#i love teasing my friends about their crushes

[wwooyology]

Prove It To You | J.YH

「pairing」 : yunho x fem!reader 「word count」 : 3.5k

「synopsis」 : you could feel the end of your relationship coming, and yunho saw his opportunity to finally take his chances to show you just how much better he was than that asshole you called your boyfriend.

「genre」 : frat boy!yunho, uni au, angst, a small bit of fluff, smut

「warning」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, kissing, infidelity, unprotected sex, dom!yunho x sub!reader, slight size kink, big dick!yunho, biting/marking, fingering, clit play, breast play, teasing, begging, yunho is just a little bit possessive, petnames (baby, darling, sweetheart, my love), semi-rough sex, multiple orgasms, praising, creampie, readers bf hears from the other room, sloppy makeout, lmk if I missed anything!

「notes」 : tbh this idea stemmed from a memory of something similar that happened to me, except it wasn't a guy I was dating. it was a guy that I was crushing on, but sadly I didn't have a yunho back then </3

It was maybe close to three in the morning, and you were still awake as your so-called boyfriend slept peacefully on his bed. You had tagged along with him and your other friends who lived in the frat house to hang out; however, as soon as the others excused themselves to either leave or go to bed, you were left alone with him. At first, you thought you two could watch a movie before going to bed, but he just hummed while scrolling through his phone. He lay in bed while you sat on the ground.

“Just put on whatever you want.” His tone was uninterested as you turned to look at him and he didn’t even take a moment to look at you.

Defeated, you just put on a random show to watch, knowing that he wouldn’t pay attention to anything. You had planned a whole night for the two of you after everyone had left, seeing as he had been out of town with his family for the past two weeks. Yet now he acted as if you were the least important thing to him.

The movie hadn’t even played halfway through when you heard his soft snores behind you; looking over your shoulder, you saw that he was sprawled out all over the queen-sized bed. Letting out a huff, you rolled your eyes before going back to the movie.

Until you started to get tired, but you didn’t really feel like sleeping in the same bed as your boyfriend right now. However, you also couldn’t just leave because you had ridden in with your boyfriend, and everyone was already asleep.

You stood to your feet before bending down and grabbing your phone off of the ground, then walking out of the room, not bothering to turn anything off. The house was quiet, which was a strange thing to you because the frat house was always lively, but you just shrugged it off before carefully making your way down the stairs. Getting to the first floor, you looked around the dark room with the small light of your phone’s lock screen and made your way to the front door.

Unlocking the door, you pulled it open and slipped out of the house. As soon as you stepped outside, you were met with the harsh, cold winter winds, causing you to shiver. Shutting the door, you walked over to the step, sat down, and pulled your phone out again.

Opening the screen, you thought about using the rideshare app to get a ride back to the dorms, but it was a Friday night, and it was late at night, so you quickly closed the app once more. You debated walking back, but you were all the way across campus, and once again, it was late.

“Fucking hell.” You cursed quietly as you shoved your hands into the pockets of your coat along with your phone as the cold started to settle into your bones.

Leaning against the railings, you just watched as a few cars drove by, and you could feel yourself starting to drift off. Your eyes fluttered closed once more, and you hadn’t even heard the front door open behind you.

“Why are you trying to sleep outside?” His voice startled you right awake, and your whole body twisted as you looked up at Yunho. He stood just a few feet behind you with his arms crossed over his chest, his hair a mess, making you believe that he had just woken up. Your heart beat rapidly against your ribcage as you looked at him. Ever since you had been introduced to him, there has been an unspoken attraction, but you never act on it because of your boyfriend.

Swallowing thickly, you turned away, “I’d rather sleep out here than in there.” Your voice was soft as you pulled your knees to your chest, your skirt riding up your hips.

Yunho eyed you carefully before stepping forward and taking a seat next to you, leaving a comfortable space between your bodies. You looked over at him for a moment before turning back to look at the empty street.

“I figured you would be cozy in bed with fuckface.” You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his choice words knowing very well that Yunho and your boyfriend never got along, but you had no idea why.

After a few moments, you inhaled deeply before breathing out, watching your breath fog in the air. “I would be, but he seemed to be more interested in whatever was on his phone than me.” You let out a short laugh before looking over at Yunho, who was staring at you with an unreadable expression.

Yunho’s jaw tightened as he looked at you. He wasn’t sure how anyone could treat you so harshly. If your boyfriend wasn’t just bluntly ignoring you, he was short and seemed uninterested in doing anything that involved you unless it was with your group of friends. Yunho hated it and had believed that he could treat you so much better, but you never left that asshole; far too kind to end things.

But tonight, Yunho had enough, and he was determined to show you that you deserved so much more.

“Yunho?” You called out to the tall male, waving a hand in front of his face, trying to snap him out of whatever daze he had fallen into.

A gasp fell from your lips when he grabbed your wrist, pulling you into him. Your other hand flew out to catch yourself, landing right on his thigh. With wide eyes, you looked up to ask him what he was doing, but he cut you off as his lips smashed into yours. His tongue swiped over your lips, the sweet taste of your lipgloss invading his taste buds. It wasn’t until his hand wrapped around the back of your neck that you pushed away from him with wide eyes.

“We can’t.” Your voice was quiet, eyes glued to your lap, and Yunho let out a deep sigh. He leaned forward, laying his forehead against yours.

“Forget about that jerk, y/n; he doesn’t deserve you.” He told you, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, and you looked up at him with misty eyes. “Let me take care of you. Let me show you how you deserve to be treated. Please.”

Your brain turned into a warzone as you stared into his eyes, contemplating the repercussions of your action. There was no love in your relationship with your boyfriend anymore, and you were sure that he would take the first chance he could to leave you.

Yunho was so much more than he was, and deep down, you knew that; he was always attentive to your needs and cared more than your boyfriend has ever in the entirety of your relationship. The only thing that held you back was you were too scared to leave your boyfriend, but now you couldn't care less. If he wasn’t going to care for you correctly, Yunho would.

And that’s all it took for you to lean forward to seal your lips over Yunho’s once more.

Yunho’s grip on your neck tightened, pulling you closer to his body, wanting you as close as physically possible. Your lips were soft against his and tasted like sweet cherries; it was driving him nuts. Once the both of you were out of air, you pulled apart, a small string of saliva still connecting your lips.

“Let’s go inside.” Yunho rasped, and you quickly nodded before standing up with him and following him back into the house.

As soon as you were inside his bedroom, Yunho’s lips were back on yours, stealing all the air from your lungs. His hands cupped your face as he stepped back, leading you to his bed. You let out a gasp when the back of your knees hit the edge of his bed, and you fell back.

Yunho chuckled before crawling over your body, trapping you with his and bringing his lips back down to yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring every inch, trying to memorize every part. Your hands moved up to wrap around his shoulders, pulling him even closer to you.

“God, I can’t even tell you how long I’ve waited for this.” He groaned against your lips as your hips rolled up, brushing against his growing erection. Heat pooled in your core, and the pressure was almost unbearable as he moved away to look down at you.

“Yunho.” You whined softly, hands tugging at his shirt, causing him to smirk, his hand moving to grab your chin.

“What do you want, baby?” He asked, pulling your attention back to him, and he felt his dick twitch in his sweat at the needy and lustful look in your eyes.

“You. I just want you.” You breathed out, wrapping your hand around his wrist as you looked up at him.

“How could I tell you no when you look so desperate.” He teased, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips before moving his hands down to your skirt. “But I gotta prep you first, darling.”

You opened your mouth to protest but the sharp look he gave you instantly had you closing your lips once more. Yunho then unzipped your skirt before pulling it down your legs and throwing it somewhere in his room. Not even seconds after the cloth left his hand he grabbed your shirt, telling you to sit up and pulling it off.

Yunho felt like his body was about to combust at the sight of your pretty lace lilac lingerie, the cloth hugging your curves in all of the right places. You felt small under his gaze as he continued to stare at you, his fingers tracing along the seams. A soft moan fell from your lips when he brushed over your erect nipple.

“Did you wear this for him?” His voice was low as he leaned over your body again, face inches away from yours, and you just looked up at him with hooded eyes.

“It’s for you now.” You cooed, cupping his face as you looked up at him, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip.

Yunho smirks, his large hand grabbing your waist, causing your back to arch up, giving him just enough room to unclasp your bra. Once the piece of clothing was off of your body and off somewhere in the room, Yunho’s lips latched onto your collarbone.

He left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest until he got to your soft mounds. A sharp moan fell from your lips when he took one of your buds into his mouth. Yunho took his time with your chest, marking almost every inch of skin he possibly could, relishing in the sounds that left your pretty lips.

“Yunho…” You whined, back arching against him as his hand slipped under your underwear, cupping your wet heat. The feeling of his hands on your body was electrifying, like nothing that you’ve felt before.

“Already so wet for me,” He groaned against your skin, moving up to your neck as his slender fingers pressed against your clit.

A choked moan fell from your lips as he started to circle your sensitive bud, his lips pressing wet kisses along your jugular. He soaked in all of the noises you made as your fingers tugged at his shirt; he was determined to make sure that you only knew his name.

“Yu–” You were cut off when he slipped a finger into your tight cunt, brushing over spots that you’ve never been able to reach. Tears pricked at your eyes as he kept a steady pace, watching you closely and studying all of the expressions you made.

“You’re so tight, sweetheart. I’m not sure you’ll be able to take me.” He pouted as he added a second finger, stretching you out and pulling another moan from your swollen lips.

“I-I can take it, I promise!” You choked out, looking up at him with so much need, and your hand wrapped around the back of his neck.

“You’re such a good little thing, aren’t you?” He hummed, picking up his pace after adding a third finger. 

You’ve never felt this full before, and your high was right on the tip of your tongue; you just needed a little bit more. Noticing, Yunho pressed his thumb against your clit, circling the nub in time with his thrusts causing your eyes to roll back as you came undone.

“Yunho!”  You cried out his name as he worked you through your orgasm, his lips pressing against your temple.

“I’ve got you, baby. Let it all go.” He spoke softly, his pace slowing to a stop, and you lay there breathing heavily. Yunho pulled his fingers from your soaping cunt, and wrapped them around the flimsy fabric before pulling them down your legs.

Your body still felt like it was on fire, the burning need for more almost suffocating as you sat up. A chuckle left Yunho’s mouth as you tugged at his shirt, begging him to take it off.

“You’re so cute when you’re all needy.” He cooed as he pulled his shirt over his head and pulled his sweats down his hips, letting them pool on the ground.

Your eyes went wide, seeing the outline of his cock under his boxers; he was big. Noticing your expression, Yunho grabbed your chin and pulled your eyes back to his. Leaning forward before he sealed your lips in another kiss as he laid you back down, hands traveling down to your hips.

He pulled away for a moment, but you tried to pull him back, not getting enough of his taste, and he pressed a kiss on the corner of your lips, “Hold on, I need to grab a condom.” He then moved to make a grab at his nightstand, but you quickly sat up, grabbing his arm.

“No! I want to feel all of you, Yun, please.” You pleaded with him, your bottom lip jutting out as you looked at him. He looked back at you in shock, wondering if he had heard you correctly. “I’m on the pill, please.”

Yunho felt like he could cum right then and there at the thought of fucking you raw, but then he started to wonder if you let your boyfriend fuck you raw too. Noticing the conflict in his eyes, you reached up, cupping his face.

“He’s never fucked me without a condom, just you.” Your voice was soft, and Yunho looked at you for a long moment before his lips crashed into yours once more.

“I love you, fuck. I love you so much.” He told you, and he tugged his boxers down, letting his aching cock spring free. He pulled your hips closer to his, not once leaving your lips in the process, even swallowing all of your moans as he teased your entrance with his tip.

“Fuck! Yunho, please!” You whined, rolling your hips, trying to get him to push in already, and he smirked.

He watched your face contort in pleasure as he started to push into your wet cunt, splitting you open, and you gasped out. You started to question whether or not you would actually be able to take him as tears started to spill from the corner of your eyes.

“C’mon, sweetheart, you said you could take it.” Yunho teased as he continued to push into you, and you choked out his name.

“I can– fuck!” You cried, wanting to be good and take all of him, and Yunho watched in amusement as you brought your hand up to cover your mouth as your moans got louder.

Yunho was almost fully in when you grabbed his wrist that was beside you, your brain going hazy at the sudden fullness. Incoherent babbles fell from your lips, and Yunho chuckled as he took in your already fucked out state.

“I’m not even fully in you yet, and I’ve already fucked you stupid.” He sat up a bit to grab your hips, using the leverage to push the rest of the way in. A choked moan fell from your lips at the sudden movement, your eyes rolling back. “God, you feel so fucking good, sweetheart.” He groaned, fighting off the urge to move, wanting you to get adjusted first.

“Y-Yunho…” You breathed out; all of your nerves felt like they were on fire, but it still wasn’t enough. “Fuck me, please!” Your eyes cracked open, gazing up at him with a teary gaze and Yunho felt the last bit of his composure crumble away.

“My pleasure, baby.” He growled before pulling out and slamming back into you, eliciting a loud moan.

Yunho’s pace was relentless, allowing no room for you to breathe, and stars danced across your vision. Your moans were bouncing off the walls, and Yunho was sure that the neighbors could hear how good he was fucking you. Then he suddenly remembered that your boyfriend was still asleep in the next room, and a sinister smirk spread across his face.

“You’re mine now, sweetheart.” He told you, leaning down to press a kiss against your jaw, and you nodded your head, all words lost to you. Kissing his way up to your ear, he nipped at your earlobe, causing your body to shiver, and another broken moan fell from your lips. “Tell me who you belong to, baby.”

“You,”

“Say my name,” Yunho growled, pulling away to pick up his pace once more, and you let out a pitiful squeak.

“Yunho.” You cried out, fingers wrapping around his wrist as your head fell back when he brushed over your sweet spot.

However, that wasn’t good enough for Yunho, “louder.”

“Yunho!” His name fell from your lips even louder than last time, but again, it wasn’t quite enough for the male.

“Louder!”

“YUNHO!” You screamed his name when he pressed down on your clit, causing stars to cloud your vision, your high right around the corner.

A triumphant smile spread across Yunho’s face when he heard movement on the other side of the wall, knowing full well that your boyfriend had heard you. The smile was soon wiped away, replaced with a groan as you tightened around his swollen cock.

“Fuck!” He cursed as he felt his own high creep up on him, and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, especially if you kept squeezing him like that.

“Yun, ‘m close!” You cried out, back arching off of the bed as the knot in the pit of your stomach tightened.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, cum for me. Make a mess all over my cock.” His words were the last push you needed before you came all over his cock. He groaned as he looked down to see the milky white ring forming around the base of his cock.

“Yunho!” You cried out as he continued to fuck into you at his merciless pace, white spots littering your vision as he abused your sweet spot.

“I’m almost there, baby, just a little bit more.” He cooed, leaning down to capture your lips with his in a sweet kiss as his thrusts became sloppy before he shook in your hold as he came, painting your velvet walls white. “F-Fucking hell.”

Coming down from your highs, Yunho laid on your chest after he pulled out. Both of you just lay there as you tried to catch your breath, your fingers running through Yunho’s hair as he held you close.

You were then snapped out of your trance when you heard movement in the next room, realizing that your boyfriend’s room was right next to Yunho’s, and your heart dropped. Noticing the change in your mood, Yunho lifted his head, resting his chin on your chest.

“What’s wrong, my love?” He asked, and your heart swelled at the endearing pet name.

“I think he heard everything,” You whispered as you glanced down at him, worry written all over your features and Yunho let out a sigh before pushing himself up until he was hovering over you once again.

“He definitely heard something, but it’s his loss. You’re mine now.” He told you before leaning down and kissing you once again, his kiss filled with so much love and need it pushed all other thoughts away.

After a few moments he pulled away, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheek. You wrapped your hand around his wrist as you looked up at him with a soft smile, soaking in all of the affection he was giving you. Pulling him back down, your eyes fluttered closed as his lips brushed over yours.

“I’m all yours.” You confirmed his statement before sealing the kiss, all thoughts of your ex-boyfriend no longer clouding your mind. It was all replaced with Yunho and the feeling of his lips and body on yours, showering you with all of the love and appreciation that you deserved.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏ�� ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[salvieslovenotes]

Blame it on the sun pt.1

summary: you and Vi have been best friends for years, which is fine, only you also happen to be a teensy bit in love with her. You're handling it, except a road-trip and a week at the beach might just prove to be the tipping point... pairing: fem!reader x vi (arcane) contains: modern!au, collage!au, road-trip/beach!au, friends to lovers. 2k a/n: i haven't written before so please be gentle! this is a part one, where i am it's super sunny and i was at the beach and suddenly thought about a vi beach au and wrote this in my notes app. sorry not proofread! might do part two/three soon xox

‘Say it again,’ Caitlyn instructs.

You sigh, exasperated. ‘Cait, this so isn't gonna work.’

‘It is!’ Caitlyn insists. It's hard to take her seriously from where she's seated on her yoga mat, in the lotus position and glaring you with a determined gleam in her eye. ‘This is your mantra. You're pulling in all the strong, independent energy. Go on! Say it!’

‘This is ridiculous.’

‘Say it!’

‘I am sexy and fearless,’ you say, giving Caitlyn a flat look.

‘And…’ Caitlyn prompts.

You huff another sigh. ‘And I will not spend the whole week pining after Violet.’

‘You won’t,’ Caitlyn affirms. ‘You're too good for that.’ Her smile turns soft. ‘Just relax and have a brilliant time.’

Caitlyn, your college roommate, really is the most patient woman on the planet, and who's been subjected to more than a few of your Vi-related rants. You and Caitlyn aren’t in any classes together but met at pilates, and she's been the best roommate you've ever had. She’s also the only person who knows how you feel about Vi.

It's just... you needed to tell someone. You and Vi have been best fiends for years, since you were small. You grew up together, went to school together, moved away to college together, have the same group of friends. You played in each other’s paddling pools at three years old for god’s sake.

Right now you're waiting for her and your friends to pick you up, and then you're all going to spend a week of summer break on the coast.

You love Vi, of course you do. Only the tiny, totally insignificant problem is that you're also in love with her.

It's fine. You can totally handle this. You have your mantra and everything.

It's not like you haven't tried to get over the way you feel. At first it was just a little crush. So, when your first high school boyfriend asked you out, you said yes. And you liked him, you really, really did.

But your feelings for Vi didn't go away... they just stayed. They just got stronger. But you're best friends, and she doesn't feel the same. You're friends. So you've become excellent at shoving your feelings down, excellent at dating around here and there, excellent at swallowing your jealousy when Vi has another hookup.

She's never dated seriously, but, as captain of the university’s football team, people know who she is. Unfortunately, being on the cheerleading squad, you get to hear just what the girls think of her. Just how they pine for her after a hook up. It's irritating, them always asking you if she's mentioned them, if she's interested. But you've got this. You accept every few of the dates you get asked on, hoping that maybe this time it'll work. That they'll make you forget Vi.

Only they never do.

You're starting to think maybe no one will.

But you're good—you're excellent at pretending. If you happen to slip up and moan to Caitlyn about it then so what. That's what roommates are for. You always make Caitlyn’s on-again-off-again girlfriend, Maddie, pancakes in the morning when Caitlyn is sleeping in.

‘You'll be fine,’ Caitlyn reminds you, eyes soft. ‘Give me a call if you wanna moan. Or put on that little thing that can barely be called a skirt I know you’ve packed, make the whole club want you and she'll regret her whole life.’

‘Ha ha,’ you snort. Vi won't obviously, but Caitlyn’s gentle teasing makes you smile all the same.

There's a loud beep of a car horn from outside.

‘Oh. Guess that's me.’ You grab your bag, swinging the strap over your shoulder and looking around, trying to think if you've forgotten anything.

‘Suncream?’ asks Caitlyn, moving into downward dog with practiced ease. ‘Second bikini? Book? Rose quartz? Passport?’

‘Passport?’ you echo, distracted, checking your bag for the millionth time. There's another loud honk from outside. ‘But we're not leaving the country…?’

Caitlyn makes a shrugging movement. It looks funny from her current position. ‘You never know. Prepare for anything.’

‘Right,’ you laugh, but grab your passport just in case on your way out, calling, ‘bye love!’

‘Remember your mantra!’ Caitlyn yells just as you slam the door of your little flat.

Hurrying down the steps, you find Vi's beaten-up red jeep idling in the middle of the street.

She's twisted around in her seat as you pull open the door, arguing over music with Ekko, Claggor and Mylo, your friends you met at uni. Powder got a scholarship to Oxford for chemical engineering, and so you only see her over the long Christmas break, but you all call often.

‘What's wrong with Sabrina?’ Claggor asks defensively. He's going through a current obsession - his music tastes change weekly based on the girl he's sweet on at the time. Right now, it's Sabrina Carpenter. Juno has been on repeat.

‘Not again,’ groans Ekko. ‘Hey,’ he adds, nodding at you as you drop your bag on the floor of the front seat and swing in next to Violet. ‘Tell him, would you?’

‘I like Juno,’ you shrug, grinning

Ekko groans again, tossing his hands up as Claggor lets out a triumphant ha!

‘It’s good!’ you laugh as Vi makes a loud scoffing noise. It makes you smile; you happen to know Sabrina occupies a significant portion of her workout playlist.  

Something clenches in your chest at the sight of her. She looks unfairly good, wearing a singlet that shows off her tattoos and arms. Around her neck she's wearing a necklace you brought back for her from holiday one time; it's got a mother-of-pearl pendant, and the slightly crazy lady who sold it to you said it carried protective power from giver to receiver.

‘So I’ll be protecting you always,’ you'd said as you gave it to Vi, laughing. It had been a joke, obviously, but her voice was soft as she thanked you. And she hasn't taken it off since. Not once.

Apparently, one time she had a fit before a game when the clasp broke and it fell without her noticing. Ekko, who's also on the team, told you with a funny expression you couldn't decipher that Vi refused to play until she found it.

‘I suppose everyone has funny pregame rituals,’ you shrugged it off. Tying left shoelaces before right, tapping their locker three times.

Still, it makes your heart kick a little faster every time you see the necklace on her.

‘Damn Princess, way to make us all suffer,’ she says, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. It’s an old nickname, left over from the Princess-themed sixth birthday party you had. Vi turns back to the front, glancing at you quickly then whipping back so fast she’s in danger of damaging something, and she stares at your top for a second, eyes wide.

‘Uh...?’ you say, cautious and more than a little confused.

Vi sort of coughs, heat flooding her cheeks. ‘Nothing.’ Turning to face the road, she clears her throat a good three times. ‘Right, everyone ready? Let’s go then.’ She puts the car into gear as you buckle in.

From the backseat you hear Ekko snort. ‘Nice top,’ he says dryly.

You look down at your halterneck. The pattern has small holes everywhere, like a lacy curtain, and maybe it's a bit much normally, particularly as you can’t wear a bra with it, but you figured as you're going to the beach, it’s fine. Powder crocheted it herself and sent it as a gift for your birthday, along with a vaguely threatening and capitalised instruction to MAKE SURE YOU WEAR IT ON YOUR BEACH TRIP. So... here you are, following instructions.

‘Thanks,’ you say to Ekko. ‘Powder made it.’

Vi mutters something you can't quite catch but sounds vaguely like I'm gonna kill her.

‘I love that girl,’ sighs Mylo with a snigger.

As Vi turns off onto the next street, you connect Claggor’s phone, and as Sabrina starts playing you roll down your window and settle back.

Some time later, everyone’s playing fuck-marry-kill to pass the time on the long drive, and Vi’s laughing at something Mylo says. It's almost perfect. If you ignore Vi beside you, the way her hand rests on the gear stick, one elbow on the windowsill as she loosely grips the steering wheel. It's warm; sun pouring through the windows and you’re trying really hard not to stare at veins on her arms, when suddenly she brushes a hand over your thigh.

The gasp that escapes your mouth is frankly mortifying.

Alarmed, you glance around at her to find Vi frowning at you, confused.

‘D’you mind?’

‘Huh?’

‘Uh...’ she makes a face, a small amused smile tugging at her lips, crooked and slipping to one side. ‘I asked if you could get my sunglasses. They're in the front pocket.’

‘Oh. Yep. Sure can do,’ you say hurriedly, fetching them for her and mentally kicking yourself.

You need to get it together.

It's fine.

I’m not gonna pine, I’m not gonna pine, I’m not gonna pine, you repeat in your head. You're distracted enough that you're starting to think Caitlyn has a point with the whole mantra thing, but then...

Then Vi does something completely inane and absolutely devastating (literally just runs her hand through her hair), her bicep bunching as she raises her arm in a way that's unholy, a sight that belongs in a strip club not a sun-filled front seat on a random Tuesday morning. You turn hastily to the window, heart hammering and mouth suddenly very dry.

Oh this is so not fine.

_______________

Damn Little Mix. Damn them to hell.

No one should be dancing like that, to fucking Little Mix of all groups. Like, really. The way your hips are swaying should be studied by hypnotists, because Vi cannot drag her eyes away.

It's magnetic, sensual and playful all in one heady rush. Every time she thinks she’s used to you, thinks she’s got this... yearning for you under control, you go and do something inane, you smile, roll your eyes, nudge her shoulder, and she’s falling all over again.

It feels like she’s fallen so many times. It can’t get any stronger, she can’t feel any more than this—and then somehow she does.

But you’re friends. Friends don’t think about each other like that. Friends don’t have to bite back the other’s name while sleeping with someone else. Friends don’t fall asleep dreaming about each other.

You’re friends, so she shouldn’t go insane when you simply lay a hand on her shoulder, or nudge her hip. Shouldn’t catch herself staring at your mouth and thinking about it against hers—

Nope. Nope, she’s not doing this. Right now, she's busy being mad at fucking Little Mix, who clearly have got it out for her.

What makes it worse is that you two have always been exceptionally close. People often mistake you for being together as a couple, and Vi always tries to laugh it off, make a joke out of it, when in reality it burrows through her like a blade.

Because that's what she wants, it's all she’s ever wanted.

But because of that, how there's always been an easy casualness between you, how your relationship has always been a little touchy-feely, Vi doesn't need to imagine what it would feel like to have you close, she knows.

It’s worse. It’s so much worse. She knows how well her hands fit into the curve of your waist. She knows what the swell of your hips feels like.

Sometimes she can’t help herself, imagining sinking her teeth into the soft flesh, the sounds you'd make. The way you'd moan her name.

Sometimes she feels she's going mad, wanting you. Wanting you when you're right there. Sometimes she feels she is mad already. She'd accidentally broken a mirror last time you introduced her to your latest fling, a boy from another uni you’d met a match. The way he wrapped his arms around you made Vi want to rip his hands off. They touched you. They shouldn't get to do that.

Fuck.

She downs the rest of her drink, swallowing painfully. You’re camping at a beach for a night, mid-way along the coast to your destination. Everyone’s around a fire, stars twinkling in the velvet sky. Mylo has his speaker turned down low, not to disturb the other people on the beach. Firelight flickers across your skin, giving you an otherworldly glow.

Desire and yearning twist inside Vi into something painful, something tinged with ragged desperation. Her hands are shaking slightly where she’s gripping onto her cider can so tightly she accidently crushes it. She's not really sure what's wrong with her.

You're just... dancing. That’s all. Just dancing.

Laughing, swaying in the firelight, twirling as Ekko raises your arm to spin you by the hand.

It feels like Vi’s heart is sitting on her tongue, she has to keep swallowing it back down. Try as she might, she can't look away.

‘Pretty isn't she,’ says Claggor. He sounds slightly amused. Everyone but you seems to know she's got a thing for you. That she's always had a thing for you.

‘She's beautiful,’ Vi hears herself say–confess. She can’t help it; it’s true.

[cheeseceli]

Boyfriend Taehyung

Pairing: Kim Taehyung × Gn!reader (established relationship)

Genre: fluff, headcanons

Request: can you write dating taehyung headcanons?

Warnings: he's an idol, mentions of marriage, skinship

A/n: last post of the year, how we feeling 💃🏻 | daily click

Jimin ver. | Taehyung ver. | Jungkook ver.

‌Before dating, you both were already friends

‌So looking at you both is just like seeing two best friends having fun around each other

‌And honestly, that might be the cutest thing of your relationship

‌He is currently taking you on random dates

‌"There is this place where you can take care of ducks. We should go there"

‌Okay??

‌He truly just sees anything and he's like "oh I should go there with my partner"

‌Just because wherever he goes he needs you by his side

‌That leads me to my next point

‌He always includes you

‌In conversations, no matter with whom, he'd always say "we"

‌Someone randomly says "taehyung, would you like to go to this new cafe" and he's like "We would love to go"

‌Because he's always including you

‌Since he started dating you it's never simply "I", it's always "we"

‌And if you both go to some place where there is live music

‌Like a restaurant or you were just walking down the street and someone is playing guitar there

‌Be ready because he will call you to dance

‌Always with a knowing/teasing smile, he will hold your hand and just starts slow dancing with you

‌"But what about the people watching" nah he's not thinking about it

‌He's only thinking that if he has any opportunity to have you close, he will have you close

‌Also sings to you randomly

‌If we're talking about a scenario where he's an idol, he would like to keep the relationship private

‌He doesn't think the world should have a place in your relationship. This is about the two of you only, and it should stay like this

‌He'd only want to make the relationship public the moment you get married, because then he'd need to explain the sudden ring on his hand

‌But he sets boundaries very quickly. Not the fans, not the media, not the company, NO ONE will dare to put themselves between the two of you

‌You become the topic of his songwriting

‌Makes a whole album for you fr fr

‌If you allow him, he'd put one of your voicemails in the song. It becomes his favourite song

‌TAKES PICTURES OF YOU

‌He has like a few albums of photos of all these pictures (there are a lot of them)

‌This guy is a kisser

‌You will be kissed every day every hour, be prepared

‌Gives you a lot of hand made gifts as well

‌And gifts for no reason at all, he just wanna cherish you just because

‌He also gives you flowers

‌And takes you to meet his family the moment the opportunity arises!!

‌He can't wait to see you with the people he loves the most

‌And he's also incredibly happy when you're with the boys

‌Although I have this feelings that he would take you to meet the most important people to him the moment you become his crush

‌Silence with him is very... Comfortable

‌There is no need to fill the silence, it's not awkward

‌I feel like you can just turn his brain off with him and simply enjoy

‌This is just a very fresh relationship you know

‌His love is kinda like a sunny day

‌It's bright, warm, it makes you happy...

‌And it's also simple

‌You never have to overthink around him

‌His love also heals your inner child

‌Loves when you visit him at work

‌The boys are never able to tease him because he doesn't care lmao, he's just happy you're there

‌He also LOVES when you call him "my boyfriend"

‌He's just so proud of it lol

‌And if you call him "my husband", he's ready to risk it all and just propose to you on the spot

‌Talking about that lmao

‌I feel like he'd be the fastest of the boys to get married

‌Six months into the relationship and he already bought a ring

‌He's just waiting for you to be ready

Masterlist I you'll probably like: what their love feels like

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @butnotmontana @sheraayasherrecs

Divider by @bernardsbendystraws | images 1, 2 and 3

[aceofheartsssss]

❤️ Deadpool 🖤 and 💛 Wolverine🖤 x Reader Scenarios

Yes, I’ve got a thing for them, how did you know? Everybody is in LOVE with Deadpool and Wolverine and I’ve seen some bubs say that they want fics and I want them too, so I made some scenariossss cuz DAMN IT, Wade and Logan are hot~ Go read my older stuff they feel abandoned :( Summary: Scenarios on how they’d act if they had a crush on you, how they’d act if y’all were a thing, yada yada, fluff, slight spiciness, etc. Let’s fucking go! ❤️💛 Warnings: Swearing, slightly spicy, and mentions of violence but y’all gon have to get used to that on my blog-

- Deadpool/Wade (I’ve loved him for years, he’s just so fineeee~)

How you’d act as friends (but you grew on him tho)

Sometimes he accidentally starts acting a little less intense and silly, and more soft around you, then he quickly snaps out of it

He keeps flirting, usual for him, but his flirting is more intense around you

He doesn’t want to admit his feelings because he thinks you’ll reject him because of his scarred body and face (aww ☹️)

He’s always showing off and posing whenever he fights and kills around you~

He keeps trying to hug, touch, kiss and do shit like that (it’s Deadpool, c’mon man)

He literally does not shut up for one second around you

He actually blushes underneath the mask when you actually say something nice to him instead of yelling (he’s so glad you can’t see his face most of the time 👉👈)

You love to watch movies and shit with him because he makes them way more fun than they already are

He finds his own crazy, actually insane ways to spend a lot of time with you (like you don’t wanna know his complicated plots-)

He likes giving you the most random and useless things (aww)

He secretly loves it when you genuinely laugh at his shenanigans

He really knows how to stick to you so he’ll slowly grow on you like mold

How you’d act as partners (he’s stuck on like glue)

Now that he’s got full access to you, he will never stop touching you (cuddling, hand holding, hugging, poking, kissing, getting it on, etc.)

He constantly reminds you how he feels about you~

Constant compliments cuz yeah- 😭❤️

”Sweetheart,” “Babe,” “Baby,” “My love-”

He’s mostly dom but switches cuz he really enjoys being, uhh… (well, you watched the movies…)

He could and probably would kill anyone who tried to hurt you in any way possible (traumatized red man hates evil ppl 🗡️)

You best believe he’s good getting shit on, considering the experience and his super-powered… tools... (He’s really good…)

He’s the kind of guy who would literally never cheat and would quite literally be in love with you… forever (I mean it, he really is like that-)

He’d go broke trying to buy you stuff he thinks you want- 😭

You best believe that he’d do anything in his power to make sure you guys can be together as long as possible (he’d make a deal with the devil if it meant you had an extended lifespan like his)

He likes eating and chatting with you (so fun- 🌮🍔🍕)

He is the best hugger and cuddle-r with that big, strong, textured body~ (imagine omg-)

Beneath all the trauma, the killing, the humor, jokes, he really is just a big, soft, cuddly boi 👏✨

He’s just a playful guy, like you’d never get bored

-

Wolverine/Logan (as feral as an actual wolverine for him~)

How you’d act as friends (he kinda doesn’t know he likes you)

He’s nicer (slightly) to you than to anyone else and he doesn’t know why

He taunts other people (*cough* Wade-) along with you instead of against you (despite what he usually does)

He throws out an accidental compliment here and there (his eyes go wide when he realizes~ 💛)

Out of character for him, he snaps at people who mock, taunt, tease, flirt, or throw insults at you (I wonder why~)

You’ll catch him smirking or smiling before he fixes it and frowns again

He’s so touch starved but can’t say anything because of his own Wolverine-y reasons (tough boi 😔)

He’ll melt if you initiate the touches (hugs, cheek kisses, hand holding, random “friendly” patting, etc.)

He finds himself hanging around you more than anyone else despite apparently hating people

How you’d act as partners (he wants you as much as possible)

He’d spent as much time with you as possible, always holding you tight

He compliments you however he can

He never wants to let you go (he’s scared of losing you because of his extended lifespan)

Get ready for the most overprotective, husband material man, who’d likely beat anyone to a pulp for you~

He’d give the nastiest death glare to anyone that’s being negative towards you (it’s so sexy tho-)

Don’t tease or taunt him… (or do 😰)

He’s always a stiff man, but around you he’s just… different

He melts at your touch, and this kitty definitely has Puss in Boots eyes (🥺)

”Love,” “Doll,” “Bub,” “Darlin’,”

He def dom all the time, y’all seen the movies-

He’s very good btw. Like a loooot- Soft but rough ngl (idk how but he is, trust-)

He’s into pain… *wink* (canon btw)

He’d treat you right like a fucking gentleman

He’s a nice cuddle-r despite the tough exterior (he’s so touchable, he’d squeeze you so tightttt)

He’s just a comforting, big, strong guy, who wouldn’t want that?

There we go, bubs. Had to get it outta my system~

Lemme know if ya liked my writing, I need the compliments/advice.

(Yessss tie them up…)

[xoxojuyo]

Out of reach pt. II - jungkook

𐙚 pairing lawyer!jungkook x nepobaby!reader

𐙚 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THIS SERIES CONTAIN MATURE CONTENT

𐙚 word count 1,6K words

𐙚 warnings jungkook is older than reader, even tough on mention of ages, kissing, CHEATING, reader is aware and feels guilt

Hope you enjoy 🤍✨ pt. I

You adjusted your oversized hoodie as you and Wonyoung stepped into the trendy café, the smell of roasted coffee beans filling the air. Fresh from your Pilates class, both were glowing with a post-workout flush.

��So, this weekend, we’re going, right?” Wonyoung asked, scrolling through pictures of Kelingking Beach on her phone.

“Definitely,” you replied. “I need the ocean breeze. It’s been too long since we had a proper getaway.”

As you approached the counter, a familiar voice from behind caught you off guard.

“y/n?”

You froze. Your eyes darted toward the source of the voice. Jungkook stood there, his expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty. He looked effortlessly stylish in a black oversized t shirt, black washed out black jeans and baseball cap.

“Hi,” he said tentatively, his tone soft, almost careful. “How have you been?”

You felt your chest tighten. Without a word, you turned your back to him, focusing on the menu board as though it held the secrets of the universe.

Wonyoung, sensing the tension, whispered, “Is that… him? The guy from the flight?”

You gave a terse nod, biting your lip.

Once you had your coffees, you sat by the window. Wonyoung leaned in, curiosity brimming. “So… what’s the deal? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You sighed, staring at the swirling foam in your cup. “It’s just… seeing him brings it all back. I was confused at first, thinking maybe I misread everything. But the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. He acted like he cared, but he was just playing with me the whole time.”

Your mind flashed back to your flight together—the stolen glances, the laughter, the way he’d leaned in just a little too close. For a moment, it had felt like you were the only two people in the world. And then, the crushing blow of his confession: I have a girlfriend.

~

The neon glow of the bar lights bathed the room in shades of pink and blue. You clinked your martini glass with Wonyoung’s, the gin warming your chest as you let yourself get lost in the music.

“Eunju, who are you texting?” Wonyoung teased.

“My guy,” Eunju replied with a grin. “He’s here with his friends. Mind if they join us?”

“Sure,” the girls chimed in unison.

Minutes later, Eunju waved over a group of guys. Your smile faltered when you saw him—Jungkook.

“Seriously?” You muttered under your breath.

He caught your eye and gave a small nod, but you avoided his gaze, focusing on your drink. Jungkook, however, didn’t seem deterred, attempting small talk every chance he got.

Finally, needing a moment to yourself, you grabbed your pack of cigarettes and headed to the terrace. The cool night air did little to soothe your nerves.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and Jungkook stepped out.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “I know I hurt you. I understand why you’re avoiding me.”

You exhaled a plume of smoke, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’ll leave you alone,” he said, turning to go.

“Do you love her?” The question escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Jungkook stopped in his tracks, then slowly turned back to face you.

“I thought I did,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “I thought that once I got back to my routine, I’d feel guilty. That it was just a moment of weakness for a beautiful girl.”

Your breath hitched.

“But I couldn’t stop thinking about how incomplete I felt. How little I knew you but wanted to know more. To kiss you again.”

Jungkook stepped closer, the intensity in his gaze making your heart race. Your breath intensified as the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you on the terrace.

Without a word, he reached up, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His fingertips lingered, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured, his voice low and vulnerable.

Before you could respond, his lips met yours.

The kiss was tentative at first, as if testing the waters. His lips were warm, soft, and impossibly gentle, yet there was a tension beneath the surface—an urgency that spoke of longing and regret.

You froze for a split second, your mind racing, the thought of what you were doing was tremendously evil. But then something inside you gave way, it just felt so good, not just his lips felt good, but the controversy of the act, the forbiddeness of your relationship, so you kissed him back. It was like a dam breaking, all the pent-up emotions from your short-lived story on the plane pouring out in that moment.

Jungkook’s hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a way that made your knees weaken. His other hand rested lightly on your waist, pulling you closer, as if afraid you might slip away again.

The kiss deepened, growing more passionate with each passing second. His tongue caressing yours, his teeth biting your lower lip, the exchange of saliva getting more intense. His lips moved against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own, as though he was trying to make up for everything, like he promised.

The cool night air contrasted sharply with the heat between you, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself to the moment.

When you finally broke apart, both were breathless, your foreheads nearly touching, his lips swollen and slightly tinted with your red lipstick. His eyes searched yours, as though trying to decipher the storm of emotions swirling within you.

“y/n…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

But you couldn’t find the words to respond, your mind a whirl of confusion, desire, and the painful knowledge of everything that had brought them to this point.

“This isn’t fair,” you said looking at him straight to the eyes. “For neither of us, your girlfriend and me.”

His eyes went from ecstatic to disillusioned, “I understand…”

~

After that night at the bar, everything changed. Jungkook had insisted on taking you home, his insistence both polite and protective. Before you left his car, he handed you his phone, asking softly, “Your number?”

You hesitated, guilt swirling in your chest. But there was something in his gaze—vulnerability, longing—that you couldn’t resist. You typed in your number, sealing a fate you weren’t sure you were ready for.

Since then, you had been talking on KakaoTalk every day. Your conversations were casual at first—simple exchanges about how your days went or what you were doing. But over time, the messages grew longer, more intimate. He’d send pictures of his meals, ask you about your favorite songs, and even shared silly anecdotes from his day.

You felt guilty, of course. Horribly guilty. Every time his name popped up on your screen, you thought about the girl he was betraying. But you couldn’t deny how much you looked forward to those chats, how comforting it was to talk to him, how utterly magnetic he was.

When you mentioned to Wonyoung that you had invited him to dinner at your grandfather’s restaurant—a Michelin-starred culinary gem—she didn’t hold back.

“You’re awful, y/n,” she said bluntly. “You’re helping him cheat.”

“I know,” you muttered, staring at your phone.

“But…” Wonyoung softened. “I know how much you like him. Just… think everything through, okay? Before this gets too serious. You’re not just playing with fire—you’re bathing in it.”

~

The restaurant was warm and intimate, with soft golden lighting that illuminated the intricate woodwork and glass displays of your grandfather’s creations. You had reserved a private table, tucked away in a corner overlooking the city skyline.

You chose a sleek, black silk dress that hugged your figure but fell elegantly to your knees, paired with simple gold jewelry and black heels. Jungkook arrived in a tailored navy suit, the crisp white shirt underneath unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of his collarbone. He looked effortlessly stunning, and the sight of him made your pulse quicken.

“You look beautiful,” he said as he pulled out your chair, his voice low and sincere.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased, taking your seat.

The dinner began with a series of amuse-bouches, each more exquisite than the last. You watched as Jungkook tried each dish with curiosity and delight, his reactions varying from wide-eyed amazement to playful critiques.

“This one,” he said, pointing to a delicate scallop dish. “Is almost too pretty to eat. But I’ll make the sacrifice.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

As the main courses arrived—perfectly seared Wagyu steak for him, a delicate truffle risotto for you—your conversation turned lighthearted. He teased you about your inability to drink espresso without sugar, and you teased him back about his obsession with perfectly symmetrical food plating.

But then, as dessert arrived—a stunning mille-feuille with caramelized apples—Jungkook’s tone shifted.

“I need to tell you something,” he said, his gaze dropping to his hands. “About my relationship.”

You set down your fork, your stomach twisting.

“My relationship… it didn’t start naturally,” he admitted. “My father is a well-known lawyer, and he works closely with a famous politician. They would joke for years about how their youngest children should date. Eventually, they arranged a meeting for us.”

You stayed silent, watching as he struggled to put his thoughts into words.

“At first, I thought I liked her. She’s a good woman, everything someone could ask for. I convinced myself that I loved her. It was easy. It felt… safe.”

He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours.

“But then I met you.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“For the first time, I questioned everything. You make me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of feeling—excitement, curiosity, passion. You’ve made me realize how much I’ve been settling.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You felt a flicker of hope—small, fragile, but undeniable. Maybe… just maybe… this wasn’t impossible after all.

@taekritimin123 @futuristicenemychaos @jnghs

[ivystoryweaver]

Happy New Year - Leto Atreides

Leto + New Love for @howellatme

Winter Wonderland Fluff Ficlets | Leto Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Notes- WC: 952 , Earth!modern!Leto x gn!reader, new established relationship, reader insecurities, suggestive, Leto is older than reader, not beta'd

Leto is older than you and you love everything about it

The gray streaks in his beard and thick, curly hair.

The distinguished tip of his chin, the squared posture of his shoulders.

The crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiles.

The quiet wisdom he approaches everything with

But you're still nervous for him to meet your friends at a New Year's Eve party

To be honest, partying isn't even your thing. But you have a couple of close enough outside-of-work friends who convinced you to come over

And bring Leto

Will they think he's too...stuffy? Nicely dressed? Old? Who are you kidding, he's perfect

But something has your insides buzzing with nervousness. It's you. It's what they might think of him...with you.

His eyes light up when he sees you in the new outfit he bought

Yes he buys you things and it feels good to feel taken care of, you can admit that much

It's not that he's rich, he just...pays attention

He's intense and devoted and so much worldlier and wiser than any guys your age

Sometimes you wonder what he sees in you. You're not exactly the most outgoing, social creature, but the two of you clicked

Conversation flowed and sparked between you from minute one

He was a client at your company. You were one of a few people handling his account

Your crush was instant. Everyone has a crush on Leto Atreides

Took you a second to notice he kept asking for you to attend or oversee his meetings. A few times, things conveniently needed to be discussed "over dinner"

You were already on dinner number three when he laid his hand over yours and gazed into your eyes and said something mesmerizing.

Ten minutes later, the check was paid and you were draped across him in the back seat behind privacy glass while his driver shuttled you out of the city

For a second, you were sure he actually was rich, but he assured you the driver and the house were company perks. If he were to lose his job tomorrow, he would be looking for roommates in the cheapest part of town just like everyone else.

Thirty minutes after he laid his hand over yours at dinner, you were underneath him, naked and very willing to mix business with pleasure

You fell asleep in his arms in front of a fire

The next morning he made you breakfast and asked to see you again

That was seven weeks ago

You arrive at your friend's apartment, your cheeks warm and lips wet from where he's just kissed you breathless

Your friends behave themselves during introductions and soon enough, you're all talking, drinks in hand. You start to relax despite the number of people you don’t know in attendance

You play some games, eat and chat for a while. So far, so good.

One of your closest friends pulls you aside and gives you a teasing, knowing look, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Don't know why he needs that much of a beard, but damn if he doesn't wear it well."

"I love it," you reply, your eye catching his from across the room. He smiles adoringly, winking at you before resuming his conversation.

"God, look at him," your friend continues. "He is wrapped around your finger."

"I think it's the other way around," you nervously chuckle. "I can't even think straight sometimes."

"Oh my god, I thought you guys were just hooking up because he's rich, but...you’re smitten." Her eyes go wide.

"He's not rich. And I did not say that," you weakly defend.

"Didn't say what?" Leto smoothly intones, appearing behind you mysteriously.

You almost drop your drink.

"I was just asking your arm candy here how they managed to get a date with you," your friend teases you both.

"Oh, it was me," Leto confesses, fitting his arm around your waist proudly. "I asked for dinner after dinner and finally got a yes. What can I say? I'm a lucky man."

Your friend points to Leto, but looks at you. "Uh, keep him. Seriously." She leaves the two of you to catch up.

Your face flames hot, but Leto excites and soothes you simultaneously. "I think I might, you know. Keep you," you tell him, with a shy smile.

"Please do. Or else I won't have anyone to kiss at midnight."

You giggle, but suddenly feel childish. How can you be enough for this man?

"Dance with me," he murmurs against your cheek, pressing a kiss there.

You're not the only ones dancing, but you are the only ones actually...dancing and not using the living room "dance floor" as blatantly obvious foreplay.

Oh god, on top of everything, he can dance, and he's humming in your ear, perfectly in tune. There is nothing he can't do. What in the world is he doing with you?

"We can leave if this is too much." He gives you a social escape plan. He already knows you so well. Easing back, his brow pinches with worry. "Unless it's me." He swallows hard.

You almost choke trying to answer. He's so damn smooth and you're such a dork and...

"Am I embarrassing you?" He whispers on your ear. "Too old fashioned?"

"Oh god, no, Leto." You grip him tightly, hugging him fiercely as the song cadences, coming to an end. "I love everything about you. Exactly the way you are."

You feel an exhale of relief tickle your ear as the countdown to midnight begins. Ten, nine, eight...

"You love me," he repeats your declaration back to you. He gazes deeply into your eyes. Seven, six, five...

"I do," you confess, breathlessly. Four, three...

"Me too. I love you too."

He seals his mouth to yours to begin a new year, and your new life.

Winter Wonderland Fluff Ficlets | Leto Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[dramaticallytotal]

Simp-ly Love At First Sight

A very crack-y idea where Alejandro basically falls head over heels for Noah right away. And I am such a big fan of pathetic when in love Alejandro, so there will be plenty.

Alejandro: "His biting wit and lack of fashion sense has captivated me."

It does have elements from the plot twist idea like Alejandro orchestrating eliminations for Noah/Noah's benefit. Noah's kind of oblivious about it all. He genuinely thinks Alejandro is just a naturally flirty person, and yeah, he is, but he is trying so hard to get Noah to notice he is really flirting with him. I mean, he literally always gives Noah a kiss on the hand as a greeting or when the opportunity strikes.

Noah: "My new friend is really flirty with me....it must be his thing like Izzy being crazy."

Alejandro drawing hearts in his plotting notebook: "And once we're dating, we'll be the best power couple and dominate this game."

Alejandro is still a scheming and manipulative dude, but he uses it for Noah and himself. He still doesn't like Owen for his general Owenness but also because he's super jealous of how close he and Noah are.

London never happened like it did in Canon because Alejandro doesn't flirt as obviously as he does in canon. Noah knows he's manipulative, but he's pretty apathetic about it. I mean, if it helps to benefit the team, he won't complain, but he will if it means throwing a challenge like in Germany. He confronted Alejandro in the cargo hold. Got up in his face and everything, even pointed his finger harshly into his chiseled chest.

Alejandro: "His face is close to mine, and he's touching me! Best day ever!"

After that, he no longer tries to lose challenges because that's what his love wants. Everyone knows how whipped he is for Noah, except Noah, and they think it's hilarious. (Unless they are one of the people that got eliminated because of Alejandro.)

Heather gets out earlier in this mainly because Noah made a comment about Alejandro having an obvious crush on her, and her absolutely cannot have his darling think his eyes would ever be swayed from him.

The first time Alejandro heard and saw Noah take charge and scheme, he nearly dropped to a knee and proposed right then. He did actually propose during the wedding challenge since Chris thought Alejandro being pathetic was ratings gold and made sure he and Noah were paired together for the challenge. Complete with Noah being in a weirdly fitting wedding dress that Chef definitely did not help pick out because he thought it would fit Noah and help make Alejandro more pathetic. That was actually when Noah realized Alejandro liked him, and well, maybe he had a small crush on him in return.

Them winning immunity was the cherry on top for Alejandro. It was basically a honeymoon since he confessed, and Noah confessed in return they had shared a kiss or two....or more. They ate their cake, and Alejandro even managed to feed Noah a bit, which had made him giddy. Much to Alejandro's delight, they do become a really good power couple. Dominating challenges, making alliances, and voting out those who stand in their way, and all the while being disgustingly cute the entire way.

Everyone is so done with them, but Chris and Chef are basically that one HTTYD meme of Hiccup giving Toothless a supportive thumbs up.

Not so surprisingly, it ends up with them as the final two, and everyone expected them to be all cute and hardly compete, but are surprised when they are vicious yet flirting. Noah likes being challenged, and when he's challenged, he's like a whole different person. He becomes determined and competitive, and Alejandro is swooning. Alejandro ends up losing, but that's okay because his darling won and was happy.

Though he was scared that his parents would be disappointed in him but surprise surprise, when José went to tease Alejandro about being so pathetic, their mother just hugged Alejandro and laughed. Apparently, their father had been the same way with their mother when they first met, and she thought it was positively adorable that Alejandro took after his father in this. It was the closest Alejandro had ever felt to his dad, and his dad had even laughed with him about how deep Burromuerto men fell for their loved ones. Somehow, meeting and dating Noah helped his father see past his shortcomings in comparison to José.

Alejandro proposed once more.

José was more than shocked when Noah basically became the favorite son, Carlos just laughed. Alejandro's parents absolutely adored his boyfriend. His mother loved how family oriented he was, and his father appreciated how smart Noah was. Plus, being a millionaire was a big plus, too.

[elysianymph]

to make up for the angst i tormented you all with the other day: regulus having a crisis ft. barty having the time of his life

“She asked me if I wanted to go to the beach with them and I replied ‘I love swimming’,” Regulus says in a quiet, horrified tone. He grabs his pillow and tries to smother himself with it, all while screaming: “Who says that!?”

Regulus doesn't even need to look up to see the smirk Barty is wearing on his face. “Hey, look at the bright side,” Barty begins and Regulus already knows he will make the situation worse with whatever he’ll say next. “At least you didn't grab your crush by the arm while you were drunk and, when you felt how strong his arm was, ask him ‘are you flexing or are you just hard?’”

Regulus lets out another scream of anger, agony, rage, disbelief, betrayal. He can't believe he is still friends with this traitor.

Reluctantly, Regulus raises his head away from the pillow just enough to see the smirk growing on Barty’s face. He pays no attention to the darkening of Regulus’ glare. And then, barely containing his laughter, Barty says: “Oh wait, that was you too.”

“Shut up, Bartemius!” Regulus yells out, throwing his pillow at Barty. He tries and fails to catch the pillow and is hit in the face, the force of the impact sending him toppling onto the floor. None of that stops his cackling laughter as Regulus sulks in his own embarrassment, face probably as red as the Gryffindor uniform.

[subcultureblues]

Don’t You Want Me (Baby?) Pt 3

———

Steve and Eddie are either hooking up or dating - and are about as bad at keeping a secret as they are dealing with their feelings. (Dustin POV)

1 / 2 / 3 / 4

———

“I’ll be there in thirty!” Dustin said. He slammed the phone down and dashed to his room to round up his notes.

“Bye mom love you gotta go!” He shouted as he hustled out the door and jumped on his bike. Dustin had just made it out of the suburbs and into town when he spotted a familiar Maroon Beemer in the lot by the Quickie Mart.

Steve was standing beside his car in a fluorescent windbreaker, leaning on the open driver’s side door. He was staring at the bouquet of flowers in his hands like his nose was about to start bleeding.

Dustin slowed.

….He could probably spare a few minutes to see what the hell that was about.

Really, it’s been a while since Dustin made peace with the fact his curiosity would almost invariably get the best of him.

“Hey Steve!” Dustin hollared, dinging his bike bell a few times.

Steve startled, comically jerking to attention. Steve was a thoroughbred jock, also his head had been knocked around a lot. He could be ever so slightly air-headed at times. But that really didn’t usually extend to a total lack of situational awareness.

Steve waved at Dustin as he approached.

“Why are you angry at those flowers?”

“What? I’m not - “ Steve cut himself off with a sigh. He shot the flowers another grimace. “I’m just trying to decide if I’m being a total idiot right now…”

Ah, Dustin realized. Must have pissed off Robin.

“What happened?”

“I fucked up, I think. And flowers, that’s my go-to right? That’s the move. But…” he tapped above his temple with the side of his fist - as if to dislodge the stupid. He rested it there for a second. “I can’t help but think I’m becoming totally neurotic.” He said, vaguely concerned.

“Girls like flowers.” Dustin offered a simple shrug.

“Yeah, girls do.” Steve agreed. Then sighed again, shaking his head.

Jesus, he must be gone bad.

And Dustin likes Robin. More importantly, he liked her for Steve, they were a perfect match. But most importantly of all - if Steve fucks this up, Dustin spends the next who knows how long listening to him complain about his endless strings of unfulfilling dates.

“And red roses? Can’t get more romantic than that, right?” He said, trying to sound encouraging.

“You don’t think they’re… I don’t know. Lame? Christ, what the hell am I even - I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing here.” Steve said, sounding totally defeated. He dragged a hand through his hair, pulling it back off his forehead. “Never mind forget it. Just, forget I said anything…”

“Who even is this guy? Your Steve.” Dustin scoffed. “Legendary lady killer of Hawkins High. Remember? You’re great at this.”

““Yeah, that’s different though. I guess... I don’t know.”

“Different how?” Dustin demanded.

“How about because this is important. That’s how!” He said.

“Ok? That’s a good thing, Steve.” Dustin said, which even to his own ears sounded just a little bit condescending. Maybe he did need to work on his tone…

“Is it? The last time I really thought there might be something there, it was Nancy. So of course, I manage to fuck the whole thing up. Because that’s my thing I guess.” He deflated. Then quietly, as though speaking to himself, he said. “Things were going so good too… I just had to start a stupid - “

He finally looked back up at Dustin. He closed his mouth and the far away look cleared. He shook his head, like was done thinking about it right now. Or at least done talking about it because he said,

“Henderson, what are you doing running around this early anyways?”

“Pft, what are you doing running around this early? You and Eddie. I’m surprised you’re not sleeping off your… illicit activities.”

Steve made a face. “No. Don’t call it that. I - we… called it an early night last night.”

“Figures. I’m headed to Eddie’s right now.”

“Ah...” He muttered to himself. He looked down at the flowers again and his shoulders wilted. Then he chucked them into the the passenger seat.

“Woah, man, careful with those.” Dustin scolded him.

“No, it’s fine. Look, I gotta go pick up Robin soon. We have a shift together later. See you around, man.”

Dustin frowned. Why were adults so goddamn weird? Is Dustin gonna start acting like this in a few years.

“Good luck.” Dustin offered, tilting his head optimistically. Steve just waved him off, still very obviously distracted.

“Yeah, I’ll figure something out.”

Dustin watched him climb into his car. Steve would figure it out. Dustin had faith in that, at least. He could have a thick skull, but give him enough time and eventually he got it together.

Steve drove off and Dustin started pedaling again, in the opposite direction, towards the Forest Hills trailer park.

Dustin was at the trailer almost till dinner time, fine tuning what will soon be the very first one shot, nay the very first D&D session Dustin will ever orchestrate. He can’t help violently oscillating between excited and nauseous, but Eddie’s advice genuinely did provide a solid foundation to work with.

Eddie even assured Dustin he’d act just as shocked as the rest of the party, gasping during the big moments. Stuff like that - even though he knew pretty much every story beat he had planned just from helping Dustin sort it all together.

They were just packing up to leave when the phone rang.

“Shit. Give me a sec. That’s probably Wayne.”

“He’s not at work?”

“A buddie’s house. He got the weekend off.��� Eddie said, picking up the receiver.

“Munson’s Mortuary Services. You got the purse, we got the hearse. Are we picking up or dropping off, cause - ” Eddie cut out mid bit. He grimaced, looking back at Dustin. “I - uh, hey. Look this really isn’t a good - “

Dustin was only really half ease dropping as he tried to order his session notes correctly. Eddie was talking quietly for the first time in his life, holding the receiving close to his mouth, which was making it kind of difficult.

“No, it’s fine… I’m serious, it’s fine. Yeah, I’m sorry too…. Well, I was being an asshole. Look this really isn’t a good time…” Eddie glanced back over his shoulder at Dustin. Dustin tried to look busy. “Just, don’t worry about it, seriously…. Yeah. Sure, talk to you later, ok?” Eddie started to move the phone away before bringing it back to his ear.

“This week? I’m not sure… Maybe. I’ve just - I got a lot of stuff going on… I’ll call you… Yeah, bye.”

Eddie hung up, hand lingering on the phone for a long moment.

“Who was that?” Dustin asked, so casually it was probably immediately suspicious.

“Funny how you think I won’t make you walk home.” Eddie said, a bone dry threat. That roughly translated to, it was definitely totally my secret girlfriend. “Pack your shit, dude. I’m calling Wayne so you better be ready to go by the time I’m done.”

It seemed like Eddie took it to heart what Dustin said about them never hanging out anymore. That week, Eddie really seemed to be making an effort to start making time for him again.

And the rest of the party of course.

On Monday, Eddie suggested Hellfire (plus Max!) hit the arcade after school. He didn’t give them any quarters, but that was fine, they had enough loose change to have a good time. They’d just need to plan ahead and bring Steve next time.

After school on Tuesday, Dustin called to see if Eddie wanted to keep working on the one shot. Which he couldn’t cause Corroded Coffin had band practice.

So instead, he invited Dustin tag along. It came with the strict stipulation he kept his mouth shut, his ass glued to the couch, and he not try to touch anything, on pain of a swift and merciless death. But Dustin’s come to understand Eddie’s threats have a lot more to do with his penchant for dramatics than any honest hostility.

Eddie was just heading out the door when Dustin called so he said he’d come grab him from his place on the way to Jeff’s.

Dustin thought for a moment about changing out of his pun-derful shirt but ended up scrapping the idea for time.

He kind of regretted it when Eddie rolled up. Music loud and looking, as always, too cool for school. Summer was still fading, so he was wearing a loose, faded Cult shirt with the sleeves cut off. He had more tattoos than Dustin realized (all of them ugly.). There was a red flannel tied round his waist and he was wearing a thin leather bracelet.

Dustin couldn’t pull off a leather bracelet in a million billion years probably.

“Little mans sitting in on practice tonight.” Eddie announced as they walked into Jared’s garage. He got a scatter of hey’s and what’s up’s.

Dutifully, Dustin belined it for the couch. He sat next to the plastic Halloween skeleton that was already sitting there posed to watch (Dustin was introduced to him as Manny).

Eddie seemed to switch into DM mode, someone had to keep the boys focused and on track.

Dustin sat still and didn’t touch anything, which was easy enough.

But come on, their music was way too awesome for a passive listening experience.

Gareth, Jared, and Jeff seemed to appreciate his enthusiasm. Still, Dustin made sure to keep distractions to a minimum. A reasonable minimum, at least.

“God, you guys are just so - “ Dustin rambled. It had gotten dark outside and they were started to pack up their gear.

“Metal?” Eddie said, winding up his guitar chord with a smile.

“Metal as hell.” Dustin agreed, standing and walking over.

“We’ll make a public menace outta you yet.” Eddie said proudly.

“You can always bring the kid around more during practice.” Jeff said to Eddie. The rest of the band nodded around and shrugged.

“Actually having a live audience every once in a while couldn’t hurt.” Gareth said, nodding his head at Manny. Him and Jeff were dragging his drum kit back into the corner of the room.

“Yeah?” Dustin asked, grinning.

“Maybe you’ll pick up a thing or two.” Eddie grinned back, shoving at him a bit and fucking up Dustin’s hair.

“You’d teach me?” Dustin asked, swatting him away. Eddie shrugged easily.

“Oh man. That’d be so cool!” He said. “Maybe next time I could bring some of the other guys? Oh, and Steve could come too!”

Jared practically choked on his instant laughter.

“The King?” He said sarcastically. “Yeah, sure - you wanna bring King Steve here, to sit on the ratty couch in my garage and listen to us thrash around and scream for a few hours?”

“I dunno, could be pretty entertaining.” Gareth elbowed Jeff, nodding down towards Eddie. He was on his knees, focusing intently on tucking his Warlock away in its hardcase. Gareth leaned in closer and whispered. “He’s getting a little too cocky with those guitar solos, don’t you think? Could use a chance to play under pressure.”

“Oh, that does sound entertaining.” Jeff snickered, just as amused by the prospect.

“Can it.” Eddie said, without looking up.

“Eddie?” Dustin insisted, looking to his DM for backup. They were talking like Steve was gonna march in here and just start heckling. Or throwing tomatoes at them or something.

“Sorry kid, they’re right. He’d probably hate it.” Eddie shrugged.

“Come on, it’ll be cool! I could at least ask? You don’t know he’ll hate it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Steve Harrington would think our heavy metal band is so totally cool.” Jared said flatly, as he leaned over to grab the handle on his bass amp.

“Hey. I saw a Metallica tape in his car the other day!” Dustin said to Jared. Jared’s eyebrows climbed, surprised. Maybe even a little impressed, though clearly too stubborn to admit it.

Dustin turned back to Eddie. He was still expecting him to come to Steve’s defense. But he stayed quiet, barely a part of the conversation. “Come on, I thought you two were friends now.” He accused.

“Sure, Harrington’s fine.” Eddie shrugged.

“Yeah he is.” Jeff muttered under his breath. Gareth puffed up with a badly contained laugh.

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Right, you blow us all off to go to go smoke weed with him at the drive through, but he’s just fine.”

Jared, who had been bending over to put his amp against the wall, froze in place.

“No fucking way.” Gareth’s head shot up, his eyes blown wide. But it didn’t sound like he was pissed at Eddie for crossing party lines. Not with the massive, disbelieving grin on his face. “You and Harrington? You fucking took him to a drive through?”

“What movie was it?” Jeff shot out, equally delighted.

“Was it a scary movie?” Gareth said. They both scrambled out from behind the drum set, their task wholly forgotten.

“Guys.” Eddie huffed. “Fine. Yeah, ok, we went to go see a movie - So what?”

“And you just, what!? Forgot to mention it?”

“Sure!” Eddie grimaced. He shrugged defensively. “We just - caught a movie. It’s not a big deal.”

Gareth barked out a laugh. Like that, that right there, is the funniest thing Eddie’s ever said.

“Guys.” Jared looked at Jeff and Gareth pointedly, before glancing at Dustin.

“Sorry it’s just…” Jeff paused with his mouth open, incredulous. “Didn’t know you guys hang out now.” He finished. “Ya know, outside the whole - coparenting.”

“We don’t.” Eddie said, tensely.

Dustin frowned as he watched the guys continue to stow their shit. Gareth and Jeff went back to sorting out the drums. “Not a big - “ Gareth scoffed under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

The rest of the boys were struggling to contain shiteating grins and Eddie was just pretending not to notice.

Dustin had never known these guys to be such… jerks. Why would it be such a big deal if Eddie and Steve were friends?

Could it really be all because they’re just so - different? The idea of hard rocker Eddie kicking back with a jock even once was just patently absurd? Ridiculous enough they jump straight to teasing him for it?

Dustin’s frown deepened. For a bunch of freaks, that all seemed pretty judgmental.

These guys would come around on Steve. Seems like Dustin would just have to make sure of it.

On Thursday Eddie agreed to pick him up from school.

He was late of course, so Will, Mike, Lucas, and Max had all started towards home by then.

When he did roll into the parking lot, it was in a sweeping wave of orchestral heavy metal.

“Pick it up.” He said impatiently, as Dustin opened the door. Eddie evil eyed the school building while he turned down the music. “Don’t like being here any longer than I need to be outside D&D hours.”

Dustin hopped in. He had a VHS copy of Jaws in his hands. He had left it behind at Lucas’ like two weeks ago and promptly forgot about it. A week later Lucas brought it to school and Dustin had only just re-unearthed it from his locker today. It was daunting just thinking of the fees that were sure to be stacking up by now.

His only salvation was Steve. Who’s thankfully working today.

“I need to drop this off at the movie store and before you say no - “

“Sure.” Eddie said, already starting the van.

“I - that was easy.” Dustin sat back and relaxed against the seat.

Eddie kept his eyes on the road and shrugged.

“I was thinking about renting something anyways.”

They drove straight to Family Video. The door dinged as they walked in.

Robin was sitting behind the counter. Still focused on her crossword she said, “Hi, welcome to Family Video, can I help you find - Oh, hey guys.”

“Hi Robin!” Dustin said, walking up to the counter.

Eddie lingered by the displays. He traced a finger over one of the tapes on the shelf. “Harrington, here?” Eddie asked, inspecting the cover.

Robin rolled her eyes but she was smiling. “You just missed him. It was seriously slow today and he won rock/paper/scissors so - he clocked out early for the day.” Eddie hummed and put his hands in his jean pockets.

Dustin handed Robin his VHS tape.

“This is eight days late.” She frowned at the computer.

“So - “ Dustin said, thinking fast to distract her from errant thoughts of late fees. “how’d you like the flowers?”

“Flowers?” Robin scrunched up her nose at him.

“The flowers Steve got you?” Dustin blurted out before he clamped his mouth shut again. She squinted at him. Suspicious.

“What are you on about?”

Shit. Steve hadn’t got those for Robin had he?

“Nevermind.” Mayday-mayday. Pull up!

Hopefully Steve wasn’t too pissed at Dustin for letting that little detail slip. And Dustin could barely feel bad for blowing Steve’s cover because, what the hell Steve?

Robin’s lip twisted. She looked down her nose at him, regarding him uncharitably. He forced a smile as she stared him down for a moment longer. Then her face cleared. Raising her eyebrows innocently she turned back to the monitor.

“So about that fee. That’ll be five fourty-“

“Ok! I - “ Dustin hesitated. Sorry Steve - that was five dollars he really did not have. “I don’t know. I ran into him a few days ago. And he’d just bought a big thing of roses.” Dustin caved, shrugging and holding his palms up defensively.

“Ooooh.” Robin’s eyes crinkled with a warm smile and her gaze slid somewhere behind Dustin shoulder. Then quickly snapped back into place.

“Oh.” Robin said again. She looked baffled, like the implications of that just hit her and clearly didn’t sit with her right.

“Maybe they were for his mom? His parents are in town aren’t they.” Dustin offered.

“You know what? Yeah, that’s probably it.” Robin nodded vigorously. The poor, love struck girl just immediately latching onto the explanation.

“Nah.” Dustin turned around to look at Eddie. He was still feigning intense interest in that copy of An American Werewolf in London. “His mom is allergic to roses.”

“That doesn’t mean he - ” Robin scrambled. “Maybe he just… forgot, or something. I mean, you know Steve. Total ditz.”

He shrugged. “That’s fine isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I mean, yeah.” Robin said cautiously. She seemed confused more than anything.

Eddie said cooly, hands still in his pockets. A perfectly neutral smile on his face. “Steve’s a free agent, right? He’s free to play the field.”

Jeez, did Eddie have to be so blunt? What ever happened to letting a girl down easy?

“Uh…” Robin said, looking between the two of them uncomfortably. Like maybe she didn’t quite know the answer to that anymore but it was also something she really didn’t want to sort out in public.

Dustin honestly felt a little bit bad for her. Sure they both always say they’re not dating, but clearly she seemed none too thrilled at the idea of Steve going around giving another girl flowers.

Dustin had hoped with the way Steve was talking the other day, he had finally got his head out of his ass and was ready to go public and make them official.

“Hey, man, I’ll meet you in the car, yeah?”

“Sure.” Dustin said.

“Eddie - “ Robin said. Eddie looked over his shoulder, lingering half way out the door. Robin glanced at Dustin. “Uh. Bye.” She finished lamely.

He smiled at her. She didn’t smile back.

Robin went back to the computer. She worked in complete silence. Suddenly the thick clack of the keyboard and the low murmur of the movie on the screen in the corner were way louder. Her brow was set like it gets when she’s stuck on a troublesome crossword.

“Sorry.” Dustin said, his face twisting up with guilt.

Robin glanced side long at him.

“I can talk to him you know.” He said.

“Huh?”

“I can talk to Steve. He shouldn’t do that to you.”

“Jesus, for the last time. We - are not - dating.” Robin said through gritted teeth. She made a frustrated noise. “Do you have to be so… ergh, meddlesome.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” He lied, taking a step back.

“You need to stay out of your friends love lives.”

Yeah well, how about Dustin stops meddling when his friends stop being so dumb about everything. Till then they’ll just have Dustin to thank for sorting out their messes.

Tag List : @reading-archieves @homoerotictangerine @bingbongsupremacy @aroseandherthorns-blog1 @wheneverfeasible @travelingtwentysomething @ineffable-monster-romancer @laughingphantoms @gregre369 @rawrx3ky-txt @thespaceantwhowrites @blcksh33p1987

@the-legal-shipper @maverickricky @i-amthepizzaman @pretend-theres-a-name-here @steddiefication @that-one-gay-crow @gleek4twd

@theintrovertedintrovert @tinyplanet95 @queercrisis2003 @awkwardgravity1 @stripey82

@sofadofax @midnightskeeper

@blurryjoji @estrellami-1 @caraspud @little-trash-ghost @finalmoondragon

@samsoble @depressed-freak13

[my-current-obsession]

every time i see bakudeku compared to k/ance (now specifically in terms of them getting shafted in the ending and/or accused of queerbaiting) i take psychic damage

[girlivealwaysbean]

pata hai last kuch din i was very busy with my project kyunki final dena tha and binding karni thi etc to wo karwayi then i went to the bookfair bekaar tha then parso submit karne jaa rahi to subah accident hogaya (bhai ki bike skid hogayi and we fell down) and now i have a big ass blue bruise on my upper thigh and my parents don't even know lmao and kal ek science conference thi to i had to sit in an auditorium for 6 hours listening to accomplished people speak. that's what you missed now your turn

omg i knew everything in this except for the accident cause i stalk your blog vigorously everyday are you okay!!!!!!!!!! did you get tetanus shots!!!!!!!!!! also on your upper thigh oh no that's where future jiju is supposed to write MINE na as per our beloved song guilty as sin?

[rosenecklaces]

Everyone wants to make crazy ass assumptions about Azriel or Elain linking them with either people that are decades death or of a whole other series but when i, a girl that wants Helion to have kiki time with both without Lucien in the scene-

[silverselfshippingchaos]

i hate s.eifer a.lmasy so much

[cozypups]

i wanna talk about my boyfriend sometimes like to my sister's friend who seemed excited and happy for me about it (because she had recently found out i had a boyfriend) but my sister kind of shut me down about it and made it seem like i only ever talk about him any time i open my mouth which made me feel really bad because i after i said the one thing i was gonna say, my sister said "oh thank GOD" as if she's never talked a lot about something before

[blueberryrock]

Why must my favorite movies be tragedies?

[lovieku]

MOTHERFUCKIN’ TRAIN WRECK! ⋆ 정국

𐙚 if you were my boyfriend… and you were my girlfriend…

when renowned fuckboy jeon jeongguk catches feelings, he loses his mind. only when it comes to you, though.

based on this ask

from the grande series ୨ৎ

pairing: fuckboy!jk x fem!reader

genre: fwb au

warnings: small smutty moments (cunnilingus, fingering, tiny boob play), angst, fluffi maybe idk, whipped and jelly koo, ft. namjoon!!!, oblivious oc, deep down she feels it too but jk is simply too much of a simp so it doesn’t look like it at first, he’s also so petty and sassy, jokes about ending it if oc doesn’t give him a chance </3, he’s just a little shit, peep the lyrics from boyfriend hehe, oh btw happy ending!!!

word count: 18k

a/n: wowww i’m so sorry for this pile of nonsense, it’s so bad i vomited a little in my mouth. i hate every single thing about it but i didn’t wanna leave you guys starved. i love u sm and thank u for the support, but u’re allowed to leave hate asks for what u’re about to read rn ❤️ also i’m SO SORRY for being unable to write a jungkook who isn’t a simp

🏷️ perm taglist: @ceellliiinee @jaytheatiny @dolligguk @luvismenu @theyloveyams @stillwjk-channie-lixie @bookstoread199 @girlygguk @vieviela @myngiii @angelxkoo @nnybtitts08 @mpbrinkss @https-mei @lyywst @mhdelu @apobangpogirlyyy @khadeeeeej @awrkive

────୨ৎ────

Jeongguk was only supposed to clean you up. That’s what he calls it when his angelic face finds its place between your spread legs, sinful eyes locking with yours, paired with a smirk you can hardly ever survive.

After all, he’s a man of simple devices. Why bother fetching a towel when he can use his own mouth? When he can let his tongue lap at your juices, slurp every last trace, have an excuse to taste you again, and again, and again?

It’s barely even effective as a way to clean you up, of drying the slick mess that sticks to your inner thighs from cumming three times under his merciless doings— you both know that. Then, how does he expect you not to break a fourth when he runs his wet muscle so torturously along your slit, getting ever more soaked?

Jeongguk is not really trying to end the night. He’s drawing it out. He already had you unraveling in phases— first on his fingers, then all over his cupid lips, ending with you convulsating just another time around his thick length.

It was rough, left purplish marks of his harsh hold digging into your sides, a faint trace of a forbidden hickey just under your collarbones, where you can easily hide it.

In all fairness, he couldn’t help it.

It was you who provoked him. You always do, getting under his skin, teasing him about his skills, downgrading them with playful indifference and nothing more than a meh, as Jeongguk rasps in your ear, clearly affected by your session of foreplay when asking, “Does this make you feel good?”

You’ll be sent straight to hell for lying like that, with seemingly no remorse, but you’re unable to resist the dangerous game and the familiar thrill that comes from it. Nothing compares to the dark wave that takes over his hooded eyes, his motions ever more intentional, almost overwhelming.

He moves to prove something to you, to show you there’s no one quite like him, even with all the guys in your phone, on your lips, inside your sheets.

Jeongguk is your fuckbuddy, and your friend on top of the rest. So, when he first laid his lips on yours, the bottom line plumper than his cupid’s bow, it had taken a great amount of alcohol to flow through both of your veins and blur the lines, let instinct take over.

From there, it was like you couldn’t help yourselves; the physical attraction was undeniable, it’s what brought you here in between the mess of his bed. If you ignore the silly crush you had on him during the first year of college, this was perfect.

Your fuckbuddy contract (Jeongguk hates calling you that, he prefers my friend who makes me cum a lot) includes a heavy emphasis on a no-strings-attached relationship, that can be interrupted whenever one of the two feels uncomfortable, and that should not come before your friendship. On top of all, you both are not exclusive. No commitment, no jealousy. You’re perfectly free of meeting other people, fucking other people. Unless you’re going to date one of those, of course. Then, bye-bye friend who makes me cum a lot.

These rules were established almost a year ago, after your hands couldn’t help themselves from roaming hastily all over his body, pulling him impossibly closer. It was the second time you allowed yourself to feel him, following the night when he initiated things under the clouded lights of a club.

You couldn’t help it. You had been thinking of that moment for weeks now, and when you were left alone with him in his dorm room, pulse racing, it’s all your thoughts were reduced to. Kiss him, kiss him, fuck him.

You felt guilty. A friend shouldn’t be thinking of another friend like you were about Jeongguk. Especially after you promised yourself you wouldn’t let your buried crush resurface and ruin what you had built— even if the memory of that infatuation is honestly just laughable now (you would never think of dating him, pft).

But Jeongguk, ever the gentlest when it comes to you, assured you it was okay to feel as you did, because he felt it too. And was dying to touch you again. His words, not yours.

It’s only sexual. A casual, sexual relationship. Two friends who happen to find each other irresistible.

So when he reacts with a flash of competitiveness at the mere suggestion he might not be the best you’ve ever had, it’s… weird, the feeling that overcomes you. You acknowledge it for a split second, as if you’re searching to name that something inside you stirring, but before you can, it seems to make you fall apart immediately, your grip tighter, back arched, moans high-pitched.

He basks in his silent victory, in the factual demonstration that he in fact can’t be compared to all your other guys.

Except, there’s actually no other guys.

Back when this friends-with-benefits arrangement first started, you were occasionally fooling around with an older guy from campus named Mingyu. Jeongguk knew him, given that they’re in the same photography class. He was also aware of your casual fling with him. And yet, Jeongguk still kissed you. Actually, did so much more than just that.

Either way, the line has always been clear: he has no right to question who you spend time with and what you engage in, Jeongguk isn’t a saint either.

You love him, you truly do. With time, he has become one of your closest friends, and you honestly can’t see yourself getting through college without him.

But there’s no denying the fuckboy allegations, the ones that are constantly thrown at him all around campus. He is a fuckboy. It must be his easy charm, flirting as natural as breathing, tripping out his tongue with seemingly not much thought. At some point, the majority of the girls in your campus got to have their moment with Jeongguk, either because of mindless teasing or one night stands, occasionally turning into casual arrangements.

You have accepted it as part of who he is. You know his fuckboy habits haven’t magically changed when you two started fucking. He doesn’t really spend much time talking about it with you, occasionally mentioning his doings every now and then, but you don’t need to know; his friends and the people whispering in hallways and lecture halls fill in the blanks.

That is exactly why you’ve let Jeongguk believe that your sexual life is equally as busy, floods of boys from your inbox to your sheets, as if you aren’t too much of a hopeless romantic to even think of anything that isn’t exclusively monogamous.

But this isn’t the case. Jeongguk isn’t yours, you aren’t his. It’s just about sex, and you’ve accepted that. You don’t want anything more from him. You tell yourself the only reason you’re not seeing anyone else is that the idea of it makes you uneasy. That you’re more than satisfied with Jeongguk being your friend-turned-into-fuckbuddy, and you don’t need other ones.

Jeongguk is more than enough. Oh, he is.

“Fuck, Gguk. You’re gonna make me cum— Ah, shit— again.”

Your head is thrown back in his pillow, legs weakly tightening around his head nestled so close to your core, and it’s clear his goal has completely shifted from getting you clean and neat when the tip of his tongue moves to flicker on your sensitive nub, relentlessly abusing it with casual kissing and sucking.

He opens his mouth to take more of you, his wet muscle tracing your slit and teasing your entrance for— sadly —the shortest second, and the way he hums approvingly against you brings you even closer to the breaking point.

You’re a fragile mess, overstimulated from the previous orgasms but desperate to chase yet another climax, his hands roaming up to find your breast only spurring you further.

Jeongguk knows you by now, and is aware of all the subtle gestures that make you come undone under him. He knows just what to do to push you over the edge, and when to do it exactly.

You’re a sucker for dirty talk and praise, and occasionally, when the ideal situation comes, you love being degraded. It’s a side of you that only ever arises during sex, mind hazed and irrational, the delirious need for release clouding all your usually composed senses.

At first, he teased you for it. Not because he’s not as much of a fan as you are of talking during sex, but because he never pictured you to be the loud type. And you truly are.

Jeongguk pinches your nipples in hopes of you getting the message and lowering your volume, but it only makes you whine higher, your moans surely not going unnoticed by the other students in the dorm.

It can only be worse when he decides to speak against you, his voice a low, almost unintelligible growl, “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good. All mine, fuck. Want to taste your cum once again, c’mon babe. Give it to me.”

And you, always obliging and well-behaved, let go for a fourth time, hips furiously rutting against his face, his words making your surroundings spin, the way his nose would brush your sensitive nub having your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Your gasp is strained when he retreats with one last wet stripe between your puffy lips, sealing the orgasm with a kiss on your clit, and when he finds your face again there’s a cockish grin spreading across his, chin coated with your juices.

He immediately meets your mouth then, sharing your own taste, and you both moan shamelessly at the action.

Jeongguk collapses next to you, his body warm and relaxed, pulling you closer by your waist and almost making you straddle him with the force of his hold. He sighs into your hair, kissing the root of it, “You did amazing for me, pretty girl.”

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine at the praise and the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. It’s ridiculous.

With your cheek pressed against his chest, you glance up at him through your lashes and a lazy smile threatens to take over your face, but your playful pout is more prominent, almost convincing, “I’m never letting you do that trick on me again. Next time, I’m just going to take a shower like a normal person.”

The laugh he lets out is rich and unguarded, his chest rumbling under your ear, and it makes you pull away with a mock glare, brows knitted together as you swat at his toned stomach, “Don’t laugh. I hated that.”

His dark eyes soften as they dance with amusement, the corners crinkling, and he hums, going along with your blatant lie from the way your lips struggle to contain a grin, “Oh, absolutely. You were screaming in horror, couldn’t stand it.”

“Whatever,” you mutter incoherently, standing up to escape from the inevitable loss. The slick between your thighs reminds you of why you need that shower in the first place, causing you to awkwardly wobble your way to his bathroom.

Jeongguk watches you with a lopsided smirk, stretched out on the bed, his brown hair a messy halo on the pillow, and it completes the concept he goes perfectly with, the one of a devil dressed up as an angel, even more when his voice drips with faux desperation, “Hey, come back. I need my cuddles.”

“You’ll live,” you toss back before pulling the door shut behind you and stepping into the warm embrace of the shower. The hot water stings at first, then soothes you, sliding down your skin.

Jeongguk already knows the outcome of what he’s about to do isn’t going to turn in his favor, but he tries his luck regardless, standing up hastily and limply making his way to his bathroom door.

He only knocks twice, then puts on his best begging voice, talking loud enough to be heard over the shower, “Toots?”

“No!”

A scoff filters through the steamy air, followed by the unmistakable creak of the door handle as he steps inside. He’s relentless, voices his thoughts with the kind of logic only he would find convincing, “C’mon, we’ll save water!”

You stand with your back to him, his body wash traveling down your skin in soap bubbles, the scent filling the air, and you let your shoulders shrug. You don’t turn around. Number one, because you’ll give in. Number two, because you can hear the pout on his lips, and that’s the reason for number one.

You try your best to sound annoyed, “Jeongguk, just leave. You don’t even pay for it.”

“Our poor earth pays for it,” he quips, stepping further into the cramped space, body still bare, and that’s maybe a number three for you, “Because you wanna be so unfair to your best friend and leave him out in the cold.”

“You’re not my best friend.”

His gasp is dramatic, you even hear it echo through the tiny room, and you fight hard to contain the giggle locked inside you, but it escapes in the shape of a snort, which you quickly try to conceal by clearing your throat. You even further go with the lie, “You heard me.”

“Unbelievable. I’m kicking you out the second you’re done here,” he tries his best menacing tone, the threat barely harsh and effective, closing the door behind his back with an exaggerated thump, followed by unintelligible grumbling.

You take your sweet time in his now steamy bathroom. You shampoo twice, deliberately squeezing out a generous amount of his own fancy product in your palm, making sure the squeak of the bottle is heard through the door so he knows you’re helping yourself. His high-quality hair dryer blasts warm air over your damp hair until it’s only mildly wet. And you even rummage around his cabinet, indulging in his collection of expensive skincare creams. These little luxuries are exactly why you never pass a single occasion to shower over at his dorm room.

And the second you’re done in there, he doesn’t kick you out like he threatened. It takes a moment for him to move his attention from his phone to your figure, wrapped around in his fluffy robe, and he doesn’t even try to keep up the menacing act. Still spread on his ruined bed, his furrowed brows relax, and his lips break into a grin. He scans your face, then giggles, “You’ve got a massive pimple on your forehead.”

“Fuck you. I’m taking one of your hoodies.”

“It’s called borrowing,” even in the midst of checking out your freshly-washed naked body, now being stripped from his bathrobe, he’s still committed to the game of banter you two always play.

“It’s not if I’m not giving it back,” you counter, voice muffled by the fabric of one of his many black sweatshirts you’re already pulling over your head, quickly shuffling into your jeans, helping them up with some small hops that make him grin.

He doesn’t seem bothered by your comeback, too used to losing his own clothes to your closet; rather, he watches you move with what seems like hurry around his dimly lit room. He shifts higher, letting the sheets slip to reveal his still bare, and slightly sweaty torso, “Wanna hang out together at the party tomorrow?”

”Hmm, I’ll just see you there,” you don’t pay him much attention, using your phone camera as a mirror to wipe away any smudged mascara under your eyes. “I’ve already got a partner, actually.”

Jeongguk fully sits up now, vision a little blurry from the hasty and sudden movement, phone forgotten, “A partner?”

The way you casually let a smile tug at your lips while talking about a man is new, “Yeah. A guy from my English class asked me to go with him. He’s pretty cute.”

You’re too busy shoving your belongings in your bag and mentally cataloging every single item to notice the expression your best friend is currently sporting, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. Tank top, makeup, laptop… where the fuck is— oh, here. Lip balm. What else?

Jeongguk thinks you’re forgetting something deathly important. A fucking explanation, maybe? He’s known you to occasionally fool around with random guys, but he thought it was just that. Occasional and random. When did it get to having a partner? That sounds silly. Or maybe a little too formal, a little too real. What the fuck does having a partner even entail?

You’re blissfully unaware of the stubborn storm taking over Jeongguk’s thoughts, especially because you’re not exactly sparing him a second glance, moving with single-minded focus, hurrying to leave. Because apparently it’s so bad to want to spend the night with your best friend. Share a bed, watch a movie, talk gossip (it’s been so long since you’ve updated him the way only you can about the latest campus stories, ugh). Amazing, yes, that’s totally fine with Jeongguk.

And he does manage to sound unbothered, “What’s his name?”

“Namjoon.”

Jeongguk focuses on your slim fingers slipping your lip balm into the front pocket of your bag, syllabes leaving his lips in a slow mumble, “Ah, Namjoon. I know him. I guess.”

Fucking Kim Namjoon. Of course he knows him. 6 feet tall, polite, model student Kim Namjoon. Shit. Great choice. No, really, he’s the perfect catch.

“Hm? Well, I think he’s very nice. And hot as fuck.”

He grimaces, “Gross.”

“You’re one to talk,” pulling the hood over your head, you finally meet his eyes. You’re completely oblivious to the thoughts gnawing at him, so you think his disappointment is only caused by your next words, “I should get going now.”

“What? You’re not staying over for dinner?” The way he looks up at you with doe, puppy-dog eyes almost makes you trip on your own resolution, but you only ruffle his hair from your stance next to his bed, hoping the small action is enough to satisfy your hunger. Not for dinner.

“Nah, sorry Gguk. Gotta get up early for English class.”

He scoffs, moving stubbornly from your soothing touch, “Sure. English class with Joohyuk.”

“…Namjoon.”

“Right, that’s what I said. Namsun.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-laughing, “No, it’s Namjoon.”

“Namgi.”

“Namjoon.”

“Whatever, don’t care.” The words have barely any space to roll out through his pout, and along with his petty little slip-ups it’s the most childish act you’ve seen him pull so far. To be completely honest, he seems to break a new record every other day.

You fight the urge to roll your gaze at the ceiling, finding it impossible to deal with pouty, hungry and cuddle-starved Jeongguk. You sigh, muttering, “Insufferable.”

“Give me a kiss, brat.”

The teasing comes so naturally that for a second you don’t ponder on the demand being something a normal friend wouldn’t exactly ask. But it isn’t one you’ll deny.

You bend down to meet him as easily as he let the request out, muttering a playful Oh, I’m the brat now? before brushing his pushed lips with yours in a sweet, short kiss, enough to draw a soft sigh from both of you. You hum against it, voice warm with something that contradicts your words entirely, “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Sure,” rolling your eyes, you grant his cocky figure that little win, too tired to put up a fight, even if you almost rethink it when he confidently leans back against the pillows, smirking up at you. You decide to cut it short, it’s for the best, throwing your bag over your shoulder as well as one last look at him, before readying yourself for the walk of shame through his frat.

────୨ৎ────

Namjoon is, by all standards, the perfect guy. He’s genuine, smiles sweetly with his dimples showing and his eyes crinkling into crescents that make him seem both wise and youthful.

Careful, even protective over you, making sure you’re comfortable. With your drink, with your seat, with your conversation.

Almost too attentive, which should calm your nerves, but instead you feel yourself unable to fully let go. Open up to him like he’s doing with you, like you think you want to do.

You’re not sure. You can’t feel that mysterious spark everybody talks about. That spark Jeongguk admitted he’s never felt with anyone so far, no matter the number of girls he’s been with. The one he’s confessed he’s desperate to feel. The one you hope he can find.

Wait, why are you thinking about Jeongguk?

Said boy has yet to acknowledge you, standing across from you in the crowded living room of your mutual friend’s house. Each weekend, the same ritual brings you back here, whenever Taehyung’s parents head off for one of their rich-people, luxurious trips. The space is familiar, a backdrop to countless parties, all too often ending in someone’s drunken confessions and stolen kisses that’d become the talk of campus until the next party came around.

As tradition would want, with the clock ticking its way past midnight, you’d be drunk out of your mind already. Tonight, however, you’re not even sure you want to be here.

Namjoon is keeping close tabs on your drinks, monitoring each glass you reach for, and you know he means well; ordinarily, you’d find it sweet, endearing even. But it only seems to heighten your anxiety now. It just reminds you of how out of place this whole thing feels. You want to drown your awkwardness in a wave of liquid courage, and the irony isn’t lost on you: the very reason why you’re nervous is keeping you from numbing it.

Namjoon makes you way too aware of yourself. You wish your first proper hang out wasn’t at a filthy frat party, the blasting music causing you both to lean into each other to make conversation. The proximity makes your palms disgustingly clammy, and you hope he doesn’t reach for your hand.

You also think this isn’t the type of scenario that best suits Namjoon. You would have loved to be with him somewhere softer, with less noise and more light, talking over coffee instead of loud techno, his poetic speech lulling you into infatuation. Maybe then, this would have gone like you had imagined it might. Like you wanted it to go, just to prove something to yourself. You’re still not sure what exactly.

But this house — this party — is a natural habitat for people like Jeongguk. It’s a playground he navigates with ease, his charisma amplified by the darkened rooms and faint cigarette smoke that seems to follow him, just like everyone around him. They exist solely to orbit his mood.

It’s as he saunters back inside after yet another smoke break that you spot him again, his focus entirely on whatever girl is currently at his side. With Namjoon leaving to grab a drink for the two of you to share, you take the short moment to be a shameless creep and study your friend’s movements from the other side of the room.

You can’t help but feel a sting of irritation. Jeongguk is fully aware you’re here. You’d texted him earlier, just something casual to say you’d arrived, maybe even expecting him to meet you or give you a quick wave. Instead, there’d been no reply.

Just like the TikToks you’d sent last night, after you told him you wouldn’t be staying over at his, that also went ignored. You didn’t think too much of it, figured it was probably one of his petty acts. You aren’t any better: it’s not like you’ll go up to him to say hi, not after he ignored you. Those videos were funny, too. He’s the one missing out.

But now, your eyes squinted to try and get the best possible view on each detail of the scene in front of you, what you notice is nothing about him and everything about who he’s currently spending the time he could have used to acknowledge you with.

It’s not just whatever girl. It’s Haeun.

You haven’t seen them hanging out together in what feels like months, and frankly, you’re thrown. Maybe that’s also the reason why he suddenly had no time for you. You scoff.

You’re just confused, really. Jeongguk didn’t mention a thing about her, and it’s not like he’s ever kept his hookups or flings a secret. But Haeun was never just that. She was the one he seemed almost ready to get in his first serious relationship with, the one girl you thought could make him forget all about his usual habits.

When Jeongguk had first started hanging out with Haeun, he’d seemed uncharacteristically interested. You naturally found yourself rooting for him, hoping he’d take a leap and start something real after many failed attempts.

At that point, your casual arrangement with him had been going on for a while, but you knew it wasn’t built to last. You’d expected it to end sooner rather than later, and you were okay with that. You just wanted him to be happy with himself and his choices.

But on the night he was supposed to take Haeun out on a date, the one that could have changed everything, it’s like a magic vacuum turned on and sucked all his progress away. He’d shown up in front of your door instead. No explanations, no details about what had happened; he didn’t want to talk. He only wanted to be near you and sink into silence.

That night you laid next to him, his head on you, hair sprawled out on your stomach, and said absolutely nothing.

Since then, he hadn’t mentioned Haeun at all, and you’d assumed it was over. The right side of your brain was irrationally glad for that, greedily geeking at the prospect of still getting to keep Jeongguk close in ways that go over a simple friendship. In ways that have you thanking God for not taking your friend’s sex skills away from you; in ways that have your nose scrunching whenever he leaves small, delicate pecks on the side of your neck as you watch a movie cuddled in his embrace. If he had decided to go on that date, you would be denied all of this luxury.

The left side of your brain is a little less greedy, a little more rational. The half of your mind responsible for keeping some logic instilled in you even thought it could have been a good thing for Jeongguk to experience a different side of relationships.

You’ve always sensed there to be deeper reasons beneath Jeongguk’s carefree front. You’ve watched him jump from girl to girl, dip in and out of flings with seemingly no thought, as if he’s not trying to bury issues he should find a different answer for, to avoid whatever insecurities he’s run too far away from to face.

He’s never had to spell it out for you. You never pressed him on the topic either. And you think he’s grateful for it, for your silence that offers him the stability he won’t admit he needs, for simply staying and understanding. For allowing him to be vulnerable.

You wish you could give him more than that quiet comfort. Wonder if you should try your luck and push him to see that he does deserve something real— more than the distractions he uses to keep his fears at bay.

Jeongguk would make an incredible boyfriend. He always spots the small details, the slight changes in your mood, and he picks them up before you can even notice yourself, caring in a silent way that doesn't go unnoticed. Not by you.

It’s easy to imagine him being the kind of partner who’d cater to his girl’s needs effortlessly, even in quiet, even if hidden. You know he could be that person if he could just let anyone in beyond sex. When he’ll find the one, it’ll be clear it’s all he was made for.

Right now though, if anyone were to ask you that, you’d advise them to just go and look for another one, because he’s a little, lying piece of shit. You’re just a tad bit upset about it, if your crossed arms and furrowed brows are anything to go by.

You don’t understand why he’s now there, standing next to the girl he himself stood up, the one he looked ready to fix everything for, and then wasn’t. Leaning in close as if nothing had ever happened.

Why couldn’t he tell you, at least give you a heads-up if he was reconnecting with her? You know it shouldn’t bother you as much as it does, but the fact that he’s hiding it stings. Are you overthinking this?

When he lifts his head from her ear and scans the room, his eyes landing right on yours for a brief second just to look away, you don’t think you are. His attention shifts back to Haeun as if he hadn’t seen you at all. What the fuck?

You question what’s the point of having eyes to see when you are now forced to witness Jeongguk leaving the room with Haeun hanging her draggy weight on his arm, his smile cockish as he helps her up by her waist, fingers digging dangerously close to the curve of her perfectly shaped peach.

Their chemistry is undeniable, hands finding skin with unpracticed ease. It must be the way Jeongguk can effortlessly work his charm with any girl he deems attractive enough to fuck, his smirk and the way he lets his nose scrunch almost timidly, as if you can’t see right through him, making women potty in his sculpted hands.

The prospect of your best friend getting laid by the girl he was almost ready to change it all for should make you happy. Smile, at least.

Instead, you frown, mindlessly taking long sips from the straw in your glass and letting it stir your too watered-down cocktail that lacks any real flavor. You don’t even try to find answers as to how another drink landed right on the counter you rest your back on, but you’re glad for it.

You’re more upset at the fact that he decided not to tell you anything. You would have helped him through it, supported him, advised him on what to do, how to move in such a situation. But even if he didn’t need any of this, you would have appreciated just knowing. From him.

The ways in which the two of you are intertwined right at this moment don’t exactly allow him to completely leave you unaware of his actions. It’s not fair.

But then, are you even supposed to feel like this in the first place? Is only sex supposed to have this impact on you? Is even the smallest cell in his brain producing a thought that might take him back to you, and could it compare to a third of what you think and feel?

Does he not get that tingly sensation with you, ‘cause he’s used to it? ‘Cause you’re nothing too different nor special from all the choice he has laid at his feet, nothing out of the usual routine?

A gentle hand on your arm jolts you out of your thoughts. The touch is delicate, but the way it pulls you from your spiral is rough, making you stumble on the already wobbly stool you’re sitting on. When you look to your side, Namjoon meets you with a warm smile.

You hadn’t even noticed him being back next to you, and you figure that’s probably how that drink found its way in your hands. You’re a deer caught in headlights as you look at him, then down at the almost empty glass, then back at the boy. Your eyes widen impossibly more, and you struggle with finding a louder volume to your voice, almost fading with the music, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to finish this all by myself.”

You remember him saying he’d get a drink for the two of you to share before leaving you with your haunting thoughts. He just laughs in a way that should soothe your nerves, but it doesn’t, “It’s okay. You look like you needed it. I’m getting another one for me and catching up with some of my friends over there. I’ll be back in a bit, alright?”

“Yeah, totally. No problem,” your words roll out your tongue in a slurred hurry, face already turning to the opposite side of the room, and you’re not even sure what you’re agreeing on. You just feel Namjoon slip away from the seat next to yours again.

The brief interaction was enough for Jeongguk to have time to completely disappear from your strict observing, and just like the boy who should have had your undivided attention tonight, he equally slips away. From your vision, from the party. And from you. He’s with Haeun now, after all. And you’re alone.

Being truthful, Jeongguk is once again slipping away from his problems only. He doesn’t know how he ended up with Haeun by his side, but when he found your big, confused eyes in the midst of what should have been his escape for the night, he thinks he could name a few reasons.

It’s suffocating, the grip you have on him. He can almost feel one of your slim, delicate hands around his throat. He’s a dirty little sadist, of course he enjoys the pain. But he shouldn’t, so he runs from it until his back hits the wall, and the hold only gets tighter.

There’s nothing to do but face the truth. And you’re in front of him, eyes lost and inviting him to tell you. What should be easy for him to say, what he owes you. But the words get stuck in his throat, right where you’re pressing, and he feels like he might stop breathing.

He could die like this, with your narrowed orbs pitying him, and he badly wishes you would call him a coward. The hold is just enough to hurt him, not to make him lose his senses; if anything, it only makes his head spin around the one thought he wants to avoid. You.

With the quickest distraction he could get his hands on, he keeps adding to it: Haeun clinging to his side, he steps out the packed room to light the nth cigarette, the smoke clouding his vision and making the image of you fade from behind his eyelids. You release your hand from him and disappear. He almost whines. He misses you already. But the faint ache is a reminder.

Instead, in front of him is the only girl he should have truly avoided. Haeun is another reminder. Not because she looks similar to you, you’re way prettier. You’re beautiful.

No, it’s just because he remembers Haeun being his first victim, using her to bury something stronger growing inside him. But it didn’t work then, and it doesn’t work now.

She’s the only girl he tried his luck with to avoid his now unavoidable feelings for you. Then, he physically couldn’t touch another woman beside you. So he started flirting with more cigarettes and alcohol. Maybe some joints then and there.

Jeongguk would love to know why he prefers destroying himself rather than just be the confident man he lets everyone else think he is, go up to you and be honest, like you make it so easy for him to be. The fact that it almost slipped out of him more than a couple times scares him.

It shouldn’t. He wants to fall into that soothing caress, but could he even handle the possibility of you simply, and rightfully if you deemed it the correct choice, rejecting him?

The answer is no. He can’t afford losing your touch on him, your lashes fluttering when you look up at him, your fingers tracing secret maps on his back. He wonders if you’re outlining the safest ways for him to escape from the maze he himself created, of which he forgot the exit to.

With Haeun pressing herself to his side, he thinks he’d rather stay trapped there at this point. A maze built by lies, letting you believe he’s fucking other girls on the side when he feels sickened just by the thought of it, his hand now coming up to push the girl back to a safe distance. Built by insecurities, preferring having you think that you’re simply one of the many he has when he firmly believes you’re the only one that the universe has especially assigned him to.

It’s making him lose his mind, while you live unaware, free from the truth. He’s sure in the stretch that went from yesterday, when you told him about your fucking partner, and tonight, seeing you so close to said partner’s face, your dress custom-made by the hands of every angel populating heaven, Jeongguk developed some kind of clinical illness. The flame of jealousy in his toned tummy has eaten him whole.

And he feels slightly ashamed of himself knowing this is how he found himself circling back to his first poor attempt at running away from you, in the form of a short girl, her eyes now questioning him just like yours had done earlier. Haeun furrows her brows, “Are you seriously doing this again?”

Jeongguk sighs, glancing away to take a long drag from his cigarette that fills his lungs and almost aches. He avoids the eye contact that would be needed for a conversation like the one he’s forced to have — one that wouldn’t have occured in the first place if he could just be a normal person — instead he looks back to the room through the glass doors, “I’m sorry, Hae. I— I can’t do this—“

“Yo, Gguk. You need to come with me now. ___ is throwing up in the bathroom.”

It’s Taehyung sliding the glass door open with more force than what he usually puts, and right now nobody would tell he’s the same one always advising his friends to be delicate with it. The look on his face is panicked and it quickly reflects in Jeongguk’s eyes, flickering between his friend and Haeun.

Next, his reflexes are quicker. He steps inside the house, skipping past Taehyung and the flood of college students dancing their Friday away to Usher and seemingly not caring about the urgency written all over his expression.

He makes it to the bathroom where people have started to crowd around as if lining up to an unmissable show, and he doesn’t care if his pushes are too rough as he makes his way through.

You’re quite literally hugging the toilet, your face one with the lid as a few girls try and help you with your hair. The moment they see Jeongguk, it’s like they know he’s the one that you need, that he’s finally here and you’re in good hands. He shoots them a quick nod as they step aside and then, he’s immediately crouching next to you, gently gathering your long locks into his fist.

He moves some stray strands behind your ears while you keep letting it all out, and as much as his broad back is enough to hide you from watchful eyes, he can still hear murmurs from onlookers.

It’s as Jeongguk is debating whether he should cuss them out or keep his attention on you that Taehyung comes to promptly clear the crowd, closing the bathroom door behind him only after making sure his friend doesn’t need any more help.

Jeongguk appreciates the gesture, knowing how overwhelmed you can get in these scenarios with too many people around. Although, no matter how calm he appears for your sake, his heart races even as you seem to settle and sit on the tiled floor, your back resting against the cool wall.

You gulp down a few times, squeezing your eyes to try and ground yourself, the way you can feel Jeongguk’s hand hold the side of your leg, his thumb delicately brushing the inside of your thigh, definitely helping.

“Toots,” he whispers, face close to your own, “Hey, doll. You’re okay now, hm? What happened?” His voice is low, slow, almost scared of flowing past his lips.

When you open your eyes he’s directly in front of you, squatting down to stay on your level, and his brows are drawn high in worry.

You sniff, your voice still rough from the scratching on your throat, “Fucking— Jimin. I met him in the kitchen and we mixed too much shit together—“

“Weren’t you with Kim Namjoon?” Jeongguk interrupts you, both his tone and the way his eyebrows now dip inquisitive.

You shrug, looking down at your fingers fidgeting, “Dunno. Why the fuck am I still not sober,” the way you tone the question doesn’t make it sound like one, and you end up giggling at yourself, hiccuping in the process.

Jeongguk sighs, unconsciously tightening his hold around your leg, his fingers digging and making you whimper subtly. He notices, soothing the skin only to take both his hands to scoop you up by your armpits, lifting both your bodies on your feet.

You yelp, throwing your weight on him with another one of your senseless chuckles, looking up at his bothered face through your lashes. He straightens your posture with wide palms on your waist, throwing one of your arms around his shoulders and causing you to step out of the small room on your tiptoes. He grumbles, “I’m taking you back to the dorm now. And we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“Talk about what?”

“Namjoon.”

You stay quiet as the both of you, your body snug against his, walk through the party and out the house to reach Jeongguk’s car. Your thoughts are sluggish, failing to grasp why he’d even want to talk about Namjoon. Isn’t he just a nice guy? You’re more concerned with Jeongguk’s seemingly irked tone and the distressed way his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

A soft, involuntary whine escapes you when you think you might be the reason for that, shuffling yourself closer into his warmth, but the contact is brief as he gently settles you into the passenger seat and clicks the belt, then he closes your door and circles the car to the driver’s side.

Awkward. The only sound that can be heard is the soft hum of the engine, beside the fuzzy buzz in your ears. You feel laughter bubbling up in your chest but you hold it there, turning to study Jeongguk’s side profile. Inhaling, you start, “Can you— can I put on—”

“No.”

Your smile falters, “What? C’mon, give me the aux.”

“The last thing I want right now is to listen to those songs.”

Any previous tipsy instinct that made you want to laugh at the situation fade with his words and the way his grip on the steering wheel says more than what he’s letting on. You’re hazy, but his clenched jaw and laser focus on the road make you sit up straighter, adjusting your slouched posture and the skirt of your dress with it, pulling it further down your thighs.

The tension coming off him feels so heavy that it leads to irrational, childish tears pricking your eyes, and you sound defeated when you whisper, “Are you mad at me?”

He brakes a little too hard at the red light, and you both lurch slightly forward. Jeongguk seems to realize just now that he’s unfairly taking his anger out on you, and the way you let out the question in the smallest voice makes his heart speed up, turning to you with apprehension, “No, toots. No, why would I be? I’m mad at that fucker.”

“He was just talking with some of his—”

“He left you alone. He was supposed to take care of you. Not let you get fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk sounds final, his tone allowing no more condoning nor excuses for the tall guy now left behind you, back at the party. But you don’t seem to focus too much on the meaning of his words, rather you bask in the consequences of them. He’s not upset with you!

That spurs you to contradict him further, this time on the accusation he threw at you, but it’s less than credible when you say it through a sheepish smile that unconsciously made its way on your lips at the protective edge to his tone, “I’m not fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk only sighs, but you can see him visibly relax, shoulders going down and leaning against the back of his seat, right hand coming to pat your bare knee with a small smile on his pierced lips.

You share a look that fully sobers you up only to get you high all over again off his doe eyes, the artificial lights dotting a universe of their own in those orbs, undiscovered galaxies and planets inviting you to move there, even with no water, no oxygen, no way of surviving.

When the soft hue of the red light reflecting on the side of your face morphs to green, he moves his attention back on the road, taking his hand with it to shift gears. Then, he concedes, “Put on the playlist.”

You blink, a little taken aback by his sudden shift in mood, but just as quickly you recover. Your brain seems to be able to focus on one thing at a time either way, so you don’t ponder on your insides collectively moving at the way he looked at you and instead reach for the aux cord, fingers tapping on your phone screen absentmindedly, with a conscience of their own.

Music interrupts the quiet, and you can’t help but join, “The night we met I knew I, needed you so. And if I had the chance I’d, never let you go. Sing with me!”

Jeongguk breaks into a grin, no matter how much he fights it, “You’re so fucking wasted.”

“So won’t you say you love me? I’ll make you so proud of me. We’ll make ‘em turn their heads every place we go, so won’t you please,” Be My Baby by The Ronettes fills the previous silent tension, which you seemingly already forgot everything about, using Jeongguk’s free hand as your own personal microphone, folding it in a fist between your palms.

Jeongguk would never say it out loud, especially now, after he only pretended he had to be begged to put it on, that he’s actually grown attached to this playlist. Started as a little mishap and turned into something that got under his skin, much like you have.

Its creation came about from a comically embarrassing moment that gave you ammunition to tease him for weeks. Although, he’s glad for it when he reflects deep enough: the whole episode helped shape the bond between you two, adding to its foundation.

He still doesn’t know how you managed to slip so sneakily into his dorm that evening, but what’s sure is that he wasn’t expecting you, taking the time of his life in his bathroom, fresh out of the shower. Simply following his usual routine, one that you wouldn’t have exactly considered usual since you only ever knew him as an avid Drake listener, he hummed along to Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love flowing softly from his phone speaker.

It wasn’t just that, of course, because then he started styling his wet hair in an exaggerated pompadour and fully got into character, strutting dramatic poses in front of the mirror and even practicing Elvis’s iconic curl of the lip. If his soul was by any chance watching over the scene, you’d hoped he’d agree with you that Jeongguk was truly giving Austin Butler a run for his money.

The private show sadly ended when he caught sight of you in the foggy glass, your lips sealed shut to try and hold your delighted laughter, but it got ripped out of you in the form of an obnoxious snort the moment his eyes went wide in horror and his face crimson in shame.

It was hell for a few weeks after that. You didn’t let him off so easily, teasing him for being a secret softie with a love for old-school romance under all the layers of his tough fuckboy image that only ever seemed to handle trappy beats.

When you jokingly suggested he might as well get fully into the act and start calling you toots or something, he didn’t back down from the tease, scoffing at you with narrowed eyes. Somewhere along the way, the dry, sardonic tone with which he first used that pet name on you stuck, and it became less of a joke, more of an endearing way to refer to you, and only you.

Before either of you could second-guess it, the playlist was born. You two crafted it together in fits of laughter and late-night texts, with Jeongguk suggesting songs from his secret stash and you contributing the ones you grew up on.

It quickly became the soundtrack to many of your aimless car rides, something that neither of you acknowledged outright but silently cherished. Sometimes, you’d get so carried away and slip into the roles of a ‘60s couple, playfully reciting cheesy lines back and forth.

No matter how much Jeongguk pretends he hates it to save what’s left of his bad boy reputation, he really doesn’t. Not even a little bit. Even the way he rolls his eyes and groans isn’t enough to hide the spark in his eyes when you sing along.

He feels worse than a pubescent teenager when he lets his guard slip to hear you hum words he can only imagine are just for him, meant in the way he wants. You swing side by side and smile up at him with dimples digging long slits into your cheeks, and he has to act as if it makes him feel completely normal and not like he’s going to crash his car any second.

Each lyric that spills from your mouth feels like it’s tying him down, even with your sweet voice a little unsteady, thanks to whatever is still left from the night’s drinks. You’re so not aware of what it does to him.

Your eyes are on the road, but Jeongguk’s linger on you, his fingers unconsciously tapping the steering wheel to the tune.

“I’d save every day like a treasure, and then, again, I would spend them with you.”

Jeongguk purposefully veers off onto streets he doesn’t need to take, buying himself a few extra minutes with you, but you don’t notice and he pretends to not know either. Would never admit it’s because he wants to hear you sing a little more, and that this ongoing joke between the two of you might be his favorite thing in the whole world.

“But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them. Hold on, this one’s a little lower. I’ll find my note, wait,” you’re mostly talking to yourself, cheek pressed to the cool glass of the window, but you glance at Jeongguk as if seeking for approval, clearing your throat, “I’ve looked around enough to know that you’re the one I want to go through time with.”

Just as Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce fades out, Jeongguk pulls into the campus parking lot, turning the engine off and cutting the music with it. None of you move right away, accepting the stillness in the car.

You don’t accept the silence, though, letting your mind speak a thought that has been nagging at you, “Can you fuck me here? Right now?”

The way you voice the request would make anybody who didn’t understand English think you’d just asked for something as mundane as a glass of water, your eyes unfaltering, a small smile on your waiting lips, voice barely slicing through the quiet. It’s almost as if you don’t know it’s the kind of thing that could derail Jeongguk’s entire thought process.

Jeongguk lightly chokes on his own breath, giving a few coughs before turning to you, his tattooed hand messing his hair further, “Jesus Christ, ___. You know I can’t.”

You tilt your head, considering him, as if this is a serious debate rather than drunken rambling, “Why not?”

Jeongguk can only sigh. He takes in your disheveled state and notices the way your exposed skin prickles with the cold, reaching for the leather jacket he carelessly threw on the backseats before heading to the party, having had no idea you’d be the one wearing it by the end of the night.

He wraps it gently around your shoulders, moving sticky, stray strands of hair from your face, “You’re so drunk. Look at you.”

“I told you I’m not,” you protest weakly, but your confidence falters when his fingers ghost over your face.

“There’s vomit in your hair,” he shuts you bluntly, tone softer than the honest words.

“Oh,” your stubbornness doesn’t work this time, and you’re mortified as you glance down at your lap, where his fingers fall to mindlessly play with the zip of his bomber jacket, brushing your tummy in the process. Your voice doesn’t sound so sure now, especially when each subtle graze sends small shocks through you, “That’s disgusting.”

The soft chuckle he lets out has you stealing a look upward, and when you catch his expression your slowed down brain can only come to the conclusion that maybe he doesn’t find you all that disgusting: he sports a rare, wide curve of his bunny smile, eyes crinkling when that same fondness finds its way onto your lips. You can’t help what they do next, a mind of their own as you rest them on his own mouth, the tip of his nose tickling your cheek.

It’s the faintest of kisses, and it’s delicate, fleeting, over far too soon, but you’re the one to pull back first no matter how much longer you need it to be, “That was probably disgusting too.”

As you rest your back on the seat again, his eyes are still closed, and they flutter open as slowly as a smile stretches on his mouth when he meets you. You’re giving him a look he doesn’t deserve, one he shouldn’t lean into.

His voice is a whisper, and it fans over your face, still close to his, “Not at all.”

Gleaming eyes scan every angle of you, as if trying to find anything that’ll hold him back from what he really wants to do. But, of course, his need only grows when he lets his gaze wander down, then up again.

He glances to the side with a gulp, moving his body back to reach for the car door handle, “You think you can walk or should I carry you?”

“Carry me, please,” you mumble, not even pondering on the first option, and the moment the sound leaves your lips he’s out and reaching for your side, opening your door and scooping you up like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The walk to his dorm is a blur, with you dozing off in his warmth and being lulled by the hums escaping him and reverberating through his chest, melodies of the earlier songs playing against your ear.

You regain awareness when a splash of warm water cascades over your now naked body, the sensation startling enough to make your lashes flutter against your damp cheeks. The water runs over your face, washing away the remnants of the night, the drowsy yet oddly light sensation taking over you causing a giggle to echo against the walls.

You’re still too disoriented to process the tenderness with which Jeongguk’s hand moves, brushing through your soaked strands of hair and moving them from where they flattened on your face, combing through the sticky locks.

With half-open eyes, you’re met with the sight of him in front of you, standing close enough without needing to step into the small space with you, his brows furrowed as he works the shampoo through your hair. It’s a soothing, slow motion, the one he massages your scalp with, and it only melts you further into sweet slumber.

If it weren’t for one of his hands resting tightly on your hip, grounding you as the scent of the shampoo mingles with the steam curling around you, you would have gladly swayed into his palm, letting your weak body fall into his strong one.

You sniff, leaning into his care, voice small and oddly sincere, “I’m sorry for,” hiccup, “taking you away from Haeun. You two seem close again.”

Jeongguk stills for a moment, his fingers pausing in your hair before resuming their soft motions. He pretends he didn’t hear, and you pretend you never talked in the first place when he guides you to steady yourself as your knees wobble, “Hey, stand still. You’ll get shampoo in your eyes. Close them.”

You obey, letting your eyelids drop shut as you feel his hand gently tilt your head under the spray, his touch as tender as the words he isn’t saying.

If you weren’t a victim of both sleepiness and alcohol at this very moment, your thoughts would be racing each other like eager contenders in the Overthinker Marathon, each one fighting tooth and nail for the gold medal. They’d be dissecting every little detail of the night— the way Jeongguk had ignored you, his lingering hand on Haeun’s waist, only to be there the second you needed him, the girl from earlier not even worth mentioning.

Instead, your every thinking cell has taken a rare vacation, lounging together on an imaginary green field, clinking glasses filled with leftover cocktails from earlier, lazily watching clouds drift by.

Although there’s one cell in particular, too tipsy to sit still. It hops around gleefully, urging your lips to move before the Thinking Cell General can intervene. The way it jumps up and down, up and down, makes you giggle as you blurt out, “I don’t know if it’s the water, but I’m very wet.”

The silence that follows is thick, punctuated only by the sound of water cascading down your back. Jeongguk freezes as if the words have physically reached out and yanked him into stunned stillness. He can only let his throat bob in a visible swallow and look away, warning you in a strained mutter, “___. This is your last warning. Stop teasing me.”

You whine, pathetically wiggling your weak and pliant body in his hold to seek for some kind of reaction, but he doesn’t budge. He’s uncharacteristically focused on his tasks, ensuring every trace of shampoo rinses from your hair, rather than your hardened nipples bouncing with your stubborn movements.

But you recognise the way his jaw clenches so tight it must hurt, how he refuses to let his gaze wander lower where the steam of water outlines your form. His restraint is razor-thin, yet he holds it tightly, breathing only slightly uneven.

You’re not deterred by his warning; you never are. It’s the tiny tracks in his resolve that keep you pressing forward, voice laced with a vulnerability that makes his hand twitch against your scalp, “Just… I just need your fingers. Please.”

Jeongguk exhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he angles the spray to wash the last suds away, hyper-focused on the practical task as though it’s a lifeline to his dwindling self-control.

But you’re persistent. You reach behind you, fingers messily finding the knob to twist the water off, and with the spray halting you’re left only with the hum of the bathroom fan and the faint drip of water.

Your other hand finds his, guiding his wide palm to rest on your lower stomach, just above where your want is written in every inch of your body. You whisper, plead clear in your tone, ”You know I want this. Won’t ever regret it. I’m conscious enough to be sure of that.”

Jeongguk huffs, his chest rising and falling as he stares down at you, fingers flexing slightly against your skin. He closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as if accepting defeat. He can’t win this battle.

The brown-haired boy steps into the shower, the small space shrinking even further with the addition of his broader frame, forcing you to back up against the wall. Fully dressed, water clings to his fabric, and the contrast of his damp clothes against your bare, exposed skin makes you irrationally wetter.

Jeongguk keeps silent, and at this point you don’t care how desperate you look, pushing yourself against him and getting his clothes wetter in the process. It pushes him to initiate a torturous path along your skin, using his middle finger to trace a journey from your chest, savoring the way your breath hitches, down to your warm core.

The droplets of water he collects on the way are used to spread your puffy lips and press right on your sensitive nub, making you gasp. You’re a trembling mess from the simple motion, and he has to use his free hand to steady you against the wall.

Your breasts aren’t left without being taken care of, because the moment he begins circling motions on your clit that have you seeing stars, he lowers his head to envelop one of your tits in his ravenous mouth, teeth teasing it punitively, all while looking up at you with sliced, sinful eyes.

He’s greedy, and you can’t believe he managed to hide it so well until now. But his resolve crumbles the more he revels in the way you fall apart for him, and he loses control on your chest. The sensation is sharp, delicious, and the contrast between the harshness of his bite and the softness of his tongue has you whimpering.

You’re ashamedly aware of how close you already are, his digits picking a fast speed that urges you to let go and coat him in your juices. He knows, simply from the way you let your mouth fall agape and release loud moans in the steamy air, pushing your nipples further in his swollen lips.

When he inserts one finger in your warm hole, you jolt in his secure hold, eyebrows shot upwards in the shock of your sudden orgasm, one that hits you all too harshly. It drags on deliciously, Jeongguk never wanting it to end, the slurping sound of his sucking on your tits making your surrounding spin, along with his thumb accompanying the way his single digits thrusts into you.

He only stops when you unconsciously run from his doings, slim hand wrapping weakly around his wrist, and he retreats with one last wet stripe along the curve of your boob, promptly collecting your taste from his fingers, and he thoroughly hums around them, eyes closed and cheeks hollowed.

You think you could come again from the sight alone. Panting, you smile through your ragged breaths, “Fuck. Thanks.”

Five minutes later, no one would bet you’re the same girl that begged him for his fingers and came in record time around them. Now, you sit serenely on the toilet lid, wrapped up in Jeongguk’s warmest hoodie. The oversized fabric swallows your frame, knees tucked under it as you hug them close to your chest. You look as innocent as ever.

Jeongguk stands in front of you, meticulously brushing through your damp hair with practiced gentleness, each stroke of the comb a soothing lullaby. You rest your chin lazily on your folded arms, eyes closed, the edges of sleep blurring your thoughts.

You let out a contented sigh before murmuring, words unfiltered, “You’d make the perfect boyfriend. You always take care of me. And kiss me when I need it.”

The motions of the brush stop for a fraction of a second before resuming, and what you hear next is Jeongguk’s throat clearing, his voice low and almost shaky, “That sounds so very wrong, toots.”

“What do you mean?” You don’t open your eyes as you ask the question, the warmth of his presence and the excuse of the last traces of alcohol still flowing in your tired body making you bolder than usual.

“You want me to be your boyfriend?”

“In another life, maybe. Yes,” you don’t waste time replying, words carrying a dreamy quality, “I mean, would be cool.”

“Cool?” He chuckles, but it’s the kind that’s half-exasperation and half-something else entirely, voice strained with an edge of desperation too, “God, I don’t even know why I’m still putting up with you.”

You only nuzzle closer into the borrowed hoodie, giving voice to your next thought, your thinking cells now hosting a 60s themed party, “Be my, be my baby. My one and only baby.”

The sound of your singing fades under the whirring roar of the hairdryer, and Jeongguk is quietly thankful for the way it drowns your sweet hums completely, fearing if he hears another one of those tipsy love confessions leaving your lips he might drop to his knees, undone by something he knows he can’t claim.

You rest your head against his stomach, full weight leaning on his standing figure, his long digits pulling through your strands. If you’d look up at your best friend for even one fleeting second, you’d probably laugh at the concentration on his expression, his only goal drying your hair enough to not have you waking up with a headache the following day.

You sniffle and snuggle impossibly closer to him, the heat radiating from his tummy and the white noise lulling you further into drowsiness, every careful motion of his hand coaxing you closer to sleep.

When your phone pings from the bathroom counter, the sudden buzz makes you jolt slightly. You lift your head sluggishly and gesture toward the phone, mouthing up to Jeongguk, “Pass it.”

He hands it to you without turning off the hairdryer, keeping an eye on your sleepy movements. You blink at the bright light for a moment before your expression shifts, eyes widening.

You’re completely jolted awake at the only notification on your home screen: it's Namjoon.

You tap Jeongguk’s stomach with the heel of your hand— softly at first, then with increasing urgency. The repeated motion forces him to stop the device and place it on the counter as he looks down at you, trying to peek at the screen, “What?”

You hiccup and sniff before blurting out, “Namjoon. He texted me”

The boy that was just now carefully drying your hair scoffs, arms crossed over his chest, “What does that asshole want?”

The response to the rhetorical question doesn’t come, either because you decide to ignore it purposefully or unconsciously: you look totally engulfed by the words on your otherwise empty chat with Namjoon, and Jeongguk can’t help but subtly lean his body lower to read the same texts you’re going through.

Kim Namjoon [4:26 a.m.]: Hey. Sorry for texting late, I heard from someone you threw up back at the party. I’m so sorry. I completely lost sight of you in that mess. Are you feeling any better? Very sorry again.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: It’s totally okay if you don’t want to hear from me again. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to make it up to you.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: I’d really like to take you out on a date. Would you let me?

Jeongguk kisses his teeth irkedly, “Why the fuck does he text like Prince William? Fucking English major,” and he truly tried his best to sound unaffected, but the words leave his mouth before he even knows he’s thinking of them.

Luckily, you don’t seem to notice, reading the message aloud like you can’t quite believe it yourself, “He said he’d like to go on a date with me. Like, he asked me on a date. And said he would like it. To go on a date—”

“Yes, we got it.”

“He doesn’t hate me, Gguk!” Once again, his petty comments go unnoticed as your face lights up, eyes crinkling with joy as you practically beam up at him.

Jeongguk wants to be annoyed, but he simply can’t when he’s met with all the stars in the universe right in your glossy, tired eyes. He swallows hard and forces a soft chuckle, “No, he doesn’t, toots. Anyone would be crazy to hate you.”

The grin on your lips only widens, nose scrunching adorably as you let your cheek sheepishly brush against your shoulder, “Oh my god, Gguk. I’m going on a date with him! Heh.”

“That’s nice,” he says, picking up the hairdryer again before your words can settle too heavily in the space between you. “I’m not finished with your hair, though. Stay still.”

The device roars to life once more, its noise filling the room and covering your excited giggles. Jeongguk keeps brushing through your hair with steady motions, his face impassive, but he feels something tighten, heavy and unyielding in his chest.

He tells himself the noise is a blessing, a shield from the silence he wouldn’t know how else to fill—or from the sound of his own voice, betraying him in ways he can’t afford.

────୨ৎ────

“I’ll miss the sex when Namjoon will ask me to be his girlfriend.”

In the quiet of the library, your sudden whisper startles Jeongguk. The chair screeches under him and it gains the both of you a few annoyed looks. He nods in apology at their way, moving closer to the table again, and he has to blink a few times before he can even meet your eyes. The scattered pens all over the white surface looked more interesting either way.

“When he— his— what?” He feels pathetic for being unable to even form a senseful sentence, but there’s no absolute way he blames his brain for that. It’s his heart, stuttering along with the barely intelligible question.

It cracks at the middle the more your grin splits your face in half, nose scrunching adorably, and he may be a horrible friend but he can’t bring himself to return your irony, nor the masked excitement under it.

If he were handed pen and paper and asked to write about how he feels right at this moment, he wouldn’t put down a single thing. Not because there isn’t anything to say. He fears your innocent teasing has done something catastrophic, snapping that one damned string that connected his brain to his heart, and the two aren’t communicating. Jeongguk is in the middle of two angered parents, fighting and on the brink of divorce. That’s what he gets for being a total pussy.

You shrug, frowning slightly when all you’re faced with is his blank expression, eyes unresponsive and detachedly looking elsewhere, but you keep yours on him, studying even the small movements, “I mean, he’s a nice guy. I think he’s serious about getting to know me.”

The word serious causes an involuntary twitch of his head, tilting almost imperceptibly to the side, and he sounds way too defensive, “And are you?”

Furrowing your eyebrows at his unexpected reaction, you return to your previous mindless doodling, keeping your voice low, “Well, he’s cute. Let’s see where this thing goes.”

“What about me?”

The question catches the both of you off guard. Your pencil halts as you glance at him through the corner of your eye, and even if you can’t see him clearly, the way his dark orbs widen is almost comical that you would laugh in any other situation. But now, the air is oddly tense and it makes your nose scrunch in awkwardness.

He breaks it with a chuckle, a subtle tremor in it that luckily goes unnoticed by you but that will probably keep him up at night for the next five years, and he lightly shoves your shoulder in an effort at feigning ease, “You really wanna pass on this dick?”

“God, you’re gross,” the annoyed roll of your eyes has Jeongguk releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding; it’s odd, but that’s just who he is.

The second you return to weightless banter, he’s back in his element. He can smirk, tease and deflect— these are tools he’s mastered over the months. But the thought of stripping naked for your eyes to see, and not in the sexual way you two engage in almost every night, terrifies him.

The waters are safe for what seems a fraction of a second before you pull him down in the deep, dark seas again, this dynamic between you foreign. While it is a simple, innocent question, your deceptive tone triggers unfamiliarity within him, “Besides, how’s it going with you and Haeun?”

“Huh? Oh. Haeun, yes,” his attempt at buying himself extra time is laughable, especially when Mr. Brain is now yelling at Ms. Heart for always wanting to get in the way of things he can handle alone, “Wonderfully. We— She— Huh, kissed me.”

Ms. Heart is furious. She has no other choice but to reach in her purse and slap the divorce papers on the dinner table, the glasses clinking against the plates, and Jeongguk flinches. Brain is speechless, clueless on how to react.

You only seem slightly taken aback, eyebrows raising in mild surprise, “Really? That’s nice.”

Jeongguk is equally clueless, subtly squeezing his eyes shut as if hoping to wake up somewhere else entirely, maybe in an ideal world where Kim Namjoon doesn’t exist and Mr. Brain and Ms. Heart are happily married.

Instead, he’s still in the library, and you’re still sitting next to him, scribbling on your English textbook. He frowns, getting pitiably lost in the view of your side profile, “Yeah, nice. Huh, when’s your date?”

When you glance up at him, you seem to be realizing just how odd it is for the two of you to spend this much time talking about your respective hook ups, and you cringe slightly at the unusual formality, wishing Jeongguk would just tease you like he usually does when you tell him about your untruthful and made up sexual adventures.

You purse your lips in thought, “Tomorrow, actually.”

“Oh. He’s going fast.”

“I like that.”

“I know you do.”

No matter the effort you put into trying to hide your amusement, a snort escapes you, and you quickly look away to recover from the childish grin spreading on your lips. You shake your head, closing the book in front of you, “You’re fucking disgusting.”

Jeongguk only smirks in an oddly proud way, nodding at your flustered state when he realizes he successfully managed yet again to shift the conversation from topics he doesn’t want to hear or talk about. He shrugs, “You just said that.”

“And I’ll say it again.”

“Whatever,” a small chuckle follows the dismissal, his hand coming to brush through his fluffy hair, getting too long for his liking, “I really wanted to see you tomorrow.”

Once again, Jeongguk is way too honest, way too easily. Ms. Heart is marching hastily with Mr. Brain walking close behind, trying to make sense of the situation and pushing her to reconsider her actions, but it’s no use: she’s tired, and sick of being walked over, again and again.

He doesn’t like the underlying meaning behind that, and wishes Mr. Brain would grow a pair and just swoon her back into love again. Jeongguk doesn’t like the genuine surprise etched across your face either, or, well, he doesn’t like the effect it has on him: it’s almost unbearable to accept that the blush dusting your cheeks, the one you’re probably unaware of, is caused by his unfiltered honesty. Because sincere bluntness isn’t exactly something he tries to show. Then, why does it spill out of him uncontrollably? Why— why do you look so beautiful like this?

“Hm,” your smile is small, but your dimple betrays it, Jeongguk’s whole resolve cracking with the way you sound dangerously decisive, “Too bad. You’re late.”

Jeongguk shouldn’t overthink this. You’re simply engaging in the usual dynamic, teasing him like always, no reason for his palms to sweat. He shouldn’t panic over the way nothing about what you said feels simple, nor usual, and your tone carries more than what you both want the words to mean.

He doesn’t know if it’s a warning or a test—or worse, the truth. Maybe he’s imagining it. Maybe Brain just misinterpreted the comment, too distracted by its constant squabble with Heart, both of them ignoring Jeongguk, who is still sitting at the cluttered kitchen table with his plate half-full, surrounded by a mess of inky emotions he doesn’t have the courage to clean up.

The sound of forks clinking against plates grates against his ears, drowning out the hurried excuses spilling from your mouth, the ones you’re babbling and making up along the way of gathering your things and standing up from the round table, shouldering your bag in the same hurry you left his room with before the next time he saw you was nose to nose with Namjoon.

You huff, giving a small, tight lipped smile that should be meaningless, but to Jeongguk it isn’t, “I’ll go now. See you around?”

“Huh, sure. Let me know how it goes with Namsun.”

You roll your eyes at the playful attempt, his grin just as empty, “Right. Bye Gguk.”

You’re off the hallway before he can add anything else. Not that he would have been able to. Your bag swings with your big steps, slim hands coming to absently tug your plaid skirt lower, and Jeongguk thinks and thinks.

He realizes he really doesn’t want to know how your little date goes. Would rather shoot himself rather than hearing you talk about another guy taking you out to dinner, stealing you from him and sealing the end to whatever the two of you have.

His options are narrowed. He either commits in front of you and forever changes the trajectory of your life or does something about Namjoon. But why does the option of ending his life sound much easier than stepping up to big, buff Namjoon, infatuated with the same girl he likes?

Oh.

The admission jolts him. It’s a physical reaction that causes his chair to shriek again under his movements, but this time he’s not polite enough to apologize for it. He must look crazy, wide eyes burning holes into his hands planted steadily on the table in front of him.

The girl he likes. You’re the girl he likes.

And every signal is there. The spark he sought for now lights a nervous feeling in his stomach, its fireworks interrupting Brain and Heart’s incessant arguing.

Does he look stupid not doing anything for the girl he likes? Not fighting for the girl he’s been falling for all this time?

────୨ৎ────

It should be easy. It is easy.

Jeongguk can’t let the sleepless night spent reciting lines to his ceiling go to waste. He’s sure not even theater kids could match his determination. And as he marches across campus toward the gym, where the squeak of sneakers and the echo of grunts will lead him to the person needed to put the plan into action, he reviews step by step what he’s told himself to do. It’s a well-rehearsed script, each word, every calculated expression—he’s gone over it a hundred times, accounting for every reaction.

Step one, be casual. Friendly, even. Approach Namjoon like there’s nothing calculated about this interaction—no ulterior motives, no scheme brewing beneath the surface. Just a casual catch-up between two guys.

“What’s up, Kim,” when Jeongguk spots the slightly taller boy exercising at a steady walking pace on the treadmill, he immediately hops onto the free one beside him.

Namjoon startles slightly, then smiles with those stupid, charming dimples of his, and it’s one that Jeongguk would probably only give if forced, “Hey, Jeongguk. Long time no see.”

The brown-haired boy nods, setting the speed and quickly catching up to Namjoon. He keeps his tone deliberately cool, even borderline disinterested, “You been good?”

On his left, your almost-boyfriend shrugs, jogging along, “Yeah, just studying, man. What about you?”

“Pretty much the same,” he hasn’t cracked open a book in weeks, and that study session from yesterday was just an excuse to be with you. But he can’t afford to let his thoughts linger on you too long or he’ll lose focus. He needs focus. “You catch that last game?”

Step two, pretend to care about what Namjoon is saying and then proceed with the acting skills only to suddenly remember something totally random he wanted to mention.

“Fuck, don’t remind me. I was so sure we would win,” the sweating man sounds way too affected by the recent football match, and Jeongguk fears if he asks one more question for the sake of pretending he’ll never get to the actual point.

So, he goes straight to it, “Yeah, it was rough. Oh, by the way. You know ___, right?”

The simple mention of your name causes a small stutter in Namjoon’s step, but he recovers with the stupid smile from earlier, only this time it’s wider, “Of course I know her. Why do you ask?”

Step three, just be honest. He just has to lay it all out. Be straightforward. Tell him the truth about how he’s felt for so long and what this whole thing with you is doing to him. It’s not a confrontation—it’s a conversation. Jeongguk will politely explain that he’s liked you for a while now, that he’s been in your life long before Namjoon, and, as a courtesy, he’d appreciate it if he would step back from pursuing you.

Civil. Calm. Totally chill. There’s absolutely nothing to get worked up over.

"You really don't know? Have no idea?" Jeongguk asks, his voice dropping, tone more pointed than he intended.

Namjoon slows his treadmill slightly, glancing over with furrowed brows and a faintly amused smile. “No, man. Enlighten me.”

“She’s my fucking girlfriend.”

What. The. Fuck.

That wasn’t the plan. Not even close to the plan.

────୨ৎ────

You feel stupid.

Wrapped around in your warmest coat, you still shiver. It could be the way your legs are exposed under your wool dress, high black boots reaching just beneath your knees. But there’s something else to the chill, making you shake in fading jitters. The excitement of the evening you told yourself you were looking forward to morphs into anxiety, and the passing looks of people mean more than they should as minutes tick and tick; they seem to glance at you for too long, their looks heavy with what you can only imagine is judgment.

A young girl swaddled in small but striking details from head to toe — delicate earrings that catch the light, a scarf knotted perfectly at the neck, polished nails clutching the strap of an expensive-looking bag, hair done up in a neat slicked bun — glancing nervously at her surroundings can only mean one thing: she’s been stood up.

Namjoon was supposed to meet you in front of the cozy cafè just outside the campus, its warm tones and surely even warmer ambience so very inviting. Maybe you’d go in, order a steaming hot chocolate for yourself, and chalk this up as a lesson learned. But instead, you chose to wait outside, shifting on your tiptoes every so often, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of the first man to ask you out in what felt like ages.

You feel as though you’ll be forever destined to wait more when thirty minutes go by and Namjoon is nowhere to be seen.

You frown, swaying on your heels. What you feel is not disappointment— not at first. But that only causes you to feel worse about yourself when you realize you’re almost relieved the tall man hasn’t shown up, and he’s not here to turn fears into even scarier realities. The date would have given a concrete meaning to your actions, and the thought stirs something not exactly pleasant within you.

The scratch at the back of your mind grows harder to ignore, and no matter how much you try to shake it off, your subconscious finds ways back to it when your hand instinctively dives into the depths of the expensive purse you had specially chosen for this occasion. A purse meant to complement your carefully selected dark ensemble— an effort that now feels entirely wasted. You spent so much time getting ready for something you’re not ready for at all.

Pulling out your phone, your thumb scrolls to Jeongguk’s number with a natural automatism, typing before you even register why he’s the first person you feel the need to tell.

You [9:39 p.m.]: hi

You [9:39 p.m.]: namjoon stood me up lol

The typing bubbles appear faster than you anticipated, and as you watch them dance across the screen, you burrow deeper into the fragile warmth of your jacket, the tip of your nose numb from the cold.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: Whattttttt????

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: He’s such an asshooooooole

Your first instinct is to snort at his reaction, a childish grin tugging at your lips, but it turns into a scowl when the more you reread the text, the more it sounds weird. He usually never texts like a six-year-old using his mom’s iPad.

You [9:40 p.m.]: yes he is

You [9:40 p.m.]: why are u textin so weird btw lol

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: Wym weirddd

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: I’m totally normal

You [9:41 p.m.]: wtv

You [9:42 p.m.]: u still wanna hang out?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Yes please

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Want me to pick u up

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Where are u rn

The head tilt is unconscious, but you feel it click in place. You’ve mentioned how Jeongguk is caring, how he can read your needs like no one else and caters to them quietly, but he’s never this pliant, this malleable. You like him because it’s hard to get him to bend (and you’d rather die than let Jeongguk know about this).

You [9:43 p.m.]: is ok

You [9:43 p.m.]: i’ll just walk

You [9:43 p.m.]: be there in 10

The walk usually takes you less than 10 minutes, but before meeting him, you decide to head back to your dorm and change out of these stupid fancy clothes you picked out for the date.

You keep your head low as you walk through the hallways, the full glam you put on impossible to miss as it sparkles under the fluorescent lights, just as your boots' heels echo through the corridors.

Taking off the dress and heels feels like peeling away the embarrassment of rejection, the weight of disappointment settling in as you realize you couldn’t prove to yourself that you could do it, that you can do it, take the leap and let something serious into your life.

You question whether you're even cut out for it when the guy who seemed perfect ended up proving the opposite.

Now, back in more comfortable clothes — Jeongguk's black hoodie from the other day and baggy sweatpants — you feel a little more like yourself. Scared of emotions, scared of commitment, no matter how many hours of your day are spent daydreaming about it.

The second you click the door of your room open, it’s like you can smell a weird shift in the air. And you do, literally sniff, scanning your surroundings for any hint of something burning or out of place.

But it’s not about the dorm in its physical state, no— it’s the odd silence that you’re met with, the people you’re used to sharing the space with now uncharacteristically careful with their volume.

“Oh my god, ___,” that is probably why you’re visibly startled by the sudden voice coming from your side, Iseul looking like containing excitement is the hardest task she’s ever been asked to deal with, just like the few other girls behind her, all practically vibrating, “You’re finally here.”

You furrow your brows, chuckling confusedly at the unusuality of it all— well, it’s not like you don’t get along with these people. It’s just that you’ve never gone over meaningless jokes and talks about the state of the dorm, plus you’ve never exactly been the center of attention like this. It feels off, and it reflects in your uncertain tone, “I am?”

“I’m so happy for you,” Binna chimes in next, grabbing your shoulders with way more enthusiasm than the level of your relationship with her would normally allow, and the way all of their heads nod along that it feels like a coordinated performance is starting to scare you.

“You’re… happy for—”

“I’ve always known you and Jeongguk were perfect for each other,” the affection dripping from Binna’s voice sickens you, maybe even more than the words she’s speaking.

Huh?

You swear you feel your heart skip a long beat before you mask it with an obnoxious, nervous laugh, only growing more when none of them crack a smile or react, “Me and— okay, is this a fucking joke?”

“C’mon, ___,” Iseul says, her sweet voice doing nothing to calm your tension, and if anything it only heightens it, “You don’t need to hide anymore, Jeongguk told Namjoon that you’re his girlfriend.”

Oh. So this must be a fucking joke.

And you can’t stand it.

You barely manage to shake off their relentless curiosity, the entire dorm suddenly buzzing with an interest in you after years of peaceful and civil indifference, and it only overwhelms you to the brim.

Fury boils in your chest as you step out of the building, the cold air failing to cool the anger that flares up within you. With every step, your frustration grows, and you hastily type on your phone as you make your way toward the one person that’s responsible for your temper.

You [10:07 p.m.]: what the actual fuck jeongguk

The response comes so quickly, almost as if he were waiting for you to type it, and you scoff in disbelief. In that moment, you feel a twisted sense of understanding with serial killers. It makes you question how much control you actually have over yourself.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:07 p.m.]: What’s up?

You [10:07 p.m.]: why’s the whole dorm asking me how's it like to be your gf?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: Eeehhhh???

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: That’s so weird

You’re actually gonna fuck this man up.

You [10:09 p.m.]: jeon jeongguk.

You [10:09 p.m.]: they’re saying you told namjoon i’m your girlfriend.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:09 p.m.]: Don’t use my full name and the period please 🥺

You [10:10 p.m.]: i’ll fucking kill you.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:10 p.m.]: You’re so hot when you’re like this

You [10:10 p.m.]: shut the hell up.

The banging on his door comes shortly after, and Jeongguk doesn’t even flinch. He knows it’s you, and frankly he was even expecting your arrival to be louder, hit him a little harder than it does. And when he lets you in, you storm in his space with no room for oxygen, door closing behind you but unable to contain the volume of your rage private.

“Can you explain why the whole campus thinks we’re dating? ‘Cause you’re not my boyfriend, and I’m not your girlfriend, and this is not fucking funny.”

But Jeongguk evidently does find it funny, chuckling under his hand coming to cover his mouth while the other one lifts to show you the bright screen of his cracked phone, “Really? The uni Instagram page is shipping us.”

“Shipping us?” You snatch the device from his hands, eyes widening as you scroll through the amount of stories posted in the last hour, everyone and their mother feeling entitled to weigh in on your nonexistent relationship. You whine, a hand resting at your forehead in disbelief, “Oh my god, this is ridiculous.”

“What, are you ashamed of me?” Jeongguk asks casually, walking back and sitting on the bed with a soft thud, his whole demeanor relaxed with a nonchalance that makes your left eye twitch.

You scoff, unwilling to grasp how this is even an actual thing happening to you, tossing the phone back at him, “A little bit, yeah. You think this is a fucking joke, huh? I’m now apparently dating the uni’s most popular fuckboy.”

The damned boy in front of you leans on his forearms, pouting just for show, “Hey, that’s mean. I’m no fuckboy.”

Bag thrown to the ground with a violence that it does not deserve, you start pacing back and forth in his room, letting out a borderline insane laugh, not knowing whether to scream or cry, “Yes, you are. You went through every single girl in this building.”

“Do you really think of me like that?”

The sudden sincerity that you think you spot in his tone makes you halt your steps, body turning to him as he sits straight again, his head tilting slightly.

You sigh, frustration mounting, and you throw your head back at the ceiling for any signal from the universe that this is indeed a joke, a bad, huge joke on you, “Jeongguk. Please.”

Silence fills the room next, but it doesn’t make it any easier to think nor does it quite register in your brain, mind racing with jumbled and chaotic thoughts, barely coming through as coherent words, getting intertwined with one another.

But the more you walk from one side of the room to the other, the more you’re almost able to untangle the mess, just enough to start processing what’s happening.

Then, a nuclear bomb wipes it all out, Jeongguk’s words the missile, his quiet tone the explosion, “I don’t want you to see nobody else.”

“What the fuck?”

The aftermath of the destruction is not only loud, ears ringing with a shrieking alarm going off, your figure stiff with shock, but you feel its heat burning your whole body in consuming flames that threaten to swallow you whole if you don’t let them take over, rise, flood every nerve until all you can feel is the rage boiling in your veins when you practically scream at him, ”What the hell does that even mean? You're being selfish!”

“Am I?” Jeongguk asks calm, calculated, gaze locked on yours as if daring you to challenge him further. His tone is maddeningly measured even as he pushes himself off the bed and closes the distance between you.

It’s like he’s planned this— attack after attack designed to destabilize you completely. Not only did he thrust you into the spotlight without warning, claiming you for the whole campus to see as if you’re worth nothing more than a stupid prank and a few laughs.

But now he talks with a grace that belies the chaos he’s stirred, as if his words are just another fact, something as simple as the weather, “I haven’t been seeing anybody since this summer. Since we started using no condom.”

Your pupils tremble with something far more complex than just anger, though you refuse to give it a name. He’s practically towering over you, his stance purposeful, making you feel small; as if the intensity of his gaze is not enough that it makes you falter, as if the humiliation he’s putting you through isn’t either. Head shaking, your voice does too, “That’s— not true. You’re a fucking liar. You— What about Haeun?

“Nothing even happened with her.”

The speed of his denial sets you off, an incredulous scoff breaking free as you roll your tongue against the inside of your cheek—a habit you’d picked up from witnessing his easy tempers, “Then why did you tell me you kissed?”

“Because—” Jeongguk hesitates, and the pause is so out of character that it almost gives you whiplash. The boy who always has something to say suddenly seems unsure. His hand flexes at his side, a nervous tick you hadn’t noticed before, and he exhales as if the words are fighting their way out of him, “‘Cause— I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” Your voice cracks on the word, a laugh bubbling out of you that’s sharp and fractured, borderline unhinged. It cuts through the room like broken glass, and his expression tightens, jaw clenching. But he doesn’t interrupt.

“Jealous,” you repeat, louder this time, your incredulous tone thick with rage. “You’re telling me you made up that bullshit because you were jealous?”

He doesn’t respond, and it pushes you closer to your limit, on the verge of exploding. You don’t know how you find it within you, but with a long exhale and a quick prayer up at the ceiling, you meet his gaze in an almost patronizing manner, “Jeongguk, we are not exclusive. I thought that was well implied. You don’t get to act like this. You don’t get to be jealous.”

Nodding along to your words, Jeongguk’s brows draw together, his expression somewhere between anxious and defensive. There’s something in his eyes, something close to fear, but fear of what, you can’t quite place.

When he speaks, his voice is softer than yours, as though he’s trying to keep it from breaking, “I know. We both agreed to that, yes. We’re both allowed to see other people.”

The words feel rehearsed, like he’s repeated them to himself a hundred times. But with the silence stretching, it’s clear he’s struggling to say more. His lips press together briefly, and his gaze flicks to yours, searching. It’s as though he’s waiting — no, hoping — you’ll interject, offer something to fill the space.

You don’t. You hold firm, tilting your head slightly, your confusion evident. Your wide, questioning eyes, so big, so honest, pull the truth from him in a way you don’t intend, and he exhales like it’s been forced out of him.

“But I don’t want you to.”

The sheer audacity of his words hits you like a slap, the kind that stings more because of its unexpectedness. You snort, although there’s nothing particularly amusing about your heart cracking at the middle, but you manage to keep it from resounding in your words, "That’s so fucking mean. Do you even hear yourself? You get to fuck whoever you want, and I’m kept hostage? And now—now everybody thinks we’re dating!"

"That’s good," he says, simple, unflinching.

You blink, disbelief coursing through you as your lips part in a strangled gasp. "What?" The word is half a whisper, half a shout, and it escapes before you can temper it, "You’re so selfish. I fucking hate you.”

The emotion is foreign from what you’re used to showing him, softness in quiet ways, affection in silent gestures. But now, it’s all loud rage, the opposite of love spilling out of you in volatile waves. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, itching for release, something, anything to make him feel the way you’re being forced to feel, to cut through the weight of his seemingly impassive expression showing only the barest twitch in his brows, a crack too small to satisfy your anger.

It isn’t enough. You need more.

Your palms find his chest, shoving him with the force of every burning feeling inside you. “You’re stupid,” you spit, watching him take the push without exactly budging, like he’s made of stone. It only stokes your frustration further, your hands pushing again, harder this time. “And dumb.”

Jeongguk doesn’t step back, doesn’t fight you. He stands there, his chest steady, absorbing your hits without a word. His lack of resistance only makes the storm inside you rage harder, and the tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill over.

You scramble for more, anything to turn the reality of what you truly feel into the illusion of anger, “And— and— Why the fuck are you silent! Say something!” You aim another punch at his chest, but it’s impossibly weaker, the exhaustion showing in your useless attempts at getting at him.

You sniff, and you know you lost against his indifference, your voice wavering feeling like a confession you didn’t mean to make. “Asshole. You’re being so mean. You’re making me cry.”

That’s what finally breaks him. Only the tears slipping rapidly from your eyes get his resolve to crumble. His hands are on you instantly, gripping your shoulders gently but firmly, refusing to let you squirm away. You slap at them weakly, but his touch is steady, his fingers brushing strands of hair from your face, cupping your chin to tilt it up toward him.

“Toots, no. Hey, hey,” he whispers, his tone soft in a way that disarms you completely. His thumb swipes at a stray tear, but your face turns away, evading him like it’s your only line of defense. He doesn’t back down, “Stop crying. Hey, look at me. Will you?”

“Stop calling me that!” You finally snap, jerking your face away again. The tears are spilling faster now, no matter how much you want to fight them, no matter how much you want to cling to the fury. “I hate you. You’re fucking all the girls in this college, and I’m only fucking you, because— because—”

“God,” Jeongguk groans, exasperation dripping from his tone. You’re about to hurl another half-formed insult or maybe even take a swing at him again, aiming low, but his next words stop you cold.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” His tone is quieter now, more deliberate, the vulnerability in it cutting sharper than anything else he’s said. “I like you. I broke the rule.”

You’re sure your heart will fail you today. It misses at least four beats, and it steals the oxygen from your lungs, along with the color from your face.

You stammer, eyes widening as your pulse picks up again and pounds in your ears. “Don’t—don’t say shit like that. I swear to God, I’ll actually fuck you up. Stop—lying to me.”

“What the fuck, ___? I’m not lying to you,” Jeongguk’s voice attempts to be steady but it can’t hide the desperation, as if he’s holding on by a thread. “Why would I?”

The question is simple.

Why would Jeongguk lie to you? Does he have a reason to fake this?

The world seems to tilt, the ground beneath you shifting in some irreparable way.

You should feel scared. You should feel repulsed at the thought of commitment, the weight of his words pressing against you like a cage. But you don’t.

Instead, your eyes dart between his, searching for cracks in his sincerity, like a frantic spectator watching a tennis match, every glance like a volley in the game of something bigger than either of you. The matchpoint sends a thrill through your chest, something overwhelming and terrifying but not unwelcome.

Jeongguk watches you closely, feeling the weight of the silence between you stretch on longer than he can handle. He knows he’s the one that should break it, knows the truth he’s holding inside has to be spoken now.

It’s now or never. He can’t keep pretending—this isn’t just some casual thing to him, and he’s not ready to let it slip away without a fight. You’ve become everything he didn’t know he needed, and yet here he is, paralyzed by the fear of rejection, of being vulnerable, of watching the one thing he wants most slip right through his fingers.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? If he doesn’t speak up now, he’ll lose everything. His fear has no place in this moment anymore.

It’s a long exhale before his voice drops in soft honey, shaking with the weight of the truth, “Look. I know it’s hard to trust me. You’ve seen me fuck up multiple times over this stuff. But I want to stop this cycle. I want to allow myself something good,” his eyes search for any signal that he should stop talking, but in yours he finds every reason for him not to, “And you’re everything good that life will ever concede me. I can't… I can't let you go. I can't lose you.”

"Jeongguk…" His name slips from your lips like a prayer you've been too afraid to speak aloud until now. But you see it— he’s ready to find every solution, even if it means confronting the fear that has held him back for so long.

“I like you so much it’s killing me,” he admits, voice low and raw, every syllable cracking with vulnerability.

It’s a slow realization, like a tide that comes in quietly, softly. You’ve felt its caress for so long, and now that it embraces you wholly, you feel your heart expand, filling with the same warmth, the same longing.

The words you wish you could say are caught in your throat. You look up at him, eyes wide, trying to comprehend, to take in what he’s offering. You’re almost afraid to ask, as if the answer will shatter something you’ve worked so hard to protect, “You like me?”

“I lose my fucking mind when it comes to you.” His confession is a rush of honesty that sweeps through you, his eyes not leaving yours, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.

The world feels like it’s slowing down. There’s so much you’ve been holding back, but you don’t know how to make the words fit, how to make them sound right.

Jeongguk takes a small step back, his voice quieter but still heavy with emotion. “It’s okay if you wanna end it here,” he murmurs, his words barely above a whisper, like he’s bracing for the worst. “At least it wasn’t because you got with some other stupid guy.”

You shake your head, the thought of losing him too painful to bear. “Stop—” You let out a frustrated sigh, hands curling into fists at your sides. “God, you’re so dumb. This could have been so much easier if you’d told me sooner.”

He looks at you, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”

You feel your chest tighten, the truth slipping out before you can stop it. “I like you too,” you admit, the words finally leaving your lips hastly, like they were just waiting for the right moment. “I agreed to the date because I thought you were still… fucking around.”

His face softens, and there’s a flash of relief in his eyes. “I wasn’t. Haven’t been in so long.”

“...No Haeun?”

“Hell no. I don’t want no kiss if it isn’t from you.”

You laugh, a low sound that fills the air between you. “Cheesy fucker,” you tease, but there’s a warmth in your chest now, a feeling you can’t ignore. “Well, if you want to know, I wasn’t seeing anybody either. Namjoon asked me out randomly, but I haven’t been with anyone else since… this started.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, everything is quiet. He looks at you like he’s just heard something he never expected to hear. “Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah.”

Jeongguk steps closer to you, his hands reaching for you, voice thick, “I’m so sorry, baby. I never meant to make you cry. It’s breaking my heart.” His thumb brushes across your cheek, gently wiping away the remnants of the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, your heart swelling with both regret and tenderness. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “I’m sorry for yelling all that stuff at you. I don’t hate you. I…”

Before you can finish, his lips crash against yours, and all the confusion, all the fears, prove themselves to be worth this moment.

They dissolve into something real, the kiss trying to make up for lost time, for all the things left unsaid.

When you pull away, your foreheads resting together, Jeongguk’s voice is quiet but determined. “Come here, baby. You’re mine.”

“Prove it.”