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cinnaminsvga · 5 years ago

Text

Dumbo | Jungkook (M)

→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it, but luckily you’re there to help.}

→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk, mild pain play, mutual masturbation, jungkook has piercings, accidental edging (you’ll... understand), oc doesn’t have a gag reflex lol → words: 17.2K → a/n: @jincherie... you are my enabler and i will die on this hill only if you die on it with me. but of course i know you will die with me. because we only have one braincell and if either of us die, we both do. thank you for commissioning me to write this btw... even though i was already writing this so you just basically sent me money for free. ANYWAY... WORLD IS FUCK BUT I LOVE RHA!! ALSO JUNGKOOK HAS A BIG DICK!! EPIC!!

The club lights make it difficult for Jungkook to see anything. He doesn’t understand why club owners can’t just jack up the lighting for once; it isn’t like you’re going to be able to find a hook-up through echolocation or something. Though, judging by the way people seem to be groping their way through the masses, perhaps there really is no need for illumination anyway.

Jungkook normally hates this kind of scene. Drinking is all good and fun, especially when he’s with his hyungs, but going to overly crowded places makes his skin crawl with anxiety. It takes almost three shots during pre-game for him to get anywhere near this kind of place and it’s all thanks to Seokjin. That hyung thrives in these kinds of environments, like a clipped butterfly relearning how to fly.

“I’m gonna get shit fucked wasted!” Seokjin hollers, his arm looped carelessly around the only other person who hates being here as much as Jungkook does. He watches passively as Yoongi tries to bite a chunk off of Seokjin’s hand, but despite his inebriation, their eldest hyung is able to dodge it quickly.

“Not before I kill you, then everyone else in this place, and then myself, first.” Yoongi growls, nudging Seokjin off his smaller frame. If the world hadn’t been swaying underneath Jungkook’s feet, he might have offered to help his small hyung do the deed. If there’s anyone who hates nightclubs more than Jungkook, it’s Yoongi. Jungkook is frightened to know how Seokjin managed to convince Yoongi in the first place, and he’d prefer not to find out what sort of terrible blackmail the elder must have under his sleeve to accomplish such an arduous feat.

Just as Yoongi is about to connect his steel-toed boot up Seokjin’s freshly bleached asshole, Jimin returns from the bar with three glasses held precariously in each of his fists. Jungkook wonders yet again how this is possible due to the sheer tininess of Jimin’s hands, but then again... What can’t Jimin do when it comes to alcohol?

“I’m back! Here you go, Jungkookie,” Jimin says, seamlessly handing Jungkook a glass of what he hopes is just a regular beer like he asked. Knowing Jimin, he probably ordered the strongest shit they have. He peers at it suspiciously, but it only takes half a sip for Jungkook to confirm his guess. He grimaces, nearly coughing out a lung at the strength of the poison running down his throat.

“That tasted like fucking metal polish! What the fuck, Jimin?”

“I know! It’s great isn’t it?” Jimin smiles angelically, handing Yoongi one of the drinks. Yoongi looks at the swirling piss-yellow liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe. It appears as if he’s decided something when his eyes light up.

“Oh my god, this drink is gonna kill me,” he says, not an ounce of fear in his voice. Jimin nods, not even trying to hide his deception.

“I promised the bartender a blowie if he could give me the strongest shit they had,” Jimin shrugs. “Dude literally went to the back room and took out this bottle that looked like it came from Napoleon’s secret stash of hooker piss.” He sniffs the drinks thoughtfully. “Yea, I could believe that.”

“I hate this!” Jungkook cries at no one in particular.

“Tough shit! We’re in this together!” Yoongi groans, downing the entire contents of his drink in one go before promptly being swallowed whole by the crowd. Seokjin hoots, hastily waving goodbye to Jungkook and Jimin before following Yoongi and diving into the sweaty masses like a seasoned Olympian.

“I hope they don’t die like last time,” Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to take a big gulp of his drink. It sears against his throat like a brand, which probably has an inscription saying “Jeon Jungkook has bad taste in friends.”

Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Well, like Namjoon said a while ago, we’re gonna meet by the bar in 2 hours to check if everyone is still alive and we’ll find out then. Okay, Kook?”

Jimin has reminded him of this for the umpteenth time, though he can’t blame him for being extra careful. Last time the whole gang went to the club, Hoseok had gotten stuck in an elevator at his hook-up’s place and had cried for 5 hours straight before one of them thought to look for him. The time before that, Taehyung had ingested two times his bodyweight of margaritas and he had found himself in Japan the next morning with an extra $500 in his pocket.

Yeah. They’re idiots, but at least they’re idiots who will try not to make the same mistakes as last time. Key word being “try.”

Jungkook looks around the club, but he can’t find any awkward looking lanky people anywhere. “Where is Namjoon-hyung, by the way? Haven’t seen him since we split up.”

“Who the hell knows?” Jimin laughs, the sound drowning out when the DJ suddenly decides to play a death metal version of Dance the Night Away by Twice. Jimin’s eyes light up. “Ooooh shit! This is my song! See ya later, Kook!”

“W-wait, those drinks! Aren’t they for the others––“

“Bitch, you think these are for them?” Jimin begins to double fist his alcohol with the thirstiness of a man in a desert, or a twink confronted with two dicks. Either or.

To Jungkook’s horror, the crowd has seemingly grown thrice in size since they’ve arrived and he watches as Jimin’s body is slowly getting consumed by the masses, though he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He leans into a random guy's back, a look of bliss on his face. He salutes lazily at Jungkook. “Anyway. See you in 2 hours, Kook! Try to have fun!”

Try to have fun, his ass.

Unlike Jimin, Jungkook doesn’t particularly feel like being crushed by sweaty hormonal bodies; instead, he chooses to head to the bar. He surreptitiously dumps his drink into the trash, feeling kind of bad for discarding a free drink, but Jungkook doesn’t want to get shit-fucked wasted like the rest of them are. Perhaps he’ll be the designated driver today, even though his vision is still kind of swimming. Well, he could probably walk in a straight line if he used all his brainpower. Which isn’t a lot, but you know. People learn to make do.

It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.

(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)

He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)

So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.

Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.

“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.

“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.

It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there.

“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.

Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”

Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. His eyes bug out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"

You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."

"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.

"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."

"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.

"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."

"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."

"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"

"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"

"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.

Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.

He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.

("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.

Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")

“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you.

Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”

Thunk. Was that the sound of his heart dropping out of his ass, or his brain pressing against the left side of his skull, or his dick hitting the roof? Jungkook isn’t sure, but he does know he wants to see where this night will take him.

He lets you lead the way, squeezing through sweaty bodies and elbowing a stray hand or two. Jungkook swears he feels a guy grope him on the way out, but before he can even sock the guy in the jaw, you’re already one step ahead of him. You hiss menacingly at the dudebro, raising your long acrylic nails in a show of dominance like you’re from some wildlife documentary. The guy audibly whines, running away from the two of you with his tail between his legs.

Jungkook stares at you incredulously. “How the fuck did you––”

“I’ve gone to tango classes with that dude. I have his mom’s phone number,” you explain nonchalantly. Instantly, Jungkook feels himself hardening in his pants.

You manage to get to where the washroom stalls are. You brazenly walk past the line of girls at the women’s section, but Jungkook is even more confused when you also pass by the men’s section. You turn the corner, where a bunch of tables and chairs were being kept. Then, you begin to knock down some of the extra chairs stacked against the wall, which is where Jungkook discovers there is an unused wheelchair accessible washroom.

“Why is this washroom being kept hidden?” he wonders aloud, sneaking guilty looks over his shoulder. No one seems to have noticed that the two of you are blatantly trespassing property, but you don’t look all that stressed about it.

You look at him weirdly. “Dude. You can barely walk in this club without getting groped, poked, or doped. As much as I’m all for accessibility, I don’t think wheelchair-bound people are gonna have much of a good time here.”

Jungkook feels as though he should be saying something profound about the need for establishments to be accessible or something, but the strain in his pants really wasn’t doing many wonders on his verbosity right now. Maybe next time.

You make quick work of the barricade and you get the door open in no time. You push him hastily inside, making him yelp as he tries to find his way around the darkened room. You flip the switch on somewhere behind him, illuminating the washroom to find… a toilet. That’s it.

“Well, they certainly didn’t think about interior decorating,” Jungkook says, laughing nervously as you click the door locked. He turns, watching as you pull the black elastic that was on your wrist and begin to tie your hair. You smile cheekily at him, the implications of what is about to happen very much apparent.

“Nah, they didn’t. But the room gets the job done and that’s all we want, don’t we?” You purr, taking the two short steps you need to get close to him once more. You trail a well-manicured nail down his chest, circling around his nipple teasingly but not doing anything more. His breathing turns more shallow, and he knows for sure that his eyes must look crazed to you right now.

You bring your finger lower and lower, grazing the top of his belt buckle and staying there. You look up at him, licking your lips as your gaze trails down to his own. Once again, he feels paralyzed as you take him in and he wishes for all the horny gods from above that you would finally end the torture and finally close the distance.

Taking some pity on him, you rest your lips against his throat, suckling gently enough that Jungkook knows it won’t leave a mark. His hands instantly come up to grab your waist, as if urging you to go harder, to make it hurt.

You smirk against his skin, deciding at that moment to bite down, hard. Jungkook yelps, before the sound morphs into an unabashed moan. His cheeks pinken, embarrassed at the volume of his voice.

“I-I…”

“Don’t worry, Jungkook…” you whisper, soothing the bite with your tongue. You pop off his skin, your lips slightly redder than before. “I’ll take good care of you, darling.”

See, Jungkook doesn’t doubt you in the slightest. As for his own skills at taking care of you when the time comes… now that’s a little bit of a gamble.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, per se… He lost his virginity during his last year of high school to some girl he met at a party, and suffice to say, he didn’t last long. He’s had a few girlfriends in the past, but none of them ever wanted to get with him once they saw his dick. You see, he had a bit of a problem…

He wasn’t small, by the way. Don’t get him wrong. In fact, he was kinda––

Jungkook is pulled away from his thoughts when you suddenly drop down to your knees, your hands grabbing onto his thighs for support. He’s almost worried that you’d injured yourself from how fast you’d dropped, but you don’t seem all that bothered by how deftly your fingers moved to unbuckle his belt.

When you get it loosened, your hands stop by the button of his jeans and you look up at him with expectation. Jungkook almost whines when your hands drift back to your lap.

You snort, amused. “What? You think I’m gonna do all the work here, buddy? Come on, strip for me.” you say, sitting on your haunches as you wait for him to move.

The strain in his pants was getting downright painful at this point, so Jungkook is more than eager to follow your orders. Still, his hands are shaking the entire time, so it takes him a few extra seconds before he can finally unbutton his stupid jeans and pull down his stupid zipper. Even through his loose boxers, the outline of his dick is very apparent, with a small wet spot already staining the front of his boxers a darker blue.

“Uh, I have to say a disclaimer first though,” Jungkook squeaks, suddenly shy under the intense gaze you were pointing straight at his dick. It twitches slightly, and your eyes follow it like a cat ready to pounce. “I’m… kinda on the bigger side, so I just want to ask if you’re sure––”

“Baby, I was sure even before I came to this club,” you say, trance-like. Your fists clench and unclench by your sides. “Now, shut up before I change my mind.”

“But––” Jungkook doesn’t get to finish his sentence, stunned to silence when you quite literally rip his boxers off of him like a magician trying to prove something. His dick springs up half-way, still not fully hard as it’s always taken him a little bit more goading before he can get to full mast. Yea, he was that big.

You stare at it for a moment, going cross-eyed as you stared at his tip head-on like some sort of perverse gun barrel. You don’t move for so long that Jungkook is afraid that he might have freaked you out with the size of his cock, though you wouldn’t be the first in a long shot. He’s about to apologize, prepared to pull up his pants in shame and walk home with half a log in his crotch. He’s already shifting his jeans back up when you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait. Are you, like, only half-hard right now?” you ask, voice quiet.

Jungkook flushes. “Y-yeah… It gets a little bit bigger when I’m fully… You know…” he says, trailing off.

You’re still looking at his dick, but after further assessment, Jungkook realizes that you don’t look horrified in the slightest. In fact, you look pleased. “Jesus fuck you’re huge! Like… almost abnormally so.”

Jungkook literally feels like he’s going to die (and he hates that it’s kinda making him even hornier). “I guess so?”

“That’s a fucking log! You could stand on that thing!”

“I don’t think that’s possible, but––”

“Seokjin had told me you were huge, but I didn’t believe him because, well, the way he described it was that you had a literal third leg hiding under there. Who would have thought that Seokjin isn’t full of shit after all,” you say, awestruck.

“I’m really not that big––wait, Seokjin has talked to you about my dick? What the fuck? Since WHEN?” Seokjin was just out there in the world? Telling strangers about his dick? That hyung is seriously getting smashed WWE style the next time he sees him, and it’s NOT going to be sexy.

You wave him off. “Oh, don’t worry. He doesn’t just tell anyone. He let it slip because he was defending your honor,” you shrug.

In the midst of Jungkook’s mental breakdown at the realization that one of his closest friends just told a random girl that he’s got a meter long King Kong dong, he doesn’t notice that you’ve already stood up from where you were kneeling. You pull down the toilet seat cover, seating yourself on it and rubbing your reddened knees with a pout. “Ouch. Damn, I’m not used to kneeling for men anymore. Sorry, where was I? Oh right!”

You snap your fingers together, smiling gleefully at Jungkook. “So! I dragged you in here to give you my proposition, you see. I have a deal to make with you.”

Jungkook looks down at his cock, which was still red and dripping pre-cum, before turning back to you. “And this has something to do with… my dick?”

“Precisely!” you cheer, glad that he seems to be on the same page as you when he was in fact, not. “Sorry about tricking you, by the way. I’ll suck your dick after this if you’re still game, but only if you agree with my plan.”

“Your plan?”

“Yep,” you say, popping your ‘p’ once more. “You see, I have an ex-boyfriend. His name is Lee Taeyong, ever heard of him?”

Jungkook vaguely knows the upperclassman, though he can’t say he’s ever spoken to him. “Kinda. What does he have to do with me?”

“Well, if you really heard of him, then you’d already be one step ahead. Seeing as how it’s not already connecting for you––” you point to his dick, poking the sensitive head with the grace of a 5-year old at a petting zoo, “––then you don’t know that Lee Taeyong has the biggest dick on campus. Allegedly.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook repeats. He still doesn’t follow.

“Well, I wouldn’t know either because I’ve never seen his dick, so––”

“Wait wait wait. Wait.” Jungkook’s hamster brain is running a mile a minute. There have been way too many absurdities spoken in the last five minutes and he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough to deal with your insanity right now. “Let’s dissect this one at a time, shall we? First of all, how can you not know how big your boyfriend’s dick is?”

“My ex-boyfriend. And we only dated for like three days, and I don’t fuck until a week has passed, okay? I don’t play like that,” you say as if you didn’t just lure Jungkook to this dingy washroom only to give him blue balls and trauma.

“Okay, whatever. So what if he has a big dick? What does that have to do with me?”

You roll your eyes. “How can you not understand yet? I’m on the hunt for our university’s biggest dick, of course! And you, Jungkook, might just be my ticket to the number one prize.”

There is a long pause. Jungkook stares and stares at you, waiting for you to shout “Surprise! You’re being pranked, bro!” and for all the cameramen to come out and shower him in confetti and dollar bills or something. But no, nothing like that happened. He just continues to stand there with his dick out, while you sit on a dingy toilet seat with your legs crossed comfortably as if you were just two friends having a regular conversation.

After a while, Jungkook comes to a conclusion. “You’re being serious.”

You snort, annoyed as if you were the one being inconvenienced. “Of course I am, dude. I don’t stalk just about anybody to see their dick. I’m not that insane.”

Jungkook feels as though your judgment on sanity should probably be taken with a grain of salt. “S-sure. Right. You’re definitely not insane.”

“And you have a big dick! I’m glad you can see where I’m coming from,” you say, nodding sagely. You peer at his dick once more, brows furrowed as you think deeply to yourself. “Hmm… Yea, I’d say you’d be at least equally as big as him. If all else fails, I can split the winnings and get half the amount of money if you––”

“No,” Jungkook says.

You raise your brow. “Yes?” you try.

“Yes–I mean, what? No!” Jungkook repeats, shaking his head furiously. "Are you even hearing yourself? You expect me to get into a dick measuring contest with your ex just so you can, what? Get revenge on him or something?"

"Not for revenge." You lean closer to him, face inches away from his dick but you don't seem perturbed in the slightest. "It's for money," you whisper, grinning slyly.

"Money," Jungkook repeats.

You clap your hands excitedly. "Exactly! So Taeyong and I didn't actually break up on bad terms. We only got together to make Doyoung, his crush, jealous enough to confess his feelings. But now, that dumb bitch thinks that now that he's with Taeyong, he can make fun of me for not being able to handle Taeyong's dark horse cock––"

"Can you please stop talking like an insane person," Jungkook pleads. His comment remains unheard.

"––so we made a bet that Taeyong doesn't actually have the biggest dick on campus and that I'm dating a guy with an even bigger meat thermometer than he does," you finish, snapping your fingers with a flourish. There's a twinkle in your eye: it's misplaced excitement coupled with extreme insanity, Jungkook realizes.

"That's good and all, but there's just one problem."

"What?" You tilt your head, confused.

"We're not exactly dating, are we?"

"Details, details... What Doyoung and Taeyong don't know won't hurt them," you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Of course," he says, leaning against the grimy bathroom wall. He goes to tuck Jungkook Jr. back into his pants, his dick finally softening after the last ten minutes of psychological torture courtesy of yours truly, but you're quick to slap his hand away, making him yelp in surprise.

"No! I like looking at it," you say. You stare at his dick with rapt fascination. "It's kinda like looking at a weird, deformed baby leg. Beautiful, but haunting all at once."

Jungkook huffs, staring at you in equal parts disbelief and awe. If he thought Seokjin was mentally unhinged, then you're definitely on your way towards uncharted psychotic territory. It was kind of amazing how you could just say shit without any brain to mouth filter, in your own twisted way. "Listen, lady. I don't even fucking know what your name is, but I am not helping you win some stupid bet and showing my dick to even more strangers than I have to, okay?"

You consider him, lips pursing slightly. "Why, do you have any other plans this weekend?"

Jungkook falters. "I... No, I don't––"

You shrug your shoulders, as if that's the end of that problem. "Then it's settled! I don't see why you can't just do this out of the goodness of your heart?"

"For the last time, I won't do it even if––"

"I'll split the prize with you? 50/50? That's $1000 for having a huge dick! Every incel's wet dream!"

Jungkook pauses in his rant, choking on his spit. His jaw drops comically, unsure if he heard you right. "Did you say one... grand?"

Hook, line, and sinker. You know you caught him the moment his eyes bugged out of their sockets. You smirk, crossing your arms triumphantly as you gaze upon his desperate and broke college ass (and dick). “So? Having second thoughts?"

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He tries to wrap his head around the number, unsure if he should be worried about how ready he is to drop his pants for money. Have I completely lost it? Am I that much of an idiot? he wonders, but then again… He’d be an even bigger idiot for letting free money go down the drain.

“Where is this money even coming from?” he asks, even though he knows his guard is already dropping quickly.

You wave your hand flippantly. “Oh, Doyoung is filthy rich. I imagine that $2000 is nothing to him,” you say, picking at a hangnail. “It’s not much money to me either, but my pride is mostly at stake here. If you want, you could take all the money as a prize, so long as you make that bitch eat his heart out.”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch and he knows that you notice. “Two… thousand…” He accidentally moans, gripping his thighs to prevent himself from nutting. “That’s…”

You tilt your head, arching a brow. “Not enough? I could put in an extra $500 if you’re really against this whole thing. To be fair, I wouldn’t wanna expose my coochie to a random person either––”

“Two thousand five hundred? Are you fucking insane?” Jungkook exclaims, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, but it still feels like his lungs are on fire.

“Okay, three grand it is but I’m not going any higher than that,” you huff, shaking your head. “Mr. Jeon, you really do drive a hard bargain, though I always notice that well-endowed men tend to think they deserve the universe, so I’m not surprised.” You chuckle to yourself, as if anything about this situation is worth laughing at. Jungkook feels like that one time he had inhaled an entire helium balloon in one breath when he was younger: kinda nauseous but also kinda euphoric. Is it bad that his dick is stirring awake right now? Hello?

You put your hand out, looking at him expectantly. “Well? Do we have a deal or not?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath and accesses his options carefully. Does he:

Give up his low self-esteem for money and enter an actual dick-measuring contest with some stranger;

There is no other option. Jungkook wants money.

He exhales, a migraine already throbbing incessantly in the back of his skull. He thrusts his hand forward, gripping yours harshly in a firm handshake. “I’m in,” he says, without missing a beat. Your smile brings a shiver down his back, and he can’t help but wonder if this is what Judas felt like when he betrayed Jesus, except he’s betraying no one but his own self-worth.

Well, he always did wonder how much his life was worth and three grand doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch. Oh well.

“Nice,” you chuckle, seemingly vibrating from excitement. You slip behind him, grabbing his phone from the back pocket of his jeans (which were still, by the way, pooled around his thighs because his dick was still out. Just to remind you guys in case you forgot. OP doesn’t want you to ever forget about it.) You flick open his phone, cackling maniacally when you realize he doesn’t even have a password on.

Jungkook squawks. “Hey, what are you––”

“I’m saving my number on your phone,” you explain. He can barely see what you were typing into his phone contacts, but he doesn’t miss the way you attach a heart emoji beside your name. You open his texts, sending yourself an octopus emoji that just so happened to be Jungkook’s most frequently used emoji. You snort. “Octopus emoji, huh? Seems appropriate… Can’t help but think it was a sign that this might have been destiny.”

“I just like takoyaki…” Jungkook defends himself sulkily.

“Yea? Well I like cock,” you say. You pause, furrowing your brows. “Oh, I meant to say chicken. Same thing.”

You hand back his phone, grabbing your small purse that you had thrown aside onto the washroom floor. You straighten your dress, looking to all the world as if you hadn’t just offered a stranger three grand to show his dick. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook. I expect to see you soon, maybe this weekend if you’re free. I’ll text you the details of when we’ll meet next. Toodles!” you wave, sending him a flying kiss for extra measure. Jungkook’s eye twitches, and he wonders not for the first time tonight if he was trapped in a coma and was slowly passing away.

Just as you are about to head out the door, you stop in your tracks, turning back to face him. You give him a curious expression, gaze dragging downwards until you were staring down the barrel of his dick once more. “Hey, sorry about leaving you hanging like that, by the way. I would love to help you finish, but I have a ride to catch. Raincheck?”

Not waiting for an answer, you saunter away with a spring in your step. The door swings back closed, leaving Jungkook alone for the first time in what feels like forever: just him, his dick, and the promise of three thousand dollars on the horizon.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Jungkook groans, sliding down to the floor. He fists his cock in his hand, groaning loudly when he feels the pleasure jolt up his spine like electricity. As he listens to the sounds of his heavy breathing and the slick mess in his hands, he can’t help but wonder if Jimin was right… Maybe he did have a thing for insane hot girls who were out to kill him.

x x x x x

After Jungkook cleans himself up, he marches out of the washroom with as much dignity as he can muster. Which is to say that he walked out of there with his head bowed in shame, meekly navigating the crowded club in search of his friends.

It isn’t hard, considering that Jimin was currently hanging on the fucking ceiling from a disco ball. A group of men stand at the bottom, all of them eagerly eyeing his fat ass as Jimin dangerously humped the shiny ball of metal like his life depended on it.

“Okaaaay guys! The moment this disco ball drops, whoever catches me first gets to fuck me tonight so try your best to grab me~!” Jimin singsongs from his perch, howling madly as all the horny motherfuckers scramble all over each other, desperate to catch him lest he meets his maker.

“I. Hate. My. Life.” Jungkook sighs, striding past the group of men easily with his superior upper body strength. “Move, incels. This twink isn’t letting any of you simps touch his ass. He just likes the attention.”

“Aww, Jungkookie! Don’t ruin my fun~! Unless you wanna catch me and we can finally fu––” Jimin screams mid-sentence, just as the cord holding him and the disco ball snaps. All the guys step over themselves to catch him, but Jungkook is stronger and faster. He catches Jimin mid-air, snatching him in an instant and hoisting him over his shoulder. Everyone cheers and hollers, clapping for him as Jimin continues to giggle hysterically into his back.

“Yay! Jungkookie is gonna fuck meeeee,” Jimin pats him on the ass, but Jungkook ignores him. He goes around the club, searching for the rest of his friends until he has five dangling bodies hanging off his body like some six-headed freak.

Well, it’s soon going to be five-headed after he beheads Seokjin, whom Jungkook is certain just vomited all over the back of his jeans.

“I can’t fucking find Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook grits his teeth, his nose assaulted by the stench of Namjoon’s armpit as the elder contorts himself into a more comfortable position. “Stop fucking moving, you long-legged bastard. Why’d you have to be born with such good body proportions?”

“And why are you so hot, Jungkook?” Taehyung swoons from somewhere underneath Hoseok, who seems to be either passed out or dead; Jungkook didn’t pause to check for a pulse.

“Pretty sure Yoongi went home,” Seokjin slurs, a second wave of nausea hitting him as he struggles to keep the alcohol inside of him a bit longer. “Ugh… Said he saw his roommate and they went home together.”

“God, it better be his fucking roommate and not another person trying to sell his organs again.” Jungkook sighs. “Either way, we’re all going home. We’ve done enough damage for tonight.”

“Jungkookie, did you have any fun at all tonight? Didn’t see you around,” Namjoon quips, managing to wriggle out of Jungkook’s grip and fall face flat on the curb. He whines pathetically, not making a move to stand up again. “Ugh. I didn’t even drink a lot tonight so why...?”

“It’s because you’re Namjoon,” Jungkook supplies helpfully. He lets the rest of his friends down, making sure they are leaning against the wall for support (or sitting against the wall in Hoseok’s case). “Alright, I’m calling cabs. Seokjin-hyung, I’m staying over at your place tonight.”

Jimin, who was already slowly falling asleep where he stands, perks up in attention at that. “Wait, you’re coming home with me and Seokjin? Are we reaaaally gonna fuck?” Jimin tries to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but to Jungkook, it just looks like he’s having a stroke.

“I’m done nutting for tonight. We are sleeping once we get home and that’s it,” Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms.

“OOOOOOOH? JUNGKOOK GOT FUCKED AT THE CLUB!”

“GET IT BOY!”

“OH SHIT HE FINALLY USED HIS PURPLE-HEADED YOGURT FINGER!”

“DAMN DUDE? DAMN? DAMN?”

“AW, YOU FUCKED SOMEONE WITHOUT ME?”

Jungkook swears he had heard Hoseok speak amidst the yelling from his friends, but his hyung still remains mysteriously hunched over and dead to the world. “None of your businesses. Anyway, a cab is coming soon and I swear to God, if any of you piss or vomit in that poor man’s vehicle, I will make sure none of you live to see the light of day, okay?”

Jimin turns to Taehyung, who just happened to be beside him. “Not gonna lie, but I kinda jizzed in my pants just now. That was kinda hot.” Taehyung only nods in agreement.

An hour and thirty minutes later, Jungkook manages to get the last of his idiot friends home, leaving only him, Seokjin, and Jimin as they tiredly trudge up the steps to the apartment. It takes an additional twenty minutes for Seokjin to figure out where he’d left his keys, only for Jimin to raise his finger for them to wait as he hid behind some bushes while unbuckling his jeans. When he comes out of the bushes, pantless, he has a key raised with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Don’t ask where I keep this,” is all he says and Jungkook is glad that he had rejected Seokjin’s offer to permanently move in as their roommate.

They all stumble into the apartment, with Seokjin falling immediately onto the couch. He curls up into a little ball, snoring the moment his eyes shut. Jungkook wants to shake him awake, eager to interrogate him about what happened between you and him just a few hours ago at the club. Even if he wanted to wake him up, Jungkook is sure nothing can rouse the elder; this fact is confirmed when Jungkook dumps water on him, only for Seokjin to keep sleeping soundly like a baby.

“Well, hyung is dead. Guess it’s time for me to die too,” Jimin says sleepily, the horniness and insanity from the club already wearing off. He pats Jungkook gently on the head, pointing towards Seokjin’s room. “Sleep there. I’ll hand you an extra blanket because I wouldn’t trust that hyung’s sheets. Let’s sleep, yeah?”

Left with no other choice, Jungkook heads to Seokjin’s bedroom, jumping onto the unmade sheets and pretending not to notice the crusty unknown substance on the corner of the bed. He can’t fall asleep, not when he’s left haunted by the weight on his chest (and dick). Jungkook fiddles with his phone, staring wide-eyed at the name displayed tauntingly on his screen.

Y/N L/N.

He was gonna have a nightmare tonight, that’s for sure.

x x x x x

Jungkook wakes up early, much to his chagrin. He’d really like to stay dead to the world for much longer, but the smell of coffee brewing and bacon cooking is kind of a hard deal to pass up. Jungkook shifts in bed, cringing when he realizes he went to sleep in his jeans, and more importantly, that his pants felt a lot stickier than he remembered.

He lifts the blanket up, confirming his suspicions. “Fuck!”

Well, guess he didn’t have much of a nightmare last night after all.

He shucks off his clothes, disgusted by the mess he finds in his underwear. He hobbles over to Seokjin’s closet, cringing when he finds only one (1) clean pair of shorts left, which just so happened to have “PEE IS STORED IN THE BALLS” stamped on the back in cursive font. Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes.

Jungkook tiptoes out of the bedroom, confronted with the sight of Jimin pouring three mugs of coffee and Seokjin still slumped over the couch, a substantial amount of drool dripping down from the side of his mouth and forming a puddle on the floor. Jungkook takes a photo, saving it for later.

“Morning,” Jimin smiles from the kitchen, offering Jungkook one of the cups. Jungkook is certain that Jimin has no recollection of the events from last night, though such is Park Jimin’s way of life. He drinks to get fucked up, then he forgets, and then the cycle repeats itself anew. Jungkook wonders how Jimin always manages to wake up without a hangover, though God might have just given him a super liver in compensation for his lack of height.

“Hyung is still dead,” Jungkook states plainly, walking over to Seokjin and peering at him closely. Jungkook sticks a finger into his agape mouth, collects some of his spit, and then proceeds to give him the wettest willy of his life. Still no response.

“Let me try,” Jimin says, sauntering over to Seokjin with one of the cups of coffee. Jimin leans down, hums gently into his ear. “Hyung, wake up. We have coffee for you!”

Seokjin mumbles incomprehensibly in his sleep, snuggling deeper into the couch stuffing. Jimin tilts his head, still smiling. Then, he dumps the scalding cup of coffee all over Seokjin’s crotch.

In an instant, Seokjin screams with the pitch of a banshee, swinging his arms wildly about and nearly knocking himself out with his own fist. Jungkook and Jimin watch passively from the sidelines, waiting for the elder to finish fanning his nutsack before greeting him a pleasant morning.

“WHY ARE YOU BOTH LITERAL DEMONS?” Seokjin hollers, jumping to his feet with his scorched balls and all. Taking pity on him, Jungkook walks over to the fridge, tossing his hyung a bag of ice. And by toss, it’s more like he pitches the bag straight into his dick with the ease and speed of a seasoned baseball player, eliciting another round of pained howls.

“YOU––ASS––” Seokjin seethes, clutching the bag of ice to his nether regions. He sits down on the adjacent loveseat, expression contorting as he cups his balls gingerly. “God, it’s almost like you guys don’t think I deserve basic human decency.”

“That was just a small part of my revenge for you, after you gave my contact details to an insane woman,” Jungkook sneers, miming a punch onto Seokjin’s handsome face. Seokjin doesn’t even flinch, too busy staring at Jungkook’s legs.

“Hey, are you wearing my thot shorts?”

Jungkook looks down at the neon pink monstrosity around his hips. “You call these your thot shorts?”

Seokjin shrugs. “I got dicked down in them once. You should try.”

“Oh, did I hear something about revenge? I smell tea in here,” Jimin says, coming back from the kitchen with his own cup. “Well, I have coffee but same shit. What happened?”

“This––” Jungkook points an accusatory finger at Seokjin, “––asshole sent my location information to an insane stalker lady last night after he told her that I had a huge dick!”

Seokjin squints at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Y/N! She said you told her about how big my dick was and when she asked you where I was, you told her I was going to the club with you last night!”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on Seokjin’s face, which was quickly replaced by incredulity as he stares at Jungkook. “I assumed she asked for your contact details because she had a crush on you. I was just trying to get you some pussy, bro.”

“Yeah, Kook. Not gonna lie, but I’d be dicking down girls left and right if I had a dick as big as yours,” Jimin says, eyeing the bulge in his teeny tiny shorts with interest. “In fact, I’d probably be a top if I had a dick as big as yours.”

Seokjin laughs, nearly shooting out phlegm from the strength of it. “Oh god, don’t tell me. You couldn’t get your dick hard again? Don’t worry bro, if I had a dick as big as yours, it’d take ages for it to fill up too.”

Jungkook flushes, stomping his foot in embarrassment. “That! Wasn’t the problem! The problem is––”

“––that Jungkook nuts too quickly because he doesn’t have any practice,” Jimin tuts sadly, patting the younger with a pitiful expression. “Don’t worry, Kook. Hyung is open to giving you some pointers.”

“That’s not it either!” Jungkook screams, groaning in annoyance. “She came up to me because she offered to pay me $3000 to enter a dick-measuring contest!”

Jimin and Seokjin tilt their heads in tandem, still not getting it. “So?” they both chorus, giving him a blank-eyed stare.

“Are you guys out of your mind? I got bribed into showing my dick to some strangers like some kind of weird prostitute!”

“It’s not prostitution if you’re not engaging in sexual activity,” Jimin muses, taking a long sip from his coffee. He shrugs his shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t see how this is a problem. You show some girls your dick, and you get money. Dudes would kill to be in your position.”

“Oh my God, don’t tell me,” Seokjin leers at Jungkook, and the younger almost can’t stop himself from landing another blow against the elder’s abused crotch. “You got roped into some bukkake orgy and now you’re asking your hyungs to help you? Don’t worry, Jungoo… You came to the right people. You see, Jimin and I have some experience with––”

“LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Jungkook jams his fingers into his own ears, screaming hysterically to drown out the sounds of Seokjin and Jimin’s combined laughter. Jungkook pouts at them, glowering pathetically. “Seriously, hyungs! Do you not see how fucked up this is? Who follows a stranger to a club, pretends they’re going to give you a blowjob, only to offer 3K for you to show some strangers your dick?”

“A regular Friday night if you ask me,” Jimin says, shrugging once more. Jungkook stares at him, realizing that maybe it was the wrong idea being friends with these two lunatics in the first place. Knowing Jimin, he’d probably been in much more lewd and compromising situations than Jungkook will ever have. Rumor has it that Jimin had once done a keg stand while having his dick sucked while on vacation in Japan.

“Well, if you were really against it, then you could have just said no?” Seokjin points out, wagging a finger at him. “I know Y/N, and yeah she’s kind of demented, but she still knows that no means no. Surely, you haven’t considered the fact that you are 1) a pushover and 2) horny for her?”

“Well, yea––No, what––No!” Jungkook splutters, stammering wildly. His two hyungs grin salaciously, gazing at him knowingly. Jungkook can only groan, as he knows that they kind of have a point. He’s always been too weak for girls and money, so when you put those two things together…

“I might be addicted to the BBC tag on Pornhub, but you my friend… You’re in it for the BBCC,” Jimin snickers, patting Jungkook comfortingly on the back. Jungkook groans into his hands, slumping onto the loveseat beside Seokjin, whose icepack had long since melted and caused the seat to be uncomfortably damp.

“BBCC? I’m almost too afraid to ask.”

“Big black credit card,” Seokjin pipes up, wrapping his own arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. We all have been there.”

That’s the problem: somehow, Jungkook finds himself much too ready to accept his fate, eagerly awaiting when you’ll text him next.

x x x x x

After a much-needed shower at Jimin and Seokjin’s place, Jungkook tiredly makes his way to the nearby bus stop, ready to go home and sleep the entire weekend away. Screw his Biochemistry midterm on Monday––if he really is going to whore himself out to you, then he’s going to need all the self-care and therapy that he can get. His phone itches in the pocket of his shorts (yes, he’s still wearing the thot shorts), and he wonders if he should text his therapist and ask for an extra appointment later in the day.

Just as he’s about to pull out his phone, he senses it vibrate once, twice. He freezes in his steps, walking out of the way of busy pedestrians on the sidewalk and into a random clothing store. He sees the lone cashier staring at him from the corner of his eye, but he does not check if her gaze is filled with disgust or disgust. Probably disgust, he surmises.

Flicking his phone on, he sees two new messages from you and his heart immediately starts to hammer in his chest. No one has ever made Jungkook equal parts scared and excited, though he imagines you might have that effect on most people, what with how you look like the type to tie up unsuspecting victims to harvest their organs in your summer cottage up in the mountains or something. Or maybe that’s just Jungkook projecting.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey! sorry for taking so long to text you. my roommate tried to make cheesecake at 3am last night and i had to supervise in case he burned down the apartment.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ anyway, i was wondering if you were free later? some time after 5 maybe? let me know!

You already want to meet so soon. Jungkook exhales heavily through his nostrils, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself. Alright, this is fine. Jungkook is a big boy: he can handle going to a girl’s home without losing his mind. You didn’t say anything about this being the actual dick-measuring contest yet, so he can only assume this is just you asking for something else. Maybe to talk more? Maybe he’ll get a down payment for the prize money? Maybe you’ll follow through on your raincheck? God, is it wrong for him to have his dick plumping up in his shorts when you haven’t even done anything to him yet?

(On the contrary, you could say that you have done a lot for him over the past twenty four hours, though maybe not in the way most people would expect.)

from: jjk yeah i can meet you at 5. what’s this for?

from: y/n l/n ❣️ oh, nothing! i just wanted to talk to you about the actual competition and stuff. plus, i want to actually measure your dick, just so i can see how much you’re actually packing down there ;)

from: jjk ….yeah, fine. whatever.

(This really isn’t a “whatever” type of situation, but honestly, Jungkook doesn’t really know what to say anymore. He’s officially lost his singular brain wrinkle. He’s smooth brain McGee over here.)

You follow up by sharing your location with him, and he’s surprised to find that you aren’t that far away from where Jungkook was right now. He really did mean to go back to his apartment first and get changed into something more… morally acceptable, but since he hasn’t been arrested yet for public decency, he should be okay with going to your place in Seokjin’s thot shorts.

There’s something invigorating about going to your place, dressed the way he is… Maybe the shorts are somehow giving him brain hemorrhage by indirect association with Seokjin. Either that or Jungkook simply loves torturing himself by embarrassing himself constantly. Well, at least he showered and combed his hair before leaving his hyungs’ place.

He inputs your address into his phone map, taking his sweet time as he walks the short distance to your apartment. As he passes by the buildings and street corners, he can’t help but think that he might have been around this area before. He tries to rack his brain, forcing himself to remember why this route seems so familiar.

“Oh right. Yoongi-hyung’s new apartment should be around here,” he muses to himself. He wonders if his hyung had gotten home safely last night. He should probably text him to make sure, but he’s got a literal dick appointment to attend to first, so he’ll remember to check up on Yoongi once he finishes up with you.

Does that make him a shitty friend? Probably. But would Yoongi do the same if Jungkook was in his shoes? Probably.

Yeah, Jungkook and his group of friends aren’t exactly role models for a sensitive and loving relationship, though that’s not much of a surprise to anyone.

He arrives at a decent looking apartment complex, complete with its own little water fountain at the entrance. He walks through the automatic sliding doors, peers at the shiny caution tape barring him from using the elevator. He stares at your address on his phone, groaning loudly when he sees “1603” much to his annoyance.

“No wonder she had such great thighs,” Jungkook mutters angrily to himself, preparing himself for the long and arduous journey his glutes are going to endure.

Years later, Jungkook finds himself at your door, his lungs jumping out of his throat as he struggles to catch his breath. He hunches over, elbows digging into his thighs as he wipes the sweat trailing down his neck. He can see your door just near the end of the hall, but just as he’s about to crawl his way over––

“Oh. Oh my,” a familiar voice says from behind him, and Jungkook looks over his shoulder to see…

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook exclaims incredulously, mouth gaping at the sight of his thought-to-be-dead hyung coming out of the elevator. He splutters for a few more moments before pointing an accusing finger at Yoongi. “You used the elevator?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, turning to look at the elevator with a thoughtful look. “Oh right. The elevator works. The maintenance people just forgot to remove the safety tape from last week.” Yoongi looks back at Jungkook, gaze lowering to his legs. “I see that Seokjin has provided you with his thot shorts.”

Jungkook doesn’t even try to cover himself, used to his friends seeing him in varying degrees of undress. Like, what was Yoongi going to do? Take a photo of him and post it to his Twitter for his thousands of followers to see? He wasn’t that cruel...

Snap! Yoongi pockets his phone quickly, clearing his throat. “So,” Yoongi walks up closer to him, peering at Jungkook curiously. “What brings you to my apartment? Not that I’m happy to see you, but I assumed you and the rest of our idiotic gang would have died of alcohol poisoning the night before.”

“...It’s a long story,” Jungkook says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Say... Where did you go last night, by the way? I tried to look for you, but Seokjin said your roommate brought you home?”

“Yeah. She went to the club with a bunch of her friends. She offered me a ride with her because she knew how much I hated it there,” Yoongi says, frowning. “Fuck you, by the way.”

“What the fuck? What the hell did I do?”

“I don’t know. You’re wearing Seokjin’s shorts and my ape brain told me to retaliate out of instinct,” he explains. He takes another long, good glance at his shorts. “Color me surprised that they fit you, by the way. I’d assume your huge ass would be making it rip the seams, or perhaps your dick would be saying hello.”

Jungkook pats his junk proudly. “I know, right? Big guy decided to cooperate, for some reason.”

“Will you guys stop yapping it up out in the hall? I’m pretty sure Mrs. Sy can hear you two idiots from the first floor,” a voice from behind Jungkook hisses, causing the two boys to jump up in surprise. Lo and behold, your head is peeking out from behind your door, a perfectly stenciled eyebrow arched in annoyance. “Well? Are you two coming in or what?” You return back to your apartment, assuming that they’d soon follow.

Yoongi looks at Jungkook. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Jungkook looks at Yoongi. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Yoongi squints his eyes. “She’s my roommate. She’s a mutual friend of––”

“––Seokjin,” Jungkook finishes. The two of them pause, a metaphorical light bulb glowing above their heads.

“Ah.”

“I see. The demoness has roped you into some hare-brained scheme, hasn’t she?” Yoongi nods sagely, rubbing his beardless chin. “Can’t say I feel sorry for you since I have to live with the wench.”

Jungkook grimaces. “Man. She’s insane around you too?”

Yoongi shrugs, walking over to your shared apartment. “I’m dating Seokjin, remember? Everyday, I suffer. Everyday, I feel my arm.”

When Jungkook steps into your apartment, he can’t help but be a little surprised. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected to see a medieval torture chamber in the middle of a metropolitan city, but he wouldn’t put it past you to somehow make it happen. Instead, he finds a fairly cozy-looking home, with comfy couches and filled bookshelves, complete with a small balcony that had a few fresh herbs growing in little pots. It looks…

“Yoongi-hyung. You definitely decorated, didn’t you?” Jungkook snorts, fingering the little kitty-patterned throw blanket draped on your couch. It’s soft and expensive, and definitely something only Yoongi would buy. The elder doesn’t even bother looking embarrassed; he just throws Jungkook the middle finger as he walks towards the kitchen.

You come out once more from one of the connecting rooms at the other end of the apartment, presumably your bedroom. You motion for Jungkook to come in. “Yoongi, you’re gonna bake all day, right? Mind if you let Jungkook and I speak alone in my room?”

Yoongi waves his hand disinterestedly. “Whatever. If you guys are gonna be freaky in there, I’m gonna start playing clown music to drown you guys out, alright? And I mean the remix versions with the extra clown honks.”

You roll your eyes. “Yea, yea. We get it. Grandpa needs his special time alone too.”

Jungkook’s heart jumps when you don’t even bother correcting him. Does that mean you guys really were going to do something freaky? Hopefully, Yoongi has learned to differentiate screams of terror from screams of pleasure, though it’s hard to tell if he’d care otherwise.

He follows you into your room and immediately notices the perfectly made bed and the neatly organized desk. Your curtains are drawn close, but the sheerness of it allows the mid-afternoon sun to brighten the room regardless. Your bedroom smells faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and he notices the small scented candle still smoking from when you’d put it out.

Nothing in the room indicates that he was inside the room of a psychopath, though maybe Namjoon or Taehyung would argue that anyone who makes their bed every day might be a little out of it. Jungkook continues to stand awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next except to stare.

You plop onto your bed, giving him an expectant look. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there by the door and have Yoongi see us measure your dick or what?” That gets Jungkook to move. He closes the door, pausing for a second before locking it for good measure. Then, he takes the short two steps that he needs to stand right in front of you.

You crane your neck, appraising him silently as he fidgets from the weirdness of it all. Your gaze trails down and Jungkook is not surprised when you stop to stare at his neon pink shorts. You snort, thumbing the edge of his shorts lightly. Jungkook shivers even though you’re barely touching him and he knows that you notice.

“Trying to get back at me for leaving you with blue balls yesterday?” you muse, letting go of the thin material. Jungkook wants to bring your hand back to his thigh, but he forces himself to keep still.

He looks down. “Not really? But I mean… Is it working?” He can’t help the hopeful lilt in his voice.

You laugh, patting him lightly on the thigh. “No worries, Jungkook. I did promise you a little something last night, right? I admit it was shitty of me to leave you like that, despite what you already might think of me. You probably think I’m just some insane bitch, right?”

Jungkook stares at you. “Do you want me to be honest or...?”

You roll your eyes, but you seem more amused than anything. “Save it. I know I’m weird. But, a promise is a promise…” You trail off, winking at him. “Besides, this works out for the both of us, right? I wanted to measure your dick before we meet up with Taeyong and Doyoung tomorrow, and I can help you blow your rocks right after. Seems like a deal?”

“Is it bad that I’m so ready to have you suck me off that I’m honest to God accepting your offer without any sense of dignity?”

You consider him for a moment. Then, “Nah. I know dudes who would do worse things for three grand and to have their dick sucked. I’d say you’re just doing you.” You place your hands back on his hips, thumbing around the garter of his shorts.

Jungkook groans, not even flinching when you rip his shorts and boxers off in one rough flourish. His soft dick dangles heavily between his thighs. “See, I’m not entirely comforted knowing that you agree with my moral dilemma.”

You clap your hands together, excitement glittering in your expression. “Who cares! Let’s get you all hard and ready, shall we?”

Jungkook squirms under your gaze, getting dick stage fright. “H-hey… This isn’t like porn… I can’t just get hard when I want to, you know? I need… stimulation or some shit.”

You nod, humming thoughtfully. “You’re right… And I remember you said something about taking a long time to get fully hard, right? That’s gonna be a problem indeed.” You lean forward, “So. Tell me, Jungkook. What are your kinks?”

If Jungkook was drinking water, he’s sure he’d be doing a spit take right now. Instead, he just chokes on his own saliva, coughing out his lungs at your sudden inquiry. “M-my kinks? What for?”

“To get you hard, duh.” You leave featherlight grazes around his thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It stirs something inside Jungkook, but not enough to do anything yet. You tsk, your brow crumpling as you decide what to do next. “What if I…”

You dig your nails into the meat of his thighs and inadvertently pull him closer. He stumbles forward, his breath knocked out of him despite how little you’d done so far. “W-wait,” he wheezes, shock running down his spine. “I––”

You smirk at him, digging harder until you’re sure to leave white little crescents littered around his thigh. “Aha. I guessed you’d be into that. You liked it when I bit you yesterday, didn’t you?”

Jungkook can’t even answer. He’s trying to keep his breathing steady, squeezing his eyelids shut. He hears you shuffling in front of him, and he soon senses your body press closer to him, alerting him that you have stood up. You wrap your arms around his neck, bending his head down until he can feel your breath fan across his lips.

Are you going to kiss him? But the contact doesn’t come; instead, your hands snake up to his hair, massaging his scalp for a moment before tugging on his roots harshly. It pulls a whine from his lips, the response surprising even himself. “S-shit,” he grits his teeth, urging you to do it again. He opens his eyes slightly, sees you watching him with rapt attention.

You lick your lips, looking at him like a meal ready to be eaten. The heat in his stomach builds, but Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. He doesn’t really have any more room in his brain anymore other than his unabashedly horny thoughts.

“Pain slut, huh? Somehow, it suits you.” You sound breathy, as if you were the one being pleasured instead. It makes Jungkook’s cock twitch a little, coming to life in front of you as you continue to assault his nerves.

“Do you like pain everywhere?” Your hands leave his head, coming down to the edge of his shirt. It’s a silent request, and Jungkook allows you to lift up his sweater, leaving him completely bare before you. You throw it somewhere to your right, eyes raking him up and down. Something about you still being fully clothed makes Jungkook’s inside light on fire, and it rushes blood down south before he can even understand why.

You chuckle, looking at his hardened nipples with interest. “Pierced? What a naughty boy you are.” You flick him there experimentally, and when Jungkook’s breath hitches, that gives you a go sign to do more. You fiddle around with the rosy bud some more, circling it with the pads of your fingers until Jungkook was a whining mess before you. “Sensitive… What a prize you are, Jungkook.”

Jungkook keens at the praise, even though he knows you didn’t really mean it in a good way. He finds himself wanting to please you: to get himself hard for you, to make you want him like how he wants you. He honestly can’t tell if you’re enjoying this as much as him, other than the way you’re watching him closely like a hawk.

He’s nearly half-hard, his cock jutting against your stomach. You peer down, figuring out your next move as he holds his breath, afraid he might do something wrong. Your fingers move once more, tracing shapes across his stomach and causing the muscles there to contract. He anticipates your next movements, his dick steadily throbbing.

“I suppose the easiest way to get you hard is to touch you here, right?” you murmur lowly. You grip him by the hips all of a sudden, your thumbs placed firmly into his Adonis’ belt. You inch closer and closer to where he wants you the most, and you watch him amusedly as he clamps down on his bottom lip, unwilling to sound desperate so early in the game.

(Was it early though? He’s been thinking about this exact scenario since last night, even plaguing his dreams. Still, it wouldn’t look cool if he just… busted a nut just from having his dick out. Even he knew that was kinda sad.)

Despite his best efforts, perhaps the desperation is apparent on his face because you eventually do take pity on him. You wrap your fingers around his length, not moving just yet. You smile secretly to yourself when you hear Jungkook exhale and swallow audibly, but you’re waiting for something. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently as if you didn’t have his dick in your hands.

“What do good boys say when they want something?” You’re fishing, but your teasing tone breaks Jungkook down enough to release a ragged moan. He places his hands on your shoulder, using you for support as you slowly inch your hand down to the base of his cock.

He can’t keep the whine out of his voice when he says, “P...Please. Move?”

Your grin is wicked. “Of course, baby.”

Yeah, if you keep this up, Jungkook is going to come embarrassingly fast and he doesn’t think you’ll be quite pleased with that.

There is pre-cum leaking at the tip of his cock, dangerously close to pooling over and dripping all over your carpet. You are quick to swipe it off with your thumb, dragging it down his shaft for an easier slide. Jungkook’s abs tense, his teeth clamping on his bottom lip so aggressively that he almost splits it open. His grip on your shoulders tighten, but you don’t mind. You keep stroking him languidly, not going fast enough for Jungkook’s liking, but the concentration on your face is enough to make Jungkook release a stilted moan. It doesn’t take long until the wet squelch of your hand jerking him fills the room, coupled with the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing.

“You’re really wet,” you chuckle, watching with fascination as your words urge another drop of pre-cum to collect at his tip. “Are you always like this?”

“N-not… Really?” It takes a while for Jungkook’s brain to connect, caught between wanting to keep his eyes shut and wanting to stare at your cute hands trying to wrap around his dick. Your fingers can’t even circle the girth of his cock, the realization almost making Jungkook come there and then.

He’d never been one to be overly confident about his penis size, to be honest. He doesn’t really go around proclaiming it to the world, and his meager body count doesn’t help the fact that most people are unaware of the extent of his package. He isn’t itching to tell people either, but he’s starting to see why people would be envious of having a large dick. The sight of you struggling to pump his cock really makes for a pretty picture.

“Ugh, my arm is getting tired,” you complain after a while, getting frustrated when you realize that Jungkook is almost fully hard, but not quite. “Jeez. Your dick is so huge that it really takes a minute for the fuel tank to fill up, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Jungkook wheezes, nearly crying out when you flick your wrist in just the right manner. Your hand pauses by the head of his dick, squeezing tightly enough not to be painful, much to his disappointment. Jungkook is still too shy to ask for more.

You let go of him all of a sudden, causing a guttural whine to escape Jungkook’s lips. Ignoring him, you nudge him back a few steps, Jungkook complying wordlessly. He’s still confused until you reach over to your bed, grabbing one of your pillows before dropping to your knees. Jungkook’s jaw drops, spluttering incomprehensibly as you cushion your knees with the pillow.

You look up, giggling amusedly. “Reminds you of last night, huh? Not gonna lie, I’ve been itching to have your cock in my mouth, though I’m not even sure if any of it can fit. That’s not gonna stop me from trying.”

Oh God. Oh Geez. Jungkook is going to die, isn’t he? He vaguely remembers his dream from the night before, how your pretty pink lips had stretched over his dick, barely going past his head. He whines pathetically, another string of pre-cum finally dripping down and landing on your thighs.

You hold him by his hips, preventing him from moving as your hot breath fans across his wet head. You lick your lips, taking one glance up at him before giving his tip a quick peck. It’s nothing to write home about, but the way Jungkook’s breath catches is enough to encourage you to do more. You suckle his head a little, suctioning your lips and moaning slightly at the bitter tang. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling nondescript patterns as you greedily engrave his taste into your mind.

The image of you enjoying yourself is enough to get Jungkook fully hard. He feels like he’s on fire, from his flushed cheeks all the way to his groin. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, unsure if you’d allow him to pull on your hair.

You must have noticed his plight, because one of your hands leaves his hips to grasp his own, bringing it to your hair. You pop off his dick for a second, lips already redder than before. Jungkook wishes he could kiss you, but he’s still so unsure. “You can pull my hair, but if you push me down further than I’m willing to go, I’m stopping immediately, okay?” Your voice is authoritative and your gaze is steely, but it only prompts Jungkook to moan in reply.

He nods, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly his head bobs. You smirk, appeased by his obedience. You return to your ministrations, rewarding him by going further down and bobbing your head at a snail’s pace.

Jungkook’s sanity is barely hanging onto a thread. He wants to thrust into your wet mouth, never having felt this sort of pleasure in his life. He’s beginning to understand why Jimin is such a slut, and he wonders why on earth he’s been denying himself things like this. His eyes are half-lidded, but he’s determined to watch you as your masterful tongue brings him to the edge of hysteria.

When Jungkook doesn’t think your mouth can go further down, you surprise him once again. You go lower, and Jungkook feels your throat swallow around him until he nearly screams. Drool pools in the inside of his mouth, as if Jungkook’s body doesn’t know what to do with the pleasure. His legs nearly give out, but your hands keep him mounted.

His toes are curling, thighs trembling. “Fuck,” he whines, unable to stop himself when he thrusts a little into your mouth. “Shit, I didn’t mean to–”

You glance up at him. Your eyes are tearing up, but otherwise you look unperturbed. You flatten your tongue on the underside of his dick, tracing the vein there as you slowly come up for air. You swallow the mix of saliva and pre-cum in your mouth, licking your lips like you’ve just had a 5-star meal. You look absolutely debauched, though Jungkook knows he’s probably not doing much better.

“No gag reflex. It’s fine,” you shrug, as if you’d just told him about the weather. Your voice sounds hoarse, roughened by the assault of his dick on your throat. “Are you close?”

Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, but– “Yes,” he says. He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon, sweat dripping down his neck. You observe it drip down his body, as it curves down his neck and to his chest.

“You aren’t coming until I say so, got it?” You warn. He nods, cock twitching in desperation for your mouth to continue what it was doing.

But instead, you reach back to your bed, and Jungkook finally notices the tape measure that you’d left there. Oh right. Jungkook is brought back to reality, suddenly remembering why he’d gone here in the first place.

“This will only take a second, baby,” you whisper lowly, and Jungkook’s conscience is shot out of his head once more. Call him baby one more time, and Jungkook is sure to bust his load. He’s worried he might gain a Pavlovian response to the word; getting hard every time someone so much as utters “baby” for whatever reason.

You unravel the measuring tape, placing the end of it near the base of his member. You drag it over his length, whistling in awe as the number keeps growing and growing. “Shit, you really are huge,” you gasp in amazement, peering closely at the measurement to make sure you aren’t reading it wrong. “Nearly nine inches. Are you insane?”

Jungkook chuckles in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… nothing?”

You snort, shaking your head at the pure audacity of this boy in front of you. “No need to humblebrag, baby. Unless you want me to degrade you, then stop being coy with me.”

At the word “degrade,” Jungkook’s erection twitches with interest. Of course, you notice. “Oh? You want me to degrade you?”

Jungkook’s face heats up, forever astonished by your brazenness. “N-no! That’s not what I–”

“You want me to call your cock pathetic, huh? Is that what you want?”

Jungkook whines, shifting from foot to foot as he tries to avoid your lustful gaze. “I…”

“Want me to call you names, huh? Took your cock so long to get hard, struggled so much to get it up. What a useless dick that you have…” you trail off, covering your mouth behind your hand to hide your grin.

Jungkook feels like he’s about to fall over. The pressure in between his legs is reaching his breaking point, and Jungkook really doesn’t want to embarrass himself by coming untouched. He has a sinking suspicion you’d enjoy it if he did, however.

Your hand slides back to his crotch, cupping his erection once more. You run your palm along him once, enjoying the way his breath hitches. He’s undeniably close and it fills you with pride knowing that you did this to him. “You’re close.” You say it like a fact.

Jungkook squirms. “Please… Faster… I’m so close, Y/N. Just a lil bit more, please…”

“I love it when you beg,” you laugh, sounding a little mean. “But since you’ve been nice all this time, I’ll let you.”

Your hands speed up, twisting and pulling him in ways that Jungkook isn’t sure are possible. He’s full-on panting like a fucking dog right now, humping shallowly into your hand like he’s lost his mind. He’s so unbelievably close, the heat in his stomach climbing higher and higher until––

“SHIT! Y/N!”

You stop, confused. That shout didn’t sound like Jungkook. You turn to your closed door, ears straining for the sound again. “Yoongi?” you call out. “Did you say something?”

Muffled footsteps come rushing closer. Your doorknob jiggles, but Jungkook had thankfully locked it when he’d come into the room earlier. Yoongi huffs from behind the door, banging loudly on the frame. “Y/N! Help! I fucking dropped the cheesecake!”

“He dropped the cheesecake,” you repeat dully to yourself. You share a look with Jungkook. The banging doesn’t stop.

“Y/N PLEASEEE THE KITCHEN IS A MESS!” Yoongi screams, uncaring of whatever he was interrupting. “YOU OWE ME! I PAID FOR YOUR RENT LAST MONTH SO YOU GOTTA HELP!”

“I hate that bastard,” you sigh, defeated. You let go of Jungkook reluctantly, giving him an apologetic look. Jungkook wants to cry. “I’m… really sorry for leaving you again like this. I…” you hesitate, looking at the door then back to him. “I do kind of owe him, so…”

Jungkook exhales shakily, bending down to the floor to pick his shirt up. He dresses quietly, cheeks burning. Why must you keep torturing him like this? He thinks his balls might explode at this point. “It’s no problem… I’ll just take care of myself at home.”

You peer at him, feeling incredibly guilty. “I have a connecting bathroom. You could use it if you want?”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Jungkook says before hurriedly rushing out of there. He refuses to look at you as he slams the bathroom door shut, breathing slowly through his nostrils in an attempt to calm himself. He waits as he listens for you to leave before his hands scramble back onto his dick, loudly crying out as he tugs himself to completion.

His legs give out from under him as he slides down to the floor, spurts of hot cum flying past his fist. Wave after wave of pleasure tingles down his spine as he slides up and down his cock. After his dick shoots its last droplet of cum, Jungkook slams his head against your bathroom wall. He’s exhausted.

He closes his eyes, thinks about how his life has led him up to this moment. Jizzing in some near stranger’s home while one of his best friends cleans up his fallen cheesecake.

“Jesus fucking Christ I hate it here,” he says. He gets up unsteadily, washing his hands of his mess.

x x x x x

Fully dressed and unsatisfyingly sated, Jungkook exits your bathroom with a flush down his neck. He keeps his eyes averted from you, but not before glaring heatedly at Yoongi as he turns to leave. Yoongi cocks his head to the side, annoyingly unaware of what he had done.

“You okay, dude? You look like a bull ready to pummel me,” Yoongi snickers, bemused by Jungkook’s flared nostrils. “Seriously. You okay?”

You slap Yoongi on the thigh, huffing angrily as you stay squatted on the floor, your other hand busy wiping off the cheesecake from the floor with a paper towel. “Shut up. You’ve done enough shitheadery today.”

Yoongi looks at the mounted clock on your fridge. “It’s only 7PM. My shitheadery doesn’t clock out until 10PM today.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook waves his goodbye. “Well. I guess I’ll see you guys,” he murmurs, inching closer to the door. He walks out in silence, no longer bothering to hide his pouting. He takes the elevator down, ruminating on his existence. When he reaches the ground floor, his phone immediately dings with a notification.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey. please don’t hate me. i’m really sorry. raincheck?

Jungkook snorts, stopping in his tracks. It’s always just rainchecks with you. He types up a quick response.

from: jjk it’s not your fault. it’s fine.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ you sure? you got off well by yourself at least, right?

from: jjk yeah. don’t worry about it.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ if you’re down… i could help you through the phone? when you get home? :( i just feel really bad. like, genuinely. yoongi is an asshole.

The offer sounds interesting, but sadly, Jungkook is out of juice for the day. He’s got a lot of stamina for many things, but it turns out he’s out of practice when it comes to his own dick.

from: jjk nah it’s fine. thanks though.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ i hope you’re still down for the contest? doyoung texted me while we were busy a while ago and said that they were free tomorrow after 12?

from: jjk no worries. i’ll be there.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ <3 ty you’re the best!! <3

He groans, slapping himself in the face. God, he is so fucking whipped.

x x x x x

The next day, Jungkook wakes up with a burning headache. He feels hungover even though he didn’t drink at all the night before, and Jungkook wonders if his brain had somehow deflated overnight with how hollow he feels. He grabs his phone from his bed stand, sees a new text from you reminding him of what he’d promised.

You had sent him an address to another apartment complex just a few bus stops away from where he lives and he assumes this must be either Doyoung’s or Taeyong’s place. He shuts his eyes for another few moments, trying his best to remember how to live.

It’s already nearing noon, so he needs to get going if he doesn’t want to be late. He shudders to think what you might do if he ghosts you. Despite how guilty you were yesterday for leaving him mid-nut, he doesn’t think that debt will cover him if he chooses not to show up to the dick-measuring contest.

On the bus, he fidgets in his seat, picking at the rips in his jeans and doing anything to keep his mind busy. He keeps thinking that someone knows what he’s up to, paranoia eating him from the inside out as he darts his eyes left and right, hoping no one can actually read minds. The bus is relatively empty, with only him and an elderly couple sitting near the front. They seem none the wiser, though Jungkook fears what they would think if they knew what he was up to.

He almost wishes he was wearing Seokjin’s thot shorts, as the skimpy excuse of clothing had somehow given him some sort of confidence the day before. Gone is that false sense of (misplaced) bravado; instead, Jungkook is filled with anxiety at the prospect of showing a couple of strangers his dick.

(A fairly human response, but that doesn’t help Jungkook’s current case.)

He arrives at the apartment complex in record time, and he sees you standing by the entrance. You look well-rested, your hands fiddling with your phone. Jungkook has only ever seen you when you were wearing that revealing dress from the club and your pajamas from your home, so he’s kind of shocked to see you look cute in your simple white dress and jean jacket. Not that you didn’t look good those other times, but seeing you look like a normal university student is astonishing, for lack of better word.

You almost look like a regular girl just waiting for her date to pick her up.

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily when you see him approach, waving at him. He waves back, the apples of his cheeks dusted pink from his previous thoughts. She’s not your date, you weirdo. Wait, she’s the weirdo. Get it together man! This shit is fucked up.

“This is their place, I assume?” Jungkook asks, looking at the building. It appears almost identical to your own apartment complex, minus the mini water fountain at the front. Ah, the wonders of living in a concrete jungle.

“Yep,” you nod. You start walking towards the entrance, with Jungkook following closely. “You ready? God, I can’t wait to see Doyoung’s stupid face. He’s gonna be so pissed!”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jungkook mutters, vibrating with nerves.

You both make your way to the apartment, with you humming quietly while he sweats profusely beside you. At least one of you is having fun, he thinks grimly to himself. You reach apartment 322, knocking three times before a boy with neat black hair opens the door.

“Y/N! Good to see you,” the boy says, reaching for a hug. You hug him back enthusiastically, ignoring Jungkook’s bemused stares. If this boy is either Doyoung or Taeyong, aren’t you supposed to… hate both of their guts? Or at least, not be friends? What even is going on?

When you step back, you point at Jungkook offhandedly. “Oh yeah, this is Jungkook. The guy I’m dating.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his own spit, but luckily the boy doesn’t notice. Right… You guys are supposed to be dating. It’s not real, though. Get a grip! “Hi, I’m Jungkook,” he wheezes, shaking the other guy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“I’m Doyoung,” he introduces himself, a small smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you too. I’ve heard… a lot about you, so to speak.”

Jungkook squeaks, earning a chuckle from Doyoung. “No need to be embarrassed. I think we’re way past that point now. Sorry for roping you into this, by the way. But when Y/N wants to fight, well… Let’s just say I’m not going to be the first one who backs down.”

“Says the dude who couldn’t even beat me at arm wrestling,” you snort, pushing past Doyoung and walking into his home. Doyoung rolls his eyes, gesturing for Jungkook to come in.

“Props to you for dating her, by the way. I’ve been friends with that demon since elementary school, so I know what she’s like. You must be a guy with strong willpower,” Doyoung says.

“I’m… Sorry for saying this, but I’m kind of confused? I didn’t know you guys were friends,” Jungkook says, examining Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a lot bigger than yours, though he does recall you saying that Doyoung was filthy rich. It’s a lot more modern looking for sure, as Jungkook can see that Doyoung has two industrial-sized refrigerators in his kitchen. What kind of university student needs two industrial-sized refrigerators?

“Yeah, we are. She actually only dated Taeyong because she knew we both liked each other but I was too stubborn to make a move, so she did the only thing she knew how to do: be an asshole,” he explains simply. Jungkook nods, needing no further clarification.

“Jungkook! Come with me,” you pop out from one of the doorways deeper in the apartment, beckoning him closer. You point at Doyoung, “And you. Get Taeyong ready. I’m gonna need a few minutes to get Jungkook in tip-top shape!”

Doyoung chuckles, shoving Jungkook towards you. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll introduce you to Taeyong later, I guess. He’s in my bedroom, so we’ll come out in about 20 minutes? That should be enough time, right?”

Yeah. Right. Jungkook walks numbly towards you, arms rigged by his sides as you pull him into Doyoung’s spare bathroom. You lock the door close, whirling around to face him with your hands on your hips. You’ve rolled your sleeves up, appearing like a demented surgeon preparing to dissect him. “Well! Strip!”

Jungkook is clumsy when he unbuttons his jeans, his entire body feeling like it’s being weighed down by pounds of lead. He shucks them off, leaving him in his boxers (thankfully, with no holes in them. He made sure to double-check before he left this morning.) You appraise him silently, thinking of what to do next.

Before Jungkook can say anything, your hands are already on his chest, pointer fingers placed near his nipples. His piercings are visible through his thin shirt, much to your appreciation. You circle them lazily, much like how you did yesterday.

Jungkook can’t relax long enough to enjoy it, however. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched behind his back. He’s trying to stop thinking about what’s going to happen, trying to enjoy your touch. He grits his teeth, swallowing thickly.

“I… I can’t do this, Y/N.” he mumbles. “I don’t think I can get hard. I’m too nervous.”

You pause in your movements. “You’re nervous?” you purr, voice lowering. Jungkook stops fidgeting to stare at you, sensing the shift in your demeanor. “How can I alleviate that, hmm?”

“What?”

You pinch his nipples, hard. He gasps, whimpering right after from the jolt of pain. “I think I know how to calm you down,” you murmur, staring him down like he’s nothing more than a delicious snack.

“You want me to hurt you, huh? Is that it? Answer me, slut.” You say those words, but there’s a small bit of hesitation in your expression, like you’re worried if he truly likes it. When he nods enthusiastically, urging you to go on, you smile softly at him. His heart hammers in his chest, a small case of butterflies beginning to erupt there. You look kinda cute, even if you have his nipples in a twist.

“If it’s too much, just say ��dumbo’ and I’ll stop, okay?” Jungkook nods once more, eager to get going.

You smirk, letting go of his nipples and gripping his hips instead. Your thumbs stay innocently above his boxers. “Do you like it when I call you names too, huh? You like being pinched and prodded?”

Jungkook whines, already turning needy. The anxiety from a while ago slowly drains away, leaving only lust to cloud his mind. “N-no, I just…”

“No?” You laugh, your thumbs catching on the garter of his boxers and pulling them down until the tip of his cock peeks out, already in the midst of getting hard. “Then what’s this?”

“Nggh…” Jungkook can’t say anything, can only stare helplessly at you.

“Pathetic. You have a nine-inch cock but it’s good for nothing except earning me a bit of money. Shame, isn’t it? Would be nice if you knew how to use it, then maybe I’d let you fuck me,” you say, edging closer to him until your lips find his exposed collarbones. You suck harshly, giddy when color immediately blooms at the spot. You thread your fingers into his dark, fluffy hair – and tug.

It’s too much all at once – Jungkook isn’t ready for any of it at all. He’s panting, whining, drooling a little. He shimmies his hips a little, his boxers sliding down his thighs and onto the marble floor. His cock springs free, already dripping pre-cum but still only half-hard.

“Ah, there it is. Your big useless cock. My, my… Already dirtying Doyoungie’s floor with your slick, huh? You gonna make the floor wet, baby?”

Jungkook garbles something; did he say something? Who knows. All he knows right now is that 1) you’re making him lose his marbles and 2) he’s embarrassingly close. He’s never gotten this hard so fast in his entire life, and he might be suffering from blood loss or something. His head feels light, like he’s floating. His entire body is thrumming, senses filled with nothing but you.

You gently lead him closer to the bathtub where you sit, still paying no attention to his weeping arousal. Your mouth is dangerously close to it though, but you make no move to hold him in your mouth. Instead, you hike your skirt up until it reaches your waist, revealing your white panties. Jungkook zeroes in on the darkening patch, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs. He’s screwed.

“Show me how you pleasured yourself yesterday, when you were in my bathroom,” you say, caressing the front of your panties. You grind against your palm, eyelashes fluttering as your jaw drops into an ‘o’. You exhale through your nose, laughing breathily. “If you do well, then maybe I’ll show you what I did when you left, hmm?”

Jungkook has never moved faster in his life than he did then. He takes his erection into his hands, sighing with relief when he begins to pump. He moves slower than he usually would, unwilling to finish so soon after getting this far. He’s already wound up from your teasing (and if you count the past few days, then let’s say he’s been edged long enough.)

You study him with sharp eyes, focusing on the movement of his hands. “That’s it. It must be easy jerking off with how wet you are, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook speeds up, flicking his wrist and focusing on the sensitive tip of his cock. His attention is pulled when he sees you shift from the corner of his eye. His grip stutters when you push your panties to the side, giving him a full view of your glistening core. He licks his lips, aching to put his mouth there but only if you’d allow him.

“Why’d you stop?” You stretch your leg out, using your foot to urge his wrist to keep moving. “Come on. I want to see you.”

You circle your clit leisurely before dipping your fingers into your pussy two fingers at a time, wet enough for the slide to be smooth. Jungkook quickens his pace, wanting to match your speed. He watches, mesmerized, at the sight of your fingers pushing in and out.

The obscene sounds coming from the both of you is loud enough to mask Jungkook’s desperate mewls. He’s going faster now, wanting nothing more than to cum all over you and your pussy. You’d look good in his cum, the pearly droplets would look good in contrast with your perfect skin.

Your thighs are shaking, your own breathing shallow as you quickly approach your end. You’re moaning in tandem with him, your arousal coating your fingers generously as it begins to run down the back of your hand. You’re scissoring yourself, but it’s barely enough when you compare it to Jungkook’s cock. No, nothing would be enough to prepare you to take him. He’d ruin you, and the thought of him breaking you is enough to help you tip over the edge.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan, eyes screwing shut as you are wrought with the strongest orgasm of your life. More wetness drips out of you as you rub frantically at your clit, riding your high. You look at Jungkook through your eyelashes, lips parted. “Fuck,” you repeat.

Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. He knows he shouldn’t cum but the pleasure is skyrocketing at an unparalleled speed. His balls tighten, the heat in his abdomen building until he can’t hold back even if he tried. He shudders once, twice, before jets of his cum spills from over his fist, some of the droplets making their way onto your thighs. He moans at the sight, doesn’t try to change his trajectory as his mind is completely hazed with lust. “Shit, I’m–” Jungkook grinds one last time into his hand, before promptly slumping down onto the floor.

“Jesus, that was a lot of cum,” he hears you say, but he can’t bring himself to look at you. He’s ashamed, having cummed without your permission. He can feel his dick softening underneath him, and he dimly remembers that hadn’t been the plan at all. He was supposed to get hard, have his dick measured, and then finish if he was allowed. And now, he ruined everything because he couldn’t hold himself back.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, hiding behind his cum-stained hands. He cringes when the mess enters his eyes, wiping his palm somewhere on his leg. “Fuck. I messed everything up. You were just… It was too much… You…”

“Should’ve used your safety word, Jungkook.”

“It wasn’t because it was bad,” Jungkook’s cheeks flush, “It was… too good.”

You kneel beside him, cradling his chin and forcing him to look at you. He had been afraid to see disappointment in your eyes, so he’s absolutely surprised to see you look… amused. You’re even giggling a little.

“Sorry. I went a bit overboard. Even I get horny sometimes,” you shrug, wiping a bit of cum away from his forehead. Your own fingers are slick with your own cum, so really, you were just making a bigger mess of his face. Jungkook can’t say he’s opposed to a little mess. “You just looked so good that I couldn’t help myself.”

“You… enjoyed yourself, too? I’m not insane for thinking there’s something between us?”

“Honestly, you’re at least a little bit insane,” you laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “What? I’m cuckoo, and you know it. The fact that you got turned on by me even after all I’d done to you… Really puts you into perspective, huh?”

Jungkook grumbles, but he’s no longer frowning. “I guess. My friends tell me I have a type, and I guess you fit the bill.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that, and it brings a smile to Jungkook’s face. He likes it when you laugh, he decides. “Same here. I guess you’re my type, too.”

You peer down at his flaccid dick. “Too bad about your meat flute, though. Unless you can get it back up in the next 2 minutes, then I don’t think you’re getting that three grand.”

“Please don’t call my dick that,” Jungkook says before shrugging his shoulders. “And it’s no worries. I had the biggest nut of my life and that’s good enough to me. Plus, you said you’d give me one thousand dollars if I agreed to help you out, so you better not back out on that.”

You snigger, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Yeah, whatever. But not before we get out of here and you fuck my brains out, got it? You need to work for it, baby.”

Is it bad that his cock was already beginning to stir once more? Unprecedented, as it usually took Jungkook ages to get back up. Maybe you really were the one for him.

“Deal. Let’s get out of here?”

When the two of you finish getting cleaned up and leave the bathroom with no evidence that you had even been there, Doyoung doesn’t even bat an eye as you walk past him, eager to get out of the door. Taeyong is lounging on the couch with his dick… mysteriously still in his pants, as if he had no intention of taking them off in the first place.

“Sorry, we need to leave. There’s an emergency we have to attend to. See you, Doyoungie!” You tug Jungkook along, who waves his own hasty goodbye.

The door clicks shut, leaving the couple alone once more. Taeyong grins up at Doyoung, “You really are amazing, Doyoung. How’d you know she’d end up with him?”

Doyoung flicks open his phone, showing Taeyong his text messages with none other than Kim Seokjin himself. “All according to keikaku, my love. Kim Seokjin always wins.”

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #btsghostie #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts jungkook #bangtan #bts fanfic #no more smut for 2020......... NO MORE #next fic is angst idc anymore I NEED TO CLEANSE MYSELF AHHHHHH

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chasingpj · 4 years ago

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𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐳𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬

"I might spread a rumor about you and Percy rendezvousing at midnight. The Aphrodite cabin will have a hoot with that one."

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 4,931

warnings: none

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story, click here

a/n: hi hi! this is part one of a self-insert series I'm working on. in this story, y/n is a child of hecate, and this storyline follows the books. the current timeline here is post sea of monsters and will continue through the Heroes of Olympus books. though it follows the original plot, y/n has her own storyline and quests. i tried to make y/n gender-neutral but as I continued to work on the timeline for this project, i had decided that this fic is for a fem reader. guys, this is really just me projecting my fantasy into fanfiction lol. i feel like this is a slow start?? and there is a lot of info dumped in this so bear with me. it'll get better and I'll be working to improve my writing as the series continues. I was on a writing hiatus for a really long time and I'm out of practice so this is my way to get back and hopefully, exceed the skills I had when I was a consistent writer. anyways, if you have any feedback, let me know! I'd love to hear what you think. as i get deeper into the series, i might ask for some suggestions on what to do with the fic. anyways, i'll stop rambling and i hope you like it!

Part One Part Two

You ignore the aching in your neck as your focus is fixed on the herbology book in front of you. You’ve been seated at your desk for Zeus knows how long reading and taking notes in your Book of Shadows, determined to finish reading it as fast as possible. Your half-brother, Alabaster, insisted that you need to memorize all the herbs and their properties before he can properly teach you how to use them in potions. Even though you understand its importance, you hated introductory work. You are itching to get to the real stuff, resulting in you glued to your chair, studying through the night as your cabin mates were fast asleep in their beds. But as determined as you are, Ambrose, your familiar, wasn’t much help. Ambrose whines as he rubs his head against your legs like a needy kitten, making it difficult to ignore him.

“What is it, Ambrose?” You whisper, sitting back in your chair in defeat. You take a second to massage the back of your sore neck before turning to face the translucent hound sitting attentively at your side. His tail sweeps the floor as it wags excitedly, and a short huff leaves his snout as if he was proud to have finally gotten your attention.

Your eyes meet his, racking your mind to figure out what Ambrose needs to tell you. At first, you thought he wanted to play, but you didn’t have time for that, so you decided to ignore him. Usually, after being ignored for a while, Ambrose will give up, finding something else to occupy him. But tonight, he was particularly persistent, and he’s only like this when he needs to tell you something.

Before you can ask what he wanted again, Ambrose gets up from his seated position, running over to the small table that stands beside your bed. You furrow your eyebrows, the first thing you notice when you walk over are your crystals neatly placed in front of your spell books as usual. Seeing them made you suddenly remember what you had planned to do.

You had told Ambrose to remind you to charge your crystals and collect water from the lake since there is a full moon tonight and of course, Ambrose being your loyal companion, did exactly that. Before looking down at the hound, who now is breathing heavily, his tail somehow wagging faster than before, you smile to yourself.

“I told you to remind me earlier, didn’t I?” Ambrose snorts and runs around your feet enthusiastically. You couldn’t help but giggle at his excitement as you reached down to pat his head. “Good boy. What would I do without you?” You continue to praise him, grabbing a black pouch and carefully placing the crystals in it. You put your index finger to your lips, signaling Ambrose to be a little quieter despite his excitement. If he accidentally wakes anyone up, then you definitely weren’t going to be able to fulfill your plans.

You bite your bottom lip as you tiptoe out of the aisle between the bunks. You look around the notoriously cramped Hermes Cabin to make sure your assumption that everyone was asleep by now was correct. It wasn’t hard to make out the faces of your cabin mates since seeing clearly in the dark was one of your many gifts, so you carefully walked along the bunks, being as quiet as you could. You are especially cautious as you approach the front where your cabin leaders, the Stoll brothers, slept. You study them for a second, knowing for sure Travis was asleep since he was snoring and loudly at that. Before you can check if Connor is asleep, you hear him shifting in his bed. You stand frozen in your spot, hesitantly looking over and you were expecting to be met with the usual mischievous grin. Instead, his back was towards you now. You have a feeling in your gut that he wasn't asleep, the timing of his moving was much too convenient. You really didn't want to wait any longer though so you decide that you might as well leave before he could stop you.

You turn on your heels, walking over to the window before you push it open. You cringe softly as the hinges creak, and you look back at the cabin to double-check if anyone has woken up from the sound. You sigh in relief when you see no one has moved, and you turn back to the window, carefully crawling out of it. This wasn’t unusual for you. You’ve done this so many times that using windows as a mode of exiting and entering a room was as natural to you as walking in and out of a door, and soon you were hopping down onto the grass. Your back is pressed against the cabin as you walk the side of it. You look up at the trees and the sky, eyes scoping around for any harpies hanging around. After deeming that you were alone, you begin making your way to the lake, Ambrose walking by your side attentively and cautiously to make sure you are safe.

The night was clear; the stars and especially the moon shone brightly in the sky. You sigh softly, taking in the stillness of the night, admiring the glistening lake reflecting the full moon placed above it. You’ve always enjoyed how quiet and cool the nights were, preferring it more than the daytime.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t avoid it as much as you wish to. Most of your siblings can agree with you that they’d prefer to sleep in most days so that they can study and practice their magic at night. However, that wasn’t the schedule of the Hermes Cabin. It was pretty impossible to sleep in since the mornings were always hectic. In fact, the cabin was just hectic, period. There was always something going on, whether it was an elaborate prank or the guys arguing over who gets to shower first after coming back from training which usually resulted in an intense game of rock, paper, scissors. You can’t say that you didn’t like it; at least you were entertained.

You also always had someone to talk to, and because there were often new campers coming in and out of there, you have easily familiarized yourself with a lot of the kids at camp. However, like your mother, you did enjoy and yearn for the occasional periods of solitude. As fun as living with the Hermes kids was, you and your siblings did find yourselves getting a little irritable at their shenanigans. It was at those times, you did wish that your mother, Hecate, had a designated cabin.

You and your siblings had always said if they ever got a cabin of their own, they would make sure everyone had separate rooms and would have designated spaces to socialize and practice their magic so that it was quiet for the most part. Alabaster, especially, was really passionate about this topic. He complained how it didn’t make sense that your mother wasn't recognized since you and your siblings were a powerful little bunch. You all needed a space to practice your magic and practice preferably at night since you were the most powerful at that time of day; you were also less prone to making mistakes in your spell casting at night. You agreed with him and would get upset about it sometimes, but the Hermes Cabin was a place you considered to be a second home. The communal feel of the space was something you enjoyed, it was one of the few places where you felt fully accepted which was rare to find being a demi-god with abilities like yours. In return to the Hermes Cabin welcoming you with open arms, you accept the inconveniently loud environment as an admirable quirk and went on with your days.

Then to compensate for the lack of silence and solitude, you would often stay up late, taking advantage of the quiet to focus on your studies. Even if you had to sacrifice the amount of sleep you got, you felt like it was worth it.

It doesn’t take you long to arrive at the dock, sitting down close to the end with your legs folded under you. You first collect lake water in a jar before carefully taking out the pouch's crystals. Assuming you had only a few left in the pouch after laying most of them on the dock, you tilt it with your hand under it, only for the crystals to come out all at once. You fumble, hands trying to bring them to your chest, but with your luck, one of your crystals falls right into the water with a plop.

“Dammit!” You peer over the edge and groan, Ambrose whining at your misfortune as he stands beside you. You look down at the water, noticing Ambrose’s and your dim reflection in it. There was no way you could get that crystal now because you didn't know how to swim, and you consider that maybe tomorrow you can convince your twin brother, Atticus, to look for it or Alabaster if Atticus refused, which you were expecting him to.

Your breath hitches at the back of your throat, jumping back as a head of dark hair abruptly pops up from right where you were staring. Ambrose barks loudly next to you, equally as startled, and your eyes widen. You stand up hastily at the realization that Ambrose's loud barks in the dead of night will catch the attention of the harpies, and right now, that was more important to you than the mysterious person that just sprouted up in the water like a zombie coming out of a grave.

“Shush! Ambrose, quiet!” Your frantic command was enough to make him stop with a whine, and you sigh shakily, turning towards the camp to check if there were any harpies.

“I think you dropped something.” Ambrose moves in front of you protectively, a low growl coming from his chest as he cautiously studies the person. You look back where the voice came from and to your surprise and your relief, you find that the mysterious person in the lake was no other than Percy Jackson. You never had a conversation with him before, but you definitely knew about him. It was kind of hard not to know who he is since he’s been the talk of the camp since he’s arrived. Your thoughts about him weren’t any different from most of the camp. You’ve seen him fight and use his powers during capture the flag, and you were just as impressed as everyone else. You did have to admit that you found him to be pretty cute too. His eyes were gorgeous, clear, and bright like a shallow, cyanic sea. You also found it adorable how his hair always looked a little disheveled.

Your (e/c) eyes met Percy’s green ones before looking at your rose quartz in his hand. You smile sheepishly, noticing the amused look on his face.

“Ah, yeah, that’s mine.” You walk over to him, but as you get closer, so does Ambrose, and his growls get louder. "Ambrose, heel. It's okay," you say softly, and he stops in his place, but his stance is still at alert, his eyes watching Percy cautiously. You pat Ambrose's head before walking past him and over to Percy. "Thanks," you smile, taking your rose quartz from his hand.

"No problem… I don't think your ghost dog likes me," Percy jokes, moving to look past your legs at Ambrose, who’s standing tall on your left side.

"Yeah, well, you kinda scared the crap out of us," you point out, amused. You take in Percy's goofy smile as he pulls himself up from the water, and you notice that he’s completely dry as he settles on the edge before turning his body to look at you.

“It’s y/n, right?” He asks, and you nod, figuring he’s probably heard about you in passing from Connor and Travis since he was friends with them too. “What are you doing out here so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing," you retort playfully, making him smile. You move to sit down where you were standing. You spread the crystals neatly on the wood, making a mental note to get them before you go to bed.

"I couldn't sleep, so I came out here to hang out, but then a hippocampus swam up. One of its friends got stuck in a fisher's net not too far from here, so I went to help," he explains, and you nod. "I told you my excuse, so what's yours?"

You hum, "It's a full moon out tonight, so I thought I should take my crystals out. I also needed moon water for a potion, so I collected some for that," you point over at the big mason jar full of lake water. "It’s not as cool as your excuse,” you say playfully.

A short laugh comes from Percy, and when you look up from your crystals, you notice he was looking at Ambrose again, who was still in his tense stance. Ambrose was especially protective of you and Atticus, and it wasn’t unusual for him to be cautious of the new people you come across. You assumed that Ambrose was particularly tense with Percy since he had successfully caught you both by surprise.

"Ambrose, relax.” You pat the top of his head to soothe him. "Lay down." Ambrose whines, licking your hand affectionately for a little, and you can tell he was still uneasy about the other. He was hesitant, but he follows your command anyway, laying down with his head on your lap.

"You can touch him?" Percy asks, his eyes wide and curious as he watches you pet Ambrose.

"Yeah, I can touch ghosts in general. My mother is Hecate, goddess of necromancy, along with magic, the night and the moon," you tell him. "This is Ambrose. My mother gifted him to me to be my familiar, kinda like a guardian." You look down at the hound, smiling softly as you scratch behind his ear softly.

Ambrose is a burly Molossian Hound who lived in the time of Alexander The Great. From what your father told you, his breed was well valued in Ancient Greek and Roman times and was often used in war. It is easy to understand why the breed was used in war. Ambrose is huge and muscular, about 6 feet tall when he stands on his hind legs, and he weighs around 200 pounds. At first, Ambrose can come off as a little intimidating. You remember how your siblings had avoided him when you first arrived at camp before they realized that he was the clearest definition of a gentle giant. Even though he was trained to fight when he was alive, he was still as gentle as a well-trained house dog unless he was given a reason not to be.

"When did you get him?" Percy asks, his eyes focusing on Ambrose’s translucent body that looked like it is made up of this gray swirling vapor. He couldn’t exactly wrap his head around how Ambrose’s head was comfortably propped up on your thigh.

"We met on the night I was on my way to Camp so about 2 years ago. Without him, my brother and I probably would have never made it to the borders.” You look up at Percy, meeting his eyes again; you watch as his face softens as he shifts to lean back on his hand.

"Really?" You hum and nod, ready to drop the conversation there, thinking you shouldn’t bore him with the details. You didn’t really like talking about it much, but the way he was looking at you made you feel like he was inviting you to continue talking.

"We got separated from our father at the gas station a couple of miles away from here. He went inside the convenience store to get us snacks, and while he was in there, a cyclops had found us, tried to grab us out of his car. We jumped out and ran into the woods nearby," you explain as you look out at the dark horizon.

You remember the sound of your father yelling after you and Atticus and how it broke your heart hearing, for the first time, such despair in his voice. You knew your dad didn’t want to bring you guys to camp, but he knew it was in Atticus’s and your best interest to come here and be with other people like you guys.

When you and Atticus started developing your powers, your father had simply told you guys that you were special and to refrain from using your telekinesis anywhere else but home. He didn’t say anything more until one night, you and Atticus had gotten in a screaming match about a reason you don’t even remember. However, in your screaming match, the both of you were so angry that a green aura had formed around you both, and books, magazines, even cutlery were being flown across the room because of the sheer energy you were admitting as a unit. It was then your father had decided to take you and Atticus to the camp to control and learn about your powers before you guys destroyed the house over a dumb argument like who’s turn is it to have the TV remote.

"We were more concerned about the monster hurting our dad, so we decided on a whim to run in the forest. My brother and I have telekinesis powers, and I aimed well enough to send a rock right at the cyclops eye. We lost him a little after that, but we didn't know where we were. We made too many twists and turns; we had no idea what direction we came from. And then, this buddy appeared out of nowhere from a distance. I saw him glowing from far away and couldn’t make out what he was, but I felt that I had to follow him. So we did, and he got us to camp with no detours for any other monsters. He's been with me ever since," you say, and a low whine comes from Ambrose’s mouth as he nuzzles the side of his face on your thigh contentedly.

Percy nods, and he huffs softly, "You guys got lucky. How old were you and your brother when you got to camp?"

"12, we're twins. We actually got here a couple of weeks after you did,” you mention. You watch Percy’s mouth curve into a half-smirk.

“Wow," he says, amused, and shakes his head. “So you have a twin and a dead dog, no fair," he jokes. You giggle, rolling your eyes playfully,

"Oh please, and you have crazy water powers. You’re completely dry after swimming! I think that's pretty envy-worthy."

"Hey-,” he shrugs, taking a second as if to form a protest. “I guess you're right,” he admits and laughs. You laugh with him, opening your mouth to say something else but unfortunately, you were interrupted by a screech echoing in the distance.

Both you and Percy stand up quickly, trying to figure out which direction it came from. “The harpies,” you both mutter in unison. You bend down to grab your things, and you look at Ambrose.

"Go distract them, bud," you tell him, and Ambrose jumps up to his feet, and you watch as he runs away, barking to get their attention. Just then, you see the wings of the Harpies coming up from the trees of the forest. You turn to Percy, grabbing his hand quick,

“Incantare: Transpectus!" You exclaim confidently, closing your eyes to envision you and Percy becoming transparent on the dock. You've never tried doing this spell before, but you've gotten better at visualizing and setting intentions, so you had some hope in yourself. You open your eyes, not feeling any different, and you hoped that you just didn't make a fool of yourself in front of Percy. But when you look down at your hand hesitantly and notice it was hard to make out since you were see-through like glass, you sigh in relief. You smile to yourself, more than satisfied that you were able to pull that off.

"Woah, are we invisible?" You look over at Percy, able to see him just fine since he was under the spell with you. Percy looks down at himself, eyes widened as he processes he can’t see his body anymore. You observe him for a second, finding it cute how he looked surprised and obviously entertained at the fact that he was completely see-through. You feel yourself growing a little flustered, trying not to focus too much on the fact that you were holding hands with him.

"Something like that. C'mon, it won’t last too long," you whisper, and your grip around his hand tightens as you guys begin running to his cabin. You hear the harpies screeching in frustration as they swoop down to try and grab Ambrose, only for their claws to go right through him. While the harpies were growing more annoyed, Ambrose, on the other hand, was having way too much fun, running in circles and barking at them as if he’s teasing.

"Man, I wish I had a ghost dog," you hear Percy mutter behind you as you arrive at the steps of his cabin.

"Yeah, Ambrose is pretty great," you admit, watching him play with the harpies before shifting your gaze over to Percy. "Thanks for getting the crystal for me." As much as you wanted to stay talking to him, you knew you couldn't stay too long. You were still eager to finish studying, and Ambrose can only hold off the harpies for so long.

"It was no problem. It was on my way up anyways," he shrugs, and you smile, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach. You look down, the two of you still holding hands even though the spell wore off already. You awkwardly let go of his hand, shifting on your feet.

"Well, I'll see you around," you say sheepishly, fiddling with your fingers.

"Yeah, I'll see you.” His hand comes up in an awkward wave. You nod, returning the wave. Your eyes meet Percy’s green ones one more time before turning on your heels and walking down the steps of his cabin. You notice that Ambrose is now long gone into the forest, taking the harpies with him to give you time to rush to the other side where your cabin is.

As you hurry back to your cabin, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you replayed the interaction you just had with Percy, and you couldn't help but wonder when would be the next time you could talk to him.

You carefully hoist yourself up, climb back into the cabin through the window, sighing softly once you get in. You slowly close the window, your face scrunching at the creaking sound, but you successfully get it closed before turning around, only to be faced with Connor Stoll standing a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest. You gasp loudly, almost dropping the mason jar in your hand, being startled for the second time tonight.

“Oh, look who’s back,” he says, his lips pulled in his usual mischievous smirk, his right eyebrow raised as if he's suspicious of you. You shift, giggling nervously under his graze,

"Hey, Con.” Shit. You knew he wasn’t asleep, and a part of you wasn’t surprised that he had caught you sneaking out again. You weren’t too worried since Connor wasn’t one to be strict or easily angered, neither was Travis, but you can understand if he did get a little upset with you since the cabin could also get in trouble, and he worried about you getting hurt.

"You leave so often, I'm starting to think you're seeing someone," he teases, and you furrow your eyebrows, not really sure what he was trying to get at.

"I'm not seeing anyone. You know what I do when I sneak out," you tell him, putting your hand out to show him the jar full of water. After being caught the first couple of times, you had explained to Connor why you occasionally needed to head out at night. He was understanding of your reasons, telling you to try and not sneak out as often. When he did catch you, he always kept your outings secret. It came with a price, though. You were sometimes stuck doing extra chores, especially anything that had to do with cleaning, since he hated doing anything that had to do with mopping or sweeping.

"So that wasn't you and Percy on the dock?" Your eyes widen, and you feel your face get hot again. You shake your head, stumbling over your words for a second.

"Uh… n- that was a coincidence!" You hear him snort, laughing quietly as if he didn't believe you. Even though he couldn't see your facial expression very well in this lighting, he can still tell how flustered you were at his sudden question.

"Yeah, sure," he says sarcastically, and he hums, "Anyways, what are you going to do for me so that I don't tell on you?" He asks, and your mouth drops open. Usually, he wasn't so forward, and he never threatened to tell on you. "I might spread a rumor about you and Percy rendezvousing at midnight. The Aphrodite cabin will have a hoot with that one."

You gasp, "Connor, are you blackmailing me right now?" You narrow your eyes at him, and he shrugs,

"I guess you can say I am." You shake your head, walking over to your desk to put down your moon water before turning toward him and crossing your arms in front of your chest.

"... what do you want?" You ask, expecting him to make you take up one of his chores. But from the way he was smiling at you, you can tell that there was something more he wanted, and you were beginning to worry.

"Help me turn the Ares Cabin into bunnies," he says, and you shake your head frantically,

"No way! Clarisse will kill me," you whisper. Connor smiles,

"No, she won't. She can't kill you if she's a bunny," he points out, and your face falls flat,

"They're not gonna stay bunnies forever," you say, and you fiddle with your fingers nervously at the idea of the outrage you'd get from the Ares Cabin after shifting back from being bunnies. "I don't know, Con. I don't even know if I can turn all of them into bunnies at once."

Connor waves his hand at you, dismissing your concern. "I don't care for the logistics now. We can work on that later, but you have to agree to at least help me," he says. "Or I'm telling everyone I saw you smooching Percy on the dock."

"What!? We didn't even kiss. We talked for like 5 minutes!" You whisper-yell, your reactions much too entertaining for him, and he was having a hard time holding in his laugh.

"Your decision, y/n."

You sigh, throwing your head back. You look at the ceiling for a second as you consider your two choices. And you decide that getting your head potentially put on a stick by Clarisse was better than the burning embarrassment of Percy thinking you're spreading rumors about kissing him. "Fine, whatever. I'll help you do the bunny thing," you mumble, your shoulders slouched.

Connor nods with a proud smile on his face for trapping you into helping him. "Good choice. I will be going back to sleep now. Good night… again," he announces, turning on his heels and walking over to his bed. You frown a little as you walk back to your desk to study. Plopping down onto your chair, you decide that you’ll worry about Connor’s little plan later so you can focus on your studying. After a while, Ambrose comes trotting in, joining you by the desk as usual. You smile at him, praising the other for distracting the harpies for you before he lays down, his head laying on your foot.

As you study, you find that you couldn’t help your mind drifting back to Percy once and a while. You deem that there was no way that you could have a crush on him since you guys have only spoken once. In the midst of your internal debate to decide what you felt for him, you suddenly remember the crystal that was retrieved for you. You remember how Percy presented it to you, holding it out for you with his fingertips. It was your rose quartz. What a coincidence. You smile, rolling your eyes as you tell yourself that you’re thinking too much into it. You look over, noticing the dim illuminating light of the beginning sunrise shining through the curtains. You sigh, deciding that you should probably get to sleep and take advantage of the maybe, four hours of sleep you’ll get tonight. You close your herbology book before making your way to your bed, and with a soft sigh, you retreat under the covers, and finally, you surrender to your drowsiness.

masterlist

#percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #connor stoll #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson fic #slow burn #friends to lovers #connor stoll x reader #percy jackson oneshot #pjo #my writing

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legends-live-in-memories · 4 years ago

Text

Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century

AYO! Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle! Team Enemies-to-Lovers for the win. I bring you another oneshot. but this time i used 3 prompts like a dumbass.

Fics Masterlist

Daminette Oneshot 4.3K words (no warnings except slight cursing)

Summary:

“Marinette is invited to the Super-Rockin' Wedding of the Century and she needs a date. Alya is both her best and worst wingman.”

Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle, I used 3 prompts to make this thing: 1. "You don't have to like me, you just need to pretend you do." 2. "I like your costume. You look very cute." "Are you making fun of me?" 3. 'Write about a very unusual wedding proposal.' this is the culmination of all my efforts.

without further ado:

It was the biggest news on the internet. Global sensation, international rockstar, Jagged Stone, was officially engaged to childhood friend turned manager, Penny Rolling. Memes and fan theories stormed every corner of the web. Trending topics including #rockstar_wedding and #RollingStone permeated every social media platform. Guest lists were speculated, dress designers were tagged in every post that even mentioned the words ‘wedding’ or ‘bride’. It was total mayhem but none felt it worse than up-and-coming Parisian designer, M. D. Cheng, privately known as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

The young adult was up to her neck in design templates, and was drowning in half-baked ideas and sketches. While the internet has only heard about the proposal for a solid two weeks at this point, Marinette was in the know for six months. Jagged Stone had contacted her in advance because he needed her help with the proposal itself.

And what a proposal it was.

Jagged had outlined his idea in simple terms but it was still so mind-boggling that Marinette needed him to draw some visual aids to completely convey his idea. Initially it sounded simple enough but the more the man spoke, the more Marinette felt her brain fry at the mental picture. It first involved recreating a scene from Penny’s favourite movie. Which sounded rather romantic, if you ignored the fact that her favourite movie was Bride of Chucky. Then it involved Jagged dressed as the Tinman from Wizard of Oz. Oh, and the proposal had to happen on Halloween because that was the anniversary of their first date apparently, and based on everything else this plan entailed it might as well have been. Marinette’s role in all of this was to simply re-make the white wedding dress Chucky’s bride, Tiffany, wore because Penny already had the leather jacket to match. Of course she did. She didn’t even want to know how Jagged acquired the Tinman suit. Not her barrel of monkeys.

While many thought Jagged was the eccentric one of the pair, due to his loud personality and being an actual rockstar, the more Marinette worked for the two of them over the years, the more she learned how absolutely wrong they all were. It turned out it was Penny’s idea for Jagged to dye his hair purple, and she was the one to ask him out on Halloween all those faithful years ago. Her calm and collected demeanor was an impressive cover for the absolute weirdo she actually was. And Jagged had planned a proposal that was undoubtedly perfect for her. Regardless of how abso-fucking-lutely bizarre it was.

To each their own and let’s move on.

The set-up for the proposal started with Jagged, dressed as the Tinman, playing the part of Chucky, who begins the body-switching chant from the movie. Everything from that point on was resting on Penny’s love for the movie. Without hesitating, Penny, dressed as Tiffany, and playing her part, knew the lines by heart and immediately began reenacting the scene with Jagged. Her lines involved telling ‘Chucky’ to kiss her while she reaches for a knife that’s supposed to be in his pocket. Instead, as Jagged was still dressed as the Tinman, Penny pulled out a slip of paper. On said paper, the words ‘All the Tinman wanted was a heart’ were written in Jagged’s almost illegible chicken scratch. When Penny was distracted with the piece of paper, Jagged had gotten down on one knee and pulled out the engagement ring. The actual words of his proposal were never actually said because, upon seeing the ring, Penny flung herself into the man, clipping her chin into his metal-plated shoulder, but she wasn’t complaining.

So that was how the proposal went.

Wedding planning started almost immediately since the newly engaged had already picked a theme. And this is where Marinette began to regret every life choice she has made since she was thirteen; starting with opening the mysterious box she found on her desk and ending with agreeing to being the main designer for the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. One thing that wasn’t well-known but not a secret about Jagged was that he was a superhero fan. He grew up enjoying the fictional ones in his childhood comic books and he adored the real ones he witnessed in his adult life. His song that he dedicated to the teenage Ladybug was only one part of his… appreciation. His hero-worship went so far as to beieve that a hero-themed wedding was appropriate. Or he didn’t, but also didn’t care about adhering to societal propriety and went with that theme anyways. So the Rockin�� Wedding of the Century was now the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. And twenty-three year old Marinette was incharge of the entire wedding party’s outfits.

Perfect.

As a small mercy from some god, both the bride and groom to-be had a rather short list of people in their parties. Marinette was also able to design appropriate hero-themed outfits for all of them and scheduled them for fittings in the coming weeks. That, surprisingly, was the easy part as there were plenty of heroes to draw inspiration from. However, that wasn’t the cause of her current crisis right now.

No. Marinette was up to her neck in unnecessary designs and ideas because she’s been avoiding one particular contingency in her acceptance of the wedding invitation.

She needed a date.

She needed a date because she had promised Penny that she wasn’t overworking herself and to prove it, she would bring a date to the wedding. Rather than call any of the people who expressed interest in her at some point in time, she designated herself to wallow in her situation and distract herself with designs. In the midst of her one person pity party, her phone rang under the sea of ripped out pages. She scoured for the device and hastily answered before she could accidently send the caller to voicemail.

“Hello?” She didn’t check the caller ID and was delighted at the sound of her best friend answering her.

“Marinette! How’s it going over there?” Alya’s voice was mixed in with the busy street life of Metropolis. She had moved there immediately after high school, snatching an internship with the Daily Planet and attending the local community college. She and Marinette don’t call often due to time differences, but when they do it’s like they’ve never parted. She always looked forward to her calls.

“It’s going great, Als,” if she ignored her current dilemma, then yeah, everything was perfect. “But you wouldn’t happen to have an available bachelor willing to be my date to the ‘Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century’ in your back pocket, would you?”

Alya’s answering laugh was both comforting and teasing and Marinette felt herself missing her even more. What she said next, however, took Marinette by surprise.

“Actually I do.”

“Pardon?”

“Well,” she took a pause to build suspense. “I know a guy who knows a guy. But it’s nothing shady, I swear.”

“That’s not comforting.” Oh god. What has she unintentionally signed herself up for?

“You know my coworker, Jon? The guy who does the photography for all my field work?” Alya had met Jon as soon as she had started her internship. Both of his parents were top journalists at the Daily Planet so he volunteered to act as tour guide for all the new interns. He and Alya, from the exasperated stories Marinette has heard from Nino, got along like a house on fire. If he was involved, Marinette was starting to doubt even further that this was going to end well for her.

“Yes, I know Jon. How is he by the way?”

“He’s fine, but I remember him telling me how he tried to set up his best friend on several dates over the years and how they all ended poorly. He’s as approachable as a brick wall; not just a prick but the whole damn cactus. Or so Jon says.” How does that sound like someone Marinette wanted to bring along with her to the wedding? “But he’s totally your type so I could ask Jon to wrap him up in bubblewrap and send him your way whenever you want.”

“How,” and Marinette said this with a lot of feeling, “is he my type exactly?”

“Green eyes with daddy issues.”

“ALYA!” Marinette was absolutely floored at her bluntness. She wasn’t even sorry about shouting into the receiver.

“Am I wrong? You have a type and he fits that type. Jon mentioned how this guy and his dad hit several roadblocks when they first met. And I’ve seen pictures of him so ‘green eyes’ checks too.”

“That is not my type of guy.” She can’t believe this was how this conversation was going.

“Adrien.”

“I didn’t even know who his father was at the time, Alya.”

“Felix.”

“His dad is dead! That doesn’t count as ‘daddy issues.’” She can feel her cheeks flaming as the call went on. Any hotter and she was going to set her sketchbooks on fire. “Besides, I dated Luka so he doesn’t fit the criteria.”

“He’s an outlier and that’s only because his eyes are blue.” Okay, fine she had a type. “And besides, you don’t even have to date the guy. You only need him to accompany you to the wedding and you both go your separate ways after. No harm, no foul.”

Right. That was true. No strings attached. She could do that.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but,” she held her breath and let it out loudly, ignoring Alya’s chuckle at her dramatics.” Give Jon my number to give this guy. And send his number to me.”

“Wahoo! Look at you, girl,” Alya was hooting and hollering over the speaker and Marinette found herself going along with the theatrics. “Okay, I will. But I gotta go, my cab is here. Bye!”

“Bye! Stay safe. Oh before you go, what’s Jon’s friend’s name anyways?”

“Uh, Damian, I think.” The call ended before Marinette could respond, but it was okay she mused. Tossing her phone onto her couch, she flopped down onto her floor and stared at her ceiling contemplatively.

What could go wrong?

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

When Alya had described this Damian guy as ‘not just a prick but the whole damn cactus,’ she was right. Marinette had been texting back and forth with Damian for a month, and the guy was making this idea seem less and less worth it by the day. Whenever Marinette tried to learn more about the guy, he would ghost her for days on end before replying with a half-assed response at best. She knew nothing about him other than that his first name was Damian and that he was from Gotham. She had no idea how the ball of life that was Jon was even friends with someone like Damian. She asked as much to Alya in their most recent call.

“How did they even meet?” She was pacing the floor plan of her apartment, ready to tear her hair out. “Did Damian bully him in school or something?”

“Apparently their dads knew each other and introduced them,” Alya sounded half awake, stifling a yawn; probably because Marinette had called her at 1 am, Metropolis’s time. “Their brothers being friends also forced them to get along.”

“And that’s another thing!” Marinette had paused in her pacing and was now staring intently at a potted plant in the corner of her living room. Any more rage in her glare and the plant would have wilted and died. “He doesn’t tell me anything about him. I don’t need to know all his personal information, but if he’s going to be flying out to Paris on my behalf, I think I at least deserve to know his last name.”

“Hey, M,” another yawn echoed through the speaker, “I love you, truly, but maybe this could wait for holier day time hours?”

“I guess,” a vindictive part of Marinette felt like this was payback for all those inopportune calls when Marinette was busy with clients. “Sorry for interrupting your sleep.”

“It’s no big deal. But have you tried talking to him about it? If he’s ghosting your texts, try calling him. If he ignores you then too then maybe you should try finding another person to be your plus one.”

“The wedding is in two weeks, Alya!” Marinette partially regrets waiting so long to vent her frustration about the situation but she had tried to tough it out. “I would have much preferred if you were my plus one. You sure there’s no way to convince your parents to skip out on the family trip?”

“Sorry, M. Once the news about the proposal hit the internet, I tried everything. I even tried to use work, saying that I could cover the ceremony for the newspaper. My folks won’t budge though. My dad’s aunt is important to him and he wants us all at the funeral.”

“Right, right, I forgot about that.” Now she felt like an ass. “Send you dad my condolences when you see him again.”

“Will do. Good morning, Marinette. And don’t worry too much about the guy. Everything will turn up great. I can feel it.”

“Thanks, Alya. Good night, get some sleep.”

The line went dead and Marinette let out a rather weary exhale. She had no idea how this was going to work. She pulled up her contacts and searched for what she had Damian saved as.

‘Douche’ flashed on her screen and she hit the call button without remorse. She didn’t care that it was also currently 1 am in Gotham. He didn’t deserve that much consideration from her.

“What?” His voice was gravely and deep. And also really pissed if his clipped tone was anything to go by.

“Damian? Hi, this is Marinette, the girl you’re accompanying to the wedding in two weeks?” Her voice was pitched as if she was dealing with an irritating customer. Fake and polite.

“I know who you are. Why are you calling me at this unreasonable hour?” Fair, but Marinette was still aggravated at him so she wouldn’t concede.

“I’m calling because we need to talk.” She heard him scoff over the line and she felt her blood boil even hotter. She took several calming breaths to reign her temper in. “Don’t hang up.”

“Look,” She didn’t give him a chance to refuse and kept talking, getting everything off her chest. “This wedding is important to me and I promised the bride I would bring a date. After that you can delete my number and we never have to speak to each other ever. You don’t have to like me, you just need to pretend you do.”

“Whatever,” he sounded less annoyed from when he first answered the phone. “I will act as cordial as the situation requires, and nothing more. I also have my attire secured for the wedding and accommodations in Paris already prepared. I will see you at the wedding.”

“Than—” The sound of the call ending interrupted her and her frustration was back tenfold. With a cry in anguish she flung her phone onto her couch and stomped into her kitchen to channel her rage into baking.

Three loaves of bread and a dozen eclairs later, Marinette felt calm enough to finish the final touches on her outfit for the wedding.

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

It was the day of the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. The Rolling-Stone’s, as they were asking to be called, had kept the ceremony small. Relatively. Only two hundred invited guests, few of which were asked to bring a plus one. Marinette was over the moon at the array of outfits people were sporting. Some chose full-on cosplay while others, like herself, went for more subtle nods to the heroes. In honour of a previous Ladybug, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, Marinette based her outfit off of Wonder Woman’s uniform, Hippolyta’s daughter. A navy blue sequined halter top bodice that flows into a blood red A-line skirt. She paired it with a thick silver belt, silver gladiator heels rather than boots and broad silver arm cuffs. It was simple but effective. Besides, all attention should be on the bride and groom today.

A tap on her shoulder caught her attention and she turned only to come face first with red with black spots. Ladybug. Someone chose her as inspiration. How flattering. Looking up to see who was wearing the Ladybug-themed suit jacket, she stared at a pair of deep forest green eyes and a sneer to ruin that ridiculously handsome face. She recognized him from the photo Alya had sent some time ago. Damian.

“Hi, Damian,” at least one of them had to be civil and Marinette knew it was going to be her. But the idea that of all the heroes for him to choose from he chose her sent her into poorly stifled fits of giggling. Images of him going ‘Lucky Charm’ and ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ were almost too much to bear.

“I don’t know what’s so amusing about my choice of attire,” his face was starting to flush in similar shades to his jacket and that made Marinette laugh harder. “Ladybug is a well respected heroine and I thought it appropriate to pay homage while in her home city.”

“No. No no. There is nothing wrong with it. I like your costume, you look very cute.”

“Are you making fun of me?” His irritation was rather cathartic for the still giggling woman.

“No, I just didn’t think you would have put that much thought into your outfit for today. You always gave me the impression that you were ready to back out at any time.”

“I made a commitment and I had all intentions to see it through the end.”

“Could have fooled me.” And her snark was back. Now was not the time to pick a fight with the guy, he did fly all the way to Paris on her behalf after all.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” and Marinette wanted to know how he managed to sound so condescending with that statement. “How did you even get an invitation to this wedding anyways? You’re not a celebrity and you don’t look like family either.”

“Actually,” she said it with more force than what was probably necessary but his slightly accusatory tone was just so irritating. “I am the lead designer for the wedding party,” her chest was swimming with confidence at the chance to talk about her job. “I’ve worked with the bride and groom for years; M. D. Cheng, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette will deny to her grave the rush of satisfaction at the absolute gobsmacked look on Damian’s face. A real fish out of water. Mouth open wide ready to catch flies. She wished she could capture this moment forever.

The moment was over too soon because Damian was regaining his composure and slipping into his default stoic expression. He cleared his throat and fixed a look at Marinette. It was rather intense.

“I believe I owe you an apology then.” He looked put-out at admitting something so menial. “I believed you were nothing more than a socialite chain climber.”

“A what?”

“When Jon reached out to me saying that a friend of one of his coworkers needed a date for an event, and when that event turned out to be the wedding of someone of such popularity, I figured you were only trying to increase your own social status by showing up with me on your arm.”

“And you said ‘yes’ anyways?” Marinette was confused but pieces of the mystery that is Damian were starting to fit in place. But something else stuck out as odd to her. “Also, how would you being my date increase my social status anyhow?”

He scoffs before answering. Bitch.

“What? It wouldn’t be the first time one of Jon’s set-ups ended that way. Besides, we’ve had an agreement that I can’t turn down an offer until meeting the person face to face.” Weird deal but some friendships are just like, Marinette supposes. “And being seen with me is enough to make anyone more popular.”

“...And you are?”

“Damian… Wayne…” He spoke as if he was talking to a small child. As if it should be obvious who he was like he was some celeb— Oh shit.

A name had flashed into her mind. On the finalised guest list, Marinette had only seen it once in passing, there was a name that belonged to someone Jagged was rather excited to see. He said the friend was an old college buddy. She remembered that much. She had completely forgotten that ‘a billionaire playboy’ was also attached to the name. Damian was the son of Bruce Wayne. Suddenly everything in the past few months made perfect sense. The cold shoulder, the ghosting, and his prickly disposition. He was overly guarded because he had justified reasons to be. Now she felt like an ass.

“Oh.” Real intelligent, Marinette.

“Oh? What, you didn’t know?” He sounded incredulous at the notion and he had every right to be. Marinette could only shake her head. Words were failing her now, her brain trying to rewrite the memories of every interaction the two ever had.

She was saved from further mortification by a call for everyone to find their seats. The wedding was about to begin.

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

The ceremony was beautiful. Penny’s dress was a silver grey, tied back with a golden belt. Instead of a long train, Marinette had attached a black cape that shimmered in the right lighting. Penny wore a tiara with two peaks to imitate the ‘bat-ears.’ A Batman-themed wedding dress was not something she ever saw herself making, but she was proud at how beautiful and confident Penny looked in it. Jagged was adorn in a royal blue suit with bold red lapels. He also had a matching red cape. His hair was styled in the familiar sleek way Superman wears it. The two made quite the pair.

The reception was a lively affair. Jagged had dedicated several songs to his new wife and they dazzled the crowd on the dance floor. Marinette didn’t pay much attention to the speeches beyond a quick glance at Damian when his own father stepped up to the podium. He had buried his head in his hands, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. A courtesy pat on the back was all Marinette gave to him.

The two hadn’t really spoken much since the revelation that they had completely misjudged each other. The awkward tension was almost palpable. As Marinette was gathering the courage to speak to him, to try and officially clear the air, she was being dragged by one of the bridesmaids onto the dancefloor. It was time for the bride to throw the bouquet. All the unmarried women were being corralled into a tight cluster and Marinette got swept up in the tide.

Marinette wasn’t focusing on the actual game, trying her hardest not to get trampled, when she saw something move in her periphery. Years of being Ladybug had left her with finely honed instincts so she could not be blamed when she immediately jumped and caught the incoming object. The bouquet. She had caught the bouquet. Oh that was just her luck. Deafening squeals of delight brought her out of her own head and she was suddenly being embraced in Penny’s arms. She returned the hug, sharing in her delight, before breaking away to sit down.

“Nice catch.” His voice had surprised her, she hadn’t expected him to speak to her for the rest of the night.

“Uh, thank you. Just lucky, I guess.” Damian didn’t get the chance to respond because he was being dragged by his own father to join all the bachelors in catching the garter. Marinette was equally uninterested in this spectacle and had let her mind wander to other things.

A loud uproar caught her attention again and her eyes zeroed in on Damian holding the tossed garter. He made his way back over to her, dropping himself into his seat gracelessly. The two sat in silence, contemplating the implications of them both catching the garter and bouquet. The games were done purely for tradition’s sake, with total disregard of what it was supposed to symbolise. Still. One’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Minutes ticked passed and Marinette was beginning to wonder if someone was going to talk about the elephant in the room.

“So,” Damian’s voice was slightly strained, like he wasn’t used to being this flustered. It was kind of endearing. Wait what?

“So.”

“While marriage seems far out of reach for right now,” Oh god. He was going to talk about it. “How does dinner sound, next Friday?”

“Wait,” he wanted to spend more time with her? After their disastrous first impressions? “Really?”

“Really. I believe we started off on the wrong foot,” he let out a soft chuckle, almost self-deprecating. “Which isn’t really new for me, but it’s not everyday I meet someone who doesn’t recognise me at first glance. I think you’re someone who I would like to get to know better. If that is something you are also interested in.”

“Yeah,” Marinette knows all about wanting to get acquainted with someone who she’s had a bad first impression of. Just look at her past relationships. Wow, she really does have a type. Damning thoughts for later. “Friday works for me. Seven pm?”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the details then.”

“Wonderful, I can’t wait.”

The rest of the evening was spent in companionable silence with small bouts of conversation in between. They shared a couple dances on the floor and parted ways at the end of the night with budding anticipation for Friday.

As Marinette was preparing for bed that night in the comfort of her apartment, she sent a text to Alya that her friend would see later in the day.

You were right, I do have a type :(

#maribat #daminette #maridami #mgi trope tussle #mgi- server event #enemies to lovers #speedrun #i #like a dumbass challenged myself to use three prompts and i delivered #i hope #i hope yall enjoy #tumblr do me a solid #dont hide my posts #please #im begging #ml x dc #mlb x dc #tumblr please stop hiding my posts #no beta this is tussle

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writingssummit · 4 years ago

Text

𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 !

dancing headcannons !

content: fluff, that’s really it lol

characters: sugawara, terushima, tendou, yamaguchi, oikawa.

a/n: not me listening to a haikyuu playlist and getting inspo from it- totally didn’t stay up all night to finish season 3 either wha t ? idk what you’re talking about.

i noticed my bnha post didn’t do so well, so i’ll stick with the haikyuu guys (and girls maybe? ooo) for now <3 hope you enjoy some silly fluff with them !

sugawara !

2nd most wholesome on this list.

Suga and you are just cleaning up the gym after practice one day.

You’re not exactly glad to be doing it, but you had offered to help your boyfriend out earlier,so there was no turning back now.

You had decided to play some music at some point, opting for an upbeat playlist to help you.

With motivation, of course! Upbeat music got you in that mood. Plus, the sound was cool inside the gym.

You hear Sugawara humming along every so often, the way you two moved around each other as you cleaned was almost like it’s own kind of dance, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Sugar, come here.”

He takes your hands in his, pulling you away from the task at hand all of a sudden

You protest a little, but you give in and just stay put.

He’s grinning at you, tugging you a little closer.

“What’s this?” You cock an eyebrow at him.

“Just a little dance, c’mon! The clean up can wait a bit longer. Your face will get wrinkles with how much you’ve been pouting.”

Okay backhanded remark aside, you couldn’t just say no

You laugh as he sways back an forth with you to the beat, occasionally stepping on each other.

“Guess we both have two left feet, Y/N.” He jokes, spinning you around as the song changed to a slower one.

Any dances with him are just lighthearted and fun, neither of you really minding the fact that it was so offbeat.

Get dance lessons smh

He’d add in twirls here and there

Eventually you’d settle down from all the laughs and goofing off and just sway back and forth slowly, you head resting on his chest, his hands on your waist.

Please omg I want this :’)

You guys get so caught up in it that somebody ends up coming back and then catching you both (yes, it was daichi, and yes he left awkwardly).

terushima !

This mans tries to be suave when he dances

You aren’t fooling anybody okay

stick with the sprinkler or something -

If anything, his dancing can be described as chaotic and random.

Sure, he has some moves but sir you aren’t michael jackson or something-

One night in particular though, it’s a bit different.

He kept bugging you to check something out with him that night, and so you just agreed instead of arguing about it at 2am.

He shows up at your window and he climbs inside your room.

Yes, yes he did and I do not regret that

“Y/N! Check it out!”

You have to shush him because wtf it’s 3AM SIR

He’s quick to apologize, and just shoves one of the earbuds to his phone at you, and you of course pop it into your ear

And then you’re being pulled close and away gently, and his tongue is sticking out in slight concentration. cute :’)

i honestly forgot what this was called so uh my bad but it’s really fun trust me

“Somebody’s been practicing.” Tease him, please LOL

“It’s fun, right??”

So he CAN dance, if he actually tries. B)

Yeah don’t forget that he literally snuck into your house, because I sure haven’t

Your parents woke up not soon after you both started to laugh and giggle, but you didn’t hear the footsteps because you both were to wrapped up in the music and each other

Let’s just say he was banned from the house for a month or so

Worth it though

tendou !

At this point it’s common knowledge that he breaks out into little dances randomly

He isn’t even confined to any actual type of dance, he just goes for whatever he feels like doing in the moment, whatever feels right

So whenever you dance with him, it’s always really entertaining to watch him

But

He’ll tug you into a dance literally anywhere without a care in the world.

Which is cute omg, but social anxiety could never

This time just happened to be on the sidewalk, because there was a musician, and in Tendou’s words; “We can’t just let their music go to waste~”

So yeah, he’s dancing with you on the sidewalk in front of literal strangers and you’re embarrassed to say the least dw i would be too T^T

Like sir please why here

He’s reassuring you over and over that you’re just fine, let the people stare, etc etc. After all, you’re just having fun together, and that’s no crime

True, y’all could be robbing the pet store of hamsters if you really wanted to. yes i imagine he would do that and I’ll say it again smh

You end up loosening up eventually, he was just too happy and c’mon, this is Tendou. :’)

Y’all may have started a public dance floor

And it’s awesome as hell when you think about it

He twirls you dramatically, waving his free hand around as he hummed along to the song.

“Y/N, see what happens when you have just a liiiittle bit of fun? Hm~?”

Okay fine you see his point there

Literally sounds so fun to do this, so he gets 100/10

yamaguchi !

Here’s the most wholesome one imo. unless that was tendou, idk-

Yams is so sweet with you, to the way he holds your hand, how he talks to you, all of it.

Dancing with you is no exception here.

He and you were sitting in the living room, all snuggled up on the couch together because it was a rainy day.

Rainy days were always so calm and nice with him, just watching tv or napping together.

Yams asked you if you wanted to dance this time, rather bashfully though

And then you had an amazing idea

“What if we did it outside? Like in the movies?”

“H-Huh?”

Baby is blushing :’)

But he’s totally up for the idea, he’s nodding and agreeing right away.

Which is how you guys ended up outside in the pouring rain.

You both were not prepared for the feeling of wet clothes sticking to your skin, it was mildly uncomfortable to say the least-

But you guys were just barefoot on the driveway and you both were holding each other close, just enjoying being there together that it kind of outweighed the initial discomfort

You settled for gentle, slow swying as your head rested against him, his hand reaching up to stroke your cheek every once and awhile

Yes his head is resting on top of yours, or at least his chin is resting on your shoulder

He makes a joke about how it’s weird to dance with no music

And then you end up just humming together and making your own. :’)

By the time you guys are done, you both vow to do it again, it was actually really calming

But of course y’all are soaking wet so it’s dry off time

Expect many cuddles after :D

oikawa !

Okay as much as he’s not my favorite of all time

I can appreciate the idea that he’d be the most knowledgeable dancer on this list

Like mans can serve and set like nobody’s business

But he can also dance.

He’s honestly proud of his dance skills, and takes it upon himself to teach you.

He’s a a bad teacher tho -

You guys are at your house during a holiday with your family, and he of course said his present to you this year is to teach you how to dance

Your family finds it funny because they know you can’t dance for your life.

But they’re egging Oikawa on

“Please no, end my suffering”

“So dramatic, tsk tsk. C’mon, Y/N-chan, it’ll be fun! I’m a great teacher.”

No you aren’t but go off LMAO

The first 15 minutes is awkward because you literally don’t know where to put your feet or hands.

Oikawa is smirking at you, because he finds it adorable

After a bit of teaching you have some of it down, so now it’s just you both waltzing around the living room, trying not to bump into furniture

Your family is clapping and hooting because that’s what parents do apparently

You smack his arm lightly when he leans down to peck at your jaw real quick

Sir please

He gets a A+ for actually knowing an actual dance dance, but a B because

I know he would suck at teaching.

thanks for reading this ! i hope these were decent, i had fun writing tendou’s and suga’s, it gave me serotonin LOL -

asks/requests are open ! check yay’s and nay’s in basics for this blog !

#sugawara x reader #sugawara imagine #sugawara x y/n #terushima x y/n #terushima imagine #terushima x you #tendou x reader #tendou imagine #tendou x y/n #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi imagine #yamaguchi x y/n #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x reader #oikawa imagine #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader

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suituuup · 4 years ago

Photo

pieces - chapter one

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca sees her again in the most unexpected place.

rating: M (drug abuse, mention of sexual abuse in later chapters) word count: 2,100

ao3 link

“Any messages, Gina?”

Beca Mitchell strode out of the elevator, high heels clicking on marble flooring on her way to her office.

Her assistant rushed to walk alongside her, notebook opened as she handed Beca her second coffee of the day, which Beca took with an appreciative smile.

“Mr. Mendes needs to push back his meeting to Thursday, and Mr. Hozier-Byrne is waiting for a call back, preferably before 2 as he’s five hours ahead.”

Beca rounded the corner to her office and dragged her leather desk chair back, shrugging off her woolen trench coat and draping it over the back. “Got it, remind me what I have planned today?”

“You’re having lunch with Mr. Zimmer at the Plaza to discuss Jesse’s project, and apart from the weekly team meeting at five, you’re expected at Edgy Reggie’s party from 10 pm at the Sapphire.”

A groan surfaced from Beca’s throat and her eyes slammed shut as she plopped down on her chair. “I forgot about that. Luke can’t go?”

Gina winced and shook her head. “Family dinner.”

“Family dinner, my ass. His whole family lives back in fucking England,” Beca muttered before she could help it, throwing her assistant an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Thanks, Gina. Hold my calls until ten, please?”

“Of course, Ms. Mitchell.”

As she did every morning while sipping her coffee, Beca listened to demos over the next hour, forwarding them to Luke if any of those yet-unknown artists spiked her interest enough to sign them into their label.

The rest of the day consisted of two meetings, a dozen calls, countless email exchanges, and not enough studio time. A thick blanket of darkness had veiled the city by the time she closed her laptop and called it a day. She stretched her neck and took a moment to gaze at the lit skyscrapers through her floor to ceiling windows, sighing softly.

It was sometimes weird to think about how this was her life. How the asocial, grumpy freshman from thirteen years ago had made it to the top of the music business and now co-owned one of the biggest labels throughout the country.

Scratch that, throughout the world.

Snapping out of her daze, Beca stood and slipped on her coat, plucking her phone off the desk to call herself a Lyft home. She had just about time to take a shower and eat dinner before heading to that stupid party.

Beca could think of a million things she’d rather be doing right now as she strode down the wet sidewalk towards the lit GIRLS red neon sign in the distance a couple of hours later.

She told herself one drink, an hour tops, then she could head home, put on her pajamas, and finish that true-crime TV show she started yesterday.

“Name?” A dude bulkier than the freaking Rock asked her as she made it to the club door.

“Um, Beca Mitchell. I’m Edgy Reggie’s producer.”

Her artist had privatized a strip-club for his celebration party over his album hitting Platinum, and Beca couldn’t not show up, as... well, he was an important client and brought her label the big bucks.

The guy checked his clipboard and nodded, hitching his thumb over his shoulder. “You’re good to go.”

Casting the bouncer a nod, Beca ducked inside the dimmed, crowded club, wincing at the crappy music heavily pumping through the speakers. Three girls in bikinis and heels stood on platforms, twisting their bodies around dancing poles as dozens of dudes reclined back in leather sofas, shamelessly ogling their forms.

Beca’s nose crinkled as she scanned the room for her artist.

“Yo, Beca!”

Her gaze snapped to the left corner, catching sight of Edgy Reggie (he didn’t want to change his stage name, no matter how much Beca insisted) waving her over.

“Hey,” she cast him a tight-lipped smile, tucking her straight hair behind her ears. She nodded at the other dudes sitting around the low table. “What’s up.”

“Guys, this is the girl behind the magic of my album,” Edgy Reggie explained, throwing an arm over her shoulders before Beca could squirm away. “She is fire. ”

Beca chuckled awkwardly, then pointed over her shoulder. “I’m gonna go get myself a drink.”

Maybe two come to think of it, so she could get herself through this.

She headed to the bar and ordered an old-fashioned, fishing in the inside of her coat pocket for her credit card.

“Thanks,” she muttered when the barmaid (also clad in a bikini that left very little to the imagination) came back with her drink, handing her her card just as the club’s speaker made an announcement.

“Ladies and Gentleman, please welcome to the stage… Ariel! ”

The crowd cheered and hooted, Beca glancing over her shoulder to see what all the fuss was about.

There was no amount of alcohol that could have prepared her for the scene unfolding before her.

There, on the main stage, strutted in a redhead, only wearing a silver g-string and high heels. Beca would have recognized that shade of hair anywhere, and while the lighting in the club was low, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that this girl -- Ariel -- was her former best friend.

Her former best friend who had dropped from the face of the Earth almost five years ago, without so much as an explanation. She hadn’t just stopped talking to Beca, but to all of them, even Aubrey. She was nowhere to be found on social media and when Beca had tried calling her after six months without news, she found out Chloe’s phone number had been disconnected. It wasn’t like they talked on a daily basis before that. After three years spent living on opposite sides of the country, the texts started coming further in between, their communication coming down to a few check-ins a year and on birthdays, until they eventually stopped.

Fearing the worst, Aubrey had called Chloe’s parents, who assured her she was fine, working as a vet in NYC and in a committed relationship. While relieved, the news stung Beca, as it was clear Chloe had deliberately ceased contact.

It took some time, but Beca eventually stopped thinking about her so much, especially when she started getting successful as a music producer and pouring her time and energy into her projects. She soon won her first Grammys, Gold, and Platinum records featured in notorious magazines and talk shows. She could stop working tomorrow and money wouldn’t become an issue, but Beca didn’t like to boast about her fortune, or fame, for that matter.

Despite being insanely busy, she still kept in touch with the other Bellas in their group chat, but she hadn’t seen any of them in a couple of years, missing the last reunion because of her job.

Beca’s mind steered back to the present, where the once most important person in her life was currently dancing for money. Men were staring hungrily at her as she sensually moved around the pole or bent over with her ass in the air to collect dollar bills from the floor, and Beca suddenly felt sick.

This couldn’t be her dream job, right? Something had to have happened for her to settle for this.

Beca grabbed her drink and knocked it back, flagging the barmaid down for another as her mind reeled as to what to do.

She needed to talk to Chloe. In private. Tonight, as soon as she finished… parading in front of these disgusting fuckboys. Only… she wasn’t sure Chloe wanted to talk to her.

“Hey,” she said when the barmaid came back as an idea struck. “How do I get a private lap dance with one of the girls?”

The girl raised a surprised eyebrow. “Backroom, hun. Who do you want?”

“Ariel.”

The platinum blonde let out a curt laugh. “Ariel doesn’t do lap dances, babe.”

Beca’s eyebrows knitted together in a heavy frown. “Why not?”

“Because she’s the boss’ favorite.”

Beca didn’t know what that meant exactly, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out as another wave of nausea swept over her insides. “Is your boss here tonight?”

The barmaid scanned the room quickly, nodding. “He’s the guy over there in the suit.”

“Thanks.” She took her drink and headed over to where the fifty-something dude was talking to another guy. Stepping up to them, she ignored their glares over her interrupting their conversation. “Hey. Are you the manager?”

The dude who looked like he ran a mafia mob turned a bit more towards her. “What’s this about?”

“How much for a private dance with Ariel?”

His gaze flickered over Beca’s shoulder towards the stage, then sized Beca up, unimpressed. “She’s not available, kid.”

Beca gritted her teeth at the condescending tone of his voice. “Not even for ten grand for twenty minutes?”

He slow-blinked, then burst out laughing. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m being serious. Ten grand, twenty minutes. Alone in a room, just the two of us.”

The man’s expression hardened. “And I said she’s not available .”

“Twenty grand.” Hell, she’d throw half a million on the table if that’s what was needed to talk to Chloe. After a beat, she added, “And no touching. That’s not what I’m here for.”

The manager seemed to consider her offer for a handful of seconds. “You got the money?”

Dammit. She couldn’t withdraw that much right now, she needed to call her bank. “Tomorrow night.”

He smirked, snickering. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He turned back to his buddy, leaving Beca grumbling under her breath as she turned around and stalked out of the club. She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t stand the sight of Chloe objectifying her body for money.

As soon as she got home, Beca fired up her computer and typed in Chloe’s name in her browser. Apart from old stuff on the Bellas, she found nothing relevant. Chloe appeared to still be MIA from any social media.

Beca grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contacts, bringing the device to her ear.

“What’s wrong?”

“How do you know something’s wrong?”

“We call each other twice a year on our respective birthdays and stick to the Bellas chat for the rest.”

Beca nibbled on her bottom lip. “I found Chloe.”

A long stretch of silence on the other end of the line followed. “What?”

“I saw her tonight, Aubrey.”

“Where??”

“At a strip club. She’s… a stripper.”

“What? Did you talk to her?”

“No. She was performing on stage. But I will. I’m… buying a lap dance from her tomorrow. I figured… she’ll have to listen to me since she’s being paid for it.” Her eyes slammed shut, scrunching up her nose. “I don’t know. It might be a bad idea, but-- I just wanna make sure she’s okay, you know?”

“Yes, of course. Keep me posted?”

“I will. Talk to you soon.”

Beca shuffled to bed after that, but sleep never came. Her mind kept reeling about Chloe, about what she might say to her once they were face to face, and the possibility that Chloe might shoot her down and refuse to talk to her.

She spent her Saturday trying and failing to make some progress on an ongoing project, willing time to tick faster so she could head back to the club. Mid-afternoon, she headed to the bank to withdraw twenty grand, tucking the envelope in her purse.

“Why does it feel like you’re doing something illegal, Beca?” She muttered to herself on her way out of the bank, slightly paranoid about carrying so much cash on her.

The club was just as crowded when she got there around 10 pm. A different girl danced on the main stage and the manager was nowhere in sight, so Beca perched herself on a stool at the bar, ordering herself another old-fashioned.

“Is your boss around?” She asked the barmaid, a different girl from last night.

“Who’s asking?”

“Tell him the person who wants Ariel is here.”

The girl’s eyebrows shot up at that but she didn’t say anything, nodding before strutting away. Beca sipped at her drink for the next twenty minutes, keeping her back to the stage.

The manager eventually appeared in her peripheral, and he leaned an elbow over the counter, lacing his fingers. “So what’s so special about Ariel?”

Beca slowly set her drink down and fished for the envelope, pushing it towards him while keeping her gaze straight ahead. “I like redheads.”

He plucked the envelope off the counter and peered inside. Twenty stacks of ten hundred dollar bills in exchange for twenty minutes with Chloe.

He nodded. “Follow me.”

Beca finished the rest of her drink, the alcohol managing to muffle her nerves some as she followed the manager towards the back of the club, and down a set of stairs. Her heart pumped hard in her ears and her palms started to sweat as she was led inside a dimly lit room with a handful of sofa chairs and a small stage with a dancing pole, some kind of music that seemed straight out of a porno carrying through the speakers. A spiral staircase was tucked in the right corner, and she guessed that is where the strippers made their entrance from.

Beca wondered how far things usually went in these kinds of private rooms.

She wondered how far Chloe went.

She cast the guy a tight-lipped smile and a nod before he closed the door, and paced the room for a little while, eventually lowering herself on one of the leather chairs and wiping her palms on her designer slacks.

The clicking of heels over metal made Beca’s spine snap straighter. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder as the steps grew nearer, digging her nails into her thighs as a new round of nerves gripped her insides.

“Good evening, sweetheart,” the huskiness of Chloe’s voice made Beca swallow, and she felt a hand run over her shoulders as Chloe approached from behind.

Glancing up, Beca met familiar, ocean blues.

#bechloe #bechloe fic #bechloe fanfic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #pieces

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incorrectlumityquotes · 4 years ago

Text

FULL REVIEWS: “Hooty’s Moving Hassle”

I’ve only seen Howl’s Moving Castle once and I thought it was just okay. The animation was amazing. The story and characters were just...okay. But we’re not here to talk about that today.

A Hooty centric episode? Count me in, hoot hoot. The hype train just keeps on going and I was so glad that I found my new favorite show. AND my niece loved it too, so that’s a huge plus. The only thing that I was sure about this episode going in way back when was that Gus and Willow were going to be in it. Let’s check it out and see if it’s still as good as I remember it, hoot hoot.

“Cards! The paper rectangles that old people think are fun.”

Hot damn, Luz. The episode just started and she’s already out firing shots. But to be fair, she did grow up with smartphones and game consoles being a thing so I doubt she sees the appeal. Do kids even still play with toys anymore? Or do they all just play on tablets now? Probably why Toys R’ Us closed.

Speaking of things that can only happen in this generation, callbacks and continuity! Eda’s curse is rearing its feathery head and like the irresponsible adult that she is, she’s out of elixir, hoot hoot.

It’s not our full introduction to Owlbert, but at least he gets some screen time where he actually moves and stuff. I totally get where Luz and King are coming from. When a friend discovers they’re really good at a game and they want to play it all they time because they like winning but it’s super annoying and you always lose because it’s not a game you would ever play on your own, hoot hoot. Yeah. Eda is that friend.

People watching in a fantasy world would actually be a fun little way to do some worldbuilding, but I’m afraid some people would call it lazy. We get a bunch of set-up for the third act and then the spice of life returns, hoot hoot.

“Who hurt my babies?”

Hyper fangirl Luz spots her babies wearing frowny faces thanks to Amity and her little group. Apparently Amity’s forced friend brigade is going to have a moonlight conjuring which is basically just a slumber party. It’s literally exactly like a slumber party. I have proof. Just check out this video and see that slumber parties are just modern witch gatherings.

Thanks to Luz though, Willow has enough friends to have a moonlight conjuring of her own. Wow, typing out that sentences actually made me feel really sad. Willow is a sweeties and she deserves the world. Okay I feel better, hoot hoot.

Also Penstagram? Really? Like freaking really? I hate Instagram. The feed is never in chronological order, I don’t know what “link in the bio” means and I never have enough pictures to just be on there. I mean, who freaking takes pictures for everything all the time? It’s a madhouse, I tell you. A madhouse, hoot hoot.

Like Owlbert, this is our kinda introduction to Boscha and her crew. It’s not a full introduction, but it’s not like we’re not going to see more of her later. There’s Skara again and Cat. Thank you, Owl House wikia.

Eda’s dealer suggests going to the Night Market to pick up what she needs and shoots down Luz’s moonlight conjuring idea. But Luz isn’t going to let something small like a parent’s permission stop her from helping her friends, hoot hoot. So Luz pulls the laziest plot device in all of fiction and lies.

Sleeping King in a baby sling and Willow saying “I’m a sneaky sneakster” hoot hoot? This episode is all kinds of cute.

Eda heads to the night market and Luz has her little slumber party. A sad thought just occurred. What if this is also Luz’s first slumber party too? Her mom did say that she didn’t have any friends. I made myself sad again, hoot hoot.

Luz, ever the good host, tries to accommodate her friends and they get to work on the moonlight conjuring. Luz chanting that she doesn’t know the words made me laugh. Especially because I’d do the same thing.

Side note, but Gus insisting that Beefy Bob is a figurine is just kinda funny. All I kept thinking about was the difference between action figures, dolls, and figurines. Dolls don’t move but you play with them. Action figures do stuff and you play with them. Figurines don’t move and you don’t play with them, hoot hoot. “A real man never takes accountability” is hilarious and unfortunately true.

“Light as a feather; stiff as a board. Light as a feather; stiff as a board.”

“Something ridiculous this way comes, hoot hoot.”

And just like that, our heroes conjure the whole house. How? Why? Never mind that shit, here comes Bosha! And the set up from early in the episode, hoot hoot.

Meanwhile at the night market, Eda meets the recurring villain of the series. I like to call these guys jobber villains.

For those who don’t know, a “jobber” is a pro wrestling term. It’s a guy who is hired to just lose to the big name guys. I use the term “jobber villain” to describe any antagonist who isn’t the main villain who is used frequently to lose to the heroes. Think Team Rocket in Pokémon, Dr Light in Teen Titans, Ludo in Star vs the Forces of Evil, etc, you get the idea.

Tibbles hustles Eda over the Hexes Hold ‘em game and we get a bunch of funny ass jokes that I dare not ruin for you. The two plots cross for just long enough for Luz and co to get busted.

I have concerns, hoot hoot.

Meanwhile, back in the other failed moonlight conjuring, the moonlight conjuring has failed. The girls do what every young girl would do in that situation and complain on social media. Amity gets a really cool shot that I don’t have and the episode ends with a hint that someone on our main trio is more powerful then they are letting on.

FINAL SCORE: 5 - Loved it.

This episode is funny as hell. That’s the main highlight for me here. There are so many good jokes especially since it’s my type of dialogue humor.

Lots of character work. The reveal that Willow and Amity used to be friends adds depth to both characters, making the relationship a bit more complex than just bully-victim scenario.

I love it whenever Luz speaks Spanish. As a Hispanic guy myself, I’m really happy about this kind of representation. This plus Marco Diaz.

We kinda get introductions to several characters who play bigger parts in later episodes. Bosch and Owlbert get soft intros while Tibbles takes the center stage as the episode’s main villain.

I’ve never been to a slumber party but I doubt they’re as fun as this.

I forgot what the next episode is so I don’t have a lead up line for it...hoot.

#the owl house #my works #full review #full reviews

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anonniemousefics · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! I absolutely adore your writing, especially your writings of kanej! Anyway, I would love to see you write something about jealousy from either kaz or inej, I just think it would be interesting to see your take on it! Obviously you don’t have to, I love your work! You’re a great writer!

❤️ Thank you so much!! This was so sweet to receive, and I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get this to you! So, hopefully you’re cool with this, but I decided to apply this idea in a modern AU because I have another request I’m also working on for a modern AU and this felt like an opportunity for some more practice. 😊 (And it just made it more fun for me -- idk, my brain just needed to do something new with these characters to make this work.)

Samples - Modern AU

Fandom: Six of Crows | Kaz + Inej (ft. all the other Crows)

Word Count: 3,545

Rating: Teen And Up (Language)

“Who did this?”

All of Kaz’s friends were doubling over in laughter around the round hand-me-down table in Kaz and Jesper’s apartment. There were black and white Cards Against Humanity prompts spread across its surface – the most offensive combination of which had Inej, well, and everyone else, in fits.

What made my first kiss so awkward? had been the prompt Inej had drawn.

To which Kaz had submitted the following, randomly-selected card for her consideration – Announcing that I am about to cum. And then kept his poker face locked in place.

“Who did this?” Inej was demanding again, clutching her stomach.

Kaz wasn’t sure why he was hesitating -- something strange was happening while all of this was playing out. Nina had one hand on Inej’s arm while she was fairly screeching with laughter. Inej was slumping against Jesper, like the laugh was shaking her boneless. In fact, everywhere he looked, he was noticing how they were each exchanging these casual, unconscious touches in the midst of their mirth – Matthias turning his face against Nina’s shoulder, Wylan slapping Jesper’s shoulder.

No one was touching Kaz, though – which, that was good, though, right? That was because they were his friends, and they were thoughtful, and they knew all about The Very Sad Thing that had made him the way that he was.

And yet --

Kaz couldn’t find it in himself to laugh. He should be laughing, though, he realized. A normal person would be laughing, given the infectious nature of laughter. And also it was genuinely a really funny card – that’s why he’d played it. But all he could do was force a smile, and that was it.

He suddenly felt like an alien among them.

“Was it you?!” Inej was exclaiming, waving the card at him. Kaz designed what he hoped was a coy smirk for her.

“Are you saying that’s your favorite?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“It was you.” Inej looked appalled, which only made everyone around the table hoot louder. Kaz was still smirking as she threw his winning card back at him with a mischievous, red-faced grin on her face.

“Oh, my God, Brekker.” Nina was wiping the tears off her apple-red cheeks.

“Why does that make it so much worse?” Matthias wondered, since he evidently could never not take a jab at Kaz. He scrubbed his eyes like he needed to wash them out.

And still not a single laugh out of Kaz’s body – this was disturbing. How long had he been this way? And why did he care so much all of a sudden?

“Guys, I’m pretty sure he won,” Wylan was saying, pointing at Kaz’s stack of wins. Had he? Everyone turned to count their cards.

Jesus Christ, he hadn’t even been paying attention to winning? But Kaz loved winning. It was the only reason he tolerated his roommate hosting these raucous game nights – because it meant Kaz could win things. And usually a lot of things. It was especially choice winning things off of Matthias Helvar, Nina’s latest lughead boyfriend she’d met at the gym, who now had to be invited to everything even though he sucked. He was always cuddling close to Nina, putting his arm around her, whispering gross things in her ear that made her giggle insufferably. It was so fucking uncomfortable.

Kaz never acted that way around Inej, and they’d been together for years. Sort of. Not always officially. It really had only been officially lately, but Kaz had always told himself he wasn’t one to need to put labels on things. Inej knewhow he felt – he knew this. (Did he, though?) He definitely knew this. (No, he didn’t.) There was no need to be like Matthias fucking Helvar and canoodle her in front of everyone on game night.

Oh, God. Kaz was suddenly having a realization, right there in the middle of counting his cards.

Oh, God.

He was jealous of Matthias Helvar.

Oh, this sucked.

This really fucking sucked. Kaz thought no one in their right mind should ever be jealous of that big dumb fuck, with his protein shakes and his weirdly popular fitspo Instagram page. The guy looked like he ate nothing but wild-caught salmon and organic broccoli. He wasn’t funny, and he’d say weirdly spiritual shit at socially unacceptable times. He probably spent his weekends doing annoying, on-brand fuckery like being one with nature and brewing his own kombucha, that asshole.

And this was the guy who felt comfortable enough to kiss a girl’s ear in a total stranger’s apartment. (Well, not a total stranger, Kaz would relinquish that – Nina had been dating Matthias for three months.) Matthias Helvar was doing all that nothing with his life, and he wasn’t the least bit self-conscious.

Ugh. Kaz hated that guy. Worse! Kaz wanted to be that guy. Minus the kombucha and the religious stuff. And the gym membership. And probably the protein shakes.

Ok, fine, Kaz was only interested in the PDA. This was so fucking awful.

“What number were we playing to?” he heard himself ask. He wasn’t even paying attention to card counting. He was going to have to start again.

“Can’t count that high, Brekker?” Matthias asked, smirking, and there was always something Kaz took as halfway serious in the way he tried to joke.

“Die in a fire, Helvar,” he said, with a smile that was as good as a middle finger.

“And on that note!” Nina sung out, standing with a hand on Matthias’ shoulder. “It’s almost midnight. I have an eight a.m. class. We gotta call it a night.”

“Matthias drove us,” Inej explained to Kaz’s questioning look at the word “We.”

Inej and Nina were roommates, too, like Kaz and Jesper, but the two girls lived on campus in the dorms at Ketterdam University, where all but Matthias attended. (Fucking Matthias, who was a personal trainer and got money from wellness companies to tout their shit on his Instagram. Ugh.) Wylan, Jesper’s boyfriend, was also living in the dorms this year, after spending his freshmen year commuting from his dad’s enormous house. Wylan had been the one with the car before Kaz had finally scraped together the money for one, but his dad had cut him off over the summer. Kaz didn’t know much about that beyond what little Jesper had told him, which, in summary, was: goodbye, car; hello, dorm life.

“You should have said something – I could have picked you all up,” Kaz said, mostly to Inej, as the others were standing from the table.

Nina reached a tentative hand out to gently touch his shoulder, well-protected by the fabric of his black v-neck.

“Kaz,” she said, gingerly, “we love you, but Matthias has functioning air conditioning.”

Kaz slid his glance toward Inej, who gave a little confirming nod, pressing back her amused smile.

“My thighs don’t stick to the seats in his car,” she explained, softly, which may as well have been a knife to the gut. He loved driving her around in his car. And, to top it off, she was in a pair of really adorable denim cut offs, her legs deeply tan from the summer sun, and he hadn’t even had the nerve to try to touch her exposed knee all night. (Meanwhile, Hands-On Helvar over here had been sitting with his palm all over Nina’s plentiful thighs all night. God, he was so gross. Couldn’t Kaz be just a little bit gross?)

“Are you okay?” Inej was asking. She was stepping a little closer to him away from where everyone else was putting on shoes, preparing to leave. She had her arms wrapped around herself and her loose, purple crop-top, and her long, dark braid was pulled over her shoulder – just mercilessly cute all over. And he hadn’t touched her all night.

“I’m fine,” he replied, but he kept his hands in his jeans pockets. Inej’s dark brows knit together.

“You’d tell me if you weren’t?” she checked. Kaz huffed a laugh – how was he supposed to answer that? Realistically, he should lie.

“Probably not,” he admitted anyway, and gave a shrug. Inej opened her mouth to reply, but Nina called to her from the doorway of the apartment.

“Sorry! Eight a.m. class! She’s going to text you from the car anyway!” Nina was shouting.

“She’s not wrong,” Inej shrugged with a smile. And reached out to barely brush her hand against his spine, like the first attempt at a hug. But Kaz could only bunch up his shoulders, hands stuffed deeper into his pockets. Why was he like this?

There were a few more awkward goodbyes at the doorway, including Matthias’ one-more last-minute sales pitch on the recent CBD-infused green powder drink he was hawking online. (“I’ll bring you some samples next week. They say it’s excellent for chronic pain.” Kaz had flipped him off when his back was turned.)

But then, once they’d all gone and the apartment was quiet, Kaz felt like he was rolling in regret.

“You doing ok?” Jesper asked him, gathering up the empty Solo cups for the trash. Jesper was a really good roommate. They’d been randomly assigned the same dorm room at the beginning of freshmen year, and it just worked. Jesper’s high energy plus Kaz’s insomnia were meant to be. They liked all the same things: strong coffee, getting paid dirty money to write other people’s papers for them, and occasionally clearing the mind by playing Call of Duty all night. They’d moved off campus the following year (a better move for the plagiarism operation), never even really having a conversation about whether or not to room with someone else. It was not even a question, and who else would Kaz even want to room with?

“You’ve seemed off all night,” Jesper was pointing out, and if Kaz had half a brain, he knew he should have been asking Jesper for advice about PDA long before it had reached envying-Matthias-Helvar-levels. Jesper and Wylan were normal in public. When they held hands or hugged or traded kisses, it wasn’t some fucking scene.

But how was he even supposed to bring this up to Jesper?

“Helvar’s such a dillweed,” was all he could find to complain. Jesper snorted.

“He is not that bad,” he said, dumping a stack of Solo cups into the trash.

“He’s the literal worst,” Kaz objected. “I can’t believe he unironically called himself an influencer.” And at that, Jesper pretended to barf into the trashcan.

“Yeah, no, you’re right – that was dumb,” he said. “I commend you for not cutting off your own ears when he did.”

“We are not buying his stupid fucking green juice,” Kaz said, pointing at Jesper to show he meant business.

“Good!” Jesper agreed. “Nina says it gives him the shits.”

And that brought Kaz some comfort. He found he could smirk about it while he loaded up the dishwasher. He was starting it up when his phone buzzed on the counter. He leaned over to read it.

Inej: You seemed sad tonight.

Inej’s contact photo in his phone was one he’d snapped when she wasn’t looking – she was leaning her head back with her eyes closed, taking in the sunshine. It had made her brown skin glimmer and dazzle.

Kaz stared at her text for probably too long. Long enough for Jesper to peer around the corner of the kitchen doorway at him.

“I’m going to bed – everything okay?” he said, and cocked his head. “Is it another last minute job?” Those kinds of jobs – the ones where a student was giving up the night before something massive was due – paid the most, but for good reason. They were absolutely fucking miserable to pull off.

“No,” Kaz shook his head. “Just Inej.”

It was never “just Inej” – and Jesper nodded like he knew that.

“Hey, Kaz,” he said, as he began to leave for his bedroom. Kaz looked up at him sidelong as he mouthed, barely audible: “Tell her what’s wrong.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil.” Kaz rolled his eyes. And heaved a heavy sigh.

And started typing.

Kaz: I guess I was a little.

Whoa, pressing send on that was unpleasant. He wandered over to his preferred recliner in the living room and flopped back in it. Shoved the footrest up to elevate his bad leg. Ugh. Just ugh to everything and everyone. He looked down at his phone again.

And Inej had been quick to respond.

Inej: You can tell me these things, you know.

Inej: I know I won’t always have the right thing to say, but I want to be there for you.

Inej. Why are you being so perfect so far away?

Why are you wasting your time with a boyfriend who struggles to touch you?

Inej: Are you writing a novel?

He’d been writing and rewriting the same sentence twenty different times. She’d probably been looking at those ominous three bobbing dots for way too long.

Ugh. God. Fine. Kaz drew in a long deep breath, staring up at the ceiling like it could intervene and come to his aid. And then fucking wrote.

Kaz: I wish things were different

Kaz: I wish I wasn’t so fucked

Kaz: I wish I knew how to be a better boyfriend – how to make you blush and laugh and make that one smile that’s like you’re telling secrets with your eyes

He pushed the recliner back as far as it would go. Maybe it would tip and dump him on his head and he’d have to go to the hospital, and that would at least delay Inej inevitably breaking up with him for being this pathetic wet blanket. The phone buzzed again, and he almost didn’t want to look.

Inej: Um, where were you all night? You literally had me doing all those things all night

Huh. That wasn’t how he remembered it.

Kaz: On the opposite side of the table from you

Kaz: Watching basically everyone else be able to touch you but me

Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck. That sounded so petulant, and he’d already pressed send. That sounded so needy and disgusting. Who said that kind of shit? Not even Matthias Helvar said that kind of shit. He wanted to throw his phone across the room. No, out the window. No, out into the sea.

Now he was on the receiving end of the three bobbing dots of doom. Fuuuuck.

Kaz: Can we just forget I said that?

More dots. Then nothing.

Then dots.

Inej: I don’t know. You’re kind of cute when you’re jealous.

At that, Kaz raised his eyebrows.

Kaz: I am not jealous.

Inej: You’re a little jealous

Kaz: No, I feel insufficient.

(Oooof. That was like trying to throw an anvil. Painful.)

Inej: Oh

Kaz was watching the texts come in from beneath his arm now, holding the phone high over his head. Like watching the slasher scenes in a horror movie.

Inej: I mean

Inej: It seems like you’re just splitting hairs here

Inej: Since you must think others are sufficient in ways you are not, so you envy them

…

Kaz: Touche, Ghafa.

And he couldn’t help smiling to himself when Inej sent him a gif of a swashbuckling cartoon Robin Hood brandishing a sword. Then another text bubble appeared.

Inej: You are not insufficient to me, Kaz.

He really wanted to believe that.

Kaz: Even if I’m not hanging all over you and amassing a truly staggering number of Instagram followers with my six-pack abs?

Inej: O.M.G.

Inej: Kaz

Inej: Brekker

Oh, God, what had he done?

Inej: Are you *jealous* of Matthias?

Uggghh, he was going to be sick.

Kaz: Fuck no

Kaz: It was just a hypothetical

Kaz: It was an exaggeration

Kaz: I could do the same thing with any one of our friends

Kaz: And we all know the abs are photoshopped anyway

Inej: OMG

Kaz: What now

Inej: You called Matthias our friend

Kaz wanted to stab himself in the brain.

Inej: I’m gonna tell him

Kaz: Don’t you fucking dare

Inej: I already did

Kaz: What? How? How are you that fast?

Inej: Still in the car

Kaz: ????

There was no reason for that – the dorms were hardly a 10-minute drive. Now Kaz’s brain was assaulting him with a thousand reasons things his girlfriend could still be doing in a car (A nice car! With working air conditioning!) with a personal trainer/amateur Instagram model, and none of them were pleasant or welcome thoughts. The phone buzzed again.

Inej: I asked him to bring me back to you. :)

At that, Kaz straightened the recliner, rising to his feet as fast as his stiff leg would allow.

Kaz: You did? And he did? Why?

He was limping toward the front door.

Inej: Because he’s not terrible, Kaz. And because I guess I missed your car after all ;)

Jesper and Kaz’s apartment was the third floor of a wonky old Victorian home that had once been something grand and only recently had been split into three different abodes – which was definitely the worst decision the two of them had made as roommates. Kaz was leaning hard against the railing as he took to the steps when the front door of the building banged shut below. And then there on the landing below was Inej, wearing a sheepish smile in the yellow, buzzing fluorescence of the hall light. She was holding her phone in one hand, her tan leather purse slung across her slim body.

“I thought you looked like you could use a hug,” she said, as she pocketed her phone.

Kaz took the last two stairs carefully, coming to stand in front of her. She smelled like vanilla and coconut oil – like something he wanted to wake up to every morning.

“You came all the way back for a hug,” he wanted to clarify. His hands – he should do something with his hands. What would Matthias do with his hands?

No. What do I want to do with my hands?

So, he looped a couple fingers through her belt loops. Tugged her a little closer. And she smiled.

“Technically,” she said, “Matthias came all the way back so I could bring you some samples.” She patted her purse, which did look a little bulkier. “They were in his car the whole time.”

“Mmmm.” He pretended to look tantalized. “Hot car samples. Delicious.”

Inej was twisting her fingers in the t-shirt fabric at the crest of his hips. Tugging him a little closer, too. God, it was so good. She’d been so right. He had wanted a hug.

“I know that’s how I want my protein powder,” she teased. “Piping hot, right out of the oven.”

“Just how Ma used to make it,” Kaz added, with a good bit of feigned nostalgia. Inej blurted out a laugh, tipping forward until her forehead bumped his sternum.

At that first brush, it was like his hands knew what to do from there. They slipped around her waist while her hands slid around his. And she pressed her cheek against his chest while he held her close.

“You are not insufficient,” Inej said against him.

“I would really like to pretend that never happened,” he said with a sigh, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Too late,” she hummed, happily, and gave him a light squeeze. He smiled against her hair.

“You know I wouldn’t want you to be like Matthias, right?” she asked.

“You shouldn’t even want Matthias to be like Matthias,” Kaz grumbled.

“Hey,” and Inej pulled back to look up at him with her big, soft brown eyes. “I mean it. I just want you to be you. I don’t want all the handsy stuff. That’s what Nina likes. I just like you.”

Kaz carefully pushed back a few strands of her hair from her forehead.

“Not even a little handsy stuff?” he checked, which made Inej give her coy little smirk, his very favorite.

“Maybe a little handsy stuff,” she said.

If there were ever going to be a time to kiss her, it would be now. But when he thought it, Kaz felt his heart make an enormous leap into his throat, seizing in panic. If he touched her mouth with his, if he closed his eyes and felt her face so close to his, would he just end up floundering in The Very Sad Thing again? What if it happened while he was kissing her? Would every kiss after that be tainted? Could he risk it – could he ever?

So, he didn’t move to meet her lips. He let his hands fall to the small of her back, though, and kept her close for another moment. Like a sample of physical affection, and she seemed okay with that. He would will himself to believe it was not insufficient.

“Drive me home?” she asked after a moment, with a kind of sweet, eager anticipation that made Kaz believe in magic. He nodded, of course.

“I’ll go up and get my keys,” he said. “And you throw away those samples.”

Inej laughed, following him up.

“Deal,” she said.

-----------------------------------

Tagging: @annejulianneh111, @loveyatopluto, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @whosanxiety, @raging-bisexual-alert,

#kanej #kanej fanfic #soc fanfic #six of crows #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #modern au #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #matthias helvar #nina zenik #look so im not a matthias fan #dont come for me #i just want to make fun of him because he's a big doofus

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ikleesfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Will you follow through if I fall for you?

Fandom : One Chicago Word count : 3,485 words Disclaimer

Previously on this fic : Part 1 🞂 Part 2 🞂 Part 3 🞂 Part 4 🞂 Part 5 🞂 Part 6 🞂 Part 7 🞂 Part 8 🞂 Part 9 🞂 Part 10

Part 11 (FIN)

Jay hangs out at Molly's after a good day at work. The bar is packed with familiar faces from Firehouse 51 and The Med. He sits down at a table with Hailey and Adam, talking about dull things, enjoying his drink.

"Jay, did you ever find out who sent you that box of chocolate on your birthday last month?" Hailey curiously asks him.

"Oh, you mean the one that you and Kim confiscated?" Jay teases her.

"Yeah, yeah, you wouldn't even open it if we didn't force you," Hailey rolls her eyes. "So, did you know who gave it to you?"

Jay's lips twitch with a barely-there smile, "Yeah, I did,"

"Who was it?" Adam asks nosily.

"A friend," Jay replies vaguely.

"You have friends other than us?" Hailey mocks him. "I'm shocked!"

"Hey, I'll have you know, I am a social butterfly. I got friends in many places," Jay points his finger at his coworkers who are busy laughing at him.

Adam sobers up from the laugh first and sees Kelly Severide approaching their table, "Hey, man!"

Kelly grins at Adam and Hailey, "Hey, guys!" before beckons to Jay, "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Jay is confused but follows Kelly anyway to a quieter corner of the bar. He waits until Kelly starts to speak. "I'm not sure if you know this, but Y/N will be in town next week," Jay stiffens as he hears his ex's name, but Kelly continues as if he didn't see it. "I know that she made a big mistake, and you probably still hate her," Kelly opens his hands in a placating manner, ".. but I'm not trying to play sides here. It's just.. she asked me to give you this," Kelly pulls an envelope from his jacket pocket. "It's two tickets for their show at Soldier Field next week, including the backstage passes. You can do whatever you want with them, man. If you want to use them, she'll be thrilled. If you want to burn them, she'll understand," He hands the envelope to Jay, who hesitantly takes it. "She's scheduled to arrive on Friday night and supposedly stays at The Langham for the weekend. But she hinted that she will try to crash at my place," Kelly informs him further.

"Why are you telling me this? What do you expect me to do?" bemuses Jay.

"I'm not telling you to do anything. I understand that you have a hard time these past months. But I also know it was not easy for Y/N as well. This might be a chance for you to clear any niggling questions you have." Kelly pats Jay's shoulder before walks out of Molly's.

Jay slowly steps back to their table. Hailey immediately grills him, "What was that about?"

Jay shakes his head to answer his friend, "It's nothing important." He puts the envelope in his back pocket, trying to forget the conversation.

◢◤

The days sneak up on Jay. Without him knowing, it's already Saturday evening. He sits on a couch at home, staring at the envelope on the table, thinking about what he should do. He knows what he wants to do, but he is not sure if it's the right thing to do. Jay bounces his foot restlessly before he decides to call Will.

"Hey, what are you doing tonight?" Jay asks Will straight away once the call is connected.

Unbothered by Jay's rude manner, Will replies shortly, "Watching Netflix. Why?"

"I need you to go someplace with me," demands Jay.

"I'm on stand by. I cannot go too long or too far away from Med." Will explains.

"I'll drive you with sirens on if they call you. Please, Will?"

Will is never immune to his brother's pleadings, so naturally, he agrees. "Okay, then. When are you going to pick me up?"

"I'm leaving my place now. You go get ready," Jay grabs his keys and walks out to his car.

◢◤

Once Will sits comfortably in Jay's car, he begins to ask, "So, where are we going?"

"Soldier Field." he hears Jay's clipped reply. Will starts to put the pieces together when he remembers that alex&y/n playing there tonight. He tries to reconfirm his guess, "Isn't that where..."

"Yep," Jay curtly nods without leaving his gaze from the road.

Will raises his eyebrows, "So you're going to see her?"

"I don't know," Jay shrugs his reply.

Will confronts him further, "Is that why you brought me? To help you decide?"

"No, I asked you to come because I know you're a fan of Y/N and her music," Jay patiently explains his reason.

Will never admits that fact before, but his brother seems to catch it anyway. Jay always tenses up whenever someone mentions his ex's name. Thus Will thought it's wiser to leave him be. But this time, it's Jay who chose to bring it out.

"But I told you before, I won't go to see the show," Will tries to remind Jay. He wants Jay to understand that he is here for his brother.

Instead, Jay tells him, "I know. That's why I brought you."

Will sighs loudly, "You're so confusing."

Stopping at an intersection, Jay grins widely at Will, "Just enjoy it, man."

◢◤

The first time Jay opens the envelope is in front of an usher who stands by the entrance gate. He shows the tickets to him and lets the usher guides them to the Guest Check-In area.

"Where did you get those tickets? Did Y/N give you that?" Will asks Jay as they stand in front of the check-in booth. Jay simply ignores Will's interrogations.

"Hello, good evening. May I see your tickets and ID, please?" greets the young man behind the booth. Jay silently gives the tickets and his driving license to the man. He checks them for a moment then input something on a laptop in front of him. Soon he returns Jay's ID back along with two gold wristbands. "Here's your wristband. Please tighten it on your hand, so you don't lose it," He pulls out a colorful map and circles several spots as he details further, "You can access the Guest Area here, on the east side of VIP seats. To access the backstage, you need to go to the north side area and ask the officials there for the backstage entrance. Is there anything else I can do for you, Sir?"

"No, thank you." Jay folds the map and puts it in his back pocket.

The man smiles politely and bids them goodbye, "Have a good time, Mr. Halstead."

The sky looks clear, tints in beautiful orange as the sun just set. They quickly find the Guest Area and the VIP seats. The seats are on an elevated section, which definitely gets a better view of the stage. The stage is dark now, but Jay can see it's bustling with some preparation. The Guest Area looks inviting. It has a private bar and a few food stalls. "This is very nice," remarks Will as he takes in his surrounding. He almost sounds impressed until he remembers from whom Jay got the tickets. "Nope. I ain't falling for this stunt! Does she think these extravagant things could lead her back to you?" Will shakes his head and declares passionately. He sulks on his way to find a spot with the perfect view of the stage.

Smirking at Will's antic, Jay pacifies his brother, "I think she just wants us to have a good time,"

Before Will can respond, the stage suddenly lit up. Laser and neon lights shine blindingly. In front of the stage, the crowd starts to clap and yell excitedly. As the intro begins to play, Jay looks down at the sea of people below him, shouting Alex's and your name.

"What's up, Chicagooooooo!" Alex cheers as he shows up on the stage, then soon followed by you. The crowd goes even wilder. You and Alex open with the first song, jumping lightly to the beat. Between a gap to the second song, Alex greets the crowd. "Chicago! It's so good to be here tonight" He leaves the beat playing in the background. "It is even better to have my best friend here with me. Would you please make some noise for Y/N!" The crowd hoots loudly. You answer them with a grin and a quick wave. "I hope you're also having the best time with your friends. Or maybe even make new friends. So now, let's party!!" Alex puts the microphone down and begins to play the next song. You and Alex play together for about 30 minutes before Alex leaves the stage. You keep the crowds going with your songs and remixes.

"Is it just me, or she doesn't look like she's enjoying it?" Will yells at Jay's ear. The music is so loud, it's practically impossible to speak over the thumping beats and sing-along crowd. Jay also notices the same thing Will said. It was really subtle. The crowd probably won't see it. But since Jay solely pays his attention to you, he can see that you're looking a bit tired. After another 30 minutes passed, Alex comes back on stage as you go off.

Alex plays solo for about 45 minutes before you come back to the stage. They play together again for a few songs until Alex grabs the microphone, "This is our last ten minutes... We are alex&y/n. We hope you enjoyed our music tonight... You guys are fucking amazing! We love you!" The crowds shout back in response.

When they reach the outro, Alex helps you get up on the table before getting himself up. Both of you bow and send air kisses goodbye to the crowds. The confetti bursts on the stage as fireworks explode beautifully to the sky. Soon as the last note goes, Alex jumps down from the table and helps you down. The stage then goes completely dark again. The crowds start to break. Some move away slowly from the stage. Others decide to sit in front of the stage and wait for the next act.

Will nudges Jay and asks, "You're gonna use that backstage pass?"

"No. Let's just go home," Jay sounds certain, but his eyes don't leave the dark stage, as if he still can see you there.

"They are actually amazing," Will comments about the show as Jay drives him back to his place. "I mean, I know they sound good. But the show was apparently better. Thank you for taking me tonight, bro."

"You know you can talk to her, right? You don't have to avoid her for me," Jay tells his brother.

Will clasps his hand on Jay's shoulder. "I know. But you're my brother. She hurts you. I'm not ready to forgive her yet."

◢◤

After you get off the stage, it doesn't take long for the entourage to leave the venue. Alex is whining that he's hungry. The time just passed 11 PM, so you take them to one of your favorite late-night eateries in Chicago. You also pick this place because it's only three blocks from Kelly's home. Thus, once everyone is done eating, they drop you off at Kelly's before they go back to the hotel.

Kelly knows that you're coming, so he's not surprised when he hears knocks on his door at 1 AM. But you are the one who is surprised when you see some folks from Firehouse 51 there. You hang out with them, talking and laughing until almost dawn. Some of them decide to go home. Others prefer to catch a wink before leaving. The sleeping arrangement becomes a challenge when there are more people than available beds. You finally get to shut your eyes on Kelly's couch just as the sun rises.

The persistent knocks on the door wake you up from your slumber. Half asleep, you come to the door, expecting Sylvie or Joe coming with brunch since they chose to go home last night.

When the door is opened, you blink a few times, not trusting your eyes. Is that really.. "Jay?" you whisper cautiously, wondering if you're still dreaming.

"Hi, Y/N," Jay lets out a nervous smile. You stare at each other for a while, uncertain of what to say. Before Jay gestures to the door, "May I come in?"

"Uhm, yeah, sure. Please. Come in," You stammer as you open the door wider to let Jay in. When you remember that you're still in your sleepwear of a tank top and cotton shorts, you insecurely put on a sweatshirt from your duffel near the couch.

You see Jay looking around the living room. It isn't messy, but it isn't exactly pristine either. They did bare minimum clean-up before went to bed, but you still can see remnants of the get-together. "Did you sleep there?" Jay refers to the unmade couch.

You let out a small giggle as you walk to the kitchen to make coffees, "Drew a short stick on the sleeping arrangement,"

Jay laughs at you, "Why did you sleep on a couch when you have a heavenly bed at the Langham?"

You're a bit surprised that Jay knew where you should've stayed, "Huh, guess Kelly told you that?" The question feels a bit rhetorical, so you don't expect Jay to give any response. "Would you like a cup?" You offer Jay, gesturing to the brewing coffee when he follows you to the kitchen.

"Please," Jay nods then sits on the chair by the counter. Both of you stay silent as you prepare the coffee. You wonder why Jay is here, but you are afraid to ask. When the coffee's brewed, you fix Jay's cup first and hand it to him before filling yours. "Thanks," Jay says as he accepts the cup. You stay on the other side of the counter as you sip into your cup. You feel like saying something, but you don't know what. Should you ask what's Jay doing here? Would Jay accept if you apologize to him again?

After a few awkward seconds, Jay speaks first. "Your show last night was great. Even got Will to jump and dance,"

That actually surprises you, "You came?"

"Of course we did. Will is a fan of yours." He says like it's a fact. Like it's the only reason he came.

You scoff your disagreement, "Right, I doubt that Will is a fan of me,"

"Will likes your music." Jay differs.

"Now that is something I can believe. But I'm pretty sure Will still hates me," you chuckle despairingly.

Jay takes his time to counter your claim, "Will doesn't hate you. He just... felt like he should. Because of me."

"What about you?" you hesitantly ask. "I understand if you're still mad at me. I just wish I can do something to fix it.."

When Jay gives no answer, you kick yourself in your head, thinking you've really screwed this up.

"When are you leaving?" Jay asks instead after a minute pause. You can hear the imply "again" at the end of the question.

Softly sigh to your coffee cup, you reply, "Monday morning." You see Jay nodding as a sign that he hears you, but he doesn't say anything. "I... might come back here in about three months?" It was intended as information, but your apprehensive voice made it sound like you're asking for his permission instead of letting him know.

Jay tilts his head, looking a bit curious, "For work?"

You take a deep breath before saying, "For you." Your gaze doesn't waver from his face. "If you can somehow forgive me and give me a second chance?" Jay locks eyes on you. His lips stay closed, but his eyes demand more explanation.

"I... realized that what I feel about you is a real deal. These past 8 months, I've been running away, trying to distract myself from my regret. I went back to Amsterdam, thinking I was gonna go home, but instead, it felt like I was walking away from home..."

"But you got your family, friends there. Your job is there. That's the reason you gave me when you left." Jay points out. He doesn't raise his voice, but you hear his upset loudly.

"Yes, they are. But I was too blind to see that I got similar things here as well. That I also have family and friends here.. Amsterdam doesn't feel the same anymore, with the fact that I left my heart here..."

Jay looks doubtful over your words. "I don't understand why you want to do that. How about your work? You're just growing a new career, and I know it's doing very well,"

"No, I don't think I can do it any longer. I hate being on stage. I got these next three months to finish alex&y/n gigs, then I stop touring. Go back to writing and producing behind the stage, which I still love to do. I could do that from anywhere. Might need to travel once in a while, but I believe I can base here."

Jay stays quiet for a moment. You feel your heart beating fast, waiting for his next words, which turn out to be another question. "If I say no, are you not gonna come and stay?"

Your face was crestfallen, your throat felt dry. Thoughts ran around in the back of your mind. If you stay here, you'd be closer to Jay. But if he doesn't want to forgive you, would staying still be better than being far away from him? "I... probably still come back and stay in Chicago." you finally answer him.

A ringing phone interrupts the heartfelt conversation before Jay gives you any response. He picks up his phone without stepping away from you. "Yeah? Okay. Give me 15 minutes." He says to whomever on the phone. Once the call ends, Jay stands up from his seat, "I gotta go."

"Work?" You pry.

"No. It's Hailey. She asks me to go with her for lunch," Jay explains.

"Oh.." Now you really look pathetic. Jealous for someone dear to Jay? Yeah, you certainly are a mess now.

You follow Jay, who already moves to the front door. As he opens the door to let himself out, Jay pauses to look at you. "It's good to see you, Y/N." He sounds so sincere.

You smile softly at him, "Yeah, Jay. It's good to see you too."

◢◤

"So you went to see her? Why?" Hailey exclaims. She cannot comprehend the reason Jay still wanted to meet his ex.

Jay shrugs. "I just... I don't know. I thought if I talked to her, then I would be able to let go and move on."

"And? Could you now?" Hailey confronts him.

"No. It made me miss her more." Jay admits.

Hailey scorns her friend's confession. "You're not even trying to move on, Jay."

"Maybe. I don't know if I want to though," Jay looks out to the street through the cafe's window.

"She's going to leave again. Break your heart again. Is that what you want?" Hailey tries to make Jay sees the real possibility here.

Jay doesn't give her any response. Without Hailey's reminder, he already thought and feared about the same things.

◢◤

"I have to state that this is an absolute misconduct." Hailey declares furiously from the passenger seat. "And I'm still thinking that you're making a wrong choice here."

It's Monday morning. Hailey should've been suspicious when Jay handed her a cup of coffee and a bag of pastry from her favorite bakery. Now they are gunning down to the charter terminal at Chicago Midway as if they're chasing a perp who tries to escape the country. Jay glances at Hailey and smirks, "Your complaint has been received and noted."

Jay turns his focus back on the road. He has been informed where the plane is gonna be. When he finds it, Jay sees you and your team walk to a G5 that's being prepared for their flight.

Jay brakes his car harshly. The loud screeching sound makes you pause and look at the source of the noise. Jay jumps out of the car and approaches you. He sees the surprised look on your face when you realize that he's here. You slowly walk towards Jay, gaping at him but utter no words.

"There months, you say?" Jay asks you with a heavy breath.

You answer wordlessly with a nod, not getting where Jay's going with this.

"I could wait for three months. Or more. As long as you come back to me." Jay tells you seriously.

"Yeah?" You stutter, eyes wide in surprise. "You sure?"

"Never been surer about anything else in my life," Jay states confidently. He sees your face beams, then it turns into a wide grin. Before he knows it, he has you in his arms, squealing happily.

-end-

+x Taglist +x

@shipshipshipau @itsdesiree86 @thevelvetseries @annaallicce

Author Notes : I plan to continue this story with one shots or drabbles, but I don't know when. Please drop me a message/reply if you wanna be tagged for future fics. You are definitely welcome to follow the account. Or you can just wait for them to appear on "Jay Halstead x reader" tag posts. Thank you for all the loves you gave this fic!

#fanfiction #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead fic #jay halstead imagine #chicago pd fic #One Chicago #one chicago fic #jay halstead #hailey upton #Adam Ruzek #Kelly Severide #original work #wyftiiffy

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divagonzo · 4 years ago

Text

Like a Muggle

A/N: This is inspired (and a roughly written one-shot in my side-verse) by @headcanonsandmore aka Dadcanons and their musing of Ron being an awesome father to his kids.

Rated T for innuendo and some snogging but also veiled references to physical violence and social mortification. 98% Ace Safe. This will eventually end up on Ao3 and maybe FF.net

For now, though, it’s all for the Tumblr crowds.

Edit: Now on Ao3.

Give me my demarcation line damn it!

Ron opened the window to admit the unexpected owl. He was working in the Wheeze's office, trying to balance the books and was instead accosted by a nondescript brown owl. "Letter from Neville?" Ron unwrapped the twine from the owl's leg. "Need a rasher or a kip?" The owl hooted what sounded like a No. "It's from Neville. Does he need a reply?" Yet another hooting no.

"Wanna run on back then since Neville doesn't need anything else?" Ron reached out and let the owl come to him, stroking his head feathers gently before the owl took off again. He unrolled the length of parchment, using the readers on top of his head to scan the letter. Disappointment welled in his heart at first before pride shined. He had to go tell Hermione this straightaway, sod the books for an hour. He grabbed his dark blue cloak for the short walk to the Ministry. Taking the floo was too much hassle for a brisk fall morning. "George, I gotta run to the ministry. Back in a few." "Bring me back those shipping contract papers that Percy has for us, wouldya? Save a plonker the trip." Ron threw up a rude gesture while taking the twenty minute walk to the front of the Ministry. He needed the break anyway from the numbers swirling around his head this morning.

Through the toilets and through security, even with the bailiff who knew who he was and still checked him, in the lift down six floors to the Magical Law Enforcement offices, through the rows of desks for the bureaucracy known as the Ministry to Hermione's personal secretary Miranda Blunt. "Ah, Mr. Weasley. You're not on her agenda today so I assume it's important for her to see you immediately? Well she's using the Floo with her Italian counterpart on business so it will be a few." Ron smiled, knowing how important Miranda actually was to Hermione. Everyone thought she was just her secretary but only a chosen few - Harry, Hermione, Hemera, and Ron knew that Miranda was also her personal bodyguard at the office, after the few times anyone tried to breach the security of the department to get to her. "Tea, Mr. Weasley?" "Please." "Three sugars, spot of milk?" "I'd almost think you're related to Hermione with that mind of yours." "Nah, it's only for the important stuff. Husband's tea is important knowledge. And it's also a way for you to know it's really me." Ron gave her a lopsided smile while Miranda slipped into the secure office, returning a couple of minutes later with a small tray of tea and a couple packets of biscuits. "Your wife didn't know if you were peckish or not." "You spoil a bloke, you know that?" Ron tore the packet open and inhaled the contents. He'd missed breakfast this morning on account of other pleasant activities then fell back asleep, only waking fifteen minutes before he was due at the shop. Miranda went back to her seat and used the contraption Hermione got her last year, called a typewriter. They'd explained it to Ron that it was like writing on parchment but easier to read for those who had trouble reading so many varied scrips from people. Hermione had even gifted one to Arthur and he spent countless hours using it writing to his kids and grandkids. The door opened up a couple of minutes later and Hermione stood there, making a motion for Ron to come into her office. Ron followed her in and then he kicked the door shut and gave her a enthusiastic greeting, one that she never complained about before pulling back from his lips, her cheeks flushed and her eyes closed. "You rarely come to the office on a Wednesday so what gives?" "I got a letter from Neville this morning and thought you probably should hear it from me than from him if he sent you a letter, too." "Letter?" Hermione pulled her glasses up to the bridge of her nose, a faint imitation of McGonagall and scanned the parchment twice. "Detention! Two weeks! Rose Lavender Weasley, of all the people! Hexing two another students!" She looked at Ron and saw him smirking slightly. "You prat. There's a page two, isn't there?" "Of course there is," Ron handed it over and watched her frown turn to a grimace and eventually into a smile. "She takes after you, she does." Hermione looked up from the parchment and smiled. "You were always so good on speaking up for me and occasionally fighting my battles when I didn't realize there was one going on." Hermione went back to her desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a cup, pointed her wand at it and re-heated the black coffee, and took a long sip. "You must have zero nerves in your mouth," Ron muttered from his seat across the desk. "You get used to it," Hermione pulled out a length of parchment along with her eagle owl quill and inkpot. "Anything you want to add into the letter I will send off straightaway?" "Nah, she should hear from you first anyway," Ron knew he'd write a letter later today and send it off tomorrow morning so Rose would know how proud her dad was for her standing up for others. Hermione went to work writing and in short order, finished it and cleaned up the parchment with her quill. "I considered a howler but I refuse to do that to our child for any reason. I hated getting them when people thought I was toying around with guys during the Tri-wizard tournament. Besides, Neville has everything under control so I'm not upset too much over it." Ron recalled punching a certain git in the nose and smiled. "Who'd have thought that what started as bullying would turn into a trip for three of the bullies to the hospital ward with Hannah and two weeks detention for Rosie for hexing two students bullying Hugo and his friends, and blackening the eyes of the other two when they disarmed her. I don't think her having a broken hand for punching the boy in the nose was too far for her." "And Neville did say the boys pulled their wands first and she was disarmed." "I'm glad I taught her there's no shame in fighting unfairly when it's overwhelming odds." "I do hope there's no ongoing reprisals." Hermione looked at Ron and saw him shaking his head. "Nah, if I know any better, I'm sure the sods in question were told off privately to leave Hugo alone if they knew what was best for them." Hermione let out a stifled laugh. "What kind of idiot takes on a Rose when almost all of her cousins are present these terms? The only one who isn't' there is Teddy, Right?" Ron nodded. Hermione smiled slightly. "Sixth years and she's a third year, Ron." "She's as tall as many of the boys there, Hermione. It doesn't surprise me in the least. And if there are any further problems, Victorie would probably step in and put them in their rightful place, I reckon." Hermione picked up the parchment and scanned it one last time. "I think we do need to send a howler tomorrow." "Really? Why?" "One of the gits is Zacharias Smith's son and he said that “the only reason you weren’t expelled for this is because of your parents.”

Ron's eyes lit up. "Thinking what I'm thinking?" "I am."

Yet another demarcation line!

Rose tromped into breakfast, exhausted. She's been in detention with Professor Sinestra until one in the morning helping her sort maps and other useless rubbish. Hugo was the one who loved Astronomy and the stars. Only thing she wanted was to race around the Quidditch pitch and now she was banned for a fortnight, for standing up for those who needed protecting. It was so bloody unfair! James and Fred said she was brilliant for what she did and so did Molly and Scorpius. Al, being Al, laughed quietly when she said why she'd gotten detention. She looked up from her seat at the table, her friends with her in commiseration, and saw Zeb sitting across the way, scowling at her with two black eyes and a brace around his left wrist. Madame Abbot Longbottom said it was a small price for him to pay for being a bully on first years - that everyone in the school would know his shame. Owls swooped in, each dropping parcels for those who were present in the Great Hall. She glanced up and saw a tawny brown owl carrying a red envelope in it's talons. She felt the utter dread in the pit of her stomach.

Her parents sent her a howler. She knew she'd stepped in dragon dung if they were mad enough to send a howler. She felt the shame on her face and neck, a reminder to her that her Dad was the same way. She saw Professor Longbottom surreptitiously pull his wand from his robes, ready to silence it into oblivion if it got out of hand.

One last glance across the way and she saw Zeb Smith smirking, knowing how much trouble she was about to get into.

She took it in a shaking hand and tore the top off, hearing her Mum's tsking loudly. "Fuck," she said under her breath.

"Rose Lavender Granger, detention? Of all the things to get in trouble for, and you chose this," Hermione's voice droned loudly. She was shocked. Mom wasn’t yelling, well, no more than seemed usual. "We are so proud of you for standing up for the younger students. Who picks on first years minding their own business? What prat thinks so poorly of themselves that they'd berate first years for playing in the hallways between classes? " "Who tries to hex firsties?" Ron's voice interrupted. "Rude!"

“Yes, it was very rude and you were right to intervene.” Hermione’s voice carried across the hall.

"We spoke with your head of house," Ron's voice bellowed, "and agree that the punishment fits the circumstances. Two weeks detention is adequate to us." "Sometimes the consequences are a fair price to pay." Hermione said. "Serve your detentions knowing that we are proud of you for standing up for others who need protecting from bullies." "Love, Dad - " - and Mum." Rose released the breath she'd been holding entirely too long and looked across the way. Zeb was no longer at the table and neither were his three friends she'd put in the hospital wing fighting them like a Muggle.

#Dragon's Fics #Hpfic #Romione #Rose Weasley Granger #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Hugo Granger-Weasley #OCs #Neville Longbottom #This ties into my fics from Romione FicFest #where Rose is a quidditch prodigy #and eventually has issues with Mum #But for this one things are still swimmingly good #tw:#tw: off page mentions of physical violence #tw: bullying references

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foxy-exy · 4 years ago

Text

Strange Engagement - Kevaaron

Prompt from here 09. we’re strangers who meet at a bar, get drunk, and wake up to announcements of our new engagement all over our social media - what did we do???

cw: alcohol use, blacking out, vomit mention, the vaguest suggestions of sexual content — also take note that sexual content happens while both of them are drunk, fyi

Finished this finally for a late bday present for @starsandgutters !!

Aaron does not get blackout drunk. Well, not anymore. It’s a rule he’s set for himself.

But damn if his recent breakup with Katelyn, who was supposed to be the love of his life, hasn’t hit him hard. And fuck if this man that took up residence next to him at the bar two hours ago isn’t infuriating enough to have Aaron’s pride on the fucking line here.

“You can’t take another,” snorts the asshole. Keegan. No, Kelvin. No…

“Fuck you, Kevin,” slurs Aaron, and feels the world spin a little, but the name is right. That’s right. Kevin Day. Some kind of sports guy, Aaron thinks he’s seen him on TV sometime or another. But that doesn’t mean shit for his ability to out-drink Aaron.

Aaron can so take another shot.

“Prove it,” Kevin sneers, and Aaron growls.

Aaron smacks the bar top, and the bartender, Roland, skeptically eyes them both, but Aaron’s a regular and they’re old friends, so Aaron merely has to glare back and gesture impatiently for Roland to slide another shot his way.

Aaron downs it without pause, and there’s laughter, hooting, from onlookers he didn’t know he had. He swallows against the burn and flicks a glance to more strangers, grinning and nodding at him, flashing thumbs up and pumping fists. He manages a jerky nod before spinning back to Kevin, swaying slightly. “I did it. Can you, big shot?”

Not the wittiest one liner he’s ever delivered, especially with all his syllables melding together as his mouth refuses to work with him, but Kevin also seems slightly off-balance as he turns to Roland, nodding for his next round.

“I absolutely should cut you both off before you start brawling,” sighs Roland, pouring another shot. “You’re lucky I’m an enabler.”

“Three more,” blurts Aaron, as Kevin gulps down his tiny glass. “Unless you can’t handle it.”

“You’re tiny, you’re the one who should be worried,” spits Kevin, though it’s hoarse through the alcohol.

“Oh my god,” Roland says, as he pours the shots and shoves them in front of them both, walking away with his hands up. “I’m done with you both for tonight.”

“Bet you you’ll still tap out before me,” Aaron says challengingly, narrowing his eyes up at Kevin, watching the too-tall man narrow his own green eyes back, the lights of the club catching on the tiny number 2 tattoo on his cheekbone, the tendrils of black hair springing free from his quiff. Aaron blinks away his wandering gaze, realizing Kevin is lifting another shot to his lips, and reaches to do the same, the fire of competition spurring him on.

The trickles of light and sound filter through warm, hazy drunkenness. Aaron is wrapped up in something skin-hot and sweat-sticky, hair between his fingers and another pair of lips melded to his and he cannot think, the wall unyielding at his back and the floor unreachable as his legs wrap around hips.

“Fuck,” mumbles a male voice, into his mouth, and Aaron hums in agreement, lazily tightening his hold and letting a hand fall down the back of his makeout partner, digging his fingernails into a crisp shirt and scratching.

The man — Aaron lets his eyes flutter open as the pair of them part for a moment of breath — Kevin, Kevin Day, shudders against him at the rough treatment and lets his head fall to where Aaron’s shoulder meets his neck, mouthing at the skin there, and Aaron responds with his own shiver.

He falls back into Kevin’s lips with a tug at his hair to drag him back up, and Aaron blacks back out at the kiss.

“We should get married.”

“That’s so stupid, that’s a terrible idea. Just because you’re hot doesn’t mean —”

“But you’re getting over your ex too. You know what would stick it to our exes? Getting fucking engaged.”

“You’re out of it, I can’t get publicly engaged to a man. I’d get os — ostra — I’d get bad press.”

“Fuck that, who cares. Buy me a ring, asshole, you’re rich.”

“Fuck, fine. Fine, I will, if you do that again.”

“Shit, Kevin.”

Aaron’s head pounds a terrible rhythm, and he thinks perhaps he attempted to drink sand last night. There’s no other way his mouth and throat would be this awful, gritty texture.

The nausea that hits a moment later threatens to bring up whatever he had last swallowed, and he spills out of bed to stumble-sprint to the toilet.

When he finally hobbles back to the bedroom with the speed of an especially slow zombie, he stops dead when he finds the form of another person burrowed into his pillow.

Kevin Day groans when Aaron pulls the pillow away from him, shielding his eyes from the bedroom light, and squints up at him like he, too, is not sure how he got there.

“A-Aaron?” he finally ventures.

“Congrats, you remember my fucking name. Get out of my bed.”

Kevin does not, in fact, get out of his bed, simply blinks down at his own shirtlessness, lifts the sheet to apparently check on whether he is wearing pants. (Aaron is suspiciously only in his boxers, and he suspects Kevin is too.) “What happened last night?”

“Guess I was stupid and lonely enough to bring you back to my apartment, for some reason.” Aaron rolls his eyes. Why he allowed himself to reach that drunken point in the first place is beyond him. He can’t remember the last time he allowed himself to actually check another man out, let alone…

He realizes suddenly that the terribly shrill ringing he’s heard several times now is his phone, muffled underneath fabric somewhere on the floor of his room. Someone’s calling him.

It takes him several minutes to find the source of the noise, but the mystery caller keeps redialing when the call drops. When Aaron recovers his phone, it’s with an awful sinking feeling that he sees TWIN MENACE blinking across the screen.

Andrew does not call him for no reason.

“Hello?” he mumbles into the phone, and there is an awful silence for a minute on Andrew’s end.

“Care to tell me, oh brother mine, what exactly happened that made you post what you did on Facebook last night?”

Aaron’s stomach drops yet lower. He feels dizzy. “What?”

“Nicky’s been calling you, and when you didn’t pick up, he started calling me. What the fuck did you do?”

“W-what did I do?” Aaron stabs the speakerphone button to pull his phone from his ear and navigate to Facebook. His notifications are blowing up, all over a photo he definitely doesn’t remember posting.

It takes a moment to load when he opens it, and the sound he makes when it does makes Kevin wince and cover his ears.

Kevin and Aaron are very deeply and disgustingly making out, and Aaron is holding a middle finger up to the camera. His left middle finger. And below that middle finger, a ring sits on his finger.

An engagement ring. That is still on his ring finger when Aaron looks down at it.

The caption reads, fuck y’all we’re getting married.

“You fucking proposed to me?” he yells at Kevin, who had been squinting one open eye at him, leaning forward to listen.

Kevin falls out of bed in a tangle of long limbs, with his own squawk. “What?”

“I have an engagement ring. I posted that we’re getting married. Oh my god.”

“Dumbass,” is barely audible from the phone speaker, and then the call disconnects.

“Wait,” Kevin mumbles, rubbing his head and trying to navigate sheets that are still wrapped around him. “Wait, no. You proposed to me. You started this. I know that much. I thought it was a bad idea.”

“Obviously not enough to not get me a ring.”

“Quiet,” Kevin pleads.

“What were we thinking?” Aaron tugs on his hair. He’s not sure how it took him so long to notice the ring’s presence in the first place, it feels unbearably heavy on his finger now.

“You wanted to get back at your ex. And mine. We both were upset about our breakups,” Kevin reasons out slowly, eyes fixing on nothing as he appears to search his memory. “We had a drinking competition, and then, we started dancing, and then venting about our exes, and then we started…making out. It gets pretty fuzzy, but. You said we should get married, I didn’t think so. But you, uh. Convinced me.”

“How do I delete this? Fuck.” The exponentially growing number of comments of absolutely everyone he knows on the Facebook post blurs in front of his eyes.

Whoa, that’s a surprise. Happy for you!

Who’s the fiancé???

Didn’t realize you were with this guy now. Congrats on the engagement!

Classmates, coworkers, distant family, and…

Aaron, what the fuck.

“Shitshitshitshit.”

Aaron throws the phone in a knee-jerk reaction, his brain narrowing to the tiny profile picture on the screen. Katelyn.

Kevin catches the phone in the same instinctive way, eyes wide as he stares at Aaron.

“She knows. She knows.”

“Who?”

“My ex, my… Katelyn. She saw. She’ll never take me back now. God, she thinks we’re…”

“Did you think she was going to?” Kevin asks incredulously. Like he fucking knows anything about Aaron and Katelyn’s relationship.

“She could have realized! That we were good! That she missed me! She could have —” Aaron’s throat closes over, and he realizes with horror that he is probably about to cry.

“Aaron.” Kevin still looks sickly pale, maybe a little green around the edges, but he nonetheless kind of crawls across Aaron’s bedroom floor to sit in front of him. Now that he’s extricated himself from the sheets, Aaron can see that he is indeed only wearing a very small pair of boxer-briefs. “She wasn’t going to. You were complaining about how your relationship had been, towards the end. It’s good you broke up.”

Aaron swallows back a lump in his throat and blinks away burning, shoving his fist into Kevin’s chest. “Shut up.”

Kevin looks down and takes Aaron’s fist in his own hands, uncurling it and contemplating the ring he’d apparently bought last night as he plays with Aaron’s fingers absently. “I miss my ex too. But she wasn’t good for me. We weren’t… it wasn’t very healthy, how we got together. And we didn’t know how to be healthy once we got out of that situation either.”

“Now look at us,” Aaron huffs sarcastically. “Oh-so-healthily drunk engaged.”

Kevin’s lips twitching into a involuntary smile is unexpectedly attractive, and the dark eyebrow he raises pulls a snort from Aaron that morphs into a giggle, and then Kevin snickers, and then they’re both laughing and staring at this fucking ridiculous ring that’s caused way too much trouble.

“It’s gaudy,” Aaron announces, when they’ve laughed themselves out. “You have no taste.”

“It’s expensive,” Kevin protests, immediately up in arms. “Look at how many diamonds there are.”

“Oh, of course you’d think bigger is better,” Aaron snarks, and Kevin glares at him, and Aaron shoves him back, raising his own eyebrows, but he can’t drop the grin curling across his face.

“You weren’t complaining last night,” Kevin returns, but before Aaron can toss one more flirty line thinly veiled as an insult back at him, another ringtone sounds from across the room.

Kevin turns toward the sound too fast and groans, hand lifting to his mouth queasily as he picks his way over to his own pants to fish out his phone. It cuts off just as he reaches it, but Kevin blinks down at his own screen, looking a little too off-balance.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron asks.

“I think I… I think I posted something too. Christ.”

“Oh, so it’s all fine and good by you that I posted something, but when you’re the one making a fool of yourself, you think —”

“I could lose my contract.”

Aaron blinks. “Right. Playing…”

Kevin looks scandalized. “Exy? Do you not even know?”

“Forgive me for not knowing every detail of my fiancé’s life when I met you last night and forgot more than I remember of our encounter.”

Kevin appears slightly dead inside, face lit by countless popups his eyes flick through on screen. “My team manager has been texting me. If I lose my spot, I’m —”

Aaron steps closer to peer at the texts, too. “Can they do that? That shouldn’t be allowed.”

Kevin turns a glazed gaze on him. “Exy is everything to me.”

Aaron feels a pang at the look, feels inexplicably compelled to fix it. “Well… we’re not even actually getting married, so it doesn’t matter, right? Just tell them that. Who cares?”

“It may be too late,” Kevin says in a terrible, numb voice, and Aaron is suddenly very deeply determined that it will not be too late to save his poor, sports-obsessed, asshole sort-of-fake fiancé’s career or so help him God.

“Give me that.”

“What are you doing?” Kevin asks helplessly as Aaron clicks through the frantic texts from Manager to the contact information.

“Setting the record straight,” Aaron says firmly, and hits the call button.

You can find more AFTG fics on my AO3, ihaveacleverfandomurl, linked in my bio!

#kevaaron #aaron minyard #kevin day #the foxhole court #all for the game #aftg #tfc #aftg fanfic #tfc fanfic #all for the game fanfic #the foxhole court fanfic #fanfic #andrew minyard #kay fanfic #kaystuff

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twinkleallnight · 4 years ago

Text

THE PROPOSAL

This was a Christmas gift grab ask by @gamechoices-player Thank you for hosting the wonderful choices gift grab Manamee @monsoonblooms12 and Charmi @nervoussaladsludgeopera 💖. I thoroughly enjoyed writing this. A sweet thank you to my dear friend @yourmajesty09 for pre reading this.

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Pairing: Liam x Olivia

Word count: 1195

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Mature

Prompt: Features wackydrabbles prompt 73 in bold.

The chandelier's light over her was dull as her eyes twinkled more brightly. The ornate beauty of the ballroom paled in front of her. The nude shades of the linens and draperies faded in comparison to her garnet red gown. The multiple conversations sounded like a cacophony as her sharp voice rose above them.

“Welcome to the Nevrakis Chateau. The people of Lythikos are honoured to host Prince Liam and all the esteemed guests for his social season. I would now like to invite you all, to join me for the Cordonian waltz.”

Excited singles formed pairs and gathered in a loose circle to have a chance at the intimate dance form.

She confidently looked around as Liam walked over to her, “ Duchess, may I have this dance?”

‘The formalities again!’ She thought. She was the host, of course she deserved the first dance.

‘I deserve more than a dance!’ she reverberated in her mind.

They danced, arms in arms, looking at each other in measured smiles like typical nobles. Both of them were well trained to wear a mask on their face for the people, their thoughts buried deep inside. He remained the same as they changed partners but her smile changed to a naughty one as she fell in Maxwell’s arms. He tickled her before placing his hand on her waist.

“Have you lost your mind?” she whispered.

Max frowned, “How about a laugh for a reaction?”

“How about I slice you with one of my knives before that?”

“Ahh! That will be amazing feed for the media!” He made a sensational sound, “News flash: Lord Maxwell assassinated by the fierce Duchess.”

“Nahh, not interested. Not worth my effort.”

“Where are you planning to put your efforts in?”

“You will see.” She changed the subject and asked, “How do I look?”

“You have always been one of the most beautiful friend I have.”

“ Correction; I am the only beautiful friend that you have. The rest two are boys.”

“Men, you mean.”

“That needs to be tested.”

She winked at him, twirled and went back in Liam’s arms, as they changed partners.

Maxwell was left astounded, wondering what Olivia was planning.

But he didn’t have to wait for long…

The sudden gasps and whispers made him turn around and find Olivia kissing Liam on the dance floor! As they broke the kiss, Liam mirrored the expressions of confusion that Max had. Liam gestured at her. “Lady Olivia, I will see you in a moment.” He still maintained the formal façade and walked away. Olivia excused herself to the washroom.

Max hooked his hand into Drake’s elbow, pulling him to a corner. “Did she tell you what she was up to?”

“No.”

Maxwell smiled, “Its happening, Finally!”

“Yes, it’s happening.” Drake agreed.

“I am going to win!” Max punched his fist up excitedly.

“And I am so happy to lose this time.” Suddenly their phones beeped. They took out their phones with a knowing look on their faces.

It was a message from Liam. Drake checked it first.

They spent some more time looking at few couples still dancing while a group of ladies stood gossiping in a side-line. Liam and Olivia maintained a distance attending their guests.

As the evening came to an end, Max and Drake climbed down to the cellar and turned around to a secluded room inside. Their “spot”. They relaxed on the couch with their drinks, waiting for the rest of the gang.

After some time, Olivia walked in followed by Liam.

Max hooted, “Woohoo, here comes the kissing Duchess!”

Drake smacked him. “Are you guys alright?” He asked with concern.

Liam was much relaxed now that he was just with his friends, away from the prying eyes of the public. “Yes.” He gave a side glance to Olivia. She just shook her head in frustration. Liam lost his calm “Jesus! What were you thinking? Why did you do it?” he questioned her.

“I don’t want to go through the whole charade.”

“What do you mean?”

“We have been best friends since childhood. It’s only fair that we be together.”

Max spoke in between. “See! I told you they won’t last the social season. Give me my bucks.”

Drake pulled out few notes and gave it to Max.

“Seriously guys?” Liam looked at them stunned.

Olivia spat, “I am going to kill you Walker!”

Before she could pounce on Drake, Liam caught hold of her.

Drake stood up surrendering. “Don’t give me those murderous looks. Look at both of you,… running from the obvious since we were teenagers. I thought you will never realize.”

Max snorted. “With so many suitors buzzing around Liam like honeybees, I placed my bet that our scarlet Duchess will be green with J and will get into action.” He fanned out the money he won in bet, teasing Olivia.

Olivia picked the flower vase that was within her arms length, and flung it on Max. He ducked in time!

“Lady! You are insane!” Drake bellowed.

“The fact is I am surrounded by three idiots!” she snarled back at them.

Liam sat next to Drake and pulled her to sit down beside him and gave her a warm hug. “Let’s just calm down and think before we hurl ourselves at each other.”

“What is there to think? Why burden other suitors with fake hopes?”

“You mean you want us to be together?” Liam asked waving a finger between them.

“Arggh!” Olivia grunted.

This time it was Liam’s turn to get a smack on the back of his head from Drake. “Come on man! Don’t act so dumb. Do you want her to get down on her knee for you now?”

“I... I… I never saw. I am sorry, okay!”

Olivia pinched the bridge of her nose. “This man is impossible!”

Max got up and raised his arms, looking at the ceiling, “Good great Lord! Bless this poor prince with some common sense.”

Drake rolled on the couch laughing.

Finally, Liam got up and hunched down in front of Olivia. He held her hands in his as he spoke, “You are my childhood friend. We have played together, cried and laughed together. You stood with me when I was just a spare to the throne. I am a fool for I never read the signs but I am so glad that you saved me again! You make me happy. And I hope I make you happy too. Because a happier version of us can do great things together!

Olivia listened holding her breath, her emerald green eyes searching through his deep blues. The other two pair of eyes also were keenly focused on them. When Liam took a long pause, Max grew impatient. “Just say the damn words man!”

Liam said still looking into Olivia’s eyes. “When you are royalty the rules are different. We have to be composed and tolerant for this social season to end. But remember that you will be the only one in my mind… and … heart. Always. Because…., I love you Olivia Vanderwal Nevrakis.”

“Yay! Yay!” Max and Drake gave a shout out in unison.

Tags: @ao719 @aloneautumn @bebepac @choicesficwriterscreations @choiceskatie @cordonia-gothqueen @cordonianroyalty @drakewalker04 @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @kat-tia801 @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @idontknowwhysblog @islandcrow @jovialyouthmusic @jaxsmutsuo @kingliam2019 @lifeaskim @lisha1valecha @lovablegranny @mrswalkers-blog @mom2000aggie @no-one-u-know @ntoraplayschoices @princessleac1 @ritachacha @speedyoperarascalparty @shanzay44 @texaskitten30 @queenrileyrose @sanchita012 @sfb123 @theroyalheirshadowhunter @wackydrabbles @aestheticartsx @yourmajesty09 @choicesholidaygiftgrab

#pixelberry #playchoices #the royal romance #trr #trr fandom #twinkleallnight #olivia nevrakis #Liam x Olivia #choicesholidaygiftgrab #happy gifting!#chgg🎁

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break-so-beautifully · 4 years ago

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But I Still Have Standards

This is part of a backstory that I’ve written for Rochambeau. If you’re not reading that (which you should be), but maybe you like Ruben, this part can be read as a stand alone story. Ruben is still in high school at this point and has to deal with some bullies. Hope you enjoy it. (If you do and you want to read more, please feel free to check out the full Rochambeau Universe on tumblr here and AO3 here. This series is co-writen by Kikabennet (@Ruvieracd). This story was beta’d by the amazing Whumploversanonymous

Ruben was curled up in the back corner of the handicapped bathroom, tissue stuffed into his nose and blood still seeping from a busted lip.

Academically, he loved school. Socially, it was a waking nightmare. His mother had been ecstatic when he’d been one of the few selected in the tough entrance exam process to get into Roman Catholic High School, a prestigious all boy’s high school. She’d been even more delighted when his scores had resulted in a full scholarship to the school. He was smart. Probably one of the smartest to attend the school. And he was going to graduate early.

His teachers loved him. Some of his fellow students, not so much, especially the older ones. They said he made them look bad. That was never his intention. He couldn’t help it that he always did not just the classwork and homework, but any extra work they could find for him. This was especially true in math and science. He could never learn enough. His mother had instilled in him and early love of reading and learning. He was driven. If there was a question, he had to find the answer or answers.

Today, he’d proven his classmates wrong when they’d arrived at an incorrect conclusion in their honors level Logic class. He was able to disprove their premises based on the fact that he’d read more than them and therefore had a deeper understanding of the subject than the rest of the class.

Most of the students were impressed. But not Brock. Brock was smart. And he was a bully. He was the one that had written the incorrect premises of the argument. When Ruben had shown a spotlight on not just his logical fallacy, but his circular reasoning, there had been hoots and cat calls from some of the other boys. But Brock and three of his goons had stared daggers at Ruben from behind Father McDowell's back.

Ruben’s smile at his triumph had faded quickly at their heated expressions. He knew he’d caught their attention and that was not something anyone ever wanted to do. Brock probably should have been expelled ages ago, but his father was a generous donor to the school. It bought him unfair amounts of grace.

Ruben had sat down quietly after the intellectual exchange while Father McDowell continued with the lesson. Brock never let his eyes wander from Ruben for more than a few seconds after that.

Ruben bolted out of the door as soon as the bell rang, hoping to avoid Brock and his buddies. He’d taken refuge in the nearest boys bathroom. He really should have gone to a different floor or another corridor. But he didn’t. He’d just tried to get out of sight as fast as possible. That was a hefty miscalculation on his part. Brock hated looking stupid. He was one of the oldest students in the class, and due to Ruben’s accelerated studies, he was the youngest in the class. Brock was 18 and a senior. Ruben was fifteen and a junior. It was never going to be a fair fight.

He heard the door to the bathroom open and Brock’s deep voice calling for him.

“Ruben,” he sang mockingly. “I know you’re in here. Tommy saw you sprint like a little girl into the bathroom. There’s no teachers around to save your sorry ass this time. You know why? Because I’m smarter than you. See, Joey, Steve, Tommy and I discussed it.”

Ruben flinched from his perch on top of the toilet in the last stall when he heard Brock kick open the door of the first stall. He wrapped his arms around his knees and rocked slightly. This was going to be bad.

“Tommy went to go pick a fight at the other end of the hall. I’m sure we’ll hear the yelling any minute. And Joey, Steve and I came here. No one will be looking for us while they deal with the other disruption.”

Ruben swallowed hard. He jumped when the next door was kicked open. That only left one other door before they were at the last stall.

He closed his eyes and breathed hard as the third door banged open.

“There’s our little smarty pants.” Ruben’s eyes flew open. Brock was looking straight at him through the gap between the door and the partition wall.

Even though Ruben had locked the door, the lock was flimsy and was no match for Brock’s bulk. He was a big guy. They all were. The human body did a lot of changing between fifteen and eighteen. Ruben understood the biology of it, but that didn’t help him at all.

The sound of yelling and chanting suddenly rose from down the hall. “Right on time,” Steve commented.

The door crashed open and he was immediately rushed by the three bigger boys. Steve was able to pin his arms behind his back and hold him still, Joey had a fist full of his hair in one hand and his other was pressed over Ruben’s mouth. That left Brock standing with a smirk in front of him. Ruben’s eyes were wide. His small frame struggled in their meaty grasps. He couldn’t cry for help. Nothing.

He sucked in a breath through his nose and tried to stop his shaking. He met Brock’s eyes and stared back at him with as much defiance as he could muster. He was right. He was smart. Brock was just a bully.

Brock smirked at him. “You gonna scream?”

Ruben shook his head. Brock nodded to Joey and Ruben felt the hand come off his mouth.

“You think you’re real smart don’t you, little teacher’s pet?”

“I am smart.” Ruben knew he shouldn’t piss Brock off any more than he already had, but since this was already going down, there was no sense in letting the opportunity go to waste. “I’m the smartest person in the class. You were wrong. Your premise was wrong. You’re just mad that I’m smarter than you.”

The blow was fast and unexpected. Brock’s fist connected with his nose and Ruben felt the blood start running immediately. He couldn’t stifle the cry that left him, but he knew it wasn’t loud enough to alert anyone outside of the bathroom, especially with the fight still going on down the hall.

Brock’s next punch caught Ruben in the ribs and knocked all the air from his lungs. Ruben gasped and doubled over as much as he could. Joey yanked his head back and forced him upright again. Brock landed several more punches to Ruben’s midsection before a culminating hit to his mouth. Ruben slumped in Steve’s arms while the boys laughed at him. They let him sink to the ground on his hands and knees.

Ruben wiped at the blood on his face. “G-good f-for you, Brock,” Ruben panted out. “You beat up the smart kid. You’re such a stereotype.” He mustered a laugh of his own, though it ended in a loud cry why Brock kicked him in the side of the head, causing him to fall to his side on the floor. He was going to have a black eye from that.

The other two each landed a kick to his ribs and midsection before leaving the bathroom, laughing hysterically. Why did teenage boys have to suck so much , he asked himself.

He tried to lift himself up but a sharp pain across his side stopped him and he fell back to the floor with a grunt. The warning bell for the next class rang. He was going to be late. He was never late for class. He rolled over and reached up to the toilet paper dispenser and grabbed some tissue. He stuffed it into his still gushing nose and grabbed some more to wipe at the blood from his badly split lip.

He dragged himself over to the back corner of the stall and curled up in a ball while he kept pressure on his lip. He leaned his head down on his knees. The door opened again a few minutes later and Ruben’s entire body convulsed. Were they coming back to hurt him some more?

“Dude! Did you see that fight?”

“Stupidest fight I’ve ever seen. Tommy just sucker punched that freshman and then danced around while the other kid kept trying to hit him back. It was like one good punch and then a non-fight. So dumb!”

“I bet that Brock kid put him up to it. Since when is there a fight in this school and Brock’s not involved in it?”

“He’s such a waste. His daddy pays for him to come to this school and he spends his days terrorizing others. Doesn’t he realize that there are hundreds of guys that would jump at the chance to come here? What a loser.”

Ruben smirked. At least he’s not the only one who thought Brock was a complete tool. The other two boys left the bathroom and Ruben was once again alone in the room. His ribs ached with every movement, but he didn’t think they were broken. After a while longer, Ruben managed to get himself up to a standing position. He hobbled out of the stall to the sink. He turned the water on and grabbed some paper towels to start cleaning up his face.

He caught his reflection in the mirror. There’s no way he could hide that fact that he’d been about beat to hell. His eye was black and the skin on that side of his face was all scraped up from Brock’s shoe dragging across it.

The door opened again and Ruben jerked back to press himself against the wall by the sink. He looked up and his eyes met the concerned expression of Father McDowell.

“Mr. Marcado, what… what’s happened? Are you okay?”

“I-Uh… I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay." Father Ryan said you didn’t make it to his class. "You never miss biology. He was worried.”

Ruben shrugged. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to skip class. I swear.”

“I can tell. Does this have something to do with Brock?”

“What? No. I just… f-fell,” Ruben finished lamely.

“Ruben,” Ruben looked up at the use of his first name. The teachers never used their first names here. He bit his lip. “If I check the cameras, am I going to see Brock and his lackeys coming into this bathroom during that ridiculous fight between classes?”

Ruben couldn’t lie. He’d always been terrible at it. He nodded his head pathetically. “It’s not going to matter though. Everyone knows that nothing is going to happen to him. I’m not the first and I won’t be the last.”

“Well, come with me. We’ll just see about that.”

“N-no. He’ll make my life hell if I do that. I just want to graduate early and go on to college.”

“And you will, but he won’t. Now come along, let’s go see the Rector.”

Ruben sighed and his shoulders slumped in defeat. He was so dead. Brock was gonna kill him for being a snitch.

He followed Father McDowell to the Rector’s office. He sat in silence while they called his mom and then pulled up the camera feed. He glanced up only briefly when he saw himself go in the bathroom followed by Brock and his goons only a minute or two later.

“I told you I thought he planned that fight. We couldn’t figure out why, well, here you have it.” Father McDowell was saying.

“Ruben,” Rector Brandt addressed him, “Would you be willing to press assault charges against him?”

“I’m not trying to get anyone in trouble. Can’t I just go to class and be done with it? Brock does this. It was just my turn this week.”

“That may have been the case under Monsignor Hardaway in previous years, but this is my school now and I don’t care how generous someone’s father is. He’s done terrorizing the halls with his little gang. But I need someone to press charges. No one has agreed to do that yet.”

Ruben looked up at him. “And I’ll have your word? I’ll have your word that he won’t come back to school?”

“You tell us what happened and he’s done.”

“What about the others? His buddies.”

“We can at least start building a case on them. Tell us what happened and we’ll see what we can do.”

There was a knock at the door and the secretary ushered in Ruben’s mom.

“Rubén, mi querido! What has happened to you? Who did this?”

Ruben had held his tears in until that moment when his mother took his beaten face in her hands and he melted into her, sobbing against her. He felt utterly ashamed and embarrassed at his lack of control on his emotions in front of the other two men. Like he was a baby. But he was hurt and there was nothing he wanted more than for his mom to make it not hurt like she could when he was little.

“You two! Tell me what happened to my Rubén before I go to the media and tell them exactly how things go here for underprivileged students. I may not be able to afford a lawyer and file a lawsuit, but there are other ways I can deal with this if you gentlemen won’t.”

“Mrs. Marcado,” began the Rector. “We called you here because we would like for you and your son to press charges against the boy or boys responsible. We can’t go forward with removing these boys until someone does that.”

“My son is here on a scholarship. We don’t have money for fancy lawyers. What are we supposed to do?”

“You won’t need to. We just contact the police and have Ruben get checked out by the doctor, on the school’s dime of course. All we ask is that you follow through with the criminal case.”

Estefania Marcado pulled back from Ruben and looked into his face. “Is this something you would want to do mijo?”

Ruben nodded. “I-I can be brave. If I don't, someone else will get hurt. If someone had done this sooner, then today might have gone differently for me.”

“Who are these boys, mijo?”

“Brock, and his friends.”

“Who are his friends?” she asked.

“Tommy, he started a fight to keep the teachers and other administrators from hearing them in the bathroom with me. The others…” Ruben hesitated. He didn’t have a guarantee that any of the others would be dealt with, but maybe it would work out. He had to hope it would work out. “Steve and Joey held me still while Brock beat on me. Then they all kicked me when I was down before they left me on the floor in the bathroom.”

“Why did they do this to you?” his mother asked gently.

“I… I disproved his argument in Logic and the other kids laughed. He doesn’t like that I’m smarter than him and so much younger. He was mad because I called him out in class. But, he was wrong. His argument was based on false premises.” Ruben looked at Father McDowell. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do in class? I've had my arguments deconstructed. I never took it personal. It’s how I learn.”

Father McDowell smiled sadly at him. “Yes. It is exactly what you are supposed to do in honors Logic. How that buffoon of a student ever got approved to be in that class, I’ll never know.”

There was another knock at the door and the secretary poked her head in. “Sirs, the officer is here, do you wish for me to send him in?”

“Yes, please.”

A big, dark brown man in a Philadelphia police department uniform came into the room. The man was built like a refrigerator. Ruben scooted closer to his mother.

“Officer Reyes, how can I be of assistance?” the officer introduced, shaking hands around the room. He stopped when he got to Ruben and looked at him. “And what happened to you, young man?”

Ruben gave his mother a panicked glance, but she smiled and nodded encouragingly. She always seemed to know when he needed to be the one to use his words. There were times where she would speak for him, but they were getting less and less as he got older. She was good at that.

He bit his lip and met the officer’s gaze.

“Did someone hurt you here at school?” Officer Reyes prompted.

“Y-yes, sir,” Ruben managed to answer.

“Do you and your mother wish to press charges against this person or persons?”

“Y-yes. Yes, I do.” Ruben felt himself growing more confident as he spoke with the officer. The man was large, but he had a kind face and a soothing presence.

“Good. Now why don’t we have a chat and you tell me what happened. And then I’ll go and arrest the people who did this to you.”

Ruben nodded.

“Does he need to go to the hospital?” the officer asked.

“We’re going to have him checked out medically as soon as we’re done here,” Rector Brandt answered.

“Okay. Good.”

Ruben proceeded to tell the officer the whole story, from what happened in the classroom all the way through to what he’d heard the other boys say after Brock and his goons had left. He gave a nervous glance to the Rector at the accusation, but he thought they needed to hear it.

About twenty minutes later, Ruben stood by his mother as he had the distinct privilege of seeing Brock being led out of the school in handcuffs. The police officer had explained that since Brock was eighteen, he was an adult. That opened up a whole world of possibilities that he could be charged with since Ruben was only fifteen. A few minutes later, Joey, Steve, and Tommy were all led out of the school in handcuffs as well. None of them saw Ruben and his mom, they were too busy yelling for someone to call their daddies. Ruben smirked.

As he headed for the car with his mom so that he could go and get checked out at the nearby Independence Memorial Hospital, he decided that today was a good day after all. He wasn’t going to be a doormat. He could stand up to the bullies when he needed to. Hopefully, he wouldn’t need to ever again.

Brock would be expelled, and Ruben would graduate early. Who knows, he thought as he sat on the hospital gurney letting the doctors check him over. Maybe one day he’d work here. This would be a really cool place to work. He could help people. If he did become a scientist when he grew up, he’d want to use his knowledge to help people. Maybe cure some crazy disease or some unique condition. Maybe he could win a Nobel Prize or something. One day. Today, he could just be a kid that stood up to the school bully.

His mom put her arm around him. “I’m so proud of you, querido. So very proud.”

#my wriitng #fanfic #fanfiction #ruben marcado #Do No Harm #Rochambeau #rochambeau fic

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lacielre · 5 years ago

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circles over circles, 2 (m)

SUMMARY Your life has been pretty stable from any university task to your social life and love life, everything has been set perfectly like a plate to a dining table. but that changes when you encounter the one person you remember to feel indifferent the most—Jungkook.

PAIRING jimin/reader, jungkook/reader

RATING mature

GENRE college au | smut, romance, heavy angst, friends to “enemies” to lovers, childhood friends, established relationship

WARNINGS lots of dwelling in the past (again), pining, smitten!jk, cocky taehyung, a light touch of dirty talk

WORD COUNT 8k

PARTS 1, 2

FIRST DAY OF PLAYOFFS…

Time is quick and unforgiving.

You realize this when you take a swift sweep of the sixty-person-filled room you’re in and catch the hanging wall clock. Time’s almost up. Everyone’s striving to finish the examinations that will determine the fate of the scholars in this tense chamber. For some, the exams are for the fifty-percent off scholarship grant. For you, however, you’re aiming for the month-long education in New Zealand, which based by the overheard pre-exams conversations is almost everyone else’s aim.

In a few minutes, everyone, you included, submits their papers.

All you’re thinking about is that you better fucking get in. Those dreadful hours in the quiet of the libraries and the fears of walking alone at night better pay off.

Today is also the first day of playoffs and because of the thousand-item test you had, it’s impossible for you to catch up to any game. Even the final minutes of the day’s last game, ice hockey, are not granted to you. Having arrived at the venue, you only witnessed the university’s team winning hoots and cheers, sonorously booming in the stadium from the ice rink while the audience clears up the seats.

And like every college that exists, there’s a house party and it’s only blocks away from your dorm. You’re in the middle of untying your shoelaces when your phone rings with Seulgi’s contact name flashing on your screen so you answer.

Before you could even speak, a voice beats you to it.

“Hey? I’m Yeri, Seulgi’s classmate. Um, you’re on Seulgi’s speed dial so I just figured to call you—”

“Wait—what-why? What’s going on?” you ask instead, not wasting a minute.

The other line is too loud and thank God, the girl—Yeri—you’re speaking with has gone outside to lessen the noise and actually communicate.

“Seulgi is drunk and none of us could drive her home,” she sighs then gets to the point, “she’s wasted.”

“Yeahyeahokay,” you say, tying your shoes back. “I’ll be there in five. Don’t leave her alone please.”

“Yes! Of course, of course! Thank y—oh, my God, tie—put her hair back!”

In no less than five minutes, you arrive to the house party that shows exactly what it is: a Friday night house party. You feel like even if your university didn’t win ice hockey tonight, something like this would still happen.

But hell did you miss going to parties like this.

Sadly, you aren’t here to party; you’re here to pick up your roommate who you caught puking in the last seconds of your call.

Fuck it.

You enter the vibrating house, licking your lips dried-up from the hints of winter soaking and slowly freezing the autumn air. The interior looks exactly how you expect it to from how it presents itself outside.

“Ayy! _____!”

Someone shouts your name over the blasting music and you know it’s Namjoon. You turn to find him but it’s difficult when the inebriation of people around you is also clouding your vision. There’s too many people moving around.

“On your left!”

You turn so and you see Namjoon with spread legs on a wide grey couch, balancing a red cup of what might possibly be beer on his left thigh. He eases comfortably between Seokjin and an awfully good-looking guy with a perfect side profile.

Your lips heartily form a wide smile.

“Joon!” you shout, approaching him.

“Drink?” Namjoon offers, holding the cup to you.

You’re right—beer.

You shake your head. “No, thank you.”

“Alright.” He nods. “I didn’t expect you here tonight.”

“Just here to pick up my roommate.”

Namjoon laughs, not failing to pick up the subtle hint of frustration in your tone. “Been there,” he consoles.

“Why are you even here… drinking? Isn’t your game tomorrow morning?”

“Before lunch, yeah,” he corrects. “I’m not getting drunk by the way. Just here for a few drinks then I’ll bounce. Our coach told us to relax.” The last word hotly grazes against his throat.

“And we did,” Seokjin continues, leaning back. “Nice seeing you, _____. You look great.”

“You know I doubt that but thanks.”

“So, what, I’m just not here or…?” the guy with the perfect side profile says.

“Ignore him, _____,” Seokjin mumbles.

“So, _____.” The perfect-side-profile man catches your name. “I’m Hoseok.”

“Ignore him,” Namjoon repeats Seokjin’s sentiment.

You smile at Hoseok anyway, to be polite. Now he has a name. “I’d love to catch up with you, guys, but I gotta go look for my friend,” you say in a hurry, withdrawing in tiny steps. “Bye! Good luck tomorrow!”

“Yeah, your boyfriend won’t really approve of that,” Namjoon teases.

Instead of replying with a witty remark, you already run off to another, emptier corner of the house and you even heard Hoseok double-checking Namjoon’s statement, asking something like, “How the fuck do all girls in this party have partners?”

Your phone vibrates and lights up with a message from Seulgi or well, Yeri who’s handling her phone, telling you to go to the backyard.

When you spin, time doesn’t construct itself much from your rapid recognition of whose back is facing you right now but meters away.

It’s Jungkook.

It’s Jungkook whose arm is leaning flatly on the wall, caging a girl with his body. It’s Jungkook in the kitchen with a girl giggling in his company and by the way his back bounces, he too must also be sharing the laughter. It annoys you that you could recognize him so easily, and worse, you could recognize him smiling from the looks of his back.

That’s Jungkook, alright.

Fuck it.

It has you reeling how you’re feeling this way but Joohyun’s words from last time ring in your head. They’ve constantly been.

This is a burden you never lifted off your shoulders.

And things like that – they come full circle.

Do they really?

You faintly shake your head.

You pass by them in speedy steps, getting a whiff of Jungkook’s cologne along the way. Some things never change.

It only takes probably half a minute for you to spot Seulgi being forced to stand up by her friends. You hear her say something to them but you couldn’t pick it up since she slurred her way through it. She lifts her head and probably sees you.

She does.

“_____!” Seulgi shouts, barely pronouncing out your name correctly.

“Oh, thank God!” Yeri groans as she follows Seulgi’s gaze.

You help Yeri and two other girls with Seulgi.

“God really is a woman,” Yeri declares in a pained whisper, squeezing her eyes shut when you take Seulgi’s arm from her shoulder.

She groans from relief, rolling her shoulders.

“My car is parked right outside,” you state, wrapping Seulgi’s arm around you instead.

“Whaaayoudyoin…” Seulgi asks, pushing her head back with closed eyes. “Donnbrimehome pleaaa! Jaacallmywoommey. I haa! A woomate!”

Now Seulgi is being a pain in the ass.

Seulgi doesn’t make it easy for you to carry her with her thrashing her body sideways at almost every step you make.

“Hey! _____! I’ll help,” Namjoon shouts from the back door, jogging lightly to your destination. “Saw you from the window,” he adds. “You didn’t tell me this was your roommate. She’s been like this for almost half an hour now.”

You shrug, passing Seulgi’s arm to Namjoon’s shoulder. “Well, that’s for her to remember in the morning.”

“She’s wasted as fuck”—Seulgi kicks and almost gets to Namjoon’s leg—“and stubborn as fuck too. Goddamn.”

“That’s my roommate, alright,” you sigh, words barely under your breath. You watch Seulgi move around and Namjoon could only back off when she turns and sways, but he tries his best to steady her, alternating holds from her shoulders, arms, and elbows. “So, can you…?”

He gives off a nervous laughter. “Yeah, fuck. I’ll just need…” he looks around, “some help.” And he catches Hoseok who’s chilling on the doorstep. “Hobi! Help me out here!”

“What, can’t carry a girl only half your size, Joon?” Hoseok provokes but comes closer.

“How ‘bout you fucking try, then?” Namjoon lets go of Seulgi and Hoseok almost backs off when your drunk friend pushes them off with her arms.

“Oh, fuck,” Hoseok says.

“Are you guys really gonna help?” you ask, frustration pent up, helping Seulgi stand on your own.

“Anything for you, princess.” Hoseok winks.

God, you are so familiar with this type of talks. The sigh drawn from your lungs is probably an adequate answer but Hoseok probably failed to catch that as you do not receive any reaction from him.

With the help of Namjoon and Hoseok, you arrive to your car in no time. The other girls have already gone back to the frat house and rekindle with whatever activities Seulgi disrupted them from. Tonight is a failure to feminism, you think.

“Drive home safe,” Hoseok reminds, tapping your scrolled-down window.

Although unaccustomed of the gesture coming from him, you slowly nod.

“Okay, between the two of us, only I get to tell her that, a’right? Move,” Namjoon interferes, pushing Hoseok aside. He nods to Seulgi who’s dead asleep on the shotgun. “You sure you can bring her up yourself?”

You could only nod. Fuck, you haven’t thought of that.

Fuck it.

You swallow.

With a determined sigh, you say, “Yep. Thanks for your help, Joon.”

He flashes his deep dimples at you. “That’s nothing,” he genuinely says. “It’s nice to see you again, though, _____. Seeing you back there felt like high school, when you were still with that shithead Yoongi—fuck, sorry.”

“I’m fine! You can call him shithead as much as you like.” You laugh and he does too. “Also, yeah, it’s really been a while, huh?”

He agrees by wiggling his brows. “You took your exams today?” he asks.

“Yep! Missed all the games for that one.”

“Sucks,” Namjoon comments, his forehead furrowing in comfort. “Did mine yesterday. See you in New Zealand, baby!”

He raises a palm up and you reciprocate the high five.

You think, right.

He’s both an athletic and academic scholar. Of-fucking-course.

“You can’t be too sure.” You shake your head. “I’m not as smart as you.”

He scrunches his nose to brush off your comment. “Eh,” he deadpans, shrugging. “I’m sure you did well, _____. You’ll get in.” He takes a pause then he exhales, gripping onto the bottom windowpane of your car. “Jungkook also took his yesterday. Hopefully, we all get in.”

You could only nod and Namjoon must’ve seen how that made you tense for a second. He clears his throat and knocks a tin of your car. “Drive home safe. Hope to see you tomorrow.”

“Oh, you will.”

“Text me when you get home.”

“Oh, I will.”

He chuckles and repeats, “I really did miss you.”

“You too. Need to catch up with… everything.”

“And ignore Hoseok, by the way. Hasn’t gotten his dick wet for a week, excuse him.”

“I’m literally standing right next to you.”

SECOND DAY OF PLAYOFFS…

Sans the library studies from your morning routine, you take into account to visit Joohyun’s shop, Irene’s, every morning for whatever you need. It could all stem from buying sweets or drinks to reheating lunch boxes to borrowing cash.

Today is for the former.

You’ll be needing to replenish energy and the way to do that is through sugar. Loads of them.

“You getting nervous?” you ask.

Amid your morning walk, you are on line with Jimin who you swear is nervous but tells you otherwise.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I feel… alright?” Jimin sighs.

“That doesn’t sound confident,” you tease. “Where’s my cocky boyfriend?”

“When have I ever been cocky?” he scoffs.

“A few times—mostly in bed—but I’ll take that point,” you goad.

You hear him laugh on the other line. “Can’t wait to see you.”

In that, you feel the syllables stretching with the way he smiles. Before you were with him, you found it corny how you read things like hearing someone’s smile from a call but fuck do you get it now. You get it. And it feels nice catching details like that.

You bite your bottom lip. “Me too,” you reply. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited in weeks. Probably months even, for something. And all I’ve ever been was… tired and annoyed. Mostly, tired.”

“Mhm,” Jimin hums. “I forgot to ask you last night about your exams. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“That’s fine and you know what, I don’t think I did that well.” You pout. “Before you yell at me, I’m not just saying this. I swear I feel this way.”

“That can’t possibly be right.” You hear a shuffle from his line, probably him shifting on his seat. “You’re the smartest person I know.”

You couldn’t help the laugh the blooms from your chest. “Okay, now you’re just lying to my face.”

“Not to your face. And no,” he emphasizes his decline, “I am not lying.”

“It’s either that or you don’t know that many people which is impossible, by the way.”

Jimin laughs again then he composes himself. “You’re getting that grant, babe. I’m sure.”

You raise your brow. “You’re ‘sure’?”

He laughs. “Okay—maybe not sure, but you get me.”

“Whatever, Park Jimin,” you sass.

It only occurs to you that you never actually told Jimin that you’re looking forward to a month-long exchange trip in New Zealand for winter, not a fifty percent off scholarship grant. You aren’t sure why you didn’t tell him in the first place. It’s probably because you applied for it just when Jimin started his training. Then weeks went on and on.

It’s difficult for you to tell him because then, after barely seeing each other for about three weeks because of his training and your preparation for exams, it’s again another month of bare absence, of almost concrete silence between the two of you. It’s again another time for uncertain developments and yearning for lingering touches on your skin.

You’re scared that he’ll think you don’t think much about spending time with him because you do. But the New Zealand trip will be a box full of opportunities too, and you cannot risk not being able to go.

But after this for sure.

Fuck it.

Inhaling sharply, you repeat previous sentiment, “Can’t wait to see you.”

“Cheesy.” His voice is flirty, its rasp sticking to the word.

“What do you want me to say then?” It’s a challenge you don’t want to lose. “I’m ready to suck you like a champ,” you say, tone lacing in feigned seduction before spared milliseconds of bursting into laughter. “How was that? How does that sound?”

“Sexy,” he muses, grinning. “And what if I lose then?”

“Don’t say that.” You click your tongue on the roof of your mouth. “Well, I’ll make you feel like a champ then.”

“Yeah, okay. I gotta admit, that sounds kinda hot,” Jimin laughs.

You grin. “Today should be all about you, babe. Do well and I’ll text or call you when I get there. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

When the line disappears into the plainness, into thin air, it’s just on time with Joohyun noticing you from the counter through the glassed walls of the cozy shop, allowing the central color of brown in different schemes to the exit, displaying itself for people to see orange-turning furies from the islands to the select bricked walls and to the waxed wooden floors. She does her usual routine every time she sees you: untie her apron, leave the counter, and pull her phone from her pocket.

You enter, rolling your eyes at her.

“Good morning to you too, _____,” Joohyun exclaims with a wide smile.

“Get back to the counter,” you say.

“What?” She frowns. “But I just got out.”

“Your shop opened literally fifteen minutes ago.”

“I know. I opened,” she says, mocking you with her tone. Barely. “Contrary to what you think sometimes, I do work here.”

“Exactly,” you say sharply. “I’m gonna order something.”

She rolls her eyes, reties the ribbon of her apron, and slip her phone back into her pocket. “What do you want?”

Your eyes land on the untouched blueberry cheesecake caged in glasses as an answer. Joohyun is quick to her senses, crouching down to have herself almost face-to-face with your dessert.

“How many of this do you want?”

“Four slices, please,” you declare, excitement evident in your phrasing.

She straightens her back once all the slices are neatly placed in a small paper box for you. “Aren’t these too much for a morning?”

“Don’t shame me. Also, I have a roommate to feed.”

Her eyes widen at your response then she presents you a tight smile. “Okay.” Then she announces the price of your order. “Will you tip your cashier?”

“No. When can I get like a friend discount in here?”

“You won’t,” she says curtly, processing your order and payment into the slim machine. “Look at you getting all sugar-high for the game later.”

“Well,” you shrug, “I need all the help I need. I barely slept last night. I had to pick up Seulgi from a party then I had to bring her up to the room—it’s all such a mess last night. She almost puked in my car too.”

“You went to a party and you never told me?”

“Joohyun,” you say through gritted teeth. You point your fingers to your ears for emphasis. “Listen. I said I had to pick Seulgi up.”

“Sorry. All I heard was… party,” she says, whispering the last word into a short-lived outbreath. “So, saw anything interesting? Flaring testosterone levels? See any of my ex making out with someone? Or maybe your ex?”

“I saw Namjoon and Seokjin,” you interrupt. “Jungkook was there too.”

“You two talk?”

You shake your head. “You know what, I feel like you messed with my head, Joohyun. Because last night, I honestly felt like there was this part of me—just a small, small, small, tiny part of me—that was just ready to call his name and talk to him.”

She pushes the box with an attached receipt to you before raising her hands, admitting a defeat you never declared her to do so. “Hey, don’t blame this one on me. I was just saying.”

You look away and you could feel your forehead scrunching up to a concerned look. Without feeling the need to, you sigh.

“Well, you saying it,” you bite your lip, “just did something. Opened wounds.”

Joohyun shakes her head, not entirely getting your point. “Can I just ask? Am I okay here? Like, you’re not mad at me or anything, right, for telling you something that I’m sure you already know?”

“I’m not.”

“Okay, good. Because you don’t sound good. That didn’t sound good.”

“Is it bad that I feel this way?” You swallow and continue, “About him?”

“It’s not a crime to miss someone, _____.”

“I never said I miss him.”

“You didn’t have to, though,” she counters, not bothering to pause a little. “I think you’ll only know whether it’s a good thing or if it’s a bad thing once you start talking to him. For now, I don’t think it’s… you know, something—or anything, but you know, don’t miss the chance to turn into something.”

You nod slowly. “You’re right. Not sure about that last part though. I feel like you’re just planting stuff in my head again.” A beat for how ludicrous it sounds and you continue, “Fuck. I don’t know. I don’t know what to think. In fact, I don’t want to. Maybe I’m just missing high school in general.”

Her brow raises and you’re already so well-aware of what she’s about to say. She really has a way of making you want to eat back the words you just spat to avoid being embarrassed by her teases.

“Oh, you miss high school, huh,” she starts. “Is it because of Jungkook or… maybe Yoongi? Aw, shit. It’s been a while since I even said his name.”

“Fuck you.”

“Are you still in contact with him?” she asks, genuinely curious.

“Of course, not, Joohyun. Do I look like I don’t respect myself?” You don’t wait for her answer and beat her into speaking by saying, “Okay. Don’t answer that.”

“Do you wanna know some classified information?” she asks, shifting the topic. On her note, at the control of the conversation, she says, before you could even answer, “Jungkook and you must have pretty similar tastes—andandand before you yell at me, I can say so because he frequents here ever since he started ordering here. Thanks to you.”

“Again, fuck you,” you hiss. “I didn’t want to know that.”

She scoffs, ignoring your statement. “Whatever. Enjoy your stuff and see you later.”

The venue is already packed with people when you arrive, many of them are students. The student division of the two universities can be clearly seen from afar. Outsiders are even dressed up to support whoever they’re supporting and it, without doubt, shows. The cheering squads are already up on their feet, performing their bone-breaking choreographies, shouting on top of their lungs to make out their cheers for the players.

You text Jimin about your arrival and where you’re seated. You’re sure he’ll easily spot you later. He does it every time you attend his games.

Instead of proceeding to a crowded spot among the seats, you go to where Seulgi is and she’s sitting beside Jennie, a mutual friend, chilling at a rather bald spot in the seats, but still only a few seats far from others. Between you and Seulgi, you’ve known Jennie longer although you two weren’t that close in high school.

College really couldn’t pull you from high school.

“Finally, you’re here,” Jennie squeals. “I barely see you around anymore. Park Jimin’s really taking all your time, huh?”

“Girl, I wish. Was busy with the scholarship stuff,” you correct, yawning.

“And girl, you better get it,” Jennie proclaims before biting onto her chip. “Seulgi told me about her drunk night. I salute! Thank you for saving our fallen soldier.”

“You owe me. You owe me big time,” you sternly hiss at Seulgi and she nods adamantly. “So what you two been up to?” you ask, shifting comfortably on your seat.

“What have you been up to, huh?” Seulgi teases. “I didn’t know you were friends with most of the guys in the baseball teams! What the fuck, _____? You never gave me this information!”

Jennie faces you with a mischievous smile. “Ooh, looks like Seulgi wants an introduction with the boys. You’re freshman year ‘bout to get spicy, Seulgi! You don’t know the land of opportunities _____ is going to show you.”

“Jennie, stop planting ideas in her head!” You glare, shaking your head. “I’m not introducing anyone to anyone. And Seulgi, c’mon, now,” you say, a bit disappointed. “Them, really?”

“What? You’re friends with them! Why can’t I be?”

“Okay, fine! Whatever. I’m not your mom. But Jennie will do that for you.” You turn to Jennie. “Right, Jennie? Since this is your bright idea anyway.”

Jennie’s smile fades but she blurts a “yes,” anyway after long negotiations with Seulgi.

Soon, the teams arrive in their team jerseys and whatever gears they need, and the volume of the cheers even turn up to a certain extent that has the seats vibrating a bit. The crowd follows the chants through and through. Of course, the cheers are louder from the home team aka your university.

The loudest is probably when Jungkook’s name was announced. But it’s also hard to make that decision when Seokjin, Namjoon, and Hoseok start to make their entrance one-by-one and the cheers seem to get louder and louder. It has your head reeling, that even when the stadium seats are not completely filled, the clusters of small groups have it in them to shake the plate.

“Holy fuck,” Seulgi chuckles as she covers her ears. “My ears!”

“Jungkook. Golden boy,” Jennie states.

The visiting team then makes their entrance and even if they’re the visiting ones, Taehyung gets his share of screams too.

Your friend, Jennie, on the other hand, chooses to sing-shout a romantic song about how time should go back, an homage for your past with Taehyung which was as shallow as it gets. She does that instead of doing what normal people do in a game—cheer. And you could only slap her leg to shut the hell up.

“Imagine you and Taehyung, what it could’ve been.”

“You know what, Jennie? No. And this is getting old.”

“No, I don’t but I’ll keep doing it.” She raises her brow and you could only shake your head. “Lighten up, _____. I was just kidding.”

“Taehyung’s hot,” comes a direct whisper on your ear, making your hairs stand.

“Fuck! When the hell did you get here?” you ask, startled, while Joohyun hops from the back bleachers and take the empty seat beside you.

“I was looking for you and I was contacting you but you weren’t answering your phone,” Joohyun complains, then she winks at Seulgi then Jennie. “Long time no see, girls!” She wiggles her brows. “Isn’t this exciting?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely! It gets more exciting every time one player comes out and we tease _____ about him,” Jennie says, chuckling.

“And so far, who? Just one. Taehyung. That’s right,” you say dismissively.

“And Jungkook,” Joohyun points out.

“We were friends. We didn’t do anything.”

“Looks like you did, though,” Jennie backs.

“Yeah, definitely,” Seulgi agrees.

“You too? Really?” you moan.

“I don’t know—I just thought…” Seulgi defends without an drop of confidence.

“Sometimes, try not thinking.”

Joohyun groans. “We tease you because we lived boring lives, _____. Mundane. Dull. Humdrum. Monoto—”

“Got it, thesaurus,” you interrupt.

And Jimin finally comes out and you’re sure he winked at you, making you bite your bottom lip to suppress your smile. The crowd roars with the announcement of his name and you’re too flustered to even mingle in with the shouts.

“Aw, is _____ wet yet?” Jennie teases, making Seulgi and Joohyun snicker.

“Shut up,” you hiss but you’re smiling.

Fuck it.

“God, we get it, _____. You have a boyfriend,” Joohyun mumbles.

“Damn right, I do.”

Everyone gets to their position and the game starts with Hoseok pitching while Jimin twirls his ankles and gets ready to bat.

A competitive atmosphere envelops the stadium. Throughout the game, even with your few-minutes-spaced reminders to keep your eyes on Jimin, you couldn’t help but allow them to drift to Jungkook. He just plays so damn well. It’s no wonder this university recruited him when it had a chance.

That’s Jungkook, alright.

CUSP OF SUMMER, FOUR YEARS AGO…

“You free on Saturday?” Jungkook had to ask.

It looked like he wasn’t paying attention to you—or to anything really. He was busy fidgeting over your fled and crazed application papers on the counter, while managing an itch on his nape that never seemed to disappear. Crooking his head to the right as his fingers lightly lifted few pages of your forms, he took a peek.

“Hmm,” you hummed, stretching your hands heavenward with an eye closed, moaning at the delicious stretch. “If this is you asking me to go see you play then…”

He cleared his throat. “Then what?”

“Of course, I’m there. Are we even friends or what?”

“Good. I was starting to doubt that.”

“I don’t see you for like three days then you start saying shit like this to me.” You sneered before rolling your eyes. “You’re the one on training, mister.”

“Okay—okay. You win this one.”

“Mhm. There’s a teeny, tiny problem though.”

Jungkook’s brow raised in concern. “What?”

“I forgot to buy tickets.”

“Luckily for you,” he slid a ticket from his back pocket next to your cup of coffee, “there’s this.”

“Aw, no,” you cooed. “You have this reserved for me?”

He nodded then he processed your facial expression. “That’s it. That’s the face of someone who thinks the world revolves around them.”

You ignored him with scoff. “You really can’t live without me around you, huh?”

You pressed your hands to your chest for emphasis while your brows drown a quarter span of your forehead. Your teeth couldn’t even release their bite from your bottom lip, doing their best to suppress your jokey beam. But what came next – you hadn’t expected.

Never.

And it will be in your head for quite some time.

“Of course I want you there. You’re my lucky charm,” Jungkook stated without hesitation, shifting his gaze from the ticket then to your eyes. His were earnest.

Yours were something else but they softened. Fuck it.

You did not expect it and it came worse to you. Because now, you were flustered. Flustered like the times he would envelope your hand in his when crossing streets without telling you beforehand. Flustered like when he had kissed the top of your head because you were crying. Flustered like this.

He flashed you a smile, one that only cared to lift the corners of his mouth, before leaving your sight, attending to the game he abandoned on your computer.

“Lucky charm,” you repeated in a small voice. “Lucky charm, huh.”

Not even your boyfriend said stuff like that to you.

As if on cue, your phone lit up with a message from your boyfriend, Yoongi, asking you if you would be free on Saturday.

You didn’t reply, did not even bother tapping your fingers on your phone screen. You didn’t even bother to draw your phone closer to you to read his message. You just wouldn’t and couldn’t.

You sighed. “Jackass.”

If asked to describe your relationship with Yoongi was like, the first word that would pop up in your head was – messy. That itself was enough to tell how problematic your relationship was with him but you couldn’t end it. Yoongi would fuck it up; miss out on significant events of your life, make you wait for hours for a date, leave you on read for days—weeks even, then contact you back – like today. But you took him over and over again in your arms.

“Heard that,” Jungkook announced, clearing the silence between the two of you.

“Don’t worry. It’s not you, Kook.”

“I know it’s not. It’s always one person when it comes to you and that word, _____.” He scoffed, followed by a short chuckle then his conclusion: “That was Yoongi for sure.”

“Damn right.”

When Jungkook’s game ended or after his team won, his time was quickly occupied by some guy you weren’t familiar with. He was dragged to the corner of the stadium, near the entrance made for the players.

Even then, you did your usual routine after every Jungkook game, wait by the doors of the guys’ locker room. As Jungkook was kept busy by some guy, practically all his teammates had exited the room and bid goodbyes to you along reminders of “party at Namjoon’s later” when they caught you leaning on the wall beside the doorstep.

Almost every one of his teammates were out and about in preparation for the party later, getting doses of alcohol in cans, glass bottles, and even those gigantic jugs, and also probably, well most likely, weed, when Jungkook finally gone to shower. Great. You’d be waiting for another set of dread minutes.

The door once again opened while you were busy formulating a reply to Yoongi, the classic type-and-delete approach over an apology for leaving him on read until Saturday—or today arrived. Actually it was the classic type-and-delete-and-curse approach. You were thinking this was all too late because Saturday was almost over anyway.

This was you giving in again and you surely wouldn’t be telling Jungkook about this.

You were doing so well.

Fuck it.

You started typing.

“Hey, _____,” was the greeting of a deep voice from beside you.

“Hey, Tae,” you greeted back, locking your phone.

Taehyung stood next to you, peeking from the small opening he made with the door. But he was close. Close enough for you smell his mint shampoo and a bit out-of-character baby soap. The scent matched well with his fresh face and sodden dark locks, however.

“There’s a seat here,” he noted.

“Great. My legs are killing me,” you said in relief and he opened the door wider for you.

You followed him to the lockers and it was only him left and of course, Jungkook in the showers inside.

Taehyung closed his locker then leaned his back on it, looking down on you as you sat on a bench across him, only a meter away.

If you were asked to describe your relationship with Taehyung, it’d be very easy to do so. It was as shallow as it could get. Things with him were the epitome of almost’s. He’d make a move then nothing happened next.

“You have plans after this?” Taehyung started.

“Is this your pick-up line?” you teased.

“I guess pick-up lines are my bottom-of-the-barrel approach to finally get it on with you then.” He chuckled, making you take note of the fact that his voice even sounded deeper when he did. “So, what are you up to?”

“To wherever Jungkook goes,” you answered. “It’s his day anyway.”

“So you’ll be at the party later then.”

You scoffed. “With or without Jungkook, I’ll be there for sure. Won’t miss it for the world.”

“Would you mind if we pick up where we’d always left off?” was his brazen request.

That made you stand up from being seated, meters closing into bare inches when you branded the floor with your footsteps.

Taunting to be as bold as him, you smirked.

“And where is that?” you asked breathily, grazing your fingers on the loose part of fabric clinging on his waist.

He smirked, aiming to tear down your dominant demeanor with how he towered over you but you contested, keeping your eyes locked with his. “Pretty,” he merely commented, clearing your face from the stands of your hair.

“Pretty?” you repeated.

Taehyung got a hold of your wrist but he kept his touch merely centimeters above your skin. He skimmed to your elbow and upwards, upwards, upwards until he reached to swipe his thumb on your bottom lip. “So pretty,” he repeated bending down his neck to whisper them in your ears.

He claimed a spot on your neck with a small peck just when you thought he’d claim you in for a kiss.

“You letting me take you home tonight?”

And fuck were you ready to just jump on his request.

His voice dripping honey didn’t help at all.

“That’s a question I can’t answer,” you swallowed when he nipped on your jaw to hide your panting, “right now.”

“Uh huh. Why is that?” He placed a hand on your back, dangerously close to your ass. His other hand cupped your cheek into his palm, making it easier for his lips to fan hot breaths over yours.

Again, you swallowed.

“You’ll have to convince me better,” you said weakly.

Fuck it.

“Later, yeah?” He leaned in and right when you hoped he would finally enclose his lips with yours, he only kissed the corner of your lips, making you yearn as if minutes of him playing with you weren’t enough.

You lifted your head, trying to catch his lips which after two quick attempts, he allowed with a smug chuckle.

It wasn’t a deep one. It was open-mouthed, wet. A trial for what comes later.

“Doesn’t look like you need much convincing though,” Taehyung teased, giving your ass a squeeze.

The only answer you could give him was a moan and another kiss which ran a few seconds before he pulled away.

“What now?” you whined in a shy voice, annoyed, making him chuckle.

“You’ve got to tell me though.”

“Tell you what?”

“What’s up with you and Jungkook? I need to know so I don’t fuck up,” Taehyung elaborated sharply. “I mean, you’re always together and shit.”

Your lips were left agape and you ran your tongue behind your teeth as you contemplated. You didn’t know what to tell Taehyung because you didn’t know the answer for that in one statement. You could say your best friends though but why couldn’t you?

“Jungkook!” you shouted instead, startling Taehyung.

“What?” Jungkook shouted back from the showers. “I’m coming out!”

“Okay! Good.” You turn back to Taehyung. “We’re friends.”

“So, I wouldn’t be fucking up anything then? Great,” Taehyung said that had your heart beating faster. “That’s what I liked to hear.”

“You’ve got to know though,” you added. “I’ve got a very complicated relationship with someone right now.”

Taehyung shook his head, laughing. “Yeah, I’m not really worried about getting in the middle of that,” he said, a finger sliding on your lips.

“Taehyung, back off, please,” Jungkook interrupted, a bit of frustration hinting in his tone. “I already told you; she’s taken.”

Taehyung untangled his hands from your waist but his smirk lingered.

You withdrew from Taehyung, walking up to Jungkook who stood at the boundary of the locker room and the shower room. You mouthed to Jungkook inaudibly with an annoyed expression, “Really now?”

He raised a brow at you as he tongued his cheek. “Yeah, _____,” he said sarcastically, nodding his head. “Anyway, let’s go. I’ve got something to tell you.”

The only thing you could do was follow him. He, who was walking in a real hurried pace with his gym bag. Before the two of you exited the locker room and left Taehyung alone, you looked back at him and he gave you a wink.

You two didn’t really move too far from the locker rooms anyway. Just by the doorstep when you waited for him earlier.

“Okay, what’s up?” you asked with a smile, hoping for some good news.

Before he opened his mouth, he gave in to a wide smile he must’ve been biting on his cheek to repress.

Alluring features of him smiling were of different earthly gifts.

“Oh, my God. It is good news! Wait—wait, let me guess! Is this about the guy outside?” You waited for his nod which he gave. “Okay, wait—no. I don’t wanna guess. I give up. What is it? Who was that?” were your shooting questions, putting him on hot seat.

“So that guy is the baseball coach of the national university,” Jungkook introduced slowly but he didn’t continue.

“Well…?”

“He’s asking me to try-out for them.” He paused to exhale. “And if I get in, which he kept telling me I’ve got a great chance in, I’ll go to college there. Free.”

As if it was your triumph to celebrate, your eyes widened as you jumped to hug him tightly. “Oh, my God! That’s so great! I’m so happy for you, Kook! Oh, my God! This is big!”

He let go of his gym bag to fully wrap his arms around your waist, almost completely burying his face to the crook of your neck and shoulder. “It’s still not sure though. Only if I get in—”

“Shh,” you hushed. “One thing at a time.”

“Okay.” He surrendered to you, into the embrace.

“Okay, maybe two things at a time,” you recounted. “First, your win. And this, second. Fuck, I really am your lucky charm, aren’t I?”

“You have a way of making things about you, _____,” he countered instead. But again, he surrendered to you. “But fuck yeah, you really are.”

“Everything’s falling into place for you, damn.” You hugged him tighter, leaving your cheek on his chest. “I’m so happy for you I could honestly cry but to save face, I will not.”

“Thank you, _____,” was his straight reply.

The vibration of his chest suddenly became the beeping alarm in your head on the proximity you two share. But no one was pulling away. Not you. You couldn’t.

Not when hugging him like this felt so good, so warm. So perfect.

You looked up to tease him about the fast beats of his heart, but as if you were caught in act, as if captured to an arrest, you stiffened when his eyes were already onto yours.

But no one was looking away. Again, it was not you. You couldn’t.

It didn’t take long ticks of seconds for you to feel the burning of your cheeks, pinks finally looming to your face. Yet still, you couldn’t, wouldn’t dare look away. And all this time, you were only thinking about how it was you who should look away, not realizing that he wasn’t moving either.

Because it couldn’t be him who would look away too.

It couldn’t be him who would unwrap his arms and pull away finally.

Despite all these thoughts, Jungkook knew that if no one let go, he could lean in. Fuck, he could. You were only a few centimeters away. He really would. He would yet he couldn’t so he stayed the same way you did.

Today was special. This was special.

Today was his.

“You guys have a ride?” Taehyung’s voice suddenly echoed from the locker room, making the both of you jump.

It was you who had to let go.

“Y-Yeah, Tae!” you shouted back.

“Alright,” Taehyung noted, exiting the room and moving past the two of you. He looked back to wink at you. “See you there, _____.”

You bit your lips.

“Really, ____?” Jungkook asked.

“He’s joking,” you defended.

“What is it you see in him anyway?” Jungkook still asked, ignoring your statement.

“Kook, you ask that about every guy I’ve been with,” you stated. “Nothing’s even happened between me and Tae. I just wanna fool around with someone. And everything I have with Yoongi is so close to coming to an end. So, I guess that one’s out the window.”

You waited for Jungkook to speak.

“For real, this time.”

“For real, this time?”

Your statements overlapped, except that Jungkook’s was a question. It was clear that he had enough of you saying the same thing over and over again.

You chuckled.

“Yes, Kook,” you assured. “And you know what? Let’s not talk about this. Today is your day!”

Jungkook chuckled at that, certain that you were only trying to move the discussion away.

“Get drunk as fuck and fuck who you wanna fuck tonight,” you kidded.

He looked down. “You’d think I would,” he mumbled under his breath so silently you barely heard something and you didn’t question it.

In bare silence, the best thing you could bring out was a wide smile on your lips you couldn’t bring to stop. It was enough for Jungkook to feel like he was on top of the world and he could only mentally curse at himself for feeling like this. It was just a smile anyway. Nothing big. Nothing big.

But his chest that barely caged his pumping heart could only do so much. He felt that even with you only a few inches away, you could feel the vibrations in the small space between the two of you.

He hoped it did.

All this over a smile which wasn’t anything big.

Nothing was ever a big deal until he felt your touch. Your fingers pulling at his fingers then upward to wrap them around his wrists quickly, gripping lightly higher and higher until you held onto his arms for balance, in order to tiptoe and kiss his cheek. You felt him tense.

“Congratulations,” you said as you levelled with his stare, as if it was so simple.

It hadn’t been clear to Jungkook that it was you who leaned in.

“I hope you don’t mind,” you said when you figured he remained silent.

He shook his head. “Of course not.”

You bit your lower lip and indulged him into another tight hug, crossing your arms over his shoulders. And his, followed around your waist.

There were two chests hammering at that time.

No one could tell if it was their own or the other’s.

PRESENT, SECOND DAY OF PLAYOFFS…

Once the game is over, your arrival outside the visiting team’s locker room is one that could be classified as “a minute too late” but it’s the best thing you could do. The floods of college students and outsiders at all entrances and exits have made it impossible for you to get to the lockers as soon as the game ended.

You are left with an opened door, allowing you access to scan whoever’s left inside and no, Jimin’s not there anymore.

“Hey, _____.”

However, Taehyung is.

“Hey, Tae,” you greet back. “Is Jimin there?”

“I thought he left to come see you…” he trails, “but I do realize that that’s wrong now because you are here.”

“Nice,” you comment curtly.

“Hey, c’mon, now. Cut me some slack. I’m tired,” he says with a chuckle. “You don’t even look like you’re happy to see me.”

You quickly feel bad for how you responded to him. “Sorry,” you apologize.

He raises a brow then leans on the doorframe with crossed arms.

“For being rude,” you continue. “And for you know, the game.”

“Well, what can I say?” he says, ticking his head to the side. “You really are Jungkook’s lucky charm.”

You don’t answer, not really in the right state of mind to do so. Especially when Jungkook’s declaration of you as his lucky charm – that specific moment of your life – is the one thing that’s been keeping your senses awake, having been replayed in your head for so many times amid the game until now.

“Here I thought you could’ve been my lucky charm. Turns out, it’s just because we were on the same team back then,” he quips with a chuckle, wrapping a towel around his neck.

“Okay, Tae,” you breathe out, not knowing how to respond to him. “I gotta go look for him. Also, I am happy to see you.”

Taehyung gives you his most charming smile. “Go find him and tell him not to sulk.”

Meters at a turn of your heels, you see the doorstep for the home team’s locker room and some players are out there, loudly conversing. Before you could even pass by them, Namjoon, being apparently one of the players outside, doesn’t waste a second calling you.

“_____!” Namjoon shouts, making you turn. “Thanks for the good luck last night.”

You cringe. “Yeah, well…”

It doesn’t take him a full sentence to understand why. “Oh, yeah, fuck. I forgot. Sorry. And thank you. But also sorry ‘bout that. Sorry it turned out that way—which is a good thing for us but you know, sorry. Okay—I’ll stop.”

You shake your head. “That’s fine, I guess.” The best you could give is a small smile. “And congratulations, by the way!”

“Thank you!” is his quick response. “I’d hug you but I really haven’t… showered.”

“That’s fine,” you says, snickering a little.

The locker door opens and the players outside hoot because finally, it’d be their turn to shower. Of course, as though the universe has a way of telling you things, the locker room spews a newly-showered Jungkook. A Jungkook of red-tinted cheeks and drenched curls from the hot shower.

Suddenly, it’s quiet and Namjoon isn’t doing any saving.

So you try.

“C-Congratulations,” is your nervous congratulatory attempt.

And just as you think Jungkook would answer you, he doesn’t, not when his teammates round up to him and carry him on their arms to celebrate his successful contributions to the team. As it’s many of his runs that concluded their win.

You shift your gaze to Namjoon who’s just as dumbfounded as you. When you shake your head, he shrugs—the contributing factor to your decision to leave abruptly and find Jimin who still, hasn’t replied to any of your texts.

Fuck it.

#f: circles over circles #bts smut #jungkook smut #jimin smut #taehyung smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x oc #by:lacielre

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