#just to trick him into letting serim catch him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

babysubinnie · 3 years

Text

my pink gloves // koo jungmo

💕pairing:: koo jungmo x reader 💕genre:: fluff,, angst, bmx racing!cravity 💕summary:: bmx racing isn’t something that’s easy to do. especially if there’s one racer that wants to get in everyone’s path, but he’s the only competition there is. when he challenges jungmo to a match, there’s only one thing that you have to do. as his best friend. ——————————————————————————

“you can’t do that race jungmo.” i shook my head realizing that if jungmo really did this race, it would kill me if something happened to him. all of these races made me nervous but this one in particular. i knew something was going to happen because the guy he was going against, played dirty. always. i’ve raced him before and i almost died.

i’ll tell you how it happened. we were racing for about the fifth time because he was the only one that i felt was good enough to be a competitor. well that was until jungmo came along. this guy always brought things to help him win. last time, it was the worst. he unscrewed one of my wheels, the back one, which didn’t do much damage, and luckily i was able to make it to the finish line, get off, before it fully unscrewed. jungmo wasn’t there so he wouldn’t know he was a dirty racer and of course, he didn’t want to listen to me.

“why the hell do you care y/n? it’s none of your business if i do this race or not.” he looked up from fixing his gloves rolling his eyes. i shook my head grabbing his wrist just before something kept repeating in my head.

“if he races with me, this time, i won’t be as nice to just lightly unscrew his tire.”

“jungmo please.” if you couldn’t tell i was in love with him before, you know now. i was going to do everything i could to protect him even if it meant me taking his place in this race. as i stood here holding his wrist, he shot his eyes up at me, glaring holes into my face.

“let go y/n. i’m doing this whether you like it or not.” i had no other choice. i signaled to the boys behind him before walking over to his bike. i did one check, two, three, four, and five. i made sure the tires were on properly, the gas was full, and there were no obvious sabotages in the bike. minhee and serim held jungmo tightly when he realized what was going to happen.

“NO Y/N YOU CAN’T TAKE MY-”

“here noona.” hyeongjun handed me the gloves they bought for my birthday before jungmo had joined our team. it had my name embroidered into it near the wrist, and one pink strip down the middle. my lucky gloves.

“thank you jun.” i smiled kissing his cheek, but it wasn’t a quick one. it was a long one. i walked over to jungmo telling him to calm down while putting both hands on his cheeks.

“jungmo, this race was for me. it wasn’t made for you. the whole reason was to get me on the track, so i’m going to do it. you can’t protect me right now.” i shook my head kissing his forehead the same as i did with hyeongjun.

“please y/n. don’t do this.” he was shaking his head continuously, telling me that this wasn’t a good idea. why would i listen to him? this is something i needed to do so he doesn’t get hurt.

i ignored him completely tying my hair up into a low ponytail. i slipped it under my race suit so it wouldn’t show that it was me. i changed my boots into jungmo’s boots, and sat on the motorcycle before pulling the helmet on. as the guy pulled up next to me, he started shit talking me, but technically he was talking to jungmo. i rolled my eyes telling myself that if i didn’t win, i would quit racing forever.

when the race started, i knew exactly when he was going to play his tricks. once when i was ahead of him, twice when i was behind, and lastly, two seconds away from the finish line. the finish line was the worst. he slid his bike into mine as i was about to cross the finish line. he jumped off his bike before he even had the chance to get hurt. i closed my eyes begging myself that everything was okay and that i had to finish this race. when i fell off my bike, i looked over to see all my boys staring at me, upset and worried that i would actually get hurt from this. tears filled my eyes as i layed there. that was the reason i stood up. i needed to win this for my boys. no, that’s wrong. i needed to win this for jungmo.

i got back on my bike while he stood there laughing at me meters away from his bike. i limped over to my bike picking it up before pulling it up. it was a bit beaten up now but i started the bike and rode. it had enough power to get to the finish line, but when i crossed the finish line, i stumbled off the bike. i ripped my helmet off my head and just as i was about to reach where the boys were standing, my legs stopped and i couldn’t even take one step. before i knew it, i collapsed. i headed so fast for the ground i couldn’t even see it coming.

“Y/N!” jungmo came running over to me catching my head before it hit the ground. he stared at me with tears in his eyes. i rolled my eyes sitting up hugging him telling him that i was okay. he shook his head saying that he was sorry, that he shouldn’t have let me on the track, that it was all his fault i was hurt. i wasn’t hurt. well i was but i didn’t want him to know.

“jungmo, i promise, i’m okay. my legs just used way more power than i was supposed to so i felt wobbly. i’m not hurt.” i shook my head smiling asking him to help me stand up. when i stood up, i noticed where the pain was coming from. my ankle was broken. i put pressure on my ankle and walked. i knew serim noticed, so he told woobin to call jungmo to the side to distract him.

“fuck y/n. why are you pretending like nothing’s wrong with you?” serim ran his hand through his hair then waved at woobin to take jungmo to pick up some food for us to eat. i smiled at jungmo when he walked away then collapsed into serim’s arms.

“my fucking ankle serim. help me.” tears came into my eyes because i knew i made it worse by putting pressure on it. i knew it, but i still did it because i wanted to avoid jungmo.

“exactly. i knew something was fucking hurt but no. you just had to act cool in front of jungmo.” he rolled his eyes picking me up bridal style taking me into the waiting room placing me on the couch. he looked at it for a while then looked up at me telling me that i had just sprained my ankle and that i wouldn’t be able to race for a while.

“are you serious? serim i have to race. you can’t-”

“Y/N! i have something really important to tell you. i love you and i always have i just couldn’t tell you but now i’m doing it in front of everyone. that race just showed me how much i love you.”

30 notes · View notes

happy-beeeps · 4 years

Text

I Don’t Do Droids pt. 2

(gif not mine)

Pairing: translator!reader x Din Djarin

WC: 1.6k

Summary: You get on board the Razor Crest and start to wonder if this was such a good idea, so you spend your time mentally unpacking your new companion.

Part 2 of “I Don’t Do Droids” read part one here!

* * *

You’ve walked for maybe twenty minutes through the crowded underbelly of Coruscant until the realization that you’re a colossal moron strikes like a load of duracrete. You’re following this man; a tall, menacing, Mandalorian, towards his ship with very little explanation aside from needing a translator and a trip to Devaron. And credits, which you would be the first to admit you were in desperate, desperate need of. Still, you’ve followed your fair share of strange men through dirty streets to dirtier ships, and it never ended particularly well.

Still, you think your companion this time around is… different. There’s something of a softness to his beskar edges, you heard it in his voice, saw it in the way he meandered around your belongings in your tiny room of a home. When you near what you suspect to be his ship, you see it again, as he freezes suddenly in front of you and turns on his heel to face you. “You’re uncomfortable.” He states, quite matter of factly, and you tut in response before crossing your arms over your chest. “Puhlease Mando, I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.” You reply, scrunching your face up to him in a desperate attempt to appear calm and collected. You imagine he smiles back at you and he places his hands on his hips, “You don’t trust me.”

“I don’t trust anybody.”

“Good. Then we have nothing to worry about.” He responds, and starts walking towards one of the older ships in the depot. Your eyes take in the Razor Crest, it’s an older model for sure, but something about the ship is well cared for. There’s rust in places rust ought to be, and it's shiny and new in the places it needs to be. When he presses a few buttons on his control panel along his wrist, the ramp lowers with the groan of an old ship, but you listen for squeaks and are pleasantly surprised to hear none. He takes care of this ship, you think to yourself, and he’s letting me on it. The thought sends a faint blush to your cheeks and a warmth to your chest, you don’t trust him yet, but you’re comforted by the realization that maybe, just maybe, he won’t kill you on board.

You follow heavy footsteps up the ramp and take in new surroundings. The dark, metallic echo of a ship is nothing new to you, but the outfittings of a bounty hunter’s ship surprise you. There’s a carbonite freezer to the side, an armory you watch him almost ceremoniously put his weapons in, and lock tightly with the buttons on his wrist. Next to all of this, however, you see a warm light glowing in a tiny refresher in the corner, and you can see a cot tucked in the back wall of the ship. If you squint, you can see a few folded tunics and pants along the top of a metal locker, and you feel stupid for being surprised that he owns clothes, much less folded ones. Yeah, like he just wears beskar and nothing else, that makes more sense you think to yourself, and lean back on your heels as you take it all in. He’s looking at you again, staring hard through the black T of his visor, his presence is amplified by the realization that you can’t see at all what he’s thinking. “You can throw your go bag over there,” and he gestures to a cubby just below where his own clothes lay. “I’m gonna take off, set a course for Devaron. You can come up into the cockpit whenever you’re ready” he states, and climbs up the ladder towards the controls. There’s something about the Mandalorian dialect, you think, their language is built around commands. You wonder if that's why he always sounds so confident when he speaks, so sure. Then again, you wouldn’t be surprised if years walking around in blaster proof armor just does that to people.

* * *

Up in the cockpit, it’s more crowded than you anticipated. He has four chairs up here, room for a large crew, yet only one hulking form to occupy them. Hyperspace blips in and out of existence as you seat yourself at the chair opposite him, biding your time staring out the transparisteel and into the bluewhite streaks of light that dance across your eyes. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, silent and focused, his head only jutting down for a few moments at a time to look at the nav. You hate that you’re so stiff next to him, that he can probably feel the anxiety radiating off of you across the way. He’s considerate, and you almost hate yourself for being so intimidated. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out, before you can even really realize what you’re saying. This seems to have caught him off guard, and he turns to face you after he flicks the ship in autopilot. “Sorry? For what?” he responds, elbows resting on his knees and letting his hands dangle loosely in front of him. “For being so cold I guess, I don’t know. It’s not you, it’s just-”

“I don’t expect to have your trust after an hour of knowing you,” he responds, scooting the chair a little closer to you in an attempt to make you relax. “Would it make you feel better if I told you if someone wanted you dead, you’d be dead by now?”

“I mean… It doesn’t make me feel worse?” you offer up, and you can swear you hear a metallic chuckle peeking out from underneath his modulator. “Do you owe Greef Karga anything? Money? A favor?”

“I don’t owe anyone anything”

“Well, he sent me to you, and I have no intention of letting any harm fall in the way of an… associate of his.” He says, and you swear you can hear an inkling of warmth in his voice, but it could just be you mind playing tricks on you. You hum in response before he starts up again, “Besides, I told you, you’re kind of entertaining to keep around.” And that earns him a laugh, and you lean back in the chair and allow your shoulders to remove themselves from next to your ears.

* * *

Devaronese is a weird language, nearly dead, spoken only by rich, politically inclined citizens of Devaron. You learned it for this reason, the politics behind it. The language had nearly died out during the Galactic Civil War, when people decided to just learn Basic instead. It made you sad, the thought that people would only learn one language. Sure, there were protocol droids and millions of dialects across the galaxy, but was it so hard to pick up a few? You skimmed over a few notes on your datapad before looking over at Mando, “Can I see the puck? I wanna see what kind of dialect I’ll need” and he turns to and hesitates for a moment before reaching it into his pocket and igniting it. A young humanoid male appears, a fact that makes you shake your head in response. “We’re going to Devaron to look for a politician's kid who's not Devaronese?”

“He’s from Hosnian Prime. He’s hiding out on Devaron, easy to get lost in those jungles and catch a ride on a cruiser, they’re both on the Corellian Trade Spine.” You nod, mouth making an “O” shape as you try to think like a bounty hunter, not a linguist. “So you need me to help make connections with people so you can find him quicker?” and he sends pointed fingers at you to indicate you’re spot on. “I thought you’d be smart, with all the languages. You learn quick.” You smile in response and give him a question of your own, “Try me? Quiz me on a language you think you know better than me.”

“Elek. [Ok.]” He replies. Perfect. Mando’a. You’re trying to discover bits of him, the pieces he won’t give you yet. Something about the way he lets his language slip across his lips with ease, but without the guttural sounds, keys you in on the fact that this is not his mother tongue. He learned this later in life. “You’ll be surprised how well I know Mando’a.”

“Gar serim, [You’re right] then surprise me more.”

You spend another hour or two teasing each other, throwing insults in Mando’a back and forth and you teaching him a few basic words in Devaronese. He looks at you a little too long as your eyes grow droopy and he shoots out one last question. “What’s your native language?” and you smile to yourself as you let your eyes slip shut for a moment. You hum in response before murmuring, “Galactic Basic.” He lets out a barking laugh before replying, “So the translator comes from a planet with only one langauge? Seem’s ironic to me.” You contemplate giving him a morsel of yourself, and decide the only fair way is to let him in on what you’ve learned about him. “Naboo doesn’t have another language. We only learned the one in our education,” and you pause for a moment to let him absorb the honesty of your statement before continuing, “besides, your native language isn’t Mando’a. You learned only Basic too.” Your eyes slip shut once more, and you let out one final breathy sigh before leaning farther back in your chair. You can feel your companions eyes burning a hole into your face, but are surprised when you’re only met with a light touch to your knee. “You are smarter than you let on. Meh gar kyrayc, shuk bah ni [you’re no use to me dead, get some sleep] you’re tired. We’ll be in Devaron shortly. I need your brain fully charged.” You smile to yourself as you let your mind drift off to sleep, next to a man you don’t fully trust, the kind yet patronizing Mando’a idiom slipping into your mind.

Maybe he does want you to stick around.

_______________________________________________________________________

Tags: @fleurdemiel145 @ehii7

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din #mandalorian x reader #din x reader #dyn jarren #dyn x reader #sw imagine #mandalorian imagine

84 notes · View notes