#ew better days AU | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sparklingchim · 6 days ago

Text

next move; m | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 13.7k

tropes: hockeyplayer!jungkook, richgirlie!oc, college!au, fwb, brother's best friend

rating: 18+

warnings: alcohol consumption, lots of teasing, jk hooking up with someone else 🤢, oc goes a bit insane <3, smoking (ew), angry koo 😠, messy blow job, spit, cum on boobies, gagging, multiple orgasms, cum play, dick slaps on face n pussy, doggy, overstimulation, dirty talk, eating out, hair pulling, mirror sex, doggy, a few spanks, sum butt stuff, oc is addicted to shopping 🫂 (we both need help), pretends to help with uni stuff just to get dick, naughty thoughts abt jk at dinner with friends??, vulnerable oc <3, proud jk <3

summary: pov: you’ve spent so long pushing jungkook away, but now you’re the one trying to pull him back in.

a/n: i hope this feeds ur tummies well ! 😋

masterlist

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“What is wrong with you?”

These being the first words Taehyung directs at you when you enter the kitchen at 9 in the morning makes you want to claw his eyes out and head back to bed again.

“I’d fight you if I wasn’t sleepy right now,” you mutter as you shove past him to get to the coffee machine.

“No, I’m being for real,” Taehyung says, inspecting you through critical eyes.

“I’m not wearing make-up. Get over it.”

“It’s not that,” he presses. “You’ve been acting strange the past few days.”

He catches you off-guard with that. You can’t think of a lie fast enough to cover up the fact that you’ve been kinda dumped by his best friend and are no longer fuck buddies, hard times, so you blink a few times to keep your composure.

Your brain, struggling to function at this hour, lands on the most groundbreaking response: “Huh?”

“You didn’t want chicken when I asked if I should bring you some yesterday.” Taehyung crosses his arms, leaning against the counter.

“I already ate when you called,” you quickly – maybe too quickly? You don’t know – defend yourself as you watch the coffee stream into your mug.

“Right. Tell me one time – just one – where you’ve turned down chicken.” He raises an eyebrow. “By the way, I still got you some. It’s in the fridge. But I knew something was up, because you never-”

“Wait, really?” you cut him off, perking up. “You got me chicken?”

You rush to the fridge, flinging the door open. There isn’t much in there to begin with, so it’s easy to spot your beloved meal. You grab it and get it ready for the microwave.

Taehyung completely ignores your excitement over the food and continues his questioning.

“You didn’t react when I switched one of your reality tv shows for something else the other day.”

Did he? You don’t even remember that happening.

“You came home after a long day. I was just being a sweet sister,” you deflect, waving him off.

“Point is – I can tell when my baby sister is sad. And I don’t need you to feign indifference for me, because it’s okay not to be okay,” he says, gentle. “And I wish you’d come to me about whatever this is to make you feel better, because, I don’t know, I thought that’s what we’ve been doing as siblings.”

Your heart squeezes.

He just wants to comfort you. Be there for you. And it clearly pains him that you’ve been keeping this from him.

“No, yeah, I know, it’s just.” God, you hate this. Having to lie to him. “It’s honestly not that serious, Tae. I’m just being dramatic about it, you know how I am.” You try to laugh it off, but he doesn’t let it deceive him.

“It’s about a boy, isn’t it?”

You need to tweak your acting skills. And your reactions too, because why did you look away after he asked you that?

“A boy?” You stretch the word out in an exaggerated drag to make his inquisition sound ridiculous. “There’s no boy in my life.”

“If I find out Eunwoo is causing trouble, I’ll-”

“God, no.” You shake your head vehemently. “He’s fine. He’s not doing anything.”

You retrieve the chicken from the microwave and set it next to your coffee. A questionable breakfast choice, but right now, comfort food is comfort food.

“Want some?” you offer, grabbing your chopsticks.

Taehyung sighs deeply, shaking his head. His lips press into a thin line, but there’s no anger – just concern softening his features. “Wanna talk about it?” He pauses, voice dropping lower. “Who do I have to fight?”

Your stupid best friend, who walked out on me because, apparently, he doesn’t like it when I’m with other boys and was so dramatic about it, but I lowkey do understand him because I don’t like seeing him with other girls too but I can’t tell him because I don’t want him to know that I care and maybe everything is my fault but I am sad and upset and I can’t tell you anything about it because you’d hate me for it.

You keep these thoughts to yourself though and bite into a piece of chicken instead.

“Tae, no.”

“To both of my questions?”

“Mhm-hmm,” you answer with your mouth full.

His shoulders slump in defeat.

Placing your chopsticks down, you step forward and wrap your arms around him.

“You’re an amazing brother, Tae,” you mumble against his chest. “And I promise that I’m doing fine. You’d know if I wasn’t. I think I’m just getting my period soon, honestly. I’ve been hating everything and everyone lately.” You squeeze him tight. “But I love you.”

“I love you,” he replies, resting his chin on your head. “You’d come to me if you needed me, right?”

“Of course. I love to annoy you about my problems.”

You feel his chuckle rumble through his chest.

“You’re coming to dinner with us after the game, right?”

You draw you head back slightly, peering up at him.

“Define us.”

Taehyung’s brows knit together.

“Like, everyone.”

You so don’t want to see Jungkook. It’s been a week since he left you confused in your room.

Detangling yourself from Taehyung, you shoot him an unimpressed pout. “I don’t know if I’m in the mood for that many people.”

“I’m not gonna let you lock yourself up in your room, ___,” he says, a slight edge creeping into his voice. “You can bedrot another day.”

He’s right – you probably should socialise a little more. And with so many people around, you might not even notice Jungkook’s presence.

“I’ll come,” you relent defeatedly, picking up your tray with breakfast. “Good luck with the game.” You reach up on your tippy toes to ruffle his hair with your free hand, earning an exasperated groan from him.

So, when you thought you could just ignore Jungkook at dinner, you failed to consider one crucial detail – the universe lives to humble you. Because, of course, out of all the empty seats, he had to take the one right next to you. Rookie mistake. Amateur behaviour. A tragic miscalculation on your part.

Now, you’re stuck playing the world’s most intense game of Pretending He Doesn’t Exist, which, unfortunately, is pretty difficult when he’s breathing in your general direction.

“Can you guys believe that I got a C for my essay?” Seokjin announces after chomping down a big piece of meat.

“Was it the one with the ducks?” Jungkook questions.

“Yeah, I was so excited to hand it in ‘cause I had so much fun writing, and then I get a C.” Seokjin tilts his head in remorse. “I was at a Lotte World parking lot when I got the notification, and it felt like someone stole my firstborn. I hope that never happens to me, I don’t think I could go through the emotions a second time. Honestly, not even the bumper cars could distract me after that.”

“Sure you don’t wanna sign up for drama class?” Taehyung teases. “You’d be such an asset to it.”

“I’m so close to doing it.”

“Wait, you wrote an essay about ducks?” you ask.

“Not just about ducks, silly,” Seokjin explains. “I wrote an essay on whether someone would rather fight 100 duck-sized horses or 1 horse-sized duck. You know, deep stuff like answering questions if it is morally better to fight one large opponent or many small ones.”

“What would the world do without you, Jin,” Yoongi chimes in.

“I’d choose one horse-sized duck, I think,” Eunji says, who thankfully sits next to you, so you’re not completely surrounded by people who you dislike (yes, you might’ve forced her to come with you – she wanted to study in the library, but you dragged her here with the promise of showering her with your never-ending love).

“But a duck so big is scary, no?” you ponder, tapping your chopsticks against your mouth as you think.

Listening in on your conversation, Jungkook says, “The horse-sized duck would be easier.”

You frown, turning to him. “That thing would be massive, and it’s a duck. Ducks are unpredictable.”

“Okay, but 100 duck-sized horses would overwhelm you,” he argues. “You’re assuming they’re just gonna stand there like cute little ponies. What if they’re really aggressive? They’d be all over you, biting, kicking. That’s chaotic.”

“How would you manage fighting a huge duck, though? I don’t see that happening,” you scoff.

“I’m not saying it wouldn’t be hard, but at least it’s just one thing to focus on. It’s straightforward.” Jungkook leans back, dragging his gaze over your face before he says, “But of course you’d prefer the more chaotic solution.”

You raise your eyebrows. “What are you on about?”

You’re talking about ducks and horses. Or so you thought.

Jungkook shrugs. “Nothing. I just think your decision is stupid.”

His eyes don’t waver, and you don’t back down either, because what the hell? Jungkook’s picking a fight over nonsense and has the audacity to glare at you like you personally offended him. His brows are drawn tight, frustration evident in the sharpness of his expression.

As you glare back, you can’t stop your brain from taking an unexpected detour to memories in which Jungkook wore a similar expression. On top of you, a little sweaty, cheeks flushed and – oh my god, you feel the heat rush to your cheeks and swiftly turn away.

“You’re annoying,” you mumble under your breath, picking up your chopsticks again.

Where did these thoughts come from? Do you miss him? It’s been one week. You need a distraction.

"See how riveting my essay topic is?” Seokjin chimes in, pointing his chopsticks at the two of you. “A C is criminally underappreciated.”

“I don’t think anyone can get under ___ skin like Jungkook,” Taehyung chuckles, placing more meat onto your plate.

“Oh no, don’t worry, you still take the first place,” you quip.

“Don’t say that too loud. Jungkook’s too competitive.”

“He’s a mini version of you.” You turn to Jungkook when you say it, scrunching your nose to display your dismay.

“There’s nothing mini about Jungkook,” Yoongi interjects.

The boys laugh while Eunji and you choke on your food.

“Okay, gross?” Eunji coughs.

“What? Have you not seen his muscles? He’s a big guy,” Seokjin defends, eyes wide as he studies Jungkook’s physique. “That’s no secret.”

“That’s why Sooyoung wants him again,” Jimin teases with a wicked grin stretching across his face.

“Oh, fuck off.” Jungkook kicks him under the table. “I said we’re not talking about this.”

At the mention of a name that rings a bell but you can't quite place it yet – one Jungkook clearly doesn’t want brought up – you perk up. “Not talking about what?”

It’s silent next to you.

Jungkook tenses, his posture stiff, the only giveaway a rough, forced clearing of his throat.

One game. You miss one game, and apparently, all the drama unfolds without you.

“You should’ve been there, ___,” Jimin drawls, eyes twinkling with mischief. “His ex was practically his personal cheerleader.”

Your brows lift as you turn to Jungkook. “Sooyoung, huh?”

You never got the chance to meet Jungkook’s ex. He was dating her during your senior year of high school, and they broke up while you were still in school.

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look at you. Instead, he focuses way too hard on his plate, shoving a piece of meat into his mouth like it’s the most interesting thing in the world and then finishing his beer in a few, big sips.

Jimin, on the other hand, is thriving on the attention. “Oh, yeah,” he hums. “Front-row seat. Didn’t take her eyes off him.”

At that, Jungkook kicks him again, harder this time. “Can you not?”

“Oh, come on, man. It was cute.”

You tilt your head, watching Jungkook’s reaction. “And you didn’t like that?”

His eyes finally flick to yours, the slight curve of his mouth betraying him. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it, I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“She waited outside the locker room for him,” Jimin continues.

You hold back a roll of your eyes. You don’t care. You don’t care at all.

“Did she?” Eunji fuels the fire with her excited question.

“She said hi. That’s it,” Jungkook mutters.

Jimin snorts at Jungkook’s reply. “Man, that’s not what I saw.”

“And you,” Jungkook directs at Jimin. “You were eye fucking her friend the entire time, so don’t act all high and mighty when you could barely keep your hands to yourself.”

“Sue me!” Jimin exclaims. “Yeah, I do think her friend’s hot, lock me up for it. I need her ig handle or something. I wanna see her again.”

“You’re both hopeless,” you comment, nails tapping against your glass.

“Hey, if she’s hot, she’s hot.” Jimin shrugs, grinning from ear to ear. “You can’t blame me for appreciating the view.”

Yoongi gives him a pointed look. “I’m pretty sure you’ve been ‘appreciating’ the view from every girl in the restaurant for the last hour.”

Jimin laughs loudly, clearly unbothered. “Guilty as charged.”

“What else is new?” Eunji asks. “Besides Seokjin thinking being unhinged will get him an A in his philosophy class, Jungkook having an over-attached ex, and Jimin being a total playboy? Anything else exciting happened this week?”

“I bought a blind box today,” you announce. “And got upset because I didn’t get the one I wanted.”

“The sonny angel figures?” Jungkook asks casually – way too casually.

His tone is so easy, so natural, that for a split second, you forget, just like he forgot. You almost answer just as effortlessly, almost fall into the usual rhythm of conversation with him. But then it hits you—the sharp, perfectly timed reminder that you’re pissed at him.

So instead, you hesitate, fingers tightening around your glass. “Yeah,” you say, a little clipped “Those.”

“I say you stop spending so much money for dust-collecting shit,” Tae comments, and you don’t even have the chance to defend yourself, because Seokjin calls him out for his own questionable spending habits.

While they bicker, you giggle at their antics, distracted for a moment. You reach to dip your dumpling into the sauce, but just as your fingers hover above the dish, you brush hands with Jungkook, who was doing the same.

You kick his hand with yours, expecting him to pull back, but he doesn’t budge.

“Do you ever stop being annoying?” you ask.

“Not when the person I’m annoying is you.”

“You gonna be like this all night?” Your hand sinks, touching the table. “I thought you were mad and would want to ignore me,” you say, much quieter now, even though everyone else is too caught up arguing whether Taehyung’s fifa pack spendings are justified.

“Weren’t you trying to do the same?”

Well, yeah. You were trying to ignore him – that was the sole reason why you even came – but you somewhere along the way, you veered off that plan, and now here you are.

“I guess you’re just too pretty for me to ignore.”

Jungkook freezes at that. You use the opportunity to nudge his hand aside and dip your food into the sauce.

“Funny, didn’t seem to be a problem when you were texting that dude next to me the other day.”

Your chewing slows. The words hit exactly where he intended, sharp and precise, a reminder of exactly why he’s pissed in the first place.

The conversation around you carries on, oblivious, but between you and Jungkook, the tension is suffocating.

You pull away completely, shifting in your seat so your legs are angled away from him and into Eunji’s direction.

Ignoring him is easier, less of a headache – and less of a heartache – than acknowledging his existence.

Later that night, you drown yourself in reality tv, letting the mindless drama fill the living room and keep your thoughts from wandering to the interactions you had with Jungkook tonight, because you really need a break from that boy.

You and Eunji had left the restaurant before the boys, her excuse being that she wanted to study, and yours being that you’d had done enough socialising for the day and it was time to go back home. Yeah, you do realise that you have a self-destructive tendency to isolate when things get difficult.

So, here you are, curled up on the couch, journaling about feelings and situations and –

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

You freeze, pen hovering above the paper as the sound of the front door code being punched in echoes from outside. The lock clicks, and the door swings open.

A familiar head of dark hair peeks inside first, followed by annoyingly familiar second one.

“You’re still up?” Taehyung asks, shrugging off his jacket and toes off his shoes.

“Tae,” you say slowly, looking at Jungkook. “Why is he here?”

“Figured we’d hang for a bit more. Play some fifa together.”

“You figured?” You turn to Tae with a deadpan expression.

Taehyung shrugs. “He looked sad.”

“I didn’t look sad,” Jungkook mutters, finally stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.

“You looked all emo when everyone got up to leave,” Taehyung says.

“Whatever.” Jungkook rolls his eyes and heads towards the kitchen, like this is his house now.

You exhale through your nose, pressing your fingers to your temple. “Do we look like a halfway house for emotionally constipated men?”

Jungkook’s voice calls out from the kitchen. “I can hear you.”

“Good.”

“Please try and act civil while I go change,” Taehyung pleads, already disappearing down the hallway.

Jungkook emerges a second later, settling onto the couch, a glass of water in his hand. His tatted fingers wrap around it, long and steady, as he takes a sip. You watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs, the way his throat moves, how the tiniest droplet of water escapes before his tongue swipes it away – completely unbothered. Casual. Like he isn’t taking up too much space in your head already.

“Headache from all that beer?” you ask, trying – hoping – that you sound unaffected by whatever it is about him that’s making your stomach flip.

He exhales, tipping his head back against the couch, stretching his neck just enough to make it unfair. The angle sharpens his jaw line.

His gaze flickers to you. “Something like that.”

Jungkook looks at you. Really looks at you.

His eyes drag over your bare legs, stretched out in tiny shorts that are basically just suggestions of clothing. They hesitate on the curve of your thighs, the hem barely covering anything, before sliding up to the delicate strap of your camisole, the curve of your shoulder. His fingers tighten around the glass just enough for you to notice.

You meet his gaze, unblinking.

Jungkook’s fingers twitch.

You smirk, stretching deliberately, arching your back slightly as you reposition yourself.

And then – his eyes flick downward, landing on the open journal beside you.

You don’t think anything of it at first – until his brows furrow slightly, head tilting as he squints.

“Wait,” he mutters, leaning forward. “Did I just see my name in there?”

Your stomach drops.

Panic sets in at lightning speed.

You slam the journal shut so fast it’s borderline violent.

“Mind your business.”

Jungkook blinks, then grins, slow and smug. Oh, you hate him.

“There is literally nothing for you to see.”

“Oh, but there was something,” he muses, stretching an arm along the back of the couch like he isn’t about to drive you insane. “You wrote about me?”

You cross your arms. “What if I did?”

“Depends,” he says, just momentarily allowing his gaze to drop to your chest. “What exactly are you writing about me?”

Jungkook’s smirk deepens, eyes flicking between you and the journal.

“You’re acting awfully guilty right now,” he taunts, shifting slightly, his thigh pressing against yours.

“Because you’re being nosey.”

“No, because you’re hiding something.”

You roll your eyes, gripping the journal tighter. “You’re not that interesting.”

He hums, tilting his head. “Then lemme see.”

“Absolutely not.”

It happens so fast you barely have time to react. One second, Jungkook is sitting there, all relaxed and smug. The next, he’s lunging forward, reaching for the journal with one hand, the other bracing against the couch to trap you in place.

“Jungkook—stop!” you shriek, twisting away, holding the journal out of his reach.

But he’s relentless.

He shifts closer, practically caging you in, his body warm and solid against yours. His arm brushes your bare thigh as he reaches again, fingers grazing the cover. You twist further, laughing, but the movement only makes things worse—your back presses into the cushions, and suddenly, he’s right there, hovering over you, weight balanced between his knees and one hand pressed into the couch beside your head.

The laughter dies in your throat.

Because now it’s just you and him, tangled up, breathing the same air. His face is inches from yours, the heat of his body seeping into your skin, the scent of his cologne mixed with something distinctly him. His gaze flickers downward – just for a second – but it’s enough. Enough for you to feel the shift. Enough for the teasing to suddenly feel like something else entirely.

Jungkook swallows.

Your heart is in your throat.

His gaze drops to your lips.

You freeze.

His fingers tighten slightly where they rest near your hip. The journal is still caught between you, forgotten, and for the first time, neither of you moves to break the moment.

Until –

A door creaks open down the hallway.

You both jerk back at the same time.

Jungkook moves first, clearing his throat as he drops back onto the couch, running a hand through his hair like that’ll somehow erase the past ten seconds. You sit up just as Taehyung strolls back in, glancing between the two of you with mild suspicion.

“Did you guys kill each other yet?”

“Nearly,” you retort, fixing your hair.

Tae grabs two controllers and plops onto the couch next to Jungkook. “Why’d you scream?”

“Your idiot of a best friend is obsessed with me and tried to sneak a peek into my journal,” you huff, dramatically clutching said journal to your chest.

“Oh, boy,” Tae clicks his tongue. “She’s serious about this thing, Jk. Wouldn’t advise you to –” he waves a hand vaguely, “–poke the bear.”

Jungkook looks like he is actually considering telling Tae what he saw in your beloved journal. His lips party slightly, brows furrowing, before he shakes the thought off. Good for him. You wouldn’t even know where to begin explaining why Jungkook’s name is written in there.

Taehyung hands one of the controllers to Jungkook.

“Is this my cue to turn off my show?” you ask, lips forming a natural pout of disappointment.

“Sorry, spontaneous boys' night,” Tae says with a shrug.

“Please never say that again.”

Jungkook snorts, finally looking at you.

You raise a brow. Challenge him silently.

He just grins, popping his dimples, rolling his shoulders back like he has the upper hand.

God, you hate him.

You stay in the living room while they game – despite considering retreating to your room multiple times when Jungkook and Tae started yelling at each like an old married couple.

But you quickly realise how fun it is to mess with Jungkook, especially when he gets roasted for his lack of skills by an oblivious Taehyung. Which, judging by the way Jungkook’s jaw keeps ticking and his grip on the controller tightens, is absolutely getting to him.

“Want more snacks?” you ask sweetly as you rise to your feet, collecting the empty bowls. One slips from your grasp, landing on the carpet. You bend over to grab it, in front of Jungkook, and maybe, just maybe, you move slower than necessary. Maybe shifting your hips a little too much. Maybe giving him a view he definitely does not deserve.

Tae, completely unbothered, waves you off like a fly buzzing around his screen. “___, get out of the way,” he complains impatiently, fingers rapidly clicking on his controller. “But I’ll have some more chips, thanks.”

Jungkook, however, isn’t saying shit.

You glance over your shoulder, just in time to catch the flicker of his eyes meeting yours before he collects himself and redirects his attention back to the game.

“You good, Jungkook?” you ask innocently.

His nostrils flare. Through gritted teeth, he mutters, “Just move.”

So you do, slow and smug, your shorts sliding back over your thighs as you pad toward the kitchen.

Right as you’re reaching for the drawer, you hear Taehyung ask, “What are you gonna do about that Sooyoung girl?” Your movements slow. “You interested?”

The nosiness and urge to gossip definitely runs through your genes.

“Nah, I don’t want her back.”

When you glance back, Jungkook’s still focused on the game, but there’s something absent in the way he’s holding the controller – like he’s playing on autopilot.

“That bad, huh?”

“Just wasn’t that deep.”

You busy yourself with the drawer, fingertips grazing over the handle as you bite back the urge to comment. Just listen.

“You never really said why you two broke up.”

“No, I did tell you,” Jungkook says, easy but firm. “You just never believed me.”

“That’s because it always felt like there was more.”

“There wasn’t. We just didn’t fit.”

Didn’t fit how?

You open the drawer and grab more snacks.

“Yeah...I don’t know. You never seemed truly happy with her.”

Jungkook exhales sharply through his nose. "I wasn’t miserable," he finally says.

“You weren’t happy either.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I stayed with Sooyoung because it was easy. No drama. No real emotions involved.”

With the snacks in tow, you walk back to the living room. “That sounds really sad, Jaykay,” you say, not trying to hide that you’ve been listening to them.

He shrugs. “Maybe. But at least it didn’t mess with my head.” His gaze lingers on you. “Didn’t make me feel like I was losing my mind.”

“Fuck, no, if someone makes you feel that way – leave, immediately,” Taehyung says.

You grab a bag of chips, tearing it open as you lean against the side of the couch. “You guys done being dramatic yet?”

Taehyung glances over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes. “You’re still here?”

“I live here.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?” you repat. “You were the one who happily agreed when mum and dad suggested that I move in with you. I wanted my own place!”

“Oh no, the princess didn’t get what she wanted. How dare they?” Jungkook mocks you.

You faintly remember the discussion of moving into an even bigger place, where all three of you would live together, but Jungkook denied that idea back then, saying the dorm that his athletic scholarship is providing him is good enough for him.

You scoff, shoving his shoulder as you pop another chip into your mouth. “Okay, first of all, you don’t get a say in this. Second of all, I’m not a princess.”

Jungkook tilts his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “Sure you aren’t.”

Taehyung snorts, eyes still glued to the screen. “You literally whined for two weeks straight about not having enough closet space.”

“That was a valid complaint,” you argue. “You take up, like, half of it with your stupid jerseys.”

“They’re collectibles.”

“They’re ugly.”

Jungkook laughs, finally leaning back into the couch, looking far too amused. “I see living together is going great for you two.”

“Oh, it’s fantastic,” Taehyung deadpans. “Every day is a blessing.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you mutter, but you can’t help the way your lips twitch. “I liked this conversation more when you gossiped about Jungkook’s life.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, then jerks his chin toward Jungkook. “Dude, hurry up and lose so we can switch games.”

Jungkook, who has barely been playing at all, huffs. “I’m not gonna lose on purpose.”

“You’re already playing like shit,” Taehyung points out. “What’s up with you? Did Sooyoung get into your head or what?”

“Quit mentioning her,” Jungkook grumbles, jaw tightening.

Sooyoung?

No, that is not who is on is mind.

Why would he be thinking about her when – okay, you need to calm down. It’s not that serious.

You just need to call it a night, crawl into bed, and sleep it off.

“Heading to bed,” you announce, grabbing your journal from the coffee table.

“Alright, sleep tight,” Taehyung replies.

“Night, princess.” You flick the back of Jungkook’s head for that.

“Okay, very out of character for me, but we need to stop drinking for a sec and you need to tell me why the hell you keep looking back at Jungkook?” Eunji asks you all of a sudden, voice barely carrying over the muffled bass shaking the walls of the packed frat house.

The kitchen is one of the only semi-breathable spaces in the frat house, though the counters are a war zone of spilled liquor, sticky cups, and questionably abandoned drinks. The air reeks of cheap booze and sweat, but none of that is stopping Eunji from interrogating you.

You blink perplexed. “Out of character for you?” you ask back, eyeing the way she pulls back the cup you were just mixing a drink in. “I think that is very true to your character – very you. I’d be out of character for me to stop us from drinking.” You snatch back your cup.

“Did I say that?” She’s lost in her mind for a moment. “I don’t even remember. Am I that drunk already? I don’t wanna wake up hungover tomorrow.” She laments. “I still got this assignment due, and I wanted to get most of it done tomorrow, but – oh my god. Do not distract me from the question I just asked you.” She stares at you with sharp eyes. “Why do you keep looking back at Jungkook?”

“Am I?”

She huffs. “You don’t get to play this game with me, ___.” She pokes your tummy. “Answer me.”

You fully turn to her, abandoning the cup with the godawful alcohol mix – yes, it’s your creation, no, you’ve never had any talent for mixing drinks.

“I might have to tell you something.”

Her eyes widen. Immediately. Mouth opening in an unbelievable expression of pure, unfiltered drama. One that belongs in a reality show confession booth.

“Shut up. You did not – did you? Oh my god, shut up!”

“We might have hooked up for, like, a good few months.”

Her palm flies to cover her mouth. “Behind Taehyung’s back?” she whisper shouts.

“Well, obviously.” You point to yourself. “You think I’d be alive if he knew? You think he’d be alive if Tae knew?”

“You whore!”

“For Jungkook? Kinda,” you admit defeatedly.

You take a glimpse into his direction. Eunji shoves you on the shoulder for that.

“Don’t make it obvious!” she exclaims. “But you need to tell me everything. Right now.”

You sigh, leaning against the counter.

“The first time we hooked up was before I enrolled in uni. It was the summer before when Tae and Jungkook spontaneously visited and-“

“Okay, I need you to stop,” Eunji interrupts, fingers massaging her temples. “The summer before uni?” she repeats, exasperated. “You’ve been keeping it a secret since summer? I need more booze before you continue.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you, but we didn’t want anyone to know. He’d be pissed if he knew I told you.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I get it, I really do. I just didn’t expect this at all.” After pouring something inside her cup, she takes big gulps from it.

“I mean, what was I supposed to do? He’s hot, he’s pretty, and I’ve had a crush on him since, like, forever. I had to give in when he showed interest. What’s a girl gonna do?”

“How have you been able to keep it from Taehyung? They’re with each other 24/7.”

“He comes over when I know Tae’s gonna be out for a while. Or the other way around,” you reply, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “You can make anything work if you really want to, and I really wanted Jungkook.”

Still do, if you’re being honest.

You pause, then wave it off dramatically. “But that’s ancient history. We’re totally over that weird situationship.”

“What?!” Another shocked gasp escapes her. “Why?!”

“I don’t even know, to be honest. He just – we fucked, and then he...I dunno.” You grab your cup and down the rest of your drink, grimacing at the taste of whatever you concocted. “He got mad at me for texting Eunwoo after we had sex. I didn't even think he’d be all sensitive about it, especially since, you know, he’s with other girls too. But he got so pissed and we argued. And guess what?!” You throw your arms out, face dramatically incredulous. “He just leaves me in bed! Like, straight up walks out, saying stupid shit like I sleep around and only text him when I’m bored. Acting like we’re some exclusive thing, which we’re not! How dare he get so upset?” you argue theatrically, voice rising in pitch. “I’ve got better shit to do than this,” you mimic in Jungkook’s deep voice, eyes rolling for extra effect. “He’s so annoying.”

Eunji scrutinizes you for a brief moment before coming to her conclusion.

“Oh, he wants you bad.”

“Huh?” Your brows furrow. “He left me.”

“Because he wants you two to be exclusive and you don't. Why should he stay?”

Why should he stay?

You stare at Eunji, her words settling over you like an unwanted truth.

“He did ask me to be exclusive before,” you admit, twirling the empty cup in your hands. “But I always thought it would be a bad idea. Because being exclusive is so much more serious, and I want to be anything but serious with him. We don’t work that way. I can’t have that happening and risking Tae finding out. It would ruin everything.”

Eunji gives you a long, unimpressed look. “But being exclusive friends with benefits doesn’t have to mean more. It could just stay that way. Why do you always make things complicated?”

You huff, frustration bubbling up. “I don’t know.” You drop your forehead against her shoulder.

She pats your back like you’re a lost puppy.

“You’re and idiot, babe.”

“I know.”

“You also like him.”

You groan into her shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Just saying,” she singsongs.

It’s only now that you realise just how much you needed this – to talk to someone. To get all these tangled thoughts out of your head instead of letting them fester in silence. You’ve spent so much time convincing yourself that none of it mattered, brushing it off like it was nothing, but saying it out loud makes it real. And weirdly, that feels... good. Cathartic, even. Like exhaling after holding your breath for too long.

“Do you think I should-“ You start to lift your head, but Eunji pushes you back down with a firm hand.

“Everything will be fine, ___,” she babbles, patting your head a little too aggressively. “Just, you know, don’t be too sad.”

“What are you on about?”

“Just stay here for a sec.”

“Eunji.” You force yourself out of her grasp.

She’s looking somewhere past you, eyes flickering toward the living room, but when she realizes you’ve caught on, she quickly averts her gaze. Too quickly. Suspiciously.

You turn around, scanning the area to find what she doesn’t want you to see.

Your tummy churns in an instant when you see it.

Jungkook.

Heading up the stairs.

With Nayeon.

Even in the hazy lighting of the party, he stands out – broad shoulders wrapped in a dark, well-fitted tee, his silver chain glinting against his collarbone. He moves effortlessly, the easy confidence in his stride something you know all too well. His hand rests low on Nayeon’s back, fingertips grazing the thin fabric of her dress as she leans into him, whispering something into his ear.

Your throat tightens.

Eunji shifts beside you, watching your reaction carefully. “Hey, maybe it’s not-“

“I’m gonna throw up.”

The words leave your mouth before you can even think. You grab Eunji’s cup and down the last of her drink, but the alcohol does nothing to wash away the bitter taste in your mouth.

Your eyes scan the room frantically. “Wasn’t Eunwoo somewhere here too?” You rise onto your toes, searching the sea of bodies. “I think I just need to get my mind off things.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” Eunji immediately cuts in, grabbing your wrist before you can make any rash decisions. “We are not doing this.”

“Doing what?”

She levels you with a look. “You are not about to make a dumbass decision just to get back at Jungkook. Not on my watch.”

“I really, really hate him right now.”

“I know,” she soothes. “But no petty comebacks for situations where we absolutely do not need to make fools of ourselves, yeah?”

Your brain is screaming at you to make Jungkook feel just as shitty as you do, to do something reckless and distracting, but deep down, you know Eunji’s right.

You steal another glance at the staircase. They’re gone.

The realization sinks in, and suddenly, the air in the frat house feels suffocating. The bass of the music thrums in your chest, the chatter around you blurring into an overwhelming hum.

“I need air,” you mutter, pushing past Eunji before she can stop you.

She sighs but doesn’t follow. She knows you need a moment alone.

You slip through the crowd, weaving your way toward the back door. The night air hits you instantly, cool against your heated skin, but it does little to settle the storm raging in your chest.

Leaning against the railing of the porch, you inhale deeply, forcing your nerves to settle.

This is fine.

“Can you promise you won’t puke on me?”

“I mean, I can, but I don’t know if I can keep the promise.”

You spotted Chanyeol with another guy—Jackson, you think—smoking and went over to chat with them. It wasn’t until they finished their joint that curiosity got the best of you. One thing led to another, and Jackson went inside to roll you one. Now, all three of you are standing outside, two pairs of curious eyes fixed on you.

“She’ll be fine,” Jackson says as he exhales a slow stream of smoke, watching it curl into the night air.

Chanyeol eyes you warily as he sparks up your joint. “I don’t know how much you drank tonight, but please tell me if you feel sick.” He holds it out for you.

You hesitate for half a second before taking it between your fingers. It feels weird, unnatural. “So I just…?”

“Inhale, but not too hard. Hold it for a second, then let it out,” Chanyeol instructs.

You follow his guidance, pulling in a slow drag. The taste is harsher than you expected, earthy and a little burnt, making you cough almost instantly.

“Classic first hit,” Jackson says, but it’s not as reassuring as he thinks. “Give it a sec.”

“How do you feel?” Chanyeol asks, watching you closely.

“Feels very icky,” you tell him, nose scrunched up. “But I’m feeling okay.”

“Yo, Jackson!” some dude yells from the back. Jackson disappears, leaving Chanyeol and you alone.

“You sure you’re fine?”

The night air feels heavier now, the music from inside muffled like you’re hearing it through a wall. Your fingers tingle slightly, warmth spreading through your limbs. You shift on your feet, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your body moves.

You blink at him. “I think my brain is moving slower than my body.”

He laughs. “Yeah, that happens. Just ride it out.”

You exhale, watching the smoke swirl in front of you.

“The fuck?”

Your head snaps toward the voice.

Jungkook stands a few feet away, brows furrowed, looking like he just walked into some kind of crime scene. His eyes flick between you and the joint in your fingers, then to Chanyeol, before settling back on you.

For some reason, your eyes wander to his hands. He’s probably touched so many things tonight, so many body parts. Did he wash them?

“The hell you’re doing?” Jungkook asks, walking towards you.

“Uhm, having fun?” you try, watching his frown deepen.

“This is not something you do, ___.” Jungkook directs his glare at Chanyeol. “Why the fuck would you give this to her?”

“Fuck, Jungkook, if you wanna be angry be angry elsewhere,” Chanyeol says, rolling his eyes.

“You fuck off,” Jungkook counters.

“As if you have never smoked.” Chanyeol raises his brows.

“I don’t smoke.”

“Trying to maintain a squeaky-clean image for those scouts who might be watching?”

“Mind your fucking business.”

“Jungkook, you’re being rude.” You turn to him, pointing a finger at his broad chest. “You’ve been going around, having fun yourself but can’t let other people have fun. That’s not nice of you.”

You stare up at him, a sullen pout on your mouth before pulling another slow drag and trying hard to not cough, but a small cough slips out anyway.

“Get that shit away, ___,” Jungkook demands, unimpressed by the smoke surrounding his face.

“Why do you care? Lemme have fun.”

“This shit fucks with your head.”

My brain’s already fucked, you think. Thanks a lot.

“It’s just weed?”

“Taehyung will lose his mind.”

“Is Tae with us now?”

Jungkook arches his brow.

“Oh, you wouldn’t.”

“Stop right now or I’ll call him.”

You hold his gaze, daring him. “You’re bluffing.”

Jungkook pulls his phone out of his pocket without hesitation, thumb hovering over the screen. “Try me.”

You wait, staring at Jungkook’s screen until he actually calls Taehyung.

Before the call can connect, you groan and shove the joint into Chanyeol’s hand. “God, fine, I’m done.”

He hangs up before Taehyung can answer.

You glare at him, but he only tilts his head toward the house. “Let’s get you some water.”

He guides you towards the house with his hand splayed across your side. At first, you shy away from his touch, mind racing with thoughts you’d rather not acknowledge. But as the night air presses cool against your skin, you let yourself relax, leaning into him slightly as you walk up the stairs.

“You’re so mean, you know that?” you huff.

“I’m just looking out for you,” he replies, in a softer tone than before.

“You didn’t have to be mean with Chanyeol. It wasn’t his weed. Chanyeol was actually very kind, made sure I was feeling okay-“

Jungkook stops at the threshold of the house.

“I’m gonna have a little chat with Jackson.”

“How do you know-“

His hand slips from your waist. He turns, leaving you standing on the porch, and disappears in the crowd.

Because that’s just easy for him – leaving you.

Why should he stay?

You don’t care.

And if you keep telling yourself that, maybe – just maybe – you’ll start to believe it.

Flash forward a week, and you can now say –proudly, with your full chest – that you do care.

You’ve never not cared. Pretended? Yes. But gotten over it? Not even close.

Which is why it’s not surprising that you find yourself at yet another party, drink in hand, scanning the room without meaning to. Or maybe you do mean to. Maybe you want to see him. Maybe you want him to see you. Maybe you want him to know that he didn’t get to you. Even though he did.

You’re sunk into the couch, surrounded by your friend group, half-listening as they go on about today’s hockey practice – boy gossip, oh how you love it.

“Coach told him he’s probably getting benched next game,” Jimin says, shaking his head as he leans back against the couch. “Too many penalties last match. Dumbass just keeps throwing hits for no reason.”

“That’s what happens when you let your ego get ahead of you,” Jin chimes in, stretching his legs out. “Coach is tired of his shit. And honestly? Fair.”

“I heard he almost fought Yoongi in the locker room,” Taehyung adds, arching a brow as he takes a sip of his drink. “Over something stupid too, like warm-up drills.”

“Swear to God, that guy needs to chill,” Jimin scoffs. “He’s got all the talent, but he plays like he’s trying to prove something every damn game.”

When Taehyung gets up to grab himself another drink, you catch him by the sleeve.

“Can you get me one too, please?” You hand him your empty cup.

Taehyung eyes the cup. “You’ve been drinking a bit more lately.”

“It’s just my second drink?”

His sharp eyes linger on you for a moment before he reluctantly takes your cup and walks off. He hasn’t missed the shift in your behaviour these past few weeks. You try to hide it, but there’s only so much you can do.

“Could say the same thing about Jungkook, though,” Jin says.

Jin’s words linger in the air, but you don’t dare react.

“Jungkook’s always been like that,” Jimin says, tipping his drink back. “Plays like he’s got something to prove, but I guess he kinda does. He wants to go pro, so it’s not like he can afford to slack off.”

It’s stupid, silly even, how easily his name can unravel you. How even when he’s not here, he’s everywhere.

“Isn’t your dad gonna come to the next game?” Jimin directs at you.

You shrug. “Maybe? I dunno.”

Given that your dad is an NHL executive, former team owner, he tries to find time in his busy schedule to attend the hockey games. The boys probably see him more than you do.

“Where is Jungkook anyway?” Hobi asks. “Is he gonna come over at all?”

Dear god, you hope, pray, he won’t.

You can’t live through seeing him disappear with another girl upstairs. You don’t have Eunji with you today to keep you from doing reckless decisions.

“He’d be all over Nayeon anyway. Doubt he’d even remember we exist,” Jin chuckles, unknowingly ruining the rest of your night.

The sound of their laughter grates against your nerves. The more you sit here, the more unbearable it becomes. The thought of him, of her, of what they could be doing, poisons your mind until you can’t take it anymore.

Taehyung returns, pressing a fresh drink into your hand. He barely gets a word in before his gaze sharpens. “You okay?”

You nod stiffly. “Yeah.”

“Liar.”

His voice is quiet enough that no one else hears, but it makes your stomach flip. He knows you too well. And if you sit here any longer, he’s going to drag the truth out of you, whether you like it or not.

So you stand abruptly, mumbling something about fresh air before slipping through the crowd, out into the cool night. The moment you’re alone, you let out a breath, pressing your fingers to your temples. It doesn’t help. Nothing does.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you pull out your phone, scroll down to the name you should ignore, and press call.

Jungkook answers on the second ring.

“Did you call me on accident?”

You ignore his question, your fingers tightening around your phone as you shift your weight from one foot to the other. Instead, you ask, “Are you gonna come to the party?”

“No, I have some assignments to do,” he answers, hesitantly. “Why’d you ask?”

“Are you sure?” Your eyes close, waiting for the confirmation that you won’t have to see things (Jungkook and a girl that isn’t you) that you don’t want to see (him hooking up with someone that isn’t you).

“Yeah, positive.” There’s a pause, and then he adds, “Is there something you don’t want me to see? Or—wait, are you just making sure I won’t be around to ruin your night?” Jungkook laughs and you realise how you’ve missed that sound. “It’s your lucky day. You won’t see my face poking around in the crowd. You can have fun.”

You frown at the nonsense he’s saying. He couldn’t be more off.

“No, you don’t get it.”

“What am I not getting?”

You stare into the night sky, the stars blurred by the city lights. You consider hanging up, letting the moment pass, but then you remember what Eunji told you. Talk to him. Get the discomfort out of the way.

“You know I’m not an insecure person.” You cross one arm over your body, rubbing your bare skin against the rising cold. “Like, I’m confident in who I am. I don’t compare myself to others because, y’know, I don’t care enough about stuff like that.”

“Yeah, of course I know that. You’re a confident girl. Have always been.”

“But you know what makes me go crazy?”

“What?”

“Seeing you with someone else.” The words slip out before you can catch them, but now that they’re out in the open, you can’t take them back. You don’t want to. Or – I dunno if it’s just that. I want you to want me. And you don’t. Which I get, I’ve been a bit shitty, so you deserve to want someone that isn’t like me, but – it just makes me go a bit insane, because I thought you did want me again the other night. At my place.” Your voice drops on the last sentence, barely above a whisper. “But then I see you with Nayeon and you just don’t care.”

You take a break, trying to organise your thoughts, but it’s fruitless because it’s just a tangled mess up there.

“Eunji said to talk with you but still give us a bit time, but oh my god I just want it to be okay between us again. I’m feeling so confused, and I don’t even really know what’s going on, but all I know is that I want things to be like before. When you still wanted me, and I wanted you and everything was good, easy,” you say, exhaling a helpless breath. “Do you think that’s possible?”

It’s silent for a beat. You don’t blame him – you couldn’t recite half the stuff that just poured out of your mouth.

“Fuck, ___.” He sounds a bit helpless himself.

Jungkook sighs on the other end, and you hear the faint rustle of fabric, like he’s shifting, maybe running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to say to that,” he finally admits.

“Say anything,” you murmur.

“What do you want me to do, ___?” His voice is quieter now, more controlled, but there’s something simmering beneath the surface. “Stop seeing other people? Pretend like none of this ever happened? Or do you just want me to tell you that, yeah, I still want you?”

Your breath hitches. “Do you?”

“I thought I made that obvious,” he mutters. “But every time I think we’re on the same page, you pull away and act difficult. So, forgive me if I stopped trying to figure you out.”

“I don’t mean to act difficult.”

“Then why do you?”

You don’t have an answer. Or maybe you do, but you’re scared to say it.

Jungkook waits, but when you don’t respond, he lets out a dry laugh. “You know what’s funny? I wasn’t even gonna go to the party tonight. But now I kinda want to.”

“Why?”

“Maybe I wanna see what happens when you have to look me in the eyes.” His voice is lower now, rougher. “Because talking like this? It’s too easy for you.”

“No, don’t come.” You think of the worst-case scenario – arguing with Jungkook, him getting frustrated, turning to Nayeon because she’s easier, likes her more than you. And you couldn’t stand seeing that.

“Or maybe do, if you want,” you add, voice quieter. “I think I’m gonna leave anyway. Wanna go home.” Avoiding situations – your strong suit.

“How much have you had to drink?”

You stare at the untouched drink in your hand before lifting it to your lips. The sweetness hits first, masking the barely-there burn of alcohol (thanks, Tae). “Starting my third drink now.”

“I can walk you home,” he offers.

“It’s not a long walk to my place. You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” A rustle of movement on the other end before he adds, “On my way right now.”

“I’ll wait at the front for you.”

You weave your way back inside the house to find Taehyung, who’s still in the living room chatting with one of his teammates.

“Gonna go home, Tae,” you say, your voice cutting through their conversation. He glances up, distracted for a moment, before raising an eyebrow. “Also, here–” You hand him the drink he made for you. “This is not fun to drink at all.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes at your sassy comment but takes the cup from your hand. “Learn how to enjoy a party without getting drunk.”

“You tell me to get out of my room more, and when I do, this is what you say? Pick a side,” you grumble.

“Why do you wanna go home?” His fingers adjust the top of your strapless dress absentmindedly as he asks. “You okay?”

“Eh, just a bit bored.”

“We’re gonna play truth or dare in a bit,” Taehyung’s friend pipes up, raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner. “Maybe you should stick around.”

“I think I’ll skip,” you say. “But please do me a favour and fill me in on all the drama I’ll be missing out on.”

He winks at you. “Will do.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Taehyung says, stepping towards you.

You know he won’t allow you to go home by yourself, so you opt for telling him the truth. “Jungkook’s coming to take me home.”

“Jungkook?” he asks, surprised. “Did you call him?”

“Yeah, I asked him. Didn’t wanna annoy you. Go have fun doing...” You glance over at Jimin and Hobi, who are holding an impromptu drinking competition. Hobi’s attempting to chug straight from a bottle of something clearly too strong for him, while Jimin’s pretending to be the host of a weird, offbeat game show. “...whatever that is,” you finish, trying to hold back a laugh.

“You really can’t leave those two alone for a second, can you?” Taehyung lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Tell Jungkook to swing by here once he drops you off.”

“He didn’t sound like he was in the mood to stop by, but I'll tell him.”

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” he says over his shoulder, already walking back toward Jimin and a very much unconscious Hobi, who’s sprawled out on the couch looking like he’s had one too many rounds.

Jungkook finds you almost immediately. You barely have time to register his presence before he’s already slipping his zip hoodie over your shoulders, his hands smoothing over the fabric like he’s tucking you in for the night.

“You should’ve waited inside,” he mutters, fingers lingering at the collar like he’s seriously considering zipping it up for you too.

You swat his hands away, glancing around quickly. “Jungkook, don’t – everyone’s watching.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Who’s watching?”

You look over your shoulder. “I dunno. People.”

Jungkook huffs a laugh, stepping closer. “Right. Because me making sure you don’t freeze to death is so scandalous,” he jokes. “But smoking weed the other day was okay to do outside? With all the people there?”

“As a friend you’re supposed to forget my mess-ups, not remind me of them.” You huff, faintly remembering when you tried weed for the first time. You did puke that night. Luckily not on Chanyeol. “You didn’t have to come,” you grumble, even as you tug the hoodie tighter around yourself, his warmth and the faint scent of his detergent wrapping around you like a second skin.

“I know,” he says, tilting his head. “But I wanted to.”

And then, because he’s annoying, he reaches up and tugs the hood over your head, effectively swallowing half your face in fabric.

You let out a muffled noise of protest, pushing it back down immediately. “Stop that.”

Jungkook just grins, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he starts walking. “You look cute like that, though.”

You glare at him but fall into step beside him anyway, the hoodie still draped around you like it belongs there. The night air nips at your skin, but his warmth lingers, and you swear he notices the way you pull the sleeves over your hands like it’s yours.

“So…” His voice is quieter now. “What you said on the phone earlier.”

Your stomach twists. “What about it?”

“I just—” He starts, then pauses. “I don’t know what you want from me, ___. One second, you’re pushing me away, and the next, you’re telling me you can’t stand seeing me with someone else. You –” He falters, his voice catching slightly. “Do you even know what you want?”

“I know that you ruined me for other boys, for one,” you say, sighing deeply before you continue. “I want things to be like before,” you reply. “When everything wasn’t so…” You gesture vaguely. “Complicated. I don’t like this. And I don’t like how I feel when I see you with –” You cut yourself off before the name can leave your lips. He knows anyway.

Jungkook watches you carefully, hands still stuffed into his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. “I wasn’t trying to rub anything in your face,” he says after a pause. “I didn’t think it’d… affect you.”

“Well, it did,” you say, a little too fast, a little too defensive. “And I hate that it did, because it’s not like I have a right to be mad about it.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “Don’t you?”

That stops you in your tracks.

Because – do you? You don’t know what this is, don’t know what you want from him except for more. More of his attention, more of his time, more of him. But not all of him, right? Because that would mean–

“God,” you mumble, rubbing your hands down your face. “Why are you making me say things?”

Jungkook chuckles, nudging your side. “You called me, remember?”

You groan. “Worst decision I’ve ever made.”

“Harsh.”

“Accurate.”

Jungkook lets out a short laugh, but then he’s quiet for a beat before he says, “Look, I don’t wanna play games. If you want me, then say it.”

You swallow. “I do.”

“But we don’t want each other like that,” he adds.

“Yeah, no.” You chew on your lip, pulling his hoodie tighter around yourself. “I just… don’t want to see you with other people. And I don’t want to pretend that it doesn’t bother me.”

“I don’t wanna see you with anyone else either.” Jungkook exhales, running a hand through his hair. “You want to keep fucking but be exclusive.”

You wince. “Could you not say it like that?”

“What, say it like the truth?”

You purse your lips, staring at him. “Is it a no?”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a second. Then, he sighs. “It’s not a no. I’ve been asking you for this, and you always pushed me away.”

“You know am not good with serious conversations. I like it when things are easy.” You cross your arms, trying to shield yourself, but your eyes can’t help but flicker towards him. “I don’t mean to push you away,” you admit. “I just– I get scared.”

His lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that. And then – without a word – he reaches out, pulling the hoodie up so the zipper meets your chin, like he’s tucking you in.

Your heart trips over itself. “What are you doing?”

He grins, hands still lingering near your collar. “Making sure you don’t run away before you finish talking.”

“I wouldn’t run,” you protest.

Jungkook raises a brow.

“…Okay, maybe I would,” you mutter.

His grin softens into something fonder. “Well, you didn’t,” he says simply. “You’re talking to me now.” His thumb brushes over the fabric near your shoulder. “And I know that’s not easy for you.”

Your face grows hot. You roll your eyes, looking away. “Okay, don’t be nice about it.”

Jungkook laughs, bumping your forehead lightly with his. “Sorry, can’t help it. I’m proud of you.”

Your stomach flips. You shove at his chest. “Ugh. Shut up.”

He just laughs harder, catching your wrist before you can push him again. “Too late.”

You elbow him, but he catches your arm, smirking as he tugs you closer. “So that’s it?” His voice drops slightly. “You’re mine, and I’m yours, but we don’t call it anything?”

The words send a shiver down your spine. Mine.

“…Yeah,” you say. “Something like that.”

Jungkook hums, his grip on your wrist loosening but not quite letting go. His fingers brush against yours for a second before he shoves his hands back into his pockets.

“Just stay with me.” You glance at him. “Don’t leave.”

“I’ll stay. Don’t worry.”

You continue walking, the quiet hum of the streetlights and distant city noise filling the silence.

“Taehyung said he wants you to stop by at the party once you drop me off,” you tell Jungkook, letting the information hang in the air before you ask, “But hang out with me instead?”

“You know, I was doing very important things before you called.”

“You never do uni stuff and this is the day you’re deciding to do a personality rebrand?”

“What do you mean? I’m on top of my grades...Kinda.”

You huff at his response. “Then, I dunno. Wanna be nerdy together? I can help you with your assignment.”

You’re pretty sure your marketing major and fashion design minor won’t do much to help him with stats, but you’re definitely down to stick around just to be close to him.

“I don’t think you can, but being nerdy together sounds extremely intriguing, so come on.” He holds his hand out for you and drags you the other way around to his dorm.

It’s not far, just a few blocks over, but the way his fingers loosely wrap around yours makes the walk feel shorter.

Here’s how the rest of the night goes: Jungkook, the ever exemplary student, continues working on his assignment, while you – an accomplished liar who successfully deceived Jungkook into believing you would help him – pretend to help for all of five minutes before succumbing to the far more important task of online shopping for cute clothes.

It’s being nerdy together (your version).

Every so often, he glances at you, probably wondering if you’ll suddenly become useful. You do not. Instead, you kick your feet up on his bed, adding yet another item to your cart that you definitely don’t need.

Your thumb hovers over the screen, eyes locked on the top that has no business being so cute. A strapless, velvety pink crop top. The entire front is held together by a line of sparkling, rhinestone heart clasps, leaving slivers of skin exposed.

“Do you think this is cute?” You turn your phone toward Jungkook.

“Very pretty.” Jungkook nods in approval, until his eyes flick down to the price. “What the fuck, ___.”

“What?” Add to cart. “It’s cute, no?”

“You’re a terrible study partner,” he mutters, typing on his laptop.

“I never claimed to be one,” you say, scrolling past a top that you absolutely do need. “Isn't being in my presence motivating enough?”

Jungkook snorts. “Right. I’m so motivated by your commitment to retail therapy.”

“Good,” you say, adding another item to your cart. “Then I’m doing my job.”

You watch him work on his assignment, your gaze drifting to his hands resting on the keyboard. His fingers are long and lean, the veins running along his wrists just noticeable under his skin. It's like every little movement is getting your attention, and suddenly, all you can think about is how good those hands would feel on you.

“What about this,” you say, a ghost of a smirk dancing at the corner of your lips. “When you finish your task, we can look through some lingerie. You can help me pick out a few things.”

The back of Jungkook’s head hits the wall. His eyes wander to the mirror on the opposite side of the room. You catch him staring – specifically at your propped-up legs, his gaze lingering a little too close to where your dress has ridden up, just enough to reveal a peek of lace.

“Hey, no peeking,” you scold, snapping your legs shut and stretching them out flat on his bed again, smoothing your dress down for good measure. “That’s also for later, when you finish your assignment.”

Smirking, you shift on the bed, just to test him.

“Must be so hard,” you muse, pretending to stretch as your dress slides just a little higher on your thighs. “Having a mirror right there, nowhere else to look.”

He scoffs. “If I wanted to see, I wouldn’t need a mirror.”

Jungkook doesn’t break eye contact, like he’s daring you to react. And maybe you should. Maybe you should roll your eyes, call him cocky, say you wish – but your brain isn’t working fast enough to form words.

“Remember how I fucked you against it?”

In his jersey. How could you forget?

And the way Jungkook’s lips twitch, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, makes your face heat up instantly.

“When has it become so easy to make you shy?”

“I’m not.” You glare at him, but it only seems to amuse him more. His lips quirk higher, that same infuriating twitch like he’s enjoying this way too much.

You sit up straighter, leaning forward just enough so your dress pulls a little higher on your thighs, the movement slow and deliberate.

Jungkook’s eyes move to your legs, and you see that flicker of desire flash across his face. His fingers twitch, like he wants to do something – anything – but he stays still.

“Wanna have a little taste to get some motivation to finish your work?” you tease, the giddy rush that heated your body fading as you flash him a mischievous smile.

“Anything to distract me from this shit,” he replies, already pushing the laptop off his lap, the screen still filled with charts and statistics problems. Ugh.

You shift to your knees and grab the back of his neck, crashing your mouth against his. He deepens the kiss a little, his lips soft against yours, the taste of him sweet and familiar. His breath mingles with yours, warm and steady. His hand lands on your waist, fingers lightly tracing the curve of your body.

You pull back just a little, eyes fluttering open to meet his, and for a second, you both just smile at each other, breathless and giddy.

“Should’ve been doing this instead of staring at those charts,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek as he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

You laugh softly, heart fluttering, before kissing him again – this time with more confidence, more warmth. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer as if he can’t get enough. His touch is gentle, but you can feel the quiet desperation behind it.

His rosy lips are swollen after a few more minutes of kissing and touching and grinding.

You slide off the bed and drop down to the floor, your hands running over his thighs, silently urging him to move closer. He shifts toward you, letting out a sharp breath when your palm him through his grey sweatpants.

You want to start of slow, want to take your time, but you’re also so needy and greedy for him, that you can’t help but tug his sweatpants down his legs, along with his briefs.

You take his semi hard dick in your hands and begin to stroke him. You let a drop of spit fall onto his cock for lubrication.

Jungkook puffs out a deep breath. You want to hear more of that.

“What happened to a little taste?” he asks, barely able to contain the moans that leave his mouth.

“Can’t help it,” you shrug, watching him grow bigger and harder in your hand.

His hand reaches for the hoodie he gave you earlier, which was carelessly thrown on his bed. He places it gently on the floor in front of you.

“Sit here,” he says, smoothing out the fabric. “Don’t want your knees to hurt.”

You shuffle your knees onto his hoodie, adjusting yourself, and continue stroking him up and down. At some point, you use both of your hands. You missed feeling his heavy cock in your hands, sitting beneath him and just playing with him.

“Spit on it, baby,” he says, voice low as he grabs his cock by the base and holds it for you to spit on. “Good girl.” He watches you with hooded eyes rub your spit all over him, mixing it with the precum leaking from his tip.

His cock is shiny, glistening with veins adoring his length. You stick out your tongue, gently swiping it over his head. Jungkook hisses when you swirl your tongue around his tip, teasing him with slow moves. He strokes himself while you play with his tip.

“Missed this view.” He pulls away his cock and starts slapping it against your tongue, the heavy feeling and wet noises immediately making you press your thighs together. “Look so pretty on your knees. Such a pretty girl.” Jungkook slides his head into your mouth. “Suck, baby.”

You close your mouth around his cock while you lock eyes with him. Slowly taking him deeper until you can’t take more. Your eyes are already watery and you didn’t even get most of him inside your mouth. You bob your head up and down in a slow, leisure pace.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he praises, threading his fingers through your hair to push it away from your face. “Relax your throat for me, yeah?”

When you do, he presses his hand on the back of your head, pushing your down on his cock and forcing you to swallow nearly half of him. Jungkook lets out a pretty moan when he feels the tightness of your throat around his cock, closing his eyes for a moment. Tears sting your eyes when he pulls you back, your hands gripping his thighs for leverage.

He lets you catch your breath before pushing you down again, moving your head in a tempo to his liking. When he shoves his cock particularly deep into you, you gag, tears rolling down your cheeks. You’re an absolute mess when he pulls out.

“What a good girl you are,” Jungkook says, his voice hoarse and low. “You just love sucking cock, don’t you?” He rubs his sticky cock against your mouth before slapping his head against it. He moves to your right cheek, smearing the mess over your skin and lightly tapping his cock. “Hm, princess?” he asks softer, almost with fake sympathy. He raises his brows in question, looking down at you like there’s just you and no one else.

“Love it so much,” you agree, moving your head along to the mess he’s making on your face.

Putting his cock back into your mouth, Jungkook leans back, watching you with pleasure etched into his expression as you move your head swiftly, twisting your hand around the part you can’t reach.

“So good,” he mutters, his tatted hand against your cheek just to feel you.

You tug your dress down and bring his cock down to your tits. You spit between the valley of your tits, using his tip to catch it and spread it across your boobs. You moan when his head brushes over your perky nipples. You circle his cock around them in small movements, breathy puffs escaping your mouth with how sensitive you are.

“You’re so fucking hot.” Jungkook fondles one breast with his hand, kneading it with his long fingers. He lets a little drop of spit fall onto your chest too, hungrily watching as you rub it against your soft skin with his cock. “Just want a mess everywhere, right?”

You nod, dragging his cock back into your mouth because you just need to taste him.

Jungkook curses under his breath when you start playing with his balls with your other hand. “Fuck, baby. Gonna cum if you keep going.”

Music to your ears.

You continue, swirling your tongue around his cock as you move up and down, trying to go as deep as you can. You can tell he doesn’t want to cum yet, but he doesn’t drag you off his cock, he’s too needy and horny.

“Cum on my tits.” You shift, jerking his cock in front of your chest.

“You want me to?”

“Please,” you beg, pushing your tits together with your arm, looking up at him with big eyes.

He moans at that sight, spurts of cum shooting across your chest. He paints your tits white with a big load. Your mouth hangs open slightly at the cum dripping from his cock. You lick his cock clean before looking down at your tits.

“You came so much.” You hold your tits in your hands. You flick your finger through some of the cum, putting it in your cum afterwards.

“Fuck, ___, please.”

You giggle at his reaction. You rub the cum into your skin with his still hard cock before it can drip down and create and even bigger mess. Your tits are all shiny from his cum when you’re done.

A shaky breath bubbles from Jungkook’s mouth when you stroke him once more, for good measure. “Pretty sure you got every drop.” He taps your elbow, motioning for you to get up. “Come here.” He pats the bed. “Get on all fours for me.”

While you get comfy on your knees on his bed, he takes off his clothes. Jungkook pushes your dress up your ass, the fabric bunched around your waist.

Jungkook slides one finger between your legs, slowly tracing your pussy through your panties.

“My dick in your mouth got you so wet, huh?” He pushes your panties aside, uttering a soft groan at the sight of your slick pussy. “So needy for me.” He bends down and you can feel his breath on your folds.

“Jungkook, please,” you whine.

“Please?” he repeats. “Such a well-mannered girl.” His tongue darts out, licking a stripe across your pussy.

You’re so incredibly sensitive, been yearning for this for so long, that you back arches immediately, thighs starting to quiver at Jungkook’s mild torture with his tongue.

Jungkook moves to your clit. He switches from little flicks to your nub and sucking on it, creating wet and filthy noises. He’s skilled with his mouth – perhaps a bit too skilled for your liking. But right now, you don’t have the energy to think too deeply about it, you’re just focused on the tingling pleasure that shoots through your tummy.

“Right there, Kook. Don’t stop.”

You watch him through the mirror – the way he is keeping your cheeks apart with his hands, face buried between your thighs, fluffy hair bouncing along with his movements. So handsome, so pretty, so yours.

“Pussy tastes so fucking good,” He mumbles, his fingers sinking deeper into your skin.

“So close. Wanna cum, Jungkook.”

Jungkook hums against you, the vibration making your breath hitch. It’s just his mouth on your pussy, but he knows his way around, knows how to make you squirm.

The pressure builds, winding tight in your core, seconds from snapping. “Jungkook,” you gasp, voice wrecked. “I’m–”

He groans into you, gripping harder, and that’s it—that’s all it takes. The tension in your body breaks all at once, pleasure hitting so hard your vision goes hazy. A choked sound spills from your lips, legs trying to squeeze shut, but he doesn’t let you. Just stays there, working you through it, dragging it out until you’re nothing but shivers and gasps, completely undone beneath him.

Only then does he pull back, breathing heavy, lips slick and swollen. He looks up at you through the mirror, something dark, almost possessive in his gaze, and swipes his thumb over his mouth like he’s savouring the taste.

You look back at him, smiling at his shiny face. His lips are covered along with his chin and his nose and a bit of his cheeks.

“This is, like, one of your best looks.”

“What, fresh out the pussy?”

You giggle. “Yeah,” you mutter, swiping your finger over the tip of his nose to clean him.

“I could have my face buried down there forever. I don’t think you realise how good you taste.” You feel his finger spreading your folds. “But I know my girl is very needy, so she wants cock, hm?”

You sigh, melting into his touch when you feel him slap his dick against your pussy instead. “You know me so well.”

The dick slaps are so wet, and your haze-filled mind craves nothing more than for him to shove his cock inside you, raw and deep, filling you the way you need – no barriers, no hesitation.

But Jungkook is actually able to still form sensible thoughts through the horny haze and grabs a condom from his nightstand.

He doesn’t tease you much before he enters you, just slowly, inch by inch, sliding his cock inside you.

“You good, baby?”

“Uh-huh, you can move.”

You gasp, the feeling almost overwhelming but exactly what you wanted. His hands grip your hips, pulling you back toward him as he starts a steady pace from behind, each thrust making your head spin.

“Missed this pussy,” Jungkook rasps, sneaking one hand down to your ass to spank it, eliciting a surprised moan from you. “So tight, so perfect.” He grabs a handful of your ass. “So mine.”

He fucks you rough, doesn’t give you any chance to think of anything but him. Your hands are clutching at his covers, holding the fabric tightly in your palms.

You feel him spit down on your ass. He rubs his finger over your puckered hole, making you whine and bite your lip at the feeling.

“Oh, Jungkook.” He slides his thumb inside, just the tip of his finger, and yet it feels like so much more, the pleasure intensifying.

“You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?” he asks, not stopping his relentless pace. “Love getting all your holes filled. So, so dirty.” Contempt is dripping from his voice, and you can’t help but have your pussy throbbing at that.

“Just for you,” you breathe. “Just you, Jungkook.”

“That’s, right.” He pushes his thumb a bit deeper, making your fingers tighten around Jungkook’s sheets. “You’re my girl.”

Your heart is racing, pulse pounding in your ears, and all you can do is nod, your body responding to him without thought, your need for him overwhelming.

With his other hand he tugs at your hair, wrapping it around his hand and creating a makeshift ponytail.

“Look at how pretty you look.”

You turn your head to the mirror. Your back is fully arched, and Jungkook’s all over your, his muscled and tatted body towering over you with his cock deeply buried inside your pussy.

He withdraws his thumb from your hole, delivering another spank to your ass.

“Make me go fucking crazy,” he mumbles, wrapping his hand around your tummy and pulling you up against his chest.

“Kook,” you mumble, resting your head in the crook of his neck. You don’t know what you want, only that you’re feeling this irresistible pull to him, like you want to be even closer to him.

He lets your hair go, moving his hand to your tits and squeezing them.

“Cum with me,” he whispers into your ear, immediately sending shivers down your spine. “Look at yourself when you cum, baby. Want you to see how pretty you are.”

When he sneaks his hand that was wrapped around your tummy down between your legs and starts flicking his fingers over your clit, it’s officially over for you.

You still try to keep your eyes open like Jungkook told you so as you teeter off the edge, your climax consuming you. You watch him come undone too, his brows knitted together, and bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You’re weak on your knees, but Jungkook keeps you firm to his chest, not letting fall as he thrusts into you in a slower, sloppier pace. He peppers your neck and shoulders with little kisses, and you giggle a little, delirious on your high. Your hand reaches for his bicep and you squeeze it.

His skin is hot under your touch, muscles flexing as he holds you up, keeping you steady against him. The slow drag of his movements sends waves of overstimulation through your body, but you don’t pull away.

“I know, baby.” Jungkook hums against your shoulder, his lips still ghosting over your skin, pressing lazy kisses between heavy breaths. “Still with me?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing, as his fingers brush down your sides.

You nod, melting further into him, body pliant against his.

Jungkook pulls out. You whine at the loss. He tosses the condom on the floor – you're too spent to tell him how gross that is – and shifts on the bed, lying down together with you.

His arm drapes over your waist, pulling you close, your body naturally moulding into his like it’s second nature. His skin is still warm, his breaths deep and steady as he settles beside you.

You glance down on yourself – you’re a mess. Panties still on, just pulled to the side like he liked, dress bunched around your waist, evidence of him all over you.

“Can I take a shower before I leave?”

“Sure.”

You wait.

You look up at Jungkook. “You’re not gonna ask if you can join me?”

“I thought that was clear?”

You smile. “Good.”

“Hey – will you now tell me what you wrote in your journal about me?”

“I know we’re back to being friends with benefits, but please know your place.”

“It was worth a try.”

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yanderenightmare · 2 months ago

Text

♡ TW: implied noncon, hyrbid au, hybrid auction, sex trafficking, suicidal ideations, dystopian laws, subjugation

♡ FEM reader

♡ P2: Clientele

It’s scary being a bunny hybrid—especially in a world where all natural prey is bred and raised like livestock, then handpicked and auctioned off to society's apex predators.

But then again, that’s been reality all your life.

If the choice were up to you, you’d stay at the farm and become a womb for breeders. Granted, they’re a bit intense, but rabbit bucks aren’t so bad. You would spend your days cozy in the hay, barefooted and messy-haired, with other fellow herbivores—all the cows, mares, ewes, and does out on the pasture, kept safe and far removed from the belly of the beast—free to live out your days never once having to lay your round eyes on an apex at all.

But such wasn’t your luck...

Of course, you could have fought. But fighting back is never a good idea—you never know if and when they could decide to send you to the slaughterhouse to make rabbit stew out of you instead— keep your fur to make a coat or carpet. They’ll have better use of you that way than they will with a misbehaving pet, after all.

You think about ending it yourself once you’re sitting in your cage listening to the speaker announce a heifer. That’s how the auction goes—typical farm animals first, other domestic species, then wilder exotic ones.

In an ill-thought way, you wish you were an exotic breed—something with wings or something they’d have to keep in an aquarium—all in all, something a little harder to come by than being a rodent. Rabbits are cute, but they’re a dime a dozen and are usually sold to those who don’t feel like spending too much—trigger-happy hunter types who’re looking for cheap toys that are easily broken and just as easily replaced.

You swallow thickly. Better yet, you wish you were a bigger badder herbivore that required respect—like an elephant or a rhino. No one would mess with you then.

But there’s no point in mulling over what you’re not. You’re prey. That’s just how it is.

But who knows? Maybe it won’t be so bad. You’ve seen someone come back to the farm after being auctioned. She’d lost an ear and could no longer speak, but other than that, she was alive and well…

You reconsider killing yourself. Suppose, the only thing keeping you from going through with it is the option of doing it later if and when it actually proves to be as bad as you imagine. You’ve never been good at making such decisions. Must be that prey mentality.

“Up next, we have a mini lop bunny,” the speaker announces, and you feel your cage move, carrying you into the spotlight where you can only see bright red eyes glaring back at you. You immediately look away.

“Known for their long ears, button nose, and round eyes—not to mention their docile nature. As one of the most popular bunny breeds on the market, mini lops are a house pet staple. Believe it or not, they’re also intelligent and social, thriving on attention, whether that be playing games or cuddling—making them the perfect choice to anyone in want of a domestic companion or a pet toy.”

You sniffle—crying and shivering, curling yourself up in a little ball within your cage, making yourself as small as possible, hiding from the predatory glares you feel surrounding you. You’ve only seen a handful of carnivores before—the shepherd dog that herds the flock back home being the biggest one. You’ve heard wolves are twice the size. Maybe you’ll be lucky and have a heart attack right now before any one of them can make their bids.

But then it starts. One number after the other. It feels over in the blink of an eye.

“Sold!” the speaker calls. “To the fine grizzly gentleman on table nine.”

Your eyes peel from being sealed shut, staring intently at your lap where you sit with your knees tucked to your chest—frozen and tense and teetering on passing out from lack of breath. Grizzly? You gulp with a swallowed whimper. Did you hear that right? As in bear?

“No-” You suddenly understand the point of the chains that had been fixed around your ankles and wrists—given they were the only thing keeping you from thrashing against the bars—breaths hitching as you felt the cage being reeled away to make space for the next one up.

A blanket is thrown over your enclosure, engulfing you in pitch dark before you’re carried off and placed down somewhere. The floor shakes beneath you after a small moment. Something purring underfoot. It feels a little different from the carriage you’re used to but you think you’re being moved.

It’s an hour or so until you feel it come to a halt, at which point your cage is picked up and carried off again, then placed down a few moments later.

You can’t see it, but you can smell it in the air—something dangerous. It must be him. The bear that bought you.

You shield yourself once the drape is lifted and you’re exposed to the light again, squealing, “Please, mister—please don’t eat me. I only eat grass—I wouldn't taste good. And- and—I wouldn’t be very filling anyway–” while trembling underneath the shadow of the apex predator before you.

Your jumping heart was expecting nothing short of instant death, though that’s not what ensued. Instead, there’s an unfamiliar sound. A rumbling. Almost like a growl. It takes a while before you recognize it as laughter.

“Shh, bunny,” the bear chuckles. “Don’t worry—I have no intention of eating you.”

He crouches down before your cage, though still big enough to tower over it.

“After all,” he says. “There would be little point in spending so much on something only so bite-sized.”

Your eyes flicker to his paw, where it jingles with something.

It’s a key.

“How about we get you out of that cage? Those shackles don’t look pleasant. I’ll remove them for you.” He unlocks the gate and swings it open, leaving you room to crawl out.

You don’t know if you should. On the one hand, the cage is keeping you safe, but on the other hand, you doubt you can stay in it forever. And who knows what might happen to his seemingly gracious mood if you refuse him.

“D’you—” It’s a silly question, but you don’t know what else to say. “You promise?”

He makes that sound again. Humored by you, it would seem. “Yes, Bunny, I promise.”

You decide to come out and only feel smaller for it, now exposed. But he keeps his promise, removing your shackles. Your eyes are peeled as he does, watching his claws be so close to you. Thick, long, curled, and black. They would puncture your skin and tear into your meat like it were nothing. You go goosefleshed at the thought.

“They always do these so tight…” he sighs. “Utterly unnecessary for domestic species such as yourself.”

You look up at him at that. He’s done this before, which must mean… “Do you—do you have others?” Or has he had others? Meaning… he doesn’t plan on keeping you around for long.

It’s funny how that overwhelming urge to run makes you go completely numb.

Meanwhile, he looks at you in silence. Surprised at your observation, perhaps, but then he smiles, fangs and all, and you nearly skitter back into your cage.

“You’re quite astute.” Again, he rumbles with a laugh. Then he stands and walks off, setting your cuffs down on a dresser.

You only now realize you’re in a bedroom, of all places.

“I suppose there’s no use in beating around the bush.” He turns around again and leans back against the drawers, arms folded upon his broad chest as he starts explaining, “I run an entertainment business—a fun house of sorts—you might call it a burrow, as my staff is exclusively made up of bunny rabbits such as yourself.”

A burrow? Like back home? Why would a bear be doing that?

“From now on, you’ll work for me. You’ll be trained in the arts of hospitality and pleasure and cater to a clientele of sophisticated apex predators such as myself.”

Hospitality and pleasure? It almost sounds like he means for carnivores to breed with you… But that would be ridiculous. What would be the point? It’s not as if you can carry other litters but kits anyway.

“You look confused,” he chuckles again. “Allow me to explain.” He pushes himself off the dresser. “Unlike most other mammals, bunnies don’t go into heat. No, instead, bunnies are, in many ways, in a state of permanent mating season—which makes you ideal for my intents and purposes.”

You’re not sure you understand what he’s implying. But you’re growing more certain you don’t like it…

“Moreover, bunnies are any hunter’s natural prey,” he continues while walking back toward you. “Making you the perfect meal to fulfill any customer's appetite.”

He pushes the gate of the cage closed, and it clicks back in place, now locked for good and no longer an option of escape, however poor.

“Not to mention…” He smiles again, and this time, you really wish you had a place to hide. “Bunnies are natural sluts.” He crouches back down, closer now, and curls his black claw up under your chin. “All you want is to be fed and bred all day, then fall sound asleep come night.”

You swallow thickly. Your question answered.

“And since you seem to be a smart cookie. I suppose there’d be little point in waiting."

He removes his tie.

"So, let’s start your training right away.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Aizawa ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ BLLK – Aiku ♡ DS – Doma ♡ HxH – Chrollo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

2K notes · View notes

darling-flora · 4 months ago

Text

feather 2

max x yn!singer - social media au

fc: sabrina carpenter

part 1 : HERE

notes: please please please let me know what ya think !!! ❣ rt's are appreciated !!! (i used google translate for some dutch words, so let me know if anything's wrong!!)

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maxverstappen1

Liked by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc and 6,559,944 others

maxverstappen1 3 🏆

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user1 wait is y/n taller or is max shorter ??

↳yourinstagram 7 inch heels 🫣...

user2 PARENTS !!!!

user3 first picture needs to be framed 🥺

yourinstagram love youuuuu 💙

user4 MY GOAT 🐐

user5 TIME FOR 4 🏆🏆🏆🏆

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yourinstagram

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yourinstagram quick trip.... 💋💙

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user1 never looked better !!!

user2 cuties 😪

maxverstappen1 best date ever ❤

liked by yourinstagram

user3 bro why aren't they ever paparazzied together?? like is it PR??? he was papped with his ex....

↳user4 because his ex called the paparazzi..... ↳user5 they both rarely get papped when they are alone so it's the same when they're together, he was ALWAYS papped with his ex so..... put 2 and 2 together 🙃

user6 wearing 7 inch heels only to still be shorter then max🤭

danielricciardo max looks so yummy 🤤

↳yourinstagram he is 😉 ↳danielricciardo ew ↳yourinstagram YOU started it ?? ↳user7 😭😭?

user8 two goats 😋

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yourinstagram

Liked by maxverstappen1, user1 and 8,959,914 others

yourinstagram coachellaaaa weekend 1 & 2 what a dream !! these were two of the most electrifying shows I've ever played 💙!!!!, and I can’t believe you guys were already singing along to espresso (more to come soon 😉). I feel so incredibly lucky to of gotten the honor to perform for you all. thank you to everyone who came to watch and everyone watching at home!!!!

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user1 you ate that mama 🤩

maxverstappen1 wow wow wow my mooie meisje (pretty girl)

maxverstappen1 every time i see you it's like seeing you for the first time

maxverstappen1 y/nchella is going to be the only thing on my mind for awhile....

↳user2 BRO you have practice in CHINA in TWO DAYS ????? IT'S A SPRINT WEEKEND TOO ?!?!?!?!? ↳maxverstappen1 y/n on the mind while driving helps me win ↳user2 ..... ↳user2 i respect it 🤝

maxverstappen1 love you my mooie meisje (pretty girl)

↳yourinstagram love youuuu 😚 ↳yourinstagram i'll be waiting for you in miami 😉 ↳user3 ohhh they freaky 🤭

user4 i've NEVER seen max comment like this before holyyyyy 😭💀

user5 WAIT i thought espresso was a "cute little song" but are we getting a new album soon??

↳user6 she got out of a sh1tty relationship then got into a healthy relationship so i think she has a few things to write about.....😭

user7 espresso the hit that you are!!!!!!!!!

user8 the woman that you are wow wow wow 🤯

user9 the vocals !! the fits !! and the FACE !! TENS across the board 😩

☆ -------------------------------------------------- ☆

voguemagazine

Liked by user1, user2 and 1,959,944 others

voguemagazine While we're patiently waiting for the release of Y/n's album Short n' Sweet, lets go behind the scenes of the 2nd single "Please Please Please"s music video which featured L/n's boyfriend and Three Time Formula One Champion of World Max Verstappen.

"I ended the last video getting arrested, so naturally I thought it would be satisfying to start the 'Please Please Please' video in jail", said the singer. "I liked the idea of falling in love with a convict and being shocked and embarrassed every time he commits crimes. I was sooo lucky to get Max Verstappen in the video 'cause he's a busy guy but I was a little unsure who I wanted to play the guy who I was falling in love with, then I realized "why not have the guy your in love with be the love interest?" and he was instantly down." said the singer after the music video was released.

The video’s director said "The amount of energy and effort he put in while also being conscious of being out of the way or it not being about him, it was great. It’s hard to cast people in general, but to get them that dedicated is unique." he added "During the first few takes before Max got used to having to act, anytime he'd look at Y/n he'd smile and almost like melt so we had to give him a few pointers but after that he killed it" video’s director said about Verstappen.

The director added "The two were professional on camera but after the camera cut they'd laugh and behave as any other couple, it’s super weird and very meta. They’re essentially playing themselves in this really elevated and theatrical way that is not themselves at all. Now there was this responsibility because they’re a couple and they’re being filmed together for the first time in this kind of really big way, so that responsibility of doing them both justice and making them both look amazing and making sure that people understand that this is fiction while keeping it light and lovely became the priority."

Read more -> HERE

view all comments

user1 this bts just told me that they are crazy in love 😭❤

user2 my favorite part was when dua and callum broke up a day after the music video came out

↳user3 then got back together.... just messy 😭 ↳user2 they are prob gonna break up again after the albums out 🤫

user4 max being down to do this is so iconic, also him posting her any chance he gets is my favorite thing!!

user5 it's SOOOO refreshing to see that she's so much more happier in this relationship !! and the fact that he isn't afraid to talk about her

↳user6 they do it very tastefully too!! like anytime i hear something that they've said about each other it always seems so genuine and love filled 🥺❤ ↳user5 this!!! anytime her ex was asked about her he was always so annoyed but when she was asked she would always praise him but he just never did the same 😕

user7 STOPPPP the picture of her hiding behind him is so cute

☆ -------------------------------------------------- ☆

yourinstagram

Liked by maxverstappen1, user1 and 10,959,944 others

yourinstagram Short n’ Sweet is officially yours now!!!

i feel extremely lucky that each time i write a new record i learn a little bit more about myself, and can create from that place. the making of short n’ sweet was one of the most special, honest, up and down, stupid and fun experiences of my life.

thank you to my brilliant talented friends, writers, producers, mixers, engineers, and creative minds that helped me bring this world and these songs to life. not a serious thought was thunk yet somehow they were.. lol i love you all and am so grateful.

I will keep this short n sweet buuuut more soon. go listen now and i hope you love it as much as i do❤

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user1 Your mind ❤️!

maxverstappen1 love you so much. So so proud of you 💙

↳yourinstagram love love love love youuuu , ty for being you 💙

user2 So endlessly proud of you

oscarpiastri Ahhhhhh I'm obsessed!!

↳yourinstagram TYYYYYYY Mr. Pastry 😁

user3 So proud of you and love you endlessly. Can't pick a favorite!!!

user4 i was already obsessed two seconds in to the first song like wow… you are truly unreal. my favorite album to exist

danielricciardo most perfect album of all time

↳yourinstagram ty dannyy ☺

user5 short n sweet = no skips 💋

user6 Wowowow I didn’t skip a single song in this album. 💿 loooove it so much angel.

☆ -------------------------------------------------- ☆

maxverstappen1

Liked by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc and 9,559,944 others

maxverstappen1 So so so proud of you, Short n' Sweet has been on repeat from the second i heard it. Seeing how hard you've worked and how much of yourself you've put into this and being by your side every step of the way has been such a pleasure.

love you y/n 💙

view all comments

maxverstappen1 also, would happily fulfill your wishes of making you juno yourinstagram 😁

↳maxverstappen1 or try some freaky positions... ↳user1 MAXX ?? ↳redbullracing Max, please think of the sponsor's.... ↳maxverstappen1 I'm opening the door to new sponsors.... ↳yourinstagram STOPPPP ↳yourinstagram their gonna take away your social media privilege's 😭 ↳user2 are we ignoring the fact that max said he'd happily impregnate Y/N ?????

user3 the first and last picture's are so cute 😪

user4 i need to be in a relationship NOW 😠

user5 he loves her so bad.... im gonna be single forever 😩

user6 IF A MAN WANTED TOO, HE WOULD!!!

user7 these pic's almost make you forget she's getting freaky deaky on the album

☆ -------------------------------------------------- ☆

enews

Liked by user1, user2 and 1,869,944 others

enews 🚨 BREAKING 🚨 Callum Turner and Dua Lipa have called it quits after a year of on and off dating. The timeline of when the two started dating is unclear but after a dinner in Los Angeles where the two seemed to be having problems the pair left the restaurant at the same time but in separate cars.

Only a day after the break up Turner was seen with a mystery blonde women while Dua Lipa was seen at an airport heading for London.

The relationship seemed to of become rocky after Y/n L/n released her singles "Espresso" and "Please Please Please". Then with the release of Y/n L/n's album Short n’ Sweet which contains multiple songs that are about their relationship.

Do you think it's a "Coincidence" they've broken up multiple time's around the releases' of Y/n L/n's music ?

view all comments

user1 just MESSSYYYY people omg

user2 i do NOT feel bad for either of them 😭

↳user like he fumbled y/n so badddd ↳user also he found a BLONDE girl RIGHT after breaking up with dua.... like im giggling 🤭

user3 a "year of on and of dating" is killinggggg me 💀😂

user4 "you're running so fast from the hearts that you're breakin'" she really clocked his ass 😭

user5 the blonde is allegedly dua's friend..... 😭💀

↳user1 not him pulling a leclerc 🤭

user6 both nobody's without y/n....

user7 "oh, wow, you just broke up again" 😭

☆ -------------------------------------------------- ☆

yourinstagram

Liked by maxverstappen1, user1 and 10,559,944 others

yourinstagram p2 in zandvoort 💙

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user1 SHES BACK AT THE RACES !!!

user2 i know this DIVA 💜!!

maxverstappen1 the most important attendee at any race 😚

↳yourinstagram cutie😘 ↳user3 please be mindful that most of us are single....

user4 no one else could be as iconic of a wag as you are 🙂‍↕️

user5 y/n photo dump is always gonna eat 😩

whitneypeak 😚🤞

user6 move over max

☆ -------------------------------------------------- ☆

enews

Liked by user1, user2 and 1,869,944 others

enews Callum Turner spoke out about his relationship's being in the spotlight, while Turner and Y/n L/n's relationship was private, Callum and Dua Lipa's relationship was a public whirlwind of an on and off relationship.

"I know that people are always going to be curious especially when it's two famous people being seen together [...] I knew that she was going to write music because it's what she does [...] you know she'll do whatever to help her career [...] at the end of they day i wish her all the best."

Y/n L/n has been in a relationship with Three Time Formula One Champion of World Max Verstappen for over a year, the pair haven spoken very highly of each other and the two have supported each other’s careers. While some of her songs off her recent album Short n’ Sweet like Taste, Coincidence, and Dumb & Poetic are about Turner, the more playful and loving songs like Espresso, Bed Chem, and Juno are about Verstappen.

What do you think about Turners comments?

view all comments

user1 "two famous people" when no one knew who he was until they started dating....

↳user2 i remember a director saying they didn't know who he was, then y/n introduced callum to the director, the director knew who she was because his daughter was a fan... 🤭

user3 he cheated on y/n then had the balls to say "she'll do whatever to help her career" ????? he needs to be serious

user4 "If you don't wanna cry to my music, don't make me hate you prolifically" 🫣

user5 bro can't even say her name he knows he fumbled 😭

user6 he should've kept his mouth shut 🙄

☆ -------------------------------------------------- ☆

max1.jpg

Liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 1,335,690 others

max1.jpg no need to wish because she is/has it

view all comments

user1 WHACK #HIM AGAIN MAX!!

user2 if i was dating y/n i too would post her every second i got

user3 WAIT did yall get a puppy

↳max1.jpg we have FOUR cats, we do not need a dog... ↳yourinstagram you hate me 😔 ↳max1.jpg maybe after the tour... ↳yourinstagram YIPPEE 🥳

user4 HE'S SO PETTY OMG 😭

user5 thank you max for standing up for our girlfriend 😚 THAT guy needed to be humbled

↳max1.jpg 🫡

user6 he lovessss her so much 😪

user7 im the reason for 1 billion streams btw😁

user8 "at the end of they day i wish her all the best" and max shut his ass up 🤭

user9 the only woman ever 🙂‍↕️ (im a woman)

☆ -------------------------------------------------- ☆

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfiction #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen smau #max verstappen fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen fluff #mv1 x reader #mv1 fanfiction #max verstappen imagine #f1 grid x reader #max verstappen fake instagram #max vertsappen fic #f1 smau

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rosyblooom · 1 year ago

Text

losing ur interest | op81 smau

PAIRING: oscar piastri x fem best friend!reader WARNING(S): kinda angsty SUMMARY: oscar spent the better half of his teens and early twenties pining after his best friend, y/n, with no luck. however, by the time y/n finally sees him in a romantic light, his love is long gone.

Instagram

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, lilymhe, and 91,740 others

yourusername did i jump in the water fully clothed for my bestie only to get one nice shot?? yes yes i did that and u would do it too for a free dinner! 😌

view all 1,225 comments

username she was an employee! and she was gonna get employee of the month period y/n !!!

yourusername yessir🫡 username 🤣🤣

username so... where is this picture you speak of🧍‍♀️

oscarpiastri 40 cad of food for 1 pic...😐

yourusername not my fault u're so unphotogenic x username oscar bby the public would like to see it pls 🤲🧎‍♀️

username prettyyyy

landonorris the camera guy always gets the short end of the stick smh guess who paid for my food🤨

yourusername uhm... so anyway the weather was soo nice😋 landonorris woow

oscarpiastri posted to his story!

[ caption: This picture alone is NOT worth a fully paid meal! 2/10 ]

[ tagged: yourusername ]

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, yourfriend, landonorris and 265,880 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri Two best friends in a room, they might...

view all 3,002 comments

username KISS OMG THEY MIGHT FUCKING KISS YESS PLS😭

oscarpiastri 👀👀👀 yourusername ahahahahahaha😂 username ouch...my heart hurts for osc🥹💔 username alright y/n it ain't that funny😐

username AHHJKSH they're so cute omfg

username slowly realising best friends to lovers ain't ever gonna happen with these two😩

landonorris finally give photo credits???🤨

username oop yourusername never 😙❤️

username the way y/n didn't even like the post omg crying and fucking throwing up

username 😭😭 username sigh... nobody talk to me rn 😞

f1gossipofficial

liked by username, username, username and 11,840 others

f1gossipofficial Y/N L/N, Oscar Piastri's long-time childhood best friend, was spotted entering the paddock today! Despite being a fan favourite, she hasn't attended many races and tends to keep to herself.

Nevertheless, fans are thrilled to see Y/N supporting Piastri at this year's Australian Grand Prix!

Best of luck to all drivers today!

view all 531 comments

username y/n on insta: 🤪😆🗣️ y/n at a gp: 🤐😊🙈

username LMAOO ...why is this me tho🥲 username she's so real for that lololol username ntm on my girl now, she's just shy🤣🫶

username it's so clear oscar's in love with her omg

username she's not tho☹️

username imagine if oscar wins today👀👀

username she looks so prettyyyyy <3

username ew she's just there for the money and fame🤢

username "long-term childhood best friend" what's not clicking??? yall just be saying anything smh

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption: alright boys, time to get on ur zoom 🏎️ ]

[ tagged: oscarpiastri, landonorris ]

Twitter

Instagram

oscarpiastri posted to his story!

[ caption 1: When your best friend buys you pizza to make you feel better after a crash 😊 ] [ caption 2: Nevermind she dropped it 🤦‍♂️ Actually feeling worse now! ]

[ tagged: yourusername ]

A few months later...

Instagram

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption: the best type of mattress 😌 ]

[ tagged: oscarpiastri ]

ynfanpage

liked by username, username, yourusername and 3,892 others

tagged: yourusername, oscarpiastri

ynfanpage guys have you noticed how giddy and touchy y/n's become around oscar ever since his crash at the aus gp??? these are some pics she's posted since then👀👀👀

view all 227 comments

username OMG YES IVE BEEN DYING TO TALK ABOUT IT

username what do you wanna bet she realised she was in love with osc that day??🥺

username IMAGINE. that would actually make so much sense!!! best friend to lovers at last omfg 😍🫶 username my nonna always said "sometimes u have to almost lose someone to realise how much they really mean to u"🥹

username Y/N IS IN THE FUCKING LIKES WTF‼️

username probably by accident🥲 username BUT WHAT IF IT'S NOT AN ACCIDENT??? maybe we'll get a hard launch soon omgg

username they're sooo dating lol

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, lilyzneimer, logansargeant and 201,888 others

tagged: yourusername, lilyzneimer + more

oscarpiastri Made some new friends at the beach today :)

view all 1,962 comments

username the vibes in these are immaculate🤩

yourusername same time, same place? :)❤️

landonorris where was my invite???

oscarpiastri Non-existent 😊 username lmaoo why are they like this🤣🤣

username is that y/n and osc in the third pic??🧐

username idk but lmk when u figure it out babes

lilyzneimer super fun! nice meeting you guys 💛

oscarpiastri You too 😆

username idk oscar responding to everybody but y/n's comment rubs me the wrong way...🤨

Instagram

lilyzneimer posted to her story!

[ caption: 🍝💛💛 ]

Instagram

yourusername

liked by landonorris, lilymhe, riabish and 82,045 others

yourusername beach x (ty lovely waiter for taking my pic for me)

view all 1,528 comments

lilymhe prettiest! 💕

yourusername youuu <33

username where's oscarrrr

username she's so fake😒 how is she super shy at the gp and then so outgoing here smh??

username lmao maybe bc this is her own insta?? like duh she feels comfortable on her own page wtf

landonorris alone?🤨 where's your shadow

yourusername u're so...😭 username LMAOO referring to oscar as her shadow is crazy??💀💀 username i'm cryin🤣🤣

oscarpiastri posted to his story!

[ caption: 😊❤️ ]

[ tagged: lilyzneimer ]

Twitter

Instagram

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption: girls night in? yes, yes pls :) ]

[ tagged: yourfriend + more ]

0:02 ㅇ──────────── 3:17

no part 2!

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atlasmoonglade · 10 months ago

Text

University AU Enemies to lovers

Joost Klein x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, PiV (protected), 18+ only

It's a Friday evening, soft music is playing through the speakers on Max's desk, mixing in with the chatter of your friends. Everyone is sitting in different spaces around the room, some on the desk, some on Max's bed, you and Olivia rest on Max's roommate’s bed. Red solo cups of beer are scattered amongst the room. It was calm and then the door swung open.

"Yooo!!" The entering voice rang, instantly earning a happy response from Max, who hops off his bed and heads towards the entrance.

“Joost!” Max exclaims, arms open wide to embrace his friend. “Where the hell you have been, man?”

"Consider my good time ruined" you mutter.

"Be nice" Olivia pats your knee.

"I am always nice. It's him who always starts shit. That di-"

"Hey, Y/N" Joost greets, taking a seat on the opposite bed. "Hey, Olivia."

"Hey, Joost" Olivia smiles. When you don't say anything, she nudges her elbow into your side.

You roll your eyes. "Hi, Joost"

"C'mon, that's all I get?" he teases. "What's wrong? You tired?"

"You have no idea" you say, finally looking at him. He is wearing a green long sleeve polo shirt and a hat, his blond messy hair sticking out the front it.

"Aw, is it past your bed time?"

"And the day is just starting for you? Let me guess, you just rolled out of bed."

"Oh, God" someone says "Here they go again."

"Max invited me here. I am more fun than someone who sits with a sour face all the time."

"Why are you talking to me? Don't you have anything better to do?"

"You know" Max says. "if you two just - I'm gonna say it - fucked one good time. You would get over this rivalry already."

Your jaw drops, you look at Olivia, who just shrugs.

"Don't ever say that again, Max. Ew" you say disgusted at the thought.

"Ew?" Joost says offended. "You would be lucky if I even considered it."

Your jaw drops even lower. "You arrogant asshole" you sit down straight. "And this is who you all want around?"

"Stop it you two." someone says.

You can't see yourself ever getting along with him. This "rivalry" as your friends call it has started a long time ago. During the first week of introductions, he asked you to speak louder, which completely messed up your track of thought and earned some laughs from the auditory. So, after the first homework tasks, you called his presentation uninspiring and poorly structured. He took the last internship place, which he knew you wanted. So, you assigned to write the final paper with the professor, he was planning to ask. You showed his old embarrassing Youtube videos to a girl he wanted to ask out, which lead to her blocking his number. So, he fucked your roommate, while you were still in the room. He calls you short tack, princess, anything but your name, making fun of the fact that he is taller than you. List of insults you call him is too long.

"I'm gonna head out" you stand up to leave.

"I'll come with you" Olivia left with you.

You take your favorite seat in the auditorium, noise of chatting students around you as you take out your laptop. The professor walks in, prepared to start the lecture. The room falling into gradual silence, then the door opens and Joost walks in. You watch him take his place further up, he notices you looking and flips you off. You mock him and flip him off back.

At the end of the lecture professor announces "As you all know the final paper consists of a group presentation. I took liberty and divided you into pairs. I will also email you the list." he pulls up the list on the projector screen. You search for your name. As soon you see it, the color drains from your face.

No. No, this must be a mistake.

A groan is heard from the back of the auditorium. "Professor, I am not working with her." Joost says annoyance clear in his voice. "Switch me to be with someone else."

You are sat in disbelief that you got assigned to write the final paper with Joost.

"This is a final list." Professor looks at the whole class. "Drop this attitude and act like grownups."

As the lecture ends, you hurry to the professors desk. "Sir, this is not going to work. He is going to sabotage my results. Can I just switch with someone?" you look at him with pleading eyes. "Anyone else."

"I assigned pairs randomly, so everyone has equal chances. You have to learn to work with everyone." he says. "This is final."

Joost rushes past us towards the exit. You roll your eyes. This can't be happening.

You meet with Olivia and tell her everything. She laughs in shock at first, but then insists you'll be fine, that you are adults and both want this done one way or another. You knew it’d be a miracle if Joost and you made it through 15 minutes of working on something together.

You and Joost still haven't talked about it, as if pushing it to the last minute would solve the problem. It is halloween night, you are getting ready for the party, your costume is inspired by Britney Spears in her music video Baby one more time. You finish braiding your hair into two braids, fix your skirt, wait for Olivia and you head out to the party.

Loud music, neon lights, you already had a couple of drinks, feeling a nice buzz. Someone from the group of your friends suggests to play Spin the bottle.

"Hell yeah, let's do it." Max puts his hand around you. "C'mon grumps, you joining us?"

You push his hand away. "I am" you make kissing face at him. "Always dreamt of kissing you" your voice full of sarcasm. You and Max burst out laughing.

Your usual group of friends and a few people you met at the party find space in the house to set up the game, music still loud around you. Olivia brings the bottle, as you are all sitting in a circle, ready to start.

"Is there still space for me?" a voice behind you asks. You turn around to see Joost, his face painted to resemble a skull, he is wearing a black suit, which doesn't properly fit him and a red tie.

"Sure, man! We've been looking for you." Max makes room for Joost to sit next to him, opposite of you.

"I was a little busy with this girl I met." he says as he sits down. "Glad I found you guys just in time." his eyes find yours and he smirks.

"We are so lucky" you say contemplating if you should just leave. Olivia looks at you shaking her head as if trying to tell you "don't start it again", you roll your eyes.

For the past 15 minutes there was a lot of cheering as people kiss. Some give just a little peck, others fully commit, tongue and all. Max is currently making out with a girl from an acting class. Her hands are in his hair as they deepen the kiss.

"Okay okay. I am afraid you will start fucking soon." someone says. "I am not drunk enough to see that."

Everyone laughs and they pull apart, going back to their places.

It is your turn to spin the bottle, you down your drink and reach for the bottle. You give it a good spin, watching it, already knowing you will just give a little peck to whoever it lands on. The bottle slows and comes to a stop. You follow the neck of the bottle, it points to Joost. Everyone erupts into loud cheering and whistling.

"Finally!" someone says.

You look at Joost. Universe must be punishing you for something.

"Bring it on, princess." he messes up his hair. "Hope it's not gonna be your first kiss." he licks his lips.

"Pass." you say with a smile and cross your arms against your chess.

"No, that's not how this works" Max chimes in. "No skipping your turn."

You groan and look at the ceiling hoping you can just die on the spot.

Joost stands up and offers you his hand. "We will go somewhere private. Won't give you all a show. It is her first time, has to be special."

"Oh, shut up" you say. "Let's just move on, everyone"

"Just trust me." he kneels down next to you. "Can you do that for once?" he says looking into your eyes.

You stand up without his help and head towards the first room you see, you can hear his footsteps behind you.

You walk in and close the door behind you as he walks towards the window.

"I am not kissing you." you say.

"I wasn't planning on that" he replies and opens the window, he takes out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, puts one in between his lips and reaches for a lighter.

"You should quit that." you point at the cigarette in between his fingers.

He chuckles and takes a drag of a cigarette as you stand in silence.

"About that presentation.. " you start.

"I emailed the head of the department asking to let us switch partners." he looks down at his shoes. "He said no"

You look at him with your eyes wide.

"You would hate to work with me that much?" you ask shocked he went that far.

"I was doing it for the both of us. You know it would be a disaster. But since we are stuck together, promise me you won't fuck this up for us." he lifts his head up to look at you.

All of your anger returns. You can't believe you were about to offer him to put your differences behind you.

"Fuck you, Joost. Why do you think I would be the one to fuck this up? You are the unreliable one. Always gone somewhere doing fuckall with whoever." your hands ball into fists. "Fuck you" you say again and storm out of the room.

You leave the party without saying bye to anyone, you just need to go back to your room to calm down.

The street you walk back to the dorm is silent, lit up only by sporadic streetlights. It's late enough that everyone is already asleep or partying. Your head clears from the alcohol. You are deep in your thoughts, and suddenly you hear fast approaching footsteps behind you. You don't have enough time to realise what is happening, you feel a heavy hand on your shoulder. A flight or fight response kicks in and you scream, turn around and throw a punch, not risking waisting time to think about it.

Your fist connects with something.

"Ouch. You fucking bitch" you open your eyes to see Joost holding his cheek. It's not until you smell a familiar scent, cigarettes with cologne, your panic subsides a little. You think of how stupid your argument over the presentation was. The fear of being robbed or worse, has made you realise that Joost is not the enemy and never has been. Your hands start to shake and you burst into tears.

And then you hug him, your arms tight around his middle, he tenses but then wraps an arm around you, feeling you tremble.

"Hey, hey" his voice getting soft. "What's wrong with you" his other hand is still holding his cheek.

"I thought you were a murderer." you let go of him, still shaking.

"I called your name, you didn't hear?"

"No" you say "What are you doing here anyway?"

"No one knew where you disappeared to. I went looking for you." he says letting go of his cheek. The paint of a skull on his face has rubbed off from sweat throughout the night and you can see hints of red from where you hit. You start to feel sorry and embarrassed that you reacted that way. You reach out to him, but drop your hand before it reaches to touch his cheek.

"Let's not tell anyone about this." he suggests. "We can't give them the satisfaction of knowing you hit me"

It draws a laugh out of you and it makes him grin.

"It's the least I can do. I really am sorry, Joost."

"You are nuts for reacting like this...but I really didn't mean to scare you." he says. "Let me walk you home."

You walk together in silence.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier at the party." he says suddenly. "I realise I was kind of an asshole"

"Kind of?"

"Ok, yeah, I overreacted. I guess what i'm trying to say is.. Let's just do that presentation and not kill each other. I already felt your knuckles on my face, don't want that again"

You look at him, seeing the red mark again. "My room. 7pm tomorrow. Let's at least start it"

Olivia left to go to a friend’s place, you changed into comfortable pants and a cropped sweater. You sit at your desk, and wait. You’d told Joost to come at 7.

There is a knock at 7:14.

"Come in" you say slight annoyance in your voice.

"I'm sorry, short stack"

"I was starting to think you weren't gonna come" you turn in your chair to face him.

"I'm here now" he says taking a seat next to you, smell of cigarettes filling the space.

"I started writing a rough plan." you show him what you wrote on your laptop.

After 30 minutes of you two working out an agenda for the presentation, Joost leans back on his chair. "Wow"

It makes you look at him. "What?"

"Look at us. Not arguing"

"It's only been like half an hour" you look at your watch. "The night is young"

Maybe he has brain damage from the punch, but he can’t lie to himself, that night after the party shifted things. Seeing you so terrified caused a change in him. Feeling your arms around him, clinging to him and trembling so hard, softened him towards you.

He catches himself thinking you look so good all wrapped up in your shared work. He hooks his foot around the leg of your chair and pushes you closer to him.

"What are you doing?" you push yourself back.

"Why are you so far away from me?"

"I am not. I am an appropriate distance from you." you look at him as if he is crazy.

He pushes you closer again and leans in. He acts on an instinct, closes the distance between you and crashes his lips against yours. You press your hands against his chest and push away.

"What the hell was that?" you ask touching your lips.

He is just as speechless as you are. Speechless, and confused, and out of breath, and so pretty. Has he always been that pretty?

You grab onto the hem of his shirt and pull him back in, pressing your lips together in an aggressive collision. Joost's hands grip your waist and he urges you to straddle him. Without breaking the kiss you put your legs on each side of his and sit on top of his thighs. He grips your hair and deepens the kiss, earning a moan from you, which makes him push up into your clothed core. You feel him hardening.

Joosts hands slide down to your thighs, he scoops you up in his arms, standing up and lifting you up with him. Your legs are wrapped around his torso, your hands on his shoulders. He supports your weight so easily, all while sliding his tongue into your mouth. He carries you over to the bed, dropping you on top of the mattress. He looks down at you with a grin.

"These fuckers were right." he laughs. "We needed this" he leans back to you, his hands sneaking beneath your sweater, pushing it up until your bra is revealed. He looks into your eyes. "Is this okay?"

"Yes" you moan, "Please".

His pushes your bra down, enough to reveal your chest. His lips wrap around your nipple, wetting it with his tongue and applying light suction. A soft moan left your mouth, and you grip onto his hair. He can't stop himself from smiling. He sucks harder, just to hear you make some noise. Any noise.

You rubbed your thighs together for some relief. Joost noticed this and proceeded to stick his hand down your pants, fingers sliding underneath the band of your underwear. He smirks at how soaked you were already and rubs your clit as he licks a trail up to your neck. You tighten your thighs around his hand, gasping at the friction and pulling at the bedsheets. His cock is pressed against the zipper of his jeans, getting to the point that it was excruciating. So, as he massaged your clit, he undid his pants and pushed them down his legs.

"Do you want to do this?" he looks at you.

"Yes." you reply with no hesitation. "Condoms are in the drawer."

He gets off the bed, finds the pack of condoms, tears the foil with his teeth, and watches you as he rolls the condom on himself. You’re absolutely gorgeous, better than he could have ever imagined.

"How do you want me, princess?” The nickname finally getting a new meaning.

"However you want it.”

"We are doing acrobatics then"

It startles a laugh out of you, and Joost thinks he might love that—the way he makes you laugh.

He takes off your pants together with the underwear, bends your leg, pushes it away from him, closer to you, which reveals your slick core to him.

“Gotta tell me how you want me, and fucking quick.” he groans, just the view of you makes him do mathematics in his head to stop from cumming on the spot.

"Missionary works me." you prop yourself on your elbows.

So he climbs onto you. He kneels between your legs, then pushes them apart obscenely wide. You stay propped up on your elbows, watching him, but when he settles between your thighs, you fall back against your pillow.

“Good?” he asks.

"You haven’t done much,” you point out.

"Smart-ass.” He reaches down and grasps his cock at the base, and drags the tip through your folds. He coats himself in your arousal, feels the heat of your pussy even through the latex, then notches himself at your entrance. He looks down and pushes into you. He goes slow but steady, and he hears a small gasp fall from your lips.

He remembers the way you clung to him that night, and he wants to capture that feeling again.

He picks up a steady pace, holding your legs apart, kissing your neck. One of his hands makes its way to your clit again, you arch your back as he starts to draw circles around it.

He feels you clench around him. "Joost. I'm so close" you moan and he watches you come undone beneath him, proud of himself — to the point of cockiness. Giving you a few more forceful pumps, he hides his face in your neck, and releases himself into the condom.

You want to remember this forever. Him panting, moaning in your ear. He taps the side of your thigh, pulls out and throws out the condom. You watch him pull up his jeans and sit down at the desk again.

"Let's do this thing"

You and Joost are sitting next to each other in the cafeteria. Max and Olivia join you.

"Look, both are still alive!" Max jokes.

"How did it go yesterday?" Olivia asks looking between the two of you.

A deep blush spreads across your cheeks.

"Wait." Max looks at you, then at Joost. "Did you two...?"

"No way!" Olivia gasps.

"Ok, shut up guys." Joost says

"You owe me 20 bucks" Max says to Olivia.

"Fuck!" Olivia exclaims

"You bet on us?"

"Last year!" Max takes the money from Olivia.

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost klein smut #my writing

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demonslayedher · 2 months ago

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Remember that Fate Swap AU?

Yeah. It still has some hold on my imagination, and it suddenly hit me one day how isolating that immediate aftermath would have been for these two. Their bond is gonna be so tight.

If you don't want to read the original 17,000 word AU post, see below the explanation of what's going on.

***

The premise was that the characters who canonically died in the Infinity Castle & Sunrise Countdown get to live, and vice versa, with the caveat being that Nezuko was not part of the battle so she gets to live (going by Anon's prompt). The Ask was about the aftermath so most of the AU is about the aftermath, but at this point in AU:

--Zenitsu died of his injuries from fighting Kaigaku, told Yushiro to go save the woman he loves --Yushiro saves Tamayo by getting the secret!medicine from Kanao, changes Tamayo into a human against her will and gets absorbed by Muzan while saving her --Inosuke saves Shinobu (scarring her face in the process) but dies fighting Douma --Muichiro loses an arm in the fight against Kokushibo, but he and Genya are otherwise intact, and Sanemi dies after managing a few words to Genya --After Muzan is defeated, Giyuu collapses and holds Tanjiro's hand, apologizes for being unable to protect him, and dies --Himejima holds on (but falls unconscious), withstanding injury and the mark --Iguro and Mitsuri are comatose and shredded, but they have all their limbs and are alive --When Tanjiro changed, Muichiro noticed and fought him first, Genya and anybody else still standing tried to help, but ultimately Kanao saw that while he had still freshly changed, there was still a chance to stop him if his head was cut off at exactly the right spot --But getting that shot meant Tanjiro had a better shot at her heart

And then in the aftermath of the AU, we followed a bunch of their interactions and wound up with: --So many complicated feelings about what they've all been through (and like, how Tanjiro ended up a murderer) --After going through a depressive episode, Shinobu has a renewed sisterly relationship with Aoi, to whom she gifted Kanao's butterfly hairpiece. Kiyo, Sumi, and Naho go to school like regular children, with Shinobu having rejected Tengen's offer to adopt them. Shinobu has prominent facial scars, wears Tamayo's hairpin, and extremely occasionally, Inosuke's mask. --After some attempt at backing out, ObaMitsu survives and makes good on their promise. They assumed he totally lost his vision and she lost her womb, but neither ever asked for the medical details to be sure, so they are very happily surprised when it is revealed that he still has some vision (they can look forward to other happy surprises later). Also, Tamayo figured out how to treat The Mark, so yay. --Muichiro, Genya, and Nezuko are handling things pretty well, all things considered. They more or less become sworn siblings (Senjuro, a literature fanboy, sort of fanboys over their bond). Nezuko wears Giyuu's (repaired but too big for her) haori and reads scraps of a book called "The Legend of Zenitsu" which a sparrow collects for her. Muichiro wears braids like Mitsuri used to because he finds it funny. He is of course not the one who braids his own hair. Genya has no style updates. --Hear me out, but... I kind of wound up pairing Himejima and Tamayo?????? And I, who am not much of a shipper and generally only tend to go for canon pairings, really kind liked it????????????? Even though I otherwise would never????????? Like??? They have a son and his name is Chachamaru. Plus they pretty much adopted Muichiro, Genya, and Nezuko and they all live in the Kamado house. But if you asked them if they're a couple, they're like, "???? ew no ?????" SO YUSHIRO IS PISSED BEYOND THE GRAVE, RIGHT!? --Well, yes, at the very end --Like --I really, really liked the short conclusion I wrote that takes place in hell --Basically like --Yeah --I loved it --Hashira, and like --Tanjiro, and pals, but like, Muzan, and, yeah

#this took me weeks #and I think the original sketch was from four months ago?#what even is time #what even was this AU #the 'I hacked a tree to bits so you can have syrup' feelings still rings true #what an Evil Ask from an Evil Anon #my art #my nice art #my fics #more or less #tamayo #kamado nezuko #and the rest #I don't even know #I DON'T EVEN

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chogiwow · 2 months ago

Text

hold me, heal me | jake sim

pairing: jake x gn!reader (ft. jay's cameo)

wc: 9.1k+

genre: angst; sickfic; hurt-comfort

au: exes to lovers

warnings: both mc and jake are emotionally constipated for most part of the fic, jake is sick, mentions of food, yn is a sort of brusque caretaker, mentions of nudity, kissing and making out but jake is still sick ew but that’s on being in love ig, jake also contemplates murder (it's just my attempt at humor), not proofread

a/n: i’m sick atm so yayyy :d anyway, busted this out in one sitting idek what happened

one.

jake contemplates ignoring the doorbell, the very sound of it making him snort out in mild annoyance. the weighted blanket around his frame feels warm, his feet peeking out against the soft kiss of the spring breeze.

he smells kind of mouldy, like a day-old dusty bookshelf, his fingers sport a fine sheen of oil when he rubs it across his face and his lips feel too dry. the bell rings again – he contemplates a silent murder this time.

against his will, he finds himself dragging his body out from under the comfort of his toasty blanket, sniffling and letting out a violent sneeze and somehow that hurts his throat. still, he persists, stumbling across the cool tile floors of his tiny apartment, heaving his body in his feverish state and unlocking the door with a heavy sigh.

the frown on his face drops too quickly – and again, it is against his will. not that he’s complaining this time around, because it’s you. you’re standing there; even after he blinks his eyes and squints at your face, you’re still standing there. it’s you. and he had just contemplated your murder not even minutes ago – he suddenly wants to apologise.

jake doesn’t know what to say. his throat is scratchy, thick with the remnants of sleep and sickness, but even if it weren’t, he’s pretty sure words would still fail him.

because you’re here, and he doesn’t know why.

his feverish brain scrambles for an explanation – maybe you forgot something here (impossible, you never leave things behind), or maybe you’re lost (equally impossible, you know your way around his place better than he does), or maybe you’[re here to finally cut him out of your life forever (uh, probably possible).

jake swallows. his throat protests, burning raw.

“you look disgusting,” you say, finally breaking the silence.

wow, you’ve really outdone yourself. maybe you’re taking the ‘just friends’ part a bit too literally, but even so, you won’t say that to any friend of yours. but this is jake, your ex – your ex you met again after a year not even two months ago, your ex who you had a long deep talk not even two weeks ago, your ex who, in said talk, spilled his guts out for you (literally and figuratively) over a late night drink, your ex who reluctantly promised to stay friends with because he would do whatever you told him.

jake exhales a short laugh, the sound raspy and strained. “glad to know i’m still leaving an impression.”

you roll your eyes, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. there’s something tight in your chest, something uneasy about the way he looks – pale, sweat-damp, like he’s been marinating in sickness for hours without bothering to take care of himself. which, knowing him, is probably exactly the case.

“you haven’t eaten, have you?”

jake, stubborn as ever, lifts his chin. “i had a banana.”

you glance past him, into the dim apartment, where his couch is buried under a heap of blankets, and his coffee table is cluttered with an empty cup and what looks like an unopened packet of instant ramen.

“right,” you deadpan, stepping forward without waiting for an invitation. he moves aside automatically, like he’s too feverish to even pretend to stop you.

the air inside is warm, a little stale. you wrinkle your nose, setting the plastic bag down on his kitchen counter before turning back to him.

“you look worse than i thought.”

“you mentioned that already,” he mutters, rubbing his temple. “why are you even here?”

that question. you expected it, but it still sits heavy in your stomach.

“i was in the neighborhood.”

jake gives you a flat look. “you don’t live anywhere near here.”

you press your lips together. fine. he’s not going to let you get away with that one.

“i heard you were sick.”

this is a truth. honestly, it was your precious weekend after a long week of gruelling workload, you were planning on staying in and commit fully to the homebody tag you proudly wore like an honor, but ever since getting an urgent call from jay – who was the usual caretaker in your friend group – informing you in a voice filled with worry that he was out of town and somehow jake had ended up sick and how he couldn’t be there and how jake wouldn’t let anyone take care of him anyway, you had ended up pacifying your friend that you would drop by at his place.

jake lets out a slow breath, leaning against the doorframe. the way he looks at you makes your throat tighten – like he’s trying to decipher something, trying to read between the lines of what you’re really saying.

he won’t push, though. he never does.

instead, he just nods, running a hand over his face. “well. that explains a lot.”

you arch a brow. “like what?”

“like why i thought i was hallucinating when i saw you at my door.”

your lips twitch, but you bite back the urge to smile. “maybe you are.”

jake hums, as if seriously considering that possibility. his feverish eyes flicker over you, lingering like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks too long. you can’t blame him. this – being here, stepping into his space again – is uncharted territory, and neither of you know what to do with it.

you clear your throat, turning away before the weight of his gaze unsettles you too much. “sit down,” you say, already moving toward his tiny kitchen.

jake doesn’t argue. he trudges back to his couch, collapsing onto it with a groan. he watches you from beneath his blankets, eyes hooded with exhaustion.

“you don’t have to do this,” he says after a moment. his voice is quieter now, almost careful.

you pause, rummaging through the bag you brought. “i know.”

it’s the truth. you don’t have to be here. you didn’t have to spend your saturday trekking across the city, picking up soup from that overpriced place he likes, remembering that he doesn’t like ginger in it, showing up at his door despite every logical reason not to.

but here you are.

you hear him sigh, long and tired. maybe he understands that arguing is pointless. maybe he’s just too sick to fight you on it. either way, he doesn’t protest when you kneel in front of the coffee table and open the container of soup, letting the steam curl into the air.

“eat,” you tell him, pushing the spoon toward him.

he looks at it, then at you. “you’re kind of bossy.”

“you’re kind of impossible.”

jake chuckles, though it quickly turns into a cough. he takes the spoon from you, fingers brushing against yours for the briefest second. it doesn’t mean anything. it doesn’t.

you tell yourself that as you watch him take the first sip, his shoulders sagging as the warmth settles in his chest.

“better?” you ask, voice softer than you mean for it to be.

jake doesn’t answer right away. he just looks at you, something unreadable in his fever-glazed eyes. then he smiles, small and a little lopsided.

“yeah,” he murmurs. “better.”

jake eats slowly, his movements sluggish from the fever. you sit across from him, arms crossed, watching the way he cradles the bowl in his hands like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered. it’s strange – being here again, in his space, close enough to remember how he used to lean against your shoulder whenever he was sick, how he always got clingy when he had a fever, how he used to–

you stop the thought before it can go any further.

“you’re staring,” jake mutters, glancing at you over the rim of his bowl.

“i’m making sure i keep up my end of the promise i made to jay. seriously, you can't still be this childish, refusing to even go to a hospital. what do you expect, that you’ll just get better if you rot in a bed for a few days without anyone to look after you–”

your words are harsh, you can feel them scratch your throat with their thorns, but they come out of a place of genuine concern and mild bewilderment at jake’s stubbornness. so you hope that at least a few of those thorns get stuck in your throat, for his sake at least.

“what about you?”

you blink at the interruption, lips parted midway forming your sentence. jake notices, shoving a mouthful of soup that burns his tongue before explaining.

“when you were in japan, you lived alone too. what did you do when you got sick…or, was there someone to take care of you?”

it's easy to pass off the quietness with which the question comes out to his raspy throat, but it does nothing to soften the sudden drop in your stomach that resounds like a gong in your ears.

“how did you know i lived alone?”

i asked jay.

“jay told me.”

jake blows on his next spoonful of soup, waiting patiently for you to answer. did you have someone to take care of you?

you hesitate for a moment, caught between the truth and something easier.

“no,” you finally say. “i took care of myself.”

jake hums, like that answer is enough. like it doesn't leave a hole in the conversation. you expect him to drop it, but then—

“that must’ve been hard.”

you exhale through your nose. “it was fine.”

“liar,” he says, not unkindly. he sets the bowl down with a quiet clink, watching you with that same unreadable expression. fevered, but sharp. "you always hated being sick. said it made you feel helpless."

the words come from somewhere too familiar, a piece of history you thought had been buried. because he’s right. you did say that – once, a long time ago, wrapped up in his sheets with a fever of your own, curled up against the warmth of his body as he pressed a damp towel to your forehead. you hated it, the vulnerability of it all, the way it made you feel like you couldn’t move forward. jake had laughed back then, brushing the hair out of your face, promising you’d get through it together.

but there was no together anymore.

"excuse me?" your voice is sharp, defensive before you can stop it. but jake doesn’t flinch, doesn’t backtrack. he just keeps looking at you, feverish but steady, like he’s seeing through every wall you’ve built.

“you hate being alone,” he says simply. “you always have.”

your fingers curl against your palm, nails pressing into your skin. the room feels too warm now, the scent of soup thick in the air, pressing against your ribs. you don't know if it's his fever or yours, but suddenly, it feels like you can't breathe.

“i got used to it,” you say, and it’s meant to sound indifferent, like a shrug. but it doesn’t. it sounds tired.

jake watches you carefully, then sets the bowl down on the table with a quiet clink. his fingers trace the rim absentmindedly. “doesn’t mean it stopped hurting.”

you push yourself up, dusting imaginary lint off your jeans. "i’ll get you some water."

jake doesn’t stop you, but you can feel his gaze following you as you move around his tiny kitchen, familiar in ways you wish it wasn’t. your hands know exactly where to reach, where the glasses are, how the faucet squeaks if you turn it too fast. it’s ridiculous.

and he wonders what you might have gone through yourself. here, he had the safety of his friends, a reliable, if not burdensome indulgence for him. one call, and he was sure one friend or another would drop by if he was sick.

you however, had been all alone in a new country. new job, new people, new place, an unfamiliar language and no friends to call upon. did you let yourself rot in bed too? he wanted to ask you so much, but he still didn’t feel like he had the right to pry into your life yet.

it’s been a year since you broke up, two months since you met again, two weeks since you had that conversation – one where he admitted things you weren’t sure you wanted to hear, and you promised things you weren’t sure you could keep.

and now you were here, refilling his glass like no time had passed at all.

jake watches you carefully, his fever-flushed face softening in a way you don’t quite know how to deal with. his gaze lingers – not in the sharp, teasing way he would look at you, but in a quiet, searching way, like he’s seeing something in you he hadn’t noticed before.

placing the glass on the table, you make a final attempt at saving yourself. you’re not sure what you need saving from, jake is the one who’s sick, if anything you have the upper hand here (again, you don’t why you need a upper hand in the first place), but jake’s sudden intervention had rattled you nonetheless. the way he kept on seeing through you like he knew you better than the back of his hand, even when all your cards were tucked safely in your han and the table in front of you was empty.

“it’s not like i had a choice.”

“yeah,” jake murmurs. “i guess not.”

a silence settles between you, neither awkward nor comfortable, just there. you could fill it with something light, something inconsequential, but the weight of the moment keeps you still.

jake sets the bowl down on the table, leaning back against the couch. his head tilts slightly, exhaustion tugging at his expression. “you should’ve called.”

you frown. “what?”

“when you were sick,” he says simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “you should’ve called me.”

a bitter laugh rises in your throat before you can stop it. “right. because that would’ve been appropriate.”

jake doesn’t flinch, he just looks at you, steady despite the fever dulling his edges. “i wouldn’t have cared about “appropriate.”

you open your mouth, then close it again. because what can you even say to that? you hadn’t called him. of course, you hadn’t. it had been a year. a whole year of learning how to exist without him, of burying old instincts, of teaching yourself not to reach for your phone when something reminded you of him.

but now, sitting here, watching the way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you, you wonder if you ever really unlearned any of it.

you exhale, shaking your head. “just finish the soup, jake.”

his lips twitch, barely a ghost of a smile. he doesn’t argue.

maybe it’s the fever, or maybe it’s just him, but he doesn’t stop watching you. even as he eats, even as the warmth returns to his face, even as you sit there, pretending this is normal.

you don’t look back at him. you can’t.

because something about this – about being here, about taking care of him again – feels too easy. about the way he so easily manages to remind you of the past despite yourself, how he easily manages to look past you, through you, at you with those same kind eyes you had fallen in love with all those year ago. and you don’t know what to do with that.

so you do what comes to you naturally when your mind is crumbling on itself. you move, you work, you take action. you make yourself busy.

shrugging off your jacket, you push the sleeves of your shirt up and rummage through another plastic bag. pulling out a packet of fever reducing medicines, you pop one out of its pellet and hand it to jake.

“have this, then go to sleep.” there’s determination in your voice, you’re already planning out what to do, “i’ll clean up here and check on you later, so just go get some rest and don’t worry too much about it.”

jake doesn’t want to argue, but he doesn’t want to waste his time sleeping when he knows you’ve already made up your mind to stay in his apartment for the time being. also, he doesn’t want to make you clean up after him.

“wait y/n, you don’t have to clean up–”

“jake, for all i know, you’ve been marinating in your own sickness for two days straight,” you deadpan, already picking up the leftover dishes off his table and striding towards his kitchen, shaking your head at the sinkful of old dishes, “go to sleep, i’ll wake you up in a few hours and you can take a shower then. i’ll change your sheets while i’m at it too–”

you ramble off about the list of things you’re mentally taking note of and it makes jake dizzy. this is a side of you that is new to him. it’s like you’re giving him no chance at making a move. he sees you deal out your cards, it’s so clear to him, but he feels powerless right now, your back facing him like a sturdy wall.

he follows the line of your shoulders, the tension taut in them as you continue with your work, your hands moving on their own as you rinse dishes and rearrange the kitchen, though you’re not really seeing any of it. the soft clink of plates against each other fills the quiet room, but your mind is miles away.

behind you, you hear jake shift on the couch, a low sigh escaping his lips. it’s soft, the kind of sigh that says more than words ever could. you try to focus on the task at hand, but every time you move, you feel his eyes on you. it makes your skin feel too tight, your thoughts too loud.

you hear his footsteps receding as he makes his way to his room, the sound of his movements getting muffled the further away he moves. he doesn’t shut the door behind him, instead, getting in bed and letting himself be lulled into a sleep with the sound of your own movements in the kitchen. and it feels unreal.

jake is half certain that he would wake up and realise that this had all just been a fever dream, that he had indeed been hallucinating your figure, tat he had conjured up your voice from the depths of his memory, that the frown on your pretty face had been his karma – even in his dreams, you were upset at him. and for a while he tries to stay awake, fighting his heavy eyes and the soreness in his limbs and the weight of the blanket over his frame.

you hear the soft creak of the bed, the rustle of sheets. it’s a quiet reminder that jake is still there. that he’s still so close, even though you’ve tried to keep your distance. he’s not the one who’s avoiding you anymore. you are. and every moment you spend not looking at him, not addressing what’s hanging between you, it feels like a crack getting wider.

a distant groan from the bedroom snaps you out of your thoughts. jake. his voice, thick with the fever, is a reminder of how everything is spinning out of control. you pause for a moment, eyes flicking towards the hallway, your heart tightening in your chest.

you didn’t call him when you were sick. you didn’t need to. you couldn’t. but right now, you’re here. you’re standing in his kitchen, pretending you’re not trembling with every second that passes, pretending you’re not dying to check on him. to feel something, anything, other than this cold distance you’ve forced between you both.

but you simply dissociate. your movements grow more mechanical as you tidy up, but you know that you're running from something. running from the truth, from the flood of emotions that threaten to break the fragile dam you've built. the truth is, you’ve been avoiding him for so long – maybe longer than you even realized – but the cracks are showing now, and it's making everything harder than it needs to be.

you try not to think about the past, the things you’ve buried, but it’s impossible. because here you are, again. taking care of him. watching him. being drawn to him despite everything that should keep you apart.

the silence stretches, only the sound of water and cutlery keeping you company. if you strain your ears, you could probably hear the laboured breaths in the bedroom.

the glass in your hand feels heavier now, like it’s a vessel for everything you’ve kept inside. you’re holding it with too much force, fingers tight around it, but you don’t want to let go. you’re afraid that if you do, the dam will break. that all the words, all the thoughts you’ve buried so deep, will flood out and you won’t be able to stop them.

two.

somewhere in the middle of a restless sleep and the sense of a lingering presence, jake finds himself being shaken awake.

there’s a gentle pressure on his arm, squeezing his skin comfortingly and coaxing his eyes to flutter open. his head feels lighter this time around, weighed down by a damp cloth that feels like a balm across his skin, but its the hand around his arm that he really zeroes in on the moment he’s up.

so you hadn’t been a fever dream after all. that means you had been upset at him in reality. well, that’s a concern for later. all he registers is that you hadn’t left. yet.

“hey,” your voice is tentative, just like your fingers curling around his arm as if you’re afraid you’re going to startle him back into consciousness, “you should get up and take a shower, i ran you some hot water”

your voice, it’s so quiet and sweet. your fingers graze against his skin when you remove the towel off his and run your fingers across the long strands of hair across his forehead – he shivers. your forehead puckers into a frown, palm flattening against his head again. a small sigh escapes his lips, the feeling so welcome, he lets his eyes fall shut again, but you move your hand again and all jake feels is the emptiness lying heavy against his skin.

jake blinks slowly, the sleep still clouding his vision as he processes your words, the absence of your touch a sharp contrast to the warmth you’d left behind. he swallows hard, pushing himself up with effort, the weight of exhaustion still clinging to him.

the cool air from the window brushes against his damp skin, and he can hear the soft rustling of the room as you move around, no longer hovering. you’ve given him space, and yet, he feels more crowded than ever by the silence between you two. the quiet hum of the room is deafening.

his hands reach for the towel you’d left behind, the fabric still warm from the contact with his skin. he presses it to his forehead again, and for a fleeting moment, he thinks about how this small gesture – this simple act of care – might have been enough if he hadn’t messed it all up.

when he shuffles into the bathroom, you're already there, standing at an awkward angle away from the showerhead as you twist and turn the knobs, one hand under the water to test the temperature.

“just a sec, it’s a bit too hot right now,” you barely glance at him as you continue with his ministrations. and jake? he’s honestly still too tired to want to read into your actions but that doesn’t mean his chest doesn’t twist in a weird way.

once you’ve determined the right temperature of the water, you move towards jake who’s leaning with his head against the bathroom tiles. the room itself is tiny, a two-by-two metre cubicle that feels too crowded with the both of you inside. jake sniffles, raising his arms in a pathetic attempt to take his jacket off but he’s obviously unsuccessful.

you don’t even spare a reaction, naturally moving to help him, maneuvering one arm out of his jacket, then the other. and it’s with this same instinct that your fingers reach for the hem of his shirt too, ready to pull it over his head but you stop at the very last second, almost abruptly, it gives you a whiplash.

instantly your eyes meet his. he’s already looking at you and unfortunately you can read his emotions all too well.

the shower runs in the background, steam curling up into the air, and you both stand there for a moment, hesitating. part of jake wants to stay lost in the haze of exhaustion, to let you take the call and help him take his shirt off. but another part – the part that knows you woldn’t dare unless he pushed you – wants to step forward with his arms stretched out, telling you to take it off for him.

jake swallows again, this time louder, his throat dry. he could let you take over, could surrender to the care you’re offering, let you guide him through the motions. it would be easy to let go, but there’s something about the way you’re looking at him – something raw and real – that makes him second-guess.

“i… i can do it,” jake says hoarsely, his voice quiet and rough, like it hasn’t been used properly in too long. his hands hover, reaching up toward his shirt but faltering at the last second. you see him pause, the conflict in his eyes, and for a split second, he wishes he could pretend it was just the exhaustion talking. but it's not. it’s more than that.

you stand there, frozen, hand still poised just inches from his chest, the tension between you two becoming almost suffocating. but despite the silence, there’s an unspoken understanding that lingers between you, a fragile thread that hasn’t snapped yet.

finally, you take a step back, releasing a quiet breath as you straighten up. you glance down for a moment, biting your lip, then look back at him with a mixture of resolve and something softer. "you should... you should take care of it yourself," you say, your voice a little strained, as though you're holding something back.

jake wants to argue, to tell you it's fine, to just let him lean into whatever you've been offering. but instead, he stays quiet, his gaze not leaving yours. he takes the final step toward the shirt, the fabric slipping off easily, but for some reason, the act feels heavier now. the weight of the decision, the weight of what it means to ask for help or not.

your eyes avert on their own, catching but a momentary peek of his naked skin. this shouldn’t be that weird, you shouldn’t be this flustered. you’ve seen him like this before, hell you’ve seen and done much more than this before, but that was then. this is now – you’re taking care of your sick ex who you’re just friends with.

you wish there was a guidebook for this sort of situation.

you swallow hard and try to keep your voice steady when you speak. "i’ll get you something to eat after," you say, your voice almost too soft, barely reaching him over the water.

there’s a pause. a beat that feels like it could stretch on forever.

"yeah," jake murmurs, his voice low and tired. "thanks."

you can’t quite tell if he means it, if it’s just the exhaustion talking, or if it’s something more. you don’t ask. the weight of his answer is enough. he’s waiting for you to leave before he can get into the shower.

almost against your will, your gaze flickers to him – just a quick look, a fleeting glance. and it’s enough to leave you breathless for a second. his back is to you, but you can see the way his shoulders tense, the curve of his spine, the way condensation already starts setting, dampening his skin with a thin layer of mist from the shower.

you wish you could stay; it's a thought that startles you and embarrasses you. but it's also a thought that sobers you up in an instant, startling you out of your reverie and making your feet finally move. the door shuts behind you with a soft thud, but you don’t hear the soft click of the lock turning.

the moment the door clicks shut, you press your back against it, letting out a breath you didn't even realize you'd been holding. your hands are trembling slightly, and you quickly clasp them together, squeezing them tight to keep the unease from showing. you force yourself to breathe, to steady the racing thoughts in your head.

you’re just friends now. that’s what you promised, that’s what you agreed on. but why does everything about this feel so far from simple?

the faint sound of the shower running leaks through the thin walls. a knot tightens in your stomach. you press your palms against the door, the coolness of the wood grounding you for a second. this is supposed to be temporary, you remind yourself. just a few more hours, a couple of days at most, and you’ll both go back to your separate lives. you can’t afford to let yourself slip back into this space. not now.

jake stands still in the shower, the hot water cascading over him, though it does little to wash away the frustration building inside. his thoughts race faster than the droplets falling from the showerhead, each one a sharp reminder of how easy it was to slip back into this. the moment you stepped into the apartment, everything shifted. even though you'd kept your distance, it didn’t take much for him to feel the pull again.

he shuts his eyes tighter, pushing the water away, wishing it could drown out the thoughts swirling in his head. why? why was it so easy to let you back in? how did you always know the right thing to do?

then again, he had always blindly believed you back when you were together, trusting your decisions like they were the bible itself. maybe that had been his downfall in a way, when he had reluctantly but respectfully agreed to the breakup. thinking about it now, you were wrong. you had been so wrong, and he had resented you for it. he had resented himself for believing you just because he was in love with you and he realised not much had changed, because he had let you fool him again by making him promise to be just friends with him. even after a whole year of repenting, resolving and regretting, it had been that easy for you to crumble him in your hands – all because he still loves you.

and he thinks that is reason enough to let himself be wavered by you – your imploring eyes, your worried lips, the frown on your face, the plea in your voice – he’d give in to you and your demands any day and every day.

but he doesn’t think he wants to. right now, standing under the warm water you had run for him, it enraged him a little how he had just stood there letting you do your thing while he waited. no, in fact, its not the waiting that set him off, he would wait for you for however long you made him, it was the way you had such an easy say in his life. how you could just do something, and he wouldn’t question it.

why should we remain friends?

he should have asked you that rather than agreeing along with you. you had given him no logical reason, but he had sensed the emotionally turbulent place it had come from, so he had left it at that. but now he wants to know. now he wants to know why you should remain just friends? why would you be here taking care of him when he’s sick? do you not still love him?

your voice from earlier lingers in his ears: i’ll get you something to eat after. the way you said it was soft, almost like a promise. but he can’t help but hear the unspoken words between the lines. it wasn’t just about food. you were offering something more, but you were hiding it behind the guise of something mundane. you were offering care, but you were also offering distance.

jake grips the edge of the shower, knuckles white as he exhales sharply. the water no longer feels comforting. it’s just another distraction. another way for him to bury his feelings.

"god," he mutters to no one, his voice barely above a whisper. "why do you still do this to me?"

he’s angry. angry at the situation, angry at himself for still caring, for still wanting you in ways he shouldn't. and yet, underneath the anger, there's an ache – a yearning that refuses to be ignored. he wants to reach out, to pull you back, to make you see that he still matters. that they both still matter.

but instead, he grits his teeth, trying to keep the heat of his frustration contained. no more waiting, he thinks. no more pretending.

when the water runs cold, he steps out of the shower, his body shivering slightly, but it’s nothing compared to the chill creeping under his skin. he pulls a towel around his waist and stares at his reflection in the foggy mirror. for a second, he barely recognizes the man in the glass. the person he used to be – the one who thought everything would just fall into place after the breakup, the one who convinced himself they could both move on – feels like a stranger.

but he’s done pretending now.

jake pulls open the bathroom door and steps into the hallway, the soft hum of the apartment the only sound. he doesn’t have a plan, but he knows one thing for sure: he’s not going to let this go without asking the questions that have been haunting him. not anymore.

you’re sitting on the couch, your knees tucked under your chin, a blanket draped over your lap. you’re only half paying attention to the television, head peeking up every so often to check the pot of soup boiling over the stove. the sight almost makes him turn back. almost makes him halt in his steps and rethink what he’s about to do. does he really want to break this moment?

i mean, he could retreat now, disappear into the quiet of his thoughts, and then return to let you serve him the warm cup of soup. he could play it off, pretending not to read too much into it, maybe even use the moment to ask about your time in japan. you'd tell him about how much you loved it, carefully sidestepping any mention of the loneliness you’d carried with you, dodging his prying questions with practiced ease. after that, you'd clean up again, hand him the fever-reducing pills, and tuck him into bed. he’d wake up feeling better, and you’d finally leave. and when you did, things would go back to what they were before. just friends. just the way it had always been.

and then you’ll keep being ‘just friends’.

but he doesn’t. instead, he walks towards you, his footsteps steady despite the whirlwind inside him. his naked torso feeling the brunt of his actions as the cool breeze pricks his skin.

"you’re not going anywhere, are you?" the question slips out before he can stop it, his voice rough. he’s barely even aware of the way his heart pounds in his chest.

you look up at him, surprise flickering across your face, but it doesn’t last long. you meet his gaze, steady, cautious, before they trail along the path of his body – his naked body, save for the towel around his waist. what the fuck.

"jake," you start, but your voice falters, unsure of how to navigate this new situation, “i’m right here, so can you please go put something on, you’re gonna get sick again if y–”

but he’s not going to let you hold back. not anymore.

"no," he interrupts softly. "i need to know, right now. why are we still pretending?"

three.

the room holds its breath, the tension almost tangible in the quiet after jake’s question. for a moment, neither of you speaks. your eyes flicker between him and the door, as if you could somehow slip out of this without answering. but you know you can’t. not anymore. not with the weight of his question hanging between you.

he’s let you convince him to put on clothes for the moment, but he refuses the bowl of soup you set in front of him.

“answer me y/n, i’m not eating anything until you answer my questions tonight.”

you can already feel a headache creeping up your neck. you sit on the other end of the couch, burying your head in your hands and letting out a weary sigh. jake had picked the worst time to be his stubborn self again.

you clear your throat, trying to regain control of the situation, but your voice feels small, fragile. “jake… i – i don’t know what you want me to say.” you stand up slowly, hands still gripping the blanket around you, though the warmth of it feels distant now. “you’re sick. you should just rest.”

but jake doesn’t look sick. not in the way he did when you first found him, feverish and weak, barely able to sit up. he sits across you now, your bodies separated by just a few feet. there’s a fire in his eyes, something raw and insistent that makes it hard to breathe.

“you’re avoiding the question,” he says, his voice low but firm. “why are we still pretending? why are you really here?”

“where is this coming from? i thought you were fine with me being here–”

“yeah, i was sick and barely in any condition to argue with you.”

“oh. oh, so now that you’re feeling better you think you can–”

“i can what?” jake’s voice is still raspy, but it's firm. it rattles you. jake has always been the more emotional one in your relationship whereas you took the reign of being the logical counterpart. yet now, you can’t find yourself coming up with anything close to a logical explanation.

you hesitate, the words swirling in your mind but never quite making it past your lips. his question cuts through everything you’ve been holding back, and you feel exposed, raw. this isn’t the same dynamic anymore. jake’s eyes bore into yours, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface, and you can’t look away.

“i – i don’t know what you want from me,” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. “i thought... i thought we were just getting through this. i’m here because i care about you, jake. i always have.”

jake’s jaw tightens, and he takes a step forward, his presence looming over you. his gaze doesn’t soften; it only grows more intense, more insistent.

“no,” he says quietly. “you’re here because you can’t let go of whatever we were, but you're too scared to admit it. you’re scared of what happens next, scared of how things might change if we stop pretending.”

the words hit harder than you expect. you recoil slightly, trying to maintain your composure, but the tension in the room feels suffocating, like you’re drowning in the weight of your own fear. you can feel your pulse in your throat, each beat hammering against your chest.

“i’m not pretending,” you murmur, but even to your own ears, it sounds hollow. “i’m... i’m just trying to make sure you're okay.”

jake doesn’t let you off the hook. “and what about you? what are you doing, huh? what about what you need?” his voice cracks just a little at the end, the vulnerability slipping through. you’ve never heard him sound like this before, and it shakes you to your core. the certainty in his eyes falters for just a second, but when he speaks again, it’s like he’s trying to bury it. “i can’t do this anymore. i can’t be the one who’s always waiting for you to come back, for you to decide if i’m worth it.”

you flinch. his words strike deeper than any physical blow could. he’s right, in a way you’ve been refusing to face him. you’ve been holding him at arm’s length, never fully letting him back in, always waiting for something – anything – that would make it easier to walk away without feeling like you’re suffocating. but jake’s not giving you that luxury anymore.

“what the hell are you even saying jake,” your temper rises now, you’re not sure if its the way jake deems the way you regard him or whether it's the truth of everything he is hitting you with all of a sudden, “you are worth everything i have ever put my life upon, don’t go around making me the bad guy. i have never deemed you any less than what you deserve, and you’ve always deserved the best.”

these words are unfiltered and sound almost childish in your ears. gone is the grace with which you pride yourself in forming sentences, now everything you’re saying sounds like some third grade rendition of a love letter. you burn in embarrassment and anger, because in the end, jake has reduced you to this state.

but jake doesn’t regard it as such, if anything, he’s gotten you to finally talk.

“what are you afraid of?”

you look at him, your throat tight, and suddenly, it feels like everything is crashing down. it’s always been easier to lie, to hide behind excuses, behind the safety of distance. but with jake right in front of you, his question still lingering – for the first time, you can’t push it away. you can’t hide from it anymore.

“what am i afraid of?” you repeat the words softly, like a question to yourself. but deep down, you already know the answer, and it terrifies you.

“i’m afraid of what happens when we stop pretending,” you confess, voice cracking. you can’t look at him as you say it – can’t bear to meet his eyes, because everything you’ve been burying under the surface comes spilling out in the form of this one fragile truth. “i’m afraid that if we really look at this... at us, there won’t be anything left to hold on to.”

jake’s silence is deafening. you risk a glance at him, only to find him staring at you with something close to heartbreak in his gaze. his lips press together, and for a moment, you think he’s going to say something, but then his chest rises and falls with a sharp breath, like he’s swallowing everything he feels.

“you think... you think that if we let go, we’ll be nothing?” his voice is quieter now, almost lost. but there’s still that fire in it, just softer. “is that what you really believe, y/n? that everything we had means nothing if it’s not perfect?”

you wish you could say something, anything, to make this easier – to make him understand. but it’s all coming out now, too much and too fast.

“i don’t know what i’m doing, jake.” the words tumble out, helplessly, just like the tears that start rolling down your cheeks, “i... i don’t know how to stop being afraid that we’ll just break again. that i’ll break, and i’ll hurt you, and then there won’t be any coming back from it.”

you hesitate, taking a shaky breath, and the real reason – one that’s been buried so deep for so long – slips out before you can stop it. “i was so scared of losing you, jake. but i realized that if i kept holding onto you like that maybe i’d end up suffocating you.”

jake’s jaw tightens, and you watch his expression shift. you don’t know if he understands completely, but something flickers in his eyes. you think about the time you walked away, the way you chose to close off instead of facing the fear of losing him to your own need for control. the thing you were so afraid of – the thing that led to your breakup.

“the thing is,” you continue, voice cracking, “i wanted us to be this perfect thing, but i couldn’t let go of the part of me that was terrified. i kept pushing you away. and then... when we finally did break up, i thought i was saving us both from more hurt. but all i was really doing was hurting you.”

jake’s hand inches towards you, afraid that you would pull away before he could reach you. when his fingers finally find yours across the couch, he holds on firmly. you don’t pull away.

“i thought you just didn’t need me anymore. that you were pushing me out, choosing to shut me out because you didn’t want to deal with the mess of everything we were.”

he looks at you, and it’s like his eyes are pleading for you to see it. “but i was just trying to be there. for you. i tried everything i could, y/n. you wouldn’t let me in. every time i pushed, you pulled back. and in the end, i felt like i was nothing but a burden to you. that was why i stepped back...because i thought it was what you wanted. i thought i wasn’t enough.”

the truth of his words settles like a weight in your chest, heavy and sharp. the weight of his hand on top of yours feels burdensome, but then his fingers start caressing your skin, thumbing circles across the soft flesh of your wrist. and then you realize: all that time, while you were protecting yourself from the pain of losing him, you were pushing him into a corner, suffocating him with your need for control. and it destroyed the connection you had – your walls went up, and his came down.

“you thought you weren’t enough?” you whisper, the tears keep rolling, “i’m sorry. i was so scared... scared that if i let you too close, i’d lose myself in you. i needed to keep control, jake. but i never wanted to push you away like that. and i... i didn’t see how badly i was hurting you until it was too late.”

jake now turns to you entirely. all his yearning oozes out of him desperately, maybe it’s because you’ve finally had this talk, but he can feel the tiredness returning in his limbs, finally relieved. he expects you to completely push him away, but he reaches out regardless and maneuvers you with gentle hands across his lap.

“if you know now that you hurt me, take responsibility for it.” he says, letting you ease yourself in his hold. you’re hesitant at first, but with every stroke of his fingers across your cheeks, you settle down and let him wipe your tears away.

he buries his face against the crook of your neck and it's a feeling you don’t realise you’ve missed. the sigh that tumbles out your lips is just a testimony of you finally giving in to this feeling.

“jake,” your voice is a silent whisper, “you’re still sick, you shouldn’t be–”

but whatever it is that you think jake shouldn’t be doing is suddenly a thought flung right to the back of your mind when his lips meet yours in a silent plea. just the soft touch of his chapped skin against yours. it ends as abruptly as it starts.

“fuck,” he curses, slightly out of breath even though he hadn’t done much, “you’re right, i’m sick, i shouldn’t be kissing you–”

oh but who cares. it’s just a mild fever, so what if you fall sick too?

you’re pressing your lips against him too, shutting him up with a kiss that he surrenders himself into despite his own protest against his sickness. because you’re here, in his arms, kissing him like that's all you’ve wanted to do. and for once, jake doesn’t complain, because you’ve never kissed him like this before. you've never shown him just how starved you are for him. and he understands this feeling, he’s felt this way for you forever, but he’s also slightly dumbfounded at the way you hold him tight and kiss him breathless.

he feels dizzy again, but not for anything in the world is he going to stop you right now. he simply latches on to you tighter, pulling you impossibly close and moves his lips with yours, letting you bruise his own.

you both finally pull away, breathless, eyes searching the other like you’ve been lost in the dark for too long. the weight of everything that’s been unsaid, everything that’s been holding you both apart, is still there, but now there’s something else. a sense of clarity, an understanding that feels so fragile, like the first light breaking through a storm.

jake presses his forehead to yours, a soft laugh escaping him as he steadies his breath. “god, i’ve missed you like this. i’ve missed us.” his voice is low, raw with emotion, and you feel that familiar pull in your chest again – the one you’ve been trying to ignore, trying to convince yourself isn’t real. but it is. it always has been.

you pull back slightly, still tangled in his arms, your heart racing. “jake, i... i don’t know how to fix all the damage i’ve done. i don’t even know if i deserve to ask for another chance... after everything.”

his eyes soften, his thumb gently brushing over your lips like he's memorizing the way they feel against his skin. “y/n,” he says, his voice steady and sure now, “you don’t have to fix anything all at once. we don’t have to pretend like everything’s perfect, because it’s not. but i’m willing to try again, if you are.”

your chest tightens at his words, the weight of everything still hanging between you, but it feels like the first step. it feels like a chance to rebuild, even if it’s not easy, even if it takes time. he’s offering you the space to breathe, to come to him when you’re ready, but with no expectation that you have it all figured out.

“i’m scared, jake,” you admit, your voice trembling. “i’m scared i’ll push you away again. that i’ll hurt you again.”

he shakes his head, a small, reassuring smile playing at his lips. “you won’t. not if we face it together.”

you feel a strange sense of calm settle over you, like a weight lifting off your shoulders, even though the future is still uncertain. but for the first time in a long time, it’s not so terrifying. maybe because you’re not facing it alone.

“can we... just take it slow?” you whisper, your fingers curling into his shirt. “can we rebuild this, piece by piece? i don’t want to rush it.”

jake smiles, despite the sudden dull thudding in his head.

“you’re asking for slow after you just kissed me like that?”

you know he’s teasing you, you feel the warmth flush your cheeks but before you can reprimand him, his hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you in for another gentle kiss; this time slower, deeper, like he’s memorizing the way you feel against him. when he pulls away, there’s a look in his eyes that tells you more than words ever could.

“slow’s fine with me,” he murmurs. “we’ll do it at our own pace. whatever it takes.”

you bury your face in the crook of his neck; it feels like home.

“thank you,” you whisper, even though you’re not entirely sure what you’re thanking him for yet. for understanding? for being patient? for loving you despite everything?

you don’t know. but you’re grateful.

“i’ll make it right, jake,” you say, your voice muffled against his skin. “i’ll find a way to make it right.”

and for the first time, you truly believe it.

epilogue.

a week later, you’re sprawled on the couch, tissues scattered around you, feeling miserable. jake walks in, grinning, holding soup and medicine.

“you really went for it, huh?” he teases, setting the soup down. “kissed me, and now you’re sick.”

you groan. “you didn’t have to kiss me back so passionately.”

jake laughs. “what can i say? i had to make up for lost time.”

you roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “well, it’s your fault. i was fine until you—"

“don’t even try to blame me,” he cuts in, sitting beside you. “we both know you loved it.”

before you can retort, jay pops his head out from your kitchen, shaking his head. “you two seriously couldn’t wait a week to not get sick?”

you throw a pillow at him. “shut up, jay.”

he grins. “i’m just saying, you couldn’t have waited at least a week, or at least till he got better? are you guys animals, did you have to make out right then?”

you groan and pull the blanket tighter around yourself. “jay, please, you’re killing me.”

jake chuckles, clearly amused by jay’s teasing. “i’m sure it was worth it.”

jay raises an eyebrow. “it better have been. you’re both out of commission now. y/n’s got the cold, and i’m stuck being the responsible one. like i don’t have enough to deal with.”

you glance at jake, still leaning into him for comfort, and say in your best innocent voice, “you could always leave, jay. let us suffer in peace.”

jay gives you a mock glare. “oh, i see how it is. i come over to check on you, and now i’m the bad guy.”

jake smirks, clearly enjoying the banter. “you’re lucky we didn’t need you to play nurse. we’ve got it covered.”

jay rolls his eyes dramatically, then turns to leave. “fine. but if you two are going to be in here swapping germs and cuddling like an old married couple, don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

before he can disappear completely, you call out after him. “hey, jay?”

he pauses at the door.

“next time, bring actual medicine. not just your sarcasm.”

jay grins, tossing a playful wink over his shoulder. “can’t help it, y/n. it’s what i do best.”

with that, he’s gone, and the silence between you and jake is comfortable, warm. you look up at him, giving him a half-smile.

“i guess it’s just us then?”

jake kisses your forehead gently. “just us.”

#enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen jake imagines #jake sim imagines #jake enhypen imagines #enhypen x you #enhypen angst #jake sim x reader #jake sim angst #my writings

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hollyhomburg · 3 months ago

Text

Prey Animals (Masterlist)

— Pairing: Yoongi x reader, Bts x reader

— Subgenders: Omega! Reader, Beta! Yoongi, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Jimin, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Hoseok, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin

— Genre: Omegaverse, Mafia au, Polyamory au, Found family, Suspense, Eventual Smut, Enemies to friends to lovers, Angst with a happy ending, Hurt and Comfort,

— Summary: In a world where Beta's are rare, valuable, and often have more than one pack; Beta Min Yoongi does everything he can to keep his mafia heritage a secret from his primary pack. Little does he know he's not the only one who's living a double life.

— Words: 80k so far

— Warnings: Violence, Blood, Murder, sexual and physical abuse, PTSD, themes of healing, suspense, mute character's, depictions of eating disorders, healing, hospitals, epilepsy, assassins, spyies,

Before you read:

This is the second version of this story, it's better, edited and longer. But if you want to read the first (near complete) version of this story you can read it on tumblr here, or on Ao3 here. there's like a million words of it lol.

not everything is tagged in this version. there is quite a bit of triggering content. i go into much more greater detail about the m/c and the abuse that she suffered at the hands of Geumjae in this version. if there is anything that doesn't get a tag and you feel it needs it, please don't hesitate to tell me!

This version is a lot longer than V1, and because of that the chapters don't line up, chapters 1-13 cover chapters 1-4.

While there are only a few things that have been taken out/restructured, but yoongi and the m/c get a dedicated slow burn love story in this now. i've also added 60k to what we did have so please give this tons of love!

i will not be reblogging these parts nearly as much as the others, because i want there to be less crowdedness on my feed. i will try my hardest to respond to comments if there are any this time around.

~-~

Prologue: Omens

Summary: you watch your husband murder someone, and try not to make it worse

Part 1: The Beta

Summary: Seokjin meets Yoongi when he's at his lowest.

Part 2: The Funeral

Summary: The death of a king pin makes the whole picture come crumbling down. In 120 days, Yoongi will decide who rules the criminal empire.

Part 3: The Alpha

Summary: Seokjin meets Namjoon when things are finally getting good, will the introduction of an alpha disrupt his and yoongi's little pack?

Part 4: Of Violent Dogs

Summary: Kim Namjoon will kill. That is a fact that you can count on.

Part 5: The Pups

Summary: Namjoon meets Jungkook in the Emergency room. "he's sick Joonie, and you can't make him better." that doesn't mean he's not going to try.

Part 6: Prey Animals

Summary: A death and A dinner party (a woman that yoongi can't take his eyes off of.)

Part 7: Hoseok

Summary: Yoongi brings home a stray, but luckily he's going to stay. (Yoongi won't, Yoongi is going to leave)

Part 8: Just Not her

Summary: Yoongi cannot decide if he trusts you or not. After being followed, he interrogates you to figure out your motives.

Part 9: Ribbons

Summary: A dinner at the Moon house prompt Yoongi to get closer and closer to you. But how close can he get before he pricks his finger?

Part 10: Junk Drawers and Daydreams

Summary: Yoongi just wants to figure you out. Just that. He promises.

Part 11: Warm Monsters

Summary: Yoongi's attraction gets harder to ignore, as does your suffering.

Part 12: The After

Summary: In Yoongi's absence the pack sort of falls apart.

Part 13: Bruises and Butterflies

Summary: One life doesn't equal seven.

~-~

Commonly asked questions:

Why the different name? because i thought it would be confusing to have two series's by the same name on the same page

Why are you editing this story? because i want to put it up for physical purchase either on amazon (ew i know) or some other alternative, the beginning of the story had always bugged me because it was not paced the same as the rest of it.

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stylestarkey · 4 months ago

Text

TWO DOORS DOWN│10

𐙚 a rafe cameron social media au

pairings — famous!rafe X pogue!femaleOC (f.c christina nadin)

summary — IN WHICH the cameron siblings turn to social media in a desperate attempt to track their childhood neighbour, who also turns out to be a huge fan of sarah.

warnings — swearing and jj being thirsty for rafe!

navigation — masterlist 09 10

liked by sarahcameron, cameronupdates and 194,281 others

louisacameron brother and sister for sale, anyone interested?

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johnbroutledge me

user1 how much is rafe ↳ louisacameron take him for FREE

sarahcameron i know someone who’s interested in rafe ↳ user2 me actually ↳ user3 me 2

user4 wishing your family a merry christmas! 🎄

cameronupdates SARAH AND RAFE IN OBX???? SINCE WHEN WHAT 😭 ↳ louisacameron five days ago!!

user5 holy shit they’re home

user6 they flew to celebrate christmas with their sister and stepmom 🥹🥹🥹

user7 i hope everyone respects their time home! ↳ user8 if i catch paparazzi in obx-

rafecameron first slide is inappropriate. take it down ↳ louisacameron lol ↳ user9 lmaoo she does not gaf

liked by rafecameron, cleoanderson and 138 others

elynajavier oh deer 🦌

view all comments

rafecameron do u like my present ↳ elynajavier which one r u talking abt ↳ rafecameron wdym which one ↳ elynajavier the vinyl or the kith ↳ cleoanderson THE WHAT

cleoanderson ely has officially left the no love club ↳ elynajavier ew

kiecarrera cookies were bomb af btw ↳ jjmaybank mine better ↳ elynajavier u don’t even know how to preheat the oven

sarahcameron best christmas evaaa 🎄 ↳ elynajavier same time next year? ↳ sarahcameron yes!!

topperthornton i’m getting mofo ↳ justkelce bro. it's fomo ↳ rafecameron why r u here ↳ topperthornton the question is why am i NOT there

note 𐙚 — i was procrastinating on posting tmr and fix errors but i cannaawt be bothered so pls ignore some grammar 😔 so exhausted why do i have to work to pay off my amazon prime subscription 😔 - H

taglist — @percysley @klmaaaoooo @louxmcl @rafecameronswifeyy @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @l4venderia @urbrunettebombshell @divierses @emmaaas-posts @drewstarkeyzwhore @frankoceanluvr11 @kay133sposts @persiar9 @siredbtches @upsidedownjill @samwinchesterisawhore @spiderstyles04 @kundaquarius @acountnotfound @ethanthequeefqueen @baocean @blushmimi

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron smau #rafe cameron fic #drew starkey #drew starkey fic #outer banks #outer banks fic #obx #obx fic

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baconcolacan · 2 years ago

Note

(aaa i'm glad you liked it <3<3<3 !!!! )

i saw that btw and ....

i have a little comic on the making haha

DHAKAXBAKSJAJAAJAH THEOS ABOUT TO GET GOT RIP MY GUY

#asks #bladezmad #ew Stay AU #ew better days AU #The Conference Table #Everybody press Fs in the chat for Theo #It was nice knowing you

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peterparkersnose · 2 years ago

Text

Lovers and Love.

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: pregnancy (if you don't like don't read), descriptions of morning sickness, anxiety, angst, illusions to sex

a/n back to your regularly scheduled program i dont wanna hear it i don’t write pregnancy stories often (i say this with a modern day au pregnancy joel fic in my drafts). literally my third in a year (back during my wattpad days I would solely write pregnancy stories. ew). i really like how this turned out though, the length is good

summary Y/N tries to hide that she is pregnant and Joel finds out

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 8 mins 47 seconds

“What’s filling that pretty head of yours lately?” Joel asked between each chop of the wood.

“Oh, nothing.” you lied.

“You looked mighty focused on that rock just a minute ago.”

“Better than looking at you chopping wood,” you scoffed sarcastically, getting Joel’s scent off your trail.

What you were really thinking about? The last time you got your period.

Each swing of the axe made you cringe. You begged to think of something different, but the thought had filled your mind for the past few days when your expected period didn’t arrive.

You and Ellie had swept out an old convenience store about a month ago. Ellie found some period products and gave some to you and it made you think.

When was the last time you got your period?

Ever since you were a child you dreamed of being a mother. Raising a family with someone you loved. But when the world fell to cordyceps, that idea was quickly left in the past with every other hope and dream you ever had.

This was no environment for an adult, let alone a child. A baby was an absolute no. The constant crying would attract any creature in a mile radius. It wouldn’t get the proper nutrition babies needed to grow. And giving birth in this world was a borderline death sentence.

And your baby’s daddy? The man you had been hooking up with on the low.

He was meant to move the cargo. You assisted the cargo and made sure it behaved.

It wasn’t your fault when Ellie was captured by David and you and Joel had to hide out in a shed one night alone.

Or maybe that time Ellie went out hunting.

Or the time Joel had to cover your mouth and tell you to shut up because she was asleep in the next room.

You knew Ellie wasn’t a dumb kid, but you were just praying she wasn’t that smart.

But pregnancy tests were nonexistent. Most of them you assumed would be expired. Can pregnancy tests even expire? And condoms, come on. It would honestly be funny if Joel pulled one out as a joke. There was no way any of those were still in use at least five years after the breakout.

“Y/N!” Joel yelled, catching your attention. The volume of his voice caught you off guard. “What’s wrong with you, seriously?” he scoffed, flipping his axe in his hand.

Brushing him off, you helped him carry wood into the small abandoned cabin you had found for the night.

Ellie was sitting on the matted couch with her leg resting on top of the coffee table in what was left of the living room. If you squinted, it looked almost normal. No clickers, no cannibals, just a normal world, a normal Ellie sitting in a normal house.

You needed to quickly get the idea of a normal world out of your head. It wasn’t here anymore. You couldn’t hope and dream like you used to. It wasn’t the time for fantasy land anymore. This was serious shit.

“Thank god, I am fucking freezing!” Ellie announced, rubbing her hands together.

Joel dropped his few planks of wood on the ground. “I’m gonna go look for some blankets and supplies upstairs. Ellie, help Y/N with the fire.”

Ellie groaned and slammed her feet on the floor one by one from the coffee table dramatically. You could already imagine the eye roll she had just given him.

You began arranging the logs into a nice stack. Joel had cut enough to easily last you through the night and maybe into the morning.

“You doin’ okay?” Ellie asked, searching through her backpack for the matches. “Mhm,” you lied, watching her scratch the match and throw it in the dry fireplace.

“Joel said something about-” “It doesn’t matter what Joel said.” you cut her off. Ellie rested back on her legs. She was very obviously disappointed you wouldn’t tell her what was wrong.

Was it really that obvious?

“What did I say now?” Joel asked from the banister. He was carrying blankets in his hands he found in the bedrooms. He had a big smile plastered on his face that only widened when your eyes met his.

Just imagine how he would be. Carrying down blankets for you and your child to make a fort together. Making popcorn and watching a movie as the sky became dark. The child would fall asleep in your arms and the two of you would stare at each other and appreciate the world, the life you made together.

You broke eye contact with him and shook your head.

How could you let yourself think like that?

“That I was the best clicker killer in the group.” Ellie made up, lightening the mood. “Oh really now?” Joel chuckled, throwing all of the sheets down on Ellie.

“Oh thank god, warmth.” she sighed, wrapping herself in as many blankets as she could hold.

You snatched a blanket from Ellie with a smirk and moved in front of the fire. You saw the sun setting from one of the still intact windows. Joel made the bold move of laying directly next to you. Normally you would have been so touched by this little bit of public affection (even though the definition of public, for now, was just Ellie), but you were so exhausted by your mind games from the day that you couldn’t care less.

Ellie curled up next to you. She moved into your chest, wrapping her arms around one of yours. Poor Joel, Ellie got all your affection tonight after all.

After a few minutes, she was asleep.

“You wanna meet upstairs in a bit? Tell her your takin’ a piss or something.” Joel whispered in your ear. His wide hand touched your back, making you tense. He was craving your touch you could tell. It had been a few weeks since your last hookup. “No. Not tonight,” you whispered back, pulling Ellie closer.

“Hey,” he said in a low tone. You turned your head to look at him. “What’s really goin’ on?”

“Nothing,” you lied. “I know when your lying.” he sighed. “Joel, drop it.” you hissed.

Ellie’s head looked up at yours. You felt the movement and immediately reacted.

“I’m sorry, baby girl. Go back to sleep now,” you said sweetly to her, brushing her hair to the side of her face. You could tell Joel noticed how you called her baby girl. That’s what he called her.

“What’s happening?” she asked groggily. “Nothing important. Now back to sleep. We need our energy for tomorrow.” You gave her a reassuring kiss on the top of her head.

Ellie nodded and resumed back to her sleeping spot in your arms.

Joel now sat against the couch, watching the two of you interact.

After a moment of silence to make sure Ellie was asleep again, he spoke.

“You would make a great mother one day.”

Your head whipped around and the look on your face said it all.

“With Ellie ‘n stuff. Sorry,” Joel muttered, rubbing his hands down the front of his jeans nervously. The man never usually let his guard down and say vulnerable things like that and you could tell he was disappointed by your reaction.

“Good night Joel,” you said sincerely. He was right. Ellie was like a little sister to you.

On the brink of sleep, you heard him throw another log on the fire. Blankets shuffled and there was a defining silence. Then the thought hit you.

There was no way he knew, right?

The faces matched so perfectly but yet were so different. Joel stood in a kitchen, the kitchen in the house you grew up in. You followed the scent of some sort of food and wandered into the kitchen. Your balance seemed off to you. Looking down, you were met by a large bump. No toes could be seen.

“Mama!” you heard. Your head whipped around to the kitchen table. It was the same oak as you remembered it. A baby sat in a high chair. It had curly (your color hair) and Joel’s eyes. It scared you how fast you recognized his features. Unremarkably, they were copied onto the baby's face. “Come on now, eat your breakfast,” Ellie said, encouraging the child. She appeared next to them with a spoon in her hand, making airplane noises as the child laughed.

“Ellie! Did you finish your homework?” Joel asked her. The oh-so-familiar groan escaped from her lips.

“Yes… maybe…” she began to say as the dream began to fade.

You shot upright, breathing heavily. Then the feeling arose from your stomach.

“Y/N?” Joel asked, shielding his face from the sun rays displaying over his eyes. He watched you run to the kitchen that was left of the living room.

The kitchen sink was the victim of your vomit.

Joel quickly stood up and went to your side. His hand returned to its spot from the previous night.

“It’s okay,” he said. You could tell he was trying to calm you, but it also sounded like he was trying to calm himself.

Tears began to roll down your cheeks as the vomiting came to an end.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, wiping your mouth on your sleeve. “No, no. Stop, you have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Joel… please,” you stuttered. You embraced him. His surprisingly warm figure held yours tightly. “It’s okay,” he said again.

“You want to try to go back to sleep?” he asked you. Hesitantly, you shook your head yes.

Thank god Ellie was a deep sleeper when she had been asleep for a while. You could just imagine her putting the puzzle pieces together and announcing it without a second thought. She is a smart girl.

Joel held you on the wood floor. The two of you didn’t care if Ellie woke up to find your embrace. Sleep didn’t return to you, but a sense of peace did. You forgot about the world, the pregnancy, the cold, and the anger for just a moment. It was just you and Joel. The way it should be.

“Good morning Mom and Dad,” Ellie said, poking her foot into your shoulder.

Your eyes fluttered open from their relaxed state. “Go find some breakfast and shut it.” you hissed at her. Joel adjusted his hold on you, sighing in your ear.

“Some kid, huh?” he whispered.

“Tell me about-”

“Eugh! What the hell happened here?” Ellie yelled from the kitchen.

“I got food poisoning. Leave it,” you yelled to the kitchen, coming up with your best lie.

“Before we leave you should look upstairs. I thought I saw some clothes you might like. Warmer for the winter too,” Joel grunted, sitting up straight and stretching his arms behind his back.

Using the coffee table to help you up, you trotted across the cold floor and made your way upstairs.

The first bedroom was empty. The second had a few long sleeve tee shirts and a pair of jeans that would fit you. At least for now. You picked up a sweatshirt for Ellie and a book she might like.

The third bedroom seemed to be a children’s room. You were going to look for something smaller for Ellie, but when you opened the first drawer you were met with rows of baby clothes.

Your hands ran over the patterns on the onesies. A baby girl had lived here. Your heart ached as you tried not to think about what her fate had possibly been.

You opened another drawer and it was filled with baby shoes. The memories of swooning over the baby shoes at the store when you were younger filled your mind. The memory of little Y/N mentally picking out which shoes her baby would wear one day warmed your heart.

Opening the top drawer again, you looked through the clothes. You let yourself choose four, one for each season. Easy enough to keep hidden in your backpack. You were too busy looking at the clothes to notice Joel leaning against the doorframe.

You only noticed him when you turned to put the clothes into your backpack.

Audibly gasping, you dropped your bag on the ground along with the onesies.

“I… I-”

“Don’t,” Joel sighed. He bent down and grabbed your bag along with the baby clothes.

“You really thought I didn’t know?” he chuckled, slowly opening the zipper to your backpack.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, face burning red. It’s all you could manage to say. Your brain felt numb.

“No, Y/N. It takes two, remember?” he smiled, holding up a onesie in front of him.

“Been a while since I’ve done this,” he chuckled, beginning to fold the clothes. You stared at him astonished.

He was taking this news surprisingly well. You expected him to leave you somewhere, or even worse. The fact that he was smiling and folding clothes for a baby in this world was shocking.

“How did you know?” you asked him. He gave you the side eye and smirked. “I know your body like the back of my hand. I just have to close my eyes and…”

Joel closed his eyes and the stupidest grin grew on his face.

“Stop it!” you blushed, giving him a playful slap on the arm. “I notice things, darling,” he said, assuring you everything was right.

“How long have you known?” you asked him. You nervously dragged your finger across the dresser’s carved pattern. “Week maybe. Figured it was either that or you were hidin’ a bite. I prayed you were pregnant instead of bitten.”

“You also were avoiding me as much as you could,”

You looked at your shoes. “I really just didn’t want to think about… you. This.” you admitted.

“I’m not mad, sweetheart. Pick a few more, I have room in my bag.”

You opened the drawer again and went for your second pics.

“Your not mad?” you asked him. “I’m not thrilled. When I figured it out it wasn’t fun. But now…”

“What about now?” you asked him. Joel sighed.

“If I heard right…” he began.

“My shithead little brother has started a settlement up in Jackson.”

“Tommy?” you asked, folding a pair of baby shorts. “Get ‘sum them shoes too,” Joel muttered, pulling at the handle of the drawer.

“Jackson’s about a few day ride from here. I can't guarantee he’ll be happy to see me but it’s our best hope.” he assured you, placing his hand back on your back. This time you accepted his touch and pushed back on it.

You both agreed that would be the next step in your journey.

“Any name suggestions?” he asked you, handing you back your backpack.

“Jesus Joel, I haven’t even thought about that.” you said, swinging it on your back.

“What about Ellie Junior?” you heard her ask from the hall.

You and Joel made quick eye contact and then looked back at Ellie. Your mouth fell slightly open. The fear expressed over your face, you were basically a deer in headlights.

She walked into the bedroom with a shameful look on her face. “I wasn’t trying to listen I promise. This house seems to echo.”

The t

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy @milly-louise @undeniableadrenaline @evyiione @qualitypudding @jmillerswife @mxtokko

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x0llaz · 1 year ago

Text

The Perfect Pair 𖦹 ⋆° ✮

Sungchan x fem!reader

WC: 7325

enemies to lovers, Sungchan is an asshole in the beginning whoops, stucco au, angst, fluff, conflict resolution, childhood bully Sungchan

Synopsis: Sungchan and YN have hated each other's guts since they were kids. Now, in their final year of high school, things have began to boil over...

ִ ࣪𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ִ ࣪𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ִ ࣪𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑

It was a sunny day. The sky was clear, the birds were chirping through the wind. It was a perfect day for a perfect recess. YN sat on the ground, playing with a doll by herself while all the other kids played with their friends, taking turns on the swingset, going down the slides. There was a group of boys in her grade, huddled over a bit away, giggling about something. The boys soon pushed someone forward, egging him to do something.

YN looked up as a boy with dark hair looked down at her, a grin plastered on her face. She would’ve had time to process how cute he was, if he hadn’t reached down and snatched her doll. Immediately she stood up, yelling at him to give it back. He just laughed in her face, avoiding her quick attempts to grab back her toy.

He danced around her, teasing and taunting until she stepped closer to him and yelled in his face. In response, he pushed her back on the ground, she landed on her butt, with a little hiss from getting scraped. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes as he laughed before walking away, the lunch bell ending before she could yell for a teacher.

She learned from her friends that his name was Sungchan, and seemed to enjoy picking on girls. They told her stories of his antics, how he got stuck eating with the teacher for a week because he pulled a girl’s hair. All her friends told her he was no good, that he was just a dumb boy.

The worst part was, she never got her doll back.

From that day forward, she hated sungchan. She hated his stupid face, and his stupid laugh. She hated his stupid jokes, and the way he’d pick on her. She hated the way he didn’t remember what he did, no matter how silly it was to hold a grudge.

Yet as they grew up, they walked parallel paths. In later schools of primary school, they were in the same classes, leading into high school they took the same courses, matched in academic skill. When they saw each other in their first shared class, all the way back in third grade, it seemed like sungchan’s goal was to make things difficult for YN. Anything she could do, he could do better.

And YN made it her goal to prove him wrong. Thus was born, the rivalry.

Competing for better test scores, racing to have the correct answer, never missing a beat to show off how smart they were. They hardly spoke, unless to argue, and would often just shoot each other dirty looks across the room.

Sungchan Liked ruffling YN’s feathers, always taking the chance to poke fun at her, call her a nerd, though he did similar things to her. He was the typical bully, YN thought he’d peak in high school for sure.

To be fair, YN was never very nice to him either. If there was one thing she was good at, it was holding a grudge. Anytime she’d think of any redeeming quality for the boy, she’d always come back to that day in first grade. And with her copious vocabulary, she always knew the right words to hit him with. Though, she didn’t think Sungchan would be able to understand many of them.

At some point, a classmate asked YN if she had a crush on sungchan, to which she almost threw up at the thought of. “Ew! Anyone but him!” She explained her hatred for sungchan and his dreamy eyes, but only left the girl unconvinced.

A boy who would become friends with sungchan asked him the same thing, and he just laughed at the thought. “Why would I have a crush on her, she’s annoying as shit!” He ignored how much he truly liked hearing her pretty voice argue back at him, just seeing her as a stuck up little princess.

By their junior year, there was something new to campaign for. Something new for them to compete in, to prove how much better they were. Student council. After a year of campaigning, debating and promoting themselves, the results were announced at the Student council meeting. One of them would be The student body president.

“Choi YN!” her name was called.

Her eyes lit up, a smile emerging as she went to the podium. Her speech was about what you’d expect from a junior, but She hoped Sungchan would feel like the loser he was. A bit later he approached her, a lazy smirk across his lips as he talked to her.

“Congrats on the win, I'd say you had a good run against me,” He spoke condescendingly, but YN couldn’t help but relish in his defeat.

“Oh, it wasn’t that difficult,” she smiled, trying to mask the sarcasm in her laugh.

“You know, you should really fix your attitude if we’re going to be partners,” he pointed out. The smile faded from YN’s face.

“What do you mean?” she asked, confused.

“Did you forget? I’m your vice president!” he said, faking his own joy.

One of them would be student body president. The runner up would be the Vice.

So much for an easy win.

“YN, no offense, but this budget sucks,” Sungchan said, looking over her shoulder at the paper on her desk.

“Thank you for your valued opinion, sungchan, but Mr. Lee said it was the best draft yet, so that’s what we’re sending in,” YN said, trying her best to ignore his figure hovering over her. “You know, maybe you could go do your job instead of trying to do mine,”

“Just trying to help,” He smiled.

Sungchan always found a problem with YN. Whether it was a policy idea she came up with, or an event she came up with for fundraising, it was never good enough. YN had taken up a habit of ignoring Sungchan, confident her ideas could stand on their own. And fairly certain that Sungchan was stupid.

But their disagreements were far too severe for two people who were supposed to be partners. Many meetings had turned into the two of them bickering back and forth, where their advisor would need to step in to make them pipe down. It was becoming unproductive for the two of them to work together, fighting more than they were working.

It didn’t help that YN was beginning to feel the weight of all her courses piling up on her. It was that part of the year where school life balance practically didn’t exist, where most nights were spent doing homework or catching up on work. The stress of being in the top classes, and having to manage multiple jobs for her position was eating her alive. It was only a matter of time before something set her off.

Sungchan always had exquisite timing.

“You know, YN, maybe if you weren’t so behind on your assignments, you wouldn’t be so stressed,” Sungchan’s voice mocked her from across her desk. “I don’t think it’s a very good look if our president is always behind on what she needs to do. Stress isn’t good for the job.”

Something inside her snapped. All the anger she struggled to keep at bay was boiling up all over again.

“Can you just shut the fuck up?” She snapped her head up at him, face turning red. “Like genuinely, let me do what I need to do, and leave me alone!”

“YN!” their advisor shouted from across the room. “That talk isn’t tolerated, apologize!”

“No! He’s done nothing but insult me and my work. Why should I apologize to him?” YN defended herself, Sungchan scoffing.

“Because you two are a team. You can’t work well together if-”

“I can’t work well if he’s always breathing down my back insulting me!”

“I was giving you advice, YN, learn the difference,” Sungchan laughed as he spoke, making YN’s anger rise more.

“I told you to shut up!” YN shouted at him, her anger burning in her throat.

“No! Both of you, out, now. Come back when you’ve figured out your problems.” Mr. Lee told them.

YN groaned, stomping out of the room, as sungchan followed behind her lazily. They stood in an empty hallway, sungchan looked around the hall, seeming bored, as YN stared a hole in the ground. Neither one of them wanted to break the silence, neither wanted to acknowledge their part in their stupid rivalry. But YN had one burning question on her mind.

“Why did you do it?” She asked, her voice quiet, not looking up at him.

“Do what?” Sungchan scoffed, leaning against the wall. His arms folded across his chest as he looked down at her.

“First Grade,” She spoke up a little. “It was recess, you stole my doll,”

“Oh my god,” Sungchan audibly laughed, a wide grin of disbelief across his stupid face. “Is that why you’re such a bitch? You’re mad about a stupid toy?”

“No, I'm mad because you’ve treated me like shit ever since then. And I want to know why. What did I ever do to you to make you hate me? You took my doll, and then you never stopped hating me. You never stopped being a dick.” YN looked up at him finally. She still looked upset, but there was something Sungchan couldn’t decipher in her gaze. He hated it.

He pushed off the wall, stepping closer towards her, causing her to take a step back. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a bit… insane?” he asked, leaning down to her eye level. “Honestly, has anyone?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a dickhead? Do you get off on being an asshole, or are you really just that stupid?” YN asked him, trying to fight back.

“Ever since we were little, you were such a prick. You were such a prissy princess, and you still are now. You know why I don’t like you? Because you think you’re better than everyone, and someone needs to bring you off your high horse,” Sungchan had a condescending grin on his face.

“No, I don’t,” YN mumbled, stumbling backwards. The words hit her harder than she would’ve expected.

“Bullshit,” Sungchan smiled, cornering her against a locker, his hand resting near her head. “You think you’re so special, that you’re the smartest girl in the world, but you’re not,”

“Sungchan, stop,” Her voice broke, though she tried to keep herself steady, trying to blink back the tears that welled in her eyes.

“Aw, you gonna cry?” He asked. “You know what I think? I think you’re pathetic. I think you’re a pathetic girl who’s never had a reality check. I think you’re pathetic for holding a grudge because I stole your toy. Boo Hoo. Welcome to the real world, there’s more than just your stupid dolls.”

YN shoved at his chest, trying to push him away from her, but he stood firm. She fought back the tears that threatened to fall.

“You know, YN, you really never changed,” He laughed. “You’re still the crybaby brat you were back when we were kids. Just a pathetic. useless. crybaby,”

There was silence between the two of them. The sound that broke it was a painful sounding sob from YN, as she covered her mouth, tears racing down her cheeks as she began gasping for air. Sungchan took a step back as She slid down the locker and to the floor, wrapping her arms around her legs as if she was trying to protect herself.

Sungchan was in shock. He’d never seen YN in such a position. He’d never seen her beyond the perfect image she always wore. The only time He saw her truly cry was when they were little. But this? Seeing her curled in on herself, sobbing into her legs, it made him rethink his actions. He thought she was immune to his words, that she’d spit something back that was just as mean, but here she was, broken down, sobs escaping her as her breathing picked up quickly.

He knelt down a bit, feeling remorse build up in his chest, reaching a hand to her shoulder. “YN?” his voice was soft, a drastic shift from his venomous voice. When he touched her, she smacked him away. She smacked his hand away from her shoulder, looking up at him with hatred in her eyes.

“Fuck you!” she yelled at him as she stood up, fleeing before he could process.

She ran to their homeroom, shoving her things into her bag as she wiped the tears from her eyes. She threw her bag over her shoulders, rushing out of the room as Mr. Lee questioned her. She didn’t respond, just storming away before anything worse could happen. Sungchan was still in the hallway, and when he saw her, he quickly approached, following behind her, calling her name. She heard him, but didn’t listen.

When she got to the front doors, she saw it was storming outside. She heard as Sungchan called after her, telling her not to walk home, that the rain was too heavy, offering to drive her, but She ignored him. She didn’t care about the Rain, she just wanted to get away from him.

YN was gone for the rest of the week, supposedly having caught the flu. Sunfchan knew better. He knew it was likely because he went too far, that what he said was unforgivable. It made him feel even worse.

He tried emailing her, texting her for the first time ever just trying to apologize for what he said, but she never responded. He didn’t really expect her to, he knew he was wrong. When he told his friends what happened, they all told him the same thing.

“Chan, you’re a dick,”

He knew they were right, that he in fact was a dick.

When she came back the next week, Sungchan made it his mission to talk to her. To get her to talk to him. When he saw her in homeroom, he approached her with a small smile, ready to genuinely apologize for what he said. But when she ignored him, looking up only to roll her eyes, he frowned.

He assumed she was just playing hard-ball. That she’d eventually talk if he tried hard enough.

In all their meetings, he’d try to be extra nice, complimenting her or bringing her coffee, but she always ignored him, a straight face plastered onto her like a mask. After a week of trying with no results, sungchan wanted to punch a wall.

“I give up,” He said to his friends at lunch. “What can I do if she doesn’t even listen to me? She won’t even hear me out! What am I supposed to do to fix it if she won’t let me!”

“You’re really dumb, you know,” Shotaro laughed at the younger boy.

“What?” sungchan furrowed his brows.

“You think that she owes you forgiveness after what you did?” He asks.

“No, but-”

“Then stop expecting it. Honestly, I don't blame her for ignoring you. You’ve been a bitch to her since you were in elementary school,” Shotaro sighed. “You’re not going to get anywhere like this. If you want things to be better, then you gotta stop being a dick. You can’t apologize and then go back to chastising her for stupid shit.”

Sungchan looked down. “I know,”

“Then stop being a dick!” eunseok said from across the table.

“Well she’s just a bitch!” Sungchan tried to shift the blame.

“No, she’s really not. She’s a bitch to you because you’ve never been nice to her. She’s actually a really sweet girl,” Eunseok defended her.

“How would you know?”

“She’s in my math class. She helps me with like… everything,” Eunseok shrugged.

“Why is this the first I'm hearing of that?” sungchan asked.

“Because you’d make such a fuss about how bitchy she was and how much you hated her.” the older boy shrugged. “And if you took a moment to stop being such an asshole, you’d see she was way nicer than you thought. And you’d also find out there was more to her than just being a spoiled nerd, or whatever you call her,”

When he went to the library that day, he heard something. While he was reading his assigned reading book, he heard a soft, muffled sound. He heard someone gasping a bit, little sniffles. He realized he heard someone crying.

As he walked slowly toward the sound, he stepped on a creaky part of the floor, and suddenly the sound stopped. He approached the book shelf, trying to see who was on the other side, when he was met with a pair of eyes doing the same, now eye to eye with the other person. He quickly realized it was YN, and a moment later she was running out with her books in her arms.

Another week went by, YN ignored and avoided sungchan like the plague. Sungchan felt hopeless in his attempts to talk to her. He missed when she’d bicker with him, even when she’d insult him or scold him. He wanted anything but silence.

When he went to the library that Thursday, it was a little late. He had finished up his duties, and looked around for YN to try and talk again, but couldn’t find her. As he looked for a spot in the library, his music playing in his ears a little too loudly, he soon realized why he couldn’t find her. Because there she was, cheek resting against an open book, papers spread out on her table, hair sprawled across her forehead, sleeping peacefully in the quiet of the library.

Sungchan couldn’t help but smile, looking at her so peacefully sleeping. He checked the time, and figured she would probably need to leave soon. He picked up her papers and slid them into her folder, and picked up the piles of books she stacked around her, and gently took the last one out from under her. He was lucky she was a heavy sleeper, or he’d probably get slapped. When everything was put away neatly, he turned back to her.

He crouched down, looking at her sleep peacefully. He brushed some hair away from her forehead, smiling to himself at how cute she looked.

How what she looked?

He shook himself out of his thoughts, and brought his hand to her shoulder, shaking her lightly. She didn;t budge, turning to rest her forehead on her arms, and he shook her again. And then again. When she woke up she sat up quickly, not processing her surroundings, or that sungchan was right next to her.

When she looked at him, her eyes widened, looking around at the now clean table.

“Fuck, fuck fuck!” She whispered to herself as Tears welled in her eyes, bringing her hands to her eyes.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Sungchan whispered, his hand resting on her shoulder as she cried. “You’re okay, just breathe,” he told her and she shoved his hand away. Deserved. “What’s wrong?”

YN looked at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “The fuck do you mean what’s wrong? I fell asleep and lost most of my work time, and now you’re here to rub it in!”

“No, i’m not,” sungchan shook his head. “I’m just here to wake you up,” he shrugged.

YN rolled her eyes and rested her forehead in her arms, facing down at the table. How could she have been so stupid? Letting herself fall asleep? And now Sungchan was here, the library, the place she went to avoid him. She sighed deeply, sniffling a bit, embarrassed by her tears, when she heard sungchan speak.

“I’ll drive you home,” He told her quietly.

“What?”

“It’s late, soon it’ll be dark, and you have a lot to carry. So i can give you a ride,” he shrugged, hoping she wouldn’t reject the offer.

“Why would I want a ride home from you?” she asked, looking up from the table, a frown etched onto her face.

“Just an offer,” Sungchan sighed, shifting his weight to his other foot. “Take it or leave it,”

YN had a choice. She could make a statement, stand up for herself and not give into sungchan’s offer. It’s what she should do. She didn’t want to spend anymore time with him after what he said to her.

But YN was tired. And her bag was heavy. And she heard sungchan drove a pretty nice car. Maybe she could tell him off while they were in there. She knew he would be too guilty to defend himself.

“Fine,” she said begrudgingly.

“Good,” he smiled lightly, bending down and picking up her bag, carrying it like it was nothing.

“What are you doing?” YN asked, trying to snatch her bag back.

“Carrying your bag, let’s go,” he started walking away before she could protest. She ended up trailing behind him with a frown, arms folded across her chest.

When they got tp his car, sungchan put her bag in the backseat while she got in the front. He got in after her and started the car without a word. He handed her his phone so she could type in her address, and pick the music. They got on the road, neither of them wanting to talk.

He glanced at her from time to time. She rested her head against the window, watching the road pass by as the day faded into night. He noticed the tired look in her eyes that he realized had been there for a few weeks now, but never had stood out to him. He noticed how her lips stayed in a little pout, wondering what was going through her mind as she looked out into the darkening road.

And then he spoke.

“I’m really sorry,” She turned at the words. “For everything,” She didn’t speak. “You didn’t deserve how I treated you, ever. I shouldn’t have said what I said, and I’m so sorry.” Sungchan let out a sigh. “It’s been eating me up, i needed to say it to your face,”

She looked down at her lap, picking at the skin on her fingers. “So why’d you do it?”

“What part?” sungchan asked, a bit of humor in his voice.

“All of it,” no humor in hers. Not the time for lightheartedness.

“I wish I knew, I was just acting on my impulse. WHen you asked me about why I did what I did in first grade, I didn’t know what to say, I just got angry. I didn’t think about all the times I was the one to start things with you, or pick on you, I only thought about that one thing. I just got mad, even though I didn’t have the right to be mad. You had all the right to ask, I reacted badly.” he tried piecing together his thoughts. “And I didn’t realize how badly, what I did, hurt you,”

“You didn’t realize? Sungchan you made me miserable,” YN scoffed.

“I know that now, and I’m sorry. I never knew how to fix things with you, I never was able to swallow my pride and admit I was wrong for how I treated you.” he apologized once more, knowing he could never undo all the hurt he had done to her.

“Are you forgetting everything you said to me? You can’t just unsay all that to me. You can’t say you regret it so much and expect to move on,”

“I know,” Sungchan nodded. “What I will say is that I never should have said those things to you. No matter how angry I was, you didn’t deserve that. I was disrespectful, and I crossed a line by saying that to you. And I don’t expect you to just move on, I don’t deserve that at all,” his voice felt genuine.

“Then why are you driving me home right now?” she asked, still frowning.

“Because I want you to get home safe, and I want to be better. I don’t want you to hate me, but I know that’s your own choice. I just want you to know that I’ll try,” Sungchan pulled up to her house, parking on the street.

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes as she opened the car door. Sungchan got out to grab her bag from the backseat, crossing around the car.

“For what it’s worth, I really am sorry,” he handed her the bag.

“Let’s talk next week,” she mumbled.

“What?” Sungchan furrowed his brow.

“When I'm not so sleep deprived, when I have time to process, let’s talk about us going forward. Don’t bother me until then,” she told him before walking up to her house, not giving him time to respond.

“Yes ma’am,” Sungchan muttered to himself, watching her get inside before he drove himself home.

Sungchan was nervous. He sat in the agreed upon cafe, waiting for YN to get there like he was waiting on a date. But he was never nervous for dates, Usually because dates actually liked him. But YN didn’t like him, and this certainly wasn’t a date.

Thankfully, YN had seemed to be doing better that week. When she walked through the doors to the cafe, sungchan couldn’t help but think about how pretty she was, though at the moment he should be more concerned with whether or not she was going to murder him. She sat down in front of him, he had already ordered her drink. He was about to greet her when she spoke.

“Against my better judgment, i’ve decided to forgive you,” YN told him.

“Really?” that was not the statement he expected. “So, you’re not going to kill me?”

“I have some measures,” sungchan straightened up, ready to listen. “Going forward, we aren’t going to hate each others guts. Let’s just move on, no more childish insults, no more fights over nothing. From now on, we get along.”

“Alright,” sungchan nods.

“And you have to actually tell me why you took my doll, why you did any of it,” YN adds. “I need closure,”

Sungchan nodded. “I had some really bad friends, which sounds kind of stupid, but they kept telling me that if I did what they did, I would be cool. They were older than me, so I thought they were right. So I spent my first grade year picking on kids like a loser, trying to be cool. They told me to go take your doll, so I did. I thought I’d be the coolest boy in the first grade, but I just felt bad. They told me to keep picking on you and I did, i made the decision to keep going, to keep being a little shit until I realized there was more to life than picking on girls. By the time I realized it, it was too late.” he told her. “And i’m not trying to say I was blameless, I still continued longer than I should have, i’m just trying to give you an explanation,”

“So you’ve always been kinda dumb?” She asked.

“Basically,” sungchan laughed a little, and saw her smile a little bit. “We should study together,”

“Why?” She asked, skeptical of his suggestion.

“Well, we’re supposed to be partners. So we should start learning to work together,” he shrugged, a little less confident than when he initially asked. “Just an idea, you don’t have to agree,”

“Are you good at Calc?” YN asked.

“Uh, yeah, i’m good at it,” Sungchan looked a little confused.

“Well, i’m good at History,” she told him. “So we can help each other out,”

Sungchan smiled. “Cool,” he nodded a little. “I can give you rides, if you need them,”

“Okay,” YN agreed. “Oh and you have to get me coffees before our meetings,”

“Deal,” sungchan smiled. “So, you really don’t hate me?”

“I’m in the process of not hating you,” YN corrected him. “We have a little ways to go,”

Surprisingly, it was easy to not hate sungchan. It seemed like he was making an effort to be a nice person, which YN appreciated. He always showed up to their student council meetings five minutes early with her coffee in hand. He stopped chastising her for her work, and she stopped calling him an idiot. Mr. Lee was surprised, but pleased to see the progress the two had made.

Their study time was productive, spending time going through each subject with one another to make sure they both had a good idea of what they were learning. It was a lot more helpful than she expected.

While the car rides were mostly quiet for a week or two, with only a little small talk filling the air, the two of them began talking to one another more. They’d rant about teachers, or classmates who got on their nerves, or talk about the show that they coincidentally both liked. Who would have thought that the two people who were already somewhat similar would have so much in common between each other.

YN found herself enjoying her time with Sungchan. If you had told her that a month ago, she would’ve called you stupid.

And Sungchan couldn’t deny that he thought YN was great. He struggled to hide his smile when he was around her. He couldn’t contain his thoughts of how cute she was, or how much he liked her laugh.

When he asked her to hang out, outside of stucco meetings, or study sessions, or their drives back to YN’s house, it seemed normal, that this was a progression of their friendship. When she accepted, Sungchan felt his stomach churn with excitement, joy that he could spend more time with her.

The first time, they just went to Sungchan’s house and watched a show on his couch, sharing a bag of popcorn and a bag of candy that was too big for one person. They spent most of the time talking, half of their attention on the show, half of it on each other. By midnight, they had ordered takeout and shared their food, switched spots on the couch, and YN accidentally kicked Sungchan in the jaw.

When people Noticed how much Sungchan and YN started hanging out, they thought it was some sort of joke. Almost everyone knew they hated each others guts, and now, here they were, walking down the halls together? And sungchan was carrying her backpack???? The hell happened?

When she walked through the halls, Sungchan was right behind her. There were times his arm would be slung around her shoulder, or she’d punch him in the arm. He’d ruffle her hair, she’d shove him lightly. Either this was a new form of torturing each other, or they actually got along.

Their partnership as student leaders was strengthened by their newfound closeness, and through their growth they never lost the bickering. But instead of insulting each other’s character, they now just poked fun, made light hearted jokes. And they always seemed to enjoy it.

It was weird.

It was also obvious that Sungchan had a crush.

All his friends could tell by the way he brought her up so much. When she’d approach them, Sungchan’s demeanor would change, a big smile on his face that would linger as she walked away. He wasn’t very slick. Comments that flew over YN’s head that were too flirty for someone you just had platonic feelings for, lingering gazes on her, compliments galore, it was a miracle YN didn’t figure it out.

He remembered what made her laugh, so he’d try to come up with jokes that she’d like because he loved hearing her laugh, watching her cover her grin and try to compose herself. He took note of her favorite snacks, and her usual coffee orders, not needing to ask after getting them for her so many times. He memorized the details of her face, the way her eyes sparkled when she wore certain makeup, how the apples of her cheeks got so big when she smiled, the way her lashed fanned over her cheeks, how she’d scrunch her nose a bit when she was thinking. He knew it all. He liked it all.

He liked her.

And damn, did he know it. He thought about her a lot, trying to come up with what would be their “perfect date”. He tried being obvious, but it was very difficult because somehow, this prodigy couldn’t tell when he was flirting with her. He texted her all the time, staying up late to have stupid conversations with her, wishing she was right there next to him and he could scoop her into his arms and talk to her in person.

Now they sat in sungchan room, laying on his bed watching TikToks and eating ramen. Very romantic. YN sat up on the bed, stretching her back a little as sungchan just watched her. He looked up at her like she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

“Is this weird?” She asked.

“Is what weird?” Sungchan sat up.

“Us, hanging out, being normal and not hating each others guts?” She smiled, looking over at him as he smiled back at her.

“Nah, I think it’s pretty cool,” he tells her. She didn’t notice the way his eyes trailed along her body before landing back on her lips.

“Okay, ‘cause sometimes I just randomly get the feeling that this is like… too out of character for us and we just-“

He pressed his lips against hers.

She froze for a moment before sighing a bit and leaning in, feeling his hand rest on her waist, his other coming up to brush back her hair. Her hand pressed against his chest, grabbing at his shirt as she shifted slightly towards him.

She was kissing him.

He kissed her.

Hello?

She pulled away with a gasp, eyes wide at what just happened. Sungchan looked apologetic, pushing his hair back.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“ he started, catching his breath.

“No, no, it's… it’s okay, don't worry,” she told him, but was standing up from where she sat on his bed. “I uh, I need to go home,”

Sungchan didn’t say anything to her as she walked out.

Sungchan kissed her. How many other girls had he kissed? What did that kiss mean? Why did he kiss her? Why was he such a good kisser? Why did she enjoy kissing him so much? Did she like sungchan? Did-

Channie: hey I wanna say I’m sorry again

Channie: I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable

YN: it’s ok dw

YN: I just need to think

And think she did. She barely got a wink of sleep that night, all that was in her mind was a replay of their kiss. Thinking about kissing him made her think more. She thought about if she liked him, or if she was just flustered. And then she thought about him, how close the two of them had gotten over the past weeks. She realized she noticed things about sungchan that she would’ve scoffed at before.

The next day at school was awkward, neither wanting to bring up the night before. They attended their classes like normal, but the chatter and playfulness between them was gone, both too scared to initiate anything. The student council meeting after was awkward, everyone in the room could tell, but they remained quiet. Sungchan still drove her home, what kind of guy would he be to let her go alone? But their drive was almost silent, the music only made the air more tense, as if they were both trying to drown out their own thoughts.

It remained like that for a week.

YN would sometimes catch sungchan staring over at her like he wanted to talk. When she’d lock eyes with him, he’d sit up taller and then turn his attention away from her.

At night, the two wouldn’t text as much, sungchan’s goodnight texts stopped as YN had stopped responding to a lot of his texts. How was she supposed to continue as normal? How was she supposed to pretend that everything was the same? How was she supposed to pretend she didn’t like him?

Through their weeks together, YN always felt a little something in her chest. She thought it was just joy that finally the two could put the past behind them. But in her week (that now bled into the second week) of rethinking their last close interaction, she realized that it was a little more than just joy. She realized how much she liked being around sungchan, how she liked when his arm was wrapped around her, and she liked staying up late at night just to talk to him more.

She especially liked kissing him.

Oh she was so screwed.

The next student council meeting was about two weeks from when he kissed her. So two weeks of being extremely awkward around each other. By now, the tension was palpable, and Mr. Lee was getting nervous.

“Are you two fighting again?” he asked as YN and sungchan sat an awkward distance apart, still next to each other. They both looked up, looked at each other and shook their heads.

“No,” they both said at the same time.

“Well you two aren’t as chatty as you were before. Don’t get me wrong, i like the quiet, but i’d prefer if you wouldn’t go back to trying to kill each other,” he told them.

“Don’t worry, mr. lee, we’re just hard at work,” Sungchan told him with a reassuring smile. “Nothing’s wrong,” Lie.

When mr. Lee walked away, he looked at YN.

“We should probably talk,” He told her with an awkward smile. “You know,”

YN sighed. “Not right now, okay,”

“Okay… when?” he asked, wanting the tension gone from their relationship.

“I don’t know, right now just isn’t the time to talk,” She told him, the cold tone Sungchan knew so well creeping back into her voice.

“YN, it’s been two weeks, we have to talk about it if-”

“Sungchan, drop it!” she dropped her pencil, looking over at him with a look he knew all too well. Sungchan didn’t say anything before getting up, telling Mr. Lee he was going to the restroom.

YN sighed, regretting snapping at Sungchan. The thought of talking about what happened scared her, she was afraid they wouldn’t be the same if they acknowledged the elephant in the room. But she knew she had to talk about it. She knew Sungchan deserved to have a talk about what happened.

When he came back, YN looked up at him hopefully, hoping he’d take his seat next to her and they could resume, but he picked up his things and moved to his desk. YN frowned, going back to doing her work, looking up occasionally to watch what he was doing.

She got up from her spot and walked over to his desk to apologize. She leaned against the table and tapped his shoulder, giving him an apologetic smile. Sungchan didn’t return it, YN couldn’t read what he was thinking.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you-” she started but got cut off.

“Let’s talk later,” he told her, his voice even as he spoke.

YN frowned, but nodded as she turned away. It was what she deserved, she was the one to shut him out first, she shouldn’t be surprised he did the same. But it still hurt. She realized how Sungchan must have felt when she shut him down.

The rest of the meeting passed with awkward silences and reminders of important dates that were coming up. YN could barely focus, but Sungchan seemed to be doing just fine. He seemed to work harder when he was a little frustrated. But at the end of their session he lingered behind, waiting for her to pack up.

She approached him with a little smile, which he reciprocated before looking to the ground, and starting to walk towards the door. Once in the hallway, YN decided to speak.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she said, looking up at him. She watched as he turned to look at her, his face softening to a soft smile.

“It’s okay,” he assured, looking down at her.

The awkward silence turned comfortable, and the distance between the two seemed smaller. The elephant in the room was very much present, but at least they weren’t upset with each other. They walked to Sungchan��s car quietly, the drive to YN’s house was nearly silent if not for the occasional small talk sungchan would interject, trying to ease the tension.

He pulled up to her driveway, looking over at her with a small smile. “Have a good night, YN,” he told her.

YN smiled, pulling her bag into her lap, about to open the door when she hesitated. Something rushed her system, and she asked, “do you want to come inside for a bit?”

Sungchan paused for a moment, considering her offer before nodding stiffly. He parked his car and got out, leaving his bags in his car. YN smiled and got out, waiting for him to cross around before leading him inside. “My parents are out of town for a couple nights, so we should be fine,” She didn’t want her parents there to question her motives for bringing a boy into the house.

Sungchan nodded, and she opened the door for him. Her house was neat, everything in place, nice and neat. He looked around and saw all the achievements of the household, her father was a successful lawyer, and her mother a proud business woman. In the shadow, YN was their perfect little student. Sungchan began to understand why she was so serious about their rivalry.

He absentmindedly followed her to her room, looking around the house like it was a museum. He’d never seen a cleaner house, even with his neat-freak mother.

“We should talk,” YN’s voice broke him from his daze. She motioned her arms for sungchan to make himself comfortable. He took a spot on the foot of her bed, glancing around a bit before landing his eyes on her.

“Yeah,” he nodded, feeling his nerves build up.

Was she going to reject him? Tell him he misread their relationship? Call him ugly? No one could ever call him ugly… right?

“I’ve been thinking a lot about… a few weeks ago, when we-” she made random gestures that in no way implied kissing.

“Kissed?”

“Yeah, that,” she sighed, an awkward laugh following. “Listen, I don't know what it meant to you, but I'm gonna be honest… I really liked it, and I really like you, and i don’t know how you feel, so if we’re not on the same page-”

Sungchan got to his feet the moment she said she liked him, and cut her off by kissing her once more, relief flooding his system, smiling when he felt her wrap her arm around his neck. His hand held her cheek lightly as they kissed, breaking away, smiling brightly.

“So you-” YN started, gasping lightly, trying to catch her breath.

“Yes, you idiot,” Sungchan grinned, brushing his thumb against her cheek. “And you call me dumb, i’ve been flirting with you for weeks!”

YN just smiled, bringing him back in for another kiss.

Around school, most people had heard about YN and sungchan, most were in disbelief, some could see it coming from a mile away. Mr. Lee grew annoyed with their newfound affection, because now instead of constant bickering, he had to listen to sungchan constantly calling YN pretty, or flirting with her.

But the bickering never stopped. If there was anything about them, they always found something to argue about. The two of them always had something to fight over, always in a friendly competition.

This time, they just didn’t hate each other.

taglist: @oftenjisung , @vhuteryh , @skzhoe4life , @cheederzchez

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