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geronimo-11 · 4 years ago

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These Secrets That We Hide

Chapter: 1/?

Pairing: Jeremy Danvers x OFC

Summary: Katherine Adler thought she was moving to upstate New York with her brother for a chance to start her life over. But when events from her past catch up to her and secrets about the family down the road come to light, her dreams of a fresh start start to crumble. It seems like everyone has secrets to hide.

Warnings: None

A/N: This has been a long time in the making, but it’s finally finished! The first chapter of Katherine’s canon!! Big thank you to @mtwalker for brainstorming with me and just being an all around amazing person and friend.

This strays from canon quite a bit, but just stay with me okay?

Read it here or on AO3!

Chapter 1: Loyalty

No one under the age of fifty willingly moved to Bear Valley.

Most of the inhabitants were elderly retirees fleeing the pressures of city life, or locals whose families had been there for generations and just couldn’t picture a life outside the familiar comfort of their small town. The few young people who did live there were born there, but even then they were looking forward to the day they could bolt to greener, more exciting, pastures.

So when Nick got a call from a friend saying that he was making the long trek from Tennessee to upstate New York with the idea of putting down roots closer to the Pack, he was definitely surprised. He was excited to see an old friend — and at the prospect of having someone new to talk to besides Jeremy, Clay, and Elena — but surprised nonetheless.

Most of the Pack wanted to live as far from being under the Alpha’s thumb as they could get, so they could live their lives as ordinary as possible. Well, actually, so they could break as many rules without getting caught as possible. For someone who didn’t have as close of a relationship with Jeremy as the rest of them, it was odd for any member of the Pack to suddenly want to live so close. But, regardless, Simon was coming, and he seemed very adamant about the fact.

Nick waited until the day after Simon had told him he would be officially moved in before getting in his car and driving down to greet him, just so he’d have enough time to get settled. The house Simon purchased bordered Stonehaven property and was barely a five minute drive from the house. It was closer to town, but there was an abundance of trees and land this far north, meaning there was plenty of space for a wolf to run and not be seen. As part of the Pack, Simon could even venture onto the Stonehaven property for a run if he wanted. All in all it was a pretty nice setup he'd made for himself.

The road to Simon’s house was long and straight and Nick’s car kicked up dirt in the dry August heat as he turned off the main road and onto a gravel driveway. He thought briefly of having to wash his car again when he got back to Stonehaven. Or maybe he’d run it through the carwash in town. See if he could finally learn the name of the girl working the desk… Focus.

The house came into view and Nick whistled under his breath. From what he remembered, the old farmhouse had belonged to an elderly woman in town who had died almost a year ago. She hadn’t been able to really take care of the house due to her age, and after remaining unoccupied for so long Nick was expecting the house to look a bit worse for wear. That didn’t seem to be the case.

The outside of the house had a fresh coat of white paint and the new porch was large enough to accomodate a wooden swing and two rocking chairs. Nick could smell the strong scent of new mulch in the flower bed as he parked his car and noticed that there were freshly planted bushes decorating the outside of the house. Simon had apparently been hard at work.

Nick shut the car door as he took in all of the new renovations and made his way towards the house. He hadn’t made it far before the front door opened -- heavy dark oak that didn’t creak on the hinges, also very new -- and Simon stepped out.

Simon hadn’t changed that much from the last time Nick had seen him three years ago. His messy brown hair was pushed back from his face -- uselessly, it would seem, since several strands still hung down in his dark brown eyes. A gray t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders and outlined the muscles in his arms. The only difference Nick could really see was that he hadn’t shaved in a while. Heavy stubble clung to his jaw and Simon swiped a hand over it as he hopped hastily down the porch steps.

“Hey, man,” Simon greeted, holding out his hand and flashing teeth in a grin. “Good to see you.”

“Yeah, you too. Been a while.” Nick grasped Simon’s hand tightly and pulled him into a hug. He clapped a hand on Simon’s back and stepped away, looking around at the house once again. “Looks like you’ve been busy. This place was practically falling apart from what I heard.”

Simon turned back to the house and smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, it needed some work. I can’t take all the credit, though. I had some guys come in and do some work before we got here, I just okayed everything over the phone.”

Nick raised a brow, doing a quick scan of the outside and then back towards the house. “We?”

Simon’s eyes widened and he turned to Nick with a nervous laugh.

“Yeah. Um…” he paused and cleared his throat. Another laugh bubbled anxiously passed his lips and he ran a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. I thought I’d have a chance to…”

Nick crossed his arms across his chest. “A chance to what?”

Silence. Simon bounced on the heels of his feet and gave Nick a wary glance.

Nick frowned and took a step forward. “Simon?”

With another glance in his direction Simon gestured for Nick to follow him towards the house. He didn’t say another word until the front door shut behind them.

“I found my sister.” The words seemed to tumble from Simon’s mouth before he could stop himself. He was practically vibrating with excitement, eyes lit up with barely restrained joy.

Nick raised his brows and smiled. Simon and his sister had had a falling out about six years ago, severe enough that his sister had left their hometown, cut off all communication with her family, and remained completely off the grid. Simon couldn’t find her anywhere. That is, until about a year and a half ago, when he’d come to Nick wanting to reconnect with his sibling, and Nick managed to pull enough strings to get a general location for him. He hadn’t heard anything afterwards, when Simon went basically off the grid himself, but Nick was happy that the two seemed to have reconciled.

“That’s great, Si. I’m happy to hear it. But, uh,” He looked around the small entryway Simon had shuffled them into. “Why did we have to come in here for you to tell me that?”

“Because that’s not all I have to tell you, and I thought you’d feel better hearing the rest sitting down.” All the previous excitement Simon had shown when they first entered the house was gone. Even though he was still trying to put on a light-hearted air, he looked more serious than Nick had ever seen him.

A pit settled in the middle of Nick’s stomach and he cast Simon an apprehensive look as he allowed himself to be led into the living room and seated on the couch.

“Is everything okay? Are you and your sister good now, or..?” Nick prodded when it seemed like Simon may fall silent again. Dancing around the subject was making his fingers twitch. He clasped his hands between his knees and waited for Simon to, hopefully, tell him what was going on.

“Yeah, Katherine and I are fine. Better than fine, actually.” Simon sat in an armchair across from Nick and grinned. “I apologized and we talked and cleared the air. It’s almost like nothing happened at all.”

Simon’s smile faltered slightly and he looked down at the floor.

“But it just didn’t feel like enough to say sorry. Not after everything…” He trailed off and shook his head, his eyes glazing over as he lost himself in thought. After a moment he blinked, coming back to himself, and looked up at Nick. “That’s why I bought her this house.”

Nick stared at him. He… he must have heard wrong.

“You bought her… this house?” He gestured around the room with a single finger. Simon nodded. Nick’s eyes widened and he felt his jaw drop. He couldn’t think of anything to say other than, “That’s an awfully big gesture for just an apology.”

Simon’s eyes darkened and Nick watched as his jaw clenched and unclenched reflexively.

“There’s more to it than that.”

Before Nick could snap and ask what the hell was going on, they heard the rumbling of a car engine coming down the driveway. Nick glanced out the window behind him and then back to Simon, only to find the other wolf’s eyes were already on him.

“I haven’t told Jeremy any of this,” Simon confessed cautiously. Nick pressed his lips in a firm line, the pit in his stomach growing with every word.

“I was planning to, I swear,” he placated with open palms when he saw the look on Nick’s face. “But I wanted to call you first and have you come over so I could tell you everything. You just beat me to it.”

Nick shook his head, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Why would you call me-” The realization clicked and Nick felt his face drop. “You want me to tell Jeremy first. To cushion the blow for when you talk to him.”

Because Simon will have to talk to him. If he brought a human into his house -- a house that was basically on Stonehaven property -- without telling Jeremy, it definitely wouldn’t go unanswered. It probably wouldn’t have gone unanswered if he had told Jeremy. Regardless, either Simon would go talk to Jeremy or Jeremy would go talk to Simon, and the latter would be infinitely worse.

The engine was getting louder now and Simon glanced anxiously out the window.

“There’s one other thing that I haven’t told you about,” he started slowly, standing up and walking towards the door. Nick stood to follow.

“You mean other than the fact you have a human living with you on Stonehaven’s doorstep?” Nick quipped. “I don’t see how it can get much worse.”

Simon offered him a wry smile. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and met Nick’s gaze.. Something flashed in Simon’s eyes then -- anxiety, protectiveness, fear -- but they all vanished before Nick could pinpoint just one.

“I just… I need you to keep an open mind.”

With that said he opened the door and stepped out on the porch, leaving Nick following after him slightly bewildered. There was an old, red jeep sputtering down the driveway when they went outside. The brakes squeaked as it pulled to a stop next to Nick’s car, and the jeep hissed and groaned so badly as the engine was shut off that Nick wouldn’t have been surprised if the entire thing fell apart right in front of him.

“I wish she’d get rid of that thing,” Simon mumbled beside him, shifting side to side as the engine gave a final sputter before it died. The driver’s side door creaked as it was forced open, and a woman stepped out.

She was fairly tall, with long dark hair and sharp cheekbones. A smile lit up her pretty face when she saw the two of them on the porch and she held up a hand to wave. Nick held up his hand in response before realizing just exactly who she was. He looked at her and then again at his friend, brows raised.

“That’s your sister?” He asked. Simon shot him a half-hearted glare.

“Don’t.”

Before Nick could defend himself there was another loud, metallic groaning sound and one of the back doors of the jeep popped open. Considering Katherine was leaning over the passenger seat and grabbing a bag, there was no way she could have opened it. So, who..?

He didn’t have to wait long to find out. A pair of small legs poked out from the side of the jeep, and then a mess of sandy brown hair was barrelling towards them, shouting excitedly.

“Uncle Si!”

It was a little boy, probably no more than six or seven years old. He was bolting through the grass with the same blinding grin on his face that Katherine had given them moments ago.

Oh.

This must be her son. Nick looked over at Simon, who was actively avoiding looking at him. He was grinning, holding out his arms for the boy as he raced up the steps and into his uncle’s arms.

When the breeze picked up, Nick realized why.

He had thought at first that maybe Simon was avoiding his gaze because he’d let not one but two humans into his home. But that wasn’t it. The wind picked up, ruffling the boy’s hair and carrying his scent towards the house. At first, Nick thought he was imagining things so he took a deeper inhale. His blood turned cold and his gaze immediately snapped to Simon, not even bothering to hide the panic he was feeling and wishing he had bit his tongue because things just got much, much worse.

The boy was a wolf.

-------------------------

“Does she know?” Nick asked, glancing down the hall where Katherine had disappeared.

After brief introductions Nick offered to help carry in the luggage and boxes Katherine had stacked in the back of her jeep. She had offered to make dinner for him as thanks for helping them unpack, but Nick politely declined, saying he couldn’t stay long and just wanted to catch up with her brother for a bit. He’d turned on Simon the second she was out of sight. They hadn’t even made it past the entryway.

“Of course she doesn’t know. Do you honestly think I’d bring her here if she did? We’d be on the other side of the country by now,” Simon scoffed.

Nick threw his hands in the air, exasperated, “I don’t know! I’m still trying to figure out why you would bring her here in the first place!”

Simon shushed him, glancing down the hallway to make sure they hadn’t been overheard. He turned back to Nick earnestly, raking a hand through his hair.

“Listen, I just… I couldn’t just take Caleb away from her. And even if I had wanted to, there’s no way I’d have been able to do it without a nationwide manhunt being called down on me. Believe it or not I actually brought her here to keep her from finding out her son is a werewolf.”

Nick gaped at him.

“By surrounding her with other werewolves?” his voice strained, rising in pitch and cracking slightly in disbelief as he tried to keep from yelling. “I’m pretty sure she’s gonna notice when he hits puberty and you have to put deadbolts on his bedroom door.”

Simon’s lips pressed in a firm line, biting back a retort, but remarkably he said nothing. Sighing heavily Nick brought up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Do you honestly think Jeremy will be okay with this?” he asked. Simon laughed bitterly.

“Of course not,” he admitted. “There’s nothing about this situation that’s okay. Hell, I’m not even really okay with this. But I wouldn’t be here if I thought I had another choice.”

Nick rubbed his palms on his eyes and took a deep breath. He shook his head and looked Simon in the eye, making sure every word he said would register, that Simon was aware of the danger he was putting his family in.

“You are knowingly backing him into a corner, Simon. And you might not be glad you did.”

A warning was all he could give him now. Maybe if Simon had bothered to call him earlier, Nick could have listed all the reasons why this was an absolutely horrible idea. But he hadn’t, and now they are where they are, with Simon digging himself a hole and Nick apparently the one handing him the shovel. Jeremy was likely to bury them both if they weren’t careful.

Simon swallowed and offered a sharp nod. “I know. But what was I supposed to do, let my nephew become a Mutt?”

Nick rubbed at the side of his face, exasperated. He threw his hands in the air helplessly.

“No, just… I don’t know.”

“Exactly.”

Nick placed his hands on his hips, words dying in his mouth as the boy -- Caleb, Simon had told him during their introductions -- ran down the staircase beside them.

“Look!” he held up a small plastic dinosaur to Nick, a grin stretching across his face. “Uncle Si got this for me! They’re all over my room, even my bed has dinosaurs on it!”

Nick smiled at him. “That’s really cool, bud.”

Caleb offered Nick another toothy grin and took off down the hall, yelling excitedly about his new bedroom to his mother in the kitchen. Once he was out of sight Nick ran a hand over his jaw and shared an uneasy look with his friend.

“What exactly are you going to tell Jeremy?”

Simon exhaled a long, sharp gust of air and rubbed a hand at the back of his neck.

“The truth. All of it.”

Nick laughed once, a humorless puff of air past his lips. Katherine emerged from the kitchen then, with Caleb gripping her hand tightly and dragging her down the hall. His face was alight with excitement and his mouth was moving a mile a minute as he urged his mother towards the stairs.

Katherine’s eyes held the patience of a saint as she looked down at her son, smiling encouragingly at him and nodding every so often as she allowed herself to be drug across the hardwood floor. Nick felt his chest tighten, his thoughts turning to his own mother. The brief time they’d spent together in Ontario felt like a lifetime ago now, and he knew he’d never get the chance to see her again. He couldn’t, for her sake, and it killed him inside every time he thought about it. And not just her, either. Jeremy was still trying to decide what to do about Rachel. He hadn't made any decision yet, but he had to eventually.

As they passed, Katherine looked up and met Nick’s gaze. She smiled at him, the corners of her hazel eyes crinkling, and Nick felt himself smile in return. He looked between Katherine and Caleb one more time, saw the joy on each of their faces, and knew he’d made his decision. There was no way he could pass up an opportunity to help a wolf stay with his mother. He'd lost his own, and he may have no real say in what happens with Rachel and her son, but he has a chance to do something now. When they’d disappeared up the stairs once more, Nick sighed resignedly and dug his car keys out of his pocket.

“Well, it better be convincing. For your sake and for theirs.”

-------------------------

Katherine offered to make dinner twice more before Nick left and he turned them both down as kindly as he could -- although when she mentioned grilled steak he felt his resolve falter and mouth water. But he took one glance at Simon and shook his head, telling her he’d be more than happy to join them some other night. For now, he needed to think. About, well, everything.

First he needed to figure out how to tell Jeremy about the situation that he had inadvertently dropped on their doorstep. If he’d known the real reason why Simon was looking for his sister-- no. He couldn’t go there. Not when he didn’t even know if Simon knew Katherine had had a son. He would give him the benefit of the doubt. For now.

The drive back to Stonehaven seemed shorter than the drive to Simon’s house, and before he even realized it Nick was turning onto the driveway. He felt his stomach clench and his grip tightened on the steering wheel. It was one of the few times in his life where he was genuinely nervous to go home.

With any luck no one would be awake, and he could think about the best way to approach the news tonight and tell Jeremy about everything tomorrow. Simon hadn’t mentioned when he was thinking about coming to Stonehaven, but Nick knew he’d need to fill Jeremy in before that happened. He didn’t want Jeremy getting blindsided like he had been, especially considering the Alpha’s influence would literally mean life or death.

His car rolled to a stop in front of the house and Nick felt his stomach sink. There was a light on in the living room. Maybe it was Clay or Elena, sitting up for a drink. Although, if they thought they were alone, he should probably knock before he entered the house. He snorted his amusement and turned the car off to head towards the front door.

Nick peeked into the living room when he got into the house, and the door shut behind him with a foreboding click as he felt his stomach sink impossibly lower.

Luck, it seemed, was not on his side tonight.

Jeremy was sitting at his desk, a lamp beside him providing a soft yellow glow, just enough for him to see the papers in front of him. He looked up as Nick walked in and smiled.

Well. There was certainly no avoiding him now.

“You’re back late,” Jeremy commented off-handedly. Nick scratched at the back of his neck as he walked into the living room, stopping just in front of Jeremy’s desk.

“Yeah, we, uh, ended up talking for a while. There was a lot for us to catch up on,” he mumbled the last part and Jeremy raised a brow at him.

“And? How is Simon? It’s been a while since he was here last. I was surprised to hear he wanted a change of scene so suddenly.” He looked down at the papers in his hand and Nick shifted on his feet.

“He’s… good.”

His hesitation made Jeremy pause and then Nick was on the receiving end of two intense, questioning eyes. Suddenly Nick was sent back to all the times he’d seen that exact look when he was a child, the few instances when his father wasn’t around and he’d managed to sneak cookies before dinner only to be caught after the fact with chocolate all over his face. He squirmed just like he did when he was eight years old and Jeremy zeroed in on the movement.

“Nick?” he prodded, dropping the papers on his desk and giving the younger wolf his full attention.

Taking a deep breath through his nose Nick stepped forward. He pressed his palms flat on the cool wood of the desk to steady himself and looked Jeremy in the eye.

“There’s, um… There’s something you should know.”

#my writing #my ocs #oc: katherine adler #katherine/jeremy #these secrets that we hide #tstwh #it's very long #but i'm not sorry #reposting bc it somehow got deleted???

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strawnarrries · 6 years ago

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“Please, I Miss You.”

Summary: It’s been years since you spoke to your ex, but what happens when his name pops up on your phone again?

Requested: nope but feel free to request something ;)

POV: 2nd

Warning(s): angsty, drunkenness and cussing

You woke up to the loud, annoying sound of your ringtone. You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut and moving your hand all around your bed to find your phone, grumbling to yourself, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Once it hit your hand, you picked it up and squinted at the bright light that was now burning your eyes. Soon enough, they began adjusting to the light and you saw Liam's name on your phone.

Your heart began beating out of your chest and the butterflies started to spread around in your tummy. Why the hell was he calling you 2:00 in the morning?

You and Liam had been broken up for almost two years now. You had been dating for almost four years and all of that went down the drain when you had walked in on him and another girl in your bed (which he later started dating and had a child with). It was the worst and most heartbreaking experience of your life. For the first time in two years, you were finally starting to move on and was at a good place in your life.

But seeing his name on your phone had you trembling and your palms sweating. First of all, you thought you blocked him. And second of all, why the hell is he calling you.

You were hesitant at first but you slowly swiped your thumb against the accept button on the screen to answer. You pressed the speaker button and heard his voice, "(Y/N)?"

"Why're you calling?" you asked, your voice raspy with sleep.

"Urm," he mumbled, "I - I need you t' pick m-me up."

Right away you could tell he was drunk by the way he was slurring his words, the same way he was slurring them the night you walked in on him in bed with a girl that wasn't you.

"Why? Where're all your friends?" you asked, confused as to why he needed you to pick him up.

He replied with something and you couldn't quite understand what he said.

"What?"

"Jus' please come pick me up." He replied.

"Liam - I -"

He cut you off, "(Y/N), please?"

You sighed and thought about it for a second. As much as you hated him, you cared for him and didn't want him driving drunk or staying at the bar all night. So, you groaned out a "Where are you?" and threw the covers off of your body, feeling as the chills erupted on your skin.

He told you what bar he was at and you hummed out a small "okay".

"Thank you so much." he sighed as you rolled your eyes.

"Mhm," you hummed before you ended the call.

Shaking your head disapprovingly, you began to make your way downstairs. You didn't even bother to put on any real clothes; you stayed in my polka dotted, pajama pants and your tank top. You slipped on some slides and grabbed your belongings, your purse, and your keys, before making your way to your car. Hoping in, you turned on the car and began your journey to the bar to pick up your ex-boyfriend... You could not believe you were doing this.

Thoughts were racing through your mind and your heart was pounding. All throughout the ride, you couldn't get your anxiety and nerves to go down. You were so so nervous and regretted even picking up the phone. You hadn’t seen him for years and your last conversation was rough.

Pulling up to the front of the building, you saw him sitting on a bench, his elbows rested on his knees and his head was in his hands. You unlocked the door, rolled down the window and called out, "Liam."

He lifted his head and made eye contact with you. Standing up, he walked over to the car. Pulling on the handle, he opened the door and hopped into the passenger seat. He closed the door behind himself before you locked the doors.

"What's your address?" You hesitantly asked him, grabbing your phone and opening your maps so you could be directed to his house.

He had moved houses a couple months after everything had happened and you didn't know anything about his new house. As he murmured his address, you typed it into maps and pressed go, listening as Siri began to navigate you to his home.

Your tummy was in knots and your heart was beating out of your chest. You couldn't believe this was happening. As you took the route to his home, memories flooded your mind. You remembered how happy you all were and how he just threw that all away so easily. You replayed that night over and over in your mind; just like you did for about a year and a half after it all happened. You were doing so well, you were finally moving on, yet here you are again. Healed wounds were opened.

Zero words were spoken throughout the whole ride. Liam laid his head against the window, probably fast asleep. You were grateful for this because you really didn't want to talk to him at all.

You had finally made it to his house. Following the long driveway, you arrived at a huge gate, his big, beautiful home behind it. The house lights reflected off of the big, blue pool that sat in his front yard. He had acres of yard; it was absolutely beautiful and this was only the front of the house. You drove up the code box and rolled your window down, getting ready to punch in the code.

"What's the code?" you asked him.

It took him a minute to wake up and adjust, but he soon grumbled, "6449."

You typed the code in and it denied.

"It said it was wrong."

"What'd you put in?" he murmured, looking over at you, his eyes glazed over with tiredness.

"6449. You said it was right."

"No, it's 6449." he hummed before letting his head fall back against the glass, his eyes immediately falling shut.

"That's what I fucking put in!" you tried it again and it denied again.

"Liam, wake up. It's not right!" you smacked him, hating every moment of this.

"Wait, 4902." he mumbled.

You groaned and rolled your eyes, typing in the code. The gates slowly opened and you impatiently waited for them to open completely so you could drive through. Eventually, they opened enough for your car to fit through them and you drove through, following the long driveway up to the big house. You stopped in front of the front door, put the car in park and unlocked the doors.

"Liam," you hummed, trying to wake him up but he didn't answer. He was passed out against the window.

"Liam," you hummed a little louder, shaking his arms a little.

He grunted and lifted his head, letting his eyes adjust to the lights coming from the house. He rubbed his eyes and looked at you, "Can you come in, please?"

You heart dropped and your palms began to sweat even more than they already were.

"Why?"

"I - I wanna talk." he stuttered.

"About what?" you asked, very confused and really just wanting to go home and go back to bed.

"Everything."

"It's been two years. Why do you wanna talk now?"

He hesitated for a little bit before mumbling, "I miss you."

You let out a shaky breath, feeling your emotions beginning to want to take over with everything that was happening, "I think you should just go."

"But I love you."

Turning your head away, you felt your eyes sting and fill with water, and your voice cracking out, "You're drunk. Liam, please go."

"Are you crying? Why're you crying?"

"Liam go!"

He sighed, taking off his seatbelt and opening the door, finally getting out of your car. He turned around and bent down a little so you could see his face, "I'm not giving up on us." he whispered before shutting your door behind him and walking up to his front door.

You immediately drove off, letting the sobs that you were holding in finally break free. You couldn't believe what had just happened.

#My writing #reposting bc it somehow got deleted #liam payne #liam one shot #liam angst #liam payne fanfiction #liam payne writing #liam writing #one direction fanfic #oneshot #one shot #one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction fan fic #one direction one shots #liam payne one shot #liam payne fan fic #writing

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viviennevermillion · 2 years ago

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Cuddling Headcanons

notes: reposting bc I’m deleting my archived sideblogs

contains: azul ashengrotto x gn!reader

warnings: none

First off Azul is touch-starved™ and receiving affection especially if it’s early on in the relationship will make him melt.

Secondly, you don’t believe how easily this man cries out of happiness. He doesn’t want to but more than often he will shed at least a few tears when being showered with love. Especially if he had a stressful day. Especially if it’s during long cuddling sessions. Especially if it’s late at night because he gets sappy when tired.

Poor guy comes back from a dorm leader meeting with everyone arguing for a solid hour and a half and Crowley going on a long rant about how generous he is; so Azul’s all the more glad when he finds you having fallen asleep in his bed after waiting for him to come back. You have your own room key which is technically not allowed in NRC but we must not forget that Azul was somehow able to bribe Crowley so one room key isn’t going to get him into trouble.

He didn’t intend on waking you up, but you did when he put his arms around you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” His apology gets cut off by your lips softly pressing onto his own. Kisses already make him melt but getting them unexpectedly makes his heart beat faster and makes him lean into your touch even more.

You both smile into the kiss and you run a hand through Azuls hair, helping him unwind after the dorm leader meeting.

He’s laying on the side, pushing himself up with his lower arm and slightly leaning over you; gently laying a hand against your cheek and putting soft kisses to your forehead.

This is the point where one of you tells the other you’ve missed them. Sometimes you end up speaking in unison.

You look into each other’s eyes with a smile on your faces and you press a kiss onto the tip of Azul’s nose, which makes his smile widen.

You pull him down into your arms and he wraps his own arms tightly around you. He starts quietly telling you about his day or the dorm leader meeting or his work for a while with you occasionally placing kisses onto his forehead and running your fingertips across his back.

At this point he’s still the smooth talker he presents himself to be in public; smirking a lot and adding the usual level of drama to his voice when he tells you about something.

Azul talks a lot when you cuddle, unless he’s overwhelmed. He enjoys getting his thoughts out to someone he can trust in a comfortable setting and it helps him de-stress at the end of the day. You listen to eachother attentively while being tangled up in each other’s arms.

At some point your sentences become more quiet whispers. You talk about your feelings, saying you love each other and throwing in the occasional compliment. Once Azul knows he can trust you and that he can be open with you, these things come easy to him and he never gets tired of them.

Ever since you two got together he doesn’t lose his composure anymore when being confronted with lots of compliments or being teased by you. Before that verbal affection used to catch him off guard and occasionally make him flustered.

A very different story, however, is anything that involves his octopus form. It took him ages to even be willing to show you this form or get comfortable being around you like this and it’ll take him even longer to stop being a flustered mess and calming down when he’s in his octopus form.

It’s always the same thing over and over again: he transforms, you start reassuring him that he’s beautiful and that you love him while holding him tight and he’ll eventually start to ramble about how “maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all” or awkwardly trying to cover his tentacles with the blanket in an attempt for you not to see the form he dislikes. It usually ends with him turning onto his stomach and burying his face in the pillow so you can’t see his flushed cheeks.

Place a couple of soft kisses between his shoulder blades and you’ll make it worse. He loves it so much but he’s still self-conscious about his merman form and the goosebumps on his skin aren’t making it any better.

So he’ll eventually turn around and bury his face in your neck instead, wrapping his tenctacles and arms around you.

Which is great because Azul has 10 limbs. He can hug you with 10 limbs instead of two.

Azul Ashengrotto also lowkey reinvented the concept of massages because again, the man has 10 limbs and 8 of them are highly flexible. He doesn’t even need to change his position to do that, he can just keep being wrapped in your arms comfortably and kissing you while he’s massaging your arms, legs and back all at the same time.

Azul is a very affectionate partner, for one because he’s so touch-starved and on the other hand because he needs a lot of validation and love to heal from his past. And he might get embarrassed easily or struggle to wrap his head around the fact that you love him no matter what but receiving care and kind words when he’s in this form helps him a lot in getting more comfortable in his own skin and putting a few positive comments about it into his mind in contrast to all the negative ones he so vividly remembers.

Kiss one of his tentacles and he’ll break. In, like, a good way. I headcanon they’re really sensitive and receiving touch like this to a part of himself he has struggled to accept for so long and still struggles to accept in addition to being emotional overall in this form and also in love with you will make him a mess™. This is the point where he starts crying. It’s as much of a contrast to his usual calm and witty facade as his state after his overblot was to the shady business man people knew him as.

So there you have Azul Ashengrotto, curled up in your arms and pressing his face into your shoulder while he’s letting out quiet sobs out of happiness.

“Please don’t stop”, he mutters quietly, face flushing red immediately when he realizes what he said. Azul apologizes and you reassure him that there’s nothing wrong with what he said and that you enjoy making him feel loved.

After a while he’s just shaking his head and repeating “I love you” at least once every 2 minutes because he’s feeling so much and can’t put it into words but he needs to express it somehow.

If you’re as emotional as him it happens that you two just end up smiling at eachother with tears in your eyes, unable to comprehend all you feel for one another. (crying together can in fact be a bonding moment)

You always notice when he’s having doubts about himself or his octopus form and you’ll make an effort to reassure him that he’s perfect for you the way he is.

“I will love you until you learn to love yourself, Azul” “How about after that too?” You smile at him. “It’s a deal.”

#twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto x you #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto #twst x reader

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lalunanne · 7 years ago

Photo

Based on that one meme

#he gonna give lance all the kisses #reposting bc the last one got deleted somehow #klance #keith #lance #voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #lance mcclain #keith kagone #keith (voltron)#vld lance #art #digital art #lalunadoodles #meme #my art #lalunanne's art

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jj-5656 · 3 years ago

Text

Balance

With; Frank Castle (The Punisher)

A/n: Here we go again! I would like to apologize for how fucking long this is but I clearly got carried away. I actually deleted this on accident after posting I’m so fucking mad but reposting again. I would really appreciate if y’all make sure to like and reblog bc ya girl lost those notes🥲

Warnings: A little angst and a lot of fluff. Long haired Frank (again) but make it ✨domestic✨

The television is muted, but the weather forecast predicting 8-12 inches of snow in your area has Frank almost excited. Of course there will be shoveling, warming up cars and ridding them of piles of snow. But it’ll be your son’s first significant snowfall, and one your middle child is finally old enough to enjoy. Somehow, whatever force in the universe that has made Frank Castles life a living hell, has managed to turn the tide and have him fall in love. It’s a miracle, he figures, you ever even gave him the time of day. Let alone marry him.

With that, his heel pushes into a stray Lego block. Not the damned miniature pieces, but the big ones they make that come in the 4+ box that’s around the room somewhere.

“Damn it.” He swears, getting shot doesn’t have any competition to a fucking Lego. The damned things were everywhere, and always managed to be just in his line of walking.

“Daddy said a bad word!” Your four year old Callie, braided hair and all 3 feet, five inches of her feet determined self looks up at her father. Hands on her hips and a tiny tapping foot, just as her mother would scold. Frank grins, hands raising in defense before poking at her sides.

“Didn’t I tell ya the Castiglione’s are no snitches?”

“Mommy said there are egg-sections to that rule.”

“Exceptions.” He corrects, pointing to the colorful blocks scattered around the carpet. “Before you pick out new toys, you gotta clean up these ones sweetheart.” She does as told, humming to herself as she goes on with the task. The middle of three children, Calliope is quite the character.

Frank figures she takes after you. Her curiosity grows every day, and she’s always had a sharp glare and quick-wit. Matthew, the youngest and your only boy. Named after his “Uncle” Murdock. Which took months of convincing on your part. Frank, stubborn as ever, eventually gave in when you argued he wasn’t the one carrying the baby for just under a year. Murdock was honored, of course, bastard always had a sweet spot for your kids and to have one named after him did him in. Him and his colleagues showed up to just about every family occasion, Frank would always pretend he didn’t want them there. But you know your husband more than he does, and couldn’t imagine having your best friends not celebrate every milestone with your children. Aleena, already 16, was your oldest. She was Frank’s soft spot, his first born and oldest daughter. Funnily enough, the girl was like her father from the start. Stubborn, passionate, and enough love and loyalty to withstand just about any obstacle thrown her way. All except her father, of course, the two were quite the match when it came to conflict. It was better to have them on opposing sides though. To be on the competing side of that team had you backing down from the argument before it even stated. They were quite the persuasive charmers when they worked together.

You eye your husband and daughter from the kitchen, preparing dinner as he keeps an eye on the younger ones. Aleena shadows you, tidying dishes you’re done using and helping you prepare ingredients before you even ask. She wants something

“Leena.”

“Hmm?”

“Is there something you wanted to ask me?” The teen ceases her playing with her younger brother. Sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor with him and a coloring book as company.

“What d’ya mean?”

“I mean, the Aleena I know would probably be in her room at the moment. On her phone or doing homework. You tend to need alone time after school.”

“Seems like there’s gonna be a snow day tomorrow. Figured I’d get used to family-time considering it’s gonna be a long weekend of tolerating you people

You chuckle, amused with her humor despite your shaking head. “Seems like you’re kissing up, but I could be wrong.”

You always have to read me like that?”

“Call it mother’s intuition.”

“Creepy, is a better word.” Your brows raise expectantly, and she raises from her spot on the floor before continuing. Chewing on her lip to suppress the hopeful smirk that attempts to etch onto her features.

“I was talking with Brooke today.”

“There it is.”

“And she said Ryan invited her out with a friend…” She studies you, sighing when you only busy yourself with cooking and await her continuation. “A friend that is another boy. And they want me to come so the four of us can all go out together. As like, you know, a friendly get together sort of thing.”

“Or maybe a double date?” You muse, containing the excitement that’s risen within you as she bashfully covers her face

“Maybe? I don’t know, seems like maybe Ryan and Brooke both like each other and they’re trying to set me and this boy up too.”

“And do you know this boy?”

I know of him. He’s on the lacrosse team. And he’s cute mom, really cute. So I would really love to go.” You nod, complimented she feels so comfortable in confiding with you.

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea. I mean, I never really went on dates until I was older. But I don’t see why not.” You shrug, searching through the spice cabinet to find the right seasonings

“No way. I’ve seen your high school year book mom. You were gorgeous. It’s a miracle dad managed to pull you in college.”

Nice touch, kiss-ass. But your dad and I only met in college. He didn’t ask me out til years later, when we somehow crossed paths as adults.”

“And they lived happily ever after, so why this is such a good idea?”

“Just don’t get your hopes up. I still have to think about it, and then there’s your father.”

“Which is why I came to you. You can work your magic and talk to dad about it.”

“We can both talk to dad about it, I’m not playing telephone.” You laugh with a shake of you head, shushing Matthew who fusses on your hip

“Talk to dad about what?” Frank places a kiss to your temple when he reaches for a sliced pepper. Taking the raven-haired toddler from your arms and lifting him into the air as he squeals. He hold the baby on his hip as you did, leaning against the counter expectant of your answer. You glance over at Aleena, chewing on a pepper like her father, avoiding the answer.

“Girl stuff.”

“Are we still calling periods girl stuff? What d’you need, me to pick something up?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Your husband raises his brows at your opposing answers, you figure if he wasn’t holding a babbling Matt, grabbing at his beard he’d have his arms crossed by now.

“Leena…” You warn your oldest, her nose scrunching in discomfort, a habit she’s got from her father. Frank makes it a point to thank hod every day your children look like you. But their mannerisms, attitudes, unbreakable will, that’s all their father.

“Dad,” she muses in that sweet voice of hers, something she’s learned from you you’re sure.

“Oh boy, what’d you do.”

“Well, technically I haven’t done anything yet. Your loving, very helpful, daughter is asking permission first. Which you should keep in mind when considering your answer.”

Frank only hums, looking over to you with an unspoken ‘what’s she up to’ in his eyes. You busy yourself chopping vegetables.

“To the point, sweetheart.”

“Right. So there’s this boy-“

“Absolutely not.” Franks quick to push off the counter, exiting the kitchen as quick as he’d came in.

“But dad! You didn’t even let me finish.”

“Don’t need to, answer’s no.”

“Baby, hear her out first.” Frank’s tense muscles relax at your voice, he sets Matt down in the living room to begin setting the dinner table. His sister makes her way over to him, offering him one of the cars she’s amusing herself with. Aleena grabs the utensils as Frank gathers the plates, he places them down as she follows and adds a folded napkin to the side of each one. You smirk at their unknowing sync, swearing you’re living with three carbon copies of your husband sometimes.

“Brooke will be there too! She knows his friend Ryan from English class, he’s really nice. We were all gonna go bowling and get dinner. Just four friends hanging out! You know, avoiding drinking and drugs and bad things I could be doing had I not been such an angel.”

“Such a pain in my ass, actually. What’s this boy’s name anyway?”

“Leo.”

“Oh hell no.”

“What, you’ve made your decision off his name?”

“Yep. No boy named Leo’s got good intentions.”

“Dad-“

“Last name?”

“It’s He-“ she pauses, cogs turning in her head, “wait, you’re gonna try and look into him! That’s like, every type of invasive and totally weird!”

“What makes you think I was gonna do that?”

“Oh please, the second I left the room you were gonna text Mr. Lieberman! I’m not stupid.”

Frank glances over at you at the sound of your laugh, putting Matthew in his high chair as he speaks.

“And what’d your mom say about this?” You bring over the plate of pasta and bowl of salad. Handing Callie a small basket of bread to add to the table.

“That we’d talk about it.” You answer for yourself, everyone settling down at the table as the conversation goes on.

“Then we can, after dinner.” Frank shoots your oldest a warning look. She only huffs, knowing not to push it any further if there’s any chance he’ll say yes.

“Leah has a prince! Just like in my book mommy!” Callie’s ecstatic at the realization, using her nickname for her older sister as she can’t pronounce ‘Aleena’ just yet.

“If dad’ll ease up.” Aleena mutters defeated, smiling sweetly when Frank cocks his brow at her across the table.

“Mommy.”

“Yes, baby.”

“Leah says princesses don’t only have to like princes, s’that true?”

“Sure, honey. Some princesses like other princesses instead. And sometimes, princesses are actually princes. They just don’t know it yet. But it’s important we’re nice to everybody, cause it doesn’t really matter who you like.

“You think so too, daddy?”

“I don’t give a crap what you wanna be or who you wanna love. Long as they treat you right, we’re good.”

“Unless, of course, it regards the beauty of teenage love.”

“Aleena, last warning.”

“Kidding!”

“So, Matt’s a prince. Like Uncle Matt. But if one day he wanted to be a princess, he could?” You nod, heart warming at her inquiry for knowledge.

“Your Uncle Matt can be a princess sometimes, that’s for sure.” Frank grunts when you kick him under the table. He studies your oldest, who moves her food around with a pout. He tries to ignore the piece of him that makes his heart wrench at the sight.

“What made you ask mom first?” Aleena takes a bite of her food, debating a response. She’s taken aback, surprised he’s brought the topic back up.

“Because mama’s the boss.” Callie chimes simply, struggling to get a piece of pasta onto her kiddie fork.

Frank let’s out an amused huff, stopping the forkful of food that’s about to go into his mouth at Aleena’s knowing smile.

“What, you agree Leena?”

“Let’s be real dad, mom has you whipped. She wears the pants.”

“What’s that? Whipped?” Frank looks to you in confusion at her terminology. “Are all you under the impression your mother is the boss ‘round here?”

“I’d like to agree with the counsel.” You raise your finger, amused by your husbands astonished demeanor.

“Me and Mathew might be outnumbered, but I’d like to think the men in the house still have a say.”

“When I allow it.” You muse from the seat beside him, smirk growing at the giggles that ensue across from you. Matt can’t understand, but mimics his sisters regardless. Pushing a piece of food off his tray for the pitbull below to catch.

“Hilarious. You’re a comedian baby, really.” Frank jokes beside you, rising from his seat to collect your plate and his own. The girls follow along, finished with their meal and following his lead.

“So what’s the verdict then, can I go?” Aleena presses despite her fathers growing irritation.

“Didn’t we say we had to talk about it?”

“I don’t see what you have to talk about, really.” The tension grows in each of their voices, Callie climbs into your lap as she watches them.

“You’re pushing your luck, Leena.”

“It seems like you’ve already made up your mind, so what’s the point of even trying?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Once you make up your mind we all might as well give up!”

“You got that right. If there was any chance I was gonna say yes, it’s gone now.”

“That’s such bullshit!” Her skin runs hot with anger as you stand, setting down Callie who hides behind your legs.

“Aleena Castiglione!” You don’t mean to shout, but the sheer shock of her outburst hits you before logic can. Frank crosses his arms, practically seething. He stares her down, and in true Castiglione fashion, she only puts her hand on her hips and stares right back at him.

“Room. Now.” It’s almost a whisper. And coming from Frank, it’s much more intimidating than any shouting ever could be.

“Whatever.” Tears prick at her eyes, but she’s too stubborn to let them fall. The teen spins on her heel, stomping up the stairs and slamming the door before you can even let out a breath. Matthew jumps at the noise, startling him into a sob. You sigh, placing a reassuring kiss to Callie’s head before taking Matt in your arms. Swaying and shushing to soothe him. Callie stays at your legs, verging on tears as she holds onto you.

“C’mere, Calliope. Come help dad in the garage.” Frank crouches down to her level, smiling when her pigtailed-form goes over to him. Falling into a fit of giggles when he tickles her sides before grabbing her and standing to his full height.

“Where are you going?”

“Like I said, garage. That lopsided shelf needs to be fixed.” Your eyes narrow at his dry tone, finally able to calm the toddler in your arms down well enough to hear him.

“So we’re not gonna talk about it?”

“Seems like you were with her before I got involved.” Frank distracts the little girl in hand as he speaks, not wanting her to sense the tension between you.

“Oh, so we’re doing that now? Even though I waited for you to be involved before making any decisions?” He wasn’t being fair, he knew it. But the anger was still coursing through him at the previous argument and it was falsely directed at you.

“I need to think. We’ll be in the garage.”

“Her bedtimes in a little over an hour-“

“Yeah.” And with that, the garage door closes as soon as it opens. Your eyes burn into the door, pissed that he’s taken all this out on you.

******

You hold Matt in his rocking chair, the quiet of the dimly lit room is filled with the sound of your soft humming. It’s the only way he manages to fall asleep, milk-drunk off the half empty bottle slipping out of his mouth. You let out a sigh, relieved he’s finally fallen asleep as you set him in his crib. You take a minute, to watch the soft rise and fall of his chest as he falls into a heavy slumber. Truthfully, you could sit there and watch him til dawn, taking in all his soft features you’ve come to love so much. It hurts, sometimes, how much you love them.

With a soft knock on her door, you creep into Aleena’s room. Her bedside lamp illuminating her sleeping form as an opened book is splayed over her chest. ‘Moby Dick’ her fathers recommendation, is now highlighted and filled with annotated post-it notes. You smile, placing the text on her dresser before covering her frame with her comforter. Not letting her rosy, tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes go unnoticed. She’s likely full of regret and even anger. It’s impossible sometimes, being in such a young body with such fierce emotions. With a kiss to her hair, you turn off the lights and gently close her door.

Your mind wanders as you put away the dishes from the drying rack, cleaning up the kitchen before it becomes a disaster yet again from tomorrow’s breakfast.

“Mommy!” A small, but nonetheless panicked voice approaches you with speedy footsteps. Callie is flushed from running, eyes wide and worried.

“What’s wrong baby?” You get down to her level, hands going to her shoulders as she points behind her.

“Daddy got hurt!” Tears threaten to spill from her eyes as Frank comes from the garage, a towel wrapped around his arm.

“I’m alright, princess. It’s not that bad.”

“Is too! You’re bleeding a whole lot.” She argues defiantly, looking up at you expectantly. You set her in her chair at the table, stroking her hair to soothe her.

“I’ll fix him up, okay? Dad’ll be better in no time.” You reassure gently, thumb wiping a tear from her eye as Frank trails you to the sink. He reaches for the first aid kit above the fridge as you remove the towel from his forearm, tongue clicking at the sight of the gash.

“Shelf fell when I was trying to level it, damned corner scratched me. I’m okay.” He rasps calmly, looking over to Callie’s trembling frame.

“Can you come over here Calliope,” the use of her full name gets her attention, “hold my hand while mommy fixes me up?” She nods, taking careful steps over to him and looking over at the wound when he uses his good arm to lift her onto the countertop.

You run a fresh washcloth over some water, wiping at the excess blood to get a better look. Frank nudges Callie’s head to keep her eyes away from the injury, not wanting her to see all the blood.

You pour alcohol onto the cut, Frank isn’t even fazed by the sting. He sucks in his teeth anyway, squeezing the little girls hand just hard enough for her to attempt to pull away with a small laugh.

“Don’t cry, baby. Momma knows what she’s doing. It doesn’t hurt me much.” He soothes, kissing the top of her head when she nods.

“Gonna need to stitch it.” You speak softly, making eye contact for the first time since you argued. He looks almost solemn, guilt ridden all over his face as he nods.

Frank doesn’t even flinch at the familiar sensation of the needle threading his skin, Callie attempts to climb over his good arm that’s outstretched to prevent her from seeing what’s happening. She gets behind him on the counter, small arms wrapping around his shoulder to look at you.

“How are you so good at that, momma?”

“Practice.” You reply simply. You could probably be blindfolded and dress a wound, with all the times you’ve patched Frank up. A rough hand pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, you lean into its warmth. Looking up to see him mouth a “sorry” with that sorrowful, compelling look in his eyes. You know he puts himself under a lot of pressure. Constantly reminding himself that you guys are his second chance at this life. He punishes himself too much, you only wish you could relieve some of the weight off his heart.

You kiss his palm, lips ghosting over the simple reply. “I know.”

“Daddy.”

“What’s up, Callie girl?” Frank glances over his shoulder as you wrap gauze around the stitched wound.

“How’d you get mommy to be your princess?” He chuckles at her words, and your cheeks heat at his intense gaze while you continue your work.

“I’ve got no idea. Guess I finally worked up the courage to ask her on a date. If I hadn’t, I don’t know where I’d be now.” He grabs your jaw, placing a peck to your cheek as you fondly roll your eyes at his praise.

“Daddy said you were his saving grace, mommy.”

“Thanks for keeping the secret, kid. Last time I confide in you.” He pokes at her stomach, smirk etching his face when he takes in your flushed demeanor. You pull him in for a quick kiss, the both of you pulling away when Callie squeals.

“Again!” She places a tiny hand on the back of your heads, pushing them together so you kiss again and yelping even louder as you do. Frank laughs, amused at her excitable reaction. Egging her on by grabbing the sides of your head and attacking your face with kisses. You and Callie both yelp this time, the little one attempting to squirm away when her father does the same to her.

“You’re gonna get her all riled up before bed.” You warn, trailing your husband when he throws Callie over his shoulder and heads up the stairs to her room. Blowing raspberries on her stomach the entire way up.

When all three bed time stories have all been read, you and Frank finally settle into your own covers as the first flurries of snow start to come down. The sight lulls you into a drowsy state, your head on Frank’s chest as he reads. There’s no colorful post-it’s aligning the pages like your daughter. But every now and then, when he finds a line he particularly likes, Frank will crease the corner of the page. You make him read the line out loud every time, insisting you get to hear it too.

“We’re gonna have to let her grow up, you know. At some point shell stop asking permission and sneak behind our backs instead. Frank sighs, pressing the book to his chest to meet your tired eyes.

“She’s only 16, I thought we had a couple more years ‘til this conversation.” He whines, hands running over his face in distress. You only laugh, wrapping both your arms around one of his and pulling it into your chest.

“And what we’re you like at 16, Castle? Enjoying s’mores with the fellow boy scouts?” He scoffs, eyes wandering around the room to avoid your accusing gaze.

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about. That she’ll be like me. Meet the wrong people and start doing the wrong shit. I can’t have that, baby. She’s our little girl. We can’t just let her go, can we?” You turn to him, arms crossing over his chest to support your head as you press your forehead to his. Humming triumphantly at the relieved sigh he releases at your touch.

“We’re not letting her go, hun. Just making our grip a little looser, that’s all. She needs the freedom to make her own decisions, but not enough so that she’s in complete control. It’s a balance.”

“And what if we give her too much room anyway? And she ends up taking after her old man? I was a menace when I was her age. My parents were too old to have any say over anything I did. I left the house whenever I wanted, came back whenever too.

“She’s gonna make mistakes. All we can do is try our best to lead her in the right direction.”

“Or I could just pull her that way.”

“And whatever direction you pull, she’ll start tugging the other way.” You warn, hands tracing circles over his skin. His eyes flutter closed at your soothing touch, shaking his head at your words.

“You’re much better at this than I am, no wonder they say you wear the pants.”

What can I say Castle, you’re whipped.”

“I’d have a witty comeback if I knew what that meant.”

*******

It’s daylight when you open your eyes again. The sheets beside you cold with the absence of your husband You stretch, hitting the alarm clock before it can sound in hopes that it’ll keep the baby sleeping. At least long enough to put down a cup of coffee and start breakfast.

It’s not unusual for Frank to wake up long before the rest of you. His internal clock gets him up better than any alarm could. You pull on one of his hoodies and a winter jacket before opening the front door. Slipping into a pair of boots that are much too big for you and stepping onto the front porch. Where a pathway is already learned to your partly shoveled driveway. Your heart warms at the sight of your husband, working intently.

“The neighbors are gonna think you’re crazy. I’m guessing you got out here at dawn?” You yawn out as you reach him. Trembling from the harsh weather as he turns to face you. There's speck’s of snow littering his beard, you brush them out with a knowing smile.

“Might as well get a head start if I’m up. I know that asshole next door was gonna offer to do the whole driveay with that shiny fucking plow of his.

“George is nice, baby.”

“George is a flirt, and a shit one at that.” You only laugh, shuffling into his chest to avoid the freezing air. He’s practically toasting despite the weather, and you hum when he pulls you closer into his embrace with a kiss to your hair.

“Is that coffee in your hand for me?” He takes it before you can respond, grimacing at the taste of milk and sugar accompanying the caffeine.

“No, why ruin a perfectly good cup of coffee by making it sweet?” He teases, rubbing at your back to keep you warm.

“If you come inside I can make you your own with some breakfast. Then we can both come out here and finish up.”

“Like hell you will, I’m not having you out here shoveling.”

“Just come inside and eat, yeah? Sit with me while we enjoy the last moments of peace before the little monsters wake up.”

“Sold.” With that, he turns you toward the front door. Sighing with relief when entering the heated home.

********

It’s only 90 minutes later when you’re finishing up breakfast. The home comes alive when the youngest two wake up and eat their meal. Waffles, hash browns, eggs, all the food to fill and warm their stomachs in preparation for the day. Frank had gone out to continue outside, insisting after eating he finish before “that bastard next door” could start bragging about his damned plow.

Your oldest finally joins the chaos at the kitchen’s island countertop with squinting eyes. Face still puffy with sleep as she takes the plate you hand her with a small, but no less genuine ‘thank you.’

“Hey Lee, I’m gonna go check on your dad outside. He’s insistent on doing the whole driveway himself. Can you just keep an eye on them for a bit while I’m out there? If they’re done eting just call me back in.” SHe nods at your instruction, playfully swatting you away when you kiss her head in appreciation.

“What are you doing back out here, miss?”

“I’m reinforcements, here to help.” You motion to the shovel in hand, frowning when he shakes his head.

“You’re not staying out in the cold and shoveling snow.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re too pretty. And because that’s ridiculous. I’m more than capable, sweetheart.”

“Hey! I might be pretty Castle, but I’m strong too.”

“Damn right. I knew that when you almost broke my hand in the delivery room on three separate occasions. Now go warm up inside.”

“No. No way you’re doing all this alone.” You cross your arms in defense, taking a step back when he gets closer.

“Tough guy, huh?” Luckily, it’s still early enough for the neighbors not to hear your yelp of surprise when he hoists you over his shoulder. Walking across the driveway to toss you into the highest pile of snow on the ground.

“Asshole!” You insult through a fit of laughter. The much taller man clutches his stomach in amusement as you attempt to get up. Unable to roll onto your stomach or rise to your fet because of the heavy snow gear and how deep you are into the pile.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I had to, really.” He lets out through more laughter, extending his arm out for you to take. Completely caught off guard when you yank him forward. Fit of giggles even worse when he face-plants right into the snowbank. Covering your mouth to stifle your amusement when he rises with a frost-covered beard. He pulls you up by the coat collar, tugging you to his chapped lips with a smile. Your soft lips connect with his, completely content in the moment before you pull away.

“Thank you.”

“For what? Chucking you into a snowbank?”

“No, for always taking care of us.” You speak gently, kissing the tip of his nose, grinning at his flushed cheeks.

“You’re blushing, Castle.”

“ I was just face-first in the snow. Of course I’m red.”

“Right.”

*********

When you’re back inside just ten minutes later, you tug the copious amounts of miniature snow gear onto the little ones. Not being able to help but laugh at Mathhew, who’s unable to lower his arms because of the layers on him. He eventually stops fussing once you take off one of the jackets. Only after sending a picture to the groupchat with Karen, Foggy, and Matt.”

________

Froggy🐸: I’m calling CPS

Red: Foggy just described the picture, if it’s anything like it sounds I’ll be going over there to save my poor God-child.

Karen💜:So cute! Send me more pics of them in the snow!!

____________

“Aleena. Will you bring this out to dad? I have to get their boots on and then they’ll be ready to go out.” You hand her the steaming thermos of black coffee, eyebrows raising when she hesitates to take it.

“We’re not exactly on good terms at the moment.”

“Precisely why it’d be nice of you to give a peace offering.” You hold out the cup again, chuckling when she takes it with a heavy sigh.

“If I’m not back in ten minutes, call the cops. It means dad killed me.” She muses before shutting the door behind her. You roll your eyes fondly, motioning over a bundled Callie to be pisces up so the both of you can watch the interaction from the kitchen window.

Your eyes follow her form shuffle across the snow. Frank only turns around when she taps his shoulder, holding out the steaming thermos to his panting form. There’s a short exchanging of words after he takes it from her, their eyes lingering on one another before Aleena turns back toward the house. Frank grabs her elbow before she can even take a second step, tugging her into an embrace with a kiss to the top of her head. He pulls away after a long moment, wiping a tear off her face before continuing their conversation. Which of course you can’t make out from inside. You and Callie gasp when they both turn to look at you, ducking out of view as to not be caught spying. When you peek back out, they’re rushing behind one of the snowbanks. Clearly up to no good.

“Frank?” You hold Mathew on your hip as Callie stalks close beside you. Her little feet unaccustomed to the clunky snow boots as you creep into the front yard.

Aleena pops up from behind a snowbank, snowball in hand and raised at you. Frank does the same, Callie squealing and grabbing onto your leg.

“You can’t throw anything, I have babies!” You yell out at them, heart racing from the adrenaline.

“Put down the baby, and nobody gets hurt.” Aleena warns, mischievous smirk plastering her face at your shock.

“So what, you two turn on me now?”

“Looks like it, you’re outnumbered baby.” Frank tosses a snowball from hand to hand as he speaks.

“And you’re a pain in my ass. No hot chocolate for traitors, Aleena!” You raise your brows at your daughter, who pauses at your words.

“Don’t listen to the enemy, sweetheart. She’s bluffing!”

“Oh yeah? Tell that to the jumbo marshmallows and whipped cream you’ll have none of if I get hit with one of those. Not to mention, I grew you for nine months only for you to side with your father?” With that, the teen heads over to your side.

“Where the hell is your loyalty?”

“With the cocoa, sorry dad!”

Masterlist

#imagines #fanfic #marvel mcu #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle #marvel the punisher #the punisher #punisher imagine #punisher x reader #john bernthal #punisher x you #frank castle fluff

375 notes · View notes

stutterfly · 4 years ago

Text

Swipe Right 04 | Patch Notes | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

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

Word Count: 15.1K

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

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

Series: Activate your SIMCard

Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me

You: Don’t worry I’m gonna

Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh

You: ???

Jungkook: Your legs

Jungkook: Like oreos

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

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

You: I wish I could unread 🤢

Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites

Jungkook: Just like you 😘

You: 🙄

You: I hate you so much

Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?

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

Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀

You: It means I’m tired

Jungkook: Of?

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

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

Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴

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

You: You know what? I want you

FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.

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

Jungkook: 😈

Jungkook: My place

Jungkook: Ten minutes

You: *to stay off my profile

Jungkook: 👉👌?

You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT

You: 🤢🤢🤢

Jungkook: 😩

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

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

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

Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here

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

Jungkook: Hey quick question

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He forgot.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Zip up your hoodie.”

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

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

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

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

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

Even he knows that argument is flimsy.

“Guk.”

“It was always just a joke.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”

“Yeah.”

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

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

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.

“With beef,” he agrees.

“Gyoza?”

“Mhm.”

“And takoyaki?”

“...You’re pushing it.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

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

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

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

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

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

"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? When?”

“The other day. We hung out.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You guys talked about me?”

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

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

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

“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N.”

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

“We allowed to talk about Jason?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry

JUNGKOOK: I got u

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Um, how about... tempura?"

"Banana?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, really?”

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

“I’ve been a dick.”

“No shit.”

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

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

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

“You don’t say.”

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

“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you mumble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For real.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”

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

“I want that in writing,” you snort.

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

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

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

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

Princess

I’m sorry. I can make it right.

I promise. Please give me another chance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”

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

“Joonie—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

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

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

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

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

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

It’s also kind of cute.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like, full body?”

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

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

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

“Which one?”

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

“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”

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

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

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

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I hear a pop.”

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

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

“Oh no. Knees?”

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

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

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

“Uhh…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

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

“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.

“I think… A lot.”

“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.

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

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

“So…” he begins.

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

“I was thinking. About that guy…”

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

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

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

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

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

It's cry hours, isn’t it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's late. I should sleep."

Or masturbate.

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

"Whoa. You okay?"

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

"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"

"Just wanna stop spinning."

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

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

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

“You gonna make it there?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Princess?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Night,” you mumble.

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

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

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

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

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

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

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

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

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

#smutcentralnet #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #bts fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic

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ktheist · 4 years ago

Text

girls like you [don’t] run ‘round with guys like me | m

characters. popular!reader x shy!jimin

genre. college au. rich kids au. fwb au. eventual ceo au. eventual racer au.

words. 4k

warnings. 18+

note. this is a repost. tumblr messed up my exposure last time. this fic didn’t show up in search and it’s probably a third post of mine that ends up like this. this one probably won’t either but posting bc someone might see it and like it.

It’s easy to tell when Park Jimin is in love.

Unlike Kim Seokjin, his eccentric, dad joke-loving friend, Jimin would only wear the pastel pink when he’s feeling giggly and shy and mushy inside.

The source of said feelings being either the barista he goes to get his daily dose of coffee from, or the girl at the library he studies at during finals or well, right now it’s the girl he’s fucking almost every day of the week - you.

“What are you doing?” Seokjin looks at him like he just dumped a spoonful of salt in a broth that needs a little, teensy bit of sugar.

Or his face seems to say that as he goes on, “she’s a mean girl. She’s mean.”

Jimin isn’t sure if Seokjin’s aware that he’s just repeated the same thing twice.

“She calls you Chim!” The older man reiterates.

“Yeah, it’s…” Jimin trails off, the heartwarming image of you cuddling into him after yet another mindblowing sex, flashing at the back of his mind, “...her pet name for me.”

“Sounds to me like she can’t remember your actual name,” Min Yoongi interjects from the couch he’s claimed for himself ever since they got to their usual hangout.

It’s a penthouse Jimin’s parents bought him on his 18th birthday. Him and the boys would hang around there after they’re done with classes or just need a place to crash whenever they have problems with their girlfriends or boyfriends or parents or any sort of problem that renders their usual room not sleepable.

“I think we can just agree we have different wants,” Jeongguk - or the sanest of them all, as Jimin likes to call him - chirps in, taking a bite of the apple he got from the fridge.

“Exactly,” Jimin throws his hands up as if freed from his elder friends’ judge-filled eyes. The vibration of his phone in his lap gives him even more comfort to know that he finally has an excuse to slip away - he checks his phone, your name flashing in the bubble that says ‘hey, wyd?’

“I have to go, it’s ___.”

A series of groans and hollers equally erupts from the men in the room at the realization of what Jimin’s ‘having to go’ means.

And so it goes. Jimin finds himself under your blanket that smells like fresh laundry - it’s a nude green color compared to the pleated black and white from last time. Your head is on his chest and he’s caressing your hair like it’s the softest thing he’s ever laid his hands on.

Besides your boobs, that is.

“I was thinking… since we have Monday off… maybe we could-”

It’s the way you push yourself off him, eyes that are onto him gazing straight into his soul, “oh shoot, Monday’s a public holiday. I totally forgot! I have to meet my parents. My dad’s been nagging me to come back since I skipped Christmas and New Year.”

And there goes his chance to ask you out on a date.

“Oh yeah, what were you saying about Monday?”

Jimin wears the biggest fake smile he can muster, “just that… me and the boys are gonna hang out and we’re bringing our girlfriends and boyfriends and uh- doesn’t have to be someone you’re exclusively seeing,” he almost chokes at the almost-admittance that he has the fattest crush on you and wants to make it official by inviting you to a couple’s-only hang out, “but like, I don’t think I’m going, it’s boring anyway.”

He waves his hand dismissively, trying to play it cool.

You make a cooing sound, eyebrows knitting together as your lips pout cutely before a playful smile blooms on your face, “I know what you’re trying to say.”

“You do?” Jimin thinks he heard his heart dropping to his stomach.

“Yeah, you’re single and all the boys have someone special they’re gonna bring… it’s gonna be awkward as hell because they’re gonna act different because they’re around their special someone so you thought if I was there, it’d be more fun because at least you have a friend with you that’s not gonna act fake the whole time there but I can’t go so you decided you’re not going too like a minute ago.”

Silence lulls in after your analogy that you sound so sure of when, in fact, he has a whole list of things he’d do on the date which he may or may not have gone over a hundred times in his head.

Doesn’t matter now, since that date is a no-go.

He’s going to delete that list off his phone once he gets to his place and drink himself silly until he wipes it out of his mind.

“Yeah,” Jimin says a moment later, “yeah… I mean, girls in love are cute but boys in love are just… annoying.”

The week flies by without Jimin ever mentioning Monday and you’ve showed him the clothes you’re going to wear to visit your parents because apparently-

“It’s lunch at some five star Michelin restaurant and I think they’re gonna tell me they’re getting a divorce,” your voice drifts into the room from the open, walk-in closet.

“If they’re not in some long, dreadful battle on who gets the holiday house with the pool and the dogs - how do I look?” You step out, in a frilly creme sweater with a black ribbon tied around the collar of your white undershirt with a black pleated skirt that stops mid-thighs, just inches from your black stockings.

A glaring contrast to your collection of washed out skinny jeans, plain t-shirts and sneakers.

“You… look…” Jimin knows he should stop openly ogling at your never-before-seen drip but there’s just something about the creme colored sweater.

“Like a good girl?” You offer with a smile Jimin couldn’t quite put a name to. Somehow he notices a trace of sadness in your eyes, but you disappear into the closet too soon.

“I’ll think about what to wear the morning I need to wear it,” you’re in the middle of pulling off the sweater when Jimin comes up behind you, kissing your neck and grabbing your boobs like they’re his.

The sound of your giggle is music to his ears.

That is, until his boner brushes against your butt and you gasp, “Chim! We just did it.”

“I know but you look so cute in that sweater.” He sounds exactly like Jeongguk. Like a fuckboy.

Like one of the boys you got tired of before you finally noticed him, the quiet, shy guy who’s friends with the outgoing, baby-faced Jeon Jeongguk whom - Jimin hates to admit it but he thinks about this every once so often and gets jealous all on his own - you’ve humped and dumped.

How you and Jeongguk still manage to stay friends and tease each other about the other’s choice of partners, Jimin doesn’t know.

It’s like a twin calling the other ugly.

He wonders if you and him will still stay friends after…

Jimin pushes the thought out of his mind. It’s not hard to forget everything when he’s with you - when he’s kissing you on the mouth like you’re the only girl he’ll want to spend the rest of his college life with and maybe his old days with together too.

“Chim, I can’t get my shirt creased,” you say but you’re already dripping wet and laying down in said shirt that’s half ridden up from him sucking and biting on your nipples.

He stopped you when you tried to take off your clothes.

“I’ll wash it and iron it for you,” he negotiates just as he rolls the condom over his length.

The sound of your giggle makes his heart skip a beat. Or maybe that’s the libido?

Either way, your mouth clamps shut when he pulls you down against him by the dip of your waist.

A different kind of hymn leaves your lips as Jimin throws his head back, relishing in the feeling of you around him.

When Monday rolls around, Jimin’s lying on the bean bag with his two legs sprawled over the floor. The boys are all out with either their significant others, working part-time or at a party.

The worn out baseball Jimin’s been tossing in the air and catching with one hand finally hits him square in the face when he hears the doorbell, signaling the presence of someone at the door and that someone being none of the boys because they would just punch in the code and strut in like they own the place.

Jimin thought maybe it’s Yoongi - the guy couldn’t even remember what he had for dinner and actually forgot the passcode to his own rental room once.

So he didn’t think to check who it was.

When your bright smile and slightly puffy eyes flash in front of him, Jimin thinks his soul just yeeted itself out of his body.

“Hey!” You sing song, holding up two plastic bags of beers and snacks.

It takes a moment for him to snap out of his stupor and grab them from your hands and then stepping aside to let you in.

“Is… everyone late or am I just early?” You sound increasingly confused as you step further into the center of the room, standing right next to the bean bag he was laying in just a moment ago.

“Oh-” he says once before he opens his mouth the second time, ready to spurt out another lie, “oh yeah… we decided not to ‘cause why hang out in a group when you can hang out with your significant other… you know, just the two of you… doing what couples do…”

“Huh,” you say, nodding though not quite believing him but you being you, easily lets it slide, plopping on the bean bag and grabbing the closest thing to you which is the ball that hit Jimin in the face - he’s sure he has a circular mark smack dab in the area on the top of his nose bridge, in between his eyes.

The dress you end up wearing is creme colored and riding up your thighs - Jimin swallows thickly and give extra attention to the bottle opener.

“So… how did lunch go?” He pops two beers open and hands one to you, taking a seat on Yoongi’s favorite couch and admiring how your dress is taking the shape of your body as gravity pulls it down.

“Oh, you know, everyone was being fake and acting like the perfect role in the family,” you put the beer down a few inches above your head so as to not tip it over with the ball you’re waving around but not throwing in the air like Jimin did.

“Sounds suffocating,” Jimin repeats a similar answer he gives whenever you use that dismissive tone while talking about your family.

“...are you okay?” Then he asks - and he’s genuinely asking - about your state of mind while casually downing the beer and feeling the bitterness lessen with every gulp.

The silence that lapses in between you is familiar.

“If I say no, can I get a hug?” It’s the look in your eyes, glimmering like the lake he used to go to in summer.

“Always,” he sets his beer down on the table next to the couch and goes over to you, standing on his knees before bending down and engulfing you in his arm.

You’ve always had a knack for picking yourself up.

When he sees you the next time, which is on instagram and a post of you having lunch with your friends, Jimin could hardly believe that’s the girl who asked him for a hug as if she’s afraid she’ll be putting him in an uncomfortable spot by asking for too much.

But there’s something…

Like an invisible wall made of ice that he can’t thaw through nor can he climb over to get to the other side where you are. Where you keep the people you love the closest. Closer than he’ll ever be.

Jeon Jeongguk is one of them.

In the picture of five people huddled close to fit in the frame, Jeongguk has his arm over you with a peace sign while you lean your head on his neck but not actually resting on it - like it’s an unconscious action you’d do because you’ve done that plenty of times.

Is it when you two were together?

Everyone he knows, knows that you and Jeongguk used to be more than just friends at some point.

Sometimes he still hears people talking about you two in passing.

‘Did ___ and Jeongguk get back together? I saw in Jeongguk’s snapstory - they were in a club or something.’

‘No way. There goes my chance of getting close with Jeongguk.’

‘Girl, with ___ hanging around him 24/7, do you think he’d look at girls like us?’

‘A girl can dream though.’

Jimin wanted to open his mouth and tell them they deserve way better than Jeon Jeongguk - though they’re not prettier than you.

He thinks you’re the loveliest girl on planet earth and if there was another life form on another planet, he’s almost a hundred percent sure you’d still be prettiest being in the universe with your obsession for skinny jeans and the way you’d unconsciously pout when he talks about how things weren’t going his way that day as if you would’ve exchanged your abundance of luck with his shitty one just because you’ve got that big of a heart and how you’d be walking with your friends, laughing and giggling and when you see him, you’d wave at him like you’re good friends.

Second only to Jeongguk and your friend group that you’re always hanging out with.

“Oh, ___? We were childhood friends.”

“Hmm… Gguk and I became friends because our parents are friends.”

The two of them say at different times and settings when Jimin asked, trying to play it cool. Like he isn’t just brimming with jealousy. Like he’s not half-way to losing his mind because the girl of his dreams just went to a retreat with his friend-of-a-friend-turned-actual-friend together when everyone else in the group who was excitedly planning for the trip - couldn’t make it.

The rooms at the inn weren’t even pre-booked. It was owned by Jeongguk’s family and they didn’t deposit any money for the trip for them to rationalize going on that trip anyway despite everyone else not being to go.

“The trip? It was fun, if you want we can go together next time.”

Jimin isn’t sure if you even mean that when he asked how the trip went after you’re glistening with the glow of after sex and scrolling through instagram, liking posts of everyone you know.

But then three months later, on your break, Jimin is hit with a ‘keep your schedule free next week for a whole week!!!’

Then he finds himself at a five star hotel by the beach with the most breathtaking view of the sea.

It wasn’t the inn owned by the Jeon’s but Jimin liked the fact that you brought him to a place - and he hopes his assumptions are true - your friends have never been before. Especially Jeongguk.

“Woah, this place is better than I thought,” a king sized bed lies directly across from the balcony where you’re standing, hair flying behind your back as the seaside breeze blows into the room.

“We can watch the sun rise and set from our bed,” Jimin comments for the sake of saying something.

He’s not sure what this means. He’s not sure if he should be having a boner at the thought of the two of you being together for a whole week without any other person getting in the way. He’s not sure if his heart should be thumping this fast.

For the first time since he’s known you, Park Jimin is the most unsure he’s ever been.

“You know what I wanna watch?” Your hands slip in his as you stand between him and the open balcony door, “you under me, biting your lips because you’re still shy about the sound you make.”

So when you tug him back into the bedroom just minutes after checking in, naturally, Park Jimin follows like he’s been bewitched by your ungodly beauty.

Once the one week of nothing but heavenly morning wishes and passionate night kisses - oh, there was more than just kissing but Jimin remembers how your lips meld so perfectly together with his the most - Jimin is sure.

‘Something definitely changed.’

He thinks maybe it’s not impossible to dream of a future with you even after college.

“Jimin I-... I’m not at a point in life to be thinking about relationships,” you say, hand gripping your arm, head lowered as if your whole body is saying sorry.

“O-oh,” is all he says, he hearts his heart breaking and his chest caving.

All of a sudden, the lights in Gangnam city doesn’t seem so bright anymore.

You both live your last year pretending like the other doesn’t exist. He doesn’t look at you when he passes you and neither did you. Only talks to Jeongguk even though you’re right next to the aforementioned man - granted you were talking with your other friends like you didn’t even notice him there.

But Jimin’s never felt so invisible in his life than he does now.

Then, graduation rolls around and he thinks finally, he won’t have to walk through the hallway and pretend like he didn’t see you. Don't have to keep a five feet distance whenever you meet up for a group project.

Park Jimin doesn’t need to see your pretty face and starry eyes anymore.

“Jimin… do you have a minute?”

Or so he thought.

“So… congrats on surviving college,” you make small talk while standing just ten feet away from the boys whom he’s sure are speculating on what you’re talking about.

Jimin never got to prove to his friends that you’re not the mean, name-forgetting girl they all thought.

Jeongguk knows you’re not. He’s always backing Jimin up when Jimin’s debunking their passing accusations about you.

“Sometimes things just don’t work out between two people but doesn’t mean one of them is the bad guy.” Jeongguk's words put an end to their debate of whether Jimin deserved better than you or not.

For someone young, Jeongguk spoke his mind decidedly.

Jimin felt ashamed that he’d ever been jealous of Jeongguk’s relationship with you.

“I just… didn’t wanna leave things on a bad note. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when I said no but I really like spending time with you - whether it’s sex or just staying over and cuddling for hours… I like it all.” You say the word sex and cuddle like they’re used interchangeably and Jimin thinks his heart just fluttered.

And you’d said it in public where your everyone can see or possibly pick up on what you were saying, at that.

Well, one thing’s for sure, you’ve got bigger balls than he does.

“My feelings are the same as six months ago and call me crazy but I don’t think you dislike me either.” He finally says and it feels like a deadweight has been lifted off his shoulders.

There comes that pout, as if something is bothering you and you always ever pout like that when that something concerns him.

“You kidding me? I can never dislike you.”

The Jimin from six months ago would have stared at you with disbelief and a dust of pink on his cheeks. But the Jimin he is now simply smiles, heart thumping in his chest. He nods.

“Thanks for telling me that,” and Jimin knows that’s the closest to an ‘I like you’ he can get with the girl who builds an ice fortress around her heart.

A whole year passes by and Jimin finds himself in different shades of grey every day, working at his dad’s company and attending dinner meetings. Life comes to a standstill while time passes him by.

“So, like, you have a sports car, right? Why don’t you come over to the race circuit after dinner? Everyone’s gonna be there.”

Jeongguk tells him over the phone.

And by ‘everyone’ he means the sons and daughters in the corporate world. It’s networking at its finest.

When he’s there, three cars are already racing in the circuit. The smell of burnt rubber and the sound of tires screeching against asphalt isn’t exactly his favorite but they have cheap booze instead of fine wine and he knows the people here are in for the same thing as he is.

An escape.

Away from the grandeur of fine wine and dinner dresses and the elders breathing down their necks and having to act like the next heir to the legacy they were born to carry.

“That Chevrolet over there,” Jeongguk comes, hand on Jimin’s back as his other one that’s holding a bottle of beer points at a red car that looks like a racing fireball, “everyone’s betting on that one tonight.”

Jimin doesn’t know there’s a bet.

“I’ll skip the bet this time ‘round. Haven’t seen the driver yet,” he shrugs dismissively.

Even in stock investment, he’d learned to study the market first before placing his best bet.

Jeongguk leaves his side when his friends - he’s got new ones now - beckons him over. At the same time, the Chevrolet passes the finish line seconds before the Ford Mustang and McLaren 720s, making it the winner of the night.

The driver seems like a show off with the way the car rolls up to the audience, the sound of its engines revving into the night being met with cheers of half-drunk young adults.

Arrogance is a man’s downfall.

Jimin’s about to turn around and head for the exit when the door of the car gets pushed open. The driver steps out, decked in black and red leather jeans and jackets that seem to match the car.

But it’s the smooth, silken hair that cascades past the helmet that catches his eyes.

Park Jimin’s seen many arrogant men in his life but he’s only ever seen one woman with balls and looks good wearing them.

“___! ___! ___!” The crowd starts cheering as you pull off the helmet, holding it underneath your arm and waist.

Your eyes are as brilliant as the night sky full of stars. They’re tinged with shock and then recognition. And finally, you smile that gorgeous smile that gets you misunderstood often as a woman who doesn’t need anything or anyone but uses them as they come.

But Park Jimin knows better than anyone, how wholeheartedly happy that smile looks when you see him.

Like meeting a good friend after a long time.

Seven months down the road, Jimin finds himself with just a blanket draped over his waist while you’re taking a shower in his bathroom to get ready to head to Hong Kong for a business trip.

He hears the sound of the shower head being turned off. The tapping of your foot around his bedroom as you pick up your clothes that are strewn all over the floor.

Then the bed dips ever so gently under your weight as you climb over to him, the fresh scent of shower get filling his senses. Lips press a deep, lingering kiss on his. As if you don’t want to go to a place where he won’t be.

A few socials and midnight races after his first meeting with you after a long time, you asked him if he’s seeing someone.

“If I say yes, what will you do?” It’s playful at first, because Jimin didn’t want to get himself hurt the second time.

But it’s the way you tilted your head, a finger tapping on your chin as you pondered on his words, “that’s a problem because I don’t want to be that girl that steals another girl’s man,” then you looked at him like you know he’s the one you want to wake up to every morning and the last face you see when you sleep at night and if you can’t have that. then-

“Can you be mine… just for tonight?”

“I don’t think I can.” The crestfallen expression you wear makes his own heart break, even if it’s just for a split second-

“Because I’m not seeing anyone but I’m in that point in life where I want a serious relationship or nothing at all.”

But what he doesn’t tell you is how he doesn’t want a relationship if it’s not with the girl who still haunts his dreams even after all this time.

Just like how you’d turned him down because you weren’t looking to be in a relationship before, you’d courted Jimin like you’d want to spend your whole life with him now.

Flowers got sent to his office everyday until it smells nothing short of floral. You’d be there, waving at him like he’s your savior in that dreadful social you were both attending. Every week, you’d plan dinner dates under the guise of catching up.

Before you race, you’d look over to where he’s standing, as if saying ‘this one’s for you’ before slipping into your car and coming out first every single time.

As if you were making up for every month of the year that you’d let life pass you by.

Now you’ve won a total of 36 races since he met you and the metal band you gifted him on the night of your 12th win feels warm against his skin. As if it’s absorbed all the love and adoration you poured into it.

And you’re wearing that ring he got you on your birthday on your finger that’s resting on his chest where his heart is as he kisses you back just as reluctant to let you leave.

But Park Jimin knows wherever you are, wherever you will be - you will always find your way back to each other.

Back home.

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