them- but ty again :)

of course! it's kind of long, sorry about that

I took a little creative liberty with the notion of "catching you drawing." also Sapnap's looks kind of long but it's also dialogue heavy. if you want me to redo it, I will. hope you like it 💗

& a note to everyone else, I don't write for Wilbur yet! I only write for the dream team at this time. sorry about that! this will probably change in the future, though, so look out 👀

CW: swearing

format: one-shot

people: dreamwastaken, Sapnap

pronouns: dreamwastaken's piece is ambiguous, Sapnap's piece uses he/him

edited 27 April 2021

—

dreamwastaken

since he doesn't use his camera, you find yourself with your boyfriend in the studio more often than not. when he's gaming casually, you play together, or one of you will cheer the other one on. when he's streaming, sometimes you interact with the viewers, or read donations for him; sometimes you just sit next to him, soaking up his energy and warmth. when he's working long days and long nights to edit videos, you're content with just relaxing together in the same space. at times you have to drag him out to the kitchen to eat, or help him to bed if he passes out, but…he's really cute when he's focused. (and you're starting to think he does it on purpose just so you can dote on him.)

today is a little different. he's recording for a manhunt that's meant to drop in a couple days. you're quiet, trying to avoid disrupting them. you're perched up on the loveseat, staring fondly at him across the room. he's so animated, the way his eyes shine when he talks to his friends, how he tears up when he laughs…

Patches mews at you from the arm of the couch, as if to say, disapprovingly, I cannot believe how sickeningly sweet your inner monologue is.

and you try to understand where she's coming from, you really do, but the sun's starting to set, and the gentle rays slotting through the blinds are shifting from white to gold.

he looks so divine, you decide. it's unfair. how could I not love him? he's seriously pretty. and before you can stop yourself, you're sketching him out on your tablet. you glance up at him fast to get the details right, and look away just as quickly. he never meets your eyes. soon your whole page is covered in little Clays, capturing the way he feels, the way he acts, the way you feel about him. Patches jumps off the chair, with all the moving. and before you know it, you've drawn up a whole page of concept art of your unfairly beautiful boyfriend. Patches was right about me, you muse to yourself.

fuck. Patches. the same Patches who's been meowing at you for the better part of an hour, now sitting patiently at the door? there's no way Clay didn't pick up on all that noise, you fret. but he's still playing, looking intense as ever. relief washes over you, replacing the guilt.

come here, girl, you think to yourself, knowing Patches wouldn't have even understood you if you spoke. sorry to keep you waiting. and you rise, slipping quietly out the door with his cat in your train.

—

you're coming back to the studio. Patches, fed and sated, is napping in another room. opening the door, you have to stop yourself, you freeze. your boyfriend's kneeling on the ground, sitting on his heels, right next to the door—you'd have hit him if it opened any further.

"baby, what are you…" the words die on your tongue.

my book. my sketchbook. my sketchbook full of drawings of him. shit, he's gonna think I'm such a simp! the embarrassment, the shame, the fear, it's overwhelming you.

you hear your voice break. "…what happened to recording…?"

"finished half an hour ago," he says simply.

and that was that. for the first time in ages, the silence hanging between you was thick and heavy with tension. you wait. and wait. and wait. you wait for the criticism, the hate, the argument that never comes.

suddenly, he seems content with what he's seen, when he looks up at you adoringly, and takes one of your hands, giving it a soft squeeze. "is that…me?"

you've lost your voice, all you can do is nod.

"you…you think I'm beautiful?" he glows.

ah, I suppose I did write that, somewhere in there. you look away. all the things I've said…

he brings your hand up to his lips and leaves kisses on your knuckles.

you sound small. "do I not tell you that enough?" you pause. "that you're beautiful? that I love you?"

and just like that, his nervousness dissolves into euphoria. you both start laughing at the same time.

"oh my god—" he wheezes. "—you're so sappy."

"only for you," you blurt out, and start laughing harder. but he quiets, he hesitates.

"only for me," he repeats.

you sink down onto the floor next to him. he's staring so fondly at you, you can't help but smile back.

"only for you," you affirm.

he rests his hands on your knees, pulling himself closer to you. he's so close to you, you can feel his blush. you let your eyes close, softly.

but the kiss never comes. instead, you're met with a "then what about all those drawings of Patches?"

laying on the floor, tangled up in each other, in hysterics, you distantly think I hope he remembered to leave the call from recording earlier.

—

over dinner, you meet his gaze, and he gives you that look. that stupid, handsome look; the one with the smile and the danger behind his eyes. he makes a point of pausing mid-bite, but it takes you a minute to notice that he's stopped eating.

"what's up, honey?" you ask, sounding a little more concerned than you should have been.

he shrugs dramatically. "oh, nothing…just figured you'd appreciate a muse." there it was. the teasing. you knew it would happen eventually. but the tone, it's kind, it's tempting; gentle, unlike a serious jab.

so all you do is roll your eyes, but you can't help the way your mouth quirks into a smile. "you're so dumb," you murmur with affection, and shake your head at nothing in particular.

Patches curls her tail around your ankle as she passes you by.

—

on the couch hours later for movie night, you're the last one up. Patches is curled up in Clay's lap, purring. Clay, in turn, sleeps soundly in your lap. (you think if he could purr, he would, but he settles for humming softly when you play with his hair.) you might think it's funny looking back on it later, but it feels so tender and vulnerable now. you like calm evenings like this one. Studio Ghibli plays quietly on the flatscreen; you don't know which one, you're not really paying attention anymore.

you're busy tracing the contours of Clay's skin, feeling more than seeing his shape in the dark room. mapping him out in your mind, learning his figure like you're seeing him for the first time again. you think you understand him a little bit better, every day you spend together. and with confidence, you make your first stroke, illuminated by the moon.

—

Sapnap

you only barely stop yourself from drawing a big "X" across your paper. exhale, and start erasing furiously. don't rip the paper—well, we didn't need that sheet anyway. ball it up and throw it at the dark, cobwebbed corner of the room. along with the rest of your mistakes.

you're trying. you're really trying. but those lips. his fucking lips. fuck.

your boyfriend smiles at the camera as he gets a donation with a sweet message on it. it should be so easy. he's right there. right here.

you check the time. it's been an hour. you've been trying, and miserably failing, to get his lips right for an entire hour. today, at least. you scoff at yourself, your misery, and pinch the bridge of your nose. it isn't fair.

his camera's on, and he's live, so you know you can't be in there with him. nobody knows you're together, and you don't want know what kind of backlash to expect if people found out. so you've been avoiding his streams…the whole room where he streams, really.

you've kept yourself busy by drawing. and you've cycled through many subjects in your life, and eventually, been able to draw whatever you put your mind to with enough time and effort. the problem is, your sights have been set on Sapnap, even for months before you got together. okay, maybe that isn't the problem. the actual problem is that you fucking suck at drawing him.

you get going, start it out, do an okay job, but midway through screw it all up somehow. to make things worse, your reference is his 2D image. he doesn't…know that you draw him. you're terrified to say. so you can't use the real life Sapnap as a reference, like you would prefer.

ugh, and this one's ruined too. you rip it up and throw it at your growing pile of paper balls, but being tiny confetti-sized pieces of paper, they don't make it very far. great, something else to clean up later, you huff at your own thoughts. it isn't fair.

—

"[name]?" he calls for you. you're one step ahead, already opening the door. you can't remember when you got here and decided to brood outside his room.

"hey, do you think you can—" he tears his eyes from his camera, his waiting audience, to look up at you expectantly. when he sees you he stops immediately, looking concerned, standing to meet you.

"what is it?" your voice is flat.

out of view of the camera, he mouths, are you okay? you only shrug and avert your eyes.

he falters, contemplates, sits back down at his desk and starts to talk to his viewers. "hey guys, I'm sorry for the short notice, but I gotta cut this stream short. my…" he glances at you for approval, only to see you motioning with your hands as if to say, no, don't.

(you yourself don't really know what for. no, don't end the stream for me? no, don't out us like this?)

he looks back. "…my friend…something came up with my friend. I have to take care of it. it's really important." you can tell he has trouble finding the right words. you can tell it throws him off, he's acting out of character for his internet personality. do you blame him? isn't this your fault? "sorry again. bye guys!"

the second he made the last click, he gets up and pulls you into a hug. it's unexpected, it knocks the wind out of you. you're certain he feels the tension.

"babe…what's wrong?" it's muffled by your neck and the sweater you're wearing. you just hold him, saying nothing.

he pulls away and holds you by the shoulders. "look at me. what's wrong?"

you feel all the more embarrassed. it's so silly to be upset about. "I…I…well, it's a lot."

he shakes his head, to say I'm not going anywhere, but his expression softens, his grip loosens. "do you want to talk about it?"

you sigh. "it started as 'I can't draw for shit', then it became 'why am I afraid of asking you for help?', and finally, worst of all, 'why the fuck can't we be seen together?' it isn't fair. it's never been fair. I'm sorry."

he thinks about it for a second. "okay, what makes you feel like we can't be seen together?"

"are you joking?" you snap. "we're two fucking boyfriends. in this society." he didn't look hurt by the outburst, but the guilt crept in anyway. "…I'm sorry."

he shakes his head, "do you really think I'd let that happen? I wouldn't ever let anyone hurt you, darling. remember that."

"I know, I know…" you don't know what to say. "it's easy to forget, I guess."

"what are you afraid to ask me for help about?"

"I…" shit, you guess you have to tell him. close your eyes, breathe, "I've been drawing you. trying to draw you. but I can't, it never turns out right."

you peek, and he's red in the face, stuttering. "me? you draw me? of all the hot people out there?"

you furrow your eyebrows at him. "don't give me that shit. you know you're cute."

he shakes his head incredulously. "are we talking about the same person here?"

"dude, your smile is literally the most radiant fucking force of nature I have ever seen."

"you're hot too! why are you coming after me?"

"I'm not 'coming after you', you're being defensive about your looks, when you shouldn't be! you're gorgeous, baby."

you're both giggling like girls at a sleepover, the anger and frustration long forgotten. now it's a war of who can be more grossly in-love with the other.

"what part of me," he manages between laughs. "are you having trouble drawing?"

"oh god," you groan, remembering yourself and your dilemma. "your lips."

"my fucking lips? you would think that—"

"no," you warn. "shut up. don't say it. don't you dare say it."

he leans in close, his hands have moved up to cup your face. you shiver.

"don't worry," he grins. "I won't."

the kiss is long and sweet, nothing like the ones you've shared in the past. he takes his time, you savor each other. you feel time stop ticking, you feel your heart stop beating, you feel the way he tilts his head. you grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him in. and when you part, you're breathing heavy, in tandem.

"thanks," you manage. "but I needed to see your lips, not kiss you into next saturday."

"nah," he laughs. "I think you needed that too."

you choose your words thoughtfully. "do you need me, too?"

he hums, and—

ding!

dreamwastaken donated $69!

you could die. you could really, seriously die.

the response is instant. you don't even see Sapnap move from you to the PC, flushed down to his neck, apologizing, apologizing, and apologizing again. "change of plans, guys, we're doing an art stream!"

the chat is filled with "huh?"s and "what?"s.

"huh? what?" you didn't have the time to process what just happened.

karljacobs: I thought we were doing a make-out-with-our-secret-boyfriends stream :(

he smiled warmly at you. "yeah. my lovely boyfriend is going to draw me! he's been wanting to for a really long time, and his art is really good. let's go get your stuff."

you're in so much shock that he makes it past you and out of the room, while you stand there waiting. after a pause much longer than you intended, you hurry after him.

—

down the hall, in your room, he's got your sketchbook tucked under his arm, closed. you're sure you left it open when you came out.

you only barely get the words out. "um, did you…go through it? please don't laugh."

your heart sinks when he laughs heartily, but he grabs your hand, resting it on your book, about to hand it off. but he holds you there for a second. "of course not. I respect your privacy." he ponders for a moment. "I respect you."

you can feel the sigh of relief when you let it out. "I…love you."

your holding your book now, as he moves to collect the boxes containing your pens and pencils and colors. he gets them all together, but before he picks them up to head back, he turns around to face you. "is this too much?"

you absently reach for a hand, tracing over the lines on his palms. and you think about it. am I okay? is this too much?

"I don't think so. not with you. I'm okay."

he moves to open the door and grab the rest of your things. "well then, let's not keep them waiting!"

—

edited 27 April 2021

#dreamwastaken x reader #dream x reader #clay x reader #sapnap x reader

158 notes · View notes

bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years ago

Text

In My Dreams Tonight

for @chaotic-bard who asked me for some fluff!

have a soulmates that dream about each other au featuring both a modern au and the canon universe!

brought to you by “Dreams Tonite” by Alvvays

---

“You’re nothing but trouble, bard,” the tall man glared from atop his horse. He always seemed to be glaring or glowering or huffing, the man in Jaskier’s dreams. The familiar stranger wore his long white hair pulled halfway back and he had golden eyes, the pupils of which were slit up the center like a cat’s. His name, Jaskier had learned after the third straight week of seeing him every night, was Geralt of Rivia. A Witcher, apparently, whose job it was to hunt down monsters.

“Ah, but what a lovely piece of trouble I am!” Jaskier replies. And he’s rather sassy himself in these dreams. Far more clever and ready to fight than he is when he’s awake. “You would miss me if I left, wouldn’t you, Geralt?”

“Hmm.”

The stranger hums a lot. He glares and he hums. Jaskier’s heart stutters frightfully in his chest whenever the man smiles, though. The sight is rare. Geralt has smiled perhaps three times in the past two months.

“Where are we going today?”

“Werewolf outside of town. You’re staying at the inn, where I know you can’t get into… nevermind. You can get into trouble anywhere.”

There’s a lightly teasing tone to the stranger’s voice that Jaskier hasn’t really heard before. He likes it. He craves more of it. He tosses and turns in his sleep, his skin damp with sweat. The dream goes on.

“Geralt, please,” he whines, “I can’t write ballads about monsters I haven’t seen! Or fights I did not attend! That’s lying to my audience, Geralt, and I simply won’t do it. I must go with you.”

“Drop it, Jaskier,” the man snarls. Jaskier feels sad. Incredibly sad.

Rejected?

“Gera-”

“I said drop it, bard.”

Jaskier wakes up feeling a little heartbroken and he yearns to be held. His pillow holds the fading scents of leather and wood-smoke. The sight of a pine sapling at the dog park makes him tear up.

He starts to wear the color yellow out of nowhere and his taste in jewelry switches from gold to silver.

When his best friend asks him about the recent changes, he cannot answer.

---

Geralt pours himself a mug of tea and shakes his hair out of his face. He’s been having odd dreams lately, things that feel familiar but manage to stay just out of his conscious grasp. Someone important is waiting for him. Someone he love and cares about and needs.

Geralt doesn’t really buy into the concept of soulmates, but he does understand instinct. He knows to trust his gut. He knows to listen and start paying attention when the same haunting blue eyes creep into his dreams every night for six months, plaguing him in the waking hours by refusing to give up their owners’ identity.

He wipes a hand down his face and sighs loudly into the otherwise empty studio apartment. “Fuck me, I gotta figure this shit out. I gotta talk to Yen.”

Talking to himself has always helped him calm down. He does it again, just to hear his own low voice scraping through the silence.

“I gotta see what’s going on with my head. These dreams are… getting to be a bit much, even for me.”

He nods to no one in particular and goes to text his best friend and coworker.

---

Jaskier hops off the bus and carries his guitar case down to the coffee shop on the corner. Finally, he’s managed to get a gig that wasn’t through the university.

He sets up his stuff in the tiny alcove the shop treats as a stage and watches as a few customers stroll around near the counter, waiting for their drinks or reading through the menu, hovering just far away enough from the line to keep others from growing confused.

He loves people watching.

Once everything is ready to go and the light outside the window has dimmed a bit, indicating early evening has finally arrived, he pulls his guitar onto his lap and strums through a few quick chords.

“Rode here on the bus,

Now you're one of us.

It was magic hour,

Counting motorbikes on the turnpike;

One of Eisenhower's.”

“Live your life on a merry-go-round;

Who starts a fire just to let it go out?”

He watches a particularly handsome man with broad shoulders and a vintage denim jacket approach the counter. Jaskier adds a haunting, well-practiced lilt to his voice as he goes into the chorus, hoping to get his attention:

“If I saw you on the street,

Would I have you in my dreams tonight?

If I saw you on the street,

Would I have you in my dreams tonight, tonight?”

An equally beautiful woman with long, curly black hair approaches the denim-clad angel and whisks him towards a table nearby. She settles with her back to Jaskier, leaving him with a decent view of the man’s sharp, lightly stubbled jaw, glittering eyes, and severe white ponytail. He’s gorgeous.

He’s also uncomfortably familiar.

Jaskier continues to perform, trying to identify his attractive mystery man the whole time and failing miserably.

---

“He’s everywhere, Yen. I feel like I could identify him by scent if I got close enough. I can’t remember his name, though. Or the color of his hair. I don’t know his face, only his eyes. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Have you talked to Dr. deStael about it?”

“Yeah, but she said this kind of thing is normal. Recurring dreams often help us sort out our trauma or something like that. I don’t know. I don’t feel traumatized by this guy I feel… protective of him. Maybe even like I love him?”

“Hmm.”

“Hey, that’s my line.”

“Shut up for a minute, this live music actually slaps and I want to listen to it. Then we can discuss your weird possessive tendencies towards your dream boyfriend.”

Geralt takes a slow sip of his coffee and glances up at the singer off to their left, perched on a barstool with his guitar held carefully on his lap. His voice is soft but somehow bright. Geralt finds himself utterly entranced.

“On the weird guitar;

Said you'd go to work

In the waking hour.

In fluorescent light,

Antisocialites watch a wilting flower.”

“Live your life on a merry-go-round;

Who builds a wall just to let it fall down?”

The lyrics are strange and hold a dream-like quality to them. They draw a picture in Geralt’s head, something dark and heavy and oddly hollow. He has another sip of coffee and tries to ignore the feeling of panic welling up inside him. He glances at Yennefer to see if she’s picked up on his mood, but her violet eyes are focused on the singer and his nimble fingers as he continues to play and sing.

When he glances up towards their table and their eyes meet, Geralt loses the ability to breathe.

That shade of cornflower blue was…

Couldn’t be…

Had to be…

The gorgeous, feathery tenor continues to fill the air, whirling pleasant notes past his ears and deep into his subconscious. Geralt knows that voice. He’s heard this man laugh and sing and cry and scream a thousand different times. Through a handful of different lives. Geralt knows that face, those hands, those strong legs and long arms and blue fucking eyes. He’s held this singer in his arms every night for centuries, feeling his breathing as they both drift off to sleep.

He has protected this man and been protected by him in return. He has kissed and been kissed, caressed and been caressed. The two men sitting across from each other in the coffee shop physically embody an endless cycle of love. It has been bound up in the souls of two no-longer strangers. Geralt knows that he knows this man.

He knows Jaskier.

Petal pink lips continue to form soft words and slender hands keep plucking at vibrating guitar strings:

“Don't sit by the phone for me,

Wait at home for me, all alone for me.

Your face was supposed to be

Hanging over me, like a rosary.”

Geralt stands suddenly, startling Yennefer but not the performer, even though he’s clearly just as shocked as Geralt about this recent development.

Their mutual realization.

“So morose for me,

Seeing ghosts of me,

Writing oaths to me,

Is it so naïve to wonder…”

Geralt crosses the room to the edge of the stage in three quick strides. Yennefer is close behind him, her latte just as abandoned as his coffee at their table. She grabs her friend’s arm as if to stop him from doing something violent, but when he doesn’t struggle against her grip she lets it go again easily.

“Geralt?” the musician asks.

“Jaskier?” Geralt replies. The guitar is placed quickly to the side and a pair of incredibly familiar arms are thrown around the taller man’s neck. Geralt hugs back just as firmly, his arms flung low around the brunette’s waist. Geralt knows that this is Jaskier’s favorite way to be embraced; he doesn’t know how he’s aware of that fact, but it comes to the front of his mind clear as day.

“Holy shit,” Jaskier breathes, leaning back to stare Geralt in the face. One of his string-calloused fingers traces down over Geralt’s eyelid and cheek and he cocks his head to the side. “No scar?”

“No,” Geralt shakes his head. “Not this lifetime, I guess.”

“Were we? Are we- are we, you know...?”

“Yeah,” Yen beams, adding her two cents from the sidelines. “I think so. Congrats, boys. This is one of those one in a million chances and you’ve gone and done it.”

“Done what?” Geralt asks. Jaskier tosses his head back and laughs. His happiness rings out through the cafe like a struck bell and Geralt’s heart stutters frantically. He really does love this man already. Wholeheartedly and without fear. “What have we done, Yen?”

“As obtuse now as you were then,” Jaskier chides affectionately. “Soulmates, my love. We’ve been bound by the red string of fate and ta-da! Here we are. Again, apparently.”

“Yes, okay,” Geralt breathes, nosing his way along Jaskier’s jaw with giddy determination. He presses a quick and wholly welcome kiss to the bard’s lips. “That makes sense.”

“Do you... do you want me again? This time around?” Jaskier asks, fingers fiddling with one of the ties on Geralt’s hoodie. A pair of chapped lips press against his again and he sighs into it, melting against his no-longer-Witcher.

“Yes. And the next one, as well.”

#bouncey's sappy hours #geraskier #geraskier fluff #yen #yennefer #yenerference kinda #getting together #soulmate au #prophetic dreams #geraskier soulmate au #geraskier soulmates #shared dreams #modern au #geraskier modern au #kissing #first kiss #magically getting together #prompt fill

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whump-town · 3 years ago

Text

Lie to Me

Guess who's back on their shit?

Another cancer fic for you because there's something very weird about me that stays drawn to the idea of secretly being sick

Anyways

Warnings: well... cancer

Pairings: none? yet.

Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner has a certain reputation around the office. The BAU’s ghost, walking around in his leather dress shoes and fancy suits without so much as a groan from the old, torn tile beneath his feet or the muffled swish of the material of his slacks. You never know he’s there until he wants you to and by then it’s always too late. By luck of his poor hearing or his natural affinity for silence, nothing admitted in his silent presence ever graces his lips for a repeat. The secrets all die with him. He’s as loyal as a dog -- in ways that lead to natural gravitation. The reason why Penelope Garcia beams at him every time their paths cross, why she so eagerly rushes to match his pace. To just walk beside him and talk his ear off even though she knows her answers will come in the form of soft hums and furrowed brows. In other ways, it’s killed him. Left him to live the life of a lame dog, dragging his dying body away from them. Hoping to spare them the agony of his death.

Some things that people say about SSA Hotchner are true. He really does move like a ghost and it’s a thing of great mystery and annoyance. It’s cost Emily Prentiss numerous mugs but perhaps the flash of his smug crooked grin makes that worth the shattered cup at their feet (she wouldn’t agree with that statement). He’s made Derek Morgan nearly jump out of his skin, whirling around to attack whatever snuck up on him only to find Hotch frowning back at him. If asked, David Rossi will blame Hotch for 79% of the grey hairs on his head because he hadn’t even begun to go grey until he met Hotch.

He’s really not as scary as people make him out to be.

Penelope Garcia wishes everyone knew that. She wishes cadets looked at Hotch the way that they look at Derek and Spencer. As awe-inspiring giants, they crane their necks to look up to. Instead, they lower their eyes away from him. Whispering to one another about the rumors and the things that they have been told. They regard him as a lesson -- someone to measure their existence against. To know when to get out of the job. To know when they can no longer turn back.

He’d saved her when it seemed no one else in the world really looked at her. She’d watched him take her homemade pink stationary in his hands, held it delicately as he looked over what menial ideas she could think of. He’d looked at her kindly, not at all like the snobby FBI brat she assumed him to be, and shaken her hand, “Thank you, Miss Garcia.” For the months following her career change, he’d been too kind. Brought her lunch to her desk because she was too anxious to leave her office. Gave her advice about where to park and how to miss Strauss in the hallways.

As important as his approval is to her, his well-being is more important. So, no, she doesn’t turn away when she sees him on Saturday in the emergency room. He’s sleeping off a cocktail they’d given him, turns out it’s rather hard to place a catheter near the heart when it’s beating erratically. His anxiety had nearly caused him to be sick and so he’d agreed, finally, to let them give him something to calm him down. Which is where Garcia finds him, left arm cradled to his chest, too long limbs hanging off the stretcher, and breathing slow and steady through the oxygen canal under his nose. A precaution, that’s all, given the sedatives they’d doped him up with.

“Sir?”

The fingers in his left-hand twitch, flexing towards his palm and he grunts softly at the pain that the movement causes. Slowly, breathing hitching and his eyes fluttering open, he wakes up. He’d heard, vacantly, the hesitant “sir” from the end of the bed but he assumed it was a nurse. As his eyes rise up to search the room he’s surprised, entirely so that he thinks he’s hallucinating, to find Penelope.

“Are you okay?”

He’s still piecing together the last few hours but nods. Cracking open his dry lips he swallows thickly, trying to work his voice around the tightness in his throat. Dehydrated and still disoriented he reaches for the cup of water left for him but at the current angle that he’s laying at, he can’t get it. He clears his throat, sniffling, “can you, ugh--” He’s still looking at the cup, dazed to the point he can’t think of the words he means to say. Tired eyes look back at her, pleading silently that she understands.

Penelope nods, moving forward instinctively. She doesn’t look at him, at his dark blood dried to his arm. His hospital gown stopping just at the clear protective barrier between her and the port placed on the inside of his arm. “Here,” she whispers. She needs to be closer so he doesn’t have to stretch but can’t bring herself to be close. Not within his reach. Not so close that she can see the dark rings of sleepless nights carved under his eyes. Far enough away that the tremble in his hand is easily overlooked. So that he doesn’t seem as weak and frail as his voice sounds.

He sips the water, knows from too many mistakes not to drink too much just yet. “Why are you here?” He nearly sounds like himself, dark brows furrowed and voice taken its steady, deep rhythm back.

She looks over her shoulder, past the curtain pulled around them for the sake of privacy. “I, uhm, volunteer for a support group that meets every Saturday here at the hospital.” She points to the front desk, to a woman with curly hair pulled back in two ponytails. “I came downstairs to say hi to Mac and I saw you and I just…” Suddenly, realizes how she shouldn’t be here. That if he wanted comfort he’d have told them, or someone.

Wait. Stop.

That doesn’t matter. Hotch doesn’t know what’s good for him. Everyone knows that. So she made the right decision to come over here.

“You’re not driving yourself home, right?”

In her silent contemplation, he’d began to fall asleep again. The cup in his hand dangerously tipped and eyes held open by slow, deepening blinks.

“Hotch?” She touches his hand, flinching away at just how cold his skin is.

He cracks his eyes back open, cracks of soft brown iris finding her slowly. He hums, mouth cracked open.

“Will you let me take you home?”

Home. He hums again, vaguely aware of her warm hand coming to rest over his. Moving his stiff fingers away from the cup, taking it from him so he doesn’t spill it over himself.

It’s meticulous work, keeping him awake. Even harder making sure he gets dressed but once he’s sitting up he’s much more alert, grumpy now for being duped into asking her for help. She’d offered it but that means nothing to him. He’s no less thrilled to find his brain too foggy and arm too weak to work his arm through his sweater. She still smiles when his head pops through, hair a crazy mess on his head.

She packs him carefully into her car, a boxy little thing he’d frowned at when she bought it. He’d been the reason behind Morgan and Reid both coming to her office with statistics and fear about the safety of it but she’d loved it. He’s a worrier, prone to stewing and her car had taken up a lot of his energy for the first year she owned it. Now he’s being packed into the green monstrosity, senses assaulted by incense. Everything’s sparkly and he ends up sitting with a teddy bear in his lap, a troll in his hand. He’d taken their rightful place as her passenger.

His legs do not fit no matter how far back he moves his seat back and Penelope feels awful that he looks so uncomfortable but also finds it to be humorous. His knees to his ears, dark scary Agent Hotchner holding a stuffed bear to his chest, head resting against the window. It’s sweet.

It’s fairly easy to figure what his thought process today when she pulls up to his house and no one’s home. Jack’s camping, she learns. He’s dozed off again, prone and more willing to whisper half-truths. Will be away for the whole weekend until Tuesday morning. Jessica is getting her nails and hair done, he’d made the appointment just to make sure she really did it. The haircut should have ended just in time that he could call her and ask if she’d pick him up from the hospital. Where he thought he would have already artfully hidden the PICC line under his sweater and played the affair off as a routine sort of deal. A check-up.

“Sir…” she’s standing now, awkwardly, in his living room. The curtains are drawn back the way he likes, closing off the sun. He’s tucked under his heating blanket, trying to remain awake for the sake of the fact that it’s rude to fall asleep while entertaining guests. Yet, failing miserably. “Sir, I was just wondering… Is everything okay?”

“I’m--” the truth nearly slips right out. He clears his throat, managing to sit up just enough to catch her eyes. “Don’t worry about me, Garcia. Jessica will be around in an hour.” He holds his left hand closed, trying to stop his cramped fingers from twitching. “Dave and Emily are coming by for dinner. I’ll be okay.”

It’s completely unethical.

It’s so unprofessional.

But she can’t help herself.

Her eyes prick with tears when Emily shakes her head in the kitchenette, the sound of Hotch’s wet coughs breaking through his closed office door. “He needs to get that checked out,” she sighs, hiding her bleeding worry with annoyance. “Sounds awful.” And Penelope stands there with Hotch’s secret tongue-tied.

He’s getting worse and fast.

She gets a call from Derek, seething anger laced into his words. “He fucking-- He fucking just-- .” She knows it’s really just fear. Can hear him walking, his rapid pacing as he tries to outwalk his expanse of emotions. “He -- He shouldn’t be in the field. I mean, it’s like he didn’t even see it coming. He was just…” She remains steady. Wipes the tears that slip past her eyelashes with the back of her hand. Derek cries, on the ground with his knees to his chest, and he tells her what happened. How Hotch was paying attention to him and if he hadn’t been then maybe…

She greets them at the elevator, feels her smile attempt to waver when Hotch’s tired eyes raise from the ground. The bruise along his cheek a deep agonizing yellow, the wound on his temple still weeping angrily through the bandage. He can’t fly until his concussion is healed, longer if his tinnitus doesn’t get better. “It’ll be fun having you home,” she assures him, giving his fingers an extra squeeze.

Luck, it seems, has never seemed to favor Aaron Hotchner’s particular brand of bold.

Working at the District Attorney’s had been a morally fulfilling job. In theory, he could rest assured, each night, that he was doing what he could to help people. He was putting the real bad guys behind the bars. Even as his dreams filled with the images of the victims who had to wait for months, and even years, to get their proper justice. In reality, he slept poorly and rarely. Unable to properly maintain his workload without impossibly long hours. With time he found his work to be unfulfilling. He was doing nothing to stop crime from happening and sinking further into the realization that was failing more people than he could ever begin to help.

In court, he was ruthless. Haley didn’t like the man he became in the courtroom. Ruthless and harsh, he appeared evil and terrifying with his hawk-like eyes and infallible ability to pinpoint weaknesses in his opposers. Around the office, they nicknamed his alter-ego “Hot-head Hotchner” because the Aaron that gets flushed ordering lunch couldn’t possibly be the same man who made a man wet himself on the stand. Haley couldn’t agree more.

Hot-head Hotchner got him offered a job in corporate law, several firms were throwing big numbers at him to encourage that lasered focus to be on their side. Lest they find themselves opposing it. Morally, he could never go into corporate law but the offer to spend hours bending law into something pliable and poking holes in judicial wordings was compelling. It would be complex, rewarding work with a big pay-out. Better than the shitty salary he made at the D.A.’s office. Before he could make the compromise he met David Rossi and he never got his chance to bend the law to his will, he held his moral ground and instead changed career paths.

It was bold leaving what he knew he was good at for something new entirely.

A costly decision.

He never got to fulfill his secret desire to mold the law but bending the truth wasn’t a far cry from the same thing. Lying has never been something he felt comfortable with and that had no exceptions. He hadn’t wanted to tell the team Emily had died but that had far less to do with his morals and so much more to do with a picture much bigger than himself. The hell he knew that would rain down upon them in the weeks to come. The inability of the team to cope. Intuitively something holding them back and what they could only assume was a stage of grief.

To Emily Prentiss, he has never lied. Stretched versions of the truth he maintains to not be the same thing as a lie. If they count then his answer would be different but the eye of the beholder adds context. And as the holder of this context, he resolutes the power to declare them very different.

“New girlfriend?”

He’s breathing through a bought of nausea attempting to take him off his feet. The cold countertop biting into the skin of his wrist, his palm pressed flat to the surface so that he doesn’t grip the edge. So that his pale bloodless knuckles holding onto dear life do not betray the severity of which he fears he might get sick or pass out.

His phone is on the counter, turned upside down so that he doesn’t have to see the screen light up with every new text that comes through. The high-pitched “ding” of each new message is lost to the tinnitus he’s been succumbing to now for the better part of the week. No amount of coffee or Tylenol has helped.

Raising his gaze makes the pounding in his head worse but he has to meet Emily’s questioning gaze. They’ve started to notice his “off” behavior. His inability to stand for long amounts of time without physical drain. His decision to stay home on the last several cases, working here with Garcia rather than joining them in the field. The way he relies on Morgan’s lead more than he used to, falling silent and allowing the other man to make decisions. He suspects they just assume he’s looking into retiring or that he’s struggling to kick his “chest cold”, he doesn’t bother correcting them.

“No,” he manages, swallowing around the heaviness of his tongue. The way his mouth seems full of salival added pangs to his stomach as he knows he’s going to be sick. “It’s Jessica.” She’s angry with him and for good reason, though he doesn’t offer an explanation as to why.

Emily hums, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head. “What’d you did you do to piss her off?” In other circumstances, he might assume she’s attempting to pry. She’s just here for another cup of coffee, offering him a way to release some of his stress. No hard feelings if he suggests she fuck off and willing to lend an ear if he wants to talk. She’s not holding her breath but she hopes he comes undone. That he admits to some awful conspiracy and that this whole time they’ve been in some twisted social experiment to see how unified they actually are. That he isn’t as sick as he looks. That he’s just in a low spot and in a month he’ll be putting the weight back on and Derek will be telling them all about training for another marathon. How Reid could do more pushups than Hotch.

“I’m sorry,” Hotch whispers. He tries to step away from the counter. Feels the temperature in the room drops several degrees, his skin broken out in goosebumps. “I think to sit down,” he says frantically, knows now he needs to sit before he passes out.

Emily grabs his arm, tries to help him up. To get him to the chair that’s right there, so close.

“Hotch?” Derek jogs into the kitchen, he’d seen from afar and come running. “Emily, what’s wrong?”

Emily helps him to the ground, hand holding the back of his neck as his body starts sinking faster, beyond his control. She sits down on the ground beside him, eyes scanning across his body to find a feasible answer. Below her, Hotch’s breathing has gone rapid and shallow. His eyes rolled back into his head, neck-craning as he unconsciously fights to get air into his lungs. “I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t know. He just-- He was just--” Hotch wheezes, an awful sound. He chokes, blood coming to paint his lips. To coat his teeth.

“Hotch?” Derek moves to his side, picking up Hotch’s shoulder to move him onto his side. “Hotch, answer me!”

His only reply is a wet gurgle, a blood-coated wheeze.

#tw cancer #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #derek morgan #criminal minds fanfiction

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