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[imjustheretofangirl003]

HOT TRENDY CHALLENGE

LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE

I have blocked this scam 4,198 times too many

I have do not beg for money ON MY BLOG DESCRIPTION BECAUSE OF SCAMS LIKE YOU

F U C K O F F

[lemonietrinket]

Mishap ||| Yuta x Reader

Summary: Yuta is not known for his woodwork skills. He is also not known for any common sense that would also come with it. However, good things can be made of the worst scenarios, and Yuta is not completely inept—no matter what Winwin tries to assert. Genre: Comedy Warning(s): Some swearing (2x s**t) Word Count: 2361 Theme Song: Rock it For Me - Caravan Palace AN: I tend try to make my oneshots gender-neutral but in this circumstance, this is a fem!Reader. Sorry if this puts anyone off :(( Also this is written in 3rd person so, that’s a thing? Anyways this has been a long time coming (remember that yuta fic i mentioned i was writing back in like november of something? this is it bois) so I hope the wait has been worth it

~~~

Yuta had made a mistake.

This wasn’t unlike Yuta who, known for many talents such as his sharp tongue and wit, as well as his dashing good looks, was not particularly known for rationality and sense.

And—yes, perhaps in hindsight he should have asked the landlord how thick the apartment walls were, and yes, perhaps he should have requested Johnny’s help in the matter, who, though lacking in the same departments as Yuta, did possess more of a proficiency in woodwork. However, that would require more than three levels of sensibility—an area of which, Yuta was steadfastly stuck at level two. 

And so, there Yuta lay, crooked upon the debris of his IKEA shelving he’d been attempting to attach to his wall; the lower half of his body in his apartment, the rest... well, that was in next door’s.

Now normally, he would have presumed, this wouldn’t have been such an issue, lacking the grand scale characteristic of Yuta’s mishaps. The person who inhabited the next-door apartment was very busy, he’d rarely bumped into her, and when he had, it was always notably a very brief encounter. Always in a rush, Y/N was a good neighbour, Yuta knew. Never one to bother a soul, she was respectful, determined and very focused upon her job. Yuta also had discerned—from that good wit I mentioned earlier—that she was also rather easy to fluster.

He hadn’t inclined to discover it, and was rather startled to find it, but the first time he spoke to her and he’d met her gaze, she plundered from the realms of reserved and controlled into (oh he couldn’t help but describe) a bumbling, blushy mess.

Which was cute.

But he never had intended to encroach on your personal space. You were career-focused, and he probably also had too little time, if he was quite honest with himself; in the end, he figured that your story was not for his co-authoring and thus he would, quite rightly, let you be. 

However, Fate—or was it Misfortune?—had other ideas.

Because this was a Yuta-scale mishap. 

As not only was Y/N in the front room of her apartment when Yuta ever-so-suavely-and-totally-not-accidentally flung himself through the wall, she was also only garbed in a very, very small towel. 

.

Truth be told, this was another action of Fate or Misfortune, as Y/N had, in fact, messed up her timings again.

Keeping on top of all the small, consistent tasks of her job that each day held was an easy enough assignment. However, the ability of micro-managing seemed to not have seeped into her home life, hence laundry day had been the most recent victim to pay the price.  Thus, Y/N had relinquished her exit from the shower to be garbed in a spare, slightly-bigger-than-average handtowel.

It did the trick—it wasn’t as if anyone was going to see her, right?—and all seemed well, even as her boss who out of poor mind—or was it spite, because quite frankly why would a man in possession of a soul call on the landline after being begged eight times to not do so for the sake of a humongous phone bill—rang the landline to enquire about the progression of a report she was managing.  She headed into the main room, shivering at the chill emanating from the window left ajar out of habit, and answered, carefully and intrinsically masking her exasperation so he would be unprepared for the earful he was going to receive the next morning.

The wired phone that seemed like a good idea at the time (which was based on the vintage style, block baby blue matched to the curtains and looked chic as hell—just a shame the lead didn’t extend beyond a couple of feet) hung loosely in her hand, held at just a distance so the cold plastic wouldn’t come into contact with her bare skin and brand her with stab of iciness.  Even as the man tumbled through the wall and onto her silver carpet.

Her eyes drifted across the cacophony of torn plaster, scraps of tawny grain strewn amongst the immaculate sea of grey, before they rested upon the sheepish smirk of the man pretending that this hadn’t impacted his confidence in the slightest.

“Hey.” He flashed a gleaming smile. Though upside-down, it perhaps appeared slightly more menacing.

Y/N screamed. It was uncharacteristic, but a reflex nonetheless and she sighed at herself exasperatedly, willing her body to move towards something to throw instead.

Yuta’s grin immediately slipped from his face, as he spun himself onto his front, a palm levied in an apology. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, this was a mist—”

Y/N clutched at her towel, haphazardly trying to pull the hem further down her thighs, while not letting it slip from her torso, her feet twitching to head towards the kitchen. 

Yuta felt his throat tighten out of sheer embarrassment, snapping his eyes closed and pushing through with his frantic apologies. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’m not looking—I won’t! You... I...”

Watching him tilt his head away, his eyes no longer trained on her, Y/N managed to retrieve her rationale, as well as her breath. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“I...” he swallowed, hand falling to support himself on his elbows, “was putting up a shelf—”

“A shelf? You’re in my apartment!”

He glanced back, biting his tongue to stop himself remarking ‘only half’, he knew this was not the time for jokes, and kept his eyes firmly closed. “I know, I’m sorry, I misjudged—”

“Yeah, no shit!”

“—the wall, I’m so sorry, I—”

“Stay here!” Y/N ordered. “Don’t move! I’m not discussing this with you right at this moment, when I’m not...” Words faltered as she was reminded of her bare skin.

“No, of course, I’ll be right here, I promise. Please, do whatever you need.”

The sincerity in the strange man’s voice shocked her, to say the least. She still wasn’t going to leave him to his own devices, however. A spark of inspiration hit her, as she snatched her mobile from the end table, propped it up on the sofa and set the camera on record.  Then she slipped back into her bedroom, throwing herself into the first clothes she could find.

Yuta very hesitantly opened his eyes once he heard footsteps pad away and a door close. 

The first thing his eyes met was the mess he’d made on her lovely carpet. The next thing was the sight of just how little of the shelving remained, with bits of wood scattered like a shipwreck upon a silver ocean. The final thing was the phone propped op on the couch opposite, no doubt recording his moves.

Smart, he thought, as he sheepishly waved at the camera lens.

Y/N returned very quickly, slipping back through the door, her eyes focused upon the man sat like a schoolboy amongst his carnage. Dressed in unmatched pyjamas, her features were harden in concentration. In her hands was a wooden pole, fashioned with a metal hook at the end. Yuta swallowed thickly. She was holding it most definitely as if she knew how to use it to make it hurt. 

And Yuta couldn’t deny that she probably did. 

“What’s your name?” she demanded, after several seconds of eyeing him up and down.

“Yuta. Nakamoto Yuta.”

“You live next door?” 

He nodded compliantly. “Always have done. I was here before you moved in.”

“How long?”

“Sorry?”

“How long were you here before I moved in?” Her eyes searched his for something. Yuta couldn’t tell what however.

“I...?” he stuttered. He didn’t know what to say to that, or to reassure her. “I don’t know, really. A few months? I haven’t really been counting anything.”

She stared him down, eye to eye, weapon brandished to her intruder. He raised his head further, palms raised in surrender, slightly fearing the worst.

Then she put down her guard, hook knocking the floor. 

“I recognise you now,” she sighed, looking at him with disdain, “you really are my neighbour and you really did just break through my wall because you really are that shit at woodwork—Jesus. Christ.”

How she hadn’t recognised him at first astounded her too. He had grown out his hair, yes, and he seemed a little broader, but his eyes were the same dark spools of wonder that she’d accidentally stared into for too long in that one encounter. And anyhow, it wasn’t as if the small changes made him look any different, it just made him look more...

She caught her words before she finished that sentence. He fell through your wall, she asserted in her head, you cannot go anywhere near words like that around someone dumb enough to—

He cocked his head quizzically. She was talking as if she knew him, after all.

Y/N discarded her weapon—which he now recollected was a tool to pull down the ladder on the side of the building—against her sofa which she collapsed onto, retrieving her phone languidly. It was as she pressed the button to stop recording when she glanced at him.  She paused. “Mark? Friend of yours? He told me one time that you’re not exactly the best at woodwork.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Oh Mark! Mark Lee? Yes, yes, good friend of mine!” It was only then that the realisation sunk in. “Wait, Mark said what—?”

“You didn’t hear anything from me,” Y/N sighed, leaning forward to get a closer look at the mess of the wall and on her floor. “Well, that must be a good... what? Tenner? Down the drain?”

Catching onto her question he shook his head. “No, 30. Plus hinges.”

Her eyes widened. “Jesus.”

He picked at one of the slabs, splintered at one end and snapped completely at the other. “Yeah, I made the mistake of choosing one of the slightly more expensive units...”

When he looked back up, Y/N was shaking her head desperately, brow creased and vision narrowed upon the hole in the wall.

“Yuta! You—” she exclaimed, hesitating before looking at him. Her eyes were pained, breath shaky as she clenched her fists at her knees.  “Do you have any idea how much that is going to cost, Yuta?” she managed. “I can’t afford barely any of the prices required to fix that! Do—do you know how much your stupidity is going to cost me?!”

The words fell from his lips without a moments hesitation. “I will pay for all of the repairs,” he said earnestly, “I’ll cover all of it.”

The woman was stunned to say the least. Her breath stopped, silenced, and hung in the air as if it had been snatched away from her, as she stared into his eyes, searching for honesty.

“You’ll pay?”

“Yes.”

“For all of it?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll take full responsibility?”

“Of course!”

“You’ll pay f-for the hole?”

“Yes.”

“And the re-plastering?”

“Yes.”

“And the paint?”

“Yes!”

“And my broken plant pot?”

“There was a plant pot?!”

She pointed to the scattered soil and ceramic shards to his right, and the overturned shrub bowed amongst it.  “Yes, his name is Jeffrey.”

“I’m so sorry Jeffrey!”

“It’s ok he’s a strong boy.”

“Thank god. I’ll pay for Jeffrey too.”

“For his lavish new pot?”

“He’ll have the best damn pot in the entire garden centre.”

Honesty was all that she found.

She straightened in her seat. “Well that’s going to be a lot of money.”

“It’s fine,” he waved a hand, “it’s my fault entirely, and besides, you’ve got better things to spend your money on.”

She frowned. “Like what?”

He glanced around her apartment’s living room. “Fancy things no doubt. Things to make you happy, things to make you smile. Things you need to distract yourself from all the mess required to fix the huge ones stupid men make of your walls.”

She laughed softly at that. Though she stopped herself, there was something about the way he spoke that meant she couldn’t help but be amused, even in spite of the situation. His voice of silk, ebbed with a lilt of something, and flowed through her head like streams of water flowing back to the sea on a sun-kissed beach.

“I think you’re right,” she hummed, rising to her feet. Stepping carefully towards the carnage, she outstretched a hand. “Need some help, Mr Nakamoto?”

He took a glimpse down at the pieces of wood and plaster and bits that made up a wall. A glimpse was all he could muster though, as he felt his eyes be drawn back up to meet yours again. He felt the need to stare into them for as long as he could, not that he could deduce quite why. “I think I could use some, Miss...?”

“Y/L/N.”

He took your hand, levying himself out from the carnage with your aid.

“Thank you, Miss Y/L/N.”

“My pleasure,” she replied, curtsying swiftly with a scoff as she headed towards her dining table.

Dusting himself off and checking the scale of the mess, he only looked up when she returned. He accepted her open laptop with open arms, but confusedly to say the least. It was logged on, with the cursor flashing along the search bar. 

“Y/N...?”

She peered over her shoulder coyly. “Well, you promised to get me the best pot for Jeffrey. You’d better start searching for it.”

He grinned, feeling relief wash over him. Sitting on the sofa where she had been perched, he placed the laptop upon his thighs.  “And once I find it?” he enquired neatly, eyes glimmering at the back of her head, caressed with tresses catching the setting sunlight from through the window.

Slapping a replacement pot found from the depths of her cupboards on the table victoriously, Y/N stepped over towards Jeffrey laid strewn on the carpet. Cradling him in her hands, she made her way to temporarily re-home him. “Well then... I guess you’d have to take me to the shop and buy it for me.”

Gazing at your back, he felt his lips twist into a smile, catching onto what you were inferring.

Maybe this wasn’t a mishap after all. Perhaps it was a Yuta-scale twist of fate, instead.

~~~

AN: im sorry this is so late, but its up now!

i tried real hard to funny i hope i succeeded :((

thanks for reading!

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