#Monday is my last final and then it’s all over

[celli-ohs]

I Can't, I Have Rehearsal

pairing: socially awkward!park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

synopsis: What happens when you get seated right next to the most handsome boy in your entire grade? Well you thought it'd be a great excuse to get to know him better, but the guy won't even talk to you! After a mishap in the science lab, you come to find out that Park Sunghoon, the cold-hearted prince of EN High, isn't in fact rude, he's just afraid of women.

before you read: character profiles

warnings: language, stalking mention, cooties, wild subplot(s), loser enhypen, rickrolling, bad april fools pranks

word count: 3.62k

taglist (open): @ancnymcnzjy , @frankenstein852

note: part 1 of my and scene! series, loosely based off en-drama.

Log 4: Monday - April 1st, 2024

���I’m gonna say it. Y/n has been getting on my nerves recently.”

Everyone snaps their necks to look at Riki like he’s just admitted to committing a crime.

“Excuse me?” Sunghoon is appalled. “That’s my friend!”

It’s been about a month since you and Sunghoon had begun his “girlducation” lessons (You named it, not him). And luckily he’s been faring well!

Everyone’s noticed how he’s more open and friendly, and just last week he was finally able to look his homeroom teacher in the eyes and have a full conversation (about how he’s failing Algebra 2).

Talking to his female classmates has gotten easier too. He can’t say much though, as he still gets nervous whenever the conversation gets too complex.

You’ve helped him make leaps and bounds regardless, and Sunghoon can proudly state you two are friends.

“Come on you guys, you know what I’m talking about,” Riki shakes his head, clicking his tongue.

“No. We don’t. What did she do to you?” Jongseong raises a brow. Riki groans, rubbing his face.

“Yeah, there’s no need to be angry at her.” Heesung adds.

“This is exactly why! You guys like her more than me, I’m being replaced!” Riki throws his hands up in the air.

“Uh, no duh we like her more,” Sunoo rolls his eyes. “She’s nicer, funnier, and she’s prettier.”

Riki gasps. “I can be pretty!” He crosses his arms. “I’m prettier than you!” This time Sunoo gasps. “You can’t say shit to me cause do you got some guy stalking you because he thinks your idol material? I think not bitch!”

“Stalker? Sunoo! I thought you got rid of that guy?!” Jaeyun pauses, now the attention is turned towards the younger boy.

“He’s been on my ass recently, he even knows my order at my favorite cafe.” He shrugs as if this isn’t a concerning matter.

“Oh that’s not…” Sunghoon makes a face, eyeing the others.

“That stupid Belift guy is so persistent. It’s like he doesn’t take no for an answer.” Sunoo sighs. They all look at each other, skeptical. "I’ll walk home with you today Sunoo,” Jungwon decides.

“Speaking of stalkers,” Jongseong clears his throat, turning to Riki. “You’re banned from my house.”

“What?” Heeseung squeaks out in shock.

“Oh, so you liked my April Fool’s prank?” Riki grins, dodging Jongseong’s fists. “You went and switched my alarm clock forward! I was on my way to Jungwon’s at 5am this morning,” Jongseong grumbles.

As the others laugh and praise Riki for his joke, Sunghoon laughs the hardest. “Maybe you should keep your clock that way, you won’t ever have to worry about your mom nagging you to leave on time anymore.”

Jongseong rolls his eyes. “Haha, very funny.”

“How did you even do that?” Jaeyun laughs. Riki waves him off, smiling proudly. “Just asked his mom if I could come over to change it really quick while he was at baseball yesterday.”

“My mom was in on it?!” Jongseong looks betrayed. The boys soon make their way inside their school building.

“I totally forgot today was April Fool’s! I should’ve planned something,” Heeseung laughs, opening his locker.

“Don’t worry, I’m just getting started, I’ve got something for all of you.” Riki sends them an ominous smile. “Heh, what do you mean?” Sunghoon tries to hide his fear with a smile.

“Nothing. Just think of today as karma for replacing me with Y/n,” Riki waves before he jogs down the hall, greeting his other friends.

“We never replaced you?!” Jungwon shouts at him, sounding worried. “Oh my god, I’m scared, what if I open my locker and there’s like a dead rat or something?” Sunoo whines.

“No, Riki’s not like that,” Heeseung shakes his head, before turning to the others. “Uh, right?”

“Last year he put ink on my glasses, so when I took them off I had lines all over my face and hands, no one said anything till lunch!” Sunghoon reminds the others.

“In middle school we shared a class, I fell asleep and he clipped a hair extension to the back of my head. No one told me I had a mullet until I got home and showered.” Jungwon recites, shuddering as his fingers ghost over the back of his neck.

“He gets bolder every year, and somehow he convinces people to help him. I think he’s bribing them somehow.” Jongseong concludes.

“What if I just skipped school today? Huh? Anyone wanna join me?” Jungwon tempts the others. “No! If I have to be here, so do you. Plus it’s unfair that only I got pranked so far.” Jongseong huffs.

“Don’t worry Heeseung,” Jaeyun comforts the oldest. “You’re new, Riki will probably go the easiest on you.”

Heeseung doesn’t look pleased by this. As his friends try to figure out a way they can prevent Riki’s chaos from unfolding, Sunghoon slinks off down the hall to a certain locker.

You stand with your back towards him, talking animatedly with your friend Taehyun. As Sunghoon approaches, he signals Taehyun to keep quiet with a finger to his mouth.

“Boo!” He grabs you by the shoulder, causing you to jump. “Ah! Sunghoon!” You huff, punching him lightly in the arm. “Don’t do that!” You smile nonetheless.

“April Fool’s,” Sunghoon grins. You wave him off, your fingers grazing his own. He feels his ears heat up.

“I’m gonna get you later. You better watch out.” You warn him, but Sunghoon only smiles, shaking his head.

Suddenly, Taehyun clears his throat, reminding the two of you that you weren’t alone. “I’m gonna find Hyuka, see you later.” He waves to the both of you before departing.

But before he turns around, Taehyun sends you a wink, causing you to stiffen up.

“What was that?” Sunghoon asks, eyes trained on the back of Taehyun’s head. “Huh? Nothing, let’s get to class.” You cough, pushing Sunghoon down the hall.

“You remembered to do your slides, right?” You ask Sunghoon as you two sit down in your seats. “Yeah, it wasn't that hard.” He nods.

Your history class has just finished a project, and today everyone will be presenting. It was a solo project, but you and Sunghoon helped each other out.

“You’ll be okay talking up there by yourself?” You worry. Sunghoon feels special to know that you of all people care about him. A few days ago you’d voiced your concern to him about his fear or public speaking (around women).

“I think so, I usually just look at Jaeyun.” Sunghoon admits, shrugging.

“Well if you need to, you could look at me.” You suddenly suggest. Sunghoon feels the heat from his ears spread to his cheeks. “O-Okay.” He nods, focusing on his desk.

Even after all his training, you somehow had a way with words that could cause Sunghoon to shut right up again.

Not just that, you still made him nervous, there were moments he found you too beautiful to even look in your direction.

Home room goes by like a breeze, and soon enough it’s time for history, and one by one students begin to present their topics in the front of class.

“Park Sunghoon.” Mr. Song calls out, and Sunghoon awkwardly stands up, grabbing his notes.

“Good luck!” You send him an encouraging smile and a thumbs up. Just that alone made him feel invincible.

With newfound confidence, Sunghoon strides to the front, pulling up his powerpoint on the history of soybeans. But when he turns to his fellow classmates, his ego disappears and he’s suddenly reminded of how many eyes were on him.

He begins to panic, his words stuck in his throat and his thoughts become sludge. Everyone was looking at him. Everyone was whispering.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Why is he taking so long?”

“Soybeans? That’s so boring.”

He can hear his teacher call out his name, asking him if he’s alright, but Sunghoon feels as if he’s been nailed to the ground, unable to move.

But as he focuses on his feet, he hears someone clear their throat loudly, his eyes shooting up.

You’re smiling. At him.

“You can do it!” You mouth, cheering him on. Suddenly it’s like he can breathe again. He can feel his body moving finally. All thanks to you of course.

“T-Today I’ll be talking about the history of soybeans in Korea.” Sunghoon announces suddenly, eyes trained on you.

You lean back into your seat, smile never disappearing as you listen intently.

“Where the hell is Riki?! I’m gonna kill him.” Jaeyun stomps over to the lunch table. Heeseung shrugs, mouth full of food.

“He’s not here, what happened?”

Jaeyun groans as he sits down, Sunghoon also taking his seat beside him. “He got Rickrolled.”

Jungwon snorts, choking on his food as he laughs. Jaeyun glares, picking at his lunch. “It’s not funny! He cost me my grade!”

“Pfft! Mr. Song docked you 10 points, you still have an A.” Sunghoon reminds him. The youngest of the bunch somehow got control of Jaeyun’s presentation, adding a bunch of memes into his slides.

“And ruined my 100 streak!” Jaeyun whines. “He won’t let me take any extra credit.” He sighs, letting his hunger take over as he shovels food into his face.

“Never gonna give you up! Never gonna let you down! Never gonna run around and desert you!” Riki sings and dances as he arrives at their table. He’s grinning from ear to ear, all the while Jaeyun glares mid-chew.

“Come on Jaeyun!” Riki nudges him. “Sing it with me! Never gonna make you cry-” He’s cut off when Jaeyun lunges at him, catching the boy in a headlock. “Nev-never gonna tell- a lie- ack!” Riki coughs as he continues to sing under Jaeyun’s grip.

“Shut up!” Jaeyun angrily sneers, just as Riki wriggles out of his arms. “Dude,” Riki is breathless. “Put on some deodorant or something! I almost died.” He gags.

“I’m seriously going to kill-”

Jongseong slams down his hand onto the table, making everyone jump.

“Uh, you good?” Jungwon eyes him. Jongseong zeroes in on him, his eyes ablaze. “No I am not good, Yang Jungwon.”

“Uh oh, cat fight,” Sunoo snickers to Sunghoon, earning a chuckle.

“Did I do something?” Jungwon eyes the others, before realizing Jongseong was only looking at him. “What do you think, Yang?!”

Jongseong suddenly digs into his pants pocket, and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper, tossing it to the first year. Jungwon catches it with ease, unraveling it suspiciously.

“Oh my God.”

“What? What is it? Show me!” Sunoo snatches the paper, his eyes reading as fast as lightning before he lets out a yelp, covering his mouth as he gawks at Jungwon.

“You’re being dramatic,” Sunghoon finally grabs the paper, sharing it with Jaeyun as Heeseung leans over the table to peer.

The paper turns out to be a list, and it has various names on it, including Jongseong’s and Jungwon’s. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. That is until he reads the title.

“How could you go behind my back and run for Student Council?! You knew I was applying!” Jongseong shouts.

“I didn’t!” Jungwon holds his hands up in the air. “Dude I promise, I think there’s been a mistake, I never even applied to be nominated!”

Jongseong eyes him, but concedes, looking just as confused. “But that doesn’t make sense. You can’t not know you’re running- for Student Body President!”

“Yeah, and to think you’re only running for Treasurer,” Jaeyun jabs. He earns himself a kick to the shin from Jongseong.

Riki is the only one who laughs, though it lingers longer than it should have, prompting suspicion.

“What did you do?” Jungwon questions. The youngest is too busy hugging his sides as he cackles.

“Oh my God! I’m gonna piss myself, you should have seen your face!” Riki wheezes.

“Riki, what did you do?!” Jongseong demands. After a few minutes, the boy’s laughter subsides. “We nominated Jungwon cause he fell asleep in homeroom,” He giggles.

“What?! Riki be serious.”

“Okay,” Riki shrugs. “Technically, I nominated Jungwon, but then everyone else voted for him. I found out the announcements were the same day as April Fool’s and thought it’d be a sick prank.”

“Someone’s feeling sick alright, me, that’s who.” Jongseong sighs. Sunoo pats his arm out of sympathy.

“Jongseong, dude, no one’s gonna actually vote for Jungwon.” Riki scoffs. “What kind of idiot votes a first year as their president?”

“The same idiots who voted for him to be a nominee?” Heeseung reminds him. Riki pauses. “That’s beside the point! Don’t worry, this will all blow over when they see how incompetent he is.”

“Hey! I’m competent!” Jungwon huffs. “I just choose not to be!”

“Make that your slogan, and you might just lose!” Sunoo teases. Jungwon rolls his eyes, rubbing his face.

“Hey guys! I heard the great news, congratulations!” Your sweet voice brings sudden joy to Sunghoon as you greet them all.

“Y/n!” He suddenly shoves Jaeyun to the side to make space for you to sit, causing both him and Riki to topple over. He ignores their complaints as you squeeze yourself in right next to him.

You finally take a good look around the table once you’re settled in.

Sunoo mindlessly picks at his food, beside him Jungwon seems to be experiencing his first ever existential crisis. Jongseong has a vice grip on a very beaten up piece of paper and Heeseung is too busy eating to notice the tension as Jaeyun keeps muttering about his grades. And Riki is blatantly glaring daggers at you.

The only person who seems relatively happy is Sunghoon.

“You guys seem to be having a really, uh- interesting day so far.” You cough. “As if you know what it’s like to be interesting- Ow! Jaeyun elbowed me!” Riki tattles.

“And you deserve it.” Jongseong sneers.

“Tough crowd today,” You whisper to Sunghoon as the others begin to bicker. “Yeah, Riki’s been burning some bridges, lately” He nods.

“Oh? Should I be worried?” You eye the boy, who is in fact now glaring even harder. “No.” Sunghoon shakes his head, trying to remain calm as you lean closer to him. “Um, maybe actually? Yes. Yes you should.” He finally decides.

“Uh huh.” You nod warily. “Well anyways, I was just wondering how you guys plan to run your campaigns? I have some experience since I helped last year when Taehyun was Secretary, and now he’s running for Vice President.”

Jongseong sits up straight, putting on a presentable smile. “I plan on winning by showing my responsibility and care for the students here at EN-High.”

The table goes quiet.

“Was that AI? Sounded like something ChatGPT wrote,” Heeseung looks around. “What? No! I’m trying to sound professional.” Jongseong sighs.

“Well I plan to drop out, I didn’t even want to be nominated, but someone thinks it’s funny to prey on the innocent.” Jungwon stares right at Riki, who is busy scrolling through his phone uninterested.

“I saw an opportunity and I took it, can you blame me?” He shrugs. “Yes! Yes, I can!” Jungwon shouts.

“Okay, so it sounds like both of you are losing.” You mutter beneath your breath. “Look, word of advice: students really value honesty and the ability to be realistic. People like it when you tell the truth.” You explain.

“Didn’t Taehyun win last year because he did magic tricks instead of a speech?” Sunghoon frowns. “Oh! I remember him! He was so cool! How did he pull that chicken out of that hat?!” Heeseung asks excitedly.

“He did have a speech, he just did his magic tricks after.” You correct him. “Also it was a parrot, not a chicken.”

“What does magic have to do with being on the student council?” Sunoo asks, looking confused. “If I vote for Taehyun, can he magically fix my grade back to 100?” Jaeyun questions. “Do you think if I partner with Taehyun, I have a better chance of winning?” Jongseong turns to you.

You hold your hand up to silence them, before looking at each of them individually.

“Apparently more than you’d think.” You say to Sunoo, before shaking your head at Jaeyun. “No, just take the L.”

“And yes, but only if you’re okay with him doing the Sawing-In-Half trick on you during the debate.” You tell Jongseong, who looks pale now.

Before you can say any more, the warning bell rings, signaling lunch would be over in five minutes. “Alright, see you guys later,” You stand up, getting out of your seat. “Let me know if you need more advice.” You joke.

“I’ll see you in class?” Sunghoon asks, as if you two weren’t seatmates. You laugh, and teasingly pat his arm, causing his whole body to burn.

“Yeah, see you!” You wave, running off. He watches you as you return to your friends at your table across the cafeteria, his heart swelling.

“Oooh! Someone’s got a crush!” Sunoo suddenly giggles.

Sunghoon feels his stomach turn excitedly, his ears burning a bright red. “Shut up!” He mumbles, covering his face.

His friends begin to tease him, Sunghoon shakes his head furiously, though he peeks through his hands to glance at you once more.

When you laugh at something Kai says, he begins to wonder if his friends are on to something.

“Ta-da!”

You’re grinning as you flip your paper around to present to Sunghoon.

He looks up, blinks, then frowns.

“You like to eat stomachs?” He reads your calligraphy. “Huh? No, I like to eat pears.” You look at your paper yourself, confused.

Sunghoon begins to laugh, before standing up to walk around the table to your side. “You need to press down lightly on this character.” He instructs, leaning over you.

Instead of taking your brush like he usually did when he showed you the correct way, he grabbed your hand.

“L-Like this,” He stutters, leaning even closer to you as you allow him to guide you on the paper. Your hand is really small compared to his own, his fingers are almost half as long.

Your skin is soft and warm, he doesn't want to let go.

“Oh!” You suddenly exclaim, and he jumps back, releasing your hand.

“So that’s how you do it? Let me try again.” You begin to attempt again on your own. He watches over you as you try your best, all of your focus on your calligraphy.

He finds the way you scrunch your face up as you focus endearing, you’ve made a lot of progress.

Your reattempt is still not the best, but Sunghoon can admit this time he could actually read it. “You’re doing a lot better,” He says as he returns to his seat. “Really? I’ve been practicing at home,” You admit.

“You’ve been practicing?” Sunghoon repeats, surprised at your dedication. If he were being honest, he thought your interest in calligraphy was only confined to the old library.

“Yeah,” You smile, getting shy. “I want to show you my best.”

Oh.

The two of you keep eye contact as Sunghoon feels his face and ears begin to heat up. He was probably red all over from just that one compliment. Didn’t help that you looked gorgeous while staring at him.

“I-I think-uh- You’re doing a really good job so far.” He finally looks away, his nerves getting the best of him.

“Thank you.” You hum, smiling to yourself. “Oh, it’s already almost four, we should probably get going.” You say, and begin cleaning up.

The two of you quickly grab your stuff and sweep down the table before heading out.

Outside the sun is still bright, yet it’s lower in the sky than before. You both walk down the street, shoulder to shoulder. Every time you bump into each other, Sunghoon feels his heart race.

“Hey, want one?” You suddenly ask, opening your palm to reveal two pieces of creamy milk candy. The bright bunny logo catches his eye.

The idea of sharing candy with you is exhilarating to Sunghoon. Your sweet nature mimicked the sweetness of the candy awaiting before him.

“Thank you,” He smiles at you, letting his fingers graze your palm.

Together you two unwrap the candies, poppin them into your mouths. Sunghoon takes a bite and-

“What the fuck?!” You spit your candy back into its wrapper, face contorted in absolute disgust. Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate to do the same, gagging as he does so.

“This is a crayon!” Sunghoon grimaces, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. “Where the hell did you get these?!”

You shake your head, trying to get the taste out of your mouth, but to no avail. “I don’t- I don’t remember I just- Riki handed some to me, and-”

“Wait,” Sunghoon interrupts you. “Riki gave you these?”

You nod, first confused, then realizing what he meant. “Oh my god I’m so stupid.” You groan. “I should have known when he randomly apologized to me, he even suggested I share them with you!”

“He’s always one step ahead,” Sunghoon glares into the distance. “Ugh I can’t get the taste out of my mouth!” You spit.

“I swallowed a little, will I die?” He worries, voicing his concern. “I need water- juice, I need something!” You look around for a vending machine.

“There! A Family Mart!” Sunghoon points down the road. He turns to you with an eager expression, holding his hand out to you.

“Come on, let’s go!” He urges. You hurriedly grab his hand, and the two of you run down the street, groans of disgust soon turning into giggles of excitement.

Sunghoon's lesson he learned today was that he doesn’t mind holding your hand. In fact, he likes it.

He likes you.

Log 3: Wednesday - March 6th, 2024 | Log 5: Wednesday - May 15th, 2024

I Can't, I Have Rehearsal masterlist | and scene! series masterlist | kpop masterlist

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[enlynstory]

⟢ No One Noticed

Shipping: non-idol Yang Jungwon x reader

Synopsis: Yang Jungwon, a hopeful and kind young man, unexpectedly becomes the love interest of a girl who’s been struggling with rejecting people.

Warnings: self isolation, fear, betrayal, ex friendships. lmk if there are any more please and thank you :)

Wc: 605

It wasn’t unlike her to shut people out; in fact, it was something she did effortlessly. She wasn’t a people person. The mere idea of showing even a hint of care for someone especially when she felt no tendency to irritated her to her core.

She lived by a motto: "Better alone than surrounded by false connections." It was a belief forged from a painful past, one that had shaped her reluctance to let anyone in.

That was until she met him.

She met someone who shared kindness and cooperation, someone who didn’t care if she tried to push him away, someone who was willing to fight for her. She met Yang Jungwon.

The two had met in a college class. They were paired together for a three-week business project, and it wasn’t like she could turn him down—it was the final project, so she had no choice but to work with him.

He had noticed her before, in class. He always thought she was pretty and seemed kind, but he never had the chance to talk to her.

When the partners were announced by the professor, he waited, hoping her name would be called.

“Yang Jungwon and… Y/N.”

It was a relief to him when it was her, but what he hadn’t expected was that she barely spoke and seemed reserved when he approached her for the first time.

He noticed how she didn’t even look at him. She was silently staring down at the notebook on her desk.

“Y/N, right?”

At the time, he frowned, finding himself thinking about that encounter more than once. It didn’t take long for him to realize she didn’t like people.

One afternoon, the two of them sat in a coffee shop when a family with two loud kids walked in.

“I hate people,” she said.

He laughed at how bluntly she said it, and for once, he saw her smile.

He began to notice how she looked whenever someone tried to talk to her after class—how she seemed to disregard their presence. He saw the fear in her eyes when someone even walked by.

“I don’t like to intrude on people’s lives, but… why are you so afraid of getting to know someone?”

She was taken aback by his question. It was just another project session, the usual Mondays they spent together.

“My past,” she said.

It wasn’t like him to pry, but this time he did. She hesitated for a moment, then spoke.

“My best friend betrayed me after she grew tired of supporting me. She shared my personal struggles with others for attention.” She sighed loudly. “It hurt more than any other pain I had felt before, so I decided to shut everyone out.”

If he had noticed that last project session would be their final one, he would have seen the sadness in her eyes.

She had grown accustomed to him, and it made her feel strange. The simple thought of being around him seemed to lift a weight off her shoulders. But in the end, she knew she had to let him go for her own sake.

The day after they submitted their project, she saw him walk into class. She immediately looked away, knowing their time together was over.

Of course, Jungwon noticed. He always did.

He saw how she immediately looked down at her notebook when he walked up to her.

“You’re not trying to get rid of me now, are you?” he asked with a grin.

It was just like Yang Jungwon to notice, because unlike everyone else, he didn’t want to be the one she pushed away.

[AN]

This is my first story, yayyyy!!!! I’m not sure…how but this was a quick thirty minute write, so if you find any errors please feel free to correct them!! All the help is greatly appreciated!!🫶🏼🫶🏼

Thank you for reading💖

[nylibrty]

i got my love to keep me warm ⸝ ⸝ ⸝ b.stewart

「pairing」 breanna stewart x reader

「summary」 breanna's heater breaks in the middle of winter, but she has an idea on how to keep you two warm.

「cw」 smut, oral

「notes」 christmas smut!

“babe its freezing!” you groaned, cuddling closer into the several blankets you had piled up on top of you on the couch.

“i know, i know. but nobody can come out til monday.” breanna frowned, walking up to you, wrapped up in a hoodie. 

of course, the heater had to break right when a snow storm hit. now you two were trapped in her freezing apartment til monday when somebody would be able to come out and fix it.

she sat on your outspread legs, put her feet up on the coffee table, and returned to whatever she was doing on her phone.

“baby im cold,” you whined, reaching for her. she looked at you for a second, cogs clearly turning in her brain while she pondered on a solution to beat the cold.

“what are you thinking…?” you raise your eyebrow when shes silent for even longer, working out a plan in her brain.

she threw her phone down on the coffee table and straddled you, leaning in to kiss you before mumbling against her lips, “i know a way to warm us up.” her tone was so gentle and sweet but also laced with lust and you could feel the hair on your neck stand up.

“yeah?” you whimpered.

she didn’t reply, only removing the blankets off of you and returning back to kiss you. suddenly, you didn’t care about the fact that you were freezing cold. all you could pay attention to was the soft movement of her lips against yours and the way her hands knew exactly where to grab and touch.

you whined against her lips, bucking your hips up to the best of your ability given that she was sitting on you. “so needy,” she mumbled, only making you whine more. wetness pooled in panties at her words, squirming against her.

she moved down your body, lifting off your hoodie and shirt and kissing along the goosebumps that formed due to the chill in the room. she sucked hickeys into your soft skin, effectively marking her place on you. she licked down, eliminating the freeze from your body.

she captured your nipple in between her lips, using her tongue to swirl and prod at it gently. you moaned at the action, your hands flying to her hair to push her closer into your body. “bre, please,” you whined, desperate for more. 

her tongue swirled one last time around it before coming up with a pop and moving to your other nipple. however, her big hand came up to wrap around your other breast, kneading while she paid attention to the other one.

what she was doing was certainly nice, but you needed more. you tugged on her curls downward, attempting to give her a hint. a soft moan from her lips were muffled by your breast in her mouth, but she still heard them nonetheless. this only spurred you on more, suddenly, you were more aroused than ever and needed her, now.

“bre, please baby.” you whined, throwing your head back against the couch cushions. 

she finally moved down your body, slipping off your sweats and admiring the wet spot on your panties. “somebody needs me,” she laughed, pressing her thumb into your clothed core. you couldn’t even get a response out, too caught up in the pleasure of her teasing you. you were so sensitive you were sure you could cum just from the way that she was staring at you like you were a piece of meat.

she licked over the fabric. her hot tongue mixing so well with the heat radiating off of your core. she slipped off of your panties and immediately latched onto your clit. sucking like it was her last meal. you moaned loud and almost guttarly. the cold against your skin didn’t matter anymore, the only thing that mattered was the woman between your legs who was eating you like it was her last chance for food.

her tongue ran through your folds, hungrily lapping at the slick that poured out of you. your hands tug at her hair, only furthering her head into your cunt. she moaned into your folds, the vibrations shooting up your body and only causing more pleasure. your hips bucked against her face and her hands came up to your hips to push them down.

your thighs squeezed around her head which only made her go faster. you were quickly approaching your orgasm, your hands balling into her soft curls and pulling as you were pushed over the edge.

she sucked harder than ever before, licking up all the juices that poured out of you. you cried out, your head thrown back while your legs shook.

breanna slowly began to stop, her once feverish laps becoming softer and gentler as you came down from your high.

soon enough, she got up from your thighs and wiped her lips clean. she leaned in for a kiss and gently made out with you til she eventually got up and off the couch. 

“hot coco and movies?” she asked with a grin.

[bring-forth-his-sac]

The Christmas Party - Chapter 4

Summary: after spending some days apart, you and Negan finally find a way to sort out your differences, and it involves a whooooooooole lot of balls

Tags: Modern AU, Teacher AU, Gossip, Swearing, Pet Names, Slow Burn, friendly competitive games, sexual innuendos

Word Count: 7.3k (I'm sorry, idk how tf this is getting so long)

Michonne likes her job. It’s cushy, which isn’t what most people would assume. But being principal of Alexandria High is something she fought for and something she earned. In many ways, it’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.

Not only that, but she gets to be closer to her kids. For the first time, Michonne can embrace the role of the classic mom—carpooling with her children, loudly saying “I love you” and reminding them not to forget their lunch as they all walk into the same building.

Carl doesn’t mind it much. At this point, he sees it more as an inside joke between himself and his stepmom.

Judith, on the other hand, still squirms every time she gets out of the car with Principle Grimes, her eyes darting around to see if anyone is taking notice. 

Michonne doesn’t take offense though, she knows it’s because Judith is still adjusting to “big school”, eager to make a good impression during her first year.

She had to deal with a blunder last week between Gregory, Rosita and Sasha. Once again, it was up to her to clean up Gregory’s incompetence while he played victim. 

If Michonne had her way, firing him would have been her first decree as principal. And he wouldn’t have been the last to be fired either. Michonne can think of a few she would’ve picked off straight away if it wasn’t for unfair dismissal laws. 

Saying goodbye to both of her kids, she makes her way down the corridor, pretending not to hear the students going wild in some of the classrooms as they let out their energy before classes start. They’re more hyper than usual for a Monday but since this is the last week of classes, she understands the excitement.

Strolling into her office, she comes face to face with another ‘if only I could fire them without lawful reasoning’ candidate.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, no way Ricky Dicky got you this weird ass piñata for Christmas,” Negan giggles when she walks in, holding up a gift she got for her birthday.

“Carl, actually,” she corrects him, watching carefully to make sure he doesn’t drop the statue “and it’s a unicorn he and Judith painted, not a piñata”.

With raised eyebrows, Negan gently places it back down on the desk. “Well, shit, ain’t they… creative” he treads carefully, not wanting to piss her off.

“Is there a reason you’re lurking in my office?” Michonne gets straight to business, making her away around the desk and to her chair. 

Negan sits opposite her, making himself comfortable “Well, it’s about the Christmas party”.

Michonne debates hiding her smirk but she can’t help it. Negan’s a man that always chooses to be cocky, so why shouldn’t she when she knows something he doesn’t?

Reading her smirk, Negan can’t help but scoff at himself. He’d been expecting a reaction like this. 

“Yeah, I know it sounds stupid,” he mutters.

Michonne twirls a finger in the air, gesturing to her grin. “Oh, this?” she says, her smirk widening “It’s not because you think this whole thing is stupid. It’s because I know exactly what you’re about to say”.

Negan shifts in his seat, caught between feeling a little embarrassed and strangely intrigued. He crosses one leg over the other.

“Is that so?” he says, his tone casual but curious.

“I had a certain English teacher in here on Friday,” Michonne keeps her information vague “she may have mentioned the staff Christmas party as well”.

“Did she mention how she can’t keep her damn mouth shut? Or that she’s the control freak?” he interjects “actually, no I want to hear what she’s said about me and how she’s spinning this whole thing”.

Michonne huffs “Funnily enough I could say the same thing to describe you”.

He rolls his eyes, trying not to mumble anything under his breath in case she hears.

“Actually, she explained everything, from the text message to you deserting her. In fact I think she told me too much, usually when you bunk off your job, you don’t tell your boss” Michonne says, her tone level.

Negan nods knowingly “She has a tendency to keep running her mouth, even when she shouldn’t”.

“And she also asked if the staff party could be held somewhere other than the sports hall, since she tells me it’s essentially your hall,” Michonne continues  “Which is odd, because I’ve never seen your name above the door”.

“It is my hall,” he snaps, his chest puffing out “everyone knows it is. My office is right next door —which has my name on the door— and out of all the coaches, I’ve been here the longest. So, yeah, my hall”.

Michonne just watches him, silently grateful she doesn’t have to deal with Negan more often. “Well, the party will still be held there, and when it comes to the two of you constantly clashing, I’ll say to you the exact same thing I told her”.

Michonne pauses, making sure Negan is actually paying attention.

“Whether you help plan the party while she doesn’t, or she plans it while you don’t, or both of you just plan the damn thing,” she says, speaking slowly, hoping it’ll sink in “I. Don’t. Care.”

Negan clamps his mouth shut, holding back a curse. “That’s your big advice?” he questions, incredulity in his voice. “Seriously?”

He’s met with a flat look “Negan, it’s a Christmas party. Let’s not overcomplicate things ”.

Leaning back in her chair, she glances over the paperwork she should be working on “I’m not going to force you two to work together. If you’re not that interested in helping, then don’t and let another coach help when it comes to setting things up in the hall. Simple as that.

Michonne picks up a pen and begins writing on one of the pages in front of her, giving him the sign that they’re done here.

This is easier than Negan expected. Where’s the whole “you need to work together for the sake of Christmas party magic” speech? The guilt trip about teamwork and holiday cheer?

He expected more pushback, more of Michonne’s insistence that they both need to cooperate and sing kumbaya. 

But instead, it’s just… simple. She doesn’t care.

And, sure, they both irritated the hell out of each other, but now that they’re not being forced into the same space, he finds himself missing it a little. He had started getting into a rhythm—annoying her, sparring with her and slowly picking up on her banter. 

It had become a game of sorts, and he’d almost gotten good at it.

But then again, he did walk away from her. And she never came crawling back with an apology, so maybe this is for the best. Neither of them had the patience to stick it out.

After a few seconds, when Negan doesn’t move, Michonne stills her movements. “I can hear you breathing,” she comments, keeping her head down and reading through the sheets on her desk.

“So?”.

“So, I’m busy? Go get ready for class— oh, actually, while I have you here,” Michonne looks over at him and Negan can see the shift from bored principal to fiery mama bear. 

He stands, getting ready to leave. 

Pointing her pen at him, she keeps her voice calm and steady “You make fun of Carl’s eye again and I’m giving the Coach Smith that actually does his job, your office”.

Negan knows better than to test her, or to even let a word alip about how Coach Mark Smith is off tanning in Jamaica, something he definitely doesn’t consider “doing his job”. 

Straightening up, he gives a quick nod and mutters a simple, “Yes, Ma’am,” before hightailing it out the door.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

What’re you on now? Plan C? Or D?

Plan A went out the window with your pettiness, when you decided to plan the Christmas party just to spite Negan.

Plan B, trying to work with Negan, crumbled and left you stranded at Target. You owe Carol big time for driving out and collecting you. Although you hope the amount of cookies you baked with her afterwards means that you’re both even.

Plan C… well, that hasn’t technically failed, nor has it gotten you off the hook, thanks to Michonne being indifferent either way. 

And now that's brought you on to plan D, which so far has been giving constant reassurance to a fully grown man.

“I don’t think I should be doing this,” Joey’s bottom lip wobbles and for a moment, you genuinely believe you’re about to see a tear roll down his stubbled cheek.

“Joey, you’re just helping me measure” you reply, holding onto the other end of the measuring tape as the wary man makes his way down to the other end of the hall. 

You came to work today with a plan. After avoiding Negan for the remainder of last week and having the weekend to get your shit together, you’ve decided that you’re going to continue planning this party. 

The major difference now?

You’re doing it from your own free will, not letting accidental texts or pettiness be the driving force… although in saying that, you also didn’t want to deal with Gregory’s passive aggressiveness.

So after a quick stop at Negan’s office before he arrived, you side-stepped into the sports hall next, and found your new helper, Joey.

“Yeah but…” he hesitates to even say his name “Negan doesn’t know you’re here, and if he finds out I’ve let you in here…”.

In a sense, you feel bad for Joey. It’s his first year at Alexandria High too but he’s already been indoctrinated into the Negan cult, which consists of Negan, Joey and whoever Negan’s trying to swoon for the week.

“Classes start in twenty minutes, he isn’t even here yet,” you attempt to comfort him for the fourth time this morning “besides, you’re just helping me get measurements, this isn’t the end of the world”.

“Yeah, but I don’t want Negan to think I’m betraying him by doing this, or that I’m choosing your side over his,” Joey babbles and you try not to take offense “I asked him last Friday how the planning was going for the party and he— jeez, if you saw the look on his face when I mentioned you!”.

Gulping, you shift slightly and try to change topics “Are you at the end of the hall?”.

“Oh!” Joey stoops down and presses the end of the tape to the wall “Ok, ready!”.

You write down the measurements in your notebook before calling Joey back. 

Unfortunately, he continues to ramble. “I mean, it was like his whole face changed when I mentioned your name! I was just asking about it cause I was wondering if he got into your pants yet but damn, you must’ve turned him down bad!”. 

You wonder if this is how irritating you sound when you ramble.

As Negan walks down the hallway to his office, he lets out a long breath. No more Christmas party for him. It’s someone else’s problem, whether or not that be his favourite love-to-hate and hate-to-love English teacher. 

He tunes out the chatter coming from the sports hall, not in the mood to deal with teens who’ve sneaked in before class for a quick game of basketball.

He enters his office and takes a moment to drop his bag onto the chair, releasing a long sigh. Like shit he would ever leave Michonne give Mark his office. At this point, Negan’s sure he has squatters rights. 

He removes his winter coat and casually tosses it over the old coat rack. Despite the cluttered state of his desk, it's organized in a way only he seems to understand. Negan knows exactly where everything is but something’s… off.

Something’s different.

His gaze shifts to the small pumpkin statue from Target, its green stalk hidden beneath a tiny Christmas hat. Negan frowns, frustration creeping in. Dammit. 

This guilt-tripping crap shouldn’t work on him. And it won’t. You can buy him the pumpkin but it doesn’t change how you have a bad habit of blurting out the wrong thing at the worst possible time.

Still, he can’t remember the last time someone bought him an actual present. His colleagues never get him anything, unless you count glares. His students skedaddle out of his class the second they have the chance, his only gift there being the peace and quiet they leave behind. 

It must’ve been Lucille who last got him a gift, years ago. His leather jacket to be exact. He rarely wears it to work, not wanting some kid’s dirty paws to taint it. 

That’s just for him. 

After he walked out on you at Target, you’ve both kept your distance, neither one willing to make the first move. But now, it's a new week, with the staff party only a few days away. 

And here sits a little pumpkin on his desk, it's Christmas hat perched jauntily on top. With a low hum, Negan flicks the hat of the pumpkin as he heads out of his office, his sixth sense tingling. 

Letting the other end of your measuring tape zip back into place, Joey strolls the width of the hall back to you.

“So, you not a fan of the lanky type?” he asks, shrugging with as much nonchalance as he can muster “Since you rejected Negan and all”.

It's a real talent suppressing your cringe that fast. You force a tight-lipped smile, trying to set the record straight. 

“I never rejected— I mean, I would have if he—look, Joey, I don’t judge people or decide whether I’m attracted to them based on their—"

“Prefer them with some meat on their bones?" he cuts in, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth when you can't come up with a satisfactory answer.

You’re about to let out a defeated sigh but then you wonder if you can use this to your advantage. 

"You know what really gets me going?" you ask, the words alone making Joey’s face go bright red. "A guy who isn’t afraid of what others think, who’ll help people without worrying if it pisses off... oh, let’s say a meaner, older man”.

Before Joey can even respond, a suspiciously cheerful voice cuts in from the doorway.

"There ain't no way I've just walked in on some dirty talk," Negan grins, leaning against the frame with that trademark smirk of his "And to make it even better, you're describing me, sweetheart! Damn, I didn’t realise I turned you on so much”.

Your jaw clenches but you try to keep things cordial. “Negan,” you give a small nod in greeting “I was just leaving”.

He glances over at the numbers written on your open notebook. “Oh, very busy, I see,” he remarks, before deciding that’s enough small talk “how about we have a chat?”.

“About what?” Joey asks, still standing there.

You glance at Joey, but it’s Negan’s pointed look that makes him realize he’s intruding. 

“I’ve got a class in here in about…” Negan checks his watch “ten minutes. How about you head to the storage room, grab whatever balls are in there, and line them up for me? I’ll let the kids blow off some of that pent up Monday morning energy with a game of dodgeball”.

Before Joey can protest, Negan tosses him the keys. Joey fumbles, barely catching them as he hurries off.

“You got it, si— bos— I mean, Negan!” he takes off down to the dusty storage room on the far side of the gym.

“Jesus Christ,” Negan lets out a low chuckle “I’m surprised he hasn’t asked to call me Daddy yet”.

A disgusted scoff leaves your throat and you grip your notebook a little tighter, ready to leave. And yet you want to stay, just to hear what Negan has to say.

Negan crosses his arm, eyes locked somewhere in the middle distance as Joey unlocks the storage room and disappears inside. You stay in your spot a few paces away from Negan, feeling the weight of the silence pressing on you, unspoken words hanging in the air.

After a long pause, he speaks in a much more serious tone “You know, you’re really good at pushing buttons”. 

Putting a hand up to stop him, you quickly clarify “The pumpkin is just a peace offering. I’m not expecting us to get along but I don’t want us to be at each other’s throats for the rest of the school year either”.

Joey hurries out of the with some basketballs and places them in a line along the centre of the hall before going to get more. 

“I get it, I’m not your favorite person—hell, I’m not anyone’s favorite person,” Negan continues once Joey’s gone “but at Target… damn, you don’t have to go there. Not like that”.

Sighing, you avoid eye contact. The words still feel fresh on your tongue but you know you have to face them. 

“I didn’t mean to go there,” you reply “I just… I imploded and I don’t want to excuse it by saying you pushed me to it… I could’ve been more careful with what I said”.

Your stomach drops when you hear him laugh bitterly. There’s no real humor behind it and your defenses go up in an instant. The warning lights are starting to light up in your head. 

“You’ve got a hell of a way of showing that,” he pauses, biting back something sharper “It’s… it’s not that simple for me and I get it, I’m an asshole. But to bring her up when I take it too far? Or piss you off just a little too much?”.

Some footsteps echo behind you as Joey drops more balls down in the middle of the room, heading back into the storage room and not noticing a battered handball roll over to join your conversation with Negan.

You watch as it rolls closer.

Shifting from foot to foot, Negan folds his arms. “I mean, shit, I know I shouldn’t have driven off without you but what do you expect me to do after you said that?” he asks.

A flicker of that well known frustration bubble before you sigh. “Maybe I expected you to—I don’t know—talk to me instead of running away every time things get tough? I don’t say these things to be a jackass to you, Negan, I say it because… well, yeah I’m pissed off but also because no one else has the balls to say it to you”.

The handball nudges your shoe.

“No pun intended” you add, a thought springing into your head.

You can see your walls going up, and the same with Negan. It’s a toxic cycle of annoying each other and then escalating it whenever you try to hear the other person out. You can tell he’s getting annoyed again just by rehashing it.

Time for Plan E… which you may or may not have just made up now impulsively. 

Getting restless, Negan switches to putting his hands on his hips “I do talk, damn it, but you just—”.

WHAM!

Before Negan can finish, a handball comes flying from your direction, slamming right into his chest with a loud thud. He stumbles back, eyes wide in surprise.

Negan doesn’t have to feign any shock. Not when that’s just happened. But he’s not angry about it. If anything, the random ball attack has made him break his serious streak. 

“Goddamn, woman! What the hell was that for?!” he looks at you, bewildered.

You let your notebook fall to the floor and take a few steps back, edging towards the centre of the hall. 

“Ever since you deserted me, you’ve been dodging me so I figured you’d be good at dodging that too” you shrug.

Placing a hand dramatically over his chest, Negan glares at you, though the playful anger in his eyes betrays any real frustration. “Really? A damn handball?” he tuts “The one time I’m tryin’ to be serious, and this is what I get?”.

You stop when you feel a soccer ball nudge the back of your shoe, letting you know you’ve successfully made it to the halfway mark of the hall.

“You piss me off,” you state the obvious “I piss you off. We piss each other off so fucking much and I am sick of it! Talking it out is just making us both angry again and that’ll lead to one of us saying something stupid – again”.

To show you mean business, you pick up the soccer ball. Joey, confused as ever, just continues with the job Negan gave him. 

“We both fucked up, I get that and I am sorry, Negan,” you say solemnly before huffing “but fuck! You just annoy me so much! And ’cause of that, I think we should just get this out of our systems… so, you game?”.

The hint of a smile creeps up on his face, playful offence melting into amusement.

“Y’know when two people need to get something out of their system, this ain’t the kinda balls that’re involved, sweetheart,” with a grunt he bends over and picks up the handball. 

You don’t move, fingers strumming against the soccer ball. Joey inadvertently fills up your supply of ammo by bringing out a few more balls out. 

“Are you seriously gonna make me play dodgeball to work this out?” Negan calls your bluff, narrowing his eyes at you as he rolls his shoulders.

“Unless you’re too scared”.

Damn you. Negan smirks, knowing full well you know he’s not about to turn this down. His eyes gleam with mischief  “Scared? Hell no, I just—”. 

Hoping you wouldn’t be expecting a ball hurled at you mid-sentence, Negan throws the handball, narrowly missing your head. It smacks off the ground and you gulp, releasing he’s not about to take it easy on you.

“…I just needed to warm up. Let’s do this,” Negan swings his arms to the side, stretching “Joey! Throw a few down this direction”.

As if signaling the start of a war, three balls roll past you and come to a stop at Negan’s feet, their new commander in chief. The second he bends down to grab one, you seize your chance. 

Without hesitation, you send the soccer ball hurtling through the air.

What follows is pure chaos— dodgeball in its most frantic form. Balls fly in every direction, slamming into walls, ricocheting off bleachers, and nearly knocking over everything in sight.

You dive to the side, narrowly dodging one of Negan’s throws, which sails through the air and wallops against the wall.

Neither of you is holding back now. Negan cackles, the sound of his laughter filling the hall as he effortlessly dodges another ball. 

Joey, meanwhile, has wisely retreated to the safety of the storage room, peeking out from behind the door.

He cowers, half-hidden, making sure the door doesn’t slam shut and trap him in there, caught between wanting to stay out of the chaos and not wanting to be accidentally locked inside.

Negan laughs in between throws, his enthusiasm spurring you on. “Goddamn! This is one cruel and usual punishment, doll” he pants, a wide smile gracing his face.

It’s odd to see him so happy. Not smirking or smiling just to get under your skin. He’s like a dog that’s finally been let out to run wild, truly in his element.

Trying a new tactic, you throw a ball low to the ground, hoping to get his legs but Negan effortlessly leaps over it. 

“Well, if you didn’t cut our argument short then you wouldn’t be getting a face full of balls” you throw another, aiming for his head. He dodges it, bouncing his own ball off the ground as he readies his aim.

Negan grins before tossing the ball straight at your chest. You barely catch it, smiling back at him triumphantly.

“I get it, alright? I was being an ass leaving you stranded… and for trying to wind you up so much beforehand,” Negan shockingly gives a genuine apology “But you can’t just throw stuff at me and call it a ‘game’!”

Bouncing on your heels, you think carefully of your next move. Sure, you’re a little out of breath but this is the most fun you’ve had all month.

“I can if it makes you listen,” you quip back before issuing another apology of your own “look… I didn’t mean for what I said to be so harsh, okay? I was just mad. I don’t want to be that person, but sometimes you’re so damn stubborn… it gets under my skin”.

Negan slows his movements, watching you carefully for a second. The playful energy fades just enough to let sincerity peek through.

“I’m sorry, you’re sorry, can we go back to planning this awful party now?” he asks, surprising even himself by still wanting to help with this damned thing.

Throwing the last ball at him, you manage to catch Negan off guard and hit him square in the shoulder. “One condition, you actually put in some effort” you reveal your single demand.

“No promises but I’ll try. Alright?”.

With a half-hearted laugh, you step away from the ball and approach your opponent.

“Alright” you stick out your hand. Negan looks down at your hand, back up at you and finally, he shakes it.

There’s a moment of quiet, both of you catching your breath as the ridiculousness of the game breaks the tension between you. “I gotta say,” you pant slightly “you’ve got one hell of a throw”.

He laughs, nudging one of the balls to roll back toward the center of the room. “What can I say, I’m good with my hand” that familiar smirk is back, but surprisingly, it doesn’t irk you as much as it did before.

Still, you can’t resist sending a playful glare in his direction. Just to keep him on his toes.

Joey hesitantly steps out from the storage room, glancing around nervously. You watch as he clings to the door, ready to duck and dive at the slightest threat.

“Is it over? Who won?” he asks, his voice cautious.

Negan looks over at him, a grin still on his face. “The school did,” he calls out “considering it’s still got us two fucks planning this party”.

You glance back at Negan, finding his eyes still locked on you, studying you with an intensity that makes something stir in your chest. 

His voice lowers, smooth and almost too casual, as he asks, “If I call you later, will you pick up? To talk about the Christmas party, of course.”

You let a slow smile spread across your face, leaning into the moment. “I might reject your call, just out of instinct,” you tease, feeling the playful tension in the air.

Joey, clearly happy the dodgeball war has finally ended, at least for now, yells over with a grin, “You should definitely pick up!”.

You raise an eyebrow at the advice but there’s a warmth in your smile. “Like you said,” you nudge Negan lightly, the hint of something more lingering in your voice “no promises, but I’ll try”.

And with that, the mood between you both lightens, the game being an unexpected but fitting resolution to all the unspoken things between you.

From the doorway, Negan’s class of teens wait, unsure whether this is something that should be interrupted. 

A mixture of horror and amusement is plastered across their faces. “You owe me ten bucks,” Ron leans over to Carl and whispers “I told you they’re definitely banging”.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The Alexandria High’s Teachers Midlife Crisis Support Line keeps you entertained after school. You had a few last minute presents to pick up and get ready for shipping, hoping an influx in gifts back to your parents will ease the blow of you not being home this Christmas. 

It’s a topic you try not to think about, let alone mention it to any friends you have here. And by ‘friends’ you do mean work colleagues , considering you haven’t exactly done a lot of socializing since you moved here. 

Reading the steady flow of messages helped ease the guilt of not travelling home though. And, you were actually given a reason to interact and send in some of your own messages! 

Most of it was you letting the others know more details about the party; what time to be there, dress code, are plus ones allowed.

Bustling up to the door of your apartment, you quickly send a text saying the party will start at 6 as you make your way inside. 

You don’t even have time to shut the door behind you when your phone pings with a private message.

Negan: isn’t 6 too early?

You: I thought it was a little late actually 

Negan: sounds like you’ve been to many parties

Negan: lol

Asshole. Ever since group chat started buzzing with life, Negan has been sharing his running commentary with you.

He still hasn’t sent a text into the group chat but seems to have no problem reading what’s being said and sending his thoughts to you in private messages. 

Kicking off your shoes and turning on the lights to your place, you decide to leave him wait for a response. Right now, your main priority is getting a well nourished dinner… which means microwaved popcorn and watching whatever Christmas movie you can find on Netflix. 

Poking the time into the microwave, you wander from room to room; going into the bedroom and quickly changing into some pyjamas, going to the bathroom to snag a few wipes for your make-up, before heading back to the kitchen, just in time to stop the microwave. 

You: wow I didn’t realize you were aching for another round of balls being thrown at you 

With your Christmas lights on, snacks at the ready and big glass of soda, you settle in for the night when… ping!

Negan: for that, you’re not getting your Christmas present until after the break

You debate throwing your phone onto the other side of the couch and simply ignoring him but he is unfortunately entertaining.

You: your the literal grinch, I know you didn’t get me anything 

It may have taken a while but you can finally feel yourself relaxing when it comes to Negan. Maybe all you both needed was the game of dodgeball to get past all that previous turbulence. 

You’re understanding his sense of humor, how he’ll flirt just for the hell of it and how he’s all bark and no bite. If you don’t fall for his charms and throw yourself at him after his first few attempts, Negan just flirts for fun.

Holding your phone in one hand, you use your remote to navigate through the tv channels with the other, stopping when you get to the Netflix app. With a ping, your attention is back to your other hand.

Negan: are you asking me to roleplay? ;)

First off, ew. Secondly, what the fuck, why does he have to make it weird? Well, maybe that’s the winky face’s fault but either way, you sneer at the message. You keep your response short, sweet and to the point.

You: perv

He responds immediately.

Negan: That’s not a no. I’ll even bring my santa hat

You: you’re right it’s not a no, it’s an absolutely NOT

You: and a Santa hat isn’t grinchy enough 

Getting flooded with notifications, your attention is briefly brought back to the teachers group chat.

Glancing at the top of your screen, you catch fragments of the ongoing conversation. Eugene and Aaron seem to be deep in a back-and-forth, trying to settle what the true definition of "casual attire" really is.

Negan: yes it is, he wore one in the movie

Negan’s private message grabs your attention and you try to ignore what’s happening in the group chat, for now.

You: still not grinchy enough 

You stare at your phone for a few moments but there’s no reply. Oh well. Directing your attention back to the tv, you open Netflix and begin browsing for some stereotypical Christmas romance. 

Across town, Negan picks up his controller again, his eyes locked onto his tv screen as a new team deathmatch begins.

His fingers work swiftly, selecting his loadout with practiced ease. Negan’s character moves forward, entering a tornado of bullets and death. 

He takes down two players in quick succession but before he can reload, some idiot with a rocket launcher blows him to pieces in a fiery explosion. Frustration bubbles up as he watches his character's remains scatter across the screen.

“Fuckin’ ass” Negan mumbles, checking his phone as he respawns. 

Normally, Negan would have his headset on, letting the pent-up frustration of the day spill out as he argues with whatever tween is shrieking down their mic. But tonight he’s opted to go for a quiet evening. 

Instead of unleashing his usual barrage of insults, he mutters them to himself under his breath.

As he fumbles to quickly type a message back to you, a smirk creeps across his face. He knows your reaction will be priceless. The way your eyes narrow and that subtle flush creeps up your cheeks whenever his teasing or flirting goes just a little too far.

You glance down at the message, and for a brief moment, your heart stops. You quickly look away, eyes darting to the search bar on your TV, trying to focus on anything else to steady your racing thoughts.

But after a deep breath, you force your gaze back to the screen, almost afraid to read it again. 

The words are unchanged, still sitting there, but your mind can't seem to process them. It's the same message, and yet, you find yourself unable to believe it.

Negan: What if I bring my green fursuit? Is that good enough?

Weird message, sure, but that’s not the shocking part. Swiping open the message, it doesn’t bring you to your private conversation with Negan.

No, instead you’re taken to Alexandria High’s Teachers Midlife Crisis Support Line, where Negan’s message is there as clear as day. 

Oh my god.

You can’t control your reaction, immediately going out of the group chat and to your contact info on Negan. Without a second thought, you hit call.

It rings once, twice and on the third ring, he answers. It’s like you have no autonomy anymore, simply letting your body work without any consultation with your brain. 

Negan is in the midst of trying to figure out of to delete a messages when your call comes through. When he answers, your name alongside his note of (good ass, weird at flirting) which he will have to change later to (good ass, great throw) lights up as you laugh down the phone to him.

“Oh my fucking god!” you basically squeal “how the fuck did you do that? Oh my g-”.

You can’t finish your sentence before your own laughter cuts you off again.

He stays uncharacteristically quiet but that doesn’t hinder you. With your other hand, you have to drop the tv remote to clutch your stomach, a pain beginning to linger from the laughter. 

“Now that, that has made my Christmas” you try to quieten your laughter and on the other end, you finally hear a chuckle.

“I mean, a green fursuit? Where the fuck did you come up with that?” you have to wipe a tear away.

“That’s the shit Jim Carrey had to wear,” his voice seems a little tight but he’s still chuckling “fuck’s sake, that’s it, I’m switching schools”.

Your laughter simmers down to a giggle “Quick, just delete the message before anyone else sees it!”.

“But how the fuck do I do that?” he blusters, a strange mix of self-assertiveness and panic coating his voice. 

You know you should stop laughing by now but everytime you can feel yourself gain some control over your laughter, you think of the situation at hand and lose it again.

“Just… just hold down on the message and… and wait until the different tabs pop up a-and then… you just have to tap delete” you struggle to get the words out, holding your nose in one hand to stop yourself from snorting.

Now that’s something you know Negan would pick up on, immediately directing all attention to that instead of his hilarious blunder.

“Fine, I’ll try that” he says gruffly before hanging up. You continue to laugh the second he’s gone, flopping onto your side and burying your head into the couch cushions. 

You drop your phone beside you, but only so you can stuff some popcorn into your mouth. Going for the phone again, you swiftly go back to the group chat to find the message has disappeared, and in its place a simple yet ambiguous message from the service provider.

*This user has deleted their message*

Before you can even tap out of the group, the phone starts to ring in your hand. You doesn’t waste any time answering, especially now that your giggles have subsided. 

“It’s gone,” you tell Negan, trying your best to sound serious “now all it says is that you deleted a message”.

“But does it say the fuckin’ message?” he asks, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“I literally just said it doesn’t,” you reiterate “do you listen at all?”.

Negan huffs loudly, muttering something under his breath. “And what was that?” you ask pointedly, wondering why you even answered the phone again. 

His huff turns into something of a chuckle “My ears must be fuckin’ deceiving me cause it just sounded like you used your teacher voice on me”.

“And what if I did?” you challenge.

He chuckles again, before letting out a teasing scoff “How the hell am I the one getting scolded? Shouldn’t you be tryin’ to comfort me for that shit? I mean, I’m fuckin’ traumatised over here”.

“You’re not the only one traumatised, did it say who saw the message?” You pop some more popcorn into your mouth.

“How the fuck would I know that?” Negan asks, leaving the lobby he’s in and going back to the game’s home screen.

“Damn, your age is really showing now,” you mumble but make sure to say it loud enough for him to hear “you swipe the message and it shows you who’s read it and who hasn’t yet… but you can’t do it now since you deleted it”. 

You may or may not have gone up an octave when you said that last part just to tease him.

“Well, that’s dumb. What’s the point in knowing how to do that when I can’t do it now?”.

“Because I thought you’d have the initiative to check before you deleted it,” you goad “jeez, how old are you? You really know fuck all about technology”. 

Negan retorts an equally goading reply, causing you both to quickly fall into their routine of bickering back and forth. “How old am I? I think that only matters if you have a thing for older men” he quips back.

“Only for older men in green fursuits” you tease.

“That can be arranged”.

Staring at the search bar, your perfect romantic Christmas movie so close yet so far away, your attention drifts away from the TV as you prop your feet up comfortably.

The next half hour slips by effortlessly. The conversation flows easily, a mix of casual banter and more personal exchanges, the kind of talk that somehow feels natural between you two. Time seems to slow as you get lost in the rhythm of the conversation, the world outside fading away for just a little while.

Negan raises an eyebrow, balancing his phone between his shoulder and neck.

“And should I even bring up the staff party?” he asks with a grin. Another round of gunshots echo in the background but this time, you don’t question it. Negan’s already had to fill you in on his unconventional form of therapy; video games.

“Ugh,” you sigh “I think the decorations are mostly done. I grabbed a few more things while I was out earlier… but honestly, the worst part is going to be setting it all up on the day. Other than that…”.

You think of the list in your notebook. “We still have food and drink to figure out” you recall “we gotta sort out music too but I was hoping we could just use the speakers in the sports hall? Just plug in a phone and turn on someone’s Christmas playlist“.

You hold your breath, bracing for the inevitable disagreement. You can already imagine the gruffness in his voice, the hard veto against it as Negan huffs and puffs “My speakers in my hall?! Never! I ain’t letting their dirty hands anywhere near my sound system!”.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Negan replies, to your surprise.

“Really?” You pause, wondering if this qualifies as a Christmas miracle.

“Uh-huh,” he continues, another round of gunfire crackling through the phone. “The other Coach Smith owns the speakers, so we get full reign of them. Besides, it’s the least he can do while he’s off spending the holidays in Jamaica”.

That makes more sense. 

“So that just leaves food and drink” you smile, feeling a little more hopeful about the party.

Negan lets out a long sigh as the match ends. Getting up, he holds his phone properly as he wanders to the kitchen for a beer.

“Buying the booze will be fine,” he dismisses “we just gotta go clear the shelves of a liquor store, pick up a bit of everything”.

You nod along. “Yeah, the booze will be the easier of the two… but the food, on the other hand…” You trail off, sucking in air through your teeth.

“Can’t we get the home ec teachers to do it?” he suggests casually “Carol’s fine. She’ll be a hardass about it, but she’ll probably do it”.

“I think I’ve run out of favors with Carol,” you admit “she was the one who picked me up from Target after you pulled that whole disappearing act”.

Negan pulls a face despite you not being able to see. “So just cold finger food snacks, then?” he suggests.

“Yeah, that works,” you agree reluctantly, then suddenly remember “Actually! Speaking of food… did you hear about Gregory eating a student’s pancakes?”.

Negan lets out an amused chuckle, taking another sip of his beer. “Jesus Christ, you really are a gossip” he shakes his head, the action more affectionate than he’d like to admit.

You laugh “Oh, shush, you love it”.

By the time you’ve filled Negan in on the school gossip and finally hang up, you’ve finished your popcorn, something Negan quickly caught onto, feigning offense that you were snacking during the call. 

After exchanging a dozen “goodbyes”, you finally hang up, letting out a long breath. 

You glance at the search bar on your TV, offering it a sympathetic look before you turn the screen off, resigning yourself to the fact that it’s time for bed.

Negan finishes his beer, the empty bottle clinking against the counter as his gaming system automatically switches to standby mode. He stretches, then heads towards his bedroom. 

As he pushes open his bedroom door, he chuckles to himself, imagining how chaotic things would’ve been if you were actually here with him and not just a voice down the phone— discussing party plans, laughing over gossip, probably snacking in the middle of it all. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and for a brief second, there’s something deeper in his eyes. But it’s something he doesn’t let himself dwell on. 

The thought of you here, next to him, fills him with a longing he can’t shake and yet he yearns to bury deep deep down. He sighs softly, the quiet of the room settling around him as he pushes the thought away and drifts off to sleep.

[johnnysuhbmarine]

Watching Harmony Forest instead of writing my last two college essays…but it’s okay because looking at Intak will make me motivated to drink water finish my finals assignments so I can look at Intak even MORE and with less stress!!!

But seriously you want me to write eight pages on communication and character when I could instead watch brunette Intak in a cap win at dodgeball?? One of those is clearly the better option

[deus-ex-mona]

up next on chapter 36 of idol sengen… _(:3 」∠)_

[sabraeal]

1000 Followers Update!

Due to some super fun chronic health shenanigans, the posting for the 1000 Followers Celebration is being postponed a month! Posting will start on 2/2 with to all the ghost still standing in this room, and continue as previously planned from there. Thank you guys for bearing with me-- I struggled with the idea of even postponing for a week, but it became very clear on Monday that I would not be able to catch up with the schedule unless I took an extended break to recover. Can't wait to show you guys what I've got up my sleeve!

[missrosegold]

Looks like I just lost another close friend to guy who isn't worth a pile of dog shit. 😊

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[latin-dr-robotnik]

Sonic and the Black Knight is PEAK GAMING (stream clip)

[forcedhesitation]

first time drawing david and it's a dumb meme for a gootoob video. happy pride LMAO

[hueseok]

it was always you.

for as long as you remember, you’ve always had the fattest crush on your childhood friend, jeon jungkook. it never blossomed into something more though, because that’s what happens when life naturally takes it course—you grow up, you move on, and you pretend that those feelings never existed in order to maintain the good friendship that remained between the two of you over the years.

so when he visits you after work one day, asking you to marry him, you do everything you can to refuse, because the reason he’s asking you isn’t due to the fact that he finally realized that he loved you after all this time, but because he thinks he’s doing you a big favor.

or at least, that’s what you think.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 13.2k

rating: 18+

content: fluff, semi-angst, childhood friends to lovers au, pining au | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + brother’s best friend!jungkook; professor!reader + editor!reader | inspired by purple hearts

warning/s: swearing, potentially wrong medical & military information (i’m sorry but i tried to do as much research i can 😭), mentions of having type 1 diabetes, making out, heavy petting, implied sexual content: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is only fiction!)

MINI PLAYLIST: ♫ die with a smile — lady gaga, bruno mars ♫ juno — sabrina carpenter ♫ selfish — *nsync ♫ nandito na ako — benj pangilinan, angela ken

opening note. omg this is my first full length fic in two damn years i think??? certainly took a long time before i had the motivation to write again but i hope y'all like this! to my og readers who still keep up with my shenanigans, this one's for you 🥹💗

“Any questions?”

A boy wearing half-rimmed glasses raises his hand and you gesture for him to speak. “Can we get an extension on the Save the Cat project due tomorrow?”

You sigh, just as several of your students begin agreeing with him and muttering reasons of their own why the extension should be approved. It’s the week before finals, and you’re aware that the class must be packed with assignments and projects for several of their classes because of it, hence the rather last minute request. They look tired and pleading, a complete reflection of how you were when you were the one in their position nearly a decade ago, begging for an extension from a professor who you thought was kind enough to be swayed with the proposition.

You scan the crowd. “How many of you are at least 70% with it, hm?”

More than half of the class raises their hands.

“Okay, that’s honestly unexpected,” you say, pleased to know that they aren’t slacking on your subject. “Does Monday sound good? That’s three more days, to be fair. I don’t want to extend it further because I have to read everyone’s work and you guys know I don’t like rushing it before turning in your final grade.”

A chorus of relief and thanks echoed in the room, all of your students either dramatically sinking in their chair or erupting in an animated conversation with their seatmate or making crying faces to portray how grateful they are.

“Thank you so much, Ms. ____!”

“I love you, Ms. ____!”

“Ms. ____, I will offer my first child to you,” one theatrically adds and you smile a bit, rolling your eyes at students like this one who is now opting to flatter you way too much for your act of kindness.

“Alright, alright. Just get it done and I’m expecting quality work, okay? Class dismissed.”

The whole class begins to gather their things at the cue and you don’t stay there a minute longer after your announcement, exiting the lecture hall to head to the faculty room where you’re certain half of the teaching staff have gone home already. It’s already 8:47 p.m., and all you want to do is head home to get the rest you deserve after an eventful day.

There was a time that having a schedule from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. wasn’t the norm for you. You used to value work life balance so much—it was even a nonnegotiable you used to say in interviews, saying that if you didn’t get enough rest within the week, then the job most likely wasn’t for you. But things have been very different for the past months; you have definitely grown out of that mindset due to the fact that you’re simply in need of another source of income to pay for your monthly rent, utility bills, and now your medication. You’re in a stage of your life wherein you consider working part time as a professor was a blessing rather than a big nuisance.

Making a right turn to where the hallway to the faculty room is, you’re too busy rearranging the papers inside the folder you’re holding to notice a man sitting on the bench placed just beside the entrance. He notices you the second you appear in his line of vision though; he straightens his posture and proceeds on standing up immediately upon seeing you closer, calling your name softly when you failed to look at his direction, too preoccupied with the thought of finally coming home that you’re oblivious that the man trying to catch your attention is Jeon Jungkook.

“____,” he calls again and this time you notice him, your eyes widening instantly.

“Holy shi—” You stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “Jungkook?”

He grins. “Hey, lamb chop.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He laughs, following suit to you who’s already giggling just by his presence alone, outstretching his arms then. “You gonna hug me or what?”

You beam and step forward to embrace him. He returns it without hesitation, muscular arms circling around you and squeezing tightly that it lifts you up from the ground for a quick second. The faint smell of fabric conditioner on his clothes enters your nostrils and you feel like a teenager again, warmth rushing to your face while your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Regardless of how old the both of you are, you think your hopeless crush on the guy will forever live on and constantly transform you into a middle school girl whenever opportunities like these to have him near arise. You’re just happy you’ve trained yourself to be better at hiding it now compared to when you were younger.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in base or wherever it is that you’re designated?” you ask, the first to let go from the hug.

“Actually, I returned from deployment three days ago. I’m on leave for two weeks.”

“Wow. Two weeks, huh?”

“Yep. It’s the longest break I’ve gotten in a while.”

“That’s good. Everybody needs a break from time to time.”

“Says the girl has a day job and a night job.” He points out with a smirk; your heart does a little leap at how handsome he looks doing that. “When the hell did you get into teaching, by the way? I never pegged you to be the kind who can tolerate it. You hate kids.”

“You’ll find yourself tolerating lots of things in this economy.” You snort. “And my students aren’t kids. They’re in college.”

“Yeah, which you graduated from six years ago. Still technically kids.”

“Are you seriously jabbing at my age when you’re two years older than I am?”

He rolls his eyes at that one, an indication that you won the argument. “Anyway,” he starts again and you grin, “I didn’t come here to compare how old we are—”

“You didn’t?”

He sends you a look. Your grin gets even wider.

“I’m here because I was hoping to treat you to dinner.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, not masking the surprise from your voice.

Let’s get the facts straight before we proceed to this conversation.

It isn’t a lie when you say that you and Jungkook are great friends. You have been since you were 7 and your family just moved into the house next to theirs. He was a natural playmate, a companion when you couldn’t tolerate the antics of your older brother, the boy who looked out for you aside from said older brother, and the person you’ve shared significant history with throughout your youth that you can never seem to forget nor disregard.

It’s just that you never deemed that you were great enough friends for him to go out of his way and visit you at your workplace, offering to treat you for dinner. Gestures like that were reserved for your older brother, Seowon, who’s the same age as he is and who you’re sure is considered as his best friend. Compared to them, yours and Jungkook’s dynamic shifted slightly after graduating from college. What once was a really close friendship turned into a casual one, with mostly just teasing, light talks, and the occasional welfare checks at times you hear certain news from the other that’s worth speaking directly about.

At the mention of that, realization dawns on you on why he must be here.

“Jungkook…” You’re trying not to sound mad but you can’t hide the exasperation from your voice. “That’s not the real reason you’re here.”

“Of course, it is. Why else would I be here?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” you ask, not willing to drag this out. “You’re just going to give me another lecture that I definitely don’t need.”

Jungkook frowns, like he’s dismayed that you caught on pretty swiftly.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You pressed.

“He meant well, ____.”

You scowl. To remark that Seowon is unnecessarily nosy and coddling would be an understatement. That man hasn’t left you alone the second he was aware of your condition. Usually, whenever he gets into his ‘big brother tendencies’, his girlfriend Winnie steps in and helps you lay him off your back. However, it’s different this time; no matter how much you reinstill your independence and insist that you’re fine, it’s like you’re talking to a wall.

“What exactly did you hear from him?” you query.

He seems hesitant in answering that. “That you got diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.”

You wince.

“Look,” he steps forward towards you, “I wasn’t going to bring it up unless you did, okay? I’m just here because I’m genuinely worried about you and I want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.” You murmur. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Worry doesn’t vanish magically just because someone says so.”

“Well, it should—because I’m fine.”

“You sure? I heard that you’re struggling to buy insulin among other things you’re having a hard time paying.”

“Fuck. Seowon told you that too? That’s private.”

“My parents know. He just filled me in because he wants you to have as much support as you can get.”

“I don’t need that. I’m an adult. I’ve lived by myself for years. I can fend for myself just fine.”

“It doesn’t look like it from what I’ve been hearing.”

“All you’re hearing is a warped and exaggerated version of the story told by Seowon who won’t listen to a word I say.” You huff. “I’m fine and I’ve been doing everything I can, alright? I’m taking care of myself. I’m going to the doctor whenever I need to. I’m making ends meet, buying treatment for this goddamn disease and regulating my sugar levels all the fucking time. Why do you think I’ve been working two jobs for the past year? It’s because I’m doing everything I can to stay alive.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, he only remains gazing at you.

“If you’re here to offer me money or whatever because of what he said,” you add, already embarrassed that you can’t even look at him anymore, “then I don’t want it.”

“That’s not what I’m here for,” he says.

“Then are you really just here to treat me to dinner?” you question sarcastically.

He laughs and you dare return your eyes at him, catching him peering at you with a fond expression. “Yes. It’s my way of doing a welfare check.”

“Welfare check.” You echo with squinted eyes. “Well, in that case, here I am—alive and healthy.”

“I can see that, and I’m glad.” He smiles. “But I need more than just seeing you. I need a conversation and an apology.”

“An apology?”

“For being the last person to know about your condition.”

“And we’re still talking about that apparently.” You mutter under your breath. “Sorry. I didn’t think that you wanted to know.”

“Of course, I would have wanted to know. It’s you we’re talking about here.”

Something about how he said you causes your lips to twitch as you fight off a smile. This isn’t a good time to dive into your romantic feelings for your childhood crush, but when he’s letting go of lines like that which are sure to have your heart soaring out of your chest, it’s hard to keep on a cool and unfazed facade. You just convince yourself that he sees you as a little sister and that’s why he’s so worried; you should already be past your ‘delulu’ phase at this age to be affected by such statements.

“I didn’t want to add to your worries,” you reason. “You already have your life to think about. Add to the fact that you’re a naval aviator—so you literally have your own life first to think about.”

“I can make space for you.”

Is he flirting? Is this a normal thing to say between friends?

You blink. “Okay, uh, that’s… that’s completely up to you, I guess.”

“I just like knowing those things first hand. It makes me worry less.”

“Got it. Next time I learn I’m dying, I’ll tell you.”

“____,” he says your name in warning, and you know he’s serious.

“Sorry.” You heat up. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass.”

“I promise that’ll be the last time I make a dark joke, Lieutenant.”

Jungkook’s nostrils flare. You prevent yourself from grinning like a fool again in success of getting on his nerves.

“Are you done here? Because I’m hungry and would really like to get going now.” He changes the subject and gestures to the faculty.

“Yeah. I’ll just get my things and then I can get out of here.”

“Great. You’re letting me take you to dinner, right?” 

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Fine.” You deadpan.

This time, he’s the one who’s beaming at you. “I’ll wait for you here and we can go.”

“Okay.”

****

When Jungkook discovered that you had type 1 diabetes through a phone call with Seowon, he spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores of his squadmates and overthinking what’s supposed to happen to you now that you had an autoimmune disease which he was told didn’t have a cure. He was assured that you were okay despite it, that there was medication to treat it, and that you had access to them and have been very careful with your lifestyle due to the diagnosis ever since.

He still couldn’t be put to ease though. As ridiculous as it may sound, he had this overwhelming realization that life truly was short, that you had to make certain decisions all the time because you need to adjust to what the universe is only willing to give you. It was funny coming from a person who risked his life for a living. He thinks that perhaps he never understood the philosophy of the quote ‘time is gold’ until he had a loved one on the same trajectory, always one step closer to possible death.

And so that same night, he decided to file a leave for two weeks, effective immediately after his deployment. 

He wasn’t sure what his game plan was exactly in filing that two-week leave. Was he supposed to barge in your life and force you to let him take care of you? Was he supposed to demand why you ended up having diabetes? Was he supposed to act as a big brother like your actual big brother because he was that worried about you? But if Jungkook was going to be truthful, he already had an idea on what he wanted to do in the back of his head—he just didn’t want to execute it because it was absolutely insane.

Until he heard Seowon suggest it himself when they met up at a bar to share a drink together.

“She would never say yes,” Jungkook said, beyond doubt that you won’t be persuaded that easily with a plan like that.

Seowon made a face. “I know. That girl is so hyper independent—she’d rather die than accept help.” He scoffed. “She needs it though. It’ll help with her medication and she won’t have to pay rent for that shit apartment she’s living in. Plus, she'll actually get the chance to take care of her body if she’s not juggling two jobs to have sufficient income.”

“You’re right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“You’ll do it then?”

He took a sip of his beer. “Yeah. I’d do anything for ____, you know that.”

“Even as crazy as marrying her?”

“Sure.”

Seowon stared at him, narrowing his eyes and morphing his expression into a teasing one. “Are you sure you’re not just considering this because it’s a perfect excuse to marry my sister? I know you like her.”

“I don’t like her.” 

“You’re in love with her.”

“I don’t—” Jungkook began to deny but Seowon was staring him down. “Fuck you, man. Don’t make me some kind of pervert who’s trying to lock her into marriage because he likes her. You’re the one who brought the idea up.”

Seowon laughed out loud. “I know, I just can’t believe you’d agree. It’ll benefit ____, that’s for sure—you, on the other hand? It’s career suicide.”

He shrugged. “I’m okay with the thought that she’ll be okay.”

“Because you love her, man.” Seowon pushed. “Why on earth would you consider this if you weren’t? It’s a fraudulent marriage. You’ll be thrown in the brig and be dishonorably discharged if you get caught.”

“We don’t even know if she’ll agree to this whole thing. You said it yourself, she would never say yes.”

“Yeah, unless maybe you’re the one who tries to persuade her.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to buy her a ring and kneel down before her or something?”

“That can work.”

“What?” Jungkook laughed.

Seowon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how she’s been crushing on you since we were kids.”

He barked out a laugh again. That he knew; it was impossible not to when a lot of friends and cousins kept on teasing you before, especially at instances Jungkook was in the very same vicinity. “We’re not kids anymore and I barely see her though.”

“Still, it ought to count to something. It raises the chances of her agreeing.”

“You’re really cool with me marrying your sister, Won?” Jungkook asked.

Seowon placed down the beer bottle he’s consuming on the counter. “Yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not perfect, but I know you enough to know that you won’t do anything that will purposely hurt her. Besides, if this sham marriage ends up to be a real relationship and then for some reason, you fuck up and decide to break her heart—I’ll easily know what to do, where to find you, and then I’ll do everything I can to fuck you up.”

Jungkook pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle.

“Noted.”

****

It’s always been a big wonder to you how no matter how long it’s been since you saw each other, it still feels like no time has passed between you and Jungkook. You think that’s why you can never get over him; he always had this comforting and familiar aura that you appreciate—something that you sought for in every other person that you liked. Maybe it was impractical, maybe it was the reason you can never hold a relationship for more than two years, but unless you gain the courage to confront your feelings and tell Jungkook about it, then you constantly dispel any doubts you might have whether this was good for you or not.

You don’t want to lose him. Admitting that you harbored romantic feelings for him would just make it awkward for everyone: your brother, your family, and then his family. You don’t think you can ever trade his smile, the sound of his laughter, and all the good things about him for anything in the world. 

“Are you dating anyone?” he asks.

You choke on your drink, having just poured yourself and Jungkook a glass of water after the server arrived with the pitcher. You’re in a Japanese restaurant near the university, aware that the cuisine was a favorite for the both of you hence why it’s what you recommended when he asked where you wanted to dine. The place is packed with people from the workforce and students; you’re thankful that you don’t see any of your students within the mix.

“We’re getting straight to it, huh?” you say.

Jungkook smirks. “I’m just making sure I’m not upsetting a boyfriend by meeting you tonight.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not upsetting anyone.”

He nods in understanding. You don’t want to add more meaning to his actions for the evening but he seems glad about the information.

“How about you?” you ask back. “Are you dating anyone?”

The ends of his mouth lift a bit upwards. “Nope.”

“Why? You don’t have the time for it?”

“Precisely.”

“It must be really hard dating when you’re in the Navy then.”

“Kinda. We’re away a lot and stationed in different places most of the time. It can get really dangerous for us too and people don’t like the stress that comes with that.”

 You bob. “Does it get lonely?”

“Sometimes, but when you’re on duty, you don’t get to think about those things.” He chuckles. “Besides, I don’t know if this sounds fucked up or not—but it can get exciting. Flying a plane can be fun, you know. Not to mention that it helps when you’re surrounded by good men in your squadron.”

“You’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

“And you’ve always been a scaredy-cat.”

You scoff at the declaration. “No, I’m not.”

“Remember when Seowon and I forced you to ride that ship in the amusement park that sways left to right and as it goes on it falls from a higher standpoint?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But you do, and Jungkook knows you do, it’s evident by how your expression is trying to feign innocence. That memory is your villain origin story; the whole pretext of why you refuse to ever visit the amusement park or ride an exhilarating ride again. Yet you can’t help but recall that it’s one of the rare instances wherein you got to hold Jungkook’s hand when you two were younger, as his hand was the one you were clinging for dear life when it happened while the other was too busy slapping Seowon in irritation.

He snickers, appearing like he’s replaying the scene in his head. “We should do that again with Seowon during my break.”

“Hell no.”

“I thought you weren’t a scaredy-cat?” He challenges.

“I’m not.” You give him a kittenish glare. “But I am busy. I have to send the final manuscript of this book I’m editing to the chief editor next week and it’s about to be finals week for my students as well.”

He fakes a shiver. “I don’t know how you can do two jobs like that, ____. Truly.”

“You work as a naval aviator so I’d say we’re pretty even.”

The waiter arrives with your orders not long after, and you and Jungkook carry on with your conversation, jumping from topic to topic without difficulty. You’re not certain when was the last time you saw each other like this to have so much to talk about—was it last Christmas? Or was it more recent or longer than that? Nevertheless, it feels good and you find yourself blushing multiple times throughout the night, whether it’s because of how his words can have two meanings or how his eyes are staring at you so intensely whenever you’re the one who’s talking.

You like the undivided attention, the back and forth that’s occurring as you discourse, the subtle touches one of you does when something funny arises, how your knees are touching underneath the table. You wonder what’s so different with this encounter that the energy feels so bizarre in a good way? As far as you’re concerned, you’re positive that you’re acting like you always have in his presence—lively, smiley, sarcastic—and aside from the little touches of flirting here and there, Jungkook’s acting like he always has too.

When dinner was done, Jungkook offered to drive you home. You obliged, no longer in the mood to annoy him for you were tired to make the effort. Before stepping outside the restaurant however, you excused yourself to the restroom first, checking your blood sugar with the glucose meter you brought along wherever you went. It’s a hassle but it’s necessary, largely because you’re still in the middle of saving up for the insulin pump that would help you regulate your sugar levels easier.

After administering yourself with the insulin injection you have, you spend a few more seconds inside the enclosed room. You should be past the point of feeling sorry for yourself, but it’s times like this wherein you’re with a loved one that the dejection hits and you wish that you’re in a better predicament than you are right now. You’re close to being broke, you’re overworked, you’re somehow fatigued all the fucking time—those factors aren’t soothing your worries at all. It’s a miracle how you manage to keep an optimistic mind amidst everything.

“Ready to go?” Jungkook smiles at you once you’re back at the table and you nod, clutching your bag tighter against your body and following him to his car.

He drives you to your place, turning the radio on, and letting it play while the both of you sit in silence. You’re both tired and you almost even sleep during the ride. It’s only when Jungkook gently shakes you awake that you realize that you’ve arrived in front of your apartment building.

“I’ll walk you up,” he insists as you’re unbuckling the seatbelt. 

“That’s no need, Kook.”

“Of course, it is,” he says. “I’ll walk you up. That’s nonnegotiable.”

So, you allow him.

It takes five minutes tops to reach the door leading to your apartment. As you rummage through your bag to grab your keys, Jungkook patiently stands there, occasionally glancing around the hallway and even smiling when the old lady that resided in the same floor got out of her room to throw out the trash. He receives a smile in return which you notice and grin fondly at.

“Well, this is me.” You turn to him, done unlocking your door. “I’d invite you inside but you should probably get going. It’s quite a long drive back home.”

“Yeah.” He breathes out a chuckle. “Hey, tonight was fun. It made me realize how I missed you.”

Your brain temporarily malfunctions; you force yourself to recover quickly. “Me too. I had fun tonight. Maybe we should do this again whenever you’re on a break.”

“Agreed.”

You flash him a smile. “You can go now. Goodnight.”

Jungkook nods, however doesn’t move a muscle. He’s looking at you, like really looking at you, his eyes moving from one feature to another, as if he’s memorizing your face or having a hard time arranging the words he wants to say. You guess it’s the latter, familiar with a tongue-tied Jungkook that it takes you a few good seconds before you’re demanding why he’s impersonating a mannequin.

“There’s something I want to say,” that’s what he utters and you almost snort due to your assumption being right.

“Okay…” The smile is still on your lips. “What is it?”

“Promise me you won’t get mad first.”

“Well, if you’re making me promise that then it’s probably worth being mad about.”

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

“That’s not convincing at all.”

“It’s just…” He begins and trails, biting his lower lip, “it’s… it’s why I went here. Why I went here to see and meet you, I mean.”

You unconsciously recoil at the revelation. It’s certainly a rookie mistake to believe that there was no ulterior motive in Jungkook meeting you today. You just didn’t reckon you’d actually be truly disappointed at that—at the idea that he just didn’t randomly decide to visit and be with you earlier until now.

You draw a long breath. “Well, I knew you weren’t just feeling generous and wanted to treat me to dinner out of nowhere.”

There’s a pause and then he resumes. “Just—before I say it, you have to hear me out, okay? You have to let me explain before you berate me.”

“I can’t promise that either.”

“You have to.”

“Why do I have to?”

“Because what I’m about to say is for your own sake. You know I always have your best interest at heart, don’t you?”

You wrinkle your forehead in further confusion. “Can you just get on with it? The vagueness is making me more annoyed.”

“I just don’t want you to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand what?”

“What I—and Seowon—genuinely think is the best option.”

“Oh, and Seowon is in on this too?” You bellow. “Have you and Seowon just been conspiring behind my back the whole time?”

“Calm down.” Jungkook puts his hands on your shoulders, a chuckle inevitably escaping him. “I’m sorry for dragging it out. You should know I’m high key afraid of you, that’s why.”

“You should be.” You grumble.

Another chuckle, but he’s back to appearing anxious. You want to shout that this isn’t healthy, that you’re close to giving him a real reason to be afraid of you—yet once he blurts the confession out, you’re speechless, gawking at him and staggering backwards in complete shock. Perhaps you would have bolted as far away from him as possible if not for his solid grasp.

“What?” You hiss.

He swallows hard.

“I want you to marry me, ____.”

You don’t bolt away running. You shake off his hold on you though, and before he gets another word in, you’re hastily rushing inside your apartment and slamming the door to his face.

****

Jungkook was your first kiss.

It happened in a game of truth and dare. You were at a party of a mutual friend and when the bottle miserably pointed in Jungkook’s direction, the person who was tasked to think of his dare when it was his pick said that he dared him to do 7 minutes in heaven with you. 

He profusely refused at first, especially since Seowon was in the same party, but everybody began booing and next thing you know, Jungkook was agreeing as long as it was fine with you. When you nodded to make your consent apparent, your friends were quick to shove you both in the closet, some of them pulling Seowon back who was complaining how it wasn’t right to bully you into doing 7 minutes in heaven with Jungkook. They calmed him down once they bullied him into agreeing too.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Jungkook told you in the darkness, his breath fawning over your face. “You don’t have to feel pressured. It’s just a stupid game.”

You blushed.

Secretly, you were hoping that he’d kiss you or touch you. Who didn’t want to do anything with their crush at the age of 15? A lot can happen in 7 minutes. You were aware that sometimes people made out, went as far as third base, and although you didn’t want to go that far with Jungkook, you wanted something to happen while you were stuck in this small closet with him. There weren’t a lot of instances that put both of you in this kind of situation; you wished that you were brave enough to ask him to kiss you or do the first move yourself.

5 minutes in, Jungkook turned towards you.

“Is it true that Taehyung kissed you last week?”

You whipped your head so fast that you might have given yourself whiplash. “That’s—that’s not true. Where did you hear that?”

“During homeroom. Some girls were talking about it.”

Your cheeks burned. “Oh.”

“So, it’s not true?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” You laughed weakly.

It was his turn to seem stunned. “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?”

You shook your head again, then realized he might not see you doing so. “Not yet.”

“Want me to change that?” he asked, grinning.

He said that with a boyish grin and teasing tone, but you sucked at social cues (plus, you really couldn’t see shit that much) that you started nodding.

“Okay,” you told him.

“Huh?”

“You can kiss me.”

“Oh, oh, shit—I didn’t—” He was blabbering, about to take back what he offered. “I mean, I was just joking but—”

You widen your eyes. “You were? Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought you were—”

“No, it was my fault. That was a little out of line for me. I’m sorry.” He was laughing and you felt like burying yourself 6 feet under. “It was a stupid thing to say. But if you want me to kiss you, it’s cool.”

“It is?” Hope sparked within you.

“Yeah. It’ll just be a peck anyway.” You can tell he was smiling through his voice. “Just don’t tell Seowon because he might punch me in the face for kissing his sister.”

You cackled. “Deal.”

56 seconds before the 7 minutes were up, Jungkook leaned down to match your level and placed his lips on yours. 

****

You’re seething with rage, the embodiment of Godzilla, channeling the God of War, Ares, in your body; you harshly press Seowon’s number on your phone to call him and he answers after three rings.

“What’s up?”

“I will fucking murder you,” you snarl.

A beat. You hear shuffling. Then he answers, “you already talked with Jungkook?”

The nonchalance and calmness in his voice drives you to be more frustrated than you already are. “Yes, I have! What is wrong with you? Why would you plant that idea on his head?” You yell, not caring that your walls are thin and that your voice can probably be heard by the couple that lived next door. You’re feeling a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and every negative emotion that exists at the moment. You’re comparable to a bull who just saw the color red.

“____, it won’t be a big deal if you don’t make it to be.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Did you even let Jungkook explain?”

“I don’t need him to spell everything out. I know why he’s asking me to marry him.”

“Then you know too that it’d be good for you.”

“Marrying him won’t be good for me.”

“Why not?”

“It just won’t!”

“You’ll get health insurance benefits that you don’t get with your current jobs. You can pay less rent once you move in at Jungkook’s place—there’s a huge chance he won’t even let you pay him while you stay there too. He’s away most of the time anyway, so staying there wouldn’t be a problem. Plus, you can start studying for a masters degree like you’ve always wanted.”

You groan. “Not like this. This is crazy.”

“The both of you can divorce once you’ve saved up a little. It really isn’t that complicated.”

“It’s a sham marriage!”

“It’s a sham marriage with Jungkook.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“Are you sure? Your grade school diary might disagree.”

“Oh my God, that’s fucking low of you to bring that up. You just gave me another reason to hate you.” You stomp around the living room, acting like a teenager because of your brother’s behavior. This isn’t the first time he revealed that he’s read your diary before; that doesn’t mean it’s less infuriating to be reminded that he has. “I swear, you better fucking sleeping with one eye open tonight. I’m choking you to death.”

Seowon laughs out loud. “Just marry him. He’s surprisingly amicable with the idea.”

“That’s because you’re pressuring him! I bet you and Mom devised this entire thing together.”

“Mom doesn’t know. To be fair, she’d probably have the same reaction as you. It’s all me and Jungkook.”

“Wow. You have two brains and yet none of you thought this was goddamn stupid?”

“It’s not stupid. It’s genius if you come to think of it,” he says. “Jungkook just wants to help you, dude. He wants to make sure you’ll be okay and all that shit. You’re the reason he filed for a two-week leave, did he tell you?”

Your heart does that jumping thing again. “No.”

“Well, he did. He’s on a break for two weeks because he wants to convince you to marry him and actually marry you within that time frame.”

“This is nuts.” You sigh, finally flopping down the sofa and rubbing your face with your free hand. “The both of you are nuts. How are you okay with this?”

“It’s Jungkook. I trust him. Don’t you?”

“Of course, I do, I just—” you cut yourself off and frown, “I just feel like it’s unfair for him. I’m marrying him because of military spouse benefits and what does he get?”

There’s a long pause, and you almost check your phone to see whether Seowon has already hung up on you or not.

“It’s better that Jungkook answers that question,” he tells you finally.

“Why? You can’t answer it on behalf of him?”

“Something like that.” You can imagine him shrugging. “All I know is that he’s genuinely concerned about your health and your financial status right now. So, just think about it, okay?”

“God, fuck it, fine. I’ll think about it.” You grimace.

You hang up and glance at the door.

You don’t think the conversation you just had with Seowon took that much time. The initial rush you had upon having your longtime crush propose to you is wearing off and you’re realizing that it was a dick move to literally slam the door right in Jungkook’s face earlier, leading you to stand up from your seat and look through the peephole to check if he’s still there.

He isn’t, which you sigh in relief at.

As you lean against the door and regulate your breathing, you think how funny it is that Seowon is right about one thing—and that was grade school you would have been delighted at the thought of getting married to Jungkook. He’s your dream guy; your parents loved him, his parents loved you, the both of you got along very well, and his personality and looks are everything that you’re looking for in a partner. It sucks that you live in a world where the only reason he wants to marry you is because he’s afraid you’ll die because of self-neglect. 

Your phone pings and you unlock the screen to look at the message that flashes on it.

Jungkook: hey, seowon just messaged me to say that you two already talked Jungkook: i’m sorry for jumping on you with a topic like that… Jungkook: i’m shit at confrontation lol Jungkook: also it’s the first time i’m proposing so give me some slack

You scoff at his audacity to joke about it this soon.

You: it’s okay You: i’m sorry too for what i did You: the answer is no btw

Jungkook: already??? Jungkook: let’s talk about it first

You: no need You: i don’t want to marry you

Jungkook: oof that’s harsh

You: sorry not sorry?

He doesn’t respond and you think you’re safe. Maybe Jungkook does take no for an answer and you’re confused because you’re a little disappointed that he’s not falling on his knees, begging you to marry him like what your imagination is supplying you.

However, after you took a shower and went to check your phone again, you see that Jungkook messaged you a few minutes ago in response to your last message.

Jungkook: give me 10 days and i’ll change your mind

You have the urge to go take a shower again because of how hot your body is feeling at the statement.

You: hate to break it to you but you’re not matthew mcconaughey

Jungkook: 🤣🤣🤣

****

It’s not part of Jungkook’s branding to chase a woman. Typically, women chase him; they chase him in every city and country that he gets stationed in, flirting with him and hoping that they’ll get the chance to take him home for the night for a mindblowing one-night stand. They never succeed though, for despite their pretty faces and sultry gestures, Jungkook only smiles and declines every offer, saying that he had a girl waiting back home that he loved very much.

He used to think that he only used that as an excuse because he’s not the type to hook up with every attractive girl he meets. There are times when he succumbs, when he gives into the temptation of a little fun, especially after a life threatening or highly stressful mission—but most of the time, he thinks he declines and use that pronouncement of his because his mind reverts him to the idea of you, to what would happen if he just gained the balls to ask you out.

Evidently, although asking you out and asking you to marry him are two completely different things, he’s a bit afraid that your answer will always be a hard no. It’s what you’ve been literally spelling out to him since the day he presented the idea, regardless of how he’s trying his best in swooning you or explaining how this is the perfect plan to help you gain an upper hand with your diagnosis.

“I’ll file a restraining order against you, I’m serious,” you say to him when he appears yet again outside the faculty room, waiting for you to gather your things and head home. You’re wearing a white button up shirt and pinstripe wide leg trousers, an outfit combination that he ogles at before he goes down to business.

“You wouldn’t.” He glares at you. He gestures for you to let him take your backpack, and despite what you said, you let him. “Also, what the fuck is in this thing? You’ll break your back if you keep using this.” He swings your backpack on one shoulder.

You laugh. “My laptop, its charger, a couple of notebooks, books, pens, then the outputs of my students.”

“Aren’t they supposed to submit virtually? What happened to Google Classroom?”

“I still use it, but sometimes I like to have their work printed out so I can write the comments better. How do you know Google Classroom?”

“I have a squadronmate whose kid uses it for class.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding.

You two continue walking forward.

This has been your program for the past few days. Jungkook goes to the university you work at, he’ll wait outside, you’ll threaten him with something ridiculous, he’ll take your bag, he’ll offer to take you to dinner, you’ll decline, and then he’ll drive you home anyways. Before that routine ends, he’ll lean on your door frame and give you his best puppy eyes, asking you to marry him for the sake of your welfare, and you’ll scowl at him, insisting that you don’t need his help to survive.

“Dinner?” he asks, right on schedule.

You glance at him. “No. I want to go home and sleep for 12 hours.”

“Busy day?”

“Yep.”

“You know, if you marry me, you won’t have to work two jobs and overexert yourself.”

He doesn’t need to turn to you to know that you’re giving him a dirty look. “I won’t marry you, Jungkook.”

“Why not?”

“Because marriage doesn’t work that way.”

“It does. Billionaires do it all the time. The mafia does it too. It’s always been some kind of transaction.”

“Well, if I marry you, what do you get?”

“The assurance you’re taken care of.”

“That’s cheesy.”

You share a laugh and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says. “I’ll be fine as long as you are.”

He waits for you to quip back a reply, flickering his eyes to you when it takes longer than usual. Instead of the sneer he’s expecting, you appear to be flustered, an expression that is very recognizable for him who’s known you since forever—an expression that makes it too obvious for Jungkook that the crush you had on him that he thought has been long gone was still there. He’s been seeing it a lot lately, particularly when he’s uttering lines that sound flirtatious on purpose; he’s positive that you’ll threaten to kill him when you discover that he basks on the fact that he can still make you all flustered and cute, which encourages him to do and say anything that would elicit a reaction from you. Was it unethical to seduce you into marrying him? He might have to rethink that part too.

Reaching the parking lot, he unlocks the doors to his vehicle and places your bag inside the backseat. He watches you walk around the car, about to go to the passenger’s side, but then you wobble a bit and his attempt to get inside is instantly forgotten.

“Hey,” he strides to where you are, gazing at you as you now hold onto the hood, “you alright?”

You raise your chin up. “Kook, can you get my bag?”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s swinging the door again and getting your bag from the other end of the backseat while you get on the passenger’s seat, keeping the door wide and placing your legs outside, your feet planted on the concrete.

“What do you need?” he asks, crouching in front of you and zipping the bag open.

“Glucometer.”

He halts. “What does that look like?”

“It’s in the yellow bag. There.” You point at it right when he rummages through a certain part.

He brings it out and you take it from his grasp. Your movements are sluggish but he can discern that you’re doing your best not to be too slow; he’d present to help but he knows that he might prolong what you’re doing due to his cluelessness, so he just observes, noting how you’re pricking your finger with a device and then pressing it lightly to the glucometer which shows that your blood sugar is low.

“Apple juice,” you mutter to him and he finds it faster than the last one.

You grab the juice pouch from his grasp, prying the straw attached on the back, pushing its end for it to pop out of its plastic cover—then your hand shakes, preventing you from continuing and punching in the straw properly.

“Let me do it,” he says.

You don’t fight him, you just slump against the seat as Jungkook picks up from where you left, and the moment he does the job and guides the straw to your awaiting lips, a long exhale through your nose escapes you.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers. He didn’t notice that he was holding his breath the entire duration of the scene.

Another sigh. “Better.”

“Does this happen a lot?”

You seem to hesitate. “Not a lot. Just when life gets a bit too hectic.”

“____—”

“Just take me home.” You don’t give him the chance to lecture you. “Please, Jungkook.”

Defeated, he nods. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

He helps you position yourself properly on the passenger’s seat. “But we’re talking about this at your place.”

Before you can protest, he closes the door.

****

Lee Hyunwoo was the name of the guy that you brought home for Christmas Eve eight years ago. It was the first time that you did, and Jungkook hated how Hyunwoo was considerably handsome, intelligent, and kind—the exact kind of person he always imagined you deserved.

In the short time Hyunwoo spent with theirs and your family that night, everybody loved him and was already inviting him to the next gathering, all the while Jungkook avoided him at every cost, puzzled by this strong dislike he was feeling for your guest. He was annoyed at the manner in which Hyunwoo had an arm around your waist the entire evening, how you grinned up to him, eyes sparkling and all that shit. Hell, you used to look at him like that.

“Honey, can you get the mango float we have in our freezer?” Jungkook heard your mother tell you, and without thinking, he stood up from his chair and made a beeline to where you were, telling you he’d accompany you to your house.

“That’s fine,” you told him. “It’s literally next door.”

“Yeah, but it might be heavy.”

“It’s not.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and agreed then, excusing yourself from Hyunwoo who was in an engaged conversation with Seowon. The pair were geeking out because of their mutual love for the MCU and the next film slated to be released the following year.

Upon arriving at your home, you dashed to the kitchen with Jungkook trudging behind you. He wasn’t sure what his next course of action should be now; all he wanted was some alone time with you, away from the presence of that college boyfriend of yours, but now that he had that, he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to say or do. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling a bit jealous—was it because of that saying? Wherein people are bound to want what they can’t have? Or was it that you only appreciate what you had when you’ve already lost it?

“How long have you and Hyunwoo been dating?” he asked, leaning against the counter as you pulled your freezer open.

“Four months, I think.”

“Four months? And you already brought him home?”

You snorted at his tone. “His family is in another country so I thought it’d be nice to invite him.”

“You must really like him then.”

“Yeah, but I’m not in love with him or anything.” You placed the mango float on the space beside Jungkook on the counter. “He’s nice, and he likes me too.”

“Does he treat you well?”

You flashed your eyes at him, amusement dancing in them. “What’s with that question?”

“What’s with it?”

“Nothing, it’s just that…” you trailed, a smirk etched on your face. “Wait a minute, are you… you can’t possibly—” Jungkook was widening his eyes, ready to deny your accusation once you questioned whether he was jealous of Hyunwoo or not— “are you pulling an overprotective brother skit on me, Kook?”

Fuck, thank God, he thought.

“I prefer ‘overprotective friend skit’,” he said.

“That doesn’t have a nice ring to it.”

“But I’m not your brother.”

“You don’t have to be, I’m just saying that you and Seowon have been acting similar since Hyunwoo and I arrived.”

“Nonsense. Seowon likes him.”

“Oh, so you don’t?”

He pressed his lips into a tight line.

“Did you just admit that you don’t like Hyunwoo?” you asked, chuckling. He was grateful that you didn’t seem to be offended by it.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him.”

“Instead you implied it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You kinda did.”

He heard you laugh and he couldn’t help but allow himself to laugh as well.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Maybe I’m just not used to you dating anyone. You are chronically single.”

“Can’t say you’re wrong.” You snorted and picked up from the mango float, marching back to his house and gesturing for him to follow you.

He did, no words spoken between the both of you once more. Though when you were entering their place again, with Jungkook holding the door open for you, he mentioned something he never reckoned he’d have the guts to mention out loud.

“When you open my gift,” he began, “don’t do it in front of Hyunwoo, okay?”

“Why not?” You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, intrigued by his warning.

“He might not like it. You’ll see.”

That night, at the comfort of your bedroom, Hyunwoo nowhere near but instead sleeping at the coach downstairs in your living room, you opened Jungkook’s gift and saw that it was a necklace with your birth flower as its pendant.

You smiled, rolling your eyes to yourself, and slept with that giddy look never leaving your face.

****

“Not so fast,” Jungkook grunts.

Did he think that you were going to be less difficult since he was helpful earlier? Yeah, he did. He likes to think that if it wasn’t for him, you would have taken longer in feeding yourself with apple juice, so he at least wanted a thank you in the form of your willingness to have an adult conversation with him tonight. However, that clearly isn’t the case because when he walked you up to your apartment like he always did, you’re attempting to lock him out, shutting the door as fast as you can once you’re inside, thus trying to prevent him from initiating that talk he wanted the two of you to have.

“Seriously?” He successfully pries the door open and you scowl at him.

“Jungkook—”

“No, you don’t get to reason your way out of this. I’m done hearing you out. It’s your turn to listen to me.” He steps inside your apartment.

You groan, striding to the sofa and throwing your bag there. “You can’t force me to marry you.”

“Is marrying me so fucking bad that you can’t get over it for health insurance benefits that can really help you?” He demands, infuriated. 

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

“You can get arrested!” you exclaim. “And so can I! Does that not freak you out?”

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“I’m not willing to take the risk.”

“I’m not willing to see you die.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Who the fuck said anything about dying? I’m not dying.”

“You almost passed out on me. You almost—”

“It’s an error on my part, I admit.” You sigh. “When I get busy and preoccupied, sometimes I forget to check my sugar levels regularly throughout the day. I’m sorry.”

“And you expect to be convinced that you have everything handled?”

“God, I’m not a child. Stop treating me like I can’t do shit for myself.”

“Please, ___,” he approaches you with the most pleading expression he can muster, and he watches as your hard expression crumbles, “just accept my help. It’s really not a big deal—you won’t even see me often, so keeping up with the whole marriage ploy wouldn’t be difficult. We’ll divorce in two years, we can pretend we never got married after that.”

“You just don’t get it, don’t you?”

“What do I not get? If you think I don’t understand something, then explain it to me—”

“I can’t marry you,” you say. You do so like it’s final, like there’s no point in arguing with you because he can never change your stand on this. As he’s pleading with his eyes to urge you to agree, you’re communicating with your eyes in a similar way that’s wishing he would just drop this. “It’s wrong.”

His eyebrows furrow. “This isn’t the time to go on your high horse and decide what’s wrong and what’s not. It’s a fraudulent marriage—of course, it’ll be wrong to some degree.”

“No, I mean…” You turn away from him, rubbing your face in exhaustion. “It’d be wrong of me to marry you. I’m taking advantage of you if I do, and I don’t like that.”

Jungkook shakes his head, frustration worsening at the childlike excuse. Surely, you weren’t that naive, were you? “You’re not. I’m not doing this against my own will. Besides, we get extra pay just for being married. If it makes you feel better, I won’t split it with you.”

“That won’t make me feel better.”

“Then what will?”

You flop down on the coach and lean back, closing your eyes. He knows he’s being a pain in the ass but he can’t just stand here and do nothing. He thinks he’s already come too far in convincing you, he isn’t going to back out now. Every single day spent together, he can feel you warming up to the idea of marrying him for health insurance. Your connection and entirety of your relationship has been off the charts recently that it’ll be harder for him not to be assured that before he leaves for his job, you’ll be taken care off.

Jungkook goes to the spot beside you, sitting down. Your knees bump together, he keeps on gazing at you, waiting for you to focus on him; a minute passes and his gaze moves to your hand that’s laying on the small space between you.

Without overthinking, he stretches out and clasps it, allowing his fingers to play with yours that finally captures your attention. The moment he glances up, he sees that you’re staring at him and he doesn’t let go, he even smiles, a quiet promise that he’s always willing to listen to whatever you want to tell him.

You hesitantly smile back. “You know,” your eyes train back to your intertwined fingers, Jungkook reveling in the warmth of your skin, gaining more confidence in acting out his feelings, “there was a time wherein I would have said yes immediately if you asked me to marry you.”

He smirks, can’t deny how hearing that inflates his ego a bit although this route in the conversation isn’t where he expected to go. “What changed?”

“For one, I grew up.”

“Ouch.”

You laugh. Then you stay quiet for a while before speaking. “Can I confess something?”

That piques his interest. “Anything.”

“But you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

“That’s impossible.” He teases. “What is it?”

You stall, readjusting your position so that you can directly face him. Jungkook doesn’t let go of your hand, he keeps it in his grasp, his thumb rubbing along the expanse of your knuckles.

“I like you, Jungkook. I really really do,” you finally say and he blinks, startled.

It shouldn’t surprise him, considering that it’s been long established that he knew of your crush already, though he doesn’t seem to have anticipated for you to boldly admit it when all these years, it’s only been some kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you downright acknowledged.

You continue speaking. “In fact, I like you so much that maybe it developed into love at some point—I’m not sure. I’m at this stage of no longer being afraid of what I feel, I think? Most of the time, I just let it occur like it’s something so natural. Like it’s a feeling that I can never get away from? Like whatever I do, there’s no way to shake you.” You chuckle half-heartedly. “Though never in a million years would I have thought that I’d confess all of this. What for anyway? I don’t want you to be burdened with what my teenage heart couldn’t rub out.”

His mind is racing; hundred thoughts, hundred scenarios, hundred experiences he’s spent with you since the day you met. Jungkook never realized how much he needed you to say that you liked him—that maybe you even loved him—until he heard it from your very mouth that you did, causing every inhibition and doubt he had to vanish. Now, he only wants to engulf you in an embrace and shout Yes, I feel the same way! Sorry for being a fucking corward and not doing this first!

He would have done all of that in a flash if it didn’t appear that you still had something to say. Based on your rather constipated posture and the hand he’s holding that’s becoming clammy, he discerns that you’re just in the first part of what you wanted to admit.

“Actually, that’s also why I can’t let myself marry you,” you say. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know… it feels really icky somehow. I feel like I’m holding you hostage, or that I’m tricking you because of an ulterior motive, or that I’m defying the laws of the universe by having the chance to marry you. I’m not sure. I just know that I don’t want to marry you if it means I’ll only get to do so because you think you’re doing me a huge favor. I don’t want to be your charity case, Kook—I deserve to be more than that, you know? I’m not traditional or whatever but if it’s not for love, I’m not keen on getting married.” You abruptly pull away from his clutch, embarrassment washing on your features by what you stated. “Plus, two years might not be that long but what happens when you meet someone and you like her? How can you explain that you’re only married to me because I need it for my medication? It’ll just be unnecessarily messy. I don’t want to hold you back from those kinds of things. I don’t want to be a hindrance.”

That’s his cue. That’s when he knows he’s supposed to kiss you and take your breath away, to admit that he’s certain that he has loved you since that one time when he was in the Naval Academy and although the training was hard as fuck, the thought of you gave him strength and he didn’t want to see anyone as much as he wanted to see you after—that when you and Seowon visited him, that familiar urge to have you alone was all he felt the entire time, solidifying the idea that perhaps he didn’t just see you as a friend.

“You’re unbelievably dense, ___,” he murmurs, smirking at the play of events, and you glance at him, expression showing disbelief that he’s somehow treating this matter lightly.

“What?”

“Do you honestly think I go around and offer marriage to every woman out there who can benefit from being a military spouse? Do you think I’m that generous? I’m not. I wouldn’t ask anyone to marry me for the same reason if they weren’t important to me—or if I didn’t like them. I’m not that much of a saint,” he adds. “I mean, I’m taking a two-week break to convince you to marry me. I’m spending time with you every single day. I’m driving for almost an hour and a half, enduring the traffic to get from my apartment to the university you work in to do that—and you think this is because I want to be charitable?”

Silence. Your forehead wrinkles. He thinks you’re still not getting the point.

“I’m in love with you, ____,” Jungkook says.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You’re opening your mouth, then closing it, then opening it again, then pressing it into a thin line. He thinks you look cute, being taken aback like this, and he’s wishing that he’s done this sooner so that the last five days of him chasing you around like a lost puppy was spent with talking more about what’s possibly waiting for yours and his relationship next.

“Are you serious?” you ask after what seems like forever. “Or are you just saying that because you’re that desperate to have me on board with the whole fraudulent marriage thing?”

“God—” He’s inching closer to you now, laughing, watching your lips twitch at his reaction— “I’m convinced that you were born into this earth to drive me fucking crazy.”

And just like that, he no longer restrains himself from kissing you.

It takes you a few good seconds before you will yourself to move. You can’t seem to process the reality of Jungkook admitting that he was in love with you and then taking the liberty to plant his lips on yours. You’re not complaining, of course, but you are a bit overwhelmed that it literally makes you freeze, unaware of what you’re supposed to do now that your fantasies are coming into life.

However, once you feel him angle his head to the side, doing so to deepen the kiss, your reflexes kick in and you’re kissing him back, encircling your arms around his neck and leaning towards him, Jungkook sighing in what appears to be relief. He grips your hips to support you as you try to straddle him, but your movements are so clumsy that you end up sprawling against his chest instead, perched on a leg of his that provides pleasure on the spot you need him the most. He chuckles at your lack of gracefulness, gliding his lips to your cheek and down to your jaw, nipping.

“This okay?” he whispers with a palm drifting to your bottom.

You nod and Jungkook’s mouth is back on yours in an instant. He squeezes your ass, takes his time in fondling with it, cheekily slapping whenever you get brave yourself and push your tongue past his lips, before he skims his hand lower to your thigh and signals for you to mount him. Upon being properly sat on his lap, you get an immediate feel of his hard length through his jeans, prompting your imagination to run wild and induce the filthiest things he can do to you if neither of you stops.

“Holy shit,” he curses, your kisses roaming to the base of his throat where you lap and suck.

It becomes a dirty pattern for a while. The both of you will take a brief pause from making out to remove a piece of clothing or kiss every other exposed skin there is: the cheek, the jaw, the neck, the collarbones, the shoulders. Then one of you hauls the other back for another passionate kiss, hands skating everywhere on your bodies, sounds of arousal echoing inside the room; you’re starting to get lightheaded but you’re positive it’s not because of your sugar levels running low.

“I hate that it took us so long to get to this point,” he mutters.

You grin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m the man—I should have confessed long ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. ‘Was afraid to lose you, I guess.” He draws his head back and admires your blissed out expression. “But then when Seowon told me you had diabetes, I panicked and thought that I might lose you either way.”

You go back to making out, Jungkook guiding your hips in grinding on his clothed length. It’s addictive—the intimate feel of him, how he’s not shy in making sure you know how much he’s craving to be as close to you as you are to him. You think you can spend the whole night just doing this and be okay with it.

“Fuck, Kook,” you groan against his mouth, a hand descending to his stomach and to his manhood, “you’re so… so fuckin’ hard.”

You’re palming him now, tracing the erection evident under his boxers.

He lets out a grunt. “Yeah, baby, I know.”

“Do you… do you want me—” You’re breathless, not able to continue whatever it is that you want to say.

He understands you just fine though. “No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do anything.”

You’re not sure what Jungkook means by that. How are you supposed to do nothing when you want to do everything to him? You soon comprehend what he means when he guides you to lay down on the sofa, when his lips skim lower and lower, passing your breasts, giving them the attention they deserve, until he goes lower than that and discards your underwear, kissing you in between your legs.

It’s like he’s releasing all the pent up emotions he’s been keeping all these years. His tongue and fingers are relentless, his voice is telling you that he’s eager to coax an orgasm out of you, and as he lifts himself up to return to his previous position, face hovering yours, you’re positive that he’ll get everything he wants because without a doubt you’ll give him everything he wants from you too. Hell, if he uses this opportunity to ask you to marry him again, you might answer yes straight away, no longer bearing in mind the worries you expressed to him earlier.

Although did that even matter anymore? Jungkook said he loved you. He said you drove him crazy. You never thought you’d come to see the day he’d utter those words but here you are. The man of your dreams is kissing you, pleasing you, and looking damn enthusiastic as he does all of that.

“Last chance to stop me,” Jungkook teases. His eyes are glassy and you can feel his cock nudging on your thigh.

You giggle, bringing his head closer to press another long kiss on those pink and plump lips of his. “Please never stop.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“I’m going to take you up on that.”

“Please do.”

After this night, you’re certain that you’ll never allow yourself to be with another man aside from Jungkook. At the back of your head, you always thought that you were his, regardless if that wasn’t true or that there was no real relationship to prove that—however, at this moment, as he thrusts in and out languidly, you unquestionably know that you are. You belong to him now and he belongs to you; he lets you know through his love-filled gaze, his passionate kisses, and the manner wherein he moans your name.

“I love you,” he says, like he’s still in deep longing for your touch and affection.

You hum, tangling your fingers through the strands of his hair. “I love you, Kook.” You stare at his eyes. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t.”

A boyish grin erupts on his features.

Time passes by quickly. In a few more of his kisses, of the intoxicating slam of his hips, of his seductive whimpers, you’re coming beneath him, Jungkook pulling out and jerking his length until he too comes, his seed landing on the base of your tummy. You have the nerve to giggle at that, grinning at him with low-lidded eyes, and Jungkook hastily wipes his cum off your skin, attacking you with another passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.

“There’s no way you’re not marrying me after this,” he murmurs.

You teasingly graze your teeth on his bottom lip. “I’ll think about it.”

He groans. “Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”

“At least let me sleep on it, Kook.”

“Fuck—fine.” He grabs your sides and pulls you flush against his body. “Guess I’ll have to keep on convincing you until you agree.”

****

“God, why is this so difficult?” Jungkook whines, keeping you in his embrace, head tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

The air is very humid and Jungkook’s in his naval aviator uniform, which doesn’t look cool in a sense that air is properly flowing through the material. He doesn’t care though, doesn’t care that it’s sticking to his skin as he refuses to let you go, not even when you complain playfully.

“Kook, I’m fucking sweaty.”

“I don’t care.”

You laugh. 

He’s leaving to return to his duty and you’re here with him outside the base before he enters, being with him until the last possible minute because that’s how much of a good wife you are.

Yes, you and Jungkook did get married. Three days ago in fact, at the city hall’s courtroom. Neither of you invited your parents; they didn’t know about the occasion and you refused to tell them, afraid that they may be critical about yours and his choices when they discover the true reason why you’re rushing to be wed. The only people that remained to be aware of it was Seowon and his girlfriend, Winnie, who served as the witnesses, which was fine by you. In your understanding, this was just for the papers and your health, and not the real deal yet to be celebrated lavishly.

“I’ll propose to you again after a couple of years,” Jungkook promised after the ceremony. “Let’s renew our vows and I’ll give you an amazing wedding.”

You would have told him that there was no need, but who were you kidding? You did want a proper wedding with Jungkook. The previous week didn’t even feel like you were newlyweds. Yes, the both of you compacted all of the dates you could have if one of you weren’t such a chicken in five days, and yes, though the honeymoon stage was experienced and practiced—it was only because you were a new couple who after years of hiding their feelings for one another, was now finally free to express it as much as they desired.

“Call me everyday?” you ask when he finally pulls back, Jungkook pecking your lips one more time.

“Definitely.” He smiles. “Visit me whenever possible?”

“Of course.” You kiss him too.

His smile transforms into a grin. “Take care of yourself, alright? Keep me updated all the time. No sugarcoating allowed.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Rolling his eyes, he gives you another kiss and engulfs you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground that causes you to giggle.

“Okay, pack it up, love birds!” Seowon shouts.

The two of you turn to your brother who’s leaning on his car, the vehicle that was used to transport the three of you today. You’re still in the middle of moving your belongings at Jungkook’s place and Seowon was kind enough to volunteer helping, always dubious that you could do stuff on your own. Despite your reluctance, you let him assist you, mostly because you’re trying to make a conscious effort in not upsetting him again.

Let’s just say that when the judge hailed you husband and wife at the civil wedding, Seowon wasn’t thrilled to see that the kiss shared between you and Jungkook wasn’t as fake as the supposed sham marriage, leading him to the conclusion that in the middle of Jungkook’s ruse of convincing you to be his wife, something must have happened that led to your approval and that rather 18+ rated kiss. Mostly though, he’s just offended that neither of you thought of telling him that you were an official couple before the wedding.

Jungkook unwillingly places you down.

“I think I need to go,” you say.

He nods with a sigh. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“Call you tomorrow?”

“Yes.” You affectionately caress his cheek, bringing his face down for the very very very last kiss. 

He leans into it. “Fuck, I don’t want to leave.”

“Seriously—hurry up!” Seowon shouts and you pull back.

“I will kill him,” you tell Jungkook.

“He’s your brother,” he says. “And now, my brother-in-law, so I can’t let you do that.”

“That might be your very first red flag, Jungkook, insinuating that you’re choosing my brother over me.” You cross your arms. “Tell me, if the both of us were drowning, would you save me or Seowon?”

“You,” he answers without missing a beat.

You narrow your eyes. “Is that the truth?”

“Of course. Seowon would probably undrown himself anyway and you’re shit at swimming. It’s an easy choice.”

You punch him hard on the shoulder and he feigns hurt, snickering. “For the record, I don’t think anyone can ‘undrown’ themselves—but fine, you pass the test.”

Jungkook faces Seowon’s direction and does a final salute, your brother returning it swiftly, and just like that, you and him share your last farewells. You watch as he goes through the entrance of the base and sends you a wave of goodbye; you weakly copy the gesture and stand there for a few seconds, just watching him fade from your view the further he trudges inside. You don’t think saying goodbye to him ever felt this heavy, and you blame it on the fact that after all this is the first time you’re saying goodbye to him with the assurance that he loves you too—and that alone weighs millions.

You spin on your heel and go to Seowon who’s already in the driver’s seat. As soon as you get in and wear your seat belt, he’s giving you a dirty look.

“What?” you ask.

“Please never do that in front of me again.”

His statement makes you smirk. “Why? Didn’t you want this?”

“Want what?”

“Me and Jungkook to be together.”

“When on earth did I say that?”

“You previously admitted that you were lowkey playing cupid by suggesting that Jungkook marry me for health insurance.”

A short pause. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to watch you two reenact a porno every fucking time.”

“We’re not—”

“You are. Don’t deny it.” He grumbles. “God, every time I see you two, it’s like I’m Ross from that one Friends episode where he accidentally sees Monica and Chandler doing it from the window of his apartment.”

“Yeah, I remember that.” You laugh. “In my defense, you haven’t seen me and Jungkook actually do the deed so—”

“Wait, so the two of you have?”

Your expression drops. His tone is approaching older brother protectiveness territory and you’re quick to attempt diffusing the situation. “I will not dive into that. All I’m going to say is that I’m a grown adult and so is Jungkook.”

He grimaces before starting the engine. “Yeah, never dive into that. I don’t need to hear the details.”

You share a laugh and then silence fills the car.

You press your lips together, looking at him while he backs out from the parking spot. “Hey, thanks, by the way. For driving today, and for offering to help me later, and maybe for also never minding your own business.”

You recall how Seowon was the one who couldn’t stop worrying about you and finding a solution when you told your family that you had type 1 diabetes. Your parents were concerned, they pestered you for months to force you to accept financial assistance from them, but they gave up soon after. Seowon though? He never did. He persisted through every outburst you had; he tolerated your bitchiness and your dirty looks all the time. Out of everyone in your life, you always felt like regardless of how stubborn and prideful you could be, Seowon was worse—in the best way possible.

A crooked smile illuminates his face. “You’re my kid sister. It’s my job to never let you experience peace in your whole life.”

You scoff. “Well, you’re damn great at what you do.”

When you reach Jungkook’s apartment, unloading the boxes and arranging your stuff to its designated places, your heart swells in happiness as the reality sinks in that your life is heading in the right direction after months of feeling hopeless. It drives you to be more thankful to the little things, to the people who were always by your side, to your previous circumstance that although wasn’t ideal was still manageable. A lot don’t get to have that kind of privilege and you promise yourself that you’ll make an effort to find more things to be grateful about from this day forward.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Seowon approaches in the middle of you arranging your books on Jungkook’s near to empty shelf, “Winnie wanted to give you this. She would have handed it over herself but she’s going to be busy for the next few days.”

You take the frame from his hand and see that it’s the picture Winnie took of you and Jungkook after the ceremony. It’s in the restaurant that you ate at to celebrate the civil wedding. Jungkook was grinning at you with an arm around on the backrest of your chair, you were leaning towards him, smiling at the camera—and the absolute selling point of why this was the best picture ever taken was because of how cake icing was scattered on your faces, places on spots in an artistic manner like it was planted there on purpose for the picture and not because the both of you were being silly that instance.

You think it showcases your relationship with Jungkook marvelously. It’s playful, it’s sweet, and most of all, it demonstrates how you two are clearly great friends.

“This is so beautiful, Seowon,” you say.

You immediately send Winnie a heartfelt thank you message for the gift and continue to take a photo of the frame, sending it to Jungkook as well.

Once you hit send, you type out a message to accompany it.

You: look how cute we look 🥹

You’re certain it’ll take hours before he replies so you keep your phone again, going back to staring at the picture which is now placed on one of the shelves. It’s the sole picture frame you have with Jungkook. In fact, it’s the only picture that Jungkook has in his apartment, and you like to think that this might be the mark of the new beginning you’ll have with him. Even though your relationship wouldn’t be traditionally explored given his occupation and how he’s most likely going to be away a lot, you don’t mind.

If there’s one thing you really believe in, it’s that waiting for Jungkook—whether consciously or unconsciously—always brings out the best outcomes.

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Ayyyyy my period finally stopped playing chicken with me

[sugarverse]

Hiii! I was wondering if I could request either long or short fic about Tenya Iida. Likes it can be set in a modern setting where's he's a senior college student who's majoring in business and he has to take one more class to get his degree. It just so happened that the class is in the art building, and it is figure drawing (aka nude drawing) . Since he's just now hearing of the extra class he has to take, he's suddenly shocked when the model is an old friend of his from back home, whom he had a childhood crush on. Not only does his feelings for her come back, but he also has to have 1 on 1 section with the model for educational purposes. I kinda want it to be smut and fluff or however you see it fit. Anyway, I hope it's enough+

hi babe! omg I love this idea I kinda went a lil crazy and made it way too long. I hope u enjoy :)!!

𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

word count: 3.5k

mentions of: This is really just the fluff portion of it, kinda suggestive bc he pops a boner and leads to sex in part two. I think I’m going to make a third part simply so the two of you can go on a genuine date andsotheresmoreiidaxblackreaderouthere.

a/n: hells yeah that’s enough, hopefully I did what ya asked and so sorry I went overboard I have serious problems. here’s the smut part bc a 6.7k fic is doing too damn much but i can’t stfu my fault gang

moodboard here!

Tenya Iida.

4th year, Senior in college majoring in International Business and minoring in Spanish at Angelwood College of Arts and Sciences.

The visual arts building had only been a few minutes away from the business side of campus, which he gladly enjoyed the walk. This spring all he needed to finish was two gen ed classes, the rest revolved around his major and minor. His counselor helped set up his ‘missing’ classes before winter break considering he had to fly back to Japan to see his family for the holidays. He was ecstatic to learn all he needed was an art class with lab and a communications class. 

When he asked what the class entailed, all he was met with was “beginner artists learning anatomy.” It didn’t sound difficult, just draw what you see. It would be nice to try something new anyway. He was not much of an artist but like all things Tenya does, he planned to give this class his all. The first week had been pretty easy, learning how to draw what you see with the use of models, shapes, and lines. Nothing too hard to follow. He would practice drawing his friends on the sketchpad he bought specifically for the class as a form of studying in the free time he had.

He neverminded it for the most part, excelling his knowledge in different countries in his free time to get better at his major. Sure they could teach you the technical way to do things, but in the end, everyone is still human. It would be inconsiderate to do business with a country and know little to nothing about their culture! It took almost two weeks for him to finally be able to even start the art project anyway.

As time went on and the January snow grew less and less, it was time to start their first real project of the semester. One on One figure drawing. The class needed to fill out a form explaining their free hours due to the limited art space and everyone's different schedules. Tenya happily filled it out when it was posted, continuing to work on class work from the library so that the lecture room could also be used for said project.

Their professor had explained that in-person class would remain on Mondays and Thursdays. It just worked out better for the models and students to have so much space.

He made the small walk over to the arts building for his last class of the day, a small shine in his glasses as he entered the white light of the room. The walls were anything but bare, artwork and unfinished projects sat in every corner of the room. Paint racks, canvases big and small, even stacks of unused clay. There was a stool sitting on a small platform in the middle of the room, assuming where the model will sit. 

He stood next to the stool for a moment, looking up at the grey February sky through the skylight. The natural lighting was great, almost like a spotlight. He adjusted the lights in the room a moment, dimming them slightly so the white light hadn’t been so harsh on his eyes. He headed over to a more organized table, setting out the art supplies how he liked. He knew he was early, but he wanted to make a good first impression. What’s better than being on time?

He pulled out his laptop, checking that the few assignments for today were done and submitted. A small frown tugged at his lips as he realized he hadn’t finished something completely, typing in the last few answers. He always double checked, technology was reliable.. When it wanted to be. He couldn’t hear the shuffle of slippers against the floor over his typing and frankly, loud thinking. 

He could see someone walk past in a teal robe representing the university's colors. Glancing up from the computer to give the model a proper hello, Tenya opens his mouth to speak but pauses. 

“Y/n?” He asked, almost in a whisper in case he was wrong. A small look of confusion caused him to tilt his head to the side slightly. He hadn’t been able to see you for awhile with such busy schedules, but he knew your silhouette by heart. 

You turn at the sound of your name, mid sliding off the slippers and fumbling with the gold silk of the belt. “Tenya?” You smile, asking as you turn to slide your shoes back on and quickly shuffle your way over to him. He felt his face burn red, frozen in place for a moment with his jaw slack. He stood as if needing to detach from the seat, smiling at your happy demeanor and your quickness to wrap your arms around him. 

“It is you! I know those shoulders from anywhere!” You beamed, feeling his hovering hands slowly place themselves on your back to return the hug. He was very hesitant, simply because you were only in a robe. You pull away, hands resting on your hips and giving him a big smile. “Now what are you doin’ taking a figure drawing class, Mister businessman?”

He let out a sheepish chuckle, “I needed an art credit, W-What are u doing here?” He never had any classes with you at Angelwood, A few honors classes and gym in highschool but other than that, nada. Throughout the course of growing up, your interests drove you to different classes. 

However, classes don't matter when your families are as close as yours and the Iida family. Shared Holidays, playdates, game nights.. It wasn’t like you were some stranger. You both always made time to hang out a few times during the year to catch up without the family just to give a real check on each other. It was his favorite, almost like a mini holiday to talk to you.

He loved spending time with you. You were smart, articulated and incredibly creative. You never took slack from anyone.. Even in middle school he can remember you being the one to stand up and say something when things weren’t right. You were headstrong and determined in anything that you did.. Art majors always get a lot of grief but you never let that deter you. And that was admirable in itself! ..And he had always thought you were so pretty. 

He felt like a kid again, heart feeling as if it’d beat out of his chest at the mere sight of you. It had been around Halloween the last time he saw you, and here it was. Almost Valentine's day.. Still as pretty and bright as he remembered. Your next hangout wasn't for another month or so, so it was nice to see you sooner than that.

“I'm your model, silly!” You head over to the stool, continuing to speak. “The art department asked if I’d help in modeling and I said yes! People were too scared to sign up for the most part. I’m surprised this is the class you picked. Did you want to learn how to draw people?” You slide your slippers off once more, untying the cute bow on your hip that held your robe shut. 

Suddenly the room was very hot and he couldn't breathe. Now his heart really WAS beating out of his chest. He quickly did a 180, shielding his eyes and removing his glasses for extra measure. “WHY– do yoU have.. nothing on underrrrneath?” He croaked, voice cracking as his tone raised slightly.

You tilt your head at such a question, the gears clicking a little later than they should have. “Figure drawing is um.. Nude drawing, Tenya. You didn't know that?” You slide the robe back on, giggling at the flustered man across from you. You could see his shoulders tense, shaking his head slowly.

Now how the fuck could he have missed that.

“I um.. No, I didn't. I thought that it was.. I don't know what I thought. My counselor picked it for me and I.. Most models we've used so far have.. had skin colored undergarments… On.” He let out a nervous laugh, keeping his glasses off. He turns around, cleaning them with the end of his shirt but refusing to look up at you. He needed to mentally prepare his brain to be professional in a situation like this. Not that he minded the glance, he just never thought this would be how..

You prop your feet onto the edge of the stool, interrupting his thought. You held your knees up to your chest so he couldn’t see anything but your bare legs. “Oh Ten, I’m sorry! I can ask someone else to-”

“No! I am perfectly.. capable. It's professional and I can be.. professional..” He put his glasses back on, hand refusing to be steady as he did so. He let out a shaky sigh, smiling at you and finally looking at you once more.

You let out a small laugh at the blush on his cheeks. He was so handsome, but to see him so flustered over little ol’ you? It made your week. “We can start slow, that might help.” you slide the robe down your shoulders, slowly putting your legs back down so he could see your robed torso once more. You stopped at the top of your breasts, letting your collarbone show. “Do you have any specific poses..?” You ask quietly, trying to hold back your amusement.

He sits down, red faced and completely flushed. A nude model.. jeez. From sleepovers to recess, studying together to graduating, and now almost graduating for the final time together. That's something you don’t get to have in every lifetime. But why do these thoughts keep coming back to him now? 

There was no way he could still have romantic feelings for you. He’d never put your friendship at risk like that!

..right?

“I um.. yeah, small.” He cleared his throat, “Could you um.. Could you stand slightly off of the um.. Almost like getting up?” He fumbled over his words, staring at the empty paper as if he could burn the quick image in his brain onto the page to get the embarrassment over with. He sighed once more, trying to focus as he began sketching circles and lines as a starter sketch of the pose he wanted.

“When you need to draw a certain part I'll move it, Sound fair?” You ask, resting one foot onto the stool and one onto the ground. Your hand gripped the seat as your butt sat on the edge, similar to when people do that supposedly hot thing where they throw their head back and pull some weird rope to have water get poured on them. 

It was second nature at this point for people to see you. Of course some of them were flustered and it was pretty awkward at first, but normally not to the point of stuttering and stammering. It wasn’t often that you saw Tenya fall apart, but this was way different. Especially considering you flashed him without warning. He was one of the most endearing people you had ever met, there was no way you would have done that without proper context.

He could only nod in response, not wanting to further make a fool of himself. Lightly tapping the pencil against the table, He looks up at you. “You can um.. re.. remove the top part, y/n..” It was hard to simply draw your arms and collarbone without including the robe, so you might as well rip the band-aid off and start with the top. 

You nod, dropping it happily and letting the robe pull around your hips and between your legs. You close your eyes, facing up toward the skylight in an attempt to make him less nervous. “Sorry for flashing you at first, I would have explained but I assumed you had already known..?” You laugh quietly to yourself at your own mistake. Why would someone like him even take this class if he knew what it actually entailed?

And God, did he feel like a pervert staring at your chest like this. The boner poking his thigh almost immediately didn't help, making it even harder to concentrate. Way to keep composure. He pressed his lips together for a moment before speaking. “I had no idea, I’m sorry for my r..reaction.” He answered, stopping the pencil tapping to actually begin sketching more than just circles and lines. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he felt like he was close to passing out. 

“I think it was a pretty valid one.” You send a reassuring smile his way, seeing him send you one right back. Trying to ease the mood, you look back up at the ceiling and close your eyes to avoid staring at the ugly overcast sky above you. “How was winter break? You get to go home and see your family? How are they?” 

His smile grew wider at your question, scooting under the desk a bit more so that you hopefully wouldn’t notice his body reacting. “They’re great, Tensei is getting married soon,” He sounded excited at the thought alone, incredibly proud of his brother. 

“And my mother has started a hobby making soap, if you can believe it. She sent me some to bring back one that smells like lavender and another that smells like oranges mixed with I believe she said papaya.? She made a coconut smelling one for you– I was going to give it to you the next time we saw each other,” 

The sound of his sketching stopped and started as he spoke, giving your body small glances as he tried to study each part of your upper torso. The way your stomach creased, The way your shoulder was slightly lifted causing your collarbone to be more prominent, the curve of your breasts.. “How was your Holiday, y/n?”

“No way, Tensei is getting married?!” You accidentally stop posing, fully facing him in genuine shock. The robe was still covering your lower half, you had tied the belt to avoid accidentally flashing him again but here we are. You watch his face become even more red, eyes very obviously not meeting yours but still like a deer in headlights. 

You quickly get back to posing how you were, “Sorry Ten, That's amazing!! I hope everything goes smoothly for him and his soon to be wife.. And tell your mommy I said thank you for thinking of me. I can't wait to try it!”

A smile stayed on your lips as you thought about the times you’ve spent in the Iida household. His mother always had the best candles and incense burning, you were positive the soap would be the same. “My family is up to the same old shit, you know them..” You let out a small groan, the holidays weren’t an absolute disaster, but after not being home so long makes you remember why you aren’t going to school anywhere near home. 

“I did get some cool stuff for Christmas though! I got some new clothes and they got me a few art kits. You know, where it teaches you how to crochet? I also have a new diamond painting kit, I haven't opened either yet because it's just been so busy.” You replied, tapping your fingers on the side of the stool where your hand sat. 

You look up once more, this time because the skylight was beginning to be covered in snow. You watched as it fell, thinking back to old times when you and Tenya would spend the last three major holidays with each other. You’d always make sure to trick or treat together, your families have been sharing Thanksgiving for as long as you can remember, and spending the night in your basement on Christmas eve to wait for Santa until you were both too old. Then instead of waiting for Santa, you’d all eat at least one meal together on Christmas day. Sometimes homemade breakfast, other times a small trip to IHOP or Waffle House.

“God damn it.. It’s snowing again..” You let out a small laugh, looking over at him over your shoulder, fingers still tapping away at the base of the stool. “Hey Ten, Do you remember when we used to have those big snowball fights? The one near Red Fern?” 

“Of course I do! You refused to wear any kind of gloves and my mother would make you at least put socks on your hands so you didn’t get frostbite!” The two of you shared a small laugh at the memories of being young and dumb.

“Gloves always made my hands too itchy! They still do– But I kicked your ass in snowball fights with gloves or not.” You retort, a smirk appearing on your face. “Ice queen y/n of everything.” You could remember the insane snowball fights the neighborhood kids would have every. time. It snowed. If there was enough to make a few snowballs, there was enough to start a war. Tenya was always on your team, but it never stopped you from throwing a few his way. The ‘winner’ was King or Queen of the hill and first to sled down, which often enough was you.

“Remember when you almost broke my glasses throwing one right at my face?” He snickered, watching your smirk turn into a small pouty frown. He knew you didn’t mean to, that same day you helped your mom make cookies for him and his family as an apology, even though he wasn’t upset to begin with. But you knew it could have broken his glasses and you would be devastated if you were the reason for it. You were a real sweetheart, even if you had a weird way of showing sometimes.

“Hey! You know that wasn’t on purpose, I felt really bad after! I even let you get me back!” Which was true, but he never aimed for your face. Always a spot on your fluffy coat, never your legs because you hated your pants being wet… and a face shot just felt wrong to him. 

“Yeah, Yeah. I remember that part too,” He smiled to himself. “Those were really good times.. I remember Tensei always bringing us hot chocolate and we’d sit on your porch and draw things in the snow..”

“Oh! And when we’d come back all wet and mom already had spare clothes in her hands because she didn’t want it on the carpet. We’d put on too big clothes just to sit and watch Christmas movies..” You missed those times. But they never really had to stop, you two could have a huge snowball fight after this if you wanted to and the snow stuck. Was he too grown for that? Would it even sound fun to him?

“Do you still watch A Year Without Santa Clause every year?” He asks, breaking your train of thought. You nodded quickly at his question, grinning like a maniac. “Of course I do! And I watch Charlie Brown’s Christmas, Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer.. And sometimes Spongebob's Christmas Special. Do you still watch old Christmas cartoons?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t wanna ruin tradition.” He answered, pressing his lips together slightly as he stared down at the paper. You can tell he freezes a bit, the sound of his scribbling coming to a stop. He set the pencil down, rubbing the sweat of his hands onto his thighs.

 “You can um.. remOove-..” He quickly cleared his throat, “The rest.” He let out a disappointed sigh at his inability to keep composure. This wouldn't be half the problem it was if it was someone else modeling. But this is you we're talking about. 

“You sure? If you need a minute we can take a break, honey.” You gave him a sympathetic look, still smiling but this time more.. warm. The kind of smile someone gives to another when they genuinely care for them. Or love them for that matter. He adored it, it was the same smile you'd give him when saying he needs to take a break, the same smile you give him when the two of you out to get coffee and catch up. The same smile he's fallen for many, many times. 

But to tell you the truth? It’s driving him crazy. All of this. Was driving him crazy. No matter how hard he tried to be professional, he could stop his wandering mind. You were a goddess. What else was there to do besides take a break and hopefully release some steam in the bathroom or something. Completely inappropriate, but the pain from being hard for so long was starting to cloud the best judgment. 

He looks down at the sketch so far, then back to you as he rubbed his hand upward against his face. It pushed his glasses up, causing them to be crooked when going back down. “I um.. I think I do.. need a minute.” His voice died out as he watched you slide the robe back on, words failing him because couldn’t think completely straight.

© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot and helps me out. Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!

thank you @thecutestgrotto for the banners and thank you @fizzintine for coloring the top pic!

have a good day/night/whatever!

[foldingfittedsheets]

I worked retail for a long time and people really do treat you like shit sometimes. But between selling sex toys, mattresses, and jewelry I can say definitively I got treated worst selling mattresses.

All three of my jobs were in sales but selling sex toys we were allowed to put people in their place, and in jewelry people didn’t want to misbehave in a fancy setting. But people at the mattress store had no problem yelling at me, hitting on me, or insulting me to my face.

For a while I was managing my own store for the company. I ran a small location and had struggling employees placed with me for rehabilitation. If their numbers improved they could go back to bigger stores. If not, they got fired.

So this meant I was the manager of problem employees. At one point both of my people had a foot out the door. The company was going downhill and changed computer systems and they were fed up. Consequently, they made a ton of mistakes, because they just didn’t care about the job or learning the new systems.

I strolled into work on what was essentially my Monday to a shit show. Deliveries scheduled without product, wrong things on orders, poor expectations of the process, you name it. I spent the entire morning getting yelled at for mistakes that weren’t mine.

The final straw came when a man called furious that his moms bed for her nursing home had a delivery window he couldn’t accommodate. This wasn’t a huge disaster since we still had time to deliver it before she moved. I ran him through the options and he just kept screaming at me. Not for a solution but because I was there and he was frustrated.

My heart filled with malice and a cold fury. A calculating part of my brain had a realization in that moment that I could stay a punching bag or I could strike back.

I quavered my voice delicately, taking in a shaky, warbling breath like I was trying not to cry. “Sir,” I quivered through fake tears, “I don’t know what you want from me! I told you what I can do, I didn’t make this mistake I’m just trying to fix it!” My voice broke pitifully on the last syllables, sounding in all ways like a sweet innocent person being yelled at who’s just trying her best, really!

It was like I’d doused him with cold water. My emotional act was the realization that he was screaming at someone who was just doing their damn job, and he was being an asshole. He hastily made an excuse and hung up.

I had a third employee covering with me from another store that day who heard everything. When I hung up, I looked over to see them watching me with an awed expression. “Did… did you just pretend to cry?”

“I absolutely fucking did,” I said with feeling, “and I’d do it a thousand more times. If that’s what it takes for someone to realize they’re behaving like a fucking prick, they deserve it.” The employee looked at me like I was their hero.

The man called back, apologizing profusely, having magically arranged his schedule to accommodate delivery. He came in later that week with an apology Starbucks gift card. I was gracious in my acceptance.

I pulled it a few more times before leaving the company. I felt no shame in the ruse. If someone behaves so poorly that it’s plausible their behavior would drive someone to tears they deserve to feel absolutely wretched about it.

[loves0phelia]

Casual

Summery: Casual things you and JJ did before starting to date.

Words: 2k

Warning: bad grammar

A/N: This is my first JJ fic hope you like it

Rumours about the annual beach bonfire had been heard all week, the one night where Kooks and Pogues set aside their differences and partied in peace. 

Initially, you’d planned to skip it—staying home with a good movie sounded way more appealing than hanging out with half of the outer banks on the beach. But when a classmate invited you, and your parents chimed in, insisting it would be a great way to make new friends, you found yourself agreeing to go.

The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the sand as laughter and chatter echoed around you. You found yourself sitting on a wooden log, idly watching the orange flames dance. 

Your train of thought was interrupted when a blond boy dropped beside you, his sudden presence snapped you back to reality. You glanced over, surprised, as he settled in with a casual smile.

“I haven't seen you around here before” his body was turned completely to you, giving you his entire attention.

"I just moved here a couple of months ago…" you said, feeling a bit shy as you glanced at his deep blue eyes.

JJ hummed and then noticed the small stash of candy in your lap, carefully guarded under your arm. 

"What's that?" he asked.

You hugged the candy closer, "Candies, I didn't know if there was gonna be any snacks here so… I brought my own" You shrugged.

“Can I have one?” he grinned mischievously.

“I only have my favourite left” You looked down at the nearly empty box of Sour Patch Kids.

"Come on, just one. Sharing is caring, you know?" JJ chuckled, leaning a little closer, his arm brushing yours. He reached out, but you swatted his hand away, giggling.

But JJ was quick—faster than you expected. With a winning grin, he managed to snatch a piece from the carton box in your lap, popping it in his mouth before you could protest.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, half-annoyed, half-amused.

“I'll see you around sweets” After that he walked away still savoring your candy.

“what the hell” you muttered under your breath, you had not expected your night to end with a candy thief.

It was a typical evening at the local seafood shack, and you were rushing between tables, balancing trays of oysters and fried shrimp baskets. 

"Well, look who’s working hard," JJ drawled, flashing his usual grin.

You turned around, surprised to see the thief from the other night leaning casually against the counter. The last person you expected to see at your job, but somehow not a surprise at all. He tossed you a wink as you grabbed your notepad and pen.

“Candy thief,” you said, arching an eyebrow.

“That’s me,” JJ replied, laughing. “Pretty sure I’ve got an order under the name JJ Maybank.”

“Finally, I can put a name to that face.” You rolled your eyes playfully, turning to grab the brown bag labelled JJ Maybank, filled with fish tacos and crawfish. As you handed it over, you asked, “Anything else with that order?”

He leaned in, flashing that signature smirk. “Yeah, I’ll also take your number if it’s on the menu.”

You felt a blush creeping up but managed a smirk. “Bold request for a thief.”

JJ shrugged, still grinning. “I thought it was the special tonight. It's written on the window” You glanced at the window where the words “chefs special monday-friday” reflect back to you.

“I thought a sweet like you was the chef's special, my bad” he added only worsening the state of your red cheeks.

After a pause, you scribbled your number on a napkin and slipped it into his bag. “Consider it one-time only.”

JJ’s eyes lit up as he took the bag. “Perfect.  I’ll call you, then I'm gonna  take you out somewhere that doesn’t smell like shrimp!" He yelled across the restaurant and disappeared behind the doors leaving you with a bunch of customers staring directly at your flushed face.

It was nearly midnight when you heard the faint, familiar tapping on your window. Smiling to yourself, you tiptoed over and pulled it open, revealing JJ’s face. He climbed in with ease, careful not to make a sound, and you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh as he landed lightly on your bedroom floor.

“Hey,” you whispered, watching him recover from his fall quickly and proceed to settle on your bed.

“Make yourself at home” You laughed and followed after him under the cozy and soft blankets.

JJ wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close as you both lay back. The quiet murmur of the movie playing on your TV plays in the background, but all you can really focus on is the warmth of his presence. You’d only known each other for a couple of months, yet moments like this already felt like second nature.

After a while, JJ sighed a hint of playfulness in his voice. “You know, it just hit me… I haven’t even taken you on the date I promised the first time I saw you at your work yet.”

You turned to him, amused. “I forgot about that. So where would you take me, then?”

He thought for a second, his eyes lighting up. “I was thinking we could go stargazing, just you, me, and a bunch of candy. What do you think about that, sweets?”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, he's been calling you that since day one but the butterflies never fail to flutter and you smiled, feeling a little bashful. “That actually sounds perfect.”

JJ’s face softened as he brushed a stray hair from your face. “Good.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, and you nestled into him, many would say you were a couple but nothing was official yet.

JJ was stretched out on your bed, casually tossing a piece of candy up and catching it in his mouth, while you looked through dresses in your closet Kiara had invited you to Midsummers—something you never thought you’d actually attend, given how much of a Kook affair it was. But after some convincing from her, you decided to give it a shot. Now, the only thing left was choosing a dress, and naturally, JJ had found himself roped into being your fashion advisor for the night.

“Alright, what do you think of this one?” you asked, walking out of your closet in a dress to show him. It was a soft, flowy, baby blue, with delicate lace along the sleeves.

JJ, mid-candy toss, froze, the small piece landing unceremoniously on his chest as he sat up.  

“Wait… you’re actually wearing that?” he asked, blinking as if he needed to make sure he’d seen it right. “That has to be like a 100 bucks”

“Kiara said I should try something fancy, and I found it at the thrift store… I don’t know, I thought it was cute.”

JJ nodded, still staring at you as if he couldn’t look away. His usual air of easy confidence had completely vanished, and he just sat there, a little pink creeping up his cheeks. 

“Yeah, uh… fancy. Right,” he murmured, his voice unusually soft. For a moment, he seemed completely at a loss for words, a rare sight when it came to JJ Maybank.

“You don’t like it?” you asked, feeling a hint of embarrassment creep in as he continued to look at you in silence.

He shook his head quickly, snapping back to attention. “No, no—I mean, I like it. I just… I mean, you’re already beautiful and all, but in that?” He let out a soft whistle, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re, like, the most stunning person, there’s no denying it.”

You felt warmth rise in your cheeks, his words catching you off guard. JJ wasn’t one to give out compliments like that, and hearing him say it made your heart skip a beat.

“So you like it, huh?” you asked, teasing him a little as you nudged his shoulder.

“Sweets, I don’t think anyone’s ready for how good you’re gonna look. And I, for one, am officially honoured to be the first to see it.” He gave you a look that was half-amused, half-awestruck.

“Alright, then,” you said, smiling as you looked down at yourself. “Guess that means I’m wearing it.”

JJ leaned back, his grin widening.

“Good call. Just so you know, though, I’m calling dibs on the first dance.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Oh, you are?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, winking. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Besides, I have to make sure one of those Kooks doesn't try to sweep you off your feet 'cause that's my job.”

It was warm outside the night of midsummer,  the soft hum of laughter and chatter filled the air. You were standing by the snack table, chatting with one of the guests— a boy dressed with a fancy tuxedo, you had no interest in.

As you fake laughed at a joke he made, you felt a gaze burning into the back of your neck. You glanced over your shoulder and saw JJ standing by the door leading inside the house, his arms crossed, a tight frown on his face. There was a look in his eyes—something dark, almost possessive—that made your stomach flip. He wasn’t happy about something.

You turned back to the guest, unaware of the growing tension simmering behind you. It wasn’t until you felt a light tap on your shoulder that made you turned to see JJ standing right behind you now inches away, a forced smile on his face.

“Hey, mind if I steal you away for a second?” he asked, his voice a little too bitter for your liking.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at your lips. “Steal me away? What’s going on?”

JJ’s gaze flickered to the guest you’d been speaking with, then back to you. The jealousy was barely concealed, but it was there. “I need to talk to you. In private.”

Before you could protest, he gently guided you away from the boy, leading you through the house and into the backyard. The garden, draped in the soft glow of fairy lights, felt like a world apart from the party in front of the house. You walked slowly, and when you reached the center of the garden, JJ stopped. 

“What’s up JJ?” You asked concerned.

“I hate seeing you with him,” JJ said, his voice barely above a whisper. He was standing too close, his gaze fixed on you with a burning intensity. “I don’t know why, but it drives me crazy”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean? We were just having a conversation.”

He shook his head, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “It’s not just that. It’s… it’s the way you make me feel. I can’t stand it anymore, pretending like we're just friends”

You stared at him, realizing what he was trying to say. The way his eyes softened, the way his voice shook with vulnerability and emotion.

“I—JJ, what are you saying?”

His hands cupped your face gently. “I’m saying that I love you. I’ve loved you for so long, and I’m tired of watching you be close to some other people without them knowing you're mine”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing into yours. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was desperate, full of the passion and longing that had built up between you over the months. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as if he never wanted to let you go.

You kissed him back, your heart racing, the entire world fading away until it was just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“I love you, sweets”

“I love you too JJ, it was about damn time you say it” he smiled against your lips and pressed another kiss after another on your pink swollen lips.