#anyway enjoy my deeply cursed collection of software

[faelinetrash]

Just worked on some projects. Looked down at my taskbar.

All these beautiful women are here to help me

[cupofteaguk]

i think i’m in love with you and i’m terrified

FROM THE PETALS COLLECTION

[pairing] :: jungkook x fem!reader

[genre] :: fake dating au + fluff 

[word count] :: 1.9k 

[note] :: previously “things you said too quietly” on my old blog 

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In retrospect, maybe inviting you over to his apartment with the excuse that he ‘needed a favor’ hadn’t been the brightest idea Jungkook has ever come up with. But when the basis of your relationship sprouts from that exact same line, it doesn’t really leave him with too much legroom on how to go about conversations with you, especially ones that involve these particular moments. 

‘These particular moments’ pertaining to instances like these where he just really wants to see you and he can’t seem to get you out of his mind. Not because his mother had thought to call again to ask about your wellbeing, or to ask about grabbing another lunch with another family member; not because he needs you to spew up some lie about different milestones in a nonexistent relationship—but because he just really, really, kind of sort of maybe really enjoys your company. A lot more than he probably should, which is dangerous, considering that once his parents deemed his relationship with you ‘good enough’, you wouldn’t necessarily be… needed in his outside life anymore. 

And that thought, that uncertainty of what will follow, frightens him deeply. It’s gotten to the point where he can no longer picture an evening without you by his side, a dinner party where you aren’t grumbling snarky remarks about the wine underneath your breath, or filling him with stories about your childhood that makes him double over the chair in laughter—can no longer picture a day without your hands which, although much smaller than his own, still manage to fit perfectly in his own, can no longer picture a moment in front of his family where he couldn’t kiss you, partly because he had to but mostly just because he wanted to. 

However, his own hesitation, his own insecurities that you couldn’t return his feelings the way he wanted you to, keeps him from spilling the truth of his thoughts and emotions, keeps him hiding away in the dark, hiding behind poor ‘Hey, I need a favor’ text messages as an excuse to see you. 

Somehow, in spite of his pathetic nature that makes friends such as Kim Taehyung and Min Yoongi roll their eyes at him, it makes everything worth it to see your frame lingering outside his door, suddenly all wide gazes and the concerned curl of your lips. “Hey, I saw your text,” You say, brushing past him to enter the apartment, whirling back around to face him. “Is everything okay? Is your mom asking for another dinner?” 

“A-Ah, no, not today,” Jungkook manages, followed by an internal cursing because maybe he really should have thought this through just a little bit more. “I just needed some advice. Your opinion on something.” 

You inhale, exhale, shift slightly on the balls of your feet, and he wants to know what you’re thinking, what immediate thoughts are plaguing that brilliant mind of yours. 

And he’s nervous, although this isn’t necessarily the first time he’s called you over to ask of such a thing. He’s definitely engaged in a handful of these calls—but each invitation brings that choking anticipation of whether you were going to figure out his real intentions, the underlying fact that while yes, he really did require some advice over whatever predicament he’s caught himself into, that desire to see you overpowers his own independent responsibility. 

So he stares at you, just as you stare at him. He thinks he sees a flicker in your eyes, and his heart might give out because you know, you know, oh man, you definitely know and you’re going to confront him and reject him and leave him alone—!

“Oh yeah, for sure. What do you need help with?” 

The previous flicker is gone, no trace of it left behind in your eyes and he briefly wonders if he had imagined the whole thing just to give him some hope that maybe, just maybe, you returned his feelings and his internal, one-sided pinning wouldn’t be for nothing. But you are back to wide smiles and understanding eyes and he doesn’t know whether to be disappointed or not. 

“W-Well, uh, just follow me.” He waits until you have discarded your coat and purse, resting it down atop the counter in his kitchen, before following his form down the hall and into his bedroom. You enter the space hesitantly, lingering by the door frame momentarily before he beckons you to sit on the bed next to him. 

“Oh god, this seems serious,” You muse, clearly trying to keep the atmosphere light as you gingerly join him. Even though the pair of you have had to engage in similarity intimate moments within the company of his parents to keep up the facade, it’s different when no one is watching the pair of you, when there’s no expectation—and somehow that makes Jungkook more nervous than ever before. 

 “It is.” He elects to momentarily play along, distracting himself by opening his laptop and rummaging around for the file he’s looking for. “This is pretty life or death.” 

Your eyes widen slightly, taking his banters under a serious context—as always, an endearing quality about you that makes the smile want to spread itself wildly across your lips. “Is it really?”

Without a warning, he pokes your cheek. “Of course not, you moron. Would I really be this casual if the situation was that serious?” 

You furrow your eyebrows, lips pressing together, cheeks feeling as if it’s been set aflame. “I don’t know!” You retort. “You can be very calm under pressure sometimes!” 

For a moment, Jungkook cannot say anything, too caught up in his small fit of laughter over your protest. “You’re so cute,” He says without thinking, immediately halting his light-hearted giggles as the smile diffuses quickly from his face as he tears his gaze from you to the computer screen once again. 

Why did he have to be like this? Why did he have to speak such words without thought, even though he’s the one who put himself in this situation and knew more than anyone that it was important to separate emotions from objectivity. His mind is reeling, unable to think of anything other than the fact that he’s always been an open book, and if you were having doubts before about his feelings before then you would certainly know by now, there’s no way you couldn’t know at this point. 

But you don’t say anything. Not at first, anyways. Then, you pout. “Since this isn’t a life or death situation, what’s going on?” 

He doesn’t know how to feel about you brushing over the previous topic, but he decides, in this moment, to be thankful for it instead. He’s not sure he can handle you confronting him right now, especially when he has something important to ask of you. 

Which reminds him… 

“Oh, right,” He says, smiling softly to himself as he opens the file of his choosing, followed by making a grab for his headphones. “Well, remember when you encouraged me to get that composing software?” 

Your pout and the tension from his previous observation fades away as you look at him, lips twisting as if you don’t know what to make of his statement quite yet. “Yeah, I do,” You reply. “Why?” The corners quirk up. “Did you get it?” 

“I may have,” He answers, smile growing bashful when you grin and start clapping your hands together softly. “And I used it to record a cover.” 

“Jungkook!” You exclaim. “That’s so awesome.” 

He swallows thickly, looking down, looking over at you. “Would you like to listen to it?” 

“Of course,” You reply, taking the headphones that Jungkook offers to you. You have to move closer to him to avoid stretching the cord out too far, which immediately allows him to feel your body heat. He barely manages to talk himself out of tensing at the gesture, but you don’t seem to notice as you seem too fixated on readjusting the headphones so they are snug against your ears. “I’m ready,” You say, a little louder than necessary, but that only makes Jungkook exhale quietly through his nose in the form of laughter before he’s hunching over and clicking the play button on the program. 

At first, there is only silence, before some of the music from his cover start blasting out from beyond the headphones, meaning that you have turned the volume up incredibly high to hear every single detail he’s put into the track. Every breath, every curve and inclination of his voice, every key from the piano or every move of a string. He watches with bated breath as you listen with bated breath. 

He takes in the furrow of eyebrows that you’ve developed to signal the level of concentration you’ve put into making sure that you could really listen to his song. He takes in the way your lips have curled up into the softest of smiles at the sound of his voice, and he can feel his previous nerves disappearing at the sight of you enjoying yourself so much. 

He sees the fondness touching along your features, and can’t help but wonder how much different things would be in his life had you not decided to accept his plea for a fake girlfriend, had you not decided to indulge within your curious state of mind for him, had you not grown determined to dig through the realms of his past and his interests. Maybe he wouldn’t be feeling this way about you, but maybe certain passions would never have been uncovered, maybe his life would never have been the same. 

You start lightly humming to the track of his song, your voice barely above a whisper, something you probably don’t even realize you’re doing, but he sees it, and he feels it—his heart swelling, his eyes fixated across your features. You care so much, you care so deeply and so powerfully and you genuinely want to help Jungkook out in any way that you possibly can. You’re his friend, but you’re more than that. On the days his parents drop by into the city, you’re the one by his side, you’re the one running your hands through his hair, the one gazing into his eyes, and even though nothing about your relationship is real—it feels real and hopeful and influential. There’s no real title, but real feelings that are like warmth rushing through his body, his mind, lighting all the nerves from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” He says, barely above a whisper, watching the way you watch his work, his passion, his dreams come to live through the wire. He pauses. “And I’m terrified.” 

You don’t hear him over the ringing of his own voice in your ears, but you see the movement of his mouth out of the corner of your eyes. You turn towards him, lifting one side of the headphones up to address him. “Did you say something?” 

He straightens slightly, watching the same way you’re watching him, your eyes big and wide and curious and his own holding the truth neither of you were ready to face yet. 

That fear keeps him grounded, keeps him from saying too much, keeps him from spilling the truth of his feelings down across the bed on this Thursday evening. You expected just a typical friendly favor, not a confession. It doesn’t feel right, it feels far from such, and he would never want to lay anything emotional upon you just for his sake. 

So his lips remain shut, hoping that there will be a moment, and hoping that it will be alright. 

“No, I didn’t.”