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missgeniality · 3 years

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A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this! This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy!

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods.

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning.

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold.

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity.

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully.

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.”

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?”

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation.

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?”

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious.

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well.

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight?

BTS is on your flight?

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography.

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger.

BTS who?

Biggest boyband who?

You only listen to Frank Sinatra.

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally.

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours.

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help.

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved.

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could.

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back.

Aw, you are in trouble.

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face.

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true.

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth.

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you.

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you.

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to.

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all.

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile.

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously.

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean.

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.”

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..”

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in.

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb.

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.”

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told.

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep.

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began.

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you.

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you.

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you.

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family.

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen.

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request.

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement.

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.”

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck.

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart.

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him.

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon.

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.”

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence.

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car.

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you.

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that.

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of.

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far.

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode.

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma.

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this.

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong.

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do.

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall.

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!"

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!”

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor.

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so.

But you’re not anyone else.

He isn’t just anyone.

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two.

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours.

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century.

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind.

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours.

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation.

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end.

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark.

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.”

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible.

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken.

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him.

The elevator door opens, and people walk out.

But that’s not where your attention is.

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm.

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad.

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present.

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.”

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile.

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too.

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space.

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!”

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed.

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again.

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.”

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”.

The punctuation was not vocalized.

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself.

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there?

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna.

So far, no sign of him.

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far.

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode.

And then you hear it.

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but.

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck.

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight.

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight.

“Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement.

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is.

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart.

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.”

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first.

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own.

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes. “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.”

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter.

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?”

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight.

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger.

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware.

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer.

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue.

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch.

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates.

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?”

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air.

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative.

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?”

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress.

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured.

“On your knees.” he commands.

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.”

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on.

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm.

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head.

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise.

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly.

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him.

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.”

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over.

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench.

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening.

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod.

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum.

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you.

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him.

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss.

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair.

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt.

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room.

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom.

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you.

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention.

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought.

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret.

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch.

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth.

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way.

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face.

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs.

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem.

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-”

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him.

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason.

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard.

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him.

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making.

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls.

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat.

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it.

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response.

“Go on baby, ride me.”

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better.

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!”

“That’s fucking right, only me.”

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away.

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve.

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full.

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high.

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face.

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!”

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.”

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way.

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole.

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs.

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core.

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours.

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.”

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon.

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart.

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.”

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness.

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy.

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance.

He finds none.

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go.

You inch closer.

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his.

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win.

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words.

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst.

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it.

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows. You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him.

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far.

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up.

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement.

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

2K notes · View notes

clusterfuck-misc · 2 years

Text

WRITING2SIRVIVE ASKS:

Hi there, Love! I saw you write for some of my favorite Dc characters. If it’s not too much trouble could you write something with Dick. Please.

DICK GRAYSON IS THE BEST ROBIN AND YOU CAN QUOTE ME ON THAT.

Yandere Dick Grayson x Reader

This is in HC format.

The reader is gender neutral.

Content warning: PDA, technical non-consensual touching, clinginess, light stalking, manipulation, jealousy.

ARCHIVED POST. @clusterfuck-yandere IS MY NEW BLOG.

PLEASE DO NOT SEND REQUESTS ON THIS BLOG.

— When you first met him, you noticed how he was a touchy-feely kind of guy.

And I mean a very touchy-feely kind of guy.

“Richard Grayson,” he introduced himself as he slung an arm around your shoulder. “But everyone calls me Dick.”

It didn’t bother you at first. In fact, you barely even noticed it.

There were a lot of people at this college who were touchy-feely people.

Hands patting your shoulder, hugs, high fives, you were used to it by now.

But you soon realized that Dick took it an extra step.

He would always guide you through crowds with his hand on your back.

Or greet you with a hug and continue to keep half a hold on you.

Or talk with other students with an arm around your form.

You didn’t mind it too much. It’s just that it felt too… affectionate for a friendly gesture.

Despite that, you decided to brush it off as Dick being Dick.

He did this with everyone, right?

— It didn’t start to bother you until people asked if you two were dating.

Other people on campus aren’t blind to how Dick touches you.

They see the hand on your back, or the hug that lasts too long, or the arm around your waste.

So, it was only natural that they began to ask.

The answer was no, obviously.

You would probably remember if you were dating someone, after all.

But Dick always beats you to answering;

“Maybe we are, maybe we aren’t.”

“Top secret information.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

It caught you off guard when he first started doing that.

Sure, it wasn’t a definite yes…

But it wasn’t a definite no, either.

Maybe that was just his way of joking around.

Besides, you can easily hear the teasing tone of his voice.

The more he did it, however, the more you weren’t so sure…

— On a completely unrelated note, that acrobatic vigilante has been spotted around outside your dorm on several occasions.

You’ve seen posts about it all the time from other students.

“OMG, this can’t be real, is Nightwing really at our college campus???”

“I SWEAR I JUST SAW NIGHTWING ON THE ROOF OF THE DORMS ACROSS FROM MINE.”

“Okay, this sounds crazy, but I think me and my roommate saw Nightwing while we were walking back from theatre practice.”

Half of the comments are just “I don’t believe any of this,” or “this is totally fake.”

And, if you were being honest, you agreed.

What business would Nightwing have at a college campus?

… Unless he was a student…?

You shook your head at the thought.

Yeah, right. You’ve seen a lot of crazy shit happen (especially considering that one train wreck of a city call Gotham was only an hour away), but Nightwing being a student at your college was a bit of a stretch.

Even so, you couldn’t help but wonder what he would major in if he actually did.

Just a little harmless fun to think about, right?

Then a picture of Nightwing apparently gets posted on Instagram.

“WHAT THE FUCK,” the caption read. “I THOUGHT THE NIGHTWING RUMORS WERE FAKE, BUT THEN I SAW SOMEONE ON THE ROOF OF ONE OF THE DORMS AND?? IT’S HIM??”

The picture’s really zoomed in, but you could faintly make out a masked figure clad in a black suit with blue accents.

Nightwing’s the talk of the entire campus for weeks.

“Do you think it’s photoshopped?”

“It HAS to be. There’s no way that’s real… right?”

“Wouldn’t it be fuckin’ crazy if Nightwing — THE Nightwing — actually goes to the same college as us??”

Eventually, people lost interest in the topic. It died out after a while and things returned to normal.

That is, until one fateful morning, when your roommate violently woke you up.

“(Y/N), you are NOT going to believe this.”

And they were right.

Because on the screen of their phone was a picture of Nightwing looking into one of the dorm room windows.

The caption read, “I KNOW THIS SOUNDS TOTALLY MADE UP, BUT I WAS HANGING AROUND THE DORMS THAT NIGHTWING IS SAID TO BE SPOTTED AT AND I ACTUALLY FOUND HIM. WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK.”

“My dearest homeslice…” you groggily began, “you don’t actually believe this shit, do you—?”

“Shut up for a moment and look at just which dorm room he’s looking into,” they demanded.

So, you did.

The picture was of the east side of your dorm building.

And he just so happened to be looking into…

“Is that… our room?”

“It is,” your roommate answered. “If this is real, then—”

“Nightwing’s being a creep and looking into our room,” you chortled. “And that’s if it’s real.”

“You never know,” your roommate shrugged.

A laugh came from you as you laid back down on your bed. “Guess you’re right… you never know.”

— One interesting night would leave you a little more open minded to this Nightwing talk.

Your roommate had gone out to party with a couple of friends 30 minutes prior.

They invited you to come, but you didn’t really feel up for it.

So, you found yourself on your laptop all alone in your dorm room.

You were used to moments like these; all alone while your more extroverted roommate was out.

It gave you time to recharge your social batteries.

A feint thunk on your window made you jump slightly.

What the hell?

Did a bird hit it or something?

No, birds create a way louder noise.

But a measly little moth couldn’t do something like that, either.

So, pausing your show, you looked over at your window…

… To see a masked figure hovering over it.

…

The two of you stared at each other for a solid 30 seconds.

That gave you enough time to get over your shock and notice the symbol on his chest.

Nightwing.

Holy shit.

Were the rumors actually true?

Was Nightwing actually hanging around your college??

And staring into your window??

As soon as you blinked, however, he was gone.

You had your face against the window as you looked everywhere, but he was out of sight.

… Did you actually see that..?!

That was real, right?

Or were you just imaging things?

But… it felt so real…

Then again, maybe you needed to catch up on some sleep…

— The day after, Dick becomes way more clingy.

Touchy-feely turned into always keeping a hand on you.

And you almost didn’t notice; he was always a pretty handsy guy.

But then a friend of yours pointed it out.

“Did something happen between you and Dick?”

You were confused. “No…?”

“Well, he’s just been… uh… well… he can’t keep his hands off you. And more than usual.” They suggestive rose an eyebrow. “Did you guys… y’know?”

“I… don’t, no…”

They deadpanned at you. “… Right…”

Although they kind of lost you near the end of that, you realized they were right; he really can’t keep his hands off you… and more than usual.

He grabs your wrist when you walk side by side across campus.

He has a hand on your thigh whenever you two and your friends are out at some cafe or restaurant.

He’s even started to lay his head in your lap when lectures are too boring for him.

It’s all… way too affectionate.

Especially considering you were only friends.

There was that one time he pulled you into a hug from behind — arms resting around your waste and his chin on your shoulder — while you were trying to talk to your professor about something important.

“Dick… can you not right now..?”

“Pretend I’m not even here.”

You ignored your professor as she mumbled something about getting a room.

— He gets defensive when you bring up his behavior.

No matter how lightly you try to phrase it (“Dick, you’ve been a little… handsy… lately”), an incredulous look will find its way on his face.

“Okay… and?”

He makes it difficult to go from there.

If you ask him why, he’ll furrow his brows and shrug in almost a cynical manner.

“What, am I not allowed to show my friend affection?”

“Well, you are, it’s just—”

“Is this you saying we’re not friends, (Y/N)?”

“No! It’s just— nevermind…”

If you ask him if he can tone it down a bit, he makes a big deal out of it.

Pray to god you guys aren’t in a crowded area.

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it bothered you, dear liege.”

He makes you feel bad that you brought it up in the first place.

Maybe it was best to stay silent next time…

— He also hates it when other people touch you.

It’s something that’s painfully obvious.

Say some poor girl taps your shoulder for your attention.

He’s got his hand on your waste, glaring daggers into her skull.

Or a football player accidentally runs into you.

He’s pulling you close to him and yelling at the player to watch where they’re going.

Or even a close friend of yours wants to give you a hug.

He’s cutting it short by tugging you to his chest for a hug of his own.

It could be the smallest touch that sets his jealousy off.

You try to tell him to calm down.

“Dick, you don’t have to be so… clingy.”

But you already know that never ends well.

And god forbid you touch someone else.

Maybe the two of you are hanging out with another friend and you lightly punch them in the shoulder.

His expression drops immediately.

The more you start giving out shoulder pats, hugs, high fives, whatever it may be, the more upset he gets at you.

And you don’t want that to happen while you’re trying to have a good time with your friends.

— If you upset him enough, he’ll start ignoring you.

It only happens once in a blue moon, but it definitely happens.

And, when it does, it’s an anxiety filled week.

Did you say or do something that upset him?

Maybe he was just busy.

But he always found time to spend time with you…

You started to remember that he was kind of off the last time you saw each other.

He was more distant and quiet.

But what did you to cause that?

He keeps ignoring your texts and phone calls.

You didn’t want to blow up his phone, but dropping you without a word’s kind of shitty.

If you run into each other around campus, he’ll walk away without even looking at you.

It kind of hurt.

A lot.

So, you found yourself talking to a friend while walking around at night.

“Did something happen between you two?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “He hasn’t talked to me since we all hung out last.”

Your friend hums. “Come to think of it, I haven’t either. That’s weird…”

You couldn’t do anything else but agree.

The conversation changed from Dick’s behavior to campus gossip, and you started to feel more at ease.

That is, until a THUNK noise rang out and your friend dropped to the ground.

“Wha—?”

You got on your knees immediately as you began to call their name and shake them.

A bit of relief was provided when you found out they were alive, just unconscious for whatever reason.

And then your eyes landed on some weird baton looking thing.

It didn’t look lethal, but it could definitely knock someone out.

Was that what hit your friend?

“Whoops,” a voice above you chimed.

The way your body jolted almost caused you to lose your balance.

Who was THAT?!

Slowly looking up, you realized a masked man in a tight suit was crouching above a pavilion.

A familiar looking masked man in a tight suit.

“… Nightwing..?!”

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he chuckled, playing around with another one of those baton things in his hand. “Dropped my Escrima stick.”

You were in awe as he flipped to the ground with ease and picked his stick up.

“You shouldn’t be walking around at night,” he warned. “Don’t wanna risk something happening to you.”

Not knowing what to say, you nodded.

A soft smile found its way on the masked man’s face. He gave your wrist a small squeeze and said, “stay safe” before flipping off to god knows where.

After a minute of shock, you finally began to hoist your friend off the ground to carry them back to their room.

(“Must’ve had a lot to drink tonight,” their roommate commented.)

(Meanwhile, you were silently praying the poor soul didn’t have a concussion.)

— The next day, Dick began to talk to you again.

He hugged you from behind like everything was back to normal, which surprised you.

“Dick—?!”

“That’s me.”

Before you could begin to ask why the fuck he ignored you, his arm found your shoulder as he began to walk you to the cafe on campus.

“I’m a little hungry,” he explained with a goofy grin. “I didn’t have breakfast this morning.”

So, the two of you ordered something and sat at the seating area.

That’s when you were able to ask him.

“Where have you been this past week?”

He blinked at you dumbly. “Studying?”

“And ignoring my calls?!”

“I didn’t check my phone,” he shrugged.

“I thought you were mad at me,” you complained. “Could you at least give me a call to let me know everything’s alright?”

His expression turned into something unreadable. Those blue eyes had a slight coldness to them as his mouth suddenly formed a crooked smile.

“(Y/N), you don’t have to be so… clingy.”

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dragon-kazansky · 3 years

Text

Dangerous | Helmut Zemo

AU! Race car driver Zemo 😎

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

I am once again apologising for what you're about to go through.

[Masterlist]

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 10

You wipe down the counter. It was quiet today, not many customers. Everyone was at home waiting for the race to begin. Today was the fourth race of the season. If Zemo won today, he would tie with Stark.

Zemo... you hadn't gone back. You hadn't called him, text him, seen him. You had returned to work, telling your boss things had changed. He welcomed you back, but he looked at you with pity sometimes.

He was currently standing in the doorway behind you, watching you. The race would be starting soon, he had the TV set up in his office, hoping you would come watch it with him. He would happily close up shop for this. For you.

You had worked at The Redwing for several years, a loyal worker to him. You would good with the people, you made wonderful coffee, sometimes bringing s cup to his office, and you knew how to make work fun.

You had this amazing opportunity, then something unexpected came out of the blue and ruined it.

You could do so much better than this little job. He wanted that for you. Plus, he was very much aware, just by the way you had been these past few days, that you were utterly in love with his favourite racer.

He saw the images from the last race. That photo of you and Zemo kissing after his win was all over the place.

Behind him, the commentators are talking about Zemo's win. He flashed up on the screen, a replay of his car gliding over the line. The moment Stark lost to him.

You put away some clean cups, stacking them gently by the machine. You liked having a tidy working area. You knew where everything was, getting what you needed for an order was second nature.

You swung a towel over your shoulder and decided to organise the new tea flavours that came in. Cherry blossom tea had just come in, apparently it was nice. As the shop was empty, you could make one. You grabbed a tea bag from the box and put the box back on the shelf. Your boss watches you go about making your drink.

"Are you going to watch the race with me?"

You pick up your mug and look at him, shaking your head softly. He sighs and comes over to you. He doesn't have to say anything as you begin to cry. He hugs you.

"Why didn't you go?"

"What would I have said?"

"Anything. You don't believe he did it, do you?"

You shake your head.

"Then why are you here with me when you can be there with him? I remember the accident, you know. Saw it on TV back then. There is no way Helmut Zemo would sabotage a race like that."

"What was I suppose to do?" You look up at him and watch as he grabs a napkin to hand to you. You wipe your tears gently.

"You were suppose to go. I'm suppose to be seeing you on screen today, supporting him. You're suppose to be there when he wins today," he speaks softly.

"It's too late."

"You could still go down there. You'll miss the race, but you'll be there."

You shake your head.

"He told me, he said if I still loved him I should be there at the race. If I don't go, he'll leave me alone. I think this is best."

"Now look here, you're a darling and I adore you, but my God, you're a silly liar. You're so in love with him it hurts. You're just torturing yourself by being here."

You wipe at your eyes gently, sipping the tea. It was nice. Zemo would like it.

You sigh and put the cup down.

"You go watch the race. Just... let me knows if he wins."

He looks at you with those pity filled eyes again. When you don't say any more, he leaves, heading back into the office. He keeps the door open a crack.

You stand there. No customers in sight. You feel absolutely awful.

Zemo sits outside by his car. Sam, Bucky, and Sam's sister Sarah, were all there with him. Zemo hadn't said a word to them since he arrived. Bucky had tried to talk to him about what happened, but he didn't get a response.

You weren't here. You didn't come.

He still held onto hope you would make a last minute appearance, that maybe you were right outside, but you weren't. He knew deep down you weren't coming.

You were afraid. He couldn't blame you, but he had hoped that maybe, just maybe, you would believe him. Still, he should have expected this.

Sam and Bucky glance at each other.

"Just leave him be. He'll focus up for the race," Sam said, glancing at Zemo.

Bucky looked across the way.

Stark and his little witch were smooching for the cameras. Behind them, Pepper Potts. Bucky never understood how Pepper could deal with Tony. After everything.

"I'll kill him."

"Bucky, don't."

Sarah pulls Bucky back and tried to get him to calm down. Sam, watches Stark for a lite while longer. He felt sick to the stomach just looking at them.

The racers were called to the line.

You finished up the last if the tea and put the cup to the side. You would take it up to the kitchen shortly. You refilled the water tank and reorganised the spoons for the third time that morning.

The door opened. A young woman enters, a man and two children behind her. You put on your hospitality smile and turn to her.

"Welcome, are you sitting in with us or taking out today?"

The woman smiles, though a lite awkwardly.

"Actually, I am looking for Y/N," she says softly. Her accent, it sounded so much like his.

"That would be me, what I can I do for you?"

She glances at the man she came in with, who nods at her. Licking her lip quickly, she turns back to you and speaks.

"My name is Wanda Maximoff, six years ago my brother died in a horrible accident. I know you have been made aware of this incident. I came here to tell you that I testified about what happened, but no one believed me. They took Stark's word against mine. Helmut Zemo did not kill my brother."

You stare at her.

"You're probably wondering how I know about you and how I come to be here. Stephen Strange is a racer too. Stark had called him a few nights ago. Apparently Zemo had paid him a visit and caused quite a fuss."

"Helmut went to Stark?"

"Yes. Over you. I don't know all the details, only what Strange had told me. I thought it best I come to you and tell you what I know. My brother died in an accident. He was not killed by Zemo."

You hear the low sound of engine revving from the office. The race was about to start.

Wanda watches as you dart into the office quickly. She smiles softly and leaves with her family.

Your boss looks up as you enter. He smiles at you and waves you over. You sit on his desk and watch the TV.

That beautiful purple car appears on screen. You almost want to cry again as you see Zemo sitting there.

You would close your eyes and listen to that sound, even if it is through the television, but you didn't want to look away for a second. That handsome man on the screen, you loved him beyond belief.

Then they were off.

Your breath caught in your throat. You tended up. Your boss placed a hand on your arm, reminding you to breathe. You couldn't. Stark and Zemo were neck on neck. If he won today, he would tie with Stark.

And you would go to him to be there for the final race.

The cars sped around the first corner. You had long since blocked out the commentator. The only sound you could hear was those engines.

Zemo's car glides down the track.

Stark is a hair width away from him. They are so close they could collide any moment, but they don't. Both of them are very skilled and talented drivers. They were born to do this.

They reach the second bend.

You grab your boss's hand, needing something to hold onto. Those two cars are so far ahead from everyone else.

You're filled with anxiety. Everything feels too much.

The third bend.

It all happens so quickly. In the blink of an eye. You're not even sure what had happened.

You weren't even aware you were screaming until your boss had his arms around you. He was so quick to try and tear your gaze away from the screen.

Zemo's car collided into the barrier. It was up in flames. Moments later there was an explosion.

It's just like that day. Six years ago.

You cling to your boss, crying into his shirt. He scrambles with one hand to grab the remote and turn it off.

You had seen enough.

The office fills with your cries. Your agony filled screams are enough to break anyone's heart. What the Hell just happened?

He didn't turn.

He didn't make it around the bend.

And now?

Your boss holds you for a while longer. It's all he can do to help you right now.

At the racetrack, there is chaos. Sam and Bucky were booking it down the sidelines, desperate to reach that corner. Stark zoomed past them going at the speed of light. He would soon cross the finish line and win his third victory, successfully beating Zemo at this point.

Sirens go off in every direction. All ambulances are heading the same way.

An eerie silence falls over the crowd, even after Stark finishes.

Sarah grabs her phone. She has to make a call.

Sam and Bucky manage to reach the wreck. The car is totalled into a burning pit. They can't make heads or tails of what's happening.

And where was Zemo?

This isn't how things were suppose to go.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @lunamooney2406 @wilder-fangirl @nectav @whovianayesha @thesuitkovian @cathrin2405 @deathtothepatriarchy @belle82devart @dxrksxul06 @killeromanoff @alex-the-nb @latenightartist-author @hb8301 @goddessofmischief03 @xxidontwikeitxx @themeanestlittlewitch @scuttle-buttle @fillechatoyante @lucky-luck-lucky @zemosimp420 @avengersofmischief @breadsquash

#helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #marvel #AU

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harryschicagooutfit · 3 years

Text

Chocolate | H.S

a/n: hi. I haven’t posted writing in awhile, been super caught up with school, work and life but I’m having a super fun time. This is something I’ve been working on for a little, let me know how you guys like it. I’m definitely considering turning this into a series, just want gage some reactions first.

Harry knew he liked her from the moment he laid eyes on her. They had literature 101 together. Nothing says bonding like reading books from the 19th century, really, He was borderline obsessed. The way she would play with the hem of her skirts she wore, raise her dainty hands to answer all of professors most philosophical questions and fiddle with the charms on her gold necklace when she was thinking too hard about an exam question. One time she brought the charm to her mouth and chewed on it while they wrote for a free write, and Harry swore he saw stars. He felt a little creepy at times, but it was nothing more than a harmless class crush. They only had about three total interactions, Harry remembers them all like they happened five minutes ago. On the first day, Harry opened the door for her and she whispered a sweet “thank you” before ducking around his arm, flashing him a smile and scurrying off to her next class. The second week of classes, she came late, and the only open spot was next to Harry, so she has no choice other than to sit next to the brooding boy whose stare made her feel funny things between her thighs. While she took her seat, Harry caught a little whiff of her perfume for the first time. She smelled like everything sweet on this earth, mixed into one. But most of all she smelled like chocolate. Harry wonders if she tastes as sweet as she smells. Harry had to fake cough to cover the look on his face while his thoughts went array.

This week however, Harry swore professor was being some sort of wingman, because they got paired up for peer editing on the first essay for the class. She sent him a quick wave before grabbing her stuff and heading over to plop herself down next to him. Today, she was wearing a pink dress with little red cherries all over it. The dress was off the shoulder and low cut, and it fit her perfectly. Her neck, back and shoulders on display, Harry couldn’t help me admire her as she waltzed over to him. As she got closer, Harry noticed it had small lace detailing that fit her angelic personality perfectly.

“Hi. You’re Harry, right?” She questioned, extending her hand with perfectly manicured white nails and rings adorned for Harry to shake.

“Y-yeah.” Did he just stutter? There’s no way. He took her hand and prayed his hardest that she wouldn’t feel it shaking.

“It’s nice to meet you, Harry. I’m y/n.” The girl replied in an endearing tone, looking at their hands intertwined. She couldn’t help but smile at the contact.

“I know.” Harry blurred out. Her eyebrows scrunched together in shock and confusion.

“I’ve just seen you around campus is all.” He immediately rebuttals, trying to seem less like a serial killer who likes to watch her sleep. She doesn’t care about the interesting comment, she’s busy trying to figure out if that British accent is real or if she’s imagining things.

“No worries, me too. You’re in Ziggerman’s class with me, right?” She smiles, letting her hand fall from his and Harry noticed they definitely held on for a little too long. She knows he knows they have that class together; she catches him staring all the time.

“Yeah. Prof Z is a total twat. Gave me a 72 on that last exam.” Harry replied trying to smooth over his earlier statements. Y/N let out a gasp and a quick laugh that she soon covered with her hand, careful not to interrupt the class. He used the word twat. Definitely British.

“No way! He’s given me nothing but A’s this semester. But I heard he’s got a weird knack for his female students, so I agree, total twat.” She explains in a hushed tone, leaning into Harry as she spoke. Harry’s nose scrunched in disgust at the gossip about professor and decided he doesn’t want an explanation on that one.

“Totally. So, what’re we supposed to be doing again?” He asks, grabbing the handout they were given and skimming it. He feels his breath hitch when Y/N crosses her arm into his space to point her finger where the instructions on the paper are.

“Says he wants us to swap papers and give each other questions for guided reading.” She speaks, reading from the paper. Harry isn’t listening, rather admiring her pretty hands and a small tattoo on her wrist that he’s only now been close enough to see. Her arm is back in her lap before he can read what it says.

She reaches into her bag, pulling out a printed version of the essay they’ve been working on for a little over a week. She hands it over and her eyes meet his for the third time today, Harry thinks he’s dreaming. Her eyes have the prettiest gloss over them, making them shine even under the fluorescent lights of the classroom. He drags himself out of his daydream, getting his essay out as well, handing it over before telling her what to look for.

“I wanted some help on my thesis, so maybe focus on that if you could?” He asks, being a little too shy to ask the pretty girl for help on his essay.

“Absolutely. I just want your general opinion on my topic.” She requests, turning towards the front of the class and craning her neck to begin reading his paper. He can’t stop his eyes from flickering from the paper to her every minute or so, making his reading process much longer than needed.

She tries her hardest to focus on the paper in front of her and not the pretty brown-haired boy who is sat next to her, almost so close she can feel his heat. It doesn’t take long for her to recognize that he is a very talented writer. Great, so he’s cute, got tattoos, is British, and he can write. Y/N’s walking wet dream. A few more minutes pass before she sets the paper down on her desk and turns to him, he quickly mirrors her actions. They spend about 5 minutes talking over the questions they discussed, and Y/N tries her hardest not to sound like a fan girl when talking about his reading, while he tries to act cool when she compliments it.

“Seriously, where did you learn to write like that?” She questioned eagerly, needing to know a little bit more about this boy. He cracks a smile, and she notices the deep dimples that adorn both his cheeks.

“I write songs.” He answers, a little embarrassed for her reaction. Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise and a smile spreads across her face.

“That’s fuckin’ sick. Are you in a band or something like that?” She continues her questioning.

“Yeah, actually. It’s not a big deal or anything, just a few of my friends and I.” He answers, reaching his hand up to scratch the back of his neck, wanting to adjust his seating to seem less timid. Her vulgar language with her perfectly shaped lips made him want to listen to her talk forever.

“That’s so cool. I’d love to hear you guys or see some lyrics sometime. I write, but not songs.” She states, smiling at him.

“For sure! I’m sure your writing is amazing, judging by your essay.” Harry compliments, earning a slight blush form her. Score. The boys have a gig this weekend. It’s actually their first gig, so he doesn’t feel confident enough to invite her just yet. Be way too much pressure if she was there at their first show ever.

Luckily, they get cut off by the professor announcing that everyone is free to leave. Harry notices her reach into her bag and grab a small pink sticky note, hurrily writing something on it.

“Here’s my number if you wanna talk about your essay anymore, or if you want to show me some songs! It was really nice to finally get introduced. I’ve got to run to mock trial, but I’ll see you Thursday for Z’s class!” Y/N gives Harry the pink slip and throws her bag over her shoulder and walks towards the door, making sure to send harry a wave before her face disappeared into the rest of the crowd.

Harry stares in pure shock at the slip. It reads ‘xxx-xxx-xxxx, call me! <3’. Harry can’t help but smile to himself, quickly realizing where he is at and stands up, collecting his things and heading out the door. Did she mean it? Did she really want him to call? Did she really want to hear some of his stuff? Questions rushed through his mind as he paced down the hall, out the door and to his parked car. He reached for his keys and felt his phone begin to buzz, immediately picking it up hoping for it to be Y/N, which wouldn’t make sense anyway, because she didn’t have his, he had hers. His eyes scanned over the caller id and then the time, rolling his eyes instinctively. He lets his thumb hit the green button and brings the phone to his ear.

“Haz, where the hell are you? Rehearsal started 10 minutes ago!” Niall barked through the phone.

“I’m on my way. I was busy. Chill out and I’ll be there soon.” Harry replied dryly, not letting Niall and his rather loud voice take away from the good news he just received.

Harry’s POV

I pull up to the small flat just minutes from campus and I can already see the boys all set up in the garage, ready to play. I hear various ‘look who decided to show up’s and ‘speak of the devil’s come from them and give them the finger, rounding the back of my car to grab my guitar from the trunk.

“You guys are just cranky because you can’t play without me.” I joke, setting my things up beside Liam. I earn lots of eye rolls from the group of boys and a smack on the back of the head from Liam.

“False, we ran Alive and Happier and sounded just perfect without you. What’s your excuse this time?” Liam asks, searching for the normal answer like sleeping in or smoking and forgot.

“You know that girl I was talking about the other day?” I remind them.

“Gotta be way more specific than that mate, you know we can’t keep track.” Niall sneakily comments, tuning his guitar in the corner. I send him a glare and finish my sentence.

“The one from Literature.” I state, walking to the microphone to position it correctly.

“Yes, the one you wouldn’t shut the hell up about. Said she smelled like chocolate last week, weirdo.” Zayn reminds the group.

I smile at the thought of her sent and reaches into my pocket and retrieve the small pink slip with 10 digits on it, showing it off to the boys with a smirk. They all seem genuinely impressed.

“Think she’d be smart enough to blow you off. Poor girl.” Louis cracks, adjusting the wires in the back.

“Fuck off, will you? This is a big deal.” I shoot back, typing the number in my contacts now that I have the time. I shoot her a quick text and set up the computer to record our next run. I was too busy and though I must admit it, too scared to call her. I thought of our most impressive rock song and asked the boys to help me run it. If she’s going to ask for a sample, I’m going to give her a good one. One that says “I’m much cooler than some guy who shakes when he takes your hand and stutters when he talks”.

“Let’s do Little Black Dress, yeah? From the first chord and please give it your all. Wanna send a copy to Y/N.” I request, lining myself up with the mic. I hear a gagging noise come from Niall and turn my head to glare at him.

“One look and you’re whipped. Tough mate.” Niall teases. Before I can rebuttal, he strikes the first chord that starts off the song, and we get going.

Y/N’s POV:

I hear a chime from across the room and assume it’s my roommate, Maya’s phone. Then I remember I’m home alone. I move my laptop off my lap and grab my phone from the charger. My eye bulge when I see it’s an unsaved number, I immediately know it’s Harry.

xxx-xxx-xxxx: hi. Its harry.

y/n: hi harry. what r u up to?

harry: band reversal. Almost got my neck rang because the boys were mad that I was late.

harry: worth it for your number though

I scold myself for the smile that embraces my face and try to ignore the heat rising to my cheeks.

y/n: well duh. So rehearsal huh? gonna let me hear a little something like you promised?

I sent my last text hoping he wouldn’t think I was flirting too fast or trying too hard. I throw my phone down on the couch and try to forget its even there. Thankfully, right on que I can hear Maya’s keys jingling their way into the front door and I wait for her to get it all the way open. She makes her grand entrance and joins me on the couch, asking me about my day before I get the chance to ask her about hers.

“It was good. Everybody really liked that dress I wore and mock trial wants me to run for President!” I tell her all the highlights of my day, leaving out the part that’s been plaguing my brain for real.

“Why are you blushing? Did I walk in on something?” She teases me, placing her hands on my cheeks to feel the heat.

“No! Don’t be gross Maya. I was just texting Harry.” I explain, scolding her with a light push to the shoulder.

“Who? Wait, like Styles?” She asks, her eyes growing wider with every word she speaks.

“Yeah… what is that like a bad thing?” I question back, worried by her reply.

“No, I guess not. He’s just kinda scary. Heard he’s a bit of a man whore. Just very smash and pass according to the entire KKG sorority.” Maya answers, rolling her eyes slightly at the thought of him.

“Oh well I knew that.” I didn’t. “I agree, he is kind of scary. He’s a really good writer thought, we got paired up today in Lit and his essay was super good.” I rattle on about the dreamy poet I got the chance to talk to today.

“Oh please. Dark, tall and handsome and he likes to write emo boy poems? Give me a break. Classic Casanova.” She hates, laughing at his cliché-ness.

“Yeah, pretty typical but it worked for him. He’s in a band! He told me he’d send me a sample. I hope their not trash. That’d be shitty.” I joke.

“I know. Casey from KKG told me she’s seen the practice a few times since they live so close to the sorority house. They rehearse in the garage, how 2000’s.” Maya tells me, reaching for her water off the coffee table.

Before I can reply, she switches the topic.

“So, have you figured out what you’re gonna wear on Thursday?” She questions. Me and Maya always a attend the fall battle of the bands every year when it comes around.

“I was thinking something black. I looked up the bands name and listened to a few of their songs and they seemed more rock-ish so I’m gonna try and fit the crowd. So no pink cherries and white socks for me. How about you?” I explain.

“That’s hot. I don’t know yet, was gonna look through your closet to be honest.” She speaks her truth.

“I have this white one that would fit you perfectly.” I offer, getting quickly distracted by a chime from my phone.

Harry: audio message (00:45)

My eyes light up and I show Maya the text, nudging her closer so we can listen. I press the play button and am met with a strong E chord stroke followed by even louder build up to a song about a little black dress. They’re amazing. I can’t tell yet who’s who when they’re singing but they sound wonderful together.

Looks like I know what I’m wearing Thursday.

a/n: hope you enjoyed !!! I would absolutely love some feedback. have a good day everyone.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #frat boy harry #frat boy! harry #college au harry #one direction #one direction imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #Spotify

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anigerrrr · 3 years

Text

Just a friend from work

Natasha Romanoff x Carol Danvers

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: Natasha doesn’t think that she’s dating the blonde woman, and they certainly shouldn’t as well. It’s not professional.

Warning: Protective Yelena, sister conversations, Captain’s bad acting

(please let me know if there’s any I should add as well)

a/n: Hello! This is my first fanfic written in English for carolnat, and I just love them so much. English is not my mother language so please ignore my grammatical errors lol ! Please do comment if you have any thoughts or questions!

“So, how old is he?”

“Who?”

“That guy you’re dating.”

When Yelena started it - whatever it is, the redhead immediately made a full stop for this upcoming conversation.

“No,” Natasha said, half jaded from today’s mission. “Yelena, I already said that we are not gonna talk about this. Not now.”

“Excuse me, you almost got caught in the middle of the frickin’ building just for replying to someone's text.” Her sister’s brown eyes widened in disbelief, “and as your partner, little sister plus, I think I have a full right to know what’s happening.”

Ok, after all of the universal matters. The Snap, The Blip, The Endgame and The Reunion. Natasha let out a sigh. This world may be peaceful enough - almost too peaceful, for her younger sister to dig into her personal life now.

“It was something important from the HQ, ” she finally made something up, trying to convince Yelena. “Some information. Not anyone I’m dating, and I’m not seeing any single guy either.”

This part was sort of a truth.

Natasha wasn’t seeing a guy.

/ Coming back to earth in an hour. - C. /

That’s the reason she punched the bad guys in extra strength today, almost ruining Yelena’s nose as well in some kind of jump-scare situation. Well, Natasha just needed to end this mission. Efficiently.

She’s expecting a woman with glowing fists.

“You may be the top assassin with excellent lying skills, but you know it’s useless to me.�� Yelena teased in a raspy Russian accent, as if she just couldn’t let go of it.

“I’ll take the compliment.”

“And does that mean you’re actually lying to me?”

Natasha smirked, taking off her suit as she replied to the blonde. “You’re less annoying when you’re still a little girl.”

She tried to pretend nothing actually happened in this present, and that’s what she should do for sure. She’s still an Avenger, reborn in the mysterious deal between Captain Marvel and the Soul Stone keeper after the war.

Carol was there, shining like stars in the darkest underground. Vormir was a place of exchange, a place where only sacrifice made deals. But when it was about Carol, nothing seemed impossible to make a miracle in her hands.

-It was easy, you know. I just asked him to return what we had left in that shit place.

-Yeah, I asked him nicely. See this smile? That’s how I got Nat back.

No one believed this story. It didn’t matter anyway, especially when these avengers witnessed Natasha taken back by Carol without any visible injuries.

Maybe just like how she found Tony and took him back at an unbelievable speed, there’s something always mysterious with Carol.

They supposed.

“If you’re taking good care of yourself as Fanny is, I wouldn’t have asked.” Yelena rolled her eyes, and suddenly she saw something unusual on her sister’s back.

“Wait, Natasha. What is that?” As Yelena leaned closer, she narrowed her brown eyes to observe the unusual mark left on Natasha’s back. “It looks like a bite. Oh my God, are you turning into a vampire or something? “

She realized that maybe Yelena didn’t know what love marks were. As far as she knew, her younger sister hadn’t dated anyone since the collapse of the red room.

“There’s no bite, Yelena. You’re exaggerating, it’s probably just a scratch from the fight.” Natasha pulled down her black tank top, adding an extra leather jacket she didn’t usually wear.

There’s a bite.

And it took all her efforts to stay impeccable in front of her sister every time she felt it burning silently, especially after taking a shower or punching someone really hard.

Carol did that.

“Alright then, time for dinner?” Yelena shrugged, putting her oversized hoodie on.

“Yeah, sure.” Natasha didn’t catch the full sentence from her partner-sister honestly, she focused more on the communicator that she’s been carrying all the time.

“Speaking of that…Mom - I mean, Melina. Anyway, she asked if we’d be free to show up for dinner next week.” Yelena said, pulling out her phone from the pocket as well. “I think Friday will be good, how do you think?”

/ Let’s catch up in the compound later, I need to take a really quick shower. - C. /

“Yeah, that’d be amazing…wait, what?” Natasha raised her head up and seized the blonde’s eyes, “I’m sorry, what was the question?”

/ In case you wanna know, I look like a total mess in purple blood now. They didn’t even act like living spices, what a day. - C. /

Natasha stopped, and smiled a bit for imagining the blonde woman’s messy look now.

She didn’t reply a single word to these texts, but it kept coming up. It’s just like Carol knew that she’d always read them as soon as they were delivered.

“Ok, that’s rude.” And her sister finally couldn’t take it any longer. “Admit it, Natasha. You’re apparently disturbed by someone that you don’t wanna tell me, why is that?”

Then, Natasha realized that Yelena was still standing in front of her the whole time. She didn’t pay attention to anything this young woman said about free or show. Or dinner.

Fantastic.

“I’m dealing with something important,” walking together out of their changing room, Natasha answered softly. She’s hiding her vague feelings of guilt. “- from work.”

“Natasha, we’re working together.”

“Ugh, that’s different. That’s…” As Natasha tried to come up with something more persuasive, her younger sister stopped and nodded to someone.

“Oh, hey.” Yelena took a step back, and she seemed a little nervous. “Cap, we didn’t know you’re coming back today.”

When Natasha met the other blonde woman’s eyes, she found Carol’s hair still dripping. Ok, that’s definitely how a quick shower should be called.

“I left a message to Agent Romanoff.” Carol showed her audacity in acting surprised just right in front of the perfectly trained assassins. “Oh Romanoff, I was looking for you. Lucky me.”

“The mission I mentioned last night, remember that? It went a little bit wrong now.”

To Natasha’s surprise, her sister showed concern on her profile. “Is everything alright?”

Wait, Yelena could tell if she’s lying easily but actually believed in Carol’s almost-too-obvious acting?

“It will be,” Carol smiled back, taking a step in to pat Natasha’s left shoulder. “I just need to borrow your sister for a few minutes - hours, if you don’t mind?”

“Oh, that’s fine. She’s not actually paying attention to me anyway.” Yelena raised her eyebrow, adding a friendly suggestion to her Captain. “Just don’t let her suspicious friend bother her via texts during the mission.”

“Ha, that’s mature.” Natasha couldn’t help but roll her eyes back again, she knew Carol was trying to not let out a laugh. This woman is literally shining right now.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, totally.” Carol winked in a way that Natasha suspected she'd done this a thousand times.

“See you later then, young lady.”

When they left the compound, Natasha shut the door of the training room and almost hit the blonde’s pretty nose.

“Are you fucking serious?” Natasha said as soon as there’s no one else between them.

“You are wearing my jacket.” Carol just smirked happily, admiring how well it fit the redhead. “It looks cute on you, just keep it for me. Will you?”

Something did go wrong, between these two deadly women.

Any one in the galaxy would say it's very hard for Carol to stay in one place for a long time. But she did, she stayed on earth for almost a week, once a month.

And any one in the Avengers’ HQ would say it’s very hard for Natasha to be disturbed by anything or anyone. Even so, she would not show it on her expression even a tiny bit.

That’s just not her thing.

Like dating someone, or texting someone back. Or admit that she’s caring for the blonde ones, not just her younger sister.

But they did have sex (well it was amazing), twice. Ugh, maybe three times, if the very first time on Carol’s spaceship counted.

That’s all, it's a healthy relationship between adults.

It sounds professional.

“You should stop texting me while we’re at working hours.” Natasha sighed.

“Wait,” Carol chuckled, her hair color looked darker when it’s wet. “Do we actually have ‘working hours’ in this job? I mean, when is it not ?”

“When we’re not on a mission.”

“But how do I know- ”

“You’re the Captain, Carol.”

“Oh,” Carol finally agreed with a small smile. “That makes sense.”

Every time. Natasha looked at her and thought. Every time she called her name, not Danvers or Captain, just Carol. The smile just came up like that, like nothing else in this world was more delightful than hearing Natasha say her five-letters name.

It’s silly, unprofessional.

But Natasha did that, once in a while.

“So,” Carol tilted her head slightly, and acted that she’s way more harmless than having power to blast spaceships in a single fist. “What’s the plan for dinner?”

“You’re gonna stay that much longer, Captain?” Natasha teased when she finally felt something was in control, by her. Carol’s thoughts were easy to be studied, or at least she gave in for her.

Carol hummed in a way that Natasha could tell she’s triggered, and dragged her leather jacket’s collar to lean in.

“Depends on what you’re offering me to eat, ma’am.”

#carol danvers x natasha romanoff #carol danvers #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #black widow #captain marvel #carolnat

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Maybe something to do with another coops live stream they’re hilarious😂

These livestreams are basically my favorite fics to write and I’m so glad you all enjoy them! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Hey, Instagram, we’re back!” Sirius smiled so wide his dimples appeared as Remus sat down and wrapped an arm around his waist. “It’s been a while since we did a livestream and we’ve been looking forward to it for a while, so let’s get started.”

“First question,” Remus said, leaning forward a bit. “Who kills the spiders? I do.”

Sirius wrinkled his nose. “We tried to do a catch and release policy, but they always end up coming back. Who is the better dancer? I don’t know, honey, who is the better dancer?”

Remus rolled his eyes and gave him a playful nudge. “Rub it in, why don’t you.”

“It’s me,” Sirius said with a smug grin. “Lionsfan65 wants to know if being married to your best friend is like having a 24/ 7 sleepover.”

“Oh, that’s a good one.” Remus bit his lip. “Yeah, I think so. I mean, some nights we stay up late to watch movies and other nights we stay up late doing taxes, but it’s awesome.”

“That’s so accurate,” Sirius laughed. “We should build a taxes pillow fort sometime.”

“We totally should. That would make it so much more bearable.”

“We could have popcorn!”

“Hell yeah!” They high-fived, and Remus turned back to the phone. “Do waiters ever ask if we’re splitting the check?”

Sirius groaned. “All the time. We were on our honeymoon and literally holding hands over the table, and the waitress asked if we were on a ‘guys’ trip’.”

“She also said that our wives must be glad to have the weekend to themselves,” Remus added with a grimace. “It was one of those awkward ‘thanks, but that’s my husband’ moments.”

Sirius scrolled through the incoming questions, then burst out laughing. “Oh, fuck, I knew I missed doing these for a reason.”

“What? Which one is it?”

He took another moment to catch his breath before tapping the screen. “To Sirius: no offense, but your husband is really hot. Why would I take offense to that, fernbaby? It’s true!”

“Who sent that in? Thank you, fernbaby, that’s so nice!” Remus blushed a bit, but his smile turned to confusion as he read the next one. “Who wears the pants?”

“Right now, both of us. On a really good day, neither of us,” Sirius said easily. “Honey, someone thinks I’m an ‘alpha’.”

Remus tilted his head. “A what?”

“An ‘alpha’, whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.”

“Seeing as we’re not werewolves, neither of us are an ‘alpha’.” Remus did air quotes around the word and raised an eyebrow. “Plus, the guy that originally coined those terms for wolf packs later came forward and said his experiment was unreliable and that he had proved wolves work in hierarchies based on age.”

“That’s science, bitches,” Sirius said with a grin. “Aw, this one is sweet! What are our nicknames for each other?”

“I call you ‘baby’ all the time, but ‘honey’ is a close second.”

“Yeah, there aren’t a lot of nicknames for my name. Um, I call you ‘sweetheart’, ‘mon loup’, ‘mon amour’, ‘Re’…now that I think about it, I can’t remember the last time I called you by your full name.”

“I hope not,” Remus laughed. “You only do that when I’m in trouble.”

“True. Oh, this one is for you.”

Remus scooted closer to him. “To Remus: what’s the hardest part about moving from PT to player? Ugh, everything. If I had to choose one thing, it would be having to step back from helping the guys when they get hurt in a game. Hestia still has to remind me to let her do her job sometimes, even though she’s the most amazing PT in the world and I have total trust in her. It’s pretty tough seeing your friends in pain and not being allowed to help them anymore.”

There was a beat of quiet. “Well, that got morbid fast,” Sirius said drily, making Remus snort. “This is promising: pick a Disney princess you each identify with.”

“Should we switch, and each say each other’s?”

Sirius gave him a look. “Do you even know mine?”

“Of course I know yours!” Remus said indignantly. “It’s Rapunzel!”

“What?”

“It totally is! You have a crush on Flynn Rider and her chameleon is named Pascal!”

Sirius hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Okay, fair. I was going to say Elsa. Yours is easy, though.”

“Are you sure?”

“If it’s not Belle, you’re lying to yourself.”

“It is, don’t worry,” Remus laughed. “Everyone in the comment section guessed that. Great job, guys! This is an easy one: what was our last fight about?”

“Which Disney princess I relate to more. Do we have the same taste in men?” Sirius stifled a laugh. “I think this one answers itself.”

Remus gestured vaguely. “Seeing as we look completely different, no. I’m into tall, athletic, heart of gold types.”

Sirius put his best poker face on. “Librarians are really my thing.”

“Okay, you know what—”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he laughed, tugging Remus closer to kiss his cheek despite the mock-scowl on his face. The phone screen lit up with multicolored hearts and they turned back to it after a chaste kiss on the lips. “Your turn.”

“Librarian,” Remus scoffed around a smile. “Why did we keep our wedding a secret? Well, we didn’t. Everyone knew it was happening.”

“We didn’t tell the media the details for a few reasons. Number one, we wanted a small ceremony with just friends and family. Number two, both of us are tired of people’s noses in our business. Number three, it was really, really funny watching them speculate.” He counted down on his fingers, looking rather self-satisfied. “And it worked. It was perfect.”

“Plus, we planned it in, like, six weeks. There weren’t a lot of concrete details to actually give people. Someone asked one for you, baby.”

“To me…do I get along with Re’s parents? Oh, I adore them. They’re amazing people and I love seeing them when they visit.”

A slow grin spread over Remus’ face. “Oh, I love this next question. Loops, we all know you’re weak for the French accent—you’re not wrong—but Cap, do you like his accent, too?”

Sirius lit up. “I do! It’s so cute! It comes out when he’s tired or excited and I just—” He smiled and drummed his hands on his knees, going a bit pink. “I dunno. It’s cute. Alright, let’s move on before I embarrass myself even more. Who’s the better cook or baker?”

“You are adorable,” Remus said, his cheeks vibrant red. “To answer the question, I’m the better cook, but I can’t bake for shit. Sirius makes brownies like you’ve never tasted before, though.”

“I’m practicing.”

“What’s the best prank I’ve ever pulled on Sirius?” Remus laughed under his breath. “Sirius and Pots teamed up to fuck with my gear one practice, so I spent the next day and a half playing the circus theme song whenever they walked into a room together.”

“Ah, fuck, I forgot about that,” Sirius muttered. “And then you got Finn to sing it, too.”

“I didn’t do anything, he started that himself.”

“He’s so annoying,” Sirius said fondly. “Alright, last question. Remus, was it hard to adjust to having more disposable income?”

Remus hummed in thought for a moment, resting his chin on his hand. “Definitely. I am so, so grateful to have this opportunity, but it’s always the little things that remind me. Like, plane tickets to go see my family in Wisconsin don’t have to be a big expense anymore. It’s been a really interesting adjustment for sure. Is that all we have time for?”

“I think so.” They waved to the camera one last time. “Thanks for joining us, and thanks for the great questions! Go Lions!”

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idontblushsrry · 3 years

Text

Itadori Yuuji Boyfriend Headcanons

A/N: Reader is from America and a black female. Idk why i decided to write this but I think that Yuuji would be a fun boyfriend lmao. I don’t entirely know what the reader’s cursed technique should be so lmk if you have any ideas. Until then enjoy Yuuji and reader being 2 idiots in love. Spoilers for all the eps of jujutsu kaisen up to about episode 11, nothing past that though as I want to finish the show first before reading the manga, so please be respectful of spoilers and label them (and tag if necessary) in the comments. Also srry if this cuts off abruptly bcus of the point the show is at. This is also like, all over the place but whatever.

(also sorry this was posted later than usual oops)

Word Count: 1943

This dork-

He is so sweet and kind and considerate

But also a dumbass but also like he’s your dumbass

You and Yuuji are both equally stupid like bless yalls hearts

You and Yuuji met during his time at the Tokyo Academy when you transferred from America

The moment this man saw you walk up with Gojo-sensei he was smitten

Like your skin was glowing??? how???

And you had a slight accent but like he loved it too

And when you came up to greet him and shake hands you smelled so good and your skin was so soft

((He would later come to find out that the root of that was the shea cocoa butter lotion you used))

But yea mans was smitten and he is fully in love with you lmao

Will do literally anything you ask

You hungry? He’s prepared a 5 course, michelin star meal

Want new clothes? He’s been training for the day he could hold your bags for you

Ran out of hair products?? He’s already back with a special box of your products that he had imported from America

To this day you don’t know how he was able to get those products so quickly

He is loves when you tell him things about you from your day, to your times in america, to how your cursed energy works

Yall are the couple that does stupid shit together

Like one time you showed Yuuji one of those life hack videos and he was like

“We should totally do that”

And you were like “Bet”

Needless to say Fushiguro was very confused at the sight of bandaids on both of your fingers the next morning

“???What happened?”

“Well you see, I told Yuuji that I should use the glue gun because he didn’t even know where to put the glue stick. And he said nah, I got it and um yea so I fell and the glue gun was plugged in and then he tripped over me and so now we look like this.”

Gojo and Kugisaki thought that this was hilarious while Fushiguro decided that he’d store your guys’ glue gun in his shadows from now on

How yall manage to get through missions you go on together alive is a miracle

Speaking of missions, you eventually ask Yuuji what’s his deal because you feel a powerful aura coming from him but he never uses cursed energy, always cursed weapons

Cue Sukuna’s mouth popping up on the side of his face like “Hey mamas”

(You can’t tell me that Sukuna isn’t the type of guy to ask where his hug at)

“YUUJI WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!”

“Oh, I guess you haven’t met Sukuna yet, huh?”

So he sits you down and explains how he ate Sukuna’s finger and you're sitting there like ‘mhm mhm mhm, sorry you what?’

For like 3 days after he told you that you couldn’t bring yourself to kiss him just because you were processing the fact that Yuuji ate someone’s nasty old ass finger and would have to eat 19 more

And the fact that he’s the vessel of like the worst curse known to man

During those 3 days, Yuuji’s pouting because he’s like ‘I fucked up, now she doesn’t wanna kiss me let alone talk to me because of this monster inside of me :(’

Meanwhile you’re just like ‘why would anyone eat some random mummified finger?’

Eventually you get wind of Yuuji’s bad mood and immediately, you rush to smooth things over with him.

You knock on his door and hear blankets rustling before he goes, “I’m not in the mood to play fight right now Kugisaki’

“Can I come in baby?”

You immediately hear the most comical almost cartoonish amount of noise ranging from a cup falling over, sheets falling off the bed, and what sounds like Yuuji falling flat on his ass before he opens the door

When he does, you’re laughing and it’s like the sky is no longer grey and the world is filled with color

You smile at each other before your moment is interrupted with Sukuna going “Finally, full offense, his whining was getting annoying”

You step inside his room and apologize for ignoring him, explaining that you just needed time to process things, explaining that you should’ve told him that before dipping

He just grabbed you in a bear hug and lifted you of the ground and spinning you around laughing happily, after all he wasn’t even upset with you, he just missed you

And thus begins the honeymoon phase of your guys’ relationship

Fushiguro is actually really happy for you guys and is the most supportive of your relationship but if anyone asked him to admit that out loud he’d actually apparate to the nearest marooned ship

Nobura doesn’t hate you guys but she thinks all couples are disgusting, so while it’s nothing personal, she does gag when you and Yuuji do so much as make goo goo eyes at each other

Gojo is actually like the main cheerleader of your relationship.

He is the teacher that changes the seating chart to put students he ships together

He was always pairing you and Yuuji up on missions and placing you as sparring partners like ur not slick

If Gojo is the cheerleader, Sukuna is an actual antagonist

Like the man goes out of his way to CHOOSE violence

Like on time you kissed Yuuji’s cheek on a date and when you pulled back, your lip was bleeding and Sukuna’s mouth was smirking at you

Another thing he likes to do is tell you all of Yuuji’s simp^tm thoughts

Like all of them

Now Yuuji isn’t ashamed of how much he loves you and is in fact very open with it, but he doesn’t need Sukuna telling you that the only reason he bought x mouthwash was because it made your breath smell like “sunshine” and he had to see if it would work on him

Speaking of dates, good luck

Now I stand by the fact that Yuuji would never half-ass a date and things with him are certainly never boring

But he’s also like a country boy in the city and his tourist tendencies tend to get the best of him

Like you’ll be trying to find a spot to eat and when you look back Yuuji’s gone

((Prolly to buy another I <3 Tokyo shirt so you can both match))

He always catches up with you ad you eventually learn that but like the first few times be havin you ready to put up a lost child signal on the loudspeaker

He’s very sweet and this is where his thoughtfulness shines through

You and Yuuji plan dates in the same way one plays bingo

Like because you never know where you’re going to be r when exactly you’ll both be free (especially with Gojo-sensei and his bare minimum ass information) you two tend to go ‘ok well if we’re here we’ll go here and if we’re here, we’ll go here’ and so on and so forth

But Yuuji always remembers such little one-off details about you that make your dates.

Like you mention wanting to try a sushi train and he’s already scrolled through multiple yelp reviews and watched every youtube restaurant review like 9 times

But every high has a low and Yuuji and your’s low comes suddenly and it brings you crashing to the ground with no warning and nothing to slow your descent

When your class of first years were sent to exorcise the special grade cursed womb

When Yuuji’s hand got blown off and he told you to run you froze, your mind racing faster than your legs could even start

“(Y/N) RUN!” Yuuji’s voice broke you out of your fear-based trance

“I- I...can’t...I can’t leave you!” you cried out all your rational senses screamed at you to go, run, he had Sukuna and you were barely a grade 2 sorcerer. But your intuition told you if you left him you wouldn’t see him alive again.

You were trapped in a paralysis of indecision but the choice was made for you when a sticky tongue wrapped around your midriff and you were gulped into the mouth of one of Fushiguro’s frogs

“Goddamn it Fushiguro! Let me go! I need to... save... him.” You were outside the building before you could even finish arguing.

You glared up at Fushiguro but your eyes softened some when you saw how beat up Kugisaki looked.

He gave you this look that said he did what he had to do and he didn’t care what you had to say about it

You and him waited in the rain for Yuuji or Sukuna to exit the building

You tried to focus yourself and save your negative emotions for your cursed attack

When Sukuna inevitably appeared, one finger stronger, you were fully prepared to fight him

However, he didn’t seem interested in fighting you and more engaged in fighting with Megumi

You tried to urge Fushiguro to wait it out, eventually Sukuna would lose control, but when Sukuna took Yuuji’s heart hostage, you both knew you’d have to fight

You and Fushiguro gave it your all but when Yuuji came back he still died

It took all your strength to not completely fall apart after his death and the support from the second years as well as Kugisaki and Fushiguro helped

You’d tried to visit him at the morgue but Shoko only told you that she didn’t think it’d be a good idea.

You still slept in his sweaters and the things that smelled like him from time to time, trying to make the idea of him last, but after a month, the smell of him had started to fade

Everything about Yuuji’s memory seemed to become leached away with time, from his smell, to the wear present on things he’d given to you

You couldn’t help but feel resentful towards yourself but also to Sukuna, he’d taken Yuuji from you with the same care that one would throw litter on the ground

The pain in your chest didn’t wane either, it only became ignorable to a degree as training for the exchange with the Kyoto students became more intense

Fushiguro is a comfort to you as well, aside from you, him and Yuuji were the closest to each other and so he gets a lot of what you’re going through and doesn’t push when you become more withdrawn

He also lets you pet his demon dog too but when you ask him why he’s letting you pet it he just says ‘because no one would believe you if you told them’ lies

The bastard really just does it because he knows you’re sad and he doesn’t want you to be sad

Speaking of the Kyoto students, Zenin Mai and Toudou Aoi are permanently on your shit list

You’re relieved that Panda, Maki, and Inumaki came to your guys’ aid but like if you had your way Mai wouldn’t even exist

Anyways Maki has Panda physically restrain you while she tries to calm you down

“(Y/N), you can kick her ass at the exchange!”

When you calm down, Panda puts you down and even though Mai’s long gone with Todou to go get his handshake, you make a promise that carries through the wind

‘Zenin Mai, pray that the next time you run across me I’m feeling kind, because if not-’, the last word is lost as the wind picks up but Mai feels a shiver rack through her body that more than ensures your message.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jjk x reader #itadori yuji x reader #itadori yuji #jjk itadori #black reader #x black reader #idontblushsrry

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andilovetowrite · 3 years

Text

Party Favors P.P

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: When trying to convince Peter to go to a party with you, a few secrets are revealed about a certain web-slinger’s crush, with your dad hanging onto every word. Total fluff here, guys!

Using the prompt: “come on, I can’t go to the party alone!”

Warnings: Nothing terrible, a swear word or two, I think. Just a lot of Flustered!Peter….. Oh, and Liz Allen being a prominent wing woman. Some suggestiveness as well. Sprinkles of angst but ends in fluff

Posted: April 30, 2021

Word Count: 3.2k

Here is my Masterlist in case you wanna read some more work of mine. Also, my requests are open :)

“Pleaseee”, you pleaded, begging your best friend, “pretty please?” Peter Parker, the neighbour hood’s protector, Spiderman, an Avenger and your best friend stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed while he indignantly shook his head.

“Nope. Now way Y/N”

“C’mon, Pete. Just one time? Please, please, please?”

Peter sighed, raising his chocolate brown eyes to meet your Y/E/C eyes. “Is it necessary? Like life and death?”

“Yes! It is! Well, it saves lives and prevents death. And I need your help with this.”

Peter pursed his lips, looking a whole lot like a family member of yours you recently spoke to. “What’s in it for me?”

“Well, for starters, payback… Like the time I had to tell the press that ‘intern’ Peter Parker was doing a brilliant job working for my dad.”

“Yeah, I guess. But could you blame me? Y/N Stark saying to the world that I do a great job working as an intern was a sure way to make Flash shut up.”

“Ah, I get it. You’re just using me for my name!” you said, clasping a hand to your chest, faking hurt. Pretending to wipe off a tear, you whispered sorrowfully, “Another one bites the dust…”

“Uh-huh. And we are sure the amazing Y/N Stark didn’t have fun winding up Flash the next day at school when you strolled in and gave me an Intern Of The Month award in front of him?”

You laughed, remembering the moment fondly. “That was one of your better plans…”

Then you snapped out of your memories, smiling slightly. “Nuh-uh. You don’t get to make me reminisce about cute stories and get out of this deal. It’s happening.”, you said, gesturing to the two of you.

Peter groaned, falling back on your chair. “Dang it. I thought that would distract you for a while. But seriously? Do you want me to get killed?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, walking over to him. “Nobody is going to kill you! The party is at Liz’s house, and you’re Spiderman! Nobody can kill you.” For some reason, Peter face flushed pink when you mentioned Liz’s name.

But then he retorted. “Well, I’m not worried about our classmates. Or my enemies. I’m worried about… Mr Stark.” Peter said this almost worriedly, looking around, eyes locking onto his suit, which he grabbed, throwing it up into his attic.

Doubling over in laughter at his expression, you shakily walked over to your bed, jumping on it. “Why- why would you be afraid of my dad?!”

“Well, he specifically said you aren’t allowed to go to parties, but you want me to go with you to one of the biggest parties of the year.”

“Okay, well… that’s the reason you are coming with me. My dad said, and I quote. If one, just one, smart person attends that party, then you are allowed to go. And that’s where you come in. You are the ‘smart person!”

Peter chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, obviously relieved. “Uh, I don’t think that’s what he meant.”

“Oh, I know. But we are Starks. We never mean what we say.”, you say, backhandedly. “So, are you in?”

“Y/N, you know I love you, but…”

“Peter. I’m so sorry I have to do this, but… I’m going to have to use the best friend card.”

Peter gasped, looking at you in shock. “No, you didn’t.”

“Well, come on, I can’t go to the party alone!” you exclaim, jumping on the bed.

“Why can’t you go alone?”

“Why don’t you like parties?” you shoot back, turning to look at him, admiring the small clusters of freckles that adorn his face.

“I-I like parties. Just not Liz Allen’s parties.”

“Oh really?” you say, propping yourself up on your elbows, “that’s not what I heard when you and Ned went to her party in Freshmen year.”

“That… was different.”

Smiling victoriously, you let out a giggle. “Sure it wassss” He turned bright red again, turning away from you. You felt a pang in your heart, wondering why he was acting strange. “Wait, Peter, do you still like her?” You asked this, feeling your stomach sink down.

He flipped around so quickly; you. were sure he could’ve broken something. “No, NO, not at all.”

You squinted, trying to figure out what was wrong, but gave it up, vowing to figure it out later. “Alright, so will you come with me to the party?”

Peter looked at me, breaking into a grin. “Of course, I shall accompany you to the party, m’lady.”

“Well, thank you so much, my good man.”, you said in a horrible British accent. He smiled at me, his eyes crinkling as he glowed in the evening light. And as the two of you laughed, falling back into the bed, you wondered if you should tell Peter that you liked him.

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

Soon, the day of the party arrived, and you honestly couldn’t wait for it. You bought a short dark blue dress, pairing it with some golden accessories and a pair of sneakers. Slipping them on, you headed into the driveway, making sure no one was around before activating your suit, flying off the ground and to Peter’s house. As you arrived, you knocked on the door, shifting from side to side, worried if you had worn too much for a casual party, but you were pleasantly surprised to see Peter dressed up nicely, dark blue jeans and a white shirt, a comfy sweater hanging off his shoulders.

“Woah,” Peter said, looking at you with adoration in his eyes, “you look amazing Y/N!”

You blushed, looking down. “Thanks, Pete, you look great as well.” Peter became red at your comment, not saying anything but holding his arm out to you instead. Looping your elbow through his, you went down to the car where May was going to take you to Liz’s house.

Arriving there, the music was blaring loud, the clinks of glass bottles in the air, while about 50 students and friends stood around the vast house, chatting and drinking.

“Hey guys!” Liz greeted, smiling warmly at us. “Come on in. We have drinks and snacks at the pool, DJ in the living room and a game of truth or dare upstairs.”

“Let’s do truth or dare”, you said, looking at Peter to see if it was alright. He nodded, letting Liz lead the way. Walking upstairs, we came into a guest bedroom, where about ten,eople were sitting in a circle, looking totally wasted.

“Is there alcohol?”, you asked, worried.

Liz laughed. “No no, they just all gotta act drunk. Gave them the dare.”

“Ah alright.” Peter said, glancing at me. Going over, you sat down, seated between Flash and Peter.

“Heyy Penis Parker. Hey there Stark.” He said, spitting out Peter’s fun nickname, but said yours flirtatiously. Almost glaring at him, you muttered back.

“Hello, Flash. What horrible thing are you doing on this evening?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just wondering why you walked in with Penis Parker here and not someone who can actually handle you. And your wealth and fame.”

Scoffing, you turn towards Peter, whose face is almost red with fury. You could see him clenching his fists, which he rarely does. You knew he was minutes away from punching Flash, but you didn’t want to make a whole scene, so you did something you never would have thought to do.

You grabbed Peter’s hand and kissed the back of it, leaning into him. You felt him tense behind you, breathing heavily. “Well Flash, who else would I come with if not the guy I have a crush on? Only seems fair rather than someone who makes a fool out of your best friend.”

Flash’s eyes went wide, looking between Peter and you, but then he cackled. Yeah, you said cackled. It’s what it sounds like. He doubled over, hitting his knee. “No way. I love this. Y/N Stark making Peter Parker, an intern of her multi-billion dollar father, and pretending to date him! There is no way in hell Penis Parker could get someone like you.” Flash said this maliciously, glaring at Peter.

You felt Peter lose his crip on you, taking in a sharp intake of air. “He’s right”, Peter whispered softly into your ear, his voice shaky and choked.

“Peter no!”, but it was too late. He stood up, walking out of the room at lightning speed. You glared at Flash but didn’t wait around, instead of running to find Peter. You ran to the stairs, where you saw him ask MJ where Liz was. Confused why he might want to talk to Liz, you walked down the stairs, staying out of his sights for the moment. You followed him as he walked into Liz’s room, leaving the door ajar. Tiptoeing to stand outside the room, you leaned against the wall, trying to make out what Peter was saying to Liz.

Peter’s POV

I ran down the stairs, quickly asking MJ where Liz was. I could hear someone’s heartbeat loud and clear, but I just assumed that it was my own. Ugh, I hate Flash. But it’s not like he was wrong. Y/N wouldn’t ever like me. She was just being a good friend by sticking up for me to a guy I should’ve beaten up long ago. I could feel my teeth grit together as I walked to Liz’s bedroom, knocking.

“Hey Peter, what’s wrong?”

I wiped my eyes on the back of my hand. Explaining to her what happened, she sat me down on the bed, rubbing my back. I could see the fury in her eyes when I told her about Flash.

“I have half a mind to go out and kick him out of my house.”

“It’s fine. But how do I tell her?”

Liz thought for a moment, and then lowered her voice down a bit, quickly glancing over to the door. Scruching my eyebrows, I wondered why she was now whispering but went along with it.

“Why don’t you pretend I’m Y/N. Tell her how you feel. Trust me, she will say yes.”

“Uh okay”, I said, not having too much of a problem, since I had this infront of the mirror dozens of times. “Hey-y. I just wanted to tell you something. I really really like you!”

“Louder”, Liz said, looking at me then at the door.

“Um, I really like you. Well, not just like. I literally love you. I love the way that you are sweet and charming, but also hard and firm. You look like a goddess, whether you are working out or going out in the city. Whenever you come over next to me, my senses go crazy because I am just so in love with you. I know you probably don’t think of me this way, but I had to get it off my chest.”

I finished rambling, when I saw Liz’s wide eyes. “Why? Was that too much?” I was worried, standing up quick.

Liz saw my expression, shaking her head hard. “No no, you’re good. But you gotta come with me right now. I-um know a way to get you and Y/N to like each other by the end of today”

Grabbing my hand, she pulled me up, pulling me quickly through the crowd, into a small closet at the end of the hall. “Okay, wait here”, she said, running off. I stood there, bouncing from side to side, wondering what Liz was doing. But I got my answer quite quickly when she ran back, basically pulling Y/N. “Come here!”, she said, pushing her to me.

“Okay, guys. I hope you two don’t hate me but this has to be done”, was all Liz said before she threw open the door behind us, pushing us both in with shocking strength and closing us in darkness. I reached to open the door but found it locked.

Y/N’s POV

Peter looked at the door, then glanced back at me. “It’s locked”, he said simply, scratching his neck, something he did when he was nervous.

“No shit sherlock. But did you forget, you are Spiderman? Just break it.”

He shook his head, mumbling something about not wanting to break Liz’s stuff. You rolled your eyes, sighing. You rummaged through your pocket, finding a small hairpin. Pushing him aside, you jammed it in, nudging it around until you heard a little click.

“There, it’s now open”, you said sarcastically, leaning back.

“Woah, I’ve never seen you do that!”

“Yeah, well, I don’t usually break open locks, do I?”

Peter picked up on your attitude, leaning back as well, sitting on the floor, making me look at him expectantly.

“Why don’t you just go back to your girlfriend?” you said bitterly, turning away from Peter. He scrunched his eyebrows, confused.

“What girlfriend?” he asked, trying to make space in the small closet.

“Liz. I heard you telling her how much you loved her earlier. An entire freaking speech if I remember correctly.”

He looked confused until his eyes lit up in recognition. “Wait-you thought, what- me and Liz, huh?”

“Yeah, aren’t you and Liz together? Or did she turn you down?”

Peter chuckled, eyes softening as he looked at me. “I don’t love Liz. I don’t even like her. What you heard earlier was Liz helping me out. Practising if you might.”

“Who was Liz pretending to be?”, you asked, disappointed.

“Well, she is smart, kind, badass and absolutely ethereal. She has such a strong spirit and is great at bringing people up. I have loved her for three years. Which, ironically, is how much time we have been best friends. By the way, her dad’s also Tony Stark”, Peter says this, coming closer to you, one hand coming up to hold your cheek gingerly. Searching in your eyes for confirmation, he leaned closer slowly, giving you enough time if you wanted to move away, but you didn’t, instead of moving up the last few inches and making your lips collide with his.

Time stopped as you pressed your lips together, hand finding its way to his curls, roughly holding on to them, while Peter held your waist, not wanting to let you go. You could’ve kissed Peter forever, but the need for oxygen became too much.

Pulling away from Peter, you rested your forehead on his, smiling contently. “I love you”, Peter whispered, cupping your face lightly, holding you at arm’s length.

Giving a small laugh at his nervousness, you kissed him softly, feeling him relax against you. “I love you too, Peter Parker.”

Peter grinned back at me with his signature smile, but the moment ended when we heard a loud bang from outside. “What the hell?” you exclaimed, running to the door; Peter following your footsteps. You could see Peter from the corner of your eye pull his shirt back slightly, revealing a pair of web-shooters he had underneath. Pushing a hand inside your pocket, you could feel the silver ring you carried with you. Slipping it on, you held your thumb over it, waiting for the moment to activate your suit. But when you and Peter burst outside, hands up to fight, you saw your dad, pacing the area, right now talking to a very scared looking Flash.

“Where is my daughter? You have one minute until I blast you off the face of this planet. And trust me when I say it, because bitch please, I’ve been to space.”

Covering your mouth with your hand to stifle your laughter, you walked closer, coming up behind your dad. “I think I might know where your daughter is”, you say in a solemn voice.

Tony whirled around quickly, looking you up and down. Pulling me into a hug for a second, he let go as soon as he did, holding you at arm’s length. “Why the heck are you at this party?!” he asked firmly.

“Well, dear father, you did say that at least one smart person had to be at this party, and that’s why,” you moved out of your dad’s grip, pushing Peter forward, “he is here.”

Peter came forward awkwardly, waving at Tony. “Hey, Mr Stark. How are you and Ms Potts?”

Tony nodded at Peter, clasping his hand on his shoulder. “We’re fine, Underoos. How are you and my daughter? You didn’t try anything with her, did you?”

Peter spluttered, mumbling at your dad. “N-n,o of course not Mr Stark. I-I respect and lo-love your daughter very much. We just kissed for a bit- and I mean, it felt terrific- wait, that’s not why I’m with her. I’m not wi-with her for her beauty. I mean-she i-is beautiful, but I don’t want that. Wait-uh-”

Giggling at what Peter was saying, you threaded your fingers through his own, squeezing them to give him some strength and to tell him to shut up before he said anything else. Tony sighed, giving an ‘I’m too old for this shit’ face.

“Okay, thank you for telling me about your love life, kiddo, but I’d rather not hear it. Both of you, meet me in the car. We can stay at the compound today, and I’ll tell Happy to text May.”

Tony turned around, walking to the car, while you and Peter stood there in shock. “Do you think he’ll let us sleep in the same room?” you asked Peter, nudging him playfully.

“NO”, your dad shouted from across the street, turning to look back at Peter, doing the ‘I’m watching you’ sign. Peter visibly gulped from beside you, making you chuckle.

“Hey! Peter, Y/N!” Liz called out, running from inside the house. “I saw your dad. Are you heading home?”

Nodding defeatedly, you confirmed it. She smiled lightly before telling us to wait here, running back in. In a minute, she ran back out, a small bag in each hand. “Here, a small return gift.”

“Aw, thanks, Liz!” Peter said, smiling at her.

She smirked. “You’ll like it even better when you find out what I put in yours, Peter. For a fact, both of you can use it.” She winked at us, making me worried.

“Wait, you what did you-”

“Face masks. Get your mind out of the gutter Y/N”, Liz said, laughing. Peter scoffed from beside me, laughing as well.

“Anyway, gotta go, Liz. See you at school.” Hugging the girl goodbye, you and Peter made your way to the car.

“That was nice of Liz”, Peter commented, looking up at the stars.

“Yeah, but I got my party favour”, you said simply, putting your hand in Peter’s, pulling him down to give him one sweet kiss under the night sky.

“HEY HEY HEY, NO KISSING INFRONT OF ME!” Tony yelled from the car.

“Wait, how did Mr Stark know we're together?”

“YOUR SUIT OBVIOUSLY!”, Tony yelled, getting the car upfront.

Peter groaned, banging his head against the window. “I knew it!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Thanks for reading this, guys! Hope you enjoyed this small fic. I loved writing it, plus it’s one of my longest ones, so expect more one-shots like this. See you till the next one!

#peter parker x reader imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x bestfriend reader #peter parker #confessions #tony stark #stark reader #avenger reader #smut #peter parker fluff #angst #peter parker smut #angst with a Happy ending #may #liz allen

103 notes · View notes

moonbeamsung · 4 years

Text

Serendipitous Synergy

“I can’t believe I got stuck with you, of all people, as a dance partner.”

“What? Scared I’ll steal the spotlight?”

“In your dreams, Lee.”

member: haechan

au: dance partner and rival!haechan x gn!reader

word count: 4.9k

genre: angst, suggestive, fluff

warnings: talk of insecurities and thoughts of self-doubt, a house party, stubborn reader, smug haechan, mentions of ‘sexual tension’ in the context of a dance, kissing, slight innuendos

author’s note: As a dancer myself, this idea came to me after we learned the choreography for Thriller in class one day! And yes I know Halloween was weeks ago but shhh. It’s my first time writing an enemies to lovers au, so I would greatly appreciate any feedback about things I can improve on in the future. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

network tags: @neo-constellations

“...You’ll be partnered with Haechan.”

The words of your instructor seem to swallow up the dance studio you’re standing in, echoing off of the walls with a piercing sound that makes your ears ache, your gut twist, and your blood boil.

This could not be happening.

Said boy seems just as averse to the idea as you are, the corners of his mouth downturned in displeasure.

Your teacher, however, continues to rattle off the rest of the pairs, some of them a little surprising but none nearly as unexpected as the two of you being put together.

Eyes narrowed and gazes sharp as daggers, both you and Haechan turn to stare each other down.

The standoff makes everyone else in the studio uneasy, and though the other dancers aren’t unaccustomed to your endless rivalry, they fear the potential hostility of your reactions. But to their astonishment, it never escalates beyond these stinging glares directed at one another. You’re surprisingly professional about it on the outside, not letting a single swear word slip out from between your lips, while he bites back a snarky insult.

On the inside, though, you’re a mess.

Haechan has been somewhat of an enemy of yours for as long as you can remember, though by no fault of his own. No matter what you did or how hard you tried, ever since you were both young students struggling to find your footing in the artistic world, he’s always been better than you. At everything.

If you managed to nail a double pirouette, he’d step right up and do a third like it was nothing. You finally got your split? He’s already had it for a month, at least. It just wasn’t fair. You both had started dancing at the same age, at the same time, with the same amount of experience: zero.

In all honesty, Haechan had done nothing wrong. The combination of poor timing and better luck had worked against him all those years ago to brew these bitter feelings inside of your heart, rising to the surface whenever you would set foot inside the familiar studio.

These constant sentiments of inferiority took their toll on you, making you fear being compared to him above anything else. It was childish, but you couldn’t stand to be reminded of feeling completely and utterly incompetent next to him. Whenever you performed, you were grateful for the large amount of other dancers occupying the stage, leaving little opportunity for the two of you to be noticed in conjunction with one another.

Now that it’s going to be just the two of you under the bright beams of light cascading down from the rafters, dancing in close proximity, this worry is at the forefront of your mind.

You would do anything to be able to go back to your first year at the studio, when you were young enough to recognize that his skills seemed to outweigh yours, but as a carefree child you remained largely unbothered by this fact. As you got older, it was like a switch inside of you flipped and made you extra aware of each and every thing that you did. Perhaps it was the heightened self-consciousness that puberty brought combined with the already stressful lifestyle of a dancer, but something changed one day, and it was all you could think about when you saw him.

Your internal doubts always translated into being eerily quiet during practice, asking a question to clarify the movements only when it was absolutely necessary. Even your teacher noticed a shift in how you danced. Your gestures and steps lacked their usual precision, and all the confidence you had built up for so long vanished into thin air.

Not sure how to interpret your sudden silence, Haechan took it upon himself to get a word out of you in whatever way that he could, with comments and jokes and even the occasional compliment on your technique. It hardly helped, though. In fact, your constant failure to respond to his attempts created a sort of resentment in him as well, one not generated by envy or insecurity, but simply by confusion and frustration.

During practice one afternoon, you had become so fed up with him trying to talk to you that you lashed out, pushing him away with surprising strength. “Just leave me alone!” You had shouted at Haechan, but you instantly regretted it when you saw the way his eyes welled up with shiny tears, full of hurt after his genuinely good intentions had been totally rejected by their unwilling recipient. Your guilt, however, failed to overpower your stubbornness.

This sent Haechan into his own spiral of the silent treatment before he started to channel his feelings into a similar bitterness. From that day forth, you each became the other’s arch-enemy, challenging one another in any way that you possibly could inside the studio and on the stage. Your instructor, choreographers, and fellow students quickly became tired of the implicit competition that always existed between you, but what on earth could they do to stop it?

At the present moment, they’re contemplating this exact idea, along with just why your teacher thought pairing you with each other would be a good idea. She had done it with the intention of putting a long overdue partnership into action and hopefully eliminating your immature rivalry. Selfishly, she’s also very eager to see how your mutual contempt translates into movement, inwardly predicting that the tension levels will be off the charts.

Not long after, you’re dismissed from practice for the day, but not without a warning look from Haechan. Against your better judgment, you join him by the doorway once everyone else has filed out of the studio.

He clearly called you over for a reason, but you cut him off without even waiting for him to speak.

“I can’t believe I got stuck with you, of all people, as a dance partner.”

Oh, so this is how you’re acting? Two can play at that game.

“What?” He snickers, “Scared I’ll steal the spotlight?”

“In your dreams, Lee,” you scoff, already tired of his taunting attitude.

“Anyway,” his voice is stern before doing a complete 180, now a bit more gentle, “If we’re going to be dancing together for the next few weeks, we might as well be on speaking terms, don’t you think?” The expression Haechan wears on his face is the softest you’ve seen it in a long time, which is definitely saying something.

“I suppose.” Answer short and tone abrasive, you huff a lousy excuse for a goodbye before marching out and into the hallway, but he’s faster than you. You spin around to shrug off his hand from your shoulder, and it gives him the chance to tell you one last thing.

“Look, if you’re going to be like that, it’s not going to make working together any easier. We’re not little kids anymore. You can go back to hating me once this is all over, but can we at least try to put our differences aside and just cooperate for once?”

You nearly split your lip as you bite down on it, holding back a burst of aggravation at the situation you’ve been put in. “Fine.”

You have no idea how you’re going to get through all the practices and all the shows while simultaneously dealing with the boy, but one thing’s for sure: you’re going to prove that you are just as skilled, and just as talented a dancer as he is.

The next time you see him is two days later, at your first rehearsal for this dance. Your studio has always had a Halloween-themed showcase, but it wasn’t until this year that you were old enough to finally be cast in a more exclusive number. The fact that you’re no longer a part of the large group routine, always performed to the same upbeat tune and with the same easy steps, is one of the few silver linings that your duet with Haechan presents.

Faces lined with fatigue and eyes still heavy with sleep, you both arrive at the studio in the morning, duffel bags in hand, the comfy slides on your feet dragging across the hallway carpet with every step. Loud music blares from inside the room, brightly lit despite the early hour. Beside you, Haechan instantly recognizes the tune to be Michael Jackson’s Thriller, and perks up a little at the sound. Too tired to poke fun at his near obsession with the singer, you let his little celebration of the choreographer’s song choice slide.

It’s not your usual instructor that’s going to be teaching you the movements to go along with the piece, which means you have the added challenge of adapting to a different set of preferences, expectations, and choreographing style.

It’s certainly a dance that’s unlike any you’ve ever learned before.

The rehearsal starts off well, and both of you quickly catch on to the basic steps that are somewhat like those of a waltz, except they have a more sinister feel to them in order to match the spooky time of year. Facing each other but standing on opposite sides of the room, you step forward, to the side, to the back and then to the side again. On each accented beat you throw your heads back sharply, mimicking the way the neck of an inhuman creature might snap under any sort of force.

In the next section of choreography, your gazes are supposed to meet once you tilt your heads downward, slowly this time, but it’s difficult to maintain eye contact with Haechan for more than a few seconds. Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t even hesitate to stalk towards you in this part of the dance, which calls for you to circle each other like a hungry predator and its timid prey. Maybe it’s the animalistic glint in his irises that throws off your balance and makes you stumble when you see it. Or maybe it’s the fact that your rivalry with him has been entirely disregarded at the moment, brain focused solely on absorbing all of the new information and ingraining the movements into your muscle memory, nothing else.

What frightens you even more than the things that go bump in the night is that all those years you spent... well, not hating, but strongly disliking him could go to waste. It usually takes a lot of time for you to get over things like this, and in a way, you feel like you would be disappointing yourself if you let all of the agonizing feelings of self-doubt go, just like that.

These thoughts swirl around in your mind as you listen to the choreographer’s next words.

“Okay, put your hand here.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, now you’re going to drag it across him, from there to there,” she directs you with a finger, “And then he’s going to pick you up in a scissor lift.”

You’ve never done one of those before, but with some helpful guidance, you begin to have a small bit of faith in yourself that you’re capable of pulling it off. The music starts and you go from the top all the way to the part you were just taught, taking a deep breath in preparation for what’s about to happen.

Just like you had been instructed moments ago, you step very close to Haechan, right behind him, actually, and place one hand on his shoulder as you trail the other across the front of his chest, fingernails scratching the skin underneath through the flimsy t-shirt he’s wearing. You step around to stand in front of him and continue the motion, peering at him with a hesitance that melts away and into an assertive gaze once you see the apprehension in his own eyes. His skin crawls a little, not out of fear but an odd satisfaction and excitement at the feeling of you so near and the sight of your eyes bright with so much determination and dominance, lingering touch tracing the base of his neck and stimulating his nerves from head to toe.

You yelp slightly at what he does next even though you knew it was coming, your self-assured exterior evaporating only moments after it appeared. Haechan turns around and sweeps you off of your feet to hold you in his arms. In the blink of an eye, he helps you hook one of your knees behind his head as he tosses you into the air with seemingly no effort whatsoever, flipping you around to face the other way and catching you immediately after. The complicated lift makes your heart leap to the front of your throat with exhilaration, and you mentally applaud yourself for succeeding on the first try.

Haechan finds it odd that you were so willing to do this lift in the first place, since trust is a key component of partner work in dance. He can’t explain it, and neither can you, quite honestly. A small part of him, however, is glad you didn’t object to the prospect of him being directly responsible for your safety for even the most instantaneous of moments.

“Alright, so for this next part, I’m sure you’re aware of that fact that Michael Jackson was famous for his pelvic—”

Okay, that’s enough, you’ve heard enough. Tuning out the conversation and whirling around to face away from the floor-to-ceiling mirror, you twiddle your thumbs while the choreographer teaches Haechan one of the iconic dance steps in Thriller, and your evident shyness at her unabashed explanation makes him smirk. Thankfully, she has a different set of movements prepared for you.

Since when are you ever shy around him, though?

You still can’t bring yourself to watch your reflections in the glass when you practice the new part together, since he gets so into the provocative motions. His eyes seem to taunt you with the smugness they hold, and you hate the way he’s testing you. You can’t stand it, you can’t stand him, you can’t stand those eyes for all the times they send a shiver down your spine, for all the times they come alive with a beast-like glow. Those eyes can go from soft and sympathetic at times, although the moments are rare, to something else entirely. His mocking stares make your stomach turn, reminding you of why you’ve felt this way about him for so long.

But you’re scared that a new and different feeling is developing inside of you, one that’s telling you he’s not so bad, that you should give him a chance. Haechan has noticed a similar one within himself, and he begins to regret the way he immaturely perpetuated your own resentment for so long.

Even if you do end up making amends eventually, he’s not sure he’ll be willing to abandon all of the playful glances and teasing remarks with flirtatious undertones he sends your way. Do you even notice these things? If your periodic blushing is any indication, then the answer is most definitely yes.

You spend another couple of hours under the choreographer’s direction, stopping only when you had been taught each and every step from the piece’s beginning until the end. Though a Halloween-inspired performance, there’s a surprisingly large amount of eerily romantic undertones within it. You don’t have enough fingers to count the number of times you ultimately caress some part of the other’s body in a forbidding manner, with locked eyes and threatening, fiery glares.

The two of you also have a second but more simple lift, in which you jump and Haechan catches you by the legs to pull your torso against his, while you cling to him tightly like a koala. He supports your weight fully, and never once does the possibility of falling cross your mind. It’s strange how your body is so trusting of him, much more so than your mind.

Towards the end of the song, the lyrics mention something about cuddling close together, the timing of your movements intentionally mirroring the words. Haechan walks in a circle, still carrying you in his arms, and unlike when you’re standing on your own two feet, he actually has to look up slightly to meet your gaze with his own. Something doesn’t feel quite right, though, both of you sensing that you should be putting more effort into the eye contact between you right now.

“No, no, no! Stop for a second.” Your choreographer looks frustrated.

“You have to look at each other like you really mean it,” she corrects. “Just imagine that you’re two lovers on Halloween night, clinging to each other for dear life as you’re being surrounded by every kind of monster imaginable.” Even Haechan flushes a deep red at the descriptive picture she paints in your minds, hoping to inspire you. “Try again, please.”

Putting every necessary emotion into your expressions, you both stare each other down as he lifts you up again, this time with a never-before-seen passion burning in your eyes that could only be described as crazed, lustful desire.

Haechan has always admired your skills, although internally these days, ever since he met you, especially your ability to easily adapt to the message or tone of a piece. Happiness, sadness, anger, whatever your instructor asked of you, you could embody the exact feeling on your face, not to mention in the way that you moved to the beat. Out of all of the scenarios your choreographer could have illustrated, this one is something he never would have expected you to be so ready for. He’s taken aback by how smoothly your facial expression transitions from sheepish to seductive in no time flat.

You wish you could say that you’re not flustered by how well he matches the look in your eyes with his own tantalizing gaze, but alas, that’s not the case.

It’s undoubtedly a dance with a more mature theme than either of you are used to, but you’re both such naturals at it that she compliments you once Haechan sets you back on the ground.

“That’s exactly what I want to see! Keep it up, you two. Are you sure you’ve never been in a piece with any sexual tension before?”

You’re glad you hadn’t quite taken a sip from your water bottle yet, because you definitely would’ve spit it out from pure shock and embarrassment at the bluntness of her remark. Haechan was not so lucky.

The two of you run through the dance almost endlessly, and by the end of your rehearsal your legs are threatening to give out at any moment. “Last time,” she alerts you, “And then you’re done for the day.”

A chorus of some minor corrections but mostly proud affirmations meets your ears as you practice the piece for the final time. “Other foot, Haechan... Strong arms! Good... And lift! That’s it...”

About to collapse from exhaustion and grimacing at the disgusting feeling of sweat on every inch of your skin, both of you thank the choreographer once she dismisses you.

“You two did a great job today, now go home and rest. You worked hard.”

Fishing your car keys out of your bag, you hear her packing up her things inside the studio before she exits the room and strides into the hallway, flipping the light switch and shutting the door behind her. “I’m going to recommend to your teacher that she should partner you up more often. I was really surprised by how well you collaborated.” She chuckles a little, “And to think she told me that you might not get along.”

Exchanging questioning looks, you both nod and smile at her before she makes her way down the hallway, leaving the building through the staff door.

“What was that all about?”

“No idea,” you reply to Haechan with nervousness in your voice, not sure if this is the right time to apologize for several years’ worth of constantly being at each other’s throats.

The moment passes before you can make a decision, and Haechan bids you farewell with a “See you around” over his shoulder. You can’t get the choreographer’s comment out of your mind as you drive home.

But she’s right: your chemistry with each other is unbelievable. Each time you practice this dance in front of them, the rest of your friends stand wide-eyed and open-mouthed at how you move in perfect unison, leaping and turning and touching at all the right moments. Your instructor is sure her jaw is on the floor. Sure, she was expecting something powerful, something fierce, but nothing like this.

The weeks leading up to the Halloween showcase are hectic, as they always are, filled with the rush of adrenaline and last-minute preparations being made, ensuring that everything would be ready for those long nights spent on waiting behind the curtains, moving amidst the stage fog, and dancing below the bright spotlights.

You think you’ve spoken to Haechan more in the past 4 days than you have in the past 4 years. He doesn’t know if it’s just his imagination, but it seems like you’ve gotten more comfortable performing with him as time has gone by. Maybe he should be paying more attention to the steps instead of the way you lean further into him as he clutches your form in his strong arms, torsos pressing into one another and the crevices of your bodies aligning with ease. Maybe he shouldn’t get distracted by the closeness of your lips to his forehead, by the distance that always seems to decrease each time you run through the dance. One day he’s sure he’ll feel their delicate curve against his skin, or maybe they’ll slip down a little to be more level with his. Either way, Haechan isn’t complaining.

The rehearsals that spill over from their scheduled time slots into the late hours of the night leave everyone in the show drowsy after the intense quantities of repeated exertion, running piece after piece over and over again until just standing up is a feat within itself.

And then, all of a sudden, it’s the day of the first show. Costumes have been tailored, makeup has been applied and hair has been done up with an ungodly amount of products and pins.

It can’t be much longer until it’s your turn to perform, so you’re not sure why you find yourself grabbing Haechan by the sleeve of his intentionally tattered shirt, meant to look like that of a zombie, and pulling him into a dark, secluded corner of the backstage area.

“We’re on in 5, what are y—”

“Can I apologize?”

He blinks a few times, processing the word he never thought he would hear leave your lips.

“For... huh?”

“Everything.” You’re thankful that the lighting is minimal back here, concealing the glistening water drops that are beginning to gather at the rims of your eyes.

Voice nearly breaking, you can’t articulate why it feels like the right time to say all of this. But here you are.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for so many years of unexplained anger and outbursts towards you, I’m sorry that I’ve been acting so immature even after all this time. I’m sorry for blaming you and making excuses to justify my actions and my feelings, I—”

You have more that you want to say but the words are no longer coming out, and maybe it’s because your throat feels like it’s burning from all of the emotion it just conveyed in the span of just a few seconds. Maybe it’s because you’ve somehow lost your voice even though you hadn’t been speaking above a whisper. But the most probable cause of them all, is this: maybe it’s because you’ve been rendered speechless by Haechan’s own apology that he delivers by messily crashing his mouth into yours, any further thoughts melting away against his soft lips.

For once, you don’t mind being cut off by him if it’s like this.

His heart begins to sink when you pull away after only a few seconds, but a small smile graces his features once again as you lean in so that your lips hover next to his ear.

“You better not mess up my makeup, Lee Haechan.”

“Donghyuck, actually.”

“What?” Quizzically, you arch an eyebrow.

“My name. My real name.”

“So why do y—”

“Shh, no time. Kiss now, talk later.”

You can’t argue with that. Not when he’s beholding you with a long-awaited forgiveness and a fondness long-concealed in his eyes. Not when the thrill of a time limit has your brains going a mile a minute, an electric buzz erupting over the expanse of your skin his hands are grasping.

You kiss him like it’s the only thing in the whole world that you know how to do. The setting is far from picturesque, with the tangled technical wires littering the floor at your feet and leftover stage equipment haphazardly leaning against the wall, but neither of you really care. Taking care not to snag the fabric of your costume, his fingers find purchase on your waist and his lips on the dip of your collarbone. At first they dotingly imprint fleeting pecks onto the rise and fall of the skin there, but when their pressure and his haste starts to escalate, you know you have to stop him before he starts something you can’t finish.

“Hyuck!” The abbreviation of his name makes his head snap up, bewildered but pleased.

“You can’t leave marks, I told you...” you trail off. “Hey, why are you smiling like that?”

“Please never call me anything else, ever.”

Donghyuck brings you in for one more kiss, well aware that a stagehand could turn the corner at any given moment. Drinking you in, he captures your lips between his, letting your body press his back into the wall behind him, and a few sharp inhales later, you break apart.

You fix his hair while he adjusts your clothes, and you’re just in time because a technician spots you and urgently gestures towards the stage. “You’re up!”

Positioning yourselves on opposite sides of the large performance space, the lights go down and you hear the rush of air from the heavy curtain opening as it glides past you. The thick artificial smoke partially obscures his form, but you can see his eyes clearly, nearly glowing in the darkness.

As the music starts, slow and quiet at first, you step to the rhythm just like you practiced. When a loud, electronic chord blares, you both pick up speed, launching into that waltz step you first learned many weeks earlier. For the first time ever, you’re able to look into his eyes.

Anyone could see that your movements complement each other effortlessly, but only your teacher picks up on the shift in mood after the countless times she’s seen you perform in the studio. Only she notices the shift in both of your gazes. You look... happy. Focused. Confident.

Donghyuck was able to bring you out of the shell you retreated into so long ago. You don’t feel subordinate as you’re dancing next to him, or being held in his arms. You move as equals, two parts of a whole.

When he picks you up, you can’t help but allow a small smile to stretch your lips. Donghyuck tries to remind you that you’re supposed to have lustful looks in your eyes by narrowing his own at you, but it’s no use. Your slight grin is contagious, and it ends up taking over his face as well.

You finish the piece smoothly, ending in a pose with your backs pressed together and hands clasped. Applause erupts from the audience, and a few cheers come from the rest of the performers waiting in the wings, shielded from the view of the crowd sitting in the seats below.

Needless to say, as you pass other dancers in the halls and receive countless congratulations and compliments, all you can think about is having Donghyuck’s lips on your skin again.

One long heart-to-heart and dozens, no, hundreds of kisses later, all is right with your world. It’s foreign territory to you both, not wanting to pounce on each other at every waking moment. But it’s something you’ll explore together, figuring out how to make up for lost time and just how to go about this newly-repaired relationship.

Exiting the empty dressing room, you take his hand in your own and head backstage once again to watch the rest of the showcase from the side, with your head leaning on his shoulder and his arm pulling you close.

At the party held for all the members of the show’s cast that night, it’s far too loud for your liking, and there’s no room to properly dance with Donghyuck. Despite you all being professional dancers-in-training, everyone else seems to have reverted to the mindset of your average high school student, thinking that jumping up and down repeatedly qualifies as dancing. You disagree, but whatever. It’s not important.

What is important, however, is the fact that the two of you would much rather escape the suffocating crowd of young adults. You would much rather slip out through the sliding glass door that leads to the house’s backyard, marveling at the fading sunset that melts into a deep blue night sky dotted with splashes of clustered lights. The stars are nature’s spotlights, shining down on you as Donghyuck takes you in his arms, one hand finding yours and the other resting on your side, somewhere between your hips and your waist.

Swaying in the silence with only the noises of the evening as your soundtrack, the boy that you would’ve sworn was the devil incarnate a month ago looks so angelic, so lovable. You can’t believe this is what you’ve been missing out on.

“So, should we start over?”

“Definitely.”

There’s no one else in this world you’d rather dance the night away with.

383 notes · View notes

jangmi-latte · 4 years

Text

❞ 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐈𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐌𝐞𝐭.. ❝

➻ content: four smoothies! the last two, served

➻ warnings: uwu

➻ comments: here is the next part of the request! part one involves riddle and leona. mentions events from epel’s ceremonial robe sr card and chapter four!!! (not really spoilers)

Ⅲ.

…⚘ I Met You…

➺ you met because of rook.

➺ being a part of pomefiore meant you specialised in science, are hard-working, and beautiful. you and epel are both from the same homeland and knowing that both of you are neighbours, oh dear…

➺ if epel is a brash young boy, then you’re no exception. maybe a little less brash than epel but you do have that country accent along with seeing the fun in being non-sophisticated like vil.

➺ now, let’s go back to how rook was able to make you and vil meet. apparently, during the entrance ceremony, after being sorted into pomefiore, you escaped and wandered around the grounds of night raven college.

➺ in the end, you got lost. you nearly missed the welcome party that vil threw. up until the dorm head did a roll-call that rook started to look around for the only female in the whole college. you were sorted into pomefiore too. even epel was surprised not to see you around.

➺ rook found you wandering around the main building, near the tower just in front of the school and led you back to the dorm. you were baffled by how rook spoke plus the culture shock you experienced was enough to make the vil schoenheit be your mentor.

➺ the look on epel’s face told you it isn’t a good experience. rook was his babysitter, how unfortunate of you to have vil as YOUR mentor. see how i used different terms to refer to your babysitters?

➺ unlike what epel is going through, your meeting with vil was rather, surprising. you knew basic table manners, which made epel want you to be his mentor instead, and you can easily carry yourself. just a little work on your choice of words because vil wasn’t entirely impressed by how you said ‘absobloodylutely’ instead of saying a ‘yes’.

➺ by surprising, vil’s treatment to you wasn’t any different to how he treated epel. he was a little lenient on you (you want that in percentages? let’s say 5% lenient) since he had bigger trust on you. aha, jokes on him you’re also shovelling horseshit with epel.

➺ he has yet to know what happens behind his back and rook has also become your babysitter because of that.

…⚘ Closer To You…

➺ how do i say this…

➺ if anyone would describe how you two got close, it would be a heart monitor. it’s a rollercoaster for sure and rook enjoys watching two people with different personalities trying to get along.

➺ you’re epel 2.0 and vil nearly pulled his hair out with how carefree you are. one time he saw you and epel covered in mud after chasing a runaway horse and he’s not impressed. you’re a lady, hold yourself better! rook is laughing is ass off while vil dragged you to clean up. epel looked at you apologetically while you just pouted.

➺ “you are pomefiore’s student! in the name of the queen, be more graceful!” “but that’s not me!”

➺ woowee, you just made vil dumbfounded. that’s right, that’s not you. but vil won’t just take that easily. how about we do things your way while also make you be more of how a pomefiore student should be.

➺ you are now epel 2.0 and rook 2.0. while rook is away, you are tagging behind him. how did that happen? despite being who you are, you are a hard-working student. you were able to maintain your grades, help other fellow first years, and was even to point out some of vil’s not-so-obvious flaws.

➺ “vil…” and you’ll suddenly cut a loose thread from his uniform.

➺ with you being a lady, vil is able to earn some knowledge from your nonstop blabbers. he’ll let you talk about anything you want while he corrects your proper use fo words. subconsciously, you’re learning and vil couldn’t be happier.

➺ if epel can carve apples, you can cook. living in a village which population is mostly old people, you have developed a talent for cooking. vil would just suddenly smell something good coming from pomefiore’s kitchen and rook would say, “that’s the mademoiselle!”

➺ he prefers your handmade smoothies rather than those from mostro lounge.

➺ you two grew closer the more you accompany. you’re learning from him, he’s learning from you, and epel is beyond surprised to see you getting along with the strict model. “how did you do it?” he would ask while you just shrug.

➺ he didn’t force you to do anything, in fact, he’s just brainwashing you in a good way. surely, he may have been a bit forceful at first, but once he got to know you more – with just his skilful way of using words – he was able to bring out your full potential. still rusty but you’ll get there.

➺ rook is starting to ship both you and vil.

…⚘ I’m Yours…

➺ vil eventually learned to trust you. you have a somewhat good taste of judgement. he always reminds you, “i didn’t build you, you built yourself. i just showed you the right way to do it.” and honestly, that’s some motivational words from a professional model.

➺ if vil gave someone his trust, then you’re a special person indeed. if he lends you some of his makeup brushes or palettes, you’re blessed. one of the rare moments of vil showing his trust to you is when he would subconsciously share some of his stories to you.

➺ “roi des poisons, i can see in your eyes that you have fallen in love!” rook would proclaim and vil would just roll his eyes. he’s in denial, of course.

➺ you, however, began to be all flustered the more you’re around vil. his touches would make you melt, his words will make your bad mood go away, and just his presence would make you be all gushy. how much more will you surprise epel? how could you fall in love with vil schoenheit?!

➺ you honestly don’t know. do you really love him? how could you ignore your fast heartbeat every time he’s close to you? okay, maybe you do have a little crush on him. who wouldn’t it’s vil schoenheit!

➺ but really, besides his gorgeous appearance, vil has really helped you, y’know?

➺ with you first weeks in pomefiore, you were nearly as brash as epel, and now you’re just you. he helped you shape you into who you really are. he helped you uncover talents you never knew you had. everyone just needs to look past vil’s strict nature.

➺ while you’re being a gushy highschool girl, vil is just…well, vil. he’s still confused with his own feelings himself despite rook’s constant convincing. he’ll always look out the window if he hears your voice from outside and if he sees your breathtaking smile, he’ll just smile himself.

➺ the more you present vil with your delicious cooking, the more he would adore your hard-work. vil was used to taking care and working for himself that when someone would take care of him, he’s just speechless.

➺ “vil, have you ate?” he would always hear that every day.

➺ rook’s just waiting for the opportunity to make the both of you confess and he’s irked for that day to come. that opportunity came when you ran into the dorm crying.

➺ you failed the project you’ve been working hard on that rook knew the only person to comfort you was vil. ah, how it crushes vil to see your adorable face contort into an expression so unsightly. he hates seeing you in distress so, with the use of his words, vil was able to motivate you back into your smiley self.

➺ it was you who confessed to him first just by saying, “i guess this is why i love you.”

➺ rook had to contain himself from making noise after he heard that. vil was surprised but who could deny love? you two became an ideal couple. you still had your differences, but opposites attract don’t they?

➺ you were finally recognized as his when he posted a picture of you – you were combing his hair and the shot was you smiling in front of the mirror – on his magicam.

➺ epel wanted to faint.

Ⅳ.

…☾ I Met You…

➺ let’s do a little twisted and say your meeting with azul was unexpected.

➺ you are a human, he was a mer-octopus. how did these two different species meet besides meeting in night raven college? well, remember that one moment where azul and the twins earned their legs? that’s how you two met.

➺ you were walking along the beach where azul and the twins laid after recovering from the sudden limb change. you grew concerned on why there are three – rather handsome – men laying on the shore looking like they just escaped death.

➺ you rushed to them and the closest person to your reach was azul. “sir?” you lightly tapped his cheeks and that’s when azul opened his eyes and saw you. followed by jade and floyd, they were all in surprise and you totally didn’t notice they were naked.

➺ azul and the twins didn’t know how to react. this was their first time encountering a human. jade pointed out they’re naked and ohhh boy the embarrassment. you immediately covered your eyes while saying you’re sorry.

➺ azul was able to use clothes changing magic to give the three of them pants and they were really uncomfortable. since it isn’t uncommon to have merfolk going out of the water, it wasn’t hard for azul to explain to you that they’re transferring to night raven college next week and that they have to practice walking.

➺ again, to their surprise, you offered to help them walk. the trio looked at each other before agreeing to your help. you first helped azul by holding his arms, it was a little tricky at first considering their legs were really weak and that the twins are so tall you needed to hold their torso.

➺ they needed a place to stay after all that walking and since you just live near the shores, you offered your little townhouse and made them stay there for a remainder of a week.

➺ one would think how dumb are you to let some strangers stay in your home. either way, if they did plan anything magic is the key to defending yourself, no?

➺ for the whole week, you have helped the three move their feet and azul is greatly thankful for your help. jade had to stop floyd from squeezing you since you’re so huggable.

➺ when it was time they take their leave, they promised to come back and pay you back your generosity even if you keep declining. azul is a kind man after all.

➺ now you have started your first step into a good friendship.

…☾ Closer To You…

➺ in a span of a year, azul kept his promise and kept in contact with you. you didn’t expect to suddenly earn a friend, let alone someone from under the sea. jade had a keen eye and was more than happy to see azul finally have another friend other than both him and floyd.

➺ unbeknownst to azul, a year later after his enrollment, you were pulled into night raven college and into octavinelle. you know that one moment in chapter four where the mc and grim flew their way to octavinelle? yeah, that happened to you except you were thrown out the mirror and landed on floyd.

➺ the twin was annoyed alright but was surprised to see you. now you got to experience his deadly hug that you got dizzy.

➺ floyd easily carried you to the vip room where jade and azul are saying, “little shrimp is here!”

➺ oh god, floyd give y/n a break…

➺ azul was astonished to see you in in nrc. you were in your pajamas too so you were still trying to process everything.

➺ so timeskip, timeskip. crowley let you stay as a member of octavinelle, earned your uniform, let you study there, and get to help azul with the lounge.

➺ your job was to serve and accompany customers who wanted business with azul AND is jade’s replacement when the latter isn’t present. with your stay in the vip room, you would distract azul by talking to him. maybe even help with some paperwork too if he lets you.

➺ your friendship blossomed more the more you stuck to him. everyone would say that azul’s rubbing off of you when really, you’re the one who scolds azul with his antics.

➺ “please don’t tell me you’re going to play a trick over that one client of yours…?” “of course not! i’m generous, there’s no way i’ll make them have a hard time!” “azul.” “yes?” “put that potion down.”

➺ jade is thankful for your presence since azul is starting to open up to you. azul is a mysterious person but when someone cracks his shell, his vulnerable side shows up. he’s still that soft little octopus in the inside who’s scared to lose everyone.

…☾ I’m Yours…

➺ if azul’s a sly friend then he’s a shy romantic. azul makes sure not to let his emotions get to him so it took him quite a while for him to realize he has feelings for you.

➺ azul tends to be clingy and vulnerable when it comes to his friends so he made sure to always think ways through and ignore his feelings to avoid any conflict that may fail his plans.

➺ you weren't any different either. with a new school life to handle, love is something out of your league and as someone situated in a dorm where intelligent people resides, academics are your top priority.

➺ your relationship with azul remained in the constant line of friendship. you remained as friends for years, up until azul turned into his third year did you both finally come into the realization that you two might have feelings for one another.

➺ it was floyd who noticed that azul has been smiling a lot whenever you're around or how his mood seems to be uplifted when you come to him. he bluntly pointed out by saying, "azul looks happier when little shrimp is around. ne ne...y/n stay with azul more often. i don't want him to nag at me."

➺ this made azul's face burn 150 degrees (overreacting? maybe) and he sent floyd away while jade just patted his shoulder and smiled at him. you were confused but nevertheless smiled at azul, feeling thankful that azul finds comfort in your presence.

➺ "it's your chance," jade mouthed before leaving the two of you behind. you looked at azul, talking to him more and eventually started to hold his hand a lot, place your head on his shoulder, and whatnot. azul would be malfunctioning while you did this. like riddle, he isn't entirely used to affection and let alone a girl doing it was making his heart beat erratically.

➺ it was azul who confessed first. he tried to keep his emotions in tact but when you asked what's wrong and if you're making him uncomfortable, he just blurted out, "it's because i like you" before wanting to be in his pot again.

➺ awww...little octopus has made his appearance again as you cooed and said your feelings back before pecking his cheek. if azul could camouflage as an octopus, he can camouflage into heatslabyul's red walls by how red he is.

➺ anywho, you're now officially his girlfriend after that. the twins are happy for your relationship and wishes you two to last long. who knew that just a simple encounter on the beach would lead to this?

➺ you just earned yourself two bodyguards when azul's not around. ah, the perks of having a boyfriend who's good with business and picks the right friends.

➺ he's protective so you'll be safe and sound around nrc from then on.

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