#i was worried that eventually someone would hate my guts for not engaging super well

[thealphabard]

Ty again for the seemingly universal love for my dorky Fish Boi™ Akos. Never really in my wildest dreams did I expect people to like a silly dnd character I made.

I know I'm super bad at engaging with people as a whole, and luckily I've been without incident on it ruffling anyone's feathers but just know I see every single persons response and it brings a smile to my face. I'm trying to get myself to engage with everyone far more than I am, but I have crippling anxiety 😅

[stutterfly]

Swipe Right 04 | Patch Notes | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst, humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 15.1K

Last time on SR03: You joined a gym to increase your confidence and things progressed the way you want with your tinder match. You ended up in an unlikely competition with your friends when you went new bar together, leading to some unexpected conversations and shenanigans.

CW & Other Tags: Drinking, anxiety/panic attack mentions, muscle tearing injury mention, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, flirting, pick-up lines, sexual tension, Joonie is still Y/N’s best boi, soft Jungkook

Series: Activate your SIMCard

Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

When’s the last time you felt as good as you do right now? Jungkook has pretty much stopped bothering you since that night at Seesaw, your date with Jason went well, and you’ve been sticking to your early morning workouts. You definitely don’t push yourself as much as trainer Hwasa, and you know you should really take advantage of the free trial, but it was overwhelming to take in so much at once and the session made you sore all over for days.

At least your stamina seems to be improving and you’ve discovered post-workout endorphins are real. Tonight is your second date with Jason, a date you’ve uncharacteristically elected to host at your apartment. You can place some blame on those endorphins for your boldness, with pining and disappointment composing the rest of it.

While your first date ended without a kiss, there was enough flirting to keep you hopeful. Neither of you were brave enough to do anything about it then, but you’ve mentally coached yourself into pretending like you have an unbreakable spine with nerves of steel. Meeting him only solidified your attraction, and you’ve resolved to take the lead, even though you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.

It’s not like you often make the first move, but your confidence in him to do so has waned. You’ve been talking and playing games together online for months without any physical touch. Despite how he’s said he likes you and wants to see you again, you’d still be waiting if you didn’t suggest today.

You’re determined to show him what he’s missing by being a recluse. That’s why you’ve picked out the sluttiest clothes and the strappiest heels you own, decorated your face with expensive makeup, and even styled your hair instead of just letting it do whatever it wants for the day. You check yourself out in the full-length mirror on your bedroom door for the millionth time and pull down on the hem of your dress like it will somehow magically grow longer.

You don’t need the heels; no part of the night calls for them. You’re going to be sitting on the couch with him. If you’re lucky you’ll even move it to the bedroom you spent so much time cleaning. But they’re cute and they make you feel sexy, so you’re going to keep them on until he’s peeling you out of your dress.

Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you have to pretend like they’re not there or you’ll fixate on how hard you’re trying to be confident and cool. You’ll fall apart when it’s obvious to Jason how hard you’re pretending to be everything you aren’t. Checking your phone doesn’t help; it’s almost time.

Taking a deep breath, you pace through the confines of your apartment as you wait, and answer group texts from Jennie and Namjoon. You offer up a selfie, hoping any compliments will build your confidence enough to stave off the anxiety in your gut. A few devil emojis later, some keysmashing, and more than a couple hamfisted compliments from Namjoon, your ego is adequately inflated but you can always use more hyping. Maybe you should send it to Jimin to fish for more compliments? He’d indulge you for sure.

Instead you flop on the couch and open Tinder. According to Jennie, Jason is stringing you along; it’s been months, but you hate to admit that she has a point. So you don’t. She’s been telling you for a while now that she thinks you should pursue other suitors. While you object to her assumptions, she has more experience with this kind of stuff. It’s not exactly something you want to believe, not when you’ve put in so much effort for literal months.

You want to believe in Jason being awkward and dorky and that’s why it’s taken so long for the two of you to hook up. He’s shy and super introverted, but so are you. So why are you the only one trying to make things happen? You want to believe, but at this point you’re uncertain enough to heed Jennie’s advice and keep swiping any time you find yourself in a situation where you’re waiting on him. Like now.

You have your reservations about swiping while you wait for your date to begin, but you can practically hear Jennie cheering you on. He’s late anyway, and it will keep you busy until he arrives. You open the discovery tab and swipe left on a couple incomplete profiles. Most of the guys on here don’t put in any effort. How are you supposed to want to give any of them a chance when you don’t even get a tiny snapshot of who they are?

When you pass on yet another fish pic profile, a blue frame appears around the next guy in line. It takes a moment for your brain to register the name along with the duck-faced photo as someone familiar.

[Jungkook said: Your legs remind me of oreos 🥴 wanna know why?]

How fucking dare he? You match with the intent to ream him out and leave.

You: I told you not to fucking find me on here

It takes only a few seconds before you see the dots move on his end, like he was waiting for the moment you would answer, and it keeps you tethered to the conversation.

Jungkook: Princess!! I couldn’t help myself how are you

Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me

You: Don’t worry I’m gonna

Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh

You: ???

Jungkook: Your legs

Jungkook: Like oreos

Jungkook: I wanna split them n lick the cream from the center 😜

Electricity rumbles in your gut, carrying heat and a surge of excitement to your cunt that threatens to flood your panties. You swallow hard and squeeze your thighs together as you stare at the screen. Embarrassed by the response his antics elicit, you scramble to formulate a coherent thought.

You: I wish I could unread 🤢

Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites

Jungkook: Just like you 😘

You: 🙄

You: I hate you so much

Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?

You stare at the message like a clever response will come to you and when it doesn’t you bite your lip. He’s got a point. Haven’t you learned your lesson not to encourage him? Your eyes scan the top of your phone for any notifications from Jason. Nothing. At least this is keeping you distracted. That’s what you tell yourself.

Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀

You: It means I’m tired

Jungkook: Of?

You pause for a moment. Namjoon and Jennie can’t know how anxious you are about Jason. It’s the guy’s last strike with them and he hasn’t even met them yet. Jungkook, an impartial third party, might be able to lend an ear. As much as you don’t care what he thinks, you need an outlet for the anxiety in your chest. You start to draft a word-vomit. Jason has been so hesitant to see you in person again and now he’s late. Maybe if you just put it out there to someone you’ll feel better.

Jungkook: If you need to sleep how about a massage?

Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴

Stupid. In what universe could you confide in Jungkook? Deleting your word-vomit before you can send it, you start to type something else, but your thumb accidentally taps enter at the exact wrong moment.

You: You know what? I want you

FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.

You scramble to rewrite the sentence but Jungkook is quicker. He has to know it was an accident, but you’re still fucking mortified.

Jungkook: 😈

Jungkook: My place

Jungkook: Ten minutes

You: *to stay off my profile

Jungkook: 👉👌?

You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT

You: 🤢🤢🤢

Jungkook: 😩

Jungkook: Now you’re just playing games with me princess

Jungkook: Can’t say I mind just fuck me up 🥴

You: Don’t you have a princess to fuck in another castle? Maybe she can stroke your tiny ego

Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here

He goes quiet and you close the conversation out. Setting the phone down on the cushion beside you lasts all of two seconds. When your phone buzzes twice, you know better than to answer, yet you feel compelled to look.

Jungkook: Hey quick question

Jungkook: Is this the most you’ve used the app to talk with someone you like? 👻

Just like that you unmatch with him and take a moment to seethe. Distraction or no, he’s not worth the mental energy. He always seems to draw you in like a pretty little thirst trap and drain you of your sanity. Not engaging is the safest option so why do you always end up doing so? Maybe it’s that shitty little part of you that gets excited any time he shows you attention.

There’s a gullible girl within you; she sets your pulse on fire when he feigns even the slightest interest, fills your head with wind when he brushes against you, and floods your eyes with tears when he walks away. Still, she wants him to look at you, even if it means he’s really looking through you. You hate her. Why can’t she learn that you deserve better?

You check the time again and wince. Jason is really late now. Not even a text. Or a phone call. Maybe it’s traffic?

Try to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re going to have fun tonight.

You start up a game to take your mind off the options available to explain his absence. When you’re invested in a game you often lose track of time, but tonight you’re hyper-aware of every minute that passes. You bite at your freshly painted nails during loading screens, chipping the red from their edges. Sounding casual is difficult when you’re worried, but you attempt it anyway via text. It’s ten more agonizing minutes of waiting before your phone buzzes with an answer.

The controller drops to your lap and immediately tears begin to sprinkle your thighs with the manifestation of your heartache.

He forgot.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

An earthy scent fills Namjoon’s apartment as he carefully transfers the last of his plants to a bigger pot, filling in the edges of its roots with fresh soil and patting the edges down with care. His plants have needed this, maybe even more than he needs the mini hangout that will soon follow. The kitchen table is covered in dirt, but at least he’s almost done.

It’s not his fault Jungkook showed up earlier than expected. At least he’s quiet now. It’s been a while, but he’s finally stopped asking about how much longer it will take, so he must either be invested in the show he put on or asleep on the couch.

“Almost done,” Namjoon loudly announces. “Can you text Tae?”

“Kay.” Jungkook yawns as he stands and heads towards the bathroom. “Jin was already cooking when I left so it should be ready soon.”

“Good. I’m hungry,” Namjoon says, carefully transporting the plant to the desk in his bedroom.

As he’s on his way to clean up the mess on the table there’s a soft rapid knock at the front door. The moment he opens it and finds you standing before him, he knows something is wrong. Even the ratty hoodie covering your shoulders can’t hide the effort you’ve obviously put into your appearance tonight. While your makeup seems to have fared rather well, your eyes are red and your cheeks are puffy. His mind automatically assumes the worst about your second date and his jaw tightens.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“He never showed.” You throw your arms around him and openly sob.

“Oh, Y/N…” His arms are around you in an instant, hugging you close while keeping his dirty fingers at bay.

You press your cheek against his chest, letting the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry. I know you probably have plans tonight, but I wanted to stop here—” You choke out a loud sob and wipe your nose with your sleeve as you look down at the floor. “I didn’t want to drive upset but you weren’t answering and I just—”

“Shit. Exam today. I left it on silent.” He pats his pocket to make sure it’s still there, wiping as much dirt as he can on his jeans before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths.”

Jungkook emerges from the bathroom quietly with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Did he hear your voice or is it his imagination? Unsure if you’re some wishful remnant of earlier texts, he peeks around the corner.

Heels: black, strappy heels with a velvety smooth red undersole. Has he ever seen you in heels? If he has, it’s never been something as flashy as these. His gaze travels up the smooth, exposed skin of your legs until it hits the hem of a skirt. The dark fabric seems a little short; it clings to your thighs, riding up as you embrace his friend. It’s hard not to notice how well it accents the curve of your hips and more importantly: your ass. He’s definitely never seen you in something so revealing, not even on nights where you’ve joined them for dancing.

He pauses for a fraction of a second, eyes trained on the swell of your ass before moving up to find the disappointing sight of your favorite hoodie barring much else from view. Namjoon’s arms outline your shape, but the places his hands rest are far too respectable to glean much else other than simple blueprints.

With his dick leading his steps, Jungkook opens his mouth to announce his presence with a joke. He means to selfishly steal a glimpse of your entire ensemble with some snarky comment but you choke out a sob and his stomach lurches to form a whirlpool of apprehension. His mouth remains open, but his words are swallowed back into the dark swirling pit that now wrenches his gut in circles.

Namjoon looks up just in time to read the confusion and shock on his features. He shakes his head and cups yours against his chest, wordlessly signaling Jungkook to keep quiet.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you wanna talk about it?” Namjoon asks, hoping you don’t see the man behind you slowly backing away like he’s just approached a rabid animal.

You’re sobbing. Why are you sobbing? What happened? Was it what he said before you unmatched? Jungkook tiptoes back into the kitchen without a word. He leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, trying to piece everything together. Did he cause this?

You screw your eyes shut to try to keep the tears inside. It’s no use. They always seem to find a way out. “He didn’t show up and when I texted him, he… he said he forgot."

“What?"

“I thought it would be good after the arcade date, you know? Like, good chemistry. He’s weird. I like him! He seemed interested and we made these plans and he just—” you choke out another loud sob. “God. Am I really so fucking forgettable?”

You wanted your friends to be wrong so badly that you ignored the fact that it’s been like pulling teeth trying to get Jason to meet up again. For him to forget completely is like a kick to the face that leaves all the teeth intact, maybe a little bloody, but stubbornly intact.

“Y/N, no. It’s not your fault. You deserve better than this fucking guy.”

Jungkook swallows hard. This definitely doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be hearing, but it’s loud enough to carry through the entire apartment. Kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom: his options are limited, but he knows there’s nowhere to go to pretend like he can’t hear it. It’s not like he can just walk out the front door now.

“Do I? It’s seems like a fucking pattern, Joon. I fall for people so easily and they always make me feel like an idiot for trying. Donghyun. Seojun. Jason. Jungkook… It doesn’t matter. No one fucking wants me.”

Jungkook tenses. He may not know all the names on your list, but his is among them all the same. Has he really hurt you so much?

“Hey… Don’t think like that,” Namjoon says, his voice soft as he rubs your back. “You know your worth, and it’s not measured by how well someone else can see it.”

Every time you think you’re done crying, fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks. “I’m tired, Joonie.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We'll get you home."

As you step back to look at him your ankle rolls, and you begin to fall. Hearing the scuffle, Jungkook winces and peeks around the corner. Namjoon has a good enough grip to stop you from fully tumbling to the floor, but you’re definitely not stable by any means.

Although you now face Jungkook, you’re too distracted by your ankle to notice the extra pair of eyes on you. He allows himself to stupidly linger within your line of sight, raking his gaze across your form to take in the details of your attire, right down to your choice of earrings. Even with a red nose and puffy, smudged eyes, the time you’ve spent on your appearance remains evident.

You did all that for some guy who didn’t even show? If that’s how you dress for your dates then his innocent perception of you is completely wrong. What kind of moron would pass up the opportunity to peel you out of that dress and dive into your cunt? You look incredible. What the fuck.

"God. Shit. Fuck! Fucking stupid heels!” You huff out your exasperation and let a small pitiful laugh pass your lips as you right your stance with Namjoon’s help. “You know, I spent hours getting ready and now I just look stupid. I feel stupid.”

“You don’t. You’re not,” Namjoon insists, his palm squeezing your shoulder.

“Namjoon, I shaved my entire body. Do you know how long that took?”

Jungkook forces himself to withdraw into the kitchen. If you see him now you might murder him. He purses his lips into a thin line and tightens his grip around his arms. In an instant he imagines hiking your dress above your hips and parting your legs so he might brush his cheek against the smooth expanse of your thigh all the way to your core. Are your panties as slutty as your dress? Are they cute? Lacy? Plain?

“Geeksquad…” Namjoon sighs loudly. “I really don’t need to know— Hold up. Wasn’t this the second date?”

“Are you slutshaming me?” The tired laugh that follows sounds more like you, but it still hurts his heart. “I’m stepping up my game.���

“Nah. You do you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips that’s obviously full of pity. “You want to stay and get some food? I think I have some sweats you can change into.”

Tires screech in Jungkook’s mind. Is he going to be trapped here for the night? Without dinner? What kind of karmic torture is the universe putting him through?

“No, I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. “Jennie wants me to come over but I—I didn’t think I could make it with having a full meltdown. You were on the way.”

“No need to apologize.” He pulls you into another tight hug. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m right in front. Thanks, Joonie.” Your phone begins to buzz in your hoodie pocket. You pull back and wave it at him, already on your way to the door. “It’s like she knew. I’ll talk to her on the way. Thank you for listening to me cry for the millionth time.”

“Always. Text me when you get there, okay?”

“Will do, mom,” you tease with a soft laugh.

“Zip up your hoodie.”

You grimace at him with narrowed eyes but heed his advice on your way out. You also pull your skirt down as far down your thighs as it will reach. Men are gross and you trust virtually none of them.

Jungkook waits until he hears the click of the lock on the door to breathe a loud sigh of relief. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and stares at the door. He worries about you.

“Yikes. That Jason guy is a dick huh?”

Namjoon swivels on his heels and rounds on his friend. “Like you were so much better to her?”

Jungkook casts his gaze to the floor. “I didn’t stand her up.”

Even he knows that argument is flimsy.

“Guk.”

“It was always just a joke.”

“It’s not though. She really liked you, man. I asked you not to mess with her.”

Memories have warped Jungkook into a jaded man: untrusting although not uncaring. Guilt is the only thing churning in his stomach as he thinks of you. He never expected to genuinely hurt you. Somehow things twisted into a gnarled mess that never really felt like more than a playful game of tug-of-war. But these kinds of games only work when the people involved know that they’re playing. It’s shitty when one pulls another into the mud when they’ve never agreed to participate.

Faced with the reality of how you consider him now, it dawns on him that he’s dragged you into the mud face-first without even the slightest resistance. You’ve stood up and you’ve even yanked the rope in retaliation, but you never should’ve been in the mud in the first place. Regardless of his own emotional ineptitude, he knows you never deserved that humiliation. No one does. The weight of his actions sits heavy in his gut.

Still he tries to justify himself. “All I do now is make pass after pass and she’s the one who turns me down.”

“You said it earlier yourself,” Namjoon sneers, irritated by his friend’s immaturity. “It’s always a joke. You’re never serious and she knows it. Look, you don’t have to like her back. She’s my friend and so are you. Just don’t lead her on and stop with the mind games. Be honest with her. The least you can do is apologize for being a dick.”

“That’s— I feel like… I don’t know how.”

Jungkook can’t bring himself to tell him of your conversation earlier tonight. It just adds to the guilt piling on his conscience. Namjoon used his own words against him and the worst part is it makes sense. It’s so much easier when it’s a stranger at a bar or a random encounter at a club, but you’re neither of those things. He lumped you into that category all the same.

Namjoon clicks his tongue and puts an arm around Jungkook’s back. “Starting with ‘I’m sorry’ can go a long way. She’s a good person and I know you guys can get along. Things were going well until you made that bet, right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. “Mmm.”

“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”

“Yeah.”

“I think…” Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Can you try to just... tone it down? Maybe try to patch things up?”

“Okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows and he chews his lip as he mulls over Namjoon’s words. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his keys. “You ready?”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Your head dips forward as your fingers glide across the keys. It's hard to concentrate on your task when you're this distracted by your own thoughts. You stare at the monitor with furrowed brows. Namjoon grabs the back of your chair and leans forward to tower over you.

"Went that well, huh? Did he blow the second chance he didn’t deserve?"

The motion jerks you backwards and you grip the armrests of the chair to steady yourself. Despite your best attempt to curb the irritation in your expression, your frustration remains apparent. You sit back and tilt your head up to look at him, trying to think of something to say, some excuse to not reinforce the "told you so" waiting in your future, not after you showed up at his apartment sounding like a dying whale a few days before. When no ideas come to your immediate aid, you click your tongue and let out a heavy sigh as you turn your attention back to the screen.

"Geeksquad," he presses. "Talk to me."

You exhale through your nose and briefly purse your lips before obliging his plea. The words are quick and quiet so you don't run the risk of bawling your eyes out again. "He canceled.”

Namjoon steps back and the pressure on your seat is gone. He places a large palm on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

Despite wanting to give the opposite answer, you shake your head. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you'd like to tell him. He's clever and you know he'll likely find a way to get it out of you with minimal effort anyway. Still, you don’t think you can manage the words without crying like a baby and you don’t want to do that when the morning has only just begun. Silence falls between the two of you as he gives you time to decide if you want to open up.

After a moment of tapping away you finally give in. You know you’ll feel better after you cry.

"He said he had to stay behind and help do clean-up for the party he was at. And that’s nice and all, but we had plans. I feel crazy. I should be glad that he’s so kind, right? Like that shows he’s a good person, right?” Your voice has cracked but it hasn’t quite broken.

He sighs and flops in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Y/N… I think you’re asking me for answers you already know.”

“But tell me anyway,” you press, tears welling in your eyes. “Our first date went so well. So why-y-” Your voice breaks.

“Hey.” He reaches across the desk and brushes his fingers against your arm. “I know you want me to help you make excuses for him... But you deserve someone who values your time. Clearly he’s just looking to waste it.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you don’t need someone like that. If this is what he’s like before you’re even together, then what kind of effort is he really going to put into a potential relationship? Not enough. There are so many people out there, people that would trip over themselves just to have the chance to be with you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s a mistake that you even gave him another shot. He blew it. Twice. Delete his number. Forget him.”

“I know,” you croak. Tears fall from your eyes and you quickly swipe them away, focusing on the task at hand.

Namjoon is right and you know it, but you’re kind of irritated about it. You know it’s not really him you’re mad at, but Namjoon is a good enough placeholder while you try to sort through your hurt feelings.

You muster your most monotone voice as you stand. “I updated your drivers and deleted any cached files that might have been causing issues. Is that all?”

“Don’t be mad at me,” he pleads, rising to block your path as you step towards the door. “You have a big heart and I hate seeing it stepped on.”

In a matter of seconds you melt into his embrace and bury your face into his shirt. “I hate how fast I like people.”

“I know.” He pets the back of your head softly and squishes you against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. How about udon later? My treat?”

“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.

“With beef,” he agrees.

“Gyoza?”

“Mhm.”

“And takoyaki?”

“...You’re pushing it.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You slide the appetizer tray across the table towards Namjoon. “Here.”

He shovels a dumping into his mouth right before he speaks. “I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”

“Could you afford it though?” you tease, taking a sip from the bottle of saké and crinkling your nose at it before passing it to him.

“Not if you’re joining me,” he snorts. “You’re supposed to pour it.”

“No, thanks.” You push the tiny glass full of liquid back towards him.

"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"

You know the source of the voice before you even crane your neck to see Jungkook.

"Pfft." Namjoon waves the question off with a deep laugh.

Despite finding the scenario of ever dating Namjoon absolutely absurd, you can’t help but feel a little insulted by the volume of his laughter. Namjoon’s hangout night was supposed to take your mind off of how unwanted Jason made you feel. Instead, the pit of insecurity within your stomach grows into a thick, tangled brush of hostility. Is being seen with you really so laughable?

“Why would we be?” you snap, turning your attention back to your bowl.

Heat settles in your face and you purse your lips, not daring to look at either of them. You try to wrangle some noodles to shovel in your mouth before you can say something stupid. Their eyes are on you. Jungkook is definitely confused but not alarmed by your hostility. It’s something he’s grown accustomed to. But Namjoon knows when he hurts your feelings, every time, and it’s easy enough to disarm your irritability.

“She’s way too good for a mess like me,” Namjoon says with a light laugh.

“Why are you here?” you ask, tone already softer than before.

"Post-work snackie," he answers, all too cheery for your sour mood. “Came for the noods. Mind if I join?”

He looks to the rosy-cheeked Namjoon for his answer, as you set your hoodie and purse down in the space beside you to give him yours. Namjoon betrays you by scooting over to make room on his side of the booth. You’d mentioned to him before that you’d eventually like to fix things with Jungkook, to somehow make steps for peace. But you only have so much mental energy left to give today.

“Not tonight, Jungkook,” you plead with a sigh.

The frustration in that puff of breath is enough to make Jungkook hesitate. He blinks a few times, wide-eyed. “What?”

“I just… can’t handle your bullshit tonight.”

Jungkook tries to break the uncomfortable tension with a grin. “No bullshit tonight. Promise.”

“No.” Your answer is firm and somehow so fragile that it makes both men worry their brows in the same fashion. “Please, just go away.”

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t know what to make of your demeanor, but he can put enough together to know the basics. You’re upset, maybe not at him for once. However unlikely, that’d be a blessing. Maybe you’re still upset about that guy that stood you up a few days ago. If that’s the case, he probably shouldn’t stick around and risk letting on how much he knows about that.

He tongues the side of his cheek and nods, forcing a smile to his face. “Alright. I’ll just order it to go. Planned on that anyway. Catch you later.”

Guilt wracks your nerves as he walks away. The moment you look back at Namjoon, you’re faced with a wall of disappointment that threatens to topple the scale of decision-making in Jungkook’s favor.

“You’re judging me for that,” you mumble. The noodles between your chopsticks slip back into the broth.

“Little bit,” Namjoon admits, watching his friend sulk over to the entrance waitstaff. “You know he told me he’s trying to be nicer to you.”

“What? When?”

“The other day. We hung out.”

He keeps his answers short and ambiguous, hoping your curiosity has been piqued. Maybe this is the golden opportunity he’s been hoping for to patch your friendship.

“Was this before or after he harassed me on Tinder?”

Namjoon’s heart sinks into his butt. Of course Jungkook would make reconciliation harder than it needs to be. “When did he do that?”

“That night I showed up at your apartment like a big crybaby.”

“I went over his place for dinner after you left. Jin wanted to try a new recipe out on us.” That seems to at least make you pause.

“You guys talked about me?”

“Yup.” He goes back to chewing his food, knowing he’s got you hooked.

Your incredulous stare does nothing to pull information past his lips. “Joonie. What did you say about me? What did he say?”

“Mmm?” He slurps up a long noodle. “A lot of things. But they’re not really my words to tell.”

“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that he told me that he wants to fix things. If you want specifics, maybe we can invite him to come eat with us. It might be easier for the both of you to talk about it over good food.”

You sigh, seriously considering his words even as you shake your head. “Joon, I’m already emotionally compromised. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jungkook tonight.”

“Why would you cry? This is a night for good things only. Namjoon-approved and protected. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to... I just thought it might be nice to make some good memories with good friends.”

You roll your eyes but hold your pinky out for him. “Fine. But this is Joonie-Y/N time. You’re cutting into that allotted time slot, you know that right?”

Namjoon rests his elbow on the table, preparing to pinky swear to whatever you’re about to suggest. “Conditions?”

“He sits next to you, he doesn’t make fun of me if I cry, and…. he doesn’t get to talk.”

“Y/N.”

“Fiiiiine. He can talk. But he better be as nice as you say he’s trying to be.”

“We allowed to talk about Jason?”

“If it comes up…” you sigh. “You know, if he’s mean to me and I cry then you have to deal with it.”

He clasps his long pinky around yours. “Deal. But with how all that just went down, you gotta go tell him to come back. He won’t believe me if I do it.”

“Don’t let him be mean to me,” you plead, tightening your grip on his pinky and locking eyes with him. “Good vibes only.”

“He won’t be mean. Good vibes only.” Namjoon nods with a soft smile. “He really is a good person where it counts, Y/N.”

You push your things aside and force yourself to find Jungkook. He’s leaning against a wall near the entrance, scrolling through his phone while he waits for his order. You quietly request to your waitress that you’d like his food brought to your table. She’s nice enough about it, but your stomach churns regardless. It’s the anxiety.

You gingerly poke a finger against his shoulder as you approach. “Um. Hey.”

He seems startled at first, but smiles when he realizes it’s you. “Hmm?”

You take a deep quiet inhale, trying your best not to get lost in the butterflies his charming smile conjures in your gut. You try to tell yourself it’s anxiety and nothing more. Apologies are hard and scary. That’s all.

“I’m… sorry for being rude. I’ve had a rough week but I shouldn’t take it out on you. Come eat with us, please. Namjoon’s buying anyway.”

His eyes seem to light up with surprise and a warm smile deepens the creases around his eyes and mouth. The hope that these feelings of attraction would evaporate with time is a flame swiftly snuffed out and replaced with a burning heartache that deems denial useless. Even now, pangs of infatuation lurk below your feelings of disdain, breaking the tension of its surface with each beat of your heart.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I shouldn’t have invited myself when I saw you guys. I should really get home and shower anyway.”

He looks so clean that you’d assumed he’d already showered. It’s not like you can smell him from where you stand. Maybe he’s lying, but at least you get the sense it’s coming from a place of politeness.

“Jungkook, I want you to come eat with us. Besides Namjoon wants someone to drink saké with him and I cannot keep doing it.”

“I see.” He offers a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty against it before. What changed?”

“Namjoon told me you’re trying to be less of an asshole to me.”

“Did he?” he licks his lips and tries to hide his pleased smile. “I’m surprised you believe him.”

“He also promised me I could punch you in the dick if you make me cry,” you lie, completely stone-faced.

If he knows that’s a falsified statement, he doesn’t say anything. He looks past your shoulder to quirk a brow at Namjoon, who appears to be furiously texting at the table. Jungkook’s phone buzzes a few times against his palm and he’s fairly sure he already knows who it is.

“Come on. I already asked them to bring your food to the table.”

He reads Namjoon’s messages as he trails behind you.

NAMJOON: If you seriously want to apologize stick around, make her laugh, just listen when you need to

JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry

JUNGKOOK: I got u

Before Namjoon can send a text saying that Jungkook's response has the opposite effect, you’re peeking across the table, trying to get a glance at the screen.

“Who’s that?” you wonder. Namjoon’s not usually one to be so secretive with his texts.

“Hmm?” he raises his eyebrows at you and pours you a shot. “Stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ha. Haha. Ha.” You gesture at your face. “You say to the girl with anxiety.”

Crinkling your nose at the glass he offers, you slide it across to Jungkook as he settles in next to Namjoon. “Here. I’m done drinking that stuff tonight.”

He regards it with a quirked brow. Something about your demeanor really has changed, but looking between you and Namjoon does nothing to answer the question of what that may be.

“Okay, so on reddit this guy was reaching. He’s going on about the symbolism in the red scarf—”

Your eyes gloss over the moment he mentions reddit. Is there anything you care less about than Joon’s favorite modern literary discussion threads?

“Got it. Not worrying about it,” you interrupt, bringing your bowl to your lips to slurp some of the broth.

Jungkook hides his smirk by throwing his head back to drink his shot. Namjoon is a genius. It might be scary if he ever decided to use his intellect for nefarious purposes. Lucky for the universe he uses it to protect others, like a real superhero would.

As the three of you dine together, you’re surprised to find that Jungkook isn’t being as annoying as he usually is. In fact, it seems the more he drinks outside of any competitive setting, the more affable he becomes. Maybe there’s something to Namjoon’s clickbaity words. He’s almost the person you remember meeting before the Halloween Party, maybe even more pleasant.

You’re grateful when the two of them start telling embarrassing stories so you can listen and laugh at the way they slur their words and interrupt each other. Laughter makes your heart feel light and full, and brave enough to take the last step to prove to yourself you’re done chasing Jason. As the two men fight over the last piece of gyoza and distract themselves over dessert, you quietly decide to clear your text messages from Jason. Your finger hovers over the delete icon for a second before purging his contact information from your device entirely.

It’s freeing to not have to worry about what you should send him. It’s frustrating to have tried so hard for so long and have nothing to show for it, but at least there will be no conversation history to pick apart anymore. It should feel perfect. That will definitely show him, right? You don’t have to reflect for more than a couple seconds to reinforce the memory of how little he actually reached out on his own.

He still has your number. The only time he ever called was on your first date. He never texted you unless you spoke first. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone. He’s probably relieved he won’t have to answer you anymore. He probably thinks you’re desperate for trying for so long. You don’t realize how well you wear your anxiety.

When you look up Jungkook is watching you while he chews with his mouth wide open. “Hey, why do-” He hiccups and swallows. “Why do you look so sad? You should have some ice cream.”

He scans the table for something to offer you, but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for in his drunken stupor. After a few seconds his eyes finally land on his own plate where the other half of his red-bean cake sits.

“Do you want my taiyaki?” He holds the tail end of the fish-shaped cake out to you. “It’s really good!”

You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected sweet absurdity of the night. “Jungkook, I don’t want your half-eaten cake.”

He frowns and looks at the pastry. “Is it because I bit it? I’ll break off that part for you if you don’t want your mouth to touch that.”

Although Jungkook definitely is more drunk than Namjoon right now, the older man can’t help but be amazed by how well this is going. He loads up on green tea ice cream and digs his spoon in it. He shouldn’t have been so worried. Jungkook can put away the act when he wants to, especially once alcohol is involved and there’s nothing to prove. You guys are actually getting along. What a relief.

“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.

Jungkook is already breaking the pastry apart in his hand, watching as it crumbles to pieces on his plate. He blinks a couple times and closes his mouth in a frown.

“I thought that would work.” He sounds utterly defeated.

The waitress walks over just in time to watch Namjoon stick a heaping spoonful of wasabi in his mouth. You're too busy laughing at Jungkook's forlorn expression to notice the way Namjoon's eyes water. His eyes drop to the ice cream he thought he shoveled into his mouth. Right next to the pristine, untouched scoop of green tea ice cream, he finds his spoon resting in the hunk of wasabi adjacent to it. He should really pay attention more. He pushes against Jungkook's side and motions that he needs to get up. The younger man spares a glance his way but Namjoon waves him off while mumbling something about the bathroom.

The waitress tries to keep her composure and looks between the pair of you. "How is everything?"

"Great! Could you please bring us some water?" you ask in your sweetest voice, realizing the two men with you should at least try to start sobering up.

You expected to have Namjoon crashing on your couch on a Friday night, or at least be dropping him off down the hall at Hobi’s place. Jungkook was not part of the plan, but you can’t exactly let him drive home inebriated. You know he’s not your responsibility but you’d feel guilty making him call for a ride home when you’re perfectly capable.

Although you hate to admit it, you’ve had fun tonight. If you’re being honest with yourself you’d like to see what he’s like without Namjoon nearby to police his moves. He’s been nice enough, but you want to know for sure this isn’t an act. You want to ask him if he’s made another bet, or playing some game since he hasn’t hit on you all night. Before you can get your line of questions in order, Jungkook turns to the server with large, pleading eyes.

"Oh! Can you bring some more dessert, please?"

He may be a grown ass man capable of charming the pants off of women everywhere, but right now he is little more than a child begging for seconds. Regardless of everything he's done, your heart softens, endeared and embarrassed by his drunken request to your server.

The waitress nods. "Sure, what would you like?"

His eyes fall to you for an answer. "What do you like?"

You blink at him. "Me? I thought this was for you."

He nods. "Mm. We can split it."

"Um, how about... tempura?"

"Banana?"

Jungkook’s voice is full of anticipation and his upturned eyebrows seem to bargain for agreement. It’s so hard to believe this is the same man who has been so cold to you for so long when he seems so open and warm now. You remind yourself it’s probably the alcohol. It’s probably some secret promise to Namjoon. Some bet with Hobi. Some game he’s playing. It’s probably anything other than what your dumb crush-stupefied heart wants it to be.

The waitress looks to you for approval and you give a nod. "Sure. Banana tempura."

The waitress awkwardly smiles as she gathers the empty platters and gives you a chance to break away from his endearingly drunken face. He smiles across the table at you and wrings his hands while you pick up your phone to check on those nonexistent messages. Maybe if you distract yourself enough you can ignore the feelings that are catching up to you tonight.

“Thank you for inviting me back over,” he says, reaching to the nearly empty bottle of saké to pour himself another shot. “I’ve... been wanting to talk to you."

"I’m surprised you didn’t blow up my phone.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s a harshness in your tone that exposes a venomous bite beneath it.

He downs the shot and plants his elbows on the table, leaning forward on them. "I wanted to say it to your face."

“Oh, really?”

You don’t allow yourself to entertain the idea that he’s about to say anything groundbreaking, but you look away from your phone to meet those dark, twinkling eyes. Suddenly there’s hope in your gut. You’re desperate to put some distance between the feelings jumping to the surface.

“I’ve been a dick.”

“No shit.”

Though the fog of alcohol consumes his apology, his eyes focus on you with clarity. “I’m sorry.”

How long have you waited to hear those words? You never really thought about what you might say in response. His apology sits in the air between you for a moment before he speaks again.

“I’m really sorry. Namjoon is right. I am trying to be less of an asshole to you. We don’t…” he catches himself, “I don’t have a lot of close friends who are women.”

“You don’t say.”

That seems to cut through the fog. He hangs his head and focuses his gaze on the table.

“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you mumble.

“I know... I’m sorry.” It’s like now that he’s said it once, he can’t stop saying it. He’s not sure how to make you understand. Maybe you do understand and you just won’t forgive him. Can he really blame you for that?

“Why?” you question; it’s the last barrier protecting your heart, the only thing keeping you from caving. “Why do you care now?”

Jungkook’s head lolls to one side as he sits back against his seat and stares at the nearly empty bottle of saké. “I don’t know. I guess I was thinking… I wish I had a save to reload. Before I messed up.”

It seems that’s the best you’re going to get out of him right now. The waitress sets down a beautiful platter of banana tempura meticulously arranged around a simple mound of ice cream, topped with a single cherry and drizzled with decorative chocolate. She places three waters on the table and you both take a moment to politely force smiles and pause your conversation.

He licks his lips and stares down at the plate and then back up at you. “Can we start over?”

“Depends. Are you gonna go back to being a dick when you’re not drunk anymore?”

“No, no. I mean it. I wanna try to be friends.”

“For real?” You swipe the cherry, pop it in your mouth and tilt your head to regard him. You can’t let yourself fully believe him. You want to. The earnestness in his drunken features charms you, but you hold onto a shred of disbelief as a crutch. You’ll wait for the moment he reverts. Hopefully this time you’ll be prepared for the whiplash that comes along with it.

“For real.”

You reflect on his apology as the pair of you dig into the dessert. “Maybe. Prove it.”

He perks up. He’ll take a maybe. Maybe means the damage he’s done might not be irreparable. The guilt weighing on his conscience feels lighter. It’s a start.

“I will. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

You roll your eyes, unwilling to put stock in his words. “Is this another bet with Hobi? About how quickly you can make me forgive you?”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously, wisps of wild black hair whipping his cheeks. “No, I mean it. I promise.”

You drag your lip through your teeth as you teeter on the line of acceptance. “What is a promise from a liar worth?”

He drops the flat of his palm to the table and he pouts. “Hey. I mean it…. Hm. If I break my promise…” His eyes scan the table for anything he can use to change your mind. He looks at his arm pressed against the table and then back at you. “You can choose my next tattoo.”

Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”

He eagerly nods. “I’ll get whatever you want wherever you want. Just. Not my face.”

“I want that in writing,” you snort.

Jungkook glances around the table and pulls a napkin from under the plate of tempura. “Do you have a pen?”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“I’m serious.” He’s not taking no for an answer.

You shake your head and rummage through your purse to supply him with a pen. He smooths out the napkin he’s chosen to use as a conduit for his promise. When he’s finished writing he slides it towards you.

Princess

I’m sorry. I can make it right.

I promise. Please give me another chance.

If I blow it you can choose what & where my next tattoo goes.

As long as it’s not my face. Let’s be friends? #promise.com ♡ Jungkook

Of course he signed it with a heart. Despite his inebriation, his handwriting is still neat. Well, that’s one hell of a promise.

“Okay.” You fold the note and drop it into your purse. “We can try.”

His face lights up as he stuffs a piece of tempura into his mouth, happily chomping with his mouth wide open. He reaches for the saké but you slide a water in front of him instead.

“Friends don’t let friends get totally shitfaced at Hajime.”

He frowns at you but seems to accept your answer with a pout.

“Speaking of which… Where is Namjoon?” You crane your neck to look around the restaurant.

“Friday noodle nights common for you guys?” Jungkook asks, digging into the dessert between massive gulps of water.

“No, not really. We’re usually watching movies at my place or hanging with Hobi. But Namjoon wanted to take me out because I was sad,” you say, finally catching sight of your friend on the other side of the bar.

Jungkook’s chewing slows and he regards you with furrowed brows. “Sad?”

Before you can decide how you want to answer, Namjoon is scooting into the booth next to Jungkook and reaching for a piece of tempura. “Mmmm. What did I miss?”

“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”

Namjoon nods like he understands exactly what you’ve been talking about. “He’s a dick, right? Like how do you even stand someone up, not once, but twice? Makes no sense.”

“Joonie—”

“And I know what you’re gonna say, but I disagree. It has nothing to do with you or how you look, Y/N. You don’t need to workout like a maniac to try to change anything. Especially not for someone like Jason. I can’t even imagine—”

“Joon.” You click your tongue and slide a glass of water in front of him. “Please, shut the fuck up.”

As you glare at him, he looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes. Unsure what to do now that he’s obviously fubared the conversation, he casts his guilty gaze to his cup and brings it to his lips.

Jungkook stares at you with furrowed brows, trying to wait to let you fill in the blanks even though he’s itching to ask about everything. He picks another piece of tempura and stuffs it into his mouth, but when you remain silent the impulse to pry takes over. “Jason?”

“He stood me up…” you start, but you close your mouth when you realize you’re going to try to defend him. Your throat feels full, like you can’t get enough air through with a giant knot in it like this. You have to whisper so your voice doesn’t crack. “Twice.”

The couple drinking at the table nearby becomes a much more interesting place to rest your eyes than the two men across from you. Tightening your jaw doesn’t prevent the gloss from coating your eyes. Thinking about it makes you feel so stupid and desperate. Bending over backwards a thousand different ways to accommodate him couldn’t convince him to put in even a minimal amount of effort one time.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. “Twice?”

The hurt you feel in your chest scorches your cheeks until anger is filling your head like a teakettle ready to release an unhealthy amount of steam right in Jungkook’s face.

“That’s what I get for giving people second chances,” you snap as you focus back on him.

Joon says your name like it’s a warning but you don’t need it. You feel guilty enough for projecting your anger onto Jungkook with a petty one-liner.

“Sorry. It’s not your fault. I just…” Your throat closes around the rest of the words.

Before an uncomfortable silence can settle over the table, Namjoon inches the bottle of saké with his fingertips until it’s in front of him. “Dating is tricky. Jason sucks. It sucks that he hurt you. But you don’t have to twist yourself into whatever you think he wants anymore. And that…” He pours the pitiful remainder of alcohol into a shot glass and slides it towards you.“...is worth celebrating.”

Jungkook silently nods his head in agreement. It’s obvious you’re on the verge of tears and he doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.

A soft smile curls the corners of your mouth. “That’s true, but…” you slide the glass back towards him and steal the last of the banana tempura. “I can celebrate back at my apartment. Finish your water so you’ll be awake enough to join me. Both of you.”

Jungkook perks up and happily reaches for his water while Namjoon gives you a proud, yet confused look. It seems like a new start to something. What that is remains to be seen.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook watches intently as the colors of the city shine through the windows. He runs his fingers over the soft blanket you keep in the backseat, mouthing the words to the song softly playing from your dashboard. Namjoon has been talking nonstop from the passenger seat, which is fine with Jungkook since he’s feeling a little tired. The last session of the day was a bit more intense than intended, but the client left happy and covered in sweat. A success. But Jungkook is sore and exhausted. Physically and socially.

A sense of relief floods him at the memory of his conversation with you. Things may actually be okay from here. Who would have thought crashing your noodle night with Namjoon could have yielded such results?

His head bobs to the music as his eyes wander across the scenery outside until he grows bored and they drift to the interior of your car. A graduation tassel swings from your rearview mirror as you turn. He follows the movement of the tassel when it swings towards you and his eyes land on your face, or at least what he can see of it from this angle.

You look focused and calm while conversing with Namjoon but your posture is a bit rigid and your hands remain planted on the steering wheel in complete control. There’s something about this candid snapshot of your persona that puts him at ease. Your voice is a soft contrast to Namjoon’s, but equally enthusiastic.

He tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, pulling the blanket over his lap and twisting the fabric around his palm. Your eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, catching his. He gives a tiny wave and rests his head against the cushion, fighting the temptation to close his eyelids for longer than a second. The more he listens to you laugh, the more he finds himself smiling. It’s goofy.

It’s also kind of cute.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook is surprised when Yoongi answers your knock; he thought he would be asleep. He’s even more surprised when you make yourself at home on his couch and guilt him with a puppy dog pout to make you a drink, and he complies. When Jungkook asks the same, Yoongi tells him there’s beer in the fridge while measuring out the ingredients for your cocktail. The suspicious sour ache of jealousy stabs his gut as he moseys to the fridge but he quickly shakes it off, settling on the floor in front of the tv with a beer in hand.

After a couple hours of drinking, laughing, and playing Jackbox games with the three men, you’re feeling much better about everything. Life is good. Friends are good. Alcohol is very good.

It doesn’t take much to get you drunk. You’re about as much of a lightweight as Hobi and for better or worse everyone has come to know that fact. What’s nice about drinking in Yoongi’s apartment is that you don’t have to walk very far to get home. Things don’t get awkward with the three of them together; it’s actually kind of nice, like a mini Saturday night pregame.

Soon Namjoon and Yoongi are snoring on the couch with a movie playing in the background while you stand in the kitchen with Jungkook. He pours another drink for himself, though he knows it will mostly likely remain unfinished. Tomorrow may bring a massive hangover, but tonight has been surprisingly pleasant. He feels like he’s finally on okay footing with you, maybe even on the road to serious repair. Amazing how well you get along when inhibitions are replaced by inebriation. If that’s what it takes, he’s determined to keep it up.

As he turns his back to place the liquor bottle in the cabinet by the fridge, you swipe a sip of the drink he’s concocted. He spins around in time to see you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out.

“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.

“Blegh. You can have it. Yuck!” Your face screws up again at the aftertaste.

He drunkenly giggles as he slides the drink closer to him. “What, don’t like sour?”

“Too sour!” You reach for the water bottle Yoongi gave you hours ago and attempt to rinse the puckering sensation from your mouth.

Amused, he tilts his head and watches you take gulp after gulp. He purses his lips and holds back the comment itching to escape, deciding to enjoy a sip of his drink instead. You shimmy out of your hoodie and tie it around your waist and his eyes lazily follow the motion of your arms, noting a slight difference in their musculature. Some errant thought about their shape leads him back to an earlier unaddressed comment that he’s finally comfortable enough to prod you about.

“What kind of workouts are you doing?” he blurts.

Suddenly you feel very exposed. You straighten in your seat and suck in your gut, hyper aware of every imperfection of your body on display to someone so in shape. You immediately begin to fidget with the sleeves of the hoodie you just tied around your waist.

“You don’t have to tell me. I just—” he pauses, exhaling a small breath and looking down at his drink as though he’s wary of continuing the thought.

“No, no it’s fine,” you assure him, too curious to say otherwise. “What is it?”

“When Namjoon said…” he sighs and takes a sip, smacking his lips and licking them before looking back to you. “I thought maybe I can prove myself to you by helping you come up with a plan.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You plant an elbow on the counter and lean on it.

“I want to,” he insists, reaching out for your arm.

His hand is like fire engulfing your skin and your eyelids flutter at the sensation. Instinctively you place a hand over his and rub your thumb anxiously over it. He looks down to where your thumb grazes his knuckles and then back up to your face with a surprised smile.

“Um… Everything,” you say, trying to sound as vague and nonchalant as possible so he doesn’t judge you for your lack of knowledge.

“Like, full body?”

“Uh...” You’ve managed to make a habit of going to his gym a few days a week while successfully avoiding him, but it seems that time is coming to an end. “I… machine.”

“Oh. Like at a gym? Did you join one?” He seems genuinely curious.

“Um, yeah.” Suddenly you pull your hand back when you realize the speed at which your thumb is moving.

“Which one?”

The more you say, the more suspicious you seem, but is saying less any better? Jungkook rests his elbow on the counter and simply looks at you but you don’t look back. A slow smile spreads his lips as the possibility dawns on him.

“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”

You puff your cheeks and force the air through the tiny opening of your mouth. You don’t offer any sort of confirmation and continue to avoid his gaze.

“And you didn’t tell me?” he playfully prods, drumming his fingers against your forearm.

“I… Yeah,” you admit, your voice small as you stare at the counter. “I didn’t want you to know.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“I don’t want to give you another thing to make fun of me for.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” When you don’t respond he tugs on your arm. The motion is enough to angle you towards him. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”

“What?” you grumble, staring at your lap even as you face him.

He takes your hands in his and drunkenly waves them around. “Heeeeeeeey. Look at me.”

He pouts until you reluctantly drag your eyes to meet his. “What?”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” he says softly. “Even me.”

The shift in his demeanor catches you off guard and you subconsciously lean forward as you relax. “Well I started with Hwasa, but I was too sore to ask for another session with her.”

He nods sympathetically, clapping his hand over yours. “You should try again.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I feel like…”

“Like?” he prods when you let the silence trail for a bit too long.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sigh. “I feel like I don’t belong there. I look so stupid reading the instructions on the machines. I don’t even think I’m doing it right.”

“What?” He makes a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “There’s nothing wrong with making sure you don’t hurt yourself. Nobody knows how to instantly do things. If they tell you they do, they’re lying.”

“Or they’re Namjoon,” you say with a roll of your eyes, glancing over at your snoring friend.

He smiles and clicks his tongue against his teeth in thought. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I started.”

“Really.”

You’re skeptical. It’s always seemed like he was born in a gym. Or maybe hatched. He’s kind of inhumanly gorgeous. Maybe he sprouted from a flower like a mythical god.

“For real. First time doing squats. I think it was gym class? Yeah, I was like twelve or thirteen. I was… not very athletic. Didn’t play sports or anything. Kind of shy. Didn’t really have a lot of friends either…”

The way he trails off makes your heart hurt. Puberty isn’t nice to most people. It’s hard to imagine a world where someone like Jungkook isn’t instantly popular and naturally fit. While you’re not exactly the same person you were at twelve, a lot of your interests and personality quirks have remained the same. You’re still painfully awkward at times. How did he manage to overcome something like that? Is it not ingrained in him like it is you?

“Just a big dork, you know?” He laughs. “I see this girl I had a crush on, Amber. She’s looking at me. I think I have to impress her. So I’m stacking up weight and I think I’m hot shit and go too fast. Know what happened?”

“Please don’t tell me you dropped it on your foot or something,” you plead, squeezing his palms at the way he’s building up the story. The secondhand embarrassment is too real.

“I hear a pop.”

“No!” you gasp, bringing your hands to your face as if you can stop the past from happening.

“And pain. So much pain. I don’t remember putting the weights down but I remember ending up on my back, staring up at the ceiling.”

“Oh no. Knees?”

“Worse.” He points down to his crotch. “Pulled a muscle in my groin. Had to sit the rest of the day with an ice pack on my junk. Was not fun. My point is: don’t give up. You learn more as you go. Give Hwasa another shot.”

His anecdote gives you pause but you’re desperate to cling to the comfort of your anxiety. “My free trial with her is almost up and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to keep at it.”

“More excuses,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “At this point I should just—” His eyes widen, a lightbulb practically forming above his head as he puts his cup down. “I’ll be your personal trainer!”

“Uhh…”

“No, no. It’s perfect. We’re friends now.” He smiles, proud of himself for finding a way to prove himself to you. “I can teach you everything you need to know about working out. I can set up a plan for you and figure out the best way to help you achieve your goals. Oh, man we’re gonna have to figure out your goals. What do you—”

“Hold on. Hold on,” you interrupt with a nervous laugh. “You’re missing the part where I still can’t afford it.”

He rolls his eyes and grabs your glass, holding it under the sink to refill it. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover it.”

You’re stunned into silence as you observe the expanse of his back, searching the black fabric of his t-shirt for the definition of his muscles. He sets the cup in front of you, waiting for your agreement. When it doesn’t come, he second guesses himself. Did he overstep?

“I mean if you’re okay with that. Would-would you want to do that?”

The innocent drunken sparkle in his eyes makes your stomach do a flip. When you woke up this morning you hardly thought the day would include getting sloshed with Jungkook and having him offer to take you on as a fitness trainee. It’s like he’s opened himself up just enough for you to see the soft mess beneath. You like it. You like it a lot and you kind of hate yourself for it. While you don’t know if you can trust him past the evening, you find yourself hoping you can.

“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask timidly before bringing the cup of water to your lips.

“It’s my job not to make fun of you. We start where you’re at and go from there. And like I said, I’ll cover the fees for as long as you want. No pressure.” He smiles at you. “What do you think?”

“...Okay,” you murmur with a nod of your head. “If you’re serious, then I’m… I’m in!”

His lips part to expose his teeth as his grin spreads. “Yes!”

As he brings his hand up in a sign of victory, his knuckles knock against his glass. You reach for the cup with impaired reflexes, hands fumbling over the slippery surface in conjunction with his. The sour contents spill across the counter as the pair of you struggle to right the glass. While he’s quicker at getting the glass upright, your brain is faster at processing what to do next and you already have a paper towel in hand, wiping up the liquid as fast as possible.

Your eyes follow the spill to the edge of the counter where it’s flooded over the side. Acting on instinct rather than rational thought, you quickly press down where the liquid has begun to pool in his lap. As you fold the paper towel over, you rub frantically as if the action will keep the stain from setting into the fabric. He shifts in his seat and squeaks out a sound so small that you can’t actually tell whether it came from him or the chair.

It only dawns on you how inappropriate your actions are when you glance towards his face and find his wide eyes gazing back at you. His cheeks, already flushed from inebriation, seem twice as vivid and his mouth is parted slightly as though he means to speak, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it’s too late for that.

Your palm stills against his crotch as the shape beneath becomes clear in your mind. For a second you’re frozen, but your lips work quickly to mumble an apology. It feels like an eternity before you will your drunken fingers to release the paper towel. The clearing of Jungkook’s throat is followed by a tiny giggle, then a full on snort. A grin spreads across your lips and you soon follow him into a fit of laughter. You thank the universe for the small mercy of being drunk enough to push your embarrassment to the side for the time being.

“I wasn’t thinking!” you wheeze, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’ll dry.” He laughs, dabbing his pants and shirt in the absence of your hand. As he stands he pulls the hem of his shirt away from his torso and looks down at it. “Really. It’s my fault I’m so…”

“Sticky?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a blatant flirtatious action thinly disguised as a joke as you eye the blot of liquor staining the lower half of his shirt.

Both of his eyebrows raise and a mischievous smile curls the corner of his lips. “...Wet.”

You consider his answer with a pleased hum and turn back to the counter to polish off the last of your water. You’re friends now, right? It can’t be that easy. But it kind of is. So what’s wrong with a little harmless flirting between friends?

Drunk brain, who happens to be a notorious hoe, assures you it’s great. Rational brain might disagree, but she’s taking a well-deserved nap. You’ve at least had a good night. You’re not sure it matters at this point who is giving you the attention you crave. It feels good. So good, in fact, you’re sure you can indulge drunk brain a little more.

You’re drawn to the inky shapes swirling around Jungkook’s bicep as he wipes the counter down. Every time your eyes begin to focus on an object marking his skin with some kind of meaning, he moves and you lose it. It’s brush strokes, isn’t it? You’ve definitely seen a paintbrush and mountains and a knife surrounded by roses. A swathe of grey and purple connects to each one you’ve seen, but you know there are more.

Before you can blurt that you’re dying to know how many he has and how bad it hurt to get them, he turns toward the sink and begins to work his t-shirt up his torso. You watch in awe as the toned muscles of his back are exposed. The image of the bright phoenix does little to hide their definition.

Trying to will yourself to look away is of no use; he’s hot and you’re drunk enough to acknowledge that fact. Of course he peeks at you just as the shirt slips over his head to find you open-mouthed and dazed, ogling him as though there isn’t any shame in the world that could pull your gaze from him. He turns to the fridge to give you a moment to compose yourself, nabbing a water bottle from the shelf in the process. You’re clearly not ready for the way he quickly spins on the balls of his feet to face you.

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

Your fingers hang in the air suspiciously until you lazily drop them. But Jungkook dons a toothy grin and has the audacity to look shy. He mockingly shields his chest from you with the shirt clutched in his hands.

“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”

Somehow you don’t let the fire in your face turn your brain to ash.“Pfft, no.”

“What’re you doing, then?” he teases with a laugh as he sits, scooting his chair closer to yours.

“Counting,” you reply simply, brow furrowed in concentration. To drive the point home, you poke at his flesh everywhere you can make out an object drawn into its surface.

“How many?” he wonders, watching with cloudy, amused eyes.

“Mmm…” You trail your finger down his arm and back up, following the curve of the brushstroke around his shoulder. “Can’t tell if this counts as one.”

He shrugs and rests his head on his palm as he leans against the counter. “What do you think?”

You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.

“I think… A lot.”

“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.

Awkward laughter steers the pair of you towards your waters. The TV in the background provides enough noise to steal your focus; you’re grateful for the distraction from the attractive man beside you. Drunk brain is telling you to touch him again, to grab his hand, to feel the touch of someone just for the night, to ruin every good thing this night has started to rebuild between you. Anything to stave off the emptiness of your bed, the 2AM thoughts of failure, and the drunken desperation to find someone, anyone, who will fall in love with whatever image you happen to project on your dating profile.

Heart pounding wildly in your chest and blood rushing through your ears, your fingertips tap against the countertop as they inch closer to where his arm rests. Luckily your futile attempts at nonchalance go unnoticed. Jungkook anxiously turns his water bottle over in his hands, trying to gather words in his brain before freeing them from his mouth.

“So…” he begins.

You jump at the sudden sound and retract your hand while he’s not paying you any mind.

“I was thinking. About that guy…”

You wish you could at least pretend you don’t know who he’s talking about. You’ve vented plenty tonight, but still your heart sinks. Deleting Jason’s digital footprint from your life was simple and quick, but the feelings of rejection and disappointment that swirl in the back of your mind spill forward the longer his pause continues.

“I know this probably means nothing coming from me. But I just— I know you liked him, but you can do better.“

Your posture stiffens at his reassurance and you find yourself grateful he’s not looking at you. Do you deserve better?

“You deserve better,” he affirms, as if somehow aware of your internal struggle.

“Thanks,” you murmur with a distinct lack of enthusiasm as you stare down your glass.

It's cry hours, isn’t it?

Realizing you don’t believe him, he takes a deep breath and nudges you with his elbow. “Hey.”

“What.” You refuse to look up because you know you’re on the verge of an irrational stream of tears over some guy you hardly knew. It’s stupid and you know it. But the wet warmth coating your eyes tells you it’s coming regardless.

“I’m... sorry that you don’t feel like you do. Some people can’t get over the weight of their own shit. But that doesn’t mean it’s on you to pick it up for them. If they can’t even bother to carry themselves to meet you halfway, then they’re not worth the effort.”

It’s a perfect time for your heart to seize up and it takes the opportunity to do so. The advice he offers doesn’t stave off the tears, but it resonates deep within you. Namjoon said something similar. It makes you ache to hear it again from someone else. It just leads you back to the same questions you keep asking yourself. What’s so wrong with you that people don’t even want to try? Is it your personality? Physicality? Is it a lack of confidence? What is it?

‘I can’t even get a shitty guy to like me. Maybe I’m the one not worth the effort.’ You don’t dare say those words out loud. Pity isn’t something you’re looking for. A warm body to fill your bed maybe, but not pity.

“Sounds easy when you say it like that,” you murmur, trying in vain to will the tears not to fall. You’re quick to swipe at them and force a smile. “I guess I have trouble giving up on people. It’s not that I’m naive. I try to be realistic. But no matter how many times I get fucked over I just... hope for the best in people. I can’t help it.”

He pats your arm reassuringly. “That’s why you deserve better.”

If only it was as simple as hearing those words and magically being able to believe it. A big chunk of your confidence has crumbled away and there’s no clear path to restoration. As the warmth of his palm comes to rest against your arm, you place your hand over his and squeeze.

“I don’t know if I believe it,” you pause and thoughtfully add, “but thanks for saying it.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he offers a tiny, “You’re welcome.”

A shaky chuckle passes your lips. All of his features seem to soften the more you look at them. Maybe it’s the drunken gloss coating his big brown eyes or the way his lips slightly part as he looks back at you. The tightly coiled nerves in your belly urge you to unravel.

Although it's a subtle gesture, he licks his lips as he smiles and it practically seals your fate. If you don't leave now you're bound to do something you'll regret.

"It's late. I should sleep."

Or masturbate.

The speed at which you launch yourself from the seat is unpleasant. You're not sure what's worse: the dizzying vertigo or waves nausea sloshing in your gut. Jungkook's reflexes may be delayed but he's a steady mass of muscle the moment you reach out to steady yourself.

"Whoa. You okay?"

"Maybe," you mumble, finding yourself drawn to the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of walking away, slump down to rest your cheek against his shoulder and sling an arm around him. You might be drunker than you thought. "I don't know."

"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"

"Just wanna stop spinning."

His stance shifts to better accommodate the additional weight you press against him.

"How about you take over Yoongi's bed tonight," he suggests softly. "He's passed out anyway."

"No, I should go home." You peel your cheek from the warmth of his skin.

“You gonna make it there?”

“Yes,” you say indignantly. The world may be a bit wobbly right now, but you’re certain you can handle the short stroll down the hall.

"Okay.” He smiles, loosening his hold. As you step back your foot catches on the leg of the chair and it drags loudly against the floor.

Despite Jungkook’s attempt to keep you standing by grabbing at your arms, he loses his balance and he drops to his knees. The chair clatters to the floor before your ass does. Luckily his grip keeps your back and head far from impact, but you’re too cramped to be comfortable.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Those big, dark doe eyes of his are frozen in fear and a frown adorns his face. He looks so serious it’s ridiculous.

You can’t help but laugh, wiggling backwards to make space between his body and the heat steadily building between your legs. “I’m fine. Stop making that face.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He sits back on his feet and tilts his head to the side in confusion.

He breaks into a fit of giggles when you dramatically mimic his expression. You roll back onto your elbows, making another ridiculous face to further mock him.

“No, no. It’s more like…” Jungkook takes the opportunity to lean over you, reaching with one hand to squeeze your cheeks to pucker your lips. You blow a disjointed raspberry at him before pulling his hand off to the side.

While the clamor of the fallen chair did nothing to rouse the men on the couch, the sound of Jungkook’s hearty laughter is loud enough to disturb the rhythmic snores of Namjoon.

Jungkook sits back on his heels and peeks over the countertop. He seems miles away, even as you sit up and scoot in to bring yourself closer. Laughter fades into a quiet hum as Namjoon’s snoring resumes.

You're lost in the abyss of his gaze as he turns his head to look back at you. All that remains in your brain at this point is a foggy desire to tug on the silky spirals of his ebony hair until he presses himself against you one more time.

Your hand settles for following the curves of his bicep instead, wondering how it might feel to be wrapped within his embrace. Some might say liquor makes you bold and stupid, and they're right. They should say it. But it also makes you feel invincible, like a goddamn glowing Mario star power-up.

"Princess?"

Enraptured, his eyes follow the motion of your hand as it slithers around his arm and squeezes. Unable to ignore the prompt, he answers with a flex against your palm. His ego swells when you shiver and noticeably hold your breath.

You know it's a mistake. You know it goes against all of your sober judgement, but you find yourself doing it anyway. It doesn't matter that you still harbor a grudge that holds your heart hostage. Drunk hoe vibes are taking the wheel. You’re tired, drunk as hell, and just want to feel wanted. And he's here.

Every fiber of your inebriated being is singing in unison: Why the fuck not?

Heartbeat pounding against your eardrums, you attempt to gauge his reaction as you lean towards him. It's hard to tell from beneath half-lidded eyes, but you think he's leaning towards you too. If he isn't you suppose you can always play it off like you're just a mess. It's not far from the truth. Focusing on the tiny freckle below his lip, you allow yourself to finally close your eyes and go for it.

But the universe isn’t here for your dumb boozy bitch mistakes.

The front door swings open with the sound of jingling keys dropping to the floor. It snaps you back to reality and you freeze, realizing there's no defense that will save you. Jungkook is quick to disengage, poking his head above the counter to acknowledge Hoseok’s presence with a wave. But his friend is completely enamored with the company he’s ushering towards his bedroom.

“Yeah, baby? How bad?” Hoseok whispers to the giggling girl wrapped around his arm.

He pins the stranger against the door to drag his tongue across her neck. Their bodies move rhythmically in a slow grind, a precursor for what’s likely to come. Jungkook purses his lips. How long until one of them notices him watching? It’s not until the girl moans Hoseok’s name softly that Jungkook spares a panicked look towards you.

Oh shit.

You gesture for him to get down before he draws their attention. The last thing you want to explain is why you’re on your knees in Hoseok’s kitchen with a very shirtless Jungkook standing close by. He obliges your silent request, squatting down beside you.

“Feel how hard you made me?” Hobi chuckles quietly.

The girl giggles, her voice growing closer. “You gonna fuck me right here or what?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Naughty girl. What if my roommate wakes up? Looks like he has a friend over too. You really want them to see what a dirty slut you are?”

You can hear her giggle as he directs her where to go, failing to keep his voice down so you hear every filthy thing he says after. Your hands fly to cover your mouth. Is your skin made of lava? You want to blame it on the close proximity to Jungkook, but the only thing you can imagine is Hoseok’s dick and the eager mystery woman about to be impaled by it. Can you scrub your brain of this memory? How are you supposed to look at him after this?

Jungkook watches your face carefully, trying his hardest not to laugh. Your eyes look so big he’s pretty sure they could roll out of your skull any second. Are you really so innocent? The way you cover your mouth says you are, but maybe it’s just the shock. Maybe you’re just trying to not laugh. Or scream. Or breathe? It kind of looks like you might pass out.

Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.

Once you hear Hoseok's bedroom door close, you fuss your hands over your hair and scramble to your feet, releasing a big exhale. The hushed words fall from your lips while you scurry away like a timid mouse. "I should go."

Despite being too far to make contact, he reaches out as you round the counter. "Wait—"

As soon as the word leaves his mouth he struggles to come up with the rest of his statement. There’s no reason to keep you here, except to maybe laugh a little about what just happened to smooth over any second-hand embarrassment. So why doesn’t he want you to go?

He swallows down the blank space caught in his throat and searches every last crevice of his brain for something of import to say. Guilt weighs his gut down, though there isn’t a clear cause. He’s probably screwed something up again without realizing it.

“Thanks for giving me another shot,” he says softly.

You breathe a sigh of relief and offer a tiny smile as you half turn, your hand already on the door handle. “Don’t blow it.”

He nods with a smile. “I won’t. Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” you mumble.

As soon as the door is closed you practically sprint down the hall to lock yourself within your apartment. Maybe it will also lock out all the mistakes your brain has made tonight.

The world feels colder now that you’re not pressed against the human-shaped heater that is Jeon Jungkook. Thinking about him makes your heart swell and ache at the same time. Regardless of how badly you wish you'd asked him to bed, you know loneliness is fleeting and guilt would be a far worse feeling to be saddled with.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook picks up the fallen chair, finding your soft, worn hoodie draped over it. Rubbing a thumb over the material, he considers running it back to you, but he can't remember which door is yours. It's not like he's been here often enough to know. Instead he slips his arms through the sleeves before flipping the hood over his head.

He settles on the floor in the space he previously claimed for the night, pulling a blanket out from under Yoongi's ass. Yoongi rolls his head up, a scowl on his features though his eyes remain closed. He grumbles but lies down, facing the couch.

Jungkook regards his friend for a moment before deciding to drape the blanket over him instead of claiming it for himself. Jungkook rolls onto his side and fluffs the throw pillow under his head. As he watches the credits roll on the TV, he nuzzles into your sweater.

He closes his eyes, thinking of you. He knows he shouldn't linger on the little occurrences of the night, especially with how foggy his brain is. He can't trust anything about his memory.

Still he thinks of the way your fingers trailed along his arm and curled tightly around his bicep. He lets himself dwell on the tiny sound you made, the involuntary tremble of your body, and the subsequent hitch in your breath.

He smiles and inhales the subtle scent you've left behind. A new spark of adrenaline fans flames that inflate his ego, spreading warmth from his stomach up into his chest. The world may wobble around him right now, but the little magical warmth within his gut helps him comfortably drift off to dreamland like he's the world's most immovable object.

[clairecrive]

"Insecurities" - Eames x reader (Part 2) [Requested]

I'm sorry for the long wait. I made it super long to make up for it. Anon and @kingarthurscat I hope this is what you had in mind when you made the request or that at least you like it. Can’t wait to hear your thoughts!

requests are always open!

Tag list: @mollybegger-blog (let me know if you wanna be added)

A/n: Prompts are in bold.

The very reason you had been picked to be a part of the group was your ability to became whoever they needed you to be. It wasn't quite like Eames who could really become that person, it was more like an interpretation of a character. Like an actor would do, only you wouldn't be performing in a movie or a theatre. Usually very shy and stubborn you weren't so keen on putting yourself out there the way they had asked you to. But the need for money and your acting skills collected through the high school years as a way of getting more credits did the trick and with a little convincing on Dom's part, you were one of them.

Tonight was no different, you left your shy and awkward self in your hotel room, ready to be Sandy, a confident outspoken entrepreneur, for the rest of the night. The job was very easy to be honest, even though you usually hated when they used you just for your "womanly weapons" as Dom called them. However, being the only woman on the team, your input was required and there wasn't much you could do.

The plan was very simple: distract the wealthy, sneaky Arabian entrepreneur while Eames took whatever information he needed and then make your exit quickly and smoothly when Eames would give you the signal that it all went according to plan.

Flirting with wealthy men was quite the same every time. If you asked them about their job or a thing they have that makes them proud you could have them talking for hours on end. You would just have to throw a smile or a small laugh at the right time and that would be it. Easy job right? The fact that sometimes the men would be smoking hot it's just a bonus. They were boring but at least they were pretty to look at.

Much to your delight, this night, Azir was not only very handsome but he had a few interesting ideas too. Maybe you had been enjoying yourself too much, really engaged in a conversation with him, that you didn't notice Eames trying to catch your attention at first.

Over the years, you had come up with a complex sign language that would allow you to communicate in tricky situations without making a sound. Just a movement of an eye or a finger and the message or warning had come across. So when you noticed the English lad walking towards you while scrunching his nose, you knew that he needed a diversion.

"What is happening here?" He approached you and Azir that was quite startled by Eames' appearance. Thinking he was going for an angry/jealous boyfriend you played along.

"What are you doing here?" You asked feigning a shocked expression.

"I told you that I had a business meeting tonight, but you failed to mention that you'd also be here flirting with a stranger." He explained getting worked up.

"First of all, this is not a stranger, his name is Azir. Second, I didn't tell you because I didn't think you'd have cared."

"In what twisted universe I would not care about my fucking fiancée flirting with a man that's not me?!"

"Wait, what? What are you talking about mate? She doesn't have a ring." Azir chimes in, apparently disturbed by the idea of being accused to flirt with an engaged woman. Nice to see you have morals Azir, not just a pretty face uh.

"Where is your ring Y/N?" Eames inquired staring intently at your naked ring finger

"Funny you should ask, still keeping up with this game I see. It's not endearing anymore, cut it."

"What the hell are you on about?" He looked at you as if you had suddenly grown three heads, glancing towards Azir for support.

"I was so thrilled that after eight years you had finally found the guts to propose to me, that I couldn't wait to share the news with everyone I have ever shared a word with. Also to let them see the beautiful ring you gave me. Imagine my surprise when Karen comes up to me and say: "Do you know that the diamond in your engagement ring is fake?" Of course, I didn't believe her, she had always been jealous of me. But she insisted so to prove her wrong, I stepped on it. Diamonds, real diamonds, are unbreakable. But the one you gave me fell apart like a bread crumble." For added emphasis you turned to Azir, "can you believe it? A fake engagement ring!"

The poor lad had been swapped in this mess and was so lost that if someone had asked him his name right now, he probably couldn't be able to answer right.

"So what if the diamond was fake? My intentions behind the gesture were not."

"Do you even still love me?" You asked scoffing at his words. Noticing three bulky men storming into the hall you were in, you gather your things and without glancing towards both men, you stormed off into a hallway on your right knowing that Eames was hot on your trail. You turn around to see if you were safe but before you could check his hand wraps around your arm and drags you into a dark room to your left. The door closed behind you leaving you standing in the dark catching your breaths.

"Were they still behind us?" You whisper just in case they were close. You couldn't see him in the dark but even if you felt him close to you, when he put his hand on your mouth to shush you it still caught you off guard. Well then, I'll take that as a yes. Even if you couldn't see his face, being this close to him that you could feel his breath on your cheek, made your mind wander and suddenly you were thankful for the dark otherwise your reddening cheeks would sorely stand out and Eames would tease you endlessly.

Turns out that you spoke too soon seeing as, while you were lost in your daydream, he must have drawn out his phone, because a light suddenly shone in the room. It was a janitor closet because at your feet there were cloths and buckets. It was indeed a small space as you've presumed, your chests were touching and if he wasn't taller than you, your noses or worse mouths would too. This realisation certainly didn't help your blushing situation.

"Is there a reason why you're blushing like that?" He asked and really, you knew it was coming.

"Can we get out, please? I think we're safe." You said trying to play it cool. The twinkle in his eyes made his amusement very clear to you, nevertheless he spared you and moved his hand to the door handle. Much to your dismay, it wouldn't budge, even when he tried with more force. Eventually, he had to stop and admit defeat. He turned to you and almost as if you had rehearsed it you exclaim at the same time:

"Well shit."

Groaning you lower yourself to the ground while he wrote something on the phone, probably asking for some help but you know that you'd be here for a while if you had to wait for one of the guys to rescue you. Sensing your discomfort he sat beside you and you knew that he was going to confront you about your weird behaviour. Being observant was part of his job, nothing went past him unnoticed, he was the best in his field for a reason after all.

"So, since we have a lot of time to spare, will you tell me what's wrong darling?" As you predicted he asked softly. Having worked alongside one another for quite some time together with his observant self, made Eames one of the person who knew you best. It wasn't something you were happy about but it was a fact.

"Oh that was Sandy, Eames. Don't need to worry about a fuss over a fake ring." You joked trying to deflect. Classic textbook move and he knew it.

"That was a good stunt out there, not going to lie, but you know I wasn't talking about that. You've been acting weird since we've come out of the room." He insisted. You knew Eames so you were conscious that if you told him to let it go he wouldn't press you but for some reason, you needed to know if he saw you. I mean even if he did, it wasn't a big deal right? No one was perfect and as you were painfully aware of his annoying habits now he knew that you hadn't a perfect body. You could live with that. Conforming to the standard norms of beauty wasn't something you had to do. Besides, nothing was ever going to happen between you. So even if you had a crush on the man and your constant bickering was more subtle flirting, why do you care so much about what he thinks of you? Yes, he probably has been with a lot of breathtaking women but that didn't mean anything. You couldn't compare yourself to other, imaginary in this case, women. It's not a healthy thing to do and besides everyone is beautiful in their own way. You knew that it's just that most of the times you have trouble applying that way of thinking to yourself.

Well then, here goes nothing. This pep talk is pointless if you don't address the elephant in the room. And so gathering all your courage, you did. But wait- how exactly am I going to go about this?

"So, you know that I'm usually very quiet and reserved right?"

"Yes, I know how important your private space is to you. I promised I've not touched anything." He said reminiscing that time when you literally went ballistic when you saw him entering into your room without your permission.

"I know you've learned your lesson don't worry, I wasn't referring to that."

"Then what's the matter?" 

"I'm not saying you did it on purpose but have you, by any chance, stumbled upon a very naked me early today in the bathroom?" I finally let out not meeting his eyes. I think it's a fair question to make, sure the answer won't change the fact that he saw me if he did but at least I'll stop wondering about it. However, Eames was known to be very unpredictable so you hoped that he wouldn't feel offended about it nor that he'd tease you for it. For a little while, he didn't say anything but you could feel his eyes on you. Knowing him he was probably studying you and thinking about what to say.

"Will you go mad hatter crazy on me if I tell you that I accidentally took a peak? I honestly thought that you were done and telling me that I could enter when you opened the door. However, I didn't do it maliciously or anything. It just happened, I'm sorry." He explained confirming your assumptions. So he did see you. Now what? However stupid it may sound, you believed him when he said that it was an accident. How different could my body from others anyway? Pretending to not be affected by his confession you just shrugged your shoulders muttering a quiet "it's okay". Needless to say, it was not okay. How were you going to look at him now that you knew he's seen you in your most vulnerable state? Ugh, why did you have to be so complexed? Couldn't you be just as easy going as Sandy? Life would surely be easier.

"If it's okay, then why won't you look at me, darling?" He insisted. Gosh, why won't he let this go?

"There's literally no light in here, how do you know if I'm not looking at you?"

"Because I know you and apparently this held a deeper meaning to you than you want me to know. You should know by now though, that I notice everything. Besides, how can we still work together if you refuse to look at me?"

"I can pretend to be a different person then so there's no problem." you mutter jokingly

"There's no need to pretend with me. We're room buddies!" He said making you laugh. He could be so silly sometimes.

"You can always be yourself with me you know. To be honest, you should never be afraid to be you but I know that that's a tough thing to do. However, I thought I was part of the gang now. That you trusted me and all."

"I do trust you, Eames. I wouldn't be working with you if I didn't. And yes you're part of the gang but neither of them has seen me naked you naked."

"And that changes things how?"

"You have seen me in my most vulnerable and truest form. No filter, no pretending no anything. I can't imagine I was a very pleasant view. I'm just ashamed, that's all."

"You shouldn't be. I didn't think you'd be so insecure about yourself, that only proves how good at your job you are, honestly, but if it makes you feel better, I really like what I saw." 

"Yeah sure. Don't need to flatter me to make me feel better. I'm not delusional."

"No, but it seems that you're blind. I thought that my scandalous and obvious flirting was a dead giveaway of me liking you."

"Oh shut up, you flirt with every living thing. It does not make me special." You sassed because it was true. You actually thought he was into Arthur before realizing that he was like that, flirting seemed to be the only way of communication he knew.

"You don't need my validation to consider yourself special. You are no matter what I or any other guy says. Although, you shouldn't really question me. You know I'm always right."

"Could your ego be bigger?"

"Hey, I'm trying to help you here. No need to insult my ego. But it's not the only big thing I have if you know what I mean."

"You know what? I really appreciate your wise words but I think it's best if we wait for whoever you called in silence. Your ego is already sucking up all the air in this cubicle." you said nudging his shoulder letting him know that you were joking. Who would have guessed that he could manage to make your doubts disappear just with a few silly words?

He seemed to have understood because he wrapped his arm around you and you rested your head on his shoulder, getting comfortable beside him. The silence between you now wasn't uncomfortable but very welcomed, you knew he wouldn't be quiet for long so you enjoyed it while it lasted, your insecurities long forgotten.

[addictedtostorytelling]

Part 1- Hi! (Feel free to ignore I don’t want to bother you) your lost answer to anon got me thinking about an old headcanon I could never get str8 (Jate’s my lost otp & I love suliet to pieces). In “LaFleur”, sawyer says Kate’s face is gone from his memory, 3y’s enough to get over someone. But as soon as she’s back, he keeps glancing @ her as to figure out if he believes his own words. Except from the obvious writers’ ambiguous trick to keep the “square” alive for a bit longer,

Part 2- I thought it was some sort of leftover tenderness they shared toward each other (that Jack/Juliet didn’t get) cause despite their incompatibility, I believe they genuinely loved each other. So my question really is: do you think, post “the end” S & K find à way to accept that they care about each other, help each other get over their losses, learn to belong even if it’s just in each other’s lives (as friends or more) ? Sorry for this novel and thanks.

hey @clarissemcc!

so my headcanon for how things turn out with kate and sawyer post-island is definitely on the angsty side.

i’ll tuck it after the “keep reading,” just to be safe.

___________

as the final on-screen events of the original timeline in the series finale take place, jack has made the decision to remain behind on the island (where he soon dies), and juliet is already dead, meaning that both kate and sawyer return to civilization faced with the prospect of going through the rest of their lives bereft of their respective soulmates.

both of them undoubtedly mourn.

both of them undoubtedly suffer. 

but, ultimately, kate is better equipped to cope with her loss than sawyer is his.

that’s not to say that things are easy for kate, of course.

when she is finally reunited with jack in the flash-sideways universe, the sheer yearning in her “i’ve missed you so much” admission implies that she has likely spent years on years---a full lifetime---in the ot grieving him. 

losing jack after just having reconciled with him for the first time since their falling out in the wake of their broken engagement and after everything that they had been through together both on and off of the island most certainly leaves her heartbroken and reeling. 

she probably never really gets over mourning him and wondering “what if---?”

i honestly don’t see her ever getting in another long-term relationship or marrying after him; if she was going to “settle down” in that way, he was the one person she was going to do so with.

that said, i do think that, overall, she is able to face that grief (however long she has to) because she has a sense of purpose in leaving the island. 

she’s going to help claire raise aaron.

and i tend to believe that having someplace to go and something important to do helps her endure a life without jack.

that’s where she encounters whatever healing is available to her and “learns to belong,” like you talk about.

before crashing on the island, she is a fugitive runaway with nothing good or lasting in her life, but afterward she has two people who are looking to her to provide stability for them; she has a family, a home, and, most significantly, a reason to stick around.

not so with sawyer.

before the island, he is placeless---a traveling con man, in and out of prison, lacking a solid identity, much less a sense of purpose.

on the island, and particularly during the 70s in dharmaville, he finally gains grounding, becoming a super competent leader under the guise of jim lafleur and finding a partner---in every sense of the word---in juliet.

and had he been able to leave the island with juliet and marry her, as per his plan, i think he would have continued in the upward trajectory we see from him in s5 and s6. he would have listened to his better angels.

but in the wake of losing juliet, i’m not sure he can---and not just because she’s gone but because he blames himself for her death.

for as gut-wrenching as leaving jack behind on the island is for kate---and particularly knowing that he is badly wounded and possibly close to death---she can at least take solace in the fact that jack makes a choice for himself, and she can honor his willing sacrifice by taking care of his sister and nephew.

sawyer knows no such comfort.

he blames himself for juliet’s death on multiple levels: because he asked juliet to stay with him on the island for “two weeks” which turned into three years (see episode 05x08 “lafleur”); because his behavior around kate after she returned to the island eventually prompted juliet to sign on for jack’s plan to blow up the jughead (see episode 05x16 “the incident” pt. i); and because he literally couldn’t hold onto juliet and dropped her down the shaft (see episode 05x17 “the incident” pt. ii). 

though one could try to argue with him that juliet exercised personal agency both in remaining on the island with him AND detonating the bomb, his guilt and self-loathing would never accept such appeals.

in his mind, he killed the only person he ever truly loved.

and without her, not only does he have nowhere to go and nothing to do post-island, but he also carries with him the sense that he doesn’t deserve to get to go anywhere or do anything.

he doesn’t want to carry on in her absence.

he wants to suffer for his sins.

he wants to experience every moment of agony rightly owed him for his actions.

filled with guilt, pain, and the impulse to self-castigate, i just can’t imagine him faring well.

though kate might try to convince him to not give up, i don’t think he’d listen to her or accept any attempts by her to take care of him---and particularly not because he knows that part of what persuaded juliet to blow up the warhead was her assumption, however erroneous, that he would eventually choose kate over her (“i changed my mind when i saw you look at her”).

even just being around kate as a friend would trigger his guilt in the extreme.

and while he wouldn’t blame kate---as he says he doesn’t, per the scene on the pier---he would still blame himself.

he would always blame himself.

hate himself, even.

and a self-hating sawyer is a dangerous one.

i mean, self-hatred is what underlies his jerky, bullying, posturing behavior during the early seasons of the show, right? and, by comparison, that self-hatred is of a more “garden variety,” rooted in his sense that he has become someone despicable, rather than an extremely personal sense of loss (and fault).

so much more extreme will be his bent over juliet---and so much the worse his self-sabotaging behavior as a consequence.

the pre-show sawyer is an outlaw who lives dangerously, but he ultimately possesses a self-preservative instinct; he is a consummate survivor.

that’s part of what makes him and kate so similar.

and him and juliet, for that matter.  

but this sawyer---the one who feels responsible for getting the woman he loves killed---won’t care what happens to him anymore.

so he won’t do himself in all at once---not when he has a very strong sense that he deserves to suffer for what he has done for as long as possible---but he will drink and smoke himself sick and pick barfights with guys twice his size and run cons where he’s almost sure to get caught and then pull his gun on the cops who show up to arrest him; he’ll be a fucking mess, the likes of which would make even bearded, pill-popping, oceanic-six, los angeles jack go, “oh shit.”

and without any sense of grander purpose, i don’t know that sawyer would be able to pull himself out of the spiral.

kate might try to argue that he has an obligation to take care of himself if not for his own sake than for clementine’s, but he’d probably say that his daughter’s only interaction with him being by way of the trust fund he left for her is for the best.

honestly, i don’t think his story in the ot has any kind of happy ending.

and i don’t think he lasts as long as kate does.

just based on the way i understand his character, i doubt that sawyer allows himself to find any sort of refuge with kate post-island in the ot, either friendly or romantic, even if she tries to offer it to him. he also probably eschews company of any kind from anyone, including their other friends from the island. 

for my money, there is just too much hurt and guilt in him, for which he cannot permit himself any sort of peace, so he strikes out on his own (“some of us are meant to be alone”) to disastrous effect.

while kate undoubtedly worries about him, i think that at some point, probably sooner rather than later, she makes the conscious decision to focus her energies on claire and aaron, resigning herself to the fact that sawyer doesn’t want to be saved, and particularly not by her. 

ultimately, i think their paths diverge.

she learns to live again after the island, and he doesn’t.

all of this postulation given, i’m certainly not harshing on your headcanon! it’s way happier than mine and, frankly, a whole lot nicer to think about.

lest i end on a super negative note here, i’ll finish up by saying that i find it highly significant that in the flash-sideways, kate once again finds purpose in helping claire with aaron, while sawyer is searching---not only as a detective for his parents’ killer but literally walking around with a big, yellow sunflower (his bloom of choice for juliet), trying to find where (or rather to whom) he belongs, hopeful for the life he has always wanted to lead with her. 

though he doesn’t get any kind of happy ending in the ot, at least by my estimation, he does eventually find what he’s looking for in the flash-sideways, and that reunion with juliet is so healing for him. 

anyway, i’m rambling here.

thanks for the question! feel welcome to send another any time. 

[kamechan98]

Tiberius Stone is an A**hole

Prompt: “I need you to forgive me.”

Steve didn’t need to look up when he heard the elevator doors open and close to know that Tony had come home, but he couldn’t fight the smile from spreading across his face.

“Hi honey! How was your night?” He looked away from the TV and at his husband, who was stilling standing by the elevator. But his smile wavered slightly when he saw how stiff Tony looked. He didn’t smile, he didn’t come over to the couch to kiss Steve and start a rant about how annoying rich people are. He just stood there, with a strange look on his face.

“I need you to forgive me.” Steve frowned, both confused and startled by the words that came out of Tony’s mouth. He sat up on the couch, turned off the sound on the TV and directed all of his attention on Tony. He examined Tony as closely as he could without making it too obvious that he was. He didn’t want Tony to feel like he was being scrutinized. He didn’t look drunk, or even like he had that much to drink at all, in fact- now that Steve looked a little closer- he looked like a mix between a deer caught in the headlights and a child waiting to be scolded.

“What’s wrong, love?” He kept his voice soft and concerned, hoping it might help Tony ease up a little, but he still stiff and didn’t move from his spot by the elevator.

Tony had been out for only a few hours at yet another PR Event, promoting Stark Industries and all the new directions he wanted to take or projects they had started up, which had meant that the rest of the Avengers had not been needed, which all of them saw as a relief. Clint hated any affair where he needed to wear a tux or a tie, whining about how they were restrictive and he couldn’t breathe. Bruce felt incredibly uncomfortable at social events like these and usually ended up in a corner somewhere, trying to make himself invisible. Thor didn’t necessarily dislike these events, he could easily entertain other guests with tales of Asgard or the many great battles he had been fighting in before ever coming to Earth, but he still didn’t always know how to act or speak with these people and had sometimes ended up unintentionally insulting or lightly injuring others in his attempts to convey engaging storytelling. Natasha was the only one who knew how to act at these things, on the same level as Tony did, but it was still clear that she did not like spending her time around stuck-up rich people.

“It’s hard enough to deal with Stark, I don’t need more of his kind.” She had said once, but it had been with a very, tiny curve of her lip, which was as close to a teasing smirk you could get out of Natasha. Tony had played up the ‘hurt and wounded’ act he always did when someone on the team teasingly insulted him or called him out when he was being silly, but he too had been sporting a small smirk.

The only one who had any real reason to be at those galas or events would be Steve. As Tony’s husband, it only made sense that he would accompany him to these things, to support him and help promote good press for the company. And while Steve had made no secret to either Tony or Pepper that he hated dressing up and entertaining these kinds of people- reminded him way too much of time promoting war bonds with the USO- he would gladly put up with it to support his husband and to just see how happy Tony got when got to talk about his projects to the world. Steve had told Tony over and over that he hated his PR smile, but he loved it when Tony could just talk about his work, because that passion always managed to shine through and it was a joy to see, even if he was forced to suffer through stiff greetings and small talk with people he couldn’t bother remembering the names or after they left for the night and to wear those tight, uncomfortable suits. All to make Tony happy and to see that bright smile when he took the stage and talked about the things he really cared about.

But right now Tony wasn’t smiling, not even a little. His expression was a little hard to read, Steve couldn’t quite pin down what Tony was feeling at the moment, aside from a hint of fear and shame, which made Steve worry about what had happened tonight. Steve and Tony had planned for the both of them to be there, but due to Fury dropping a mission on him and Natasha a few days prior; Steve had found himself busy with writing a mission report he needed to have finished by tomorrow. And Steve had been more than happy to avoid another night at a PR event, and once he finished had found himself on the couch, relaxing and watching TV until Tony came home. But now he was worrying about what had happened that made Tony look like that.

Tony refused to look him in the eyes, he kept his head down and stared at his shoes, or the carpet, or the TV remote, or anything that wasn’t Steve. So Steve got up, walked up to Tony, took his hand and gently brought him over to the couch and they sat down, Steve still holding on tightly to Tony’s hand.

“Tony? Sweetheart, what’s wrong? What happened that I need to forgive you for?” Tony squirmed uncomfortably under Steve’s gaze, the hand that Steve wasn’t holding clenched tightly. He took a breath, visibly bracing himself before looking up at Steve, a few strands of hair hanging over his face.

“… You remember I told you about Ty, right?” Steve felt himself tense up for a second, his grip on Tony’s hand tightening slightly. Oh yes, Tiberius Stone, Tony’s ex from MIT. Tony had told Steve about him a few months after they started dating. He had told him that Ty had seemed like a really cool guy, smart and strong and driven, but always affectionate and caring. He had swept Tony off his feet from the first second, and Tony- being a naïve fourteen-year-old- had believed it was true love. That it was meant to be. Only to eventually realize that Ty was abusive and controlling and clearly didn’t care about Tony’s well-being or security. And while Tony had never outright said it, he had implied that Ty had forced him to have sex before he felt ready or comfortable.

In shorter terms, Steve hated the guy’s guts, despite having never actually met him, and had told himself it was best for Ty that they never did meet, because he might actually kill him if he did.

He nodded and tried to calm down. Tony was upset about something and the most important thing was to make sure he felt safe and comfortable with telling Steve what happened. “Yes, I do. Why?”

Tony took another breath, but he broke their eye contact, looking down his shoes again. Steve didn’t say anything about it, just squeezed Tony’s hand reassuringly. “H-he… he showed up at the event. I-I didn’t know he was gonna be there. And from what Pepper told me, it didn’t sound like he was invited. He might’ve been a plus one for someone, or he snuck in somehow, I don’t know…”

He trailed off, biting his lip and closed his eyes, taking a few breaths through his nose, held them for a second before letting out through his mouth. Steve didn’t push him, just waited for Tony to pull himself together enough to continue. Eventually he opened his eyes again, but still refused to look at Steve.

“I was done with my speech and went over to the bar to get a drink. Pepper came over and said I did great, we talked a bit before she went off to mingle. Then…” Tony closed his eyes again and shuddered, so subtly that Steve almost missed it. “then he was just there, like he appeared out of thin air. And he wanted to talk.”

Tony pressed his lips together, took another breath and his voice sounded a little strained. “I tried to make it as clear as possible that he wasn’t wanted, that I wanted nothing to do with him. B-but whatever I said or did, he just wouldn’t leave me alone. He tried to buy me a drink, I said no. He asked me questions about how I’d been doing and stuff, I gave short and rude responds. He kept… he kept touching me, even when I made it clear that I didn’t want his hands on me. An arm around the shoulders or trying to hold my hand, he just wouldn’t stop.”

Steve’s eyebrows drew together, suddenly feeling that old, familiar urge to punch something- or in this case someone- rise in his chest, ‘cause he started to get an idea of where this was going and he didn’t like one bit. But he made sure to keep his face reassuring and gentle, despite how hard it was getting to keep it like that. He squeezed his husband’s hand, being very careful not use his super-human strength to accidentally crush the bones in Tony’s smaller, frailer hand.

“Tony…” Tony was blinking suddenly, rapidly and several times, and it clicked in Steve’s brain that Tony’s many deep breaths and sudden blinking was him trying his hardest to not start crying. Though it was a rather fruitless attempt, as his eyes looked a little shinier and his voice was shaking a little now.

“H-he wanted to c-catch up somewhere, for o-old times sake. I-I said that I wasn’t in-interested, that my h-husband was e-expecting me home soon, and I t-tried to w-walk away. B-but then h-he grabbed me and k-kissed me.”

A few tears finally managed to slip out of the corners of Tony’s eyes and his shaky voice was interrupted with a few sobs. “I-I… I s-swear S-Steve, I-I wanted t-to f-fight him off. I-I d-didn’t want him to touch me or kiss me, bu-but i-it w-was like I was f-fourteen years old again, I-I just… c-couldn’t. It w-was like m-my own b-body stopped w-working and I-I couldn’t get away o-on my own-”

Steve had heard enough. He released Tony’s hand and placed his arms around Tony, pulling him close and held him tightly. Tony buried his face into Steve’s shirt, now sobbing uncontrollably and his arms wrapped around Steve’s stomach, clinging to him like a child and between his shuddering breaths he cried out ‘I’m sorry’ into Steve’s chest, over and over again.

Steve just shushed him gently, keeping one arm tightly wrapped around Tony’s shoulders while the other one was stroking his back, doing his best to comfort his distraught husband. But inside, there was a raging battle between his anger and rational thinking. The soldier in him wanted to march right out into the city, find that sleazy scumbag of an ex-boyfriend and beat the shit out of him. It was nothing less than he deserved and nothing could convince Steve otherwise. But the more rational guy in him bashed the soldier part of him over the head and reminded him of his crying, hysterical husband who was begging for forgiveness into his chest, who really needed reassurance and comfort above karmic retribution.

‘Priorities, Steve. Get your priorities straight, soldier.’ He chided himself, though it took almost herculean effort to push the thoughts of revenge and retribution and hatred into the back of his mind so he could put all his focus on making sure Tony was okay.

So he just hugged Tony as tightly as he could, gently shushing him, placing kisses everywhere he could reach and placed one hand in his hair, stroking it in the way he knew Tony loved and calmed him when he was upset. He had made jokes in the past that Tony was like a cat, loving to be petted and pampered by everyone and Tony had acted insulted and smacked Steve on the arm in mock-outrage, though there had been a little smirk on his face regardless. But at times like these, Steve was happy that it really helped calm him down when he was this upset. So he kept stroking his husband’s hair, hugged him tightly to this chest with the other arm and talked softly to him, words that meant nothing but were meant to be soothing and help him calm down.

Eventually Tony gently pulled away from Steve’s chest and seemed to have calmed down, though there were still a few sniffles and he rubbed at his eyes and nose. His eyes were red and still wet with tears, but he was breathing a little easier now and his sobbing had subsided.

Steve kept his arm around Tony, now resting around his waist and he kept him close, ready to hug him again if he needed it. “You feeling better?” He asked softly and Tony nodded, but he didn’t say anything. He breathed through his nose and kept his mouth shut long enough for Steve to worry about it, but after a few minutes of silence he looked up at Steve and his big, wide and wet puppy eyes made Steve’s heart ache.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- I never wanted to-“ Steve shushed him again and pressed a kiss to Tony’s temple.

“Hush now, honey. This isn’t your fault. He has a grip on you mentally and psychologically, and after what he did to you, it makes complete sense that you’d still be wary of him. He didn’t listen when you dismissed him, and that is not your fault. It’s never your fault when something like this happens.”

Tony looked away, looking very ashamed and guilty. “I just… I feel like I’ve cheated on you.” He whispered the words, so quietly that if Steve hadn’t had his enhanced hearing he probably wouldn’t have heard it. But he did, and he immediately kissed Tony again, on the forehead, then the nose and then his mouth.

“You didn’t. If you had cheated on me, you wouldn’t have tried to avoid it all from happening and you wouldn’t feel this bad about it. You don’t have to worry about any of that, I know how loyal and faithful you are Tony; I would never assume you would cheat on me. You love me and I love you, till the end of time, remember?”

Tony didn’t look entirely convinced, he still looked a little wary and like a scared woodland creature, which just made Steve’s heart ache even more. He grabbed Tony by the shoulders, not tightly but firmly enough to catch Tony’s attention, and made him look him in the eyes. “Tony, you love me, right?”

Tony looked surprised, a little scared suddenly, but he nodded nevertheless. “More than anything.”

Steve smiled and loosened his grip on Tony’s shoulders slightly; really he was just resting his hands there now. “Right. And I know you do, you accepted my proposal and married me. I know you love me, you show me that every single day with everything you do. Christ Tony, everything I have in this century is thanks to you. My friends, my job, my home, it’s all thanks to you. You gave me a home, Tony, a family and your love. I couldn’t ask for more, so how can you possibly believe that I would think you’d cheat on me, with Tiberius Stone of all people?”

Tony looked up at him, looking more like a puppy than before, and swallowed unsurely. “So… you’re not mad?” Steve getting ntly smiled, placed a hand under Tony’s chin and lifted his face slightly, placing another kiss on his lips.

“Not at you, Tony. Never at you. Not for something like this. I’m furious at him; I want to punish him for making you feel like this and being this scared to tell me what happened. But I will never be mad at you because some guy comes up to you and forces himself on you.”

And finally there was a small smile forming on Tony’s face and he rested his head on Steve’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to the crook of his neck. “I love you.”

Steve smiled affectionately, placed his arm around Tony and rested his head against Tony’s. “And I love you too, sweetheart. And no Tiberius Stone can ever change that, I hope you realize that.” Tony huffed a very small laugh but nuzzled his face further into his shoulder and neck and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, holding him tight.

They sat like that for a while, wrapped up in each other’s arms, just being together and loving each other’s company. Then, after a few minutes of silence…

“If I ever see him, can I punch him?”

“No Steve, you can’t punch him. He’s a squishy human, your punches crush steel, it’s out of the question.”

“Oh come on, he’s a piece of shit anyway, can’t I just punch him? It’s nothing less than he deserves!”

“No, Steve. I will not have the media go crazy over Captain America punching a civilian and putting him in the hospital. Pepper would kill us both and you know it.”

“Damn, you’re right. Fuck!”

Tony laughed and shook his head at his husband’s antics and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Steve’s small frown melted away and he nuzzled his nose against Tony’s in an Eskimo kiss, wrapping both arms around Tony, placing his chin on top of his head. Then Tony yawned and slumped against Steve’s chest, suddenly exhausted. Which, considering the emotional rollercoaster his evening had been, wasn’t really surprising.

He yawned again but tried to cover it with his hand. Steve smiled at him and stroked his hair. “You tired, love?” Tony, of course, shook his head and tried to act as if nothing happened, which was slightly ruined as another yawn left his lips. Steve chuckled and slowly pulled away from the hug.

“You should go to bed, honey. You’re tired and I won’t have you go back down into your workshop and work yourself into the ground again.”

Tony grumbled and rubbed his eyes before stretching out his arms towards Steve like a child. “Carry me.” He whined, again, very much like a child.

Steve rolled his eyes with a fond smile, but he shut off the TV before gathering up Tony in his arms, bridal style and started to make his way towards their bedroom. Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck and rested his head against Steve’s shoulder, sighing in content and Steve had to shake him every now and then to make sure he would fall asleep in his arms.

Once he had managed to get Tony ready for bed, helping him remove his makeup and get out of his tight suit, while Tony managed to wake up enough to brush his teeth and get into his pajamas, they found themselves together in bed and wrapped up in each other’s arms. Tony was out like a light less than a minute after lying down, with his head resting on Steve’s chest. Steve had his arms wrapped tightly around Tony’s waist, keeping him in place and pressed a few kisses to Tony’s cheek, nose and head before settling down to sleep as well.

But before he fell asleep, he found himself chuckling slightly. ‘Tony cheating on him with Ty? Hah, as if.’

[peace-coast-island]

#ChoicesCreates: Different doesn’t mean wrong

Title: Strikhedonia (The Freshman) Rated: T Summary: Strikhedonia - the joy of being able to say to hell with it. Acacia Lim (MC) spends a night with an old friend to get her mind off things. Takes place after going to LA.

Charlie: Hey Acacia are you free this weekend? I’ll be in the city all week so i was wondering if you wanna hang out?

Acacia: Hey! It’s been a while! We definitely need to catch up! I’m free all weekend so anytime’s good!

Charlie: Great! what about Saturday afternoon?

Acacia: Awesome! Can’t wait to see you!

“Yikes.” Charlie said, putting her boba down on the bench. “That’s sucks.”

“I know.” I took a sip of my drink. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” She said. “You definitely need a break. And don’t worry about venting all your problems to me, I’ll be there for you. After all, we’re like family.”

“Saltwater sisters?” It was an old nickname Charlie’s sister came up with, referring to our hometown Saltwater Creek. Charlie and her older sisters used to babysit me and other kids in the neighborhood back in the day. Our families are pretty close so Charlie’s like a sister to me.

“Saltwater sisters.” We held our cups up to a toast.

“So, anything in particular you want to do?” I asked. “You’re the guest so you choose?”

“Hmmm…” Charlie said and then took a sip of her boba. “I’m good with anything. But you definitely need a distraction. Maybe we could go out somewhere a bit far? My hotel’s in the city nearby, which is like a half hour train ride from here. Plus there’s a spare bed so you can stay over for the night.”

“Sounds good! I’ve never been outside of the city before.” I said. After coming back from LA I’ve been keeping myself busy to avoid hanging around the suite. I was dreading the weekend until Charlie texted and then my day became five times brighter. It would have been ten if it wasn’t for all the drama going on but still, it’s been a while since I felt that great. Charlie always had a knack for coming to the rescue at the right time.

“To the train station then!” Charlie said.

“But first to my room! So I can pack up for tonight and maybe introduce you to some friends if they’re around.”

“Right! To Hartfield then!” We laughed and headed towards there.

“Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?” Charlie asked while scrolling through her phone.

“Not yet. But it’s on my list of things to try.” I said.

"I saw this place where you can rent a motorcycle for a pretty good price. Figured it might be more interesting than taking a cab. It's only a ten minute walk from the hotel so we could just drop your stuff off there and go down the street."

"That sounds fun but do you know how to ride one?"

"Don't worry I won't do anything super dangerous." Charlie said. "I know the basics like how to get around."

"You learned to ride a motorcycle? Since when?"

"A few months ago when I was staying with Tammy and Mitchie.”

"Tammy and Mitchie?" It’s been a long time since I heard from them. Tammy lived next door to me and she and her mother would bake cookies during the weekend to give out to neighbors. Across from her was Mitchie, who always had a crush on Tammy but was too shy to say anything. Since Saltwater Creek’s a small town, there was only one teacher so the four of us were at school together for a short time. After graduating, Tammy and Mitchie left town like pretty much everyone else these days.

“How are they?” I asked. “Looks like Tammy finally achieved her dream of owning a motorcycle!” Tammy was always the daredevil of the group, often the troublemaker.

“They’re great!” Charlie said. “And soon to be engaged!”

“What!” This day keeps getting better and better. “It’s about damn time! Who proposed?”

“Emphasis on soon. It took forever but Mitchie finally had the guts to ask. Remember when she took that job in Peach City a few years ago? Well, last year she was promoted and moved to Empire City where she ran into Tammy, who just moved there too. Since rent was super expensive they moved in together and then just a few weeks ago Mitchie called to ask about rings.”

“Tell me Tammy said yes.”

“Obviously! It’s not officially official yet because they want to make it special for their parents but by now almost everyone knows.”

“When the official announcement comes out we should plan a club meeting before the wedding.” Long ago the four of us made up a club where we played a bunch of games. Charlie and Tammy always came up with funny and creative ideas. Those were the good old days.

“Oh we are definitely bringing the club back.” Charlie said with a mischievous look. “I’m already planning something for the bridal shower.”

“I can’t wait. Maybe we could stop by somewhere to get them a gift.”

“Great idea!” Charlie said enthusiastically. I never really how much I missed her until now.

From a distance we heard a train approach and I picked my bag up. “Train’s here!” And we hopped in.

“Whoo-hoo!” I zipped down the street. “This is soooooo much fun!”

“Say hi to the camera!” Charlie snapped a few pics from my phone. “You’re doing a great job! Much better than me!”

“Well, I was always the fastest biker.” I said, slowing down gradually before stopping. I parked the motorcycle and laid down on the grass next to Charlie. After spending the afternoon shopping, snacking, and playing games at the arcade we rode to the outskirts of the city.

Charlie handed me my phone. “Whaddya think? Still photogenic as ever.”

“Psh, me photogenic? You’re the professional photographer so all your pics are good.” I scrolled through the pictures. “I’m posting this one.”

‘look ma, no hands!’ with lottacharli82 #daredevil #girlsnightout #charlieyourethebestie #motorcycle #saltwatersisters

“It’s been a while since I sat down to look at the stars.” I said. “The city’s nice but sometimes I miss the quiet countryside.”

“I know how you feel.” Charlie said. “I like traveling but I can’t picture myself living in a busy place. I guess that’s why I decided to come back to Saltwater Creek. No matter what, it’ll always be home. What about you, Acacia? Can you picture yourself staying in town?”

Saltwater Creek hasn’t been the same since the blizzard hit over a year ago. The small town was already sort of dying when a tornado hit earlier that year and by the time the winter came, over half the town was homeless. My family was lucky to have a house that was standing even though a tree had fallen on it. These days there’s not as many people in Saltwater except for families who have been here for generations, including mine.

“I don’t know.” I answered truthfully. “A part of me wants to stay but at the same time I want to venture out.”

Charlie shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, you’ll have plenty of time to decide. I love our town but things aren’t the same anymore. It’s sad to see everyone leave but that’s how it is. Though it’ll be really sad if Saltwater Creek eventually becomes a ghost town.”

“D’you think that’ll really happen?” It was always a possibility, especially after the blizzard, but a part of us didn’t really want to accept it.

“Anything’s possible. It’ll be sad but hey, Saltwater Creek will always be a part of us. Ghost towns are always like legends so in the future people will be talking about it and the people who lived there. Maybe as the last generation we can leave something behind like a legacy to keep the spirit of the town alive.”

“When you put it that way it doesn’t sound so bad. Leaving a legacy, being a part of history, I wouldn’t mind being remembered as a citizen of Saltwater Creek.”

We laid in silence, gazing at the stars. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of crickets, imagining myself back in Saltwater Creek, away from Hartfield.

“I should come here more often.” I said, more to myself than Charlie. “A helluva lot better than holing myself in my room and possibly ruining other people’s lives.”

“That bad, huh?” Charlie folded her arms together. “At least you’re distancing yourself from them for now. Much better than when I was dealing with drama in college.”

I almost forgot that Charlie transferred to a university in a city for a year and a half before returning back to Saltwater Creek. She never spoke much about it but it was clear that she wasn’t really happy over there. Something about friend drama ruined her experience a lot as well as a bunch of other stuff.

“Oh?” I turned to her, curious. I have to admit, I was always curious about that time in her life. We were always close so it felt weird that she was reluctant to talk about it. She was always open in general so it must have been a difficult year for her, which is why I never poked into the subject.

“Guess it’s about time I tell someone about it.” Charlie said. ‘You know I meant it when I said that I understood what you’re going through. It’s bad a case of everyone in a crappy situation and not being able to do much about it. Unfortunately there’s always someone thrown in the middle of it and suddenly they’re the ones trying to keep things together. I’d rather not bore you with the details, mainly because it’s all in the past but let’s just say I could have handled things a lot better.”

“So, what did you do?”

“Well, I tried to fix things, which made everything else worse. You know me, I don’t like fights. So naive me tried to force everyone to kiss and make up, the whole meddling into people’s lives without thinking about the consequences. Things escalated and soon I ended up having no friends. It was already scary living in an unfamiliar place and with a good number of people hating me, I couldn’t stay anymore.”

“I’m sorry.” Charlie had always been the fix-it friend, but i never imagined that people would hate her for it. Sure she made some mistakes but we all forgave her. “Maybe they’re right, maybe I should be less involved in their lives. But what am I supposed to do when they pull me back in with their drama?”

“I wish I could help. but I don’t know. Like I said, you’re doing the right thing by taking a break. Maybe you can distance yourself by finding something you like to do. Like join a club, find a cafe where you can hang out alone, or pick up a new hobby? Live your own life, you know?”

“Sounds like a good idea. I’ve been considering that for a while but with everything going on, I wasn’t able to ind the time for it.”

“See? I knew you’ll get through it!”

A few minutes of silence passed before I said something. “I’m glad I’m staying over for the night. In fact I’m not looking forward to going back to Hartfield.” I paused, trying to gather my thoughts. “You know how you said that college isn’t for everyone?”

Charlie nodded. “I think I know where you’re going.”

I nodded back. “I mean, I enjoy it so far but lately I feel like I’m dragging myself out of bed just to get through the day. Everything started out great and now it’s different and I don’t know what to do. I like my friends, even when they get on my nerves, but I’m starting to wonder if, I don’t know, we’re better off apart? Like in the short time we’ve known each other we all changed and sometimes it’s like we’re different people. I know that college changes people but I never imagined it to be like this. Even I changed and I though I knew what I wanted but as time went on, I’m even more uncertain about basically everything.” I sighed. “Again, sorry for ranting at you.”

“Hey, that’s what sisters are for. I could have used someone to rant to when I was your age.” Charlie put her arm around me. “There’s nothing wrong with being uncertain. Things change and differences set us apart, but that doesn’t mean something’s wrong. Sometimes you just have accept that people drift away and not everything can be solved. When things get really rough with your friends sometimes the best you can do is step back and do your own thing.”

I nodded. “You’re right. I just wish I realized it sooner.”

Charlie took out her phone. “It’s getting late, we should get back to the city and return the motorcycle before the place closes. Hopefully we can get there in time.” She got up from the grass.

“Wow that late already?” I reached out and she pulled me up. “Funny, I don’t feel tired at all.”

“Me neither. Wanna go out for sundaes after dropping this thing off? I heard that the desserts there are awesome.”

“I’m always down for desserts!” We hopped on and rode off.

“Wow. Fancy place. Is this edible gold?” I took a spoonful. “Yum!”

“Now I can definitely cross off eating edible gold off my bucket list. Never thought it could be affordable!” Charlie took her phone out so we could pose with our sundaes. “Perfect!”

“So, what do you wanna do after this?” Charlie asked. “I was thinking we could check out the mall since it closes really late and then top by at this cool art gallery near the hotel if we’re not too tired.”

“See, this is why everyone likes hanging out with you on vacations.” I said. “Always looking up cool places and basically planning an itinerary on the spot.”

“Pfftt, anyone can do that.”

“But you always know the good places before getting there. So, what time does the mall close?”

“In about two and a half hours. And the gallery’s open for another four so we have plenty of time.”

“Cool. You know, I’ve never been much of a night owl before. This is the first time I’ve been out super late and having a great time.”

“Same. I can see that you’re feeling a helluva lot better now.”

“Yeah. Thanks a lot for everything Charlie.” I said. “Really, I missed you a lot.”

“No problem, Acacia.” Charlie smiled. “I missed you too. Town hasn’t been the same without you. If you need to talk about anything, I’m here.”

“We should do this more often. I feel so much better and you know what, even if things don’t work out between me and my friends, I think I’ll be okay. Sometimes you just have to say ‘to hell with it’’, you know?”

“Yup.” We clinked out glasses together.

“When in doubt, to hell with it.” we said together, laughing.