#now if I could just get paid and finalize my registration to my last year of uni that would be nice and i could take a deep breath finally | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itsamejin · 4 years ago

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easy || jungkook angst/fluff

Summary: Date you, win a bet, get his rent paid off. Sounds promising enough, right? Jungkook should’ve known that his ambitions would end in disaster, but even if he did, that still wouldn’t have stopped him from pursuing you.

Warning: cursing, crude humor, fuckboy talk

Genre: college!au, fuckboy!au, bet!trope, angst, fluff

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Premise: In which Jungkook accepts a bet from Taehyung to date the first girl that walks into the lecture hall and realizes that he bit off more than he could chew when starts to catch feelings. Now, he has to suffer the consequences of being an idiot.

Commission Request: @altus-gens

Word Count: 9,203 words

—

It's not like Jungkook planned to be one of the most sought after person in Yonsei University, but it somehow turned out to be that way. Truthfully, he basks in it, loves that so many people idolize him for doing the bare minimum. He was handsome after all and had a level of charm that surpassed the need to have a good personality.

He got into such a prestigious school through an athletic scholarship for Taekwondo, managed to convince his professors to pass him when he put in minimal effort, and there was no shortage of girls to call when he was feeling lonely for a night. He was the stereotypical 'it' boy on campus and maybe if he was a little bit smarter, he'd have a better choice of friends than the six idiots he always hangs around with.

"How about this," Taehyung starts, gum in his mouth, "the first girl who walks in, you have to successfully get in her pants."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. They were in a damn lecture hall and yet Taehyung had no shame bringing up sex. Typical.

“This again, bro?” Hoseok sighed. “Aren’t you sick of bribing us to do weird shit for you?”

Taehyung smirked.

“Not at all, actually.”

"For how much?" Namjoon cut in, probably curious for the price point Taehyung would arrange this time. He was fired from his job just a week ago and could really use the money. "I'll do it if it’s enough to pay for my rent this month."

Taehyung scoffs, although knowing full well he could pay for all of the boys’ tuitions combined if he wanted to. He was the resident rich bachelor on campus after all.

"I'll pay it for a full year and your utility bills too if you're really down," Taehyung flaunts. "You just gotta have proof you actually managed to do it."

"Dude that's gross," Seokjin chimes in, "No one wants to send you proof of us doing it with a random girl."

Taehyung shakes his head.

"No, no, no," he says, clicking his tongue. "I phrased it incorrectly. I’m not a fucking pervert."

“You got us fooled,” Jimin mutters.

Taehyung leans in closer to the six boys and even Jungkook finds himself getting intrigued. Admittedly, he was a little curious considering he hasn't had a proper meal in weeks. He could really use having some extra cash for food without worrying about rent.

"You have to date the girl for like three months," Taehyung says seriously, "and I'll consider that as enough proof that you managed to actually do it since I know you guys are too horny to wait any longer than that to fuck."

They all look at Taehyung in disgust, Jimin even opting to hit him in the back of the head for being so vulgar. To be fair, they were all thinking of accepting Taehyung's bet regardless. It's not like they were new to leading girls on anyway.

"You gotta pay me more than that to fuck just any girl," Yoongi says, yawning in the process. He seemed the least likely to take up Taehyung's offer, but he was still game depending on the person.

"Then how would you feel," Taehyung starts, "if I told you guys that I could get you priority registration for next quarter."

The boys, even the ones who weren't interested, were now listening to Taehyung's every word.

"You mean," Hoseok gulps, "I could finally get that fucking Organic Chemistry class I need to get out of this hell hole?!"

Taehyung shrugs, an ominous smile on his face.

"Just the perk of having parents who have connections," Taehyung replies. “I’ll only accept one of you guys to do it though. I don’t wanna have you all fucking the same girl- that’d be weird.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what’s weird about this,” he grumbles.

“So are you guys in or not?” Taehyung asks, his patience growing thin.

He lays back on his chair, a smoldering look on his face when they all nod. They were desperate for money after all.

"The next girl that walks in will be the subject of this bet and whoever calls dibs on her first will be the one to woo her,” he says with a stretch of his arms. “Good luck boys.”

They all turned to look at the door and Jungkook watches silently as guy after guy walks into the lecture hall. No girl yet.

Jungkook was hoping, from the bottom of his heart, that no familiar faces would walk in. If he had to deal with a past fling, he’d have to back out immediately. He never dealt with exes very well.

The guys are at the edge of their seats, praying for a cute girl to walk through that didn’t already know about their horrible reputation. They were looking for an easy target, someone that could fall for their charms almost immediately.

And then, you walk in. You were clad in sweats with earphones on, rushing toward the front row seats of the lecture hall. You were chatting with your friends, yawning several times throughout your conversation with them. Jungkook couldn’t help but smirk. There was nothing special about you to point out, in fact, you were just like everyone else. Strangely enough, he found that the most intriguing part about you.

"Nope, nope, nope," Jimin shakes his head repeatedly. "Can't, won't, never will. Sorry, Tae."

They all stare at him in confusion.

"What the fuck, what's wrong with her?" Yoongi asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Jimin faces away from you, not wanting to look at you any longer.

"No, nothing," there seems to be a blush forming on his face. He was hiding something.

“Bullshit,” Taehyung furrows his brows. “Bro, if she’s crazy and one of us gets our dick bitten off, we’re all blaming you, so spit it out.”

Jimin just sighs.

"She's been giving me Professor Kwon’s notes for the past few weeks,” he starts, much to the confusion of his friends. “Her name is [Y/N]. It'll be really mean if I go after her, especially since she and I are kind of friends. Plus, I really need to pass this class. I failed last quarter..."

The boys groan. Jimin was no fun.

"She's not my type so I don't think I could really get into it either," Seokjin states, no longer interested in the prize after Jimin’s confession. He’s been banking off of your notes from him too.

"Aren’t we all old enough to know not to mess with people’s feelings?" Hoseok sighs.

They roll their eyes at Hoseok’s statement. Who was he trying to fool with the nice guy act? He probably fooled around with girls just as much as the other guys did.

"Yeah, I’m backing out," Yoongi agrees, "and she hates me so there's that."

They all look at him questioningly and he puts his hands up in the air from their gazes.

"What? I just realized who she’s talking to down there.”

He pointed at a girl discreetly, but no one seemed to recognize her.

“Her friend and I dated,” Yoongi continues, “and I broke up with her over text and blocked her without letting her respond. That whole friend group is pretty much pissed at me. I'd rather not have to deal with them again."

The guys look disapprovingly at him. Breaking up over text was harsh, but probably not the worst thing Yoongi has done to his exes.

"You're actually a piece of shit," Namjoon sighs. "I really do need my rent paid though..."

Jungkook nods in agreement. It's been almost impossible to balance Taekwondo practices, college papers, and working a part-time job all at once. If he could somehow find a way to quit his job for a while and get priority registration for classes, then he doesn't mind getting his hands a little dirty in the process. Plus, you were cute enough and he's sure you weren't too difficult to befriend as long as he doesn't mention Yoongi in any conversations.

"I'm in," Jungkook chides, finally saying something after such a long period of silence.

They all look at him with disbelief in their eyes. Jungkook was never the one to partake in Taehyung's bets. In fact, he was the one usually ridiculing them for participating. He must have been really desperate if he was willing to do it.

"I mean, it's all yours if you want," Namjoon replies, "I don't wanna turn it into a competition.”

“Don’t worry dude,” Jungkook fist bumps Namjoon, “I’ll quit my job and refer you for it.”

They nod at each other as if they were on the same wavelength.

“I knew I could rely on you,” Namjoon says, faking tears from his eyes. The boys groan in response.

“Alright,” Taehyung claps his hands. “In exchange for providing me some mindless entertainment and going out with [Y/N], you will get your rent paid for the rest of the year and get early registration for next quarter. Sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me.”

Jimin shakes his head.

“I don’t know about this, guys...”

Jungkook doesn’t hear him and instead takes one last look at you. You catch him in the corner of your eye and you can’t help but feel flustered at his serious expression.

“Should be easy enough,” he mutters to himself and turns his gaze back onto his friend.

“So we have a deal?” Taehyung asks.

He smirks, shaking the outreached hand Taehyung held out for him. He steals another glance at you and he finds you staring right back. He gives you a wink.

“Deal.”

—

Jungkook slid into the seat next to yours in the campus canteen, his eyes filled with determination. His posture was laid-back, but it was a little too obvious that he was trying to act like he didn’t care.

“Hi,” he greets you in a breathy tone- girls loved it when he spoke with his breathy tone.

“Hi?”

You’d been sensing that someone was staring at you during the lecture, but you thought that was just the paranoia that came from being near such an intimidating group of guys. Turns out, you should always trust your instincts.

Jungkook had a boyish grin on his face that made you want to smile back but also stare at him in disgust.

“I heard you help Jimin with Professor Kwon’s notes,” he whispers mischievously. “I’m struggling myself, actually...”

Not really, but you know. This was the easiest tactic to approach you- tackle your similarities. You nod understandingly at his words, not quite getting that he was flirting with you.

“Yeah I can send you the Google Drive folder,” you comply, taking your phone out. “But you can’t let Professor Kwon know or else he’ll flip out. He doesn’t want people to have the notes for some odd reason...”

You trail off but Jungkook just scoffs. You seemed clueless.

“That’s not what I necessarily meant,” he says, a little shy this time. “I need a tutor.”

You furrow your brows at him.

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to pay me for that,” you say seriously. The last time you offered to tutor someone for free, they ended up blaming you for their failing grade and screaming about it all over social media. You needed money to compensate for that emotional trauma. “Microeconomics is hard to teach.”

“Well thankfully I’m a good student,” Jungkook teases. You stare at him with a deadpan face.

“You wouldn’t need my help if you were a good student,” you say blankly, standing up from your seat. “My hourly rate is 20,000 Won. Take it or leave it.”

Jungkook’s eye twitched. He had to spend his money to get Taehyung’s money? Well, the payout would be worth it in the end anyway. He reaches out a hand to you.

“If you’d have me,” he says cheekily, looking up at you. You take his hand in yours and maybe for a second you felt your heart skip a beat, but that was soon over when you let go of him.

“You have sweaty hands,” you say straightforwardly. You wipe your hand on your shirt and he coughs awkwardly at how unresponsive you truly were. Didn’t Jimin say you were a nice person?

You take your barely-touched lunch tray and walk away from his pensive figure.

“Wait, can I get your number?” he yells. You don’t look back.

“Alright, whatever,” he mumbles to himself. “I’ll just ask Jimin, I guess.”

Without even a second glance, you disappear from his sight. He sits back on his chair, heaving out a deep sigh. Sure, this wasn’t the first girl that didn’t care much for his advances, but you didn’t even crack a smile or anything. This is going to be harder than he thought...

—

“She hates me,” Jungkook whines to Seokjin as they walked down the university halls to their next shared class. “Yesterday, I went up to her to get her number and I left with a fucking debt. Does that make any sense?”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have taken on the bet,” Seokjin yawned. “Namjoon would have wooed her with his poetry by now or some shit.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sure she’s interested in a dude who can’t even put on a hat without causing an earthquake.”

Seokjin smacked him on the back.

“At least he’d have the guts to say no to having a fucking tutor,” Seokjin replies. “You dug your own grave, man. Now roll around in it.”

“Do you want me to succeed or not?”

“I want you to not be a fucking dumbass, Jungkook,” Seokjin sighs. “Do you really wanna make your reputation worse than it already is?”

Just as Jungkook was about to reply, he catches a glimpse of you walking farther ahead in the university courtyard. You were a bit far but he’s sure he could make it if he hurries. He smacks the binder he held in his right hand onto Seokjin’s chest.

“Yo, can you cover for me,” he asks hastily and Seokjin stares at him with a concerned gaze. He watches as Jungkook takes off his backpack and leaves it on the ground. Jungkook looked about ready to break out in a sprint.

“What the fuck, why?” Seokjin questions.

“Just tell the TA I’m out for a bit,” he says in response, already running ahead to catch up to you. “I’m winning this fucking bet or I’ll die trying.”

Jin stands still, mouth agape. Jungkook really left him with his backpack and binder just to talk to you. He shakes his head. ‘I need to make new friends,’ he thought to himself, picking up the discarded backpack and walking in the direction of the class Jungkook was planning to be late to.

You were walking with your earphones on, not noticing someone sprinting at you in record speed. You only turn your music off when Jungkook stops in front of you, his hands on his knees. He was panting heavily.

“Hey,” he says through deep breaths. You nod at him awkwardly.

“Why are you running?”

“I wanted to... catch up to you... and I thought... you were closer... but the run here... took... fucking... forever,” he says breathlessly. “Water. I need water.”

You take out a bottle from your tote bag hastily, handing it to him. He took it into his hands, grazing your fingers a bit. As he was about to start chugging it, you halted him.

“Waterfall,” you say curtly- you were still planning to drink out of it later after all.

He nods in response, a drop of sweat cascading the side of his neck. After he was done, there was practically no water left anyway. ‘I’m gonna have to refill it myself,’ you thought begrudgingly. You stuff it back into your bag and wait until his breaths become more even.

“A bit out of shape, huh?”

He scoffs and gives you a glare, clearly offended.

“I actually have a Taekwondo scholarship, you know that? I just wasn’t warmed up and I’m naturally sweaty so it’s not like-”

You laugh a little.

“I’m joking,” you say, a smile adorning your face. He feels his face turn red and he can’t help but purse his lips out of embarrassment. Jeon Jungkook couldn’t take a fucking joke.

“O-oh,” he says shyly, avoiding your gaze. Why was he acting more like an idiot than usual? You hear the chiming bells of the university tower and stare at your phone to check the time.

“Don’t you have a class?” you ask him. His eyes widen and soon he was dashing off again. He turns around mid-run, jogging backward to face you.

“My number is 06-1313-9197,” he yells, loud enough for the other late students in the courtyard to hear. Most of them roll their eyes, knowing that Jungkook was flirting with another girl yet again. You’re embarrassed by the amount of attention he’s getting, but punch his number on your phone anyway.

“Text me,” he shouts. “I’ll always respond to you.”

Now it was your turn to be flustered.

—

"That’s wrong,” you say, reaching over to Jungkook’s notebook and marking a large ‘X’ on his paper. “You’re not supposed to apply that function for this problem...”

Jungkook stared at you with a tired face. He didn’t think he was too bad at the mathematical aspect of Microeconomics, but it seemed like it was your life’s mission to make him look like an idiot. Of course, you caught every mistake that he made- even the ones he made on purpose just to see if you were really paying attention to his work and not bamboozling him.

“My bad,” he mutters, copying down the same problem on a different sheet of paper. He didn’t even get a chance to make a move on you today- not like he could make any big developments in the campus library anyway.

“Is it like this?” he asks, tilting his notebook to face you. You take a hard look at it and nod.

“Yeah, just make sure you know the difference between these two formulas, or else you’ll mess up on the midterm,” you say thoughtfully.

This was your fourth or fifth tutoring session by now? Truth be told he wasn’t really counting. Each moment he spent with you kind of blended together and he didn’t quite know if that was a bad thing or not.

“You know you’re not even struggling,” you say, your nose buried deep in your textbook. “It’s not like you’re completely clueless like Jimin. It seems like you’re wasting money on stuff you already know.”

Jungkook laughs heartily, getting shushed by the people around him. He really was stupid, wasn’t he?

“Yeah, well, it was just an excuse to hang out with the pretty girl in class, you know?” he says as nonchalantly as he could. You stare at him for a second and he swears he feels his body freeze over. If looks could kill...

You just shook your head with a click of your tongue and got back to reading.

“The pretty girl in class is most definitely not me,” you grumble. “If you wanted, I could’ve given you Soobin’s number without all the added hassle of you trying to come talk to me-”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Jungkook stops you from saying anything else. He looked worriedly at your face. “I don’t even know who the hell Soobin is, why would I want her number?”

You look at him and finally, you chuckle. ‘She really does have a nice smile,’ Jungkook thought to himself. It would be nice if he could make you laugh more often and not just on rare occasions like this.

“You’re saying you don’t know Yoongi’s ex?” you tease slightly. You were finally letting your guard down with him and Jungkook smirked. One wall down, another million more to go.

“Bold of you to assume that I know any of Yoongi’s exes,” he says and you scoff. “He’s an asshole when it comes to dating.”

You roll your eyes.

“Isn’t that your whole friend group?”

He pouts. You knew of his reputation after all. Jungkook thought he could get away playing a nice boy act, but it didn't seem possible considering your knowledge of him. A little white lie couldn’t hurt in the end.

“Not me,” he replies. “I choose my relationships pretty carefully.”

You take a glance at him before jotting down a few more words in your notebook.

“Well,” you start off, a little shy to admit what you were about to say, “I guess we both have that in common.”

He tilts his head rather cutely out of confusion.

“What do you mean?”

You cough awkwardly, adjusting yourself on one of the library’s notoriously squeaky seats.

“I’ve never really had a boyfriend before,” you say quietly. His eyes bulge out from their sockets.

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not,” you say, a hint of amusement in your voice.

“Like, you’ve never been on a date or what?”

“I have,” you say hesitantly. “I’ve been on a few but they just never led into anything serious. I was pretty focused on studying in high school so there weren’t really any opportunities to get involved with someone. Plus, the guys who pursued me weren’t very... attractive.”

Jungkook laughs loudly again, much to the dismay of the other students in the library. He liked that you didn’t beat around the bush- it was easier to talk to you that way.

“And me?” he asks teasingly, laying his head on his arm that was atop the desk. He looks up at you with that boyish grin of his that gave you small butterflies in your stomach. You stare back at him, but only for a second. You ignore his watchful gaze and continue to flip through your textbook, trying to find the passage you last read. He keeps his eyes locked on you and you just couldn’t resist.

“What about you?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

“Am I attractive?” he replies as bluntly as he could. You stop your movements and he chuckles.

“You’re... cute,” you settle on that word. Cute. It was safe enough to not be misinterpreted too much. He sits up straight with a satisfied smirk. He takes his pen and draws a heart on the side of your notebook. He winks at you when you stare back at him, puzzled by his actions.

“You are too.”

—

“Tell me you’re lying,” Soobin whines disappointingly, shaking your shoulders. You were trying to eat lunch undisturbed in one of the campus cafes but your two friends seem hell-bent on making you suffer. “There’s no way you’re friends with Jungkook.”

You sigh, attempting to rid yourself of Soobin’s grasp but to no avail.

“He’s an asshole, [Y/N],” Gaeun sighs disappointingly. “I thought you were a feminist, why the fuck do you even tolerate him?”

You glare at her for a split second before going back to prying Soobin off you.

“Jungkook has no respect for women or himself. It shows in how many shitty friends he has,” Soobin chants, still clearly bitter that Yoongi dumped her.

You shake your head, rolling your shoulders back when she finally lets go of you.

“Jungkook’s not even as bad as you guys describe him,” you reply. “He’s actually been really sweet.”

The girls take a glance at each other and burst in a fit of laughter.

“You must be out of your damn mind,” Gaeun cries. You cower slightly at their words. It’s not like you said anything that controversial, did you?

Soobin slaps Gaeun on the shoulder when she realizes how your face had soured. It wasn’t right to judge you for your choice of friends so harshly, no matter how horrid said person was.

“As long as it doesn’t go past friends,” she says soothingly, but that only made you feel worse.

“Why?” you ask a little hesitantly. “Does Jungkook sleep around?”

Gaeun nods, a worrying glimpse in her eyes.

“He's not exactly the type to kiss and stay...”

You nod understandingly. You weren’t too clueless to believe Jungkook when he said he was “careful” on who he dated. As long as you knew the boundaries that came with being his tutor, everything should be fine... right?

“Don’t worry guys,” you say with determination. “I’m not the type to get played-”

“Of course you are!” Gaeun sighed. “Guys gravitate towards girls like you who lack experience. Jungkook’s a fucking weirdo, of course, he’s gonna try and-”

“[Y/N]!” a shout from across the cafe screams. That distracted you from the various insults Gaeun was spewing from her mouth. You get that she was being critical of Jungkook, but did she have to speak ill of you too?

You look around and catch Jungkook waving frantically at you. He stops at your table and takes a mere glance at your friends before setting his focus on you.

“Do you have time to help me out today? One of the papers for my writing class-”

“You tutor him in writing now, too?!” Soobin exclaimed, mouth agape. “[Y/N], what the fuck.”

You try to ignore your friend’s overreaction, a little disheartened when Jungkook looked hurt at their words. He had started to shy away from them as if he didn’t feel welcomed.

“Nevermind, I’ll just ask you later-”

“Actually,” you say standing up. “I’m free now.”

The two girls look back and forth between you and Jungkook, noticing the stars in your eyes when you looked at him. They did not like the thought of you two together at all.

“But [Y/N]-”

You ignored their words and start to walk away, hoping Jungkook would come catch up to you. You didn’t quite know why their insistence on him being a bad person had made your blood boil. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware of his flirtatious tendencies, but hearing from your friends that you shouldn’t pursue a guy that you liked-

You stopped in your tracks and feel heat climb up your face. Like.

No way you admitted that just now. There’s no possible way you actually like-

“Hey, wait up,” Jungkook pants, his hand touching your shoulder. “Why do you walk so fast for-”

He sees your shocked face and turns you towards him, his hands on your shoulder similar to how Soobin had shaken you just earlier. Except this time, it felt comforting. It made your whole body feel warm as if you were coated with a weighted blanket. Was he always this gorgeous?

“What’s wrong?” he asks, inspecting your face closely. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“N-nothing,” you swipe his hands away and rush out the door of the cafe. He smirks at how flustered you look, maybe he did have an effect on you after all.

Jungkook takes a last glimpse at the two girls who sat in their seats, staring at him disapprovingly. He raised an eyebrow at them and shoved his hands in the pocket of his jeans, following after you. ‘They’ll try to get in the way,’ Jungkook thought to himself, ‘but they’re already too late.’

The girls clenched their fist out of annoyance. He was definitely trying to get on their nerves.

“There’s something strange about what’s happening,” Gaeun mutters.

“They’re up to something,” Soobin agrees. “I don’t trust him at all.”

—

It’s been a week since you last spoke to your friends, not really wanting to read the messages they bombarded you with about how you should stay for away from Jungkook. It was hard to take any of their advice seriously when they were just badmouthing him without reason. They based all their opinions on him from rumors around the school and Soobin always felt the need to compare him to Yoongi even though they both had very different personalities. Well, at least to you they seemed very different.

Frankly, you were sick of their nagging and just turned off notifications from that group chat altogether. Instead of sitting next to them during Microeconomics, you opted to sit with Jungkook in the back of the lecture hall instead of at the front with them. Jungkook had abandoned his own rowdy friend group to sit with you and flashed them quick smirks and winks whenever they’d stare at him.

Slowly, Jungkook had started to become a constant in your day to day life. You walked to class with him, ate with him, played video games with him. It was sort of strange how used to you were of his presence, like you had known him your whole life. Jungkook snaps you out of your thoughts when he starts humming a little tune.

He draws a heart in the corner of your notes- which you find he has a habit of doing whenever he wanted to say something stupid.

“I don’t get what he’s saying,” he pouts cutely. “It’s like he’s speaking a foreign language.”

You shake your head, not paying him any mind.

“Well maybe if you actually paid attention,” you mutter softly. He scoots closer to you and you feel yourself stiffen.

“But you’re tutoring me later on anyway,” he says teasingly. “I get more bang for my buck if I know less.”

“Bang for my buck,” you scoff. “Who even says that anymore?”

He points at himself nonchalantly and you can’t help but crack a smile as you continue to focus on the professor’s words. You don’t even cower under his gaze like you usually do when he stares at you with those puppy dog eyes.

“What do you want?” you ask, finally caving when Professor Kwon adjusted something in his PowerPoint slides. He smiles.

“I want to hold your hand,” Jungkook replies and you could feel your palms clam up. His flirtatious comments increased as time passed and you didn’t really quite know whether he was just teasing you or if he was genuinely interested in you. You weren’t very good at taking a hint.

“I’m writing right now...” you reply, slightly skipping a beat in your note-taking. He really was the ultimate distraction, wasn’t he?

Jungkook pouts sadly, but you can tell an idea pops up in his mind when his eyes start to glimmer. He sits his hand on your thigh and you jolt back from the touch of his hand on the material of your jeans. He pulls away slightly, scared that he had made you uncomfortable.

“I just want to put my arm around you,” he asks innocently. “Are you okay with that?”

You calm yourself down and nod. For goodness sake, you weren’t a child- why did a hand on your thigh make you so nervous for?!

“Yeah,” you say, a little more confident despite your nerves. “Go ahead.”

He smiles softly at you and connects his hand to your waist, pulling you a little closer to him. It was comforting, not at all meant to be more than just a public display of affection. He finds himself getting lost in the lecture along with you, his hand playing with a loose thread on your shirt through it all. He didn’t even look at his friends who were teasing him on the other side of the class or your own friends shooting daggers into his being.

At that moment, it was you, him, and Professor Kwon giving out a lecture that had half of the students already asleep. He smiled at how diligently you worked and how your breath would quicken when Professor Kwon switched the slides without a warning. It was the little idiosyncrasies like this that caught his attention, the kind of things that made him wonder where you’d been all his life.

The smile on Jungkook’s face disappeared when he came to that realization.

Fuck.

—

Jungkook rolls around the grass while you sit on the picnic blanket you two had set up. Midterms were over and grades would soon be announced. He wanted a much-needed distraction from the monotony of constant studying and you had suggested a small picnic in a nearby park. Of course, he agreed.

“We’re free,” he groans. “Finally free.”

Jungkook stares hungrily at the assortment of food you had laid out for the two of you. He tries to reach a hand out to grab a bottle of lemonade but ultimately fails in the end. You giggle at his silliness, popping a grape in your mouth.

“You’re welcome by the way,” you say jokingly. “Don’t think you could’ve done it without me.”

He sits up to face you, bowing deeply as if you were a traditional empress.

“Thank you,” he says, imitating a Joseon accent. He was watching far too many historical dramas recently.

“You’re embarrassing me,” you say, attempting to straighten him out. “Sit up.”

He complies, only after a few pulls from you, with a toothy grin on his face.

“Seriously, I don’t think I could have gone through the first few weeks of Professor Kwon’s class without your notes,” he sighs, opening his mouth to signal that he wanted to be fed. You roll your eyes but placed a grape between his teeth anyway.

“You have hands, you should know how to use them,” you mumble shyly.

You move to take another grape for yourself, but he grabs your wrist before you could. He intertwines his fingers into yours.

“Why should I when my hands are holding yours~,” he says in a sing-song voice. It made you want to throw up at how cheesy he was, but you couldn’t help but laugh along as he cringed at his own words. When was it so normal for him to hold your hands like this?

“You can’t go one sentence without flirting, can you?” you sigh, feigning annoyance.

“Not when it comes to you,” he replies, but you could feel sincerity laced between his laughter. “I can’t resist flirting when it makes you all giggly like this.”

You purse your lips to prevent yourself from smiling too brightly. Jungkook and you were somewhat past the point of being just friends by now, but you were too much of a coward to label what you had with him. What if there was a chance that he was just leading you on?

Jungkook saw your furrowed brows. He rubbed circles on your hands with his thumbs to ease you.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asks softly, about to let go.

“No-” you say a little too quickly, clasping him closer to you. Your faces were inches apart now, much nearer than they were before.

“D-don’t,” you attempt to say but you’re tongue tangled as you looked at his lips. He certainly does have nice lips...

“Don’t what?” he asks in a lowly voice. You start to look around you- anywhere that wasn’t him. The park was relatively empty but it still felt embarrassing to say anything too loud.

“D-don’t let me go,” you say, your eyes on the picnic blanket rather than on him. His gaze was too intense to look at. Jungkook feels his heart clench. You were cute, too cute.

He shouldn’t be feeling this attached to you, but he couldn’t help it. Everything you did, every word that came out of your mouth- it had him wanting more from you than he could possibly handle. It was dangerous to feel this way.

“Why don’t you want me to let you go?” he asks nervously. He too was anxious for the answer. If you were to confess to Jungkook right now, he’d get the first part of the bet done, but there’d be no turning back after your confession. He would have to lie to you from now on.

Jungkook closed his eyes, chanting to himself that it’s okay to like you for a little while, just as long as he doesn’t get too attached in the end. He needed the money, he really did.

“Because,” you start off with a sigh, staring at him now with glossy eyes. “I like you.”

Jungkook feels like he could do ten backflips in one go and it wouldn’t even drain him of energy. The smile on his face was huge, his eyes curling into that half-moon shape that made you swoon.

Jungkook was relieved and if the boys asked, it was because he’d only have to date you for three months. He’d die before he’d admit to them that he caught feelings because Taehyung, as generous as he was with his bets, would never give Jungkook the money unless he cleanly broke up with you. It was one of his unspoken rules.

“I like you too.”

You smile at him and he can’t help but pull you close, his lips hovering over yours.

“Can I?”

You nod.

His lips graze yours slightly but he pushes a bit closer when he feels you lean into his touch. He kisses you again, and again, and again, but you pull away when his tongue had started to prod at your lips. Your face was flushed, embarrassed to be doing this in such a public place.

“Maybe later?” you say, panting slightly. He gives you a cheeky grin and nods.

“At my place?” he asks with a wink.

You hesitate, letting go of his arms, twiddling with your fingers. You wanted to set clear labels on what your relationship was. You didn't want to accidentally get caught up in a friends-with-benefits situation and be all shocked when Jungkook ends up breaking your heart.

“So we’re dating now, right?” you ask cautiously, looking at him with a worried glint in your eyes.

Jungkook’s mouth opens to speak but no words come out. He thinks a little harder about the whole situation... He was getting good grades, spending some quality time with a girl he’s clearly attracted to, and having his rent paid off all in one? He was killing three birds with one stone. It shouldn’t be too big of a problem to catch feelings for now, right? It’s not like any of his relationships lasted longer than a couple of months anyway.

He nods, cupping your face lightly.

“Yeah,” he hesitates. “We’re dating.”

Jungkook wasn’t aware, as he gives you another light peck, that it wasn’t possible to have his cake and eat it too.

—

It happens naturally. You coming in and out of his apartment that he shared with his friends, you tangling your legs with his underneath the sheets of his bed. It was hard to imagine a life where you didn’t wake up with him by your side. You were so wrapped up in his touch, so wrapped up in the sweet words he would whisper into your ears, that you spent most of your time with him.

You weren’t really up to date with your friends anymore and he didn’t really hang out with his either. Jungkook shared an apartment with Seokjin and Hoseok, and so the only contact he had with the other boys was when they visited those two. He should’ve known to take you back home when all the boys bombarded into his living room, where you sat with him watching TV.

“The lovebirds are at it again,” Taehyung coos, a mysterious glint in his eyes. “The honeymoon stage hasn’t passed quite yet, has it?”

Jungkook chucks one of the sofa’s throw pillows at his friend, obviously annoyed. What the fuck did Taehyung think he was doing?

“Quit it,” he mutters. You were sitting next to Jungkook, his arm around your shoulder protectively

“Why?” Yoongi yawns. “Anyone can see how incredibly in love you two are.”

You didn’t quite like the smirk he gave the two of you. This didn’t feel like regular teasing... it felt like he knew something that you weren't aware of. It made you curl your toes out of fear.

“Guys,” Jimin says calmly. “Stop it.”

The boys shrug their shoulders as if they said nothing wrong.

“We’re just pointing out how cute they are together,” Taehyung noted, “It’s not like we’re lying to her or anything-”

“Yeah, or leading her on or anything like that-”

“I think I should go,” you say hurriedly, uncomfortable at how tense the atmosphere was. Jungkook was clenching his fists, about ready to start a fight any second. Knowing his strength, you didn’t want anyone to walk around with a bruised eye because you couldn’t handle a few jokes- if that’s what Taehyung and Yoongi think they’re making. Harmless jokes.

“I’ll take you home,” Jungkook announces, standing up with you. Namjoon pulls him down back on the couch.

“Let someone else take her,” he says sternly. “We need to talk.”

Jungkook was about to protest until you spoke up.

“I can get home by myself just fine.”

“Hoseok and I can take you,” Seokjin insists, pulling the unassuming man up with him. “We don’t mind.”

Hoseok gives you a lopsided smile and you return an equally awkward one.

“Okay, that’s settled,” you say, clapping your hands. You walk over to Jungkook. “I’ll text you later okay?”

He nods, grabbing your hand and kissing it lightly. Yoongi scoffs and Taehyung glares at Jungkook. The dirty glances they were giving each other... You didn’t like it at all.

“Let me know when you get home, okay?”

“Okay.”

—

The walk to your apartment was unnecessarily awkward, Hoseok and Seokjin were talking too much and you talked too little. You tried to respond to their every quip, but you weren’t in the mood for chatting after that whole mess.

“You okay, [Y/N]?” Hoseok asks worriedly. “Don’t think too much about what those idiots said back there, they’re like that all the time.”

You nod, keeping your eyes on the ground. There was something chipping away at the back of your mind, something you wanted to get out of your chest.

“Would you say Jungkook and Yoongi act similarly?” you hesitate to say, “like with relationships?”

The two boys exchanged nervous glances at each other.

“Well, it depends,” Seokjin starts, choosing his words specifically. “What about relationships specifically?”

“Does he...,” you start off, not knowing the right phrase without sounding too harsh, “play around with girls? Like how Yoongi played around with Soobin?”

Hoseok looked at you with a raised brow.

“Who’s Soobin?” he asks before getting punched in the arm by Seokjin. “What the fuck bro!”

Seokjin clears his throat.

“What Hoseok meant to say,” he starts, glaring at his friend a little too harshly, “is that Yoongi never really introduces us to his girlfriends. You, on the other hand, are one of the few girls Jungkook actually took the time to invite over.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok chimes in. “He’s not exactly the most chivalrous, but he wouldn’t ghost someone like Yoongi did.”

Somehow their words weren’t enough to satisfy you. There was still something off in the conversation that transpired between the three boys- as if they were all keeping something from you. You stopped abruptly in front of your apartment complex, finally making eye-contact with the two boys.

“Do you think...” you start, a slight quiver in your voice, “that Jungkook is cheating on me?”

The two boys let out a deep breath that you didn’t even notice they were holding and laughed joyously together. They cackled as if what you said was the funniest thing they had ever heard in their life. Seokjin wipes a stray tear from his eye.

“Y-you think Jungkook’s cheating on you?!”

You nod, a little embarrassed at their reaction. Hoseok shakes his head, sighing out of his laughter.

“Trust me,” Hoseok starts, his breath evening out. “Jungkook would never cheat on you.”

You start to giggle along with them until a serious look suddenly takes over Seokjin’s features. He faces you fully.

“But listen [Y/N],” he starts. “If Jungkook hurts you, just know that he does love you. Like, undeniably. He does.”

“And we’re not just saying that as his friends either,” Hoseok continues. “We know how he’s like and we can tell that he really does like you.”

You smile at the two, feeling a small sense of comfort at their words.

“Thank you, guys. I mean it.”

They pat you on the back.

“Anything for Jungkook’s girlfriend.”

—

You walk through the campus cafeteria, eyes searching for a free table that you can sit alone in. Jungkook had Taekwondo practice so there would be no lovey-dovey feeding time with him.

He’s been a lot tenser since the living room incident (which was already a week ago) and it seemed like he got more agitated as the days passed. Not towards you directly, but he’d always mutter slight insults whenever Yoongi or Taehyung passed by. It made you worried that you had done something to possibly drive a wrench into their relationship without even knowing it.

‘Whatever,’ you thought, ‘I’ll talk about it with him when he comes over later.’

You aren’t able to find a seat, though, when you feel dainty fingers wrap around your elbow to pull you back lightly.

“[Y/N],” Gaeun says in a low voice. “We need to talk.”

It wasn’t like you had been ignoring them deliberately, though that was definitely the case at the start. You just couldn’t find the time to really hang out with them as much as you used to since you were with Jungkook most of the time. It was like that too when Gaeun and Soobin were in relationships, so you never really felt bad about doing it yourself.

“Yeah sure. I miss you guys,” you smile at her, but she doesn’t return it back.

“Come with me.”

Gaeun leads you to a table near the back of the room, where Soobin was sat up against the wall with her own tray of food. You sit down in front of her and Gaeun takes the seat next to Soobin.

“Good, you’re here,” Soobin says, apprehension laced in her voice. “We need to talk about Jungkook.”

You roll your eyes.

“Not this again-”

“[Y/N],” Gaeun warns. “Listen.”

You keep quiet, a little intimidated of how scary their expressions were.

“It’s all a bet,” Soobin says sternly.

You furrow your brows at her. She tends to speak vaguely when you needed her to be specific the most.

“What?”

“It’s a bet, [Y/N],” Gaeun repeats for her. “Jungkook’s only dating you because Taehyung said he’d pay his rent off if he did.”

You clench your fist on the table. How could they sit there and spew lies so easily?

“What are you guys-”

“Those dicks do this all the time,” Soobin rambles. “They play stupid games with girls just to fucking break their hearts later on and-”

“I don’t believe you,” you say confidently. “Jungkook would never do that to me. Besides-”

Gaeun didn’t even wait until you stopped talking to play a recording on her phone. The voices were familiar enough to recognize.

“So you’re telling me that Jungkook’s just fucking around with [Y/N] because he wants priority registration? You have to be fucking joking...”

You could tell from the sound of the person’s voice that it was Soobin. It sounded like she was putting on her clothes.

“Of course not. He’s doing it for priority registration and his rent getting paid for the rest of the year. I’m not joking when I say Tae goes big with his bets. He likes to flex his money on us like that.”

Your jaw drops at the sound of the man’s voice. It was Yoongi. You were sure of it.

“And you guys don’t feel bad? Like at all?”

“Why should we? Jungkook’s planning to break up with her next week anyway so she doesn’t catch feelings for too long. It’s not like they were gonna last past the three-month deal...”

Gaeun paused the recording when she sees you bite your lip so harshly that blood starts to surface. This didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel real.

“I hooked up with him last weekend,” Soobin admits, shame written all over her face. “He was spewing stuff about Jungkook spending all his time with you and not really hanging out with the boys like he used to.”

“You still hook up with Yoongi? After all he did to you?” you ask, not meaning to come off aggressive but undoubtedly did.

“Look,” Gauen starts, taking the heat off of Soobin. “She was just drunk and looking to have fun. I was with her that night and I was talking to Namjoon. He...”

Gaeun trailed off, but you were sick of it. Sick of being kept in the dark from something you should’ve known all along.

“What?”

“H-he told me that all the boys were getting tired of him playing around with you,” she says, twiddling with her fingers. “He’s supposed to break up with you today. Some of the guys think he’s just prolonging it to fuck with you and they’re getting really annoyed-”

You bite back the tears threatening to spill over any minute now.

“Hoseok and Seokjin told me to trust Jungkook. They said he wouldn’t hurt me-”

“Did they also tell you that their rent gets paid too if Jungkook pulled through with the bet?” Soobin replies angrily. “Because they live together, don’t they?”

You open your mouth but no sound comes out- just a small whimper. Your lips start to quiver and you bite your lip again to calm yourself down. When you had collected your thoughts, you glared up at the two girls.

“And you didn’t tell me this earlier?”

Soobin scoffed.

“You were fucking ignoring us too, how were we supposed to tell you?”

“Still it wouldn’t have killed you to-”

“Don’t take your anger out on us,” Gaeun warns, her finger pointing at you. “Jungkook is the one to blame. We told you from the start that he was bad news.”

You pursed your lips and Gaeun put her finger down, feeling guilty that she lashed out on you when obviously you were just processing the information.

“Hey, I’m sorry-”

“Why me?” you ask with teary eyes. “What did I even do to them to deserve this?”

They glance over at each other for a long while before Soobin breaks the silence. You had the right to know, but at the same time, they knew it would break you.

“It’s a sick game that they play where they just choose someone randomly...” Soobin starts off gently handing off the next few words to Gaeun, “and you were just the first girl to walk into Professor Kwon’s lecture hall. He thought you’d be...”

“Easy,” Soobin finished.

Just as they predicted, you had burst out in tears.

—

Jungkook opens the door to your apartment, using the spare key you had given him a month earlier since he tended to visit often. It was more convenient that way.

He was freshly out of his Taekwondo garb, still sweaty, but otherwise clean from taking a shower at the campus gym. He found it strange at how dark the room was, but he knew you were on the couch from the noticeable lump of a blanket on it.

All Jungkook wanted was to cuddle with you and fall asleep in your arms after such a harrowing day. Lord knows he needs your warmth right now.

He smiled as he made his way towards you, but stops in his tracks when you sit up from where you laid. He couldn’t quite see you in the darkness so he walked to the light switch to turn the lights on. His heart broke at the sight of you.

Tears stained your cheeks, your eyes red and puffy from all the crying. You looked a mess and his blood boiled at the thought of someone hurting you.

“What happened?” he asked, rushing over to you and cupping your face in his hands. You push him away.

“You don’t have to act anymore,” you say softly. “I can handle it.”

He looks at you with furrowed brows.

“What are you talking about-”

“I get that you really need the money,” you say through bated breaths, “I get that financially, it would have really helped, but did you really have to hurt me to do that?”

Jungkook’s breathing stopped. Everything was happening too quickly, his world crashing down when you uttered those words. He knew what this meant, knew that now you would see past his lies. Jungkook couldn’t have you finding out this way.

He kneeled in front of you, attempting to wipe away the tears from your eyes but you push him off.

“[Y/N] no-”

“It could’ve been anyone,” you whimper, trying to look up at the ceiling to prevent any more tears from falling down. “Anyone could’ve walked through that door and you would’ve been okay with it.”

“That’s not true-” he interjects but you stop him.

“A-and you flirted with me all the time ‘cause you knew that I wasn’t used to it,” you say, your voice quivering. “You took advantage of me.”

Jungkook shakes his head rapidly, eyes pleading for you to let him speak. It hurt seeing you refuse to even look at him, to have your eyes so filled with sadness because of what he did to you. He fucked up, he fucked up so bad.

“No, you have to listen-”

“They told me not to trust you,” you whimper somberly. “They told me and I didn’t believe them because I... I was delusional or something. I thought that someone like you could actually like someone like me-”

His heart broke. It wasn’t you that didn’t deserve him. It was him. All him.

“Please don’t say that-”

“Did you come here to seal the deal? To finally break up with me?” you ask sadly. “Are you happy you’ll get the classes you want next quarter, Jungkook?”

He clenches his teeth. Jungkook knows you’re mad, knows you have a right to be, but it feels like he’s being cornered by you. Why won’t you give him the chance to speak?

“[Y/N], no,” he says sternly, “You have to trust me when I say that it went past just a bet. I like you. Genuinely, I like you.”

There was no point in lying any longer. You deserved to know the truth, but he needed you to know all of it- not just the information your friends cherry-picked to fit their narrative. He tried to speak again, but you wouldn’t let him.

“How could you,” you whimper. “How could someone be so cruel?”

Jungkook’s heart breaks at the words. He should’ve seen this coming. How could he delude himself into thinking he’d be okay if you find out- that he’d be fine seeing you heartbroken? He was disgusted with himself.

“I’m sorry [Y/N],” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, your vision getting blurry from the tears. He clasps your hands in his, knowing that it used to soothe you whenever you felt worried over something, but you just wailed harder at his touch. He didn’t know what to do, he didn't even know where to start.

“Stop pretending like you care,” you cry. “Please. It hurts.”

“It was a bet,” he admits and he breaths through the words to prevent himself from getting too emotional, “but I promise that my feelings are genuine. You have to trust me.”

“Trust you?” you ask crudely.

You stare at him, slowing your breaths to ease the crying. There was a certain emptiness in your gaze and it scared him. It was awfully frightening having you looking at him with a certain animosity that was not there before. Like he was a stranger.

“I can’t do that anymore, Jungkook,” you say softly, “because I hate you.”

—

A/N: Gasp A double update?! Say it isn’t so... I had so much fun writing this!!! Probably one of my favorite fics I’ve written in a while because I love this trope. How do y’all feel about Jungkook? Forgive or forget? Let me know!! Thank you @altus-gens for requesting this story, I hope you like it :)

Please leave any comment, critiques, or just random thoughts about my story! I’m planning my murder mystery series rn and I’m so excited (I might... do an album giveaway along with it...) I really love the direction I’m taking this blog in and I hope you guys are excited for the stories to come~~

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quirklessidiot · 4 years ago

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title : cigarettes and parfaits [2] pairing : older!nanami kento x younger!reader [13 year age gap, ft toji fushiguro] Genre: romance, fluff, josei, mild angst, comedy, strangers to lovers au

Summary: you’re pretty sure you’d remember marrying a man 13 years older than you, right?

Warnings: alcohol, smoking, mild smut, y/n making stupid decisions, everyones a human-au so yeh non-canon stuff and everyone’s happy (periODT) Notes: tbh idk how marriage works in japan, all i know is that once you have both your signatures in the marriage registration certificate with one witness then you guys r married skdjssks anyways onto the story- also might i add this is happy story?? i promise yall, all youll see is cute stuff in this story bcos fuck angst (ok maybe lil angst since you know plot development) but i stand by that nanami kento deserves that trip to malaysia under the sun with his lover! before i forget to add, the age dynamics is that y/n is around 25 and nanami is 38. no power play and all that, just two healthy consenting adults! sorry for the early delete had some minor corrections :(

Izakaya-informal japanese bar

Masterlist || taglist || [prev ; next] [updates; every friday yay!]

*13 hours earlier; a night before at some random Izakaya in Tokyo*

You sat in front of your phone and three bottles of saki, despite your friends advising you countless of times to lay off drinking too much, all sense and warnings are thrown off the window tonight.

You’re clearly far from sobriety as you recall the video chat with your otosan not looking too good and bright, “Why don’t you move back home? It’s not like the teaching job at tokyo is all that great! You’re alone there and your obachan and I don’t like that a lot…” your father’s words haunt you again and again.

Just what was wrong with living alone? And excuse your otosan but you definitely had a very good job at Tokyo High (It was a prestigious academy that paid well, best job out there that you still didn’t know how you landed). You mumbled a few curses underneath your breath, Oh, how much you love that oaf of a father and worrywart of a grandmother but could they lay off the idea of settling down? You were a responsible and good child who never had stepped a toe out of line. Wasn’t that enough already? You immediately downed the drink and let the saki burn your throat down.

“Oh ho, slow down there.” You hear someone say, “You’re all alone and it seems like you have no one to help you back home.”

It seemed like the men on the opposite side of the bar had noticed you.

“I can take myself home, thank you very much.” You mumbled, loud enough for them to hear. Unlike older men who liked to prey on you for your innocent stature. The men who sat across you in the Izakaya didn’t really exude that sort of energy (what can you say, you had a knack of experiencing that, unfortunately).

“Are you sure? We can ask the owner to call a cab for you. She’s a woman and she’s a friend of ours.” the other one in robes pipes in, wait, was that a Buddhist monk?

“No, I’m good. It’s just…” You paused before letting out a long sigh, “A bad time so I need to stick around for a bit.”

The white-haired stranger tilts his head just a bit, “Seems like you and a friend of mine are both going through some rough patches.” he replied, pointing towards his blonde company who you didn’t notice until now.

You wordlessly shifted your gaze towards the office worker next to the Buddhist monk, you hadn’t noticed the blonde man until now. It seemed like he was going through a rough time too since the pair was loud and boisterous enough to conceal his silent presence.

You notice how out of place he looks with his crisp and clean suit, hard gaze, and silence. It made you wonder what sort of man hangs out with two contrasting personalities, “You’re wondering if he’s our friend or our boss, aren’t ya?” the white-haired man asks.

You immediately turn red in embarrassment, were you that easy to read? You try to stutter out an apology but the monk waves it off, “It’s alright, we get it all the time. Contrary to popular belief, Kento is two years younger than us and is our junior from high school.” He smiles.

“Ah,” you nodded mutely, “Sorry. It definitely wouldn’t make sense to see a boss and his subordinates at an Izakaya.”

“Oh, Kento-chan doesn’t usually go out drinking but he couldn’t resist. After all, he’s a father with two very emotional teenage boys.” The white-haired man teased in a sing-song voice. It seemed like the three were close, with the way they were carelessly lounging around the stoic and kind-of scary man.

“I’m starting to wonder if he gets that teasing attitude from you.” The blonde man, seemingly out of his trance, called out his friend. Contrasting to his aloof features, he didn’t mask the annoyance in his tone.

“Oh, uh, do you need help?” you quietly asked, tilting your head to the side in wonder. The blonde man’s head snapped to your direction and quirked a brow.

“And you are?” he seemed to be calculating and observing you from head to toe. It suddenly made you a bit self-conscious because this older gentleman had no business being this good looking and scary at the same time.

“Oh, I’m Y/N by the way. I’m actually a high school teacher.” You introduced yourself sheepishly, “I’m always surrounded by angsty teenagers.”

His gaze narrowed just a bit, it seemed like he’ll be giving you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was a bit desperate since he was getting advice from a drunk stranger in an Izakaya out of all places, “So what seems to be the problem, Ojisan?”

He’s still quite hesitant so it’s his white haired friend who speaks out for him, “You see, Kento-chan here just moved last week because of a promotion from Kyoto.” he grins, telling the story for his friend, “His kids aren’t very keen with the moving, well one of them is outright showing it and the other one is well keeping it in since he’s just the sweeter one.”

The white-haired stranger keeps babbling on about how his friend had regretted taking the work promotion because it feels like he shouldn’t have done that. You peerlessly observe the older man’s reaction while his friend talks about his problems to you. He remains stoic.

It didn’t look like it but it seemed like this man had such a soft spot for his kids.

How nice, his wife must be proud of him.

“... and before I forget to add, Kento-chan is very much single.”

You almost choke on your saliva, this friend of his sure knew how to run his mouth. It suddenly dawns upon you why this man had been very worried, he was a single parent who only wanted what was best for his boys but he didn’t even know how he should proceed now.

“Um, ojisan?” You quietly call out, “I think you’re doing great.”

Silence lingered in the air for a bit, you cringed at your rather awkward and forward approach, “Excuse me?” the older blonde man asked, clearly dismayed by your response.

“It’s just…” you ears turn red, not from the alcohol but from embarrassment, “You wouldn’t have moved in the first place if the pay wasn’t better than your old job, right? Plus you’re alone and raising two kids. It definitely isn’t easy to provide for everything alone but I can see that you did some careful reevaluation on the whole thing. Obviously you can’t avoid the fact that they feel bad but you can sit them down and talk to them about how the whole thing was beneficial not just for you but for them too.”

You spoke way too quickly that you wondered if the man could understand you.

The blonde man holds his breath for a moment, “I know…” he mumbles, “I just don’t really know how to talk to them.”

“Well, maybe you could take them out?” You advised, “Spend a whole day with them for a while and just move around with them. Help them get acquainted around their new school or something!”

You watch him silently look at his glass and think it over. Man, if this guy wasn’t older, your obaasan would outright agree and tell you to go out with him since she was never fond of how men weren’t as calm or laid back as he was.

“That sounds plausible. Thank you, Y/N-san.” his voice turned a bit softer and you feel your stomach turn just a little queasy by his tone. God, was the alcohol this bad?

“Well, would ya look at that.” the white-haired man grins, placing his drink up as if he was signaling everyone to cheers with him, “I told you drinking at an Izakaya would solve all your problems. For that, we should drink here again next week!”

The man glared at him yet again, “No. I should be heading home now. I can’t be anymore away from S-”

“Ah, ah. You promised that you’d stay until 2 am.” The white-haired man hushed, “Or I’ll be pestering you for a whole month.”

You could definitely tell that a vein popped on his forehead and his blood pressure was shooting up. Man, you were really starting to doubt that white-haired man was older than everyone in this room. He sure had the mental age of an elementary student.

“You also said I could leave after five drinks.”

“That’s only your second.”

“Satoru…” the Buddhist monk dangerously hovers over his white-haired friend. Wow, middle-age men sure were amusing, “You don’t even drink that well and he has to drive home…”

“Tit for tat, I’ll hire one of my personnel to drive you home after five drinks and I’ll leave you alone for a wee-”

“Please just leave me alone for my whole life.” the blonde man deadpanned.

Unlike you, he wasn't such a bad drinker. Four bottles for him and one more drink for you later, you're both kind of woozy and you had gotten on even friendlier terms with the three men who you now know as Geto-ojisan, Gojo-ojisan, and finally, Nanami-ojisan. Nanami was well into his late thirties while Geto and Gojo were in their forties.

If you were sober, you wouldn’t be making friends with older men. With stories of how easily young people are taken advantage of in the big city, you’d swerve away from them. Luckily, it seemed like they were a good trio and not once did they invite you to sit on their table so you had some good distance between you four and so far, they hadn’t tried anything funny or uncomfortable.

Geto is currently a lawyer, Gojo’s apparently some swanky businessman of god knows what you heard jewelry or something and Nanami was an accountant. A job that he described was ‘dead-end’ and ‘fucking boring’.

“...What happened to your wife, Nanami-ojisan?” you ask, the alcohol slowly shedding your shyness away.

“I told ya, Y/N-chan. He never was married. The way he got the kids was just complicated!” Gojo Satoru frowns, splaying his long limbs in the air, for a man so enthusiastic with drinking, he sure got drunk pretty quickly.

“Really? Didn’t you have a hard time? Wow…” you whistled, “I have such high…” you raised your hand as high as you could, “...respects for like, single parents!”

“See? See? But he can’t get a partner because of that Y/N-chan.” Gojo pouts, “...We’ve been setting him up on dates and such but he keeps bailing on them!”

“I have kids.” Nanami deadpans, narrowing his eyes.

“What my friends are trying to say, Kento has a number of opportunities to bring a partner into his life but he likes to use the boys and his work as an excuse.” Geto surmised, it seemed like the lawyer was also starting to feel the effects of the alcohol since he had become more talkative.

“He’s good-looking, right Y/N-chan? If he probably didn’t act like some fossil from the Triassic period, he wouldn’t have a problem sometimes about the boys having a mother figure!” Gojo rants, making Nanami flick his forehead.

“Idiot, must you tell this stranger all my problems?” Nanami harshly interjected.

“Well, you do know that to actually get a partner, you must get out there, right ojisan?” you try to calm him down, you didn’t want a bar fight to erupt.

“I know.” he rolls his eyes, “But the kids-”

“I know.” You try to smile, “You aren’t very interested in bringing just anyone in your life, right? The boys need a permanent figure and you think dating around is going to help.”

“Holy shit, Y/N-chan.” Gojo exclaims, “I thought you were a teacher? How come you know all this shit?”

“It’s basic, Gojo-san.” you smile, ready to take another swig of your saki, “You should take into consideration that Nanami-san isn’t just anyone who’d settle for less. He needs stability since he’s technically a parent.”

“That makes you a perfect pair, don’t you think?” Geto nonchalantly replies, “I mean, you need a stable man in your life who has all of it figured out and wouldn’t hold you back at all while Kento here needs a person who could not only be a good parent but also be as understanding.”

“That’s…” you chuckle, he technically was right, “That’s definitely odd how all our problems will be solved if we both just went out together.”

“... looks young enough to be my child.” Nanami rejoined, “why would Y/N-san like-”

“I mean, you’re good looking.” you shrug, rather shamelessly, “I wouldn’t mind going out with you. Heck, I wouldn’t mind if I married you.”

Gojo spits out the saki he was drinking all over the table and that makes you cringe in disgust, “As long as he doesn’t get invited to the wedding. I’d marry you. If you’d like we could even get married right here, right now.” you proudly proclaim.

The blonde man is thrown off by your statement yet he’s too drunk to even sip in the seriousness of your words, “Well as much as I agree on not inviting Gojo to my wedding, I don’t know-” he tries to explain.

“You know what, isn’t Geto-san a lawyer? He could have it notarized and all that right now then we could get married. I’ll be a great mom and help you out then you could help me get my family off my back. You scratch my back, I scratch yours!”

Geto is definitely in shock, how odd was it that he even had a marriage registration certificate in his briefcase back in the car too?

You both could just sign it and Satoru could sign it as your witness and he could have it officially notarized since he had his seal back there too.

Solved.

“So, Nanami-san, what do you say? Wanna marry me?”

Oh god, were you shameless.

Who in the right mind would marry a stranger, one who was thirteen years older and a father?

One thing was for sure, your friends were right. You definitely needed to stay away from alcohol.

taglist [if crossed out, i can’t tag u ; - ;]

; @coldbookworm ; @frankenstein852 ; @neavil ; @shephard17895 @kristineyoshaii ; @airybnb ; @okachansenpai ; @amortentiaxo ; @rinvtaro ; @franko-pop ; @kozutenshi ; @kaldoesthings ; @moonlitdabi ; @chococroissant ; @bleepop ;

@Kurok1717 ; @hcn421 ; @shinhiromi ; @airybnb ; @katshuya ;

#jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you

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sleepysnk · 4 years ago

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this wasn't requested, but it has been on my mind all night! i decided to give you guys some angst, this will he set in a modern high school au and Eren is the classic bad boy, while reader is the good girl. i'm not gonna share too much, but here ya go! i hope you guys enjoy, this will be manbun Eren btw!

Eren x Fem!Reader: You Don't Need Me

Warnings: angst, some mentions of violence (not to reader), police involvement

(Y/N) giggled as she got into the car with Eren. He was picking her up from her job at the cafe.

"Hey.. thank you for the ride," she said and looked at him with a smile.

Eren smiled and ran a hand through his hair. "No problem.. don't ever hesitate to message me when you need one," he said and began to drive the car.

Eren and (Y/N) had been talking for a pretty long time, the girl who had a crush on the boy since junior year. Now as a senior, she finally got the opportunity to get to know him, with the help of her friend Armin who was friends with Eren. She never thought she would ever get this far in speaking or being this close with him. Eren was always so closed off.

"You want anything to eat?" he asked and looked at her.

She sighed. "Not really.. I gotta get home to study for this exam. It's crucial for me," she replied and leaned back in the seat.

Eren nodded. "Exams are stupid, why let a score determine what you're gonna be in life?" he said, shrugging.

She laughed a bit and looked on her phone. "Easy for you to say, you never are in school," she said.

He laughed. "Okay, that's true," he replied, glancing over at her.

(Y/N) was the perfect student. 4.0 GPA, was on the dance team, had multiple college scholarships offered, was in AP classes, and had an amazing report card. It was no overstatement to say she was set for greatness in life.

Eren wasn't the best student. The boy never really was in school, he had bad grades, a bad temper, got into trouble with the law, fights, drugs once or twice, and has gotten suspended multiple times. There was almost a time where Eren got into so much trouble that he almost got expelled, thanks to Carla and Grisha, his parents, that didn't happen.

Thing was, Eren never mentioned any of the bad to (Y/N). As far as the girl knew, Eren was just a simple lazy guy who didn't come to school. He kept her out of that shit, he felt like she didn't need to know.

"Alright.. we're here" he said and put the car in park.

(Y/N) gathered her things and looked at him. "Thank you for the ride, it means a lot" she said and smiled at him.

Eren smiled. "No problem, I'll see you tomorrow? Text me" he replied and gave her a hug.

She nodded. "See you later" she said and got out of his car.

Eren waved as she got out, he waited for her to get inside and he drove off. He had to go do something for someone he knew, and he had to do it fast.

His phone began to ring and he noticed it was the guy. "Hey.. I'm on my way" he said.

The guy who's name was Porco, sighed. "Good.. you need to hurry your ass up, we have to get this shit in your car and out of here" he said.

Eren nodded. "Okay, I'll be there soon" he replied and hung up.

He drove about 15 minutes away and arrived at the place. He sent a text to Porco, and waited for someone to come out. Eren felt nervous, realizing it was now past curfew, cops would be crawling around. Especially at this time of night and where he was.

He heard a knock on his window and saw a hooded figure, Eren got out and looked at the guy. Porco removed his hoodie.

"Finally you got here, take it. Hide it and don't show anyone" he said and handed Eren a bag.

The bag felt heavy and he felt the metal of the handgun through it. "You got it" he said and looked around.

Porco nodded. "Alright man I believe in you, don't get caught" he said and tapped his arm.

Eren got back into the car as Porco walked off, he began to drive back to his house. He had to hide this gun as quickly as possible, he heard his phone go off and he noticed (Y/N) texted him. The text made him smile, he knew how much she liked him, she was so cute.

As Eren was texting back his worst fear was now facing him as the red and blue flashes appeared behind him.

"Shit!" Eren yelled and looked around for a place to pull over.

Eren's anxiety shot through the roof. He already had enough issues with the law, he shoved the gun under the passenger seat and hoped for the best.

The officer knocked on the window. "License and registration please" he said.

Eren rolled down the window and grabbed his license, he searched the glovebox for the registration and handed it to the officer.

The officer looked at it. "Eren Jaeger huh? I remember you, you stole alcohol and I found you drinking" he said and laughed a bit.

He rolled his eyes and shook his leg nervously. "I don't remember you very much" he replied and tried to seem cool.

"I'm gonna go run your stuff, remain here" the officer said and walked away.

Eren felt his heart beating in his ears, he wanted to get this over already. He wasn't even sure why he was pulled over, he wasn't even doing anything bad.

The officer came back and handed him his stuff. "I pulled you over because you were speeding and you were texting and driving. Considering your record, I'm going to have to search the vehicle. You can refuse but-" the officer stopped when he looked in the car seeing a beer bottle. "Sir.. have you been drinking tonight?" he asked.

Eren furrowed his brows. "No? I'm fine" he replied.

"There's a beer bottle right there" he said and pointed at it.

Fuck.

"Eren I'm going to have to ask you to please step out of the vehicle" the officer said and looked at him.

He sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt. "It's not mine.. I don't know how it got there" he said as he got out.

"I need backup" the officer said on his radio. "Wait right there on the curb" he added and pointed at the curb.

Eren sat down on the curb and saw another cop car pull up, the two officers began talking and one of them came over to Eren.

"Alright so we're going to search your vehicle, we have probable cause. Is there any kind of weapon in your vehicle we should be concerned about? This is when you should be honest" the officer asked.

Eren looked up. "No.." he replied.

The officers went to go search Eren's car, he felt anxiety going through him. He silently prayed that they wouldn't find the gun, he felt sick he wanted to throw up on the spot.

"What do we have here?" the officer said and looked at Eren. He was holding the bag with the gun in it. "You're going to jail tonight," he added.

Fuck.

The next day (Y/N) didn't see Eren at school, she was a bit confused, maybe he was skipping again?

She was sitting in class with her friend Sasha. "He hasn't texted me back at all" (Y/N) said and looked at her.

Sasha shrugged. "Maybe he's asleep, Eren is always skipping. You know you could ask Mikasa or Armin, they usually know" she said.

She sighed. "Armin told me he doesn't know anything apparently" she replied.

Sasha put her hand onto her shoulder. "Just ask Mikasa" she said.

The bell rang and students began to exit the classroom, (Y/N) made her way down the stairs and saw Mikasa standing with Armin. The two seemed to be talking about something, she just wanted to know where the hell Eren was.

"Hey Mikasa… have you seen Eren?" (Y/N) asked and nodded.

Mikasa looked at her and rolled her eyes. "I know where he is, he's so stupid! I'm surprised you're asking, considering you both are so close" she replied.

(Y/N)'s brows furrowed. "Huh? What do you mean? Eren said he'd come to school" she said and sounded confused.

The dark-haired girl looked at Armin. "You don't know?" he asked and nodded.

(Y/N) seemed genuinely confused by what the two were saying. "No.. I don't, guys can you please just tell me?" she replied.

Mikasa sighed. "Eren is in jail, he got caught with a gun last night. He's so stupid, this is his 3rd time in jail" she said and crossed her arms.

She felt her body go weak and she dropped her phone to the floor. "He what? N-No.. stop messing around, that's not like Eren" she replied.

Armin put his hand on her shoulder. "He didn't tell you? (Y/N), this is pretty normal. He always gets involved with the law" he said and looked at her.

She picked up her phone. "Thanks guys, I'm gonna go.." she said and walked away from them.

(Y/N) went to the bathroom and began to break down, what the hell was Eren doing with a gun? She never knew Eren had issues with the law, she always assumed he was just a guy who skipped school and had anger issues. Why would he lie to her? What else was he lying about?

Things on Eren's end weren't better either. He was on bail at the moment, his bail was about $7000. His mom was pissed and so was his dad. Eren fucked up and he knew Porco wasn't going to be happy either, Eren snitched.

The officer approached the holding cell. "Good news, you just got bailed out" he said and began to unlock the doors.

Eren stood up and exited the holding cell, he saw his parents standing there. "You all have a good night now" another officer said and nodded.

The three exited the police station. "Eren what the fuck!? Do you know what the hell you just did?" his mom yelled as he sat in the car.

Eren rubbed his temples. "Yes mom I'm fully fucking aware!" he replied.

His dad looked back at him. "We paid $7000 to get you out of here! Why the fuck did you have a gun!? Who the hell gave it to you?" he asked.

Eren looked around the car. "I can't fucking tell you! Jesus dad, lay off!" he replied.

His dad scoffed. "You're in deep shit when you get home," he said and turned back to drive.

The drive home was quiet, Eren got home and went to his room instantly. His phone had multiple messages from Armin, Mikasa, and (Y/N)... shit (Y/N)! What the fuck was he going to do?

Eren looked at his phone as it pinged again. The message left his anxiety sky-high.

Porco: YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD MAN.

He rubbed his head and threw his phone. "Fuck.." he said and looked around his room.

The night was upon him and Eren decided to just leave his house, he couldn't stay here and risk this. He climbed out of the window and began to walk down the street, Eren looked on his phone and put it into his pocket.

"Eren?" he turned around as he heard the familiar voice of (Y/N).

Eren stopped in his tracks and walked over to her. "(Y/N).." he said.

She backed away from him. "I thought you were in jail…" she said and looked down.

His eyes went wide as he realized the truth had finally come out. "So you know huh?.. (Y/N), know I wasn't lying to you on purpose" he said and tried to reach out to her.

(Y/N) wiped away a few stray tears. "Eren why the fuck would you lie!?" she asked.

He looked at her. "(Y/N)... I did it to keep you away from the shit I do" he replied. "I didn't do it for no reason," he added.

"You're just a punk huh? What a fucking lie, Eren,” she said.

His anger began to rush through him. "Why the fuck are you crying!? Huh? You don't fucking NEED me (Y/N)! You have a fucking life ahead of you, I don't. I'm bad for YOU, and you fucking know it. You don't have to deal with cops on your ass, or have to worry about if someone is gonna come fucking kill your family. You don't fucking understand! You're just a fucking perfect daddy's girl. You're so fucking NEEDY (Y/N). You don't need someone like me" he yelled.

She felt tears pour from her eyes. "W-Wait.. Eren, what? What are you talking about?" she asked and furrowed her brows.

"Just stay the fuck away from me! I don't want you! Go live your perfect life, you don't need me. I need to go" Eren said and began to walk off.

(Y/N) watched as Eren began to run off. "Eren…" she cried as he walked off.

The feeling of her heart breaking was suffocating her, and Eren felt his tears burning his eyes. She didn't need a guy like Eren, she deserved better.

#anime #attack on titan #aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot imagines #aot fanfiction #snk x y/n #snk x reader #snk imagines #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #eren jaeger #eren x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #anime fanfic

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arrowflier · 3 years ago

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oh my god your xmen au!! i've just recently thought about them having powers and ian should def be a healer ❤️

it's so good, i'd love for you to continue or like... do another mutant au (same setting but later? im not picky haha)

as always, your writing is truly amazing!

Yeeesss thank you thank you thank you. I've been wanting to so bad but I'm already neglecting all my WIPs so I needed this excuse.

For everyone else, original here. I'm also tagging this for A.U.gust (hosted by the amazing @gallavichthings) because their professions are inspired by prompts 7 and 19.

---

Ian was crouched over a client, hands flat on a wrinkled and twisted back, when Mickey fell through the door.

Ian stiffened, and not just because his gift was working on the man stretched out on the table in front of him. Mickey attempted to straighten himself on the coat rack by the door, but only succeeded in knocking it over, hands slick with blood.

Not his own, by the looks of it, and that was the only reason Ian kept working.

“What’s that racket?” his client croaked, trying to lift his head, but Ian pressed harder and pushed his gift deeper into the man’s muscles, forcing his neck to relax.

Ian winced as his own neck tensed further, but forced his head straight so he could watch as Mickey stumbled through the room before finally collapsing onto a chair. His head was down, but Ian could see faint streaks of red at his hairline, glistening in his dark hair when he ran a shaky hand through it. The spikes on his shoulders, exposed by a tear in his black shirt, lay flat and weak and similarly wet against his pale skin.

Ian swallowed hard, and removed his hands from the body in front of him.

“You’re done,” Ian rasped, waiting for the usual weariness and weakness to fade. He rubbed his eyes with a hand that felt more gnarled than it was, and grimaced. His eyelids felt like sandpaper.

“That’s it?” his client asked. They weren’t one of his usuals, just someone that heard about him from a friend. Ian tried to accept new clients where he could, especially those that found him by word of mouth—there wasn’t much else he could do in the way of advertising without a license or registration for his unorthodox mutation.

“That’s it,” Ian confirmed, and tapped the edge of the table impatiently, waiting for the man to get up and leave. He should be perfectly capable of that sort of movement for at least a few days, if he didn’t do anything too stupid with his newfound physical freedom.

“I heard you offer…other services,” the old man said slyly, twisting to look at Ian as he sat up and swung his legs toward the floor. “For a price, of course,” he added, smiling like he knew something.

Clearly, he did not.

“No anymore,” Ian answered shortly. “And never for patrons of your type.”

“Of my type?” the man repeated, voice now rising with suppressed anger. “And what does that mean, you mutant scum?”

“Means he don’t like wrinkly old man balls no more,” Mickey called out from across the room, and Ian had never been so grateful to hear his rough voice, despite what it was saying.

“It doesn’t,” he assured his client. “I mean, I don’t, but—”

“No need to explain, boy,” his client stated—probably ex-client now, and Ian should really feel worse about watching him leave.

Instead, he held his breath until the door slammed behind that narrow, weak back, and then immediately darted over to throw the bolt.

Room secured, Ian took a moment to breathe, in and out, as the last of the other man’s fatigue finally left him.

“You gonna stand there all night?” Mickey asked, somewhat quieter, behind him. “Or are you gonna come patch me up, doc?”

Ian turned to see Mickey struggling to rise from his seat, and was there in a few long strides to push him down again with a firm hand on his shoulder. Mickey hissed as Ian rubbed his spikes the wrong way, but let himself be secured.

Without thinking about it, Ian stroked his hand down, following those dangerous barbs along the length of Mickey’s bare arm. He wasn’t worried about them; he had seen firsthand the danger they could do, throughout the years, but never had Mickey harmed him.

Well, at least not without reason.

And he had clearly come to Ian for a different reason, this time. It had been a few weeks since they’d seen each other, and in that time Mickey had apparently found someone new to piss off, judging by the blood on his spikes. Someone that didn’t already know all his tricks.

“You have to stop doing this,” Ian said accusingly, gesturing at Mickey in general, and the other man snorted, then winced when it opened a cut on his face.

“Define ‘this’,” he challenged, and Ian shrugged.

“Picking fights, I guess,” he answered. “I know you have that new gig at the bar, security or whatever—”

“Bodyguard, doc, it’s a little more impressive—”

“But you don’t always have to jump straight to violence.”

“Why” Mickey asked, quirking a bleeding eyebrow. “I’m paid to be a badass, Gallagher, and you always fix me up just fine.”

Ian shook his head, eyes scanning for the worst of Mickey’s injuries. Thankfully, they were few—a slowly seeping gash at his hairline, the source of the blood about to drip into his blue eyes; an oddly bent finger; a patch of quills at the base of his neck that looked nearly torn out, like someone had gotten hold before Mickey flexed them.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Ian insisted absently, trailing his fingers from Mickey’s shoulder to his neck, to his face, heedless of the red trail they left on pale skin.

“Please,” Mickey scoffed, bending his head obediently when Ian pushed it back for better light. “The principle is that you like havin’ an excuse to get your hands on me.”

“Could get my hands on you anyway,” Ian mused, digging his fingers roughly into Mickey’s hair as if to prove a point.

Mickey hissed, but smirked through it.

“Oh yeah?” he questioned lightly. “Think I'm that easy, huh?”

“Know you’re that easy,” Ian murmured, leaning in closer than he strictly needed to to finish surveying the damage.

Mickey blinked, eyes only inches away from Ian’s own.

“Get those healin’ hands on me then,” he breathed, and Ian didn’t bother to point out that they already were.

Instead, he moved one hand over the scratch on Mickey’s scalp, one hand to the damaged quills on his neck, and his mouth to Mickey’s bottom lip.

And he reached inside himself for his power, and pushed.

They both gasped, deepening the sudden kiss almost by accident as Ian’s power coursed through them, between them. Mickey’s cuts started to heal even as they opened on Ian’s skin, quills bristling and growing strong again as tiny pinpricks of red showed on Ian’s own neck.

Let go of her, Ian heard in his mind, Mickey’s voice ordering some creep to release the girl he was trying to carry from the club.

I’m just gettin her home, man

Thin fingers reach for Mickey’s jacket, Ian’s jacket, their jacket. Grasp the hem, tug faintly, fall again on a limp arm.

I don’t fuckin’ think so

Pain in his fists, then pain on his back as someone else joins the fight, someone Ian can’t see. Sharp fingernails in his hair, on his neck, gripping, twisting.

A flare. Quills puffing from their sleek layer against warm skin, finding their target. The slippery wet feeling of blood on his shoulders, wetting them down again.

Okay, it’s okay now as frail hands grasp at him again to stand straight. Come on, it’s okay.

Ian’s hands fell from Mickey’s wounds as the last ones finally closed. He ignored the wetness in his eyes, the wetness on Mickey’s face, pretended they were blood and not tears.

“You did good,” he whispered against Mickey’s searching lips. “So good, Mickey.”

“Shut up, doc,” Mickey murmured back. “Give me something different to feel good about.”

So Ian did.

He kissed him again. Bit his lip, licked it clean. Ran a finger over the indentation, felt the bite on his own mouth as he soothed it. He scratched at Mickey’s back, didn’t recall when it was bared, felt hot lines down his own and couldn’t tell if they came from Mickey’s dirty hands or his own neatly trimmed nails.

It was always like this, when it happened. A feedback loop, not knowing where he stopped and Mickey began as they hurt and healed and hurt again. Hurt in good ways rather than bad, ways they had been hurting and helping each other since they were just children in a schoolyard chasing bullies. Ian lost himself in it, lost himself in Mickey’s mouth and eyes and skin and his own touches upon it, a constant blooming sensation deep in the reserves of his power.

He wondered what it felt like for Mickey, but then he didn’t have to. He never had to. He could feel that too: the tug of quills pushed the wrong way, the press of them into skin at both point and base, the prickling sensation when they settled, flared, settled again within sensitive skin and muscle.

But they never stabbed on purpose. They never hurt more than he could take; than they could take. And as he let Mickey stand, let him walk Ian back toward the bedroom on newly strengthened legs, Ian embraced all the feelings it invoked in the both of them.

Tomorrow, Mickey would most likely leave again, possibly even before breakfast. He would go back to his job, the one Ian didn’t like, and work and live and thrive until he needed Ian again.

It would feel worse, that separation, if Ian couldn’t feel the truth in every movement they made against each other in the night.

Mickey didn’t need Ian to fix him up; he never had. He had been doing fine on his own long before they met.

No, Mickey didn’t come to Ian because he liked to pick fights. He picked fights because he liked to come to Ian, and for now, that was enough.

#daily speedwrite #x-men au #A.U.gust #gallavich #ian gallagher #healer ian #mickey milkovich #bodyguard mickey #tw: mentions of violence #tw: blood #injured mickey #fanfic

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janamelie · 3 years ago

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Dimension Jump XXI Report

I suppose I’m a DJ veteran now as this was my fifth consecutive one and the fourth at the Nottingham Crowne Plaza which is an expensive four-star hotel. Sharing with a friend helps keep the cost reasonable and honestly, it’s worth it for the sheer convenience of being right there in the hotel and being able to nip back to your room as required. (To be clear, you don’t have to stay in the hotel to attend the con. There are plenty of other hotels nearby.)

Plus there is always the chance that you’ll see a guest at breakfast as I did Danny once. He picked out a few pieces of fruit and nibbled at them before wandering over late to his photoshoot. What else would you expect from a cat though?

Friday

Myself and @downonthepharm-red-dwarf (Amy) had arrived the previous day so had plenty of time to be near the front of the queue for registration. Which meant we saw Hattie Hayridge arrive in a stunning designer coat and with smart luggage. She really brought her outfit A-game and looked great the whole weekend.

Once we’d presented our respective proofs of full Covid vaccination or a recent negative test, we were given our DJ passes and booklets. The latter has spaces for signatures from guests, an Order Of Events and various handy tips for the weekend.

The con kicks off at 5pm with an hour of gradual build-up in the Main Hall - they show videos from previous events, specially made titbits with various guests past and present such as Mark Dexter doing a mock guide to DJ and Rebecca Blackstone voicing Pree. It all helps with the atmosphere, as do the numerous RD posters dotted around the hotel.

Then it was time for the Opening Ceremony featuring various Fan Club team members and an overcrowded stage full of cardboard boxes - the joke was that they’d had too much time on their hands during lockdowns and bought loads of stuff online. It was obviously also a nod to Lister’s hoarding in “The Promised Land”.

The sketch featured a specially made shot of the AA adverts’ Starbug model landing outside the Crowne Plaza and an 80s computerised version of the lovely convention logo. You could tell a lot of loving effort had gone into the whole thing.

Once the guest line-up had been announced (I’ll get to that not-really-a-surprise-guest shortly), we went straight into the RD Pub Quiz, hosted by Hattie. DOTP and I had been joined at our table by Lapsang and Barbs from our Discord (No Kind Of Atmosphere) plus various other attendees we’d befriended.

Someone in the crowd yelled “I love you, Hattie!” to which she quipped “I’ve pulled already!” Another bloke shouted “Fuck off, she’s mine!” which led to a few shouts of “Fight!” When neither seemed keen to do so, Hattie joked: “Only two? That’s a bit pathetic!” and then we got started.

The quiz is hard, by design, but I’m good at quizzes and my team - No Kind Of Atmosphere after our Discord - came joint third which was gratifying. (I was on the winning team a few DJs ago, to blow my own trumpet for a moment. This is my report, after all.)

And then it was time for the first guest Q&A with - surprise, surprise - Johnny Vegas aka the Crit Cop in “Timewave”. Not a great episode but he more than made up for that with an appearance I can only describe as chaotic. Warning - DO NOT attempt to heckle him unless you want to be singled out and humiliated in front of the entire audience in a “Can’t look away” fashion which was nonetheless entertaining. The man in question tweeted about it afterwards and seems to have taken it in good spirit.

Once we’d moved on from encouraging people to leave unpleasant things in room 429, it turned out Johnny’s a big fan of the show and owned it on VHS (so did I). He thinks of the main characters, Holly would win at “Taskmaster” and had good reasons for that conclusion.

He was dubious about the pink costume he wore in “Timewave” as he thought it might take away from the character but said he eventually decided he needed to get over what he was wearing and just go for it. He also said one of his worst working moments was on “Benidorm” when he had to hold his breath underwater in a freezing swimming pool and his co-star kept forgetting her two lines so they had over 30 takes. Ouch.

Johnny left commenting that he got less love at his 50th birthday party. But we hadn’t seen the last of him by any means as people kept buying him drinks during the Auction, leading to him successfully bidding for one of the items on offer.

And then he was back for the Karaoke. Now if you - as he informed us - had to undergo emergency dental surgery in the morning and had practically lost your voice, would you sing karaoke? And not only that, would you sing a version of “Love On The Rocks” which lasted 11 minutes according to someone on Twitter (I wasn’t timing it, but I can believe it), followed by the full-length version of “American Pie”?

If you answered no, you’re clearly not Johnny Vegas. He went to bed so late that the unfortunate Fan Club team member assigned to look after him got a grand total of 90 minutes’ sleep.

Saturday

DOTP and I had paid for the Photoshoot with Mr Vegas, Danny John-Jules and Ray Fearon. We got in the queue at 9am which was when it was supposed to start. An hour later we were still waiting. Yep, Danny was late.

Once he made it to the hotel, I got my photo in front of a Science Room backdrop. You might think Mr Vegas would be hungover and rushing through it, but on the contrary, he was still enjoying the hell out of proceedings which was refreshing to see. Since he’d been added to the line-up too late to be in the souvenir booklet, he signed extra inserts for the Fan Club which they handed out to everyone at the later Autograph sessions so attendees got his autograph after all even though he’d finally left. That’s what I call throwing yourself into an event.

Next up was a combined Q&A with Danny and Ray (originally separate but Danny’s lateness meant they were teamed up). This wasn’t a problem at all though - on the contrary, it worked really well as the chumminess between them added to the vibe. Also it was Ray’s first convention so he probably preferred to have Danny backing him up, especially since the poor man tripped on his way to the stage and almost fell. I don’t think he was hurt but I cringed with secondhand embarrassment and empathy. He wasn’t the only one to fall foul of the edge of the stage that weekend; I think it was the slightly raised dancefloor in front of it.

As is usual for Danny, we were treated to over half an hour of what you can only really describe as a stream of consciousness as he pontificated about various things. He and Ray did also talk about working together on “Death In Paradise” and Ray described his worst working experience there - he had to play a scene in a club in 45 degree heat with a live snake wrapped around his neck!

Ray is attractive in a “Hollywood hunk” way and Danny was clearly conscious of this, joking that he’d “brought his own security with him” and muttering “I’m better-looking anyway!” But all in a jokey way as they’re clearly friends.

Danny had come from filming and dropped a heavy hint that he’s appearing in a Dickens adaptation which I imagine will be shown at Christmas as they generally are. He also complained that Craig Charles never answers his phone: “You send him a message and he answers it on Twitter a month later!” (Interestingly, Chris Barrie later mentioned a recent phone conversation with Craig so make of that what you will.)

Ray was quieter but happy to talk about the vagaries of showbiz and typecasting - he said that due to his Shakespearean background he gets a lot of serious roles so people were genuinely surprised that he could also do comedy but “I was always funny!” He also gently teased Danny about the age of some of his references before admitting he still finds Tommy Cooper funny.

Danny usually performs “Tongue-tied” with a good grace when inevitably asked to by an audience member but perhaps it’s finally starting to pall as this time he did it in the style of Oliver Reed’s Bill Sykes and included a lot of X-rated references to cunnilingus etc. It was entertaining though.

Next up was a live Q&A (over Zoom) with Chris Barrie. Danny decided to stick around as he wanted to show Chris something he’d ordered online. It took a while to get the cameras in the right position for Chris to be able to see it and Danny needed a knife to open the parcel, leading Chris to quip “Is this a good time for me to step out for some lunch?”

However, it turned out to be worth it as it was a custom-made Ace Rimmer doll which impressed Chris with its quality and he complimented the maker.

Danny and Ray then departed for their lunch and to take part in the Coffee Lounge which this year had reduced its numbers for Covid-related reasons and held a ballot for entry in the interests of fairness. Amy and I didn’t get in but happily stayed for the rest of Chris’s Q&A.

In the “working from home” spirit, Chris was in a hoodie in his living room as opposed to his more usual smart suit. He was suitably relaxed and revealed he got through lockdown by concentrating on the things which make him happy, such as his hobbies, his garden and his family. His favourite episodes are “Marooned”, “Dimension Jump” and - less predictably - “Twentica”. He also referred to a recent “mannerly, as he would call it” phone conversation with Craig. No details but it had clearly been a positive experience.

Amy decided to liven up the ending of his Q&A by asking a vitally important, “TPL”-related question. Whom would Rimmer find more attractive, a female version of Lister or a female version of Cat?

Once the laughter had died down and Chris had bought some time by pointing out that “neither of them are women”, he gave the question appropriate consideration. He pondered whether Rimmer would be more taken by the “simple charms” of Lister or the “feline grace” of Cat. This next bit is courtesy of Amy as my memory isn’t infallible: He said it’d be a choice between a feline form or a rounder, a bit more slovenly woman - he wouldn’t want the perfectly feline woman because she might not like his imperfections, but he also wouldn’t want someone who ate curry three times a day. “Basically, a balance would be ideal.”

That was the last question but Chris provided a little more entertainment as he had a “How do you turn this off then?” moment a la Gordon the computer in “Better Than Life” and made amusing faces as he figured it out. If it was anyone but Chris I’d think it was a deliberate reference to that but I think he was genuinely befuddled.

We then broke for lunch, followed by Autographs with Hattie, Danny, Ray and Norman Lovett. I got the latter three to sign the “TPL” poster I’d brought with me but gave Hattie the booklet instead as it seemed more tactful. She complimented the dress I was wearing and I returned the compliment, telling her how much the fans appreciate the effort she makes with her DJ outfits.

Norman commented how there’s a version of the “TPL” poster he isn’t on, bemusedly. Fortunately mine was the version including him.

I spent the rest of the afternoon chilling in the bar with Amy, Lapsang and Barbs, chatting to other attendees. Graphic Designer Matthew Clark was now in the Merchandise Room with various props from Series XII and “TPL” including the Starbug manual used onscreen. I got his autograph on my poster but it’s an incomprehensible squiggle. Oh well. He was very friendly and easy to talk to.

After a break for dinner, the Main Hall reopened for the Costume Competition. This seems to get better every DJ, with an amazing “Greyscale Rimmer” who was discomfiting to be around due to the corpse-like makeup, a Natalina Pushkin, a Nirvanah Crane who could almost have been Jane Horrocks herself and a Diving Suit Cat from “BTE”. Other entries included Rimmer’s Mum, “Giraffes who were armed and dangerous” and a Confidence And Paranoia who were later pictured at the bar chatting to Paranoia himself, Lee Cornes.

We then had a special video message from Doug Naylor which I won’t go into as I’m sure everyone’s already heard the details. Suffice to say, his tone was positive.

The second Auction was hosted by Ian Boldsworth who made it more entertaining by adding his own commentary to each item. This was followed by a stand-up set from Norman. It was amusing but he misjudged the mood a bit, I feel. When you’re waiting for a disco to start and it’s already hours late due to Danny’s tardiness, you don’t particularly want to contemplate your own mortality. We were here to get away from all that, as much as possible.

Anyway, the Disco was a lot of fun even if Dave Benson Phillips’ presence as host was sorely missed. Hattie danced for the best part of an hour alongside everyone else. The stand-in DJs did their job and I stayed until the end. The final two songs were “Bohemian Rhapsody” and … “Tongue-tied”.

Sunday

Not being in the Sunday Photoshoot, Amy and I had a nice leisurely breakfast and got over last night’s festivities before the first Q&A, live over Zoom with Robert Llewellyn.

This was hosted by Ian Boldsworth who in his capacity as Dave era audience warm-up knows Robert well. Clearly well enough to get away with teasing him relentlessly about not being at the con in person until poor Robert was a mess of Krytenesque guilt.

His protestations that he’d been scheduled to be in Munich this weekend but no longer was (he was at home) only made things worse. Ian: “Oh, so that’s two sets of people you’ve disappointed now! Stop saying yes to things!” It was hilarious and Robert took it in its intended spirit. Also Ian was getting a measure of revenge for Robert - in character as Kryten - dry humping him at recordings. One attendee asked “With the groinal attachment?!”

Robert admitted that he finds Kryten’s various groinal attachments hilarious and if he was writing the show they’d be in every episode. He praised Doug’s restraint.

He also admitted that in “TPL” he had an earpiece to have his lines fed to him. Since it’s controlled by an iPad, certain unscrupulous cast members took great delight in feeding him rude ones.

He still intends to update “The Man In The Rubber Mask” but atm “Fully Charged” is consuming a lot of his time as it’s become much more successful than he anticipated and he’s in charge of several people.

Surprisingly, he would hate appearing in RD without the Kryten makeup, both because it’s become much quicker to apply and because it provides him with a shield and he becomes Kryten and forgets stagefright. He still can’t watch “DNA” for that reason.

Lapsang, who played Kryten in “Into The Gloop”, asked Robert if he’d seen it. He hadn’t but said he was now very curious and would find a way to.

Next up was Lee Cornes aka Paranoia who said he originally auditioned for the lead roles and like the other unsuccessful actors got the consolation prize of a guest appearance. Upon being asked if he’d gone out for a drink with Craig Ferguson’s Confidence, he said no because at the time they had a frosty relationship due to rumours that Craig was plagiarising other comics’ jokes. Lee said it was all very silly and he’s since apologised.

Interestingly, Lee is a qualified science teacher and carried on with that career alongside his media one, leading to surreal situations where his pupils would ask: “Sir? Were you on the telly last night?” “Yes.” “Are we on the telly now, sir?”

Someone asked a good question - what would Lister’s Paranoia be like now 33 years later? Lee would be willing to reprise the role but isn’t sure it would work as the original had a childish quality whereas he feels now the character would be a lot darker and less funny. Lee was both thoughtful and entertaining in his responses.

He was followed onstage by Hattie and Norman, who resolutely refused to rise to the bait of an audience member attempting to stir up a rivalry between them. That only works when one isn’t the nicest person you could meet.

A tactless audience member asked both if they’d watched “TPL” instead of directing the question at Norman. Luckily Hattie had seen it and particularly enjoyed the cat flap joke although she felt there was a little too much focus on the guest cast.

Norman didn’t really watch RD after he left but Hattie has seen Norman’s early episodes as he lent them to her back when she was originally cast as Hilly for research purposes. Bear in mind this was 1988 when they weren’t even available on VHS so presumably he recorded them off the TV.

Hattie confirmed with a sigh that she’s simply never been asked to return in any capacity: “That’s the short answer.” What the hell, I’ll say it one more time - Bring Back Hattie! One episode, that’s all I ask. As it stands, it’s starting to look like a pointed and deliberate snub which mystifies me.

We then broke for lunch, followed by Rob Grant and Paul Jackson. For obvious reasons they didn’t go into the current legal mess, opting instead to entertain the fans with the story of how they met and their early pre-RD work (Rob and Doug as freelance writers for Paul’s producer).

We saw some clips from their early shows including “Three Of A Kind” with Lenny Henry, Tracy Ullman and … later magician David Copperfield; apparently they all had the same agent and Paul took on David as a favour. For a 40 year old show it held up pretty well and was in much better sound and picture quality than older shows often are. “Carrott’s Lib” was just as funny.

It’s a bit hard to summarise but this session was entertaining and gripping. Rob still wants to write another RD novel and I believe there’s nothing actually stopping him as both he and Doug had an option to write a second solo novel. So we’ll see.

The final Q&A was Matthew Clark who was very informative and interesting, showing us numerous production stills from Series XII and “TPL” and talking us through them. There was a groan when time was called before he was finished.

By now time was running short and Amy and I went back to the room to pack and leave our luggage with reception before watching the start of “Dibbley Family Fortunes”. Since I knew I wouldn’t have time to watch it all, I instead nipped upstairs to Autographs with Lee and Ian, timing it perfectly as the queue had almost vanished.

Ian was still performing, drawing scornful attention to the fact that Lee had a longer queue: “Can you imagine all these people queueing to see Lee Cornes?!” It sounds rude out of context but he was clearly joking.

I decided to ask Lee what flavour the yogurt Paranoia eats was. He said it didn’t really taste of anything as it was the cheapest, nastiest canteen yogurt available and was also starting to curdle under the studio lights so eating it can’t have been much fun.

Since I now had about 15 minutes before I had to go, I caught a bit of Dibbley Family Fortunes, said goodbye to Amy, Lapsang and Barbs and then dashed off to catch the tram to the train station. Another great DJ.

#red dwarf

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joon-ipersgirl · 4 years ago

Text

“inked heart” - jjk oneshot

genre: friends to lovers!au, fluff, a teensy dash of angst

pairing: tattoo artist!guk x tattoo artist!reader (f)

summary: jeon jungkook, a rising star in the tattoing world, is looking to take home best large black and white piece at the 25th annual milano tattoo convention. already one to watch from his previous wins as a young artist, pressures rise when his model for the competition cancels half an hour before the show.

always there when he needs you, you offer to be his model but jungkook is reluctant, especially when the piece is in a more... intimate place. and the fact that he’s been in love with you for the better part of two years. jungkook isn’t too sure how he’s going to survive the next three hours, not when you ask him if he thinks you’re attractive.

caught between a rock and a hard place, does he lie to you and himself when the prize is on the line? it’s go big or go home...

word count: 5.9k

warnings: some guk pining, cursing, mentions of heartbreaker jimin, the smallest dash of angst about not winning, tattoo artist yoongi

a/n: my first guk piece! thank you guys so much for the love on the preview, especially your comments. they honestly make my day. i hope this lives up to your expectations and you enjoy it just as much. this was a random idea i had and i love tattooed guk so here we are. i tried my best to make sure all the tattoo things were accurate so if they aren’t sorry in advance 😭 this was a lot of fun to write and i’m actually debating on writing some other things for this couple (especially for guk’s birthday), but i’m not sure yet. let me know if y’all are interested though and i’ll see what i can come up with. as always, thank you vi for supporting my shenanigans and reading this like four times lmao. feedback is always welcomed and highly appreciated. enjoy everyone!

full masterlist // drabbles

Jungkook’s body buzzed with excitement as he squeezed past the bustling bodies at the 25th annual Milano Tattoo Convention. His fourth year at the world’s largest tattooing competition with a chance to take home the prize for “Best Large Black & White” piece against four hundred incredible artists had Jungkook amped up and ready to go. Some of his inspirations - legends in the game - were mere feet away from him as he browsed the almost endless stations filled with merchandise, displays of new tattoo designs, and occupied benches with models. There was almost nothing he enjoyed more than being around the sound of buzzing guns and filling sheets of half-filled paper with sketches his brain had no issues conjuring up but sometimes struggled to complete. Well, except food. And video games. And you. Not really the point though.

He’d been tattooing for almost six years now, from the moment he’d been able to convince Yoongi to let him be his apprentice. Jungkook had wasted no time in starting his own personal tattoo collection, quickly filling in a full sleeve on his right arm going across his right pectoral and another upper half sleeve on his left. Now, he was making his own name in the art world, commissioning pieces solely off his ability to execute various styles well with very little practice. Jungkook was a jack of all trades and very nearly a master of all. He was a risk-taker and it had paid off for him during his time at Milano, taking home “Best Small Black & White” his second year at the ripe age of twenty, and then “Best Medium Black & White” the following year. Yoongi could barely believe it when the judges called his name and announced him the winner but Jungkook knew his mentor’s chest was swollen with pride. This time, though, there were bigger fish to fry - “Best Large Black & White” in a style Jungkook had just begun feeling comfortable with: fine line tattoos.

He paused at the Killer Ink booth where Hori Kashi was working on a beautiful traditional koi fish upper half sleeve design as his phone buzzed. An Instagram notification.

_petuniablooms: hey jungkook! im so sorry this is last minute but i won’t be able to make the convention to be your model. I got a bad case of food poisoning from dinner last night. i hope this doesn’t cost you the comp. but when you’re back in the country, maybe i can schedule an appt? sorry again!

Jungkook blinked slowly. She couldn’t make it? This was not part of his plan. She was supposed to be here in the next half an hour so he would have enough time to complete his piece for judging in four hours. As one of the younger artists at the convention and with immense amounts of talent, people wondered how long Jungkook would be able to sustain his efforts, especially after taking home prizes in one of the major categories two years in a row. Most of them thought he would burn out after his second year or third year, but here he was. Competitive by nature, Jungkook wanted to prove them wrong - that he really did have what it took to be one of the best in the game. A legend in his own right. He shoved his phone back into his black cargo pants pocket and tugged on his curling brown locks. What was he going to do now?

“Guk! Hey, Guk!” He could barely make out your petite frame as you shoved and elbowed your way through the throngs of folk gathered around booths. You were set on getting to him though, your smaller form not holding you back from covering the distance, your brow set in determination whenever he did get glimpses of your face in the crowd.

That was something Jungkook admired about you: your no-nonsense-get-it-done attitude. Friends for almost three years now, he’d seen the way you’d taken charge of almost every opportunity that came your way. You didn’t take no as the final answer and if you couldn’t find a way to make it happen, you created your own. Either way, you got it done. As the first lead female tattoo artist at your shop, Sin City, you’d also made a name for yourself in the tattooing world as a specialist in black and white shading. Your signature though was the three-color-combination color style you developed for your color tattoos. That’s how the two of you had met - the year he’d won “Best Small Black & White”, you’d taken home “Best Medium Color” - and the two of you hadn’t looked back since.

“Gosh, there’s so many people here. It was so hard to find you. I knew I should have checked the Kashi booth first,” you said after finding a pocket of space next to him and hugging his torso.

“Y/N, it’s a convention. Of course there’s going to be a lot of people here,” he replied, wrapping his arms around you, subconsciously looking for comfort in your touch.

Though the two of you mostly had conflicting schedules due to the demand for your work, you did your best to make time for one another. Jungkook had grown accustomed to seeing you every few weeks for lunch or on Friday nights with beer and chicken for Marvel movie marathon weekends. He didn’t dwell on it too much - how ridiculously domestic a lot of your traditions were - not wanting to shake the table and send the precariously perched house of cards pyramid the two of you had created crashing to the ground, upsetting the balance of your friendship. No, Jungkook would leave those thoughts right where they were.

He more felt than saw you roll your eyes as you said, “Yes, Guk. Conventions have lots of people. This just seems like a health and safety hazard though.” Jungkook squeezed you as you pressed closer to him, slightly uncomfortable as more people gathered in the area.

“Alright, let’s go,” he replied, reminding himself to search for the finished koi design afterward as the two of you walked away. “How’d your piece go?”

“So fucking good!” you beamed and turned your face towards him. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Though I don’t know if it’ll win this year, the guy seemed to be really pleased and that’s all that matters. Plus, t-shirt sales have gone up. Like way up! Speaking of which, you should buy one. My t-shirt design on your body?” you did the chef’s kiss, “Impeccable!” you exclaimed and grinned.

Your smile was another thing Jungkook admired about you. The faintest dimples appeared when you did and there was almost never a moment when he couldn’t not smile with you. It was a smile that reached your twinkling eyes and illuminated your face with a glow. Like right now, as you’re striking poses and modeling your black and white cityscape background covered with your shop’s name in a candy red color, a tattoo gun positioned to finish the last line of the last letter on the white tee in the middle of the crowded aisle in some of the shortest shorts he’s ever seen you wear in public. When did you get those?

“You know what would look good on my body?” you asked as the pair of you carried on walking. Me, he thought, but knew where this conversation was really going. “One of your tattoo designs!”

Jungkook sighed. “Y/N, we’ve already talked about this -”

“I know, Guk, but you literally have no reason to not tattoo me,” you whined. “You’ve tattooed every single one of your other friends! Hell, even Yoongi has a tattoo by you.”

“Yoongi has what?” the older man asked as he bumped into you two as you passed the registration booth.

“A tattoo by Jungkook,” you pouted, arms crossed.

It wasn’t that Jungkook didn’t want to tattoo you. He just didn’t want to fuck up a design that would be permanently etched into your skin for the rest of your life. He wanted to create something that was beautiful for you, something that really conveyed the importance of your presence in his life, but every time he sat down to do so, nothing seemed good enough. You’d been seriously begging him for the better part of a year to do something - anything - but he’d refused saying that he didn’t have the time. Secretly, he just didn’t want to fail and let you down.

“Ah, that age-old debate. It’ll happen one day, kid,” Yoongi said as he patted your shoulder gently. “What time are you setting up, Jeon? Your model’s supposed to be here soon, right?” Yoongi asked.

“Fuck!” Jungkook shouted, tugging on his hair and startling a few people around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I don’t have one. She can’t make it. I have to find someone else,” he yelled as he took off, no destination really in mind.

“Wait! Guk -” you called after him but he didn’t stop.

Sometimes, being around you was dangerous as Jungkook could quite literally forget what it was he needed to be doing. There was just something about you that made him lose focus, just a little bit. He couldn’t have that right now. Jungkook needed to be on his A-game, scouting a model that would give him consent in - he checked his phone - twelve minutes.

The one time Jungkook needed someone to be interested in his work, there wasn’t a single soul around. Where had all the people who were begging him to schedule them in for a quick session disappeared to? None of the people passing by were interested in getting a random, floral design done by Jeon Jungkook today, unfortunately. It was as though the devil of the tattoo underworld had cursed him the one time he could have used some luck for the sole purpose of being entertained. Circling back to the D-Town Tattoos booth, Jungkook was running out of options. Shit.

“There you are!” you wheezed as you came to a halt and rested your hands on the table in front of you. “Fuck, I forgot how fast you are.”

“Y/N, I don’t have time. I have to find a model -”

“Why don’t you just use Y/N?” Yoongi asked as he calmly took a seat next to his bench, a tall young man following behind him.

“I couldn’t -” Jungkook spluttered, eyes wide.

“Like you said, Jeon, you don’t have time,” Yoongi reminded him, setting up his work station for his client.

Jungkook looked over at you, still slightly hunched over and trying to catch your breath. This was not how he’d wanted to do this. “Are you sure, Y/N? I don’t know if -”

“Fuck yeah, dude!” you said interrupting him. “100%. Let’s do this!”

Jungkook watched as you made yourself comfortable on his workbench, waiting for him to get started. The fact that you weren’t nervous only added to his apprehension, the fear of potentially disappointing you resurfacing and rising in his gut. It felt like he was taking a risk with stakes much higher than he was willing to bet on, but the trust you had in him had him saying, “Okay. Fill out the consent forms and I’ll pull up the design.”

“What are we working with?” you asked curiously, handing the clipboard back over to him, not really reading it and only signing your name in the designated spots.

“Thigh piece,” he murmured, concentrating on finding the correct sketch on his iPad.

“Sounds fun. I know it’s going to be amazing, Guk. Don’t worry,” you reassured him. He smiled warily as you gave his shoulder a tender squeeze.

Nodding more to himself than you, he showed you the design. @_petuninablooms, like her name suggested, loved flowers. So much so, she’d wanted a full piece dedicated to that specific flower as well as whatever other floral arrangements she thought Jungkook could make look pretty against her skin. She’d won his Instagram contest to be his model for free at the convention because of her sentimental design and background as a botanist, something that piqued Jungkook’s interest. Though he was proud of the design, it didn’t seem to fit you.

“I don’t know, Y/N. I don’t know if it’ll fit your style,” he said, gesturing to your upper half sleeve. The three faces of Frida Khalo, Nefertiti, and Tomoe Gozen were beautifully designed and organized by you as a symbol of feminine unity - embodying passion, leadership, and grace. A much edgier piece than what currently sat on the screen of his iPad designed for his winner, he wasn’t sure how you’d feel about the softer image.

“I told you, Guk. You could tattoo anything on me and I’d be happy. Maybe even more happy than if you’d let me tattoo you. I just want to have something of yours on me - support your craft, you know? Besides,” you said zooming in on the flowers, your gold rings shining in the light, “I like petunias.” Jungkook wasn’t sure if you were only saying this to make him feel better, but he was grateful for your encouragement anyway.

“Uh, I’m going to need you to take your shorts off,” he said hesitantly. “Yoongi, this isn’t against the rules, right? Like having another artist sit for you?” Jungkook asked, turning to give you some privacy though anyone walking past would be able to see you shimmy out of them as there was no curtain or door to shield you.

“Nope. Not that I’ve read,” Yoongi replied, concentrating on his design. Jungkook nodded, steeling himself to focus and get the job done. What he wasn’t expecting was to see you adjusting the band of some very high-waisted, very skimpy, black panties. He nearly choked.

“Does this need to be further up? If not, I can take them off for you. I don’t -”

“No!” Jungkook cried out as he tore his eyes away from the curve of your ass. “I can just move the stencil. It’ll be fine,” he continued after clearing his throat.

“Okay,” you said awkwardly. Jungkook apologized for his outburst as he wheeled himself over to sit in front of you on his little stool. He was making a much bigger deal of this entire situation that it needed to be. He’d seen you in a bikini before, but something about seeing you in your underwear sitting before him was different.

“Relax, Jeon. It’s only a thigh!” Yoongi teased, his head down but his shit-eating grin very much present as he worked on the shading on his client’s forearm. Though Yoongi would never say anything to you out of respect for Jungkook, Jungkook knew Yoongi enjoyed putting him through the wringer whenever you were around.

“Not just a thigh! It belongs to me. My thigh is prime real estate, Min Yoongi. There’s a lot of artists that have been wanting to get in on this,” you joked. Jungkook laughed as he prepped your skin for placing the stencil with rubbing alcohol, hating the fact that he couldn’t feel your skin through the latex gloves but also grateful for the sensory blocker. He knew you were right though - lots of artists did want to work on you and have you walk around with their work as free endorsement of their skill. Honestly, this was a prime opportunity and he should make the most of it.

“Would you be okay with me changing this larger petunia into a mandala? I know you like those,” Jungkook suggested.

“Guk, this is your piece. I told you, I’m good with whatever,” you said cheerfully.

“Keep talking like that I’ll tattoo my name on your ass,” he quipped as he adjusted the design before placing it.

“Make it your face and we just may have a deal,” you shot back and Yoongi gagged from his corner. Jungkook did not want to think about the potential implication of those words.

He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to survive the next three and a half hours with you making suggestive comments while standing in your barely-there underwear, but he was going to have to. Of course, as friends, you’d always had the occasional flirty banter but the “Best Large Black & White” prize was calling his name and God did he want to win. He double-checked the placement of the design as it stretched from just above your hip bone to finish in the middle of your thigh. His adjustments were so precise, it covered the expanse of your thigh damn near perfectly. Jungkook grinned.

“Ready?” he asked, holding up a mirror as you checked out the placement, twisting from side to side.

“Yeah, looks great. How do you want me?”

Jungkook paused as he set up his rolling tray filled with his ink caps and laid out his sterilized needles. There were more than a few ways he could answer that but he settled on, “However you’re most comfortable. You’re going to be here for a while.”

You laughed and climbed onto the bench, giving Jungkook a perfect view of your ass, before you settled against the leather on your left side. Jungkook adjusted the height of his seat so he could position on your thigh with your bent knee resting against the bench and angled towards him. Confirming you were indeed comfortable, Jungkook gently rubbed the A&D ointment across the first section of the design, taking slightly longer than necessary, and got to work. There was a little over three hours to get it done.

He worked diligently as he traced the fine lines of the flower petals, slipping into his professional mode. A small crowd had gathered around the booth, intrigued to see him work on you. Most of the folks there knew about your friendship from social media and mutual community-work settings, how the two of you had bonded over your shared love of tattoos, but seeing the two of you together like this was a real treat. He didn’t feel any pressure as the cameras fought to get a glimpse of him working though. Jungkook did well under pressure but there was a lot riding on this one piece. For him and for you. He wouldn’t disappoint you though. He couldn’t. Not when you looked so peaceful as he worked on the tattoo. Jungkook would win and make you proud.

“Guk, I have a question.”

“What’s up?”

“Would you fuck me?” Jungkook was thankful he’d removed the needle from your skin to wipe off the extra ointment as there was no doubt in his mind he would have fucked up had it been there.

“What?” he asked, slightly breathless.

“Okay, maybe that was a bit vulgar. I guess what I mean is do you think I’m attractive? Like -” you tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, “- a woman you’d spend the night with. Date long-term. That sort of thing,” you finished. Jungkook swallowed before he spoke.

“Uh, yeah. You’re an attractive person.” Jungkook replied, avoiding eye contact with you as he went back to tracing the lines and tried not to think of you under him, around him, on top of - “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a relationship - since anyone has even asked me on a date. Seokjin never called me back after we went for drinks that one time and Jimin - nevermind actually,” you sighed and Jungkook re-lived the memory of Park Jimin with you - the second man to break your heart in a matter of months. His face soured as he remembered how inconsolable you were the first few months after the breakup and how badly he’d wanted to take a baseball bat to Jimin’s very nice, very expensive car. “Maybe I’m unapproachable. Yoongi, am I unapproachable?” you called over to him.

“Yes,” he said dryly, not bothering to look at you. You scoffed in response.

“You’re never the best person to ask, you old man! People barely talk to you,” you murmured.

“Y/N, you’re great,” Jungkook said in response. “You’re more than great actually, but maybe now isn’t the time to get into a relationship?”

“Why not? I have a stable job, I’m cool -”

“Barely!” Yoongi called over. Jungkook watched you shoot Yoongi the finger before you began speaking again.

“- and I’m charming. It would be nice if someone could appreciate that too, someone that wasn’t only me.”

“Hey! I appreciate you!” Jungkook blurted out, slightly offended.

“Yeah, like a friend. Guk, you know you don’t -”

“Don’t say it. Don’t tell me I don’t count, Y/N.”

“But Jungkook -”

Jungkook paused and set his gun down. “No. No ‘but Guk’, Y/N. I appreciate you, more than you know or understand. I get that we’re friends and I know you value our friendship, but you don’t get to tell me I don’t count because you think you know how I feel about you. Please don’t let your perception of my words and actions let you label them “friendly” when they’re something else.” Jungkook picked his gun back up, avoiding your gaze again, slightly alarmed by his unplanned confession.

“What? What do you mean ‘something different’?” you asked, confused. “Was I supposed to read this any differently after you said -”

“You weren’t supposed to know. You weren’t supposed to find out - not like this at least,” he muttered. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Just don’t count me out okay, Y/N? Not this time. Can we talk about this later though? I just -”

Before he could finish, Jungkook’s alarm went off, signaling only an hour and a half left before he needed to be taking you for judgement. “Okay, Guk. I won’t count you out. Finish,” you said softly as you nodded to your tattoo and chewed your lip in thought.

With time against him, you and Jungkook no longer conversed, though the conversation rattled in his brain like loose change in a tin can. He would need much more than a penny for his thoughts if he wanted to get out of this situation. The hasty confession had Jungkook wondering if he’s said too much too soon. Had he finally sent the house of cards tumbling down? It’s not that he hadn’t wanted to say anything, but the fear of you not meaning what you’d said frightened him. Memories of the two of you curled up on his aging leather sofa flickered across his mind’s eye and he wondered if this fuck up was worse than the time he’d quickly denied having any romantic feelings for you the morning after a drunk confession and you’d reciprocated the feelings. It had taken a few months for things to return back to any type of normal, an uneasy tension having over you both whenever you’d met up. Every few seconds his eyes flitted to your face, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever you were thinking sprawled across your forehead in your big, looping handwriting but your eyes were closed and your face fairly serene as you let him work in silence.

And work he did, shoving the thoughts to the back of his mind, finishing the last lines of the final petunia and filling in the mandala with various degrees of shading. He admired the delicacy of his work against your smooth skin, deciding it did suit you, much more than he could have hoped. Jungkook was actually slightly disappointed he was close to finishing, already missing the intimacy of working on you, but also eager to get you on stage so people could see his work. He’d gotten lost in the act like he usually did, concentration never breaking as the rest of the Milano Convention continued in full effect around him. Why had he waited so long to do this? You were a dream to work on, never flinching even as he finished up the minute shading of your tattoo, the worst part for many people. A true tattoo veteran with a hell of a pain tolerance. Roughly ten minutes left in the session, Jungkook wrapped up the piece.

“All done,” he said softly, wiping away the excess ointment and admiring his work briefly.

He heard you gasp as you propped yourself up to get a better view of it. “Holy fuck, Jungkook! It’s perfect. I love it!” you whispered in amazement and Jungkook smiled, relieved to not have disappointed you.

“Let me get some pictures, yeah?” You nodded and Jungkook snapped a few shots, promising to send them to you after the convention ended.

“Looks good, Jeon. And you got it done in time. You learned well,” Yoongi chuckled as Jungkook weakly punched his shoulder. “Are you happy, Y/N?” Yoongi asked as he packed up his spare equipment while his client waited patiently to be escorted to judging.

“Happy?” you scoffed, checking the tattoo out again in the mirror. “How about fucking ecstatic? I’m absolutely in love. Seriously Guk, thank you,” you beamed and launched yourself at him for a hug. Jungkook made eye contact with Yoongi as he held you tight in his arms, the older man relaying a silent message to his younger apprentice through raised eyebrows and crossed arms.

“Alright, alright. You can stare at it more later. We have to get to the judges and make it through all these people so,” Jungkook trailed off, letting you go while simultaneously ushering you out of their designated little space. Agreeing, you grabbed your teeny shorts and shoved your feet back into your sneakers. Jungkook stayed close behind you in an effort to cover your very visible, very exposed ass from peering eyes as you moved through the crowd. As much as he hated to admit it, he was really protective of you.

The trek to the judging station wasn’t as official as the name made it sound. It was really just a small stage raised a few inches above the ground with a table and enough chairs to seat the three judges as artists and their models were scored based on design, complexity, and overall execution. This year’s judges were Jung Hoseok of J’s Tailored Tattoos, Kim Namjoon of Mono & Moon, and Kim Taehyung of Vintage Vante. The three of them were rightfully deemed the gods of the tattoo world and Jungkook looked up to them immensely, each of them having numerous titles on the world stage in countries like Brasil, the United Kingdom, and Australia. Nerves rolled in Jungkook’s belly as he waited in the crowd with you for the host to call his name. A win with these guys as the judges would really put some of those naysayers in their place and Jungkook shuffled in place behind you, antsy.

“What’s wrong, Guk?’ you whispered to him as another artist and model headed on stage.

“What if they don’t like it?” he murmured anxiously.

“Do you like it?” Jungkook nodded. “Then that’s all that really matters. You’re insanely talented and I know they’re some of your role models, but they’re fucked if they don’t see how incredible you are. You’ve got this, Guk,” you said in a hushed tone as Yoongi took the stage with his model from earlier. Jungkook smiled into the back of your head as you stood in front of him and gave his hand a squeeze. Jungkook could always count on you.

It was now his turn. Standing with one hand tucked into his pocket and the other firmly gripping your shorts, Jungkook watched as the judges made their notes on their scoring sheets. You turned graciously to give all three of them the best view of the tattoo. And while he knows that there are probably a few people who’d be overjoyed at the challenges he faced to get to this moment, Jungkook didn’t care. Not when your uplifting words still wrapped around him, affirming his skill and talents. He was proud of what he’d accomplished today and while winning was the ultimate goal, he was also at ease because he’d succeeded in fulfilling one of your wishes and you were happy. Jungkook could only smile as you showered him with praise and tried to convince him to tattoo you again as the judging continued.

The two of you stood with Yoongi, chatting as the judges tallied up the scores. He tried to stay still as he watched the host organize the names of the winning artists, losing interest in the conversation as the judges confirmed the final results. One by one, the host read the categories and its corresponding champion. “For Best Medium Color,” the host paused for dramatic effect, “Min Yoongi!” Jungkook cheered loudly with you as his mentor took the stage with his model showing off the antique pocket watch and a royal flush poker hand on top of a wispy background.

Jungkook’s heart hammered in his chest, the sensation almost worse than his first year at the convention as Best Large Black & White was read out. Though he wanted to look calm and collected on the outside, Jungkook was sure he looked anything but. The audience created their own drumroll as the anticipation built - “Jeon Jungkook!”

Your squeal kickstarted Jungkook’s brain as he processed his win. He’d really done it? A few people around him clapped him on the shoulders in congratulations as he was pushed towards the stage to collect his prize and take his place beside the host. “Congratulations, Jungkook! One of the few artists to take home all three wins in one category,” the host announced. If only they knew what it took to get there. Jungkook felt like he was on cloud nine as he shook hands with the judges and took his picture with you and them, prize in hand. He knew he was positively glowing with pride.

“Guk, you did it! I told you that you could!” you cheered as you bounced up and down in happiness and excitement as they moved onto Best Large Color. He smiled down at you and unable to help himself any longer, he scooped you up into his arms, burying his face in your neck.

“Thank you, Y/N!” He repeated the phrase earnestly as if saying it over and over again would finally let you understand just how grateful he was but all it really did was make you giggle as his breath tickled your skin. “Seriously, I really couldn’t have done this without you.”

“I know,” you joked and flipped your hair. You both laughed and you pulled him in for another hug as you said, “Of course, Guk. I’m always here for you. Always,” you punctuated with a squeeze and a smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” he agreed. “You are always here for me,” he said vaguely as he stared down at you in his arms.

“Guk?” you queried as he stared off into the distance.

“This isn’t happening because I won. I don’t want you to think that I only do things like this when I’m any sort of intoxicated, okay?” Jungkook clarified as his confidence grew.

“Things like what?”

“Like confess and kiss you,” he stated.

“Kiss me? You’ve never-”

“Yes, I know I’ve never kissed you. But I want to. Is that okay?” Jungkook asked seriously.

“Yes. More than okay,” you whispered.

It was all Jungkook needed to hear. He was finally kissing you. A soft kiss that grew the longer you stood pressed together in the middle of the convention floor. Jungkook had had his fair share of first kisses, but yours was the one he’d remember for the rest of his life. Maybe because it was you. Maybe that’s why it would always be his favorite. He’d always refrained from putting himself in any situation where he’d be even the slightest bit tempted but now, after having you, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to let you go. The overwhelming sensation that it was actually happening was quickly quelled by the insurmountable joy he felt as you kissed because it was actually happening.

Jungkook may have ascended into another plane as your fingers curled into the hair at the base of his neck and you pulled him further into you. Though he really didn’t want you to think he was only doing this because he’d won, the courage it gave him really did help. The feeling of winning nearly paled in comparison from the brief, sweet taste that was you. Even if he’d never won tonight, he would have considered himself a winner regardless from the kiss alone. Jungkook sighed into you as he savored the moment. Through the pounding of blood in his ears, he could vaguely make out the hoots and hollers of passerbyers as he held you close. Lost in you once again, Jungkook forced himself to remember your earlier conversation.

“Did you really mean it though?” he asked, one arm still wrapped tightly around your waist and the other holding onto his golden plaque.

“Mean what?”

“Not counting me out.”

“Did you mean what you said?” you countered. “Even if I wasn’t supposed to find out this way.”

“Yes, and all the times before then,” he answered truthfully. “So, does this mean you’ll have me?”

“Absolutely. Totally. With my entire hea-” He pressed repeated kisses against your mouth, your teeth clashing as you both smiled, neither of you willing to break apart until a familiar voice cleared its throat.

“I leave for five minutes and this is how I find you. Took you long enough though. Be that as it may, are you done?” Yoongi asked, expression wry and his own prize peeking out of his duffle bag. “I could use some food before we head back to the hotel and Y/N is going to need that tattoo bandaged.”

“Right, right,” Jungkook answered and let you go albeit reluctantly. “We’ll meet you at the car?” Yoongi nodded.

“Don’t take forever. I will leave you. Both of you,” Yoongi warned as he headed off to the exit without any further questions.

Back at the booth, Jungkook applied a generous amount of ointment to the piece before securing it with a bandage and double-checking the tape. Helping you step into your shorts, he smiled at the tattoo. Not only would it be a great reminder of a great win, it would also signify the milestone in your friendship - relationship? - was taking. “Told you that you should’ve tattooed me sooner,” you quipped as you gingerly pulled up your shorts.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” he asked, playing along as he quickly packed up his things.

“You would have won much sooner,” you murmured, standing before him.

“Really? What would have been my prize instead? Because that plaque is pretty great.” Jungkook sat his bag on the ground and rested his hands on your hips.

“Better than me?” you grinned and he pressed his lips to yours again.

“Looks like I’ll have to come up with another design then,” he hummed.

“Or you can let me and I can tattoo you,” you suggested with a devilish grin.

“And what do you propose?”

“My name. Right here,” you pointed to the empty space on the left side of his chest.

“Only if you let me tattoo my face on your ass,” he joked and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Deal,” you laughed.

Jungkook said nothing further, only smiled as he laced his fingers between yours and tugged you in the direction of the exit. “Great. I’ll have everything arranged,” he replied. Laughing with you in these moments meant so much to him and while he wasn’t sure what would happen between you after you left the convention and headed home, he would take pleasure in these moments for as long as you’d let him. As the two of you exited the building and hustled across the busy street to the parking garage so Yoongi wouldn’t have an excuse to leave you, Jungkook wondered if you’d known that your name had been inked over his heart a long, long time ago.

full masterlist // drabbles

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook #bts fanfction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #jjk #bts fanfic #fic: inked heart

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skullrock · 5 years ago

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the campers, chapter one - Steve x Reader

chapter one: the enemies

series summary:Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are the Party, Hopper, and his mortal enemy - you. [Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort]

chapter summary: You and Steve unfortunately reunite for the first time in five years.

warnings: swearing!

word count: 1.6k

a/n: alright fellas, I am back with another longfic! this one is a summer camp au. this chap is mainly exposition but it’ll flesh out in the next chapter. hope you are ready to go on this ride w me!

===

Steve isn’t quite sure what he signed up for.

“Steve, you have to,” Dustin pleaded with him a month ago. “There aren’t enough counselors, and if there aren’t enough counselors, then there’s no camp.”

Steve rolled his eyes, bit his heart was sympathetic. “Why is that my problem?”

Dustin sighed, frustrated. “Because we’re best friends, and you’re supposed to help your friends when they need it.”

Steve rolled his eyes again as he contemplated the scenario. Steve had gone to camp when he was younger, but it was nothing like Camp Know Where. Steve’s parents had sent him off to a summer camp that some other Hawkins parents sent their kids to. Tommy H. had always gone, as well as some other boys Steve grew up with. He enjoyed his time there – it was always pleasant and fun. Just a boy doing boy things with his shitty friends. But Camp Know Where had a purpose. Steve didn’t know the first thing about science. Dustin said that could be used to his advantage - Steve wasn’t so sure.

“What’s in it for me?” Steve asked, unpeeling an orange as he leaned against the kitchen counter in his apartment.

“The camp is right on a lake,” Dustin began. “It’s a great spot for swimming and kayaking. You don’t know shit about science, so this is an opportunity to learn. And some of the camp counselors are babes.”

Steve snorted. “What are they, forty-five?”

“Uh, no? They’re your age?”

Steve’s brows shot up at the mention. “You’re saying there are babes I have a chance with there?”

“They’re apparently not your type, ya know, since you hate nerds.” Dustin shrugged his shoulders, but Steve was still very, very interested.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“And, anyway, you can lead the sports and adventures and hikes and stuff, if you don’t like science. And it’s a nice way to get away from Hawkins for a few months.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully. “Is it paid?”

“You get a stipend of two hundred a month.”

Steve nearly choked on his orange. “Two hundred dollars a month?!”

“And your food is paid for. So is your laundry and housing. It’s free.” Dustin grinned smugly at Steve, and Steve held his hand out.

“You got a deal,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

Steve went through a phone interview and Dustin wrote him a glowing recommendation. And here he is, a month later, driving towards Michigan with Dustin in the passenger seat and multiple suitcases in the back. Steve was required to come two weeks early to learn the ropes, while Dustin was allowed to come early because he was a designated Camp Leader, along with Suzie and some others.

“They call us the ‘Know Everythings’,” Dustin beams.

“Sounds like they’re trying to call you smartasses,” Steve responds, staring absentmindedly out the windshield. Dustin’s smile drops and Steve’s widens. “Don’t worry, Dusty-bun, your girlfriend likes it.”

Dustin slams himself back against the seat, looking out the window. “Should’ve never invited you.”

“Too late.”

Steve was excited beyond the nerves. He had needed some type of self-intervention and introspection after the last three years. He needed a way to mend the emotional scars that the Upside Down and Nancy had left. Dustin had said there were a lot of authors and poets who wrote about the healing power of nature. Steve’s not sure it’s legit, but it’s more hope than he’s had in a while. Robin had also insisted it would be good for Steve to get away from town and try to find himself. So Steve is going into it with an open mind, trying to fight his negative side with suffocating positivity.

You, on the other hand, knew exactly what you’d signed up for.

You had gone to camp when you were younger, too. Except you hated that camp with a passion. Each summer, you’d cry to your parents as June rolled around. You didn’t want to go back to that stupid, hot, ridiculous camp, where a certain group of boys made your life hell. But your parents insisted it was good for you, and they sent you until you were too old to go. In a way, they were right; the camp had taught you to stand up for yourself. It gave you the confidence and self-love a lot of people didn’t have. But you certainly wished you’d found all of that in a healthier way - not because boys would steal your clothes when you were swimming at night, leaving you to walk to your cabin naked.

So, you signed up to help out at Camp Know Where two years ago because you loved science and the outdoors, and you wanted to facilitate a healthy self-love journey for the campers. You wanted to help teach them how to be themselves, to love themselves, to stick up for themselves. And, truth be told, nerds need that kind of reassurance. You’re a nerd – you’d know.

You came to camp two weeks early to help train the new counselors. You didn’t get the list of names, but if you had, you would have run away as soon as your eyes landed on Steve Harrington.

It was, by all accounts, a beautiful June day. Not too hot, not too cool. The breeze rustled the leaves and the waves of the lake lapped the shoreline. Not a cloud in the bright blue expanse above the camp, which was buzzing with Camp Leaders and trainees. You stood at the entrance, helping direct people to the registration table. You were excited to see some of your favorites again – especially Suzie and Dustin. They’d been campers you bonded with last year, and you were ready to see them again.

Suzie came by first, adorably excited to see Dustin when he arrived. “He said he’s bringing a friend to help be a counselor, do you know them?”

“Oh, I have no clue,” you remark. “Do you know their name?”

“Steve, something? They’re pretty close.”

The name Steve had always left a bitter taste in your mouth, so you visibly cringe. Suzie’s brows furrow but you assure her you’re fine. It can’t be that Steve. There’s no way the Steve you knew at Camp Golden Rays was about to come here, to a nerd-infested camp, to help out with kids. No way.

You continue to greet campers and new counselors as they come. During a lull, you lean against the picket fence that lined the entrance, looking out at the parking lot. You see a nice BMW come into view – it’s not one you’d seen before. Must be someone new, you think, pushing yourself up off the fence to greet them.

The first person you notice is Dustin, easily recognizable despite the hat covering his curly hair. He’s taller than the last time you’d seen him – kids grow up so fast. You smile brightly, happy for him to finally arrive, but your smile plummets comically as you see the next person step out.

It’d been 5 years since you’d seen Steve Harrington, and his hair had grown out and his body had toned, but it was unquestionably him. Steve, that stupid, smug bastard. That idiotic jerk who used to smack your lunch tray and trip you. That moron who all the girls swooned over and excused countless times for shitty behavior.

Here he is, at Camp Know Where – a place you never thought you’d ever see him.

Of course, Steve doesn’t know who you are, at first. His concussions had clouded his memory, only remembering bits and pieces. It takes work for him to remember who people are, or what things happened. Most of his memories of Camp Golden Rays are intact, but he had severely repressed his shitty tween behavior. As he approaches, all he really thinks about is that Dustin was right, there were babes here.

“Y/N!” Dustin calls out, running awkwardly with his trunk to come hug you. You hug him, but your eyes stay on Steve, who beams at you as if he didn’t ruin your whole life.

“Look who it is.” Your voice is cold and monotonous.

Steve stops dead in his tracks, confusion twisting on his face. What now? he thinks. This isn’t the first time he’s forgotten who someone was. But then it hits him, and the realization nearly sweeps him off his feet. Regret, remorse, guilt, and anger rip through him as he remembers you. You, who he used to shove. You, who he used to laugh at. There’s still a part of him that feels that hatred for you, deep down, and he tries to shove it away.

“Jesus Christ,” he says under his breath, before loudly saying, “Hi, Y/N.”

Dustin’s brows knit together, and he looks between you two. He can assume that you both have a history. Steve probably stood you up or something. Slowly, he asks, “You two…?”

“Nice car,” you quip. “Daddy buy that for you?”

“Nice to see you, too,” Steve responds, dragging his feet towards you. There’s a lot of things he wants to say – that he’s sorry, that you look really good now, that he’s changed. But it all rests at the base of his throat. His mouth opens and closes a few times.

“Can someone please explain?” Dustin says.

“You’re friends with this asshat?” You ask Dustin, gesturing to Steve. “Like, actual friends with him?”

“Guilty,” Dustin says sheepishly. He’ll fill you in on Steve’s growth later. “Let’s go find Suzie, Steve.”

And despite your apprehension towards each other, you and Steve share the same thought – This is going to be a long summer.

===

taglist (join here!): @harringtown @heart-eye-harrington @rosecolouredboi @comedy-witch @lovesong-remastered

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington au #stranger things fic #stranger things au #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #the campers #working on a playlist!!!

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anthropologyapologist · 3 years ago

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I don't know what I'm doing with my life/academic career. After the catastrophe of the Spring 2020 pandemic semester where I failed my lab class because that thing was so much more tough online and it was already a tough class in person (someone told me that that class basically broke them cuz the professor is rly stern). After that semester I took the rest of 2020 off since the following Fall semester they didn't offer any classes that I needed and I only need about 4 classes plus my thesis to graduate my MA program.

Then the Spring 2021 semester there was finally one class for me to take. I struggled with it, dealt with my adhd and depression medication tryouts, and barely passed it but I passed it and that's all that matters. Looks like there are no classes for me this Fall 2021 semester but i have signed up for a hands on archaeological methods field class at the local community college because I need hands on exp and I've had no luck with field schools. I also signed up for a GIS class cuz that could be useful for an archaeology job.

But during all of this time I haven't been able to even start writing my thesis. I haven't had a chance to actually look at the collection that I decided to work on because the pandemic shut everything down and the archaeological society that has the collections has been closed. I need to transfer the collection to the university so I can finally see if this collection is even worth writing a thesis on. Kinda wanna switch my topic at this point but I have no idea what to do.

My committee chair hasn't responded to my emails in a while. As far as I know he hasn't been responding to anyone else's either. I am now entering the 4th year of my program (supposed to be a 3 year program) even though I was on track to graduate by the past Spring semester (spring 2021) if the pandemic hadn't happened. Last summer I was supposed to do my field school and write my thesis draft. Finish up my classes in the Fall of 2020, with one class in Spring 2021 and to continue working on my thesis and graduate. But none of that happened and I just feel so hopeless.

I'm looking for work so that i can do something but I haven't heard back. The museum I was volunteering at before the pandemic is hiring so I'm hoping they hire me since I won't need to be trained and it's a state parks job so good for networking. Also throwing applications out to other museum gift stores because I'm literally looking for anything semi related to anthropology. Can't do any archaeology field jobs cuz I don't have the hands on experience but I'll get that done in the next few months and hopefully that opens a few more doors.

I guess writing this out made me realize that I kind of have a plan but it just seems really small. I just wanna be able to save up some money and move out, be on my own and not having my parents support me because it's become a really toxic home life with my parents berating me for any little mistake and never being appreciative of the fact that I literally do everything for them from making sure all the bills are paid on time, doing the secretary work for my dad's business and basically being a parent to my younger brother (I deal with all his school stuff, registration, deadlines, all the paperwork and conferences and I take him everywhere).

I'm just so tired and stressed out and I feel like my life isn't going anywhere.

#just venting about school and life

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cristalknife · 4 years ago

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Kadam Week 2021 Day 1 ~ Do You Want To Be A Pirate?

So this is me trying to not start something on a platform only to post solely somewhere else aka AO3 and ff.net you can find the complete list of Kadam Week 2021 prompts and you might find more stories on the Kadam Week 2021 AO3 collection

That said, the fist prompt was Puzzles and Games. And what represents better both than a treasure hunt? So here we go, I present to you Do You Want To Be A Pirate?

All the student body was abuzz, the annual treasure hunt was to be announced soon, it was always a great event. Mainly because the winner of the event earned a full booklet of backstage passes. Sixteen of them, completely blank to be used at the winner discretion during the current theatre season.

No limits were imposed on how the passes were to be used, be in a single show with a large group or even touring all the shows solo. The catch was that if multiple shows were to be watched by a group of two people up, the winner had to be there for each show.

Those booklets were the courtesy of Alumni working in the field. And to be honest it was a fun event for the faculty as well to create the set of riddles and clues needed to reach the destination.

It was supposed to be a moment of fun, but at the same time given the kind of prize, it was not meant to be effortless.

However to the faculty disappointment, the individuals only rule with no cooperation allowed present in the previous editions, resulted in no winners for the past couple of years.

After consulting the sponsor, it was decided that for this year students could sign up as pairs.

But if the students decided to sign up as pair, then both the winners would have to be present each time they were to use the passes.

And apparently that wasn’t a condition that some were comfortable with, while others like Kurt were actually overjoyed.

Once he heard of the treasure hunt, he went out searching for Adam, barely containing his elation and desire to share the news.

Upon finding his boyfriend, Kurt was barely able to contain his excitement and he launched himself into Adam's arm sure he'd be caught.

Adam grinned and kissed Kurt back, holding him securely before saying "Hellu Love, what got you so excited?"

Kurt chuckled and as soon as his feet touched the floor once more he raised the flier and pointed to the fine prints "They mentioned a change in the rules and on this year’s event people can sign up as pairs. The catch is that both need to be present when using the passes, so you're game signing up with me?"

Adam raised an eyebrow curious before reading the flier aloud "The Annual Treasure Hunt? Is that what got you so excited? Except for my freshman year, I don't recall any of those events actually ever having winners"

Erika came up from the side and quipped "Three years ago was the last time someone won, but it was again one of the last seniors graduating. After that batch left, no one ever figured out the clues, I'm surprised the faculty still does it"

Kurt shrugged "Well the prize makes very much sense for the school, I mean blank passes for the backstage of current productions? That sounds interesting, and sixteen of them would actually mean we could all go together as a group and still have two spares for the winning team to get another show, or split between two productions..."

Kurt speech had most of the Apples smiling and send to their favourite freshie an adoring look.

Adam still amazed by his boyfriend asked softly "So you suggest a common effort and register more than one team, and then Apples parties at my place, where we could all chill out and talk about our days?"

JJ quipped up "Only if that involved baked goods from both our favourite bakers, because Adam ma man, I love your cookies but gimme Kurt's casserole and salty cupcakes any time, and I could even fight you off and offer my hand in marriage for having those every day"

Kurt snorted and swatted away playfully JJ's offered hand "You are not even remotely bi-curious, If I wanted to live with an overgrown kid who'd stay with me for my cooking I'd simply invite my brother to move in with me"

Everyone around chuckled at that and JJ pouted mockingly offended "Are you insinuating I'm not man enough for you?"

Adam then stepped in smirking "More like implying that all the main male leads in his life are already cast, and you dear friend can only be the occasional torn in our butt, one that comes every now and then to offer his company in exchange for delicious food..."

Grinning like a cheshire cat JJ quipped back "Well we all know that the good ones are all gay, unavailable or happily being both together"

Everyone broke down in giggles and with resolute nods each claimed a partner. The divide and conquer idea Kurt had was very intriguing, and the thought of getting the upper hand on an event that even the Perks couldn't get their way by popularity alone, or that no one else won for the past couple of years had its allure…

Especially given the mixed composition of techies and performers in their group.

Seeing Kurt smiling radiantly was something each member of the Apples enjoyed and cherished.

Especially since the big fallout, or as it was known amongst them, the great purge of the toxic influx in Kurt's life.

Also known as the day when Miss fallen out Diva Berry left the loft in a huff and Kurt and his roommate Santana took the storming out literally and changed the key of the padlock.

Sending all of Berry’s stuff back to the temporary storage place two blocks away from bushwick, with a 3 days grace period and a week paid with Berry's part of the deposit.

Kurt himself was just very happy to be surrounded by friends who supported him as much as he supported them.

Being with Adam and being friends with all the members of the Adam's Apples, had given him a perspective he never knew he desperately needed, and it also lowered his tolerance for taking crap by those who were supposed to be on his side.

Kurt was not secretly very excited by the prospect of looking forward to something in his life that could be just fun and despite being officially a competition. He was still able to live it as an adventure, to be shared with his boyfriend and all their friends as well.

As they walked away from the registration boot and reading the first clue ‘Every adventure needs a captain to sail for the treasure island’

Kurt giggle when Adam playfully whispered in his ear "Aye aye captain let's get our sea legs on"

Kurt nodded and they made it to the costume department through the back corridors, not wanting to tip off the other not Apples participants, while their friends instead received simply a gentle reminded in their text chat, that all hearties were to meet at rehearsal later in the week same place same time.

Indeed their guess was correct when they found the next clue stating ‘Never forget those who came before you’

Kurt and Adam took the chance to grab a quick lunch as they discussed the clue. Adam was the first one to attempt to solve it "If we are thinking about the school that would send us to the hall of fame"

Kurt nodded slowly but tapped his finger against his lips "But what if it's a more general outlook? We are learning to get into an industry that broadens beyond the limits of the school and its social circles, even if those are still important"

Adam hummed softly mulling over it "So you're suggesting more like the library?"

Kurt nodded "I'm just unsure whether we are supposed to search in the history section itself or go more for the history of Broadway and theatre section"

Adam nodded slowly "there's no rule about not searching blindly both"

Kurt chuckled and nodded as well, after finishing his cup he raised an eyebrow in silent question and received a simple nod in response.

Once in the library, Adam was the one to take over the history of Broadway and the theatre section while Kurt went through the History books.

It took a while but finally Adam was successful and found a piece of plasticised parchment with what appeared half of the final clue.

The mention of a second half made him frown, but with nothing else to be found there, he simply took a picture of it with his phone.

He then placed the clue back inside the book and the book back on the shelf before going to find Kurt, hoping his got lucky and found the second half.

"Did you get anything?"

Kurt shook his head a little put off "No absolutely nothing, you?"

Adam nodded "Yeah I found something but it's only half of the final clue"

Kurt frowned confused "Guess it's time to start some baking then hmmm?"

Adam smiled and leaned forward to give Kurt a small peck on his cheek trying to stop the frowning "We could do directly at my place and then make an evening out of it"

The offer, as Adam hoped, brought a smile on Kurt's face as he replied coyly "I'd love that, are you offering just the evening or it could turn into a sleepover"

Adam grinned and moved so that he could kiss those cheeky lips, when he was almost where he wanted to be, he breathed quickly "We'll swing by the loft if there's something you absolutely need for tomorrow classes"

He then proceeded to thoroughly kiss his boyfriend.

After classes ended for the day, Kurt sent a message to their chat group informing everyone that it was baking time in the afternoon

Adam raised an eyebrow curiously at the message and Kurt shrugged stating simply "That way we can be sure basically everyone will show up with something to contribute, just before or around dinner time, and then the meeting will become a movie night"

Adam snorted because indeed knowing their friends that was what would most likely happen, "It wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I offered to make an evening out of it darling"

Kurt grinned, mischief gleaming clearly in his eyes "That's why I raised your offer to a sleepover instead..."

And true to Kurt's expectations, that evening all the Apples who didn't have to work, appeared at Adam's doorstep with offerings for the shared evening meal.

Of course those who had worked demanded a do-over with double baked goodies of their faves as personal share...

Once everyone was seated around, Paul, who paired up with JJ for the treasure hunt, asked "How was your hunt we've only found half of the final clue"

Kurt wrinkled his nose "we reached only half of the final clue as well care to see if we've all found the same half or if we lucked out?"

Adam took off his phone and started to read aloud "Congratulation adventurers, you're holding half of the treasure map holding the clue for the final answer you will have to give to someone to receive your treasure, think back on the steps you took to find this and then go and find the last missing piece"

JJ jumped up from his seat exclaiming excitedly "Yes we've got both!"

Paul shook his head smiling and took off his own phone reading "Congratulation adventurers, you're holding half of the treasure map holding the clue to figure out who is the officer that you'll need to impress with the answer that you still need to find to receive your treasure, think back on the steps you took to find this and then go and find the last missing piece"

Everyone was suddenly buzzing with unrestrained excitement when Kurt asked pragmatically "So how are we going to tackle this? Reading both clues together and then split between them or focusing the attention on a single one?"

Adam suggested swiftly "We could actually read them both and then see how to tackle the easier one first"

When everyone nodded Paul continued reading their clue "You might go to Central Park Or catch a show on Broadway... Where in the world would you be to get to these by subway? Twice... I mean the answer is New York clearly but how does that help us identify who to give our final answer to?"

General groaning raised from around the room when Erika cut in "Adam what is your clue?"

Adam complied and read it for everyone perusal "What show is next in this pattern: A Chorus Line, Into the Woods, Bat Boy, Pacific Overtures, Little Women, Damn Yankees, Camelot, The Pajama Game, Children of Eden. As a hint, there is more than one show that correctly works, but one show fits more ‘perfectly’ than any others.”

Adam raised his phone to let everyone seeing the picture and commented

“As a side note there's only one blank line but its length doesn't seem indicative as it was formatted to look good rather than give a hint on the last name, or at least that’s what it looks like to me"

And everyone had to nod at that consideration at that point Chris' groan was the loudest "I don't get yall, neither of those is any more clear than mat moss paint..."

Kurt sniggered but offered a plate with Chris' favourite cookies on it "It's ok, we can work it out together so any ideas?"

Matt who had been quiet this far asked Kurt speculatively "You already have an idea for at least one of them don't you?"

Kurt looked taken aback and blushed getting himself busy with the food "Nothing solid.."

At that point Adam walked behind Kurt and wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist as he pressed himself against his boyfriend "It's ok Love, you don't have to be right to speak your mind, we are here brainstorming there's no judging with us"

JJ quipped teasingly "I mean we'll obviously judge and tease you till the end of times for getting flustered the first time we took you out for blow jobs, but for this… I mean you're all going to hearing the suggestion my gorilla brain comes up with"

Chris snorted and quipped teasingly "Given what gets spawned out of your mouth I thought you would have said instead that yours is like a pig’s brain."

Matt joined in to the teasing, shaking his head as he grinned salaciously and wiggling his eyebrows "Nah a pig's brain is too big we are talking mouse if everything is in proportion."

Kurt coughed at the double meaning implied in that sentence, he feared JJ would take it badly. But he was once again surprised when JJ put theatrically one hand on his cheek, the other on his chest clearly mimicking a delightful surprise "Oh Matt, my darling why didn't you said that before… All this time you were checking me out because you wanted some of my sweet sweet love, comma hear lemme give ya some sugar baby"

Everyone erupted in laugher and Matt maturely threw his napkin aiming for JJ's face "You wish man, you wish"

JJ pouted "Harsh dude, harsh, you could have at least throw your cupcake with the napkin"

Kurt sent a levelled glare to both boys "If anyone dares to throw our delicious baked food not only they will stay for the cleanup, but they will be banned to get more baked goodies for the next month"

A single "Ouch" escaped Matt's lips before he silenced himself and raised his arms in surrender.

Paul swatted the back of JJ's head "Don't upset daddy, or I'm so going to gag you next time we are all in the same room to prevent that from happening, I rather enjoy our baked goodies"

Erika quipped at Paul "Which is why you shouldn't save JJ from himself, let him dig his own grave, more goodies for us... Kurt had not said anything about lowering the amount of baked goodies, only put a ban on who can access them"

Chris chuckled and offered their fist to Erika, as they said grinning "Well said girl well said"

Erika smiled brilliantly and bumped the fist and then both made an explosion motion as they both retreated their arms.

Kurt raised an eyebrow at being addressed as daddy, but Adam just held him a little closer and mouthed later.

So Kurt took the handle of the situation and started sharing his idea hoping for the current teasing to come to a natural rest "well I was thinking on Paul and JJ's clue... What if we need to take that final twice literally? As in the correct answer is New York, New York"

Erika's eyes shone brighter "Like the Scorsese's movie?"

Kurt nodded "Yes that's also the name of the most known song from that movie, so New York New York could be the solution"

Paul pondered and then said "Well if we are talking about a movie would that mean that we are to talk with the dean of the drama department?"

Kurt bit his lips and then he continued explaining his thoughts "I was thinking more about the fact it might refer to the song, which then in turn would make Madam T be the one to speak with, given that she's the dean of vocal performance. And with the movie being also a musical maybe the singing component is more pronounced and would lead to her instead of Mr Keller?"

Adam then said serenely "Once we figure out the answer we could even decide to split and each team going to both of them with the solution."

Murmurs of agreement run through the room until Matt stated "So now we just have to figure out what that list of musicals have in common?"

JJ scratched his head before raising and grabbing few more cupcakes to munch on "Do you think that the fact they cross two centuries means anything?"

Chris promptly opened Adam's computer and pulled up the wikipedia pages of all the listed musicals before shaking their head "Nope they are not in chronological order so it’s not that"

Paul then quipped "And that wouldn't make any sense, the additional hint says that there's only one answer that would fit perfectly... it's not like there's only one new musical coming out every single year"

Erika asked then "I am not familiar with all the titles but are they really all musicals?"

Adam answered "Yeah all of those listed are musicals, so maybe we need to check on the songs?"

Matt then wondered aloud "What if it's something all the songs have? Maybe there's a matching title or a recurring theme?"

Kurt took out his phone and looked around and said "well there's seven of us and nine titles maybe we could each open the list and check them side by side?"

JJ grinned and took out his phone as well "That's a great idea"

Kurt started listing all the songs of chorus line, Matt went on with the ones from into the woods, JJ giggled like a maniac as he read the bat boy's list. Paul read on the Pacific Overtures and Erika listed the ones from Little Women.

When Adam, who was reading from the Damn Yankees, reached the song titled Six months, Chris exclaimed excited while raising a finger silently asking for a moment "Holy moley I think we got something going here"

Everyone turned, waiting for more explanation that Chris promptly provided "Each of those musicals has a song with a number in their titles" and then they pointed to Kurt who quickly caught up and said "One" and then each proceeded in order Matt said "It takes two", JJ said excited "Three Bedroom House "

Paul grinned starting to see the path as he said "Four Black Dragons"

Erika was grinning madly as she said "Five forever"

Then JJ still super hyped by having discovered the key to decode the clue he asked Chris "So what are the others?"

Chris smirked and started prattling "In Camelot we have ‘The Seven Deadly Virtues’, The Pajama Game has a song called ‘7½ Cents’ while the Children of Eden has ‘A Piece of Eight’”

Kurt hummed softly and considered aloud "So we have nine musicals mentioned but the last number is eight... What if they had already given us the answer and it's literally Nine?"

Adam whistled impressed "That actually makes so much sense..."

Paul groaned "And if you explain it like that it seems so obvious too"

Erika shrugged "All riddles once explained make so much sense that you usually feel stupid for not reasoning it out before... That's why they are considered brain teasers"

Chris who in the meantime checked out Kurt's suggestion finally quipped triumphantly "That's it guys, we have a winner the answer is indeed Nine, which has a song called guess what?”

Chuckling everyone said at once “Nine"

JJ then scratched his head and then asked "So now we are only unsure on who we need to tell our answer to?"

Paul quipped happily “Me says Adam and Kurt follow Kurt’s reasoning, we follow ours, that way if our suspicion is correct and Kurt is right it’ll be them and not us having a private date… No offence man but I’d really prefer not having my girlfriend gutting me for going out on a date with you”

JJ snorted before sounding almost genuinely upset “Harsh man, harsh”

Paul patted JJ shoulder when Kurt asked confused “But what about the others?”

Matt answered smiling “Kurt you four are the only ones who got to the final clue, I personally wouldn’t like to try to get the prize knowing I barely got to the second one.”

Chris and Erika nodded as well confirming they felt the same way.

Kurt felt relieved that he wasn’t taking advantage of his friends. With everything sorted out, everyone else left leaving just Kurt and Adam alone.

After they settled down Kurt turned to Adam, with a questioning look on his face before asking “Is now later? Do I get to know what the daddy comment was about?”

Adam chuckled softly “Nothing bad Love, I can assure you that, you know that I’m considered the mother hen of the group right?”

Kurt hummed softly nodding as he snuggled closer to Adam who then continued “And well you’re too sweet and kind to all the Apples to be considered a father, but still we are together and we both tend to take care of them so…”

Kurt chuckled and finished shaking his head “So I’m daddy… Not sure how to feel about having so many kids that are all older than me”

They both sniggered at that.

The next day, when they went talking with Madam Tibideaux, they discovered that indeed Kurt’s reasoning was correct, and they got out of her office with the prize and matching grins. ~The End~

#kadam week 2021 #kadam fic #kadam #glee #glee prompts filling #my kadam fic #my glee fic #treasure hunting #riddles #long post #it's a fic what did you expect #my writing is not suited for tumblr #~3.8K words of story #I tried my best formatting it #vcg73

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sailing-elitsha · 4 years ago

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WE DID IT!!!!!!!!

Our first ocean crossing is a fact!!

The last miles were draining. Running with constantly changing winds, crossing waves and without spinnaker is not funny. I was not seasick this time, but caught an ear infection, which I thought will be okay after a while, because I got antibiotic from Doctor Josephine in St Helena for my leg infection. Without consulting a doc in St Helena again, we left. The crossing waves and light wind made me nauseous because my ear was blocked. The night watches drained but the spirit of the crew, Dick and I, maintained unbroken positive and happy. We caught a tuna and a barracuda. The swordfish, when we finally had him close to Elitsha, went back to the sea. The line broke and he is now the coolest fish in the South Atlantic with a hip piercing on his sword nose. The barracuda, I caught on my watch. Dick was sleeping and I got him close, which was not easy, but then I saw his teeth, I knew, this I won’t do on my own. Together we got him in. Even though I was not feeling well, I baked several breads, cooked tuna curry, and did my watches. Dick took the more difficult watches and let me sleep a little bit longer each night. I rest much more then he did. So, you can imagine, we both looked forward to having a good sleep after arriving in Fernando. Bob the aircraft engineer was close to us, but they wanted to continue their way to the Caribbean straight forward. Going ashore in Fernando de Noronha was not allowed, so all Yachties skip the island. We were hoping on getting water and to be allowed to just sleep 3 nights at the anchorage and continue sailing afterwards.

Immensely proud and happy on Friday the 30th of April at 5 am after having sailed 1812 nautical miles we arrived at Fernando de Noronha, a small Island and Nature Reserve at the Brazilian Coast. Dick and I were both a bit emotional: WE DID IT!!!!!! Its always special to arrive after a long sail. First you hear and see birds, then lights, then the shape of land, then you smell something different……… But this time is was special special. We arrived at the other side of a very very big and deep (4000+ m deep) ocean.

40 meters of anchor chain and we lay in front of a beautiful beach in a beautiful bay. This Island is a Nature Reserve and so so beautiful. We were the only yachties. Nobody is allowed to enter the island from sea. we could smell the cocktails, but were nut allowed to grab them.....made our owns though....Due to humanitarian reasons they have to allow us to buy fresh supplies and water, which we needed to continue the rest of our voyage. After we arrived, our yellow Checkers cloth and the Brazilian flag went up the mast. Nothing happened. Dick was swimming with zebrafish and sharks in the meantime. After half a day waiting and asking harbour control again and again on the radio we finally got an answer. At 3 o clock we got picked up and the harbour master welcomed us together with the police. The police would escort us to the shops and the next day we have to leave. Zora pictured out a scenario of Dick and I in handcuffs in de shops grabbing 5 l canisters of water and apples under supervision of the police officers, when we told her. (There is a photo of Alex, the police officer, faking to arrest Dick. That photo was especially taken for Zora.)

But it went differently. We were very fortunate to meet Alex, a Brazilian federal policeman from Brasilia, the only English-speaking person on this island. They all try google translate, but internet is a crime here. So Alex was the solution. He told us that the extra days of sleep could only been allowed if I would get a doctor’s attest and then he drove with us to the hospital, translated, then to the Pharmacia, then to the harbour again to explain that I was even sicker than I thought, and the doctor wants to see me every day till Monday. He and his colleagues wrote reports, spoke to their boss, to make it happen for us to stay longer. This way we not only were allowed to stay 3 nights, but we were also allowed to explore the island. The police brought our 60 l water and fresh supplies to the boat and gave us very valuable tips for sightseeing, bus routes, the best bars and best meals of the islands: platter federale ( a seafood food platter the chef always creates for the federal police men and Caipirinha pinto. They gave us a branche with well 12 coconuts on it. Uii, lekker. We ate a special bean soup with quail eggs…….. Alex was and still is our hero and became a friend. We had a very special time at Fernando de Noronha. Again, everybody knew us, helped and was friendly.

Traveling during Corona is not easy, but at the same time very special. People are happy with every single tourist; it is not full and overcrowded. Covid in Brazil is hectic. In Fernando they have not one case. Its so normal to sanitize and wear masks. Fortunately, we will not get a Brazilian stamp in our passport, which is good. This stamp could close some borders for us. So, we visited a little piece of Brazil, met a lot of Brazilians from Brasilia, Sao Paulo, Recife and other Brazilian Cities, and got information and a little bit of insights in the culture.

We ate delicious Brazilian food, but officially we have never been in Brazil. How is that?Traveling in the Caribbean with a South African flag is a problem we were told, because of the racist history. That was one of the reasons why we choose a German registration. But sailing with a German flag in Brazil was also a thingy: 7:1, the water taxi captain said when he saw the black/red/gold. I apologized and promised, that we (the Germans) would never beat them (soccer WC 2014) again in a semi-final in their own country with 7:1. That was good, then.

Even though it was great and relaxing. It was quite expensive to stay on an Eco Island. For 3 days we paid 200 dollars. When we wanted to go to a beach at the other end of the island today, they wanted us to pay another 100 dollars (a 9 day valid ticket for three beaches). We rather went back to the for-free-harbour-beach with the bus again and saw turtles, lemon sharks and a lot of other beautiful fish. Wrong!!! Dick saw them. I am not allowed to snorkel. Grrrrrr. My ears!!!! So, we didn’t need a 100-dollar beach. From here we could even see Elitsha waving towards us.

From Elitsha we see dolphins around us spinning in the morning, zebra fish all around and the trumpet fish from St. Helena followed us to Fernando.

Our last water taxi was a luxe motor yacht with fancy leather seating. Dick and I felt like Crockett and Tubbs in Miami Vice. So funny.

Last evening at Fernando. Tomorrow we lift our anchor and off we go again. The doldrums are waiting for us and then the north east trades to lift us to Suriname. Can’t wait to explore the rainbow forest that side.

A big thank you to our shore captains, Anneke, Zora and Holger, who make harbour arrangements for us, inform us about the weather and much more; to Wiek, our fishing coach, for telling us afterwards what we caught and have eaten, hahaha and to all our friends and supporters who react and encourage us all the way of our journey. Its fantastic to be in touch with you.

Believe us, we enjoy every single second and moment of our journey with each other and are so so glad and happy that we are doing this with the two of us. Don’t forget to donate for the nautical miles we are sailing.

Lots of loveDick, Sylke and Elitsha

Questions for the Elitsha competition:

1. What is the capital of Brazil?

2. Where is Fernando de Noronha?

3. What is a sea mountain?

4. What kind of shark, did my husband dive with?

5. How does a trumpet fish look like? (and don’t tell me: like a trumpet, hahaha. I want to see a photo.)

All participants will receive a price!!!!!!!

For the ones who want to take part in our sponsor sail: We have sailed 1812 nautical miles. You can donate a cent, a Rand, a Euro or whatever per nautical mile. We are sailing for these amazing schools: every nautical mile and each Rand counts. To UBUNTU for Africa, German NGO. The money will go to the UBUNTU for Africa projects: after care at Hout Bay Primary School and the music project at Silikamva High School. This organisation I started 12 years ago (www.ubuntuforafrica.com) Of course, you will receive a tax certificate.

Ubuntu for Africa-Kinder-, Jugend und Familienhilfe in Südafrika Volksbank Boenen e G IBAN: DE91 4106 2215 0054 5799 01

For South Africans and others, who want to donate directly to South Africa (also with tax certificate): please donate to Kronendal Primary School (www.kronendalprimary.com). I worked for 10 years at Kronendal Primary as a school counsellor. This school struggles financially due to the consequences of the Covid Pandemic and deserves our support. KRONENDAL PRIMARY SCHOOL trading as CUIM (“the account holder”) holds the following account with First National Bank, a division of FirstRand Bank Limited (“FNB”): Account Type BUSINESS ACCOUNT Account Number 53452884035 Branch Code 204009 Branch Name HOUT BAY 345 Swift Code FIRNZAJJ WE DID IT

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loquaciousquark · 4 years ago

Note

I hope you're doing well! I know you posted about a stressful situation last month, and I hope it's resolved itself. Sending good wishes you you and Hamlet!

Thank you so very much for checking in on me! I really do appreciate it. An update to that post under the cut.

Carol, who moved in with me on May 28, is still here. Right now, we have set a tentative move-out goal of the first or second week of August, but this is pending an apartment application that she hopes to finalize on Monday and a job situation that is a complete mess.

Basically, according to my limited understanding, Carol is licensed to teach in Florida. Alabama has a reciprocity clause with Florida, but it must be applied for. Carol has recently begun this process, but her teaching license(s?) is (are?) set to expire in December unless she passes certain exams. She’s already passed one for...general middle and high school teaching, I think, but failed a math exam. She has an art history exam Monday afternoon and expects to pass. I hope so, because she’s been doing nothing but watching Netflix and shopping for houses for the last few days in her new 2017 Jeep Cherokee.

I remain unspeakably grateful to my parents for teaching me financial literacy, because until I witnessed Carol’s decision-making, I had no idea how hard it was for some people to not spend money unwisely.

As a reminder, Carol is dead broke. She has $153,000 in debt across student loans, medical bills, Czech and US taxes, and some personal loans she would like to repay to friends for helping her. She is unemployed and has no support from her family and has relied on couch surfing at friends’ and acquaintances’ homes since last summer for housing. Since moving in with me, she has been trying to find somewhere to live that would accept her with all her debt and her nonexistent US employment history for the last ten years. Based on what she’s said, I think she has about $9k in the bank--or did, until last week.

In short, she needs a car, a job, and a home, and as far as I can tell she doesn’t care which order they come in.

Two weeks ago, she was offered a position in a rural town about 30 minutes from where I live. It’s a small, very country town which desperately needs a special education teacher, something I think Carol really does have a passion for. However, because she hasn’t finished the reciprocity licensure application yet, they’re having a lot of roadblocks with her paperwork, compounded by the fact that when she left Prague last year, she left all her important documentation behind: things like her birth certificate, her social security card, and her letters of recommendation, which for some reason she did not have electronic backups of. The principal has been trying to get what she needs from Carol for two weeks. Carol is constantly saying that things are “in process” but has nothing to show for it.

As far as we can tell, the job is still hers, but the school year starts August 13th and she still hasn’t been approved by the Board of Education because the paperwork is still not finished on her end. She did not attempt to replace her birth certificate or social security card until they needed it for the application. (Her friend in Prague--and I am beginning to realize she uses the word “friend” for anyone she’s met longer than sixty seconds), who frantically packed up all her belongings when she realized she would not be able to go back to the city, cannot ship her belongings or go through them for the important paperwork until next summer, as she and her husband are currently vacationing in Rome for a year.

Carol decided last night she is also going to apply for some online Department of Defense position--I didn’t understand the details and don’t really want to know, except that it’s also teaching and some administration. We’ll see how it works out. She is growing increasingly annoyed at the principal’s requests for paperwork completion, which baffles me.

So, job: shrug? Maybe?

Car next, then, but this whole mess also goes back to the financial literacy thing. My parents have always been extremely frugal (pennywise, as my dad would say), and from childhood they made it very clear to us to not buy things you couldn’t afford. They’ve never had a car payment in my memory, and they paid off their house about ten years ago. This means they drove a lot of junkers for a very long time, and for a very long time we had very few vacations, but now they’re fully financially stable and debt-free and my mom has a car that she drove off the lot brand new that they paid cash in hand for.

If I had been in Carol’s situation, I would have found a cheap, mostly reliable used car that probably wasn’t going to explode on me and drive that as long as I could while saving up for housing. I did in fact drive her to look at several used cars, most of which would have been even outside my expected budget (hers, as it happens, is larger even than that, because one of her overseas friends was willing to contribute $5000 to the cost of a vehicle). (I paid $6500 for my current car, a 2004, in college in 2012 with 70,000 miles on it at the time, and have driven it ever since.)

She rejected all of them because they did not have good “energy” and “feelings.” One she was willing to buy at $3700, but told the seller to go pay for his own inspection (once I explained to her what mechanical inspections were as a concept), so they ghosted her. She also is extremely afraid of head gasket failure--I don’t know why, since she knows nothing about cars--and has assumed all vehicles she has driven are on the verge of it, so after the first week she refused to even look at a vehicle without a warranty.

This means she exclusively limited herself to used dealership options, which I’m just going to come right out and say was monumentally stupid. I don’t know if any car dealers follow me, so I’m sorry if I am misperceiving this, but in my experience almost every dealer I’ve gone to has been aggressive, manipulative, and extremely predatory in their interest rates. I cannot think of a riskier course of action in abject debt than to try to cut a deal with a car dealer for the sake of a warranty I doubt will cover that much truly expensive failure in the long run anyway.

On Thursday, Carol bought a $20,000 2017 Jeep Cherokee from a dealership down the road. I don’t know what she put down. I do know she did not use her friend’s money (why not??) and I know her interest rate on the car loan is 4%, which she is extremely proud of and which horrifies me. She also “persuaded” them into a limited warranty that will cover the vehicle up to 100,000 miles (currently at 42k, and they ~only offer it for cars under 40,000 miles~). I can’t tell you how bad an idea I think all this is.

Thursday night, as she was regaling me with stories of her negotiating prowess, she also tells me she has decided to buy a house. She’s sick of renting, and somehow, someone somewhere managed to get her approved for up to $120,000 in a home loan. She already has $150k in debt, another $20k from the car, and now wants to buy a house. She was delighted that she could make the minimum 7% down payment, even though it would wipe out every cent she has left and leave her less than $500 to her name for moving expenses, utilities, food, title registration, etc. afterwards.

She doesn’t even have a secure job yet.

However, this plan seems to have fallen through. She went out with a realtor several times this weekend and came home the last time in great, heaving sobs, because she can’t find the 3bed 2bath she wanted in her price range. (For reference, most homes in this area go between 200k - 250k right now for 2-3bed 2ba, and the closer you get to the city--I have about a 20 minute commute--the higher it gets. My next door neighbor sold her 3bed 2.5ba for >300k three months ago, and Carol knew this.) She was absolutely devastated that the only things in her range were “tiny little ugly flipped houses” and “the ghetto.” The realtor basically said she wasn’t going to waste any more of her time. Carol repeatedly told me how grateful I should be that I got in at the price point I did a few years back, because no “normal people” could ever afford to break into the market again.

I tried to tell her that it was because I lived in with a roommate in very cheap housing and then a cell of a 1bed 1ba apartment for eight years while I saved money, but if nothing else, I’ve learned I’m not allowed to compare our situations or histories or offer advice of any kind except “go ahead and buy what you want,” because that only makes her cry harder. In the end, she has decided to give up on the house for now and settle for the absolute last thing in the world she wanted, an apartment with a lease.

To be honest, until she has a signed contract in hand, I half-expect this lease to fall through as well. I have tried to offer what I think is sensible advice and been ignored or rebuffed. I have tried to offer a sympathetic ear and ended up with her sobbing uncontrollably on me--heaving, body-wracking sobs--over and over again with me trapped in my own home, providing endless emotional support for a girl I don’t even like. I have tried to encourage her to do the things she wants to do, since she’s going to do them anyway, and when she gets “negative energy” after the purchases (buyer’s remorse, I think, that one little inkling of sense saying maybe it wasn’t a great idea to buy a $20,000 car or an $1100 brand new iPhone without a job), she blames it on the exact thing I said I thought might be good and makes me feel like I have now directly contributed to a negative outcome after poor decision-making.

For the record, when she says these things to me she is not saying, and has never said, them directly at me. She has never blamed me in any way for a negative outcome. She is not consciously trying to manipulate me or abuse me or take advantage of my help. She has never once asked me for money or job connections or for me to use any of my stability to unfairly or unethically get her something she needs. She is just completely absorbed in her own (rightfully absorbing) mess of a situation, and I think just completely unaware of how much of an emotional black hole she has become. There are no problems except her problems. There are no needs except her needs, and everyone around her has to understand how hard she has it at all times.

So, we’ll see. I am praying that the apartment works out next week. The owner seems to want to work with her, which is a hopeful sign. Good thoughts would be appreciated.

Aside from all of this, work has gotten extremely complicated. I’m not going to go into all of it now, but one of my jobs is to create an extremely detailed schedule for students in clinic. This is used to schedule patients in each service--if we have this many students, we can have this many patient slots per half-day, etc. Last week, two students were out unexpectedly, one who broke her arm the day before she was supposed to begin, and one who had a terrible anxiety attack and thought the symptoms were actually COVID. That student was tested and cleared negative, but Student Health requires a two-week quarantine anyway, so she was not allowed to return.

This meant that we now had multiple patients per day with no one to see them. We tried to reschedule as many as we could, but we still ended up with multiple overbooks. This is extremely stressful for me as both a provider, an instructor, and a human being who hates having other people wait on her in a professional capacity. We got through the week, but not without several painful bumps, and it’s looking like there will be more soon.

I also woke up to an email this morning that one of my favorite students (yes, I have favorites, I’m sorry), had a completely unexpected death in the immediate family and had to rush home. This is a very, very sweet, very smart girl who has worked unbelievably hard over the past year to do well in this program and in my courses, and I am just devastated for her. One of her friends is willing to cover her clinic, so the impact will be minimal on that side, but to have this happen during this country’s hellhole handling of this pandemic...I can’t even imagine it.

All of this isn’t even touching COVID. The President’s side has won in that sense--I don’t even register the numbers anymore--but as of last week our dean sent out messaging that implied that with our state’s failure to contain the spread, new discussions were going to be happening soon regarding our August start. We already had committed to full hybrid scheduling: all lectures online, in-person labs only where absolutely necessary to continue advancement in the program, and those labs limited to two per room with full PPE, but if they decide even that can’t happen, I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do. I cannot make competent doctors over Zoom. I can’t. At some point they have to touch other people and look at other people’s eyes. They have to be able to check real, in-person blood pressure. They have to look at genuine eye movements and ocular surfaces in person and I cannot and will not let them enter clinic until they have the practice and the time and the practicals behind them. I fucking refuse to endanger the public for sixty years because someone in an office somewhere decided a timetable is more important than a patient keeping their ability to see, and I’m ready to fight administration on this if they try to push it.

But if I win the fight, what next? They just...don’t enter clinic next year. They don’t enter my program. I don’t know what they do in the meantime, as this lab meets four mornings a week and the lecture twice. The course is delayed until next year or whenever we have the virus under control again, and suddenly my fall semester sure looks like I’ll be being paid to stay at home and count carpet fibers. I don’t think they’ll fire me--no one else wants to teach my course anyway--but if I win this fight I might put myself right into furlough in the process.

I could be borrowing trouble, I know. They could come back and say that after review, our system and safety protocols (all extremely conservative) are indeed safe enough and we can proceed as we want. They could say that our limited in-person option for lectures (we have several gigantic lecture halls that could easily socially distance) is the only thing that needs to go. They could say that we just need to have smaller lab groups--hellish on me, but doable.

But it’s one more element of stress in my life that I just can’t handle worrying about right now, which is why I’ve been bouncing back and forth between random fics and oneshots (that mermaid one was feverishly written on a single evening Carol spent at her mom’s house) and pouring an ungodly amount of hours into Animal Crossing. At least there I have some control over what happens next.

Sorry, guys. I know this is not the happy update I was hoping for. I’ll try to check in again next month and we’ll see where things end up.

#quark rambles #carol #coronavirus for ts #covid-19 for ts #update post #not a happy one for those who can't handle that right now #anonymous #quark replies

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fandom-smut-shots · 5 years ago

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Matt Jeevas - Not According to Plan

Not According to Plan – Mail “Matt” Jeevas

SuidicalConnorMurphy

A/N: Male!reader.

It’s been a LONG time since I’ve watched, read, or written Death Note. I rewatched some scenes so I could hopefully get his mannerisms right. I tried.

Words: 1,697

It was supposed to be a relaxing drive. Matt was supposed to take you out after dinner, drive out to the edge of town, find an abandoned field in which to park, and sit with you on the hood of his Camaro, admiring the stars twinkling above.

It was his plan. He’d planned it.*

The evening started well enough. He ordered takeout which he tried to disguise as his own cooking, but you saw through his façade immediately due to the fact that for the entire three years you’d been dating, the closest Matt could get to preparing a home-cooked meal was pouring cereal into a bowl. He’d managed to make ramen, once, without lighting anything in the kitchen on fire, but while the broth had been scalding, the noodles had managed to remain hard and looped into a square, so you weren’t sure you could consider that a success.

You also caught a glimpse of the paper containers in the trash can, discarded after Matt had poured their contents onto plates to set on the table. Matt was a disaster, but he was yours, and you loved him.

Dinner was delicious, and you were awed by the fact that your video game-addict of a boyfriend had remembered which restaurant was your favorite. He was the epitome of “in one ear and out the other” unless it pertained to his car, his games, or his cigarettes.

“Let’s go for a drive,” he suggested as you washed the evening’s dishes and placed them in the drainer beside the sink. You lifted a brow in response, smiling softly when toned arms secured around your waist, and a chin rested on your shoulder. “Please?”

“Sure,” you nodded, turning off the water and drying your hands on a kitchen towel. “Any particular destination?”

He shrugged, unwrapping himself from you as he led you out of the kitchen. “Not really. We’ll see where we end up.”

He followed you into the bedroom where you slipped on your shoes and jacket and waited for him to do the same. Once you were both ready, he retrieved his car keys and wallet from the table beside the front door and led you outside, unlocking his car and opening your door. As you slid in, he rounded the vehicle, dropping into his own seat and starting the engine. You watched the neighborhood disappear into the sideview mirror as Matt drove down the main road, headed out of town.

“You sure you don’t have a destination?” you inquired as you watched the buildings and trees fly by outside the window.

“I just want to go on a drive with my boyfriend,” he replied with a soft smile. “Is that a crime?”

A siren sounded behind you, and red and blue lights danced across the rearview mirror. Glancing over your boyfriend’s shoulder at the speedometer, you sighed.

“No, but speeding is.”

He offered you a sheepish smile, flicking on his blinker and dutifully pulling over to the side of the road. He set the car in park and waited anxiously for the officer to approach his already open window.

“Is there a reason you were driving twenty over the speed limit?” the policeman questioned, his tone flat and unfriendly as he looked around the front half of the car.

“Heh, sorry, sir,” Matt defended lamely. “Just got lost in my own head. It won’t happen again.”

“License and registration,” the officer replied, extending an expectant hand. Matt nodded, reaching across you to access the glove compartment which held all of the paperwork related to his car. After passing it to the cop, he fished his license from his wallet and handed that over as well.

The officer inspected the documents with an expression of a child sucking on a lemon. “Are you aware that your registration is expired?”

Your brow furrowed – if there was one thing you could count on, it was that Matt was always up-to-date on his paperwork. His registration, title, and insurance were always paid and legal.

“Yes, sir,” your boyfriend sighed. “My hours haven’t been great at work, you know? I wasn’t able to renew my registration after paying my rent.”

The cop handed back the documents, his expression unsympathetic and a tad judgmental. “I’ll issue you a warning this time. Get that registration taken care of, or it will be a ticket next.”

He scribbled down on his pad before tearing the page and handing it to Matt, who accepted it with a nod.

“Yes, sir. I’ll do that. Thank you.”

The officer tipped his hat as though he had the slightest chance of being a gentleman before walking away, returning to his car. Matt flipped on his blinker and slowly crawled back onto the road, his eyes darting down to the speedometer every so often.

“Since when is your registration expired?” you questioned softly. “You never let that happen. You usually renew it a month early.”

“It’s like I said,” he shrugged. “Rent took up most of my money.”

“No, it didn’t,” you countered. “We split the rent, remember? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he smiled, reaching for your hand. You intertwined your fingers, deciding to drop the subject for now. His mood didn’t seem ruined by getting pulled over or by you discovering the state of his registration, so you figured the discussion could at least wait until you returned home.

“Are we almost to… wherever it is we’re going?” you inquired, shifting in your seat as you gazed out at the flurry of trees passing by.

“Almost,” Matt smiled.

“So you did have a destination!” you accused. “I knew it wasn’t just a ‘random drive’. Where are we going, babe?”

“It’s a surprise,” he insisted, and you extended your lower lip in a pout. You were overly curious by nature, but Matt wanted it to be a surprise – so you reluctantly ceased questioning him, instead watching the scenery and attempting to guess where you’d end up.

He was driving rather far away from the main town, you noticed, as fewer streetlamps illuminated the road. He continued until the main street twisted into a dirt road, winding behind neighborhoods and through trees. Your brow furrowed in confusion as Matt seemed completely content with himself, humming along to the radio as though he wanted to drive you to the middle of nowhere.

Matt was quirky – maybe he did.

The car pulled off the road and onto an abandoned farm. You held hope that this was the mystery destination, and that he’d finally stop the car and you could question him about the registration again. As the tires carefully climbed over the old, worn down bumps in the road, a rather large obstacle appeared in the way. You could hear the tire blow beneath you, the air hissing out of it as the rubber shredded away. Matt’s expression was broken as his Camaro ceased movement, stuck in its place due to its new lack of a front passenger tire. He put the car in park and killed the engine, throwing himself out of his door and scrambling around to your side. You carefully followed suit as he sank to the ground, pouting pitifully at the torn remains of his tire.

“What the hell was that?” you questioned, finding no spike or nail protruding from the rubber.

“No idea,” he sighed.

“You have a spare, don’t you?” you recalled, hoping to brighten his mood.

He winced. “That was the spare. I had to change it last week when my tire was balding – I haven’t gotten around to replacing it yet.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” you demanded. He stared up at you, a blank expression on his face, and you sighed. He was playing dumb. Grasping his arms, you pulled him to his feet.

“You never let your registration expire,” you informed him, and he chewed his lip. “And you never drive for more than a day on a spare tire,” you continued. “What’s going on? Are we short on money? Are we in trouble?”

“No, no,” he shook his head. “It’s nothing like that, I promise. I just- come here.” He lifted himself onto the hood of his Camaro, offering you a hand. You accepted it, hoisting yourself up as well, sitting beside him and allowing him to take your hands.

“We don’t have money problems,” he began. “I’m just a little short right now because…”

He trailed off, and you squeezed his hand, silently urging him to continue.

“(y/n), I love you,” he began. You opened your mouth to return the sentiment, but he cut you off. “I’ve always loved you. I didn’t think anyone could accept or love me as unconditionally as you do. And I have no idea how we’re going to get home tonight, but I do know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, your eyes glued to his movements as he slid a hand into the front pocket of his jeans. He produced a small black box, taking hold of your left hand and lifting it to his face. He kissed across your knuckles, holding your gaze.

“Will you marry me?” he murmured, using his other hand to open the box and reveal the black diamond engagement band.

“Matt,” you gasped, your gaze flicking from the ring to his nervous expression. “Of course I will.”

He grinned, removing the ring from its box and sliding it onto your finger. His hand slid into your hair, pulling you in for a passionate kiss.

“So, wait,” you panted, reluctantly removing your lips from his. “Instead of replacing your tire and renewing your registration… You spent your money on this ring?”

He nodded sheepishly. “I know you don’t care about materialism and deep down, I knew you would have said yes. But I love you, babe, and you deserve the world. I wanted you to have a pretty ring to show off when you tell people you’re engaged.”

You lunged forward, capturing his lips. The sweet kisses and heavy breaths continued long into the night, until you fell asleep on the hood of his car, gazing up at the stars.

*Reference to one of my favorite TV shows.

#death note #death note x reader #matt jeevas #mail matt jeevas #matt x reader #matt jeevas x reader #reader insert #male reader

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 5 years ago

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Flatbush & Atlantic: part i

Quick note: This is taking place in the 2020-21 season, as if the Islanders still play at Barclays; I know they won’t in actuality. In the story, I’m also going to be taking some liberties with what the duties of a team’s general counsel and legal team would actually be in charge of. My understanding, as a pre-law student, is that it’s more on the corporate angle, dealing with contracts and stuff — in addition to that, Cass will also be dealing with some more immigration and employment law as well.

part i

October 1

“Adiós, mamá. Hablamos pronto. Te amo.” Cassidy hung up, breathing out a tense sigh and rubbing her temples with the heels of her hands. Talking to her mom usually helped to calm her down, bring her back to Earth, but for whatever reason it wasn’t taking. She took a brief glance at the casebook open on her dinged-up Ikea desk. Federal Indian Law. She liked the class, genuinely, but her day had started off bad and gotten worse pretty damn quickly. First she was out of her favorite tea, then her advisor cancelled their meeting, then it started raining as she walked back to her MTA stop, so she had missed the train. Another came fifteen minutes later, but the damage was already done. The only bright spot in the day, aside from calling her mom, had been the cute guy at the Polish deli down the street who had put extra peppers on her Philly cheesesteak. She unwrapped the sandwich, taking a moody bite out of the end. A caramelized onion dropped to the floor. Sighing, she leaned down to pick it up, hurtling it in the direction of the trashcan but only half-looking to see if it reached its target destination. Despite the name, Cass had never had a cheesesteak before she moved to New York, and it wasn’t even because she wasn’t a sandwich person. No, Cass loved a good sandwich, but between her proclivity towards a good BLT and her mom’s homemade Mexican food, she just hadn’t gotten around to it.

Her laptop dinged with an email notification. What now? She swiped over to the mail page, taking another bite as she read the subject line. Experiential learning requirement - unmet. Her brow furrowed. Unmet? Clicking it open, she scanned the email, clearly something automated from the registrar’s office. Yet to complete Columbia’s experiential learning requirement...We suggest you connect with professors...You have until October 8 to submit...Cassidy never finished her sandwich. “Oh my God,” she muttered to herself, feeling her cheeks heat up. “How could you do this? How could you be so stupid, Cass?” She was normally so on top of everything, never missed a date, never forgot an assignment, so how could she have missed one of the only things left to do to graduate? Her law school required all of the graduates to complete some sort of experiential learning requirement — some kind of externship, clinic, summer associate position, anything to get them “out in the real world.” That’s when it hit her. She had coached her high school’s mock trial team the summer after her first year, and interned at the Hartford County DA’s the summer after. But they paid her. Her school had a weird ‘double-dip’ policy, where you weren’t allowed to take a position for class credit and get paid at the same time. It was a confusing rule, convoluted and bizarre and probably a little bit elitist, but it was a rule. As if the day couldn’t get any worse, and then somehow it did.

Turning to her laptop, she started searching for just about anything that could possibly help her. The school’s website, the Manhattan District Attorney’s, state offices, NGOs, federal prosecutors, anyone that might have a lead. Frantically dragging over her resumé and throwing together a cover letter that probably (hopefully) looked way more interesting than it actually was, Cassidy fired off email after email after email. Two hours later, she had sent off some twenty-odd applications, hoping that at least one or two would end up panning out. Glancing at her watch, she let out an exasperated breath. 12:22 A.M. Her classes didn’t start until nine, but it took almost an hour and a subway connection to get to Columbia, and she had to eat and shower before. So, really, it meant getting up at about seven. She needed to go to bed.

Stomach reeling and feeling more resigned than anything, Cass haphazardly brushed her teeth, flossed — it didn’t matter how tired she was, she’d never forget to floss — and clambered into bed, wearing a faded, way-too-big Rangers t-shirt. I’ll be okay. She took a deep breath. It’ll be okay. It has to be. Cassidy Cabrera Shaw was tough as nails and stubborn as hell, and she wasn’t going to let everything she had worked so hard for fall apart so easily.

Whenever Cass was nervous, or anxious, or afraid, she was never able to sleep well. She ended up waking up at ten past six, sitting in her bed for fifteen minutes praying that she’d fall back asleep, and finally accepting her fate that sleep just wasn’t going to come. Rolling over, she grabbed her phone from where she had left it charging on the nightstand. Nightstand was maybe a generous term for it; technically, it was a wooden milk crate that she had spray painted white when she and the other girls had moved into the apartment two years prior. She had a little bit of money set aside from college, but every penny possible was going towards tuition and those ungodly-expensive books that she had to buy every semester. The mattress and frame were from Ikea, and Cass had brought some things like bedding and a desk from her old room. The rest of it — rugs, lighting, and decorations like her six-inch ceramic peacock (his name was Charles) had come from a combination of Goodwill runs and senior citizen yard sales.

Wincing as she did so, Cass pulled up her email, bracing herself for the inevitable barrage of rejection. After scrolling past ten or so automated “no longer hiring” and “position has been filled” messages, one caught her eye. She had sent a few emails to professors of hers, not expecting to hear anything back for a few days. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but there certainly were advantages of going to school in a city as massive as New York. All of her professors knew someone and had some kind of connection from their own education, or days in the practice, or childhood summer trips to the Hamptons with someone who just so happened to be a judge on the Second Circuit Court — that last one was last year’s employment law professor. One particular subject line caught her eye. Thought you might be interested, Professor Murakami had written. David, as he preferred to be called, was her Sports Law professor from last year. She didn’t go into the class expecting to enjoy it all that much, if she was being honest. She had gotten a crappy registration time and most other classes were filled, so it had started out as a placeholder and nothing more. Over the semester, though, it had quickly become one of her favorites, combining pieces of everything else she had studied into one cohesive course. Cass also wasn’t in a position to be turning down any potential offers, so she opened the email and started reading.

I got your email, Cassidy, and think I might be able to help. Okay, so far, so good. I happen to have a contact in the counsel’s office of one of the professional sports teams in the city. That’s exactly what Cass was talking about — where do these people meet each other? Is there some kind of exclusive speakeasy you’re given the password to as soon as you’re admitted to the state bar? Chris Cohen works for the Islanders, and I remember you talking about how interested in hockey you are. Okay, true, but the Islanders? She had practically been born with a Ranger’s jersey on. Beggars can’t be choosers, she thought. I gave him a heads-up that I’d likely be sending a promising candidate his way, so just let me know if this sounds like something you’d be interested in and I’ll send along your contact information.

Cass couldn’t respond fast enough. Yes, please!

---

Wednesdays were her ‘easy’ days, if you could say that. She had Environmental Law and Human Rights back-to-back, but anything after noon was pretty much fair game. That being said, it certainly didn’t mean that she was any less stressed. There were at least a hundred pages to read before class the next day, she had a sample essay due for bar prep, and her mind was still racing about the email. Grabbing a gyro from the cart outside of her last class of the day, Cass stress-ate with one hand while continually refreshing her inbox with the other. Food wasn’t allowed in the library, so she ate the last few bites right outside the doors, throwing away the wrapper and squeezing past the hordes of clearly overwhelmed first-years running to get to class on time.

Popping her Airpods out of their case and into her ears, Cass briskly made her way up the stairs to the third floor, crossing her fingers that her usual spot, a big blue chair over by the research desk, was open. She was in luck, pulling out a water bottle and laptop and getting to work on editing. Four hours later, she had reached some semblance of satisfaction with her work, shutting off her computer and making her way to the subway. There was about half an hour before she had to transfer to the line that would take her to the apartment; squeezing into one of the last free seats, she tugged out a textbook and a highlighter. Why her professor insisted on assigning the entire text of the United Nations charter was a mystery to her, but she’d rather jump off a cliff than be cold called on without an answer. Transferring at Grand Concourse took about ten minutes — it was rush hour, so the first train to come was entirely full — and another twenty or so minutes later, she was letting herself into her shared East Bronx apartment.

Hanging up her denim jacket by the door and toeing off her sneakers, Cass let out a not-so-subtle exasperated sigh.

“One of those days?” Alicia piped in from the kitchen. Alicia also lived in the apartment, one of the four sorority sisters-turned-roommates who had made the move from Connecticut down to New York after graduation. Cass padded into the kitchen, where she was greeted by Alicia in front of a skillet and rice cooker, intensely sautéeing some vegetables.

“You have no idea,” Cass said, hugging her from behind. “Whatcha making?” There were obviously some nights when not everyone was home — most often either Cass or Ryanne, who was in med school — but they always tried to have a few nights a week where someone would cook a meal for the whole house.

“Japchae, it’s my mom’s recipe,” she replied. “I called her and asked how much sesame oil to use, and she just said ‘until it tastes right.’ Like, I love you, Mom, but that doesn’t really help my cause, does it?”

Cass snorted. “Oh for sure, it’s the same way with me. Do you remember the first time I made tamales down here?” Cass had grown up eating and making tamales with her mom and abuela, but she had never been allowed to really take the reins. She had the recipe, though, so the first night after they were moved in, she ventured down to the closest bodega, bought the ingredients, and decided to try her hand making them from scratch. The recipe, however, left out the key piece of exactly how much water to use for steaming — Cass didn’t know, and her mom had always just eyeballed it. So she had ended up putting in way too little and setting the stove way too hot, and to make a long story short, ended up setting off the fire alarm. The one saving grace was the extremely attractive police office that came to double-check the false alarm, but even he couldn’t wipe the mortified expression off of her face.

“How could I forget?” Alicia responded with a grin. “Go put your shit down, it’ll be ready in a few.”

Cass playfully rolled her eyes, heading towards her room in the back. “Yes, mother.” Their apartment was a three bedroom; while obviously it would have been amazing for everyone to have their own, it was still New York City and none of them were exactly rolling in the dough. Cassidy and Ryanne were obviously still students, and while Alicia and Stella had actual jobs — Stella worked international business down by Wall Street and Alicia did something with satellites in Queens — none of them were exactly inclined to set out on their own just yet. So Stella and Alicia shared a room, and she and Ryanne had their own. She shrugged off her jacket, slinging her backpack onto the bed before chugging the rest of her water bottle and checking her phone. Two new emails. A 20% off coupon to Lush, and one from Chris Cohen. Chris Cohen? It took her a minute to remember, but when she did, she couldn’t read it fast enough.

Honestly, Cass didn’t read the whole thing, but got enough information to know that she had an interview Friday afternoon at the office in Brooklyn, that Chris — he had said to call him Chris — said she came with a stellar recommendation from Professor Murakami (an old law school buddy, figures) and that there was no way in hell she was going to fuck this up. She wouldn’t let herself.

---

Cass was lucky her Thursdays were so packed; if she had any extra time to stress over her impending interview, she would have, but she couldn’t. She had two ‘free’ hours in between classes, but after she had scarfed down lunch (Alicia had, mercifully, made plenty of leftovers) it was the only stretch she had to hit the gym. Coupled with the time it took to walk there, change, and shower after, there really wasn’t much in the way of downtime. After classes was her bar prep group, and the day was so exhausting that it was pretty much all she could manage to take the train home, microwave dinosaur chicken nuggets, and stumble into bed. After flossing.

---

If Cassidy lived in any other city, she would have felt wildly out of place on her morning commute. Who shows up to school wearing a suit? She wasn’t an absolute masochist, so her heels were in her bag. But for once in her life she didn’t feel so out of place among the presumably-highbrow, presumably-making-six-figures crowd surrounding her. The suit had been her first big purchase for herself — she had scraped by without one in college, but invested as soon as she had a little saved up from her summer job at a boutique in town. Her mother had always told her that it was the woman who made the clothes, rather than the other way around, and Cass always did what her mom said.

Samaira, one of her friends and another editor on the Columbia Law Review, caught up to her as they both left the twice-weekly morning meeting. “You seem kind of jumpy, Cass. What’s up?”

Cassidy wrung her hands and shrugged her shoulders. “I told you that I missed the internship requirement thing, right?” Samaira nodded. “Well, I have an internship in,” she paused to look at her watch, “two hours, and I’m so nervous I’m going to mess this up. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I don’t get it. There’s not time to look for something else, there’s no alternative, and I don’t know what to do if my own stupidity and forgetfulness is the only thing standing in between me and something I’ve worked so fucking hard for—”

Samaira cut her off. “I’m going to stop you there. That’s bull, Cass, and you know it. You are the furthest thing from a disappointment. You’re one of the kindest, sharpest, and most creative people I know, and you’re not going to let something as petty as a deadline stand in your way. Time gets away from all of us sometimes, and it’s nothing to beat yourself up over. I want you to be confident and have faith in yourself, because you deserve it, but if you don’t, it’s okay. I get it. I believe in you enough for the both of us.” She squeezed Cass’ hand.

She managed a watery smile. “Thanks, Samaira.”

“Any time,” she replied easily. “I’ve got to run to class now, but I want to hear how it went the second you get out, okay?”

“I will.”

Samaira rolled her eyes. “I mean it. You’re going to crush this, Cass. Love you!” She added, waving goodbye as she turned the corner.

There was half an hour before Cass needed to head over to the interview, and before she knew it her feet had taken her to her favorite spot on the north side of Central Park. Grabbing a bagel, she thankfully found the bench empty. After finishing the bagel — she would have preferred cheese, but they were out, so cinnamon raisin it was — and the better part of her Hozier-dominated acoustic playlist, it was time to catch the train. She jumped on with barely a second to spare, grabbing a strap and trying to avoid bumping into anyone.

A seat opened up about halfway to Brooklyn, and Cass took the opportunity to unceremoniously tug off her much more practical flats and switch into the much more professional ankle-strap heels that had been stuffed in her backpack all day. For a fleeting moment, she was worried what everyone around her would think; she was, after all, technically changing on public transportation. A man got on at the next stop who was dressed head-to-toe in neon orange while carrying a Pomeranian in his purse. Nobody batted an eye. She got over herself pretty quickly.

Getting off at the Barclays Center station, Cass pulled out her phone, opening up the camera to give herself a quick once-over. As much as she hated it, first impressions really were everything. Lipstick? Not smudged. Hair? Minimal flyaways. Teeth? No spinach to be seen. Triple-checking that she had the time right, Cass walked through the doors of the office building, Islanders logo emblazoned on the wall behind the secretary’s desk.

“Hi,” she said tentatively, catching his attention. “I have an interview with Chris Cohen at 2?”

The secretary nodded, smiling warmly at her. “No problem. I’m Josh, you can have a seat over there,” he nodded to the small waiting area off to the side, “and I’ll call you when he’s ready for you to be sent up.”

Cass didn’t wait for more than five minutes before Josh gave her the go-ahead, and she was soon headed up the elevator to Chris’ office. “Fourth door on the left. It should have his name on it,” Josh had added.

She raised her fist, knocking quickly on the frosted glass. It swung open a second later, a kind-looking man with glasses and salt-and-pepper hair answering. “You must be Cassidy. I’m Chris Cohen, so nice to meet you. Come right in,” he said, ushering her through the room, where several other associates sat at desks, and into his office.

“David’s always good at keeping an eye out for me in his courses, and I was happy he passed you along,” Chris said, pulling out her resumé. “And you’re a 3L, correct?” She nodded. “Good. So let’s dive right into it. What courses and work experience do you have that you feel best position you for success in this position?” Much though Cass was loath to admit it, if there was anything she was good at, it was talking herself up. There was a reason her high school superlative was “Most Likely to be Able to Talk Their Way Out of a Ticket.” She launched into a well-rehearsed response, making sure to lace in her love for hockey once or twice. If nothing else, it would hopefully at least get her some brownie points. He had a few questions about her resumé, asked about her work on the law review, a few hypotheticals about contract law. She was batting a thousand until he asked the dreaded final question. “Do you have any questions for me?”

Cass was wracking her brain, trying to come up with some intelligent-sounding thing to ask, but nothing came. “Uh—” she started, but was saved by the bell. Or, rather, saved by a frantic door opening and a panicked-sounding Mat Barzal bursting into the room. “Chris, I’ve got a problem.”

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