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melancholymetropolis · 4 years ago

Text

No Idea

Pairings: Athlete!Kirishima x PlusSize!Reader

Summary: College AU The reader is Kirishima's History tutor and they kinda have a crush on each other. It takes an afterparty filled with horny guys and a skin-tight dress for Kiri to realize he wants them all to himself.

Warning: Do I even need to say it at this point? It's smut, obvi. Kinda unedited. The reader and her best friend are black. Kirishima is a football player; he's VERY possessive over the reader. Her best friend is a little gay for her as well.

Author's Note: This was a commission!!!!! The client gave me this insane prompt and I had no choice but to go over the word limit. If you want to commission me, click here! Your support really means the world to me. Enjoy!

Word Count: 5,300

“You’re back early!” My roommate, Liza, yelled from the other side of the apartment-style dorm room. The sound of her chair scraping the floor followed shortly after, along with the light footsteps of her sock-clad feet. “I left you a plate in the microwave, in case you were hungry. I could heat it up, if you’re too tired— why the long face? What happened?”

“He didn’t show up,” I sighed as I dropped my books on the table and sank into a chair.

“How can he not show up?” Liza fumed crossing her arms. “His GPA is already in the gutter from all the other quizzes he seemed to fail before the semester even started.”

“I know,” I replied in a bored tone.

“He’s on academic probation—”

“I know.”

“One more hiccup and he’ll be off the football team—”

“I know.”

“Not to mention how you practically have to bend backward to make time for him—”

“Mhm.”

“Just for him to flake on you for the third time! I just—”

“Liza, please,” I rose from my seat and stood in front of her. “You don’t have to be angry with me. It’s truly okay.”

“No! It’s not okay!” She stormed to the microwave and pulled the cover plate from the inside. She removed the foil and pushed it back into the device, before pressing the start button four times. She turns to face me and forces an angered sigh from her lips. “He likes you, you know that right?”

I lifted my books from the table and walked to our shared room. I took in the words that she threw at me with each step and digested them. Kirishima liked me. It wasn’t as though I didn’t have an inkling that he may be, sorta found me attractive. Although I wore glasses, I wasn’t blind. At least with them on. I saw the way he looked at me when we were less than a foot apart. Shoulders practically touching as we slouched over the Advanced American History textbook. Our hands brushing against each other’s ever so often. The sparkle in his eye when he looked at me longer than a few seconds; the blush on his cheeks when I smiled at his corny jokes. His persistent tendency to walk me home, although most times, we finished our study sessions just before dusk. The way he stayed glued to my side during the journey to my dorm. How he’d carry my books on the way. I noticed it all and practically welcomed it, since I too found him attractive. The spiky redhead just had a way of making everyone swoon over him. Kirishima was genuinely a nice person, not because there was something in it for him, but just because.

The beeping from the microwave brought me back to reality. I placed the textbooks on the designated space on the shelf and fixed my scattered stationery from that morning. Liza shuffled in with a bowl of baked fetta pasta, and a piece of toasted garlic bread a few minutes later. She placed the bowl on the desk, with a fork, a can of sparkling soda, and my favorite metal straw.

“What did I do to deserve you?” I said with a tired smile.

“Helped me pass ‘Text and Ideas’ with an A-,” Liza smiled back and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Oh right,” I took a seat at the desk and forked the starchy dish in my mouth. “This is heaven-sent.”

“I knew you’d like it!” She deemed walking to her own desk. “I got the recipe from tiktok.”

I hum in response and continued to stuff my face. After a few minutes of silence, I grab the phone from my back pocket and unlocked it. A new message from Kirishima was the newest notification from many and it said:

Hey, I am sorry for not showing up. My teammate got shitfaced and decided to take a dive into the fountain. It took three of us to pull him out. It sucks because I was really looking forward to seeing you.

Since my mouth had already filled to its brink with pasta, I opted for a tight-lipped smirk instead of a toothy one. Kirishima all but admitted that he missed me. My hunch was right: the feelings are mutual. I swallowed the pasta and swiveled around in my chair to look at Liza. Her eyes were glued to her phone, but she snapped her head up to laugh at the content on her screen. Once she was down laughing, I picked my phone up and pointed it in her general direction. Reaching forward, she grasped the device and quickly read the message.

“Don’t respond to him,” she said, handing the phone back to me.

“Why? I thought you were shipping us together?” I asked whilst forking more pasta in my mouth.

“That’s why I’m telling you what I am telling you!” Liza rose to her feet and in a split second, she stood in front of me with a sickening smile.

“I am afraid to ask,” I said with a sigh.

“You don’t have to; I’m gonna tell you anyway,” she squats between my legs and widens her smile. “That boy is already wrapped around your finger, all you need to do is pull away. Just a tiny bit and he’ll come running.”

“Liza. . .”

“Hear me out!” She rose to her feet again and walked to the closet. “Remember when I went thrift shopping last week and I picked up that cute bodycon dress?”

“Yeah. . . ?”

“Well, I washed it and realized that it didn’t have the BODY to fill it out properly.” She pulls the dress from the closet and turns back to me. “And since the Homecoming Afterparty is at the Quarterback's house tomorrow night, I thought it would be the perfect time for you to wear it.”

I eye the dress, taking in its extremely short length and strappy detailing on the front. One wrong move and my breasts would spill right out of it. But, one right move would have them fall onto Kiri’s lap. I tried my best to list the pros and cons of the situation. Pondering what I could get out of the ordeal going to the lion’s den dressed as a gazelle. Yet, all I could imagine was me twerking on someone’s son and taking him home afterward.

💘🖤💘🖤

The dress fit like a glove: perfectly tight, almost like a second skin, but very breathable. I paired it with some hoop earrings, a few bangles on each wrist, and 3-inch kitten heels. My goal was to dress to impress, not nurse my aching arches by the end of the night. The entire ride over to the nicer part of town was nerve-wracking, for one, the Uber driver wouldn’t stop staring at my cleavage from the driver’s mirror. And, secondly, Liza practically had phone sex with her boyfriend, who was going to meet us at the party. I stared down at my phone the whole time, rereading Kiri’s message and the ones he sent afterward. It was true, he was wrapped around my finger. He didn’t double text; Kirishima sent five messages in a row.

Hey, are you free tomorrow? I wanted to talk about yesterday.

I’ll buy you that weird thing you like from Starbucks.

The drink you said that tastes like the moon.`

And I’ll get you those cake pop things.

My heart couldn’t help but flutter; I didn’t know he was paying that much attention to me. I only mentioned that Starbucks drink once in his presence, quite a while ago. It had to be a little over a month ago, yet he still remembered.

The car stopped and Liza popped right out. Her 34 inch Brazilian, straight swaying behind her as she closes the door. Still chatting with her boyfriend, she motions me out of the car with an eager smile. Reluctantly, I detach myself from the cool leather and tug on my dress as I closed the door behind me. I looked up toward the mansion before me, white paint and overwhelming size almost frightened me. But, when I saw a familiar, spiky-haired, redhead, all my potential fear left my body and warmth replaced it.

Kirishima’s back was to me; he was having an intense conversation with his best friend, Bakugo, one of the team’s Linebackers. The blond was so close to popping a fuse but Kiri was struggling to keep from laughing directly in his face. I approach the porch, slow and sensual, my eyes glued to him the entire walk over. Kirishima briefly turns around to address a comer of the group, Sero, an offensive player, when his eyes come up the steps. The humorous expression on his face drops and is replaced with awe. The other two boys look in the direction of his eyesight and replicate his reaction.

“Hi—” I lifted my hand to wave, but it never made it past my abdomen. Liza appeared right in front of me and captured my wrist.

“Girl, it’s our song! Hurry up!” She said as she proceeded to drag me into the house.

“Bye—! Wait, damn!”

Liza pulled me to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room of the home. She starts to bop side to side, swaying her hips in place. It takes me a few seconds to register that “34+35” was blasting the speakers. Liza twirls around me in a fit of giggles and continues to bop along to the music.

“I thought you liked “positions” better than this track?” I questioned as I matched her rhythm.

“I do! I just had to get you out of there,” Liza answered as she swayed her head back and forth. Which made her hair move in an angelic wave behind her bandeau top and pencil skirt. “Those three guys looked like they wanted to run a train on you.”

“ELIZABETH!!!!” I screamed with a shocked smile.

“What?! I’m not lying!” She gives me a bashful smirk. “You look so good, mamas! Shit, you're making me rethink my relationship with Shinso.”

“Oh my god!” I laughed. “I can’t take your ass anywhere, for real!”

The song began to fade out and bleed into “Pussy Talk” with the infamous City Girls. Liza’s soft bops began to move into full booty bouncing. Soon her hands are on her knees and she’s throwing her ass back on my lap. I press my hand flat on her back and lift my other hand in the air. She whines her waist and looks back at me as her inner hot girl is threatening to make an appearance. Shortly after the first verse, Liza straightens her back and dances around me as I bop to the side, bouncing my ass to the music. A smile comes to my lips as my favorite part plays on full blast.

“Pussy talented, it do cartwheels,” Liza and I screamed in unison. “And he pay ‘cause he like how that part feel.”

“Pussy give speeches, heartfelt,” I continued, popping my back against my friend.

“Yuh,” Liza ad-libbed.

“Said the pussy really talk like it Garfield,” I rapped as I felt Liza’s hands glide up my sides.

“It do!”

We danced around each other for the rest of the song and pulled away from the floor, desperately needing to hydrate. We practically stumbled toward the makeshift bar across the living room. We reached into the cooler and pulled out two bottles of water. We chugged the water and tossed the empty bottles in the trash.

“Only water, ladies?” Mineta asked as we turned back towards the dance floor. “You don’t want something a little. . . stronger?”

“Get lost, grape juice,” a familiar voice suddenly came out of nowhere.

Just a few feet behind the purple blob stood Kirishima and Shinso. If looks could kill, Mineta’s body parts would be staining the marble floors and messing up my fresh pedicure. The poor excuse for a human scurried away as both football players approached us. Shinso instantly wrapped his arms around Liza and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“Having fun, baby girl?” His low voice sounded sensual against the harsh music.

A seductive smile falls on Liza’s face. “I would’ve had even more fun if you actually danced with me for once.”

“You know I don’t like—”

“Too bad!” She pulled Shinso to the dance floor.

Leaving me alone with Kirishima. I turned to look at him and offered him an awkward smile. “How was your diving lesson?”

The redhead returned my smile and scratched the back of his neck. “So you did read me my texts? I was starting to think you were mad at me or something.”

“Not at you, per se,” I replied thinking of my words carefully.

“Then who were you mad at?” Kirishima closes the distance between us and puts a finger under my chin. He redirects my attention to his face and gives me a smirk.

He looked good and he knew it. He wore a simple white t-shirt and black ripped jeans. But, he paired it with a burgundy leather jacket and a Cuban link silver chain. He had a gold wristwatch on his left wrist and a simple chain on his right. And his cologne. . . it danced in my nostrils. It wasn’t too heavy or suffocating; you simply had to be close to him to smell it.

Kirishima was playing a dangerous game and he knew it.

“At the people that take you away from me,” I looked at him with doughy eyes and slightly parted lips. A look of innocence was written all over my face.

Kirishima clenched his jaw and briefly looked away. A blush starting to form on his cheeks. “Well, I—. Shit.” He remained silent for a few seconds, gathering his words, before saying “You don’t know what you do to me, Y/N.”

“And what’s that?” I asked while removing his hand from my chin and bringing it to my lips. I gently kiss his bruised knuckles, never breaking eye contact while doing so.

The redhead opens his mouth to speak but is rudely interrupted by a yelling Liza.

“GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE, BITCH!!!! THEY’RE PLAYING OUR SONG!!!!”

While I was talking to Kirishima, the music seemed to slip away. I had no idea what was playing until I refocused my attention on the blaring speakers. “Come on, Kiri. Duty calls.” I drag him to the dance floor.

Liza unlatches herself from Shinso and twirls around me. “I’m not shy, I’ll say it. I’ve been picturing you naked.”

“I’m a little faded, you look like a fucking painting,” I continue the verse as I glide my hands along my body. “Big doe eyes, amazin’. She’s everything I’ve been prayin’.”

Liza walked up to Kirishima and glided her hand along his chest. “Me and your girlfriend playin’ dress-up house.” She pressed two fingers against her lips and poked her tongue out. “I gave your girlfriend cunnilingus on my couch.”

Kirishima blushes a bright red, nearly matching his hair. It takes everything in me not to laugh.

I look back at Shinso and he’s just shaking his head with a smile on his face.

“Go get your girlfriend, before she devours your teammate,” I said giggly quietly.

“Go get your best friend before she kills your loverboy,” Shinso counters looking down at me with a smirk.

“He looks like he's gonna pass out,” I replied, struggling to contain my laughter.

“If you think that’s bad, you should’ve seen him when you were twerking on Liza,” Shinso jested while leaning closer to me. “Eijiro looked like he came in his pants.”

I smacked his arm and leaned against his chest. “You’re lying!” Laughter overcame my body; tears were gathering in the corners of my eyes.

“I swear to god,” Shinso struggled to say while laughing. “Then, when Bakugo called you hot. . . Eiji almost went feral.”

“Stop. . . I can’t breathe. . .”

“You better fuck him like the world is ending. . . I can’t keep stopping him from. . . fighting the entire team over you.”

“You and Liza. . . perfect for each other. . . I cannot. . .”

The song swiftly faded out into another. Yet another one of Liza’s favorites: Buss it by Erika Banks.

The young woman peeled herself from Kirishima and began walking to her boyfriend. I distanced myself from Shinso and walked over to Kirishima. I wrapped my arms around his neck and looked into his eyes. “Are you okay, Kiri?” A smile painted my lips.

His eyes darkened and he gripped my waist firmly. “I want you. . . so bad right now.”

“How about we get outta here?” I suggested with a raised eyebrow.

“Go say goodbye to your friends, I’ll bring the car around,” Kirishima asserted with a smirk. He pressed a kiss to my forehead before detaching himself from me and walking out of the living room.

I turned back to Shinso and Liza, who were seconds away from eating each other’s face off. I tapped the loving couple and cleared my throat. They both pulled away and stared at me.

"We're leaving," I said simply.

"About fucking time," Liza replied with a smirk. "You better come back to the dorm in a goddamn wheelchair, if not, I'm sending you back to his place."

"You have like zero chill," I shook my head and waved goodbye.

"Don't forget to use protection!" Liza yelled after me.

A chuckle fell from my lips as I walked out of the front door. I found Kirishima exactly where he said he'd be: parked in front of the massive house, within a bright red mustang. He exited the car and walked around to the passenger side of the vehicle. He opened my door and helped me get in. Kirishima made sure I was buckled in and comfortable before entering the car on the driver's side.

He starts the vehicle, and places his right hand on my thigh. He gives the plush fresh a securing squeeze before pulling away from the curb.

The drive was short and sweet, averaging around ten minutes. We parked across the street from the boys’ dorm hall and exited the car. Kirishima opened my door and helped me out of the vehicle.

"If you don't want this, I could always take you home," he said as he shut my door. "I don't want to pressure you into anything."

"I want this more than you know," I responded while gripping his hand. "But, if I ever feel uncomfortable, I'll let you know."

Kirishima nods and smiles. "Good girl. Now let's go."

The moment his dorm's door closed, his body was pressed against mine and his hand glued to my waist. His lips massaged against my own, slow and sensually. I moaned against the kiss, and pressed my body closer to his. He felt so good attached to me, almost like he was meant to be against me. His searing hot kisses inched down my jawline and to my neck. Kirishima's hands slid up my abdomen and to my shoulders, he slipped the straps from the curved surface and pulled away just enough just to allow me to remove them from my arms.

He kissed the other side of my neck, leaving little bites here and there. The redhead ran his tongue against my collarbones and I swear a flood rushed to my nether regions. Kirishima kissed down and left my breast, gathering the anticipation that swirled through my body before latching his lips on my nipple. A throat my moan fell from my mouth and my legs jolted slightly. My mind continued to fog as he nestled against the sensitive bud, while happily moaning against the soft flesh. I pressed one hand against the front door and another in his hair.

Pants left my lips as I began to squirm underneath his body. "Take me to the bed, please," I begged while looking down at him. " I want you so bad, Kiri."

The redhead detached himself from my breast and gripped my chin. "Say my name, baby." His red eyes stared deeply into my brown ones, taking in every little detail of my expression.

"Eijiro," I said breathlessly.

"Say it again," he broke eye contact and gripped my waist.

"Eijiro."

His hands slipped down the curve of my rear and to my legs. He lifted limbs from off the ground and wrapped them around his waist. I wrapped my arms around his leg immediately afterward and giggled.

He walked further into the dorm room and passed through another dorm. He sits me on the extra-long twin bed and falls to his knees between my legs. Kiri unlatches my strappy heel and tosses it to the other side of the room. While he does the other foot, a smirk presses against his lips.

"What?" I asked while looking down at him.

"I'm just thinking about how this started," he said while smiling. "How my shifty grades gave me the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Stop it," I counter with a blush on my face. "You're exaggerating."

"Baby, I mean it with every fiber of my being when I say this," he leaned forward. "I've wanted to be with you for a while now, I just didn't know if you'd like me back. And I was kinda ashamed of taking so long to say something because you're so sweet and you really helped me a lot with Advanced American History. I didn’t want you to think I was using you for information or anything."

I leaned forward and pressed my lips on his forehead. "I liked you even before I officially knew you. When you beat the shit out of that guy that tried to home a drunk girl."

"I don't even remember that."

"It was during a Halloween party last year, that was when I first saw you. And I thought, "wow I wish more men like him existed in this world"."

"I can't believe you remember that."

"How could I not? You basically saved that girl's life and dignity. You were the only human being in a room full of predators. That's when I knew I wanted you for myself."

Kirishima laughs. "Greedy, little Y/N."

I shrugged.

"Come here."

I gathered the football player into my arms and pressed my lips onto his. Taking in every ounce of his kiss. Sucking on his bottom lip. Slipping my tongue within his mouth. Tugging against his collar to close the distance between us. After a few seconds, Kirishima kissed down my body again until he was face to face with my heated center. He scrunched the dress around my waist and pulled my panties off my legs before spreading my legs wide open.

"Oh… look how wet you are, baby," he kissed the soft skin in between my thighs. "All for me."

Kirishima dipped his head between my legs and took a long swipe at the sticky mess between them. A shiver ran along my spine, Arching my back, I released a soft whimper and spread my legs further apart. He dipped his tongue into the smooth canal repeatedly, bobbing his head as he completed the action. His calloused hands slid up my legs once more and hooked around my thighs. Kiri moved his hot mouth from the very bottom of my womanhood to the top, leaving a long string of spit along the way. The redhead sucked on the protruding bud tenderly; with hollowed cheeks, he looked up from my heat and stared into my eyes. I bit my lip and moaned loudly.

“Fuck, you feel good,” I arched my back against his mouth and bucked my hips slowly.

Kirishima released my bud with a silent “pop” and began lapping the rosy, pink button in great haste. My legs jolted at the new source of stimulation and a throaty whine fell from my lips. Squeezing my eyes shut, I squirmed underneath his mouth, desperately wanting to add more friction. Kiri noticed my slutty movements and began to move his tongue even faster.

“Ah. . . just like that, don’t stop,” my fingers gathered my bosoms and gave them a firm squeeze. The walls of my slick cave began to clench and release themselves at a faster pace. Tingles rose up my body, swirling against my lower abdomen, almost numbing my lower half entirely. Then, a searing sensation ripped through me, causing my hips to raise from the bed and my knees to shake. A low scream left my mouth as I felt the throbbing of my bud increase tremendously.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” My hips fell on the bed again and my legs shook violently. Kirishima steadied them as much as he could before a whole another wave hit my body and my entire being went still.

“Ah! Eijiro!” I screamed as the pleasure shot through my body for the last time. Pants left my throat and short spurts, just as sweat dripped from my forehead. I looked down at Kirishima, who had just pulled away from my spasming cunny. He had a look of astonishment on his face, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. He looked down at my wrecked body, taking in the shaking limbs, the thin layer of sweat upon it, and the scrunched-up dress at the waist.

“You sounded so hot screaming my name,” he finally said after a few seconds of silence. “No one has ever made it sound so good as you.”

“Well, grab a condom and I’ll scream your name for the rest of the night,” I replied with a smirk. “If you can last that long.”

“Oh, baby,” Kiri’s smile widened. “You have no idea.”

He walked over to his dresser and pulled out a box of condoms from the top drawer. He ripped one off the sleeve and walked back over to me. I pulled the scrunched-up dress over my head and tossed it to the side. I looked over at Kiri and he’d already stripped himself of his T-shirt. He was currently unbuckling his belt with the condom packet in his mouth. His massive bulge immediately caught my eye and I moaned in anticipation. Kirishima rips the packet open with his teeth and rolls latex down his throbbing shaft. My walls clench at the delicious sight and I could feel my nipple begin to stiffen

“If you’re still tired, we can wait a little—” Kirishima begins to say before I cut him off.

“Eijiro, stop being nice and fuck me like a slut.”

His lips were on mine within the next heartbeat. His hands roamed every crevice of my body, taking in the soft tissue and stretchmarks lovingly. His throbbing member slowly slid into me with little to no friction. He made sure to thumb my clitoris while inserting himself, just so he wouldn’t hurt me. And I swear, I was seconds away from asking him to marry me. He gently moved his hips backward, and then pushed forward again. Highlighting his first stroke. He looked at the crimson hue on my face and leaned down to kiss me.

“You are so pretty, princess,” Kiri groaned softly, as he moved his hips at a gentle pace. “So, so pretty.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him again. Our tongues danced together as his member tenderly kissed my sensitive walls with each thrust. Kirishima moaned against my lips, as he took in every part of that union. He hiked up one of my legs and hooked it around his waist while he cradled the back of my neck with the other. He looked into my eyes as he increased the pressure of his strokes and their depth. My mouth hung open, and drool poured from the side of it as he kept up the sickening pace. My eyes began to roll back as throat moans rose from the depth of my body.

“Oh God. . .” I slurred as the pleasure increased within my body.

“Aww look at my pretty baby,” Kiri grunted as he rested his hand on my neck. He pressed his thumb between my lips.

I sucked on the digit and looked into his eyes. He moved his hips faster and my lips separated from around the finger. Pants fell from my lips as I felt his member sensually assault my cervix. After a few minutes, Kirishima suddenly pauses and hikes one of my legs up to his shoulders. He readjusts his body, leaving his hand on my neck and placing his hand on my clit. Kiri began to rock his hips in a powerful, but steady motion. He rubs the throbbing bud in a gentle motion, slowly gathering every ounce of pleasure within my body. The pace of my breathing increased rapidly, as the pool in my stomach began to inflate. Whimpers fell from my lips as I gripped the sheets underneath me.

“I’m so close. . .” I whispered through tight lips. “Please don’t stop. . .”

“You’re squeezing me so deliciously tight, baby,” Kirishima grunts as a droplet of sweat drops from his brow. “Milking my cock for everything it’s worth. What a greedy little cunny you have.”

“Eijiro. . . I wanna cum so bad,” I whimpered through pants. “Please let me cum, baby.”

Kirishima curses under his breath and releases his hand from my throbbing bud. He places both hands onto my neck, thumbs pressing against my jaw. He eases his body forward and keeps his sickening pace. “You’re gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

I sucked in a breath and wrapped my hands around his forearms. I furrow my brows and pant with my mouth open. “You make me feel so good, Eiji. So fucking good!”

“You’re mine, you hear me?” He drops his hands from my neck and presses his forehead to mine. “You don’t get to fuck anyone else. . . . .You don’t get to be with anyone else. . . .My name will be the only name you moan for the rest of your life, do you understand?”

I nod. “I understand.”

“You’re mine and no one else's.”

He pulls me into a searing hot kiss. Drinking in all the love and energy throughout my body. I hook my arms around his neck and moan against his lips. Suddenly, I felt an intense rush of adrenaline pass through my body and everything seemed to go silent. A low ringing noise sounded in my ear as my mouth fell open. I dug my arms into his back and clung to his body. Every fiber of my being tensed and my mind went completely blank for several seconds. Then, slowly, my body released itself and collapsed onto the bed. I opened my eyes lazily to see Kirishima’s eyes tightly closed and his hips slightly shaking. Once he finished his ride, his body relaxed and he lowered my leg from his shoulder. He pulled me into an embrace and pressed another kiss onto my lips.

I pulled away from the kiss and looked into his crimson eyes. “Were you serious about calling me yours?”

“Ugh. . . yes?” He replied hesitantly. Then, he added “If that’s okay with you! I don’t wanna force you—”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I cut him off with a smirk.

“Oh, I was worried for a second.”

“The only thing you should be worried about is your Advanced American History grade.”

“Oh, right. . .”

“You miss another one of my sessions, I’ll ignore you again.”

“Please don’t! I will be present at every session.”

“Good. And you have to be Starbucks.”

“The drink that tastes like the moon?”

“Matcha latte with 2 pumps of chai. Yup.”

“And two chocolate cake pops.”

“Mhm. You know me so well.”

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Dancing In The Dark

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!5thMember!Reader

Word Count: ~ 6,641 😌

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Language, Suggestive Themes, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: BOP BOP BOP 💃 Here's a Lisa fic for you guys!!! This isn't the request I got for her, but recent events inspired me to write this one and I really hope you enjoy it. More content will be coming in the near future :) Thank you all for the continued support, and as always... ♡ Happy Reading ♡

Follow-Up Part: Worth It

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Tense isn't quite good enough of a word to describe how you've spent the past week and a half. For some reason unbeknownst to you, Lisa's been hostile and standoffish whenever you've tried to communicate, always giving you short answers and snide remarks instead of being mature and confronting you about whatever issue she has. So, of course, it's only natural for the bitterness to have rubbed off on you as well.

What's worse is that you're not even sure why you're fighting. Anytime you rack your brain for a reason to explain the anger, you come up with nothing.

"Are we still on for practice later?" You ask, picking up a piece of bacon from the breakfast tray that sets on the counter.

"I'll be there." She says simply, not even bothering to look up from the bowl of cereal she decided to grab. You clench your jaw and give a curt nod, determined to give her the same energy she's giving you.

Jisoo notices the air of aversion that's quickly taking over the room, so she speaks up in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I can't wait to meet more Blinks at our fansign later this week. Aren't you guys excited?" The mere thought of meeting your supporters makes the unnie unbelievably happy, and all the hard work seems worthwhile.

Despite herself, Lisa lightly grins and mutters a phrase of agreement around her mouthful of food.

"At least they know how to make conversation." You respond pettily, glancing across the counter at Lisa as you take a bite of your bacon.

"I know how, Y/N. I just lack the desire to do so," she shrugs, seemingly unaffected by the cold words that slip past her plump lips.

You click your tongue, now used to her behavior. Had this been one of her first times saying something like that, you probably would've been sadder than you currently are.

"Awww," you coo. "You come up with that one on the spot? You'll have to do better than that if you wanna hurt me." You lean against the marble countertop to whisper that last part, throwing a goodbye to Jisoo as you set off to your room to get ready for the day.

Later That Day -- 7:49 PM

The bright red numbers displayed above the elevator doors tick on, changing with each floor you put behind you. A heavy sigh bounces off the walls and you rub the back of your neck for comfort.

Why does Lisa have to be such a good dancer? The only reason you arranged this practice with her in the first place is to ensure that you know all the proper choreo for your upcoming Inkigayo performance. Your fans matter more to you than any disagreement you could be in, and you're determined to put on the best show possible for them. Lisa just so happens to be a critical factor in that process, unfortunately.

"Level 6," an automated voice announces before the sleek doors open, revealing a nearly uninhabited floor of practice rooms. They branch off on both sides of the long hallway that stretches out before you, and you get started on your journey down it. The only occupied studio sets at the end, emitting a soft glow through its translucent door as one of your song's choruses thumps through the speakers.

You don't bother to knock before walking in, far past keeping up with the niceties any longer. Lisa's eyes dart from the wall of mirrors that borders the front of the room to glance at you, momentarily stilling her movements.

"Don't let me stop you," you say, moving your hand in a "shoo-ing" motion at her until she picks back up with the song. You turn around to shut the door and take off your jacket, missing the way her eyes slowly rake over your body.

You join her in the middle of the room, making sure to stay far enough away so that neither of you accidently hit or bump into each other as you run through the songs. The next hour or so is spent doing just that, repeating the ones you have issues with until you're performing the moves expertly. Every approving nod and shout from Lisa works to boost your confidence, and you actually find it a bit easier to enjoy yourself in her presence again. The two of you trade jokes, and sometimes it seems as if the hostility is fading away.

"You did well with all the other songs, so let's practice the one where we have the male backup dancers. I'll fill in for them."

Your breath catches in your throat at the thought of Lisa dancing so sensually with you, but you quickly dismiss it and get into position.

"From the top?" You ask over your shoulder, feeling her eyes on you as she approaches.

"Of course." She says it like it's common sense.

The song starts up, and she sets her phone down on a nearby chair that she dragged closer earlier. She watches as you perform your solo moves, offering tweaks and scattered praises all the while. About midway through, the song shifts and she rolls her sleeves up in preparation.

You take a deep breath as she settles behind you, reaching an arm around your front to rest her fingertips on your jaw. When the next hit of the sensual bass vibrates across the practice room, she coaxes your head to the side, moving hers forward just enough to brush her lips against your neck.

You're aware of every twitch of her muscles, every breath she takes -- her body is flush up against yours, radiating that heat that you've missed so much. Her heart beats quickly like yours, and you can feel the way it pounds against your back.

Perhaps this is the moment you should step away; some distance is sure to clear the fog that settles over your brain, clouding your judgment more than ever. But she's holding you like she used to, and you can't muster up the energy to put an end to something that feels so good.

"Arms up," she coaches, lifting your hands above your head before trailing her fingers back down your arms, lower and lower until they skim over the warm skin of your abdomen. In one fell swoop, she tangles her thumb into one of the belt loops of your jeans and uses her other hand to assist you with the next move: a spin. Her hold is steady, and your hair cascades over your shoulders as you lean your head back, twirling effortlessly. Given that your eyes are closed, you fail to notice the way she traps her bottom lip in between her teeth, doing all she can to keep dancing and not kiss you. You feel her palm press to the small of your back as her arms tighten around your waist, allowing you to dip towards the ground without falling.

"Good, just like that." The praise is like music to your ears as she raises you back up, and she audibly swallows when she sees how mussed your clothes have become from dancing.

Turning your attention back to the front, you meet her gaze in the mirror; it's calculated and intimidating, but she looks aroused. You watch as her eyes scan over your body, lingering in the places that she's spent hours worshiping before. A smug smile tugs at your lips; despite being mad, her attraction to you is undeniable. With that in mind, you decide to tease her; in time with the music, you push your hips back.

"I think I still need help with this next part." You purr, lulling your head back to rest against her shoulder as you slowly drag your hands over your body. Lisa lets out a low moan when you arch your back, grinding your ass further into her while you innocently toy with the buttons of your shirt. Having her in such a state is great enough, but knowing that you're the reason she's so turned on is something else entirely.

"Y/N…" she warns, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress anymore noises that run the risk of selling her out.

"Lisa…" you tease back, playfully matching her tone as you watch her face scrunch up in response to the way you wind your body along to the music.

She turns you around, her grip on your hips tightening as she works hard to restrain herself. Your chest rises and falls with slightly hurried breaths, partially from the dancing you've been doing and partially from the effect she has on you. Keeping her hands from roaming is proving harder than she imagined it'd be, and her mind goes into overdrive to find a way to make sure things don't slip too far out of her control.

Her plans are stalled when you grab the material of her shirt in your fists, lightly yanking her forward by the collar of it until her lips ghost dangerously close to yours. You fake her out, only allowing them to brush against each other for a moment before you tilt your head and drop your mouth down to her neck.

As you begin to leave a light hickey on her pulse point, she somehow manages to come to her senses and knows what she has to do. It was a hard fought battle, though, and part of her still wants to relent and let you have your way with her.

She puts her hands on your shoulders and shoves you backwards, being careful not to push too hard. The look in her eye is predatory, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't thrill you.

With every advancing step she takes, slow and deliciously torturous in its nature, you take one backwards, only stopping when the cold surface of the mirror presses against your skin.

"You wanna know why I've been short with you?" Her darkening eyes scan down to your lips before coming back up to look into yours as she waits for your answer.

Why would she bring that up right now? The question sours your mood, effectively ruining the moment -- that's exactly what Lisa wanted (she's still bothered by whatever's been plaguing her lately, and as much as she wants you, she can't get over it yet).

"Yeah, because it's really unfair. I haven't done anything wrong." The anger and hurt you've been feeling for the past week returns now, bubbling up in your chest when the memories of some of her more harsh words replay in your mind. Your voice conveys the growing irritation you feel, but Lisa’s expression remains unreadable. The effects of your desire are beginning to border on frustration now, dancing on the line as they threaten to cross over it.

"I didn't particularly appreciate finding you at the studio with Jung-hoon when you were supposed to be with us."

A singular exhale leaves you, short and unbelieving as you roll your eyes.

"That's what this is about?" You scoff. "You know I was held back to record my part for the newest track; and besides, I wasn't even that late to dinner. The girls weren't mad, so why are you?" Your arms come up to cross over your chest defensively, and you narrow your eyes at her.

"You should know." She says it like it's the most obvious thing known to man.

"Well clearly I don't, Lisa, so why don't you enlighten me?"

"You're so oblivious," she bites back, rolling her eyes like you just had, "He's practically in love with you."

"What?"

"You heard me. He doesn't even try to hide it. Why else do you think he made sure to schedule you for the last slot of the day? He wanted to get you alone." Her tone is laced with bitterness, and a grimace crosses her face. Even the thought of him puts her off.

"So what if he did? I'd rather be talking to him than getting this shitty treatment from you."

"Is that so?" She challenges, pursing her lips with a tut as she tilts her head up.

"It sure is. You'd never know it, considering you seem to hate him so much, but he's actually pretty nice. He even bought me a tea when I complained about my throat being sore that night."

"He sounds like a winner," she says sarcastically, voice void of sincerity as it drips with contempt instead, "Why don't you go spend some time with him, then, if I'm just so horrible to be around?"

You shake your head as a humorless laugh slips past your lips. She's unbelievable. Before you can think of a good response, she continues her train of thought. "Maybe he'll bribe his way into your pants like he's been trying to for the past month. Tell me, Y/N, would he have to buy you dinner first? Or would another tea suffice?"

The second those words leave Lisa's lips, her chest tightens; she draws a breath in, keeping it held tightly in her lungs as guilt begins to course through her. She feels the aftershocks of her statement in the painful silence of the room, and she finds it nearly impossible to look you in the eye for more than a few seconds at a time.

Her words slowly sink in, rendering you momentarily speechless as you simply blink a few times. Your eyebrows sit higher up now, aiding your slack jaw in conveying the surprise you feel. You have to fight the urge to shove her; had you reverted back to being the less mature version of yourself from your teenage years, you would've done so in a heartbeat. But you're older now, and you realize your words and actions have consequences; clearly she hasn't learned that quite yet.

"Lisa, I'm gonna make this as simple as I can for you: if you ever say something like that to me again, we're going to have some real problems… You're such an asshole."

"I shouldn't have--"

"No, you shouldn't have. But you did. And I don't know what the hell has gotten into you lately, but it needs to stop."

"I'm sorry."

Her apology feels meaningless right now, and it falls on deaf ears. You don't allow yourself to believe she means it -- maybe she does, maybe she doesn't; regardless, she might try to sweet talk her way into forgiveness if you stay here right now, and you can't let that happen. "I don't think it's smart for me to be here -- not after that. I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk to me when you get back to the dorm later, either." The conversation sounds more formal than you're used to with Lisa, but it's fitting given everything that's happened. Her eyes remain trained on the floor as she nods sheepishly; she's ashamed of herself.

When you stride over to retrieve your coat from its resting spot, the sound of your shoes hitting the hardwood echo around the rehearsal room, serving as the only noise to cut through the tense silence. It's like a hot knife through butter, and Lisa feels her heart break a little more with each passing second. Your footfalls are a bit heavier than normal now, and you pop your knuckles out of habit to soothe yourself.

She stops herself from reaching out to you as you brush past her on your way to the door. Had things gone her way, none of this would've happened at all: she even planned to apologize and attempt to make things official with you tonight -- but life always seems to deny us of what we want most.

The handle's smooth surface rests in your palm as you linger in the doorway, keeping your back turned to her. You're not sure what you're even waiting for in the first place. When Lisa remains silent, unable to think of a fitting way to rectify the situation, you nod to yourself and slip out of the room.

The dancer releases a breath now that she's alone, and she runs her hands over her face. Her dislike for Jung-hoon was never meant to override her love for you, and it sure as hell wasn't meant to get in between the two of you. In some ways, Lisa's still that young girl she used to be when you first met as trainees: she still gets jealous and annoyed when she doesn't get what she wants, and although the years have made her far more mature than what she once was, old habits truly do die hard. She blames herself for hurting you, but she doesn't blame herself for disliking him. On one hand, you're completely innocent in the situation and undeserving of what she put you through -- she should have trusted you; but on the other, she can't help but be angry at him for trying to steal you away. You're hers, if only in her dreams, and he has no right to flirt with you like that.

So, with hundreds of thoughts swirling around in her mind, Lisa decides to do what she does best; for the next couple hours, she remains at the studio, releasing the pent up tension and frustration she's been holding in for so long.

~~~~

Back At The Blackpink Dorm

"Can today get any worse?" You groan loudly, tugging at your hair out of frustration. The worn pages of your song book flutter slightly as you push it off of your lap, sending it onto the bed with a soft thump. A couple minutes later you hear movement in the hallway, and you decide to investigate. Carefully, you feel your way through the dark and eventually reach your bedroom door, which you subsequently open.

"Help me look for some candles, please." Jisoo requests from the hallway, just a little ways away from you. A small flashlight is clutched in her hand, and its surprisingly bright beam does well in illuminating the shelves of the closet as she searches through it. You retrieve a spare light from her before making your way down the hall to search the bathroom.

"We probably won't have power until tomorrow night; maybe even later. The storm caused a blackout and parts of the grid are down right now. At least that's what management told me." She informs, raising her voice slightly so you can hear her well. She doesn't have to try too hard, though, considering a blanket of silence has fallen over the dorm; with no power, no appliances offer any background noise to drown out the jarring quietness.

Steady sheets of rain pound against the window of the bathroom, momentarily stealing your attention away from the task at hand. As inconvenient as storms of this caliber can be, it's hard not to be in awe of the power of mother nature; occasionally, bolts of lightning streak across the sky in various places, offering a peek at the angry clouds that loom overhead. It's almost like peering into another world: the vivid colors of the lightning contrast with the darkness of the sky, making it appear as a raging sea as the clouds trek across it in waves.

"I'm already cold." The distant sound of Jennie's voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you release a sigh as you draw open more cabinets. She and Rosé are now seemingly out in the hallway, talking with Jisoo about the storm and how you're all going to deal with it. For a moment you wonder why Lisa hasn't joined them; perhaps she's asleep and didn't even notice the power go out.

Unbeknownst to you, the maknae hasn't done much of anything besides overthinking. Ever since she came home earlier, she's abided by your wishes: she kept quiet during dinner, and retreated to her room without so much as a word to you. It hasn't been easy by any means, and her heart has been aching to apologize to you -- she wants to make things right, but upsetting you further isn't a risk she's willing to take. So now, she lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling as she listens to your other members talk out in the hall.

"I found these," you approach them, holding up a few medium sized candles that Rosé bought for when you guys need a spa day.

"Ah, not the good ones!" She whines, disappointed that the luxury items have to be wasted for such a lame purpose.

"We could always just sit in the dark," you remind her with a chuckle, quirking a small smile at how she's acting. She seems to forget that you guys are rich and completely capable of getting plenty more of them.

"No, I'll order more," she sighs, adding, "...just don't use all of them."

"Aye aye, captain," you salute, grinning wider when she lets out a soft laugh.

"Let's go set the stuff up in the living room," Jisoo says, slipping in between the two of you on her way. When you raise an eyebrow at the other girls, Jennie speaks up, "We might as well just hang out there. We can stay warmer that way and not die of boredom."

You cock your head to the side and nod after considering the offer, quickly deciding that you have nothing better to do anyway. "What about Lisa?" You ask, the waver in your voice going unnoticed by either of them. From inside her room, Lisa holds her breath, tensing up as she waits to hear their answer.

"I think she's sleeping, so we don't have to wake her up right now. She'll realize it's out eventually."

You seem to accept her answer, and Lisa relaxes into the cushions of her bed as she hears three sets of footsteps getting further and further away. There's no way she can face you yet -- she's still working on a good enough apology. Besides, pretending that everything's okay was hard enough at dinner -- the girls were growing suspicious, so it's only a matter of time before they ask about it. None of you like to see each other sad, but there really seems to be a soft spot in all of their hearts for you: they always try to keep you happy and protected in order to repay you for taking such good care of them. You may not be the oldest unnie, but you're dedicated to your members, and their loyalty isn't something to be taken lightly. That undisputed fact works to make Lisa even more nervous; she knows she's been bad to you, and the girls aren't afraid to give her a piece of their minds. Their combined disappointment is only rivaled by her own, and she knows she'll have to work hard to get things back to where they used to be with you.

~~~~~

As you wash your hands in the bathroom sink, you take in the sight of your reflection staring back at you. Bags rest underneath your eyes from what little sleep you've gotten so far, not quite dark enough to make you cringe but visible enough to show that things aren't going your way. You and the girls spent what was left of the evening chatting and playing board games to keep yourselves entertained, but eventually sleep became unavoidable and you retired to the large pillow fort that the 4 of you had constructed earlier. Without any power going to the dorm's heater, you've been forced to rely on extra blankets and each other's body heat to stay warm.

A glance at your watch lets you know that it's a little after 3AM now, and you can only hope to fall back asleep soon. Your mind is exhausted from all the thinking you've been doing -- the toll it's taking on you coming through as a physical pain, pulsing steadily to remind you of everything that's happened -- but somehow sleep doesn't seem to be attainable. Despite being so drained, your body and mind would rather stay at odds than just compromise and let you rest. It's like something is telling you to stay awake -- like some quiet voice with ulterior motives is calling on you to look beyond yourself and fight sleep. Whatever the reason may be, you're annoyed with it.

Frigid water meets your face, stealing the warmth away from your cheeks as it slides its way downward. You lean against the sink, sighing softly as your chilly fingers press into your temples and rub small circles into the skin there. The storm continues to rage on outside, drawing parallels to the war being waged in your heart. You're torn. Part of you is so overcome with the love you hold for Lisa that you just want to forget she even said anything at all -- you almost care more about having things go back to the way they once were than the fact that she's been breaking your heart more and more everyday. But another part of you is tired of her shit -- she shouldn't be able to get away with saying that to you, and you're strong enough to stay away from her until she steps up and makes things right. It's hard, no doubt, to keep your distance when she's the one person you want to be with most in this world, but you respect yourself enough to set a standard for what type of treatment you're willing to accept.

As if on cue, a loud burst of thunder roars out, quite literally shaking the house with how strong it is. You jump, feeling your blood run cold at the unexpected scare. A yelp from the living room can be heard, and you have to bite your lip to contain the snicker that threatens to escape; you love Jennie to death and hate to see her frightened, but sometimes it's funny. Comfort comes to the brunette in the form of soothing words groggily whispered by the other girls as they hold her close.

For what seems to be the millionth time tonight, Lisa crosses your mind; should you check on her? Despite what Jennie had suggested earlier, the maknae failed to leave her room at all. You wonder if she's cold; surely she is, considering she didn't have many blankets in her room to bury herself under. Worrying is apparently your strong suit, because the thought of her staying curled up in bed to grant your wishes, alone and shivering, saddens you beyond belief and convinces you to see how she's doing.

After drying your face and hands, you sneak back to the living room and grab the fluffiest blanket you can find. Your feet dodge the creaky spots in the floorboards, having already memorized them after years of tiptoeing to the kitchen in the early hours of the morning for snacks. Before long, you stand in front of her door and attempt to prepare yourself.

Lisa's eyes fly closed as she hears the door to her room being opened. The weathered metal hinges groan slightly with effort; over the years, it's been thrown open in times of excitement and subjected to it's fair share of slamming during arguments.

She does her best to play the part, but her act almost falters when she feels your soft hand brush her hair out of her face. The pad of your thumb strokes her cheek slowly, and she can practically feel all the emotion your gaze holds. Her eyes remain closed as you reach out to feel her arms, making sure they aren't frozen solid from being exposed to the chilly air. The fact that you still care enough to make sure she's comfortable makes her feel even more guilty, and her eyelashes have to work twice as hard to keep her tears from escaping. They dampen as the salty liquid builds up, serving as a dam that could break at any moment, but thankfully you don't notice. You splay the cover over her and tuck it slightly, leaving her plenty of room for movement -- you remember her telling you in passing that she doesn't like being tucked in completely because it makes her feel restricted.

Her breath hitches as your hands fiddle with the collar of her shirt, fixing the ruffled material so that it covers her better. The bed dips as you sit down next to her, letting your eyes trail over her body.

"How can you sleep right now?" You whisper out, thinking she's lightyears away in dreamland. A stray tear rolls down your cheek, but you're quick to wipe it away.

"You're so stupid Lisa," you breathe out, releasing your lip from between your teeth. "I can't believe you think I'd want to be with Jung-hoon and not you."

"But hey," you say with a bitter laugh, the sound almost inaudible in its softness, "I guess I'm the oblivious one, right?"

After spending a few more moments torturing yourself, you slowly stand up and return the blankets to the state they had been in before you sat down. Unable to resist the urge any longer, you lean down to press a kiss to her forehead. You have no idea where the two of you will stand with one another when she wakes up, and you want to have this memory before you're forced to be at odds again.

As you push your tired body up, prepared to turn around and leave, you're instead met with her deep brown eyes peering up at you.

You freeze, feeling your muscles tense up as the tears in her eyes become more visible. Her features look even more beautiful now, somehow, in the pale moonlight that streams into the room. It's lustrous, seeming to sparkle as it casts down on her perfectly, kissing every inch of exposed skin that it can. She looks like a dream, and for a second you wonder if you're just imagining this. Her skin appears even softer than usual in the gentle glow of the room, but she looks as striking as ever with her defined collarbone and sharp jawline standing out. You feel her hand brush against your wrist, and you're reminded of all the times she would draw you in close and kiss you until you were breathless.

"How much of that did you hear?" You swallow, a slight nervousness taking over now as you run a hand through your hair.

"Enough," she utters simply, indulging herself in a few more seconds of the intimate staring contest you were in before breaking eye contact to sit up in bed. She leans back against the headboard and pulls her feet in some to give you plenty of room to sit. Selfishly, she wishes you'd sit right next to her again; she can't say she's surprised when you put a little space between the two of you though, opting to sit further down on the mattress.

Neither of you say anything for a little while, too busy trying to locate the right words and how to phrase them. The situation is delicate, and neither of you want to mess it up; Lisa's more afraid to speak than you are, but she eventually finds her voice.

"I know sorry doesn't cut it, nor does it solve anything. But I really am sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out how it did, and I haven't been treating you right for awhile now."

"You can say that again," you quip, nodding singularly.

She sighs, a bit discouraged by your demeanor but still just as determined.

"Seeing you with him just scared me, Y/N. I know I have no right to be jealous, but that's exactly what I was. When I saw the way he was looking at you and sitting so close… it just hurt. A lot. I like you more than I want to admit, and you're completely capable of pulling anyone you want. Especially a 2 like Jung-hoon."

You almost smile at that last part: even when apologizing, she can't help but clown on him.

"That was a fucked up thing to say, back at the studio. It made me feel cheap, Lisa, and I never thought you would be someone who'd make me feel like that. I don't care if it was in the heat of the moment or not -- it was uncalled for." It feels good to finally voice your feelings to her, and you don't waste time by skirting around them or softening the blow.

"You're right, and I wish you could understand how much I regret it. I wanted to run after you so bad… you have no idea. I regretted it the second it came out of my mouth." She hangs her head now, feeling the shame rise in her at the thought of her past actions.

"You can dislike Jung-hoon as much as you want, but you're right about one thing: you have no right to be jealous. I refuse to be your reason for hating someone, especially when your logic is as flawed as it is."

She can sense that you have more to say, and she's more than willing to listen; so, she waits for you to continue.

"First of all, you and I aren't dating, Lisa. And even knowing that, you still didn't trust me, evidently. I don't owe you anymore of an explanation than the other girls, but I'll give it since you seem to want it so bad: we really did just work on the song. He was nice to me and treated me well, but he never overstepped or made me uncomfortable. Regardless of whether he likes me or not, he was kind; the same can't be said for you." Your voice is taut with the pain you've been through because of her, and the brutal honesty behind your words hangs heavy in the air.

"I deserve that one. But can you please try to see it from my point of view? When you're in love with someone, it's easy to get jealous," your heart pounds harder at her use of that four letter word, but you don't let it show, "...especially when the other person isn't even yours to begin with. At least that's how it works for me. I feel like I have to work extra hard to keep your focus on me, because I'm afraid anyone can come by and take you away. You have no obligation to even be with me."

"I may not have an obligation to, Lisa, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be with you. Do you know how excited I was to finally get home and see you and the girls that night? I was dying to pull you into the kitchen and sneak a kiss when I was grabbing my plate. But you'd never know that, because you cared more about your insecurities than believing me."

"Wow." Your confession surprises her, and the simple utterance is all she can manage at the moment.

"Yeah." You say, solidifying your words.

"I really am an idiot, aren't I?"

"To put it kindly, yes."

She pauses for a beat or two to really process your words. "Can we get past this?" She asks gently, playing with the frilly edge of the blanket you brought in earlier that's now worked its way down into her lap.

"I think so," you say honestly, releasing a steadying breath, "but you have to work for it."

"I will, everyday. I want us to be okay again."

"I do too, Lis. I really do." Her gaze softens at the nickname, and she can tell you're being truthful.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

"I-" She starts, only to be cut off by the small giggle you let out.

"Shoot, Manoban."

"Does this mean I can ask you to be my girlfriend?" She notices the way your face falls as you begin to stutter out a response, so she quickly clarifies, "Eventually?"

"Eventually," you affirm, thankful that she understood that you're not quite ready yet. You crack a small smile as you say, "So long as you don't give me a reason to say no in the meantime."

The two of you share a much needed laugh, happy to finally begin clearing the air between you.

Not long after, Lisa says, "One more thing, Y/N."

You lift your head to look at her and respond, but her lips meet yours before you get the chance to say a word. The surprised noise you make is muffled, but it soon gives way to something crossed between a sigh and moan as her hand travels up your thigh. It rests there, the heat of her palm seeping through the material of your pants as she waits to see how you react, still pressing innocent kisses to your lips. She wants to continue, but you deserve to control the situation.

Wordlessly, you tilt her head to the side to deepen the kiss, languidly moving your tongue against hers. It's a dance you've spent hours practicing before, and your bodies fall back into the familiar rhythm they've been craving for the past week and a half. When you take her hand and lead it under your shirt, allowing her to touch wherever she pleases, she lets out a guttural noise of approval that has you pressing your thighs together in search of friction. Already, Y/N? You think to yourself; she's barely touched you and you're already so responsive.

Lisa smiles at the shuddered breath she feels you release, and she tugs at your bottom lip to tease you further.

"If you keep this up, that 'eventually' will come sooner rather than later," you say shakily, swallowing as you press your lips together. They taste like her, and you're convinced you're addicted.

She lets out a throaty chuckle at that, the action garnering a smile from you. Your cheeks are flushed, and she secretly loves the effect she has on you.

"You're beautiful," she declares, the smile on her lips coming through in the phrase. She strokes your cheek with the back of her hand, and you let out a little "pshh" sound at her sweet comment. Taking compliments has never been something you're very good at.

Determined to show you that she's genuine, she takes your hand and places it against her chest, right over her heart. It beats wildly, untamed and unpredictable as her emotions course through her. "It always gets like this when I'm around you. I can't control it; you just drive me crazy."

"You're really trying to kill me, huh? Soft Lisa is far hotter than petty Lisa, just so you know." You say, wrapping your arms around her neck. Her hands tighten around your waist as she pulls you into her lap, slowly grinning at your confession.

"Noted. Now come here, baby."

You close what little distance is left between you, not having to be told twice. Her lips move in time with yours as she flips you over, laying you on your back beside her. In your preoccupied state, you don't even realize that she's tucked your legs under the blankets and brought the material up to cover the two of you.

"I'm gonna take care of you, okay? I'm done being an ass."

"It's about time," you joke, rolling your eyes. "Better get to work if you want to lose your status as a dickhead by the end of this century."

"Hey! Century? That's a little long, don't you think?"

"Tread lightly, Lisa," you warn, half teasing and half threatening. She catches a hint of the menacing look you send her way, and quickly gets her act together.

"Yes ma'am." She nods, attempting to contain the smile that tugs at her lips by pressing them against yours again.

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seriouslysnape · 4 years ago

Note

HIii! I was wondering if you could write something Fred (6th/7th year) x Gryffindor Reader (i know u dont usually write him) maybe something where reader and fred are best friends and shes in love with him but she thinks he dosent like her that way with a fuffy ending? maybe some angst not too much tho thank youuu <3 if you dont want to write fred (😭) you can write it for lupin (6th/7th year)

His Favorite Girl

Fred Weasley x Gryffindor! Reader

Warnings: Language.

Word Count: 3,430

“Woah. Guess I had more to drink than I thought.”

The Gryffindor common room. An ever changing space for all Gryffindor students to unwind, study, or party, depending on the occasion. The common room was always crowded from wall to wall after a Quidditch match, especially when Gryffindor reigned victorious. The players all filed in, bursting with good energy and an itch to celebrate their win. Oliver Wood exploded inside first with an unmistakably beaming smile spreading across his face.

The Gryffindor students who hadn’t been able to make it to watch the match automatically knew that they had won based on Oliver’s visible jubilant mood. You were one of the unfortunate ones that hadn’t been able to make it, but you knew that the team would bring the party to you. The Weasley twins came bopping in next, George carrying a very happy Harry Potter on his shoulders. Harry leapt off of George’s shoulders before the tall twin could knock him into the top of the doorframe.

Your sights automatically set on the other Weasley twin. Fred was beaming with delight at their impressive win. Fred was damn proud to be a Gryffindor, and beating the brakes off of Slytherin was one of his favorite pastimes. He couldn’t be any happier at this moment. It warmed your heart to see him so joyful and full of glee.

You raked over his tall, slender yet muscular frame. His signature red hair was damp with sweat and parts of his face were caked with dirt.

Fred caught your stare, his smile never leaving his face as he gave you a friendly wink. You closed the Potions book in your lap, getting up from the sofa with a silent hope that your thumping heartbeat wasn’t obvious to anyone.

It was a hard thing to do. Keeping your ever growing crush and admiration for Fred Weasley under wraps was becoming more and more difficult as time went on. The seemingly simple solution (as all of your friends had told you) to do would be to “just tell him” how you felt. But it was MUCH easier said than done.

There were so many things that could possibly go wrong if you were to confess your feelings to Fred. You would be running the risk of ruining a beautiful friendship that had done nothing but blossom over the last seven years if he didn’t share that same admiration. You didn’t want to lose your best friend just because your heart felt differently than his.

At the same time, you wanted to tell him every scrap and ounce of how your soul felt lost without him. There had been a few times over the years where you had an opportunity to lay your heart out on the line for him. Each time you had this heavy feeling in your chest letting you know you needed to make a move.

You built up the courage each time, but were interrupted by George or another one of your friends before you could bite the bullet. You knew it wasn’t healthy to keep this holed away in yourself. Your love would only grow more. The more days that passed, the more you began to wonder how different your life would be if you never told him. Not to mention that graduation was only a few months away, and there was always the risk of losing contact with him when you went separate ways.

That is, IF you were to go separate ways.

On the other side of the coin, there was always a chance that Fred possibly did harbor the same admiration for you. That would totally change things in the long run. The idea of starting a romantic relationship, possibly getting married, and having a family was nothing short of perfect.

But you had to get to that point first.

Everyone rallied around Harry, shaking him excitedly and singing their praises to him for his incredible Snitch catch. Suddenly, blaring and thunderous chatter filled the common room as more exhilarated students piled in. Within the hour, a sea of Gryffindors occupied the room, complete with blasting music and an ungodly amount of alcohol.

Oliver had gathered a crowd of first years in one corner of the common room as he retold every solitary second of the match from his point of view, starting from the very beginning. The wide eyed first year wizards and witches were on the edge of their seats as they listened to his story, some of them beginning to wonder if they had what it took to be great Quidditch players.

On the other side of the room, you were settled once again on the sofa with Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, who were seated in the arm chairs across from you. They were exhausted from playing all day, but that didn’t stop them from engaging in some girl talk.

Alicia and Katie were your dearest friends, and they were the only ones who knew about your crush on Fred. A crush that had quite honestly evolved into something much more. They were always keeping an ear out to see if Fred said anything remotely leading them to believe that he might like you back. As surprising as it was, Fred never really outwardly spoke about his romantic side.

Speaking of, Fred and George were in another corner of the room with Harry and Ron, doing God only knows what. Fred was considerably tipsy, but nothing even close to plastered. You had seen Fred drunk before, and needless to say, it was a hysterical sight.

“So, [Y/N],” Alicia spoke up, her dark skin looking extra glowy from the fire roaring in the fireplace; “Fred was awfully excited to come back to tell you that we won.”

Katie perked up, her head lifting from where it had been leaning on the back of the chair.

“Yeah! The first thing that he told George was that he couldn’t wait to tell you the news. Although, I guess Oliver kind of told everyone before Fred had the chance.”

“Really? He said that?” You asked, sitting up a little straighter.

Alicia nodded vigorously, gripping Katie’s forearm with elation. Alicia and Katie had never tried to set the two of you up, mainly because you had begged them not to. That didn’t stop them from trying to be the ultimate wingwomen. They believed that you and Fred would be a stellar couple. They were convinced you were made for one another.

They both feared that you’d never make an attempt to make it happen.

“He sure did. I heard him myself.” Katie replied.

Alicia glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening before leaning forward closer to you. Her voice was quiet, loud enough so only you and Katie could hear as she spoke.

“Graduation is coming up quickly. You’ve got to tell him.” She advised.

You sighed heavily. If you had a galleon for every time one of them had told you that, you’d be a wealthy woman. They just didn’t seem to get that it just isn’t that easy. You wouldn’t deny that proclaiming your deepest secret to someone didn’t scare you. It was terrifying to offer your heart and soul to someone, even when you knew that they might get broken as a result. You didn’t want to live with a broken heart.

But you didn’t want to live always asking yourself “what if”.

Before you could respond, a figure plopped themself next to you, his familiar scent sending flutters all through you. Fred basically snuggled up next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. Despite the fact that you weren’t dating, Fred was comfortable enough with you to get extremely close, which didn’t help your situation at all.

Alicia and Katie held down their snickers and giggles at how you were clearly flustered. You tried not to wriggle too much under Fred’s hold, and draw any attention to yourself. He was your best friend, and you knew how to play it cool when he was around.

“Hi, [Y/N].” Fred slurred loudly over the noise.

You laughed softly at the smell of Firewhiskey that was radiating off of him. You weren’t much of a drinker, but you’d have a drink with Fred from time to time.

“Hey, Fred. Congratulations on the match.” You complimented.

Fred grinned proudly, looking down at your slumped body. His eyes were beginning to glaze over from the alcohol, but he looked as sober as ever. He had a certain look in his eyes that you couldn’t identify.

“Thanks. Those bloody Slytherins got what they deserved.” He stated.

“Oliver seems over the moon with how it went.” You remarked, smiling as you looked behind you to see Oliver now standing on a table as he continued telling his thrilling tale.

When you turned back to Fred, you couldn’t help but notice how Fred hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. The butterflies in your belly were going totally bananas now. His gaze did eventually shift to the Potions book that was placed next to your feet, and he let out a guttural sound. He reached for it, noting that it had obviously been put to good use in the last several hours.

“Have you been studying?” He questioned, holding the book in his hand.

You sheepishly nodded, aimlessly reaching for the textbook. An offended look crossed Fred’s face as he held the book far out of your reach. Damn his long arms.

“I have a test on Monday. Advanced Potions is kicking my ass this year and I’ve just barely been getting by so I have to study extra time.” You expressed, laughing at your fruitless attempt to get the book back.

His sharp jaw fell open a tad and he stretched back even further to ensure you didn’t get the book back for now.

“You’re kidding me. I missed my favorite girl at the match because she was stuck in the common room studying for a TEST?” He acquired, not even aware of the weight behind his choice of words.

You felt your smile fade into more of a bashful expression. Your body slinked back into the cushions, forgetting all about the book. His words rang in your word.

Favorite girl.

Fred Weasley’s favorite girl.

Alicia and Katie were both wide eyed and jaw dropped at what he had just said. They were looking back and forth between the two of you like they were at an intense tennis match.

Fred was so aloof and oblivious to the fact that he had literally just melted your heart with a single sentence. You spent so much time with Fred that you just didn’t understand how he couldn’t see it.

Fred knew you backwards and forwards. He could see straight through you when you were lying or when you were sad, but claiming you were fine. He always remembered your favorite treats from Honeydukes and how you liked hot Butterbeer on cold winter nights. It made him happy to hear you talk about your favorite Muggle novels or tell him about something funny that happened in McGonagall’s class. He knew you better than anyone.

But why couldn’t he see the way you were yearning for him?

“You missed me?” You asked, shrinking even further into the cushions.

Fred looked at you as if that were the dumbest question he had ever been graced with. He lowered his arm at your sudden demeanor change, gently putting the book in your hand. Alicia and Katie leaned in carefully, eager to see where this conversation was going. Much to their disappointment, Fred didn’t get a chance to answer due to another member joining you on the couch.

George landed less gracefully than Fred had, basically landing on top of you and smothering you. Your shrieks were muffled in George’s Quidditch robes, Fred wrestling his brother off of you.

“Hey! George, get off of her.” He grunted, heaving his brother’s very limp body off of you.

Alicia threw her hands up in defeat at the interruption, Katie falling back into her chair. So close, yet so far. You gasped for air as George fell on the open seat next to Fred. George was way further gone than Fred. He was barely even able to keep his eyes open, let alone get any real, complete thought across.

“Nice timing, George.” Katie said sarcastically.

You gave her a menacing look, not wanting her to bring it up. George snorted, and his sentence came out more as one incoherent word.

“Did I interrupt something important?” He heavily slurred between hiccups.

You rolled your eyes. Leave it to George to ruin this for you. You were discouraged that your chance had been shot down once again, but it wasn’t George’s fault. You were just glad to see your friends in such high spirits. Soon enough, the rest of the party goers had crowded towards the center of the room where you were. The party raged on well into the night, a complete celebration with dancing, singing, and more drinking.

As easily as the party could’ve carried on and on, eventually the famed players’ exhaustion caught up with them and they all slowly dwindled down and sauntered off to their respective dorm rooms. You hugged Alicia and Katie goodnight, knowing they’d be passed out in their beds by the time you got up to your dorm room.

You spoke to Harry and Ron for a bit, giving Harry a friendly kiss on the top of his head for his winning catch. His pasty white cheeks went red as he and Ron retreated to their room in a fit of blushy giggles. That left just you and the twins in the common room that was now completely trashed. Empty cups and half spilled bottles of alcohol were scattered about, people even leaving behind some of their school stuff to be recollected in the morning.

George was a mumbling, intoxicated mess. He was close to falling asleep, and Fred wanted to get him to bed before he was completely unable to stand up. You’d be up for a while cleaning up the common room. You always hated leaving a room knowing it was messy, so you didn’t mind picking up after everyone. Fred knew you’d stay behind to clean up, but he didn’t want you to have to do it alone. He draped his babbling twin over his shoulders, grimacing at how George was usually heavier when he was drunk.

“I’m going to run George upstairs and then I’ll be back to lend you a hand.” He smiled, ignoring the things that George was trying to say to him.

“You don’t have to. I can handle it.” You said, tossing a handful of cups away.

“I know you can. I just don’t want you to be lonely is all.” He said, turning on his heel and marching up the boys’ dormitory stairs with George.

You felt a warm flush course through you at his words once more. You weren’t sure why you were extra sensitive to him tonight. Sure enough, Fred returned a few minutes later, almost stumbling into the wall at the bottom of the stairs. You both laughed as he gave a witty comment.

“Woah. Guess I had more to drink than I thought.” He said, walking into the room once he steadied himself.

“Is George okay?” You asked, accepting the pile of empty bottles that Fred placed into your trash bag.

You usually hand cleaned for the first few minutes, but would eventually grow bored and cast a spell from your wand to finish the work. It was seldom that the common room was this quiet, so you liked to bask in the silence for a little after there was a party.

Fred scoffed with a nod.

“Oh, yeah. He’ll be fine. Nasty hangover in the morning, but there’s a potion for that.”

As usual, the two of you were tired of cleaning, so you waved your wand with a quick cleaning charm. You both watched in amazement as the trash and everything else whisked around the room into trash bins, leaving the room spotless. You put your wand in your back pocket with a satisfied hum. Usually, this would be the time where you went to bed, but you were getting that familiar heavy feeling in your chest.

It immediately dawned on you that you had a perfect chance here. No one was around, and no one would be around for more than enough time.

“You want to sit and chat for a bit?” Fred questioned, noticing your dazed look; “You seem like you’ve got something on your mind.”

The fireplace was still occupied with a cozy warm fire, which was very inviting. You nodded, following Fred to the same couch you had been on earlier. The common room was beyond peaceful now, your head almost lulling onto Fred’s shoulder in relaxation.

Oddly enough, you weren’t freaked out now. In all the past times you had tried to do this, you were a jittery mess and could barely get a word out without stuttering. You felt so at ease now, as if this was something you did often. You hadn’t even had a drop of alcohol tonight, so you couldn’t blame it on that.

“So what’s up?” Fred questioned after you didn’t initiate a conversation.

He had unknowingly opened a door that you knew you had to take. It was now or never.

“I’m just thinking about some things.” You admitted.

Fred’s curiosity was sparked now. He was always interested and willing to hear what was going on in your mind.

“What kind of things?” He pressed on.

Your sights were set on the flames in front of you, causing you to miss the way that Fred was looking at you with such fondness and care. He was cherishing every passing second of this moment.

“You and me.” You confessed.

Fred was filling with anticipation, not sure where you were going with this. He raised a brow.

“What about us?” He replied.

You took a breath.

“Fred, what did you mean when you said I was your favorite girl?” You queried.

Fred looked into your eyes that were peering up at him in a puppy-like way. He noticed that you were expecting an answer. Fred, as confident as ever, responded with a voice like butter, his accent a little thicker.

“Because you’re my favorite person in the world.” He revealed.

Your heart caught in your throat and your breathing hitched. So far so good.

“I am?” You asked to confirm

Fred’s arm that was around you pulled you in closer. You were being flooded with such a sense of intimacy that it was overwhelming. Your nose was level with his chin, and you were so close to his face that you swore you could hear the blood flowing through his face. Fred knew what was happening now, and he was ecstatic about it. He had wanted you all along, but never knew how’d you’d react. The last thing he ever wanted to do was scare you off.

He thought about all the times he had seen you upset, and how it hurt him when you were pained with something. He always wished for nothing but happiness for you. He didn’t want to ruin things because of how he felt.

But now he was sure that you’d be here to stay.

“Absolutely you are. You’re all I ever think about.” He whispered, stroking your face with the side of his thumb that was wrapped around you.

This didn’t feel real, but felt all too real at the same time.

“Why are you whispering?” You smiled softly, whispering back to him.

He smirked, and whispered again.

“Because I want you to know how much I love you.”

A cannon of confetti seemingly exploded all throughout your body. Shock, desire, lust, love, want, everything went through you all at once. This wasn’t at all how you had imagined this happening, but you were happy that it did. It was very fitting for the two of you.

“Kiss me.” You whispered once more.

He lowered his head and his lips caught yours in a feverish way. All the pent up feelings from the last 6 years all loaded themselves into the kiss. It was a huge weight off of your shoulders.

“I love you,” You professed once Fred pulled away; “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to tell you that.”

Fred chuckled lightly, responding before kissing you again.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.”

#fred weasley #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x female reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley blurb #fred weasley fluff #Harry Potter #harry potter fred weasley #seriouslysnape

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mashep23 · 4 years ago

Text

Traffic Jam Session

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: +1.5K

Warnings: Nat being ridiculously confident and flirtatious? I think that deserves a warning. This is just pure self-indulgent fluff.

Summary: Stuck in a traffic jam, another commuter requests that you turn your music up

Inspired by this meet-cute prompt:

We are caught in an extreme traffic jam and have been sitting next to each other, parked, for the last five minutes. Your radio is playing my absolute favorite song so I ask you to turn it up. We spend the rest of the slow traffic aggressively singing along to the music at each other.

Prompt list found here

A/N: I tweaked the prompt just a little, hope it's still enjoyable. This was so much fun to write!

Thank you to @river-soul for her incredible beta skills and endless patience 😭❤️ and @whisperlullaby for workshopping with me 💗

Disclaimer: gif not mine

It's a decently warm day, sunny and clear, and the azure blue sky is dotted sparsely with clouds. A breeze blows through the car windows, playing with the feathers on your dreamcatcher hanging from the rearview mirror while you're stuck in traffic. You had been creeping along for the better part of 20 minutes, but you've been at a standstill now for almost five.

Typically one to drive home in silence to decompress, today the stillness and lack of road noise makes you want to turn on some music instead. Since nothing playing on the local stations feels right, you sync your car Bluetooth with your phone and scroll through your music streaming apps. A playlist you made simply entitled "Happy" seems to fit your mood and the gorgeous weather so you press Shuffle All and settle back in your seat.

The soothing, light-hearted Put Your Records On filters through the speakers and you can't help the smile that curves your lips as you close your eyes. Propping your arm on the window, head on your hand, you bask in the sun's warmth. You periodically crack open an eye to check on the car in front of you but there's no change. Everyone on the road has parked and resigned themselves to the long wait.

Your playlist contains a wide variety of genres, cherry-picked songs that unfailingly lift your mood. They're radio hits, usually well-known songs, and easy to sing along with. You happily bop your way through your playlist, getting a little more energetic, singing along to each song.

Walking on Sunshine just finishes and the next song is cueing when you hear a sweet voice ask lowly, "Do you mind turning it up a little?" You grin and twist the volume knob so I'm Gonna Be (500 miles) plays louder before looking to the eavesdropper that's enjoying your tunes.

Holy shit. How did you not notice the car next to you? There is no way they were there the whole time. They're all beautiful. Two men, two women - blondie is driving, two brunettes are in the back seat, and a redhead is in the passenger seat. She was the one that spoke and she grins gratefully, leaning closer, head tilted out the window. You turn it up a little more as she starts singing along.

You grin widely and start singing with her. Her companions in the car laugh and join in good naturedly, cheering as the two of you belt the call-and-answer part of the song.

When the song ends, you're both breathlessly laughing, smiles wide. You turn your stereo volume down even as the next song starts to play and stretch out for a high five. She gives your hand a satisfying slap as she laughs joyfully.

"That was so fun! Thank you so much, I love that song."

"I do too! You're a great partner! And the back-ups were awesome!" You playfully finger-gun point at the driver and backseat passengers. They cheerfully laugh and thank you. You don't remember the last time you smiled this hard.

"I'm glad you didn't mind - I could barely hear it. I had Steve try to get closer but that didn't really help much, so I just decided to ask you." She gives you a sheepish but pleased smile and you return it.

"Oh no I don't mind! I haven't had this much fun in ages!" You can't seem to stop smiling but maybe it's okay because she's smiling at you, too.

"I'm Nat," she says suddenly, and you don't hesitate to tell her your name. She repeats it quietly, still smiling softly at you.

There's a stretch of silence, you're both just looking at each other and one of her friends clear their throat, causing you both to blink. You think maybe you should be embarrassed but she doesn't appear fazed in the slightest.

"In the spirit of introductions, hello beautiful. I'm Sam." The male brunette sitting behind Nat says smoothly after his light cough. "This is Wanda, up there is Steve." He gestures to the woman beside him and to the driver, respectively.

Your gaze never leaves Nat. You can't tear your eyes from her even as Sam speaks, catching the quick tightness around the edges of her mouth before it relaxes again as you smile and respond to her rather than Sam.

"It's nice to meet you," you say sincerely to Nat. Her answering pleased expression as she returns the sentiment warms you. A pleasant tightness fills your chest as her lips quirk at something Sam mutters under his breath. The woman next to him, Wanda, laughs quietly.

"So, you know, we're gonna be here for a while. Let's see what else you got to listen to." Nat grins expectantly at you with a raised brow and you mirror her expression as you turn the knob.

You're pretty sure you've found your soulmate when her eyes spark in delight and she belts along effortlessly to Sweet Caroline, arms spreading dramatically as she almost nails the driver, Steve, in his face with the back of her hand. Sam and Wanda cackle as he shoves her arm away in mock affront and she sticks her tongue out at him.

You can't help but laugh at their antics, watching her perform, directing her friends' involvement ("bah, bah, bahh") before she turns to you ("so good, so good, so good!"). This is quickly becoming one of the best times you've ever had.

The song continues, both of you sharing the lead, absolutely ridiculous and uncaring of the scene you're making. If anyone in the surrounding cars felt disgruntled at the impromptu concert, you'd never know it. The girl in the car next to you has your undivided attention.

You're not sure how long it's been, how many songs you've played and sang along to, but after a while, traffic slowly creeps to life. Steve taps Nat on the arm during a lull between songs and you lower the volume as she turns to him. He gestures at the line of cars ahead, the ones directly in front still unmoving but in the distance you see brake lights releasing, vehicles rolling forward.

She turns back to you, chewing the inside of her lip as she looks at you thoughtfully. She seems to make a decision and reaches her hand out to you.

"Here, let me see your phone real quick." She makes a single gimme motion, fingers flicking closed then open as you hand the device over. Your lips spread into a wide smile at the triumphant look that crosses her face.

She beams at you before dropping her gaze to the phone, fingers moving quickly across the screen. You hear an unfamiliar notification tone and she pulls a phone from her lap, holding it up to show you.

"I text myself from your phone. Now we have each other's numbers. I wanna be able to call you later." She's unabashedly smug as she hands your phone back and you wonder if your face shows just how pleased you are.

You look down at the message thread she left open for you, the unsaved number displayed at the top.

"Traffic Jam Hottie 😍"

The single line of text and emoji sent from your phone to the number makes you bite your lip and shyly cover your smile with your fingertips. You look at her with raised eyebrows and she correctly interprets your unasked question and shrugs.

"That's your contact name. I'll probably never change it, not even after we get married."

It's sly and nonchalant, how she slips that in there, smooth as you please. Your jaw drops and her friends all seem to choke on air but her gaze, locked on you, is unwavering. The flirtatious expression on her face is simultaneously sincere and mischievous as she watches for your reaction.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, your chest feels tight and pleasantly warm. Your smile stretches so wide your cheeks hurt as she winks and you're so giddy, you don't care how eager you look in this moment.

You quickly save her contact information and smirk, wiggling your phone at her.

"I'd hope not. I think having matching contact info is pretty cute and kinda romantic. A fun story for the wedding toasts." You grin cheekily.

Her expression shifts, full of mischief, a quirk of her eyebrow that makes your breath hitch and sets your heart racing as her friends whoop with glee at your banter. Her lips spread in a sly smile and you can't help but return it. You're positive you've never smiled this much in your life.

Too soon, the gridlock lets up and you both start moving with traffic. The cars in front of you begin to roll, the lane speeds varying enough to cause you to separate. She's still grinning at you as they get further ahead. You can faintly hear their teasing and you catch a glimpse of her profile, smiling and laughing, before she's no longer visible.

They take an exit as you continue on and you barely have a moment to mourn that they're out of view before your phone vibrates in your lap. Picking it up, you grin madly at the screen, the contact "Traffic Jam Hottie 😍" scrolling across the top.

Accepting the call, you hear it connect through you car speakers, her friends still audible in the background. Your heart stutters when she purrs her greeting.

"Hey hottie."

-----------------------

Tagging some of my amazing discord family: @buckyownsmylife @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

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usmsgutterson · 4 years ago

Text

Yellow- Pin Hawthorne

OKAY, YES-- I’ve wanted to write for Pin Hawthorne since having finished the show, and I’ve decided to do it, because I simply can’t resist and Pin is my favorite moody horseboi, plus, this blurb (imagine? I don’t know how long it’s gonna go yet!) is entirely inspired by the songs Yellow and Sparks by Coldplay, because the show is modern and the songs were released W A Y before the years that show is set in, so yay!

Pins aged up in this, as well. In the show he’s around 16-17? In this, he and the reader are both 20!

I might have Pins characterization a little off because I’ve only watched the show once (I’m gonna rewatch it before I do a shadow and bone rewatch,, moody pin is just a bit too endearing) but other than that, lets do it!

The reader is American for this, and I did mostly keep it gender neutral, aside from an outfit description! Even then, though, I did try to keep it androgynous

Fic type- fluff

Warnings-none

It took a ton of convincing on Pins part to get his dad to let him use the castle for something that, to anyone else, might’ve seemed small. He’d known it might’ve, and started the process a good month before the event was even to happen. A decision that he’d made that wound up working in his favor.

“You really love them, don’t you?” His father asked, pressing the keys into his palm as Pin gave a nod. “Even with all the stupid nicknames?” Pin grimaced, but nodded again.

“Even the stupid nicknames, Dad,” he assured. “All of them.” His father broke out into a smile, pulling Pin in for a hug as he tucked the key away into his jacket pocket.

“Well then, happy anniversary,” his father mumbled. “Five years? Gotta admit, I had faith, but I didn’t think you’d make it this far. Not with someone like them.”

“I know,” Pin retorted. “I’m pretty lucky.” Pin knew that ‘pretty lucky’ might as well have been understatement of the year, but went along with it anyway, pulling away from his father and slowly approaching Elvis, patting his side a few times before climbing onto the saddle and riding down to the castle that he, as the duke, could technically call home.

The castle was big and at times, tough to get around, but he made his way just fine, letting Elvis move at a slow gallop rather than a run, figuring that he had the time, considering you’d agreed to meet at 8 and it was barely 7:15.

When he arrived, he put Elvis away safely, and made his way through the entrance and up to the outdoor balcony, which had a view outlooking the expansive land on which the castle was built, and the trees that went around the outerrim of the space.

He grabbed his bag off the chair on which he’d had his butler leave it the day previous, almost grinning to himself as he sat at the glass table, rummaging through the bag for everything that he’d put in it.

A bottle of wine, because why not, several sweets, a ton of the polaroids you’d taken in the seven years you’d known each other, some fairy lights that he’d hang up so that you weren’t totally and completely in the dark, and a bluetooth speaker that Becky had gotten him that Christmas; one that he’d still not bothered to use, despite the fact that it was almost June.

“Can I get you anything sir?” Arthur poked his head through the balcony door way, and Pin found himself startled.

“Uh, yes please. Wine glasses,” Arthur gave a single, solitary nod.

“The dinner that you requested will be here by the time you requested for it,” he responded. “Though, are you really sure fast food is what you want? It doesn’t seem right to celebrate an anniversary with fast food.” Pin forced his gaze to his lap so that Arthur wouldn’t glimpse his smile.

You’d come from America, just like Zoe had, but you’d moved with your family to the island when you were eleven. You’d met Pin when you were thirteen.

One summer, Pins father was insistent that he get away from the stables, spend some time somewhere he’d not gone before, travel a little, and your family had agreed to let him spend the eight weeks of summer with you in the united states.

You’d had your first date in a McDonalds that same summer, when you and Pin were fifteen. He’d felt weirded out, at first. The fact that he’d never eaten from a McDonalds, despite there having been a couple on the island, almost made him confused. You’d gotten chicken nuggets to split and a couple of the pastries to count as a desert of sorts, and thus sparked the relationship.

“No reason,” Pin murmured. “It’s quick. It’s easy, and the last meal that they ate was lunch.” Arthur gave another nod, and Pin began fiddling with the speaker as he heard Arthurs footsteps grow farther and farther away.

It was a speaker that was almost the size of his hand and designed to look like a vintage radio. Forest green was the color, and the dial on the right side would control volume. The three buttons below the dial were the power button, the on/off button, and the skip button. Pin turned it on, checking the sound quality by playing two MCR songs, silently bopping his head as Arthur returned, the supplies that Pin had asked Arthur to gather in a bag perched neatly on his arm.

Arthur placed the bag on the table wordlessly, leaving Pin to do his thing as he stopped using the speaker, deciding that the sounds of nature; the river, the rustling of trees and the beautiful view of the sky as the sun grew closer and closer to setting was much better company than Gerard Way scream-singing his lungs out.

He’d spent the remainder of the time he had working on your gift. At the end of it, he felt proud of himself, even despite how dumb he’d thought the idea was at first.

It was all of his favorite photos of you--polaroids he’d taken via polaroid camera and polaroids that became polaroids when he’d used a polaroid printer alike-- neatly put into a big picture frame, plus a couple of his sweaters that you liked to steal, some of your favorite sweets, and a journal he knew you’d been eyeing at one of the shops.

Arthur put the McDonalds onto the table in the last ten minutes before eight, putting the wine glasses beside the bag. “I’ll send them here when they’ve arrived,” he murmured, shooting Pin a smile as he turned and walked away.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, Pin had the dinner mostly set up, the chicken nuggets at the center of the table, fries on either side, wine glasses filled the appropriate amount.

“You’re lucky I love you, Hawthorne,” Pin was almost breathless as he glanced over to you, putting the bag that he’d put your gift in on the ground to his right. “If you were anyone else, I’d not have waited so long to eat dinner.” You’d worn a simple pair of black jeans, with a black turtleneck and a dark gray blazer overtop. You styled your hair like you always did, and your smile was bright, eyes warm as you looked at him.

“McDonalds and wine,” you sat, putting the gift you’d gotten Pin on the ground to your left, reaching across the table and taking his hand in yours. “The perfect way to a persons heart.”

“Do you like it?” He asked, gesturing to the fairy lights Arthur must’ve put up while he was busy in the world of gift making. They weren’t lit yet, as the sun had barely begun to dip over the horizon, but he’d light them once it grew darker. You nodded.

“It’s absolutely lovely,” you responded. “I didn’t think you’d put this much effort in, to be totally honest.” You were poking at him, pricking gently at his work ethic in the hopes of getting a kiss across the table.

“I’d have been fine just cuddling the day away,” you admitted. “And I know you would’ve, but thank you. For everything.” He smiled, feeling grateful for Zoe’s suggestion that he use the castles balcony to his advantage when he’d brought his plans up to her and Marcus.

“You’re welcome,” he responded.

After that, you lapsed into a comfortable silence, making occasional conversation as you ate and drank. You let Pin ramble about the sick horses at Bright Fields and made a mental note to visit the hospital part of the stables, see how they were doing and make sure they knew that they were loved. As you cleaned up, putting your garbage back into the McDonalds bag, you gave Pin updates on some of the horses around the stables and the wild horses that you and Jade had been tracking.

“There’s a foal, too!” Pin loved seeing you get so excited, and that was no exception. “I know that we shouldn’t name the wild horses, but I couldn’t help myself, so I named the horse November.”

“Why November?”

“The foals coat is white. Snow is white, and snow happens in November. It just seemed fitting!” You grabbed the bag, going inside only briefly to put it into the nearest trash bin before walking back out and sitting back down.

Pin grabbed the bag with your gift in it at the same time you grabbed the bag with his. He slid yours to you with a bright smile, and you slid his to him with the same.

You opened yours first. “Your hoodies!” You yelled out, smile turning into a full on beam, “Pin, you know that we’re moving in together in the fall, right? You’re just gonna get these back!” Pin shrugged.

“You get them until the fall, I’ll wash them, wear them a couple of times, and then they’re yours again. I get to see you in my clothes and you get to be warm and comfortable constantly! I call it a win-win situation!”

“Can’t disagree with that!” You put the sweaters back in the bag, grabbing the photo frame next.

You sighed, feeling your legs turn to jello as your heart melted. You looked up at him, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you did. “Five years of polaroids,” you whispered. “And you’re giving them back to me?” Pin just shrugged, feeling tempted to round the table, crouch next to you and kiss you senseless, but he resisted.

“I took photos of them,” he responded, pulling his phone out of his pants pocket and waving it around. “I can always get more copies from the polaroid printer.” You laughed lightly.

“Thank you, Pin, so much.” You’d never stop saying it. You had so much to thank him for. Every smile, every laugh, every dinner date, every ride out into the countryside and every kiss.

“You don’t need to thank me, love,” he responded. “Theres one more thing in there for you.” He gestured to the bag as you put the photo frame back into it, pulling out the journal you’d been eying a moment later.

“No fucking way!” You cursed, turning it over in your hands. Pin leaned back into his chair, shrugging while he nodded.

It was a simple journal: a brown leather bound thing that was the same color as Elvis’s fur, but it had pages that were suitable for practically anything.

“I know you’ve wanted it for a while, and, well, I figured you could use it for just about anything. Sketches, diary entries, even putting bank statements in the thing would make a good use for it,” You slightly stood, planting a kiss to his nose across the table.

You put the journal back into the bag and gestured to the bag he’d put in his lap. “It’s your turn, duke.”

“Don’t call me that,” he whispered. He narrowed his eyes at you, but the smirk that followed after told you he’d not been serious.

The first thing he’d pulled out was a scrapbook of the years that you’d spent together. From photos like the victory one that Ted had taken after you’d completed riding lessons, Pin doing a thumbs up on the right side of your horse while you sat on it still, throwing a peace sign and smiling, to random photos you’d taken together.

Blurry ones that’d been taken with the timer feature. You flipping off the camera while Pin flopped back onto his bed. One from when you were both sixteen, in the middle of turning around, his arms snaked around your waist and yours resting on his shoulders as you kissed, the screen blurred but not so blurred that you couldn’t tell what was happening.

A couple that Zoe, Jade, Becky and Marcus had taken. You, exhausted, with your head in Pins lap as he fiddled with a camera, curled up and almost hidden from sight in the haybales. You and Pin at the pony prom, slow dancing, looking at each other with nothing but love in your eyes. A shot taken as you and Pin left the stables, backs to the camera, hands interlocked. A photo of you and Pin in the haybales again, you with your head on his chest, his arm around your shoulders, hay in your hair. A laptop sat discarded beside Pins sleeping body, playing old episodes of Criminal Minds. Both of you had sleepy smiles on your faces.

Pin laughed as he saw more than one picture of you two asleep in the haybales, some taken by Jade, most taken by Zoe, though there were a few shots that’d been taken by his father.

“I love this,” he glanced up at you, then to the speaker that sat on the edge of the table. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, horse-boy!” He snorted, putting the scrapbook on the table and grabbing the next thing in the bag.

It was a sweater; one that he’d not seen since before his eighteenth birthday. “Thief,” he murmured, folding the sweater and putting it atop the scrapbook.

“You’re my favorite person,” was your lovestruck retort. He blushed as he grabbed the last thing in the bag.

It was a camera; a polaroid to replace the one that’d been broken in the months before, and it was vintage.

“You didn’t,” he looks up at you, face showing disbelief as clearly as his voice did. In response, you just shrugged.

“We’ve taken a lot of photos, and you loved the polaroid camera. I used a connection or two that I have and I grabbed it for you.”

“How much was it?” He asked. “We had a limit! No more than fifty pounds!”

“It was forty nine pounds, and the taming of a wild horse found just outside the coast of Maine. She comes in a couple of days, by the way.” Pin put the things back in the bag and stood, grabbing the speaker and turning it on, connecting his phone to it a minute later.

“You love chaos,” he teased. “But I love you, so I love it by association.” He held his hand out to you, and you took it, giggling as he pulled you in close, bringing you into a passionate kiss that lingered on your lips even after it’d ended.

He paused only to have Yellow by Coldplay stream through the speaker, putting his phone on the table next to it.

“May I have this dance?” He asked, emphasizing more on his accent in a silly way to get you to laugh. It worked, to his delight, as you nodded, cheeks flushing bright red.

“You may have every dance, if you so wish it,” he felt his cheeks heat up as he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead and gently swaying with you as your arms moved to rest at his shoulders and his moved to your waist, wrapping around it, his hands meeting and folding at the small of your back. ‘

He’d found a way to loop the song so that it played a couple of times back to back, but you didn’t mind. You had Pin. You had Pin and his sarcasm, his smiles, his voice, still drenched with sleep in the mornings and his peaceful face while he slept. You had tea in the mornings, quiet afternoons spent riding or in helping horses, and evenings laughing with your friends, Pin at your side.

You’d known Pin for seven years, and you’d been dating him for five. He was like the lgiht at the end of a very long, very dark tunnel, and he embraced you tightly as you finally escaped it.

“What makes you happy?” he asked you absentmindedly, just to get to hear the melodic sound of your voice again. You laughed, meeting his gaze with a smile.

“You, Pin,” you responded. “You make me happy.” He stared at you for a long moment, wishing that he had what he’d kept in his sock drawer since Christmas.

“What makes you happy?” You repeated.

“You, Y/N. Always you,” you leaned up, pressing your lips to his without so much as thinking twice.

The kiss was messy, and you stumbled backward a little, but you giggled as you did. When you pulled away, you were delighted to find that Pins cheeks were burning as bright as yours, the same red that coated some parts the sky as the sun dipped down the horizon.

“You’re the love of my life,” Pin was almost in awe at how easily you said it, like you’d been reading off a grocery list or ingredients for a recipe. Pin had wanted to say it since he’d bought the thing that sat in that pathetic little sock drawer, but he’d still not figured out how to say it and make it worthwhile.

“Do you want forever?” The closest he’d get, but he was fine with that, and relieved as you’d nodded. “I promise you forever then, Y/N.”

#pin hawthorne #pin hawthorne x reader #free rein #netflix #netflix series #freddy carter #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader

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whadd-up-babie · 4 years ago

Text

✨🥺🥰 Sykkunos Sister 🥰🥺✨

Part One

Author's Note: Fuck time lines. I don't care if time lines don't add up. I mean on any other occasion I would care but right now at this exact moment in time, I couldn't fucking care less.

Word-count: 4k

Warnings: idk

~~~

You walked into your new apartment, your two roommates and life long friends by your side.

You smiled and turned to the two, “You see this ladies?” You said with a satisfied smirk on your face, “All of our hard work finally paid off.”

“I can’t believe we’re actually here.” Addie said with stars in her eyes. “A couple of years late maybe, but still here in L.A”

You chuckled “I can't believe we wanted to move here as soon as we got out of highschool.”

“Yeah imagine how horrible that could've gone?” Your other friend Selena spoke up.

You visibly shuddered at the thought of how bad that could've been. You felt a buzz in your back pocket and looked down at your jeans.

“Me and Selena are gonna check out this place before we start bringing the boxes in.” Addie told you as her and Selena walked off.

You nodded your head as you pulled out your phone from your jeans. It was a text message from one of your brothers' roommates.

Toast Are you in L.A yet?

You Yeah, I just walked into my new apartment

You quickly typed out and hit send. You’ve been in contact with your brothers’ friends for a while now. You haven’t seen Thomas, or Sykkuno, in years and you wanted to surprise him during one of his streams.

He was streaming Proximity Chat Among Us with; Toast, Lily, Poki, Rae, Ludwig, Dream, Brooke, Jacksepticeye and Corpse. You were a fan of all of them.

You lived a couple blocks away from your brother and his friends which was very convenient for you, considering as the younger of the both of you it is your duty to be the most annoying human being possible. So random pop ups at his home would be much much easier.

Toast I told the lobby that I ordered delivery so they expect an interruption

You Ooooh big brain moment

Toast But I did actually order pizza, it’s pick-up so can you do me a favor and pick it up on your way

You I revoke my “big brain moment”

Toast sent you the address for the pizza parlor and the OfflineTV house.

“I’m gonna go surprise Thomas.” You called out into your apartment, “I promise I'll be back to help unload the stuff.”

“You better, considering you're the strongest one here.” Selena responded.

You chuckled and walked out of the door and into the hallway that led to the exit of your new home.

Your apartment only had two floors, you were lucky enough to score the bottom floor. It was two bedrooms and two bathrooms. The three of you slept in the smaller guest room. You had bought two bunk beds from Ikea that you planned on placing in that room.

In the master room was where everything Important was. Selena wanted to be a streamer, so her gaming set-up was in that room. Selena wasn't one of those well known streamers but she had a following. Addie wanted to be a model, so the majority of her clothes were in the master bedroom closet, whilst you and Selena shared the smaller closest in your shared room.

You on the other hand wanted to make music. All of your instruments were in the master bedroom. You owned an electric keyboard, a guitar, a bass guitar, a cello, and you just started learning how to play the ukulele.

The room set up plan was simple. You had two desks on opposite sides of the room. Selena would get the wall with the window if she ever planned on using more natural light. Selena's desk would hold her gaming set-up, she currently had two monitors, but she's saving up to buy a third.

Your desk had the latest IMac, it was a moving away gift from your family, everyone pitched in. You had an inexpensive but high quality microphone to record vocals.

In between the two desks you had a futon and coffee table gifted to you guys by Addie's grandma. Noise cancellation foam pads would coat the walls.

But you haven’t done any of that stuff yet considering everything was still in the U-Haul truck.

You walked out of the apartment whilst typing the address to your brothers home in your Waze app, you added the pizza parlor in as a stop.

You got into your SUV and started the car. You connected your phone to the bluetooth and shuffled one of your Spotify playlist.

White Tee by CORPSE began to blast through your speakers. You bopped to the rhythm and began to lip sync the lyrics.

~~~

It took you 30 minutes to collect the pizza and drive to your brothers house. You stood outside the door with the pizza balanced in your hand as you attempted to ring the doorbell.

You texted Toast beforehand so you hoped he was prepared and wouldn’t make you wait outside. You didn’t like being outside, it meant that people could see you. And you didn’t like that.

You stood outside for a couple of seconds before Toast finally opened the door.

“Finally!” You exclaimed as you pushed past him to enter his home.

“Welcome.” He said sarcastically.

“Where’s my brother's room!?” You asked excitedly.

Toast pointed you towards the direction of Sykkunos’ room and you went running.

You stood outside of his door all giddy and happy, apparently they were playing proximity chat among us. So if Sykkuno was next to anyone in- game they would surely hear you, as well as the rest of the offlinetv house.

You took a deep breath and shouldered the door open.

“I’VE GOT A PIZZA DELIVERY FOR THE BESTEST BIG BROTHER IN THE ENTIRETY OF THE WORLD!” You all but shouted, scaring him off of his chair.

He turned to look at you and his face of fear quickly morphed into one of pure happiness.

“I call him Thomas but apparently his stage name is Sykkuno. I wonder where he got that from.” You said, this time more calmly.

“Y/N!” Sykkuno said happily. He quickly got himself off the floor and tackled you in a hug.

“You know I would hug you back but like… I’m holding a pretty big pizza.” You told him. The smile on your face was so big it began to hurt your cheeks.

Sykkuno brought his hands to your shoulder and held you at arm's length. He looked you up and down.

“You’ve really grown.” He told you.

“Yeah.” You agreed, nodding your head, “You still look like a ten year old.” You said jokingly.

You laughed and he joined in. You placed the pizza down, and he led you towards his set up.

“We’re gonna need another chair.” He said looking around.

“No we don’t,” You said plopping down into his chair.

He gave you a weird look.

“I’m the guest.” You said waving your hand.

He didn’t say anything, he just looked you dead in the eyes. Right into your soul.

You felt a shiver run down your spine.

“I don’t like it when you do that.” You said as you stood from his chair.

“I only ever do it to you.” He said as he walked by you to reclaim his chair.

“That’s why I don’t like it.” You grumbled.

A couple of minutes later you got your own chair, they were even nice enough to give you a water bottle. You sat next to Sykkuno with one of his earbuds in your ear so you could hear what was happening in his game.

So far you’ve run into Rae, Poki, Toast and Lily and you told all of them about your relation to Sykkuno though Toast and Lily already knew.

Sykkuno passed by Jack and you were about to scream in the mic, but someone reported a body.

“Well now I’m disappointed.” You mumbled to yourself.

“The body was i-“

“What! Toast is dead!” You said shocked, “We were just with him.”

There was a moment of silence within the game.

“Who’s that?” Jack asked.

“Yeah,” The other players muttered in agreement.

“That’s my sister, Y/N.” Sykkuno said.

A gasp could be heard from almost everyone

“Sister!” Ludwig shouted over the gasps, “Sykkuno you didn’t tell me you had a sister. I thought we were best friends.”

“I’m not really his sister.” You told them.

“Yeah she’s my foster sister.” Sykkuno explained.

“When I was younger Sykkunos' family was my foster family, until I was adopted by a lovely couple in Chicago.” You said.

“We haven’t seen each other since her adoption.” Sykkuno continued.

“And that was. What? 10-ish years ago?” You finished turning to Sykkuno.

“Yeah around that time.” He answered.

You brought your water bottle up to your lips and began to drink.

“Well it’s great to meet you Y/N!” Brooke said excitingly.

A chorus of “nice to meet you” entered your ear, but a very distinct “what up baby” caused you to spit your water back into its bottle.

“What’s wrong?” Sykkuno asked as he looked towards you.

“That did something to my stomach.” Was all you said.

“The water?” Sykkuno questioned further.

You felt your face heat up.

“Yeah.” You said nodding your head. “It’s totally the water. It couldn’t possibly be for any other reason.” You said bring your hand up to hide your smirk with your knuckles.

You turned your head and saw the chat exploding with the word SIMP in all caps.

~~~

You were at Sykkunos house a couple of days after that incident. He was streaming Proximity Chat Among Us with the same lobby again. They were playing in Polus.

Corpse was telling the lobby about his day when you thought to yourself, “I wanna wake up to the sound of your voice.”

You scrunched up your eyebrows wondering why it got quiet all of a sudden before Sykkuno bursted into fits of laughter as well as the rest of the lobby.

It finally dawned on you that you said that out loud. Your eyes widened and your face began to heat up.

“That sounded so suggestive, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know I was speaking out loud.” You began to laugh with the rest of the group and Corpse joined in quickly after.

The game started and you were all calmed down.

“I still can’t believe I said that out loud.” You announced to the group. A few giggles left their mouths as well as your own.

“No but just imagine waking up at 7 am to Choke me like you hate me but you love me! Every single fucking day.” You said before bursting into laughter, the lobby joining in soon after.

Sykkuno was doing his tasks in O2 before he announced to his stream he had to use the bathroom.

“I’ll watch the game for you but I won’t play because… I don’t want to.” You told him as he muted his discord and got up from his chair.

“That’s fine.” He said and left the room.

You turned to his chat. They started bombarding you with questions.

“What’s your Instagram.” You read aloud.

“Oooh shameless plug, follow me on all of my socials @y/n, also subscribe to my YouTube channel “Y/N L/N” I make music…sometimes.” You answered.

“Do you simp for Corpse.” You read another.

You pursed your lips. “I’m not gonna answer that question, but I will confidently admit that I simp for Rae and Poki.” As you finished that statement, Corpses avatar walked into the room.

You reached over to Sykkunos Keyboard and un-muted his mic.

“Hey Corpse!” You chirped.

“Hey Y/N.” He replied. “Where’s Sykkuno?” He asked you.

“What, am I not good enough?” You asked with mock offense

He chuckled before speaking up. “No, I was just wondering.”

“He’s in the bathroom.” You answered. “I’m all by my little old self. Minus the stream of course.” You turned to smile at Sykkunos camera before focusing your attention on the game.

“Would you like some company?” He asked.

“I would love some company, thank you Corpse.”

He brought his Avatar to stand by Sykkunos.

“How’s your day?” He asked.

“Not very fun.” You answered thinking back to what happened this morning. “We were finishing building the second bunk bed, but I dropped one of the heavier parts on my foot, so that hurts.”

“Oh that sucks.” He stated.

“I know. How’s your day?” You asked him.

“Very uneventful, just writing some potential lyrics and stuff.” He said.

“Oh yeah you write your own music.” You responded. “How did I forget that.” You mumbled to yourself.

“What do you like to do for fun?” He questioned.

“Oh I make music, or do covers. Depends on how lazy I’m feeling.” You told him.

“You make music?” He asked. You could hear the shock in his voice.

You hummed in response. “Yeah I dabble in music production. I write a nice chunk of the music, but I have some other musical friends help me with other stuff. It’s not enough for me to be noticed by the big producers or record labels though.”

“You think you could show me some of your stuff?”

“Yeah!” You said excitedly. “Do you want me to send it through Discord, Insta or Twitter.” You said as you fished your phone out of your back pocket.

“Do discord.” He told you.

“Got it.” You pulled up your discord app as Sykkuno got back from the bathroom.

You already friended the lobby Sykkuno was playing in after your first meeting.

Sykkuno got back in his chair. “Alright I’m back.”

“I unmuted your mic by the way.” You told Sykkuno, your eyes glued to your phone. You had to send Corpse the perfect snippet. So far all your options were shit.

“Oh hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno said once he got situated.

“Hi Sykkuno.” Corpse replied, “I was just talking to Y/N, she’s great company.” He complimented you.

“I am good company,” You said looking up from your phone, “I wish my roommates thought that.” You muttered to yourself, apparently louder than you thought because Corpse began to chuckle.

You smirked slightly. The sound of Corpses’ laugh caused a blush to spread to your cheeks.

“Shouldn’t you two finish your tasks.” You coughed up, trying to hide your blush. “I mean you’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Does anyone ever do their tasks when they play proximity?” Sykkuno asked.

“Exactly.” Corpse agreed.

“I’m a very work oriented person so I probably would.” You told them. You finally found the perfect audio file to send Corpse.

“I hope he likes it.” You thought to yourself. You sent Corpse the file the same time a body was reported.

“I found Luds’ body in decontamination.” Rae said.

“Sykkuno and Corpse did nothing in o2 practically the whole round.” You told the lobby. The lobby has gotten used to you speaking up while they played.

“I was keeping a new friend company that's not exactly nothing.” Corpse said, trying to defend himself.

“It meant nothing to me.” You said, you were quiet for a few seconds before you spoke up again, “I’m sorry! That was mean! I didn’t mean it! Thank you for disregarding your tasks just to keep me company!”

The lobby broke out into laughter while you continued spewing out apologies.

~~~

The game ended quickly, turns out Poki and Rae were the imposters. You decided then to make your departure.

“I should probably head home.” You told the lobby, “The only food the girls know how to cook is pizza rolls, pizza bagels and ramen. And we promised each other we would start eating healthy.” You got up from your chair as the lobby was saying their goodbyes.

You exited Sykkunos room and walked towards the exit. You ran into Michael and Lily and said goodbye to them on your way out.

You reached your car and pulled out your phone, checking for notifications. You usually stay off your phone whenever you watch your brothers’ stream so you never know what's happening.

It turns out you had 10 missed calls from Selena, and over 100+ messages of her asking you to answer the phone.

You quickly got into your car and called your roommate.

The phone only rang twice before she answered.

“YOU'LL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT I JUST DID FOR YOU!” She screamed into the phone.

You brought your hand away from your ear and cringed at how loud she was being.

“That’s fun.” You muttered to yourself. You put your phone down in one of the cup holders and put it on speaker.

“What did you do exactly.” You asked aloud as you put your key into the ignition.

“So you remember that cute guy we ran into-” She began but you interrupted.

“NO!” You shouted. “I am not in the mood to go on dates. We are here in L.A to focus on our careers. I don’t have time for dating.”

Selena was quiet for a few moments before she spoke up.

“Okay, but if you meet him and start catching feelings but it's too late, just know it's not my fault.” She said before she hung up.

You sighed to yourself. You were not ready to go out on dates. Especially not after your last relationship.

You drove in silence for the majority of the way home until you got a discord notification on your phone. You waited until you reached a stop light to look at it. Apparently it was from Corpse.

CORPSE I loved the vocals I honestly wasn't expecting this type of music from you

You quickly typed out a reply while still paying attention to the road ahead of you.

You Thanks! I just thought you would like that type of sound so I decided to send that one

You hit send right as the lights turns green. You placed your phone back into the cupholder and began to drive. You got another discord notification, you assumed it was Corpse.

“He can wait 5 minutes.” You thought to yourself. Corpse may have peaked your interests but that doesn't mean you were willing to get into a car crash for him.

You quickly pulled into your apartment complex and ran into your home, phone in hand. You had gotten 3 discord notifications whilst you were driving. You quickly sat down on your couch in the living room and propped your feet onto the coffee table.

CORPSE I like how this is mixed and produced You have a great tone throughout the song Would you want to collab sometime?

You felt your heart leap into your throat.

“This couldn't possibly be happening.” You thought to yourself.

Corpse was very relevant in the music industry, he had told you during one of the Among Us games that many labels were reaching out to him. This collaboration with Corpse could make you a star!

You A collab with one of the most trending people in the world? Count me in!

CORPSE Great! we can meet up whenever you want to work out some lyrics

You smiled to yourself thinking of how many doors this could open for you. This could make or break your career.

“Holy shit.” You mumbled under your breath.

“Me and Corpse are making a song together!” You thought to yourself.

“What kind of Wattpad fanfic is this?” You said out loud as Selena and Addie came out of the Master Bedroom.

“Oooh what about Wattpad fanfics?” Selena asked, as she headed towards the kitchen.

“My life is a Wattpad fanfic.” You told her. You furrowed your eyebrows in thought, “Is this my existential crisis?”

“What?” Addie asked, very confused as she sat down on the arm of the sofa.

“What am I rambling about.” You turned to your roommates. “You’ll never believe what I just scored.” You told them excitedly.

“What?” Selena asked as she exited the kitchen a bag of chips in her hands.

“I’m going to do a collaboration with Mr. Corpse Husband himself.” You said proudly.

“No way!” Selena shouted, dropping her bag of chips on the floor. “You lucky bitch.” She said.

“You guys have only known one another for like 3 days.” Addie said.

“We’re making a song, not getting married.” You told her.

“Yet.” Selena said with a smirk.

“I’m going to bed.” You told them as you stood up from the couch.

“What!?” They said in unison.

“But it’s like 8 o'clock.” Addie finished.

“I know but I’m not in the mood to put up with the both of you.” You said as you left the living room.

“I only said one thing!” Selena complained.

“One too much.” You told her.

You walked down the hall and entered your shared room. You sat down at the foot of your bed and sighed.

“This is not at all what I expected when I told mom I was moving to Cali.” You threw yourself backwards.

“How are we gonna go about this?” You asked yourself. Were you and corpse gonna work together in person, were you gonna work over a discord call? You haven’t seen his face, you’re not sure if he’s seen yours yet. All these thoughts came and went inside your brain, it was starting to give you a headache.

You grabbed your pillow and brought it down on your face. You made a noise somewhere in between a groan and a whine when you heard you got another discord notification from your phone.

You reached around for your phone until you finally grabbed it and brought it up to your face. It was another message from Corpse.

CORPSE For making the song I was thinking maybe you could come over to my apartment because I remember how you once told the lobby that your roommates are very loud

YOU They are very loud And thank you for the invitation, I was just starting to wonder how we were gonna work together

CORPSE Here’s my address and number Wanna meet up on Sunday 3 o’clock?

“Sunday, Sunday, Sunday.” You thought to yourself, You’re pretty sure you don't have any plans that day. You typed out a quick reply before turning off your phone and going to sleep.

~~~

It was Sunday 12 o’clock you left your house with a nice hot cup of joe in your hands. Corpse lived 2 hours away so you wanted to leave early to hopefully grab some breakfast.

The night prior you placed your guitar in the back of your car, knowing you wouldn't remember to do it the morning of.

You got into your car and pulled out of your apartment complex. It was a long drive filled with random songs. You pulled into the first McDonalds you saw and ordered your usual.

When you were back on the road you had about 30 minutes before you would arrive at Corpse’s house. Which meant, using the power of mental math, you would get there 30 minutes early.

You grabbed your phone out of your bag keeping your eyes on the road. You opened up your contact list and scrolled through looking for Corpse. You found his name and gave him a call. You put your phone on speaker and put it into your cup holder. The phone rang about eight times before he answered.

“Hello.” He answered, his voice was deeper than usual.

“Did you just wake up?” You asked as you turned off the highway.

“Yeah, I got a good… 35 minutes.” He told you with a chuckle.

“Make yourself some breakfast. I should be there in about 30 minutes.” You told him with a smirk.

“Yes ma’am” He told you before he hung up.

“This is gonna be a long day.” You muttered to yourself.

~~~

Sykkunos Sisters Master list

Story Snippets/Master list

Taglist:

I couldn’t tag some people, if you are one of those people message me so we can hopefully tag you successfully. If you want to switch lists just ask :)

All Corpse fics:

@carlosoliveriaownsmyass, @cookiewhoree, @zunmie, @phriendophphrogs, @i-love-stamps-blog, @cupidsloverr, @cassie12435, @fivedicksinatrenchcoat, @mythicalamphitrite, @wiseflamingoqueen, @cherry-piee, @mono-has-a-gun, @ilovepizzaandimhot, @rambling-rabbit, @thecanterburywitch, @daisiesandmarvel, @brooklyn22, @and-claudia, @captainbuckyy

Sykkunos Sisters:

@punnypuppylove, @emsies-dream, @bbecc-a, @soft4kei, @penflop

#corpse husband #corpse simp #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse x you #corpse imagines #corpse fanfic #valkyrae #pokimane #jacksepticeye #spedicey #pewdipie #sykkuno #disguised toast #lilypichu

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theepisceswriter · 4 years ago

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Jealous!Reader with AOT characters pt.2 (Porco, Bertholdt, Pieck, Zeke)

A/N: y’all really liked the first one I made here, so here’s a pt.2 with different characters

TW: none really apply, sort of suggestive for Zeke, Modern AU, GN!reader

PORCO GALLIARD

I am a firm believer that in a modern AU, Porco and Reiner would be the type of people to go to sport restaurants like Hooters, Buffalo Wild Wings, or Twin Peaks. They give me that macho man type of vibe. Of course though, Porco would make you tag along with him almost every time he went. He feels that it’s a very nice way for the two of you to bond. Which honestly it is.

You have a deep sense of security within yourself and enough trust in Porco to not be bothered by the waitresses there, as you should, knowing that it’s only their job to be enticing like that. Hell, you even enjoy it when the waitresses would flirt with you sometimes or you’d get the really pretty ones who look like they’re straight off of a magazine. Not to mention that you visit places like this often, so most of them know you and know that you and Porco are in a relationship together.

They all respect your boundaries and don’t try to push at them at all.....until this one waitress comes around. You can quite obviously tell that her flirting is different from the “trained” flirting that the other girls often do. She lingers at your table a little longer than she should be trying to talk to Porco to the point where other waitresses have to tell her to go check on other tables and she’s disregarding you completely, asking Porco questions that should be aimed at you and being very rude in general.

Porco is hardly paying her any mind, too focused on the game to really pay attention to what’s going on, but any piece of attention he gives to her she latches on too it. But still, you remain cordial and calm on the inside. Not wanting to come off as one of those significant others and cause a scene that doesn’t need to be caused. If someone looked at you for too long they might notice an eye twitch or two coming from you.

Really it’s Porco’s hand holding underneath the table that’s keeping you sane and reminding you of how secure your position in your relationship is. You almost calm down entirely, but of course the waitress has to come back and try desperately to get his attention again. At one point he zones out into the game and to try and get his attention she attempts to tap him on his shoulder.

Strong on the attempt because you grabbed her wrist before she could even brush her fingers against his shirt and gave her a stern “Aht! Aht! That is not going to be happening tonight and definitely not in front of me.”

And Porco, this menace to society, finally speaks up like, “I was wondering when you were finally going to say something. I was getting afraid that I didn’t mean anything to you anymore.” He would’ve eventually intervened himself though if she was actually successful in touching him.

The waitress gets the hint for the rest of the night, but just incase she doesn’t he holds you close to his side with his arm draped over your shoulders.

BERTHOLDT HOOVER

Despite his soft spoken nature and personality that sometimes falls on the shy part of the spectrum, Bertholdt is actually an easy person to come up to and start a conversation with. Of course, you have to be the one to start the conversation, but after that it’s like he can’t shut up, likes he’s compelled to answer back to everything and keep a conversation going.

It’s a trait of his that you’ve come to love, but also come to hate on days when you’re out in public with him and can just see the twinkle in a girl’s eyes when she’s getting ready to come over to him to flirt. It’s usually in awkward situations too like when you’re out shopping and he’s standing off to the side because he has no business looking at what you’re shopping for, so the fact that he’s kind of alienated from you and doesn’t know how to respond to flirting all that well in the first place really has him in an awkward chokehold.

He’ll get asked for his number and instead of saying flat out no, because he doesn’t want to be harsh, he struggles to let words out at all as he tries to think of what to say. And people really prey on his shyness and don’t even give him the chance to respond before they’re forcing themselves on him more, handing their phone out to him just waiting to input a number.

Imagine the shock and anger on your face when you turn around from your shopping happy ready to show Bertholdt what you got and instead you see a girl trying to get his number! You’re over there in an instant, legs carrying you as fast as they can and a scold on your face as you go over there and the first thing you do is push that phone as far away from him as you can.

“I know my BOYFRIEND and something tells me that he is not interested in the direction this conversation is going with you whatsoever, so I suggest you leave him alone before I make you 😤” The girl leaves like immediately after that.

Bert is just behind you the whole time with a ☺️ look on his face like “Yes, that is indeed my significant other!” Which is so funny because he’s like 6’3 and towering over you, but you’re the feisty one!

He does feel kinda guilty for not cutting off the interaction before it got that far, so he wraps his arms around you and nuzzle his face into your neck all like, “I’m sorry baby 🥺🥺 you know I don’t like anyone else but you 🥺🥺 I was trying to tell them no thank you but it wouldn’t come out 🥺🥺”

You couldn’t stay mad at him even if you wanted to, that’s all it takes for you to forget about it altogether.

PIECK FINGER

It’s almost impossible to see someone as fine looking as Pieck and not shoot your shot. If I saw Pieck out in public the first thing I would do is shoot my shot.

It happens allll the time whenever you two go out. Out at the mall shopping for clothes? Someone’s going to come up to you two and try to hit on Pieck. At the club minding each other’s business and trying to have a good time? Some guy is going to come over and try to ruin that for you too.

At first it was like a bragging rights thing for you. Everyone noticed your hot girlfriend was hot but you were the one who went home to her everyday and not them, but at some point it switched from a bragging right to down right annoying. It’s like you can’t leave her alone for more than a couple of seconds because here comes someone breathing down her neck being a weirdo!

Poor Pieck doesn’t even know what’s going on half of the time because she be baked out of her mind, thinking about nothing but how some ruffles and ice cream can really hit right now. So she’s just going along with the conversation like “mhm, yeah ☺️” every ten seconds hoping that they’d get the hint that she’s not thinking about them at all and to leave her alone. But, of course, they don’t.

Her body language becomes stressed out and agitated, not knowing what to do because you’re in the gas station buying snacks for the two of you while she’s far away at the gas pumps doing her best to get an ending with this weirdo where they don’t kidnap her.

Luckily, just on time you exit out the gas station and even before you get any closer to Pieck you’re already pissed off at the fact that someone is probably hitting on her, but after you see her do that awkward little shuffle with her feet signifying that she’s uncomfortable? You’re over there in a heartbeat.

See, maybe you would’ve been a bit nicer if her body language didn’t tell you that they had been pestering her for a while despite how everything about her screamed ‘not interested.’

So what do you do? You take the bottle of sprite you bought and bop them on the head with it. Head empty no thoughts just ‘protect my stoner girlfriend.’

Pieck is so messy too, she’s in the background like “Ohhhhh shit *giggle* fight! Fight! Fight!” You were ready to rumble too, but if you were so ready to hit them in the head with a sprite bottle the other person definitely didn’t want to know what else you were confident with doing. So they recuperated from their sprite bottle hit and went running to their car.

This was a proud girlfriend moment for Pieck the whole drive home. She could not stop talking about how much of a badass you were and how she loved that you would do anything for her.

ZEKE JAEGER

I wrote soft Zeke already, so now it’s time for me to give y’all the menace Zeke y’all have been waiting for.

Zeke is the type of significant other who’s big on teasing and messing with his partner is general. There’s something about seeing them all flustered after he does something to embarrass them, like fake propose to them in public or something, that really cracks him up. That being said, he’s not opposed to flirting with someone in front of you to get you riled up and see your reaction.

Let’s set the scene; He drags you to Sam Ash with him, because we’ve all just collectively decided that modern day Zeke is a music pretentious asshole, to go get something for his guitar or at least that’s what you assume he was complaining about. You weren’t even listening, just excited to go and mess with the drums and guitars there. It’s the first thing you do once you get there and Zeke sees this as his opportunity to finally mess with you.

He goes over to the drum set display you’re playing on and calls over and employee with “inquiries” about the set you’re playing on. He pretends to ask a few genuine questions at first but eventually he’s able to get the conversation to shift to something a little more personal. Which isn’t terrible, but once he starts throwing out lines like “Oh you like (said band)? I’ve always found myself gravitating towards people who like them. They’re always the most attractive people, I’ve found 😏.” Is when you start getting agitated.

You’re just trying to play We Will Rock You on the drums and here he goes killing your vibe immensely. And it’s hard to ignore when they’re standing right on the side of you. Not to mention how the employee is eating all of this up, blushing and all. It’s at the first mention of numbers being exchanged that you’ve decided you’ve had enough. Without a word to Zeke you get up and storm out of the store.

Was this a dick move on his end? Absolutely, but you’re a couple who’s relationship is filled with debating and bickering, bickering especially, so part of him thought you would play along with his little game and be like “Whatever. I don’t care.” But instead, you were genuinely upset. You didn’t even know where you were going but you were going somewhere. And that somewhere was the outside of the Sam Ash store because you realized you really didn’t have a choice.

Sorry guys, but I have to switch over to soft Zeke now.

He comes running after you, “y/n! Y/n it was a joke!” But that just makes you even more mad and oops, a year drops down your face and he feels terrible.

Kisses all over your face, words of assurance spilling out his lips, and a tight ass beat hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m such a dick I know. I didn’t mean to make you this upset though.” He would get down on his knees if he had to!

I guess you can forgive him just this once, but only on the terms that you get Sub!Zeke tonight and get to act as a pillow princess/prince cause he has a lot of making up to do.

#sorry if there are any typos i was kinda rushing #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #porco galliard x reader #bertholdt hoover x reader #pieck finger x reader #zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #aot imagines

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caiuscassiuss · 4 years ago

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oppa! | ot7 (prologue)

Description: Being raised by a caring yet distant father, a close, tight-knit family is the one thing you have craved in your short life. After your adventurer father remarries a rich woman, you’re stuck with seven new brothers. Seven very hot, very different men.

This is not what you meant by family.

(Based on the anime and game Brother’s Conflict, but with a twist.)

Prologue

Genre: Fluff | romance | later angst and smut. PG

WC: 2k

Warnings: For this chapter, none other than cursing.

(After some readers wanted me to post Oppa! on Tumblr, I have delivered! I really hope y’all like this haha)

[ The prologue delivers hints on who each brother will be. These hints will be bolded. Some will be very apparent, some will not. ]

Rubbing your head, your eyes glazed over the notes you took from yesterday’s lecture in preparation for today. Were you on drugs when you wrote these? It looked like chicken scratch. Was that drool in the corner?

Your ears perked up at the strains of loud music coming out of your friend’s Airpods. Hyerim, your closest friend at University, seemed oblivious as she bopped her head to the hard beat. Several classmates around the lecture hall noticed too, yet weren’t as accommodating as you and sent judgemental looks towards Hyerim.

“Hyerim,” you whispered, aware that class was starting in a few minutes. She didn’t respond, still nodding along to the music.

Pursing your lips, you plucked the small pod out of her ear. “Hyerim, your music—”

She gasped, eyes lighting up in excitement. “You liked it? Okay, so I was listening to this random rapper on SoundCloud—”

“Your music's too loud —” you hissed.

“—but the real feature is the producer, who made this beat. His name is Yoongi—” Hyerim continued on obviously, caught up in her own world.

“—that’s lovely, but can you turn your music down—” you pestered, looking around worriedly.

“—but his producer name is Gloss and he’s so talented and hot and his voice —”

Seeing the majority of the seats in the hall being filled up, you clamped your palm over her lips. She let out a whimper, finely shaped brows frowning at you.

“Have you not noticed the five separate glares you are currently getting at this moment?” you said between gritted teeth, enunciating each constant hard. You stared down each person around you who was giving Hyerim looks and, embarrassed, they averted their eyes and busied themselves with something.

“Oh wait, what?” Hyerim exclaimed. Closing a fist over her AirPod, the music continued and her eyes widened as she realized how high she had turned up the volume.

Hyerim turned to the person on her other side. “I am so sorry,” she said apologetically, the random student smiling awkwardly in acceptance.

Rolling your eyes with an unbidden smile poking at the edge of your lips, you turned back to the disaster of your notes. How were you supposed to understand this lecture when you barely wrapped your head around the last one? However, you honed in on your Calculus woes to ignore how your phone burned in your pocket and the latest text you got from your father...

So focused on your lamentation, you didn’t notice the boy behind you clear his throat. Nor did you notice the second or third time he did, each one getting progressively louder. As you attempted to retrace the argument on your paper, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Excuse me?”

Whipping your head around, you craned your neck upwards to see where the tap had come from. To your surprise, you saw a very cute-looking boy, bangs pulled into a top knot, smiling apologetically at you from behind you.

“Hi! Yeah, do you need anything?” you smiled.

A blush rose on his chiseled cheekbones and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m super sorry to bother you about this, but I dropped my charger right next to your chair. I- uh, would you mind—?”

“Of course! No worries, it happens,” you comforted, bending down to get the coiled white wire from where your bag sat. “Here you go.”

He got up from his seat to hunch over the lecture hall desk to meet you in the middle. You eyed the large difference between each of your hands’ as you handed back the charger, as well as how huge his shoulders seemed up close.

“T-Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” you replied, turning around to open your laptop.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Hyerim’s mouth partially open in disbelief.

“You need something?” you prodded.

“I—” she took a glance at the boy behind you, as if confirming something— “I’ll tell you later.”

Shrugging, you zeroed in at the lecturer at the front of the hall.

“Alright, so what was that about?”

Your Calculus lecture had just ended, and the two of you were in the mob of students leaving the lecture halls to get to lunch.

Hyerim looked surreptitiously around, black bangs swishing around her face. She leaned in like she was about to share the juiciest piece of gossip, and you unconsciously did so too.

“Did you know who that is?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

You felt your forehead crease and you gave her a look. “No, I did not.”

“Really?!” Hyerim pitched her voice high in disbelief.

You gave her a dry look.

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Sometimes, I swear you’re in your own world, Y/N.”

Incredulous, you opened your mouth to argue but she waved a hand in front of you.

“That was Jeon Jungkook, Y/N! How do you not know him?”

“Oh yeah,” you snapped your fingers. “He’s that Streamer dude, right? He games and shit.”

Hyerim nodded slowly.

However, you frowned. “I heard he was intimidating and cold and stuff. Are you sure that was him? Charger boy was super nice.”

“That’s the point! It was Jung Jungkook and I have never seen him acting this soft. What did you do, ma’am? Snap him? Flash him?”

“Who do you think I am?” you sputtered. “All I was doing was thinking about how much I hated Calculus, not— not seducing someone!”

Your friend gave you a suspicious look, but decided to let go of the topic. Shaking your head, you walked past the gates of Yonsei university and into the city proper on the lookout for your favorite food place. The beeping of horns, buzzing chatter, and the small of smog filled the air as you zig-zagged between side streets to avoid busy roads.

“Excuse me,” you muttered as you pushed your way through a mob of women all entranced by something above you. Since they were not moving, you huffed and decided to see what was worth all the hype.

It was a huge, flashing LED billboard that was the central focus of the square. On it, a very sensuous looking man with blond hair and a velvet, tight-fitting suit doing some very slick moves in a dark concert hall.

Happy Birthday Jimin! It read in bright white font.

“Wah, oppa is so handsome!” a woman, who must’ve been 5 years older than the man on the screen squealed behind her white medical mask. “I’m so glad our ad turned out well.”

Her friends agreed and ooh and aahed along with her. You turned around to see if Hyerim was following you but she stood, entranced, with the mob of women on the sidewalk.

“You can thirst over him later, preferably when I am well fed,” you snapped irritably, pulling at the pink flowy material of her blouse.

She pouted but acquiesced, taking your hand as you dragged her though the intersection. All you were focused on were some good dumplings, after the mental aerobotics Calculus had forced on you and the emotional stress your father was putting you through. As you turned the corner, you breathed a sigh of relief as you saw no line.

Nestled between a large office building and a parking deck, this tiny Japanese restaurant was a favorite among Uni students for its cheap prices and good food. You usually had to arrive here early to beat the line of students and office workers that gathered here for their dinner breaks.

The cute sign that said Umaido flashed brightly above your head as you entered the restaurant. To the side of the main sigh, a smaller print reading “by the RM Group” glowed, subdued.

Waving over a pimply teen, you ordered two servings of gyoza and waited for Hyerim. She ordered a very conservative meal of sushi and some salad, and you both watched the waiter retreat. Something glossy caught the attention of your eye, and you saw some magazines on the shelf next to your head. The main one in the middle, which looked like a new age artsy publication with a cult following, was simply titled with a white V at the bottom corner.

Like a robot that was powered off, you collapsed in your seat and put your head in your hands. You really did not want to look at your phone.

“Was Calculus really that bad?” Hyerim winced in sympathy, neatly patting your head.

“It isn’t Calc,” you mumbled. “It’s Dad.”

Her expression turned down even more. “What happened?”

Lifting your head from your arms, you propped your chin on your palm and looked out the window. “You know, you’d expect for someone to give you important news in person or at least over a phone call, right?”

“Yeah?” Hyerim asked, lips pursed in confusion.

“Like, if you got remarried or something , you would at least tell your loved ones in person or at least over the phone, right ?”

“... Shit, Y/N.”

Fumbling for your phone in your bag, you ignored the notifications and pulled up your latest conversation. “Look what he texted me this morning!”

Hyerim took your phone and scrolled through it with a manicured fingernail.

Dad : I wish I could call you, but I’m somewhere with limited service.

Dad : I just wanted to let you know I got remarried to this amazing woman, Kim Seoyeon, a few days ago. We met and just clicked, something I haven’t felt since your mom.

Dad : She has seven sons, all of them are grown up. I’m worried about you living on your own, so I’d like you to move in with them. Details coming soon. Love you.

Hyerim was speechless, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I’m sorry, what?”

“My dad has gotten spontaneously remarried to some random woman and now wants me to move in with her sons. Like, geez, it’s not like life changing news was delivered to me in less than a hundred words!” you hissed, voice getting higher and tinged with a bit of hysteria.

“Your dad sucks,” Hyerim pronounced, taking a pointed sip of her iced water. “Seriously.”

“Hey, my dad is not that bad,” you defended. “It’s just… he’s a bit distant. Absent-minded. But he’s cared for me in the best way he could.”

“You and I have very different definitions of what constitutes good parenting, Y/N. This man left you largely on your own since you were five, and now he gets worried about you living on your own? Something's not right,” Hyerim retorted.

Ignoring her in favor of the food that arrived, you practically inhaled twelve of the fried gyoza. Rolling her eyes at your typical running-away behavior, she primly dipped a piece of sashimi in soy sauce and took a dainty bite.

“So? What’s the plan? Are you going to stage a rebellion and stay in your apartment, or go stay with some random men?”

Your response was cut off as cheers broke out from the corner of the restaurant, where a large group of men and women were huddled together.

“Cheers to our National win!” a man announced, his face already a bit flushed. “To Neuron!”

“To Neuron!” the group cheered loudly, and lifted up their shot glasses in celebration.

“To our leader, J-Hope!” the same man pronounced brightly, some sake sloshing over the tip of his cup.

“Hoseok!” the group whooped louder, more rounds going around.

As their cheers quieted down, you turned back to Hyerim. “I don’t know. I think I’ll decide when I meet them. They could either all be idiots or they could be chill. I really hope for the latter.”

“Good plan, good plan.”

An awkward silence permeated the booth since both of you were at a loss to say something.

“Onto lighter things, “ Hyerim forced out brightly, clapping her hands. “Let me tell you about my younger brother’s really hot doctor. His name is Dr. Kim and he’s tall and…”

As Hyerim continued to babble on about the tall, handsome pediatric doctor, you felt a buzz in your pocket.

Dad: Their address is 111 Hannam-dong, Yongsan-su

Dad: They’re ready for you.

Can you guess who each stepbrother is and what they do? Comment below!!

Arc 1: Stepbrother Introductions will be released on February 15th at 8pm ET. It’s about ~15k words of getting to know these boys. Please look out for it!

#btswriterscollective #btsgoldnet #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #namjoon x reader #jin x reader #hoseok x reader #bts fluff #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #stepbrother au #bts imagine #bts poly au

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kuroos-moon · 4 years ago

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Pretty Setters’ Regrets After Breakup

Part Two of ‘Breakup Prank With Pretty Setters Who Actually Want to Break Up’

Pairing: Kageyama x reader, Atsumu x reader, Akaashi x reader

Warnings: more angst & heartbroken setters

Wc: 2.9 k words

Kageyama Tobio || Walk You Home

He regrets everything with all of his being, he simply wants you back, to hold your hand as you walk home and to listen to your steady breaths as you lean on his shoulder and take a nap during lunch. But it isn’t that simple anymore, you were always with some guy from the basketball team.

He would secretly hope that you’d say hi to him or even look his way at least as you both pass by each other in the crowded hallways. He also hoped that he was the one you’d be looking for during lunch, cutely bopping in your head inside their classroom’s doorway, eyes alight as you search for someone— but it wasn’t him, at least not anymore.

One night, in the loud and noisy basketball gym, he wasn’t surprised at all to see you there—loudly cheering for your precious boy, giving him water and a towel every single time he approaches you between breaks. It was an eyesore, his chest hurt, he was in pain. You used to do all those things with him and a lot more, but why in the world did he let you go? He was a dick, that’s why.

With a sigh, he makes his way towards you, hands inside the pockets of his jacket. “Y/n,” he says to get your attention, and he was almost knocked out when your eyes meet his, it’s been too long since your beautiful e/c eyes stared back at his black ones. You look at him in surprise, what does he even want with you?

“Can we talk outside?” He asks and you nod at him. You silently follow him from behind, and when you reached outside you realized it was already dark and you knew you had to go home. “What is it Tobio?” You ask him, it even hurt to say his name, the pain from that night resurfacing.

“I miss you y/n,” he says in a small voice, looking away from you as a faint blush adorned his cheeks- expressing how he feels was never his forte after all. “What?” You ask with wide eyes, you heard him fine but it was quite a surprise, not once have you heard him say that to you.

“I miss you. I miss you so much, I just want to be with you again. Come back to me y/n, I won’t let you down this time,” he says in a soft pleading voice that tugged right at your heartstrings. You wanted that too, in fact, you ached for it; but you’ve already let him go—you’ve met someone you knew was going to treat you better.

“I don’t want you back,” you say, looking away because it wasn’t entirely true. You missed him too, but things can’t go back to the way they were.

He didn’t know what to say, so the both of you merely stand there in silence, preoccupied with your thoughts, before you finally decided you were done waiting for him to say something. “I’m going back inside Tobio, take care of yourself,” you say with a small smile before turning around to walk away.

Without saying anything, he tightly grips your wrist. He doesn’t even know why he did that, he just knew that if you left now, it’d be permanent and just giving it a thought brought him misery he never felt before. “Let me go, Tobio, you’re making this harder for the both of us,” you sigh.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he shamefully admits. “It’s dark, just let me walk you home and I’ll never bother you again,” he says in defeat, his own words clawing at his heart. Before you could even respond, you’re both interrupted by the sound of footsteps getting closer to where the both of you stood.

“Y/n-chaan! You waited!” A cheerful voice calls and his stomach drops when you don’t spare him another glance as you free your wrist from his hold and walk towards the guy. “Let’s go home?” You ask him, and he could only stare at your backs as you both walked away.

He looks down on the ground, tears wetting his cheeks because this was an all too familiar scene. You waiting until after practice, going home together, talking about all sorts of things while holding each other’s hands for warmth, he knew how this all played out. You’re happy, you’re in love. He knew it all too well because he used to be the guy you looked at that way.

Miya Atsumu || Hold Me Again

“Where are you even going?” Osamu asks his twin who was holding your favorite flower in hand. “To finally get my girlfriend back,” he sighs as he paid no mind that his brother was following him. He regrets what he did that day, he knew he was hurting and he knew he was being stupid but he was in denial— he stupidly wanted to believe he made the right choice.

But look at him now, no longer able to lie to himself as he makes his way over to the school grounds, your friends said you were probably there. He was going to win you back, no matter what you say to him— he’ll take it all, he deserves it anyway. He comes to an abrupt stop though when he sees you, Osamu running into his back in the process.

“What?” He asked his brother who was petrified to the spot. Atsumu’s eyes were wide in pure disbelief, how could you be kissing someone else? He couldn’t bring himself to accept it at all, he was confused and puzzled, he was simply incapable of processing what he’s seeing right now.

Wasn’t he the only guy you’ve ever kissed? The only guy you’ve ever loved? So why? He felt so overwhelmed with all kinds of emotions flooding in, his mind was a wreck and his chest felt so tight; but his attention shifts when Samu places a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t wanna state the obvious but I think you’re a little too late,” Samu tells him and he simply shoves his hand away. There’s no such thing as too late, he could force himself to forget the sight of you kissing someone else, and then you’ll both be happy together just like you once were.

You look at him questioningly when he makes his way over to you, you also didn’t fail to notice that he was holding your favorite flower he always got you back then. You sensed this wasn’t going to go well but luckily, the guy you were with tells you he had some stuff to do so he walks away.

“Ah, it’s good that he left,” Atsumu smiles loop-sidedly as he stood in front of you. “What do you want Tsumu?” You ask him and your breath hitches when he suddenly tugs at your hand and brings you against his chest and wraps his arms around you. Your arms were limp at your sides and you were speechless, but his all too familiar warmth, his scent, and the way he hugs you with his chin rested on top of your head— it broke you all over again and you find yourself crying.

He was alarmed, but he doesn’t pull away, he just holds you tighter. He caused this, he caused your heartbreak, but he was going to make it up to you. You cry for quite a while, and the whole time he securely has his arms around you, rubbing your back gently. But as you calmed down, some sense finally found its way to your head, “Let me go Tsumu,” you whisper.

“Y/n I’m so sorry,” he sighs as he kisses the top of your head, still not letting you go. “I was an asshole, I took you for granted, I really love you y/n and I will never stop loving you, so please,” he begs. “Let’s be together again.”

“I’m done loving you,” you sigh, and you felt him tense against you. “I’m happier without you, and I just want to move on.” He didn’t want to believe a word you said but he knew you meant it, his brother was right.

“Let go of me,” you firmly say as you attempt to push at his chest, but he doesn’t budge. He felt numb inside but at the same time he also felt so weighted down, like he was carrying something too heavy, maybe it was his guilt or the pain of losing you— he doesn’t care, he just felt so desperate.

“Hug me back y/n,” he pleads. “Please, just hold me like you used to, I’ll be happy with it even if it’s for the last time, I swear,” he begs, losing sense of his pride.

“Well your happiness really isn’t anything of my concern anymore,” you snap before succeeding on pushing him away. He just looks at you with wide eyes, surprised that you actually pushed him off. He searches your eyes for any hint of love and affection left for him, but there was none and it broke him. “Goodbye Tsumu,” you say in a quiet voice before walking away.

Somehow, he found himself on his knees, the events a while ago still hasn’t sunk in; but he gets up after a while, his mind blank as he makes it through the day. He found it ironic that he was never hugged back, just as how he didn’t hug you back that day you hang onto him. Oh, what he’d give for just another one of your warm embrace and a glimpse of the loving look in your eyes instead of the cold ones that looked back at him earlier.

If only he knew how important you were to him, if only it didn’t take for you to leave before he realized it.

Akaashi Keiji || Let You Go

It has been months since that day, and little by little, you started becoming friends again, that’s where you both started at after all. He was happy for you, you were genuinely happy and you’ve move on with someone else; but what was he gonna do with the regret he felt and the realization that he did love you in a romantic way?

Akaashi had rarely ever been selfish in his life, and he was much more selfless when it came to you. So he embraced the pain and accepted the reality that he was the one that let you go, and he was the one who gets to suffer in the end. He simply did everything he could to be someplace else when you were with your new boyfriend, but in occasions he couldn’t escape, he’d smile a bittersweet smile as he sees you being so affectionate with someone that was no longer him.

Class has just ended, and he didn’t have practice. He was extra gloomy today because he had to sit across the both of you all through lunch, he envied how he could hold your hand and kiss your cheek but he also beat himself up for it, considering his feelings invalid.

He sees you as he exits the school’s doors, you were sitting down on the top stair and he can’t help but smile to himself. You were so pretty, your h/c hair has also gone a bit longer, for a moment he remembers that one time in your bedroom— he was behind you, brushing your hair as you told him about your day. Dismissing such a depressing memory, he stands beside you and you look up at him.

“Kaashi!” You say with a wide smile and he smiles back at you, ruffling your hair. “Come, sit down, we haven’t talked in a while,” you tell him. So he sat down beside you, knowing all too well that he was gonna be in much more pain later on but he simply can’t pass up the opportunity to be with you.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, the sunset illuminating the side of your face in a golden red glow— it made his heart flutter, his breath hitch. You were too breathtaking. He didn’t mean to be selfish at all, he wasn’t thinking when he did it; when he suddenly leaned in towards you, gently stroking your cheek with the back of his hand before finally kissing you.

It was all short-lived as he snapped out of his trance and pulls away. “Y/n, I- I’m sorry, I didn’t- I wasn’t thinking,” he stutters, feeling so guilty at what he had just done. To his surprise though, you lean your head on his shoulder and he stiffens.

“I’m sorry, allow me to be like this. I just can’t look at you right now Keiji,” you mutter and though you can’t see him, he merely nods. “If I do, I might just come running back to you, we don’t want that, do we?” You say with a chuckle, and a surge of hope bubbled up within him.

“Can we really not go back to the way we used to be, y/n?” He asks, ignoring the guilt he felt inside because he knew this was such a selfish thing to want and ask for. “I loved you Kaashi, and maybe I still do,” you sigh. “But I’m happy with him, and I love him more than anyone else,” you confess and he just stares ahead and lets out a long breath.

“Is everything okay Kaashi?” You ask, pulling away to look at him. This time, he was the one to lean his head on your shoulder, not wanting you to look at him with such a sad face. “Let’s stay like this for a second,” he mumbles. “Akaashi, stop, it’s unfair for him. You’re making my heart flutter,” you shamefully admit.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he closes his eyes, he can’t bear with the pain in his chest anymore but he still wanted to be with you just a little longer. “Just for a while y/n,” he pleads. “And after that I promise to let you go,” he softly says before silent tears rolled down his cheeks, somehow unfairly escaping his closed eyes even though he closed them as an effort to avoid them from falling.

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcanons #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! headcanons #hq #kageyama tobio #akaashi keiji #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #kageyama x reader #akaashi x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu!! angst #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #hq scenarios

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gukyi · 5 years ago

Text

if i told you | jjk

summary: in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

{friends to lovers!au, college!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, angst, we’ve got it all folks word count: 22k warnings: slightly underage alcohol consumption, mention of words that could be spoken on an crime documentary series but nothing graphic, ravioli-stealing, idiots to lovers, as per usual a/n: finally! here is the long awaited jungkook fic that i have literally been slaving over since the beginning of january. was this fic supposed to be 10k? yes. did i somehow end up writing 22k anyway? of course! in any case, please enjoy my absolute baby who i love and cherish!

check out the post-script drabble here!

Jeon Jungkook loses his job at the university call center on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year.

You know this because on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 2:07PM, seven minutes after he normally starts his job at the university call center.

He’s lucky that you’re the only one who doesn’t have class in the 2PM hour.

“Y/N!” He shouts through the thin wooden door, his voice probably echoing down the thin hallway of your apartment complex.

You open it before the second knock—you only rush to the door to get him to shut the fuck up, and not because you’re excited to see him, you swear—to see him standing on the other side, XXL university hoodie draped over his figure, down to his mid-thigh, baggy hood pulled over his head like a sad college-aged Star Wars character. He looks exactly like a jaded sophomore year college student would. He is beautiful.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the call center right now?” You ask in lieu of a normal “hello” or even a “what the fuck are you doing here, it’s 2PM”. Jungkook does not wait for you to invite him inside your apartment, immediately kicks off his shoes by the entrance and tugs on your apartment slippers that are a size-and-a-half too small for his feet, and marches over to your shared fridge to fish through the tupperware containers with your name written on Post-it notes for a mid-afternoon snack.

Jungkook waits until he’s got an entire piece of frozen supersized ravioli shoved into his mouth before he responds. “I was fired,” he says over a mouthful of pasta and cheese.

“What?” You ask, eyes widening as Jungkook shuffles through your kitchen drawers for a fork, which means that the first piece of ravioli that he ate he did so with his bare ass hands. Like a heathen. Like a ravioli-craving twenty-year-old heathen.

“I was fired,” Jungkook repeats. He stares at the microwave resting on your kitchen counter for a good ten seconds before he continues to eat the cold, unheated pasta. Every time he’s in your apartment (which is frequently), he tells you how it’s a fire, water, and explosive hazard to have your microwave on the counter like that. As if there is any other place in your apartment for it to go. Maybe out on the tiny balcony you have that overlooks the busiest street on campus.

“Care to offer an explanation as to why?” You ask, coming up next to him. Jungkook is nearly finished with your tupperware of ravioli, and normally you’d shout at him for it, but seeing as he was just fired from his only source of income as a money-starved college student, you’ll cut him some slack. Just a little.

“You remember that old, angry alumnus that told me that asking for donations in order to benefit low-income-slash-first generation students was selfish and rude of me, and that I wouldn’t be in college if it weren’t for what his generation accomplished?” Jungkook asks.

You remember that vividly. Jungkook spent an approximate two hours and thirty-seven minutes on FaceTime with you ranting about this one “old man bitch” who he had to speak to during his day at work, all while you did your economics problem set to the sweet, mellifluous sound of Jungkook’s shrill shrieks.

“The one you lost your temper at and shouted at for being ungrateful and elitist?” You ask pointedly. You have a feeling you already know where this conversation is going.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes. He finishes the ravioli (goddamnit, now you’re going to have to find something else to eat for dinner at 11PM tonight) and turns around to place it in the sink. For once, it is not piled high with dishes from up to a week ago, so Jungkook even squirts a bit of Dawn onto a sponge and washes the plastic container for you. “Well, as it turns out, telling an old racist elitist that he’s old, racist, and elitist does not go down well with my boss.”

“Why does that not surprise me,” you muse. Jungkook sighs, walking over to where you’re taking it easy on the couch. “Oh no,” you say, eyes widening as he grins, plotting something. “Do not, Jungkook. Jungkook, do not!”

He jumps, catapulting himself onto the couch and landing on top of you with a thud. You let out a groan as the weight of his body hits you, foreheads nearly knocking into each other. Jungkook is a good foot-and-a-half too long for this dinky leather couch that’s always sort of smelled, feet and ankles hanging off the opposing arm rest just so he can nuzzle his face into the crook of your shoulder like he always does. You hate when he does this. Hate when he jumps onto the couch while you’re casually reclining just so he can collapse on top of you. Hate the feeling of his body resting against yours, soft breathes against the skin of your neck. Hate how it always makes you want more, how it will never be enough.

“Have you been working out?” You mumble against the fabric of his t-shirt. “You’re more muscle-y than usual.”

“I added weights to my routine,” Jungkook tells you mindlessly. If your roommates walked into your apartment right now and saw the both of you on the couch, you’d never hear the end of it. “Taehyung said it would make me more swole.”

“As if you need to be any more buff,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Jungkook’s the most athletic person you’ve ever met in your entire life. He could probably pick up your dinky couch with you sitting on it without batting an eyelash. Even Superman would tremble at the sight of him. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Jungkook mutters into your skin. “God, what the fuck am I gonna do now? I need money to pay for everything in my life and my one source of income is now totally invalid because an old guy got what he deserved.”

“Are there any work-study positions still available?” You ask, hand reaching up to stroke at his hair, smoothing it down. Jungkook’s preferred cuddling position is big spoon, but he still demands that he be coddled as though he were the little spoon.

“No,” Jungkook says with a huff, “they’ve all been snagged by try-hard freshmen who need money like me.”

“I distinctly recall you being a try-hard freshman who also needed money,” you tell him. “That’s why you applied to work at the call center, isn’t it?”

Jungkook sits up, the weight of his figure crushing your legs as he rests on top of them. If you stayed like this forever, you’d probably lose feeling in your lower body, but you’d also get to stay with Jungkook forever, which is a trade-off you would genuinely consider. “Yeah, but the call center hires everybody. You just need to be like… decent at communication. And I’m pretty decent at communication.”

“You never text me back,” you tell him pointedly.

“That’s because I prefer showing up unannounced at your apartment or other places you frequent,” Jungkook reminds you excitedly. He’ll never let you forget about the time you were wrapping up a small seminar with your history professor and Jungkook burst through the doors with a whole thing of carrots and hummus because you had texted him that you were hungry. You could not look your history professor in the eye for the rest of the semester. “I’d say that’s pretty decent communication.”

“Well, you’re going to have to figure out another way to market your decent communication skills to get another job,” you tell him. “Have you considered the boba place on Oak? You could get me employee discounts.”

Jungkook leans over just to pinch at your cheek, fingers gripping onto your face and pulling like a grandmother. “You just want me for my money.”

“You’re my best friend, Jeon Jungkook,” you tell him. “Of course I do.”

This is what Jeon Jungkook’s obligatory university Facebook group introduction post read:

Hi, I’m Jungkook and I’m thinking of majoring in visual studies or computer science (really different lol I know)! I played soccer in high school but don’t think I’ll be continuing in college because I was pretty bad at it. I’m looking for a roommate and I’d really like to live in New East House, but anything works for me as long as it has a bed. Hit me up if you think we’d made a good match, but I like talking with everyone lol.

I’m really into music and can play the guitar, drums, and piano. I like listening to all types of music (yes, even country which slaps kinda hard sometimes) but my favorites are The 1975, Frank Ocean, Troye Sivan, and Khalid. Will bop to Justin Bieber on occasion as well.

I play Ultimate and am really interested in joining the club team here so hit me up and we can practice sometime because my skills are a little rusty. I also do a little skateboarding but I am definitely not a skater.

Hit me up if you think we can be friends lol I’m excited to meet you all!

It was accompanied by several pictures, a couple of which are selfies at that anime girl angle, one of him with his friends at prom all doing that Frat Boy pose, and a couple of him with his family. To an outsider doing a very quick glance, it pretty much reads the same as a rather extensive dating profile.

The truth of it all is, as you were scrolling through the hundreds of obligatory university Facebook group introduction posts in search of a freshman year roommate, you stumbled upon Jungkook’s intro post and you thought this: No. Way.

The moment you laid eyes on his first above-the-head angle selfie, you knew that it would be unlikely that you and Jeon Jungkook’s paths would ever cross. He played guitar and did Ultimate Frisbee, and you wanted to audition for your university’s symphony orchestra. He was beautiful but in that sort of college frat boy who can crush you at beer pong kind of way. Craziest of all, he was a computer science major, and you were walking in as an undecided humanities concentration.

Impossible. There was no way the two of you would ever meet, and you accepted that right off that bat. At a school your size, you would go through these four years not knowing a majority of your class. Jeon Jungkook was just one of the casualties.

On the very first day of orientation, Jeon Jungkook comes up to you on the sidewalk, wearing a white t-shirt, a backwards baseball cap, and shorts, and asks you if you’re here for orientation as well? He’s lost.

Jeon Jungkook is the type of guy you imagine getting eaten up by any girl who meets him almost immediately. He’s charming and endearing the same way a baby deer is, but has no problem wearing clothes that remind you of how fit he is. He is, for lack of a better term, extremely good looking.

“Yeah,” you had said on the sidewalk, squinting to look up at him since the sun was in your eyes. “I’m heading to the auditorium right now. Wanna walk with me?”

“Okay, sure,” Jungkook had replied, smiling with all of his teeth. Even in the sweaty summer heat, he looked even nicer in person. “Thanks, by the way. I’m Jungkook. What’s your name?”

You knew that already. How could you have forgotten?

You had grinned up at him. The universe has always worked in mysterious ways. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

When Jungkook doesn’t know what to do, he stress eats. Most often, you are the single witness to this action, which has literally no effect on his body mass whatsoever since he immediately burns off every calorie (and then some) at his next gym session.

That is precisely why you are sitting in the second-best dining hall on campus eating a pretty measly salad and french fries, while Jungkook returns from the serve-yourself cafeteria with his sixth plate of food. Next to you is your mutual friend Chaewon, a filthy rich international student from Korea who is probably the nicest person you’ve ever met.

“I think I’ve called every cafe, bubble tea shop, clothing store, and paid internship within a five-mile radius of this place and nothing,” Jungkook says with a sigh, keeping Chaewon updated with his job-search antics. It’s been several days since he was fired, and while being keenly cognizant of your bank account isn’t necessarily a bad thing, when it means that Jungkook refuses to leave campus because he is in hyper-saving mode, it sort of rustles your jimmies.

“Have you tried babysitting?” Chaewon supplies helpfully.

You laugh aloud at the mere thought of Jungkook stuck in some middle-aged parent’s house with their toddler for hours on a night where he could be living it up on campus. Jeon Jungkook? A babysitter?

“Wow, what the heck is wrong with me being a babysitter?” Jungkook questions, offended.

“First of all, you don’t even let me beat you in Mario Kart on your Switch and I am your best friend. If you ended up gaming with a four-year-old boy, your over-competitiveness would take over you and you’d crush the poor kid and his spirit,” you remind him pointedly. Not to mention the fact that the man cannot cook to save his life, and you can’t even entrust him with microwave dinners because of his irrational fear of modern oven technology.

Jungkook pouts. He knows you’re right.

“It’s not like you were going to look into babysitting, anyway,” you say with a shove, nudging his shoulder with your own.

Jungkook sighs, and despite all of the shit you give him on a daily basis (part of the responsibility of being his best friend), you do genuinely feel bad for him. Even if his job at the call center wasn’t the most intellectually stimulating nor morally rewarding, he didn’t absolutely hate it and he made a pretty decent earning off of it. He unzips his backpack and fumbles for his laptop, opening it up to reveal a Google Chrome window with approximately thirty-seven tabs open of places to work on and around campus. Meanwhile, Chaewon’s phone buzzes on the table, and she heaves out a great, exasperated exhale before picking up and immediately launching off into incredibly speedy Korean.

“If only the bubble tea place was hiring,” you lament, kissing goodbye all of the free bubble tea you had been dreaming about if Jungkook got hired.

“I’m glad I don’t work at the bubble tea place,” Jungkook tells you with his eyebrows raised, “otherwise I’d have to see you every day!”

“You already see me every day!” You should back, but it’s not like Jungkook doesn’t know that already. He’s the one always barging into your apartment or sitting down next to you in the library when you’re trying to study.

“But maybe you should try drinking less bubble tea, otherwise you’re gonna blow up like a tapioca pearl like that one girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” Jungkook warns, pinching your cheek as if to make your face round like a tapioca bubble.

“I can think of nothing I’d want more than to be a tapioca pearl for the rest of my life,” you state simply. It would be much less stressful than to be a college student.

“If you were a tapioca pearl, I’d eat you!” Jungkook says, and you, out of the security of both your head and your heart, choose not to think too much into it.

As Jungkook teases you about your slight obsession with bubble tea, Chaewon finally puts the phone down after what very well was several minutes of angry Korean. She lets out this deep, long sigh, like all of the pent-up rage within her is exiting through her exhale.

“You good, Chae?” You ask her, a little concerned. Even after knowing her since the beginning of your freshman year, you’ve never once seen her get mad, though she looks pretty close to it now.

“Yeah,” she says, exasperated. “My mom is having this stupid company ball here and she really, really wants me to attend.” It is obvious that Chaewon does not, in fact, want to attend. You’ve seen Chaewon nearly every day for over a year, and you’ve never even seen her wear a pantsuit. You couldn’t imagine her joy at having to dress up in a ballgown.

“But fancy free food,” you point out. Even if she does have to be trapped in a penthouse ballroom with her parents’ stuffy business friends, the catering company will probably be god-tier.

Chaewon pretty much bangs her head on the dining hall table.

“Wow, I didn’t know someone could hate catered food so much,” you say, a little alarmed.

“It’s not that,” Chaewon says, rubbing her forehead. The pasta on the plate in front of her has remained untouched for nearly ten minutes now. You wonder if she’s even hungry anymore. “My mom wants me to bring a plus-one.”

Your eyes widen. An excuse to dress nice and eat good food? Hell yeah.

“And it can’t be you, Y/N, it has to be a date,” Chaewon says. It’s pretty obvious she’s not interested in dating whatsoever, no matter the gender of the object of her affection. You pout. Damn. “My mom said, ‘he can be whoever you want!’ but that means that he has to be an attractive Korean guy who’s got a future job in finance.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jungkook says over a mouthful of broccoli.

“You will?” Chaewon asks. Jungkook just single-handedly saved Chaewon from a night of unbearable business talk with a boy she doesn’t know and cannot relate to.

You scoff. “You’re just a regular Korean dude, Jungkook,” you tell him.

Jungkook pouts, bottom lip turned out. “You don’t think I’m attractive?”

You refuse to answer that question. You’re afraid of what you might say if you open your mouth.

“Seriously, you’d do that for me?” Chaewon turns to Jungkook with platonic stars in her eyes.

Jungkook shrugs. “Sure. I’ve got a suit. I’ll ask my friend Jimin for a crash course in finance before the thing. When is it?”

And just like that, you and Jungkook’s weekly Friday Mario Kart night gets a rain check.

Jeon Jungkook is the sole best decision of your life.

And it’s funny and twisted and wonderful, because he is the one thing you had failed to account for in your life. He stands there on the sidewalk in the blazing sun, black baseball cap nestled safely onto his dark brown hair, and in the split second it takes for him to open his mouth and say hello, everything changes.

But no longer is the image you conjure in your mind when you think of him a picture of him on that very first day of orientation, lost and excited all at once. It is of him barging into your apartment and eating all of your leftover ravioli. It’s him laying on your dinky couch like it belongs to him, surfing through all of the Netflix shows available and eventually just settling on old Gilmore Girls episodes like he always does. It’s him standing in your closet to judge your latest clothing purchases and take back any items that you’ve stolen from him over the years.

It’s imagining him not as a guest but as a permanent fixture in your home, in the place that makes you feel safest. Because that’s who Jungkook is, now. He is that place. He stands in your apartment rattling off a list of why microwaves are a severely underestimated killer, and it takes every inch of your being not to ask him to stay. To spend night after night cuddling on the couch, or make a home-cooked meal together on a Sunday evening, or get lost underneath the sheets on your bed.

Jungkook stands in your apartment like he belongs there. And only in your wildest dreams could you ever imagine that coming true.

Such is the case of that Friday night, when he’s supposed to accompany Chaewon to her terrible, awful, brain-melting parents’ business gala. You haven’t seen him all day, too busy with your club meetings to make time for him after your classes are finished for the week. College is never-ending in that horrible, unstoppable way.

It’s nearing two in the morning when you hear the knock on your door. Two of your roommates are at a rush event for their sorority, and the other sleeps through your smoke alarm on a regular basis, so you are tasked with the job of opening the door.

On the other side is Jungkook, as he frequently is.

Your heart practically freezes in place, like his eyes have shot right through it. Instead of his usual baggy outfit and a bucket hat, he’s standing outside of your apartment in a crisp navy suit (complete with a pocket square), rings lining his fingers and hair tousled in that effortlessly-styled kind of way. He looks like a goddamn celebrity, like a young, successful CEO. Like the love of your whole fucking life.

Coughing to distract from the fact that you’re practically drooling, you say, “Wow, you clean up nicely.”

Jungkook looks down at himself, almost as if he had forgotten he’s wearing a full suit entirely. “The pocket square is Jimin’s,” he explains, “but yeah. I didn’t want to let Chaewon down by not dressing up to code.”

He’s got remnants of makeup left on his face, having faded and smudged throughout the night. There’s a bit of black underneath his eyes from the liner, a smoldering effect that makes the dark brown of his irises even deeper. “You look tired,” you comment. “Why are you here, why don’t you go home, Jungkook? Get some sleep.”

Jungkook shrugs, looking over your shoulder to see if his arrival has woken up any of your roommates. “Your place was closer,” he says like it’s nothing.

Like it doesn’t make your breath catch in your throat, stop in its tracks. He spends an evening dressed up in a stuffy suit and tie surrounded by old businessmen and their preppy daughters with whom he has nothing in common, and when it’s nearly two in the morning and he can finally relax, he drives to your place instead of his own. Like it means nothing. As if it means anything at all.

Jungkook runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, and even knotted and messy it still looks flawless. “If I’m bothering you, just let me know. I know it’s late.”

It’s so hard to say no to him.

“Just come inside already before you wake up the neighbors,” you tell him, sighing to pretend like it’s a minor inconvenience. And even running on barely any sleep with makeup smudged underneath his eyes, Jungkook grins as you let him inside your apartment, caving in, just like you always do.

The first thing he does when he’s inside is take off his fancy loafers and peel off his suit jacket, resting it against the back of the couch. You fumble around in the kitchen for the kettle, instinctively starting to make two cups of tea. Routine.

Looking up, you watch as Jungkook loosens his tie and takes it off, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his white dress shirt. By the counter, you turn your back to him so he doesn’t see you mentally combust. It’s impossible that he doesn’t already know what he does to you.

The kettle finishes boiling the moment Jungkook settles onto your couch. He keeps the television off so he doesn’t wake your roommates, and scrolls on his phone with his knees tucked underneath his chin. Thirty seconds later, you’re joining him, handing him the cup of tea before sitting down next to him, severely underdressed in comparison.

“Did you at least have fun tonight?” You ask.

“The food totally slapped,” Jungkook tells you. “Chaewon’s parents really pulled out all the stops.”

“So I’ve heard,” you muse.

“We spent most of the time lounging by the catering table and distracting each other by making up stories about all of the rich people there.” Jungkook laughs.

“Please tell me you didn’t embarrass yourself, though,” you say. Perhaps Jungkook could withstand a few blows to his ego, but Chaewon’s future pretty much depends on her impressing her parents and their comrades.

“No!” Jungkook tells you defensively. “Jimin told me everything I needed to know, but all of Chaewon’s friends and their filthy rich CEO parents thought I was so handsome that I didn’t even need to speak.”

You roll your eyes. Of course Jungkook wouldn’t give up the chance to remind you of his hellishly good looks.

“You just stood there, looking pretty?” You ask. Not as if he doesn’t do that already.

“You think I’m pretty?” Jungkook teases, a greasy smile sent your way, like he doesn’t know the answer anyway.

You huff. “Dressed up like this? Anyone would.”

“Chaewon said I was like her fake trophy husband,” Jungkook jokes. “She did all of the schmoozing. It’s not like I could have contributed anything anyway. Unless everyone wants to hear about C++.”

“Ooh, I love it when you talk all tech to me,” you tease, nudging him with your arm. “So sexy, keep talking.”

He laughs. “If we keep talking about Python I might get a little too excited.” He wiggles his eyebrows just for good measure and you giggle, holding onto this moment for dear life as you let it etch itself into your brain permanently. Times like these, you know you can’t forget, saving them for a rainy day thirty years down the line when you’re in love with someone that’s not Jungkook. When you look out the window and think about what might have been, if only things back in college had been a little bit different.

Jungkook’s phone buzzes on the table. He’s got two notifications, one from Instagram of Chaewon tagging him in a post, and another from Venmo.

“Fuckin’ damnit,” Jungkook swears, letting his phone drop on the couch cushion.

“What?” You ask, turning to look at him.

“Chaewon just Venmo’ed me a hundred dollars,” Jungkook says with a sigh. And it’s not one of those times when you see your bank account balance go up and get happy because yay, money!, it’s when your friend pays you anything over what they actually owe you out of the goodness of your heart, and you refuse to accept it.

“She did?” You ask, eyes widening. A hundred dollars? That’s more than Jungkook would make in three shifts at the call center.

“‘Thanks for bailing me out tonight. You definitely deserve more than 100 but then you’d be mad at me. But please don’t be mad at me!’” Jungkook reads off his phone. “I just stood there looking like eye candy. I didn’t do a thing to help her, what the heck?”

You pull out your own phone to check Chaewon’s latest post.

It’s a picture of them together in the skyscraper penthouse the gala was held in, Jungkook looking dapper in his suit with a glass of champagne in his hand, and Chaewon in a dress worth more than a semester’s tuition throwing up a peace sign like the trendy Asian she is. They look like a K-drama couple. Like two celebrities basking in their fame and wealth.

Shoutout to my one and only Jeon Jungkook for being my fake date tonight! Thanks to your good looks and charming personality for impressing all of my parents’ rich friends and their daughters. Love you 3000 💕

“Wow, whoever took this picture of the both of you knows their shit,” you say, impressed. You had always thought it impossible for Jungkook to look better in pictures than in real life, but this photo is coming rather close. If you were any more shameless, you’d ask Chaewon if she has any more photos of him. Just him, preferably.

It’s not as if she doesn’t know about your gargantuan crush on him anyway.

“I don’t think I’ve ever looked that good in a photo in my life,” Jungkook says with a laugh. Impossible. He yawns, placing his empty mug on the little end table next to the couch.

“You should set it as your profile picture,” you suggest, leaning your head on him and pretending like this is normal. He yawns again, stretching out as he rests his body against yours. “Hey, we should go to sleep. Unless you want to go home?”

Jungkook groans, snuggling in closer. “No, your bed is big enough for the two of us.”

And who are you to resist?

You wake up to the sound of a phone buzzing furiously on your bedside table. You crack open one eye just a sliver to see who the culprit is and immediately eradicate it, when the sun filtering through your Venetian blinds hits your cornea. You groan, shutting your eyes once more as you smack your hand around to get it to shut off.

The movement, however, causes the bedsheets to shift beside you, and when you turn, you find Jungkook nestled up tightly beneath your duvet, an arm stretched over your side as he hums in his sleep.

You’re best friends.

This is normal.

(The feeling of your heart beating out of its chest has become rather normal, as well.)

He’s wearing a raggedy old t-shirt of yours that has always been too big on you but fits him just perfectly and a pair of joggers that he keeps at your place “just in case”. Just in case he stays the night. Just in case you ever need them. Selfishly, you will yourself to fall back asleep, shutting your eyes tightly and pretending that maybe, if you never wake up, this moment will freeze in time, locking the two of you together for eternity.

He mumbles to himself in his sleep, a murmur of nothing as he shifts over slightly, hand dragging up your side.

God.

Next to you, the phone begins to buzz erratically again, and wide-awake, you look over to realize that it’s Jungkook’s, and that it’s Chaewon on the other end.

This is at least the second time she’s called, which means that, despite how tempting it is, you probably shouldn’t silence his phone and go back to lying in bed with Jungkook and pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

Sighing, you pick up.

“Jungkook!” Chaewon shouts on the other side. For a brief moment you wonder why on earth she’s so energetic so early, but it’s less that and more the fact that you are overwhelmingly lethargic rather late in the day. “All of my friends said you looked really good in those photos I posted of us. Do you think you’re free next Wednesday night? Seunghee wants you to accompany her to a double date her parents are forcing her to go on!”

“Chaewon—”

“Oh, Y/N! How’s it going?”

“I just woke up,” you mumble quietly as Jungkook stirs beside you.

“Of course you did,” Chaewon says, and you can see her rolling her eyes on the other side of the line. “Wait, why do you have Jungkook’s phone if you just woke up? Oh my God, don’t tell me—”

“Shh!” You hiss into the phone. Jungkook is slowly beginning to wake up, and you can only pray that he isn’t listening in to the conversation between you and Chaewon. “No, we did not. He got back after your thing and we promptly passed out in my bed, fully clothed,” you whisper loudly.

“Jungkook went to your place last night? He was so tired, I thought he was going straight back to his. We even got dropped off outside my apartment.”

What? Chaewon and Jungkook live within a three-minute walk of each other. Your apartment is ten minutes away from both of them.

“You did?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing.

“Who’s that?”

You turn around to see Jungkook lying on his back, head resting on a nearly-deflated pillow of yours as he looks up at you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair is mussed, some parts styled and stiff with hair gel, and some parts tangled and unkempt. He looks like he’s been lying in that position for a while, hand resting behind his head as he gazes up at you.

“It’s Chaewon,” you tell him softly as she laughs on the other end. “She just called your phone. Are you free next Wednesday?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook, still half-asleep. “When?”

“Next Wednesday,” you repeat, a hand on the phone like it’s going to do anything to stop Chaewon from listening to you two. “Chaewon says she has a friend who wants you to accompany her to a double date she’s been set up to go on by her parents.”

“Mmmrph,” Jungkook mumbles. It’s clear he hasn’t even thought about his plans for the rest of the day, let alone next Wednesday.

“He’s not available right now,” you say into the phone. Chaewon snorts.

“Fine,” Chaewon says with a sigh. “Can you pass the message on when you guys are done pretending that you aren’t fucking behind my back?”

You suck in a breath. “Chaewon!” You hiss. “We are not—” you quickly turn back to Jungkook, who, by the looks of his hooded eyes and bewildered expression, isn’t listening in, “—fucking!” You whisper. “You know we’re not!”

Chaewon laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Call me later, Y/N, we should grab ice cream or something.” She hangs up.

“Who was that?” Jungkook asks sleepily, eyes still half-lidded as he sits up in your bed, soft skin, brown hair, pouted lips amongst a sea of white, bundled up in your thick duvet as if sitting on a cloud.

“Chaewon,” you tell him.

“Oh, why was she calling?”

“She wanted to ask if you were free next Wednesday.”

“To do what?”

Maybe you were worried about Jungkook listening in to Chaewon grill you about your relationship (or serious lack thereof) for nothing.

“She has a friend who wants you to go on a parent-mandated double date, trophy boyfriend style,” you explain. Jungkook groans.

“Pretending to know business is mentally, physically, and morally draining. It feels like I’m selling my soul to capitalism,” he says with a sigh, collapsing back against the mattress. “I just wanna stay here forever. It’s so cozy.”

“Come on, Kook,” you say, tugging the duvet off of him to reveal the rest of his body. He curls into himself at the exposure, refusing to budge. “You’ve encroached on my apartment long enough.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook whines, drawing out your name for good measure. “Noooooooo.” He reaches out to cling onto your wrist, which means that if you want him out of your bed, you’ll have to drag him out.

“Jungkook, you’re swole, you know I can’t tug you out of my bed,” you say with a pout. He knows every trick in the book to use against you, and worst of all, he knows you’re weak to all of them.

“Good,” Jungkook says with a loopy smile, pulling you back onto the bed like it’s nothing. You yelp as you come crashing on top of him, your body bumping into his as he wraps his arms around you and flops back onto your bed. You laugh and shout at the feeling as Jungkook cuddles up in the warmth of the sheets, pulling you in tightly to his body. “It’s so warm here, let’s stay like this forever.”

“What about food?”

“You keep a stash of Clif bars under your bed, we’ll eat those,” Jungkook suggests.

You attempt to wriggle out of his grip, hoping to escape before he holds you long enough to get addicted, hooked on the feeling of his arms around you, his body against yours. But Jungkook is nothing if not persistent and clingy, and he wraps his arms tightly around your torso like a koala, warm and soft. “Come on, Jungkook. It’s nearly noon. Let’s be productive today.”

“Gross.”

“Let’s not sit in bed all day.”

“Grosser. Let’s just stay in your bed all day and pretend that we don’t have any real responsibilities.”

“Given that we’re in college, that may be slightly difficult.”

“Fuck that, your GPA doesn’t matter anyway. Unless you have plans on going to grad school?” He asks with an eyebrow raise, turning to look at you.

“No way, I’m not paying for another four years of this shit,” you immediately declare. Let the capitalist system of higher education extort another two to four years worth of tuition out of you for the same degree? Absolutely not.

“Then why move?” Jungkook says with a grin.

“Because,” you say, stumbling for a real answer.

“Not good enough.” He grins cheekily. “I vote to stay in bed.”

“I vote to do my readings, your CS homework, and get back to Chaewon about Wednesday.”

“God,” Jungkook says with a sigh. “What’s Wednesday?”

“Oh my God, you need to call Chaewon. Right now. Before you ask me what you have on Wednesday one more time after losing all of your brain cells lounging around in my personal bed and refusing to leave,” you say, eyes wide as you worm your way out of his grip, dusting yourself off and heading to your closet.

“Noooooooo,” Jungkook says, reaching out a desperate hand. “Y/N, come back.”

“Call Chaewon. Call her!” You order, fishing around in your closet for some fresh clothes. You’ve been wearing the same one since Thursday night. You are disgusting.

Jungkook groans but obeys, picking up his phone and pressing her contact. “Hey Chae, it’s Jungkook. Listen, I’m literally going to Venmo you back what you paid me because you? Literally didn’t need to pay me at all? And I’m actually mad at you for it? Wait, what do you mean am I up to getting paid on Wednesday—”

The phone call presents the perfect opportunity for you to dash out of your bedroom and into the bathroom, where you splash yourself with cold tap water like a model in a face wash commercial (who already has perfect skin, so why does she need this new face wash, seriously?) to clear your head. It’s been a weird twelve hours. Even weirder knowing that across the hall, Jungkook is sitting in your room, on your bed, in your clothes, under your bed sheets. Knowing that maybe, in another universe, on another timeline, you would be in the exact same positions, only everything would be different.

You wash your face, hoping to wake yourself up. Convince your mind that the past twelve hours have been nothing but a dream, and that when you walk back into your room, Jungkook will have vanished. Or he would have never been there in the first place.

You leave the bathroom and return to your bedroom to see Jungkook tugging on his suit jacket, wearing the same clothes he had on when he knocked on your door at 2AM last night. He’s still on the phone, wrapping up the conversation with Chaewon.

“Yeah, yeah, tell her that I’m down. She can just text me, give her my number. I’m happy to do this for you and your friends, Chae. Plus, she’s gonna pay me and I feel less bad about it because it’s a service and she’s not a close friend like you are. Yeah, it’s all good,” he looks up to see you standing at the door, leaning against the frame. “Yeah, Y/N just got back so I’m gonna go. Maybe we can grab dinner or something tonight? Cool. Bye.”

“Dinner without me?” You ask with a pout.

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. “You’re always invited.”

“Have you figured out what’s going on on Wednesday?” You tease him as you walk him to the door.

“Chaewon has a friend, Soojin, who wants me to accompany her on a parent-mandated double date with a business partner’s daughter,” Jungkook explains. “Apparently all of Chaewon’s friends realized I make a pretty good fake trophy boyfriend.”

You rub his shoulder. He’d make a great real boyfriend too. Not that you think about that all of the time, or anything. “Gonna put that on your resume, big guy?”

“Of course.” Jungkook smiles. “Dinner tonight? We can go to the ramen place you really like.”

“Sure thing, is Chaewon coming?”

“If she wants to. Otherwise, it’ll just be us.”

“Sounds good,” you tell him. “See you then.”

“Hopefully before,” Jungkook says. “Thanks for letting me crash here last night, by the way.”

“Anytime,” you say. Maybe one day, it’ll be true.

Next Wednesday, there’s a knock on your door at midnight.

Who else could it be?

It was supposed to be a one-time thing. And then it was supposed to be just a two-time thing. And before you knew it, Jungkook’s number and his services were circling through the ring of wealthy international students, jumping from phone to phone as people crammed to get him to accompany them on their next double date, next business gala, next ballroom dance.

You had always had a feeling that his charming, charismatic personality would eventually draw everybody towards him, so electric and magnetic that you couldn’t help but want to know him, make friends with him, be close to him. From the moment you saw his Facebook introduction post, you knew it was only a matter of time before everyone on campus knew his name.

[October 17th, 4:12PM] You: do u want to get dinner tonight

Jungkook: would love to but have to go to kim family business dinner with dahyun sorry :(

You: ok next time then!

[October 23rd, 1:03PM]

You: yo what r u doing You: i have so many readings to do rip You: do u wanna come to greene w me and study

Jungkook: heejin is taking me shopping for a fancy suit for her family’s event tomorrow i can’t :/ Jungkook: but i am going to get macaroons for u at the mall so we can see each other later!

You: yummm sure thing!

[October 30th, 9:58AM]

You: hey ik you’re asleep rn but we are still on for tomorrow right? 🎃 You: can’t let our one (1) year long halloween tradition of buying last-minute candy and watching the nightmare before christmas together die

[October 30th, 11:13PM]

Jungkook: omg i just saw this now im so sorry Jungkook: uh yeonjoo wants me to go to her sister’s halloween party tm so idk if i can make it this year

[October 31st, 2:02AM]

You: ok You: thanks for telling me

It’s no fun watching The Nightmare Before Christmas by yourself, you realize this Halloween. All of your roommates are out frequenting one of the hundreds of parties being thrown on campus tonight, and although you’d normally be up for getting drunk and dropping it low, you just aren’t in the Halloween spirit this year. Wonder why.

Armed with the knowledge that your roommates probably won’t be back until three or four in the morning, you shut your laptop and decide to go to bed early. Early being midnight, but it’s early for you and that’s all that really matters.

You don’t know why you’re being such a stick in the mud this Halloween. It’s always been one of your favorite holidays, never one to pass up free candy nor the option to dress up, but this one has been particularly lame. You don’t have a costume, your local drugstore is out of mini Skittles packets, and you don’t have someone to spend it with.

Realistically, you have no reason to be sad that Jungkook isn’t available tonight. It’s not as if spending Halloween together is some ancient tradition from birth that binds the two of you together. You did it for the first time as freshmen, and you were foolishly hoping to do the same thing as sophomores. It’s not a tradition if it only happened once.

You look in the bathroom mirror, stained with nail polish and dry shampoo and old skincare, and you sigh. Jungkook has every right to prioritize his current and only source of income over a night spent lounging on the couch doing nothing. It’s not as if you haven’t seen your best friend in over a month and this was the only night you both had free. Jungkook drops by after every single event he goes on. Every single one. He stands outside your door dressed in a fancy suit, or a silk button down, leather shoes and expensive jewelry bought for him by the girls he goes out with.

No matter the time, he knocks on your door and says hello, steals a cup of tea and a bit of your heart along with it, before bouncing out of your living room and off to his own apartment. He doesn’t stay the night anymore, doesn’t worm his way underneath your duvet and refuse to move until morning comes. It’s hard to tell if you’re grateful about it or not.

Sluggishly, you peel off your clothes and wash your face, changing into some old sweatpants from the tenth grade and a t-shirt with an embarrassingly large hole in the armpit. This Halloween, you are dressing up as a lonely college student who is going to bed early on Halloween night because she has nothing better to do!

There’s a knock on your door.

Your first instinct is to freeze up. When there’s another knock, your second instinct is to grab the closest object to you (which happens to be your water bottle) for self-defense.

And then, you hear,

“You’re not watching The Nightmare before Christmas without me, are you?”

To spare yourself the shame, you won’t say that you practically leapt out of bed the moment you heard his voice. You calmly removed the covers, and casually walked to the front door. That is what you did.

When you open it, Jungkook is standing behind it, grinning, wearing the greasiest police officer outfit you’ve ever seen in your entire life. This flew at a marketing company’s heir’s Halloween party? He’s even got what looks to be a fully-loaded water gun in his holster.

“Don’t tell me this is what you wore to some fancy-shmancy Halloween party,” you say disapprovingly, eyebrows raised as you look him up and down and pretend that you aren’t just ogling his figure.

“It was fine, Yeonjoo’s sister just graduated college. If anything, she was more okay with it than Yeonjoo was,” Jungkook says with a shrug. You don’t even need to let him in at this point, just watch as he tugs off his shoes and steps inside your apartment like it belongs to him.

“What was Yeonjoo dressed as?”

“Princess Leia. We made for a very mismatched pair,” Jungkook says, chuckling to himself. “Ooh, did you guys get new tea?”

“You can have some if you want,” you tell him, shutting the door as he eagerly pulls out a box of teabags, turning on the electric kettle on the counter. “I think it’s Wild Berry Hibiscus.”

“Sounds good already,” Jungkook says, and he lets out a sigh that sounds so exhausted, so tired and aching, as he leans back against the countertop, head resting on the cupboards above it.

“You could have gone home, you know,” you tell him. Even from the couch you can see the droop in his shoulders, the bags under his eyes. He’s been going out several times every week for the past month, and he still has a truckload of CS assignments on top. He spends precious hours schmoozing with wealthy businessmen and women, shaking people’s hands and posing for pictures in the fanciest clothes he owns and then some. The selfish part of you wants him to stay. The part that loves him knows it would be better if he went home. “You still can.”

“No,” Jungkook insists, shaking his head. “We have a tradition to uphold, don’t we?”

Even though The Nightmare Before Christmas is seventy-six minutes long, the night ends long before that. You haven’t even reached “This Is Halloween” before you feel a head hit your shoulder, and crane your neck to find Jungkook having fallen fast asleep beside you, half-full cup of Wild Berry Hibiscus next to the laptop in front of you. He’s still wearing his stupid police officer costume, the navy blue uniform tight against his body. His lips are parted ever so softly, eyelashes fluttering as little non-sounds exit his mouth, hints, whispers of snores.

He hasn’t slept over since the first time. You’re not sure if you want the trend to continue, or if you just want to be a little bit selfish tonight, greedy, taking and taking and taking. He’s so beautiful like this, so innocent and gentle and soft. It would be such a shame if you had to wake him.

And so, gingerly, you rest your head against his own, breathe in the quiet little sounds that leave his parted lips, memorize the feeling. It’s not the first time Jungkook’s accidentally fallen asleep on you, but there is something about this moment, sitting on your couch a few minutes past midnight, as the rest of the world celebrates around you, that is so intimate. Like here, in your apartment, you and Jungkook have your own little bubble, tucked away in a corner of the universe far from the noise of the rest of the world. And it’s here that you wish you could stay forever, for once never wanting the feeling to end. Wanting time to freeze in its very steps, the clocks stop and the orbit halts, and it is just you and Jungkook, forever. Like characters in a movie, on pause for eternity.

The moment ends when Jungkook shifts beside you before eventually coming to, slowly opening his eyes as he turns to look at you. You smile at him, dazed and tired, as he sits up properly, staring down at your half-opened laptop and the half-full cup of tea next to it.

“Thought you’d end up sleeping here again tonight,” you joke, even though it isn’t really a joke. Maybe, somewhere deep down inside you, in the crevices between your bones and the dark corner of your heart, you had hoped that he would stay.

“Oh, did I fall asleep?” Jungkook asks, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. It’s nearly two-thirty in the morning.

“Just for a bit. I didn’t want to wake you, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to head back to your apartment or anything,” you tell him.

Jungkook nearly jumps up off the couch at that, like he’s got springs in his shoes. Suddenly he’s wide awake, brown eyes blown open as he scrambles to gather his belongings, taking the cup of tea and quickly dumping it out in your sink.

“Hey, don’t you want that?” You ask.

“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll come by some other time and have some, it was really good, I just fell asleep while drinking it,” Jungkook sputters, words moving a mile a minute as he tugs on his heavy black officer boots, scuffed at the tips from wear and tear. It’s as if he’s desperate to leave. Like your apartment has somehow offended him. Or worse, you.

“If you want to stay, Jungkook, you can,” you tell him, standing up to run to the door before he pulls the damn thing off his hinges with how fast he’s moving. “I don’t mind. My bed is big enough for the both of us.”

“No, I should—I should get going. My… plants need watering. Right now. I totally forgot.”

It’s not a completely bullshit excuse. Jungkook has a fair few pothos amongst his other worldly apartment belongings, hanging from his ceiling or potted in old mugs and janky shoes. But it’s still a pretty bullshit excuse. It’s dark. Jungkook waters his plants every Sunday, and it’s Friday. It’s obvious he wants to get the hell out of your apartment for whatever reason.

All you can do is hope and pray that it isn’t you who’s driving him away.

“Oh—okay,” you tell him, opening the door as he furiously laces up his other boot.

“Thanks for doing this. Next Halloween will be more fun, I swear. I won’t fall asleep on you. Or anything.”

“Okay, see you soon, then?” You ask, searching for a clue, a hint, anything that will tell you that it’s not you, that he hasn’t found you out yet. That you can still be friends, be best friends, because even if you want to kiss him, hold his hand, roll around in bed with him, loving him from afar is good enough.

“Yes, yes, definitely. Dinner? Uh… sometime this week? I’ll text you. I have to go. Plants. See you!”

He dashes down the hallway.

And you end your Halloween the same way you started it. Alone.

Jungkook ran out of your apartment the other day like it was infested with cockroaches. Or the Black Plague. Or your microwave had just beeped. It was as if simply being inside it was going to scar him for life.

Maybe your apartment is cursed. Jungkook does believe in ghosts. That’s another reason as to why he fears the microwave. Tiny ghosts could be living inside the microwave chamber and you’d never know. But Jungkook knows better. He knows that they’re there.

“He just… ran out?” Chaewon asks, clearly bewildered. The two of you have been working on the first floor of the library all day, obviously doing everything in your power to not actually complete any of your assignments.

“Yeah, something about his plants.” You sigh.

Chaewon narrows her eyes, the same way she does when she’s plotting something. “Interesting.”

“What?” You ask, nudging her to see if you can worm a less mysterious response out of her.

“Nothing,” Chaewon says with a nonchalant shrug. She clearly has something to say.

“What?” You repeat forcefully. Chaewon doesn’t get to go all cryptic on you just because Jungkook ran out of your apartment like it had set fire.

“I know I’ve only known you guys for, like, a year and a bit now, but you two have the strangest relationship I’ve ever seen,” Chaewon comments like it’s nobody’s business when it is, in fact, specifically two people’s business.

You scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just…” She pauses, thinking. In the silence, she begins to pack up her belongings, shoving her laptop into her bag and gathering up the small pile of candy wrappers slowly amassing in front of her. “I’ve never seen two best friends have a relationship quite like yours.”

“Thanks?”

“What are you doing for dinner? I’m eating with Yoonji, but you’re welcome to join if you want,” Chaewon offers. Even though you have no idea who Yoonji is, Chaewon would never exclude you from eating with them.

“I’m getting Korean food with Jungkook, but thanks for the offer,” you say, only to be greeted with Chaewon rolling her eyes. He said he’d meet us outside?”

Sure enough, when you head out of the glass doors at the front of the library, Jungkook is waiting dutifully on a bench close by, headphones in as he nods his head and taps his feet to the beat of the music, lost in his own world. He doesn’t even realize that you’ve left the library until you’re two feet in front of him, when he recognizes your beat-up white sneakers and looks up at you in glee, eyes crinkled into crescents.

“Ready to go?” You ask happily. Your stomach has been rumbling ever since Jungkook suggested you go out to eat this morning.

“Hell yeah I am,” Jungkook says, putting his earbuds away as he stands up. “You coming, Chae?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m eating with a friend.” There’s nudge against your shoulder, and when you turn to face her, she winks. “But you two enjoy yourselves! Don’t have too much fun without me!”

Before you can publicly berate her for being so goddamn obvious, she’s rotating 180 degrees on her heel and speed-walking in the opposite direction, zooming off so you don’t get the chance.

“I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages,” you comment mindlessly. Twenty-four hours away from Jungkook feels like a lifetime and a half. Forty-eight is a light year.

“I’ve been busy,” Jungkook says vaguely, shrugging his shoulders.

“Doing what, going out to fancy restaurants and galas?” You half-tease. It’s sad but true—Jungkook spends his nights living a life you could only dream of. And all of these rituals you share, from studying in the library until three in the morning to crashing at his place and taking naps on separate couches, get put on the backburner.

“Hey, it’s hard work pretending to be rich,” Jungkook pouts. “Besides, the craziest thing about going to those things is that rich Korean people don’t serve Korean food at their fancy gatherings. They serve shit like caviar.”

“Is that why you’re so desperate to get Korean?” You ask pointedly.

“Yes,” Jungkook emphasizes. “Man, I just want some tteokbokki.”

“Then we’ll go and eat all of the tteokbokki you can dream of,” you promise. You round the street corner and on the edge of the main road and an alleyway sits a tiny Korean restaurant the size of a bedroom, no more than six cramped tables inside. It’s run by a family who passes it down through each generation, dependent on the starving college students nearby to keep it alive.

It’s Jungkook’s favorite place. The owner gives him a discount every time he sees him.

(It’s impossible not to fall in love with Jungkook. Impossible to not be drawn to his presence, his personality. Like moths to a flame, you can’t help but come closer.)

“Ah, Jungkook!” The old man behind the counter greets as the bell above the entrance rings. “Sit! Sit!” He points to your favorite table, a round one in the far left corner that’s right next to the biggest window. “Usual?”

“Tteokbokki, too, please!” Jungkook shouts. The man gives you both a thumbs up and heads back into the kitchen.

“It’s been a while since we came here,” Jungkook notices. You both usually eat lunch on campus and Jungkook has been largely unavailable for dinner.

“Almost sounds like you missed it,” you poke fun.

“God, I missed it so much,” Jungkook exclaims, tilting his head back in exasperation. “I didn’t realize that it would be so much work to get dressed up in a suit and look hot.”

“Don’t make it sound like such a drag.” You frown. Jungkook needs to put in literally zero effort to look hot. Sitting across from him in this tiny Korean restaurant as he wears nothing but a massive hoodie and black joggers, he looks hot. When he wakes up in your bed in a raggedy t-shirt, he looks hot. When you catch him at three in the morning in the library after eighteen straight hours of studying, he looks hot.

Jungkook sits there and radiates light. Radiates warmth and joy and beauty. Laughter and hope. He’s the college version of a Disney prince. Perfectly imperfect and completely out of your reach.

“I wish I could take you with me, you might enjoy it,” Jungkook sighs. “Plus, I have literally never seen you wear something fancier than business casual. Imagine you in a ballgown!”

“In your dreams, Jeon,” you rebuke. “Free catered food sounds nice but having to mingle with the 1% does not.”

“Touché,” Jungkook concedes. “I don’t know how Chaewon does it.”

“She’s a goddess.”

“Indeed.”

Jungkook pours you a cup of water from the pitcher that the old man dropped off, and then pours one for himself. “Chaewon said that I did well, though.”

Not surprising. Jungkook excels at everything he does.

“Of course you did, you sexy beast,” you chide.

“She said I’d make a good boyfriend.”

You choke on your water as the man’s son brings out your food, and you desperately attempt to avoid eye contact as you sputter and cough into a napkin, gaze pointed away from both a surprised waiter and a concerned Jungkook, who awkwardly thanks the man and leans over to pat your back.

“You good?” He asks, brows furrowed.

Coughing, you say, “I’m okay, I’m okay. It just—it went down the wrong pipe, that’s all.” Jungkook doesn’t buy it, and the little coughs escaping your throat don’t do much to corroborate your claim. “Seriously, Jungkook. I’m okay. It’s just water.”

“You looked like you were on the verge of death,” Jungkook frowns.

“That’s just my face,” you fire back. “Just keep talking about what you were saying earlier. What was it?”

“Being a good boyfriend,” Jungkook says, and with no water near your lips to distract you this time, your mind bears the full force of his words, weighing down on your shoulders like a calculus textbook.

It’s not as if you aren’t already aware that Jungkook would be the best boyfriend in the entire world, bar none. Not as if you don’t sit in bed and dream of a parallel universe, a life other than the one you’re living in right now, where Jungkook is lovely and wonderful and yours. He knocks on your door at a random hour in the afternoon with Chinese takeout from the local restaurant. He remembers your homework assignments when you forget them. He sits in bed with you and judges the Instagrams of the guys on the latest Bachelorette season. It’s as if he was already yours.

“Believe me,” you scoff. “The people know how great of a boyfriend you are.”

“It’s fake, though,” Jungkook reminds you. “It’s only for a night. An evening, really.”

“Better than nothing,” you sigh. “If only I had enough money to rent myself a fake boyfriend for a night.”

“If only your parents were the CEOs of a multibillion dollar cooperation,” Jungkook adds on.

“Truth,” you say, and you and Jungkook toast to that. Toast to knowing that some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Toast to knowing that some of those people can get for themselves something you can only imagine in your wildest dreams—a night with Jungkook. More than just a night. A night spent dressed up in your fanciest clothes, arms wrapped tightly around each other. A night spent as a couple, rather than you and Jungkook.

Toast to knowing that even if you’ll never get to have him like that, you get to have him like this, and you’d rather it be like this than nothing at all.

“You don’t need to rent a fake boyfriend for a night, Y/N,” Jungkook tells you once you’ve downed the water in your glasses (stay hydrated!). “You shouldn’t feel pressured to spend time with people you don’t want to spend time with.”

You don’t understand, you sigh. I’d give anything to spend time with you.

Jungkook pays. He says that he’s made more money accompanying wealthy socialites—even ones that don’t go to your school, because word gets around—than he would in a month’s worth of shifts at the call center. He says he’s never looking back. He’s probably not going to give up the gig for a while, either.

“Just because you have cash now doesn’t mean you get a free pass to pay for everything we do together,” you warn. You’ve always split the price of meals, split the price birthday cakes for your friends. In the beginning of freshman year, Jungkook ate a quarter of a bag of goldfish you had and paid you fifty-three cents to account for his consumption, which you immediately sent back to him. You still fight over it, finding surreptitious ways to incorporate it into the Venmo payments you make to each other.

“I’m rich, I can do whatever I want with my money,” Jungkook proclaims. “And if that means treating my best friend to a meal, then that means I’m gonna treat her to a meal.”

“That’s very rude of you,” you tell him pointedly. “Zero out of ten, worst best friend in the entire world. Will not accept my Venmo payments.”

Walking down the sidewalk, side by side, Jungkook wraps an arm around you and pulls you in for a side hug as you come to a stop at a traffic light. “You always do so much for me and Chaewon. You deserve to be treated once in a while, Y/N.”

“Why, ‘cause I go out to CVS at ten at night to get you Nyquil after you catch the common cold from some sweaty guy at the gym?”

“That,” Jungkook nods, conceding, “and also because you’re one of the best friends anyone could ever ask for. The people who know you are lucky to get to say your name.”

If only Jungkook knew that he was the exact same. It’s an honor to know him. It’s a blessing to love him.

“What fancy clothes do you own?” Chaewon’s lying on your bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone.

“I don’t know,” you respond, brows furrowing. You get up from your desk chair to start fishing through your closet, “I have, like, some business casual stuff.”

“How about a dress?”

You whip around suspiciously, eyeing Chaewon as she lounges around in your room and acts like she isn’t plotting something nefarious. “Don’t you think you could tell me what you’re trying to convince me to do before you ask me if I have the appropriate clothing?”

Even lying on her back, Chaewon still manages to roll her eyes, sitting up to meet your gaze. “There’s a gala tonight to celebrate some big business deal being closed and I want you to come with me,” she says like it’s a chore, exasperated.

“Me?” You frown. “Why not Jungkook?”

“He said he had some thing to do for some other girl,” Chaewon says. The topic clearly is not at the forefront of her mind. It’s a little too obvious that it’s at the forefront of yours. “Besides, I was given no date restrictions and you deserve to have a little fun tonight. It’s a Friday!”

“I just want to stay in bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you tell her.

“You’re already out of bed,” Chaewon points out unhelpfully.

“Well, then I want to get into bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you rephrase.

Chaewon pouts. “Noooo, please? It’ll be fun, I swear,” Chaewon pleads. “It’s a huge party and hundreds of people are going to be there. Everybody gets to bring a plus one. You won’t be the only person who doesn’t know anything about business and has to cling onto their date in order to survive.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me want to go so much,” you deadpan.

“Seriously, Y/N. When was the last time you went out on a Friday?”

A while ago. You and Jungkook started having Mario Kart nights on Friday in the middle of your freshman year after you both came to the conclusion that every frat party smells, sounds, and tastes like the same fifty shades of college regret. You haven’t gone out since.

“Not that long ago,” you lie. It’s been months.

“Yeah, right,” Chaewon scoffs. “Don’t think I don’t see your Bitmoji on the SnapMap sitting in your damn apartment on a Friday at 11PM,” she scolds.

“I’m gonna turn off my location,” you declare. You’ve had enough of Snapchat exposing you and your location. People can live in mystery about your whereabouts from now on. They don’t need to know. Chaewon certainly does not.

“No excuses, you’re coming with me to the gala! You must have something to wear in that closet of yours, don’t you?” She slides off of your bed with a thud and joins you as you stand in front of your clothes. None of them scream fancy. None of them even whisper it. You stand back as she shuffles through your clothes, hangers squeaking as she shoves them along the rail. Chaewon tears through your clothing faster than you skim through your economics readings. “Aha! What do we have here?”

She whips out a dress from the very back of your closet, right behind the blazer you never wear because you’d rather be caught dead than in business attire. It’s old—you don’t think you’ve worn it since the beginning of your freshman year when you thought you actually had to dress up for parties. Needless to say, you dry-cleaned it the following Monday and never wore it again. You don’t even recall bringing it to college this year.

“This is perfect!” Chaewon cries. “Really says ‘I can fucking dress myself’, don’t you think?”

“Are you implying that I can’t dress myself?”

“You should definitely wear this,” Chaewon decides, dodging the question. “Gucci and Louis Vuitton are overrated, anyway.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I.” Chaewon thrusts the dress towards you.

Chaewon shakes her head. “Of course you don’t.”

Three hours later finds you one makeup and hair session later, standing in the lobby of a magnificent skyscraper wearing a dress that maybe could have done without the cup of frozen yogurt that you ate before you arrived. Now you remember why you haven’t really worn it since the beginning of last year. Has it shrunk?

“I feel like a loser, Chaewon,” you hiss as she bats her eyelashes and gets directed to the private elevator that will lead you both to the top floor. “A money-less, jobless loser.”

“At least you’re honest, Y/N,” Chaewon whispers back as you step into the elevator. Despite being nearly an hour and a half late (“Fashionably so!” Chaewon exclaims.) you are crowded into the back corner, several other couples stepping inside to join you, all of them wearing clothes that cost more than your tuition for all four years of college, combined. “That’s better than most of the people here.”

Nothing separates the rich from the poor like morality.

When the elevator doors open, you and Chaewon are the last group to step out, milling about in the corner until the path is free. And when you turn your gaze away from her, you realize just why Jungkook’s so keen on going to events like these, why he never turns down an offer when it lights up his phone screen.

In movies, rich people flaunt their wealth so extravagantly that it almost looks fake. From gigantic ice sculptures to ten-feet-tall chocolate fountains, entire orchestras and dresses worth thousands of dollars, it makes you wonder if rich people really do see those items as necessities when throwing a party. They rent out entire European castles and the press publicizes every one of their actions. To you, it looks contrived, unrealistic. Even if rich people have enough money to sustain the bottom 99% for hundreds of years, how could they spend their money on nonsense like this?

As it turns out, the ice sculptures and chocolate fountains are only half of the story.

At this gala, the hosts have spared no expense. The entire penthouse is made purely of glass, from the ceiling, to the floor, to the walls in between, giving you an absolutely breathtaking view of the city lights dozens of feet below you, of the stars millions of light years away. It’s as if you’re standing in a bubble, frozen in time, the world sparkling and twinkling and shimmering around you. You didn’t even know a place like this existed on Earth. The price to book it must be astronomical. The view, even more so.

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, mouth dropping open at the sight. It’s a movie come to life. It’s a picture straight out of a fairytale.

“Pretty sweet, right?” Chaewon says, clearly proud of herself for convincing you to join her. “The Parks and the Ohs really felt like celebrating.”

“No shit,” you say, dumbfounded. Chaewon wraps her arm around yours and leads you out of the elevator, her poise and grace akin to that of a princess. She’s been to this place before. She could do this in her sleep.

“Pictures first, then we eat, and then we mingle,” Chaewon instructs, and you nod diligently. She’s the only way you’re going to make it out of this night unscathed. Without her, you don’t know what you’d do.

On the average day of an average life of an average person, pictures means getting a stranger to take a single pic on your shitty iPhone at your worst angle, which you will begrudgingly post to your Instagram later after extensive editing.

But this is not your average day, and these are not average lives of not average people. Pictures means professional photographers with entire setups, standing with their cameras held up to their eyes, poised and ready for the next shot. It means couples, one by one, stepping in front of a gorgeous backdrop and posing, over and over, as five photographers at once cram to get their best angle, the cleanest photo.

You don’t know how to pose for photos. You barely remember what the proper formatting is for your essays, depending on the citation structure. And yet, Chaewon is ushering you over in front of the photographers, immediately striking one of her classic, perfect poses as you flail about, trying to figure out what to do with your hands.

“Just relax,” Chaewon advises. Even standing beside you, she can see you panicking in her periphery. “And smile. You’re beautiful, so show them that.”

Eventually, as the photographers switch positions to get different angles, you stop worrying about your hands, stop worrying about your bag, your feet, your head tilt, and just grin. You may not have millions of dollars to your name, but it’s a Friday night and you’re living the life of a billionaire with no responsibilities. You deserve to live a little.

When the next group comes up, Chaewon nudges you out of the way and whispers to one of the photographers, who nods dutifully in response. Wrapping her arm around yours once more, she guides you to the massive catering setup, tables and tables lined with delicacies from every country you could imagine. And of course, a gargantuan chocolate fountain in the middle of it all.

Your stomach rumbles. Clearly, the frozen yogurt was not enough to hold you off. Or maybe it’s just because you’ve been eating college dining hall food for weeks now, and are probably going to throw up if you have to have dry beef one more time.

“If you want to, you should try the caviar. It’s delicious. Avoid the eggplant, it tastes like foot, but the brussel sprouts are delicious. Kimchi’s good, too. Classic,” Chaewon instructs as you walk around the tables, placing servings the size of quarters onto your plate just so you can have a taste of everything. Chaewon sticks to some ribs, pan-seared salmon, and a vegetable so expensive you’ve never even heard of it before.

“Im Chaewon, is that you?”

“Mrs. Kim!”

A strange older woman comes up to the two of you as you’re dishing up, and Chaewon’s face immediately lights up. The woman goes in for a hug, a barely-touching pat of the shoulders and hands. Over her shoulder, you watch as Chaewon rolls her eyes and pulls a face.

“How are you, dear? You look so grown up,” Mrs. Kim says. You watch as the light slowly fades from Chaewon’s eyes with each second that passes.

“I’m very well, Mrs. Kim. Did you get your hair done? It makes you look so youthful.” Chaewon’s a master. She glares at you when Mrs. Kim isn’t looking, raising her eyebrows as if to say learn, young padawan. This is how it’s done. They go on for a couple minutes, showering fake compliments on each other as you slowly begin to eat. You scrunch your nose up. Chaewon’s right. The eggplant does taste like foot.

“And who is this?” Mrs. Kim asks, turning her focus onto you. You look up like a deer in headlights, a brussel sprout puffing your cheek. You were not meant to mingle and eat at the same time.

“This is one of my closest friends, Y/N,” Chaewon introduces for you. You nod your hello, chewing the brussel sprout in the most nondescript manner possible in an effort to save whatever is left of your dignity. “She’s pre-law.”

You are not pre-law.

“Oh, how wonderful! You must have a lot you want to accomplish in life,” Mrs. Kim says. God, you couldn’t care less about how Mrs. Kim feels about you.

“Yes, definitely,” you say awkwardly.

“We really must be going, Mrs. Kim. My parents will want me to make sure I do my rounds,” Chaewon says, a hand on your arm as she makes to get you both the fuck out of there.

“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Kim concedes, sending you and Chaewon one final goodbye before moving on to find her next victim.

When she leaves, Chaewon seems to let out the biggest exhale of her life. “Holy fucking shit, I thought she’d never leave,” she exclaims, grabbing a flute of champagne and downing it in a single go. “She’s an associate of my father’s, so she’s always trying to kiss my damn ass. Like, sorry that you need to brown-nose your boss and his daughter just so you bribe your idiot son’s way into college.”

“You like mingling, I take?” You joke.

“Just murder me.”

“Have any tips?”

“Flex as hard as possible without actually flexing. Try to speak to people your age because they are usually more bearable than people older than you. The best conversationalists are anybody under the age of ten,” Chaewon tells you. She picks up another glass of Prosecco. “Want some champagne?”

“You have it,�� you tell her. “I think you need it more than I do.”

Chaewon shrugs. Not as if they’re running out any time soon. She gulps it down and places it on the tray of one of the caterers as they whiz by her.

The rest of the night passes by in the same way the beginning of it did. Chaewon drags you around the penthouse, talking with her father’s business partners and associates and their sons and daughters and husbands and wives for no more than two minutes each before moving on. She’s got her technique down pat. Greet, compliment, shade, flex, compliment, say goodbye. It’s foolproof, because you immediately notice that everyone else in the room has adopted the same approach.

Business gatherings like these are just one big game of who can be the most-liked and the least-liked at the same time. And the answer: everybody, all at once.

Halfway through the evening, Chaewon collapses against the back wall, totally unafraid of the possibility of the glass giving out behind her. She doesn’t care. If it breaks, it breaks.

“Tired?”

“I just need a break,” Chaewon declares. “Because everyone in here is so fucking fake, and you’re the only one I can talk to without wanting to rip out my eardrums.”

“I’m honored,” you say sarcastically.

“When I say you’re the only honest one here, I mean it,” Chaewon says. You lean back against the wall next to her, looking out into a sea of people in fancy clothes with fancy food and fancy friends. “Look at all these people, Y/N. All these fucking people, and you’re the only one who’s true.”

And then, you spot him.

He’s far away, standing in a group of people you don’t recognize, a hand on the small of another girl’s back. He’s wearing a navy blue suit, tight-fitting and tailored, a silver watch sparkling on his wrist as he adjusts his sleeves. One of the other young men in the group says something funny, and he tilts his head back to laugh, chuckling as the girl beside him curls into his arms.

You suppose it would have been ignorant of you to assume Jungkook was elsewhere on a night like this, at a gathering where everybody who knows anybody is here.

Jungkook must not know you’re here. He mustn't, otherwise he would have come over to find you. You must have entered at different times, spent the night wandering around different parts of the penthouse. Clinging onto Chaewon’s arms, you must have avoided his gaze, and he, yours.

Chaewon hasn’t spotted him either. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better, if you’re the only one stuck with the knowledge that he’s here tonight. Chaewon would pity you. Other people would ask you how you knew such a worldly, experienced man like him. And you would spend the night wallowing in sadness, wondering why it’s never you that gets to spend the night next to him.

From this distance, you can see Jungkook perfectly. The light from the moon shines down on him like a goddamn spotlight, catching the sparkling on his wrist, leaving a silver gleam in his slicked back hair. You watch as he laughs, smiles, talks, grins and beams and socializes. Of course he’s here. Of course. He’s so good at this, so good at being real and genuine and happy.

Chaewon says the only person in the room who is true is you, but how can that be? How can that be when Jungkook, the most honest, wonderful, real person you know, is standing in front of you? You aren’t honest. You aren’t true and real and whole. You stand on the sidelines, a wallflower in a room of daisies and roses, and pine from afar. Watch as he pretends to date a girl that’s not you, wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek, and you act like everything is alright.

It sucks, being trapped like this for fear of him seeing you. You know that would be worse—if he saw you standing alone and decided to take matters into his own hands. Seeing him up close in a penthouse like this, a movie set, shimmering and sparkling, it would be worse. Jungkook pulls the girl beside him in close to his side, smiling as he listens to someone else speak. She’s the perfect height in those heels, just tall enough to rest her head in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. You imagine them walking into the room together, hand in hand. Imagine them posing for the pictures like a real couple, a pair of celebrities.

You suppose you have no reason to be jealous of her, of him, of what they have. Jealousy is when resenting someone for having something that you once had. You never had a life like that with Jungkook. You’ll never have a life like that with him. Never get dressed up to go out, never get to be his date to an event. Never get pictures taken of you as a couple, never feed each other candies and strawberries dipped in chocolate. You can’t be jealous of her. You were never in the running to begin with.

“Ready to get back out there?” Chaewon asks, placing a firm hand on your shoulder.

A waiter comes by with a tray of champagne flutes, offering it to the both of you.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Chaewon tells you as she takes a glass for herself.

You sigh, casting another glance over at Jungkook. He and his date are moving around now, joining another social circle on the opposite side of the penthouse. He looks so at ease, so comfortable. He belongs there, in the middle of it all, talking and laughing and grinning. And you? You belong back at home, underneath your duvet covers playing a game of Mario Kart. Not here.

You shake your head. You could use a drink or two in this state. “I’d love one, actually. Thank you.”

That night, you stay at Chaewon’s place.

“You’ve been acting weird.”

“Hello to you, as well,” you say with a scowl as Chaewon sits down across from you at the local ramen place.

“Listen,” Chaewon begins, “I’ve been thinking. You need to confess to Jungkook.”

You nearly spit out the complimentary water you were served. “Excuse me?”

“You need to. You’ve been acting weird and that’s the only thing that’s going to fix it,” Chaewon declares.

“What do you mean I’ve been ‘acting weird’? Care to explain?” You ask, offended. You haven’t been acting weird. Well, that weird. Maybe a little weird.

“Jungkook told me you haven’t seen each other for the last eight days,” Chaewon points out. Eight days? It’s more like seven and a half. Not that you’ve been counting, or anything.

“So? We’re busy people,” you defend. It’s a good enough excuse. You’re sophomores in college. You have classes. Clubs. You have to meal prep.

“So? You guys are best friends. You make time to see each other at three in the fucking morning if you haven’t seen each other yet that day. And you haven’t seen each other for eight whole days? What’s wrong with you?” Chaewon demands.

“Nothing! What the heck, I invite you out to a best friend ramen date and you just blaspheme all over me like this?” You accuse. This is not how you imagined today to be going. This isn’t how you imagined this week to be going. “Besides, it’s only been seven and a half days. He’s over-exaggerating.”

“Seven and a—holy fuck, you are literally the worst. Can you just stop resisting? If you tell him, everything will be fine and go back to the way things were,” Chaewon says, blinking, flabbergasted.

“No, they will not,” you hiss. “Everything will change if I tell him. We’re best friends, Chae. Imagine if I told you that I loved you. What would you do?”

“I’d love you back, that’s what!” Chaewon tells you. “You deserve to be loved back, Y/N. Nothing would change between us. I already love you. You’re one of my most favorite people ever. I would never regret something if it was with you.”

“It’s different with him, though,” you try to explain. You don’t know why—you just know that it is. The way you’re friends with Chaewon and the way you’re friends with Jungkook are entirely separate. You love Chaewon. You’re not in love with Chaewon.

“Is it? How?” Chaewon says.

“I don’t know, I just—it’s different with him.” There’s no way to describe it. Jungkook appeared in your life and it was as if everything just clicked into place. There isn’t a single thing in your life that makes more sense to you than Jungkook. “It’s always been different with him. With you, I—I knew that we would become really close friends once we started talking a lot more in the beginning of freshman year. But with him—I don’t know. From the moment I met him, I knew that I would fall in love with him. When he said hello to me, I was fucked. There’s never been any hope for me, Chae. I just have to live like this forever.”

Chaewon rolls her eyes. “No, you don’t. You don’t even see what the fuck is right in front of you.”

“You?”

“God, I’m friends with idiots. Literal idiots. How you guys have made it through nearly a year and a half of college is beyond me,” Chaewon says to nobody in particular. “Seriously, tell me, Y/N. What do you think will happen if you tell him? Just out of curiosity.”

“I don’t know—” you pause. A lot of things. He tells you he just wants to stay friends. He rejects you because he’s not interested that way and you can’t really be friends anymore because it’s weird now. He’s already interested in somebody else. He’s already dating somebody else and you never even knew. He’s not looking for a relationship right now. Things get awkward because you confessed to your best friend that you’re in love with him and he doesn’t feel the same. You end up never speaking to each other. You never see each other. You go through the rest of university seeing each other on the Green by chance and not knowing what to do. You graduate and move on with your lives. And suddenly, he’s just a past friend you used to have. No longer a part of your life. No longer given the chance to. “He rejects me. We never speak again and have to avoid each other at all costs. He lets me down easy and I feel like a total loser for having confessed in the first place. There’s a lot.”

“Jesus, Y/N. Aren’t you forgetting a possibility?” Chaewon says, eyebrows raised high.

“I’m omitting a lot of them,” you tell her. Including the one where, in the next three years, you end up in a hellish dystopian wasteland and you have to band together to survive but it’s awkward and terrible because you love him still and he doesn’t feel the same, never has and never will, and now you have to fight off zombies and a corrupt autocratic government all while dealing with your own goddamn feelings. That may be the most unbearable one of them all.

“How about the one where he actually feels the same?”

“Too unrealistic,” you tell Chaewon. It’s the truth. Why else would Jungkook be traipsing around with beautiful, rich, worldly girls on his nights off? He does it for the money, sure, but he likes it. He loves the experience, loves living that sort of life. You’d never be able to provide that for him. “You know that’s never going to happen, Chae. We’re just friends.”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, he thinks that we’re just friends. And I’m not gonna fuck everything up by telling him that I’ve been madly in love with him for the past year and a half.” You can think of nothing worse.

“Have you ever considered the fact that maybe he thinks that the two of you are just friends because you refuse to actually show him how you feel?” Chaewon asks pointedly, eyebrows raised in disapproval. She looks about ready to walk out of the restaurant. “You never do things to give him a reason to think otherwise.”

“Why would I?”

When your ramen arrives, Chaewon takes a deep breath, downs the rest of her glass of water, and moves on. It’s clear that if she thinks about this any more, her head will explode.

Nothing’s ever going to change between you and Jungkook. You knew, when you first met him, that it was always going to hurt like this. That loving him was something you had to sacrifice to stay close to him. He lights up every fucking room he walks into, and it’s all you can do not to sit there and bask in his warmth. You would rather catch a single one of his rays than be in the darkness. And if being friends with him means that friends is all you’ll ever be, then so be it. You’re lucky to have him like this. Why take the plunge?

“Just—” Chaewon says as you begin to pull apart the noodles in your own bowl. “I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now. And you deserve to be happy, Y/N. You deprive yourself of all of these wonderful things, and I just want you to know that you deserve every single one of them. But telling him? That’s something that even I know would make you the happiest. You shouldn’t live like this, Y/N. You have no idea what you’re missing out on if you do.”

The streak of not seeing Jungkook ends the next day, when you come back from an evening grocery store run to find him standing outside your door, hand about to knock on the wood. He’s all dressed up again, button-down and slacks, hair styled and parted, and you watch as he takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s waiting for the best time to knock.

“Jungkook?”

He practically jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, nearly tripping over his own feet as he lays his eyes on you.

“Oh, Y/N!” He exclaims. “I was just about to see if you were home.”

“You could have just texted, you know,” you say jokingly, joining him at the front door as you fumble for your keys.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Jungkook admits sheepishly.

“Well, make it up to me by helping me unpack these,” you demand, kicking the door open as you reach down to grab your reusable canvas bags filled with groceries. Immediately, Jungkook is leaning down to grab all of them for you, hauling them inside like they weigh nothing. You stare as he heads over to your kitchen without breaking a sweat, biceps clenching as he lifts the groceries up onto the counter.

“What’d you get?” Jungkook asks, slowly beginning to take out the groceries. He’s in your apartment so often that he’s memorized where all of your food goes, from the correct shelf in the fridge for produce to the proper cabinet for cereal.

“Just like… groceries. I saw a box of peppermint chocolate bars that I thought you might like, they’re in there somewhere,” you say mindlessly, pointing to a random canvas bag. Immediately, Jungkook abandons his putting-away-groceries duty to fish through each of the bags, hunting for the box of goodies. “And I got some cheap Trader Joe’s wine. You know. Just for emergencies.”

“Trader Joe’s wine and peppermint chocolate bars,” Jungkook comments, nodding in approval. He finally finds the box and tears it open sideways. “Sounds like a perfect dessert if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What, did you eat already?” You ask, busting out the wine and a couple of mugs, because you don’t own any wine glasses. Nothing says cultured like drinking seven-dollar wine out of mugs with kitschy sayings like “don’t talk to me until this is empty” or “coffee is my first love” written on them.

Jungkook shrugs. He grabs the box and heads over to your couch, already kicking back and relaxing. “Yeah, I went to some restaurant for another double date,” Jungkook says. “It was one of those places where everything is so expensive but the portions are the size of my fist. Of your fist.”

“You sound hungry,” you note, filling up the mugs and joining him. “And mad.”

“I’m getting reimbursed for the money I spent tonight, so I suppose I could be angrier. But I’m starving. Let’s finish this entire box of chocolates and do nothing else.”

“Your words, not mine,” you say, although his proposal sounds more than appealing to you.

You turn the television on for some background noise, switching to a channel showing old reruns of unsolved serial killer cases, because nothing sets the mood better than the words “then, slowly, he took the knife with which he killed her and began to slice away at her body”. Jungkook doesn’t seem to pay the television any attention, though, instead focused entirely on the chocolate in front of him, calling his name.

He takes an enormous bite out of one before moaning far too sexually for your liking, tossing his head back in bliss. “Oh my God.”

“Good?”

Jungkook moans again in response.

“Please don’t orgasm on this couch. Who knows what other bodily fluids were on here before we bought it,” you ask calmly.

“I’d say that’s nasty, but you guys did cover this with one of those couch covers, so it’s not like my body is coming into contact with other people’s body stains,” Jungkook reasons. The couch cover is the single best purchase you’ve made this entire year. Possibly your entire life. “But they’re delicious. You made a good purchase.”

“I thought you would like them,” you say. “You’re the only person I know who actually likes the combination of mint and chocolate.”

“People who say that it tastes like toothpaste are brushing their teeth with the wrong kind of toothpaste,” he tells you pointedly. “I don’t understand. This is God’s combination. It’s perfect.”

“As long as you love it, that’s all that matters,” you tell him with a pat on his back, breaking off a square of the chocolate bar for yourself. It is pretty good, even if mint chocolate ice cream does sometimes taste like toothpaste. But you’d never tell Jungkook that, of course.

Jungkook takes a swig of the wine, picking up the mug and gulping down about half of it, the wine bitter on his tongue. “Goes great with this wine, too,” he jokes. You take a sip yourself. It’s… not very good. Actually, rather sticky. No wonder it was only seven dollars.

“You don’t have to lie to me, I know it tastes like ass,” you tell him honestly. To be fair, you and Jungkook have both had worse. Compared to the shit served at frat parties, this may as well be beautifully-aged Malbec.

“It only tastes a little bit like ass,” Jungkook compromises. “But it doesn’t not taste like ass.”

“Let’s finish it now so we don’t have to have any more of it later,” you decide. “You’ve probably had some of the best alcohol in your life this semester.”

Jungkook thinks back, tilting his head to the side as he begins to recall all of the instances in the past few months when he’s had anything to drink. “Soju’s still my favorite. But yeah, I’d say I’ve had wine that probably costs more than my textbooks for this semester if I hadn’t pirated them all.”

“The beauty of being a CS student,” you muse.

“You know it,” he says, holding his half-empty mug out as a toast to himself. “But seriously, even if this Trader Joe’s wine literally tasted like garbage, it would still be better than all of that other shit.”

You turn to him, skeptical. Even the single night you spent with Chaewon, in a penthouse amongst the stars, drinking champagne and eating strawberries dipped in chocolate, was more than you could ever dream of. You woke up the next day on an air mattress in her bedroom and wanted nothing more than to go back to basking in the luxury, desperate for another taste. It was addicting. How could Jungkook ever prefer what he has right now to what he had last night?

“Really? Don’t say that just to make me feel better,” you tell him. You can take it. Jungkook has every reason to prefer the fancy meals, the penthouses, the suits and ties to your janky little apartment and old clothes from high school. The two aren’t at all on the same level. They’re not even in the same goddamn game. If you could drop everything to have what Chaewon has, what the other girls and boys who pay for Jungkook’s company have, you would.

“I’m not,” Jungkook tells you seriously. “I mean it. I would rather sit in your room, hunched over your tiny Switch because you lost the HDMI cord to plug it into the television, playing Mario Kart than out there, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“But it was fun in the beginning, wasn’t it? Getting to be rich without the moral ambiguity that comes along with being part of the upper class?” You ask. It must have been. Jungkook looked so happy when he first started doing these gigs, coming back to your apartment in a state of bliss, a little tipsy from the expensive champagne and steak. He’d knock on your door and tell you all about the night, from how older businessmen handed him their cards and offered him jobs, to the hundreds of ice cream flavors you could only ever dream of eating. Everything seemed so wonderful to him.

Jungkook shrugs, pouring himself more wine. “Yeah, I guess, but it gets so old after a while. Like, no wonder Chaewon was so desperate for me to go with her that first time. It sucks the damn life out of you. You walk around and mingle and pretend that you’re the greatest person on Earth, talking about yourself and kissing up to the other people for an entire night. Honestly, sometimes it’s worse than my CS homework. And I hate that shit.”

“Chaewon mentioned that the eggplant usually tastes like foot,” you add. Jungkook nods in agreement.

“Yeah, it does. She warned me about it the first night and I, like a fool, tried it because I usually like eggplant. And it still tasted like foot. Never again,” Jungkook says, shivering at the mere thought of it. It’s funny, actually, because you did the exact same thing. “But the food is like, the one thing I pretty much don’t have the right to complain about. It’s delicious and usually free.”

“But I hope that you’re having fun,” you tell him honestly, because you do. When you’re sitting in your room, eating two different pints of Ben & Jerry’s, you hope that Jungkook, wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, is enjoying himself more than you are. Because he deserves it. You never want there to be a time when he’s sad, when he’s unhappy or bored. Jungkook deserves to live the happiest version of life he possibly can. “I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“I do,” Jungkook says. There’s a second half to that sentence. “I do—it’s just that… It's so fake, you know? I feel like such a goddamn actor when I’m there. I get to live this extravagant lifestyle for a few hours but in return I don’t even know who I’m looking at when I look in the mirror.”

Oh?

“Like, I pretend to be this business student, when I’m not. I pretend to have millions of dollars to my name, when I don’t. I hold hands and pose for pictures with people Chaewon is vaguely familiar with and nothing, literally nothing, feels real. I don’t know.” Jungkook takes another swig from the mug. “Even the relationships I have when I’m there are fake.”

“Do you hate it that much, then?” You ask him. If it’s so awful and terrible, then why does he keep doing it? Keep dressing up and going out, holding hands with and wrapping his arm around them?

“No,” Jungkook says, sighing as he leans back into the couch. “I don’t hate it. I just—I wish I had something real afterwards to come back home to.”

Real? Like what? Like you? You aren’t real. You sit next to your best friend and pretend that everything is fine. That nothing hurts. You’ve had the biggest crush on him ever since you laid eyes on him, and you’re doing everything in your power to make sure that he’s the only one that doesn’t know.

“That’s why I’m always coming back to your apartment afterwards,” Jungkook says. He chuckles, but it isn’t his usual laugh. It sounds forced, contrived and fake. Jaded. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it almost immediately. Then, he breathes, long and slow. Thinks. The silence is almost unbearable. Waiting to hear what he has to say, even more so. “You’re the most genuine person I know. What we share—it’s real.”

Tonight is the least lonely you’ve felt in a long time.

Even though Jungkook has something tonight, you aren’t aching to be by his side, desperate to spend more time with him. He told you that he was really looking forward to this one, that it wasn’t going to be some stuffy gala or blind double date. He said something about going to karaoke with the girl and her friends, singing Britney Spears songs and taking shots of soju for hours on end, screaming his voice hoarse. And even if you aren’t there with him, you’re happy because you know that he’s happy, that he’s genuinely enjoying himself.

So, you aren’t that lonely.

Content with the state of your life as it is, you take the night off, ready to prepare yourself for a weekend that will almost certainly consist entirely of just work. Chaewon’s voice echoes in your mind (“I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now,” she had told you), but it’s different now. Because you are happy. You are happy, because Jungkook’s happy. The two of you see each other just as frequently as you used to. He texts you about his terrible CS homework and the Shiba Inu he just saw being walked across campus. It’s all gone back to the way it used to be. That’s what you had wanted.

You were prepared for this. You knew that it would eventually boil down to this, down to whether or not you could take Jungkook not knowing how you feel any longer. But right now, you don’t care. Jungkook not knowing has always been a part of your friendship. The love you hold for him, in the spaces between your bones and deep in the cracks of your heart, that has always been there. You see it, hear it, feel it, whenever you’re with him. Even when you’re not with him, it will remind you, appear in the silence, the emptiness. It will always make itself known, because it’s become a part of you. From the moment you met him, it had settled into your heart.

Staring out of the window by your living room, overlooking the ugliest parking garage on campus, you sigh. You can’t see the stars from here, not even in the dead of night, but that’s alright. There is something so peaceful about the navy blue sky. About how mysterious and unknown it is. It calms you. You put on a movie that you’ve genuinely been wanting to watch for a while, sit down in your bed, amongst your duvet and sheets, pillows and plushies, and enjoy yourself, for once. It’s a good night.

And then, much like most aspects of your terribly convoluted, over-complicated and confusing life, it all comes crashing down.

There’s a faint thud from outside, a soft little non-noise that you assume is coming from the street. Not wanting to interrupt your movie—she’s just about to confess, holy shit—you ignore it. It’ll go away eventually.

Then another thud. You pause, leaning towards your window to see if you can figure out the source. Silence. You’re just about to press play, when you hear it again. And again. It gets louder and louder, making up in volume what it lacks in rhythm and order, until you realize it’s someone knocking on your door. And not just knocking casually. It’s as if someone is shoving their whole body into it, shoulders and chest and feet hitting the wood as they bang on it.

“Y/N?”

Oh, God.

Pushing off your duvet, you tug on your slippers and wipe away the crust around your eyes as you rush towards the door. You know who’s on the other side. You’re not sure if answering it is the better or worse option.

You’ve always had an uncanny ability to pick the latter.

When you open the door, Jungkook, in a fancy sweater pulled over a white button down and black jeans that could almost pass for dressy slacks, is standing on the other side.

Correction: he’s sort of standing on the other side. He nearly topples over when you pull open the door, having clearly been leaning on it, and you barely have time to reach your arms out to catch him.

“Oh! Y/N!” Jungkook exclaims, as if he’s surprised to see you inside your own apartment. “I was hoping to see you.”

“I figured,” you tell him, laughing. You guide him inside, and even in his state he remembers to tug off his clean white sneakers, kicking them towards the shoe rack. “It’s so late, Jungkook, you should go home.”

“No,” Jungkook whines. “I wanted to see you. I missed you.”

“We saw each other this morning, Jungkook. And this afternoon, right before you went out,” you remind him. The words go in one ear and out the other, and he pulls you in close to him, wrapping his arms around you as he presses his body against yours in a sweaty hug. His grip is tight around you as he rests his head on your shoulder, breathing you in as if you’d been gone for years. Slowly, after a few seconds, you pull away from him, a hand on his shoulder to get him to look at you through his too-long bangs, hanging over his eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? I’m right here, don’t worry. I never left.”

“I had a lot to drink tonight,” Jungkook tells you, blinking rapidly. “Like, a lot. They just kept ordering soju and I just kept drinking it. It was really good. Have you had strawberry soju? It’s delicious.”

“I might have had it once or twice,” you fib, not able to recall having it one way or another. “Come on, sit down,” you point him towards the couch, but he refuses, clinging onto you even as you make your way towards the kitchen. “Jungkook, please, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“But I missed you,” Jungkook repeats. “I missed you a lot. I thought about you the entire time I was there.”

You can’t say you didn’t do the same.

“Next time we’ll do something together then, hey? Something really fun, like going to an arcade or bowling,” you promise him with a pat on his shoulder. “But you need to drink some water, JK. Can you please sit down?”

“No, I want to be with you,” Jungkook says like it’s nothing. Like the feeling of him wrapped around you like this, holding onto you and telling you that he misses you, that he thinks about you, doesn’t mean anything. You don’t think your heart has beaten since you opened the door to see him standing on the other side.

(You don’t think it’s beaten since you met him. Since he came up to you on the pavement, asking you for directions. Since you told him your name, and he told you his.)

“Ah, fine, just be careful, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” you concede, because it’s so easy to let him have his way, so easy to say yes to him. You manage to grab an empty water bottle and fill it up with what’s left in your Brita, too lazy to refill it after it’s left bone dry. Slowly, you make your way to your bedroom, out of view of the central living space, where your roommates could burst through the door at any moment and see you taking care of your drunk best friend on the sofa.

Slowly, you settle on your bed, sitting off of the edge of it as you cajole him into drinking some water, whispering soft nothings to make sure he finishes the whole thing.

“Does your head hurt or anything?” You ask him, already looking around for the stash of Advil you usually keep on your nightstand.

“No, no, I’m fine, Y/N, seriously,” he promises, even if you can see the glazed-over look in his eyes, the way his sweaty bangs stick to his forehead. “You’re too nice, you know? Always treating me when I show up at your place. Even when you don’t invite me.”

“You know I never mind seeing you,” you tell him. “You can come over whenever you want. I’m always here.”

“No, you’re not,” Jungkook says with a pout, and it makes you furrow your brows. When have you not been? Jungkook’s been going out to events ever since the beginning of the semester, and without fail, you’ve always been waiting for him at home, knowing he’ll turn up one way or another. Except, there was— “That one time a couple of weeks ago, I went to this crazy big gala with Eunha, there were so many people there, and I came back home afterwards and knocked on your door, and your roommates said they hadn’t seen you all day. Where were you that day?”

He had come? You didn’t know if he would.

(Or maybe, you did. You knew he would show up at your door once he got back from that night, and selfishly, not wanting to see him after the fact, the leftover version of him, the part he leaves behind when he goes out. You knew he would be there and you couldn’t bear the thought of being the second girl he spends the night with. The other option. Maybe, you’ve known all along that you’ll never quite stack up to the girls he goes out with, and that sometimes, when you see him all dressed up while you’re in your hoodie and sweats, it reminds you is nothing more than a casual friendship.)

“I must have been out late with Chaewon that day, I’m sorry,” you apologize, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. “I didn’t know you would come.”

“I always come after my events. You know that.”

“I didn’t know if you’d remember to,” you correct.

“I’d never forget about you,” Jungkook says, the alcohol erasing his filter. Making him honest. “I really missed you, that day. I had been waiting the entire night to see you.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you promise, and this one is for real.

“You know, today?” Jungkook says, pulling his head back so he can get a good look at you, your eyes meeting his own. “Today, I was so sad on my way here. It was so terrible, because I was drunk and sad and I missed you.”

“You were sad? What happened?” You ask, leaning in. Jungkook? Sad? Who would do such a thing to him? Who would erase the smile on his face, his crescent eyes, and replace them with tears?

“This girl and I, she was a lot of fun. We sang a couple duets together and we were pretty good,” he hiccups, “kept winning. It was fun. She and I talked for a long time. I definitely liked her the most out of all of the girls I’ve gone out with. Besides Chaewon, of course.”

“What happened? Did she do something you didn’t want? You know you can tell me, Jungkook,” you ask, a hand on his arm.

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t know. She was fun and I was drunk. We were on our way back in the Lyft when she leaned over and kissed me. And I kissed her back, and it was kind of nice. I haven’t really kissed someone like that in a while,” Jungkook tells you. And even though you’re hearing these words from him, hearing how he had all of this fun with a girl who isn’t you, how he kissed her in the backseat of a car, you rally, blinking away the tears you can feel forming in your eyes. It’s none of your business, you tell yourself. You and Jungkook aren’t together. You don’t get to feel bad about him kissing someone else.

“Did you like it?” You ask, each word a pin in your chest.

“It was pretty nice,” Jungkook admits. “We, uh, we made out a bit in the back of the car until we got to her place. And then we got out of the car and she asked me if I wanted to go back with her, to her room. And—and I almost said yes.” Jungkook looks about ready to combust. At his side, his fists are clenched so hard you’re worried he’ll pop a vein.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you tell him, looking him in the eyes so he knows that you don’t mind, that he can tell you these things without worry. Jungkook may be the love of your life, but he’s your best friend, first. He’s always been, before anything else, your best friend.

“But there is!” Jungkook cries, standing up in anguish. “There is, Y/N, you don’t understand! I almost had sex with her!”

“You’re allowed to, Jungkook!” You assure him, standing up to reach out to him.

“No, Y/N, you don’t get it,” he tells you coldly, pulling his hand away. “Why aren’t you mad? Aren’t you angry that I nearly had sex with her?”

“No, what the fuck, Jungkook, why would I be mad?” You shout back at him. “You can do whatever you want with your body, it’s not my job to police it! I’m your friend, not your mom!”

“But don’t you want to be more, Y/N?” He rounds on you. “Don’t you want to be the one kissing me, fucking me? Why aren’t you jealous?”

“Were you trying to make me jealous, Jungkook? Is that what you were trying to do? You wanted to get a reaction out of me because my best friend nearly fucked someone else and then didn’t? What the fuck, Jungkook? What do you want from me?”

“I just want you to tell me you fucking love me back!”

“Jungkook, what—”

Jungkook, eyes dark and furious, pushes you against your closet door as your lips part, feeling the breath get knocked out of your lungs. He’s so close. He’s right there, you can see him, watch as he looms over you, hands clenched in your hoodie as he presses you against the wall. And then, wordlessly, he’s leaning down, crashing your mouths together.

Suddenly, your heart starts. You gasp into the kiss, the feeling of his mouth on top of yours. It’s fervent, hot and angry and passionate, his body against your own as your hands reach out to press against his head. You seize up at the feeling, almost as if in shock, before melting into his touch, leaning into him, desperate. You can feel his breath mixing in with your own, feel the way his chapped lips meet your overly-moisturized ones, feel how his hands drift from where they’re bunched up in the front of your hoodie to your waist, your hips, your thighs. Jungkook kisses ruthlessly, kisses like he’s trying to prove a point. Holds onto you like he’s afraid to let go.

When you part, gasping for air, Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, blinking.

“Jungkook, you’re drunk—” you tell him firmly, refusing to let get your hopes up if what you have in front of you is really just an intoxicated best friend. Your heart is beating miles a minute, about ready to thump right out of you, chest heaving and mouth agape.

“That doesn’t matter,” Jungkook argues back. “Even when I’m sober I love you. Don’t tell me I’m confused because I’m drunk.”

“You show up at my place at one in the morning, tell me about how you made out with some other girl and almost slept with her just to get me angry, kiss me, and tell me not to tell you you’re confused?” You demand. “Jungkook, I’ve never been more confused in my life than right now, can you please just—”

“I love you, Y/N,” Jungkook says, and even though he’s angry, red in the face and sweaty, when he says it, it’s soft. It’s a whisper, a murmur. He says it not to convince you, but so you know. “I’ve been in love with you for so goddamn long, ever since I fucking met you. And I thought you might like me back but you never did anything about it, and so neither did I.”

“You need to go home, Jungkook,” you tell him, hiccuping. When you blink, you feel the warm tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even noticed them. “You can’t just come into my apartment and tell me shit like that. How do you think it makes me feel?”

“Do you feel the same, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking you in the eyes. He’s angry, that’s for sure, but even underneath, you can see the desperation, see how he’s just waiting for an answer.

“Go home, Jungkook. Please. Let’s talk about this when you aren’t drunk, okay? I’m confused and I need to clear my head,” you plead, pushing him towards the door. “Please, okay? Be safe, too. I’ll call Chaewon to give you a ride,” you tell him, grabbing your phone.

Jungkook puts a hand on your wrist. “I’ll be okay, Y/N. I just… Please, tell me. Did that kiss mean anything to you?”

“Yes, it did, but Jungkook, I can’t—”

“It meant something to me, too,” he tells you firmly, lets the words sink into the air around you. He heads for the door, pulling on his shoes. He looks so sad. “Good night, Y/N.”

You place a hand on the doorknob. “Good night, Jungkook.”

It’s barely nine in the morning the next day when a knock wakes you up. It’s soft at first, one every couple of seconds, before it gets progressively louder. Slowly, you get out of bed, trying to tame your hair as you rub the sleep from your eyes.

“Y/N’s in her room. Is that for her? That’s so cute. Yeah, she’s probably awake. You can just knock.” It’s your roommate.

You scramble to make your bed, pouring some water from the water bottle by your nightstand into your hand and splashing your face, wiping it away with an old t-shirt as you run towards the door, pulling it open just in time.

On the other side is a much more tired, much less drunk Jungkook, one hand raised and about to knock, the other holding a bouquet of daisies.

“Hey,” he says shyly, mouth breaking into a smile the moment he sees you.

“Hey,” you say back. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, head hurts like hell, though,” Jungkook says. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, s-sure, of course,” you say, stepping aside to let him into your bedroom.

“These are for you.” Jungkook holds out the bouquet towards you, wrapped up neatly in cellophane and tied at the stems with a bow. “So you don’t have to keep Febreze-ing your room all of the time.”

“They’re beautiful, Jungkook,” you tell him, grinning as you take them from his hands. Today feels different from yesterday. It feels lighter, fresher. New. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I—” He pauses, taking a second to think, “I meant what I said, yesterday. Maybe not all of it, but. Most of it, yeah. I meant it.”

“Why did you try to make me jealous, Jungkook?” You ask him. “Why did you think that would work?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook admits. “I shouldn’t have, and I fucked up. I just got so… so tired of waiting to see if you’d ever come around. I just wanted you to tell me. And then I guess I got so fed up that I told you instead.”

You place the bouquet on your dresser before walking towards him, reaching a hand out. “Yeah, that was a pretty big asshole move of you,” you chide, grinning to yourself.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighs.

“But I’m happy you’re here,” you tell him. “And happy that you meant what you said. Maybe it could have been said in a less angry way, but hearing it made me happy.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy.” Jungkook grins. “You’re my favorite person, Y/N.”

“When you asked me, yesterday, if that kiss meant anything to me? And I said it did?” You begin, Jungkook nodding in front of you. He’s positively beaming. “It still does. I want to do that every day, Jungkook. Every hour. Every single second for the rest of my goddamn life.”

“You do?” Jungkook asks.

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook. From day one, it’s always been you.” You smile, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Feels like you’re fucking flying. Like you’re weightless.

“I love you, too, Y/N. I never want to be away from your side,” he declares, and like a cheesy, rom-com movie, like the shitty novels you used to read in eighth grade, he pulls you in close and presses a kiss against your lips. Wraps his arms around your waist as he holds you tight, kisses you in the middle of your bedroom, in your hoodie and sweatpants, a bouquet of daisies on your dresser. He kisses you because he can, because for every second of every day for the rest of your goddamn life, he can kiss you, over and over and over.

“We owe Chaewon an apology,” you tell him when you’re parted, sitting on your bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

“Hell yeah we do,” Jungkook agrees. “She’s been on my ass for ages about telling you.”

“Mine too.”

“She’s such a great best friend,” Jungkook comments. “Knew all this time that her two friends were madly in love with each other and didn’t say a damn word to either of us. That’s loyalty.”

“We should do something for her, to make up for it all,” you suggest.

“You know,” Jungkook says, grinning, “I know this guy who made bank this semester by going on fake dates with a bunch of really rich girls. Maybe he could help.”

“I know him, too,” you joke. “He’s the love of my fucking life.”

Jeon Jungkook quits his job on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year.

You know this because on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 7:18PM, eighteen minutes after he normally heads out on one of his many dates.

“Y/N!” He shouts, banging wildly on your door. You rush over to open it, letting the pasta water on the stove boil over and sizzle on the heat. He’s barely gotten in a second knock when you turn the doorknob to reveal your smiling boyfriend in his oversized hoodie.

“Don’t tell me you’re blowing someone off for me,” you say, inviting him inside. He places a kiss on your cheek on the way in, taking off his shoes and coat as you rush over to take care of the pasta.

“Me? Blowing someone off? Never,” Jungkook says, mock offended. “I actually quit the dating thing, this afternoon. A girl asked if I was free and I said that I wasn’t, because I have to go home to my girlfriend making me a meal. Don’t you love the sound of that?” He asks, pleased with himself.

“You quit? I thought you liked doing that stuff,” you say, using the spaghetti fork to move around the linguine. “Hope you’re cool with boring old pasta for your meal tonight. You could have had caviar if you hadn’t quit.”

“I don’t care, it smells so good,” Jungkook tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he stands behind you, watching you cook from over your shoulder. “Look at you, being all domestic and shit. It’s very cute.”

“Stop rubbing in the fact that you’re the better cook, I get it. Pasta is all I got right now.” You pout, turning down the heat as you move to pour yourselves two cups of tea. Jungkook follows you the entire way to the kettle, grip on your waist never faltering. “You can keep going on those dates, you know. I don’t mind. I get to see you in a suit when you get back, and then I get to take it off of you. It’s a win-win.”

Jungkook pinches your waist in response. “If you have a thing for suits, you can just tell me, you know. I won’t be mad.”

You turn around to whack him with the spaghetti fork. “I do not!”

“Alright, Y/N, guess I won’t wear a suit next time you call me at two in the morning—”

“I never said you couldn’t,” you interrupt, making Jungkook laugh.

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” Jungkook coos as you begin to dish up the pasta, making sure to add peas because Jungkook loves peas with his spaghetti. “But I quit because I have enough money to sustain me for the rest of the semester. I’ll work over break and get a new job next semester when the new work-study positions open. Don’t worry about me,” he assures you.

“But didn’t you like going out and everything? Getting dressed up and drinking fancy champagne?” You ask, setting the plates down at your dinky kitchen table, a single scented candle lit in the center.

Jungkook thinks about it for a split second, and then he shakes his head. “Nah. I like hanging out with my girlfriend more.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” you reason with a grin.

Jungkook laughs, leaning over the table to plop a kiss on your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you pea-eating loser,” you chide, “I love you too.”

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#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #w: if i told you #god this fic.... i cant believe i wrote this.... how did i do it

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