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shotoh · 2 years ago

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— in which they slowly find themselves enamored by the natural charms of their interviewer

feat. itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, itoshi sae

cw + tw. nothing much just fluff, fem!reader, interviewer/reporter!reader, aged-up!characters, characters are professional athletes and continue playing in their teams from the neo egoist league (except sae)

notes. first time posting blue lock so apologies if anyone’s ooc, either way i might make a follow-up of this (that might be more uh ya know) and/or add characters

ITOSHI RIN

the sound that follows the harsh slam of his locker is a frustrating sigh that has been simmering in rin’s chest since the end of today’s match. the match in which he had lost—and at the hands of isagi’s team which makes the defeat all the more bitter and disgusting on his tongue. it didn’t help that during the game, he was butting heads with his supposed teammate, shidou. once the coach had decided to sub the eccentric player in, their styles began mixing like oil and water. as a result, their win was swooped up from under them.

pxg has been called to host a post-sport interview to review the match with reporters, but rin couldn’t care less to participate. instead, he’s the very last person to leave the locker rooms. his duffle bag is slung over his shoulder, steps ambling down the hallway.

whether he wins or loses, rin never bothers to attend these post-game interviews. he doesn’t need to sit there and have brash reporters shoot the same questions at him, expecting him to “thank his coach and teammates,” “praise his opponents for a great game today,” and say he’ll “continue to work hard to win next time.” gross. he’d rather be caught dead than have any of those words leave his mouth.

as rin navigates through the hallways of the stadium, he’s hoping to be done with the day and think over the turn of events on his own. but when he rounds the corner, he crosses eyes with someone so obviously lost in the facility—a mistake which punishes him as you immediately approach him with doe, bewildered eyes.

“sorry, i don’t mean to bother you, but i was wondering where the conference for pxg was being held,” you ask. a pad of notes are cradled in your arms, pen clipped to the breast pocket of your blazer. it’s clear you’re another reporter.

before he can point you in the right direction to get you out of his hair, you squint. you’re taking a long, hard look at him until your face suddenly glows. “wait, you’re itoshi rin, the striker for pxg!” you practically blurt. with the volume of your voice, rin’s instincts take hold, and he’s pulling you away from the open space of the hallway.

“quiet. you want everyone to hear?” rin chastises.

“whoops. i got a little excited! i-i’ve been wanting to interview pxg’s top player and well…” you could say the opportunity presented itself, but rin makes it clear he’s not interested.

“if you’re here just to hear me mope over my loss, then go home,” the striker affirms to what he thinks will be the last of this exchange until you tug on the sleeve of his jersey before he starts walking away. turning his head back to glance at you, his brow quirks.

“no, of course not! i thought it was incredible how you were able to keep control of the ball from your opponents and even score the first two points of the game all by yourself!” you exclaim, face lifting as it’s teeming with admiration. surprisingly, he can’t help but be a bit amused by the determined expression etched over the perplexed look that was originally on your features.

you swipe your pen hanging off your pocket, prompting it open with a click of your thumb. “and i’m sure a lot of your fans would love to hear from you!”

the athlete cocks his head. “you’re acting like a fan yourself, miss reporter.”

you blink in surprise. the enthusiasm in your words tones down, but you fail to mask it completely. “what? no, i’m just here to get the exclusive on the best athletes of our country!” if your plan is to butter him up to get a word out of him, it may almost work. you send him another fawning look as if to say “can you blame me though?” and that stirs a low chuckle from his throat.

his face lowers until it’s slightly more leveled with your own, and from this angle, you’re amazed to find you can distinguish every distinct eyelash on his pretty face. and you’re even more enamored by the intense color of his teal eyes. at the proximity, however, your face bathes in the heat of the blood rushing to your cheeks. thankfully, the striker breaks eye contact in favor of taking the notepad from your arms, along with your pen which he uses to scribble something down.

“tell you what,” he says as he continues writing, “come to the next pxg match and i’ll give you an exclusive interview, right after i score at least four goals and decimate the other team.”

his declaration leaves you in awe, and your fascination persists when he hands your pen and pad back for you to see a ten digit number, followed by call my manager written next to it.

NAGI SEISHIRO

back when he was in school, nagi was never great at first impressions. and apparently that’s still the case even later on in his career as a professional striker.

he doesn’t even notice you enter the room as he’s preoccupied with tapping the controls for the first person shooter on his phone. as such, he’s woefully unprepared to hear the reluctant, but soft voice that vies for his attention.

“um, excuse me. if you don’t mind, i’d like to get started with the interview.”

taking a slow glimpse above his screen, he sees the refreshing sight of you—his interviewer—sitting across from him in your neat attire and a clipboard on your lap. surprised by the modest smile that greets him, he automatically straightens up and casts his phone to the side.

it’s a big contrast to what he was expecting. usually, scruffy men who claim they’re adept and knowledgeable in the sport would be shoving their mics in his face. when in reality those people are just washed up high school coaches or analysts who act all high and mighty by asking a bunch of nonsense questions. saying this and that about how they would have done it differently had they been in the game instead of him. regardless, they’re such a pain and nagi would rather be napping in his cloud mattress than go through another talk session with those wannabes. however, his encounter with you just might break this boring streak.

he rubs the back of his head sheepishly, playing off the crass first impression. “right. start whenever you want.”

once he gives you the go ahead, you flip through a few pages to your questions.

as time goes on, the sentiment nagi initially held about how the interview might have been a pain and a waste of his time in his already packed schedule begins to sway. throughout the inquiries, he finds himself fixated on you. like the flattering nude color touched up on your plush lips. or how you have a habit of playing with strands of your hair when contemplating on what question to ask next. or the cute laugh you let out that was pleasant to his ears when he gave a much more aloof answer than you were expecting.

well, he can’t change the fact that he doesn’t need to think much when it comes to football. that’s just how naturally talented he is—the sport is second nature to him. honestly, he’s a bit bummed out that he can’t give a competent interviewer like you better responses.

what catches the snowy haired striker slightly off-guard is your next topic of questions about his e-sport endorsements. he wasn’t expecting you to delve into his hobbies. most interviews always glossed over that area in favor of asking something along the lines of “what was going through your head when you made that winning goal,” to which he could only say he was too caught up in the moment to really convey the feelings into words.

but with this opportunity, nagi goes on a mild tangent about the new first person shooter he’s been playing. even if his tone sounds indifferent on the surface, you don’t miss the hidden enthusiasm under the brighter twinkle of his eyes. you giggle which makes nagi pause.

“did i say something weird?” he asks back. you swear you detect a tonal whine in his voice, another endearing trait you didn’t know a 190 cm striker could possess.

“no.. just find it cute how much you can talk about your favorite games like that.”

nagi can’t tell whether the grin on your pretty lips is there to tease him or that you find his boyish charms endearing. either way, his cheeks puff and that only serves to make him more adorable in your eyes.

“well don’t let me stop you! i’d like to hear more about what things interest you other than soccer.” the look on your face fascinates him. you’re not even looking at your clipboard anymore, but right at him. it’s the tell-tale sign of someone who genuinely wants to know him not as the star player of manshine city, but just as regular nagi seishiro. he’s not used to that sort of treatment and as a result, he can’t meet your eyes, not realizing he flushes a lovely shade of pink that reaches the tips of his ears.

nagi pouts, glancing down at his phone that’s been laying near his thigh, untouched for a record of what must be ages, but that honestly doesn’t feel long enough to him. “no fair… you’re just teasing me…” he murmurs, but his fingers are already itching to ask his manager if he can extend the interview to spend more time with you.

ITOSHI SAE

the first opportunity you get to interview the itoshi sae is unconventional, to say the least.

“excuse me! please let me through–!”

“miss, you can’t be here– hey!”

the setting is chaotic, to the point where sae can make out the commotion in the background as he’s walking toward his rest area with his manager and bodyguard following beside him. when he glimpses at what all the fuss is about, he witnesses security personnel wrangle with a stray reporter.

spotting the reddish haired athlete, you find an opportunity to call out to him. “itoshi sae, please, may i have a word with you?”

to your dismay, security persistently blocks your view of the midfielder. despite being obstructed by a pair of burly men almost twice your size, you give them more of a struggle as you thrash around, even reprimanding them to “keep their hands to themselves if they know what’s good for them.” sae can’t help but be amused. a part of him finds your efforts admirable—watching you scrunch up your uniform and crease your notes at just a chance to speak with him.

“mister itoshi is far too busy to entertain any more of you today. please make your way to the exit–”

“it’s fine,” sae interjects to everyone’s surprise—mostly to the utter astonishment of you and his manager. the latter’s eyes widen scrupulously before he cups his hand next to the pro athlete’s ear.

“sir, i believe we’ll be running late to your next scheduled event if you decide to do a last minute interview,” the manager warns warily. “besides, haven’t you talked to enough of the media today? i mean look at her, she doesn’t even seem worth your time–”

“push everything back thirty minutes if you have to.”

his manager gawks. “but..?!”

one side-eye of sae’s piercing ocean eyes is enough for the man to retract his statement and mumble his apologies. that said and done, the security guards withdraw to let you through. you’re astonished by how much the situation can flip with the cooperation of a renown professional.

sae’s staff lead you into his spacious break room, preparing a set of chairs and leaving glasses of water on the coffee table before you start. having already taken his seat, he watches you run your hands through the wrinkled material of your blouse and pencil skirt. after finally fixing your stray hairs in place, you sit in front of him in all your pristine as if the whole conflict from earlier never happened. he wants to give you another point for professionalism.

“once again, thank you so much for granting me the opportunity to speak to you today,” you beam, mocking his manager hovering in the background with your unbeknownst-to-sae sly little smile.

sae grins, charmed. you arrange your notes one last time before moving onto your questions.

during the interview, sae comes to know your professionalism isn’t merely for show. you’ve done your research, analyzed his plays—his techniques, and as a result, ask him the most intriguing inquiries he’s sure no reporters asked him before. and he’s had his fair share of interviews throughout his developing career as a child prodigy. it’s evident you weren’t planning to waste his time and he’s appreciative of that fact.

there’s also an air of zeal you possess that allures him. he can’t exactly pinpoint what it is. your ingenuity? your liveliness? either way, he can’t imagine this to be his last interaction with you, and he makes sure that won’t be the case.

at just a simple snap of his finger, his manager is at his side. you have to hold in a snicker at how the man scurries over to the midfielder like a dog.

the two exchange a few words you don’t catch, only deciphering the dumbfounded look on the manager’s face which clashes with the stoic expression on sae’s. whatever the conversation was about, the former knows it’s a losing battle. at his loss, he pulls out a lanyard from the compartment attached to his clipboard. he gives it to sae, who takes it and leans across the space between you two to place it in your awaiting hands, as if you already knew from the manager’s defeated mannerisms that it was meant to be yours.

“this is..?” you begin inquiring as you eye the card on the lanyard methodically.

sae beats you to your discovery of that answer. “an exclusive press pass, which you can use to reach out to me again following any matches i’ve played in.”

mouth hanging open, you switch back and forth between the pass and sae’s marine eyes which don’t hold a shred of doubt.

he puts it simply.

“i’d like to continue this interview with you again.”

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #rin x reader #sae x reader #nagi x reader #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #rin fluff #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x you #nagi fluff #sae fluff #blue lock headcanons #sae itoshi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader

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thegreatstoryteller · 1 month ago

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The Great Shift: Awkward Tales - Vignette 1: The Nervous Flirt

When the Great Shift hit the world, everyone was thrown into chaos. However, eventually society resettled into a new and more accepting form. At some point everyone would have to get used to their new bodies… right?

Well for a few individuals out there, after the great shift, they still were… adjusting. No matter how much time happened, some were cursed with an awkward new perspective in life.

Maxwell, was nervous. More nervous than usual! Before the great shift, he had recently come out as gay to his close friends and family! While, they were all super accepting and happy for him, that didn’t solve his issues… talking to people he liked! No matter how many times he tried, he would turn into a stuttering mess whenever a hot guy was in the vicinity. He was lucky enough that his small unassuming frame meant no one could see his failures.

When the great shift happened, he thought things might be different. New body! New me! That was the mantra he’d heard many people say as he had browsed forums and self help spaces. Turns out many people just needed a new body to reorient their social skills and come out of their shell! At first Maxwell thought he’d be one of them!

He knew that he was a lot stronger in this body. He still wore his glasses, but these arms were no joke. Plus he didn’t have any skin issues anymore and he finally had some decent facial hair to work with! It all seemed to add up to something of a turning point for his life.

That wasn’t the case.

Turns out a new body came with the same issues PLUS a few new ones too. Maxwell couldn’t form a straight sentence around hot guys, even newly hot guys who had never been hit on before! Even if Maxwell was just as handsome and good looking, his words fell apart at the slightest bit of attraction. Not only that, but his pool of attraction doubled. Apparently the guy he’d become was bisexual and loved flirting with men and women! So now not only did hot men make his speech a mess, but beautiful ladies did as well! A single hot woman could ruin his night if she asked for directions! A studly man asking if he wanted a drink would have him run out of the bar! No matter what seemed to happen, Maxwell was still an awkward dork.

Going from 5’5 to 6’2 didn’t help either. Now everyone could see this towering confident stud look like a complete fool! And his quick escapes were a thing of the past since every time he tried to run away he’d trip over his large size 15 feet. The last time he tried to flee from a failed flirt he knocked over two waiters and spilled 3 drinks over the person he was talking to. He needed some help.

His friends did their best to console him, but even they had difficulty finding a clear solution.

“Come on dude, you’ve got to stop biting your nails!” Beth, his best friend since college said after another night of failed flirting.

“I’m sorry Beth!” Maxwell whined in his new voice. Previously that expression was met with more nasally tones, but now even his wines made such flirtatious sounds when it came out of his new deep voice. “I just can’t stop thinking about that couple that asked if I wanted to join them tonight. The guy was soooo hot! He was like some kind of bodybuilder! And the girl! She could’ve been a super model. And i just froze and ran away!”

“It’s ok. I know that you want to pursue a relationship post shift. There’s no shame in striking out. Lots of people are having a hard time finding love.” Beth chimed in trying to comfort her friend.

“Easy for you to say. You and your fiance got Chris Evans and Chris Hemsworth’s bodies! And you’re still together!” Maxwell complained, burying his head in his pillow, still shirtless and showing off his impressive arms.

“I… I admit. We did get lucky. I know all our friends love Marvel, and my fiance and I are mega nerds… and the role play in the bedroom is fun and-”

“Beth!”

“Sorry! I just mean, that nothing is hopeless. You’ll find what you’re looking for soon. And hey, if it helps you can try flirting with me and Erin tonight.” Beth offered.

Maxwell blushed… and then slowly nodded. Maybe flirting with two of his biggest celebrity crushes would solve his issue after all.

#great shift #the great shift #body swap

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bonny-kookoo · 5 months ago

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Jungkook

𝐒𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐬 𝐓𝐨 𝐋♡𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 [Tension]

You're both not who you pretend to be.

Tags/Warnings: Fuckboy!Jungkook, Fuckgirl!Reader, Angst, Misunderstandings, Friends/Enemies to lovers, Very suggestive, adult, hurt and comfort, smut, did I mention angst? It's worth it in the end tho promise,

Length: 4k Words + Next Chapter preview

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

A/N: Idk anymore I'll write what I want.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

While Jungkook isn’t pushy, he definitely isn’t letting go either.

Any chance he can get at spending time with you, he takes- just like now, as he’s kneeled on the floor, currently taking apart some of your furniture for you since you’ve cut one of your hands by accident a day prior, Yoongi having spilled the info of that accident to Jungkook. You’ve made it very clear that you take this as an act of betrayal- but Yoongi didn’t seem to really care.

“I don’t think you can really put this up another time.” Jungkook mentions, tapping the hinge connecting to one of the doors of the small dresser with the screwdriver. “It’s been glued a couple of times already. I don’t think it’s gonna survive another try.” He tells you, and you just shrug.

“Well, then we’ll throw it away.” You just sigh, having watched him from the sidelines ever since he started working.

Jungkook suddenly moves, back of his shirt a bit damp from having worked admittedly pretty hard to take down your bigger furniture earlier. He sits in front of you, legs crossed, looking right at you- and you instantly cross your arms defensively.

You know what he wants. You won’t give it to him. “talk to me.” He says again, and it’s not really a demand, but more so him pleading. Asking.

Trying to get through.

“Nothing to say.” You shrug, and his eyes narrow at that, before he gets up and takes a hammer, offering it to you. “what?”

“Smash it.” He nods towards the small dresser, and you hesitate. “Come on.”

“I can’t.” You deny, pointing at your bandaged hand, and he nods, taking the hammer from you.

“Right. I’ll do it then.” He admits, arm lifting to gain momentum to deliver the hit to the side of the dresser, when you call out in panic, having gotten up as if to protect it-

But jungkook clearly never intended to really do it, instead just looking at you now with an unreadable expression.

“Listen.” He gets down again, setting the tool aside as he watches you look at the wooden furniture, decorated with faded stickers. “just.. at least tell me if you’re in any trouble?” He asks, and you look up at that. “do you owe someone money? Or is someone stalking you?” He worries, and you shake your head.

“No- God no, none of that.” You deny, and he sighs.

“see, that I believe.” He tells you. “your whole body language, the way you answered- that’s believable. But everything else is bullshit.” He denies you, and you get up at that, walking out of the room. “and now you’re running away- again!” He calls out defeated, getting up himself to follow you into your bathroom where you put all your skincare products into a box. “I’m trying hard to figure out what the fuck I did. Am I being too pushy?”

“No..” you mumble, putting more stuff away, avoiding interaction with him as much as you can. But much to your dismay, he’s got the audacity to take items out again. “Jungkook-“

“are you scared you’ll hurt my feelings if you shut me down?” He asks, and you roll your eyes. “stop that and talk to me-“

“as if anything could scratch your ego!” You tell him, feeling too pushed into a corner right now. “There’s nothing anyone could say that would ever really hurt a guy like you.!” You huff, not noticing the way he froze up for a good moment until a few seconds later when you’ve noticed him no longer reaching for anything.

“ouch.” He comments. “care to explain what you mean by that?” He asks, arms crossed.

“You’ve got like, everything!” You rant, folding your towels, avoiding eye contact. “you’re hot, you got the looks, great at flirting, you-..” you cut yourself off before you can ramble too much, accidentally revealing anything that could blow your cover, but it’s clear from his next words that his suspicions have been awoken.

“if I’m all of that, why not be with me?” he asks, watching you like a hawk now. “you’ve fucked Jimin, and stayed friends. So don’t come at me with that ‘Our friendship will be ruined’ bullshit.” He calls out, and you swallow.

He’s onto you.

“Thats different.” You say, avoiding the topic now, pushing past him out of the bathroom, but he doesn’t let go.

Following you around into the kitchen, giving you no chance to escape or even somehow make up new excuses in your head as he suddenly speaks again.

“Because it didn’t happen?”

You’re frozen, standing in front of the opened fridge, staring right at a bottle of water and a pack of shredded cheese as you feel your blood cool down- and it’s not from the temperature inside the device. Not even the beeping of the big device telling you to close it to save energy wakes you out of that trance, as your thoughts go wild.

How does he know?

How much does he know?

Does he even know at all or is he just bluffing?

“I knew you’d never fuck him.” He chuckles, closing the door for you, arm over your shoulder slowly retreating as he sits down at your small kitchen table, waiting for you to turn around. “and his story was always inconsistent. So was yours.” He explains how he caught the lie. “if you want to make shit up, at least agree on a Version to tell everyone.”

“so what?” You sigh, trying to keep up your act as you turn around- taken aback by the horribly soft look on his face, head leaning on his hand while his elbow rests on the table.

“Exactly. So what?” He asks you, visibly relaxing now that he’s got the confirmation he needed to know that what he’s been thinking. “But that’s not the only lie, is it?” He questions, and the way your eyes move away from his gives him an answer already. “Is that it? You lied and now you want to run away from it?” He questions, and you just let yourself go, sitting down on the floor in front of the fridge, defeated. You don’t care if you act like a child right now, it’s not like there’s any dignity left to cling to anyways.

You’re tired. You can’t keep this shit up anymore, you can’t deal with the stress of leaving even though you don’t want to, you can’t take the whole situation any longer.

“Yeah go on now. Laugh.” You mumble, hugging your knees. “close the door on your way out.”

“Now why would I do that?” He shakes his head as he sighs, moving to sit down in front of you again, on the floor, though he keeps some distance. “what made you... create this whole charade? Was it me?” he asks, visibly interested.

You shrug. You just want to vanish right now.

“I don’t.. it’s stupid.” You mumble, avoiding his gaze as you feel yourself begin to cry from the embarrassment.

“Hm yeah, kind of.” He admits. “how much of it was a lie? I mean, I have an idea, but I just.. would like for you to come clean yourself.” He shrugs, carefully tapping your knee with his finger, careful not to push you too far.

“everything.” You say. “I’ve.. the parties. And jimin. And everything else.”

“So you don't find me hot?” He teases, trying to lighten the mood a little, seeing you glare at him with watery eyes. “Hey, come on. Yeah it’s stupid, but we all did stupid shit sometimes.”

“Not as bad as me.” You deny. “I literally lied.. just to get your attention.” You say quietly, and he tries hard not to grin.

“Which is kind of cute, I have to admit..” He teases, but you don’t seem up for the joke. “But why did you think you had to make up that stuff?”

“Because.. You’re you. And I’m just.. an awkward virgin who acts a lot more confident than she is.” You say.

Jungkook falls quiet at that. While he knew to some extend that a lot of your stories were lies- mostly because the finer details didn’t add up or made any sense- he didn’t know how far exactly it went, so this info definitely changes some things.

“I’m sorry you.. fell for a fraud.” You mumble, and he shakes his head.

“I don’t think I fell for a fraud-“ he denies, “-because I never fell for any of that anyways.” He shakes his head. “I fell for the way you basically recite your dreams to me whenever something interesting happened in them. How you helped me find a good present for my mom’s birthday when I almost forgot it, even though you don’t even know her. Your laugh, your sense of humor, fuck, the way you greet me with a hug even when you’re pissed at me.” He sighs. “What made you think that sex was all I cared about?” He complains, and you feel even worse now.

“I just.. we don’t have anything in common.” You sniffle. “nothing. And I wanted you to like me so bad..” you confess, making him shake his head.

“we love Disney movies.” He responds. “we both love banana milk. We collect stickers. We like the same scents. We’re both dog people.” He gives as examples, before he runs a hand over his face. “so that’s it? That’s the big thing?” He asks, and you nod. “I mean.. yeah. This isn’t.. I hope you can understand me too here. I’m going to be a bit suspicious of stuff in the future until I know you’re not making stuff up again.” He says, and you look at him at that. “but that’s no reason to run away from me.”

“it is.” You deny. “I don’t.. I have a horrible crush on you.” You admit freely now, hiding your face in your knees. “I really like you.” You confess, and he moves closer at that, hands on the sides of your head gently forcing you to look at him.

“and that’s a bad thing?” He wonders, wiping your cheeks. “show me the real you. I’d love to fall for that instead.” He offers.

“There’s nothing to fall for.” You deny.

“Well, I’ll decide that for myself.”

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��Did you ever have your first kiss?” Jungkook asks randomly, hands shaping the pizza dough into the- somewhat- appropriate shape. Your a little hypnotized by the way his hands move, fingers digging into the soft dough to move it around, turn the outside corner in for the crust to later rise, having made it his mission to somehow figure out how to put cheese in the crust like your favorite delivery service. Suddenly though, one of the hands move, inked fingers snapping in front of your face. “Hey, I asked something.” He laughs, making you look at him.

“I- Oh, yeah.” You nod, before you shake your head. “what was the question?” You correct yourself, and he laughs more at that, shaking his head.

“I asked you if you’ve ever kissed anyone.” He repeats himself, moving to put the sauce on the bare dough now.

“I uh.. yeah. But it’s, I don’t know. Awkward.” You shrug. “not really my thing.” You admit, and he nods.

“Not really your thing, or, just had weird experiences?” He wonders, and you think for a bit.

Most of the time, you’ve been kissed, but you yourself have never kissed anyone. It was ever really.. asked if you wanted to be kissed- the moment had just been chosen by your partners back then, and it had put pressure on you to just go with it as to not make it awkward.

“I mean.. I’ve never made out or anything.” You admit. “and I never kissed anyone. I always got kissed.” You say.

“so you can ask for it at least, that’s good.” He nods to himself, before he notices you being quiet. “you.. did ask for it, right?” He questions with an oddly serious tone, and you shrug.

“the timing was always right I guess.” You answer. “I never asked, no. It just.. you know, when you’re being driven back home from a date, that’s when you kiss.” You tell him, and Jungkook shakes his head.

“No, hold on there, wait.” He denies. “They asked you though, right?” He questions, but you shake your head.

“Like I said when you-“ you start, but he shakes his head, hands on your shoulders now.

“No, none of that.” He presses. “You’re not obligated to do anything just because someone took you out. You’ll never be obligated to do me a favour just because I take you out. Got it?” He asks, and you nod, a bit taken aback by how serious he is. “if you don’t want something, you’ll have to say it. Please, promise me that.”

You nod. “I promise.” You say, and he sighs, relieved, before he brushes off the faint marks of flour on your skin.

“I’m sorry, it’s just..” he shakes his head as he resumes his task of preparing food for you both. “..nothing. Anyways- never kissed then, got it.” He nods to himself. “so we’re basically starting from scratch.”

“we’re?” You ask, unsure as he nods.

“We’re. I know of your secret, I know you like me, I like you too- so, what’s speaking against it?” He wonders, before he looks at you. “Do you want to be with me?” He asks, and you think for a second, before you nod.

“I’m just-” You start, but he just laughs.

“Not what I thought you were, I know. That’s why I’m saying we’re starting from scratch- I'm basically going to get to know you for real this time.” He tells you, putting the toppings onto the pizza that you both agreed on earlier.

He’s taking this so lightly. Like it’s nothing.

“I’ll still leave.” You remind him however, but again, he only nods to himself, sprinkling the shredded cheese onto the pizza he’s preparing. “And you’ll.. If we’re like.. Together, you can’t hook up with anyone else anymore.” You say, and he sighs, moving the food into the oven.

“I don’t know when that thought grew in your head, but let me get something straight.” He starts, setting up the right temperature and time before he braces himself against the kitchen counter you sit on, face turned towards you with a serious expression. “Yes, I enjoy sex. Yes, I have had it a lot.” He explains. “No, it’s not everything I always think about. Neither is it something that I absolutely need every day of the week.” Jungkook tells you, and you feel a bit guilty with the way he phrases it. “What made you think that’s all I’d want from you?” He wonders.

“Nothing, just..” You shrug, looking down at your knees. “I guess it was the easy way.”

“Let’s just start over then. Entirely.” He proposes. “I’ll get to know you- and you’ll get to know me. Because its pretty obvious you don’t know me either.” Jungkook says, and you nod, a bit ashamed.

“Sorry.” You apologize, but he instead puts a handful of shredded cheese in his mouth, before he offers it to you-

Laughing when you stuff your cheeks with it as well, finally breaking free.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

“what’s wrong, hm?” Jungkook says, entering your apartment after you’d texted him that you didn’t feel good.

He first thought it might be sickness- but from your tearful eyes and the blanket around your shoulders, he now realizes that you’re not feeling mentally good. And he’s happy that you reached out for him, that you finally jumped over your shadow and sought him out, proving that you seemed to be truthful in trying to be more honest with him.

“I don’t want to leave.” You say, crying again as you sit down on your living room couch, the only thing still left untouched.

“Oh baby..” jungkook laughs a little to himself, sitting down next to you to run a comforting hand over your back. “didn’t you say that you could just work for the office here?” He asks, and you nod, though shrug too.

“they’ll be mad when I say.. that I wanna switch back again..” you mumble, hiccuping still here and there. It breaks his heart a little to see you this upset- but he also knows that you dug yourself into this mess all by yourself. This is just the consequences of your own actions.

“Well, that’s going to just be the punishment you’ll have to take.” Jungkook tells you, and while his tone is teasing, his gaze is still kind and comforting. “I’ll have your back too- you can stay at my place until you found something else, since you’re already supposed to be out of this apartment by next week.” He reminds you, and you sigh.

“But I’ll impose, don’t tell me I won’t.” You argue looking at your feet. “I’ll just have to go through with it-“.

“I wouldnt be offering my place if i wasnt comfortable with the idea of you around all the time.” He playfully denies. “maybe try and not run around in your underwear and I’ll keep my hands to myself too as a bonus.” He flirts, and you can’t help but giggle a bit at that.

“Maybe I don’t want you keeping them to yourself?” You ask, making him grin a little.

“Careful there. Don’t start something you can’t finish.” He teases, before he moves into a more comfortable position, pulling you closer. “Well figure this all out. You’re not alone, alright?” He tells you, and you nod.

“Jungkook?” You wonder randomly after a good moment of just silence, and he hums as a reply before you talk again. “how do you ask for.. a kiss? Or like.. I don’t know. Forget it.” You mumble more or less to yourself making him chuckle.

“No can do. Now you’ve got my attention.” He teases a little, hands on your arms running up and down in reassurance. “You want a kiss right now?” He wonders, and you shrug.

“I’ve never.. like, made out with anyone.” You admit.

“And you want to do that with me?” He wonders, making you nod- before you shake your head.

“Yes? I don’t know.” You admit. “I don’t know what it’s like, so I don’t know if I like it. What if I don’t?” You worry, and he sighs.

“Then you don’t. Simple as that.” He shrugs. “What if you just gave me a kiss? See how that feels?” He offers as an option, and you bite at your lips for a second, before you move around to face him, eyes moving from his lips to his eyes for a moment.

“right now?” You wonder, and he smiles.

“If you want to.” He answers, still relaxed as ever. It reassures you, the fact that he’s so at ease- you don’t want to fuck this up, and you also don’t want to seem dumber than you actually are. His experience is a little intimidating to you- what if he thinks you’re lame? You most likely are. Anything you both will do will be boring to him, you realize. “hey- talk to me.” He snaps you out of your thoughts, and you pull your attention back to the situation at hand. “what’s worrying you?” He wonders.

“I want to impress you I guess.” You huff impatiently. “I want you to be like, ‘wow’ at something I do but I don’t have any idea what to do to like, get that reaction from you.” You explain, making his eyes soften.

“What makes you think that you need to impress me?” He wonders, and you look down at his chest.

“I don’t.. Taehyung once said that.. you know, you get bored easily..” you mumble, and Jungkook’s eyes widen for a second, before he clocks his tongue.

“you know, I envy you a little bit because of that.” He tells you, and that answer catches you off guard. “once you.. have a lot of sex, and have kissed a lot of people, it all loses its spark, you know?” He explains almost melancholic. “it’s like a book. You can only read it for the first time once- after that, you’re always prepared for what’s to come. It’s no longer new. Nothing exciting. Only.. maybe comforting at best.” He shrugs. “I wish I could have those early experiences back. That spark.” He admits. “i don’t want or need to be impressed. Not like this, at least.” He offers you. “I just.. want something permanent. Something real.”

“Why.. havent you been in a relationship before then?” You wonder. “if you want something permanent.”

“because no one wants that with someone like me.” He explains to you. “I’m exciting. I’m wild, and adventure. But I’m nothing someone wants to stay with.” He shrugs.

You frown at that. What?

Suddenly, a sentence jimin said years ago slaps you right in the face, full force.

“He falls in love easily, with everything around him. I wish the world around him would do the same for once.”

“Jungkook?” You ask, and he nods, looking at you. “can I kiss you?” You wonder, and he nods.

“Sure.” He teases, and you feel like it’s more of a defensive mechanism at this point. “impress me.” He jokes.

But he quickly seems caught completely off guard when your hands hold his face, before you put your lips on his. He’s truly surprised in that moment- because this is, indeed, new. He’s never been kissed like this before- with so much gentle care and attention, with such warmth that he feels like he’s actually melting right into your hands. It’s one kiss, another, and a third- and his eyes are suddenly only half-open, all words lost as he stares you down. You’re not sure if that was something he liked- but the moment his own hand finds your cheek as well makes you wonder if you really did it right.

“can I kiss you?” He asks quietly, almost a whisper, and you’ve never heard him so fragile before. But you nod- and the moment you do, his lips are on yours- a lot more confident in himself, but slow, soft. He’s taking the lead, easily so- but it’s not overbearing, instead simply an act of adoration. “You know-“ he laughs, out of breath even though this wasn’t ‘steamy’ or heated at all. “-I was joking when I asked you to impress me.”

“You dont have to lie.” You giggle, but he shakes his head, pecking your lips once, twice, again just for good measure.

“I’m not.” He denies. “this is the first time I’ve been kissed like that.”

“like what?” You wonder, unable to look away from that unique expression he’s got on his face.

“like someone's in love with me.”

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

NEXT CHAPTER PREVIEW:

“I’m sorry, but I won’t just let myself be some body you can practice on so you can know how to drive and move on to someone that interests you more.” He barks out, agitated, and you’re completely caught off guard, staring him down in disbelief. “I won’t let myself be used like that..” again, he wants to say, but he can’t bring himself to expose this like that. He doesn’t feel safe, he feels like a cornered animal, and the worst part is that he knows he doesn’t even need to say it, because you know what he’s hinting at.

“I’m sorry.” You say, and again, there it is; this stinging pain in his chest at your gentle tone, trying to soothe his wounds with salt it seems like.

“Why are you sorry?” He wants to know, tone dangerously low as he expects you to reveal your intentions to him, at last. “ What are you sorry for?” He wants to know, and you just shake your head.

“I’m sorry I never really looked at you properly.” You admit, and he frowns again, once more left without any control over the situation. “I’m sorry I never noticed you were hurting.” You tell him, and he swallows hard, turning away from you. “I’m sorry I can’t help you.” You say, defeated, and he slaps his kitchen counter in agony, turned away from you.

“Stop apologizing.!” He gets out between clenched teeth, agitated over the fact that he’s got no grasp of the situation.

“I don’t know what else to do.” You say, the soft whine in your tone making it clear that you’re hurting just as much as he is. “I’m.. I’ll stay with jimin-“ you offer, thinking he might want space- but he just groans out, and holds his head, marbled kitchen counter doing nothing to cool his temperature.

“I don’t want you to leave-!” He almost growls, before he braces himself against the counter top, sighing loudly. “fuck.. That’s the last thing I want, ’m just- I’m the one who should say sorry.” He says. “I just.. God I’m so fucked up..” he laughs bitterly, and you do whatever you feel like might help him- leaning against his back, arms wrapped around him. And for a moment, as he lets himself be held for just a moment, you can feel him shake a little under the weight of his own emotions finally seeping through the cracks-

And you’re determined to put his pieces back together, however long it’ll take you.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader

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screaminglygay · 5 months ago

Text

third time is a charm, right? (part seven)

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader, wanda maximoff x fem!reader, natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff, carol danvers x fem!reader (platonic), past carol danvers x natasha romanoff

summary: being surrounded by beautiful women makes you dizzy and irracional, but that´s just part of the life, hm?

warnings: swearing, ankle injury, messy relationship, that´s all i think:)

word count: 3.3k

an: what can i say? comunication is hard and messy, especially in these situationships

(italica = your thoughts)

The next morning, your ankle is still swollen and painful. Every step you take sends a sharp reminder of the previous night's events. And the headache from drinking is not much of a helper either. As you sit on the couch, contemplating your next move, you remember the business card Carol handed you. Hesitating for a moment, you finally pick up your phone and dial her number.

Fuck it.

After a few rings, Carol answers, her voice warm and slightly curious. "Danvers speaking," her voice is firm.

"Hi, Carol. It’s me, (Y/N)," you say, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I, uh, I’m having trouble with my ankle. And you said to call you if anything… so I´m calling."

Carol's tone immediately shifts to one of concern. "Oh no, okay. Have you seen a doctor?"

You shake your head, even though she can’t see you. "No, I haven’t. I just thought it might get better on it´s own over night, but it hasn’t."

"Okay, don’t worry," Carol says reassuringly. "How about I´ll drive to yours and help you out? Or get you into the hospital?"

It doesn’t take long before you hear a knock on your door. You hobble over and open it to find Carol standing there with a warm smile, holding a small bag.

"Hi," you greet her, feeling a bit shy.

"Hey there," Carol replies, stepping inside. "I brought some supplies for your ankle. Let’s take a look." She is wearing a black lather jacket, it suits her pretty well. You on the other hand just in oversized shirt and some sweatpants... well it´s not an outfit of the century.

She helps you back to the couch and kneels down to examine your ankle, her touch gentle and careful. "This looks pretty bad. We should get some ice on it and keep it elevated. You really should see a doctor."

"I know," you admit. "I just… everything’s been a bit overwhelming and doctor on top of it is just not the cherry on top I´d like."

Carol looks up at you, her expression soft. "I get it. You’ve been through a lot. But it won´t magicaly heal on it´s own."

You nod, appreciating her concern. As she wraps your ankle with an ice pack and props it up on a cushion, you feel a sense of comfort in her presence. She moves around your apartment with ease, making sure you’re comfortable and fetching anything you need.

"So," Carol says, settling down beside you. "How are you feeling after everything that happened with Natasha and Wanda?"

You sigh, leaning back against the cushions. "I’m still processing it all. It’s hard to do it while hangover and minus one leg."

Carol chuckles. "It’s okay to feel hurt and confused. They put you in a tough spot. Literaly."

"Thanks," you say softly. "For being here. I didn’t expect you to help me like this."

Carol smiles. "What are friends for? Besides, I couldn’t leave you struggling on your own. And honestly, I kind of enjoy your company."

You laugh lightly, the first time you’ve felt a bit of joy since the fallout with Natasha and Wanda. "So we´re besties now?"

"You cried on my shoulder while being drunk, isn´t it a typical way of making girl friends?" Carol teases.

"That is a fair point, yeah." You laugh.

Carol chuckles. "How about I cook us some lunch? I make the perfect grilled cheese."

"That sounds great," you say, feeling your spirits lift.

As Carol moves to the kitchen, you watch her with a mix of gratitude and curiosity. There’s something about her that makes you feel safe and valued, a stark contrast to the tumultuous relationship with Natasha and Wanda.

"I uh… noticed you´re also a CEO," you speak up, breaking the comfortable silence.

Carol chuckles, glancing over her shoulder at you. "Yeah. It’s been quite a journey."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "How did you get into it?"

Carol turns back to the stove, flipping the sandwiches with practiced ease. " I started in the Air Force, actually. But after some… complications, I transitioned into the business world."

You nod, impressed. "That’s amazing. I can see why you and Natasha might have some… tension."

Carol laughs, shaking her head. "Yeah, you could say that. Natasha and I have a bit of a rivalry going on. She’s always been competitive, and I guess I pushed her buttons in ways she wasn’t used to."

"What do you mean?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Carol plates the grilled cheese sandwiches and brings them over to the table, sitting down across from you. "Natasha is used to being the best at everything she does. When I started making waves with my company, she didn’t take it too well. We’ve had our fair share of professional clashes."

You smile, finding comfort in her honesty. "Has it always been this way?"

"Pretty much. When we were together, the rivalry was more playful. But after we broke up, it became more serious. She’s always been a bit salty about my successes, and I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed getting under her skin a bit." Carol asnwers.

You take a bite of the grilled cheese, savoring the warmth and flavor. "Sounds like it keeps you on your toes."

Carol nods. "It does. But honestly, I think we both thrive on it. It’s like a game we’re both determined to win."

You chew thoughtfully, feeling a bit more connected to Carol through her stories. "It must be exhausting, though. Always competing."

Carol leans back, her expression softening. "It can be. But it’s also what drives me. There’s a lot of professional pride involved. We’re both in industries where being at the top means everything. Natasha doesn’t like losing, and I’m not one to back down."

You smile, appreciating her honesty. "Like I´ve said… exhausting."

"Yeah, you get used to it after some time," Carol admits.

After finishing lunch, Carol insists on taking you to the hospital to get your ankle checked out. Reluctantly, you agree, knowing she’s right. The drive is filled with light conversation, Carol keeping your mind off the pain and the events of the previous night. Once at the hospital, a doctor examines your ankle, taking an X-ray to ensure there are no fractures.

Thankfully, it's not broken or badly sprained. The doctor advises you to rest for at least a week, keeping your ankle elevated and iced to reduce the swelling. As you leave with a wrapped ankle and a prescription for painkillers, you feel a wave of relief knowing it’s not serious. Carol stays by your side the entire time, making sure you’re comfortable and reassuring you that everything will be okay.

As you make your phone call to work, Carol drives back into your place in silence. Your boss is completly okay with you taking a break and she just wishes you to be okay soon. Carol smiles as she glance at you, "all good?"

You nod, "yeah, thanfully all good."

An hour later, you're both lounging on the couch, chatting about everything and nothing, when there's a sudden knock on the door.

You pause, feeling a flicker of anxiety. Carol notices your hesitation and gives you a questioning look. "Expecting anyone?"

You shake your head, pushing yourself up with a wince and hobbling to the door. Peering through the peephole, your heart skips a beat as you recognize the familiar faces of Natasha and Wanda standing on the other side.

"It's them," you whisper, more to yourself than to Carol.

Carol stands up, her expression turning serious. "What do you want to do? Do you want to talk to them?"

You hesitate, your mind racing. Part of you wants to hear them out, but another part remembers the hurt and betrayal. Finally, you take a deep breath and decide. "I guess I should see what they want."

With Carol staying in the living room, you open the door slightly, keeping the chain lock in place. "What do you want?" you ask, your voice steady but guarded.

Wanda looks at you with concern. "We just wanted to make sure you're okay," she says softly.

"I'm fine," you reply curtly. "I went to the hospital. They said it’s just a sprain."

Both Natasha and Wanda’s eyes widen in alarm. "You went to the hospital?" Natasha asks, a protective edge in her voice. "Did you drive there?!"

"I hurt my ankle," you respond, not wanting to get into details. "It´s not like I was hit by a car."

Wanda’s brow furrows in worry. "Why didn't you call us? We could have helped. Drive you there or something…"

You sigh, feeling the weight of their concern. "I didn't wanted to bother, given everything."

Natasha looks genuinely hurt. "We care about you. Despite everything, we do care."

You feel a mix of emotions, wanting to believe them but still wary. "I appreciate your concern, but I have someone helping me."

At that moment, Carol, having overheard the conversation, steps into view. "Hey, everything okay here?"

Natasha and Wanda’s eyes widen in surprise at seeing Carol. "Carol?" Natasha asks, a mix of shock and confusion in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

Carol crosses her arms, her expression calm but firm. "I'm helping out a friend."

Natasha narrows her eyes slightly, a hint of tension in her voice. "Of course, it’s you, Danvers. Always showing up where you're least expected."

Wanda, sensing the rising tension, gently places a hand on Natasha’s arm to calm her. "Nat, please," she says softly before turning back to you. "We are glad someone is helping you."

You look at Wanda, knowing she meant her words, you give her a small smile.

Natasha looks at you, her eyes softening a bit despite the tension. "We just want to make sure you're okay, (Y/N). That's all."

You nod, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "I know. But right now, I need some space. Please understand that."

Wanda bites her lip, looking like she wants to say more but nodding instead. "Okay. We’ll give you space. But if you need anything, we’re here."

Natasha adds, "Take care of yourself." And looks at Carol, "Danvers," she nods.

Carol just nods, she doesn´t say anything else.

You close the door softly, leaning against it as you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, "god."

Carol steps closer, giving you a reassuring smile. "You handled that well."

"Thanks," you reply, feeling relieved.

...

As the days pass, your ankle gradually heals, and you find yourself less reliant on Carol's physical help. However, the friendship that blossomed during your recovery continues to thrive. You and Carol text each other regularly, sharing updates about your lives, funny anecdotes, and supportive messages. Despite the pain caused by Natasha and Wanda, Carol’s presence has been a comforting and grounding force.

One evening, as you sit on your couch scrolling through your phone, you feel a wave of nostalgia and longing. Memories of the good times with Natasha and Wanda resurface, the emotions, the feelings, the touches… You hover over their contacts, unsure of what to do. Finally, with a deep breath, you decide to reach out.

Your fingers fly over the keyboard, debating between Natasha and Wanda. After a moment of indecision, you choose Wanda, her gentle nature feeling slightly less intimidating.

You: Hi, Wanda. How are you doing?

You hit send before you can overthink it. A few moments later, your phone buzzes with a response.

Wanda: Hey! I’m doing okay. How about you? How’s your ankle?

A smile tugs at your lips. Despite everything, it feels nice to hear from her.

You: It’s much better now, thanks. I’m getting back to normal, slowly but surely.

Wanda: I’m glad to hear that. We’ve been worried about you.

You: Really?

They been thinking about me… that feels nice.

Wanda: Of course. You’re important to us, even if we didn’t show it well.

You pause, feeling a mixture of emotions. It's comforting to know they care, but the hurt is still there, how could you be so stupid to think you can do only sex? You´re the person who can catch feeling even when someone will hold the door for you.

You: I appreciate that. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.

Wanda: About us?

You: Yeah. I miss you both, but I’m still hurt. What Natasha said really got to me. I know what we agreed on, but that doesn´t mean it wasn´t painful.

There's a pause, and you can almost feel Wanda's regret through the screen.

Wanda: I understand. Natasha feels terrible about it. She doesn’t always handle her emotions well.

You: I get that. I just… I don’t know where we stand anymore.

Wanda: Can we talk? In person, I mean. It might be easier. All of us.

You hesitate, the fear of getting hurt again battling with the desire to mend things.

You: Can you come to mine tomorrow then?

Wanda: Is 3PM okay for you?

You: It is.

Wanda: Perfect!

You put your phone down, feeling a mix of anxiety and anticipation. Before you go to bed, you send a quick text to Carol about your conversation with Wanda, she wishes you a good luck and you have a feeling of hope, feeling that everything will be okay. You will talk like a grownups… that´s great right? Something you were always so perfect about and defiently not going quiet, when there was something you didn´t like.

It´s gonna be just fine.

...

The next day, the clock seems to tick by more slowly than usual. You try to tidy up your apartment, trying to keep busy to calm your nerves. By the time 3PM approaches, you feel a knot of anxiety in your stomach. You hear a knock at the door and take a deep breath before walking over.

Peeking through the peephole, you see Wanda and Natasha standing there. Wanda in her flower dress looks hopeful, while Natasha appears a bit more stoic, though you can see the concern in her eyes.

You open the door slightly, enough to see them but still feeling cautious. "Hey," you say softly.

"Hey," Wanda responds with a small smile. "Can we come in?"

You hop back, opening the door wider to let them in. As they enter, they both notice the slight limp in your step.

Natasha's eyes narrow with concern. "Is your ankle still hurting?"

"It's better," you say, avoiding their gazes. "I can walk, I just look like an idiot, while doing so." You chuckle, trying to ease the situation.

Natasha's face hardens. "But you´re still in pain?"

"I´m okay, nothing I can´t take." You assure them.

Wanda nods, "can we help you right now in any way?"

You slowly walk to the couch and shake your head. "No, not really. But feel free to take whatever you´d like, coffee, water…"

Natasha nods and makes a coffee for herself, while she takes a juice for you and Wanda.

You sit down, feeling the weight of their presence. "So…?"

Wanda sits across from you, her eyes soft and pleading. "We´re sorry. For everything. Natasha and I… we handled things poorly."

Natasha nods, her expression serious. "We never meant to hurt you. What I said… it was wrong, and I regret it."

You look between them, feeling the sincerity in their words. "You don´t need to apologize milion times, you know."

Wanda shakes her head. "We do. We care about you, deeply. We just didn’t know how to handle our own emotions. And we… well screw it up."

Natasha takes a deep breath. "We want to make things right. If you’re willing to give us another chance."

You sit back, contemplating their words. "Do you think I would let you in here, if I didn´t think about giving you a second chance?"

Both Wanda and Natasha look taken aback, their eyes widening in surprise.

Wanda’s gaze softens, a glimmer of hope appearing. "You’re… you’re willing to give us another chance?"

"I am doing that right now, or… that wasn´t obvious? Gosh we are really shitty at comunicating… all of us." You chuckle, making the two ladies laugh as well.

Wanda smiles, "good to know, okay."

Natasha looks down, her fingers playing with the edge of her sleeve. “We’ve had issues with communication in the past, too. I can see now that it kinda affected us… me.”

You nod, taking a deep breath. “I also need to admit that I misread the situation. Even after we set terms, I hoped for something more. I thought maybe…”

Wanda reaches out to touch your hand. “We should have been clearer. But you also need to understand that we weren’t completely upfront either.”

Natasha’s expression turns serious. “The truth is, you’re not the first person we’ve been involved with. We’ve had others before you. And, honestly, it hasn’t always been great.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious, but also suprised that Natasha is openning up right now.

Natasha hesitates for a moment, then continues. “We’ve had partners who were… different from you. They were often rude, mean, and only interested in our money. They were possessive and only saw us for what we could provide, not who we are.”

Wanda adds, “That’s why we were so cautious with you. We didn’t want to fall into the same patterns, but in doing so, we ended up hurting you instead. Basically did the thing we were so worried about.”

Natasha looks at you, her eyes filled with regret. “I freaked out because I didn’t want you to be like them. I was afraid of repeating the mistakes we made before. And when you showed up in the office, I just… lost it completly.”

You absorb their words, feeling a mix of empathy and frustration. “Alright, I understand, but… we all have our baggage, and it’s up to us to work through it together.”

Wanda’s eyes soften. “You’re right. We need to be more open and honest about our feelings and our pasts. And we need to listen to you, too.”

Natasha nods, her expression is soft, not to firm as it was before.

You take a deep breath, feeling a bit more at ease. “I appreciate your honesty. I’m willing to work on this with you."

Wanda smiles gently. “Thank you for being willing to try. We’ll do our best to show you that we can be different.”

Natasha adds, “We’ll start by being more transparent and communicating better. That’s a promise. How about we start again?" She exhales.

"You saw me naked, I don´t think we can start again." You chuckle, while your cheeks heat up.

Wanda giggles, "then how about we go on a date, proper one? Tomorrow?"

A proper date? Hold on… so it´s not a just sex anymore. I´m confused.

Both women can notice your puzzled face and Wanda takes your hand in hers, "proper date as… we would like to try this," her hand squeezes yours, "to be more than just a sex."

Oh shit. Nice. Cool. Okay. Calm down. It´s fine. All good.

"If you don´t have plans with Davnvers, of course." Natasha speaks up, you can hear the slight jealousy in her voice. Which makes the younger woman roll her eyes at her girlfriend.

"I don´t no," you shake your head. “Tomorrow works perfectly fine for me.” You agree enthusiastically, feeling a surge of happiness at the thought of a proper date.

Nat smirks, "perfect."

"So we will pick you up at… 7PM?" Wanda smiles.

You nod, trying to ease the exitement.

With a final exchange of smiles and assurances, Wanda and Natasha prepare to leave. They give you a warm hug and a gentle kiss on the cheek. As you close the door behind them you let out a squek of happiness and some kind of celebration dance? But your ankle reminds you, that dancing is not a good idea yet.

Maybe third time is really a charm!

Thank you so much for reading!!

taglist: @arualdcg, @beholdagaywriter, @snowdrop1026, @itsdoni, @newawakening9, @aliherreraaa, @zzswiftyzz, @lesbiantothemoonandback, @maggieromanov

If you want to be added, just let me know!:) keep in mind you have to be 18+

#adele writes #third time is a charm right?#marvel fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel universe #marvel fanfic #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wandanat x reader #wandanat x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #carol danvers x you #carol danvers x reader

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 10 months ago

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Pregnant with Patrick’s Daughter (Challengers)

Description: Y/N is pregnant with Patrick’s baby but she’s with Art.

Word Count:986

Request: "Maybe something with a pregnant reader and like Patrick’s the dad. It could be fluff or angst, idk I’m just curious to see how the dynamic between Patrick and like his child would be lol!”

Author’s note: I added a twist in it. Hope you like it!

Y/N looked down at the pregnancy test in shock. Her and Patrick used protection or did they? She honestly couldn’t remember but this was bad news. She was with Art and fucking Patrick. Though she knows that it’s not Art’s kid because he’s been too busy with Tennis to even fuck her. Art would know that the kid wasn’t his, especially if the kid looks like Patrick. Truth be told, Y/N loved Patrick and she also loved Art. It was hard for her to choose between them when they both wanted her as well. She looked at the engagement ring that was placed on her finger. She twirled it and played with it as she thought of what she was going to do.

Art was practicing for his match today so Y/N called Patrick. The two weren’t friends anymore which made the situation worse. He thought she wanted to have sex again so he kissed her hard as soon as she opened the door. She pushed him back and he gave her a confused look. “We need to talk.” She said, he nodded and followed her to the kitchen. “Take a seat.” She demanded. “Ohh I love it when you get all dominant with me.” He smirked. She gave him a look and his smirk dropped. “Listen I don’t know what to do about this or why I'm even telling you at this point but I’m pregnant.” His jaw drops at her words, “And it’s yours because Art and I haven’t had sex in awhile.” He got up from the chair and pulled her in for a hug. “That’s great. I’m gonna be a dad.” He whispered. She pulled away from the hug, “Patrick, I’m with Art. He’s not gonna be happy about this.” Patrick didn’t really care. He hated Art for taking Y/N from him. That pathetic bastard got everything he wanted. “Well he’s not gonna wanna be with you since you’re carrying another man’s baby. My baby to be exact.” She glared at him. Of course he’d be happy about this. He hated Art.

“What?” Art screeched as he stood up from the couch. It didn’t make sense why Patrick was here but now it did. “Art, I’m sorry this isn’t how I wanted you to find out.” She tells him. Patrick had a proud smirk on his face. “Found out what? That you’re fucking my ex best friend and having his baby?” Y/N looked at him with a guilty expression. She really did feel bad. “Art it’s hard for me.” She said with tears in her eyes. “You’re crying? You’re fucking my ex best friend and you’re crying?” He yelled. “Art, I love you both.” Patrick didn’t know that she loved him, nor did Art. “What?” Patrick whispered at her confession. “I love you both and I know that you guys hate each other but I can’t live without you guys.” She said, tears still streaming down her face. Patrick stood up and looked at Art who looked so broken at the news. Y/N’s eyes flickered between the two of them. “Art, please say something.” She begged her fiance. He shook his head and laughed. Both, Y/N and Patrick looked confused. “Get the fuck out!” He told them. “Art, please-” “Get the fuck out!” He screamed at her.

She laid in Patrick’s bed with tears streaming down her face. Her belly bigger and full with Patrick’s baby. It’s been 6 months since Art kicked her out. He hadn’t spoken to either of them, not that she thought he would. He had the right to be upset with her. She cheated on him and got pregnant. But it still hurt her a lot, she loved them both and it was selfish that she felt sad because she had Patrick. But she wanted both. The front door opened and she quickly wiped her tears. Patrick made his way to the bedroom to see Y/N and her tummy full of his baby. He smiled at the sight. She saw him enter the bedroom and smiled at him. He came and collapsed on the bed next to her. He turned towards her and stared at her stomach. “I can’t wait til she’s born.” He said and placed his hand on her tummy. She smiled and agreed with him. She placed her hand on his and the baby kicked. They both gasped and looked at each other. This was the first time they baby kicked for Patrick. Tears started forming in his eyes as he smiled. “I finally felt her kick.” Y/N nodded and ran her fingers through his hair.

Y/N watched as Patrick gave their 4 year old daughter a racket. She chuckled as their daughter kept dropping it but everytime Patrick gave her it again. He was so patient with her and so sweet. It made Y/N’s heart melt. She giggled as their daughter almost hit Patrick with the racket. He looked at his wife and smiled at her. She got up from her seat and walked over to them. “Try not to kill daddy, sweetheart.” She joked. Their 4 year old giggled and gave the racket to Y/N. Y/N took it and melted when she ran into Patrick’s arms. Patrick smiled and hugged her back. Y/N felt happiness in her life, ever since their daughter was born. She didn’t think of Art anymore, unless she saw him on the news. He was a pro tennis player like Patrick and he married Tashi Duncan. She was happy for him, truly. “Hey uh I guess now would be the time to tell you that I’m playing in the challengers and Art will be there.” Her smile dropped at his name. She had a bad feeling about this and almost told him not to go. But she would be by his side with their daughter to support him. She wouldn’t let Art being there ruin this for them.

#challengers movie #challengers 2024 #josh o'connor #mike faist #zendaya #patrick zweig #patrick zweig imagine #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson x you #tashi duncan

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allur1ngs · 1 year ago

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funny thought I had: hyo asking reader for dating advice and reader being like “lose the sunglasses” yk cause hyo has pretty eyes and her being like “but I can’t they’re basically a part of me” and “they make me look cool” “dont girls like that sort of thing??”💀 imagine bada overhearing and telling hyo not to get any funny ideas and to focus on her work 😭 — @aericrys

AERI. THIS IS GOLD!! 🕶️

“What, in your opinion, makes a woman attractive?” Hyo asks you.

You pause. You're currently standing on a ladder, about to reach for another book to read from the Lee mansion’s private and extensive library. “Where’s this coming from?”

Hyo sighs, moving to lean against the ceiling-tall bookshelf behind her. “Promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“Oh come on Hyo, do I seem like the type of friend to do that?”

Hyo cranes her neck up so she makes eye contact with you, quirking her eyebrow with an unamused expression.

“Okay, maybe I am…” you laugh lightheartedly. “But I promise I won’t this time.”

“And you won’t tell the girls or the Boss either,” Hyo adds.

“I won’t, I promise.”

Your bodyguard lets out a dramatic sigh. “I was thinking about getting back into dating–”

“No, way! Really?” You say excitedly, while grabbing the book you wanted.

“Yeah,” Hyo nods. “So I downloaded this dating app–”

“Oh Hyo…” you wince, closing your eyes and shaking your head. “A dating app?”

“What? I thought that’s what people normally do these days,” she says.

“A lot of young people do use dating apps, yes, but mostly for hookups,” you climb up the ladder more, locating another book from your list. “It’s kind of a mixed bag if you want a serious relationship to come from it.”

“Well, I already downloaded it and made a profile,” Hyo huffs. “But all the women I keep matching with suddenly stop messaging me back.”

“Can I see the pictures you have on your profile?” You look down to see Hyo nod, then slowly climb down from the tall ladder, multiple books still cradled in the crook of your arm.

Hyo pulls out her phone, opens the dating app, then shows you her profile.

The pictures aren’t terrible, but they aren’t great either. Although Hyo’s very good at taking photos for other people, it’s clear she hasn’t figured out her angles very well. She has a few taken at slightly awkward angles, but she also looks pretty good in them. You suppose it’s the advantage of being a more masculine woman–you can look good without even trying. And with Hyo already having naturally attractive features, she has a leg up.

“Okay, I already see a massive problem Hyo.” You look over at her, a frown settling on your lips. “You look like you’re scared of the camera in all your pictures.”

“What?” Hyo takes back her phone, squinting at her screen. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.” You point at a picture where she’s half smiling, half deadpanning, making an odd combination for an expression. “You look terrified.”

“I’m not–”

“But honestly, you could have gotten away with it if you just did one thing.” You cut her off.

“Wha–”

“Take off your sunglasses!” You exclaim, pointing at the black-tinted shades placed on top of her nose bridge.

“What? No!” Hyo says back, her pitch rising. “I can’t, they’re a part of my look.”

“Your look,” you gesture to her figure, “screams ‘I work for a mafia boss, and you should be scared of me!’”

“No, the sunglasses make me look cool,” Hyo argues back, shaking her head. “Wait… they make me look cool, right?”

“Yes Hyo, they can make you look cool, but coupled with the way you dress and your deadpan attitude, it makes you seem cold through text,” you state. “Taking off your sunglasses will show a more human part of you. Besides, you have nice eyes, you shouldn’t hide them.”

“I don’t know…” Hyo trails off, touching the frames of her sunglasses. She shakes her head, “Okay, then tell me what else I can do to make myself more attractive to women.”

“Quite the interesting question to be asking my fiancée, Hyo.” Bada’s voice suddenly echoes through the library, her tall frame standing right next to the door. She has her arms crossed over her chest, and one eyebrow raised upward as she stares your bodyguard down.

“Bada!” You smile widely at her.

“Hello,” she says, a natural and soft smile finding her lips easily as she approaches you. “I took a break and wanted to see you.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” You glance over at Hyo, who’s frozen still in her spot. “We were just talking about–”

“It’s alright, I heard everything.” Bada interrupts you.

“Oh…” You trail off, then nudge Hyo in an attempt at breaking her out of her stupor.

“All I can say is that women like it when you show them a more vulnerable side of yourself.” Your fiancée stops right in front of you and takes the heavy books you’re carrying out of your arms, holding them like their combined weight is nothing.

You shake your arms, having not even realized that they had begun to ache under the weight of the multiple books you’d been carrying. “Thank you.” You say, latching onto Bada’s unoccupied arm.

“You’re welcome, honey,” she says softly, before glancing at Hyo (who is still rooted in her spot), with mild annoyance. “Next time, instead of asking my fiancée for dating advice, do your job and help her carry her books, Hyo.”

Your bodyguard finally springs to life, nodding rapidly. “Yes, Boss.”

#౨ৎ melody's mafia au #bada lee x reader #bada x reader #bada lee #bada #street woman fighter 2 x reader #swf2 x reader #not including the taglist because it's more like a hyo and reader bonding moment w a bit of bada on the side

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yuzukult · 9 months ago

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from home 03 || jjk & reader

title: from home pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in future chapters word count: 8.1k prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: .......... LMFAOOOOOOOOO SORRY FOLKS I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE ORIGINAL... anyways hopefully i copied the right chapter hahahhahahah

“You going to the staff dinner tonight?”

Raising a finger at Hoseok, Jungkook slips his phone from his pocket, skimming through the pages before landing on an app, typing a few things in before he looks up with a saddened expression on his face. “... I guess not.”

“Why? What’s wrong? Why can’t you go?” He turns his phone to show the both of you.

JEON JUNGKOOKACCOUNT BALANCE: ₩33,258.75

“Jungkook!” You and Hoseok in unison exclaim in disbelief. “How the fuck do you only have $30 in there?” Jungkook shrugs, slumping his shoulders as he leans against the conveyor belt. “My mom hasn’t given me the modeling money yet. Our accountant is still calculating all of my earnings. You’d think with how much my parents pay him that he’d work a little faster...”

“We just got paid two days ago,” Hoseok points out, completely baffled as to how Jungkook was able to go through that money so quickly. “What did you do?”

Standing in the middle of Jungkook’s apartment, you and Hoseok just heave out a heavy sigh, shaking your heads in disappointment. He has new curtains, one that makes it easier for the sun to shine through in the mornings which has been an incredibly huge mood booster for him. His futons now have pillows and a blanket to claim their own. Then there was the fridge— full of almost every type of frozen meal from the aisles of the grocery store. And the pantry was an entirely different story; stacks of ramen, chips, cookies— they were practically spilling.

“Jungkook, you need to learn how to control your spending.” You say with great dismay, skimming through the labels of all the ramen bowls and packets that pile on top of each other. “If you keep going at this rate, you’re going to be so broke that you’ll be living on our couches on rotation.”

His face brightens. “You’d let me live on your couch if I needed to?”

Ignoring his question blatantly, you start browsing his apartment with Hoseok. His suitcases and boxes remain full of things that he brought back from the estate which has you going through them in pure amusement. “You guys... wanna help me unpack or something?”

“Unpack or something. Either or.” You pull out a velvet royal blue suit from one of the boxes that’s still in its clear plastic jacket for the outer protective layer. “Jungkook, want to give me a reason why you have this?”

“Oh. That’s this year’s Hugo Boss. Haven’t worn it yet, I needed to get it fitted.”

Your nostrils flare at the words. “... OK, so why do you still have it? You’re a lower middle class guy living in a studio apartment that’s still probably being paid by his parents who have a butt load of money so they honestly don’t even know they’re still putting money into this. Why they hell would you have a suit that’s...” flipping the label around, your jaw nearly pops off when it drops to the floor, “₩665,175,000.00? Jungkook, what the flying fuck—”

“What?” Hoseok drops the bag of chips he’s in the midst of opening from his hands. Despite also coming from money, he was never that rich in comparison to Jungkook. “Yeah, Hobi, you heard that right. $600,000.00 buckaroos. That’s the cost of a house right there.”

“The Jeon estate is actually—“ You place your index finger against Jungkook’s lips to hush him. “Don’t even. You need to sell this suit.”

“Sell—“ Breathless, Jungkook looks like he’s going to pass out. “I can’t sell a limited edition suit. It was hard to even get it in the first place! What makes you think I’m going to sell it?”

“Because you have 30 bucks to your name.” You respond bluntly before picking up another suit that he has lying underneath the first. “Or sell this one.”

“Not the 2021 Vintage Gucci Men’s Suit!”

“How— One, how can something be vintage if it’s in 2021? And it’s not even 2021 yet?”

The sun begins to set; the rays peering through the curtains gradually dissipates, leaving the three of you sprawled across Jungkook’s new apartment with clothes splattered on every possible surface in the poorly lit room. He still lacked another lamp, but the one his mother left was going to have to do. The staff dinner plans are cancelled, mostly because reorganizing Jungkook’s belongings has been an unanticipatedly gratifying yet a fraught chore that took up more time than predicted. Jungkook was hoping to attend the dinner, but after seeing how much effort you and Hoseok put in trying to make his living space a bit more comfortable, the hope for going to the event has been pushed to the back of his mind.

“Do you guys want to order take-out?” Jungkook suggests, and both you and Hoseok nod while sharing each halves of the futon. “But we’ll pay since you barely have any money. You can get us next time.”

Next time, which means that you guys want to hang out with Jungkook again.

To him, this is a huge step in the friendship direction. Throughout the entirety of his life, having friends had never really been a thing. Sure, he had play-dates per request from his mother, but those kids were fans of the stuff he owned, they didn’t even like him for him. It had become a recurrence up until high school, where the replacement for the need for friendship had been occupied with flings with women instead. People hung around him for the image, but he never felt a connection with anyone.

That was, until he met you and Hoseok.

Although he’d known Hoseok from showing up at the same parties, he never actually got to talk to him on this level until he visited the supermarket that fateful day. He was always the fun guy at parties; attention constantly gravitating toward him, whether he liked it or not, and he came from money as well, so Jungkook wasn’t sure if those people were surrounding him because of it. Sure, Hoseok’s parents weren’t as rich as Jungkook’s, but they were pretty high up there and could afford almost anything they desired.

Yet, he preferred this sight of Hoseok. Baggy hoodie and jeans, skin greasy from spending the day at work then coming to Jungkook’s apartment to unpack. He’s nagging at you for taking up too much space, covering the surface area that Hoseok had claimed to be his under an unspoken contract as you frown when he slaps your leg.

He likes this. There’s no gowns and tuxes in a ballroom with hors d'oeuvres worth the price of a car per bite; there’s no young people at a party, getting wasted and high, fucking in bedrooms that they weren’t sure who it belonged to; there wasn’t a dining room full of both family and strangers that attempted to start small talk about things he didn’t care about— there was none of that. Just comfort from people he genuinely wanted to impress and make proud of him. He’s not sure if he’s ever felt this way before and he’s barely even known either of you that long. Jungkook has been spending most of his life trying to fill a void in him and has been unsuccessful. He’s finally feeling like he’s going somewhere.

You and Hoseok finally agree on what to eat and he learns that it’s your favorite. Pizza. Extra cheese, pepperoni, sausage, spinach with an ungodly amount of jalapeño peppers, Hoseok mentioned earlier that night that your tolerance for spicy foods is stronger than the pits of hell.

“Jesus, how are you eating this?” Jungkook cries, snot dripping from his nose while Hoseok wipes his tears after taking another bite. You sit there, unfazed, picking up the abandoned slices of peppers that sit in the box, dropping them into your mouth. “It’s honestly not that spicy. Don’t be dramatic.”

“Bitch, we are not being dramatic, your stomach is made out of whatever Captain America’s shield is made from...”

Jungkook’s phone buzzes in the midst of your argument with Hoseok and just from the name on his lock screen, his heart drops. Jeon Junghwan.

There were a couple things in life that Jungkook wanted to attain— the acceptance from Junghwan and his parents being on top of that list. Ever since Jungkook was younger, Junghwan had been the golden child, the rest of the four were just barely making it, arduously following in his footsteps. But he failed, he hasn’t been able to win the approval from him.

Jeon Junghwan [7:55PM]: Mother is having a charity banquet on Saturday. She would have called you but figured it’d be best if I contacted you instead. Something about ‘inspiration’. Please be at the estate at 7:00PM sharp.

Jeon Junghwan [7:55PM]: Goodnight, Junghwan.

“Why does he text like an old man?” Jungkook flinches, head turning sideways to meet with Hoseok hovering over his shoulder. “Junghwan, I mean. But cool, I was supposed to go to that banquet too, until I got called on a shift. Luckily you’re not scheduled.”

“Yeah...” He says quietly, seated on the floor as he leans back against the sides of the futon. “This is the first time I’m seeing my family after moving out. I need to plan this out right.”

“Well, what’s the plan?” Cheeks full of fries, you’re munching away on the other side of Jungkook as he contemplates the next steps he’s going to have to make in order to reach his goal. “One thing is for sure. You’re going to be my date.”

The breath has been stolen away from his lungs and his heart feels like you’ve pierced through his chest cavity and squashed it into the palm of your hands. He doesn’t know what it’s called (maybe a blowout) but the way your hair cascades down to your shoulders is marveling. In a black long dress with a slit that exposes the entirety of your legs, his breath hitches when his eyes meet the skin of your thighs, the spaghetti straps drape over your décolletage with the v-cut neckline only finishing it off right. He thinks this is his fatal moment. He’s never seen you dolled up like this before; cheeks brushed with a peach blush, lashes emphasized with mascara, liner that makes you look even more fierce, and lips... so buttery pink and plump that almost wishes he could—

“Jungkook?” He shivers, immediately pushing the thoughts out of his head. You’d probably stab him in mere seconds if you knew what he was thinking about. “H-Hey. You look good.”

You grin, adjusting the fabric that hangs around your legs. “Thanks, you don’t look so bad yourself. Anyways, let’s get going. You said your brother sent a car for us?”

Even though Jungkook is a model and has posed in magazines in suits, it’s still a surprise to see how stunning he manages to look in person. He keeps his hair casual today, despite the formal attire, but when his fingertips rake through those luscious locks, it makes sense why he went with that decision. If you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t believe that this hunk was living off of frozen meals and instant ramen for the past week.

He’s pretty, yet there’s something that you can’t help but loathe about him.

Jungkook is still from money, despite the amount of times you’ve seen him in the supermarket’s uniform and apron. It’s something you’ve been trying to force yourself to remember when you feel yourself slowly falling into the traps of his smile and looks. The reminder is there when a Mercedes Benz S-Class pulls up and Jungkook isn’t as astonished as you are. The window of the driver’s side rolls down, revealing a middle-aged man who wears a chauffeur’s hat and a grin upon his lips. “Jeon Jungkook, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Hyungjin,” He dips his head in acknowledgement before saying your name, “... this is my date. This guy has been my driver since I was born. Park Hyungjin. He’s going to be taking us to the estate tonight.”

Jungkook opens the back door for you as you slide in with ease, completely in veneration at the characteristics of the vehicle. It feels luxurious, from the leather seats to the center console, and when you see Hyungjin beginning to raise the customized partition between the front and back seats, you’re shocked it can even do that until Jungkook halts him from doing so. “Uh, sorry, Hyungjin, she’s not one of those nights.”

Oh, you think to yourself, this was a routine. His preceding lifestyle is starting to unfold before you.

Arriving at the ‘estate,’ which was something you’d had been stuck with trying to adjust yourself in calling Jungkook’s family home, it’s an unreservedly different part of the home compared to your first visit however a sudden coldness hits your core from incredulity. How could anyone need a home this big? Jungkook guides you out of the car before you could even register the visuals of the home, waving Hyungjin goodbye and brisk “thank you.”

“Hold my hand.” His fingertips brush against the back of your hand discreetly, and as a reflex, you slap him away while he whimpers in pain. “What the hell was that for?”

“Sorry. Habit.” When you try to reach for him again, he opts for resting his palm on your lower back instead, keeping you close. “It’s okay. Is this alright?” You nod. “This is better anyway. We look close yet at the same time professional.”

When you step into the ballroom, you quickly learn that your previous time at the Jeon estate had only been a glimpse of what Jungkook’s sumptuous home had to offer. There’s something of a mezzanine or indoor balcony of some sorts with staircases that branch around the perimeter where a couple people stand idly. The chandelier that you saw in the dining room before was no comparison to what was currently hanging from the ceiling right now— there’s diamonds that hang like raindrops, intricately scattered with clear clarity that only the rich could identify and have the opportunity to see in person. The guests are dressed like those diamonds— sparkles and jewels of women that bathed in the crystals, accompanied by men who simply wore tuxedos and suits.

But the real stars of the show were the Jeons. With Mrs. Jeon’s hair in an updo, it accentuates her collarbones and shoulders where her dress lies; a beautiful detailed lavender gown that you can already sense the weight of when she drags it behind her. You see where Jungkook gets his genes from.

The filler music from the orchestra that plays in the corner stops, the chattering along with it as they all divert their attention to the Jeons that stand by the railings of the balcony— the four boys and their dates. All that’s missing is Jungkook who stands beside you, hand graduating from your lower back to your waist.

“Hello, everyone,” Mrs. Jeon greets, a pearly white smile upon her lips. “I am so thankful for your attendance here. As you know, tonight is dedicated toward the Cancer Research Foundation of Seoul, known as the CRFS, and I will be the host tonight but the true genius behind this all is my son, Jeon Jungsik.”

Jungsik approaches his mother from the side, dressed just as well as the rest of his siblings, shaking his head in disapproval. “Mother, I couldn’t have done this without you,” He says humbly, eyes browsing the crowd but pauses when he sees Jungkook with you by his side. There’s something hidden behind his stare, Jungkook hypothesizes, because his modest brother suddenly wants the spotlight whereas previously, he’d be standing in the audience. He can’t tell if it’s because it’s the first family event where he’s sober or if truly there’s something about Jungsik that’s different. “But tonight is a different kind of night. We’re here today not to just donate what we can to a good cause, but celebrating as well. I’m announcing my engagement with Kim Nari.”

An abrupt realization washes over Jungkook.

Kim Nari. The daughter of a tech mogul whose relationship with Jungsik would further advance the Jeon Corporation and skyrocket their profits. Her marriage with Jungsik would link the two companies together, creating possibilities for what seemed to be impossible. Which brings to question, why would Jungsik be interested in Nari? She’s a reflection in the mirror of Jungkook himself— uncontrollable, spoiled, and dependent with no future planned. Why would Jungsik, someone with passions, dreams, and stability want to be with someone like that? Something was up, and Jungkook can taste the bitterness in his mouth.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You ask, but you genuinely don’t care. Anything would be better than listening to conversations that were beginning to start up again at the hasty announcement. Nari has one of her hands sitting upon the rail, waving as if she’s the Queen of England, with a dress that may be deemed inappropriate for a setting like this. It seems that the rest of the family is hearing the engagement for the first time though because Mrs. Jeon looks like she’s going to faint and Mr. Jeon is holding in his anger rather than noticing Nari’s attire.

“Nothing, just... something weird with my brother.” He says before turning to give you his attention again. “Anyway, should I introduce you to my horrific bloodline?”

When Jungkook guides you toward his family members that have begun trickling down the staircase, you’re appearing to have heart palpitations from the suspense. The way the Jeons walk is intimidating alone; shoulders pushed back, straightened posture, and smiles that resemble authenticity on the surface but daggers will be pulled at their disposal if anything goes haywire.

“Mother, Father, this is my girlfriend...” You altogether miss when Jungkook says your name from the sight of his family up close until he squeezes your waist gingerly to capture your awareness again. “Oh, yes, hi,” You bow speedily, “I’m uh, Jungkook’s girlfriend.” Wait. Didn’t he just say that?

“Are you now? Last time we spoke, you said you weren’t,” Mrs. Jeon comments, and albeit her words sound harsh, the draw of her lips upwards say otherwise. It feels a bit forced, but you know it’s from the sudden news coming from Jungsik. There’s a façade of happiness when deep down, she’s disappointed. “We... we met after that night and he treated me to dinner for taking care of him. We’ve been... seeing each other ever since.”

Mr. Jeon stands there in silence, observing the conversation between you and his wife before unexpectedly speaking up. “Did you attend University? And have you graduated yet?”

Jungkook knows what this is. The Interrogation. Every Jeon child’s significant other has gone through this and you were next. He had completely forgotten about it— mostly because his other brothers had gone through it years ago, and Jongseok’s ‘girlfriends’ had never really been girlfriends, so their dad had given up on that until someone serious came by.

He never thought it’d be him before Jongseok.

“Yes, back in 2016.” You state, fingers fidgeting with the metal chain of your purse. It was a simple question yet the way it’s executed is as if he’s searching for a particular answer.

The older gentleman tilts his head, the space between his brows crinkling in perplexity. He looks so much like Jungkook, except matured with wisdom, and if Jungkook was of any replication of his father when he’s that age, he’d probably still have a line of women after him. “So you’re older than Jungkook.”

“No, father,” Jungkook chimes in, “... Quite the opposite. She’s actually a year younger than me. Graduated University rather early. Or... well, she finished high school early.” He can see from his peripheral vision that he has captured the ears of his other siblings that stand languidly. “Gifted, really. Child prodigy. Despite all the talented Jeon children, we’ve never had one of those.”

There’s a glimmer in his father’s eyes. He’s impressed. “Really?” His stiff tone has shifted to a lighter one. “Did you study in Seoul? What was your degree in?”

“No, uh, I actually studied abroad in New York after graduating high school. I was about... maybe fifteen at the time? I chose Food Science— I thought about being a Chef because my inspiration is Guy Fieri but someone told me to be a bit more realistic with my brain so here we are.”

Guy Fieri? Jungkook stifles a laugh at your secretive role model, rubbing your sides comfortingly. It’s something to tease you about later, but right now, you have a job to do. Swoon his father.

Mr. Jeon nods, hands slipping into the front pockets of his slacks. “Remarkable. We could use someone like you in the Jeon Corporation.”

Both you and Jungkook choke, clearing your throats at the sudden suggestion, glancing at one another. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m thinking about opening a chain of restaurants, something high end, something different.” Jungkook’s brothers are stepping in closer to listen shamelessly to the conversation, the look of disarray stamped onto each one of their faces as if it’s the first time they’re hearing this information, for the second time tonight. “I would love it if you gave me your take on how to proceed on some things, and help the chef formulate something that makes sense without him cheating me out on prices. Jungkook, tell Maeri to schedule something for us so I can discuss further details.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” You blurt, palms growing sweaty. “But you just met me, and Jungkook and I just started dating. Are you sure you trust me?” It’s another experience of déjà vu; Jungkook mirroring his father’s actions at the yacht party when he claims that he’d pay for your aspirations.

“Of course. Jeon Jungkook doesn’t have girlfriends.”

Just then, someone taps his shoulder and whispers something ineligible into his ear before he turns to you with his hand extended, and you take the offer with a firm shake. “I’m needed elsewhere. It was nice meeting you. Glad to know Jungkook chose someone fitting.” And with that, he leaves.

“Well, that was pleasant,” Mrs. Jeon comments, hand resting on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Seems that sending you off to live alone has brought nothing but good impressions on your father. Keep it up, Kook-ah. I’m going to go accompany him, so in the meanwhile, introduce her to your brothers, why don’t you?”

Turning your body to face Jungkook, you let out the hugest breath you’ve ever held in your entire life. “What was that?”

He looks equally as stunned as you. “I don’t know but that went so much better than I actually thought. I think that was the fastest he’s ever been fascinated by any of our girlfriends.”

Jungkook’s father had strict outlooks for the company, one of them being that he wanted nothing but pure Jeon blood leading the corporation. This meant that the significant others of any of his children weren’t allowed to be part of the trade. So why did he ask you particularly for a hand in the family business?

“Jungkook,” One of his brothers calls out, your heads sharply jolting at the sound of his voice.

Have you ever watched Boys Over Flowers? When the Flower 4 walk through any entrance, it’s like time slows down and their hair flows through the wind like they’re models?

That’s what pretty much happens.

“Hyungs.” He says; it’s their own version of a hello and the atmosphere between them is tense. “It’s nice to see you sober, Jungkook.”

His jaw tightens. “I wasn’t an addict, just you so know. Made it easier being around you all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” The one you assume is Jongseok from your previous google search waves his hand, disregarding Jungkook’s statement before pointing his finger directly at you. If only you could bite it off along with his rude mannerisms. “Girl toy?”

“Girlfriend,” Jungkook corrects him and his other brothers are intrigued. “This is my girlfriend,...” As he says your name, your eyes immediately are drawn to the woman behind one of the males; shiny caramel colored hair with the simplest white dress that hugs her small waist that still manages to make her look like a goddess with a smile that was so sweet your teeth start to hurt. You recall catching a sight of her in the same magazines that Jungkook featured in and on the posters at the mall whenever you’d walk into a store but how she looked in person was flawless compared to those photos. She was like the real life version of a photoshopped picture.

“This is Hayoung, my brother Junghwan’s wife.”

“Uh, H-H-Hi,” why does she make you so nervous? Do you get anxious around extremely beautiful women? “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” She hums, cheekbones high with her grin. “Kookie never mentioned he had a girlfriend, let alone brought anyone to meet his family before.”

“Kookie?” You reiterate with a mocking tone. He knows you’ll never let him live this down. Least he still had the Guy Fieri thing up his sleeve. “Noona, it would’ve been nice to keep that away from her for a bit. I’m trying to ease her into this madness. She’s probably still recovering from that conversation with our father.”

“As if!” Hayoung counters back. Her husband, Junghwan, wraps an arm around her waist before dipping his head slightly toward you. “I’m Junghwan, Jungkook’s older brother.” He then begins to point at the other gentlemen. “Jonghyun, Jungsik, and Jongseok, respectively.”

Frankly, it had been a lot to unpack for the night, and you assumed that the boxes back at his apartment were a lot, but this was truly a lot. Within an hour, Jungkook introduces you to almost anyone that plays a significant role in his life and elaborates on each of their backgrounds.

Junghwan, his eldest brother, is married to the international supermodel Na Hayoung, and he’s the next in line to inherit the CEO position when his father steps down from the company. He’s been trained all his life for this role, apparently, and it’s evident in how he carries himself. Jonghyun, the second oldest, stands behind Junghwan in the company, supposedly his right hand man when it comes to business, joined at the hip although their personal relationship with each other isn’t as close. He’s also married, Jungkook mentions, but his wife is currently very pregnant and at home. He skips over Jungsik, only because you’ve met him over dinner, but he doesn’t miss a beat when he says that Jungsik is purportedly the angelic Jeon. Lastly was Jongseok, the last sibling before himself, and was described as something along the lines of, “the most useless, right after myself, and if it weren’t for his involvement with the marketing department because of his diploma, he’d be living in a studio apartment downtown, cut off from this family too.” Jungkook’s words, not yours.

The night slowly reaches an end, people scattering to leave the estate, thanking Jungkook’s parents for hosting such a charitable event. Just before you’re about to step out along with Jungkook, his mother had her fingers wrapped around your wrist. “Jungkook, you and your lovely girlfriend should stay the night. Downtown is far and your siblings will be here as well. Maybe you can show her to your bedroom? I know you’ve been missing your bed and well... maybe show her around your childhood home.” She pauses for a moment as Jungkook hesitates as you eye him suspiciously before interrupting his thoughts. “Your father wants to speak to you and your brothers in the morning anyways, so it would be nice for you to stay for breakfast, dear.”

“Are you fucking dense, Jeon Jungkook? I do not want to stay the night here.” Contradicting your angry words, you’re already unlatching the attachment on the straps of your heels, sliding them off while seated on the bay window seats of his bedroom, rubbing the soles of your feet. “I’m sorry,” He mutters weakly, falling on the foot of his bed. “I don’t know how to say no to my mother.”

“Well, quit being a fucking momma’s boy and call an Uber. I want to go home, Jungkook.”

“Uber’s don’t run this late at night in the area. We live too far off the grid.”

“Well, then ask Mr. Hyungjin to pull up in his whip and take us home.”

His face drops, a guilty look pooling in his orbs. “We sent him home. He’s technically off on the weekends. Hyungjin only came out because Junghwan asked for him beforehand.”

You grumble, laying back on the cushions, locks tangling along with your mood. “What are we supposed to do here? Share a bed? What am I supposed to wear to sleep? Did you already ask your housemaids?”

“No,” He answers bleakly, standing up. “But I’ll go ask now. In the meantime, you can watch some TV? Then when I come back you can shower and do whatever you need. I think I have a spare toothbrush for you to borrow. As for the bed thing...” Jungkook looks over at that California King that he misses so much. “... it’s more than big enough for the two of us, I’ll keep my distance from you without a problem.”

Before you can counter the suggestion, he’s already out the door.

Perusing through his bedroom, you soon learn that this ‘room’ of his is the size of your childhood bedroom times five with a closet the size of your apartment with a connecting bathroom that was equivalent in surface area.

Then it has you thinking. Jungkook grew up like this, in a life of grandeur where everything he had, he had a plethora of. Whether it be education, belongings, or the aid of people who tended to every need he had, it never seems to run out. He had a driver since he was born while you struggled to learn how to take the bus alone at the age of 7. Or running out of money to pay for a new notebook for class since you’ve been using the same one for the past two grades in order to save cash so your parents could put food on the table. While Jungkook over here was probably tearing down trees in his yard to make all the paper in the world. What about noticing that you were ahead of the kids in your class? No one seemed to have realized it until you said to someone that you were bored, and needed more challenging material when you got sent to the Principal’s office per request, begging to be with the bigger kids.

If you had the money Jungkook had, you would’ve been able to pay off both yours and your parents’ debt in addition to opening your bakery all within the same year.

But you aren’t Jungkook, and jealousy just runs through your veins alongside the enmity.

Entering through the housemaids’ chambers was a nostalgic feeling that he couldn’t exactly say was his favorite. Sneaking down here during the late hours of the night for quick sex and running back up to his bedroom felt like such a teenager thing to do at the age of twenty, so he instantaneously gave up on that.

There’s two wooden doors to choose from. Nayeon, the house servant he slept with several times before realizing that she had falling for him while thinking it was some forbidden love, and Hana... also a servant that he had sex with until she also fell in love with him.

So which one of them would be less upset about him asking to borrow their sleepwear for his new girlfriend?

Answer to that question: neither because they both slammed their doors on him after asking. He should’ve figured that sooner.

Next stop: Junghwan’s room. Maybe Hayoung had something for you.

He hesitates when he’s standing outside of his brother’s bedroom door. It takes him back to when he was a kid all over again, desperate for his big brother’s attention who didn’t even have enough time to dedicate to him. Taking in a deep breath of courage, he does it yet again, his knuckles tapping against the wood that makes the same knocking sound.

Peeking out, Junghwan looks at Jungkook with a perplexed expression. “Jungkook, what’s up? Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah. Is noona with you?” He nods. “Yeah, of course. She’s washing her face right now, wanna come in?” Jungkook steps into the room, ambivalent with each movement because he’s never been invited into Junghwan’s room before. It’s almost exactly what his room looks like, except all the shades are dark, varying from grey to navy, with his bed, closet, and bathrooms in the same locations.

“Hayoung, Jungkook is looking for you.”

“Kookie?” Coming out the bathroom with a robe on, her hair is drenched as she attempts to towel dry it, face pretty even without makeup. “What’s up, bub?”

“Uh, my girlfriend,” He starts, rubbing the back of his nape anxiously because he’s never said those words before, “She doesn’t have anything to wear tonight. I have some clothes, but I think she’d feel more comfortable if she at least has some pants.”

“Tell her to sleep in her underwear, what’s the problem?” Because she’s not really my girlfriend, is what he wants to say, but he takes a different approach. “We’re... still in the early stages. So, uh, you know. She’s shy.” She shakes her head with a smile upon her lips. “Okay. Give me a second. I have a bunch of clothes that I left when we used to live here.” With that, she disappears into the closet.

“I’m... proud of you, Jungkook.” Junghwan speaks up, protruding through the silence. Jungkook just stares in bewilderment, unsure what he even did to make Junghwan say those words he had dreamt to hear coming from his eldest brother. “Other than landing a girlfriend who is definitely way out of your league, you’re actually showing some progress living alone. I honestly didn’t really agree with the plan that Jongseok proposed but... I see it’s working well.”

“W-What do you mean?” Jungkook questions. He still can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Junghwan hums. “You were able to find a job yourself. I haven’t seen you coming back begging for money again, and you found someone who doesn’t have the facilities to give you the lifestyle that our parents gave us. You found love without money and I think it really makes a person humble.” He’s fiddling with the strings of his sweatpants now, comprehending that the two of them don’t really talk one-on-one. “I know I changed a lot when I met Hayoung.”

“Kookie, I think I have a couple options for you— whoa, why does it feel so sad here?” She remarks, stopping in the midst of her walk toward Jungkook. “You guys... alright?”

“Nothing,” Junghwan responds quickly. “I just wanted to tell Jungkook that I’m proud of him.” This does nothing but prompt Hayoung to roll her eyes, laying out a pair of shorts and a silky baby blue nightgown. “Junghwan is always proud of Kookie, just not always the decision he makes. Anyways,” She completely brushes off the topic that Jungkook wants to hear, but he’ll circle back to that later. He had a pretty girl waiting in his room who had the temper of the Hulk. “I have two options for you to give her. Maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll wear the night gown?”

Jungkook scoffs. “If I brought that to her, she’d probably wrap it around my neck and choke me within seconds. Keep the gown, I’m taking the shorts. I’ll let her wear one of my T-shirts.”

“Are you sure?” Hayoung sings and Jungkook tells her he’s almost confident that he’s going to die tonight if he so much reaches the door with that thing in his hands.

Jungkook chucks the shorts at your face while you’re laying on your back on his mattress. “Here you go, Mrs. Fieri. The girls wouldn’t lend me anything because well... I may have slept with them both and they were hopelessly in love with me. Hayoung noona gave me those shorts instead.” He’s babbling on about how rude the housemaids had been when he asked, but you’re canceling his voice out because the coolest chick you’ve ever met just lent you her shorts.

“... Are you even listening to me?”

“Huh?”

He snaps his fingers in front of your face but registers that it’s no use. You’re too busy trying to decipher how God decided to gift Hayoung the looks and the personality that you miss when Jungkook leaves the closet, throwing a plain white t-shirt at your direction. It’s huge compared to you, yet seems like it would fit him well. “Go shower. I’ll be in there after you.”

It’s awkward.

So goddamn awkward.

Jungkook is wearing a black T-shirt of some band you can’t recognize because the majority of the print has been worn off paired with grey sweatpants that hug his ass so beautifully. Scratch that. You never thought that. They look soft. That’s what you meant.

While you’re currently occupied with attempting to avoid looking at Jungkook, he can’t stop staring at your exposed legs and notice how small and cute you are. Soft. It’s tempting him to want to wrap his arms around your frame and snuggle his nose into the crook of your neck while inhaling the scent of his body wash on your skin. He wants to blame it on the dry spell he’s having because all he does is work nowadays that once he gets home, he’s completely drained. Alcohol doesn’t even appear in his mind either. Or maybe he genuinely thinks you’re pretty and having you in his bed doesn’t make it any better.

Sitting on the farthest opposite ends of the bed, Jungkook clears his throat. “See? I told you that the bed is way too big for the two of us. Should be easy to steer clear from each other.”

Wrong. Incorrect. You should’ve known that Jungkook would be fallacious.

The sun gleams through the sheer white blinds of his prodigious windows, illuminating your faces on an unironically Sunday morning, emitting a groan from a stiff beside you. Your body feels heavier than usual, almost like something was pressing down on you.

You panic. Were you having a stroke?

After forcing your eyes open from the dry boogers, you can’t believe the sight. Jungkook has his arms and legs tangled in the sheets with yours, nose brushing against your shoulder. He’s so cosy, the most he’s ever been, and the warmth from your body is like a different feeling of home for him. It’s comforting like a cup of hot chocolate during the harsh weather in the Winter or swaddling yourself in a blanket in front of the fireplace. Now knowing how it feels to be in your embrace, he’s not sure if he wants to let go.

“Jungkook, please get the fuck off me.” You bite. Cuddling was not what was discussed in the terms of agreement. Not that there was one but having a buff guy curled up beside you that wasn’t actually dating you was making your heart do cartwheels when it shouldn’t be. He doesn’t seem a bit rattled knowing that he’s snuggling up against you because he scoots even closer. “Five more minutes.” He mutters. His dreams of taking in the aroma of your natural scent mixed in with his shower gel were coming true.

You push him off with as much strength as your body could gather, yet you fail underneath those muscular arms. Those big, thick—

There’s one knock and someone just immediately flings the door open with a gasp.

But then you see them. Jungsik and Jongseok.

You don’t know why but you care about how Jungsik sees you, but you care. He’s the closest to your ideal type— as unrealistic as it is for him to ever have a relationship with you, especially since he has a fiancé now— yet at the same time, he knows you’re ‘dating’ Jungkook, and whether or not he believes it, you’re not sure, but your chances were already wearing thin as it is, even worse now that he’s witnessing you in the same bed as his youngest brother. You may have a teensy weensy little crush on your fake boyfriend’s brother.

“Cute,” He chuckles, already dressed in his daily attire; grey slacks that crop at the ankle and a navy dress shirt that doesn’t button up all the way, hugging tightly around his pecs that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. “Well, we’re sorry for intruding. Father wants us down for breakfast within an hour. Wake up your boyfriend for us, will you?”

“I’m not sorry,” Jongseok adds with a devilish grin before he quickly shuts the door and leaves promptly with Jungsik. Jungkook hasn’t even moved, not even twitching the slightest bit despite his brothers’ abrupt invasion.

You officially hate Jungkook even more... if that was even possible.

There's an abundance of choices for breakfast foods that sits on the length of the dining room table that you had gotten a glimpse of during your first visit to the Jeon estate, more food than you've ever seen in one place. They had waffles, pancakes, sausages, bacon, toast—all that’s expected of a typical American breakfast laid out like it’s a picture from the Food Network Magazine. He has servants, shuffling through in and out of the room, placing plates and utensils in specific detailed orders before they pull out the heavy upholstered wooden chairs for each and every member of the family in invitation.

"Uh, it's okay, thank you, I got it—" The woman who has her hands gripped on the framing of the seat tightly as she clenches her jaw, has a glare shooting lasers in your direction. Maybe you'd just take the offer and sit instead. She might be one of Jungkook's late night affairs, you never know what she'd do to your food if you didn't comply.

Sticking out like a sore thumb, you settle yourself by your now claimed to-be-boyfriend who sits comfortably in his own seat since he's owned it for two decades now. You, however, it's your first day and you're not even sure how to feel. Hayoung seems to be doing the opposite; eyes shiny from excitement at the sight of all the options that are laid out in front of her. You can agree to her interest, the Belgium waffles that's stacked at the center of the table with a square of butter residing on top makes your mouth water.

"Thank you all for coming," Jungkook's father announces, the chair he's rested on makes him look so tiny at the head of the table. "I want to discuss some matters with all of you and also invite Jungkook's new love into the family. Honestly never thought this day would come where I'd see my most troublesome child make such advancements in a short span of time."

There's reticence along the table, Mrs. Jeon beside him, eyes searching the table for something in particular. "The proceedings with this engagement with Kim Nari, Jungsik. What did you expect would happen with that?"

And there it was. The conversation that had been put off last night due to guests being on the residence. It's because of two of the things that Mr. Jeon stood by when it came to his family and business: no bloodline, no business entrance had been challenged and the Interrogation had never been in place.

"Father," Jungsik clears his throat, pressing his back against the cushion. "I'll have you know that I'm only thinking of the future of our company."

"Without talking to me about it?" He snaps, agitated. He doesn't even care that a complete stranger is sitting at the table with them. "What gives you the right to be the only person to know what's good or not for the company? Why not consult with Jonghyun and Junghwan? Why am I told that no one knew about this?"

"Well, I thought—"

"You thought wrong." He confirms, and the Belgium waffles don't seem as appealing anymore. His firmness makes your stomach queasy, despite not being his current victim. "Terminate your engagement. You don't love her anyways. I don't need any affiliation with a self-obsessed tech company."

"But father—"

"None of that." He shushes his son, laying a beige cloth napkin on his lap. "I'm tired of having to teach you how we run this business. I gave you a percentage of the company and I expect you to know what to do with it, which is not to share it with some airhead who doesn't even understand what her own father's company does." Jungsik's body stiffened at his father's lecture after he made a decision solely for what he believed was beneficial for the family business. "Anyways, let's eat."

"Why do you favor Junghwan over the rest of us?" Jungsik spits, fist slamming against the table. The cups, silverware, and plates trembled underneath his strength, startling you. "I can't believe that I let you walk over us for so long. I can't believe that any of us has let you do it. In reality, none of us get your fortune, just Junghwan. What about the rest of your children? Do you have the only one? Or did mother have an affair for the remaining four?"

Yum, drama. You admit you were getting a little bored last night at the banquet, but his conversation was perking you up in interest. Jungkook oddly remains cool, turning to tap one of the housemaids to pour you some apple juice, patiently waiting for the go to eat.

Jungsik is disparate in this light because he's not the compassionate and gentle soul you had assumed he was during your first encounters and what was seen on the internet. He’s fierce and competitive, in actuality, with this hidden duel behind doors against his eldest brother. The description written of him was all an image that was portrayed to the public and you start to see what Jungkook means now when he says "apparently" or "supposedly" whenever talking about his older brother.

And Jungkook... he's strangely distinctive as well when sitting amongst his siblings. He's quiet, actually, and attentive, but you take note that he mentions before how he often comes to these things under the influence, and that your presence was what halts him from doing so.

"Just eat. We'll talk privately later." Mr. Jeon says through his gritted teeth, tips of his ears fading red from Jungsik talking back.

"I saw you eying that waffle earlier," Jungkook says in a hushed tone, leaning into you. "Want one? I'll grab it for you."

OK, maybe he wasn't that bad. He knows what you like and he’s getting it for you. You’ve waited long enough.

The Jeons are awfully good at pretending the argument between Mr. Jeon and Jungsik didn't occur. Everyone sits in lull, occasionally exchanging comments with whomever sits beside them but consuming their breakfast with glee. It wasn't something you were used to.

When you're back into Jungkook's room, you slip on a jacket that you brought the night before, zipping it up. "Is that... normal?"

"What's normal?"

"That whole thing with Jungsik and your dad. Do they fight often? And do you guys normally just... sit there and forget it even happens afterwards?"

He slides onto the bed one last time, inhaling deeply in the scent of lavender, wishing he could take this bed with him as he absentmindedly responds, "Mmm. Yeah."

What kind of family dynamic is this? "Yeah? And you just... watch?"

"Well, what else are we supposed to do? Join in? Take sides? Hell no. It's a different sibling each meal and every time there’s always someone being jealous of someone else. We don’t really get along here and it’s just what we’re used to.”

Treading into Jungkook’s reality was starting to become comprehensible. Almost justifying the way he is, how he’s utterly clueless in basic situations and disconnected he was from the world. Because this is his world; his parents, four brothers, and house full of servants, and he knows nothing outside of it. Their home is completely off the grid, separated from people living regular lives, he even has his own tennis court (you learned from the view from his bedroom), and no one normal has their own private tennis court. His mother has been shielding him his entire life, letting him grow and become a shell of a man in an empty home.

Family isn’t family to him, is what you’ve come to terms with and something he hasn’t yet accepted because he hasn’t seen what a real family looks or feels like. His home isn’t a real home but brimming with employees who work for his family that probably see him more than the people who he called relatives.

It makes you pity him and want to show him what it’s like to be home.

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts #bts fanfic

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monoclesnapple · 10 months ago

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Intermediate Shenanigans

Bungo Stray Dogs Chuuya Nakahara & Gender Neutral Reader + Osamu Dazai & Reader + Odasaku X Reader Summary: Headcanons about taking care of middle schooler Dazai and Chuuya and dating Oda Beginning Note: Shoutout to all the class clowns/funny people, they're great inspiration for scenarios. @kiwibeanv helped with the stories of said funnies. Word Count: 2629 (Fluff/Crack)

First off, you're their parent figure and they live with you. All comfy with you and they trust you a lot. Now to move on to their stupidity.

Immaturity at its finest.

It’s constant arguing, pointing fingers, and the like.

They’re always fighting for your attention, pushing against each other so your hand can pet them.

You’re sitting on the couch, watching TV, when Dazai runs into the living room and jumps to the spot next to you. Since you’re leaning against the armrest, there’s only one seat next to you.

Dazai pushes himself under your arm and hugs your waist as he sighs contentedly. You idly rub his arm for a few minutes before Chuuya comes in with an annoyed expression.

“Oi, StinkZai, do your history homework before you go do whatever.”

Dazai whined and buried himself deeper into your side. “I’ll do it later! I’m tired right now.” He closed his eyes.

“Dazai, you need to do your assignments before you eventually forget and never get them done,” you told him. He let out a groan at that, “Why can’t Chuuya do it? Isn’t he supposed to listen to me since I’m smarter?”

“You’re not smarter than me! Even a shrimp can do better than you!” Chuuya sped to the two of you and pulled on Dazai until the latter fell to the floor.

“Ow!- That’s my spot!” The brunette rubbed his arm. Chuuya had stolen his spot in your arms now and smirked at the other.

“Maybe you should’ve done your homework first, you idiot!” He blew a raspberry and rested his head on your shoulder.

You sighed, “If you two continue to fight, I’m simply going to go to my room and relax without either of you.”

They both froze and looked at you then at each other. Despite their inability to cooperate without trouble, they agreed on the fact that your presence was probably the most important thing they want. They begrudgingly decided to keep quiet, moving so Chuuya can sit on one of your knees while Dazai reclaimed his initial place.

Eventually, they get their emo phases. One day, Dazai just randomly started wearing bandages over his eye, saying that he looks better.

“Why are you wasting bandages?” “Because I look so cool and a lot of girls come up to me and say I look nice! I know that so many people have a crush on me, especially when I’m like this!” “Just wait til they find out that this stupid mackerel is actually a bad person and a major turn off!” “Chuuya, don’t say that, please.”

And Chuuya had a Sonic phase. He thought the hedgehog was so cool, he wanted to be like him in as many ways he can.

He then found out about Conker’s Bad Fur Day and asked you if he could get it. You thought it’d be a wholesome game for kids, but when you looked at the plot and ratings, you didn’t buy it for him. He was sad, but got over it.

And then he came across Devil May Cry and decided to watch the gameplay and cutscenes because you might not buy it for him (you may consider, but it still has some scenes that you’re skeptical about.)

Nero from DMC4 is so cool despite the excessive “Kyrie!” throughout the game, Chuuya wants to dress like him. And dye his hair white.

Every time he loves a character, he wants to dye his hair their own hair color, but you never let him because why should he ruin his lovely hair? (He may or may not ask to dye his hair just so you can compliment him.)

Hot Topic is their favorite store because it has so many aesthetics and they love the style of the apparel.

They start simping for characters and reading fanfics. You know what they’re reading because they use the family/shared device and don’t delete the history. Why are there so many lemons? What do they mean? (Unless you’re a fanfic reader yourself)

They kinda know what sex is, they have a faint idea, but they’re probably wrong on a few things.

Hence, Dazai is excited for sex ed! Wooo! His head is smacked by Chuuya because the latter is embarrassed that he just yelled that out and now kids are looking at them.

When they’re learning about it, Dazai’s snickering at the pictures. But not the childbirth, what the actual fuck did they just watch?

Oh boy, now they’re the cringe and immature kids who laugh at everything that can vaguely be related to sex.

Anyways, now to the scenario that was the whole reason for this

You were sitting on the couch, Dazai and Chuuya on the floor and you’re petting their heads. You check your phone, keeping a hand on Chuuya’s head and caressing it. He’s smiling with his eyes closed in bliss. Oh, how he loves this affection.

Until Dazai pushes and climbs on him to be the receiver of your pets. He smiles innocently when you glance over, but smirks at Chuuya, who shoves him as well and takes his spot back.

This continues to go on and you’re about to say something, but then the door is unlocked and opened. Dazai excitedly turns to see Oda coming in. He runs over and hugs the man while Chuuya sets himself in your lap.

After greeting Dazai, Oda is carrying him and walks to you and Chuuya, pressing a kiss to your head and ruffling Chuuya’s hair.

You're in a relationship with Oda, and Dazai loves it.

His two favorite people together, who he might call his parents? How blessed he is!

He doesn’t know who he prefers, so the two of you are equal in his eyes. But when it comes to physical affection, he might go to Oda since Chuuya’s all over you and Dazai’s too tired to do anything. Also, he doesn’t see Oda as often as he does you.

Chuuya thinks Oda is great, but he’s not as close to him as Dazai is. If he had to choose between you or Oda, he’d honestly choose you.

Oda loves coming home to find you three waiting for him on the couch. It warms his heart that he is wanted and loved.

Either he comes home to you all cooking dinner, sleeping in a pile on the floor, playing games (board games or video) , or watching TV.

He still takes care of his adopted children at the curry shop, but he also enjoys the company of Dazai and Chuuya

Sometimes, he would bring those five kids to your house so they can play with Dazai and Chuuya. Everyone has fun, it’s like a party. (Sneaking kisses in the kitchen as everyone else plays video games on the TV)

Oda is a gentleman, whenever you two go out, he always opens the door for you, pulls out your seat, and kisses your hand when you both meet and bid goodbye to each other.

If Dazai ever sees you and Oda share a kiss, he’s cheering in his mind. Whereas Chuuya just brushes it off with an unnoticeable upwards twitch of his lips and an eye roll.

Once, you spotted Oda talking to Dazai outside under the moonlight. You knew the former was telling the teen about the right thing to do. Dazai had expressed his want of being involved in some well known group.

He hinted a little about maybe being a detective or even following Oda’s footsteps of going to the mafia. You really didn’t want him to go with the second option, but at least he’d have Oda to guide him if he’s even alive at that time

Thus, he’s told to prioritize other people’s happiness over his own. It’s tough, but it’s for the better of everyone.

He also says the same to Chuuya, but he goes into more detail with Dazai. You mainly handle Chuu with the lectures since he’s more likely to take your words to heart.

Chuuya has great friends in school, they seem like a lovely bunch, and you trust them. You’ve met them before and they were very nice.

Dazai doesn’t have as many, but you can tell he’s not really clicking with them like Chuuya is with his own. When his mood seems to lower, you go to him when he’s alone and you two cuddle. You can faintly pick up the sound of sniffles and feel your clothing moisten. After the session, you two don’t mention it because you know Dazai doesn’t want to remember that.

With any trauma, you take them to therapy. If it’s affecting either kid negatively, they need to talk about it. Initially, they talk to you, but they go see a professional if that doesn’t work.

Academically, the two of them are good. Dazai’s grades are always A’s even if he procrastinates or doesn’t seem to get his work done.

Chuuya usually gets B’s, but his PE is the best with an A+. He signs up for any sports the school offers if he’s interested.

Dazai’s lowest grade is PE, around a C because he’s not athletic like Chuuya.

Both Dazai and Chuuya have the same PE class and teacher, but their participation and effort are the opposite.

“Okay, everyone needs to do fifteen seconds of push-ups and fifteen sit-ups, let’s go! Get started!” The teacher instructed. They were walking around their class in the gym, ensuring everyone was doing what they were told.

They noticed a student lying face down next to the wall and when they walked by, they pointed at him and asked, “Who is that?”

Chuuya heard their inquiry and answered, “Dazai.”

The teacher was silent for a second before focusing back on the other students, “Let’s go! You should be on the next exercise now!”

Whenever there’s a fundraiser, they’re begging you to please donate so they can get a prize.

“Pleeeaaassseee? You can get a refrigerator stuffed with $200! Or even an iPad!” Dazai’s giving you the puppy eye(s) [depends if he’s bandaged his eye or not] and Chuuya is hugging you and kissing your cheek. “We love you so much, can you pretty please with a cherry on top donate? We’ll pay you back!” (They don’t make money, nor do they have an allowance.)

When it comes to projects, Dazai always waits until the last minute.

“Hey, can we go to the store and buy supplies? I have a project.” He whispered to you.

“Huh...?” You were woken up by him at whatever the time was, so you rubbed your eyes and sat up. Oda was still asleep beside you, a peaceful expression on his face. You kept your voice to not disturb him, “What?” When you checked the time, it was 2 am.

“I need some things for my science project,” Dazai was just standing by your bed, with big eyes, looking as though he had thrown up.

“When’s it due?”

“Tomorrow.” You frowned at that.

“Sorry bud, can’t help you. It’s too late, why aren’t you in bed?”

“I had to work on my project and other assignments,” he shifted in his spot and awkwardly averted his eyes. “I only need two things, glitter markers and a poster board.”

You stared at him tiredly, before sighing. “What happened to the ones I bought at the beginning of school?”

“I lost them.”

You blinked, unmoving. “And you can’t borrow Chuuya’s?”

He shook his head, saying they weren’t what he needed. At last, you moved the covers off your body and made your way to the closet. “Fine, go get ready. You should be thankful I’m even entertaining this idea.”

Dazai silently cheered and sped to his room. Why were you so lenient with these children? They’re gonna be spoiled.

His project was claiming that potatoes can power up devices. As stupid as it sounds, he somehow makes it convincing until it’s actually tested and obviously it doesn’t work. But he still gets a passing grade for the effort.

During one of their classes, Chuuya asked to go to the bathroom and ten minutes later when the teacher was about to ask about his location, he comes back with a lunch tray.

“Where’d you get that?” “I look like a sixth grader.”

He just munched away as everyone stared at him confused before they got back to the lesson.

Another time, the teacher left the room for a few minutes. Since Dazai wondered what their coffee tasted like, he waltzed over to the desk and took a sip and immediately spat it out.

“Ugh! It tastes like shit!” When the teacher came back, the whole class silently agreed to stay quiet and not tell on him.

When it was around Halloween and everyone could wear a costume, Dazai wore a squirrel suit. He brought an acorn prop and clipped it to the front of his pants. When walking up to the stage for the best costume contest, he hit the acorn with his legs, playing with it, until it accidently hit his balls and he crouched to the floor in pain. Of course, the guys winced at it, but it was pretty funny. Someone, Chuuya probably, yelled out, “He busted a nut!”

More nonsense, pantsing sometimes occurred. And Chuuya was the unfortunate target for Dazai. He had snuck up behind the former, and yanked down his pants. Regrettably, Dazai’s fingers also caught onto the waistband of the undergarments and when it came down, he got a face full of balls.

He was so traumatized despite being the one to commit the act.

Food fights can also happen. While Chuuya was peacefully eating his lunch, Dazai threw a tomato slice at him and the fruit made a satisfying splat! on Chuuya’s cheek.

He also tried to throw cheese, but he missed and it landed in the hair of someone who was just walking by. (And somehow did not get in trouble).

For presentations, Chuuya had to do an audio recording, and Dazai just sneezed at the beginning of it, He recorded another but when uploading the audio files, he accidently clicked the sneeze one. Presentation day was funny, but Chuuya didn’t necessarily like it.

If they had online school, Chuuya would be talking to the camera before a ball smacks his face. He falls out of frame, and Dazai is just seen running in the background.

There are also interviews or random school news done by the student council. They hate having to work with Dazai and Chuuya together because they always argue. The one time the video went right was when Chuuya had a voice crack.

Rallies also happen, and students would have to cheer as loud as they can for their team. Chuuya and Dazai are the loudest, but they also suffer from voice cracks. After the rally, they lose their voice for about a day.

Rocketry is an elective, and there’s a weird Russian kid named Fyodor. Both the boys don’t really like him. Since he’s associated with rats (Kids call him Rat, and one person did see him surrounded by rats in an alleyway as though they were dependent on him), they wanted to get a rat plushie. They asked you if you could get them the plush. You decided to buy it for them, not knowing why they actually wanted it.

They taped it to a rocket they made for the elective, put more power into it, and they launched it into the air. When it blasted off, they looked at Fyodor with threatening stares.

Occasionally, you and Oda would volunteer to help with some school activities. The first time both of you arrived, so many students had a crush on either of you. They’d go to Chuuya/Dazai and whisper “That’s your parent?”

Oda’s a dilf and you’re also a milf/dilf.

What a happy family you lot are.

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #osamu dazai x reader #dazai osamu #bsd odasaku #odasaku x reader #oda sakunosuke #~writing~#~headcanons~

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suugarbabe · 8 months ago

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Respect the Family

| Chapter 1 |

word count: 3.1k

warnings: mentions of drinking

an: Surprise, it came earlier for you all. I told you things would happen fast once i could write comfortably again. this is the first chapter in the sequel to the Protego Series. click the hyperlink if you haven't read that first. While it isn't necessarily a need for you to read Protego first, it may help you better understand some of the characters personalities and how they function as a family. There will be sections in later chapters that call back to portions of protege that may make you confused if you have not read this series. <3

The reflection in the mirror was someone you didn’t recognize. Yet every time you moved, it moved with you. You applied mascara, the reflection did the same. You glossed your lips, so did the woman looking back at you. A pair of hands landed gently on the woman’s shoulders in the mirror and you felt the pressure on your own. “You look great, hun!” Roxy’s chipper tone was an encouraging attempt to calm your nerves. Pouting slightly you made eye contact through the mirror, “Dunno, Rox. I’m super thankful you got me this job but I’m proper nervous.” Roxy gave your shoulders a squeeze, “It’s alright, hun, happens to all of us. I’m having the bartender bring you a little liquid courage to help with all that.”

You let out a low groan, closing your eyes and using the tips of your forefingers to rub your temples with slight pressure. A clinking of glass on table made you straighten up. A large shot glass filled with clear liquor was sat down in front of you. Looking up you were met with a tall and lean frame of a man. A messy fluff of dirty blonde hair settled and framed his features after he ran his hand through it, “Erm, Rox said you needed this?” His eyes seemed to dance with a mixture of shyness and mischief as his finger pointed toward the shot glass in front of you. You nodded, smiling awkwardly as it felt like your voice was lost in your throat. Taking the glass you threw your head back, clearing the shot in one smooth motion.

The man in front of you let out a low whistle, “That nervous, huh?” You let out a small laugh, adjusting the straps of your outfit in the mirror, “Just a little. First day jitters I guess; we all get them right?” The man smiled back at you, the action reaching his amber eyes. “I’m Lorenzo by the way, erm, Enzo. My friends call me Enzo. You can call me either, w-whatever you like,” his slight stammering made you smile, a real genuine smile and you felt yourself relax slightly. Enzo mirrored your expression, asking for your name in return. You enlighten him, giving him your name before listening to him repeat it to himself like he’s trying to commit it to memory. The way he looks at you, smiles at you, there's something different, you can’t quite put your finger on just what yet.

A voice calls out behind you, “Bunny, you’re up next! Oh, hey Berk, what’re you doing in here?” Enzo’s cheeks turned a blushing pink, “Erm, hey Blaise. Roxy asked me to bring a drink to -” he turned to face you, “I thought you said your name was-” You cut him off with a raise of your hand, “It’s my stage name, you can call me that if you’d like, or any other nickname variation your pretty little head can think of.” You threw him a wink as you stood up, Blaise stepping aside to let you exit towards the stage. Enzo’s eyes never left your figure your entire walk out, his vision trained on the door you walked through. He didn’t notice Blaise walked towards him, now resting against the vanity you were just sat, “Developing a crush on the new girl already, bruv?” Blaise’s teases caused another dusting to cover Enzo’s freckled cheeks before he cleared his throat, “‘Course not. Roxy just asked-”

“Roxy just asked,” Blaise mimicked Enzo with a teasing high pitched tone, “Come off it, mate, you might be able to fool Nott with that shite but you’re not fooling me. Have your looks and your fun, but you know that’s all it can be. You know Riddle’s rule.” Enzo rolled his eyes, “Don’t worry, mate, you know I’m not a relationship type of guy. Like you said, I’m just gonna have my fun while I can. You know we haven’t gotten any new faces around here since long before Birdie showed up and she’s like my sister. I’m just enjoying the new fruit.” Blaise clasped a hand on Enzo’s shoulder, “You keep telling yourself that.”

Enzo shoves Blaise’s hand off his shoulder playfully before straightening his vest, smoothing his hands down his chest as he walks out of the dressing room. He makes a b-line for the bar, responding quickly to Birdie when she asks how he’s doing, “Fine!” his voic betrays him at first, high pitched and cracking before he clears his throat, “Erm, fine, doing just fine.” Birdie’s eyebrows raise slightly, “Three fines and a crack? What’s got your pants in a twist huh?” Enzo rolls his eyes, taking a drink order for the man in front of him and turning his back to Birdie while looking for the right liquor. Birdie, ever the persistent one, isn’t too keen on this reaction, “One of the dancers reject you again or something?”

He scoffs at this, “Oh, please, Angel. You know they never reject me.” The playful smirk on Enzo’s face makes Birdie laugh out loud. He hands the drink to the patron in front of him, seemingly getting distracted by the scene over his shoulder. Up on the main stage was something Enzo should’ve expected but wasn’t prepared for. He knew you were a dancer, but he didn’t know you could dance like that. His eyes were trained on your figure as he watched you spin around the pole, the thickness of your thighs sparkling with whatever lotion you had coated yourself in having him in a trance.

When you crawled on your knees to the edge of the stage, picking up muggle money being thrown in your direction he felt his jaw tense reflexively. You sat back on your heels, knees spread wide open as you ran your hands up your body to the suggestive lyrics of the song. You pulsed up and down on your knees slightly as you ran your hands through your hair before leaning back fully, the position making your chest push out more and Enzo’s pants tighten. You flipped over to your stomach before pushing back up to your hands and knees, back arching to put your ass on full display for the patrons as you twirled your head in a circle, your hair whipping around wildly. Bills and galleons started hitting the stage like rainfall and Enzo could feel his grip on the neck of the liquor bottle tighten dangerously.

“She’s a cute one, isn’t she?” Birdie's teasing tone brought Enzo’s focus back from his growing delusions, his cheeks heating exponentially. “Who’s cute?” He wipes the top of the bar with a rag, avoiding eye contact and hoping he can avoid accusation. Unsurprisingly he’s wrong for both, “Bunny, obviously. You’re basically fucking her with your staring, Enzie.” He shakes his head a little more adamantly, a mistake leaving his mouth without him realizing, “That’s not her real name you know.” He stops mid-motion, eyes closing as a low curse leaves his lips in a whisper.

The grin that encompassed Birdie’s face made Enzo’s stomach twist nervously, “Oh! So she introduced herself real name first, huh? She must have looked into those pretty eyes of yours.” She pinched his cheek playfully before being swatted off. “Did you give her a handsome smile, bub? Shoot her a signature wink like you do?” Birdie grinned as she bit into an orange slice from the bar. Enzo huffed in annoyance, “You know, Angel, you’re acting like a fucking tosser. Been hanging out with Nott more lately?” Birdie doubled down, her grin growing knowingly at her friend, “You fucking choked up didn’t you…does this girl make you nervous Enzo?”

Enzo rolled his eyes, taking one last peek at you on the stage, “You know I don’t get nervous, Angel,” he patted his vest pocket, checking for his cigarettes, “I’m going for a smoke, I’ll be back in 15.” Birdie made an ‘okay’ symbol with her fingers, giving him a wink before turning back to her tasks. Enzo took long strides through the club to get to the back door, pushing it open with more force than probably necessary. The outside air was cool on his skin, a relief to the warmth he seemed to be overwhelmed with since meeting you earlier tonight. A chill overcame his body, the hairs on his arm standing up; he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the slam of the back door, “Fucking Salazar, mate you sca-“, he cut him self off when he realized who had come through the door. He expected Blaise or Theo to have followed him out, but he was blessed with a surprise instead.

You sauntered over, still in your stage outfit, the slightest of quirks on the edge of your lips, “Awh, are we mates now, Lorenzo? That’s so sweet of you. Can I bum one?” You nodded toward the pack of cigarettes in his hand. He held them up wordlessly, his own loose on his lips while his eyes followed your every move. You took one from the pack, your glossed lips wrapping around the butt in such an average way yet to Enzo it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. With a snap the tip of your finger was on fire. Lighting your cigarette the flame disappeared and you took a deep inhale.

“The crowd always so eager?” You sat into your hip, voice causing Enzo to repeatedly blink himself out of his daze. “Erm, m’sorry, what?” A soft laugh left through your nose as you took another inhale, smoke billowing from your pillowy lips as you spoke again, “Is the crowd always so eager with all the dancers?” Enzo took a long drag before answering, “Do you want me to be honest or do you want me to boost your ego?” A sly smile toyed on your lips, “Can you do both?” Enzo hummed to himself, trying to hide his growing smile. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but something about you made it feel like his insides were on fire. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to impress you, intimidate you, or push you up against the brick wall and take you right in the back alley.

Enzo flicked his cigarette, ash tumbling off the end, “Most of the men who come here are pretty mindless, always throwing their money carelessly at any dancer on stage with the delusion that maybe they’ll get to take one of you home. You are one of the more beautiful dancers we have though, I'll give you that much.” You snorted at this, Enzo smiled, “They probably seemed so eager because you’re the new girl. You know, fresh meat to their eyes; the new shiny toy.” You raised your eyebrows at this, nodding as you took your last drag before tossing your cigarette on the ground and crushing it beneath your pump, “So you and them aren’t much different then, huh Lorenzo?” Head tilting to the side, Enzo’s eyes squinted slightly, “Dunno what you mean by that, love, care to enlighten me?”

Maybe it was the responses you were getting on stage that made your confidence flip from earlier in the night. Or maybe it was the three additional shots you had downed with the other dancers backstage as your ‘completed first dance tradition’. Either way you were feeling braver, feeling like you were more in charge of yourself, feeling more like your actual self. “Aren’t I just the new shiny toy to you too?” You took a step closer to Enzo and he took a step back towards the wall as a response. “I don’t mess around with the dancers, Bunny,” Enzo took his last drag as a cover for any facial expression that might give him away. You, however, weren’t buying it.

“That’s not what I heard,” you step closer once more, making Enzo’s back hit the wall and a grunt leave his lips. “I heard Berkshire has a list of dancers he’s shagged, and I was just wondering,” you toyed with one of the buttons on his vest, “am I gonna be added to that list?” You had to tilt your neck slightly to meet his eyes now, but that was exactly your plan. Peering up at him you batted your lashes, the teenset of pouts on your lips. Enzo was thanking every high wizard, Merlin, Salazar, hell even fucking Godric Gryffindor for the strength of his restraint in this moment. He grabbed the wrist of the hand that was toying with his vest, the action so quick it startled you that it even happened. “Oh, Bunny girl, you will never be on that list,” he leaned down now, lips ghosting at the shell of your ear, “but if you really want me that badly, I’d never say no to a pretty girl throwing herself at me so desperately.”

You took a step back from him, trying, and failing, to jerk your wrist away from his grasp, “I’m not acting desperate.” You were insulted at the insinuation. But it seemed like Enzo wasn’t listening as his brows furrowed looking just past your shoulder and then he rolled his eyes, “I have to go, we can do this again your next shift, yeah?” He released you then but the heat from his palm still radiated on your skin as you watched him walk back into the club.

Enzo shook his head a few times, trying to clear his mind of all the horrible and raunchy thoughts that were consuming him about you as he tried to ignore Draco’s voice in his head again, We’re waiting on you, Berk, get your ass in here, NOW. Enzo huffed out an annoyed sigh as he opened the door to Mattheo’s office, all eyes turning to him as he entered. Enzo wore a saccharine grin as he touched his cheek, “What? Got something on my face?” Mattheo wore a less than pleased look as he leaned against the front of his desk, arms crossed over his chest yet still not a wrinkle on his black designer suit. Birdie sat perched on the desk next to him, a smirk on her face as Mattheo spoke. “What the hell took you so long, Berkshire.”

Theo raised his hand as if they were back in school, “I know, call on me, Matty!” Mattheo gave a half-assed wave of his hand, but it was all the permission Theo needed to be his idiot self before he opened his mouth again, “Berk was in the alley with Buuunnnyy.” Theo said the end in a sing-song voice before settling into a quiet giggle as Enzo glared at him, ignoring the glare he was receiving himself from Mattheo. Enzo opened his mouth to respond but was cut off quickly by Mattheo's harsh tone, “Cut it off, Berkshire. And do it now. We don’t have time for you to go gallivanting around with your cock out for the new dancer, not with what we have coming up right now.”

Enzo clicked his tongue in response, “Okay, first off, I don’t go gallivanting my cock around or whatever the fuck you just said. Secondly, I just turned her down in the alley, thank you very much.” Birdie and Blaise both raised their eyebrows before exchanging a look that Enzo did not want to delve into right now. Mattheo pinched the bridge of his nose, growling out in slight frustration, “Whatever the fuck it is, stay clear of it. We’ve got more important things to worry about and I need your head on straight, Enzo. You can’t be weakened by some stripper when we’re dealing with the Corvo family.”

Pansy gasped in disbelief, “The Corvo family, are you serious Mattheo?” He braced himself with a hand on his desk, the other grabbing hold of Birdie’s thigh, “Yes, I’m serious, Pans. I know everyone thought they were dormant, but at the last meeting there were rumors.” Draco crossed his arms, “What kind of rumors?”

“Like the kind of rumors that could start a war, Cousin,” Mattheo took a slow glance around the room, making sure everyone took in what he was saying, how serious this information really was. “We have four shipments to get out in the next four weeks; there cannot be any mistakes, do we all have an understanding?” A unified ‘yes, boss’ rang out in the room. “The Corvo’s cannot interrupt this arrangement. The trades we’re doing are creating allyships that are heavily important to our family. No one outside of this room is to be involved. I understand some of the dancers have a suspicion of what we do beyond the club, but as far as anyone else is concerned, it’s all rumors. Outside of the mansion and outside of this room the business is not to be spoken to with anyone. Inside this club, the club is all we speak of, that’s the only business we have and that’s the only thing anyone is concerned about.

“With this mess of rumors concerning the Corvo’s we cannot and will not have any information leaked in any capacity. While we love our Birdie,” Mattheo turned and kissed his girl on the cheek, “we fucking hate rats.” Enzo and Theo made eye contact across the room, both simulating a fake gag at the scene. However, Enzo perked up at the end of Mattheo’s speech, “You know, personally I love a rat, they’re one of my favorites to kill.” Enzo wiggled his eyebrows while cracking his knuckles. Pansy rolled her eyes, “Okay, killer, calm down. If we need you we’ll call for you.” Enzo blew her a kiss. Pansy pretended to catch it mid air before turning her hand and displaying her middle finger.

Mattheo groaned in annoyance, “Alright, if we all understand then there shouldn’t be any problems. You all can go.” Except you Enzo, you stay, Mattheo’s voice rang in Enzo’s head. The other’s all left the room as Enzo took a seat in front of Mattheo’s desk. With the click of the door locking again, Mattheo’s full attention was on Enzo. “Are you sure I don’t have anything to worry about with Bunny? I know I didn’t hire an ugly dancer, I never do and I know how much you enjoy that.” Enzo pulled at his bottom lip, head nodding, “I know, I know, but I swear, Matt. I’m good. I was serious earlier, girl came on to me hard, asked to be my shiny new play toy and everything, I told her it would never happen. You have nothing to worry about. I’m fully focused on the family business.” Mattheo raised his eyebrows, as if to ask one more time if Enzo was sure.

Enzo held his hands up, sincere smile on, “I promise, Mattheo. Bunny means nothing to me.”

#its heeeeeeeeeeere #respect the family #mafia!slytherin boys #enzo berkshire #protego series #enzo berkshire x you #mafia!enzoberkshire #slytherin boys #theo nott #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #Matthew riddle

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chaos-is-beautifvl · 1 year ago

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𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 (𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨) 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐲…

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: steve harrington x fem!reader, possible eddie munson x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you have a secret. that secret has been shared with only two people - your diary and your best friend, just not the one it’s about. but what happens when your secret isn’t so secret anymore?

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠: wheeler!reader, angst, so much drama, special appearance: eddie, we do not like carol or tommy in this fic, possibly unrequited love (sorry y’all)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.3k (4343)

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 💌: requested by anon a few months back. the request originally asked for byers!reader but i saw nancy and thought they asked for wheeler!reader. i had written 3000 words exactly, and the thought of changing it gave me serious writer’s block. nevertheless, here it is. very plot heavy bc i wanted to show reader and steve’s relationship. enjoy!

p.s. check out my writing here and my other steve story: dancing’s not a crime here

Being a Wheeler is a heck of a job.

As the second oldest of four children, you don’t know whether to consider yourself the middle child or the outcast. You’ll go with the latter. After all, much to your mother’s chagrin, those are the types of people you spend most of your time with.

The only exception is the one and only Steve Harrington. It’s a miracle the two of you even became friends. But all thanks to your chemistry teacher, who thought the two of you would be a perfect pair, or at least, she only paired you two together because Steve was goofing around, and you were adamant about working alone.

Either way, since then, you and Steve have become best buds. Such an unlikely pair turned heads and brought about glares and eye rolls. But, being who you are and given that your best friend is Eddie Munson, the looks and whispers don’t phase you.

Your life is going well. Your grades are improving - you only get the occasional B, which is great because now your mom is off your case. You’re closer to your little brother, which is a feat because he and his friends are rowdy. And you have two incredible best friends who annoy the crap out of you. Other than that, you have no issues.

Actually, you do have an issue. Your issue is currently climbing through your bedroom window.

You lazily watch as Steve clambers into your room. His movements are clumsy and all over the place. If your record player played a quieter track, he’d give himself away.

Once he rights himself, he gives you a wide grin, and you make a point to blink at him, a silent communication of ‘what the hell’?

Steve heads over to your vanity, one that has papers and books haphazardly scattered across it. He bends down to check out his hair, shaping it together as if the tons of Farrah Fawcett hairspray he uses isn’t damn near gluing the strands together.

“Hello to you too, Harrington. What a joy it is to see you tonight.” Your tone is about as dry as burnt toast, prompting Steve to look at your unamused expression through the mirror.

“You’re pissed…” The way he tests the words indicates that he isn’t sure why you’re looking at him the way you are. You huff, nodding in response.

“Why are you even here?”

“Uh…” Steve finally turns away from the mirror to properly look at you. While you seem pissed off, he’s known you long enough to know it’s something else. “What, can’t see my favorite girl?”

“No, Steve, you can’t because you’re always here for Nancy!”

His mouth falls open at your words, making you regret airing your grievances. That’s until he smiles all lopsided-like, and your heart betrays you by beating a little faster than it should.

“You jealous or something?”

Your eye twitches, and you sigh as you fall back on your bed. “You’re awful, you know?” You hear a laugh, and your heart pitter-patters again, betraying you. “And I’m not ‘jealous or something’.” You make your voice octaves deeper to mimic him. “I’m just annoyed.”

The bed dips when Steve joins you. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” You don’t look convinced, and he nudges you. “I’m serious. I might be dating your sister, but you’re still my favorite Wheeler.”

“Whatever. I still don’t believe you. But go before Nancy has a fit.”

“Fine, fine. Rush me, why don’t you?” He hovers by your door, listening to ensure the coast is clear. Before he heads out, he winks at you, giving one of his signature charming grins. “See you later, Wheeler.”

You can’t stop a grin of your own from emerging as you raise a hand as if you’re going to wave. Instead, you flip the bird, “Get out, Harrington.”

Once he leaves, you grab a pillow, burying your face inside to scream. Of all people, why do you have a crush on him? That’s a question answered when you pull out your diary, writing down the feelings you’ll never confess.

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Though Steve hadn’t said he’d spend more time with you, he did make an effort. He even went as far as joining you and your friends instead of his own for lunch.

You’re having a conversation with Steve when someone calls him over. Annoyance tugs at you, but before Steve goes, he makes a point to salute you. The simple gesture makes you smile like a schoolgirl, and Eddie quickly calls you out.

“This is sickening to watch.” The brunet pretends to vomit, covering his eyes like a distressed maiden.

Your smile quickly wipes away as you roll your eyes, tossing a grape at Eddie, who somehow manages to catch it in his mouth - the lucky bastard.

“Don’t get mad at me because you’re in love with-” Before he can finish his sentence, you slap your hands over his mouth, shushing.

“-Be quiet!”

Eddie peels your hands off him, rolling his lips to prevent his laughter from escaping. “I wasn’t going to say you know who’s name. No need to attack me.”

“Yet, for some reason, I don’t believe you.”

Eddie starts chuckling at your tone, and you swat at him, laughter bubbling in your chest. “Stop laughing, you ass.”

From afar, Steve watches the two of you laugh. He’s trying to figure out why his chest feels tight when Carol waves her hand to get his attention.

He directs his gaze to the ginger, who smacks her gum loudly. “What is up with you and those Wheelers? First, you’re friends with one. And now, you’re dating one.”

Tommy chimes in, “Yeah, man. Still can’t believe your friends with that freak.”

Steve isn’t able to defend himself when Carol interrupts. “Tommy’s right, Steve. Nancy was already a stretch, but that freak-” She smacks her gum again, nodding her head over to you. “-she’s a basketcase.”

Now, Steve is used to his friends and their judgmental ways. And, though he has a long way to go, he can acknowledge that he’s changed from the ignorant guy who picked on anyone who wasn’t cool enough. Part of - no - a good majority of that change is thanks to one person - you. So, hearing his assholes of friends calling you a freak and making it seem like being around you is hell on Earth riles him up all the wrong ways.

“Shut the hell up.” Steve scoffs, crossing his arms. He looks over at you, and you’re gesticulating as you recount a story to your friends. Steve’s reminded of how amazing you are as they smile and laugh.

“You assholes don’t even know the first thing about her. She’s the best damn person I’ve ever met, and she’s leagues better than both of you without feeling the need to tear down everybody else that breathes.”

Steve turns back to Tommy and Carol, his harsh glare rivaling their shocked expressions. All Carol can do is slowly chew her gum, looking around as if waiting for someone to snap Steve back to his old self.

“You know what? I don’t have time for this. You can plan the goddamn party on your own.” With that, Steve walks away before he says something extreme and heads back to your table.

“I don’t know about you, Tommy,” Carol blows a bubble with her gum, “But I really don’t like her.”

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You’re by your locker, sifting through your notebooks and chatting with Eddie, when Steve joins you. Being as keen as you are, the odd look Steve gives Eddie doesn’t go unnoticed. You have half a mind to comment, but Steve speaks before you can.

“You’re coming to the party, right?” Steve asks as he leans against the lockers next to yours.

You roll your eyes in annoyance. There’s a party every day, it seems. You shut your locker before turning to Steve. “How about no?”

“Aw, c’mon, it’ll be a total drag without you there, you know?” Steve lays the charm on thick as he sports a heart-clenching grin. But you’ve learned not to act on those lovey-dovey feelings to protect your sanity.

“If it’ll be such a drag, how about you don’t go…?” Eddie offers, reminding you of how awesome a friend he is. He’s always there to pull you out of situations you don’t want to find yourself. And going to a party with Steve, and undoubtedly his horrendous friends, is not your cup of tea.

“Funny, Munson. Don’t think I was talking to your ass.” Steve’s counter catches you and Eddie off guard, and you throw a ‘what the hell’ look at Steve. You know that Steve is still Steve and has some unsatisfactory traits lingering. But him being unnecessarily rude to Eddie is something you’re not okay with.

“Okay, look…” Steve sighs, which has you raising an eyebrow, awaiting his response. “That was messed up, sorry, dude. I was going to ask if you both wanted to come.”

Eddie brushes it off with a wave, “Don’t sweat it, man. I get it. But we’ll have to get back to you on this one. Y’know, parties aren’t really our scene.”

You agree with Eddie’s statement with a nod. Steve, however, has difficulty not rolling his eyes at Eddie’s use of we. What, did he not think you could answer on your own? And why the hell is he always getting in his way? But most important, why does it piss Steve off so much?

While Steve ponders, he misses the call of his friends. He only reacts when he sees Eddie stumble towards you. He whips his head around to see Tommy and Carol snickering.

“Watch where you’re going, you damn freak,” Tommy sneers, and some jerks in the back laugh along.

Your books fall out of your arms as you prevent Eddie from becoming too familiar with the ground. “You good, Eds?” He nods, allowing you to help him back on steady footing.

You glare at Tommy, who laughs like a fucking hyena. You’re about to rip him a new one when Steve steps in, much to your and everyone else’s surprise.

“Jesus, Tommy… You have to be such a dick all the time?” Steve pointedly asks as he bends down on one knee to pick up your fallen books. It’s a simple act - a fine gentleman courteous enough to help a distressed maiden. But, you don’t know, something about how Steve gathers your things, handing them to you with that oh-so-apologetic expression, makes that simple act not so simple.

A singular strand of hair loses its hold and flutters down to frame his face, and, like an idiot, all you can form is, “Thanks…” You hear Eddie snort quietly beside you, and as you take your books from Steve’s outreached hands, you make sure to jab the brunet in the side with your elbow.

“Always with the fucking Wheelers…” Carol sighs, popping a bubble of her gum. Like birds migrating, their small group of goons disperses in pursuit of more havoc. You’re grateful for two reasons. 1. They’ll leave you and Eddie alone. 2. Most importantly, you’re sure it’s plain as day how flustered Steve’s actions made you.

You’re about to give Carol and Tommy a piece of your mind when the bell rings for a second time. You curse, haphazardly shoving your books into your backpack.

One more tardy, and Mrs. Nelson might make do on her promise to slap you and Eddie in Saturday detention. That was just something neither of you could afford. You grab Eddie’s hand, and in your haste, you miss the disgruntled look on Steve’s face.

You two run down the hall, and just as you reach the corner, you turn around and lift your hand to wave bye to Steve. “See you never, Harrington!”

The corner of his mouth upturns when your wave turns into flipping the bird. “Oh, and fuck you, Tommy and Carol!”

The two scoff behind Steve, who only smiles, shaking his head. “Gotta love those Wheelers.”

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It’s Friday night, also the day of the party. Now, you’ve made all reservations to stay at home in the comfort and safety of your room. You’re all set to do just that until Steve comes to pick up Nancy. Ever since your mom caught him sneaking through your bedroom window to see your sister, he’s made more effort to appear at the front door. For good reason - Karen Wheeler might be head of PTA and bakes cookies, but she’s one woman you don’t want to be on the wrong side of.

You’re rifling through the pantry when Holly runs to you. She tugs at your pants legs until you turn around to see her with a piece of paper. You eye it warily until she aggressively thrusts her hand out, pointing to the front door before running off.

The crumbled piece of paper reads: “PARTY? Yes or yes?”

You snicker, pocketing the note as you gather your snacks and head for the stairs. On your way, you spot Nancy gracefully gliding down and almost envy her because you always trip over a step.

Nancy stops you before you can ascend. “Oh, are you staying home again?” The ‘again’ is an ongoing joke with your family since you’re affectionately dubbed a hermit.

“She’s not,” Steve answers as he joins the two of you, and your eye twitches a bit when he swings an arm around her shoulders. “She’s coming to the party.”

Your face furrows as you pretend to think. “Hmm, you know, I don’t think I ever agreed to that. By the way, Harrington, you didn’t give me an option for no way in hell.”

Steve groans, “C’monnn, it’ll be a blast.” You almost let the thought of him being cute as he pouts linger in your mind but instead push it away.

You yawn tiredly, tucking your snacks under one arm as you cover your mouth. Blinking slowly, you squint before sighing in acquiescence. “This isn’t a yes, but I’ll consider it.”

You can see that Steve is fighting the urge to persuade you more, and the way he settles for a cool nod makes you bite back a grin. You wave goodbye to him and Nancy as you trek back to your bedroom.

You’ve nearly reached the top when Steve calls your name from the open front door. You turn around to see a cheeky grin. “Don’t forget Munson’s invited, too. See you there.”

You find it hilarious how sure he is that you’ll show up. There is absolutely no chance in hell you would go to the party. No chance at all-

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The music from the party sends vibrations throughout Eddie’s van, and you’re suddenly regretting coming. You turn to Eddie with an unsure look and almost laugh at his mirrored expression.

“Twenty minutes tops.” Eddie frowns as a couple runs in front of the van, cackling as they head for a cluster of trees further back. It’s so obvious what they’re up to.

“Ten.” You can’t fathom spending more time here, and you haven’t even made it inside yet.

Eddie nods in agreement, moving to get out before he stops to turn to you. He pokes you with a finger to get your attention. “Hey, you feeling okay?”

You furrow your brows, sighing. “I don’t know. Something feels off…”

“Maybe it’s the fact that we’re here… at this party… which, can I just add, is totally not our scene?” Eddie suggests, making you frown slightly.

“I don’t know. Today has been a bit weird. I was looking for something earlier and couldn’t find it, and then I had to see Steve and Nancy being, well, a couple. And, get this, I stumbled down the stairs when you came to pick me up.” You sigh again. “Maybe this was a bad idea…” you mumble, looking out the window to see someone vomiting on the lawn. Your nose crinkles, and you quickly avert your gaze to Eddie before you get sick, too.

“Well, how about this?” Eddie grins, trying to prompt one of your own. “We show face, talk to that guy - the unnamed one you have a major hard-on for. Then we make our grand escape, and guess what?” You look at him amused and respond with a hum. “We head back to my place and spend the rest of the night watching awesome movies and listening to super cool music. Sound good?”

You hate that Eddie knows you so well. With an affectionate eye roll, you breathe in and out. “Sounds good. Let’s go, Munster.”

The party is in full swing inside. It seemed the outside partying was just a warmup for what you two would face. Some acquaintances greet you and Eddie, sending waves and raising their drinks. It’s almost comical because it makes you feel like you’re one of the “cool” kids.

Somehow, you and Eddie find yourselves in the thicket; the music’s bass rumbles through you, and you see far too much bumping and grinding for your liking. You look around for the only reason you attended this shit show and come up short. However, you see Carol, who has an annoyingly cocky grin as she passes you, whispering something to Tommy, who snickers.

You’re about to comment on it to Eddie when someone calls your name. You look around until you see Steve heading towards you.

“Heyyy, you made it!” His enthusiasm brings about a simpering grin of your own. Steve pulls you in for a hug, throwing his arm around your shoulder, and you have to tell your heart to stop doing somersaults.

“Yeah, I did.” You smile up at him and almost laugh at his dopey expression. You’re not sure why he’s looking like that, but you attribute it to drinking. After all, is Steve Harrington really at a party if he doesn’t down an entire keg in seconds?

“You look really pretty, you know?” His words make you swallow harshly, knowing that his drunk words are kryptonite to your sober, hopeless, lovesick little heart.

You can feel the heat emanating from your cheeks, and you’re sure that if he continues staring at you with that look you can’t quite name in his eyes, you’ll be a walking heat advisory. You gently jab at his shoulder, dismissing him with a wave of your hands and a roll of your eyes. “Sure, sure. Let the alcohol talk.”

“It’s not the-” Steve doesn’t finish his sentence when Nancy joins your little party, nuzzling up to him. The sight makes your heart clench in a not-so-pleasant way, and you smile briefly to show good camaraderie, but deep down, you hate yourself for feeling this way.

Nancy greets Eddie, and you silently curse yourself for forgetting he was there. Knowing that he witnessed the entire interaction, you chuckle, sure he’ll find some way to tease you about it later.

You spend the next few minutes talking with Steve and Nancy, who soon enough become engrossed with each other. The whispers and drunken laughter they share make your eye twitch, which catches Eddie’s attention.

“You know, it’s getting pretty late, so I think we’re going to head out,” Eddie says, forcing a convincing yawn.

“Nooo,” Steve groans, unwrapping his arm from Nancy to place his hand on your shoulder. “You can’t go just yet. Stay. Please.” His bottom lip juts out just a bit as he pouts, begging you to stay with those big brown eyes, and a tiny part of you screams just how kissable he looks.

Instead of succumbing to that deep-down desire, you smile, tilting your head to look at him. “Sorry, Harrington. It appears you’ve exceeded your time limit.” You pat his hand, squeezing it gently before removing it. You swear you can feel his fingers curl around your palm, but he steps back in defeat before you can discern.

“It was fun talking with you guys, though. Who knows, maybe we’ll come to another par-”

You begin stepping away from him when a screech makes you and everyone else stop in their place. You turn to the source to find Tommy and Carol - of course, it’s them - standing atop a table with a microphone.

You have half a mind to leave, but for some reason, you feel compelled to stay.

“Hi, everyone! Hope you’re all having a fantastic time!” Carol starts, her words slurred and voice oh so annoying. Cheers erupt from the crowd, but she’s quick to quieten them with a hand in the air. “I have a little special announcement for one of our esteemed guests…”

She pauses dramatically, a mischievous look on her face. You’re not the only one who notices. Eddie leans down to whisper, “I think we should go.” You agree, feeling uneasy, but just when you turn to go, you hear your name.

Suddenly, everyone’s eyes are on you, Steve and Nancy included. You stare at Carol warily, wondering where she’s going with this.

“You see, little miss weirdo over there has a big fat crush on her best friend. But Steve is too busy fucking little miss perfect to give her the time of day.” Muttering and snickers and gasps of surprise sound around you as your heartbeat quickens. Tommy pulls your diary from his jacket, flipping it open to an earmarked page.

“‘Dear diary… I can’t believe I have a crush on Steve Harrington! I hate him and his perfect hair and charming smile and-’” Tommy pauses his reading to smirk. “Here’s the best part.” He pitches his voice annoyingly high, “‘I think I might just be in love with him, but of course, he has to be dating my sister, of all people.’”

If the humiliation doesn’t break you, seeing Steve and Nancy’s expressions as you slowly turn to them does. Nancy looks betrayed, and there’s a hint of anger in her eyes. You don’t blame her; you felt the same when you discovered she was dating Steve. Speaking of which, he looks confused; his brows pinch together, and his mouth is agape.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. What can you say? You don’t know. But you know that standing there while everyone looks at you isn’t helping you. Before you can register it, you’re running out of the house, pushing past everything in your way.

You don’t hear or see Steve marching right up to the table. “You’re real pricks, you know that?” He asks, snatching your diary from Tommy’s hands, sending him stumbling and falling off the table on his butt. Laughter erupts when Tommy falls. “Fucking assholes,” Steve sneers as he heads outside to look for you.

Eddie unlocks the van, and you’re about to hop in, ready to ditch this shit show, when someone grabs your wrist. You turn around to find Steve. He offers your diary to you. The thought of snatching it away crosses your mind before you remind yourself that although Steve begged to come along to the party, this whole shitshow wasn’t his fault.

So, instead, you gingerly take it from him, tucking it tight under your arm as if someone might come to steal it again. Then it’s tense - despite the cool night air sprinkling goosebumps along your exposed skin, the air feels unbearably thick, and you find yourself harshly swallowing the lump in your throat.

Steve is the one to break the silence.

“You never told me.” Those four words made you scoff bitterly, not at him but at the entire situation.

“You never asked,” is your retort.

Steve casts his gaze down to the ground, nodding solemnly. It’s another few seconds before he opens his mouth again. “I always thought it was Munson.” His confession shocks you. Is that why he’d always been so cross with Eddie?

“Well, now you know.” It’s unbearable standing here, trying to talk through this shitty situation. With a breath, you say, “I should go, Steve. No point in me hanging around.”

Steve falters, reaching an arm out to stop you from moving. “You can’t just walk away. We should talk-”

“Talk about what, Steve?” You pull your arm away from his grasp, fully turning to face him. “About how awful of a person I am. About how I fell in love with my best friend, and he chose my sister?” As you speak, frustrated tears fill your eyes, and Steve feels his heart break a little more. “Did you ever…” You breathe deeply, steeling yourself. “Did you… have you ever felt anything for me…?”

Steve’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, and had this been a different situation, you might have poked fun at him for looking like such a goofball. He finds it hard to meet your eyes, and though he never says a word, you already have your answer.

You scrunch your nose, blinking away the tears. You’ve already humiliated yourself enough tonight, and you won’t be adding crying to the list.

It’s then that you can hear music booming from inside the house - the rest of the partygoers continuing without a care, like some girl’s life didn’t just get flipped upside down and all around. You spot Nancy lingering near the entrance. She has this unreadable expression, but she’s not as angry as before. She looks sad, and that makes you feel even worse.

You tear your gaze away before looking at Steve, tears threatening to fall, and with a bittersweet smile, you say, “Tell Nancy I’m sorry for me, please. Goodbye, Steve.”

With those parting words, you quickly hop in Eddie’s van, and he knows to drive away without you even saying anything. You look out the rearview mirror to see Steve standing there, watching you leave.

Later that night, when you’re donning some of Eddie’s clothes, and he’s attempting to cheer you up, you pull out your diary one last time and write:

Dear (not so) secret diary,

Life is shit

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

#chaos-is-beautifvl #chaos.writes 🖋#chaos.requests 📞#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x wheeler!reader #eddie x steve x reader

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