#finally got it to work without repeating or deleting text | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

graceful-starker · 2 years

Text

They Were Right and I Was Wrong: Redo

New Years Resolution. Voted to Redo. Tada.

This was one of the fics that I had a draft for and it got deleted with my old blog. It’s been two years since the last chapter was posted and honestly I feel really bad about it. So here we are! Here is the ao3, and the rest of the re-do is there (Chapters 1-4 are redone, chapter 5 is a continuation).

Summary: After finding Tony in bed with someone else, Peter has to either find out how to cope or how to leave him.

Warnings: cheating, insecurity, sadness, angst, suicidal thoughts, mentions of suicide, major character death, angst without a happy ending.

~~~~~

Peter drops the weights on the floor with a loud clink, panting with exhaustion. He checks his watch, cursing softly to himself. Tony gets out of meetings in half an hour.

He starting working with Pepper a few months ago, after his performance at SI started to decline worryingly. She had set up a meeting to ask what was up, and Peter had, after a lot of probing, admitted that he was having trouble concentrating because he was so depressed about Tony’s cheating.

After turning down her offer to physically beat good sense into Tony, they came to a better agreement: Pepper would keep an assistant on Tony’s ass at all times, so when he's at work, he’s always being watched. Pepper is to be notified immediately if Tony tries to get rid of said assistant, and so whenever Tony is working he’s accounted for. Peter doesn’t have to worry about Tony while they’re at work.

Meanwhile, Peter is working out more to be less of a ‘Twink’ as Tony had so elegantly put it, and is trying to tire the older man out enough he doesn’t have the energy to cheat when Tony is not at work. Unfortunately for Peter, his body doesn’t want to get any buffer. He’ll only ever be half the man Steve is.

But he has started to top Tony every day after their work day. At least, he offers it. Sometimes Tony is too tired, or he just doesn’t want to, but Peter makes sure that at least he and Tony are in the same room until Tony passes out, and until they start their work days at SI.

It’s exhausting, and Peter hasn’t felt this drained in...ever, actually. Not even during MIT finals. Peter’s day consists of waking up with Tony, showering and getting dressed with Tony, driving to work with Tony, working all day while a poor unpaid intern follows Tony around, working out for the few hours when Tony still has work and Peter doesn't, goes home with Tony, fucks Tony or at least stalks Tony, until they go to bed. Then the cycle repeats.

Peter has never been this depressed. He doesn’t want to do this anymore. He isn’t happy, he can’t trust his boyfriend, he has no time to see his friends or family. He doesn’t feel loved like he wants to. He feels like an unwanted burden.

Peter speeds through the shower before rushing upstairs to meet Tony. He runs into the assistant--Peter thinks his name is Andrew but he isn’t sure about that--and smiles at him tiredly. “Hey man, how’s it going?”

Andrew looks up, smiling back. ‘Hey Mr. Parker! Today was good, but I really happy when Mr. Stark got the day off. I’ve never felt so relaxed!”

Peter feels his blood run cold, and his smile drops. “What?”

Andrew nods, looking back at his phone. “Yeah, he texted me this morning and said Miss Potts gave him the day off so he wasn’t coming in. Didn’t you know? You guys usually show up together.”

Peter swallows thickly, forcing a fake smile. “No, right, I just forgot what day it was. Well, see you tomorrow.”

Andrew waves before walking off, immersed in his phone.

Peter feels like a weight has been dropped into his stomach. He races home as fast as he can, using his webs instead of the car. He gets home a half hour before Tony would have expected him.

He walks out of the elevator onto Tony’s floor and physically feels the other shoe drop.

Clothes on the floor. Clothes that don’t belong to Peter or to Tony. And there’s Tony’s clothes, a little further down the hallway. He follows them to their bedroom, and opens the door with extreme hesitation.

But there Tony is, hovering above a very pretty boy, freezing when he sees Peter in the door.

Tony pulls away from the boy, which makes the ranger whine in protest. But they see too notices Peter, and blushes red and covers himself with the sheets. “Peter,” Tony greets, sighing in annoyance. “You’re home early.”

Peter stares for a few more seconds, before he surprises them all.

He breaks down into hysteric sobs, feeling the exhaustion hit him at once. Not only is Tony cheating on him again, he’s cheating with someone who looks like Peter. Someone small, someone who bottoms, someone who isn’t what Tony would say is a ‘real man’.

Peter’s been wasting his time trying to get better, trying to get closer to Steve. Tony didn’t even really want that. Peter has been topping for no reason, has been working out for no reason, has been stressing out over his body for no fucking reason.

“Peter?” Tony whispers, and when did he get there? When did the stranger leave? When did Tony get dressed? “Peter baby, please-”

Peter shoves Tony too hard, way too hard for how string Peter is. Tony slams into the wall opposite them, and Tony groans in pain.

“God, Peter, what the hell-”

“What’s-” Peter hiccups, sobbing brokenly. ‘What’s your excuse this time?”

Tony manages to look embarrassed, at least. “It’s just...it’s been so long since you let me top, it’s been months Pete, I just-”

Peter starts to laugh hysterically, folding in on himself and falling backwards, pulling his knees to his chest. He’s half sobbing and half laughing, and he feels like he’s gone crazy. “I never even wanted to fucking top in the first place, and now-” he cuts himself off with hysterical laughter. “Now you’re cheating because I top too much. First it was because I wasn’t a real man, and now I’m too-too manly, right?” He throws his head back with laughter, feeling the tears pour down his face.

Tony shifts uncomfortably, put on edge by the hysteria. “Peter, calm down baby, you’re freaking me out.”

Peter starts to laugh harder, sobs interrupting his laughter every once in a while. “What’s the point? What’s the point of starving myself? What’s the point of working out for five hours a day? What’s the point of hiring an intern to stalk you all day every day? What’s the point of having sex when and how I don’t want to? What’s the fucking point of being here, of being alive anymore? No one will ever want me or love me or treasure me! I’ll never-I’ll never be good enough! I’ll never...” Peter finally stops laughing, and he stares at nothing as his voice gets quieter and quieter. Silent tears stream down his face. “I’ll never make you happy. No matter how hard I try, no matter what I do, no matter how I change myself. It only took me three years to get it, but I got it now.”

“Peter, don’t-don’t say things like that. You’re scaring me.” Tony inches towards the door, and Peter notes that he isn’t trying to comfort Peter.

“But why. That’s the question I can’t answer, after all this time. Why did you do this to me? Why did you break me? Why did you say you love me if you don’t? Why did you agree to date me if you didn’t want me? Why did you do this to mw, what did I do to deserve this? What did I do?”

Peter hides his face in his knees, crying and mumbling his questions.

“Peter? Oh, Darlin’...” Peter stiffens before looking up finally. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but the sun is down and Tony is gone and Bucky is there.

“Tony left me?” Peter asks, and he sounds so pathetic even to himself that Peter hates himself even more.

“Oh, no, doll, he’s in the living room. He just texted me for back up is all. Can you tell me what happened? Tony only said you were crying and...and that you hit ‘im pretty hard.”

Peter feels like the skin under his eyes is so raw it might rub off, but he can’t stop the tears from escaping again. “I hit him?” Peter asks brokenly, holding his legs more tightly.

“Nah, I looked him over. I don’t see any marks. I think he exaggerated to make me come; I don’t exactly owe him any favors...” Bucky sits next to Peter, wrapping a soothing arm over his shoulders.

Peter’s lower lip wobbles, and he starts to sob again. “He’s going to leave me. I tried so hard, Bucky, I swear I did. I did everything he wanted, I became what he wanted, and I still...he still...”

Bucky makes a sad noise, pulling Peter closer. “He cheated again?”

Peter nods, choking on a sob. “I don’t want to live like this anymore. I can’t do this anymore Bucky, I give up. He doesn’t want me. I’ll never be as good as Steve, I’ll never be good enough at all. I’ll-”

“Stop,” Bucky breathes, but it makes Peter’s jaw click shut. He moves himself to be in front of Peter, forcing the younger to look at him. “You don’t believe that. Please, tell me you don’t believe that.”

Peter’s lower lip wobbles and he looks away from Bucky, wiping at his face. It’s useless, though, because new tears just replace them immediately. “You should go.”

“Peter-”

“Get out,” Peter says, pushing away the arms he wants more than anything to be around him. “Steve will be pissed you came to see me, you should really-”

“Steve can deal with it darlin’ I’m not going anywhere. Not when you’re this upset. C’mon, you have to let me-”

“I don’t have to let you do anything!” Peter yells, standing up abruptly and shaking his head. “You did the same thing to me! You led me on, you made me feel like I could be worth it, like I could be loved by someone, and you cast me aside!” Peter faces away from Bucky, shoulders shaking with the power of his sobs.

Bucky stands as well, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Peter that...was a mistake. I shouldn’t have taken Steve back, I shouldn’t have slept with you, I shouldn’t have done a lot of things. But it was never because I didn’t like you, or I thought you weren’t worth it, or-”

“But you did. You did do those things, and I took Tony back because of those things, and now I just want you to go.” Peter’s shoulders slump, and he chokes on a sob. “Just go away, please.”

Bucky is silent, taking in the words. They’re sharp as a knife, butting Bucky’s heart into a million pieces. Peter blames Bucky as much as he blames Tony, and honestly, he isn’t wrong to. “I'm so sorry, Peter. I...I’ll go. I’m sorry, I didn’t ever want to hurt you.” Peter doesn’t respond, so Bucky simply leaves, hiding his own hurt for now.

Peter makes a wounded noise, pulling at his hair. He feels like he’s about to have another panic attack, like he’s drowning, like nothing will ever be good again.

Until suddenly, it all stops.

Peter’s breath evens, and his face steels into blankness, and he suddenly sees a light at the end of the tunnel. He suddenly sees a way out.

~~~

Bucky is shaking with rage, a fire burning so hot inside of him he’s afraid it will consume him and burn him alive. He feels like a supernova waiting to happen, a black hole in the making.

Steve puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, face somber and full of regret and remorse. “We have to go, Buck. Unless you want to skip-”

“We aren’t skipping his god damn funeral. We’re the reasons he’s fucking going into the ground in the first place.” Bucky pushes Steve’s hand off, stomping over to the mirror and adjusting his tie himself instead of letting Steve do it.

Steve makes a wounded noise, and it only fans the flames inside of Bucky. “It isn’t your fault-”

“I’m the last person he spoke to,” Bucky growls. “He didn’t say another word to Stark. I was the last person he spoke to. And other than telling me to leave, his last words-” Bucky’s voice breaks on ‘last’, and he clears his throat. “His last words were to let me know he blames...he blamed me for the way he felt. It is my fault, and it’s your fault for making me hurt him, and it’s Stark’s fault for breaking him. It’s all our fault.”

Steve hangs his head in shame, his red-rimmed eyes filling with tears yet again. “Then it’s mine and Stark’s fault. You didn’t do anything-”

“I took you back,” Bucky spits the words, laced with venom and aimed for the kill. “The worst mistake of my life.” He pushes past Steve, leaving the blond standing there broken and guilty. Just like how Bucky feels on the inside.

The funeral was harder than Bucky was expecting it to be, which is saying something since he already thought it would be the hardest thing he’d ever go through. Torture via Hydra was less painful than hearing the scream of agony May emitted when they closed Peter’s coffin. It reminded Bucky of when she got to the hospital.

“Where is he? Where is he, where is my Peter?!”

“May...” Happy’s voice was broken, empty sounding. “May, I don’t think you should see this.”

“See what?!” May had screamed, sounding as hysterical as Bucky had felt. “Where is he, where is my baby?!”

“May...” Happy hadn’t put up that much a fight in the end, and she had pushed her way into Peter’s room.

Bucky had been by his bedside, red eyes sore from all the crying. Peter looked so small. He was so pale, and the bags under his eyes were so dark, and he...

They didn’t even try to get him back. By the time Tony had realized Peter had been in the bathroom too long, he had already lost too much blood.

Sometimes, in the books Bucky reads, they describe a dead person as if they looked like they were sleeping. Peter didn’t look like that. He looked broken, and drained, and so not-alive.

“Peter?” May had whispered. Bucky had gotten up, to give her room. She immediately went to Peter’s bedside, taking his too-cold hand in her own. “Peter, baby, wake up.” May’s voice had broken, and with it Bucky’s heart. “Baby, it’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay. Wake up honey, you're okay. I’m right here. I’m here baby, I’m-Peter. Peter!”

May was shaking him, and it was so terrible to look at. His body gave no resistance, it just moved with May’s frantic shoving.

“Peter!” May had screamed. “Peter, you’re okay! You’re okay Peter, you’re-”

Happy had come in, and put a gentle hand on May’s elbow. “May...Come on, let’s get you a seat, let’s-”

“Peter!” she had screamed, a wounded noise. “No!” She had struggled against Happy, not daring to accept what was in front of her. “No! Peter get up, get up! You’re okay, you have to be okay! Peter please, please don’t leave me baby please, I can’t lose you too-no-no get off of me! He’s okay, he’s right there! I can’t be alone don’t leave me alone Peter wake up!”

“He’s dead, May. He’s dead,” Happy had said, but had let her go.

The scream May had released was inhuman. It was broken, it was a scream of her own death. She had flung herself onto Peter’s chest, fisting the shirt he was in and sobbing into it. She had no words anymore, no pleas, hope. Just the broken sounds of a woman who’s lost everything.

Pepper Potts had to pull May away from the grave, whispering words of apologies and empty promises that she’ll be okay. It’s all lies--how could May ever be okay? How could she even ever reach a point where she isn’t dead inside? She buried her nephew. She’ll never be okay again.

Bucky will never be okay again. And when he turns to look at Steve, he knows Steve will never be okay again either. He’s probably replaying the fight he had with Peter almost a year ago, the fight where he single-handedly told Peter all the things he needed to hear to start his self-destructive cycle. The things Peter repeated in the last conversation the boy ever had. The things that pushed him over the edge.

Tony didn’t even have the decency to show up of his own will. Happy Hogan physically dragged him here, and anyone who has a nose knows the man is drunk enough to be concerned about liver failure.

Secretly, Bucky hopes Tony’s liver does fail. He doesn’t deserve to live, after what he’s done to Peter.

Steve attempts to hold Bucky’s hand, but Bucky yanks it away. Instead, he follows the sounds of May’s wailing, making sure to push Tony as he goes by so the drunk falls on his ass.

By the time he catches up to the girls, Pepper has May sitting down and sipping on water in between her sobs. Bucky takes a seat beside her, and his presence seems to bring May to the present.

“You were there,” she accuses, and Bucky’s heart sinks. “At the hospital. You were there.”

Bucky eventually nods, still unable to look directly at her. “I knew Peter.”

May is quiet for a moment, before she takes Bucky’s hand in her own. This time, he doesn’t try to escape the comfort. “I’m glad to know he had people who cared about him with him, in the end. Thank you for caring about him.” She gets up after that, and Pepper follows her with more words of comfort.

And Bucky sits, staring off into the distance, wishing he had cared just a tiny bit more. He can’t help but believe that if he had, if he had just stayed with Peter after Peter pushed him away, if he had ignored his own hurt at Peter’s blame, if he had just grown a pair and been there...

Bucky will never know.

#peter parker #Bucky Barnes #tony stark #Steve Rogers #Gracie's New Years Resolution #tw: major character death #tw: suicide #tw: angst #tw: unhappy ending #tw: cheating

11 notes · View notes

taestefully-in-luv · 3 years

Text

Always You | JJK (Five)

Summary: you and Jungkook have been best friends since freshmen year of college, there’s a lot of unsaid feelings and tension but neither make a move. what happens when his friend Taehyung (also your crush) needs a fake girlfriend?

Pairing: Jungkook x Female reader, slight Taehyung x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slight slow burn, roommate au, college au, SMUT (starting ch2), fluff, angst (in later chapters) slight crack, lots of drama

Word Count: 12.1k

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, sexual tension (?) sad oc, mentions of sex, kind of over the clothes action, drama, heated dance session lol, slight memory of sex, hair pulling, back scratching, mention of boner, second chances (?)

Notes: Okay, first of all THAT 1st TEASER PIC!!! DID WE SEE THAT? *chefs kiss*. Anyway thanks for comments you guys leave I really love reading them!!! Remember to send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist or just want to chat about the story:) have a great week everyone!

Taglist: @mooniyooni @thisartemisnevermisses @giadalin @kookiebunny097 @cosmosjk @moonchild1 @just-jeon @anpanman-sonyeondan @starlight-night0 @yessii-i @apollukee @mikasaredscarf1 @kaye-rosales @bunnyjeonjk @dyriddle @seagulljk @hass-mich-los @peachy-skz0325 @wonusbitch

Previous --- Next

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

May

Gloomy: The dictionary may describe it as hopeless and despairing but really it should just be a picture of your sad, sad face.

1 month…yes, one whole month has passed since you last spoke to Jungkook. No text, no calls, no random show ups, nothing. Gloom. Gloom. Gloom. Graduation came and gone so quickly…you walked the stage with your friends minus two but honestly you can hardly remember the event. You tried your hardest to be as excited as everyone else but the feeling of gloom stayed with you.

By the end of the month you finally started accepting he isn’t coming back and right around that time you actually heard from him—Jungkook that is. He sent you a pathetic text that he’s moving out and will be by to retrieve his things. More gloom.

The next couple weeks after that are a blur, you recall the sound of movers throughout your apartment. You didn’t have the courage to speak to him…you didn’t have the courage to even leave your room if you didn’t have to. You were so wrapped up in everything you didn’t even consider that fact that you will have to find a new roommate to cover the other half of the rent.

Every day just dragged on, every day a repeat of the last. Wake up, drown in black coffee, scroll mindlessly through your phone and work your full time job. You called in sick too many days already so you have to go or you’re at risk at getting fired. The same day, every day. The same gloomy fucking day.

Jimin tried to call or text every day to make sure you were like, alive. He apologized over and over for not telling you as soon as he found out about the Taehyung situation but he felt that if Taehyung was going to tell you then it is best it comes from him and not Jimin. You can understand that. He also frequently would show up at your apartment to surprise you but you rarely let him in. You did feel bad though, he’s just trying to be there for you.

Jimin 6:04pm

Please let me in?

Jimin 6:05pm

Well…I have some take out for you babe, ill leave it on the doorstep.

Jimin 6:05pm

Call me sometime ok? Love you

Guilt would consume your body but you just couldn’t deal with human contact right now.

June

Around month 2 you finally felt okay to see people again—your close people that is—aka Jimin was finally allowed in, he made you take a hot bath while he cleaned up for you and made you a proper meal. The amount of instant ramen containers lying around the place was by far one of the grossest things he’s seen. The shit that was growing…he shudders just thinking about it.

He would come over every day after work in the evenings. He left day time babysitting to Trina.

“Girl…all this over a boy?” she would constantly say.

You also tried applying for job after job, but the postgraduation life is harder than you thought…at least for you. Jimin landed a job as a kids choreographer, Trina starts up at one of the local elementary schools as a kindergartner teacher and you? You’re still working at the bakery down the street. You applied for many entry level positions in the marketing field but failed miserably in interviews…which only further discouraged you and worsened your mood.

It was also around this time you decided to finally delete Jungkook off all social media and block his number. You refuse to hear from him at this point…not that he was reaching out or anything. You wonder what he’s up to postgraduation? No, you don’t want to know or care. You considered hanging up a picture of his face on your wall so you could throw darts at it but you decided that was maybe on the crazy side. Taehyung sends you weekly texts, asking about how your day/week is going. He updates you on his life as well, apparently he got the curator assistant position at the museum that he wanted. You still feel hurt over everything but you are happy for him. It’s funny, you feel so betrayed over that but Jungkook is the cause of your gloom.

Every day just drags on, you feel heavy everywhere you go. Even when you’re just at home in bed.

By the end of the month your friends somehow convinced you to go on a date—a horrible date at that.

He was awkward as hell, a bad kisser and would lightly…tap your ass in attempt to be sexy. It was a disaster, you don’t even remember what the two of you even talked about at dinner. You just remember his tongue being horribly shoved down your throat and his weird ass tapping habit.

July

Then month 3 finally came around. A month where the weeks went by breathing became just a bit easier. Yes, any and everything still reminded you of Jungkook but it didn’t hurt as terribly as the previous months. By the end of the month you even agreed to your first real social outing. You are hesitant, but you agreed…

“I don’t know guys…a birthday party? We like, don’t even know the girl?” you frown, nibbling on the flesh of your bottom lip.

You are sitting in the middle of your bedroom floor, clothes piling all around you as you try to decide on what to wear.

“You need to get out babe…plus it’s a friend of a friend, so it’s cool.” Jimin says holding up a rose colored crop top, motioning for you to nod yes or no to his suggestion. You cock your head to the side, deciding what pants to go with it.

“I have to say I agree with Jimin, y/n.” your new roommate Holly chips in, “Since I’ve moved in I don’t think I’ve seen you go out even once.”

“Also a party is the best place to find some easy dick.” Of course that’s what Trina has to offer.

“Yes to the crop top Jimin.” You point your head towards the shirt, “Okay don’t have to call me out like that Holly.” You glare at your roomie, “And Trina, we both know I ain’t ready for no type of dick.”

“So we’re looking for some pussy tonight?” Trina smirks, “Nice.”

You rolls your eyes, a chuckle escaping your lips, “Shut up.” you throw a pair of shorts at her face.

“But seriously y/n…Maybe Trina is on to something…” Jimin sits down next to you, crossing his legs in front of him, “Maybe this is a good chance to like—”

“If you say move on I will literally kill you.” You cut in, “There’s nothing to move on from!” you throw your hands up dramatically. “Taehyung used me, Jungkook wants nothing to do with me. And—”

“Then why aren’t you ready for any type of dick?” Holly puts in her 2 fucking cents.

“Because I don’t want to be associated with any boys! Jimin is the exception.”

“Somehow I don’t feel flattered by that…” Jimin puts a hand on your shoulder.

“When’s the last time you got off?” Trina abruptly asks. You turn your head in shock at her shamelessness.

“Trina!”

“Answer her, I’m curious too.” Jimin squints at you trying not to laugh.

“It’s…” your eyes slide to the side, “It’s been a while.”

Trina shakes her in disapproval, “Damn girl, really? My fingers constantly playing DJ, you know what I’m sayin?” Trina goes in for a fist bump but you just push her hand away.

“You’re gross.” You laugh out loud, and it sounds like music to everyone’s ears.

“I’m just real babey.” She flicks her hair back with a proud smile on her face.

Having these 3 around has no doubt helped you deal with the loss you feel. You feel like you are still mourning the dead. How’s Jungkook even doing? You’re too afraid to ask Jimin. Too afraid that he’s doing amazing without you. He must of realized how much better off he is without you around and that makes you feel small.

“Fine…” you mutter under your breath…Jimin snaps his head to look at you, his sly smile growing as he watches you fiddle with a short mini skirt.

“Fine what?” Trina asks with a smirk.

“Let’s find me some dick tonight.”

“Hell fucking yeah.” Jimin claps his hands together, “Tonight is about you!”

“y/n makes her debut tonight! She’s hot, she’s single and she is ready to mingle!”

You can’t help but giggle, your hands bunching up the material of the mini skirt as you look down at it, making your decision.

“Let me get ready and we can get this night started!” you rush to your feet, all the sudden feeling excited for tonight. You are going to actually do your hair and your makeup—you even shaved. You are definitely breathing easier tonight and you have to take advantage of that!

“Let’s do shots as we wait girlies,” Holly shows a bottle of rum she had hiding behind her back, shaking it in excitement.

“Naughty girl.” Jimin winks, standing to his feet, heading towards the kitchen to grab some shot glasses.

You get ready quickly, but taking your time where it counts. You give yourself a once over in the mirror and you have to say you are impressed. Your black jean mini skirt sits right below your ass, while your tits pop in this rose crop top. You wear short heels, and simple jewelry with just the right amount of makeup that makes your features stand out, and you have to say you would kiss yourself if you could—you look fucking good.

“woooooo” Jimin and Trina whistle out at the same time as they walk back in your bedroom.

“I’d fuck.” Jimin says plainly.

“Same as fuck.” Trina says bluntly as she swallows down a shot.

“Yeah you look pretty y/n!” Holly smiles, not really on the same level of honestly as your other two friends.

You burst into giggles, throwing your head back in approval. “Thanks guys…..Lets fucking do this.” You walk towards Trina and grab her shot glass, and you take the bottle from Holly, pouring yourself a shot.

“Ready to fucking mingle.” You gulp down the rum, the burn only encouraging you, the warmth stinging your entire chest and you couldn’t feel more content.

This house was one of the bigger ones, it was full of people and more people and like, more people. You managed to swallow down 3 or 4 shots back at your apartment and the alcohol is definitely working its magic on you, the world just a little nicer.

The amount of people doesn’t even bother you like it usually would, instead you find yourself barging through the front door and making your way to the dance floor with your 3 friends trialing behind you.

The heat of the living room is already intoxicating you, the amount of bodies rolling and grinding makes you feel loose and free. Before you know it Jimin is pushing a drink into your hands and you hug him gratefully as you begin chugging it back.

“Woah slow down, we have all night—actually fuck it, I like your spirit tonight!” he chuckles lightly, his hands going to your waist, rocking you to the beat of the blaring music. Trina and Holly disappear into the kitchen to grab more drinks while you and Jimin dance to whatever b…t…ah, forget it, you forgot the band’s name.

“Are you having fun?” Jimin slurs out, his eyes barely visible as he laughs at nothing.

“So much fun!” you yell out over the music then you lean down into his ear and whisper, “Thanks so much Jiminie…I know I was a little difficult…”

“A little?” he teases.

Jimin’s eyes travel behind you before they are widening. You notice, of course. You are about to turn your head to take a look at whatever he is seeing when his snaps back to you in panic, his troubled smile growing.

“Let’s go find Trina and Holly, yeah?” he tries to usher you toward the kitchen and you oblige. Too drunk and feeling too good that his odd behavior goes ignored by you.

“Kay!” you smile, hooking your arm with his. “Letsa go!” you say like you’re fucking Mario.

The two of you walk to the kitchen, finding Trina and Holly playing a game of beer pong with two random guys.

“Hello my bitches!” Trina hollers over the thumping bass, as she scores a cup of pong, her other hand on Hollys lower back.

“Wait, gotta use the bathroom, be right back!” you slur into Jimin’s ear, he just nods distractedly as he watches the game, laughter erupting his body for probably no drunken reason.

You walk back into the living room and start heading towards the other side where the bathroom is. The journey to the bathroom is fun, you accidently bump into a lot of people but they don’t seem to mind as they will just drunkenly smile at you and you would smile back in your own drunken daze. You skim the room with a dopey smile on your face, just admiring the crowd. You are shocked with yourself…you missed people and you cannot believe it. You continue to observe when your eyes land on tattooed hands. The hands are grabbing a handful of ass on the dance floor. You know these hands. Your eyes travel from his hands to his strong arms to his face…it is hiding in the nook of some girls neck and you feel like someone knocked the wind out of you. Jungkook.

He is kissing on some girl, no doubt leaving bruises behind from his attack on her neck. His hands cupping this girls ass so tightly, he guides her hips into his. You watch as she throws her head back in pleasure and you see him smirk. All his signature moves. You are left speechless. What could you even say? Why does this hurt? Why does this make you feel fucking sick? Why does it feel like you aren’t supposed to be witnessing this? Well, you know why but god, why?!

“y/n!!” It’s Jimin, jogging up behind you, “Fuck, I was trying to avoid you seeing this…” he admit softly, “I swear I didn’t think he was going to be here tonight…he didn’t seem that interested when I asked him about it…”

“It’s fine Jimin…” you mumble.

“Does it feel weird? Seeing him with this girl…?” Jimin is obviously trying to get you to admit something right now but you are not in the right head space to even give it a second thought.

“Why should it? Plus I’m used to this…she’s just some random girl for one night.” You twirl the ends of your hair between your fingers.

“Oh babe…” Jimin glances down at the ground, “This girl…she…he’s brought her to every party for the last month…” Jimin sounds as sorry as you feel.

The same girl? That’s impossible, you scoff. There’s no way Jungkook is actually seeing someone. But that doesn’t stop your stomach from twisting and turning and making you feel fucking sick.

“What do you mean?” you finally slur out, leaning your frame on Jimin.

“He brings her and they leave together too…” Jimin holds on to you, “I haven’t really asked him about her though.”

“Whatever. Fuck him, right? I won’t let this ruin my night.” You smile coyly, draping your arms around your friend. “Bathroom please.” You pout theatrically, pointing your head towards the bathroom.

“Okay let’s get you peeing in peace.” Jimin laughs, guiding you towards the door.

Once at the door, you knock a couple times to find that it is empty, “I’ll wait for you out here.” Jimin assures you.

Once inside the small room, you bunch up your skirt and pull down your panties, squatting on the toilet. You sigh in relief as you pee, but the relief you feel in your body stops when you recall the way Jungkook held and kissed this random but not so random girl.

Why should it bother you? It’s about time Jungkook got serious! But why did he have to dump you to achieve that? And why did It have to be with someone el…

You reach for the toilet paper, ripping it after a few sheets and wipe yourself as you drunkenly sing a tune. So what? You can easily replace Jungkook too!

You stand up, pulling your panties up and your skirt down and take a long good look in the mirror. Your hair is still intact, your makeup is only a little smeared—quick fix, and your tits are still poppin’. This night is just beginning, you decide. A whole new wave of confidence begins washing over you.

“Ready!” You pounce on Jimin’s back, he stumbles forward while laughing wholeheartedly.

“Should we look for Trina and Holly again? They’re probably still playing beer pong!”

“Sure.” You smile, walking hand in hand with Jimin as you make your way back to the kitchen.

Hours pass and you are now outside on the back porch piss drunk with your 3 friends and a couple new friends. Nick and his pal that you can’t remember the name of—but you remember Nick. He’s really tall and has nice muscles covering his body, his light hair is messy and looks like you would have fun pulling it.

“And that’s why I think aliens are already here bro, like they are probably here at this fucking party bro.” No name friend finishes his point. Nick holds in his chuckle as his drunk friend rambles.

“Totally bro.” Then his eyes land on you. Fuck, were you staring? Oh well, it’s best to get to the point. You two have been making eyes at each other all night and it’s time to make the next move.

“Hey Nick, wanna grab a drink with me in the kitchen?” you inquire with a sly smile.

Jimin’s eyes widen before he’s smirking “Don’t be silly, wrap that willy.”

Trina and Holly laugh at Jimin’s words while you turn fucking red with embarrassment.

“Sorry about him…” You excuse Jimin, but you continue to smile slyly.

Nick grins with all his teeth as he takes your hand and leads you back inside the house. His hand is much larger than yours and you are already imagining what his beefy fingers will do to your vagina. God, what’s his dick like???

You enter the kitchen and you and him walk towards the cooler full of beers, he lets you stand to the side as he goes to grab them.

“Nick!!!!” you hear a familiar voice and you wince. Jungkook stands next to the cooler, his hand wrapped around the girls hand, but he briefly lets go of it to dap up your fuck for the night.

“What’s up bro!” Nick returns the handshake, a wide smile on his face.

They know each other?

“I thought you said you weren’t coming tonight?” Jungkook’s hand goes back to holding on to the girl.

“I wasn’t going to but,” he nods towards you, “Glad I did.” He winks. Jungkook’s eyes follow Nicks nod and when he sees you stand there awkwardly he goes completely pale. Your eyes meet uncomfortably, Jungkook let’s go of the girls hand without a second thought.

“y/n?” he questions with a pained expression.

“You know her?” Nick asks, totally out of the loop.

You shift from one foot to the other, not really sure what to do or say. So you settle for his name. “Jungkook.” It feels foreign on your tongue. Like if you said it 3 times in a mirror a sinister ghost would come to murder you.

Jungkook opens his mouth then closes it then opens it then closes it again.

“Baaaaabe,” the girl next to him whines, “let’s get out of here already.” She says, not even acknowledging your existence.

Jungkook shamelessly eyes you up and down, his shock is very evident as he looks at you.

You can’t help but smile a little, knowing you look damn good.

“Let’s go too, Nick.” You saunter to his side, grabbing a hold of his bicep.

That’s when Jungkook knocks out of daze, his brows crease as he looks between the two of you.

“Wait—you and Nick?” he asks, completely amused.

“Is that a problem?”

“Nope.” Jungkook looks fucking smug as he smiles, his hand going to grab the girls hand again. “See you later?” he asks you. You of all people! “Uh? Probably not?”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Jungkook winks, turning around to leave as he leads his girl out.

Nick just continues to smile, completely oblivious, “So cool that we all know each other!” he grips on to your waist.

“Wait, how do you know Jungkook?”

“We—”

“Wait, it honestly doesn’t matter. Let’s just get out of here.”

“My place?” Nick breathes into your ear, he pushes your hips into his crotch so you can feel his half hard cock.

“Why are you already getting hard?” you tease, leaning up to kiss his neck.

“Honestly, I can’t stop staring at your tits. And I am imagining all the things I want to do to them.” He confesses hotly.

The uber ride to his place is short, only 10 minutes and it goes by quickly as you two have one another’s tongues down each others throats. His hands traveling all around your body, he even manages to slip his fingers past your panties to feel how wet you are.

“Fuck I can’t wait to get you inside…” his rapid breaths fan across your face as you nibble on his neck.

“Gonna fuck me?” you whisper quietly, not trying to get heard by the Uber driver, but you could also hardly care if he hears you or not, he gets 5 stars.

“Want you to ride me.” He palms his cock through his pants as he imagines you bouncing on his cock for him.

“If you deserve it like a good boy.” You replace his hand with your own, rubbing him ferociously over his jeans. You haven’t felt dick in months and the feeling is driving you absolutely wild, you haven’t felt this needy in a long time.

The Uber comes to a stop, parking in front of an apartment building. He lets the two of you know you reached your destination. You and Nick giggle as you thank him and stumble out of the car as you follow him to his apartment. He would stop every few seconds to plant kisses on your lips and grab your ass with a tight squeeze. He groans and rolls his eyes back as he explores your body.

“Wait til we’re inside,” you breathe out, your voice silky as hell.

Finally, after a short, kiss filled elevator ride later you arrive at his front door. His lips never leaving yours as he pulls out his keys, fumbling with them until he finds the right one.

He pulls away for a second to unlock the door and desperately pushes it open to let the two of you inside. Your lips are already back on his as you two trip into the entry way of the apartment, you walk him backwards, until his back is against a wall.

The apartment is dark besides the living room TV, you take a second to pull back and admire Nick’s fucked out expression, the blue glow of the TV making everything feel surreal.

You dive back in to kiss him, he prods his tongue into your mouth, swirling it around with yours making you moan into his mouth.

“Hi guys!”

Your eyes shoot open, mouth still attached to Nicks. You push your head back, disconnecting from Nick and yank your head to the left where you see a wild Jungkook sitting on the living room sofa, his mouth full of the cereal he is eating. He is wearing the most shit eating grin you have ever seen on him.

“Jungkook?! What the fuck?” You spit out, totally fucking shocked. Like, obviously.

“Hey man…” Nick breathes out heavily, trying to speak properly, “I thought you would be at Vanessa’s tonight?”

“Nah,” Jungkook smiles, “Dropped her off and came home.”

HOME?

“H-Home?” You look between the two guys, what the fuck does he mean by that. This is Nicks place, right?

“Oh you didn’t know?” Jungkook nods his head toward Nick, “Nick here is my beloved roommate.”

“What the fuck…” you mutter under your breath, trying to understand the mother fucking situation. Were you about to fuck Jungkook’s roommate? Are you still going to is the real question?

“Wait, how do you two even know each other?” Nick starts to look antsy, “Don’t tell me she’s one of the girls you’ve fucked…come on bro, leave some for the rest of us.” He chuckles somewhat bitterly.

“No!” you’re quick to say. You begin smoothing out your skirt, then your hair. “We just…”

“y/n is my bestie!” Jungkook grins, putting the cereal down and standing up. He walks forward until he is making a triangle with you and Nick.

“Was.” You spit out harshly, crossing your arms across your chest. Nick just stands there confused as hell, looking between the two of you.

“Anyway, I should get going.” You turn your body to Nick, a look of apology on your face.

“What? We can just go to my room?” he slurs, tugging on his pants uncomfortably, his boner still apparent.

“Sorry, no longer in the mood.”

You pull out your phone to order an Uber when Jungkook takes your phone from you.

“I’m not drunk, I can drive you.” He offers. You push your head back in disbelief, how does Jungkook have the AUDACITY to offer that to you?

“Why the fuck would I want that?”

“So we can…” His eyes slide over to the ever growing confused Nick, “Talk.”

You haven’t spoken to Jungkook in 3 months and today is finally the day you are able to breathe a little easier and he just has to barge back in.

“Like I said,” You snatch your phone back from him, “Why the fuck would I want that?”

Nick shifts around uncomfortably, his eyes darting from you to Jungkook.

“Well, I am gonna head to my room…uh, bye y/n…it was nice meeting you…I guess…”

You and Jungkook both turn your heads toward Nick at the same time, eyes shooting daggers at him.

“Yeah, bye.” Jungkook dismisses his roommate, his jaw clenching.

“Nice to meet you too…”

Nick walks backward until his back meets his bedroom room, he looks at the two of you one last time before turning around to disappear into his room.

“I said, let me drive you home.”

“And I said, why the fuck would I want that?”

“y/n don’t choose now to be difficult.” Jungkook takes a step closer to you, his hands running through his dark, messy hair. His eyes shut in frustration, “I just want to talk to you.”

“And I don’t want to talk to you.” You take a step back, “Plus, how would your girlfriend feel if you took me home?”

Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his mouth setting in a firm line.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Could of fooled me and like, everyone else.” You scoff.

Jungkook bites down on his bottom lip, not knowing what to say. While she’s not his girlfriend she’s also not not his girlfriend. It’s complicated.

“Can I please, just please, can I take you home?”

“No, Jungkook. The fucking audacity,” you scoff again, “You haven’t spoken to me in 3 months,” your voice fucking cracks and you feel like dying. “Don’t start now.”

“y/n…” he runs another frustrated hand down his tired face, “I didn’t mean for it to go this long…” “I don’t fucking care, Jungkook.”

You feel your chest begin to burn, and your eyes begin to gloss over but you won’t cry. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

“I want nothing to do with you.”

You stare at the phone in your hands as you begin ordering your Uber when he yanks it from your hands once again, he hides the phone in his back pocket and you snarl.

“What the hell Jeon?”

“I said I am driving you home so we can talk so that’s what we are gonna fucking do, okay?” he grabs your hand and begins walking you towards the front door. There’s something about Jungkook...you decide to listen. You watch silently as he puts on his shoes and grabs his wallet and keys.

“Okay…” you finally answer, your voice timid.

He said you guys are going to talk but the car ride has been mostly silent save the low radio playing in the background. Maybe it’s better this way, you think. You aren’t sober, that’s for sure but you also don’t think you are drunk enough to handle this properly. You decide maybe that’s also for the best.

“You sir, are a fucking asshole.” You speak up, your fingers playing with the zipper of your purse. The car smells like it always does, his fresh laundry car freshener and you get sucked into a million memories linked with this scent.

“I know.” Jungkook eyes you from the driver seat, you shiver from the running AC and so he turns it down, “There’s a blanket in the back if you want to grab it.”

“No thanks, don’t know where that’s been.”

“It’s clean, I promise.”

Your eyes go wide as you recall his last promise to you…”Just a few days. I promise.”

“Yeah, I don’t actually believe in your promises anymore.” You continue to pick at the zipper of your purse, your eyes never leaving the zig and zag of the material.

“I needed space y/n, fucking sue me.” He groans out, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“Oh I wish I could.” You snap back.

You feel your chest burn and tighten again, your eyes slightly watering. You have to force them shut to keep from any tears growing.

“I called and texted you every day.” You whisper, his grip getting tighter on the steering wheel.

“I gave you a few days Jungkook. But I never heard from you until 11 at night one night telling me you are fucking moving out.”

“I know, that was…fucked up, I admit. But I had to do what I had to do and I just wish you would let me explain that—”

“No.” you cut him off, “You don’t deserve to explain anything.”

“You mean so much to me y/n…”

“Don’t.”

Jungkook pulls over on the side of the road, turning off the ignition.

“What are you doing?” you sputter out.

He clicks his seatbelt off his body and turns to face you, “Getting comfortable.”

“Why?”

“Will you look at me?” Jungkook tilts his head towards you, “Will you please look at me?”

“No.” you stay facing forward, your hands folded in your lap.

“y/n…please.” His voice sounds strained and you almost feel bad. Almost, but not quite.

You don’t need this…you don’t need him. Ouch, you feel pain in your chest as you think that…oh, the lies you tell yourself.

“Say what you need to say Jungkook, so you can take me home.” Your face stays neutral.

Jungkook sighs out, feeling almost defeated, but not quite.

“I…I am so sorry.” He finally says.

“About what?”

“Everything y/n.” his voice cracks and somehow you feel satisfied.

“You’ll have to be more specific if you ever want my acceptance”

“I know…the first thing I am sorry for is not telling you about Taehyung. That was…that was wrong of me—”

“No shit, but go on.” Your voice stays steady as you speak.

“I was worried about other shit, I was selfish and it’s taking me a long time to forgive myself…but I’ve thought a lot about it these last few months and—and…”

“Oh? You’re worried about you forgiving yourself? Shouldn’t you be a little more concerned about I don’t know, me?”

Jungkook frowns at your words, because well, you’re right. And he’s getting to that part but you keep interrupting him. But he lets you.

“Yes. I am most worried about you, of course.” He breathes out. “You have no idea what these 3 months without you have felt like…”

“Really Jungkook? If anyone knows its fucking me. I went 3 months without you too. You left me!” you start to lose your composure as you speak, your hands gripping on to your poor purse. “When I was going through a really hard time you straight up left me.” You whisper.

“Please believe me…I had my reasons. It was truly for the best y/n.”

“For the best?” you scoff. “You’re such an asshole.”

Jungkook winces at your words, he knows you mean them and that hurts him even more.

“Can you just trust me?” Jungkook blurts out.

Huh? You shake your head, disappointed he would say something so …well, ridiculous.

“Just stop, Jungkook.” You hesitantly roll your eyes, still shaking your head.

Jungkook licks his lips over and over, trying to figure out his next words.

“I really really,” he begins to lose it, his eyes darting all around the car. “just need you to trust me.” He blinks repeatedly, his eyes not focusing on anything in particular.

You, of course, do not believe your ears. Trust him? How could you possibly trust him?

“I just really…I really had my reasons y/n. And I’m sorry, but I just need you to just trust me, that I had my reasons and that I do care about you.” His voice is shaky and you’re uncertain how to take this information.

“I’m confused…” you begin, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You want me to trust you? Even after you left me? Even after I ‘threw myself’ at you?!”

“You weren’t in the right head space y/n…you were vulnerable and…and you didn’t actually want me. You just were feeling used and rejected and needed something to make you feel wanted. To feel better. You wanted to use me for that and I couldn’t let you. But how much could I handle? You liked one of my friends, dated him…sort of, even slept with him and I had to be your shoulder to cry on when,” his breathing picks up heavily as he tries to speak, “it doesn’t matter.” He grits out.

You sit there…speechless. He wasn’t wrong, was he? You were feeling lost and rejected and used and you just wanted something or someone to feel better and who better than your best friend? But it’s also his fault you needed things to work out with Taehyung in the first place!

“Jungkook—”

“I’m not done.” He breathes out, his hot breath reaching your skin.

“I needed some space to think. But I realized I couldn’t properly think things through if I saw you every day, so yeah, I moved out. I’m sorry…” He runs a hand through his hair, a light chuckle makes it way past his lips “Then I met Vanessa.”

“I don’t want to talk about your little girlfriend.” You turn to face forward in your seat, your eyes glancing at the stop sign ahead.

“I told you, she’s not my girlfriend. But it is complicated.”

You continue to look straight ahead, your heart racing in your chest. The subject of “Vanessa” making you feel anxious.

“Complicated how?” you gulp.

“Don’t worry about it.” He laughs to himself, you turn your head to look at him.

“Are you serious, Jungkook?”

“We fuck y/n.”

“But it’s more than that right?”

“Yeah…” Jungkook bites down on his lip.

You look at him bewildered.

“Do you like her? Love her?”

You grip your purse in your lap, waiting for his answer. How would you feel if he answers yes? Are you brave enough to endure that answer? And if he says no? should you be happy? Should you feel relieved?

“No.” he closes his eyes, he folds his hands in front of him. “It’s complicated.”

You sign in relief—oh. Relief is the emotion you are feeling. Why? Why should it matter?

“Why are you telling me all of this?” you whisper.

“I want to be friends again, y/n.” he says softly, his eyes searching yours.

This is madness, how the hell could you save this friendship? Your face scrunches up and the first couple of tears slide down your cheeks, you shake your head as they continue to fall.

“You don’t know how this makes me feel…” you cry out. “I don’t even know how it makes me feel.”

You miss him, so fucking much and he’s right here offering himself to you. But you ‘re so hurt.

“y/n…I know I hurt you. But you gotta believe me when I say it is the hardest thing I have had to do…you understand that right? I had to do it…you understand right?” he begs.

“You were so quick to abandon me, Jungkook.” You drop your head into your hands, the tears uncontrollable now.

“I…” Jungkook begins to panic, his own eyes glossing over. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. Please y/n…I can make it up to you.”

“Things would never be the same, you get that right?” you bawl into your lap, your words coming out broken.

“Please baby, I just need you in my life again…” Jungkook admits, his own words choppy. He reaches his hand to touch you, to his surprise you don’t flinch. His hand cups the back of your head and he begins to massage it softly.

“I have missed you so much and nothing I mean nothing can replace you.” He hesitates to continue, “trust me…I have tried.”

You sob into your hands harder, the weight of his words crushing you.

“I’m sorry Jungkook but I…I don’t believe you.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen as he absorbs your words, his mouth falls open in shock. Don’t believe him?

“What—what do you mean? What are you saying?” his panic filled voice makes your stomach churn.

“I reject your offer. Now please take me home.” You lift your head and stare straight ahead. “I’m serious.”

Jungkook face twists into a bewildered expression, he doesn’t believe his ears. You…reject him?

“Wait—”

“I said take me home now.” This time you snap your face in his direction, the cold look in your eyes piercing his very soul.

“Okay.”

Hopeless: the dictionary describes it as without hope ; despairing. But in reality, it’s just a picture of Jungkook’s poor, poor face.

Jungkook parks in his designated spot in the lot of his apartment complex, he reverses in because why the hell not. So extra. His drive home was silent… not even the radio on a low volume keeping him company, just complete silence. He turns the car off but doesn’t make a move to get out, he just continues to sit here in his car and sigh out dramatically every 5 seconds.

He’s so confused and lost on what to do. He bangs his head against the steering wheel a few times just for the hell of it, he just…he didn’t think you would reject him. But honestly? Can he blame you? All he’s done lately is be selfish and mess up over and over again. But he wishes you could just trust him but he also wishes he could just tell you the truth. Maybe then you could understand his position and you wouldn’t be mad at him anymore. But he has to wait.

Jungkook’s head is still banging against the steering wheel when more thoughts of you bombard his mind. His breathing picks up and he starts to sniffle, he doesn’t want to cry but you just…you don’t want anything to do with him. He balls his hands into fists and hit the steering wheel over and over causing the horn to go off a few times but he doesn’t care he’s so upset, he just….

When Jungkook saw you tonight for the first time in 3 months he swears his heart actually stopped. He swears it raced so quickly that it just stopped. He let go of Vanessa’s hand so quickly because he wanted to rush to you and hug you close, he wanted to just feel you. Not having touched your skin for the last 3 months…he doesn’t want to imagine even another day.

A few tears slip past his closed lids, he chuckles darkly as he recalls you and Nick. He thought, wow, the universe is cruel and also hilarious. His fucking roommate? He shakes his head, laughing again but his lips remain downward. He feels so fucking helpless right now. But he deserves this, he deserves to feel this pain. He did this to himself and he’s fully aware of that.

Jungkook thinks of your face, he thinks of your smile, he thinks of your eyes and he cries harder, his tears landing on the steering wheel and sliding down landing on to his lap. Yes, he feels like all hope is lost but he knows he cannot give up. He will win you over again one day. He lifts his head and wipes his tear streaked cheeks with the back of his hand and breathes out steadily.

“y/n…” he whispers to himself. Your name leaves his mouth in frustration. He won’t give up. He can’t.

~~~~

“And they were roommates?!” Jimin shouts, a banana half sticking out of his mouth, Trina gasps and whispers “Oh my god they were roommates.”

“Yeah, it was a total shit show.” You bang your head against your breakfast table. Holly rubs your back as she sits next to you.

“Then what happened?” she pries further.

“Yeah what the hell happened y/n!” Jimin yells out.

“He asked to be friends again…and I totally rejected him. Maybe I was too harsh? He was so sad guys…it makes me think…I might agree to kind of being…friends?”

Jimin shuts his eyes as a frown decorates his face, he places a hand on his hip and he inhales a sharp breath, “Listen…you’re both my friends and of course I want you to be good again…but he hurt you …bad.”

“I know Jiminie, but his reasons…” you bite your lip, “Never mind.”

“Well, I don’t like it.” Trina butts in. “He fucking left you, remember?”

“Yes Trina, I fucking remember—”

“Then fucking act like it!”

“Trina relax,” Holly intervenes. “They have a long history, right? It’s hard to just forget about everything…”

Jimin stands from his chair, hands on both hips. “Fine, if we are doing this…then you better actually try. Don’t half ass shit, if you’re going to be friends then don’t be an asshole to him, don’t make snarky remarks…I know your ass.”

Jimin has a good point, you haven’t actually thought about how you will act.

“I’ll be a good girl.” You raise your right arm to salute him.

“Fucking smart ass.” He rolls his eyes.

“Are we serious right now?” Trina shakes her head, “You moped around for 3 fucking months y/n. You cried every time you even thought of Jungkook…which was a fucking lot.” She points out, “Listen, you stayed strong when you talked to him in the car. Don’t break just because you feel bad for the dude because he’s fucking pitiful. He doesn’t deserve your pity girl. He’s an asshole!”

“Trina, be nice.” Holly says sternly, reaching forward to grab on to Trina’s hand. Trina visibly relaxes and nods her head towards Holly and smiles softly.

You and Jimin share a look. Are they….?

“You…” You slam your eyes shut, Trina’s words ringing loudly in your ears. You know she’s right. “I’ll think about it some more. For now, I gotta get ready for work.”

~~~~

��Doesn’t Hazel look so pretty here?” Adam shoves his phone in your face as he gushes about his girlfriend.

“Yes dude, she’s so pretty.” You deadpan. “Now can you please put the brownies in the oven? We’re low.”

“Wait wait…here’s one of us together at the park.” He nudges his phone in your hands, you roll your eyes but you take it.

The two of them are sitting on a park bench, she’s leaning into his frame and they both have wide smiles on their faces. They seem so in love. And you know they are because fucking Adam reminds you every 20 seconds.

“Their love makes me sick.” Jade walks over, her hands patting down on her work apron, her tone is bland but she still tries to smile. “Like, we get it.”

“Who loves who more?” you begin with a toothy grin, “Adam to Hazel or Lenny to the sugar cookies?” you laugh while pointing at said Lenny stuffing his face with the reject cookies. Jade and Adam chuckle while they stare at him.

“Hey guys, really?” Lenny says with his mouth full. “You know I feel bad when we throw them away.” He pouts, crumbs decorating his lips.

“Lenny I catch you eating fresh ones all the time!” Adam points out.

“Sometimes they’re a little ugly…” Lenny reasons, “So I…”

“You don’t have to explain my guy, you just really love your cookies.” You hand Adam back his phone as you head towards the walk in freezer to take out the brownies yourself. You load up a tray and stick those suckers in the oven.

“You’re useless Adam.” Jade sticks a piece of gum in her mouth and chews obnoxiously “U-s-e-l-e-s-s. Useless.”

“You’re always so mean to me Jade what did I ever do to you?”

All 4 of you shoot your heads up when you hear the bell go off on the door of the bakery, its loud chime signaling the arrival of a customer.

“Oh.” Jade says while popping a bubble. “It’s your usual customer y/n.”

You tilt your head towards the front of the store to get a look at who she is talking about, and yup its him. Your most consistent customer who orders the same damn thing every single day. 2 oatmeal raisin cookies and that’s it.

“Can someone else just take care of him today?” you whine, “I’m not in the mood to argue.”

“You know he’s just going to ask for you…” Lenny says stuffing his face with another cookie.

“God damn it.” You huff out, you grab two gloves from the box on the counter and begin walking towards the front of the store.

You reach the front counter and take in your enemy—you mean, your customer.

“And what do I owe the pleasure Mister Oatmeal Raisin?” you raise a brow towards the man. He’s only a few inches taller than you, his hair is a sandy color today and you hate to admit it looks good on him.

“You know you could just call me by name.” the man sways side to side with a smirk on his face.

“I like Mister Oatmeal Raisin.”

He has been coming to this store for the last couple of months and you two…don’t necessarily get along swimmingly. He complains a lot and is a total smart ass. And you? Well, you’re not much better.

“Well, I’ll have my usual.” He smiles, “And you know the drill, please make sure there is a normal amount of raisins and not a million, I don’t want 8 raisins a bite. But one every now and then.”

You roll your eyes extremely dramatically, pressing the buttons on the screen for his order.

“Sir yes sir.” You salute towards him, “How could I not know the drill?”

“That’s the spirit.”

You spin on your heels and head towards the back to heat up his two cookies. You carefully select one cookie with barely any raisins and one cookie with a million, just like he didn’t want. You cackle to yourself as you place them in the baggy, feeling beyond satisfied.

“How haven’t you gotten fired?” Adam crosses his arms over his chest as he watches you, “And how hasn’t he complained about you? You do this every time I don’t get it.”

“He likes her.” Jade says plainly while scrolling through her phone.

“As fucking if!” you scoff, “He wants nothing but to annoy me!” But you can’t help but smile.

“He literally only asks for you every time you’re in.” Lenny reasons, “but you shouldn’t like him back…he likes the worst cookie on the menu. Sugar is where it’s at.”

You laugh at your coworker while walking back up towards the front of the store, reaching the counter.

“Your cookies!” you hand him the baggy with an evil smirk, “I hope you enjoy them.” You wink.

The man opens the baggy and inspects each cookie and with his own evil smirk he winks back at you, “Are we serious right now?” his sly smile doesn’t leave his face as he begins to complain, “You are such a brat.”

“$4 Mister Oatmeal Raisin.”

He hands you the cash, you put it away quickly and with a wide smile you gesture towards the door for him to leave.

“Min Yoongi.” He shakes the bag of cookies in front of him, “Not Mister Oatmeal Raisin.” He turns around and starts walking towards the door but before he exits he tilts his head to look at you one last time, “See you tomorrow…y/n.”

You feel a harsh blush creep up on your cheeks, or your whole face actually. Maybe your whole body. You feel taken aback he knows your name but then you remember you have a god damn name tag.

“Uh…yeah.”

“See you tomorrow…y/n.” all 3 of your coworkers mock in a deep voice.

“Shut up guys!” you whine into your hands, “Can we please just get back to work!”

~~~~~

A few weeks later

The drive to Jimin’s is a quick 7 minutes but you did take a little detour. You decided to stop at the pizzeria that’s on the way and grab a hot pizza for the two of you.

“Hehe.” You look over to the steamy food sitting in the passenger seat.

Jimin has been such a great friend to you all this time and you feel like you’ve never really thanked him…so, tonight you two are going to have a fun night in—he just doesn’t know it yet.

Who doesn’t love being surprised with food?

You pull up to Jimin’s apartment complex and after driving in circles you finally find a parking spot. You grab your purse, your backpack, and the pizza and make your way up to his apartment.

You knock on his front door a few times but get no answer. Maybe he’s not home? No, you definitely hear music coming from the other side…so, you decide to call him.

“Hello?”

“Jimin~ let me in!” you sing into the phone.

“You’re—you’re here?”

“Let me in already!” and with that you hang up and wait patiently outside the door.

A few moments pass before the door is opening up, when Jimin really registers that it’s you he’s kind of closing the door until only his face is shown through the crack.

“Ummm…yes?”

You quirk a brow at the boy, “What do you mean ‘yes?’ let me in!” you begin walking forward when a panicked Jimin opens the door wider to let himself outside and shut the door behind him.

“y/n…why are you here? Did we have plans tonight?” he looks down at the pizza in your hands.

“Not exactly…” you admit, “But I figured we could have a night in.”

Jimin frowns. Fucking frowns!

“Or not?” you say awkwardly.

You hear some sort of banging on the other side of the door and then it clicks.

“Oh? You have someone over?” you smirk.

“Uhhh…no. Nothing like that.” Jimin’s eyes slide to the side as he tries to think of what to say next.

“Babe—”

“Jimin!”

The door is being swung wide open and your eyes travel from some horrendous toes socks to some tight jeans to a striped t shirt to yes, Jungkook’s surprised face.

“Oh.” You both say at the same time.

You and Jungkook stare at one another for a few moments, neither of your eyes leaving the other when Jimin clears his throat.

“Sorry y/n. Jungkook is already over…” he gives you an apologetic smile.

“Is it just you two?” you ask quietly.

“Huh? Uh, yeah.”

You glance down at the pizza and think to yourself. You and Jungkook may not be friends but you can be civil? Yeah, totally! You can definitely be civil! You already bought this fucking pizza so you and Jimin are going to eat it! And you guess, Jungkook too.

“Okay, let me in.” you start shoving your way past Jimin, you watch as his and Jungkook’s eyes go wide.

“Maybe you didn’t hear him, but I am already hanging out with him?” Jungkook sputters out. He awkwardly moves to the side anyway to let you through.

“I can be civil with you Jungkook. Plus, I don’t want this pizza to go to waste. So let’s eat.” You walk through, nudging the pizza box into Jungkook’s hands, he takes it while looking at Jimin with shocked eyes.

Jimin just shrugs and follows you inside.

“Yeah, let’s eat.” He says nonchalantly.

Jungkook is left at the door with the pizza in his hands as he is left completely dumbfounded. He is malfunctioning.

“Jungkook?” you call out over your shoulder, “Hurry up, I’m hungry!”

“Yeah, Jungkook hurry up!” Jimin smirks, he isn’t totally sure what’s going on but he kind of likes it.

“So what were you guys doing before I got here?” you shove an entire slice of pizza down your throat, the sauce getting left behind on your lips.

“I was teaching Jungkook some of my dance moves…we made a bet that he couldn’t learn the entire routine in 3 times…and—”

“Let me guess, he fucking learned it.” You laugh.

Jimin groans, his head thrown back as he begins nodding his head ‘yes.’

“So annoying! What can’t he do!” Jimin throws the pizza crust in the box and Jungkook immediately picks it up and eats it.

“Pshh, I could name a few things.” You point out bitterly. “But we won’t get into that.”

“Yeah, please don’t.” Jimin pleads.

“I’m curious…what is it you think I cant do?” Jungkook quirks a brow at you and your eyes darken in his direction.

“You really want me to?” you take a napkin and wipe your lips, “It’s nothing nice.” You admit.

“Oh then yes, please don’t.” Jungkook is quick to say.

“Yes, please don’t.” Jimin begs again.

The 3 of you are sitting on the living room floor, maybe only 30 minutes or so has passed by and it’s not too awkward. But it’s not necessarily comfortable either. Jimin looks between you and Jungkook constantly, waiting for someone to crack but neither of you really speak to each other. Both of you really only communicating with Jimin.

“So Jimin, are you going to show me another routine?”

“Why? So you can prove you’re the master of everything again? No thanks.”

“Jimin, maybe you can show me a few steps?”

Jimin smiles awkwardly while Jungkook is quick to burst out laughing. You snap your head towards Jungkook and raise your brows at him.

“Why is Jungkook laughing, Jimin?”

“Umm…” Jimin smiles softly, “You aren’t the most…”

Jungkook laughs harder as he watches Jimin trying to explain.

“Aren’t the most…?” You tilt your head towards the boy.

“C’mon y/n don’t make me say it…” Jimin drags out his words in a whine, he plays with his fingers, looking around the room awkwardly.

“Just say it Jimin.” Jungkook chuckles out.

“If you’re trying to say I’m a bad dancer, we all know that’s not true!” you defend once you catch on, you pout at the boys.

“Well…”

“You have both told me I am a good dancer!”

“Well, you know how to move. But steps…following a routine…that’s different. You aren’t very coordinated.” Jimin finally admits, a sheepish grin on his face.

“He means you can roll your hips but your feet are clumsy as fuck.” Jungkook says, still laughing at the situation.

“Shut up.” You glare at Jungkook.

“No, he’s right.” Jimin begins laughing as well, he looks at you and smiles. Well, if Jimin is saying it…maybe it might be true. It’s not like you didn’t kind of know. But still!

“Fine, whatever. Don’t teach me then.”

Suddenly, Jimin’s phone is going off and he rushes to the kitchen to answer it. You and Jungkook eat your pizza in silence, awkwardly catching one another’s gaze.

“So—”

“Don’t talk to me.” You cut in. Jimin isn’t here so it’s not like you have to be totally social with Jungkook.

“Oh.” Jungkook dramatically slumps his shoulders and pouts. You watch him as he throws a silent fit like the baby he is. “Okay.”

Jimin walks back into the living room looking annoyed, he stands between you two and throws a hand on his hip.

“I have to go down to the front office, there was a mix up in packages…I shouldn’t take too long…” he bites down on his plump bottom lip, “Please be civil while I’m gone. Jungkook…” he looks at the boy then at you, “y/n…” he warns.

“Sir yes sir!” you salute towards your friend with a straight face.

Jimin only narrows his eyes as he looks between you two.

“I’m serious…” he says.

Then he is putting on some shoes and heading out the front door, the soft click making you shudder. You’re alone with Jungkook.

A few minutes pass and you both awkwardly just sit there, sometimes catching the other looking. You finally huff out and accidentally giggle.

“What’s funny?” Jungkook’s curiosity getting the best of him.

“It’s just…I feel like we’re Jimin’s divorced parents and we’re trying to be civil for our child.”

Jungkook stares at you with scrunched brows, then looks away while a chuckle escapes his lips.

“Yeah. You’re right.”

You only nod your head in response. You two go back to the awkward silence.

You aren’t used to this…this awkward and odd silence that lingers between you two. It feels so fucking suffocating you almost wish you were on total talking terms so you didn’t have to endure this shit show.

“You know I could…no, forget it.” Jungkook bites his nails as he speaks, “I…”

“What?” you don’t mean to snap at him, but somehow even talking with an attitude feels better than not talking at all.

“I was going to say…I could teach you some steps…then you could surprise Jimin. He’s been working on a salsa piece…I can teach you some? Then maybe he will stop talking shit on your dancing.” Jungkook laughs awkwardly.

“Wait—he talks shit?!” somehow this doesn’t surprise you in the least.

“Only a little.” Jungkook shows you how little with his pointer finger and thumb. “But uh, want me to show you?”

“I don’t even want to talk to you, you think I want to dance with you?” you raise a brow in amusement. You forget this boy has all the audacity.

“Dancing doesn’t have to have any talking.” Jungkook states with a sly smile.

“So you’re just going to show me the steps?”

“Precisely.”

You don’t know why, but this sounds better than actually speaking and/or just sitting in miserable silence. And maybe, just maybe you have a desire to be close to him.

“You think I could learn in time before Jimin gets back?”

“With me as your teacher? Definitely.” He fucking smirks at you and you can’t help but feel that feeling in your stomach. Not necessarily a bad feeling but a fucking feeling.

Jungkook stands to his feet and extends his hand out to you for you to take.

“Here, stand up.”

Your eyes travel from his hands to his eyes and you blink lazily at him…wait, you’re really doing this? He stares down at you and he smiles softly and it creates a warmth in your chest that you’re trying so hard to ignore. You can’t.

Even so, you hesitantly begin to reach up to grab on to his hand, once your skin touches his you feel it. The burning. You should be used to it but right now, the fire is raging and the heat is almost too much. But you let him close his hand over yours as he helps you up.

You’re now standing in front of one another, in complete silence again. But this time it’s not awkward—no, it’s a different type of tension. Your hand lingers in his, neither of you brave enough to let go of the other. Jungkook looks down at you and you up at him, and you feel a million things. But the number one thing you feel is pain. You slowly pull your hand back and break eye contact with him, your head dropping low.

“Show me already.” You whisper.

“Shh, no talking.” Jungkook quietly demands. “Only speak with your body.” He puts some music on the speakers and smirks at you.

Jungkook steps closer to you and you stay grounded in your spot, you can feel the heat of his body begin to radiate and warm you. One of his hands find yours, he weaves his fingers through your own and puts one hand on your hip, he looks down at you to warn you this is how he will guide you.

“Just follow me.”

“You said no talking Mr.Jeon.” you say almost under your breath as you stare into his eyes. Jungkook rolls his head back with a smirk on his face, he looks at you and nods.

He puts his left foot forward and steps with his right foot in the same place at center, then puts his left foot back again. You try to copy his moves but even with such simple steps you step on his feet. He looks up at you disapprovingly. You only smile at him.

You two continue to try these steps until you finally manage to understand them even just a little bit. Jungkook brings your body closer to his as you two move your hips to the music while following the simple steps. His chest flush against your own, his heart beating so loudly you can feel it. Your heart isn’t any better. You start to finally get the hang of it, the music slowly taking you to another place. Jungkook moves his hips to the beat so flawlessly and honestly? You’re doing pretty fucking good if you do say so yourself.

Jungkook’s grip on your hip tightens as he grinds himself closer to you, you feel lightheaded as you two dance to the song. Your breathing getting just a little heavier and you feel lost and pathetic but you’re too immersed in the dance to care. Jungkook finds his head falling into the crook of your neck, his hot breaths fanning against your sensitive skin and you find your hand skimming up his back until you have a handful of his hair. You lightly tug on his locks and Jungkook quietly groans. You don’t know if you’re even doing the right steps anymore, your feet moving all around the place, but somehow it’s working. You’re still following his lead and you’re sure the dance looks somewhat okay. All you care about is how both of your hips move to the beat of the music and into each other. You two are so in sync its driving you nuts.

Jungkook lifts his head and watches as you close your eyes and he closes his own eyes, his head falling forward, your foreheads close to touching. You feel so dizzy, so light and airy, so fucking great like you’re floating. You can’t help but feel the heat creep up your entire body, you feel sweat start to build as you two move. You tighten your hands around Jungkook’s neck and pull him down impossibly close, until his forehead is touching yours. Your harsh breaths mingling with his. You get dragged into the memory of when he had you pinned to his dorms mattress, you recall how his lips left kisses all along your throat, his hot breath reminding you of the past. You think of how he rolled his hips into you effortlessly then as well, you think of how you scraped your nails down his back as he thrusted into you. God, you need to think of something else but Jungkook is filling your mind.

Jungkook’s breathing picks up again, as does yours. Your memories making this dance that much more sensual. You remember the way Jungkook nibbled on your ear as he let filthy words spill from his mouth when he fucked you. God, you should not be thinking this but his body feels so good. God, you should think of anything…literally anything else. You remember how he held you close much like how he is right now. You two continue dancing to the song that is soon coming to an end. You know exactly how it feels to have Jungkook inside you, moving and stilling. You know exactly what it feels like to come all around his cock. God, you need to stop. You need to slow your breathing. God, you…you…you...he continues to guide you along to the music when you feel something hard poke against you. Oh. Oh. OH. Hard. He’s hard.

Immediately, you pull back and take several clumsy steps backward. You blink at him with wide eyes when you realize that maybe he was recalling the same memories as you. Your wide eyes concerning Jungkook.

“Okay, that’s enough lessons for today.” Your harsh breaths don’t go unnoticed by Jungkook, his own breathing quite unsteady.

“Right.” Jungkook mumbles.

You two stand around for a few moments, just taking in the experience you just shared.

You still feel…how do you feel? You just shared a hot dance with your best friend? Wait—ex best friend? You don’t know. The memory of his body moving with yours, his skin touching your skin, his breaths on your neck, his hair balled up in your hands. God, it felt so good.

But so wrong.

“Umm…thanks.” You finally say.

Jungkook perks up at the gratitude, even if it’s somewhat forced. His frown turns into a small smile and you can’t help but smile back.

“I miss you y/n.” Jungkook instantly regrets it by the look on your face. Your expression turning hard. “Sorry I—”

“No, I miss you too.” You answer honestly. “But this doesn’t change anything.”

“But why not? Do you really not want me in your life for like, ever?”

Jungkook’s questions settle deep within you. The depth they hold…it’s too much. You wonder? Is this anti-Jungkook thing permanent? Or are you just trying to teach him a lesson?

Jungkook rubs his temples as he thinks, he sighs out instead of talking more.

“Not forever.” You finally say. Jungkook looks at you, a sliver of hope flashes across his face.

“But when?” he asks softly.

Yeah y/n. When? You know you both can’t go back to how things use to be but maybe starting over? God, you don’t know what to do! You know someone like Trina will be disappointed you became friends with Jungkook again so quickly, but you know someone like Jimin would be happy his two friends are back to being on okay terms. Why are you trying to please everybody? What do you want?

“Will you ever give up?” you say a little more lightly.

“No…” he says under his breath, his eyes focusing on the TV. “Not until you agree to be my friend again.”

You look at Jungkook with disbelief written all over your face, this boy has the fucking audacity once again. You’re amused though.

“Excuse me?” you say, cleaning your ear out with your point finger. “I didn’t catch that.”

Jungkook looks into your eyes, his eyes are large and doe like and it brings you back to every moment ever that he has given you this look.

“You’re stuck with me until you love me again.” He says more firmly.

“Who said,” you look at him with soft eyes, “That I ever stopped loving you?”

Jungkook smiles, he fucking smiles. His adorable bunny smile that makes your heart race.

“You still love me?”

“Only a little.” You jut your lip out, “I mostly hate you.”

Jungkook only frowns for a second before he is smiling again, “That’s fair.”

The two of you stand in comfortable silence for a few minutes, you sway back and forth wondering what you want to say to him—you miss him, of course but…

“Let’s take it slow.” You finally break the silence. You miss him more than anything and it might be worth it to have him in your life again, “You aren’t going to be a priority in my life anymore.” You crack you knuckles, the sound filling up the room.

“I know,” Jungkook feels his heart twist at your words but at least it’s something. “We can go however slow you want y/n.”

“You are on—”

“Thin fucking ice, buddy. I know.”

You exhale a shaky breath, thinking about how to go about this, “We can text every now and then, I’m not sure I want to hang out with you quite yet.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe a group hang out first…”

“I’d like that.”

Jungkook reaches over to grab your hand but you pull back, “That’s a no from me for the affection.”

Hurt flashes across Jungkook’s features but he softens up as he nods his head. “Noted.”

You wonder if you’re making the right decision. This wasn’t easy, you know? This actually felt quite hard. But somehow you feel like some weight has been lifted off your shoulders, like things maybe just maybe will be okay.

“I won’t push myself on you, I promise.” Jungkook sits back down on the floor, crossing his legs.

“Just be yourself, Jungkook.”

“If I wanted to be myself I would be hugging you right now but that’s apparently off limits.” He jokes.

“One hug.” You open your arms timidly. You feel one hug can’t be too bad?

Jungkook widens his eyes in pleasant surprise. He stands to his feet again and opens his own arms.

“C’mere.”

You watch in disbelief as he grins with his arms wide open, expecting you to go to him! And you do. You fucking do.

His arms wrap around you, he pushes you into his chest and you feel so fucking good. So warm, so cozy. His scent making you feel dizzy again, his warmth causing you to heat up. You lean back and look at his content face, he honestly looks so fucking content. Like, this hug is everything to him. And maybe it is, but you don’t know that.

“Uh, am I interrupting something?” you both snap your heads toward the front door to see Jimin standing there with a package in his hands.

“I can come back later?” he smirks at you two.

“No no no no!” you drop your arms from hugging Jungkook and take a few steps back, “We were just—”

“We made up, Jimin.” Jungkook says calmly with the softest smile you’ve ever seen on him.

“We’re taking it slow!” you rush to say.

“Oh?” Jimin winks, he walks forward until he’s in the living room joining you two. “Does this mean you will be joining us this Thursday at Jungkook and Nick’s place?”

“Huh?”

Jungkook shifts on his feet, “Yeah, uh, me and Nick are having a small get together on Thursday…you can bring whoever you want…but you’re definitely invited.”

“Before I answer that…Jimin how did you not know about Nick and him being Jungkook’s roommate?”

“Listen! Jungkook is always HERE! I never go over there! The few times I was there Nick was never home okay?!” Jimin whines obnoxiously.

“Okay, whatever. And Jungkook, I said—”

“You said group hang outs.” Jungkook pouts.

Oh. You did say that. But this soon? And is she going to be there?

You chew on your lips before answering, “Okay. But I’m bringing Trina and Holly.”

“Oh bro, Trina is not your biggest fan.” Jimin cuts in.

“Yeah, I know how she is I already anticipated that.” Jungkook shrugs, he looks at you with a small smile.

Okay, starting over? Taking it slow? Can you and Jungkook do this? You look between the boys and smile,

“Okay. See you boys on Thursday.”

#bts #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #taehyung angst

618 notes · View notes

1kook · 4 years

Text

kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!!

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that.

—

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk fic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #mine

3K notes · View notes

mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Losing You Twice / 1: If I Hated You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day weekend, and it turns out Y/N isn’t the only one struggling with the breakup. Category: Smut (18+), Angst Content Warnings: Language, drinking/getting drunk, penetrative/unprotected sex (If I missed anything, please let me know!) Word Count: 5,538

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

“My bedtime is the darkest, that’s when I’m brokenhearted. The nighttime is the hardest. It’d be easy, if I hated you.” —FLETCHER, If I Hated You

FEBRUARY 13th

It was Valentine's Day weekend, which sucked this time around. Every year for the past three years Y/N looked forward to Valentine's Day, but that was when she actually had someone to spend it with.

Well, someone she actually cared about, anyway... Whether or not Spencer actually knew it, she did really care about him. She was just stupid and didn't say it when he needed to hear it the most.

And now Valentine's Day was on Saturday and Y/N was still without him. Not alone, but still without the man who'd spent the significant holiday with her for the past three years. Memories of their dates and 'afterparties' flooded through her mind as she got ready for work like a montage, a cheesy love-song playlist she'd found on Spotify acting as the soundtrack.

Eventually she sighed and turned it off, opting for something more loud and obnoxious, and therefore not tainted by Spencer's memory. She applied what was left of her makeup and added a pair of earrings before turning the music off altogether and shoving her phone in her bag alongside her keys and other necessities.

Even though she wasn't emotionally prepared for all the cheesy Valentine's things she'd see and hear and experience throughout the weekend, it was still kind of nice to see that things in the bank never changed during the holidays— Everything in her life was so severely different at the moment, that if Marjorie had somehow decided to throw out all her elaborate decorations for each holiday, no matter how small, Y/N would have thought the world was truly ending.

Speaking of, she was met with Marjorie's brighter-than-the-sun smile almost immediately once she set her things in the breakroom.

"How's my little macaron this morning?" she chirped, Y/N chuckling slightly at the nickname— She brought macarons from the bakery down the street on her first birthday she spent at the bank, and ever since then, the older woman had adorned her with the namesake.

"She's alright, Marj... Better now that she's seen you..."

"That boy still on your mind, hon?"

Obviously Marjorie's intentions were good, but Y/N couldn't stand to think about the situation at all, least of all at work... So, setting her jacket on the rack, turned away so that her coworker wouldn't see the visible discomfort on her face, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and cleared her throat. "So, what are your plans with Geno tomorrow night? Anything special?"

There was a brief pause before Marjorie cleared her throat as well. "Nothing short of our usual dinner plans, my dear. He's been so caught up with work at the Mill lately, I think we're just going to spend the night relaxing."

"Hm," Y/N said shortly, finally turning around and giving her the best smile she could. "Maybe I should take a page from your book and stay in..."

"You weren't going to?"

"No... Britt's been nagging me about getting out there so we're going out tomorrow night. We both haven't been single in a long time, so... Should be fun."

Marjorie didn't look convinced. Either way, she nodded with a smile and walked over to Y/N with something glittery and bright red in her hand— A cheap beaded necklace to clip her nametag onto. She draped it over Y/N's neck and patted her shoulders. "Well, I want you to have fun. And remember that you still have to come to work on Monday. Whatever shenanigans you get into should be reserved for Saturday night only so you can rest properly on Sunday, got it?"

Y/N laughed, thankful for the playful tone in Marjorie's voice. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, I joke, I joke," the older woman said with a bright laugh, turning to walk out of the break room. "A little..."

The smile on Y/N's face only really lasted until after Marjorie was out of sight, then she went into her bag and clipped her nametag onto the red beaded necklace with a sigh.

Was she excited to have a good night out with Britt? Of course. Hell, had it been literally any other day of the year, she would have been practically bouncing off the walls with excitement at the idea of going out to a bar, letting men hit on her until she finally let one of them take her back to his place for the night.

But it just felt like it was too soon.

Either way, she was glad that she'd get to see Britt again, after she'd been on vacation for Christmas and New Year's to see her family and only got back a few weeks ago. She'd seen her on Facetime of course, and they met up once for coffee right after Britt got back from her trip, but a well-needed night out and quality time getting ready together was something that had been missing from their friendship for almost a year.

Y/N knew Britt would most likely spend her time trying to hook them up with end-of-the-night dates, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

Even still, sleeping alone the night before was probably one of the worst spells of loneliness she'd ever had. It was normal to be sad spending the first Valentine's Day in years away from a significant other, but knowing how things ended between them—bitter and stained with words left unsaid—this time was just... cold.

And that was putting it lightly.

Y/N laid in bed that night, her eyes wide open and staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars that adorned the ceiling. They used to give her comfort, but now they just reminded her of all the nights she'd spend with Spencer, listening to him tell stories about the constellations. They were some of the most peaceful memories she had.

And now those, too—those stars that had grounded her pretty much all her life and reminded her of the better days—were tainted by her inability to properly communicate.

She almost thought about taking them down.

But if she was really going to get over him this time, for good, then she'd have to learn to make new memories with the stars. Even if it was painful. Even if replacing those memories and writing new ones over them absolutely tore her soul to pieces.

And, as if that pain wasn't enough, that night Y/N dreamt of him, making love to her amongst the stars in every galaxy, only to wake up the next morning cold and alone.

FEBRUARY 14th

She promptly decided that she hated his guts.

It was Valentine's Day, Y/N was respectfully buzzed, and courtesy of two beers and four shots of tequila, she'd just deleted Spencer's number from her phone.

"I'm done," she said, waving a hand at Britt and shoving her phone in her purse. "He doesn't deserve my wallowing."

"Yeah!"

Britt was significantly the more drunk of the two, resulting in a fit of giggles after gaining some stares from the people around them at her sudden outburst.

Y/N smiled, finishing off another shot and shaking her head. "We need more!"

"More shots!" Britt hurried off to grab them, leaving her friend behind with a half-drunken smile that also only felt half-genuine.

Sure, she decided she hated Spencer's guts, but her heart didn't exactly agree well with that sentiment. Even after deleting his number from her phone, after downing all that alcohol, her heart still ached.

Y/N knew deep down that getting over him was going to take some time. A lot of time... But maybe one night of distraction would help.

So the shots kept coming, and by the end of the night, Y/N was just about at her limit.

Which was near black-out drunk. And when you're that drunk you tend to make decisions you wouldn't soberly condone.

Britt got into a cab, and she begged Y/N to come with her, but she assured her friend that she had someone to come pick her up. Eventually the cab driver got tired of their inability to decide, and when Y/N told him to go, he did, leaving her alone on the side of the street at 1am.

Unfortunately, it was incredibly cold, and she didn't really have anyone to come pick her up. And that's where the bad decisions started.

Y/N pulled her phone out, a long sigh escaping her as she dialed the number by heart.

Would he even pick up? He hadn't answered any of her calls or texts before, so why would it have been any different now? Not to mention it was Valentine's Day Weekend. With her luck, he was probably in bed with someone else. Someone who wasn't her. As she listened to the dial tone repeating in her ear, images of him wrapped up with somebody else—sleeping in the bed she'd slept in many times before—clouded her drunken brain and made her more angry than anything.

Her gut twisted, and she almost hung up.

But then the low buzz of the dial tone abruptly stopped and in its place came his voice.

"Y/N?"

Her name on his lips, even through the phone, was grounding, the anger in her system melting away and revealing a coat of drunken relief.

"Spencer! You answered!"

"Yeah... Are you— Is everything okay?"

"Pff, yeah, 'm-fine. Just really fucking cold."

"You're not outside, are you?"

"Duh, I'm outside... I wouldn't be cold in-side... Besides, I didn't call t'alk bout the weather, I need you t'come pick me up."

There was a brief pause, and for a moment Y/N didn't think he was going to say anything she wanted to hear. She swayed on the sidewalk, shivering and praying that he would throw her a bone, even if she'd regret it all in the morning.

"Where are you?" he said finally, and despite herself, she smiled.

FEBRUARY 15th

Spencer couldn't believe he was picking her up at near two in the morning.

Honestly, he'd initially thought about ignoring her call again, but remembering the day it was and taking note of the time, he figured she was most likely in some type of inebriated trouble.

His instincts were right, of course, but he wished that he could have been wrong. He wished she'd only been calling to drunkenly ramble on about how she missed him or maybe how he was stupid and she never wanted to see his face ever again, because that was normal. At least then he could have hung up after she was done and never thought about it again— it was a normal step in any relationship that helped move things along. They could have gotten on with their lives and it would have all been over.

But of course it was never that simple.

Y/N was never that simple.

He pictured her on the street near some bar, alone and cold and drunk, and of course he would have been the only one she could call to rescue her. After all, he'd been pretty much the only thing she'd ever known to make her feel safe.

Still, he wished he was capable of only giving her a ride home and then leaving.

But again, it was never that simple.

It was easy getting her into the car— that wasn't what he was worried about. Rather, it was the fated moment where she'd ask him to stay after he finally got her tucked safely into bed that worried him. Because it was bad enough that it was Y/N... It was her in all her alluring glory, and he'd never been able to deny her anything no matter how badly he tried or wanted to.

Now add on the fact that she was drunk, and most likely sad on their first Valentine's Day apart, and it was a recipe for disaster.

Even if she'd broken his heart, Spencer still cared about her.

Which is why he inevitably agreed to stay, at least until she fell asleep.

He knew her well enough to know all the ways she'd try to get him under the covers with her, so it was a familiar amusement that settled in his being when he was finally able to get on top of the covers with her underneath. But as he entertained her silly little questions with the right answers until she fell asleep, Spencer noticed something else accompanying that amusement.

Guilt.

And then anger for feeling guilty about her sadness— sadness that could have been avoided had she just gotten over whatever was holding her back and either returned his "I love you" or told him she wasn't feeling the same way just yet.

All she had to do was talk.

He had a right to feel upset about Y/N holding back when he'd been nothing but patient, spending almost every year of their relationship trying to make her see that she had nothing to be afraid of. He'd given her every chance to talk about what she was feeling, whether it was happy or not, and every time she pushed it all away in favor of sex.

That wasn't what he wanted in a relationship, so he ended it. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

So why was he feeling so fucking guilty?

He blamed his good nature and innate need to please people, to make them feel good and happy. But he also blamed Y/N and her adorable drunken sleeping face.

He watched as she slept, willing himself not to forget the way she hurt him. She'd completely stolen his heart and shattered it at the same time, and if he was being honest, she still held some of the pieces. But he couldn't get them back, not if he didn't want to risk shattering her own heart in the process.

It felt like they were tied together by some strong, invisible force that wouldn't break unless both of them broke right along with it.

So... maybe he could afford to leave those pieces of his heart with her. He'd have to if they were going to get out of this alive. Not unscathed, sure, but alive nonetheless.

Once he was sure she was deep in sleep, Spencer quietly and carefully got off the bed and navigated through her apartment, getting her a glass of water and leaving it on the table next to her bed. And because he couldn't help it, he cleaned up some of the clothes that were scattered around her floor, depositing them into the hamper and straightening out a few more things that were out of place.

He looked over at her sleeping figure one more time, sighed, and then left, keeping her bedroom door open just a crack.

***

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer.

Despite his better judgement, he'd plopped himself down on her couch after making sure she was sound asleep, hoping to catch his breath and sort through what he was feeling before he got behind the wheel. But of course, it was 2am and he was exhausted, and he couldn't stop himself from closing his eyes and drifting off.

And now he was sitting up, looking around the apartment through the lens of morning.

Though the curtains were sheer, they didn't provide much light, but enough of it showed him just how familiar the space was. Y/N hadn't moved anything around. The same art was on the same walls, the potted ivy plant on her mantle sat un-watered and withering, and every book and record and DVD on her shelves was in the exact same spot as they'd all been the last time he was there in December.

Meanwhile, after the breakup he'd re-arranged everything. He was so sure that they were through for good this time around that he wanted a clean slate. Not that he wanted to rid himself of her memory completely, but if he was going to move on from the hold she'd had on him, he had to do something...

And yet, he ended up at her apartment the morning after Valentine's Day all the same.

He heard the shower running faintly a couple rooms away. You didn't have to pass the couch to get there, so maybe she hadn't seen him sleeping and he could get away cleanly.

Spencer scrambled off the couch, thankful that he hadn't removed his jacket or his shoes and that he could just sprint towards the door without having to find any of his belongings.

But as luck would have it, the second he took a step, the shower turned off. He had to get out of there quickly, but if he did then she'd definitely know he'd stayed overnight. But if he went quietly, he wouldn't have enough time before she caught him.

Maybe I could hide...

He shook the thought with a roll of his eyes, settling on the clearest course of action, which was to make as quick of a getaway as he could. He'd try to be quiet as well, though the creaky door was going to be nearly impossible to get through without a sound.

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard her voice.

"You didn't think you could spend the night and then leave without saying goodbye, did 'ja?"

The pure amusement in her tone made his stomach churn, and it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest.

Spencer turned and smiled softly, avoiding looking at her completely. "Sorry. Didn't want to bother you."

"You're never a bother."

That sentiment held less amusement and more sincerity, which was what guided his eyes to meet the woman who said the words.

His stomach twisted again when he saw her, exactly like he knew she'd be— wrapped in nothing but a thin towel with near-dripping hair cascading down her back. Her legs were bare and exposed, the towel not only thin but short, which meant that her chest was also practically spilling out of it. Despite the obvious and inevitable hungover look in her eye, there was also a good splash of that mischief that'd always been there— the kind that spelled out trouble.

He needed to get out of there.

"Well, um... I'm glad I got you home safe," he said, clearing his throat. "I should... I should go."

"You sure you don't wanna stay for breakfast?"

Spencer could have sworn she was teasing him, dangling her body in front of him like a meal they both knew he wouldn't be able to resist. But then she added, "I've got everything I need for your favorite omelet," and he exhaled with a small smile, exhausted with his own mind for convincing him that she was out to pull him back in.

Still, he declined. "No, I... I shouldn't. But, uh, thank you..."

"You sure?"

This time when he looked up at her, she was closer. She was gently striding forward to meet him, and he half thought about backing up towards the door until he realized he was already there.

"I—I'm sure. Really."

"But you drove around all night just to take me home when I was drunk, the least I can do is feed you..."

"Eh, it's alright. It's... Nothing I haven't done before."

She stopped then, her eyes briefly dropping to the floor. It was like her whole demeanor changed—just for a second—from the prowess she'd always been, to what seemed to be a woman filled with sadness and regret. It didn't last long though, just enough for Spencer to notice it before she looked back up at him with that wicked gleam in her eye and a remark right at the tip of her tongue.

"Still. I feel bad, making you do all that for me... Especially now."

He wasn't sure what to make of this... It seemed like she was sincere, but she was also alluring, calling to him like a siren leading him to his ultimate demise. And while he'd come to know that as merely a part of her nature, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that she was doing it on purpose.

She was in a skimpy towel, after all, and she definitely knew how to use that to her advantage.

It didn't help that he didn't have the courage to leave. Everything inside of him right then longed to drop that towel and indulge himself once more. Putting aside all the heartache and the differences they shared, all he felt in that moment was the need to touch her— to get lost in her and never be found again.

She was his fatal flaw, and it was painfully obvious.

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer...

He was over to her in just three strides, throwing off his jacket and tossing it aside before cradling her face with his hands and bringing their lips together for the first time since Christmas Eve.

The small whine in her throat signaled that she hadn't expected it, but welcomed it all the same. The moment she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, the towel fell to the floor, and there was no going back.

"What about breakfast?" Y/N breathed out once they pulled away for air.

Spencer contemplated, studying her face, seeing the way her eyes sparkled, and decided on the two words that sealed his fate.

"Screw breakfast."

Their lips were melded together almost as soon as the words left his mouth. And it wasn't long before every other part of their bodies were melded together as well.

Y/N helped him take the rest of his clothes off as they danced around the entryway and the living room. Everything was open, no walls separating the living room from the kitchen, so to compensate for the lack of breakfast they'd be eating, they migrated to the kitchen counter once Spencer had off everything but his boxers.

He trapped her against the cool marble of the countertop, her back hitting it solid and sending a shiver up her spine. Meanwhile his hands roamed her body, unsure of where to be other than on her at all times, whether it be her waist, her stomach, her arms, her breasts, or her ass. He wanted to feel all of her, and quite frankly she wanted the same.

She even told him so, in her own way, by bringing one of her legs up and wrapping it around his waist, pulling him closer to her as she wove her fingers through his hair and tasted his tongue with her own.

The action elicited a groan from his mouth, low and desperate. Spencer settled his hands on her waist and gripped it tight, silently telling her what to do.

So she jumped up and he helped guide her swiftly onto the counter. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist again, and he found himself grinding into her hips, urgent to feel every part of her. And thankfully she was feeling rather desperate herself, because she rolled her hips up into him in return, breaking their mouths apart just briefly to speak.

"Fuck me..."

There was so much he wanted to say to her in that moment— how badly he was feeling about keeping her entertained while he was slowly deteriorating inside from her emotional detachment and rejection, how much she frustrated him, and more prominently, how she was so goddamn impatient and that he was getting there...

But all that he could manage was a broken, desperate whisper of her name.

It was all he'd ever known.

All that frustration... All that anger, heartache, passion, and time apart combined beautifully into those few syllables that made up her name and tore him apart from the inside out.

And his hands were just as destructive.

Spencer deftly dropped his boxers to the ground and pushed forward, almost losing all sense of self the moment the head of his dick finally made contact with her cunt. He made his way inside of her and then used both of his hands to grip her waist and bring her closer, their mouths connecting harshly as they found one another once again.

His grip was bruising— not possessive in any way, but desperate, like he had to cling to her for dear life or he wouldn't live to see another day. He held himself inside her, sighing and whimpering into her mouth as she clenched around him. It was so familiar, so comfortable and exhilarating that he almost didn't even want to move. He thought about staying there, still inside her forever.

But as always, Y/N was insatiable.

She wrapped all her limbs around him and held on, rolling her hips and seeking friction in any way possible when she briefly tore her lips away from his.

"I need you, baby, please..."

Even as his heart started to rumble in his chest, well aware of the fact that she still probably didn't love him the way he loved her, Spencer gave her everything. He pulled out and snapped his hips forward again, setting a strong, steady pace that had Y/N's eyes rolling back, and the payoff of hearing her sigh out his name was more than enough to keep him going.

Her nails dug deliciously into his shoulders, the faint sting adding something reminiscent of gasoline to a fire. The flames grew taller and brighter the more he fucked her, and with each gradual increase of volume and intensity, it was a wonder the whole kitchen around them hadn't literally burst into flames.

That's how they always were.

Together like this, so lost in the high of each others' bodies, it was easy to forget the things that made their relationship so hard. It was easy to let all the negativity slip away into the throes of pent-up, well-needed sex. The high they gave each other was merely that— A high...

A distraction.

And while that's exactly what Y/N needed, what she preferred in most cases, it's what Spencer recognized as completely unhealthy, despite his coming back to it every time.

It's also why he dreaded the moment ending. Because once they came down from the high, all that's left would be sadness, regret... Guilt... Their fire burned hot, brightly and wildly, but in the aftermath would lay only a thick layer of deadly smoke between them— hard to navigate, and nearly impossible to breathe in without suffocating.

So they simply burned and burned and burned...

Spencer gripped her so tight he was sure to leave her with bruising. And in turn Y/N dragged her nails down his back and dug them into his ass, her palm laying firmly over the muscles that aided in fucking her into the marbled surface. She whined out curses and moans, and he cried out broken whispers of her name, pet names, and curses alike.

Even once she'd come, he kept going, willing himself to hold on as long as he could. She whined into his ear at the overstimulation. And rather than keeping her legs wrapped around his body, she decided to spread them wide, perching her heels up on the counter as far as she could go and anchoring her fingers through his hair.

And though she might not have had enough orgasms in her to keep up with him, she welcomed it all the same—She welcomed the burn just as much as he did.

Even still, no fire can burn forever.

All concept of time was lost by the time Spencer finally collapsed forward, completely spent and barely standing on weak legs after coming twice. Y/N held onto him tightly to keep him upwards, lightly massaging his scalp with gentle fingers and closing her eyes as she focused on his breathing— the way it fanned over the skin of her bare shoulder and how it sounded, perfectly in time with hers...

It was the most peaceful she'd been in a long time.

She felt him pull out of her, the both of them groaning at the feeling, and a little at the mess it would make.

Spencer gently peeled his body off of hers, sniffing once and avoiding her eyes. "Sorry... You just got out of the shower..."

"It's fine," Y/N breathed. She begged him silently to look her in the eye, but he remained still... Most likely thinking. She could practically see the cogs turning in his brain.

So, in an effort to lighten the mood a bit, she added with a breathy laugh, "Besides... It's nothing I haven't done before."

The callback to his words—and memories of all the times they'd found themselves in this position before—got Spencer to laugh a little, but he still wouldn't meet her eyes.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I'll... I'll grab the wipes?"

"Oh. Sure," Y/N returned with a thankful smile. It was hopeful, too, though the moment he was out of eyesight, it turned rather sad.

She'd known that behavior before, seen that hesitation in his movements and that sound in his voice.

It was guilt.

Regret.

Probably a bit of self-hatred, too.

When he returned, a pile of her clothes in hand and the bag of wipes on top, she took them from him with a kind smile and cleaned herself up while he put his clothes back on.

The silence was more uncomfortable than anything either of them had ever experienced.

So much so, that Y/N couldn't even muster up the courage to ask him to stay for breakfast— and she always did after one of their post-break hookups.

Maybe this time really was different.

Spencer was just at the door again when she stopped him.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was so small, he almost didn't hear it. "For bringing me home..."

But he paused, turned, and finally looked her in the eye.

He almost sunk to his knees right there...

Seeing her, arms crossed like she was trying to keep warm, as her head hung low and she looked up at him through sad, hooded eyelids...

It reminded him of the woman he fell in love with.

But in his peripheral, he saw the towel on the floor and was reminded of the woman who'd shattered his heart.

Spencer cleared his throat. Once upon a time he might have returned her thanks with, Anytime, but... Honestly he wasn't sure there could ever be another time. For his sanity, he'd have to avoid 'anytime' at all costs.

So, he settled on, "You're welcome."

He was glad to see her return his kind smile with one of her own, even if it was tainted with sadness, and a small wave goodbye.

Maybe this time it would stick.

Even still, as he closed the door behind him and made his way to the parking lot, for some reason it didn't quite feel like goodbye.

And some of that deadly smoke that settled in his lungs as he drove further and further away from her apartment was inclined to agree.

***

Neither of them could sleep that night.

While Spencer stared out the window of the jet, a little annoyed to be called out on a case so late but at least thankful for the distraction, Y/N laid in bed, staring at the stars on her ceiling.

The same constellation caught their eye.

Columba.

The Dove.

She hadn't even meant to arrange the stars like that, but one night after a date, they were laying in her bed and Spencer pointed out that the cluster of plastic stars right in the corner of the ceiling looked like Columba.

Y/N fondly remembered Spencer telling her about how it was originally named to represent Noah's dove, which searched for dry land during the great biblical flood and returned carrying an olive branch to make news of its recession— of peace at last.

The memory made her smile. It tugged at her heart and made her dreams of him even more vivid.

All the same, Spencer noticed the constellation outside the jet window and remembered that same night. The smile on her face as he told her the story, the feel of her fingers gliding softly over the bare skin of his forearm...

It was the first night since he'd met her that he thought it.

I love her...

He almost told her then, too, but he was afraid it was too soon. So he refrained.

Looking back, Spencer was starting to regret that— Maybe without that extra time together, breaking up would have been easier. But instead, he gave her more time. He gave himself more time to fall deeper in love with her, and in the end it still wasn't enough.

Now they were both looking at the same constellation, one made of plastic and the other of gas, wondering if their flood would ever recede.

And in the event that it did... Who would be the dove, and what would be their olive branch?

“You know I dream about getting back together in the future, I could focus on you. But if I leave right now, I hope that you don’t find someone that touches you the way that I do...”

***

SERIES TAGLIST: @reidyoulikeabook @yourmisosoup @fortheloveofcriminalminds @bellzo17 @altsvu @flipperpenguins @mcumorningstar

TAGS NOT WORKING: @reid-to-me @totallyclearwitch

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds angst #losing you twice

193 notes · View notes

plentyoffandoms · 3 years

Text

Little One

Hook x f/Reader

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Some angst, ends with fluff.

Warnings: Some swearing.

Gifs & photos do not belong to me.

Masterlist ♡ AEW Masterlist ♡ Hook Masterlist

Summary: - F/Reader & Hook have been dating for only alittle while. Reader gets pregnant & Hook accuses her of cheating on him.

Requested by @alyhull . Hope you like it. First time ever writing for Hook and you are so right. There is hardly anything written about him.

Y/N'S POV:

'Just stay calm Y/N. Maybe you just have the bug that is going around.' I kept repeating to myself over and over again as I waited in line at the drug store.

Hopefully if I think it enough, it will be true., but deep down I knew it wasn't a bug.

I paid for the few items I got and hurried to my vehicle and started to drive home, taking the long way around.

I didn't want to know the truth. This will ruin everything between the two of us as we have only been together for a few months.

I didn't want to do this at home, so I just pulled into the nearest McDonald's and just decided to do the test in the bathroom but first got some food and a drink because I hate using a public restroom without buying something first.

I finished my meal and now I am sitting on the toilet, waiting to see if the test says either positive or negative.

The timer on my phone went off and now it is time to face the truth.

Well, the test just proved how right I was.

What the hell am I going to do? Tyler and I haven't been together long. We haven't even told our families that we were together.

I took a photo of the test and threw the test and the box in the trash. I got back into my vehicle and finally started to drive home.

My phone started to go off and by the ringtone I knew it was Tyler. I hate to admit it but I have been dodging his calls and only replying to some of his text messages.

I went home finally to change into my work clothes and head to work. I am a Social Media Coordinator for AEW. Pretty good job and it pays well.

I know I got hired because I am close family friends with Peter Senerchia aka Taz. My Mom and his wife Theresa are best friends, but I proved myself over and over again that I am the best person for the job.

I found a parking spot and took a deep breath. I knew Tyler would be there tonight. He had to be there because he is apart of Team Taz as the member Hook.

I grabbed my phone and noticed I had a few voicemails and messages from Tyler. I deleted each voicemail with out listening to them.

I know rude but if I heard his voice right now, I would lose it and start to cry. Damn hormones.

I walked into the building and said hello to everyone I walked past on the way towards the room I am using as my office.

I didn't even want to go in my office as I am pretty sure this is the place where I got knocked up.

I wasn't even in my office for more than 20 minutes and Tyler walked in, closing the door behind him.

He sat in the chair that is in front of my desk and just stared at me as I continued to type away on my laptop.

"Are you going to say anything or are you just going to continue staring?" I say to him while my eyes stay on the screen in front of me.

"Why are you ignoring my calls? You hardly respond to any text messages now."

"I have been busy. I have a life outside of this place and you Tyler." I cringed to myself. That was harsh.

"You have always made time for me. What has changed?"

I finally looked at him. "The truth is Tyler I haven't been feeling the best."

My heart almost broke at the concerned look that came over his face.

"Are you sick?"

"No, at first I thought it was just a bug, but it wasn't going away and I started to get other symptoms so I took a pregnancy test this morning."

I waited for him to say something, but he didn't say anything so I just continued on.

"It was positive." I finally let the bomb drop.

"It isn't mine. We have been using protection the whole entire time and you were supposed to be taking birth control."

"Are you serious Tyler? Remember when you came in here after your match and you bent me over this exact same desk and I even told you I stopped taking my birth control as I was switching it and we had no condoms but you told me that you would pull out."

"I did pull out!" He said as he jumped out of the chair and leaned over my desk at me.

I have no idea if he is trying to intimidate me or what but I stood up and got right in his face.

"Obviously not fast enough because I am pregnant with your baby Tyler Senerchia."

I knew he was angry and scared. His career was just taking off here and a child would just slow him down.

"No, the child isn't mine. You cheated on me. I can't believe you would do that to me!"

Before I knew what I was doing, my hand slapped his face as hard as I could. I had tears streaming down my face.

"Get out of my office." I said as calm as I could.

He touched his cheek and looked at the tears streaming down my face. "Y/N I am.."

I cut him off. "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY OFFICE!"

I sat in my chair and and put my head in my hands. I didn't even bother to look up as I heard my office door slam behind him.

Hook's POV:

It has been almost five months since I have talked to Y/N and I know she is roughly seven and half months pregnant because my Mom told me.

She told me that Y/N has refused to say who the father is since he doesn't want to be apart of the baby's life.

I know the baby is mine. I know Y/N more than she knows herself, I was just shocked more than anything and I know I said some hurtful shit.

I accused her of cheating on me and I know she would never do that to me.

I wanted to be there for her but I get why she has pushed me away. Like today for instance, I should be sitting beside her while our friends and co-workers put together a nice baby shower to celebrate with just the AEW family.

We already knew she was having a boy as she told us all. She did not want a gender reveal party.

I was sitting at a table with my Dad, watching Y/N at the front of the room, opening all the gifts that were bought for her.

"Tyler, has Y/N told you who the father is?" I just shook my head no at him. Easier this way.

"You're her best friend and she hasn't told you?"

I just shrugged my shoulders at him and changed the subject.

Once my Dad left the room to go to the bathroom, that is when I decided to get up to hand her my gift.

Y/N saw me walking towards her and put a smile on her face, trying to pretend that everything is okay between the two of us.

I handed her the gift and waited for her to open it. I have no idea how she will react to the gift.

She carefully opened the gift and I held my breath as she moved the tissue paper away.

Her eyes started to tear up as she held the blanket up. She knew which baby blanket that was.

It was mine and I always said I would give it to my first born child.

"Oh Tyler." She said as she stood up and I pulled her into my arms for a hug.

"I am so sorry for the way how I talked you. I know the baby is mine. I know you would of never cheated on me Y/N. Please forgive me." I whispered into her ear.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I quickly looked back to see who it was.

My father was looking between me, Y/N and the baby blanket that is still in the box.

"We need to talk Tyler...now." He said almost too calmly. That can only mean one thing, he is very, very angry.

Part 2

Tag List: if you would like to be added, please let me know. @lghockey @alyhull

#reader imagine #reader insert #female reader #all elite wrestling #aew wrestling #hook aew #hook #tyler senerchia #aew x reader #aew imagine #hook x reader #hook imagine #hook aew imagine #hook x you #hook aew x reader #hook aew x you #wrestlers #wrestler imagine

147 notes · View notes

warmau · 3 years

Text

☆ko-fi au: nostoligic summer romance!au hanbin find other ikon aus here

the sun burns your shoulders and the skin of your heel. you stand on it and bear the pain as you look down at hanbin, whose face is covered by one of those three-dollar nude magazines

"get up"

"can't you see i am asleep?"

the wind blows some small wisps of hair around your face - somewhere in the distance, you hear junhoe chase a beachball down the shore as jiwon yells for him to race back to the rest of your friends

"hanbin, you are not wasting your summer spread out like this, not doing anything. you are not a piece of seaweed."

"you sound like my mother"

you nudge his elbow with your toe

"did you finish your graduate school application?"

"yeah, im working on it right now looking at -"

he lifts the magazine off his face and flips to a random page, turning it around to face you

averting your gaze you make a sound of disappointment

"the deadline already passed, the school is giving you an extension because they know you'll be a great addition to the program. does that not mean anything to you?"

hanbin lets the next gust of wind pull the magazine from his weak grip and float it pathetically to his left

the silence is his answer in a way and search his face, now that you can see it properly, for anything else

his dark eyes are void and highlighted by a shadow of darkness.

his lips are chapped.

the scratch he got from face planting in the public pool's changing room last weak is still sitting on his cheek only half-hidden under a kids bandage

"hanbin, this is your future"

you whisper it - like it's your future too

maybe because somewhere subconsciously buried in both your chests. you both know it is.

"i know"

you turn around and take his apathy as the final stake in the ground

after years of caring about him, of one-sided adoration hidden behind affectionate and worried friendship

you have learned the hanbin is more stubborn than an ox - especially when he gives up

when you find yourself walking home back alone - the sun still blasting an uncomfortable heat onto your skin - you try to pretend the overwhelming feeling of crying isn't itching its way out

i can't help him forever, especially if he doesn't want to help himself

hanbin calls three days later

"do you want to go fishing with me and jinhwan?"

"fishing?"

"jinhwan said he's trying new hobbies."

you are silent for a second, a part of you wants to explode.

what are you talking about fishing! the application asks you to finish an entire song. to show your effort! who gives a fuck about fishing!

the other part of you is dormant. uninterested.

jinhwan is already a successful editor, maybe he can help hanbin find the right path better than i can.

"no thanks."

you hang up first, something you've never done with hanbin

you're both balanced in that sense - you are usually soft and forgiving and never want to hurt anyone's feelings. you just want to keep helping and helping until there's nothing left of you.

hanbin is more strict - people have to prove themselves to him otherwise he cuts them off without a qualm.

you get a text a few minutes later from jinhwan:

are you and your husband fighting?

my husband? i didn't know i finally married that millionaire from my dreams.

haha im talking about hanbin

you purse your lips. everyone in the world wants 'us' to happen.

no. we're not fighting. he doesn't want to go to grad school.

so?

your fingers hover over the keyboard. right, so what? not like it's your business to run your friend's life.

but that's not it. something is so wrong. hanbin will work on music till his eyes and ears bleed. why is it that composing one little thing for this application that is just going to better his life so hard? why is he so against it?

leaving jinhwan without an answer, you throw yourself on your bed and tell yourself that you have to break this habit

you've been putting hanbin over yourself since you were both young

getting in trouble with him when in reality you'd done nothing but try to stop him from doing something stupid

staying up with him when he'd go through bouts of bad insomnia

shoving your own secrets and pain down to comfort him about his own

you have your own life, goal, and dreams

it's your fault for somehow always imagining that hanbin would want to be part of them

"can you please talk to hanbin again."

jiwon, junhoe, and donghyuk take up the space in your car as you pull into the parking lot of the local mall

you turn the key in the ignition, jiwon and junhoe are sitting far apart in the back seat, still managing to look cramped and donghyuk looks at you sympathetically from the passenger side

"im not avoiding him."

"you're totally avoiding him."

again. you want to explode and also say nothing at all. why are there expectations on you as his friend and not the other way around?

"have you guys asked him about his grad school application? you all have your futures planned - and he's lost."

jiwon pops his bubble gum at the worst possible moment and junhoe looks awkward without an answer to come out of his big mouth.

donhyuk puts a hand on your shoulder

"he didn't just give up, you know."

you snort, "it looked that way to me."

opening the door, you step out and tell the little voice in your head that wonders out loud if hanbin needs your help to please shut up

it's two days before the extension deadline. you know this because it pops up as a reminder on your google calendar and you grumble as you delete it.

having his deadlines on my schedule like he's my goddamn boyfriend or something.

you want to enjoy your summer before you go back to school too, so you dig out a big t-shirt and bathing suit to take to the pool

only when you sling the shirt over yourself do you pick at the worn fabric and groan

this is hanbin's isn't it? the coffee stain at the bottom is totally his signature.

someone knocks on the door of your room, half expecting a family member you open it without caution and nearly throw it shut when you see hanbin in the frame

the only thing that stops you from doing so is the look of utter desperation on his face

"hanbin? when is the last time you slept?"

he breaths through his nose and mumbles maybe three or four days ago

you pull him into your room and shut the door, you try to examine him for any other signs of fatigue but he looks otherwise the same

skinny, slightly hunched over and more beautiful than you could ever say out loud in fear of dying on the spot of embarrassment

"is it your insomnia? do you need to go to the doc-"

"i can't compose the song."

you wave your hand to dismiss the sentence, "that doesn't matter right now. you have to take care of your health first and-"

"i can't stop thinking about you."

suddenly irritated with his tone - you snap under the weight of it all

"you cannot blame your inability to finish this application or giving up or not sleeping on me. just because we haven't spoken in a bit-"

"that's not what i meant."

you cross your hands over your chest, you can feel a fire unlike any other of anger lick up your spine

if he is going to pin this on me somehow im going -

"i love you."

"are you crazy?"

you blurt out your words before you really even hear his own. you were expecting him to start spinning some elaborate tale about how not seeing you or you avoiding him had somehow damaged him further

but this is hanbin, and you admit that never has he put the blame on you without you taking it on willingly

so you blink past the initial shock and ask him to repeat himself

he straightens his bad posture, looks at you and sees past the surface level

"i love you. it's making everything else a blur, so i need to tell you."

"you- you should have told me before."

"i thought you'd slap me." he laughs weakly, but it is forced "or that you'd think i was lying to get you off my back about the application."

you soften, your hands uncross and you drop the defensive look on your face

hanbin runs a line from your eyes to your knees

"are you wearing my shirt?"

"i love you too."

the spell of dread that seems to have clung itself into every nook and cranny of hanbin's existence seems to be exorcised when you say those words to him

like a light has entered the part of him that has been pitch black for weeks now

he doesn't kiss you right after you say it, he kisses you two days later when he submits his application with a song he spent thirteen hours on creating

the song is about that light, the kind of easy feeling of being put into the right puzzle with the right person

that's when he kisses you - when he meets the deadline - and you throw your arms around him and the world starts rotating in the right direction again

summer is still left over for you two to enjoy, you rush around the beach with your friends, you go fishing with jinhwan who decides he hates it at some point, and you spend whatever minute you can with hanbin

even if you're with others, your hands are always glued together. you look at him when you think he's distracted. he looks at you regardless, unashamed of the teasing that comes your way

'it finally happened! they realized they're perfect for each other!'

and when you're alone with your legs tangled with his and hanbin's nervous, soft mouth on the slope of your back. that same uncapped love bursts from both of you.

when summer dwindles and hanbin gets an email about his application

he celebrates by pressing you up against the desk and nearly toppling his laptop over

"can i ask you something?" he plays with a strand of your hair after as the sweat sticks you two together "were you so adamant about me getting into grad school because you love me or-"

you rest your chin on his chest and sigh

"yes, but because it'll help you achieve your dreams. and it'll give you a future that's stable. a future that i want for you and-"

you get shy, tucking your face into his skin

"and?"

he asks, but you just kiss him instead.

when it's ten years after - and hanbin has become successful in ways he had never dreamed

you are successful in your own right too

you're equals and your lives are full of each other and your work and everything else

and hanbin realizes when he's looking at rings by himself after work one day what you wanted to say all that time ago

you wanted him to have a good future so that it could tie in with yours

he reminds himself to ask you when he gets home, by what age had you already planned the wedding?

he expects you will stick your tongue out at him when he does, and you do, but he doesn't expect you to cry for half an hour when he pulls the little box out of his pocket.

#nostalgia au #hanbin au #hanbin scenarios #b.i au #b.i scenarios #hanbin #b.i #ikon au #ikon imagines #ikon scenarios #ko fi commissions #slightly suggestive

266 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Attached - Pt.1

The Words of Doom

Type: (mini)-series, college AU, professor AU (technically)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 1880

Summary for the series: You messed up. Your very sleep-deprived Self attached the wrong document when emailing a professor and sent him one of the stories you wrote instead of an assignment. It should be embarrassing, really, but it wasn’t. It was worse.

Why did it have to be the smutty one? Why did it have to be the one starring his best friend, Professor Rogers? You were so screwed.

Aka the ‘you sent the wrong attachment to hot professor A that just happens to be about his friend hot professor B and now professor A is not able to look at professor B without wheezing in laughter anymore and you are unable to look at either of them’ AU

Warnings: swearing, literally one mention of a possible daddy kink, double entendre

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Your eyes felt like on fire, burning hotter than the sun above Sahara Desert; the metaphor your sleep-deprived mind came up with was only perfected by the huge dunes of the bags under your eyes.

You were running on disgustingly strong coffee and three energy drinks, but you summoned the rest of your strength and clicked on ‘send’, slumping so heavily into your chair that when your back hit the backrest, it almost toppled over—but never mind, you made it!

Penny, your gracious roommate, would inform you that had you started earlier and were writing the actual essay instead of wasting words on steamy stories that somehow filled the desired wordcount with considerably less effort, you wouldn’t have been turning into a zombie sending assignments several minutes before eight a.m., the actual deadline.

Yeah, well, sue me, I prefer romance to the World War II., no matter how important history is.

You were certain Professor Barnes would understand if you told him that anyway – he was a pretty easy-going guy for a scholar after all. Then again, you sure as hell didn’t want to test the theory out and so you tended to hand in your homework perhaps ‘minute to midnight’, but still in time.

You grinned as you checked the sent e-mail, proudly reading it had been sent at 7:56. You mentally patted your back, not having the energy to actually move to do that.

And then your Sahara-dry eyeballs fell lower on the screen and you let out a shriek of horror.

Your heart stopped in your chest before kicking in faster than it had been pumping after three Red Bulls.

The attachment.

Oh no.

OH FUCK, the attachment!

Now, it happened on occasion that people forgot to attach the files they spoke of in an e-mail, right? Sometimes shit like that happened.

But this… this was so, so much worse.

“Oh no,” you uttered under your breath, shooting up and suddenly sitting with back straight as a ruler just to look at the screen from shorter distance to-- nope, still there. “Oh fuck.”

You quickly scrambled to send another e-mail with similar text but the right file, along with a swift apology.

Sent 7:59.

You should be relieved. Perhaps Professor Barnes would notice the correct one first and automatically deleted the one that obviously must have been wrong.

So why couldn’t you find it in you to think you would have such luck?

At least if he opened the wrong document, he would understand very quickly that it was not what he had asked the students to do and would delete it before diving in fully, right?

But a worm of doubt – or intuition, whatever you wanted to call it – told you that it wouldn’t be the case.

You covered your mouth with your palms and screamed at the top of your lungs.

Penny, sleep-deprived considerably less than you because she was an actual responsible human being, walked from her room to the bathroom and blatantly ignored you, probably thinking you had missed the deadline by a minute and were now freaking out.

Oh, you wished.

“Pennyyyyyyyyy!” you cried out in a whiny tone, but she clicked the door shut as if nothing was happening. As if your whole life wasn’t in shambles because of one single e-mail. “Penelope, you get your ass back here! I need to know how to switch schools without having to repeat a year!”

Her wild black curls peeked from the bathroom, followed by an annoyed sleep-raspy voice. “Why? You accidently called Barnes a daddy in your message or somethin’?”

Your heart was still beating its way out of your chest, a low ominous hum in your ears. Gods above, you wished. Still would be easier to explain, like… you could claim it was a dare or something.

No, this was much, much worse.

Penny, apparently taken aback by the lack of your response, left the safety of the bathroom and approached your lair (probably stinking of sugary drinks and caffeine) and peeked over your shoulder, searching an explanation for your antics.

You only gulped, moved the cursor to the title of the document you had sent in your first e-mail and closed your eyes, actually feeling tears of humiliation stinging in them.

The silence that followed spoke volumes until-

“OH SHIT.”

You had just shared your smutty one-shot with your history professor, but that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was that it was starring his rumoured one and only best friend he shared an office with. One who had acted like a substitute for two weeks when Professor Barnes got a particularly bad case of cold, but wouldn’t leave you without a lecture. Needless to say, Professor Rogers had also starred several of your steamy dreams after that and became a source of inspiration for your occasional writing streaks.

And now your history professor could read all about it and, god forbid, share it with the man who was the template of the main character of the story. You weren’t dumb; you alternated the names, just in case of you didn’t even know what (and it might have made you feel better about writing filthy stuff about a prof), but you went with the same looks including hair and skin colour, hairstyle, Rogers’ glorious beard and you certainly didn’t omit his surprisingly ripped body.

So, yeah. Penny’s ‘OH SHIT’ was pretty accurate.

You were so screwed.

Yes, once again, you wished.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You had handed in your work on Friday morning and had been jittery all weekend, practically unable to focus on any of the studying you desperately needed to do. Normally, you might write some comforting piece to relieve your frustration, but that was not an option right now as simply opening a text editor gave you palpitations.

The all-nighter you had pulled didn’t exactly help your already non-existent ability to get your head on straight either.

You were looking forward to Monday and dreaded it at the same time – Professor Barnes was to give your assignments back with a mark and commentary. You were praying for Monday to come already, because you just needed to know the consequences of your actions. You were freaking out about Monday for very obvious reasons.

You had no idea what was happening in your first Monday class. Your lunch consisted of half bottle of coke.

And now here you were, seated in the second row of three, because that seemed like the safest place, a seat where Barnes couldn’t approach you from any angle.

When he entered the class, you decided to stubbornly watch the desk in front of you. Under any circumstances, you would not make eye-contact, wouldn’t raise your gaze. There was no fucking way anything would force you look his in the eye.

Or you thought so.

You hadn’t realized he would call out each of your names and would say the necessary commentary about doing well, missing something, excellent work, this one feeling a bit sloppy… out loud, which would made it truly impolite to keep staring ahead. With each work sent through the sea of people to hand it to those in the second row, your stomach was turning heavier, your heart beating faster.

And then Professor Barnes said your name and you winced in your seat, squeezing your eyes shut on instinct, the childish if I can’t see you, you can’t see me either kicking in.

He called out your name again as if there was a chance you missed it the first time and with a huge lump of panic in your throat, you blinked your eyes open and raised your gaze, only to meet his neutral face with just the tinniest twitch to the corners of his lips and a barely visible twinkle to his eye.

Your stomach dropped to the floor, your face burning with embarrassment and humiliation.

He held out the papers to the person in the first row in front of you, whose name you didn’t care for at the moment, and nodded his head.

“Not bad at all,” he said and that was the end of it.

Your essay landed in front of you and you finally breathed in properly, your hand trembling slightly as you noticed the circled B+ in the corner.

You were deaf to his next words, your heart jumping as you read the note by the mark.

B for the cliché used, + for the originality.

Huh. What a strange way to word an evaluation… but hey, you wouldn’t complain. For one, no one had filled a harassment complaint for your stupid ass so far and you had written this shit during an all-nighter and still got B+. This was the best outcome you could hope for; Barnes didn’t even give you shit about your... error.

A smile slowly found a way to your lips, a shy little thing, but definitely present, your mimic muscles, so stiff from trying to keep a poker face, relaxing.

You browsed over the other notes in red ink scattered over the pages, some sentences and phrases unlined and commented on, sometimes corrected, sometimes complimented to.

It wasn’t until you reached the red note that had one word from it actually crossed out and replaced.

Really hits the spot mark.

Your smile froze on your lips, your heart ceased to beat before kicking in with furious pace, loud pounding humming in your temples.

Oh god. Oh no.

Hitting a spot? He could have written it was ‘spot on’ or that it ‘hit the mark’… he made the mistake deliberately, you were certain of it – all of his other notes were so neat and thought through-

You checked the individual notes, your stomach twisting when you re-read them in a new light.

Nearly all the wording he had used was referencing to your… special assignment you had handed in.

Oh god, please, let the lightning hit me. Let the floor swallow me. Let the cardiac arrest momentarily trying to kill me actually kill me.

Interesting work for certain with a winky face?! Really? That would be innocent enough on its own, but it was feeling like a conspiratorial wink. The I know more than I let on and you know what I’m talking about wink.

The next one was a blatant double-entendre and you could bang your head against your desk for not realizing it first time reading it. Good writing, nice flow, clearly heading to the climax.

Your face was set aflame once more and despite your better judgement, you glanced at the professor momentarily showing whatever in his presentation.

He caught your gaze and had the audacity to wink.

You snapped your head away and silently whined, sliding down your chair nearly enough to lie on the floor.

OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.

Why did it have to be the smutty one you sent? Why couldn’t it be a cute one at least? You had loads of those! Why did it have to be the one about Steven damn Rogers, his friend?

Why, just WHY?!

Professor Barnes had definitely read it. And for some reason, you had a hunch that he had showed it to his friend slash colleague he shared an office with too.

You whined some more and pretended that this day was the apocalypse and that you would never have to face either of the professors ever again.

Of course, you could not have such luck.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Part 2

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

There it is! Shorter chapter for starters. Just you wait ;)

I’m pretty sure something like this have been written before, but plot bunnies are little shits that refuse to leave no matter how much you kick them and beg them to go away.

I blame @pies-writes-and-more @kayteewritessteve and @queen-kass-the-writer for supporting bad behaviour, but they are not the only ones. You know who you are, don’t YOU? I am a weak human being and you are corrupting me. Thanks, sweeties ;)

Thank you for reading!

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Tags: @scentedsongrebel @patzammit @donutloverxo @annathesillyfriend @orions-nebula @iheartsebastianstan @wxstedhexrt

If anyone wants on the taglist or out, lemme know via DM or an ask :)

-.-.-

ALSO. A friend of mine created a perfect artwork for this chapter/series and I wanted to share 😍🥰🤩:

Thank you, @chase-your-dreams-away 🥺

#marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #college au #professor au #professor!steve rogers #professor!bucky barnes #bucky barnes #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #student!reader #mcu #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #attached #anika ann

588 notes · View notes

nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

tell you i miss you but i don’t know how

word count: 2.7k

warnings: insinuated fem!reader, a singular swear word, it’s kinda angsty i guess

recommended listening: the story of us | taylor swift

a/n: long time hockey fan, long time reader, first time writer. i’ve been thinking about posting for a while and decided to bite the bullet. no time like the present i suppose. tagging some folks i feel might be interested (but there’s literally zero pressure please feel free to ignore) @matbaerzal @davidpastrsnack @troubatrain @jamiedrysdales

Breaking up was for the best.

You repeat the phrase like a mantra. It’s the first thing you think when you wake up, in the back of your mind as you sit in your cubicle, and verbally repeated anytime you pass a mirror. Deep down you know it’s right; you and Tyson aren’t on compatible lifepaths, and that’s okay. You just wish it didn’t hurt so much to say goodbye. He’s an easy person to miss, with his infectious smile and quick wit. Tyson’s the only person who’s made you laugh so hard tears roll down your cheek; the one who always picked up a bag of pretzels on his way home from the rink so you could have a snack after work. Though you didn’t expect to get over him quickly, you had no idea you’d still miss him nearly a year later. Or that it would hurt so much every time you see him in public.

♠♠♠♠♠

The bar offers a reprieve from the brisk Denver wind. October has been unusually chilly so far, but the bodies packed like sardines in the open room create all the heat insulation you need. It’s a Friday night and you’re hoping to unwind after a stressful week at work. It’s audit season, meaning you’ve had to pull crazy late nights as you read over the financial records of the firm’s junior partners. Today was particularly terrible, with the computer system crashing, and you really need a drink. Your friends are supposed to meet you, but a text confirms that traffic is heavier than they anticipated and they’re running late.

Not wanting to waste precious time, you head straight for the only empty space at the bar. A bartender a few years older than you sees you approach and leans close to hear your order over the thumping bass. “Could I just grab a gin and tonic?” you ask, and she smiles before turning away to make your drink. A minute later a drink is placed in your hand and you scour the venue for a table. A small booth is available in the corner; the perfect size for your party. It turns out to be the perfect spot for people watching, and you casually sip your drink and occasionally scroll through instagram while you wait. A text from your friend alerts you everyone is fifteen minutes out. Though it’s pretty crowded everyone seems to be congregating on the dance floor so you don’t hesitate to leave your table and order a second drink.

This gin and tonic goes down easier than the first, and soon you’re on your third. There’s still no sign of your friends anywhere and the balls of your feet ache from the heels you wore to the office today. You abandon your plan to meet them at the door, firing off a text giving your location in the venue. Once sitting down, you take off your shoes and rub at your feet. Why did you choose today to abide by the dress code? You typically wore a discreet pair of sneakers and wished you could go back in time to change your shoe choice.

“I see you’re still drinking gin and can’t wear heels for more than two hours.”

His voice sends shivers down your spine. You look up to see Tyson smiling down at you, and the room spins around you. The entire reason you picked this bar was because it was the only one the boys didn’t frequent, but it seems they’re here anyways.

“I’m consistent,” you say, trying to keep your voice even. The sight of Tyson makes your heart clench. He looks good, glowing the way that means the team came out with a win and that he played well and put up some points.

Tyson nods to the empty seat across from you, and against your better judgement you allow him to sit. A small section of your brain thinks he’s going to confess he’s been miserable the last few months, that he’s still madly in love with you. It seems to be the part controlling the rest of your body. “That’s one thing that’ll never change. How’s work?”

You hum wistfully, wishing he wouldn’t make small talk. How is this so easy for him? “Busy,” you sigh. “It’s audit season so the department is swamped. The boys still causing issues?”

“They’re annoying as ever.” He smiles at you again. The sick feeling in your stomach doesn’t subside. Tyson gives you a quick recap of the Avs’ season so far, and you half pay attention. You’ve gone to great lengths to avoid seeing him: switched the way you drive home, where you hang out with friends, what grocery store you go to. It’s a little ironic he’d find you here of all places.

Idle chatter occurs for a while. Tyson’s talking to you like he’s reuniting with a childhood friend, not an ex-lover. As much as you find the conversation uncomfortable, you can’t turn him away. You miss sitting with him, talking about anything under the sun. Life hasn’t been as bright since the break up. No matter how hard you try, nothing fills the Tyson sized hole in your heart. In a twisted way his presence is comforting, a reminder of what once was. Eventually his teammates realize he’s gone missing and come to whisk him away.

“See you around Y/N,” Tyson says, a little bewildered because J.T is dragging him by the belt loops.

All you can croak out is a feeble “Yeah.” He doesn’t look back once he’s away from the table. You shouldn’t have expected him to; he seems to be doing fine. Well even. Every step he takes breaks your heart a little more, and you curse yourself for missing him and down the rest of your drink.

Your friends find you crying in the bathroom and usher you home.

♠♠♠♠

Despite being separated from Tyson, you’re still close with some members of the Avalanche extended family. Mel Landeskog continually reaches out, ensuring you’re doing the best you can given the circumstances. It isn’t easy when your ex-boyfriend is the pride of Denver, plastered over every billboard in a fifteen mile radius of the city. When she called to ask if you’d emergency babysit Linnea while she ran errands you jumped at the opportunity to help.

“Thank you so much,” Mel says, cooing to her daughter who’s comfortably placed in your arms.

“It’s not a problem,” you insist, “I’m just glad I can finally start repaying you for everything you’ve done for me.”

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, telling you to text her if you need anything picked up at the store. You’re then left alone with the baby who is luckily one of the happiest you’ve ever seen. The first hour or so is spent entertaining Linnea with various toys and games. Her smile and laugh melt your heart, and your mind briefly flashes to conversations you had about children with Tyson. You push them from your mind, not wanting to lose your focus. The child in front of you is the one that matters, not the hypothetical one from times past. Around two she gets fussy; a bottle and quick diaper change satiate her.

“You having fun pretty girl?” you coo. “I’m not always the most exciting to be around.” She doesn’t respond; just looks up at you with heavy lids. You pull her closer to your chest, rocking gently back and forth on your heels. Within minutes she’s soundly asleep and you head upstairs to place her in the crib.

Back on the main floor, you settle into the corner of the couch. The baby monitor is on the coffee table and you keep your laptop at a low volume to ensure you’d hear anything. You sift through the mess in your inbox, deleting promotional emails and replying to those that need your attention. After killing half an hour, you quickly check on Linnea before scrolling through social media. According to twitter the Avalanche are on a six game winning streak and are looking to keep it alive. You honestly could care less about hockey anymore; it’s a painful reminder that Tyson is no longer yours. In truth you’re happy for the team because they work hard and deserve it. Other social media platforms yield nothing of interest and you soon feel yourself nodding off. Looking at the clock you realize there’s about an hour left in the baby’s nap, so you let yourself sleep.

A knock on the door startles you awake. Careful not to cause a commotion that could wake Linnea you head in the direction of the entryway. The knocking increases as you approach, and you open the door to a disheveled Tyson.

“What are you doing here?” You didn’t mean for the question to come off so rude, but it does.

He pays it no mind. “Is Gabe home yet?”

“No,” you sputter. “I’m watching Linnea while Mel stepped out.”

Tyson looks stumped. “He should be home by now. We had plans to unwind before the game.” You make no attempt to stop him from entering, and he takes his shoes off without another word. Aimlessly trailing behind him, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when he heads to the guest room. “I’m gonna take a nap, have Landy wake me up when he gets home.”

“Can do,” you sigh, but it falls on deaf ears. Tyson’s already got the door shut, and you imagine he’s climbing under the covers, blissfully unaffected by your presence. You can’t say the same. Knowing he’s less than fifty feet from you sends you spiraling. Flashbacks of pre-game cuddles grace the back of your eyelids, and you rub your temples furiously to get rid of the images. It doesn’t help. You want nothing more than to not be bothered by how much you miss seeing him. You miss the way his hands felt entangled with yours and how sweet his voice sounds in the morning. Being this hung up on a person so long after a relationship has ended can’t be healthy.

The baby monitor crackles, signaling the baby, and the only reason you haven’t fled, is once again awake. Linnea’s room is bright and cheerful; the perfect hideaway from Tyson. Sometime during your tenth reciting of Green Eggs and Ham Mel returns. She finds you upstairs and giddily sweeps up her child, missing her terribly even though she was only gone for a couple of hours.

“Did everything go okay?”

You nod. “She was a dream. The happiest baby I’ve ever seen. She might need to be changed soon though.”

Mel nods. “I saw Tyson’s car in the driveway, did he meet Gabe?”

“He’s actually asleep in the downstairs guest room,” you whisper, scared he’ll sense you’re talking about it, and by extension thinking about him, missing him.

“Oh. Shit.”

That’s the understatement of the year. “Yeah.” You quickly help put away the groceries before heading out, not wanting to disrupt the routine more so than you already had. Really though, you want to be as far away from the Landeskog’s as possible before Tyson wakes up. You’ll have to do a better job of avoiding him in the future, you decide on the way home. You’re heart can’t take seeing him this frequently – or at all.

♠♠♠♠

You would rather be anywhere than the Pepsi Center. It’s the first time you’ve been in the arena since breaking up with Tyson and you’re downright miserable. However, you promised your younger brother you’d take him to a game the next time he visited Denver with your parents and you aren’t about to break his heart. Ryan is borderline obsessed with the Avalanche and hockey in general. At eleven he’s showing significant promise and you know he works hard.

“Ry, slow down,” you huff, desperately trying to keep up with him. The kid is swaying through the throng of people at lightning speed, desperately trying to make it to your seats to catch warmup. Wanting to make the experience special for him, you purchased seats along the glass across from the Avs bench. Your brother halts, tapping his foot impatiently as you join him and match his stride.

Contrary to what Ryan thinks, your seats have not been stolen and warmup is just starting. His winter jacket is soon placed on the seat, revealing the too big jersey underneath. The number seventeen nearly sits at his elbow and the name-bar is askew because one side keeps slipping down, but your brother’s happy. He’s preoccupied with watching players do passing drills, hands pressed against the glass, and you allow yourself to look around. Virtually nothing has changed since the last time you were here. The banners are still the same, the energy electric. One small difference is your seating arrangement: the better halves’ box is no longer a luxury you have available to you. A quick glance in that direction confirms they’re enjoying themselves, laughing and no doubt in the midst of planning the next off-season wedding.

Ryan grips the hem of your sweater to get your attention. “Look Y/N,” he squeals, “Tys and J.T are coming over!” Sure enough, the two friends are making a beeline in your direction. Tyson waves and Ryan eagerly reciprocates. You’re reminded just how much he misses Tyson; they were the best of friends whenever they could get together. Another piece of your heart breaks in that moment, as you realize you aren’t the only hurting from the breakup.

“You’ve got him in the wrong jersey Y/N,” J.T smirks. “Think he’d look better with thirty-seven plastered all over.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll remember that Compher. You got the spare change lying around to buy him one?” There’s no malice in your voice; you truly miss joking around with him.

Tyson throws a puck high enough to clear the plexiglass. “Ry-Guy, catch!” It lands unceremoniously at Ryan’s feet, but he beams as he picks it up. The two boys share a makeshift fist bump and quickly catch up with each other. It’s been over a year since they’ve seen each other at this point, and Ryan has so much he wants to talk about. J.T tells a joke that makes the younger boy laugh, and Tyson turns his attention to you.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he says, doing his best to convey his sincerity. The energy of the area and the adrenaline have Tyson shaking slightly, and he rocks back onto his blades.

You study his facial features as you inhale. He’s still incredibly handsome, just slightly more defined, like he’s growing into himself. “Likewise,” you exhale. You know you shouldn’t lie but you can’t help it; for Ryan’s sake you need to pretend that seeing Tyson doesn’t make you want to curl into a ball and cry. He smiles sadly, like he knows you’re putting on a show. He probably does – you’ve never been good at hiding your emotions from him. Has been able to see how much you hurt every time you interact?

Ryan recaptures Tyson’s attention for a few final moments before he has to return to the locker room. With a high-five and a promise to call soon he skates away, leaving your brother to gush about his idol. The game goes better than you could have ever imagined; the Avs gain a landslide victory and Tyson gets a hatrick. After each goal he points in your direction and Ryan goes berserk. You catch yourself smiling, proud of his accomplishment, before you realize you won’t be at the celebratory afterparty. That isn’t your life anymore.

The traffic out of the arena is terrible, and Ryan’s asleep in the backseat before you hit the interstate. In some sort of daze you think about what you’d be doing with Tyson right now if you were still together. Maybe you’d be getting ready to make an appearance at a club to celebrate the big game, but it’s more likely you’d be pressed together on the couch, watching a nature documentary to unwind. It’s moments like that you miss most; where you were both too comfortable and enamored with each other to care about your social obligations. A single tear escapes and flows down your cheek. One turns into ten, and soon you’re sobbing over lost love.

♠♠♠♠

Tyson Jost isn’t someone you could ever stop loving. He’s the human equivalent of the sun, and even now your life revolves around him. It’s centered on missing him, sure, but that’s a part of him nonetheless. You can only hope it gets easier to deal with.

#tyson jost imagine #tyson jost x reader #tyson jost fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites

140 notes · View notes

royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

Text

Title: The Confession

Chris Evans x Best Friend Reader

Warning: Cursing, Super Angst

Words: 3.2k

Summary: Not this time.

Note: Okay, so I told you guys I had an idea and that it was new to me and my blog. TA-DA! I am super excited to see how far I can take this and how I can make this work. I hope you guys enjoy it and I hope this isn’t trash. I have no idea how long this will be, so let’s play it by ear. Tell me what you think. Like it? Hate it? Ways to improve?

Note 2: So we have a series cover. What do you guys think? I don’t love, love it but I like it. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Note 3: I tagged everyone who asked for forever tags and those from quarantine thinking you may like this. If you want off, shoot me a message and it’ll be done. Thank you for reading lovelies! 😘😘

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive--kinda***

Previous Chapters: 1 |

You didn’t sleep one wink after that. Who could sleep after that? You sat up just staring out to nowhere. When you weren’t sitting, you paced your apartment like some crazy woman. When that became too much, you just flipped the tv channels, never staying on one thing long enough to comprehend what was happening. You were restless, and that restlessness freaked you out.

There were so many times you held your phone and just stared at the exchange in a hyper state of anxiety, wondering if he’d send more. After the final message, though, he didn’t send any more. That should have been a relief, but it wasn’t. You then began to wonder why he hadn’t sent any other messages. You wondered if he was drunk and just saying random things, or if he’d meant to send them to someone else.

By the time the sun was rising, you hadn’t slept a wink. You were wired, mentally exhausted, and completely confused. You were not functioning normally. It took you forever to get dressed and ready to get out the door. By the time you got to your office, you were almost two hours late. That two-hour push back was not ideal. It meant your day would be two hours longer and you had to work triple time to catch up. Thankfully, the only thing that was thrown out of whack was your ability to have any breaks. When you finished one meeting, you immediately had to jump into the next meeting or task. You did your best to stay focused, but it was difficult.

Once the time the normal workday was finished, you were still left with so much to do. The event was two days away, and there were so many things to iron out. Every time you were in the middle of one thing in came the memory of the text messages from last night. That resulted in you rehashing the whole thing before you groaned and got back on track only to repeat the cycle ten minutes later. You heard the chime on your phone go off, and terror stilled you. What if it was Chris, you thought. Five minutes of internal turmoil passed before you took a deep breath and dug your phone out from inside your desk drawer.

Scott’s message was a relief. After a few deep breaths, you responded with a straightforward lie.

You thought about if you should tell him all about your last twenty-four hours. Chris was your best friend in the world, but you also adored his siblings. With the amount of time you spent with Chris, Scott was almost always around. They had a close relationship, and through your childhoods, you’d gotten close to Scott too. As you began to type to tell him what happened, you paused and deleted it all. You still didn’t know what last night was. You were too chicken shit to text him back to find out. It was like you believed if you just didn’t acknowledge it, then nothing happened, and nothing would change.

Unlikely, but possible, you thought.

He was right. It used to annoy the heck out of you, but you’d come to accept it. He’d always tried to get you out and moving so many mornings before the sun even rose. You were always the one to refuse and try to hide and lock him out. Nothing kept him out, though; he always found a way in to drag you out of bed.

Highly likely and possible. As you typed it, you screwed your face. You’d come to terms with the fact of Chris being a bit of a—free spirit. You’d been around to see all of his girlfriends, the ones that lasted for a year or more, and even the ones that were just months; all of his flings, and all of his one-night stands. You never judged; it wasn’t your place, and honestly, as long as everyone was consenting, you didn’t care. He was a man with needs. His confession flashed through your mind again, and it swirled with the knowledge of him sleeping around. It didn’t make any sense.

Once you shot off the text, you began to wonder if he was okay. Yeah, there were times he got so busy he just didn’t respond to messages until later but usually if his family called back to back he’d answer. Maybe he was with some girl and too enthralled in their sexcapade that he just couldn’t get around to answering. You began to type a message off to Chris to check if he was okay, but halfway through, you deleted the entire thing.

“Jesus Chris, Y/N. Thirty-something years of friendship, and now you can’t talk to the man?” You groaned in frustration as you dropped your head to your desk with a heavy “thud.” When your phone went off in your hands, you yelped out in the quiet office, scaring yourself half to death.

That was all it took for your heart to begin a thunderous pace. With bugged eyes, you just stared at the flashing dots that signified he was writing a message.

You bit your bottom lip hard, so hard you tasted the copper-like liquid on your tongue. You weren’t sure just what you were feeling, but you knew it was more than one emotion. Feeling like his words were your sustenance, you inched the phone closer to your face and waited as the dots appeared again.

You gaped at the phone as if it were his face. Just what the fuck were you supposed to say? He knew you better than that. He knew that if you didn’t know what to say, you would remain silent. He also knew that if you didn’t respond, you were pissed. Did he think you were pissed?

They came in like rapid fire. He was texting as he thought. He did it often with you. You did too.

Panic set in as you realized it was true. “Oh, fuck!”

It was then your phone began to ring, showing Chris’s face on the screen. Yelping, you accidentally tossed your phone in the air and saw the error of your ways in seconds. As you tried to catch it, it bounced off your hands a few times only to slip through your fingers and bounce on your carpeted floor. When it landed face down, the door opened.

“Are you okay?”

You were frozen half laid across your desk with a look of horror on your face.

“Yeah. I’m—fine.” You did your best to sound as believable as possible as you straightened yourself before you stood to walk over to your friend, Irisa. She bent and picked up your phone, then held it out to you as you approached.

“I don’t appreciate having to hunt you down. We had plans,” she scolded.

You’d completely forgotten that you were supposed to meet her at her place to grab a bite to eat.

“I’m sorry, I forgot. Things have been crazy today.” Irisa rolled her eyes though you knew she’d forgive you.

“The only place we can go now that we missed our reservation is Baltic to take advantage of your forever table there.

“Why are you complaining? You know you love Baltic’s food.”

“I do, but I wanted to try that new sushi spot tonight. God knows the next time you’ll have time for me might not be New Year,” Irisa whined. It was your turn to roll your eyes as you walked back to your desk to gather your things.

Before you put your phone away, you saw another message.

Now he wants to talk. Hadn’t he done enough talking?

Shaking it off, you dropped your phone in your back and turned back to Irisa.

“Why are you so dramatic?”

“Maybe I learned from the best,” she finished as the two of you walked out of your office.

You tried to stay present in the cab while the two of you made your way to dinner. You tried to listen to Irisa talk about her day and the blissful bubble she found herself in with her boyfriend, Callum. You knew they’d make a good match; that was why you set them up. Two years later, they were still going strong. Irisa and Callum liked to tag along with you when you hung out with Chris. You didn’t mind; it was always a good time. Annoyance filled you because no matter what, everything usually led back to him. It felt strange to leave him on read. You were always talking throughout the day.

When you arrived at Baltic, the hostess Bree recognized you and gave you a welcoming smile.

“How are you, Y/N?”

“I’m good. How are you?”

“Great. You know I love this place, plus I just got a raise.” You high fived her.

“Congratulations. You know this place would crumble without you.”

She laughed loudly and shook her head. “I’m glad the boss isn’t here to hear you say that.” You smiled and allowed her to lead you and Irisa to your seats.

“Your usual.”

“Thank you, Bree.” She nodded and walked away back to the hostess desk.

“I still think she--,” Irisa began before you cut her off with a loud, obnoxious sound. You didn’t want to hear it at all.

“Okay, fine, I’ll shut up.”

“Finally,” you joked.

For the next several minutes, the two of you skimmed the menu and got to talking about the plethora of random things you did when you got to together. You never stayed on one topic for too long, but you always came back to those same topics. Everyone always teased the two of you of your scatterbrain antics, but neither of you cared. This was how the two of you worked.

An hour later, you and Irisa were deep in plates of food. Since you’d skipped lunch and all breaks, you were starving, and it was apparent thanks to the multitude of plates that were spread out across the table.

“So, is everything planned for tomorrow?”

You nodded your answer as you tried to finish the calamari in your mouth. “That had been planned for a while now. What kind of planner would I be if I was still preparing twenty-four hours to the event?”

“Girl, a simple yes or no would have sufficed,” Irisa shot back.

She was right. You were still wound tightly thanks to no sleep, stressful conditions, and a particular best friend of yours.

“Sorry, yes. It’s planned.”

“Is Chris making the trip back for it?”

Doing your best to keep a neutral face, you shrugged. “Not sure, but I don’t think so. He’s dead in the middle of working.”

“Still, it’s an important day for you. He’s always been there for you. I doubt he’d miss it.”

You thought about her words. She was right. He’d been there for every important event in your life—never missed one no matter what. Thinking back again to his messages and your silence, you doubted he’d come. You shrugged and casually brushed it off.

“If he’s there, he’s there. If not, eh.”

Irisa studied you with a quizzical look on her face. She’d no doubt heard the over flippant tone in your voice and was now putting on her investigator hat.

“You sure you’re okay?”

After taking a demure sip of your margarita, you smiled at her, hoping it reassured her. “I’m good, I promise.”

Irisa studied you for a few more moments before she nodded and went back to eating.

By the time you got home that night is was nearing midnight. You were dead on your feet, and thanks to the six margaritas you’d had, the only thing you wanted was your bed. You quickly stripped then face dived into your plush blankets, pushing everything out of your mind hoping to get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day.

~~~~~~~

The pounding on the door was what jarred you from your sleep. You rolled and crashed to the hard floor.

“Ouuuch!”

When you snapped your head up and the time on the alarm clock beside your bed came into focus, you screeched. It was eleven-ten. Bolting to your feet, you hurried down the stairs to the front door to let in the hired hair and makeup team and your assistant Aamal.

“We’ve been standing here for almost twenty minutes, Y/N.”

“I know Aamal. I’m so sorry. I have no idea what happened. Come, come in.”

The team of five walked into your townhouse and began setting up. Aamal held out the black garment bag to you. “You’re lucky I called them this morning. You were supposed to get this yesterday.”

“I know, everything is crazy. I forgot. I’m gonna be late. Give me twelve minutes to take a shower.”

You hurried up the steps to your bathroom. You’d gotten good at taking twelve-minute showers and still being squeaky clean. While you showered, you blamed the margaritas you’d had for this predicament you found yourself in now. If you’d kept it at one, then you would have woken up on time, and you wouldn’t need to hurry to make it to the party for twelve. At this rate, you had no idea if you were going to make it at all.

By the time the makeup and hair team began primping and priming you, it was eleven-thirty. You decided to change the planned hairstyle from a sleep updo to a mixture of loose and flowy curls. It would still go with the outfit, but it would take less time to accomplish. Then entire time your foot shook. It was a nervous tick that you’d had since you were five years old, a tick you still hadn’t outgrown. It was a tick only a select few knew what it meant. You were close to losing your shit.

When you were stuck in traffic eight minutes from the venue, it was a little after twelve-fifteen.

“Calm down. No one is supposed to arrive until twelve-thirty anyway. You just like to be early,” Aamal voiced.

“I have to look over the setting and give any last-minute changes.”

“I don’t know who plans their own party,” Aamal scoffed.

You were meticulous and knew what you liked. You didn’t want to hire anyone for something you could do for free. Plus, it gave you yet another opportunity to showcase your knack for this career you chose to be in. You loved it.

When the car finally arrived, you hurried inside through the service entrance and met the rest of your team. As you approached them, you looked around the venue, already pleased with what you saw. The pinks, greens, golds, and other colors of the tropics all went well together. When you had the idea, it was just a few pictures thrown together, and now it was a full-blown tropical luau. A smile spread across your face was the indication your team needed to know that you were happy with the finished product.

“This is perfect, guys. You did well.”

They looked relieved and then overjoyed. As they walked you through the glass-roofed solarium, you took in every palm tree, pineapple, and bamboo hut you passed. It was perfect.

Before you knew it, the room filled with your family and friends, everyone had the same reaction as you. They marveled at the beauty of the decorations and the elaborateness of your plans. You were that planner, the one to bring the elaborateness to life.

“Y/N!” Spinning around, you saw Scott, Lisa, Carly, and Shanna approach you. Once they got close, they engulfed you in a tight group hug. Groaning, you allowed them to smother you.

“Goodness, you’re gorgeous!”

“Thank you. I’m so glad you guys could come.”

“Really, you’re family, of course we’d be here,” Carly expressed with a wide smile.

You’d all grown up together in one way or the other, and you did feel like they were your sisters.

“Your mother and I were making the rounds around the room, and I am amazed at what you’ve pulled off,” Lisa said.

“It’s beautiful in here. I love it,” Shanna added.

“Me too. It is so much better than I pictured,” you admitted.

“You’re so modest. You knew you were going to slay this,” Scott teased. Throwing your arms around him again, you giggled, fully appreciating that he was there.

Aamal approached your side with a wide smile. “Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt. I’ve been sent to find you. It’s time for your welcome address.”

“Right. I’ll be right back guys.”

With your arm looped with Aamal’s, she led you through the crowd of one hundred toward the spot you’d decided was the best for speeches of all kinds. As you passed friendly faces, you warmly smiled at them and mouthed your thanks for their attendance. When you looked back up, that was when you saw him in the back. Instantly, you felt butterflies in your belly. You didn’t know what kind they were, though. Fuck, you thought.

Chris wore yet another great suit you knew he’d picked himself. You could always tell the difference between a CEvans outfit and a stylist put together one. You bit your bottom lip; you could feel it trembling. He gathered in along with the other guests but kept his eyes glued to you.

“There you are beautiful.” The familiar deep voice beside you brought your attention from Chris. As you looked upon the smiling face of Jaxon standing before you, the butterflies intensified. Again, you had no idea what kind they were.

“Hi yourself, handsome.” Jaxon lowered his lips to your forehead and wrapped his arm around your hip before he faced the guests.

“Uh, first, Y/N, and I would like to thank you all for coming today to this shower. It means more than you all could ever know. Um, each of you have impacted us as a couple in some way or form, and we want to thank you for your friendship, advice, and support on the path to us getting here. Let’s raise a glass to each of you; you have our eternal gratitude. Here, here.”

Everyone repeated the words before they took a sip from their glasses. Before anyone scurried off, Jaxon turned to you.

“And to my beautiful, kind, loving, and immensely sexy fiancé, the day we met, I knew the second you shook my hand that you’d be my wife. I was always told that when a man knows he’s found the one, there would be no doubt in his mind, and I’m happy to attest to that being fact. You are my future, my destiny, and my home. I love you so much. Thank you for agreeing to become Mrs. Pierre.”

Everyone around you awed and clapped. You tried not to feel self-conscious, but you couldn’t help it. Jaxon lowered his lips to yours, quickly setting the tone for the kiss as he delved his tongue into your mouth. You moaned, sensing his intent, but like always, you quickly got caught up in his kisses and kissed him with a fraction of the passion he kissed you. The cheers and yelps around you had you pulling away before Jaxon got any ideas.

“Enjoy yourselves, everyone, eat, drink, party,” you exclaimed, hoping to douse the rising humidity in the room.

One look at Chris in the back of the room, and you could see the storm on his face and recognized and knew it well.

He was pissed.

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

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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

TagList:

@chaneajoyyy @sonjashuterbugjohnson @disneysdarlingdiva @bellaamor88 @toniilaney @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @ajspencer1892 @ashanti-notthesinger @90sinspiredgirl @titty-teetee @evemej @areubeingserved @theskullgoddess @caramara3 @champagnesugamama @minton131 @pananegra @scoop93535 @try-n-pronounce-it @dumbchick @behindthesehazeleyes27 @blackmissfrizzle @nervousninjatheorist @dangerouslovefanfic @surmya1907 @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @thinkxlovexloud @chris-butt @starlite-starbite @momobaby227 @alyxkbrl @angrybirdcr @d1ff3r3nt-b34uty-official @twinx007 @a-dizzle777 @ab-baybay @patzammit @kreolemami @aysha1447 @cutewylie @disaster-rose @wondersofdreaming @lo-cheu @livinglifeformemyselfandi @magdelen69 @snowpiercer21 @renfrewscorner @thevelvetseries @mery-be @hakunalive4eva @anandalambert @youurkryptonite @mizcaptainphoenix @bobbdylann @emilykjhgsj @littlepreciousangel @ssaarroonn @thummbelina @sweetlittlegingy @art-estrange @torntaltos @rynabarnesrogers @rororo06 @anotherblackfangirl @bernie-k @theonewithherheadintheclouds @hista-girl @coldmuffinbanditshoe @jennmurawski13 @deathstroke-terminated-deez-guts @maxcullen @shadyskit @someone-really-bored @thejemersoninferno @itsallyscorner @cristinagronk16 @shakemeupthanks-blog @acciolove724 @straightforwardly @zsuzstyina @acevansss @evansgirl7 @jovanaprime @deadlymistress24 @sunkissedebony97 @turn-thy-paige @amelatonin @nerdybitchpudding @amennariee @likesfairytales @maverickabull @est1887 @periodtcevans @thotti3par7on @vintageembrace @produtofchina @jd-now-jq @winchwm @jesseswartzwelder @pivictorious @anat2507 @euh-say-what-now @raveviolet @rdjparker @actorinfluence @sadishdelray @041802 @ @ljstraightnochaser @priya212 @evermcfearless @tashawar @dwights-new-plague @miss-jackson500 @jd-now-jq @renfrewscorner @baby-iyania @brwnsugababe @richonne4life @evansshine @munteanhore @spideydobrik @laketaj24 @munteanhore @chris-butt @priya212 @euh-say-what-now @richonne4life @brownskinafro @chrissbabybunny @night-of-the-living-shred @simply-heaven @chaos-crusader

***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.

#the confession fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

513 notes · View notes

taurean-brat · 4 years

Text

Cafuné - Angel Reyes

Summary— Cafuné, an unique, untranslatable Afro-Brazilian Portuguese word meaning “to run your fingers through your lovers hair”. Angel x Spanish Speaking/Latina!Reader

Warning(s): Fluff, a little sad (?), mention of sexual situations, the grey sweats and shirtless Angel.

Final Word Count: 2.3K This was supposed to be something short. Like maybe 1K short. Smhh

A/N: Also this is not beta read. I wrote this cause it’s cloudy and cold out and I was listening to the song Cafuné by Micro TDH. It’s a very beautiful song and one of my favorites for when I’m in one of these moods with a candle lit and the room dark and Now I wish I was being held, but sadly I ain’t got a man.

_______________________________________________

The moment you opened your eyes, the grey and cloudy light flooding your room through your slightly open curtains, you knew what kind of day was in store for you and wanted nothing more than to just wish you hadn’t woken up. Or that you lived in an alternate reality… or something. You hated these gloomy, cloudy days for the feelings they elicited in you, and you knew it would only get worse as the day dragged on.

Days like this were rare for you, where you just wanted to be wrapped up tight in your mans arms and do nothing all day, the feelings of listlessness and overwhelming sadness being washed away just by knowing you were safe in those arms. But staring at the empty side of your bed where your husband slept, you knew it wasn’t happening.

Not because he wouldn’t drop everything to come home and be with you if you told him, but because you didn’t want to burden him with the neediness your emotions elicited in you.

With a sigh, you throw the covers off you, shivering at the cool December air, and just briefly you’re taken back to growing up in New York, where it was more than likely snowy and cold enough to freeze hell over.

The reminder just made it worse and with a groan, you pull yourself out of bed, making quick work of making the bed and then heading to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth, staring at your usually vibrant hazel green eyes look more of a glassy grayish blue.

Leaning over the sink, you stare closely at your reflection, your dark curls framing your face in the half up half down you’d thrown it in as they hell over your shoulder and down into the sink.

“Come on, Y/N, it’s just a few hours.” You say to yourself looking for the strong woman you usually see in your reflection and not the sad girl you’re not so used to seeing anymore. “Just throw on his favorite hoodie, some leggings, and wait a few hours. Then you can cuddle with Angel all that you want.”

And that’s exactly what you did. You made quit work of throwing on some pink fuzzy socks, black leggings and his favorite hoodie, which happened to be light pink color with a small red rose stitched over the heart and the words “almost dead” in black, gothic lettering across the top. It made you giddy every time he wore it, your giggling nonstop. It wasn’t because men wearing pink was wrong— if anything the fact he’s not afraid of wearing it just makes you love him all the more— but rather because your man, the badass, 6’3”, built as fuck biker can rock the color. And it did things to you.

Immediately, you felt somewhat better, just standing there inhaling the unmistakeable scent of him for a few minutes before you moved along to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee and eat the french toast you found covered on the counter, still warm and you wondered how you didn’t wake up at the smell. Just looking at it, you knew he’d made it exactly to your liking with extra cinnamon, and very obviously lots of powdered sugar.

Making quick work of eating your breakfast, and serving your coffee (two splashes of French vanilla creamer and three teas spoons of sugar), you washed your plate, putting it to dry and then grabbed your speaker off the table.

While you still wished you were in Angels arms, the simple gesture of him making you your favorite breakfast, warmed your heart, and you couldn’t resist sending him a text as soon as you sat down on the couch and turned the tv on:

To: Mi Santo Diablo:

Thank you for leaving me breakfast, Mi Rey. Te Amo hasta que no queden estrellas en el cielo.

You made quick work of taking a picture of your small smile, face half hidden in his hoodie and attaching it to the text before pressing send.

While waiting for a response you turned on your speaker, connected it to your phone and put on some upbeat Spanish music while you put on a show on mute in the background (a habit you’d picked up as a teenager so you wouldn’t feel so lonely while studying late at night). You’d started cleaning up as the music started. While it wasn’t something you wanted to do today, it was better to keep yourself busy than disappear into your mind.

You spent the next hour cleaning the kitchen, and moved on to vacuuming the rug in the living room when you heard your phone go off and you knew it was Angel, so you opened it quickly

From: Mi Santo Diablo:

You’re welcome, Mi Dulce. You deserved a day to sleep in. Yo también te amo. Hasta que el sol deje de arder.

You smiled and went to send a series of emojis when another text came in.

From: Mi Santo Diablo:

You look bella in my sweater, bebe. Can’t wait to have you in my arms.

You deleted the text you were gonna send and then proceeded to sending a few puppy eye emojis with some of the emoji with the floating hearts around the face, making use of the echo feature so it would fill up his screen. Before you went back to cleaning.

By the time you were done, cleaning, doing laundry, and putting said laundry away, the sun was starting to set and getting dark.

Walking back to the kitchen, you go about making vodka sauce and white rice to make penne ala vodka. Usually you’d wait for Angel, but you hadn’t eaten since breakfast since you skipped lunch. Plus, he called to say he’d be a bit late and to eat without him. And while you didn’t want to, and it made you frown, you did so because you’d likely pass out if you went any longer without eating.

You ate your food pretty quickly, as always when it was a pasta dish, setting some aside for Angel in the microwave and another one for him to take to the clubhouse tomorrow before putting the rest of it in the fridge and washing the dishes.

While still in the kitchen, you lit a few candles, setting one on the counter and taking the other with you to the coffee table in front of the couch as you watched the last rays of the sun disappear.

Sitting on the couch, you grabbed your phone off the table and lowered the music a bit so it wasn’t blaring so loudly the neighbors probably felt it in their bones. You found a not quite so upbeat song, but wasn’t so sad either. It just depended. It was one you’d found a few months back and you couldn’t help but falling in love with the lyrics.

Putting it on repeat you laid on the couch and just stared blankly at the fire, listening to the song, and singing along certain parts.

You were so caught up in just singing along quietly, staring at the fire of your candle, that you didn’t hear the door open and close behind you. Nor did you hear the footsteps walking towards the back of the couch nor feel the warm chocolate brown eyes staring you, full of love as you sighed and curled up a little more as the song restarted, putting your face deeper into the hoodie.

To Angel, it was cute finding you curled up on the couch in his clothes. Filled him with a lot more love than he thinks he’d ever be able to show you but he’d be damned if he didn’t try every now and then to do so. It also made him want to fuck you in them until you could only say his name and were creaming all over him

But seeing you now, curled up as small as you could make yourself and likely a hairsbreadth away from startle to cry, he knew that wasn’t what you needed, so before he did anything he walked back up to your room, changed out of his clothes and put on some grey sweats, forgoing the shirt.

It wasn’t long before he was standing in front of you, blocking your view of the candle and watching, slightly amused as you blinked and trailed your eyes up his legs, stopping briefly on his very obvious dick print before they trailed up his chest and then to his face before meeting his eyes.

“Move, I wanna lay down.” He says without much else, watching the small smile make its way to her face, likely about to say something, before he decided to make his way on to the couch. His girl was small, fun size, a huffing voice sounding very much like yours said in his head, and that made her easy to just pick up and carry around. So he did just that. Picked her up and then stretched himself out on the couch, before sitting her on top of him. The annoyed huff she let out was followed shortly by giggling

“Excuse me, I was laying there.” She says and he scoffs.

“Nah, mami, you were curled up like a little kitten.” He says and smirks, “Big difference.”

The pout on her face is cute and he can’t help but laugh, as he brings her down to place a kiss on her lips.

“Rude, mi amor. Very rude.” You says, quickly getting comfortable, hiding her face in his neck as his arms wrap around her in a tight embrace. And when he thinks you’re gonna be quiet, and just enjoy being in his arms, you lift your head up, eyes narrowed at him. “Also, who the fuck gave you permission to look like such a fucking thot, huh? Wearing my favorite grey sweats without my permission.”

It made him laugh, his arms tightening around you a little more but not enough to hurt you.

“Hush up, mi dulce, you Ain’t one to talk. Wearing them fucking leggings.” He’s quick to move his hands down to your tights clad ass and squeezing before he lands one hard smack on each cheek, causing you to yelp and then giggle as he brings his arms back around you rubbing up and down your back slightly before embracing you again.

“Alright, fair point.” You say, looking up at him, your eyes full of love, and if humanly possible you’d likely have hearts for pupils whenever you stared at him. You kiss at his neck and what you can reach of his jaw for a few before you just decide to lay there, the song once again restarting.

Angel lays there, just listening to you breath, feeling you inches arms, and he doesn’t know what he’d do without you, nor where he’d be. You were one of the few constants in his life. The one person he knew he could always count on to have his back and support him and he loved you for it. Always will. And hearing your even breathing on his neck, the small puffs of air warm against his neck only certified his resolve to make sure nothing ever happened to you, that he never did anything to hurt you. At least not intentionally. He knew he’d found forever with you. And he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Listening to the song playing, he sang along so quietly he doubted you could hear him, aware of your sleepy state:

Yo quisiera darte las constelaciones

Más millones de caricias en un manantial (yeh)

Si te fallo quiero que no me perdones (no)

Porque no mereces que nadie te trate mal

Tu presencia es necesaria por razones

Que hasta el sol de hoy no encuentro ni cómo explicar

Pero estoy agradecido por montones

Porque te encontré cuando no hallaba qué buscar

Tu cabello se posa sobre mi pecho

Y es valioso el hecho de sentirte respirar

Lo creas o no, me siento satisfecho

Pues, tú me mostraste lo importante que es amar

Tus ojos me reflejan el sentimiento

Justo en tus pupilas se deduce que es real (real)

Si no quieres decir nada dame un beso (dame un beso)

Y no me sueltes nunca más

Me siento fenomenal

Porque siento que es real

Listening to him sing the words so quietly, nearly sounding like a prayer to you, warmed your heart, and the tight feeling present in your chest from the moment you woke up seemed to just evaporate as you felt his arms tighten their hold on you, one arm staying around you and the other traveling up to card his fingers through your hair, his lips against the top of your head. And you couldn’t help yourself:

“Te amo, Angel Ignacio Reyes. Hoy y Para Siempre.” You said, with a slight squeeze of your own arms around him before you gave in to the tiredness you’d felt for hours now. Knowing you were safe.

Slipping away into unconsciousness, you smiled as you heard his reply.

“Te amo, Y/N Y/M/N Reyes. Hoy y Para Siempre.”

_______________________________________________

Tags: @calif0rnia-lovers I saw you post something about being tagged in anything involving hoodie szn or just hoodies in general I think @blessedboo @angelreyesgirl

Please lemme know if you want to be tagged(or if not)🥺🥺 also I hope you enjoy it!! Comments and creative criticism welcomed🥰🥰🥰

#mayans mc #mayans fandom #mayans mc fanfic #angel reyes #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x oc #clayton cardenas #alright lemme disappear from here for abit #that fandom blog sounds like a good idea rn #hennyways enjoy #peace out #this is also getting posted to ao3

111 notes · View notes

theydontknowaboutusimagines · 3 years

Text

This Christmas - A Harry Styles Christmas Series (Part 1)

Two life long friends. Secretly in love. Home for the holidays. Will they risk everything by telling the other how they feel? Or will they spend another year loving from afar?

Read the Prologue here

You pulled into Anne’s driveway later the following day. You could already feel the difference of being home, it was almost like a weight had been lifted off your shoulder. Maybe this was exactly what you needed.

“Oh there she is!” Anne smiled, walking out to meet you as you got your bags.

“Hi,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around her. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” she smiled, hugging you tightly. “Come on, I’ve just finished dinner.”

“Good, I haven’t eaten since breakfast,” you laughed.

You followed Anne inside, leaving your bags in the living room, before heading to wash up and then meeting Anne in the dining room.

“Hm, this smells amazing,” you smiled.

“Thank you,” she smiled.

You took some onto your plate and started eating right away. “Hm, so good,” you groaned. “I’ve missed having food like this.”

“Oh, it’s simple to make,” she said.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve home cooked food,” you tell her. “When I’m trying to meet a deadline, I’m usually ordering takeaway.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that while you’re here,” she smiled.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I really hope I can get some words down here… if I miss this deadline… I’m screwed.”

“I’m sure you will figure it out,” she said. “You always do.”

“In the past, I have,” you nodded. “But there’s just something about this book… that I’m struggling with. I love Christmas… and I love christmas movies and books… but for some reason I’m struggling to write my own.”

“Perhaps, that’s your problem?” She suggested. “You're focusing on everything you’ve seen or read before and trying to make them yours, when you should just take your love of Christmas… and make it yours.”

“Good point,” you nodded.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you much longer. I promised I would stay out of your way and give you space to write,” she smiled. “After dinner, I’ll walk you out to the guest house.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you said.

“I can and I will,” she smirked.

You shook your head and finished eating dinner. Once you helped Anne clean up the kitchen, you grabbed your bags and followed her out to the backyard where the tiny guest house stood. You couldn’t help but smile when you saw how decorated it was for Christmas.

“It’s beautiful,” you smiled.

“Thank you,” she smiled. “I went a little extra this year, hoping it might get you into the spirit.”

“Thank you,” you nodded. “I hope so, too.”

Inside there was only a bed alongside the wall and a desk near the other side. There was a small counter with a Keurig and some water. And of course in the far corner was a christmas tree covered in small ornaments and lights.

“I know it isn’t much,” she said. “And you are more than welcome to stay in the house if you’d like, but I thought this might be better for you to not have any distractions.”

“Oh, no, yes, it’s perfect,” you nodded. “Not saying I won’t take you up on the offer to stay inside occasionally, but for now this is where I need to be.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it,” she smiled.

After she left, you sighed placing your things to the side. You took out your comfy, writing pajamas, and quickly changed out of your comfy traveling clothes. You grabbed your computer and your notebook, opening up the still blank page from the night before.

It was time to get writing.

Harry took in the fresh, crisp air as he drove with the window down. He was finally home after spending the last few months in California working on his newest project. He enjoyed his time in LA and the surrounding areas, but there was nothing that could beat being back in London. At least not until he arrived back home to visit his mother, which is exactly where he was headed currently.

It was late and he knew he probably wouldn’t see her until morning, but he couldn’t wait to get home any longer. She wasn’t expecting him until tomorrow evening, but he knew she wouldn’t mind his early… late arrival. It had been a long time since he had been back in his childhood town, the last time was a few days back over the summer. He always loved going back there because the people who lived there still saw him as just Harry, the annoying kid who used to work at the local bakery.

But more importantly, he loved going back because it reminded him of a simpler time. Of course, everyone probably feels that way, but for Harry, it was because there was always the off chance he would run into you. He missed you. He missed talking to you and how things used to be. There was once a time you two were inseparable, but now you two were separated and have been for years.

He blamed himself for what had happened. He let himself get carried away into the famous life and left you in the past. It wasn’t that he meant for it to happen or that he wanted it to, it’s just he was young, he was stupid, and he let too many text and phone calls go unanswered. He supposed people growing apart happened all the time, but he never thought it would happen to either of you.

But he was happy for you. He was proud of you and everything you had accomplished with your writing. He’s read every single one of your books and recommended them to all his friends. Even some of his fans, who have caught him holding a book or two of your’s in a photo. Whenever he felt lonely, he would open one of your books and read it because it felt like he was able to catch up with you.

It was weird, he knew that, but it also made him wonder what might have happened had the two of you stayed in touch. He wondered if he ever would have gotten the courage to tell you how he felt about you. Now, it’s not like he realized his feelings for you all those years ago, but recently during a drunken discussion with Jeff, he realized the one thing holding him back from having a relationship work out was… well you.

It happened after yet another relationship had gone to shit. It wasn’t very long and he didn’t really feel that heartbroken over it, which obviously was a sign that it was supposed to happen, but it still defeated him a bit.

“I don’t get it, Jeff,” Harry said, taking a sip of his drink. “I’m fucked up… I gotta be. Am I that terrible… and I’m gonna be the type of person who just dates around, falls in love, gets my heartbroken, and then repeats the same thing until I’m old?”

“You’re only in your twenties,” Jeff hiccuped. “You’ve still got plenty of time to find love and start a family one day.”

“But what if… what if I already have, but she’s already gone,” he whispered.

“What are you on about?” Jeff groaned.

“How did you know you love Glenne… that she was the one?” Harry asked.

Jeff sighed, “I don’t know… I just… knew… I feel it whenever I’m around her and when I’m not with her I want to be. I can’t picture my life without her… I know it sounds fucking cliche, but being love is very much a cliche thing to do. When you find who you’re supposed to be with, you’ll just know… I promise.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Harry whispered.

That person was, in fact, you. He knew it. Deep down he always knew it, but he never let himself admit it. He was afraid. He was stubborn. He was stupid. And now he was paying the price.

You sighed as you deleted yet another entire page worth of writing. Two hours had passed and you were still in the same exact spot you had been when you started. So, apparently, there wasn’t going to be some magical switch in your brain that would get you writing just by being in a different location. You were actually going to have to work it.

Instead of trying to write for another few hours, you decided to grab your shower things and head into the house for a shower and some time to think. First, you needed to relax your mind and your muscles from sitting in both a car and chair for far too long. Then, you could focus on the task at hand. When you got to the guest bathroom in the house, you turned on the water, deciding on taking a bath, hoping that would help.

There were some candles laying around, so you lit those, placing them around the bathroom. You pulled your hair on top of your head before undressing as the water continued filling up the tub. You grabbed your notebook, placing it on the little tray on the tub, along with your phone, before getting inside. You smiled, closing your eyes, taking in smells of the candles and sound of the soft music you were playing from your phone.

The warmth of the water soothed your muscles, releasing the tension they once held as you took some water in your hands pouring it over your chest and shoulders. You brought some up to your face, wiping any sleepiness from your eyes because you knew you wouldn’t be sleeping tonight until you came up with an idea.

Once you felt a bit relaxed, you dried off your hands, taking your notebook out and reading through your pages of notes. You had so many ideas written down, but they had been crossed out because you couldn’t get them to work. So, next you moved onto your phone where you kept your inspiration board. It was mostly an album on your phone with pictures.

You kept searching and searching until finally, you stopped at a photo of you and Harry. It was one of the last ones you took together before you stopped talking. Conveniently, it was one taken at Christmas, where you both were dressed in ugly christmas sweaters. His arms were wrapped around your shoulder and his head was placed on top of yours. You were both laughing at something, but there was something else you noticed.

You were the happiest you had been in a long time, even now. Your smile touched your eyes and there was a glow in your cheeks. There was something about the holidays that seemed to bring people together. Maybe it was part of the Christmas spirit, or because people finally got to take a break from their normal lives for a few weeks.

That’s when it clicked. The idea you had been longing for. You quickly grabbed your pen and started writing it down. Your hand moved swiftly across the paper as if you were afraid you would forget it. Once you felt like you had enough to go on for when you returned to your little hideaway.

You read over your idea.

Two life-long friends return home for the holidays. What will happen when they discover there’s more between them than just friendship. But the love they’ve been searching for was there all along.

You knew it was risky, but you also knew your chance to figure things out with Harry had passed years ago, and maybe writing this story was your way of getting closure. Because this way, you would be in control of the ending.

Here is PART 1 ! I hope you enjoyed it. I know it’s a little slow to start off, but it’ll pick up soon.

Next Part will be posted Tuesday at Midnight CST :)

#Harry Styles Imagines #Harry Styles Fanfiction #Harry Styles Fics #Harry Styles Fanfic #Harry Styles Christmas Series

90 notes · View notes

buoyantsaturn · 3 years

Text

Riding Bikes Across the Street Without Looking Either Way (2/2)

summary: “Well, you can stay with me and Annabeth as long as you need to, okay? We’ve got a shitty couch with your name on it, and we’ll make sure your dad never finds you.”

word count: 3,955

read on ao3 | read chapter one

Nico hadn’t slept in three days by the time he arrived at Percy’s apartment late at night, around two days after he’d left home. He’d barely stopped along the way, so when Annabeth opened the door for him, she looked like she’d seen a ghost. (At this point, Nico felt like he might as well be one.)

“Oh my god,” Annabeth said as she grabbed Nico’s shoulder to pull him inside, drawing him straight into a hug. “Neeks, you look like shit. Are you-- Are you bleeding?”

Nico refrained from reaching up to check his head, and looked to the side in an attempt to stop Annabeth from looking too closely, though she took his face in her hands and turned his head back the other way. “I’m fine,” Nico muttered when Annabeth gasped.

“You are not,” she argued. “You’re going to the hospital.”

“I just drove for two days, I don’t wanna drive anymore,” Nico told her. “Can’t I sleep first?”

“Oh, you are not driving like this,” Annabeth said as she started further into the apartment. “You probably shouldn’t have driven in the first place! Wait here. Percy just put Luke down for the night, but he’ll take you.”

Then Annabeth disappeared around the corner, so Nico stood in the doorway with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. He let his eyes fall shut and his head tip forward, and just about fell asleep standing up until his body started to lean, and he startled awake to catch himself. When he opened his eyes, Percy was there with his coat in hand and concern written across his face.

Nico blinked up at him, and Percy seemed to take that as his invitation to draw Nico in for a hug. Nico flinched back when Percy got too close to the wound on the side of his head, so Percy jumped back like he’d been shocked. “Dude,” Percy whispered, his eyes full of something like pity that made Nico’s stomach turn. Percy pulled on his coat and held out a hand. “Alright, give me your keys.”

For a second, Nico didn’t move. He wanted to argue, to say he was too tired and that they could just go in the morning, but he didn’t want to get hit again. (Percy wouldn’t hit him, would he?) Nico took the keys out of his pocket and dropped them into Percy’s hand.

They walked down to the road and got into Nico’s car. It wasn’t until they were a few minutes down the road that Percy tried asking what happened, though Nico wasn’t very willing to share. He hadn’t told Percy much more than things have gotten worse and I’m coming to New York, so he was sure that Percy was more worried for him than he was letting on. Percy’s mind was probably reeling over all the different things that might have happened to leave Nico in such a state, but Nico couldn’t bring himself to say it.

He let Percy guess, though he never got very specific. Percy had narrowed it down to Hades and drinking, though Nico knew those weren’t hard to figure out.

When they sat down in the hospital’s waiting room, Percy finally said, “You know you’ll have to tell the doctor what happened, right? I mean, maybe they can help you, like, file a police report or something.”

Nico was shaking his head before Percy had even finished talking. “I don’t want to file a report,” he insisted. “I don’t… I don’t wanna think about it anymore, and I don’t want him to know where I am.”

“Oh. Right, of course,” Percy said quietly, then wrapped an arm around Nico’s shoulders to bring him into a side-hug. “Well, you can stay with me and Annabeth as long as you need to, okay? We’ve got a shitty couch with your name on it, and we’ll make sure your dad never finds you.”

“Thanks,” Nico whispered, and his head fell onto Percy’s shoulder. “Um, and can you do me a favor?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“When we get back to your place, can you call Seph? Just to let her know I got here safely, but...don’t say where I am. And then delete her number. Maybe block it, too.”

Percy rubbed his arm. “Yeah, man, I can do that.”

A moment later, Nico’s name was called, and he tensed. “Will you come back with me?” he asked Percy as he got to his feet, and Percy nodded. A nurse took them into the emergency room and had Nico sit on one of the beds to wait for the doctor.

Another minute or two passed before a man with curly brown hair and a lab coat approached and said, “Hi there, Mr. di Angelo. I’m Doctor Markowitz, and I’ll be taking care of your examination before my supervisor comes over. It says on your form here that you have a head injury, do you want to tell me a little more about that while I take a look?”

Nico ducked his head and shrugged. Markowitz glanced toward Percy, who said, “He doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, noted,” Markowitz said as he pulled on a pair of gloves. He stepped up to Nico’s side and located the wound quickly, carefully brushing away Nico’s hair to get a better look at it. “Can you at least tell me what made the wound?”

“A glass bottle,” Nico muttered, and averted his gaze when Percy’s eyes widened.

“Glass?” Markowitz repeated, then took a closer look. “Well, it doesn’t look like there’s any broken pieces in here, so that’s good.”

“The bottle didn’t break,” Nico replied. “I don’t think.”

“Must’ve been one heavy-duty bottle to hit you this hard and not break,” Markowitz commented, and Nico suppressed a flinch. “Alright, hang tight for just a minute while I call my supervisor over. I’m thinking you’re going to need a CT scan to rule out a concussion, and possibly an X-ray to make sure your skull is all in one piece. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as the doctor was out of sight, Percy turned to Nico and asked, “He hit you with a glass bottle?”

Nico folded his arms over his stomach, one hand wrapping around his other arm. He didn’t respond. He didn’t have time to, either, before Percy’s phone started to ring.

“It’s Annabeth,” he said, “probably just checking in. I’ll be right back, okay?”

And then Percy was gone, too, and Nico’s hand gripped tighter. He could hear Percy at first, answering the call and saying that they’d already talked to a doctor, but then his voice dropped lower and Nico had to strain to hear it.

“He’s not acting like himself,” Percy whispered. “It’s like he’s fifteen again, he’s barely even talking to me.” A pause, and then, “Can that happen? Can something like this make him, like, regress, or whatever?” Nico’s fingernails began clawing at his skin. “Oh, the doctor’s coming back. I’ll let you know what’s up as soon as I can.”

On top of a moderate concussion, Nico had a skull fracture, was severely dehydrated, and had reached the point of exhaustion that the doctors were surprised to still see him upright. Nico declined an IV drip of fluids and something that would help him sleep, insisting that he just wanted to leave, so Percy drove him home with a prescription that basically boiled down to rest.

Nico passed out on the couch as soon as they were inside, and didn’t wake for almost twenty hours. When he did finally awaken, he got up to find Annabeth in the kitchen making dinner.

“Hey, Neeks,” she said as she stirred a pot of pasta. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” he replied, folding his arms across his stomach and eying the stove. “Can I help?”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow at him. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I just did.” Nico’s nose scrunched up at the idea of sitting on that couch any longer. “I’m rested. So, can I help?”

“Why don’t you see if you can help Percy with Luke, instead?”

Nico hesitated. “But I like cooking.”

“Do you like babies?”

“I...don’t know.”

“Well, if you’re going to be staying with us for a little while, then I’d like to know that you’re comfortable around my son,” Annabeth told him. “You never know, I might ask you to babysit. So, go hang out with Luke, and I’ll shout for everyone when this is ready.”

Nico huffed and said, “Fine,” then turned out of the kitchen. Before he could fully leave, though, he stopped himself and said, “Actually, um. After dinner, do you think you could help me with something?”

“Maybe,” she replied, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “What is it?”

“I need to change my phone number.”

Annabeth nodded. “Yeah, we’ll figure that out.”

As it turned out, Nico got along with Luke just fine. It was almost easier than hanging out with adults, he realized, because he didn’t feel the need to try to hold a conversation. Luke could only say a handful of words, anyway. Nico spent a good half hour just holding blocks whenever Luke gave them to him.

As dinner came and went, Nico learned what sorts of things Luke could and couldn’t eat, and then later on watched how to go about putting Luke to sleep at night. Apparently parenting was easier than people made it seem. How had Hades messed up so bad?

When the living room was once again baby-free, Annabeth sat down with Nico to help him figure out how to change his phone number. Percy was laying across the floor for some reason, and had been asking Nico about college in an attempt to get his mind off of running away from home. Unfortunately, that wasn’t really something Nico wanted to talk about, either.

“So, do you need to, like, transfer to a new school or something?” Percy asked as he tossed one of Luke’s toys into the air above him. “You know, since you can’t go to class.”

“It’s all online,” Nico replied. He was watching Annabeth work from the opposite end of the couch because the brightness of his phone screen hurt his head. “I talked to somebody at NYU last summer about doing all online classes.”

“Are you sure you’ll be able to do that?” Annabeth asked. “You can’t even look at your phone long enough to see who’s texting you.”

“And that doctor said you need to avoid screens for at least a week, didn’t he?” Percy added.

Nico felt his heart rate rise as his anxiety spiked again. “Well, what day is it?” he asked, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking as much as his hands were. “Maybe I’ll have time to rest before my classes start.”

“It’s Wednesday, the…” Percy drew out the last word as he pulled out his phone, “...sixth. When do your classes start?”

Nico dropped his head into his hands. “Two days ago.”

“Okay, no big deal,” Annabeth said without raising her eyes from her laptop screen. “Just email your professors to explain the problem, and ask for an extension on anything you missed.”

“But I won’t be able to do anything for another week, and at that point, I’ll be two weeks behind in, like, half of my classes,” Nico complained, scrubbing his hands over his face and then scraping his hair back from his face. “And then what if I can’t catch up? Maybe I should just take the semester off.”

“Alright, take a breath.” Annabeth reached over and set a hand on Nico’s arm, but he flinched out from under the touch. “I think you should sleep on it. There’s no need to make such an impulsive decision.”

Nico pulled his knees up to his chest and dropped his gaze to the floor. “No. It’s better if I drop the classes now instead of having to withdraw later. I’ll just start up again in the fall.”

He glanced up again just in time to see Annabeth and Percy sharing a worried look. He grabbed onto his arm and squeezed.

The apartment was too small for three adults. Maybe if Nico hadn’t had to sleep on the couch, then he would’ve been less of an inconvenience to Percy and Annabeth. He tried to make up for it in other ways. He cooked whenever he could, and he washed the dishes every night. Nico was trusted enough to look after Luke on his own for short periods of time - if Percy needed to run out to the store while Annabeth was in class or at work, usually.

Still, Nico was in the way. He hadn’t quite assimilated into their home, and he’d heard them whispering late at night when they all should have been asleep that money was tight.

Things came to a head when Nico finished off a pot of coffee one morning, assuming that the others had gotten their share. He was feeding Luke so that Annabeth could get out the door in time for class when Percy stumbled into the kitchen, half-awake and already grumpy. He grabbed a mug out of the cabinet before reaching for the empty pot and freezing at the sight.

He slammed the pot back into place, and Nico flinched.

“Damn it, Nico, did you drink all the coffee?” Percy snapped.

Nico sunk in his seat, hoping to appear as small as possible. He watched Percy pick up his mug again, and imagined it shattering against his skull. He wound his arms around his stomach and ducked his head.

“The least you could do is make another pot,” Percy continued. “God.”

“Sorry.” Nico pushed his chair back, the legs screeching against the floor and making him flinch again. “Sorry.” He was up on his feet one second, and then he blinked, and he was in the living room. He could hear his pulse in his ears. His head darted back and forth, but there was nowhere to hide.

Oh god, why wasn’t there anywhere to hide?

He couldn’t hide in the bathroom, because Annabeth was in there. He couldn’t hide in either bedroom, because the doors didn’t have locks.

He went into Luke’s room anyway. Nico figured he would have a better chance at hiding underneath the crib then he would Percy’s bed. And then, when he shut the door behind himself, he saw the window.

The fire escape.

Nico pulled the curtains loose and climbed out the window before sliding it shut. He heard Percy shouting for him as he sat down on the nearest step. He almost got up and ran down the fire escape just to make sure he wouldn’t get hit. Instead, he stayed perfectly still to ensure that the creaking of the fire escape wouldn’t give him away.

He only wished he’d brought a jacket.

Nico was blowing on his fingers to keep them warm when the window slid open. He must have already been frozen to the step, or maybe it was the panic that kept him from jumping up and running away.

“Nico,” Annabeth breathed with a sigh of relief. She held a hand out to him. “What the hell are you doing out here? Get inside, it’s freezing!”

Nico hesitated. “Is...Percy gone?”

Annabeth frowned, waving her hand impatiently. “What are you talking about? Why would he be gone?”

Nico stuffed his hands under his arms and ducked his head. Of course Percy wouldn’t be gone. He lived there. It was Nico that was always going to have to run away.

“Do you need him to be gone?” Annabeth asked gently.

Nico shrugged.

Annabeth sighed, and Nico tensed. She sounded annoyed. “Alright, don’t move.”

Then she shut the window. Maybe she locked it, too, so that Nico wouldn’t be able to get back inside. He would freeze to death out there, and he could finally stop being everybody’s problem.

The window opened again, and Annabeth poked her head out. “I told him to back off. He won’t come into Luke’s room while we’re in here, so would you please come back inside?” She held her hand out to him again, and this time, Nico took it. Her hand was unnaturally warm, or maybe he had let himself get colder than he thought.

Nico’s bare feet touched the carpet and he immediately dropped to the floor while Annabeth shut the window behind him. She wrapped him up in a blanket and wound her arms around his shoulders. “Tell me what happened, Nico.”

“I…” His teeth started chattering. Why was he shivering now that he was back in the warmth? “I drank the last of the coffee. I thought Percy already had some.”

“So your solution was the freeze to death in repentance?”

“He was mad,” Nico whispered, his arms tightening around his knees. “I thought he was gonna hit me.”

“Nico,” Annabeth said, her voice stern but not harsh, “you know Percy would never hit you. He loves you.”

“I thought my dad loved me.”

Annabeth pressed her forehead to the top of Nico’s head. “Neeks, this isn’t working out.”

Nico’s next breath caught in his throat, and he felt his eyes sting with the beginnings of tears.

Annabeth started rubbing his back. “I know we said that you could stay here as long as you need, but… Nico, this place isn’t big enough for all of us, and Percy and I… Our money is spread so thin already that we’re constantly stressed about paying the bills on time, and having you here too… We can’t walk on eggshells in our own home. I’m sorry, Nico. We love you, and we’re not kicking you out, but we need to start looking for another option for you. And maybe a therapist, too.”

Nico dropped his head onto his knees as his tears started to fall. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m messing everything up. I never should’ve come here, I’m sorry.”

“No, Nico, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Annabeth assured him. “And I’m glad you came here and got away from your dad. I’m glad you’re safe. And I’m sorry that Percy’s such an ass when he doesn’t get his coffee right away. I should’ve warned you about that.”

“Not your fault,” Nico muttered.

Annabeth patted his shoulder. “Not yours, either. Are you gonna be okay?”

Nico hesitated, then nodded.

“Do you think you’re ready to talk to Percy?” she asked. “I think he’d like to apologize.”

“Yeah,” Nico said, still nodding. “I’m ready.”

Annabeth stood, then offered a hand to help Nico to his feet. She led the way out of the room and toward the living room where Percy was sitting on the floor with Luke, and as soon as Percy saw them, he jumped to his feet.

“Nico!” Percy exclaimed, rushing forward with his arms held out, though he froze when he saw Nico flinch. Percy glanced at Annabeth, his expression wavering and his arms drooping slightly before he asked, “Um, can I hug you?”

Nico took a step closer and nodded. Percy’s arms closed around him.

“Dude, you had me so freaked out,” Percy said into Nico’s hair. “I’m so sorry for yelling at you. I’ll try not to do it again, I promise.”

“Thanks,” Nico replied, shifting subtly until Percy released him. He took a few steps back and held his arms over his stomach again, as if defending a weak point.

Annabeth set a hand on his shoulder. “I have to leave for class, but are you going to be okay?”

Nico took a deep breath and met her gaze. “I’ll be okay.”

“Good. When I get home, we can start looking for a therapist,” she said in a way that let Nico know she also meant if that’s okay with you. “And Percy, when you put Luke down for his nap, you two should start looking for apartments.”

Annabeth pulled Nico forward and kissed his forehead. She kissed Percy on the lips, then Luke on the top of his head as she grabbed her bag, and then she was gone.

Nico didn’t move for a few minutes. Percy settled back onto the floor with Luke and eventually turned the TV on for some background noise. Nico edged his way toward the couch and sat down in the corner, curled up with his knees to his chest.

Percy reached back and tapped on Nico’s shin with his fingers. “Hey, no hard feelings, right?” he asked, his head tipping back to rest on the cushion next to Nico. “I love having you here, dude, and I’ve missed you a lot, but I’m sorry that it’s not working out. Besides, don’t you think it’ll be better to have your own place, anyway?”

Nico’s arms tightened around his legs. “I don’t...want to live alone. I don’t think I can.”

“Oh.” Percy’s gaze turned back to Luke. “I guess I always assumed that you were the type to like having your own space. Uh, okay, well, we can…” Percy hummed in thought. “We can look on...Craigslist? To find you a roommate?” He glanced back at Nico, and there must have been something about the look on Nico’s face that made Percy burst into laughter. “Okay, you’re right. Stupid idea.”

Percy scooped the TV remote up off the floor and tossed it back to Nico. “Go ahead and put on whatever.”

Nico flipped through the channel guide for a few minutes, but ended up sticking with whatever kid’s show was already playing.

“Maybe you could crash with somebody we already know,” Percy said. “We could talk to Jason or Leo, or-- No, wait, now that I think of it, I think Leo might be crashing on Jason’s couch… Hm. You can’t get a dorm at NYU if you’re not taking classes this semester… Man, the only person I can think of that has a spare room is my mom.”

Nico felt himself perk up for the first time in days. “Do you think you could ask her?”

Percy shot him a teasing grin. “You wanna live with my mom?” He looked away before Nico’s expression could fall, and shrugged. “Alright, I’ll call her after lunch. I’m sure she’d love to have you.”

Nico had his first meeting with a therapist the day before moving out of Percy and Annabeth’s apartment. It didn’t take long to pack up his belongings, mainly because he’d hardly taken anything out of his car to begin with. But when he got to Sally’s with the Jackson-Chases not far behind, they unloaded everything from his car to take inside. The guest room was a bit of a tight squeeze with all of Nico’s boxes and suitcases inside, but he had plenty of time to unpack and organize later.

He came out of the room - his room - to thank Sally and Paul a few more times, but when he stepped into the kitchen, Sally beat him to it. She pulled Nico into a hug, practically squeezing the life out of him as she did so, and kissed the side of his head. “We’re so happy to have you here, Nico,” she whispered to him. “You stay here as long as you need.”

“It won’t be forever,” Nico promised her after weaseling out of the hug. “I just need to figure some stuff out, and maybe I can try to get a dorm when the fall semester starts, and--”

Sally took Nico’s face in her hands and pressed her lips to his forehead. “Take all the time you need, honey.”

Nico felt like he might cry. He forgot what it was like to have a mom.

thanks for reading!

buy me a coffee | more nico birthday event stuff

#nico di angelo #percy jackson #annabeth chase #i'm in hell #mine #my writing #nico birthday event

44 notes · View notes

julemmaes · 4 years

Text

Let Me In - October 2nd

Nesta Archeron x Cassian

Prompt sent by @noorismee (I’m sorry Tumblr kinda sucks and deleted the ask, I hope it’s just a one-time thing cause I could go insane)

“I didn’t get soaked wet through walking to your house for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you’re sad, so let me in.”

A/N: This was so cute to write and I really really miss my friends right now, cause I’ve just started uni and I don’t understand how many things works so I haven’t seen them in a very long time and writing about them is always kinda emotional. I hope y’all enjoy!

p.s. yesterday I made a mistake, cause I put the acotar general tag list instead of the tog one, so, sorry for the ones who found themselves there eheh

Word count: 2,587

Nesta wanted to cry. She wanted to cry so bad.

She had tried to take this exam four times in the last year. Twice in the winter session and twice in the summer one. Everyone had reassured her that the fifth time would be the good one, that this time she would be able to pass it with full marks.

"I'm sure you'll be the best in the class." Elain had told her only the day before.

So when she had arrived home, today, and had opened the email with the rankings and saw that she had failed again, she had screamed in frustration.

She grunted and dropped her head on the table, banging her forehead hard enough on the wood to make a loud thump. She rubbed her hands over her eyes, yawning and jerking when a flash of lightning lit the room as if it were daytime. She put her hands over her ears, waiting for the thunder and staring at the raindrops racing on the window glass, and when the noise stopped, she started reading one of the billions of theorems she had been studying for months.

She turned the pages until she found the chapter on the Fourier series and started to rewrite everything she needed to assimilate every little connotation of the theory so that she could apply it in practice.

She had been flipping through the book for hours, writing things and doing calculations that she knew by heart now. How was it possible that she knew everything so perfectly when she was at home and when she found herself in front of the test sheet, she forgot the logic behind it?

She picked up the phone to see the time and saw that it was ten forty-nine. She would not go to sleep until she had solved all the problems in the book.

A message appeared on the screen just as she was about to turn it off and she raised an eyebrow seeing who the sender was.

She had immediately informed him when she knew that she had failed the exam again, but then she hadn't waited for an answer and had put her phone aside.

Scrolling through the dozens of notifications - most of them from her best friend - she saw messages from her classmates asking her if she had passed.

When she got to the bottom of the list, she grimaced.

‘Did you eat?’

And a few minutes later, ‘Nesta?’

‘If you don't answer me within an hour and a half, I'm coming to your place.’

And then, exactly ninety minutes later, he had sent another message saying: ‘You asked for it. I'll be at your's in twenty minutes, half an hour max.’ followed by a strangely threatening text, ‘I'm pissed.’

Nesta grinned, muttering to herself, "Joke's on you, I won't open the door." and returned without too much thought to her math book.

Five minutes passed before she heard someone aggressively knocking on the door. She sighed, lifting her eyes from the numbers and pondering whether it was better to let him in or let him die outside in the cold and frost. She was about to get up, tell him that he should leave, when Cassian knocked harder on the door. She frowned.

"Arche! Open the fucking door, I'm freezing out here!" shouted the boy. Nesta laughed, looking at him through the peephole and leaning her hip against the wall.

She spoke loudly enough so that Cassian could hear her through the door, "And don't you think you should have asked my permission before coming here and busting my balls?"

She heard him snort and could imagine him closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, "Nesta, please," he seemed exasperated, "open this door and let me feed you."

Nesta raised an eyebrow, chuckling, "Feed me? What am I? A dog?"

"No, you idiot." he laughed on the other side, then, in a more serious tone he asked, "Have you eaten something?"

Nesta hesitated, "Sure."

"I can hear the bullshit from here." a little pause, "Come on, open up."

She opened the door slightly, watching him step forward and Nesta closed the door ajar, shaking her head, "Cassian I have to study." if she had let him in she wouldn't have been able to do anything.

His hair was damp and his usually dark-grey jacket was now black.

"Cassian," he repeated in a mocking tone and making a disgusted face, "what? Are you mad?"

She shook her head puffing, tapping her foot on the ground repeatedly. He followed the movement with his eyes. Looking back at her face, he said, "Even if you were, you wouldn't have the right to. I'm not the one who ignored his best friend all day." he put one hand on the door and pushed it, holding the pizza with the other.

When Nesta struggled to keep it closed again, Cassian laughed. They both knew very well that if he wanted to force his way into her apartment, he would have no problem doing so.

He took one look at her and made what she called whipped-dog-eyes, "I didn't get soaked wet through walking to your house for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you're sad, so let me in." She noticed only in that moment the bag hanging from his fingers. She leaned forward to help him hold it. She hated plastic bags so much, they always stretched out to cut off her hands when she had to carry them around.

Then she metabolized his words and opened her eyes wide, "Did you come on foot?"

She opened the door, stepped aside and let him in. Cassian trotted into the apartment, shaking his jacket off and passing the pizza to her, who moved so as not to get wet, "Are you crazy? It's four degrees outside and it's pouring."

He looked so pleased to finally be inside the house that he didn't seem to hear her.

Nesta placed the food and beer on the kitchen table, careful not to wet the books. She hurried to put everything aside and when Cassian came in and saw what she was doing she tightened her jaw. Nesta noticed.

"What?" she asked abruptly, "Everyone has their problems. You are a fool for leaving the house at ten o'clock without an umbrella and walking for half an hour in the middle of a storm and I am trying to make sure I have a future by studying, and if I have to do it in the evening, that's not going to stop me".

Cassian shrugged, "Az stole my umbrella and my mom needed the car."

A twinge of pain tightened her heart.

She shook her head, "Wait here, I'll go get you a dry sweatshirt, I should have one of yours."

He nodded and Nesta saw him as he started cutting the pizza, taking what necessary and setting the table. When he came back he was shirtless and was rattling his hair, squeezing it into the sink.

She froze on the kitchen door, admiring how the muscles on his back tensed with every slightest movement. It was not the first time she saw him without clothes, there had been many occasions, but it was rare for him to undress in front of her in such intimate surroundings. She cleared her voice, drawing Cassian's attention.

He turned towards her, smiling at her and Nesta thought she was going to die. It wasn't the usual cocky smile he usually gave everyone, it was sweet and sincere. She handed him the sweatshirt without saying anything and sat down.

The first bite of pizza - although it was gummy and cold - was an explosion of happiness in her stomach. She closed his eyes, moaning and took another bite out of the slice. Cassian sniggered, watching her as she finished her first slice.

"Geez, it's so good," said Nesta, with her mouth full of food. Cassian had an amused expression on his face. He nodded his head to the cartoon, "Have some more."

Nesta didn't hesitate and threw herself on the pizza, filling her plate. They ate in silence, enjoying each other's company. She thanked him only when she had cleaned the plate with the last crumb. He had belittled the whole thing by waving his hand mid-air, just saying that she didn't need to thank him, that it was his job to make sure she survived through this exam session.

When Cassian leaned forward on the table to grab a bottle of beer, Nesta stood up, grabbed the bottle opener and handed it to him. He was about to open the second one, when Nesta stopped him, "I'm not going to drink Cass, as soon as you leave I'll go back to studying and you know what alcohol does to me."

Cassian laughed and opened it anyway, pushing it towards her, "Come on Arche," she did not move and looked him in the eyes more serious than ever, "if you put it like that," he took back the beer and the smile died on his lips. He moved his gaze toward the window, "But I'm not leaving".

She moaned, "What the fuck, Cass." she put her hand in her hair, raising one leg and putting her foot on the chair, leaning her chin against her knee.

"I'm not leaving and I don't want to hear your lame excuses about why I can't stay" he looked at her and the worry in his features made Nesta stand at attention.

His tone became more gentle, "What happened today?"

She wiggled her head for the millionth time, frowning, "What do you mean? Nothing happened," and before he could answer her, she added, "except that I failed the mathematical analysis exam for the fifth time."

"Nes..." he passed his hand through his hair, unwinding it and dropping little water left and right. His eyes never left her face, looking for any sign that would give away her apparent calm.

"Cass." she repeated with the same tone. How could he be so good at reading through the lines? Lines that she hadn't even written, considering how good she had been at ignoring him all day long. She figured, that was also a clear sign that something was wrong.

Not even Tomas, her boyfriend, could understand that something was wrong and she had explicitly texted him "I don't feel very well, I'd rather be alone for today" to which he replied with a simple "Ok, talk to you tomorrow".

Maybe he didn't even care what was bothering his girlfriend so much. Surely he would have been angry, though, when he found out that Cassian had spent the night on her couch.

Cassian sighed, also putting down his beer, "You know, you need to talk about anything, I'm always here."

Nesta felt a lump forming in her throat, so she nodded weakly, not trusting her voice.

He looked into her eyes for a few more seconds and when she could no longer hold his gaze, she turned to her books, staring at the sheets of paper that came out of the pages.

"So," said Cassian, changing the subject for her sake, "what don't you understand about mathematical analysis?

She turned to him in surprise, "These aren't things you would understand."

She wasn't trying to insult him or make him feel less intelligent than she were, but the subjects that were studied in the third year of a math degree course required a broad knowledge of previous subjects. Subjects that Cassian would never have even approached while studying foreign languages and literatures.

"Oh, I know, I don't have a sufficiently developed brain for those things, but you need to be distracted and since you want to study so much, maybe you could repeat it to me." he smiled at her, getting up and standing in front of her, pointing to the living room with a nod of his chin, "Couch?

Nesta stared at him, wondering how it was possible that Cassian was her friend. She nodded, following him into the living room and sitting in front of him, her legs bent under her.

The second she opened the book, the black letters on the white pages seemed to cross over. They seemed to dance, not allowing her to read. She would have been able to explain it without reading, but fatigue was taking over. She closed the book, staring at the cover.

"Everything okay?" he asked with a hint of concern in his tone.

Nesta closed her eyes, carrying a hand over her eyes. Her breath started to tremble. She did not want to cry.

She felt Cassian move on the couch and then he hugged her, "Sweetheart?" he stroked her hair, while Nesta took the book out from among them and dropped it on the floor. She clutched to his chest and took a deep breath. The warmth of him seemed to relax her little or nothing and Nesta only wanted to stop feeling this icy cold that seemed to have been poured into her bones.

"I miss my mom," she whispered.

She heard Cassian swallowing, "I figured," he said in an equally silent tone, holding her tighter, "It's normal Arche, her anniversary is approaching."

Right. The anniversary of Amanda Archeron's death would be in a couple of weeks.

Nesta was convinced that Tomas couldn't even remember the month of her mother's death.

"She was so good. She graduated on time. She did everything perfectly. And I'm here and I can't pass this stupid exam," she said against his chest. Her mother went to the same university, she attended classes in the same halls. She had graduated with the highest grades.

Cassian moved slightly, placing his hand on one of her cheeks, caressing her just under the eye. He had a determined look in his eyes and when he spoke, Nesta knew she wouldn't be able to talk back.

"You managed to get this far for a reason. You are not stupid and the test you are trying to take is not easy. Your mother was a genius, it's true, and I understand that you think you are expected to do the same, but no one is going to use such a thing against you," he reassured her. "We are all on your side. The only one who doesn't believe in you, it seems, is also the only one who should." he smiled sweetly at her.

Nesta moved, fleeing that touch so familiar, so comforting.

"I'm sorry." she murmured.

Cassian was still hugging her, "For what?"

"For making you worry, I should have called you and told you right away. You wouldn't have had to come all the way here." she looked him in the face and found an amused expression there.

"I would have come anyway, Nes. Only sooner."

She smiled at him and hugged him again.

They watched an action movie until two in the morning, hugging on her couch. They didn't go to class the next day, staying locked in the house, eating all the junk they had managed to buy on their little trip to the mini market down the street.

Cassian had also managed to convince her not to touch the books for the day and it had taken a while for her to accept.

She just needed her person.

Looking to her right, she stretched her feet over his lap and he smiled at her.

She was kinda screwed.

acotar tag list (if you wanna be added/removed just send an ask or dm me)

@tottenhamboys20 @sjm-things @kris10maas @awesomelena555 @sannelovesreading @queenamydien29 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @messyhairday-me @ncssian @observationanxioustheorist @my-fan-side @booksstorm @maastrash @sayosdreams @thedarkdemigod @courtofjurdan @thewayshedreamed @ladywitchling @nahthanks

#MultifandomOctoberFestjulemmaes #MOFjulemmaes #my writing #julemmaes writing #cassian #nesta archeron #nessian #nestaxcassian #cassianxnesta #fluff #domestic fluff #best friends #nessian fic #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #a court of silver flames #acotar fic #acosf fic

140 notes · View notes